Myriad Acts of Banditry! (Rhi)

[DaGlobster]

"Sorry, but no skipping the butcher." Smed said, jumping to his feet once more and peering around on top of the moving bed of goblins. He looked around for a few more moments at all the cheering and cackling goblins, and sat down on Owl again, this time straddling her belly. "It's not that bad here, you know. Maybe if the butcher says you're no good for eating, we'll keep you around. Not like we're gonna let you go or anything. But the boys seem to like you, and you seem to be warming up to them too." He said, making idle talk. The oppressive smell of meat was getting closer and closer, as was the massive tent slowly growign in visiblity. It had to be twenty feet tall, at least. He leaned forwards, intent on resting his elbows on her chest as he talked to her, but was confronted with her binding once more.

"Why the hell have you got this on, anyways? Seems like it does nothing but hurt..." He said, frowning.

He snapped his fingers twice, and goblins holding her tightened up, restraining her. Out came the knife again, but the desire to cut her flesh was absent from his eyes, instead replaced by a bored expression. He ran the flat end of the knife under the binding, and started sawing upwards to cut it. His movements were precise, and he didn't cut her at all as he did this. "The butcher was gonna take this thing off anyways..." He muttered.

[Rhindeer]

Oh gods, Owl hoped that cooking-meat smell was just animals...

And more than that, she hoped beyond hope that this...butcher...would deem her unfit for consumption. However one qualified for that. Too skinny, maybe? She forced a smile, nodding up at Smed.

"They're a...a very merry bunch..." she said. "A-and you said you like me. Um...so...wouldn't I be better alive? I mean, if I'm dead, that's what? A meal or two, and then you're done, and I'm gone. No more entertainment! And I'm probably not even that good, anyway, eheh. I'm all limbs! And there's no telling whether or not I'd give you indigestion or--wait, what?"

He spoke of her binding, and she went stiff. Oh no. No way...

The goblins tightened their hold on her, and Smed had the knife out. Owl shook her head, jerking in the crowd's grip.

"Whoa, no, w-wait! Stop!" she snapped, face reddening as he sawed at the binding. "Smed, stop! It's okay! It doesn't hurt!" Well, it did; she had already worn it far longer than she should, and the skin beneath would likely be red and maybe even bruised, but that was beside the point. And besides that, why would he care if it was hurting her? The goblin that had bitten her, clawed her, taken skin from her hide. She struggled, trying to wrench her hands free.

"Smed, please, leave it!"

[DaGlobster]

The first time she told him to stop, he ignored her. He told himself that it was just a slip of the tongue, and that she wouldn't ever tell him what he could and could not do ever again. But then she repeated herself, and he stopped sawing, looking up at her and snapping his fingers again. A goblin grabbed the back of her head, holding it still.

Smed leaned forwards with the knife, and promptly brought his hand around in a closed fist punch aimed straight for her cheek. "Don't you ever tell me what to do, Pigeon. You've just started to get on my good side, and now you've gone and fucked it all up. Next time you tell me to stop, it's out with your eyeballs, and onto the chopping block, no matter what the butcher says, you hear me? In here, you're MY bitch. Don't you fucking forget it." He snarled, circling one of her eyes with the knife.

The entire threat was accompanied with the background noise of the cheery goblins, making it stand out even more as a promise of agony if she disobeyed him. In Smed's eyes, she had moved up the prisoner ladder from "beat for fun" to "slave", but she was dangling precariously, in danger of falling to the bottom again.

He started sawing at the binding again, his smile slowly returning as he got ever so closer to getting it off.

[Rhindeer]

The punch took her breath away, and for a moment white burst behind her eyes. And when she could see again, Smed had the knife in her face, and he didn't have to tell her she fucked up. Fresh panic chilled her as she stared back at him, body so tense she was shaking, her eyes fixated on his sharp teeth and that knife. For one terrifying moment, she thought she'd messed up irreparably--but he was giving her a second chance.

And she realized, abruptly, just what line she had to toe.

Owl clenched her eyes shut as he circled her eye, her heart thundering in her ears. "I...I'm sorry." She forced the words out, tried to make it sound genuine even though she wanted to spit them at him like acid. The words came out quiet and, thank gods, but she was frightened enough that they sounded sincere, too. But her life was on the line; if getting out of this meant sucking up to him, she'd swallow her pride.

