Countless cities, towns, villages, and hamlets had been sacked or simply bullied into submission over the course of the decades long crusade of Merasheel's holy inquisition.  From the very first settlement that the Empire toppled and on down the line, notes were taken and tactics were adjusted accordingly as different defenses and scenarios were dealt with and eventually overcome.  Generations of soldiers had come and gone, but the notes remained and the Empire used them to evolve in how they approached each hold they came across.<br/><br/>New toys of warfare were introduced to handle some of the more troublesome fortifications that had been encountered over the years.  Entirely new tactics and countless adjustments to existing ones were introduced, keeping the war machine of the Empire a well greased and constantly evolving operation.  By the time their never ending march across the continent of Sadurmym had brought them to Eastborne, there wasn't much that caught the Empire by surprise or would leave them unprepared to handle.<br/><br/>Spies were an early investment that the Empire found to be quite reliable ways to swing the fortunes of war in their favor.  Masters of illusion, infiltration, and deception had been rigorously selected and trained back in the Empires capital of Merasheel.  From their youth they learned how to adopt different personas, how to reflect regional dialects in their speech, and how to blend in, or disappear when needed.  It was a job that not everyone was meant for, and those responsible for the training only ever selected the very cream of the crop.  They were sent out, scattered across the sweeping valleys, rolling plains, rugged mountains, and shores of Sadurmym.  They had marks, settlements that they would arrive at, seamlessly integrate themselves into, and lie in wait for the Empires army to arrive.<br/><br/>Then of course their were the war magi.  They operated in relative peace and quiet, stationed back with countless reinforcements that sat in wait nearly a mile removed from the front lines of combat.  But they saw practically everything.  Dozens of invisible floating eyes maneuvered through the city.  They soared across the battlefield, ran along the streets and surveyed the siege as it unfolded, they even swept down through the sewers and hidden tunnels.  They knew the city quite well, down to the names of the streets and the maze of tunnels, passages, and sewer lines that cut about beneath the city.  Their spies had supplied them with the layout of Eastborne well before they had arrived at the gates along with abundant other details about the resistance that had been planned.<br/><br/>Outside of the city, packs of savage war dogs and their handlers were already being released into the sewer system of Eastborne.  They were led into the twisting tunnels of the sewers by many of the spies that had infiltrated Eastborne years ago.  They knew the paths well, and the hounds that paced their travels were excellent at picking out the scents of those they hunted that stood out to their keen noses from the reek of the sewers.  John heard them as he tried to comfort and drag his wounded friend back to their hiding place.  The echoes of their aggressive deep barks reverberated through the narrow tunnels of the sewers from seemingly every direction.  Then he heard the screams of his friends, anguished cries of the girls he had left behind when he gave chase after Thom.  Their pained and horrified yells pierced his ears along with the snarls and growls of the pack of war dogs that had found their way in to where they had taken shelter.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">---------------------------​</div><br/>Brigid was ruthlessly moved along by the sturdy young squire.  There was no gentleness in his treatment or disposition towards her, only a cold uncaring demeanor that was determined to get this task done as swiftly as possible.  Poles formed from chopped down and split trees sprouted up through what was once the busy and bustling farmers market.  They had been driven into the ground like massive stakes, with four pairs of metal shackles set to each and every one of them.  Most of them were empty, though they were slowly being filled as prisoner after prisoner were being shackled into place.  It didn't take long for Brigid to notice the bright yellow letters and numbers painted on the tops of each pole.<br/><br/>Glimpses of white robed figures, decorated with the blue star of Merasheel caught Brigids eyes amidst all of the seemingly organized chaos that was taking was swirling around her.  They moved with a seemingly disinterested demeanor through the field of raised poles that were still being put in place for the multitudes of prisoners yet to come.  Well armed and solid looking guards dressed in heavy armor escorted their every step as they small bands moved to inspect each and every prisoner.  