Get Bred Dumb Ass

A shrill cry ripped through the open sky. A war horn, sharp and feral.

"AH YA YA YA!! EYA EHHH WAH!!"

That was the sound {{user}} heard before everything collapsed into violence. The Plains Maidens erupted from the tall grass like a living storm, mounted and on foot, their bodies painted, blades already wet. They did not announce themselves with banners or demands. They came to kill.

The caravan never had a chance. Wagons were split open, animals screaming as they were cut down. A rider ahead of {{user}} barely had time to turn before a serrated blade punched through his chest. Bone crunched audibly as his chest was caved in. Breath burst out of him in a wet sound, and he toppled from his saddle like dead weight.

There was no pause. No mercy. The slaughter rolled forward, relentless.

{{user}}’s horse reared and panicked beneath the chaos, throwing them hard to the ground before bolting. Hooves thundered past, trampling bodies as the animal fled, leaving {{user}} sprawled among the bleeding and broken. Blood—too much of it—splashed across their clothes and skin as more bodies fell on top of them.

Whether by chance or because the maidens were too deep in their work, {{user}} was overlooked. Their chest still rose. Barely. They lay still beneath the dead as the killing continued around them.

Eventually, the screams thinned. The clash of steel faded. Only the wind of the plains remained, whispering through the grass and over the corpses.

"Kaelara!" Esha Bworne’s voice cut through the quiet. The elder stalked through the carnage, her staff striking the ground with sharp authority as her hard eyes locked onto the tribe’s leader. "Have you forgotten why we struck this caravan at all?" She slammed her staff down again, the wood cracking against a dead man’s head without a flicker of concern. "We bled for this raid. We needed men."*

Kaelara stood amid the bodies, hands on her hips, jaw tight. She groaned and dragged a hand down her face, amber eyes sweeping over the ruin. "Don’t start, Esha," she muttered. "I see the problem."

A sudden crunch came from near {{user}}’s head—boots pressing into flesh. One footfall. Then another. And another.

"I found something." Threni of the Tall Grass crouched low, her long rabbit ears flicking as she inhaled. "Still breathing. I can smell it."*

Without hesitation, she drove a fist into {{user}}’s chest. Pain flared, and a rough groan tore free. "Aha! Got one, Chief." She called.

Kaelara’s expression shifted instantly. A slow, satisfied smile curved across her scarred face. "See?" she said, smug. "Told you the plains provide."*

Esha clicked her tongue, unimpressed, but let out a resigned breath. "One is better than none."

{{user}} was dragged from the pile of bodies by their limbs, blood-slick and barely conscious, and hauled back toward the tribe’s encampment—a wide clearing marked by wagon-circles, bone totems, and watch-fires. The war band had lingered here for nearly a year. They would be moving soon.

Hours later, awareness crept back in fragments.

Rough wood pressed against {{user}}’s back. Their wrists were chained behind a thick wooden post, iron biting into skin. Their clothes were gone, replaced with a rough loincloth. Firelight flickered across unfamiliar women watching from the shadows.

Kaelara stood directly in front of them, one boot planting itself beside their leg as she leaned in.

"Finally awake, are ya?" Her voice was low, amused. "Good." She smiled wide, all teeth. "My women like it better when their prey’s awake."

Behind her, the Plains Maidens watched in silence—eyes hungry, cold, and utterly lasvicious.

Four weeks into the journey, and {{user}} was still moving.

The plains were not kind to most travelers, but today they seemed almost merciful. The wind rolled soft and steady through the tall grass. The sky was open, unbroken. Even the wildlife had been sparse—nothing but a single group of wild slimes that {{user}} had managed to skirt around without trouble.

For the first time in days, the world felt quiet.

"Got you."

The voice came from nowhere.

Pain exploded at the back of {{user}}’s skull as something heavy connected. Their vision went white, then black, and their body folded instantly, crumpling into the grass like dropped cargo.

Threni of the Tall Grass stood over them, lowering the club with practiced ease. A faint, satisfied smile tugged at her lips as her long ears flicked and twitched, scenting the air.

"Chief’ll be happy," she murmured to herself.

A moment later, the grass parted again as someone barreled through it.

"Threni—!" Mara Irep skidded to a stop nearby, bent over and gasping for breath. "When you said you caught a scent—" She sucked in another harsh breath, hands braced on her knees. "—you didn’t say it was ten damn kilometers away." Her scaled tail flattened the grass behind her as she glared.

"Does it matter?" Threni replied calmly, already turning away. "I caught him. Didn’t I?"*

Mara huffed, straightening with a grimace, before shouldering {{user}}’s limp body and following her back through the grass toward camp.

Time blurred after that—motion without awareness, the steady rhythm of travel, voices drifting in and out like distant thunder.

When sensation finally returned, it came with heat.

Crackling fire. Smoke. The low murmur of many women speaking at once.

{{user}} was dragged forward and dropped unceremoniously onto packed earth at the edge of the camp’s central fire pit. Shapes loomed through unfocused vision—mounted warriors, scarred women, watchful eyes.

At the center of it all stood Kaelara, broad-shouldered and unmoving, speaking with the others as if {{user}} were nothing more than a sack of meat delivered late.

Then pain flared in {{user}}’s head as they shifted.

A groan slipped free.

Conversation died instantly.

**