[Destroyed] Hunting Legion camp

@huntinglegion

She hated him being so close - he smelled horrible, and him even touching her made her skin crawl. She strained hard to try and wiggle away to no avail. The flesh dangled before her eyes was nearly the breaking point - she felt her stomach turning and the bile rising in her throat. She was on the verge of vomiting.

Tears were forming and a single one rolled down her cheek from the corner of her eye. She couldn't bring herself to look the monster in the eye. She remained silent as she struggled to keep what remained of her composure.

This was frustrating. Kiznarr dropped the chunk of human in @ketsueki’s lap, and then grabbed her hair with his bloodied hand, pulling her head still so she would face his ugly face.
“YOU WILL TALK TO ME.”
He whipped the flaying knife around as if he was about to slit her throat, but instead stopped upon her soft neck flesh, pressing the sharp end gently onto her vunerable throat.
“Otherwise… I’m going to start cutting ya up piece by piece.”
He wiggled the blade the knife to cut her flesh just enough to draw blood.

She was bound and unconscious, muddied and bloodied -- but not so much from the Hunting Legion's exploits as it had been her own. They had caught her when she'd had her guard down, and it was a completely rookie mistake.

Her jewelry and her weapons had been stripped from her, as well as any extra clothes she had on, leaving her only in what covered her torso and arms, legs and feet. No cloak, no gloves... and she had beautiful creamy-golden swan wings that were obviously not fitting comfortably beneath the clothing she was wearing.

The binds around her hands had stripped her of any magic spells upon her, which meant the tattoo the Sparrow had upon her back to make her natural wings come and go at will was gone, forcing them to remain visible beneath clothes not prepared for it.

Of course, once she was dragged through the mud, the dart that had been imbedded into her fell out, and the dirt and grime of the drag promptly wrecked the cleanliness of her wings. She remained unconscious, at least for now.

[Bottom-most wings for reference, though color is not correct]

She was uncomfortable, and the poison that had inhibited her veins was beginning to ease away. Unconsciousness was fading from her, and she began to move. First it was a frown that overcame her dirty face, dark blonde brows drawing together in discomfort. A small groan slipped from her mouth as she turned her face into the ground where she was left, and both her wings and arms moved as they pulled at the shackles that kept them bound.

Pain tweaked through her wings at the barbed shackles, the cold iron resting against her naked skin as the gnoll had ripped down the center of her clothing to get her wings free. It wasn't much of a reprieve given how he'd immediately bound her.

Silvery eyes opened and she was aware of how thick her tongue felt in her mouth, the loose sensation of her clothes, the taste of dirt in her mouth, her uncomfortable pain. "What.... what...." She was having a hard time speaking, a hard time lining her thoughts up.

But only for now.

A clawed foot to her back had her forcefully pushed chest-down into the dirt again. Alarm rang through her body, and she struggled for just a moment as she became aware of her predicament -- only to stop as soon as pain once more triggered through her wings, her arms, through the wounds she hadn't yet healed.

She was also extremely aware that she was a woman and whatever was keeping her down was very male. Indeed, his warm saliva plopped onto her shoulder and slid like a slug over its curve, cleaning a pathway on her skin that was otherwise mottled with dirt.

She tried to change into a bird, but she felt some sort sensation tugging at her soul, where her magic seemed to be kept. She couldn't change, and fear coiled in her belly. Still, the Sparrow had a back bone.

"I'm listening," she bit out to the gnoll above her, unable to see him.

@huntinglegion


The sudden pull on her hair ripped an alarmed yelp from her throat, and she visibly trembled as she was forced to stare at the monster... and she felt that blade against her throat.

She struggled internally to keep from falling to pieces, the tears starting to fall a little more freely.

A few more foreign words were whimpered out before a few that were in clear Common. "Please... please no..."

A cyg-wha? For a moment the gnoll's haughty expression wavered as he tried to make sense of what she said. What in the nine hells was a Cygnian? His attention refocused, however, as she glared defiantly up at him. "I like the look in your eye, Cyggie, I think you'n me gonna have a lotta fun, don't you?" he asked menacingly. He was a little surprised, however, by her audacity. Asking him to remove her manacles and worse, demanding where something she once owned was. As she sat up, he placed a foot on her again, however this time slamming her back into the ground. "Might be you haven't grasped the situation yet, lass. You. are. MINE. What you have in yer pockets is long gone, sold or traded. You belong to me now, 'cause there ain't nothin' more fun than breakin' in a gal's whose eyes look like yours."

Thankfully it seemed the goblins had been expecting their comrades to bring home a new slave, as a branding iron rest in the burning coals of a fire. Snatching it out he flipped her once more onto her back, a paw pinning down on of her wings which made it strain against the spikes of the manacles. Then, with a snarl, he pushed it into the exposed flesh of her back, near the base of her wing on her right shoulder blade, the hiss and smell of burnt flesh filling his nostrils like an old dream.

Vash held the brand to her flesh for a few lingering moments before peeling it away, tossing it aside. The Hunting Legion symbol, hmm? It was the first he'd seen it where he recognized it as something he was a part of. He could get used to that. Reaching down, he yanked Sparrow back onto her back, stooping low over her as he glared into her own silver eyes. "You're mine, now, Lass. Anywhere you go, people will know who you belong to and who you serve. You behave and serve willingly, I might find some uses for you. If you fight back, I'll be glad to pluck those pretty little wings off your back. They'll taste right good over the fire don't you think?" he asked, his flat, rough tongue lolling out of his fetid maw and raking up the side of her face. Standing at his full height once more he glanced around, satisfied as he picked up a small cask of what he assumed was beer. fiddling with the spout his suspicions were confirmed as he held it up, simply lapping it out of the air as he pressed the nozzle. "Now this I could get used to."

Taking a seat he looked at his slave, grinning. "Still thinking of runnin', Ciggy? Or're those wings too precious to ya?" Showing her a key, he grinned maliciously. This the only key left to those shackles." he warned, placing it in his mouth and swallowing.

As she struggled, glaring at him with a hatred he knew more than any form of affection, he chuckled. It wasn't only her clothing that was precarious, but her position as he eyed her. When she spoke up about her wrist, however, his eyes narrowed and with a grunt he lurched from his spot where he sat, stalking over to her. "Y'think I'm about to unbind you?" he asked with a teasing tone, as if he were considering it. "M'not an idiot y'now. You gots wings, so what's to say you don't got other magic?" he asked, though he did actually grab her shoulder, forcing her to turn away though that hardly helped with her clothing situation.

Checking her wrist was less out a kindness and more of a necessity. Anyone who owned cattle would tell you to make sure their wounds don't get infected. If she lost a hand she'd be much less useful to him. Forcing her to lay forward entirely onto her stomach he reached down, sliding the antimagic rope that bound her. By the bluish tint of her wrist he could tell she wasn't just squawking, and he huffed in annoyance. If she did have magic, he would be forced to deal with it. However, that was also true if she managed to escape her bonds on his own. At least he was prepared for it now. Going to the tent flaps he shut them, trying them closed to prevent intruders or escapees. Then, approaching her once more, he untied the valuable rope, one foot on on of her wings.