Greener on the Other Side

Brok was conflicted. He had a job to do, an somewhat important, and certainly well-paying job, but his senses told him there was danger about. He knew he had to continue, to press on and reach the edge of the forest, but he longed for a fight.

The orc carried with him a small metal chest, the sole cause of his conundrum. It sat securely in his pack, and whatever it was, it was obviously very personal. Given what he knew of his employer, it was valuable and intended to woo a noble woman of some description. Said employer couldn't go himself of course, the gift was better delivered if he couldn't be seen. Brok put it down to the trip simply being too dangerous and too long of a walk for one as rich as he. Getting it through the big bad forest, and into the hands of Lady Wetherin was Brok's job. Yet, there in lied the desire and the question. This

was

goblin territory, deep goblin territory, but he had yet to find even one of the angry little ankle biters.

Where was the danger?

He wondered, he was promised danger and gods be damned if he wasn't going to kill something before sundown!

He was off, the delivery could wait. Instincts led him, as he broke away from the path and ran through the thick green mess of shrubbery and trees. The scent of danger clung to the forest air. The orc was completely enticed by it and set upon finding its source. His now frantic searching was rewarded by the sound of clanging metal.

"Take her alive, boys, she'll only sell if she's breathing!" Were the first words he caught as he found his way through the thicket of trees.

"Oh, I'll take her alright!"

"Never!" cried a smaller voice in retaliation

Brok's bloodlust was delayed by hesitation and confusion. From his vantage point, he could see what looked to be a small group of humans attacking an overturned goblin caravan of some kind. He almost chuckled at the sight of it, any other day and the roles would have been reversed. From what he could make out, they weren't after anything inside the caravan, rather they seemed to be trying to get hold of the goblin who was clinging desperately to a panicking horse. The warrior wanted to continue to watch how the battle would play out, but his desire to stab something overruled his curiosity. Bursting into a run, he launched his attack.

With a hearty battle cry, he drew his sword. His shouting gained him no attention, however, and the battle continued. Determined to battle, Brok announced himself by driving his sword through the chest of a battle-locked human. The flimsy leather armour doing nothing to stop the blade from penetrating his torso. Tearing the blade from the body, blood spewing forth as it slumped to the ground continuing to erupt crimson, he made for a threatening display. Now he was the centre of attention. In an instant, two more foes were upon him, one human, one half-elf. The human swung first, the blade merely liking Brok's cheek. Unfazed, the orc stepped into the opening and shattered his jaw with a quick punch.

Quick to react, the half-elf flung a minuscule ball of fire at his orc opponent. Brief but effective, the heat of the flames burnt away most of his trouser leg and left a nasty singe, but he made no show of it. A clumsy dagger flew towards him, hitting him hilt first and falling harmlessly to the ground. It was a poor attempt at an attack and with little effort, the half-breed was skewered on Brok's blade. Blood gurgled from his mouth and the orc found his desire to kill mostly sated.

Looking beyond the body impales upon his weapon, his intense gaze acted as enough of a warning to scare off the remaining bandits. Few were brave enough to face an orc and all but one fled for their lives. He that remained had just finished gutting the last goblin guard. Wasting no time, he reached for what Brok could now see was a rather buxom young creature atop a horse far too big for one of her kind.

Her jewellery, among other things, bounced about her as she tried to repel him with a flurry of kicks. The quality of her apparel gave reason to believe that she was someone important, which also explained the guards. Finally, grabbing hold of her shin, the bandit leader pulled her to the ground and gave a call for his fellows only to be met with a very alarming silence. He turned to Brok and the grin on his face was soon replaced with a one of fear then gritted determination.

"So, they all ran off, did they? Fine. I'll deal with you myself."

The man released his grip on his captive and charged forward, his greatsword slowing him down none. This man was significantly larger than the three faced before, most likely their leader, and judging by the method of attack, actually knew how to fight.

"I'll kill you," he cried, hacking violently at the orc, "I'll kill you and take your

babe's

teeth as proof!"

