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- Joined
- Feb 7, 2009
(This is a roleplay based in the Resident Evil 4 world, and is likely to incorporate a number of extreme fetishes.)
For the most part everyone involved was utterly clueless. The captive was clueless. The captors had some slight idea, perhaps, but their density, both individually and especially combined, put them even lower on the ladder than the one they were charged with imprisoning. The only ones who truly knew the reasoning behind it all were they who pulled the strings, a select few the blonde may or may not ever see in her time with them, and who the villagers only saw on one of two occasions - when they did something right, or when they did something very, very wrong.
It was a remote farming village in the boondocks of Spain, a thick forest forgotten by time, forgotten by the world which continued to advance around it. It stretched on for seemingly ever, with the one several mile long dirt path that led from a back country road toward the village so overgrown with beds of grass and growing trees that very few ever noticed its existence, and those who didn't soon wished they had. After those first few miles the bumpy road led to a large gap in the cliff where a rickety wood bridge covered the hundred-yard span. It was decently wide, wide enough for a horse and carriage, but so old at the very first glance that to drive across it was suicidal at best. Automobiles may not have even been around when it was first put up. After crossing the bridge the path zigzagged through the trees, occasionally giving way to an alcove left or right where trees had be cleared out to build a home, the best of them over a hundred years old, warped and falling apart, and the worst nothing more than small shacks used to butcher animals caught in forest traps.
But eventually, after that, came the village where young Ashley Graham had been taken, eighteen and blonde and the envy of all who ever knew of her, her generously buxom chest not the least reason why. Though foremost, ahead of her looks, was her place in the world as the daughter of the United States President, a role that had led to a kidnapping only a few days into her very first college freshman semester. The September afternoon had been so beautiful, so serene. The beginnings of the changing of the leaves was gorgeous, no doubt. Every girl smiled at her. Every boy wanted to ask her out, though the Secret Service personnel that followed her around the Ivy League school intimidated every last one. At least all seemed safe though, sterile, until something happened - something she was yet unaware, as the dart that had pricked her neck released into her a serum bringing about unconsciousness, one that worked quickly and didn't wear off for a full day.
And it was a day later that she'd been taken, taken amidst screams and panic and a quick, decisive shootout to be whisked halfway across the world. When Ashley awoke from her minor drug-induced coma it would not be to the smiling faces of those she knew. It would be to the painful bumps on the back of her head as she was dragged through the dirt, still in the school uniform of an orange sweater with a second red and gold sweater around her neck, with a plaid green pleated skirt. Two men were dragging her, each with an ankle in hand, her back on the ground, her body being pulled along through pebbles and filth to the center of their old town. The trees were cleared here, cleared for awhile, though they still very much in the heart of a deep forest. Buildings of rotted wood and doors hanging off their hinges formed a huge circle all around, most of them homes or small barns, with a church at the head and a watchtower beside it. There were several paths leading to other areas, farms mostly, a bit further down curving dirt roads. Ashley wasn't being taken that far though.
She had been delivered to the edge of their town by several men in shrouding black robes, cultists from a nearby castle the villagers dealt with on a consistent basis. Originally they'd wanted nothing to do with the crazed men, but once a very new plague spread throughout the village's inhabitants, one that took barely over a day to sweep over the lot of them, there suddenly wasn't any further resistance. Rather, they embraced these black-clothed men, going so far as to do anything bid. And this, their most recent request, they had explained while pulling back a shroud that had the unconscious American girl laying on the ground, was to keep her captive until they came for her.
She was to remain alive. That was the only rule given. Unlucky for her, 'alive' was a very vague state of being. 'Alive' was not the same as untouched. 'Alive' did not necessarily mean having all your fingers and toes intact.
It meant you were still breathing, and that was about damn it.
So they dragged her to the center of the village, two men pulling her along by her ankles, several more following on either side with pitchforks or rusty, blood-coated butcher knives. Due to the way she was being pulled Ashley's sweater rose slightly and her lower back scratched against the ground, as well as her skirt was caused to hike up and about her midsection, her legs bare to any nearby bushes that would scratch, her crotch hugged oh so alluringly by a pair of frilly white panties. But her captors didn't notice a thing, her situation nothing to them, their minds lost somewhere between being drones and being, quite simply, ignorant and cruel.
They dragged her to the very center where the two men finally let go of her ankles, dropping her completely, a small dust cloud in the group's wake. As they formed a circle around her, talking amongst themselves in what was technically Spanish but sloppy and guttural enough that it was barely understandable, several more of the filthy, foul-smelling people came out from their homes to see what was up. Blood-stained smocks and horribly stained teeth. Overalls with bare chests and barely a shoe among the bunch. Was she stirring yet? Had she awoke? To make sure of it the circle of men shouted about to one another until several of them decided to drag her, by the hands and by the hair, through the dirt over into a rather cold troth of filthy water.
