There was no trial, no words to be spoken before the High Justice, no time for contemplation. The mod outside of Betsy's had grown larger every night, yet the patronage had dwindled to the point none dare enter, lest they might get touched by the tainted whore of the<em>Velvet Slit</em>. They were a simple people looking for a simple solution to their woes. Isabella (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=303516.msg14822141#msg14822141) just happened to be the first solution they came to.<br/><br/>Baron Sadomir Ippus called it a mercy when the guards pushed their way past the throngs and into the establishment of warm embraces and womanly favors. A mercy both for Isabella, and for the brothel. Lest the mob might burn it down instead of waiting for a chance to lynch the succubus who'd cursed them. Isabella wouldn't call the night she spent in a cell at the Nerian Hold a mercy. The hold was a crude stone fortress built on the northern end of Beckindale that was close enough to the easterly running river that when the waters ran high the cells might fill up to the knees. Wearing naught but a white sash and floral red gown, Isabella spent the night freezing till she turned numb. The only thing she was grateful for was that the guards were too superstitious to dare take advantage of the supple courtesan in her hour of greatest vulnerability.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/7b/f7/e7/7bf7e7b6150206266234bc160b21e8d4.jpg)</div>"Wake up now, girl," a gruff voice stirred Isabella from a discomforting slumber, slouched in the corner of the cell and huddled close to herself for warmth. A glimmer of sunlight was peering through the exterior window, barred by a cross lattice of rolled iron bars, that kissed her flesh with a merciful measure of warmth. Isabella didn't stand, only stared at the rotund man outside of her cell door. It was Baron Sadomir, a man she'd come to know well in the past couple months. He had taken to inviting girls from the brothel up to his estate recently. Isabella herself had become his favorite these past few weeks. It seemed the situation was agreeable with his wife, perhaps because every night he spent with a whore was a night he didn't spend with her.<br/><br/>"Baron! Baron please, you must help me!" Isabella called, struggling to find her footing and moving close to the bars. She wrapped her fingers around the bars and turned her vibrant blue eyes up at him with as much feigned pity as she could muster. "You know I'm not as they say, you must know!" she reached out, grabbing the hem of his collar in one hand, her other hand stroking across the curve of his belly and drifting downward. In truth, Isabella found the man repulsive, and it had little to do with his looks. She wasn't one to think less of someone the gods chose not to bless with beauty. But the Baron had a loathsome soul, irritable demeanor, and poor continence or concern for harm done to others. Isabella was the luckier among her sisters who oft returned to Betsy's with welts, bruises, or worse. She must've pleased him above the others given he rarely abused her in such a way, beyond the abuse of being in his presence.<br/><br/>"Please, take me from here. Take me, and I'll be yours," Isabella pursed her lips and tried to put on the most wanton face a freezing, terrified woman could make, but the Baron seemed unmoved. His expression unchanging even as her hand slipped into his britches to grip his meager offerings.<br/><br/>"I fear," he roughly grabbed her arm and pulled it from of his loins, "it is no longer in my hands." He pulled away and allowed two guards to step in front. One unlocked the cell door as the other rushed behind lock Isabella's arms behind her and bind them with rope, double knotted and tight.<br/><br/>"They demand blood, and if King Amon hears that I allowed a raving mod to burn half the city on some whore's account, I'll be lucky to govern an outpost along the borders of the Badlands," Sadomir shrugged and sighed. "I have<em>thoroughly</em>enjoyed your company u-uh... what was your name? Suppose it doesn't quite matter anymore. Regardless, I fear it is for the best of the city of Beckindale that one whore should die to prevent an undesirably high amount of gold in damages. Don't fret though, dear. I'm sure I'll find another among Betsy's stock whom I'll enjoy just as much."<br/><br/>The guards had gagged her with a cloth, keeping her from calling out, from begging, from spitting in his face. Whatever she was going to do in the moment. His hand slid up her bare arm and crawled up her neck as she tried desperately to pull away. The Baron turned and took two steps before spinning of his heel.<br/><br/>"Oh! One more thing," he said as he rummaged into a pocket over his breast. He pulled out a single copper piece. "I don't believe I paid you for the other night, my mind slips at times you see. So I'll just," Sadomir searched for a place to put the coin and huffed. "Ah! Here we go," his hand drifted down, pulling the thin white cloth away that only barely hid her naked bits. His grubby hand forced it's way between her clenched thighs as she let out a helpless squeal as he shoved the copper piece up her nether lips, deep and painfully. Finally satisfied with the depth that it wouldn't dislodge too quickly, Sadomir pulled his hand free and wiped it on Isabella's thick.