The elves get their blankets back

It doesn’t take the elves very long to catch up to Tyra and Diana, as they nimbly and gracefully maneuver over the broken, rocky terrain. A little bit of a shouting match ensues, with both sides clamoring for the all-important blankets that are vital for maintaining any semblance of dignity while fleeing from the site of this godforsaken dungeon.

One of the elves, a tanned-skinned girl with a tight ponytail of black hair and a tattoo on her shoulder of intricately interwoven silver threads, not to mention an impressively firm set of knockers, stealthily outflanks the two women and sneaks up on them from behind, grappling Diana and wrestling her to the ground, after which the others - a little bit more heavyset blonde and a fiery redhead with a braid going all the way down to the small of her back - rush Tyra and pin her to the ground as well, though she struggles fiercely and almost manages to get free. After hogtying Diana and Tyra and restuffing their mouths with their bras, The elves quickly retrieve their blankets.

All the elves heads snap towards the nearby road, and Diana and Tyra’s muffled protests cease for a moment, at the sound of an approaching oxcart. Narrowly visible past the trees is a wagon, trudging along the road, carrying a pair of young adults - a couple handsome farmhands by the looks of it.

The elves gingerly approach the road, hiding behind their reacquired blankets.

”Boys, greetings! Could we perhaps get a lift, maybe borrow some shirts?” says the redhead, walking in the lead.

The farmhands’ eyes seem to nearly pop out at the sight of these three maidens emerging from the forest, woefully underdressed. They grin, and nudge each other. ”And uh- what do we get in exchange, oh fair mistress elf?”

A little put off by the initial suggestion, but aware the weapons she’d normally use for intimidation were left in the dungeon, a coy grin creeps across the lead elf’s visage: ”How about... them?” She replies, pointing a ways behind her, to the hogtied Diana and Tyra.

With little further convincing needed, the eager farmhands allowed the elves to board their vehicle, loaded their prizes up onto the pile of hay in the back of the cart, and set off to help their new elvish friends get a fresh set of clothes in a nearby town - their hands never straying very far from some area of Diana or Tyra’s skin to fondle, as the women ineffectually yelled muffled protestations.