A day in which you write something is a day well-spent


If you aren’t caught up with Gortha’s adventure, please see my previous posts!

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Gortha’s first thought, when she awoke, was wondering how the battle had gone. Her next thought, as she opened her eyes to see darkness, was bewilderment at her continued existence.

Her arms were bound behind her; her ankles were restricted, as well. Still, she believed that she could break the thin rope with some effort. Her planning was interrupted by the sound of shuffling nearby.

It was distant, so she knew that it came from outside her dark prison. Holding her breath, Gortha listened intently, trying to determine how many goblins were present and why they had captured her rather than kill her.

She knew that she needed to escape and expose the Griffons as the traitorous scum they were. However, her first task would be to escape her imprisonment, find her sword, and kill as many of the flop-eared creatures as she could on her way out.

The barbarian heard her captors speaking in low voices outside, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Even so, the tone and pitch of the voices told her enough.

Those Griffon bastards captured me, not the goblins! Gortha bared her teeth in the darkness, letting out a low growl. Her headache from the knockout blow throbbed as she strained against the bonds. Tempus, grant me strength, she prayed to her god. The ropes around her forearms snapped, then she made quick work of the ones on her ankles.

She crawled carefully on her hands and knees, feeling around in the darkness for a wall, door, or other object she could use to get her bearings. Her outstretched hands finally touched the stretched, animal hide wall. Gortha dug her fingers underneath it, trying to tug it up in order to get a good look at where she was being kept. It took some effort due to the fact that the Griffons had apparently nailed the wall down into the hard-packed earth. Still, with some murmurs to Tempus strengthening her and more than a few curses, the muscular barbarian was able to pry it free enough to see outside.

She could tell that the day was darkening into dusk from what little she could see. The sun was already behind the treeline of Lurkwood. Gortha could also make out Griffon tribesmen, a lot of them, nearby. There wouldn’t be any easy way to get past them, but she was beyond caring about getting out without more than a little bloodshed.

Now, where is… There. She spotted the tribe’s armory where her sword would be kept. It wasn’t far, so she figured that she could find her sword and make a break for it before they were able to get their self-satisfied heads out of their asses.

A sound behind her made her jump up and spin around, only to be thrown to the ground by a pair of burly warriors in thick, layered, leather armor. The door to her prison had been opened while she lay like a fool on the floor.

“We should have a word, Gortha Goblinreaver,” said the silhouette in the doorway.

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