A long twisted staff of white wood with a blue sphere perched on the top of each was held outward by the hand of every robed individual.  The blue spheres were lowered, presented towards every shackled captive they came across.  The white robed Inquistors looked towards the blue globe on the top of the staves they wielded.  Then after a minute they moved along to the next in line and repeated their silent judgement.<br/><br/>Shove after push found her moved along, a kick in her ass and lift by her long tangled brown hair pulled her back up to her feet when she stumbled.  With one last thrust of his hands across the frail and petite herbalists shoulders, Brigid was sent sprawling out onto the ground before an unoccupied pole.   The squire grabbed up a set of shackles and soon was slapping them around Brigids ankles, making sure they were closed painfully tight around her.  His eyes fell on her with a sheen of hatred and contempt for having to even deal with her and miss the opportunity to be in the battle by the side of the knight he dutifully served.  "Don't get any bright ideas, you skinny fucking bitch."  He snarled towards her as he gave her one swift boot into her ribs to drive the point of his words home.  He left her then, gasping for air, sprawled out on the dirt laden ground of the market, but not before he snorted and then spat on her.<br/><br/>Guards dressed in lesser sorts of armor, mostly of blue dyed leather or heavy white stained chain patrolled the grounds of the prisoner camp.  Helping to escort and control new lines of captives that were being drawn in from the front lines.  Cavalry trotted about the place, intermingled with the patrolling guards and the robed Inquisitors that stopped to inspect each shackled prisoner.  At one such stop that was on the borders of Brigids field of view the orb glowed a bright blue.  It was to far away to see exactly what was happening, but Brigid could tell it was some man they had stopped to press the staff towards.<br/><br/>Once the ball lit up the Inquisitor stepped aside and the stout warriors escorting him moved in on the defenseless man.  Stomping boots, hard kicks, and smacks with what looked like steel rods descended on the barely visible mans body.  They lingered there for a few minutes long after the short barrage of blows had driven the mans cries into silence.  She could see arms being drawn out, steel rods crashing down and impacting the mans hands, leaving them a mangled mess that Brigid was fortunate enough to not truly see in any detail.  Crippled and unconscious after a handful of minutes they left the poor sod before walking off to the next in line.<br/><br/>It was some half hour later when lonely and beaten Brigid finally found herself in the company of another.  A rickety wooden cart, probably that once belonged to a local farmer was drawn by a mule who was led by a pair of soldiers that looked like they were fresh off the battle field.  Their armor and the blue cloth that adorned them were washed with fresh crimson stains of blood.  One man walked with a slight limp, his helmet off and tucked under his arm.  He was grizzly mess.  Thick beard and speckles of blood dotted his worn features.  Beyond the limp, him and his companion who was another bulky knight that kept his helmet on seemed to be in decent health, and simply just suffering from fatigue.<br/><br/>"Hey you, boy!"  The gnarled faced knight barked out as they approached the pole upon which Brigid had been left bound too.  "Get over here and take this horned bitch off our hands!"   As the words left his lips the soldier dropped the lead of rope that fitted around the mules harness and marched straight off and away from the prisoner camp.  Quickly a pair of men decked out in the blue stained leather garb of the prison guards scurried over to inspect the cart and the form of Kestrel that was left bound, gagged, and unresponsive in the back of the meager carts hold.  They dragged her out, tossed her to the ground and quickly worked the shackles in place around her ankles.<br/><br/>"What are you looking at?!"  One of the guards sharp tongues remarked towards Brigid as he turned on her.  His hand lifted up and the back of his palm smacked across the young girls face before he turned to help finish making sure that Kestrels shackles were secured, gag was tight, and the rope binding her wrists behind her back was properly knotted.  Before they left, a simple wooden bowl was laid upon the ground and filled with water from a gourd.  "There, have a drink, act up and we'll take that away and leave ya to cook in tha sun!"  The obviously out of shape guard bellowed at Brigid.  "Behave, and you'll git some bread latah!"  Before finally turning away, departing with his cohort and leaving the two to alone to get acquainted.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">---------------------------​</div>