Brok woke to an assault of small hands, shouting, and a swift tying to a tree. In quick succession to this was a blow to the gut and a single question. "
Where is she?
". Even with in his groggy state he could see that he was surrounded by a semi-circle of small green soldiers holding spear tips centimetres from his face. The one asking the question appeared to be holding a handful of vaguely familiar jewels. He tried moving his arms but found they were secured tightly. The tallish looking goblin one spoke again while trying to decide where next to punch.
"Where is she?" Again with the question and a shake of his jewel filled fist. It took Brok several blinks before the reality of his situation sunk in. He sprung to life only to be reigned back by his bonds, startling several of his captors in the process. Another fist struck him, though it tingled more than it hurt. With what limited vision he had he tried to look for the goblin woman he had spent the night with.
However messy the camp was before seemed neat and tidy compared to now. The goblins hadn't left anything unsearched, even now some others were sifting through his pack. A sense of worry formed in the pit of his stomach when he couldn't see heads or tails of her. The lack of response angered the little men more and the follow up punch had more force behind it. Brok grunted in response. The warrior eventually explained his story, leaving out the part of steamy love making more out of concern for Niabheesz's reputation than his own. The leader goblin held his chin and looked to the ground and finally came to some kind of decision.
"Bizzlin, Hob, travel further west and look for these supposed bandit corpses. You, orc, will come with us to answer to our leader." The voice had changed from angry to irritated.
Brok matched his annoyance, "What happens to me then?"
"That is for him to decide. Now, we are going to untie you, if you try anything, and I mean
anything
, you die."
Brok put up no fight while they untied and retied him. He was thinking of a good way to politely tell the goblin holding his coin purse how he was going to gouge his eyes out if he found even a single piece missing. True to their uncaring nature, he was left to walk with his arms bound to Tall goblin's pony saddle. By midday he was famished, still without a shirt, and was continually berated with questions and curses.
Finally, they arrived at the goblin tribe. There were no buildings, wood, stone or otherwise, just very well established tents. Onlookers went first to the soldiers who announced themselves as they strode by on their mounts before their commander silenced them. Then all eyes turned to the tied up orc. A fine show he made, and the Tall Guard made no small effort to show him off as a trophy. Brok had been taught by his tribe how to deal with these situations, though given how outnumbered and unarmed he was, a fit of rage wasn't going to ensure his victory.
Everywhere the orc looked he saw green of every hue. The men were usually a darker colour and stood taller than the women who had a brighter more emerald-like shaded skin. Another thing the women had were magnificent busts, some more than others, but all very luring none the less. Brok couldn't keep his eyes away from their scantily clad psyches. With every step they took something swayed, bounced, and jiggled. He was soon walked to the largest of the tents, hypnotised all the while. His captors shoved him inside as best they could. Sitting proudly on his throne was an imposing looking goblin, the revered chieftain.
The chieftain had the darkest shade of green yet. Just like his people, he was barefooted, barely clothed and proud to be so. Small gashes were missing from his ears, several small spikes of marrow pierced out above the flesh of his piercing yellow stare. Had he not been seated upon his throne, he would have been head would have met the height of Brok's chest. He easily took the title of tallest and most intimidating goblin in the clan.
"Leave us!" His booming words sent the soldier near scurrying from the tent. Without a word more, the chieftain rose from his chair and was soon face to face with his orcish prisoner.
"Orc, I shall make this simple and I shall make this quick. Lie to me and you will know a new world of pain. Where is my daughter?" The goblin leader wore an unimpressed expression.
An immense feeling of panic flooded Brok with internal swearing not far behind. he had entirely forgotten his goblin lover was of such high importance to her clan. "I do not know. She was with me when I slept and gone when I woke."
"Why was she with you in the first place? What did you do to her!?"
"Nothing!" shouted the orc in retaliation, "I was protecting her, returning her to her home." It was a half-truth. He had intended with all of his heart to protect her, and even to return her home, but telling the chieftain that he had opened his daughter to the world of carnal pleasure wasn't something to be brought up in an interrogation.
"And what of her guards?"
"All dead," the chieftain raised a brow, "They died protecting her from bandits. I killed the bandits."
"You have proof of this?"
"Not with me, no, but there should be several corpses some miles up the road leading into the nearby town. One was a magic user so the animals would steer clear of the area until the magic has left him, and I doubt it has yet been scavenged."
"Another party has been sent to see this true. Tell me, if victory was assured for the bandits, why did you not take sides with them? Moreover, why make it your problem at all?"