"It was...it's just a reflex," she continued, muscles tight and breath coming fast as she fought against her every impulse and held still as he went back to cutting the cloth. "I didn't mean to, I just...it's a human thing. I guess? Maybe. I dunno, are goblins modest? I guess you could be, but I don't see any lady goblins around to weigh in on this matter--wait, are there lady goblins, Smed? Anyway, I wear it to pass as a boy, okay? It's...nothing bad, or painful, it's just...so I look better in the clothes. That's all. Because people are stupid and I can't be a knight if I'm not a boy and...um...tell me if I'm rambling, won't you?"

[DaGlobster]

What had gotten into her so suddenly? She was rambling now. RAMBLING! Smed paused in the sawing for another few moments, looking back up at her. "You're rambling, Pigeon. Shut yer damn mouth." He said bluntly, and the procession suddenly stopped. "Oh! We're here!" He yelped, leaving her binding on (if an inch away from coming off could be considered on) and putting the knife on his belt. He promptly spun around on her belly, and stepped off again, this time leaving the platform. "Alright boys, go ahead and let her down!" Smed ordered, and the crowd of goblins chattered among themselves for a few moments before suddenly rushing out from beneath her, leaving her to unceremoniously drop three feet to the floor.

Despite everything, Smed was there to help her up, offering his small hand. He was in front of her, with the massive butcher's tent looming in the background just behind him like a white, blood-stained monolith. They were alone in this part of the camp. No guards, no other goblins, just Smed and her.

[Rhindeer]

If Smed spinning around on her belly had hurt, it was nothing compared to being dropped.

A fall that would have left her smarting and grumpy uninjured, in Owl's current state, it nearly made her black out again. She fell, having time only to throw out her good arm to absorb some of the impact, but it was hardly enough. Agony exploded through her as the impact jostled her body and made every throbbing wound scream--or maybe that was just her crying out--and she must have blacked out for a second or two, because the next thing she knew, she was staring up at a blurry Smed, who was standing over her.

And behind him was the butcher's tent.

Her stomach clenched, and not for the first time, she felt like she might get sick.

Owl was disoriented enough, and hurting enough from the fall, and distracted enough by the butcher's tent, that she didn't notice the state of her bindings yet. Other things had quickly taken priority over modesty. Reaching out shakily with her good hand, she hesitated when she glanced at Smed's bloodied hand--her blood--before she grabbed hold of his smaller one with three fingers and hoped he wouldn't claw her hand.

"Can I...can I ask a question?" she said as she struggled to pull herself up until she was sitting, panting with the effort, as that required use of her stomach muscles, and oh gods, that hurt. Getting up was going to be a struggle, and here they were, alone from the looks of it, her prime chance to make a move, and she couldn't even sit up.

[DaGlobster]

Smed helped Owl pull herself up, putting plenty of effort in helping her sit up. Although they were alone for the moment, they were never truly so. Smed had demonstrated this fact when he addressed the entire camp, and the entire camp heard him. The acoustics here were incredible. If he were to yell for her head, every goblin in the camp would hear and obey. Even then, Smed was confident that she was in absolutely no condition to be doing anything strenuous at the moment.

His ears perked up when she spoke, and he smiled at her. "Sure thing, Pigeon. Ask away." He said. Now that things were much quieter, Owl would be able to hear things from the inside of the tent. The sound a butcher's knife hitting a chopping block, followed by some scrapes, and then another chop. Periodically, giant, thudding footsteps would travel from the middle to one end of the tent, then back to the center, and the chopping would resume.

[Rhindeer]

Between the two of them, Owl managed to sit up. And then came the struggle of getting to her feet. It was...going to take some time. She got onto her knees, ankle and thigh shooting stabbing pain through her, and felt herself sway before she braced herself with her good hand on the ground. She closed her eyes against the dizziness. Gods, she was exhausted. She didn't know how much longer she could do this.

