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Hawke Fade Away	By : HunterOpera Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 22981 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age and make no money from this.

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The Runed Staff in her hand did not come to life, the mana she spent to call spilling into the Fade without any effect at all. Her eyes went wide and she felt herself shiver, but forced herself to stand fast.
“I will electrocute you all,” she said, keeping her voice steady. The miners shuffled, nervous, looking at her and one another. She kept her eyes on them, drew in another deep breath and tried to call on her magic again, whispering the familiar words that would call on the earth to cover and protect her.
Nothing happened.
Hubert noticed.
“She can't use her magic!” Hubert cried. The miners looked at him, then at her. “Get her!”
They swarmed forward.
She'd spent time with some powerful warriors in the past – Fenris, Aveline, even her brother – but physical fighting had never been her strong suit, not without magic to bolster her strength and durability. The swarm of miners surged into her and she screamed, their hands hot to the touch as they pulled the staff from her hands.
“... fine looking ass gallivanting around town...” someone said, the words making their way to her as she was pulled off the ground, hands groping her as she struggled and fought. “... thinks she's so much better than the rest of us...”
“... without her magic she's just another Fereldan whore...”
Miners were an inventive lot, and Jansen more than the rest of them. She was dragged across the Bone Pit to where old wagons and lean-tos had been shattered, he picking through the rubble and cobbling together something. They were dragging her towards it, her futile struggles weak and useless against their strong arms and probing fingers.
“No!” she screamed, struggling harder as she saw the horror that had been prepared for her – Jansen and a few helpers had made a yoke to hold her. They forced her down on her belly, putting her neck and wrists against rough wood, then pushing another board against the first and locking it in place with simple tools.
Her hands were caught parallel to her neck, stretched out to take away any leverage she might have had. Someone spanked her, causing her to cry out.
“Search her!” Hubert cried. “Search the bitch! She has to have some of your gold!”
A hand pressed against the small of her back, the weight forcing her breathing shallow as other hands entered her pockets or pulled the pouches off her belt. She had a few coins on her but nothing substantial, and this disappointed all the men above her. They unbuckled the treated leather from around her shoulders and the heavy belt from around her hips, unfastening the ties that bound her protection to her.
“Strip her!” Hubert called” “Strip the bitch! She has to have it hidden somewhere!”
Cold steel pressed against the nape of her neck and she went still, closing her eyes and thinking she was about to die. Her shirt being cut was almost a relief, the sharp point of the knife tickling her spine. She was sweating in spite of the cold, her teeth chattering as she felt warm hands pulling the shirt from her body, warm breath tainting her skin.
More fingers curled under the waist of her leggings, pulling them down off her ass, down her long legs, leaving her exposed. She tried kicking but the leggings pooled around her ankles, further binding her even as she was exposed.
“She's got forty-one gold pieces on her,” Jansen said. “There's twenty-three of us.”
“Twenty-four if we count him,” someone said. He must have meant Hubert.
“Well, we're not giving him shit,” Jansen spat. “That's at least one piece for each of us, and two for most of us.”
“Bitch,” someone said, kicking her in the side. The pain shocked her, stealing what little breath she had left. “She's holding out on us.”
“Gentlemen,” Hubert said, and the attention of the crowd snapped back to him. “For the two that are going to be shorted by this cheap little whore and myself, we could always take our payment in other ways.”
Hawke went still, her blood running cold as someone's fingers ran up along her shoulderblade, curling around her body to dig into the side of her breast.
“What if we all want a piece?” someone asked.
“That seems reasonable,” Hubert said. “You there, Jansen? You organize your rabble, but those of us that are not getting paid by the whore get first shot at her.”
“That seems fair,” Jansen said.
Hawke screamed.
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Hawke Fade Away