A Slave to Goblins

Norra Weary, The Knight of Daybreak. She's known throughout the Kingdom for her combat skills as much as for her beauty. She is half human, half elf – she has a milky white complexion, long blonde hair, and she stands more than six feet tall. Legend has it that her armor was crafted by angels, then enchanted so that her boots hover off the ground, so she doesn't dirty them in combat.
	They say that she slayed a dragon using just her long sword and shield, but she hasn't fought in any big conflicts in a while. Not since the Final War ended. Now she's more of a political figure: a war hero and a role model to humans and elves alike,  even amidst all the racial tension between those two groups.
	But the goblins know her as "the Murderess."
	Norra has killed over a hundred of the small green creatures -- sometimes two with a single strike. They can't possibly stand up to her; she foils every one of their 'raids' and even kills them when there was probably a peaceful alternative to fighting. That's most of the action she sees nowadays: protecting the countryside from the never-ending goblin incursions.
	Some people say that the hatred of goblins is a central pillar of her political platform, and there are dark rumors about the amount of pleasure she derives from leading her horseback raids through the mountains. She is addressing the Principality now, about this very matter.
	"We cannot trust them with a treaty!" Norra exclaims in her posh, cut-glass voice, "They are dirty, disgusting animals.
	"And I believe they are being helped by another source. They have been getting too bold lately. We have three abductions reported right now. There have even been reports of them using magic objects."
	She is standing in the Grand Hall as she says this, holding her solid gold helmet beneath one arm. Her blonde hair cascades down her body – some women say that she uses enchantments to get it perfectly messy, falling 'just so' even when she just took off her headpiece. The helmet's face-piece, depending on how you saw it, could either be styled as an angel or a very graceful bird.
	"I see your argument, Norra. We will increase your funding, so you can find out if these rumors are true," the Prince says.
	"Thank you, Excellency," Norra replies, bowing and leaving the hall to make preparations.
	It's going to be another goblin hunt.
	**
	It takes four servant girls, at least, to help Norra get ready for one of her public appearances. Now she reclines in her claw-footed bathtub as one nymph-like girl massages shampoo into her scalp, and another lovingly caresses her long legs with a soft sea sponge. They are trained to use slow, pleasing strokes, massaging her body as much as cleaning it.
	These servant girls are, in actuality, water nymphs – they were given to Norra as part of a peace treaty. The demanding half-elf woman quickly put them to use, especially pleased by the way a nymph's touch sends gentle shivers up and down a person's body. Like all water nymphs, they are anchored to the location of their wellsprings, which Norra has designated as the waters of her bathtub so that they could focus on serving her without distraction.
	When she emerges from the tub, they run soft Chamois towels up and down her body, then she lies down for an hour-long massage from two of her nymphs working in tandem. Every so often, they will plant soft kisses on different parts of her – the kiss of a nymph is especially charged with their magic. It is painfully exhausting for the creatures to dole so many kisses out in rapid succession, but they don't dare to disappoint their mistress. Norra especially likes it when they lavish their attention on her size 10 feet, because having such high arches and slender ankles is as much a curse as it is a blessing.
	If Norra didn't have magic to help her, she would find it considerably more difficult to march for long distances with her armor and gear.
	She is practically dictatorial about the level of care that her servants show for her feet, in particular. Regular pedicures are a feature of Norra's life, and she demands that her servants get every bit of callus from her soles and the tiniest speck of cuticle from her nails. All of this makes her feet ludicrously sensitive, enough so that walking over a bearskin rug charges her with energy. But that sensation is nothing compared to the thrill of her soft, pampered foot stomping an enemy into submission, protected as it is by the magic of her boots.
	Norra lives for moments like that. Once, she noticed that her pedicure had chipped during one of her week-long excursion into the wild-lands. She punished the nymph responsible by first making the girl do her pedicure again, but when she hadn't washed her feet beforehand. She was careful to make the girl keep all her nail cuttings, cuticle trimmings, and other such things in her small pedicure bowl. When the nymph had finished, Norra casually dumped her wellspring rune into the dirty bowl – essentially trapping the nymph in a tiny prison filled with the dirt and gunk that she had just cleaned from the half-elf's bare feet.
	It was cruel, sure, but her pedicures hadn't chipped since, and that's what actually mattered at the end of the day.