"Okay, so...what...what exactly is, um, gonna happen here?" she asked, and hated how small her voice sounded. The chopping sounds coming from inside made it hard to breathe, her muscles locking up with anxiety. The overpowering blood stench was not helping.

"If...uh...if I'm good for, er, eating, is he...you know..." She mimed throat-slitting.

[DaGlobster]

Smed seemed in thought for a few moments as he pondered her question, placing a small hand on his chin. "Well, if Chef finds ya worth cookin', there's two things that can happen. If he thinks you can be cooked as you are, he's gonna put you up on a meet hook and bleed you like a pig." Smed said bluntly, extending a finger. "Or, it could be that he thinks you need a few days to heal up yer cuts so your meat's good, then it's either into a soup with you, or it's back to my tent with you if he decides you'd be wasted in a soup." He explained, extending a second finger.

Smed seemed to think for a few more moments, before he spied a passing goblin in a butcher's apron carrying a small box of what appeared to be unused entrails. "Hey, you there! come here a second!" Smed called out, and the goblin replied with a "yes, boss!" Before setting the crate down and scrambling over. Smed chattered at the goblin in goblinish, and the goblin nodded, holding out its arms. Smed stepped on its hands, and the goblin hoisted him up by the feet, putting his eyes level with Owl's.

Smed held out both of his hands, beckoning with them. "Come on, Pigeon up you go!"

[Rhindeer]

Listening to his descriptions, Owl decided right then and there that if she survived this, she was never going to touch meat again.

"Oh..." she said, and wasn't sure what else to say to that. "That's...that's pleasant. Good to know."

Trying to ignore the box of entrails the other goblin had set aside, Owl took hold of both of Smed's hands and labored to her feet. She wobbled, her legs weak with a combination of weariness, pain, and nerves, and just about knocked the two goblins over in the process. Thankfully, her crutch was on the ground near her--how considerate of the goblin masses, to carry that for her--and still gripping onto Smed, she grit her teeth, bent, and retrieved it.

She tucked it under her arm and took a shaky breath. "N-not that you care what I think, but I still think this is...wasteful," she said, staring at the tent and jumping at the sounds of chopping. "Smed, I'm no good to you dead. I mean, sure, I'm good for a meal, that's true, but you don't seem to be lacking in, er...meat." Her mind raced, and she knew she was grasping at straws, but what other choice did she have?

"You've only known me...what? Barely a day. And...and we've had a lot of fun already, right?" Well, he had, at least. "If I die, you're gonna lose me without ever knowing what else I could offer."

[DaGlobster]

"What you could offer?" Smed asked, widening one of his eyes and giving her a curious look. He jumped down from the other goblin's hands, and he thanked him in goblinish. The other goblin went back to his box, lifting it up and taking it behind the butcher's tent. The little gears in Smed's mind were turning, wonderig what she could possibly offer him, apart from the obvious things.

"Tell you what, Pigeon. I'm willing to cut you a deal." Smed said, leaning on he good leg by the elbow. "I can help you get out of gettin' cooked, and even let you free, but you gotta scratch my back as well, yeah?" He started, and seemed to be thinking for a few moments. "How about this, Pigeon. We pretend you're sick, right? I'll let Chef look you over, then let it slide you're a bit sick. He doesn't serve bad meat, so I'll offer to get rid of ya." Smed said, sitting down on the ground.

"But here's the catch for you. After that, I'm gonna take you back to my tent, and you're going to give me one good fuck. Then, I'll let you go. I'll give you back your clothes, even show you the way out. How does that sound Pigeon?"

[Rhindeer]

Owl swayed a little where she stood and quickly righted herself. She was running on fumes, and felt her time running out, but--it worked. She saw Smed's expression change, and a little flicker of hope came with it. Good, good, he was a curious sort. Thank gods. She could use his curiosity.

But she didn't let herself get too hopeful when he spoke, hatching a plan to get her out of this--and even set her free! It was too good to be true, and she knew enough about Smed to know he didn't have a lick of altruism. There would be a catch--and there it was.

Owl bit the inside of her cheek, the blood draining from her face, and bit down harder to keep from saying the first thing that came to her mind. Because the first thing that came to her mind would have her in the butcher's house hanging off a meat hook. She drew a slow breath in and out through her nose, and realized she'd bitten down a bit too hard when she tasted blood. Okay. Breathe. Relax. She had to work with this or she was dead.

