Ambushed and tied up.

An hour has passed since Arrielle left her new master to begin foraging, and she's beginning to get bored. Even among the aarakocra, a race used to moving constantly, never settling in one place for long, she had always been considered a bit too lively and impatient. Sometimes, she'd even played small pranks on the elder members of her clan - although obviously nothing on the level of what Zephyr just pulled on her. She cringes at how easily she was tricked, so **** was she for a home; at the teasing that had come after, and his smug, gloating laugh. Despite that natural reaction to the humiliation, however, she also grows a little aroused at the thought of her complete exposure, and the orgasm that had followed.

The clang of a sword snaps her out of her reverie. She focuses, listening intently, and is rewarded by a second sound - an incantation of some kind, long enough to guide her to its exact source, on the bank of a river dividing a large field from a dense forest. A battle is unfolding on the field side, between a swarm of goblins and a small party of adventurers - a female elf rogue, with midnight-black hair, and dressed in a form-fitting leather catsuit; a female human cleric, dressed in a practically see-through cloak and white underweat; a male dwarf fighter, wearing chain armour and sporting a dashing beard, in following with the standard dwarf stereotype; and finally, a female human warlock, wearing the most revealing clothes of them all: a miniskirt and strapless crop top, both in a deep shade of purple. All of them are around level 3, which would normally be enough for them to massacre the goblins with ease, but there's a slight problem: the warlock has already been knocked ****, presumably in an ambush, and the cleric has dragged her to the forest side of the bank in order to tend to her wounds, which explains the chanting from a moment earlier. This leaves two level 3s against a pack of goblins without a single AoE attack to their name. They aren't going to lose, but they'll be significantly bashed up for Arrielle to take them out on her own.

That'll only happen, however, if she can stop the cleric and the warlock from returning to the fight. A quick arrow or two to the head would probably be enough, but remembering Zephyr's final request to her, she decides on a more erotic option. Several of the nearby trees have vines running around their trunks, and she cuts a few off to use as makeshift rope, before flying back over to the slowly awakening warlock. The cleric seems to have stopped casting spells on her, and has instead taken to watching out for danger in the surrounding trees as her friend recovers. Unfortunately for the both of them, her inexperience means she isn't expecting a strike from above. Quick as a flash, Arrielle dives at her chest and tackles her to the ground with a thud, knocking her wooden, quartz-topped staff to the side. Without it, they both know that the cleric is practically powerless: a cleric's power comes from their god or godess, and their staff is their only means of drawing it down from the heavens. After taking a moment to recover, she reaches for it, just managing to stretch a finger to it in order to roll it back towards her. She curls her hands around its shaft, before moving to get up - but Arrielle is ready for her, and presses her foot down next to her fingers with an evil grin on her face, trapping them underneath the staff. Reaching down, she places her left hand over the cleric's mouth, stifling her cry for help, and uses the other to wrap the vines around her wrists and cinch them tight in the middle, creating a makeshift pair of handcuffs. In this state, her flimsy robes are easily ripped from her body and her panties liberated from between her flailing legs, and then placed back into her mouth. A second vine secures the gag in place, and then Arrielle ties her to a nearby tree with a relatively loose knot - she's not finished with the cleric yet, but the warlock needs to be dealt with first.

Speaking of which, she's now awakening rapidly, stretching out her limbs. Fortunately, she still hasn't seen the cleric, but that will soon change. Arrielle waits patiently in a tree above her, searching for an opportunity to strike. Finally, the warlock raises her arms out above her head, inadvertently putting her in the exact same position as the cleric was in when she reached for her staff. A few short moments later, she shares the cleric's fate, with one small exception - the removal of her skirt and top reveals that she isn't wearing any underwear, much to Arrielle's amusement, and so the cleric's bra ends up between her purple-stained lips.

With those two out of the way, Arrielle takes to the sky to check how the battle is going. To her surprise, the goblins are still holding strong, dancing around the dwarf and pounding him with stones from their sling, while their apparent leader, a gobliness with large, rounded breasts, wearing little more than a kilt of feathers, duels with the rogue. But even as she watches, the goblins are beginning to slow, growing exhausted as time goes on.