Disclaimer: All characters are 18 years of age or older.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
From his vantage point within sight of the catapults, Warlord Garam Greybone and his second-command had a clear view of the force which now struck like lightning. They were Ninevari knights armed with bow and sword, their magical armor mostly hiding them from the naked eye. Only the weapons they carried and the occasional ray of dying sunlight, which formed a shimmery reflection, gave them away.
"There are too many," Tersiar hissed to his warlord. "And they use some kind of foul sorcery. We must fall back."
With a scowl, Garam shook his head. It was true, these knights had caught the orcish horde flat-footed. At least two-score had already fallen and their dark green blood soaked the earth. But more orcs would soon come.
"I am no coward," he spat. "Follow my lead."
Garam was no coward, but he was no fool either. He didn't risk direct confrontation. He watched with a critical eye as the Ninevari knights proceeded to free the nearby Ninevari captives - mother, daughter, and father. Then they began to pour some kind of liquid from tall earthen jars onto the catapults. They then set the soaked wood alight.
Soon the nearby catapults were blazing merrily like bonfires, rendered useless to the invaders. Yet the Ninevari knights knew that their advantage lay in their deadliness of skill combined with surprise and little else. Already the orcs had regrouped and were forming large mobs ready to charge, like an unstoppable wave, toward the line of burning catapults.
"Magical armor or no, a blind and heavy charge of enraged orcs will cut them down like wheat, and they know it," Garam reminded his second. "Stay close."
Garam's words proved prophetic. The Ninevari attack force quickly withdrew back toward the inner fortress at the center of the city. Rapidly too - and far too quickly for the disoriented captives to keep up.
Garam saw his chance.
"Come. Now!" He stormed forward with Tersiar at his elbow. They reached Kalaendra as she struggled to help her stumbling mother. The father, Ruric, turned back and saw the two hostile warriors approaching. One of the Ninevari knights, letting empathy shroud his good sense, had stayed back to help the captives too. Now the knight nocked an arrow and fired. The arrow flew with a hiss and embedded itself in Garam's upraised shield. The warlord bellowed a war cry and charged.
The Ninevari knight unwisely drew his sword and moved to engage instead of fleeing. The knight's vicious slash met only air as Garam threw his shield at the man and slid deftly to the side. Before the knight could recover, the warlord ran his blade through the man's armpit, finding a weak point in the knight's armor.
The man gurgled blood as he sank to the ground. Garam turned just in time to see Ruric bearing down on him. The man would have brained him with the cudgel he held - probably a weapon he'd picked up off of a fallen orc - but before he could, Tersiar knocked him senseless and he fell to the ground beside the knight.
"Shall I finish him?" Tersiar asked.
"NO! Please!!" mother and daughter shrieked at once. Garam turned to regard the two blue-eyed women.
"If you two cunts come willingly, I'll spare his life."
Both women nodded. They looked at the ground dejectedly while Garam pulled some extra rope from his pouch. He bound Mirra's wrists behind her back, but next he tied Kalaendra's hands in front of her instead. Next, he fitted a rope collar around both women's necks and made sure that the collars were connected by that same rope. The rope ended in a makeshift leash which was attached first to the daughter and then to the mother. This accomplished, the warlord began to drag his new captives away from the field of carnage.
"The orcs will be here soon. Hurry up!" he barked at them. With their bloodlust up, seeing their fallen brethren, there was no telling what the orcs would do. Besides rampage, that is. He knew that seeing the two attractive females would only add to their frenzy. He had seen orcs rape and kill at the same time before. It was not a scene he cared to see repeated. Even he wasn't that monstrous.
"Come on. Move, damn you," he growled, turning to look over his shoulder only to see both the mother and her teenage daughter straggling behind.
"But Sir, my father... you said you'd spare him," Kalaendra begged.
Garam's frown brimmed with anger. "And so I have. He can lie there for all I care."