"Okay." Owl forced the word out, even as her throat burned with rising bile. "Alright. That...that sounds good. Deal." Better than slaughter, anyway.

"But...um...can I make a suggestion? I mean, uh, that's a fantastic idea and everything. Brilliant, really, but...okay, please don't take offense when I say it has a liiiiittle--" She held her fingers up a centimeter apart. "--room for improvement. Just a little. So if I may...?"

[DaGlobster]

Smed was gauging Owl's reactions and awaiting her answer. When she agreed to his idea, he smiled again, a sick, twisted smile. Little did she know that she'd never truly be free. He knew her face, and he'd find her. Someone who can afford potions, fine swords, and a half-decent mask couldn't be poor. He'd send some men to ask around, visit all the information brokers he could find. He'd find her name, find her family. It was a larger scheme he was hatching here, not the act of mercy that she thought it was.

"No negotiations, Pigeon. Either you take it or you leave it." Smed said, and started walking towards the butcher's tent, tugging at her chain. "Just so you know, Chef ain't exactly a goblin, so try not to scream when you see him, yeah? He gets a bit pissy." Smed said as he walked.

[Rhindeer]

"No, no! You misunderstand!" Owl said quickly, shaking her head and trying to hang back, even as Smed walked on. She dug in her heels even as the chain pulled; she needed to give this a shot. "I'm not trying to negotiate, Smed. I've...I've accepted this. I've already accepted the deal, and...uh...I understand. I just want to make a quick suggestion!"

She stumbled forward, limping after him, but spoke as fast as she could. "Smed, if we...if we do...that...after this..." Another deep breath. "If we...if I..." Gods, she couldn't say the word. She'd used it a thousand times as an expletive, but never in this context and never in regards to herself, and using it with regards to them made her stomach churn. "If I...bed you...right after this, I'll...it won't be very good, Smed."

She stared ahead at the fast approaching tent flap. "You wanted a good, um, go at it, right? And I can give you that. But not in this condition. If...if that happens when we return to your tent...it'll be like...like being with a corpse. And you don't want a corpse, right? I mean, that's why I'm alive. Alive girls can do things dead ones can't. So Smed, just...let me heal a little, first? It'll be better for you that way. I promise."

[DaGlobster]

Looked back with anger as she pulled against him, turning around and crossing his arms. He listened to her idea, his face not showing much give or particular interest in what she was saying. "Don't you worry about that, Pigeon!" Smed said. "I've got just the thing for that! We've got a hell of a shaman here!" He proclaimed, and gave her another tug, leading her into the butcher's tent through the massive flap.

The inside smelled how a butcher's shop usually smelled. The oppressive smell of meat in all stages of preperation, including the smell emenating from an immense soup pot higher than Owl. The smell from it wasn't that bad. In fact, it actually smelled pretty good.

In the center of the room, hunched over a massive counter, was a mountain ogre, dressed in butcher's clothing and wearing a bloodstained chef hat. It straightened up from its hunch to its full height of fifteen feet. It was fat, but fat with muscle, and it it leered down at the two of them with its dark eyes, beard stained with blood and mouth twisted into a bored expression. "What've you brought me this time, Boss. Another morsel?" it said in it's monstrous voice, locking his eyes onto Owl as he brought the massive cleaver in it's hand down on the pig it was cutting up, slicing in cleanly in half.

[Rhindeer]

"Oh, fantastic!" Shit.  So they had a healer. That was both...good and bad. It meant not having to stay here longer, but it also meant getting out of this would be tricky. But at least if she were healed, she would have her strength, and she could do something.

As she was lead into the tent, she was already plotting what she could do, and already had an idea, though it would be risky as hell. But this whole thing was already risky; in fact, he might even be lying. If she was going to leave this place, she was going to leave her way, alive and untouched. She felt confident that, in good health, she could take Smed. That wasn't her primary concern. Her main concern was the five-hundred other goblins, and finding a way out.

She was still mulling it over when they entered the tent--and she got her first look at the butcher.