It was time for the pampered Princess to wake up to a brand new kingdom.
For the most part everyone involved was utterly clueless. The captive was clueless. The captors had some slight idea, perhaps, but their density, both individually and especially combined, put them even lower on the ladder than the one they were charged with imprisoning. The only ones who truly knew the reasoning behind it all were they who pulled the strings, a select few the blonde may or may not ever see in her time with them, and who the villagers only saw on one of two occasions - when they did something right, or when they did something very, very wrong.
It was a remote farming village in the boondocks of Spain, a thick forest forgotten by time, forgotten by the world which continued to advance around it. It stretched on for seemingly ever, with the one several mile long dirt path that led from a back country road toward the village so overgrown with beds of grass and growing trees that very few ever noticed its existence, and those who didn't soon wished they had. After those first few miles the bumpy road led to a large gap in the cliff where a rickety wood bridge covered the hundred-yard span. It was decently wide, wide enough for a horse and carriage, but so old at the very first glance that to drive across it was suicidal at best. Automobiles may not have even been around when it was first put up. After crossing the bridge the path zigzagged through the trees, occasionally giving way to an alcove left or right where trees had be cleared out to build a home, the best of them over a hundred years old, warped and falling apart, and the worst nothing more than small shacks used to butcher animals caught in forest traps.
But eventually, after that, came the village where young Ashley Graham had been taken, eighteen and blonde and the envy of all who ever knew of her, her generously buxom chest not the least reason why. Though foremost, ahead of her looks, was her place in the world as the daughter of the United States President, a role that had led to a kidnapping only a few days into her very first college freshman semester. The September afternoon had been so beautiful, so serene. The beginnings of the changing of the leaves was gorgeous, no doubt. Every girl smiled at her. Every boy wanted to ask her out, though the Secret Service personnel that followed her around the Ivy League school intimidated every last one. At least all seemed safe though, sterile, until something happened - something she was yet unaware, as the dart that had pricked her neck released into her a serum bringing about unconsciousness, one that worked quickly and didn't wear off for a full day.
And it was a day later that she'd been taken, taken amidst screams and panic and a quick, decisive shootout to be whisked halfway across the world. When Ashley awoke from her minor drug-induced coma it would not be to the smiling faces of those she knew. It would be to the painful bumps on the back of her head as she was dragged through the dirt, still in the school uniform of an orange sweater with a second red and gold sweater around her neck, with a plaid green pleated skirt. Two men were dragging her, each with an ankle in hand, her back on the ground, her body being pulled along through pebbles and filth to the center of their old town. The trees were cleared here, cleared for awhile, though they still very much in the heart of a deep forest. Buildings of rotted wood and doors hanging off their hinges formed a huge circle all around, most of them homes or small barns, with a church at the head and a watchtower beside it. There were several paths leading to other areas, farms mostly, a bit further down curving dirt roads. Ashley wasn't being taken that far though.
She had been delivered to the edge of their town by several men in shrouding black robes, cultists from a nearby castle the villagers dealt with on a consistent basis. Originally they'd wanted nothing to do with the crazed men, but once a very new plague spread throughout the village's inhabitants, one that took barely over a day to sweep over the lot of them, there suddenly wasn't any further resistance. Rather, they embraced these black-clothed men, going so far as to do anything bid. And this, their most recent request, they had explained while pulling back a shroud that had the unconscious American girl laying on the ground, was to keep her captive until they came for her.
She was to remain alive. That was the only rule given. Unlucky for her, 'alive' was a very vague state of being. 'Alive' was not the same as untouched. 'Alive' did not necessarily mean having all your fingers and toes intact.
It meant you were still breathing, and that was about damn it.
So they dragged her to the center of the village, two men pulling her along by her ankles, several more following on either side with pitchforks or rusty, blood-coated butcher knives. Due to the way she was being pulled Ashley's sweater rose slightly and her lower back scratched against the ground, as well as her skirt was caused to hike up and about her midsection, her legs bare to any nearby bushes that would scratch, her crotch hugged oh so alluringly by a pair of frilly white panties. But her captors didn't notice a thing, her situation nothing to them, their minds lost somewhere between being drones and being, quite simply, ignorant and cruel.
They dragged her to the very center where the two men finally let go of her ankles, dropping her completely, a small dust cloud in the group's wake. As they formed a circle around her, talking amongst themselves in what was technically Spanish but sloppy and guttural enough that it was barely understandable, several more of the filthy, foul-smelling people came out from their homes to see what was up. Blood-stained smocks and horribly stained teeth. Overalls with bare chests and barely a shoe among the bunch. Was she stirring yet? Had she awoke? To make sure of it the circle of men shouted about to one another until several of them decided to drag her, by the hands and by the hair, through the dirt over into a rather cold troth of filthy water.
It was time for the pampered Princess to wake up to a brand new kingdom.