Brok assumed he referred to his tusks, to which all orcs took great pride in, and only fuelled his desire to make the man as dead as possible. Though that was proving to be difficult. He was stuck on the defensive, leaving him no choice but to bide his time ducking, weaving, and parrying his enemy's blade.

The determination in the bandit was beginning to wear thin with each swing, while Brok's only continued to fester. The snide remark to tusks still buzzing in the forefront of his mind. With a quick consideration to his foe's exhaustion, he gave decided to risk moving in for the kill. Using the momentum of his lunge, he aimed for the stomach, only managing to strike at his armour, and manoeuvred behind him. Allowing no time to retaliate, the orc planted a mighty kick into his back knocking him to the ground. Brok plunged his sword through his chest and the man cried his last as the life bled out of him. Silently revelling in his victory, Brok's adrenaline held long enough for him to nearly sliced the she-goblin as she approached him; too fascinated by her saviour to think better of the idea.

"Woah." Was all she could bring herself to say.

Brok was hesitated to lower his weapon. The gobliness realised that she was being considered first as a possible threat, then as the victim. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, returning his bloodied sword to its sheath. His piercing gaze was replaced now by a look less murderous. She let out a sigh of relief and forced herself to return to her demeanour of calmness. Clearing his throat, he spoke as unthreateningly as a blood sodden orc knew how.

"Are you alright?" he coughed

"I am, thanks." Her own voice wavering a little before her bravado returned, "Though that's more than I can say for my guards."

"Apologies, I would have saved them had I been here sooner."

"Don't fuss over it too much. They died protecting me, their names shall go down in honour and all that other noise. What intrigues me more, is that you

saved

me. Why?"

"Oh, well, um... You looked as if you needed saving?"

"Right. Sorry, I just didn't expect someone of your, uh, description, to save me."

He couldn't argue with her there, he was an orc after all, and they were a rugged looking people. A culture based around war and violence would do that to anyone. Amongst orcish kin, he didn't really stand out, but as an individual, one could only pretend to not notice his presence.

The conversation had reached an awkward stop and silence filled the space between them. The warrior stood for a moment, uncertain of how to continue the conversation. In the absence of words, his eyes began to wander down the small curvy figure before him.

Facially, she was what Brok had seen in most goblin women, but she was still quite a sight. Full dark green lips, a petite little nose, and sparkling blue eyes. Her hair was long, blonde, elegant and it draped down past her shoulders. Her ears were smallish and pierced with smaller jewels that increased in size the further up they went. It was her body that had a stronger hold on his gaze. Though he couldn't see much though her flashy outfit, he admired just how nicely she filled it out. He guessed that her breasts could easily fill his hands. The temptation to find out was considerably difficult to ignore. The clothes she wore barely seemed up to the task of containing them. Her wide hips were suited to her and led into a plump cherry of an ass. Standing as she was, she reached a little under five foot, which had her at a inches below half of Brok's own towering height.

"As glad as I am those pricks are dead; they did kill my guards, and have left me in a bit of a predicament."

Brok looked around at the destruction he had only briefly taken part in. "Perhaps I could escort you back to where it is you were going? You and I appear to be headed in the same direction," he lied "and I could do for some company."

She gave it a several seconds of thought. "I would very much like to go with you. I'm Niabheesz." She smiled. She knew that a search party would be coming for her soon, but she did want some company, and a new bodyguard to a lesser extent.

"Brok, of the Bloodied-Fist tribe." he replied

"Well, Brok of the

Bloodied-Fist

tribe, before we go I must attend to something."

"It is probably for the best we leave now. Those bandits might return."

"And I have no doubt that you can gut them all. Besides, I won't be long!" she said, already headed away. Her new bodyguard just stared at her swaying behind she walked off.

"I'll, um, I'll be here then."

Niabeesz walked off into the woods with excitement jolting through her veins. Her mind flashed back to the event. First to the bandits, then how her guards rushed in to protect her and how they had all died, then finally to the orc. The walking bloodbath that now only metres away from her.

She'd heard talk of it all back at the tribe; the merciless bandits that skulked the road and what they would do for money or a simple pleasure. Now it was real, very real. It was all so frightening, so dangerous, so... exhilarating!

