The Storyteller PT1 (f/m) and (mmmmf/f)

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.
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leconteur
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The Storyteller PT1 (f/m) and (mmmmf/f)

Post by leconteur »

PT1

The candlelit room allowed for shadows and mystery to envelope the environs. A lithe olive-skinned woman of many years with silver streaked black hair held her own candle and told the story to her audience.

“The young man was trapped in the Spider’s Web! Despite his attempts to move, no it was no use, the spider had bound him well. He could only hope the Headman’s daughter would come in time to save him from his blunder.” The woman told the tale to the children, Maki a boy almost a man, who shuddered at the thought of coming to a fate such as this other young hunter. Suli, a girl of thirteen summers was enraptured, she was obviously taken with the idea of the young damsel becoming the savior of the boy in the tale.

The storyteller stood tall and made like a spider descending on her prey, “the spider appeared on the periphery of the man’s vision, oh it was an awful thing! A thousand eyes, with brutish teeth and nasty spiny legs!” She gestured like a spider working it’s way forward, at this point, it became clear she was a raconteur of rare skill. The young warrior tried to call out for assistance just then, but like lightning, flash! Bang, Wrap! The same webbing that bound him fast was covering his face, covering his mouth like a roll of tape. The storyteller held her hand over her mouth and dropped her pitch to that of young man, “mmmnoo mmmmrhep mrreeem mmmpeth mmme mmmo.”

She quickly switched back to narration, “the spider grinned with it’s nasty fangs and laughed, climbing over the prone form of our hero, preparing it’s stinger.”

The kids shrieked just as the woman changed her voice to that of a young woman. “Stand back Spiderwoman! This one is with me.”

The evil snarly spider voice was expertly done, “ah yes, another mummy for my collection. I will wrap you up like the manchild here and you can be dispatched…together!”

“Not likely spiderwoman. I have here something which you might be interested in!” The woman held a bundle of sage, with a burning pine branch underneath. “If you do not free him, I will spread this sagesmoke all through your hollow. Your kin will become sick. It may be that there will be no more spiderpeople. I do not want this, do you?”

“The spider shrieked a horrible sound, something like out of tune trumpets and violins all playing at once. ‘Fineeeee’ it said, ‘have your miserable bag of blood.’ The spider cut the webbing around the boy, letting him drop to the ground, landing on some ferns and rolling for awhile. When he stopped rolling, the form of a beautiful woman, the love of his life it seemed was standing over him. She laughed a bit and said, ‘fine place to see you again.’

The woman telling the story covered her mouth once again and said in the young man’s voice, “mmop mmmammin mmmumm mmamm mmet me moose!”

“The girl leaned over, and with a quick flash of her short sword, loosed the webbing from his face. Before he could respond, she was kissing him. They lived happily after all. I mean they fought like your parents sometimes, and they sometimes got upset about silly little things but generally, it was a wonderful affair. They loved each other very much. The end.”

The parents had arrived at the end of the story, and being big fans of Myrtle’s stories, they always patiently listened to the end before interrupting. “Great story Miss Ageemak.”

“Some stories are more than stories. That is the story of how I came to be with my sweetheart. Of course,” she grinned, “some embellishments may have been added.” The woman of years better uncounted in her presence looked at her charges with a resigned look. “Auntie Agee, tell us another story!”

“Sorry kiddos, Agee must get home and get some rest. And so should you!” Myrtle “Agee” Ageemak loved visiting but she knew when it was time to go. Besides, she had some work to do anyway. She left the family after attempts to get her to stay for a cup of tea were politely rebuffed. She began down the snowy street to her cabin on the edge of the creekside village. It was a quiet nice, the snow muting sounds far off. The steps she heard behind her did not go unnoticed.

The hands were holding and pulling rope around her before she could understand what was happening. “Hey, no what are you doing?” She sincerely thought it was children, even the ones she had just left, having a little bit of rude but otherwise safe fun. But then she saw what could only be described as a ‘goblin.’ Myrtle was about to turn and shout for help when one of the goblins ripped off her headscarf and pushed it into her mouth. She instinctively bit down, catching one of the gagger’s fingers but the cloth was pushed back so far she couldn’t quite push it out with her tongue. The struggling human focused her energy on extricating herself from the grip of the collective of 4 or maybe. As she did so, she noticed that they had slipped her socks off her feet and onto her hands before binding them in several harsh knots that attached to many of the ropes winding around her already secured torso.

Myrtle was entangled to the point of losing her balance, falling into the arms of the goblins who had prepared and precipitated her fall with care. Her eyes focused on a pair of arms holding a long white cloth. It seemed to shimmer and sparkle, but maybe that was just from her recent fall. The goblin, who appeared to be some form of female leader, brought the cloth around and around her face three or four times, knotting it each time she passed it over the human’s head. She then touched the final knot and said some words in foreign language. The gag tightened, seemingly by itself, like an anaconda, gripping Myrtle’s lower face. Then the same leader goblin went and touched each rope that bound her, the same words, the same snake-like tightening of the bonds. The captured Myrtle began to fear that she would be constricted to death, but the bonds seemed to loosen when she stopped tensing. They must be reacting to my struggles. If I struggle less, this will be more comfortable. But it will also mean I cannot get out without squeezing myself to oblivion!

The goblins had brought out a sleigh pulled by large hyena like creatures. She was quickly lifted onto the back of the sleigh and wrapped in several large blankets, leaving only her eyes and nose visible. The additional ropes pulled over her form were attached to the sleigh, lashing her onto the vehicle like a bit of extra luggage on the roof of an automobile. As Myrtle realized she was going to be transported away somewhere, and that this may be her last moments within earshot of other humans, she began to make energetic grunts into the cloth she had been so severely gagged with. The gag began to tighten like the ropes had when she struggled. She let off after the cloth had begun to press against her mouth painfully. The majority of the goblins laughed when she stopped trying to cry for help. The female leader came over to her and gently brushed her hand over the gag, whispering something. The gag became slightly more comfortable, a little looser it seemed. The female goblin then said quietly, “do not make me use a stronger charm, believe me I will. You will not be harmed, for we need you to tell the stories.”

Myrtle couldn’t help making an exclamation at that last part. The female goblin grinned a little, “Just stop trying to make too much noise and don’t try and get loose and we will get along well.” The hand mussed up Myrtle’s hair like one might do to a child. And that’s when Myrtle realized I must seem like a child to them, what with my ignorance of their ways. She was surprised that she could make such an insightful observation in her position. Perhaps it was a sign that she was controlling her panic, after all, there really was no use in trying to escape in her current state. She may as well listen, watch, and learn.
33/m/rope bunny Always willing to answer questions and provide guidance where it is requested.