Thread: Portal - The Rise of a Mage (Black_Out/Iridel)

Almeta was kept with her hands tightly bundled in the squeezing confines of the black leather bags, her wrists were shackled and there was a heavy rope secured to those shackles that was tied off to a stout wooden pole that had been driven into the ground. Thick wood filled every mouth, secured by ropes that were tightly bound around the back of necks, forcing jaws to remain painfully held open. Numbers had been painted with broad strokes of thick white paint upon every post that stuck up out of the ground, helping to identify every prisoner attached to them. Almeta's pole bore the bold and thick single line that identified her as number one. There were other more common prisoners though, that were obviously not suffering the same fate as the magi and clergy that had been gathered up and brought to the encampment. Those prisoners simply wore the heavy shackles that kept their wrists tightly clad together and tied off to one of the posts. Most everyone seemed to bear a mark of harsh treatment. Bruises, welts, and blackened eyes were a common scene played out upon the vast variety of captives she had found herself huddled with. There were even a few among the pole bound prisoners that were left laying unconscious in pools of their own blood. Foot soldiers of the Empire shuffled through the camp, keeping vigil over the collection of prisoners that were to be brought before the Inquisition. Stopping at the fallen to make sure they were still alive. No food or water was offered to the unfortunate lot of prisoners held within the secured camp. Though Almeta could see a team of soldiers working their way through the field of numbered poles. They wore blue stained leathers that sported polished studs of metal for additional protection and blue hooded capes that trailed behind as they purposefully strode from pole to pole. Dark wooden clubs dangled from their sides and were brought out often to liberally apply a beating upon any of the prisoners they visited at the guidance of their whims. In their wake a set of compliant prisoners followed obediently along, drawing simple wheel barrels behind them. The duo stopped at every prisoners post and unceremoniously used sharpened knives to cut away the clothing they had worn until they were bared to the flesh. One cart was laden with a diminishing pile of simple white wool garments, while the other was filling up with the remnants of the discarded clothing taken from every stop they made. Eventually that pair of young guards made their way towards where Almeta had been left to soak in her fear and worries. Behind them the carts stuffed with ruined clothing and the bundles of the meager white wool they were exchanged for came to a halt. The pair of male servants plucked from the ranks of the captives held in the camp kept their heads down and settled their gaze on their feet, never daring to meet any of the eyes of the prisoners they approached. Oh, well look at that, lucky number one. The rather bold voice of a shaggy brown haired guard exclaimed as the pair walked casually towards Almeta. Poor thing, she looks terrified. The other, a pudgier blonde haired man stated as they moved to stand beside her. They reached up and began to remove her hooded cloak from her body, and then the knives came out. Just hold still you pretty little thing. The first stated as she found his hands pushing her towards the pole until she was plastered against it. The second of the guards, the some what overweight young man began to draw the knife slowly across the dangling dirty dress skirt she was wearing, until it fell away and puddled at her feet. Simple plucks of the knife followed, causing undergarments to fall away and join the dress settled around her feet. Socks were cut away, stockings ripped and torn from her body until she was left bare naked, pinned to the post. She could feel their hands upon her flesh, clutching into the tender and vulnerable body of the young woman. Her pert and shapely ass was groped by the men, while breasts were fondled with malicious intent. Keep a look out. The dark haired guard said as he glanced towards his comrade. I think this little witch bitch needs a good solid fucking before she's sent off to the Portal. His voice chimed out with delight as he began to tug down his trousers. It's not like she's going to say no. The other nervously laughed as he averted his gaze from the pending rape of Almeta.