It happened so fast. One minute you heard the distant screams towards Flora Isle and the next thing you were hanging from a From what you can recollect you were struck by an unseen force that felt more gentle than harmful, you fought against it, but the force was too strong. You eyelids drooped. The chaos ahead of you silenced. Your companions blurred into darkness before your eyes closed…
…
Pain. Sharp pain. Surrounding the rib cage. Then a voice.
“See? Still asleep. Did you get his blood?”
“Yeah. What is this, anyway? Some kind of goat man? Try his jaw.”
Nah, The Guy called it somefing else. Furbug or somefing, I can’t remember. The Guy just showed a painting and said be on the lookout for creatures who look like this and if you see one, snatch him up and bring it.”
Immediately, you feel a blunt force against your jaw.
“I don’t see any horns. Does he have horns? Try the club.”
You force your eyes open just in time to see the club. You whirl to the side and hear the club slam to the floor behind you.
“Oh, snap!”
Your arms are tied behind your back, but your legs are free. You swing wildly with your foot and feel it connect to a soft belly at the same time you hear a gruff “oomph” that accompanies it. You try to roll to your feet, only to slam against a rough wooden wall. Still, you wiggle your body around to get to your feet and gather your surroundings.
You’re in a large wagon of dark wood, covered with canvas, rectangular in shape, finally feeling the wobbly movement. Two gruff looking figures, one bent over trying to catch his breath, the other fiddling with a bracer affixed with an intricate dial and what appears to be a detailed carving of a closed eye.
You concentrate to activate your Hidden Step ability, turning yourself invisible.
“What the–where’d he go?”
You sneak around the first gruff, who’s still fiddling with his bracer, but the other hears your footsteps and makes a wild grab, his arms slipping off your frame and you bolt away and leap out of the wagon. You know Hidden Step last for about six seconds, so your first priority is finding some place to hide.
But you find yourself in the middle of grassy meadows and a road. Nary a boulder or tree to be seen. But it is night. Perhaps if you lay down in the grass, they won’t find you. If only you had a minute to create your camouflage.
You lay flat in the grass, hearing the wagon stop, followed by a loud flap of canvas.
“Hey! Where’d you go, Goatman?!”
You hear two smacks on the gravelly road, and footsteps walking toward you. A wave of light pops into being.
I should have ran ahead, you think. Or off to the side.
The two gruffs scurry around looking for you. You sword and bow are missing but they’ve overlooked your bracers.
“You got nowhere to go, Goatman! And, hey, we aint gonna kill you. We’re just gonna give you a new home, that’s all.”
“Yeah, come on, we still gots a ways to go. And we already told “the guy” we were bringing you. And no one disappoints “the guy,” do they.”
“Noooo, no one.”
Quieter you hear them talking to each other.
“You think he’s in the grass?”
“Course he is, you dummy. Where else would he be?”
Footsteps coming nearer. But stop. One of them rustles around in his pockets. And then, you hear a rough scratch and quick flame of a match.
You wave your hand and whisper a quick incantation. You hear a distant rumble coming from down the road.
“Otis. Do you hear that?”
“Yeah, what the heck…”
The rumble intensifies until short, shadowy forms appear rushing down the road.
“Get in the wagon. Get in the wagon!”
“I’m getting! I’m getting!”
You peak up in time to see eight wild boar pushing their way towards the wagon, scraping at the legs of the two gruffs who cling to the wagon’s side.
“Go on! Git!”
You hear a swipe of wind and a squeal. And then another, then another, then another.
The fire grows nearer, hotter.
It’s now or never.
You crawl through the grass, as stealthily as you can, hoping there’s enough distraction to keep attention off of you.
“Hey! There! Do you see it?”
“Where?”
“There!”
You reach for your component pouch only to find they’ve taken that too!
You bolt for the open road.
The blast hits you in the middle of your back. You crumple to the earth. You go to push yourself back up, but you’ve lost all ability to move your limbs…all ability to move at all.
The snorts and the squeals have stopped. Probably because you’ve lost concentration on the spell that conjured them. Or they could’ve been chopped down. They were only meant to be a distraction.
All that’s heard is the chirping of crickets and a couple pairs of heavy footsteps coming your way.
A pair of rough, rugged hands muscle your frame over to face toward the sky. And towards them.
“Pretty gutsy, Goatman, I’ll give you that,” says one, who you now notice has a significant scar running from his forehead down over his left eye and off his jaw.
“Stupid, but gutsy.”
The club reigns down towards your head.
Pain. Sharp Pain. Ribs. And now head. Everywhere, actually.
You blink open your eyes. The stench of sulfur and rotting animals molest your nostrils. You want to move, but you realize you’re not touching the ground. You appear to be tangled in some slimy strands, hands and feet hog tied a couple of feet above the ground, with the strand hanging you from under your arms. You are beaten. You feel the sting of slashes in your torso and legs. Bruises along the jawline and swollen nose, lips and mouth.
But your head. Your head is pounding. Like someone tried to reach in and rip your mind out of your skull.
At least I’m upright, you think.
Even in your weakened state, you take a look around you. You’re inside. Looks industrial. Wood and stone. You hear dripping from somewhere and a rhythmic thumping. The room is dimly lit in the middle, but you detect other human forms in the room, about your height, about your build. Four or five of them? All seemingly strung up in the shadows, just like you.
You hear voices. Many voices. Many languages. All of which you know.
Common.
Draconic.
Elvish.
Giant.
Saying the words in succession.
“So unique.”
“Decadent treat.”
“Thank you.”
“More.”
