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Portal - The Inquisition of Eastborne



Purveyor of Dark Delights
Jul 9, 2018
Rhodri's attentions were torn. Caught between the searing sensation of pleasure that Brigid's servicing lips wrought and the desire to turn his primal rage back towards the half demons vulgar insults. The locking of his sturdy jaw as he pinned Brigid's face against his crotch spoke volumes about what option he decided to indulge himself in. After all, it wasn't as if the other option couldn't wait until his carnal lusts were sated.

As his climax burst and filled Brigid's mouth the olive green skinned brute pulled his hands away from the side of the herbalists head. Dark red eyes had turned to gaze down towards Kestrel as he licked his lips. "Ya got a mouth." The stout orc blood started to ball up his bulky left fist after the last of his foul jizz had been sucked out of his thick skinned warty shaft. "Buh I gotta club." His other hand had drifted behind his back, taking hold of a simple yet sturdy looking shaft of sleek black stained wood.

The vile half orc seized up then, momentarily sparing Kestrel from the rod he was about to bring to bear on her as Brigid's spoke up. He looked down with a stunned expression towards the scrawny woman as she spat his seed from her mouth while she revealed her plan for retribution. His fist unclenched, settling on the rotund bulge of his overly encumbered belly as he started to slide the short rod out of its leather sleeve. He snarled, at a loss for words as he considered whether or not her threat was sincere. It did dawn on him that her concoctions might of explained some of his recent bouts of indigestion.

He lifted his lumbering arm upwards, holding the rod aloft as he took aim towards Brigid. "Ya fuckin wid me!?" Before he could strike and lower the boom down upon Brigid a gauntlet clad hand snatched his wrist and abruptly halted the weapons downward descent. The metal clad hand belonged to one of three heavily armored knights. Their helms were all drawn, and their presence immediately dispelled the fury that was building up in Rhodri as he glanced back towards the owner of that hand.

"Put your cock back in your pants and move along guard." A calm voice broke through the inhuman background sounds of the prison camp as an Inquisitor stepped forward between the pair of knights that parted for his approach. His deep brown eyes gazed between the two women chained to the pole, completely ignoring the half orcs clumsy attempt to stuff his meat back into his trousers. Those white robes he wore were immaculate, save for the spattered stains of fresh and old blood splotched upon them. With a simple but direct shove by the knight that had interrupted Rhodri's assault, the half orc stumbled off to the side where he let out a low growl of dissent that was silenced immediately by the turn of the Inquisitors head his way.

"Your place is not to pass judgement here." The well groomed features of the Inquisitor turned sharp and threatening as he waved a hand dismissively towards the green goon. "Now move along, I will not ask again." There was no hesitation from the orc blood as he scampered off, still in the process of tugging his pants back up. His scornful gaze finally pulled away from the pair of women as he shuffled off elsewhere.

The Inquisitor took a shallow but long breath in as he settled to one knee, postured between the two pole mates. His bare and smooth hand shifted around the bleached white staff of wood that all Inquisitors seemed to carry as he leaned his weight into it. A dim and dull blue star shaped crystal was perched atop the end of the staff and he glanced towards it briefly while his plate mail clad guards hovered protectively around him. With a steady turn of his hand he lowered the staff, directing the blue star upon its top towards each woman in turn.

"Everyone last one of you here is guilty, to some degree. But it would seem that neither of you are so bold as to practice arcane arts without Merasheels blessings to do so." He drew the staff back up along his side and rose to his feet as his eyes settled on Brigid. "You will be spared any further physical harm, so long as you don't cause any trouble." His free hand gathered up a water skin and he took a brief drink to quench his thirst before he started to turn away, though his gaze still lingered on Brigid. "You'll still be brought to the Portal in the morning, the both of you. Eastborne decided that fate for all when they refused to allow our holy Inquisition within their gates." His feet paused, gaze turning towards Kestrel and a scowl of disapproval passed across his features. "Beat the sin out of her, but leave the fiends horns for me."

As he backed away a few steps a pair of guards dragged a limp young man towards the pole. Johnathan was barely cognizant of what had transpired since the moment that foul poison had taken hold over his body. He had passed in and out of consciousness more times then he could possibly recall. At least now as the sun baked down on him, his body seemed to sweat some of the vile toxins potent hold out of his system. Still he was a sluggish mockery of his normal self, and his hands had been securely shackled behind his back. As the trio of guardian knights were gathering up their well polished wooden rods, Johnathan was being chained to the pole a safe distance away from the current situation that was about to unfold.
Last edited:


Jan 14, 2019
The heat of the burning sun was uncomfortable, but as the poison began to ware off, it was a sensation Johnathan welcomed since he was unable to feel anything for quite a while. He weakly raised his head and saw the situation in front of him. He started regaining consciousness and tried to move his hands. The sensation of pins and needles spread across his body again but it was a lot less severe this time. He tried to move his hands again and then heard the sound of chains and realized he was restrained. His black eyes peered weakly through his brown hair at the sight in front of him.

As he became more and more aware of what was happening around him, memories of the day began flooding back into his head. Filled with rage again, he pulled against the chains but it only served in leaving scars on his wrists. A quick punch to the face got him to stop. He had calmed down enough to think clearly by this point. He stayed quiet and observed the situation around him.
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