🛡️ The Supple Battalion II

The tavern, filled with the warm glow of lantern light and the thick aroma of ale, swayed gently as laughter echoed from one end to another. It was a night like any other in this rowdy establishment, where stories were spun and friendships forged over countless pints. But little did anyone know that tonight would be different for Peter Gumby, the notorious Captain who had become renowned throughout the land.

"Did you hear about the time he single-spinedly took on a band of bendits?"

"Aye, that was nothin' but a tale. I've seen him fight, and I tell you, the man's got moves like nobody else."

"I've heard he can bend his arms likes snakes, and his neck can turn 'round like a weathervane!"

"There's no denying it. The Captain has got the flexibility of a lizard."

A confident young man, just a couple of years away from his 20th birthday, sat attentively at the bar, his eyes gleaming like precious stones in the dim light. His unkempt hair revealed tales of late-night celebrations following his numerous adventures. He attentively listened to the stories shared within the tavern.

His name was Peter Gumby, a young man who found it highly amusing that he could undertake tasks thought beyond human capacity. Intriguingly, some patrons suddenly began to doubt his abilities, making wagers on whether he could indeed carry out these seemingly impossible feats.

"But have you ever seen it with your own eyes?" one of the patrons asked, his voice tinged with doubt. "No one can bend in half with a full chest of gold coins upon their shoulders!"

"And who's to say he truly can squirm through walls like a mouse?"

"And swallow a whole banana without chewing! Seems totally made-up by some wild-eyed minstrel!"

Captain Peter Gumby stood up from his seat. "I'll bet anyone here that I can fold so tight that you won't fit a knife blade between my backside and my shoulders," he boasted, a grin spreading across his face.

The tavern erupted in a flurry of bets. Coins clinked, meanwhile the Captain's grin grew wider as he stripped off his shirt and stood, his boots wide apart, hands on his hips. He flexed his back muscles, and suddenly a collective gasp escaped from the patrons.

The tavernkeeper shook his head in disbelief. "Now, I've seen some things in my time," he said, "but I never seen nothin' quite like that."

"Now, try to slip a knife in there, if you can," Peter Gumby dared them with a cocky confidence.

One after another, the patrons tried their best to wedge anything between Peter's butt and shoulders but not even a thin piece of parchment could find a gap.

A tall, slim ranger named Hark stepped forward, slapping a handful of coins down onto the bar counter. "Hah! Any skilled archer can fold that much. But I bet ten gold pieces that you can't hit the bullseye from twenty paces away from any of your bendy-arsed poses," Hark grumbled, his voice like thunder in the cozy tavern.

Hark was almost in his twenties, always carrying himself with an air of authority and confidence, speaking only when necessary and always straight to the point.

"I'll take the bet," Peter accepted the challenge with a smirk on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But I'll need a few minutes to prepare."

Hark scoffed at Peter's request, but the Captain's reputation was enough to convince him otherwise. With a grunt of acceptance, Hark handed over his bow and quiver filled with arrows.

Once alone in a secluded corner of the tavern, Peter began by warming up his muscles, ensuring they were ready for the task ahead. Finally, with a deep breath and a focused gaze, he settled into an impressive backbend, his arms wrapped around a nearby wooden beam.

Holding the bow with the toes of one foot while grasping the arrow with the other, he drew back the bowstring, focusing intently on the bullseye in front of him.

It seemed impossible to aim while twisted into such a contortion, yet with lightning speed, he launched the arrow with deadly accuracy straight at Hark's target. The patrons gasped as they watched the arrow fly in a perfect arc, striking dead center.

The ranger was stunned and furious, realizing too late that Peter had bested him without even breaking a sweat. But instead of walking away, he decided to challenge Peter to an even more extreme test to push his limits further.

"Bet my last copper," Hark sneered, pushing a heavy wooden barrel over towards Peter's outstretched legs, "you can't hold that pose for five minutes."

Peter smiled triumphantly, knowing this wasn't anything his flexible body couldn't handle. He took up his challenge with gusto. Unbeknownst to everyone, Peter had a trick up his sleeve – or rather in his pants.

