Princess Aveline Da Clare, known across the realms as Lady of Swords and firstborn daughter of the king awoke from her slumber to be greeted by the cold unwelcoming embrace of darkness. Her head rung with the reverberations of a thousand bells ringing as she struggled to put her shaking legs beneath her. She tried to piece together her most recent memories, to gain bearing of what had happened.
She became aware of a presence and immediately went to her hilt of her sword. Only to meet with empty air.
"Who goes there?!" she yelled.
All around her she was surrounded by robbed priestess, the unmistakable figure of the female forms lithe against their somewhat translucent robes.
They truly were perverse minds.
And she realized that she wore no armor. Save only for her tunic and trousers. Her bare feet kissing the cold touch of the unyielding stone beneath her.
She clenched her fist and swung. Her eyes widened as the lithe priestess easily caught her by the wrist. She tried pulling but her grip was as sure as steel itself she readied her remaining limb, to break free only to find another pair of hands restraining.
The clothes women all in twisted glee ripped and tore her clothes away. Till he was left standing without the barest hint of decency left.
"Such a strong and lithe figure, dear princess." her eyes glowed with eldritch powers, hinting at the perverse glee she held and the promise of whatever forms of torture her twisted mind wished upon her.
"We would enjoy breaking you." an insidious giggle spread quietly amongst the gathered congregation round her. Sweat glistened on her brow, the cold etch of fear and despair seething from the back of her spine.
No escape. No reinforcement. Captured by the enemy. Misery clumped deep within her gut.
"Come, our master waits." with a flick of her wrist, the entire group followed her, the princess unwillingly in tow.