Despite Smed's earlier warning, she felt a scream build in her throat, but she clapped her good hand over her mouth before she could let it out. It wasn't just goblins. They had a bloody giant. That...that complicated matters. Horrified, she watched as he cleaved a pig bigger than her in two, and her eyes darted to Smed. Gods willing, he was going to keep his end of the deal--even if she didn't plan on keeping hers.

[DaGlobster]

"No, Chef, nothing like that. Some fresh meat!" Smed proclaimed, nudging Owl forwards. Chef, continued leering for a few more moments before pushing the two pig halves off of his chopping block with his cleaver, which was so large, it looked like even a strong orc would have trouble wielding it in both hands, and Chef was wielding it in one hand like it weighed a feather. He stepped around the counter with his slow, thudding gait, revealing that his belt had a collection of giant blades on it, including a filet knife, a gutting knife, and a slicing knife. They were all kept in shining condition, and they gleamed menacingly as he stepped forwards towards Owl. When he stopped in front of her, Owl was just tall enough to bump his thigh with her head. Maybe she'd realize then how small Smed was compared to her.

"Looks a bit scrawny from here. Lemme see..." Chef muttered and opened one of his massive hands. He'd attempt to reach down to grab Owl around the waist, and put her onto his table so he could examine her.

[Rhindeer]

Owl held perfectly still as the giant approached her, though her eyes darted over him, taking in the gleaming knives, his bloodied clothes, and the sheer size of him. And she'd thought Dirus, the large man she'd (accidentally) felled the first time she'd met Rufus, was huge! This giant dwarfed even him. That knife alone was probably as big as Dirus.

Her neck started to hurt from peering up at him, eyes wide. "Hi, Chef..."

He reached for her, and she held still, flinching in pain as his hand closed around her (for he pressed against the wounds on her back and belly) and grunting when he set her down on the table. The same one the pig had been on. She cringed as she felt blood soak through her smallclothes and covered her mouth so she didn't retch, because the smell was so strong, and it was just...everywhere...and it was a grim reminder of what could happen very soon--very soon, if Smed didn't keep his word.

Actually, maybe she shouldn't fight so hard against her stomach. She was supposed to be sick.

Crossing her arms over her sore belly--and then pulling her binding closed fast when she realized it was bloody hanging open!--the strong blood smell was soon playing on her gag reflex again, but this time she didn't try to stop it. She choked, groaned when it hurt her stomach, and curled in on herself some more. Inside, she prayed Smed would keep his word. Because if he didn't...

Her eyes strayed to the pig halves, and she gagged again.

[DaGlobster]

When Chef set Owl down, he watched her for a few moments, taking out his slicer and setting it down on the table next to her, then planting his hands on the table and leaning forwards. "What's this then, wrappings? What's the point of these?" Chef said as he thought out loud, reaching some fingers behind her as he pinched the back of her bindings and promptly plucked what was left of them off of her, flicking them away. He took a finger, and placed it on Owl's forehead, and started to push her head back so she would lie down flat. "Good thighs..." he muttered.

On his shoulder, Smed appeared, having clambered up his clothing to find a good view. He sat down, looking like some kind of imp or other small demon, smiling down at her. "I see she's in the usual state, Smed." he stated, and Smed spoke up quickly afterwards. "Yeah, I reckon she's a little sick, too." He said, and Chef leaned over. "No problem there, Smed. Shaman figured out a way to clean sick meat before you cook it. You boil 'em." Chef said, crossing his arms.

[Rhindeer]

Bindings suddenly plucked free, Owl yelped, arms immediately flying to cover her breasts. But before she could do much more than that, the giant pushed her down with a large finger on her forehead and she found herself laying back on the bloodied table, arms over her chest, heart in her throat, and stomach wanting twist itself right out of her belly.

Anytime, Smed! She stared over at him where he perched on the giant's shoulder, all too aware of the large knife laying beside her.

And then the plan came to a screeching halt.

"What?" Oh no. With a jolt of panic, she sat up on her elbows, pain tearing through her shoulder and back with the movement and modesty flying out the window. "W-whoa, no, no, no. I really don't think that's how it works! Right, Smed? You shouldn't take chances with your health!"