	She sighs as the beautiful young waifs massage both of her thighs simultaneously, wringing and kneading with such expertise that can only be gained from a lifetime of devotion to a single woman's body. Nearby, two more maidens (these ones were humans) are polishing Norra's armor and sword to her liking. She has them using tiny paintbrushes to coat it with oil so that it catches the sun in a mythical way. The blonde beauty abhors having dirty armor as much as she hates the feeling of dirt beneath her nails. Some people would call it the 'nails on a chalkboard' feeling, and she is quick to administer punishments if they miss a spot.
	The half-elven warrior's servants help her step into her boots (lined with phoenix down), then put the rest of her armor on her body as she stands there, somewhat bored. To help pass the time, she has a maid kneeling nearby holding a book open for her to read. Every so often, Norra commands the woman to turn the page. As they finish clasping the innumerable straps on her boots, she wishes she had gone with a different polish for her pedicure than the candy-floss pink she has on now. Oh well, nobody would see her bare feet during a hunt.
	Going downstairs she meets with her adventuring party: Velma the Dragoon, Minh the Bard, and Petra the Cleric.
	"We will go to the homes of the women who got abducted, and search from there."
	Velma nods. Minh is doing the splits, her entire torso bent over so that her toned abdomen rests against her thigh. She has both hands wrapped around her bare foot, presumably she is doing a warmup stretch.
	"Minh, your horse looks pretty light. Did you bring provisions, like I asked?"
	The dark-skinned woman laughs musically.
	"No," she murmurs, "I always travel light. Otherwise, I can't use my magic spells. These are all I need,"
	The exotic dancer extends one of her arms, and points a long fingernail to all the gold bracelets that adorn her narrow wrists. Several of them are embedded with jewels.
	"They protect me as well as your armor does, maybe better. They even make it so that I can walk barefoot on broken glass without it hurting me."
	The girl – and Minh didn't look older than her early 20s – does a fanciful tumble and springs back up onto her feet. She is wearing what can only be described as white silk harem pants, and a white bra lined with gold.
	"You're going... barefoot?" Velma asks, raising an eyebrow and examining the bard's 'armor' critically.
	 There was a serious contrast between the two women's styles. Velma had on the form-fitting armor of a dragoon: indigo chain and scalemail that overlapped with itself to give her the fearsome appearance of a serpent-woman. It narrowed at the waist in a nod to the feminine 'corseted' look that had become popular in peacetime, and had intricate patterns of wings ending in spines etched all along her gauntlets and boots.
	"Yes. Barefoot," Minh says,
	"Maybe you want to spar with me for one round, before we leave? If I win, you will bow down and kiss my bare feet and apologize for doubting me. How does that sound?"
	Velma shakes her head.
	"What about food? Water?"
	"It's called 'abstemiousness,'" Minh replies, "Everything I need, I have in here."
	Minh picks up a ridiculously tiny clasp purse, barely larger than her fist. Norra is about to object untill Minh pulls out an entire gallon jug of water from the small accessory. This would be physically impossible unless it were a bag of holding, which uses inter-dimensional magic to defy such limitations.
	After a little more ribbing, the women set out, joined by Petra the cleric and two Daggerbill raptors. Not the dinosaur kind of raptor, the bird kind. They will fly overhead and provide valuable scouting for the party.
	"What do they do with the abducted women?" Minh asks as the four of them ride away from Avian City.
	Here, Norra has to be cautious.
	She invited Minh along, more than anything, because she is a famous entertainer. The goal was to have Minh re-tell the story of their adventure to help bolster Norra's image. It wouldn't help that cause, answering this question honestly. The truth was that they didn't really know what happened to the abducted women. If those vermin successfully brought her to the goblin tunnels, the girl was gone for good.
	Typically, if a team of goblins captured a girl (and it was always a team; the creatures were far too small to be a threat to a human one-on-one) they would put her in chains and make a single-minded attempt to drag her down to the halls of the goblin 'king.' The nasty creatures would make their captive crawl on all fours to that destination, probably because it pleased them to finally look down on a human. Along the way, they would 'mark' her, using the foul white substance that they excreted from their cocks which were about as large as a human's, despite them being much smaller. The creatures took no small amount of enjoyment from leaving their seed places, and would 'mark' trees, roads, even houses with their disgusting secretions. But the greatest triumph was marking a woman.
