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>Tied up. As it turns out, Miranda's is on the way.
One of the main benefits of fighting and fucking your way through an entire tribe of greenskins until nothing remains but their scattered ashes and withered bones is the amount of loot left over when you're done. While not near as rich in plunder as <span class="mu-s">[The Great Labyrinth: Purdan]</span> greenskins that find their way to the surface of the world make easy pickings for a girl like you. Sure, it's given you an unceremonious nickname like "Monster Bait", but no one will deny your efficiency in clearing out goblin caves. Most refuse the risk of rape or worse for their paltry plunder, but for you it's plenty of pay for a night of draining acceptable targets.
"These little guys really prospered down there..." you comment to yourself. Your hands on your hips, you drink in the pile of loot that you've assembled from the makeshift storerooms in the caverns. "I wonder what could have driven them out of the deep? Most of this looks near as good as human make..."
Usually a goblin tribe would wave about spears of stone and rusted iron daggers, with perhaps a good axe or mace in the hands of their leader.
While you have no particular eye for quality, you've known enough militiamen to know what cheap gear good enough for to get the job done looks like. What you've piled up is closer to that than a goblin's usual fare. The spears are cold forged of pot iron, and so too are the cleavers. While the broads of the blades are rusted and pitted, the metal remains sound enough to pierce through a novice adventurer's armor. Not your good plate that you left at home, but the ringmail from a side alley market that sells for a handful of silver instead of gold would turn stone, but not these spears.
It's a shame you can't lug it all back yourself. A finder's fee is nice, but selling off all this scrap yourself would net you ten times the coin. Alas, you don't have a cart carry it all, for even with the strength lent by the <span class="mu-s">[Behemoth's Bosom]</span> you just can't fit them all across your back or over your shoulder. So you pile them up nice and neat and lay out an oilcloth atop them, so that they don't rust any worse while they wait for some hardy boys to come get them. With the caves safe, you've no doubt some apprentices will get sent out by whichever smith wants the scrap for his warehouse.
Of what you set out, there's still way too much for you to carry out of the caverns.