As they say, the truth will set you free.
As the Drow say, the Truth may set you free, but more than likely get you killed.
We're not among drow, now are we? (And it's not like we have any decent lies available.)
Again, the truth. "I don't know. I don't remember much before waking up in the forest."
Again, it's as good as any lie we could tell.
"I dont know! I dont remember much before waking up in the forest!" You say, hoping he will see the truth in your words.
He looks at you suspiciously as he studies your for a few moments.
"Avilar, take her to the Citadel and keep an eye on her until i have finished my search. I will analyse her story later. Mirinth, you go with him. Take the Drow's weapons and keep them somewhere safe." He regards you again. "And make sure to keep her from the survivors of this massacre. We dont want our only possible witness to be pummeled to death by an angry mob."
Without saying another word, he turns on his heels and motions for the rest of his group, plus the city guards, to follow him. You see that all the elves present are in fact High Elves.
'Unusual. High elves rarely leave their homelands, and when they do it is usually in small groups of two or three..... For this many high elves to be present at a relatively unimportant city like this must mean something is afoot. But what? What are they searching for? The Necromancers?" You ponder silently as you are stripped, again, of your weapons and forced through the streets.
As you walk, you see that you were wrong in your first assumption. The area immediately behind the gate was not the worst hit. Far from it. The entire city is one big ruin. It seems there may have been preparations for some sort of festival, and as you enter the city square that precedes the Citadel's causeway, you see a sight you will not forget any time soon.
In the middle of the corpse strewn square, with piles of dead dotted around stands a mountain of dead. As you approach, your guards silently bow their heads. You see the woman who took your weapons seems to be crying. You see why. The huge pile of corpses, at least a dozen metres high, is made up of children.
At the very top, there is a truly horrifying mockery of a tree, made out of mutilated corpses, with severed heads on the end of each 'branch'. A long spear holds the centre piece together, with twisted swords and other weapons making up the centre of the 'branches'. At the very top, impaled on top of the spear head, is a young girl, barely six or seven years old by your reckoning, with her face cut to resemble a twisted smile.
You cant take this anymore. Your knees buckle and you vomit on the ground in front of you.
The one called Avilar just watches you, but the one named Mirinth knees beside you.
"You were not with them, where you?" She asks softly. All you can do is shake your head as you hurl again. Your entire body is shaking. All you can feel is sorrow, disgust and anger. Killing warriors and magic users was one thing. They had a chance to protect themselves, but
children? That is something you could never forgive.
"Avilar, untie her hands. I think our friend here needs a good drink and something to eat by the fire, not a cell in the dungeon"
He does as told and you unsteadily get to your feet.
Looking away from the square, you walk as fast as you can towards the Citadel, trying to get as far away as possible. You pass through the ruins of the citadel, passing only a few hundred survivors. Many are just gazing off into their own little worlds. Some are trying to continue their lives, doing simple jobs. Others are tending fires or cooking meals. No one pays attention to your group.
You are guided by Mirinth to an area more isolated than the rest of the refugee camp. Here you recognise high elven worked products. Armour, weapons, tools and camping gear. There is a small fire going in the centre of the room, with another High Elf sat there, stirring something in a pot. Avilar moves to a window and stares out, keeping one eye on you. Mirinth sits down by the fire after putting your weapons near their own, motioning for you to do the same.
You sit, and take the offered cup. You take a sip. Palaveer Tea, strong and tasteful. You smile as it flows down your parched throat.
"So, how about we start from the beginning?" Mirinth says, smiling. "Who are you? Where do you come from?"
***
What do you do? Answer her questions? Dodge them and ask some of your own? or something else?