	Ugh, Norra couldn't bear to think about that part.
	"They are probably used as slave labor in the underworld," Norra replies, echoing the party line on what happened to the girls who disappear.
	"They might use her as a pony to carry them around, or sell her off to a vampire coven... Maybe to the Spider Queen herself. That's why we need to find out if they are using Charwands, like Private Glass said. I know Charwands aren't very threatening, but if they learn to use real wands we could have a serious problem."
	Charwands were toys made for youths – people barely thought of them as magical wands because all they did was shoot out a few colorful sparks. But there were other wands with more serious powers that, honestly, weren't much more difficult to use: wands of paralysis, wands of sleep, wands of draining. Norra, being a warrior, didn't use such things, because of restrictions arising from her heavy armor. It was enchanted enough to keep her safe, and she had potions and jewelry to further protect her while she did what she was good at.
	'I need to kill every goblin in Crane Pass," Norra thinks to herself as they continue their ride.
	It is the real purpose of her mission.
	Goblins multiplied too fast. The small green things were never a serious threat due to their poor understanding of mechanical engineering and propensity for tribal in-fighting. Everything about them disgusted her: their knobbly green (or blue, or grey) skin, their small stature, their rudimentary standards of cleanliness and modesty. Too filthy to be worth trading with, too cowardly to press into service, too stupid to honor a peace treaty, goblins were the lowest of the low.
	But what grossed Norra out more than anything was their revolting habit of 'marking their territory.' This was the polite way to put it; in reality it just looked like masturbation. Male goblins were constantly producing a milky white liquid that they compulsively spurted out every few hours by manually stimulating themselves. The goo had a foul smell and a slick texture. One time Norra had stepped in some, and practically screamed at how distasteful it was to walk around with that crap on her beloved boots.
	 Once when she had raided a goblin encampment, she found that they had jars and jars of the stuff. The half-elf woman  felt genuinely bad for the squires who were tasked with piling all of those jars up so they could burn them and the entire 'village' off the map, driving back the goblin incursion a little. One woman reported that the goblins had forced her to drink from such a jar, but whenever Norra thought about that she nearly vomited at the thought. She tried to change her line of thinking.
	Who could be teaching them how to use wands?
	 **
	The barricades are the first sign that something was wrong.
	They are taller than Norra had ever seen before, and have battlements and alatoriums built in so that the goblins could have cover while they fired darts and slingshot bullets at invaders. The place was deserted currently, but the women could see fresh footprints indicating that the goblins had run away before they approached.
	'Since when did goblins run from a fight?' Norra thinks to herself,
	'I thought they would fire on us at first sight. Or even stupider, charge us and leave their own defenses abandoned, like they normally do.'
	The blonde warrior thinks about calling for backup – there is a certain anxiety that something different is going on here. One of her cohort speaks; it is red-haired Velma.
	"They have retreated recently, maybe with a girl in tow. We should press ahead," the dragoon says. She is visibly having a difficult time using her spear in these tight quarters.
	Velma's only other weapon is a ceremonial quarterstaff, given to her by a cleric of her faith. Although the snow-white weapon will inflict great amounts of pain, it never does any lasting damage such as bruising an opponent or breaking their bones. She has it out now, a little self-conscious about how frilly and white it appears in contrast to her grave-blue armor. The staff gives off a white glow with pink undertones.
	Just then, they all hear a shrill cry from up ahead. It is their scouting birds. It means immediate danger.
	Path 14 is old and poorly kept – the Avian Kingdom cannot dispatch the forestry department up here to maintain the roads. Not while there are goblins running around abducting women and (rarely) killing people. Norra and her squad are on the goblin's territory now, and they feel it more and more as they press forward. The mountain road has been undermined at several places, which prevents them from charging as one unit which they would have preferred.
	Instead, they have to slow down and take turns passing the narrowest parts of the road, regrouping every so often. And when the road narrowed, the goblins ejaculated all over the path so that the women had no choice but to walk through it. Norra is glad that it's her horse getting coated in the gunk, but it's still unnerving to be repeatedly exposed to it. Although they are war-trained horses, they still balk at being made to do this. Petra's even refuses to go any further at one point, and she has to give it the spurs.
