***
"The Dawn will shatter before the rising of the Sun."
Ancient saying in some parts of Ekistair. Origin unknown.
***
'The days are growing shorter,' Shenla thought to herself as the sun disappeared behind the western mountains that lined the coast of Palistair, stretching from Amindaer in the south all the way to the frozen wastes in the far north. Lightning flickered in the distance to the south, heralding yet another thunderstorm.
The storms had been frequent and savage, rolling across this land once every few days, bringing gales, twisters, lightning and torrential rain. Somehow, the raging tempests never seemed to adversely affect the army of Dark Elves and Risen that Maloth had camped on the plain north of Amindaer.
To her right strode Barrog, her hulking nine-foot Orc easily keeping pace with the horses despite being on foot. To her left was Peldin, her slender but strong Dark Elf, with his midnight black skin in sharp contrast to the snow-white hair that he kept tied back. To her rear was Torvin, her muscular human Warden, black-cloaked and head shorn of hair with his buxom Risen minion in tow.
These men were Bound to Shenla, and would happily die for her if she asked them to, though she would only do that in the direst of need; if they died, she would be reduced to near-death herself, and that was not something she wished to experience ever again.
Like Maloth, the more souls Shenla Bound, the stronger she would grow, but in turn she would have to keep her pets sustained. If her men were not able to fuck her at least once every moon, they would start to get sick, and eventually die. Currently she only had these three, but she was looking for additional suitable candidates. Maloth's strength had grown significantly since he'd Bound his fifth soul, and Shenla wanted a taste of that power.
In the back of her mind, Shenla wondered how many souls she could Bind and keep sustained. How many men could she fuck in a month? She smiled as she considered that, and thought the number would be quite high; she was a Demon of lust, after all. For now, however, she would do as Maloth was doing, and only Bind high quality pets that were worthy of serving her.
She had done that with her three present companions to great success. Peldin had been a guard captain before she claimed him; the Dark Elf fought well, and fucked even better. Torvin was a high-ranking Warden of the Dead from the ancient city of Angavar, and Barrog had been a raid leader among his Orc people, which was fortunate, as they were currently riding into Gor'dur Orc territory to seek audience with the Chief.
Barrog said the Gor'dur were fiercely territorial, and he was surprised they hadn't already begun to skirmish with Maloth's army. Maloth had sent Shenla in the hope that an accord could be reached before the Orcs attacked; 'accord' meaning that Shenla would be seducing the Chief and strongly suggesting that the Orcs join with Maloth. Having Barrog with her would hopefully increase her status with the rest of the Orc people.
They were riding across a vast expanse of hard, stony ground toward a narrow chasm in the mountain barely wide enough for three riders abreast. Barrog said the chasm opened up on the other side into a large series of caverns.
"We are getting close," Barrog growled in his guttural, bass voice. "They will know we are here, now." Shenla scanned the mountains, but saw nothing. The chasm opening was still several hundred yards away.
"Will they be friendly?" Peldin murmured as he studied the rocky landscape.
"We are still alive," Barrog replied. "That is a good sign."
Torvin grunted from behind them and began to whisper something in another language until Shenla rounded on him. "No spells!" She hissed. "I want them to trust us enough to let us meet with the Chief!"
Torvin stopped immediately. "As you wish, Mistress. You should know, however, that the Gor'dur are savages, and cannot be trusted."
"This is correct," Peldin agreed, fingering the hilt of the longsword he carried at his hip.
Barrog shot them both a glare. "You know nothing, fools!"
Shenla had had enough of this. "Quiet!" She snapped. Just for good measure, she tweaked the link between their souls and hers, like pulling on a thread of cotton, to remind them of who owned them. The men remained silent after that.
Why did she have such trouble with her pets when Maloth never seemed to? Truthfully, she liked having strong, willful men in her possession. It meant they had spirit, and were worthy of her. Besides, they really weren't difficult to put back into line, when necessary.
"Something approaches," Peldin said, his pointed black ears twitching fitfully.
"War drums," Barrog said uneasily, easing his huge axe from the loop on his back.
Sure enough, the ground soon began to vibrate with the booming of distant drums, and Orcs boiled forth from the chasm, their long legs covering ground quickly as they charged toward the party of four.
Shenla drew reign and commanded her pets to halt and leave their weapons sheathed.
As they exited the pass, the impressive mass of Orcs formed into an organised column six abreast while never losing step. When they drew closer, Shenla could make them out individually, their fierce faces painted with stripes and patterns of red, their weapons glinting in the moonlight. Shenla smiled when she saw that the hulking brutes wore very little; the men wore simple loincloths that did nothing to restrain their loins as they ran, and Shenla was greeted by the sight of hundreds of bouncing Orc cocks running toward her. What a treat! The women wore similar garb, with the addition of a few straps of cloth to contain their mighty breasts.
Soon enough, the column reached Shenla's small group and, without slowing, split down the middle, surrounding them before closing the split on the other side. Barrog, Torvin and Peldin put their backs to Shenla, but left their weapons sheathed, as she had commanded.
The Orcs formed a tight circle, speartips pointed inward. Long moments passed before a huge Orc pushed through the ranks. He was taller than Barrog, and his dark green skin bulged with rippling muscles. Two large tusks jutted from his lower lip, reaching almost up to his wide, flat nose. His eyes were hard, but there was intelligence in his stare. A huge hammer was strapped to his back, one side of the head flat, the other shaped into a cruel spike.
Shenla felt herself grow moist as she eyed him up and down, particularly the way his heavy cock shifted back and forth beneath his loincloth as he moved.
The Orc pointed a finger at her. "What are you doing here, woman?"
Smiling, Shenla undid the clasp of her cloak and let it fall back over her horse's rump. She had dressed specifically for this occasion, in nothing more than thin straps of leather. It was rather an excellent design, one that she had gotten from a male Warden who like to dress his Risen in such a fashion. A strap ran over each shoulder, connecting to another than ran across the front of her breasts and behind her back. A vertical strap ran from the horizontal strap, down her belly, over her rapidly moistening pussy and back up through her buttocks to connect to the strap at her back. Not only did it draw the eye of every male who breathed, but it felt good to wear, too.
The big Orc's eyes roved over her body, and Shenla didn't miss the twitch beneath his loincloth. "Who are you?" He asked, his eyes still hard.
"I am Shenla, sister to Lord Maloth the Corruptor, who now leads the Dark Elves of Eredor, the Hill Giants of Orris, and the Wardens of Angavar. He wished for me to visit the Gor'dur Orcs and extend our... respects... to your people."
The big Orc thought for a moment, his eyes studying the way her breasts moved as she breathed. "Ha!" He said finally. "Cowardly Elves, a handful of Giants and some corpse-fuckers! Not such a grand force, I think!"
Chuckles spread through the Orc ranks at their leader's joke. Barrog had been on the other side of Shenla's horse, out of sight of the Orc leader, but now he stepped out. "You might be surprised, Garrun," he said quietly.