He quickly unbuttoned his breeches, revealing that he had been wearing an enchanted loincloth given to him by the wise wizard Foldazar. A wave of magic flowed through the thin strip of shimmering silk fabric upheld by almost invisible threads.

Hopping onto the barrel and settling into his most impressive backbend, Peter stretched his legs wide apart and then lowered them down until his feet touched the barrel from both sides, contorting his whole body into an unbelievable combination of backbend and a deep oversplit.

As the clock ticked away in slow motion, Peter maintained his pose without breaking a sweat or even flinching. The tavern patrons were stunned speechless, witnessing a pose they would never forget in their lives.

As Peter finally let go of the barrel and stood up straight, the room erupted into applause and cheers. His victory was nothing short of legendary – even by his own high standards!

One man remained silent and still amid the celebration: Hark, who had been so certain about the limitations of the human body until that very moment. He slipped away from the tavern with his tail between his legs, forever humiliated and wishing he hadn't been so quick to bet against someone like Peter Gumby.

The night turned into a raucous celebration as more and more challenges were thrown at Peter by the tavern's patrons, who suddenly became willing to spend the last coin to see more contortions from the legendary Captain.

There was no limit to Peter's incredible talents, but as the long night stretched into early morning, fatigue began to set in for everyone present. The only exception was Peter himself – his beaming smile making it look like he only just started.

Just as the tavern owner announced last call and everyone began to make their way home, Peter found himself cornered by a tipsy young man named Thaddeus. The latter was an apprentice scribe at court who had been mesmerized by the Captain's extraordinary feats.

Thaddeus, always equipped with documents that certified his legal right to drink and revel, made it hard to believe he had truly reached the milestone of being 18. Few dared to question his claims, as he consistently exuded an air of intellectual superiority. However, at his core, Thaddeus remained a curious child, yearning to explore the marvels that surrounded him.

"Captain Peter Gumby," Thaddeus began, his voice trembling slightly from excitement. "I have a proposition for you."

Peter's ears perked up at the sound of his name being spoken so reverently by someone as young and inexperienced as Thaddeus.

"What do you propose?" he asked with interest.

"I want to witness something truly extraordinary," Thaddeus said, pulling out a parchment from his satchel. "I've heard tales about your flexibility, but I need proof."

Peter chuckled, amused at how eager the boy was. "What kind of proof are you looking for?"

Thaddeus revealed an ancient scroll that looked like it had been passed down through generations. The parchment depicted various poses, which Thaddeus claimed were from an ancient tome on flexibility. "Do you think any of these poses are actually possible?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes widened as he examined the parchment. "Well, it won't hurt to try," he said with a smile, ready to transform into his rubbery self once more for a final display of pure flexibility.

With each twist and bend, Thaddeus gazed wide-eyed at Peter, documenting every movement onto parchment. The young scribe was practically sober by the time Peter came to his final pose, stretched out fully on the bar stool with every part of him taken beyond all previously documented limits of the human body.

"I can't believe it!" Thaddeus stared at his parchment, beaming with excitement. "You're a living legend!"

Peter chuckled. "Well, I guess one day you'll write about me in your book."

Thaddeus nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes! I will. And it won't just be the contortions – I'll also include your story. It's a tale that needs to be told!"

"Good luck with that, then," Peter said. "But remember, you owe me a drink when it's published."

"Not just a drink," Thaddeus promised with a wink. "A case of the finest ale in the kingdom!"

As the boy strotted away with his new-found enthusiasm, Peter was left alone in the deserted tavern, completely naked and stretched out beyond recognition on top of a bar stool, sipping what was left of his ale. The tavern owner found him there with a chuckle and helped the Captain gather his clothes, shaking his head at the peculiar sight before him.

"Well ain't that just something," he mumbled as he handed Peter back his breeches. "Ain't no one ever gonna forget this night."

Peter's grin couldn't get any wider or more mischievous as he slipped on his breeches, ready to face any challenges that may come his way tomorrow...