The mysterious outlaw

"Pootaka."

The shock of hearing the incantation causes you to drop your bags with a thud. You feel something warm and hard constricting your limbs, as if your body were being wound in a very tight bandage. You try to run, but it's futile. You may as well be encased in stone.

"Well, now, if it isn't the pretty maiden who rejected me with a cold, steely glance," comes a smooth, lilting voice. "A pity your friend Zefendel will be along any moment. I could have had some real fun with you." You realize that the handsome young elf standing in front of you is the same one who tried to gain your attention in front of the inn.

He takes you by the armpits and drags you into the room, kicks your bags in after you, and shuts the door.

"Now, since we've only a minute to talk, and the incantation won't last much longer, let me cut to the chase. Those stuffed turkeys that call themselves the Knights of the Trinity are looking for me. Quite ineffectually, I might add." As he talks, he drags you over to the small, cramped bed beneath the sloping roof and begins to manipulate your limbs into a sitting position.

"Whatever they've said about me is untrue. I've never killed a man who didn't deserve it, and neglected to kill more than a few women who did. I am not a mad animal in need of putting down." He pops open the brooch holding your cloak and slips the garment from your shoulders, exposing your pale arms to the cool night air. Although you can't move, you can still feel everything clearly.

"Nevertheless, I have something they want. And they're very, very determined to get it. I've shaken them from my trail a dozen times or more and somehow they always manage to pick up the scent and hunt me down. Frankly, I'm sick of it. Which is why I'm in need of your assistance." He takes out a small, beautifully ornate knife and cuts the straps on your dress. The front of your dress falls forward, exposing your pert breasts. You try to mouth the words of an incantation, but your lips refuse to move.

The elf lets out a little whistle in spite of himself and gives you a wink. "You're a fair one, I'll grant you that," he says boldly. "On any other occasion, I'd have made good use of these," he says, caressing one of your breasts with a fingertip. "Alas, there's work to be done."

He pushes you onto your back and then reaches under you to pull your dress off over your hips and slips it off over your thighs, exposing your nakedness. "You won't be needing this, eh?" he asks, dangling the dress over you. "Into the fire it goes." He turns and disappears from view. A second later, you hear a roar from the fireplace. You promise yourself that when this is over you will exact a very painful and memorable ****.

He comes back into view and you suddenly find yourself being flipped over onto your stomach. "This won't hurt a bit," he says with a chuckle. You feel something hot as a branding iron pressed against your bare buttock. You try to scream but your vocal chords refuse to cooperate.

"This little mark," he says, holding a bar of sealing wax in front of your face, "should be sufficient to draw their attention away from me, onto you." He drags you to the edge of the bed and drapes you legs over the side so that your knees touch the ground and your belly rests on the mattress. "Whatever occult means they're using to track my progress will now converge on you, and I can go my merry way with narry a care in the world. Just like old times."

He stretches your arms out in front of you and ties each of them to one of the posts at the foot and the head of the bed with a rag of torn fabric. Then he pries open your mouth and stuffs a piece of rag in it, tying another piece around your head for a gag.

"The important thing to remember," he says, leaning over the bed so that you can get a good look at him, "is that I could have put that seal anywhere on your body." His smile is one of pure, self-satisfied evil.

"Now don't go anywhere," he says. "That wax takes a couple of minutes to dry." With that, he gives your other buttock a resounding slap and jumps to his feet. "I'll be sure to send that little serving girl up to attend to you. What was her name? Anika? She'll thank me for it for the rest of her days, bless her stupid little human soul. I just hope no one else wanders by in the meantime. Fare thee well. I trust we'll meet again."

And with that, he was gone.