The action excited her to no end and made her hotter than ever. Even as she walked she couldn't help but rub hard against her wet pussy. The little intimidation act Brok put on could have had her gushing off the horse. She had been hot since the beginning, with the firm saddle and rough horse ride to back to the tribe. What else had she to do? None of her guards would talk plainly to her let alone touch her, but neither would anyone for that matter. Her father made sure that she was to remain untouched. A virgin princess until marriage, such is tradition for a bloodline such as hers. A virgin goblin, off limits to everyone. Everybody but

the

one, who apparently didn't exist within the tribe, or any of the neighbouring tribes according to her parents. She cursed their overprotectiveness and put a bit more distance between her and the green hunk of muscles.

'

This should be far enough now'

she thought sitting underneath a tree. Her own pleasure was all that mattered now. As soon as she was comfortable, she took a deep breath and attacked her stylish belt, only now realising how tight it was. Once free of the pesky belt, Niabeesz spread her legs and slipped her hand down to her already saturated undergarments, her juices were thick with desire. She was surprised the scent of her hadn't given her away.

Biting her bottom lip, she pushed her jade fingers inside herself. A long sought pleasure spurred in the gobliness. Rubbing rhythmically, she quickly gained speed and started thrusting forward into her palm with her back arched. With a new hunk of man to fulfil her fantasy, she was once again back in her own little world. A world where she was free to do whatever she pleased, whoever she pleased, whenever she pleased. Today she would have Brok of the Bloodied Fist tribe.

There he was, bathing beneath the waterfalls, his muscular figure glistening as the water splashed off his bulging abs. She imagined running to him, her loose clothing falling away as her heavy breasts bounced out of her bra. She leapt to him and he caught her with ease, but as their lips met, she decided that this fantasy wasn't quite right for her. Too predictable and soft. She imagined and immersed herself and lover boy in every steamy scenario she could think of, circling her clit as she fantasied about just how he would ravish her. When she had run clean of fantasies, she opened her eyes to the boring unsexy world of trees and a passing squirrel. She sighed. The spark of imagination was gone. The matter of her lust was still very much a problem, but it was an itch she couldn't scratch. She stared at the leaves unamused, her fingers still at work, the slight sense of pleasure was now more taunting sensation of what she should be feeling. Something was missing, and she knew exactly what. Rather, she knew who was missing. She craved the touch of the orc, but bringing Brok over so recklessly would be foolish, she decided, and well out of her comfort zone. This orgasm was going to be a fight, and she had no intention of losing.

Again, she thought about the encounter from earlier, and how Brok dispatched the villains so easily. Niabheesz didn't consider herself the most skilled fighter, her bust always getting in the way, but in her horny fantasy, she was already on the ground by his side. Her dress was nowhere to be found, in its place was a bronze tipped set of leather armour. The breastplate fit its name sake as well as it did her generous chest, and a thick set of gauntlets in addition to a pair greaves protected her limbs.

Outside of her imagination, she sat with her body curled. Eyes squeezed shut, her hand clapped to her breast. She kneaded her soft flesh with vigour. Gentle wasn't going to be enough. She slipped a tingling nipple between her fingers and pinched.

Draped in her new attire, confident and horny, she and Brok cut down the would-be goblin-nappers with ease. She moaned with every cut and slice, growing louder as she continued pushing in until her two of her fingers disappeared inside. Her finger pushed deeper into the juncture of her soaking thighs. A building pleasure told her that her sweet release was on the approach. Her lusty cries only grew matched the intensity of the invented fight. She arched forward, covering her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her lustful moans from the orc just beyond the trees. At the peak of pleasure, she stretched her legs as she rode the final wave of sweet pleasuring release.

Shuddering on the come down, she reached for her floral handkerchief to wipe herself clean off the evidence of her time alone. Neither quick, nor overly effective, she was at least presentable. Relatively clean, she put on her unsuspicious act and returned to find her hero about to enter the forest after her.

"Ah, Niabheesz, I was just coming to search for you."

"No need. I have, um, finished and am ready to leave."

"We should be off then. Your horse doesn't like me much, so we may have some trouble getting you back on it."