	 "Charge!!" Norra cries out when they reach the top.
	Velma has her spear back out, and they easily slay the four little goblins who defend the camp. It's almost a competition who can do it with more grace – Velma uses her spear to vault herself into the air, impaling her enemies with deadly precision while Minh does a magical dance to throw her team into a combat frenzy. It makes the act of killing goblins feel even more exciting for Norra, and she immediately understands why Minh's dances are so popular.
	A search of the camp reveals women's clothing, from more than one victim. They re-group, feeling more confident, and march further up the mountain. Then Petra falls from off her horse, hitting the ground with a lifeless thud. Nearby, a goblin appears from nowhere standing with a hand-crossbow. Faster than lightning, Velma thrusts her spear through his body, utterly slaying him before he can even reload.
	"Why was that goblin invisible?!" she asks, "and how did he know to use poison?"
	The wind picks up. Nothing they do can awaken Petra, who appears to be having a very restful slumber. She's even smiling, and giggling every so often which belies the seriousness of the situation.
	"We should turn around," Norra decides, "Petra is the only one who can purge invisibility. And she is the only one who can counteract a sleeping drug."
	  Minh and Velma agree, but then there is the sound of crashing earth behind them. A rock slide has made the return pass unusable. Although they each try to hide it, they are all panicking right now. Norra takes out her map and charts the next best route to get back to Crane Pass. It will require them to go several miles up into the mountain, to reach a fork that leads back down. Now, Minh has to guard Petra, who is strewn over her own horse.
	"What the abyss?" Minh cries out after they have marched a short ways.
	She has stepped her foot down, but it won't come back up. With considerable effort, she finally lifts it, only to see that she is caught in some kind of crude glue trap.
	"I'm stuck!"
	Minh's bare foot is attached to a splintery piece of wood that had been coated with adhesive, then camouflaged to blend in with the dirt. She looks absurd dressed in her fine dancer's clothes but with a heavy wooden board glued onto one foot. She will not be able to cast any of her spells now, because they all rely on her performing specific dance steps.
	"Just dismiss your magic barrier then put it back on," Norra tells the girl when they realize that they don't have anything that can dissolve or break the adhesive.
	"Can you hurry up, please?" Velma snaps, her eyes scanning for an ambush.
	"I can't dismiss the protection!" Minh whines, "I mean, I can  but it takes me a while to get the enchantment back up again. In the meantime, my feet will be as sensitive as normal."
	Norra curses under her breath for being so careless as to bring someone who would cause a mission-threatening failure because she stepped on a sticky piece of wood.
	"You must have a backup set of footwear, right?"
	"Only one," the pretty bard confesses, "but I'm not nearly as skilled with them."
	Minh takes off one of her many bangles, and the wooden board falls from her feet to the ground. She reaches into her clasp purse, then puts on a pair of thin pink ankle socks. Velma shakes her head at how frilly and non-threatening they are – like they would barely protect Minh's dainty feet from a thumbtack. To add to the absurdity, once she has them on Minh stands on her tip-toes.
	"The only way these can work is if I walk like this," she explains, clearly embarrassed.
	Norra gives an exasperated sigh. Minh looks more like a girl sneaking out to get more candy at a slumber party than a warrior. They agree to search for traps more carefully, but still don't catch the next one:
	"Eh?!" Velma cries out.
	She is enveloped in a brief flash of light that blinds all three women and startles the horses. The light dissolves every piece of her armor, leaving the red-haired woman completely nude. Not only that, but her spear is transformed as well: shrunk down to the size of a toothpick, it falls from her hands onto the red dirt as she darts her hands in front of her breasts and pubis in an attempt to protect her modesty. The only thing remaining is her frilly white quarterstaff – it hasn't been affected by the trap.
	"What is happening?" the mortified woman cries out, blushing scarlet.
	Norra can't help but notice that she has full, soft thighs and a narrow waist even with her armor's corset gone. Velma's skin still glistens with the oil that her servants had massaged into her body that morning. Her expression is part embarrassment, part panic – one would never guess that she was a dragoon now.
	"This is the kind of thing a wizard would do, not a goblin!" Norra cries out.
