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Fop he may be, but he is also, to coin a phrase, a bit tasty in a fight. In short order you have been soundly beaten. Grabbed by his men at arms, you are stripped naked then bound hand and foot and thrown in the back of a small cart drawn not by a horse or donkey but by an enormous shaggy dog. And the carter is not a human peasant, but a humanoid toad, albeit one still dressed as a simple farmer. "Ayup," croaks the toad, "We'n be off ter t' slave pens nao. Ye'll be put to work alaong t' ditchs in Swamplands afore ye be sold orf next tenday." With that the toad-man switches at his dray dog and the beast tows you away towards the fetid expanse of the Swamplands and a life of toil!
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3/28/2020 4:05:32 AM
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