"Orcs live to fight, that is true, but we are not so thick headed to what is right and wrong as so many believe. From what I saw of the situation, the humans were looking to take your daughter and sell her. They were in the wrong."
The chieftain returned his gaze. He accepted the prisoner's reasoning. but made no expression of it. A quick word for the guards had the orc taken away, led to a small dimly lit cave that. From what Brok could see of it, had been fashioned into a crude prison. Each cell held no more than two annoyed looking goblins. Some were fighting with each other, some slept, all others glared at either the orc or the guards. There were no bars holding any of them in place, instead, a faint glow of a symbol Brok didn't recognise.
Jabbing a spear at his back, he was forced into his own cell someway down into the cave. The guard murmured and a rune burned into existence, fading as quickly as it arrived. Being near it burned Brok ever so slightly.
Prisoner secured, the guards were finished with their duties and wondered off. Brok sighed. What a mess he was in. Unarmed, imprisoned, and famished. This was no way for an orc to die. Though he couldn't see his situation improving anytime soon.
"An orc? Here?" echoed a voice, the orc in question spun around to find a figure emerge from the shadows, "Must have taken an army and a half to take you down, ay, big guy?"
Hips swaying, a figure slunk out of the small patch of darkness she was hiding in. The light revealed that she roughly half his height, though all but the chief had been thus far. She didn't look hostile, and judging by her figure, even if she kept a blade, he was certain he could fight and win. She poised herself on a rock in the near centre of the cell.
"So, tell me," she began, "what're you in for? Kill a goblin? Nah, nah, nah, just look at you, it was probably eight goblins." Her voice was a combination of calm and excitement
"You seem awfully happy about having a murderer for a cellmate." Brok responded, a little put off by her happy-go-lucky attitude to homicide.
"So you
did
kill someone then!"
"What? No! Well, yes." Brok admitted, shaking his head "Look. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Curious. Now the details."
"Why should I tell you anything. I don't even know your name."
"Name's Tillin. People call me Tilly; my friends call me fun at parties. Your name?"
"Brok of tribe Bloodied-Fist"
"See? We're practically family. Now, what'd you do?
Despite not really wanting to, Brok explained the events of the day prior for the third time. How he battled the bandits, when he saved Niabheesz, and everything else right until the part where his pants came off. An amused Tillin sat on the edge of her rock, making no attempt to hide the wide grin that sprawled across her face. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. An orc, a lone orc, taking on a group of bandits, and not only surviving, but coming out the victor. That was really something. However impressive it was, there was something a little more interesting on her mind.
"So, what did you and the beloved chieftain's daughter get up to?"
"
What
?"
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that a beefcake like you and pretty little thing like that just spent the day walking and talking with nothing in between?"
"Yes."
"Well, I don't. Come now, I'm aware of the chastity her father placed on, gods know every goblin the forest does, but I'd bet my right hand that you got up to
something
."
Brok went quiet again, Niabeesz flickered through his mind. The symphony of sounds she made each time she climaxed and the waves of girl-cum that spilled from her. He very quickly lost control of his own smile. Tillin nudged him knowingly, and he couldn't help but laugh a little. That seemed to have broken what little ice remained between the two and the talking commenced, specifically about what was going to happen to him.
"If I were you, which I'm very glad not to be, I'd pray that she decides to come home sooner rather than later this time. That, or find the nearest thing with a pulse and fuck it senseless."
"
Decides
to come home? So she wasn't taken, she just left?"
"Not the part I wanted you to focus on, but yes, this happens every so often. Apparently. She runs off whenever she gets the chance, does whatever it is she does, and then comes back a day or two after. Probably too afraid to take those final steps into the real world, poor little thing."
Brok felt strangely at ease when she said that. He was growing to like the that means she wasn't dead. Which begged a follow-up question, "If she disappears on her own, why am I being blamed?"
"You're the closest bet they have to finding her in case she doesn't come back."
Brok slumped his head into his hands. He was glad that Niabeesz hadn't been killed or taken, but now he was about to be unless she
decided
to come back and confirm his story. He felt anger was going to win out if he thought about it anymore, so he didn't.
Instead, he began thinking of an escape plan, one that involved a lot of violence and a lot more running, or he would have, had Tillin not been still talking.
"Hey, are you even listening!?" She was clearly annoyed
"Sorry, escaping is all I can think about right now. What were you saying?"
"Oh nothing, just that I was going to tell you
my