	 She cannot believe how, in an instant, Velma had been transformed from a fearsome lancer to a barefoot woman wearing just a blanket, holding a healer's staff. Underlying that was the thought, 'what if that had happened to me? I have a lot of enchantments on my armor. If I lost them, I would be in serious danger.' Velma cannot wear any of Minh's clothes, which are specific to bards, so she is stuck this way.
	The dragoon no longer wants to ride her horse, due to the fact that she'd have to put her bare pussy on the rough leather saddle, so she chooses to walk on the dirt road. Innumerable sharp stones dig into her feet, and she doesn't so much as march but step lightly the whole way. She needs to carefully place each step of her alabaster feet so that her thin, wrinkle-free soles don't land on another sharp stone.
	"Ow! Ouch!" she cries out every so often, grimacing when she can't avoid a nasty rock.
	Velma looks as non-threatening as a person could be, and her toes are done with a bluish purple pedicure that matches her ruined armor. She quickly decides to use her quarterstaff as a walking stick, which helps shift her weight around to minimize the damage done to her pampered feet. Norra starts to think the rocks are caltrops. There is no way Velma can fight like this.
	"I need to pour a potion of heeling onto my feet, Norra," Velma confesses – her beautiful soles are marred by tiny cuts, and coated in dirt.
	They arrive at the fork where the path would finally start taking them back down, only to find that the goblins had set up a defense here.
	Norra sees it from horseback: over a dozen goblins and an overgrown chieftain sitting on a ceremonial chair. But what is that human girl doing there, kneeling in front of him?? No!!
	Judging by her brown hair and tan complexion, this is the farmer's daughter kneeling with her face in the goblin chieftain's lap. His cock is resting inside of her mouth – apparently he has decided to make his mark down her throat rather than on a tree. The captive girl tries to look over, but is restrained by heavy-looking iron chains. The chieftain keeps one hand on her head and gives Norra a defiant look.
	The half-elf warrior charges right away, blinded by anger to see a woman subjected to such treatment. Her horse easily jumps over the first tripwire the goblins spring upon her, but can't react in time for the second one immediately after. Norra flies over the front of her horse, completely off-kilter and starting combat by belly flopping hard.
	"Aughf!!" she cries out, surprised at how badly that fall hurt even through the dampening magic of her armor.
	She keeps tumbling forward until she lands in a pit of water that had been covered by a canvas cloth
	SPLASH
	Upside down, sprawled out, the half-elf warrior is completely bewildered. Her thoughts are as jumbled as her body, but she is absolutely disgusted to be in mud like this. She wants to scream as she can feel it seeping into her armor, but focuses instead on getting her head above water. When she finally stands up, she discovers that mud has caked over the eye holes in her angel-mask helmet – she is completely blind, and has to spend critical moments wiping her mask with her dirty hands.
	By the time Norra has her wits about her, she can't even draw her long sword because the goblins are right on top of her. They fight by jumping onto her body to restrain her, some of them, while others try to drag her back into the mud she had just escaped. The ones that jump onto her wrap their arms and legs around her body and hold on for dear life, making sure that their genitals are resting against her.
	"HOW DARE YOU!?" Norra cries out when she realizes that the little creatures are humping her as they cling on, moving their hips up and down without the least bit of shame.
	Instinctively, she tries to push them away, but there are too many goblins to contend with. If she focuses on the ones humping her, she will get dragged into the mud. But if she ignores them, they might actually finish, and coat her with their abhorrent seed! A deft goblin had snatched away her dagger, so she is unarmed right now. She can only punch and shove her enemies, and they seem to shrug off her clumsy blows. To make matters worse, the goblins are also groping her, yanking on her hair, and otherwise fighting dirty.
	Minh has tip-toed up towards Norra to fight alongside her, and attempts to cast a spell that would put all the goblins to sleep – a quick tap dance step. But, being unfamiliar with her socks, she accidentally cast a different spell on the them: berserker rage. The creatures go into a frenzy, becoming faster and stronger but also more susceptible to injury.
	"Minh?! What the abyss!" Norra shouts.
	The half-elf watches as the goblin's teeth become sharper, their bodies more muscular, and they realize that they can bite onto her to strengthen their hold that much better. Norra feels a searing pain several of her enemies bite through her armor, and the taste of blood excites them even more. They hump her more furiously as they sense her vulnerability.