<br/><br/>"There you are. I feel better now, knowing my debts are settled 'fore you go to meet the gods. That truly would've weighed on my conscious," he grinned and moved aside to wave the guards through.<br/><br/>The next minutes were a blur. She emerged into blistering sunlight that burned her eyes. She blinked and adjusted to see faces. Faces she'd seen before around the town. They spat and cursed her, but Isabella couldn't hear them. A hum was heavy in her ears and her vision seemed to fade a moment. She felt like there was<em>something</em>around her. Holding her steady even as her own legs threatened to give out. She didn't feel when they put the noose around her lissome neck, didn't hear the accusations being bandied at her. She looked into the crowd and found the faces that weren't enraged. She found Betsy and the girls, separated from the rest but watching from the safety of the<em>Slit</em>at a distance. She saw a gathering of priestesses from the Weeping Matron's Temple, many of those eyes filled with sympathy and sadness at the affairs. She turned to look at more, but her footing was suddenly gone and she fell. Not far and then a hard snap that started at the neck and flowed down. Like a numbing wave that left her extremities useless and dangling. She had only a moment to realize she might be dead, and then nothing.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c3/30/41/c330414e795e3aa8aebfe648f2a5cf76.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Isabella (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=303516.msg14822141#msg14822141)</span><br/><strong>HP</strong>:18/18<strong>Status</strong>: Seated at a table in the<em>Vermilion Quaff</em><br/><strong>AC</strong>:13<strong>Tagging</strong>: Ezi<br/><br/><br/><strong>Actions:</strong><br/><strong>Roll:</strong><br/><strong>damage:</strong><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center">(http://dndspeak.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/fantasy_town_entrance_exit_by_brandongobey-d722y3r.jpg)</div><br/>Rillwine was a quaint town on the eastern edge of Redrun. It was located downstream from the Nerian that ran through the heart of the 'Run starting at the peaks of the Bulwarks and flowing through Beckindale itself, bisecting the city between a northern and southern half, before meandering on in a south and east direction until it finally spilled out into the Mynas Sea.<br/><br/>Perhaps best known for the vermilion shade that the Nerian would turn at sunset and sunup, Rillwine was predominantly a farming community centered on a central market square that amounted to little more than a single paved road that ran west towards Beckindale and east into the Titan's Anvil. Yet here much business could be done, and it wasn't uncommon for travelers to find themselves in the<em>Vermilion Quaff Inn</em>for some drink, some rest, and for those willing some sport. The<em>Quaff</em>featured a sand filled fighting pit on it's bottom floor of three. Weapons were forbidden, but that didn't stop the sands being inked in crimson as two poor drunken sods lay face down in a pool of their own spilling and a behemoth of a Tiefling stood victorious with bloodied fists and an incorrigible goblin, at least by the look of her, standing close by.<br/><br/>"A-a fine showing," a nervous, portly man said from behind the counter. He had a gruff, country look with more hair on his forearms than the top of his head, and a coarsely cut stubble that was patched with as much white as amber blonde. Pocic was his name, and he ran the Inn for the most part, given the owner lived in Beckindale and only came by every other month or so to collect his dues. He filled a tankard with a hardy mead and set it atop the bar for the victor to collect at her leisure. "That'll be free rounds for the night to uh... terribly sorry miss, a-fearin' I don't know yer name."<br/><br/>From across the Inn, nestled in a corner away from the more sloshed crowd sat two women. A strange pairing between the sharp features of a dark skinned elf in fine attire and a barely dressed human seated at her side. Most notably, the human wore a thick black collar round her neck with frilled edges. A black brass ring at the front was hooked to a leash that slithered down to the floor and up into the hand of the Elf.<br/><br/>"She's quite impressive, don't you think Mistress?" Isabella leaned in close to Ezikariel. She hadn't been very talkative since the river weeks ago, but with each day she was finding her nerve, and finding ways to endear herself to this strange Elf woman from the west. She had rescued her, clothed her, fed her, took an interest in her and the strange things happening to her. Until Isabella found a better and safer situation, she couldn't fathom what else she would do with herself. The realization that she<em>should</em>be dead still weighed heavy on her mind. It was an easy trade off for Ezikariel to explore her strange fantasies at times.<br/><br/>"Perhaps you could ask if she's looking for work?"