Clearly the girl thought that 'sparing' involved also taking her father with them. He yanked hard on the leash, and the naked girl came stumbling toward him, her tits jiggling.
"I'll say this one time and one time only, bitch. You come with me or I'll leave you for the orcs. Which is it?" The howling of the orcs grew nearer as they began their charge toward the catapults.
The terrified girl seemed unable to speak, but her mother Mirra spoke for them both when she lurched forward. "Yes, OK! OK! We'll come without further complaint. Please don't leave us here."
The next few moments were harrowing. Garam led the two women back into the maze of city streets and away from the plaza with its stench of burning wood and flesh.
"It's almost nightfall. Let's find a place to bed down. Go grab your priest. I doubt he's wandered far," Garam added. With a quick nod, Tersiar vanished. He was back not long after, though, with one Archbishop in tow, and the two warriors finally found what looked like an upscale villa at the end of a cul-de-sac that would serve as a decent refuge to ride out the night. "This should do," Garam grumbled.
Yet just as they were about to test out the door and see who might be inside, two big, burly orcs burst right through it.
"AUUGH! HAHAHA. This way. I can't wait to taste their flesh. Hopefully it's as delightful to the tongue as their pussies were to our cocks!" the orc on the left bellowed. The two orcs each carried a naked, unconscious woman over their shoulder. The orc on the left had a blonde slung over his shoulder, while the orc on the right carried a brunette. Both women's cunt lips looked swollen from vigorous use, with orcish seed trickling down their legs. The two orcs saw Garam and froze.
They reached for the curved blades at their belts - the closest to clothing that either now wore.
"Who are --?"
"Relax," Garam growled. "Do you not recognize your ally? I am Warlord Greybone."
The orc on the left frowned but eased his stance, reluctantly letting go of his hostility. "You can't have them," he warned. Saying this, he gave the busty blonde's ass an affectionate pat, which caused yet more cum to trickle out. "We go to FEAST on these two delicious pussies. OUR pussies."
These orcs were primitive, even for their kind. Garam scowled. What a waste. Two beautiful female captives who would have made good servants or slaves. These orcs knew nothing but instinct and destruction. In fact, when it came to orcs there was often no distinguishing between the two. But before these two ignoramuses wandered off to toss their prized booty in the cauldron for cooking, Garam decided he would at least learn what useful things he could from them.
"Are there others in the house? Did you search it thoroughly?" he added, jerking his chin toward the villa.
The orc on the right had distracted himself by fingering the pussy of the brunette over his shoulder. He had just withdrawn a glistening finger and popped it between his lips to relish the taste of the mixed masculine and feminine fluids still seeping from his naked plaything, but now he spoke up.
"No! Jarr and Ghek search it top to bottom. No one else. Just big, soft beds good for fucking!" And with that, Garam watched the two primitives hurry off.
A short time later, the five of them were inside the two-story building. It was narrow, but the rooms were long. On the second floor they found the master bedroom, which had two luxurious beds fitted with satin sheets. At least they had been, until the orcs had come to ransack everything. Now the sheets were either in tatters or thrown on the floor. Both beds looked caved in, broken, likely from the vigorous fucking the orcs had meted out to their captives.
"Not pretty, but it will do," Tersiar said dryly. He helped his liege put the sheets that weren't yet destroyed back on the bed. And despite both beds being broken, they were still reasonably comfortable.
"What now?" Tersiar whispered. His gaze darted toward their three captives, the Archbishop Hamnis, Mirra, and her daughter, Kalaendra.
"Now we let the orcs do the hard work for us," the warlord whispered back. "The Ninevari have bought themselves a short reprieve but nothing more. Hordrak has more catapults, not to mention the trebuchets being brought in from the east. He also has battering rams nearly completed. By tomorrow evening, if not the day after, our orcish friends will be ready to renew their assault."
Tersiar's gaze once more slid toward their fleshy Ninevari plunder. "And what of them?"
