Peter slowly opened his eyelids.
Clank, clank, clack.
Sound of metal smashing against a rock. All he could see was a mushroom stem and the ceiling sliding away
What's going on?
He tried to move his hands, but they were bound together with mushroom fibers, and his feet were bound together as well. Suddenly the clacking and the sliding of the ceiling stopped. Initially, he felt weightless, as if he could fly, but reality soon set in. With a heavy clank, the ground rushed to meet him. A terrible and blunt sensation arose from his back. He was dropped.
Humid air and the smell of cooked meat filled his lungs. But he couldn't face to the source. Before him was a fat, humanoid pig sitting on a throne, looking down on him. The pig's saliva slowly splattered on his forehead.
Oh, fuck. They will eat me!
Hungry grunts filled his surroundings in every direction. Two arms reached up, lifting him into a sitting position to face the king. His mouth opened with strings of saliva, ready to order Peter to the fire.
Think, Peter. Think! I remember reading a story like this. What did the character do?
His gaze frantically darted around, searching for anything that might be of use. Stone houses, a fire pit, his sword in the hands of a far away pig, others staring at him with hungry gazes; finally he spotted his leather notebook and charcoal pencil, his only hope.
Don't make sudden movements.
He slowly raised his hands, pointing at the leather notebook. Hungry grunts stopped, confused stares filled the silence.
Oink! Oink! Oink!
Snorting, guttural sounds filled the village. They burst into laughter, pointing their filthy fingers at him. He wasn't just the meal, he was today's entertainment. Clenching his teeth, he forced a smile.
I just need them to unbind me. I'll show them...
One of the pigs grabbed his notebook and pencil. With a smug face he threw it at another pig. They were playing volleyball with his hopes. Their king grumbled and laughed, getting his saliva all over his face. Peter bit his tongue, his smile darkened.
Another pig approached the king, holding a liquid in a mushroom-made cup. His gaze was on the king's face, trying to understand what it was. The king's stomach growled and his smile was filled with greed.
That's it!
Peter let his smile fall, he bowed down as a universal sign of submission. The laughter got heavier, he closed his eyes.
Don't do something dumb... Not yet.
He slowly raised his head, eyes on the cup -the only key to escape - With his tied hands he made a drinking gesture. The king's eyes widened not with disgust but with cruel amusement. A pig lunged forward, raising her hands to let him know his place. Suddenly the king lifted his hand to make them stop.
Oink, Oink!
He ordered a drink to be brought into Peter's hands. The drink smelled like a foul mix of sweet mushrooms and dirt. He lifted the cup, filling his mouth with the awful taste of this wine. Slamming the cup to the ground, he looked at the king with an almost smug face.
Come on! Take the bait.
Angry choirs of roars erupted from the pigs. The king's eyes narrowed and his lips slightly lifted. Yet he couldn't take this disrespect. Lifting his hand he ordered more cups of wine. Other pigs furiously picked up cups. They couldn't take this insult to their king. They had to make him know his place. And like this, the drinking game began.
After a few shots, most of the half-pigs were on the ground singing a melody. On the other hand Peter wasn't just sober, he was bursting with energy. He brought another cup to his lips, acting as if he drank it and poured it to the ground like the others.
After the third shot, their attention changed from me to the drinks.
He scanned the village, they were barely walking in a straight line. He changed his gaze to the king, he had his head on the throne and was grumbling before the third shot. Then a mean looking and buff pig caught his attention; near him another, smaller pig was inspecting his longsword.
That's my chance.
He slowly raised up, moving between the pigs to not draw attention. Deliberately wobbling across to sell the drunkenness, he walked aside the buff pig, giving it a hard nudge. Under the influence the pig slammed on the top of the other.
The smaller pig's cries echoed throughout the village, grabbing everyone's attention. The bigger pig got up, before he could apologize the smaller pig threw Peter's sword to the side. The smaller pig, with a drunken rage lunged forward to punch his nose.
The surrounding pigs, seeing a fight break out; gathered around them to watch the fight and cheer brawlers on. Amidst the chaos Peter grabbed a sharp rock, with a sawing motion he freed himself from the mushroom fibers.
I just need my sword, those cost a fortune!
...And the notebook
Peter took a glance around; pigs, more pigs... there! beneath a group of pigs was his sword. He squeezed his way through and reached for the longsword. Luckily pigs kept his scabbard intact. Sheathing his sword, he wandered between the pigs. It lay on the ground, damaged from all the steps and throws. He grabbed his notebook with care, looking at it for a second, and moving on to get out of this hellish place.