	"Arra!" a goblin cries out, throwing its ugly head back as it stops humping for a moment.
	Norra's stomach turns as she feels something hot and slimy seep through her armor, at the upper part of her thigh. She roars in anger at the realization that one of the goblins has actually managed to 'mark' her. It is the worst thing she can imagine: feeling their hot seed anywhere on her supple flesh like they had won some victory over her. At the same time, the empowered goblins drag her nearer and nearer to the pit, and she is terrified that her life is about to end in a shallow pool of brackish water.
	And that's assuming they kill her – she cannot bear the thought of being turned into a slave to goblin cock like that farmer's daughter.
	Elsewhere, Velma isn't doing much better. She has to protect herself while also making sure that the goblins don't get to Petra, who is still unconscious. They work like pack hunters, forming a loose surround and trying to herd Velma away from her vulnerable companion.
	Her blanket has fallen from her body, so she is left fighting the goblins in the nude. Occasionally, she lands a powerful blow, but her quarterstaff has that stupid enchantment that it would never do damage beyond inflicting pain. The goblins appear to be holding back, trying to control her movement moreso than to harm her. They fight using dirty clubs that have metal studs crudely hammered in.
	*puff *puff
	Velma was so busy fighting that she didn't notice the goblin slingshotters who were taking aim at her. They shoot her with these pouches filled with herbs and heavy rocks that explode on impact, covering her body with a fine dust. It stings like crazy, but she doesn't notice any bleeding or serious injuries and continues fighting valiantly.
	Until she feels the itching.
	It begins as a weak sensation, like she needs to scratch the spot where the pouches hit her. Only a slight distraction at first, but it grows and grows until she desperately needs to scratch herself, or she will lose her mind.
	*puff *puff
	The goblins hit her with two more of those itching pouches! One connects with her upper body, right at her clavicle, throwing the debris in her face. It is at this time that the goblins fall into a frenzy from Minh's dancing and easily overrun the blinded dragoon. At this point, Velma isn't even trying to fight – she just desperately wishes that the creatures would stop glomming onto her she can scratch herself.
	They restrain her the same way they do Norra, by wrapping their arms and legs around her, and humping away at her nude body. Velma thinks she will lose her mind for all the torments she faces: to be humiliated so thoroughly while denied the opportunity to scratch the worst itching she has ever experienced. The red-haired woman squirms and wishes for someone to save her, especially when one goblin crawls up her body to mount her face.
	 Minh tries to make up for her mistake by running over to Norra's long sword and preparing to toss it to the half-elf woman. If she gets it, she can turn this fight around, even now. But as soon as the mocha-skinned beauty comes within reach of the weapon, her mind goes blank.
	Norra has finally managed to toss away a few of the goblins; but only the ones that were exhausted after finishing on her. Casting aside all of her revulsion, she cries out to Minh when she sees the woman pick up her sword.
	"Use it, Minh! Or bring it to me! Kill the chieftain!"
	Norra is horrified when the bard just lifts the blade and throws it the wrong way, towards the goblin on the throne. Although distracted by her own melee with the creatures, she observes a blue light shining from behind Minh's eyes – with fresh horror, Norra realizes that her companion is under mind control. It makes her fight all the more desperately to get to her weapon.
	The goblins release Norra right in time so that she cannot block a full-forced swing from Velma's quarterstaff, which Minh is using against her now. The white rod catches her on the chin and sends her reeling backwards, landing flat on her back, stunned from the blow. Without the magical enchantment, it would have certainly broken bones, it was so painful. Her vision goes dark around the edges and she is afraid to move until she sees Minh approaching, completely nude, with a wand that a goblin had tossed her.
	Minh points the wand at Norra's boots and they evaporate, leaving her bare feet exposed to the elements they were so poorly prepared to face. The goblins all cheer. They have formed a circle around the two combatants, except for the ones still busy trussing up Velma and Petra.
	"You have already lost," Minh gloats – they are the words of the goblin chieftain spoken through her.
	"Here are the terms of your surrender: I will spare your life. But you will come with me as my prisoner, and work for us underground."
	It dizzies the half-elf maiden to think about how serious things are right now. If she is taken into the goblin mines, she might never be seen again. No matter how successful they had been on the mountains, they had never gone inside the cramped and filthy tunnels where the goblins made their home. A person could barely traverse those winding spaces that were designed for much smaller creatures – and forget about fighting down there.
