Hands pulled her roughly from the prison wagon and the blonde elven woman made to offer protest but was rendered mute by the gag in her mouth.  Azure eyes glared, promising malice.  The guards yanked her, threw her from one guard to another and she almost stumbled, her bare feet scrabbling across the stone of the oppressive fortress as she struggled to maintain her balance.  Unlike the other prisoners, this blonde elven girl, was both gagged and had her hands bound, the very fingers laced together with a leather thong.  It was a sensible precaution.  As a result, the sorceress simply couldn't cast her spells.

As one of the guards held her in a vise-like grip she gazed about the courtyard belonging to Lord Octa.  It was an oppressive place.  It seemed to her that it had been drenched in pitch and shadow, made as unwelcoming and dreary as was humanly possible.  It was the sort of design that screamed out to abandon all hope.

The captive girl was an attractive thing, slender of limb and fair of complexion with smooth unblemished skin and hands that had likely never endured a callous.  She was also dressed in the manner of a dancing girl, in sheer silks that did little to obscure her figure and a bustier that hugged her torso and boosted her bosom.  If it hadn't been for one of her sorcerous objects, a ring upon her finger, she would have long ago succumbed to the frigid cold of the wagon.