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Chapter #5
Take care of the five brutes with some heroic m...
by: Unknown
What's the point of being a fantastical magician if you can't save a pretty girl now and again?
Gathering your thoughts, and courage, you mentally review a simple sleep spell. Once you're sure you've got it right, you step confidently into the camp and raise your arms.
The tickle torture of the young woman ceases and all eyes are on you.
You perfectly recite Zllumbr's Deinvigorating Nap and gesticulate flawlessly in the direction of the dumbfounded barbarians and ... nothing happens!
A few of the brutes snicker and you're pretty sure you heard the captive blond call you an idiot under his breath. Your mind is racing; what could have gone wrong?! You mentally recalculate all the intricacies of the spell but before you can attempt to cast again you feel a powerful pair of hands on your shoulders and another pair grasping your wrists!
"Looks like another from that camp," growls the muscly barbarian, gripping your shoulders.
"Chief Grurtr is going to run out of room in his trophy room," rumbles the other, as he roughly binds yours wrists with thick hempen rope.
"He'll just build another!" Shouts one of the brutes surrounding the exhausted female captive.
You feel more rope being wrapped around your ankles by a third barbarian. Time to think fast!
You begin to recite the Stupifying Chromatic Fog! It takes a while to cast, but it doesn't require your hands and it never fails! But about halfway through the lengthy recitation the barbarian that had bound your wrists scowls with annoyance and effortlessly rips your shirt clean off! Without missing a beat, he begins stuffing the tattered clothing into your mouth, reducing the rest of the spell to surprised muffles. Once your mouth is filled with shirt, the chuckling barbarian begins winding rope around your jaw.
"Ha! What's the matter Gorf? Afraid this powerful wizard was going to overcome the anti-magic field?" Asks the barbarian at your shoulders.
"Pfft. Just tired of hearing him talk," scoffed Gorf as he firmly knotted the gag in place.
Anti-magic field?!?! You wonder, eyes wide.
"Fetch another pole," shouts the ruffian behind you as the barbarian at your feet cinches your ankle bindings. "Put this fool over there with his friends. We'll leave for home at nightfall!"
As the beast-man Gorf shambles into the forest to retrieve a pole to bind you to, you notice the barbarian who tied your ankles has wandered over to the campfire and the leader who'd held your shoulders has turned his back on you and is walking toward the forest. There's an incredibly minute chance you could escape!
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