	Staging a rescue from that place was unprecedented.
	"Never!"
	In a quick manner, Minh has destroyed Norra's beloved armor, except for her helmet. While the blonde warrior fights for her life, the goblins take turns shooting her with slingshots and continually interfere to keep her off-balance and scrambling to find her footing. They have switched to spiky metal balls that lodge themselves in her body until she yanks each one out – the burning sensation makes her think that it is made of iron which is known for its adverse impact on elves.
	Velma has been hogtied, and squirms pathetically trying to scratch herself or break free. Her screams are muffled by a goblin that is pistoning his cock in and out of her mouth – she has a horrified expression to be used in this way.
	"If you surrender," Minh explains, "we will not use your mouth, like hers. You will be protected as our prisoner of war. She is only being treated this way because she didn't yield."
	Velma gargles something incomprehensible, but it seems like the goblins are preventing her from speaking. She has tears running down her face.
	"OW!" Norra cries out as a goblin shoots a spiky ball directly at her right buttcheek.
	As she tries to brush the burning metal bullet away, she nearly overlooks the fact that Minh has a wand of paralysis pointed at her. If she gets hit by that, she will fall to the ground lifeless, unable to move a muscle and the goblins can do whatever they want to her. The half-elf woman, now in just a bra and panties, has no time to think about if she can trust the chieftain. Her best option is to play along, no matter how much it horrifies her to do so.
	"I... yield." Norra says. It is the first time she has ever surrendered, and the goblins all cheer.
	"Kneel," Minh says.
	Norra glares at this stupid bard who cost her everything, but drops to her knees and puts her wrists in front of her as instructed. Her heart skips a beat when she sees a grey-skinned goblin approach with a pair of heavy manacles.
	"Y-you can't use that on me!" Norra pleads, "It's made of iron! I will break out in a terrible rash!"
	"No worse than you deserve, Murderess."
	 Defeated, Norra Weary extends both arms in the sign of surrender, and the goblin who gets to bind her wrists looks enormously pleased with himself. The moment she feels the metal connect with her wrists, the burning and itching starts – she can practically hear a hissing sound from how badly the metal irritates her. For an elf, remaining in contact with iron like this for a sustained period of time could be fatal; but a half-elf would just wish she were dead.
	"Crawl."
	To Norra's surprise, she isn't made to kneel before the goblin chieftain – they instead march her further into the mountains, ignoring her gasps and whines whenever her hands and knees land on a jagged rock. The pace makes things worse: it's easy enough for a goblin to walk at this speed, but for a fully-grown woman to crawl at that same rate she has to practically scramble the whole way. And the chain connecting her manacles together is quite short, so crawling is an even more grueling experience.
	Norra is beside herself with anger and embarrassment. She cringes as she feels the dirt lodge itself beneath her manicured fingernails, and cover her knees and the soles of her feet. Worse is the manner of 'correcting' her that the goblins utilize: whenever she looks up or dawdles, she feels the sting of a slingshot bullet hitting her backside as a reminder to keep her eyes downcast and hurry up. The chieftain holds true to his word that none of the goblins have tried using her mouth, but that doesn't stop them from 'marking' the road in front of her so that she must crawl through their filthy ejaculate. Every time she tries to stall, they zap her with some kind of electricity so painful she would do anything to avoid it, even crawling through filth. Wherever the iron touches her body, it stings and itches as though she got a sunburn on top of a poison ivy rash and any attempt she makes to scratch herself is treated as dawdling, and dealt with accordingly.
	Minh suffers a similar fate, except she remains under mind control and is made to crawl while carrying a goblin on her back as though she were a beast of burden. Since she has no need for vision, they have blindfolded her with one of the scarves they have pulled from her bag of holding. Naturally, they have removed her socks, which they have stuffed into her mouth for safe-keeping. She will need them later, to do performances to entertain them in the tunnels down below.
	Velma remains hog-tied, begging for a chance to scratch herself and wildly flailing to escape her bondage. She has been stuffed in a small cage with Petra, which the goblins have harnessed onto the women's own horses to make their transportation even easier. The defeated warriors travel this way to the halls of the goblin king, where their punishments will be described shortly.