Even in an occupied city, life goes on.
The orcs were encamped in the crude barracks they had thrown together on the rocky promontory near the harbor. The victorious Arkhon of the Inexorable Orcish Nation had set up his iron throne in Kohopolis itself, right in the center of the marble hall where the fugitive Prince had once reigned. The brown banners of the victorious tribes fluttered raggedly from the City's nine great towers, and labor gangs slowly and grudgingly repaired the breaches which the Arkhon's artillery had blasted through the ancient walls. The hollow-eyed sorcerers of the occupying army clustered silently in their lofty tower, chanting and whispering to the powers only they could see. The human mercenaries mostly drank, gambled, and cursed the weather which had brought the campaigning season to such an abrupt end. And the people of the City of Crows, having buried the dead and watched the last of their Prince's fleeing ships disappear over the eastern horizon, tried to stay out of the foreigners' way.
The best places were for the occupying army now, of course, so the locals drifted to the humble pubs stuffed into small cellars and shabby lean-tos. In these were the real life of the city -- the young men who had survived the siege drinking and recovering from their wounds, old men playing dominoes, and painted harlots who had eked out a living in every city since time began.
One of these taverns was Grogan's, an unremarkable dive on a dank back street. One wet, foggy afternoon in the late autumn, the dry-rotted old door creaked open, and Jana walked in. She was dressed against the weather in a long grey woolen cloak with a tattered fringe. Beneath this, she wore a cheap red gown, and the low bodice which advertised her trade was laced indelicately under the large, taut mounds of her spilling breasts. The gown was cut strangely, with a baggy gathering of cloth in front. Jana did not look much older than twenty-five, but her eyes as she surveyed the tavern had the hard-set cynicism which marked her as a whore.
A cold silence fell over the room as Jana entered. There were a couple dozen people in the inn, mostly clustered around the smoky fireplace, and those that would look at her stared with expressions of disdain or loathing. This she ignored as usual, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead and making for the bar. Two doxies of about the same age had been lounging there when she entered, chatting and laughing loudly with a couple of laborers. At Jana's approach, one shot her a look of disgust and quickly steered her client away.
The other harlot started to move away, then stopped and turned a glare of cold hatred on Jana. "Hogfucker," she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "You should be hanged, you bitch." A scornful echo murmured through the crowd. Looking Jana up and down, the prostitute drew herself up in a posture of dignified contempt.
Jana did not turn to look. She slowly extended one hand towards the girl, then gave an obscene gesture.
The angry whore stared at her, her mouth twitching as if to say something else, then spat once on the floor and left. The barman's eyes followed her towards the door, then went back to the mug he was drying.
"Wine," said Jana in a dry whisper. A square copper coin dropped to the counter with a dull clank. Without meeting her gaze, the barkeep quietly drew her a small clay mug of red wine, then moved away to stand near other customers.
Warmth slowly returned to the shabby tavern. Jana avoided the patrons, who avoided her. A few coarse remarks filtered through the low murmur that filled the taproom, and several turned sidelong glances on her, but no one disturbed her as she quietly sipped her wine. She looked straight ahead at the row of colorful glass bottles behind the bar, her expression cold and blank, though the hand that held her cup occasionally trembled.
About five minutes later the door banged suddenly open, bouncing against the wall. The room fell quiet again. Jana turned to look.
An orcish warrior stood in the doorway, tall, stern, and ugly. He bore the grey-green skin and piglike features of all his kind, with very large brow ridges, black bristles for hair, and a blunt, fat snout. His armor was of stained leather over quilted padding, gaudily adorned with rings and chains of gold. From one shoulder hung a knotted length of cord strung with three large purple beads. This Jana recognized as the mark of an officer, and she knew at once why he had come to Grogan's.
The orc stared around the room, then addressed no one in particular in a loud bellow. "Where's that human whore who fucks orcs? Is she here? I heard she was here."
Jana closed her eyes slowly with a sigh, then set down her mug. When repeated gesturing failed to attract its attention, she finally pushed away from the bar and reluctantly said, "Over here, orc."
The humanoid squinted its small black eyes at her, and pushed arrogantly through the taproom towards the bar. The crowd in the inn bristled with hostility, but kept to themselves, knowing well enough the penalty for annoying one of the orcish occupiers. Jana waited, studying the monster closely as he approached.
"You, then?" he said with a thickly grunting accent, staring her up and down.
"Me," muttered Jana, swilling the last of her wine. The orc stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. "How much and where?" he pressed, reaching for a heavy black leather purse. The other patrons at the bar eased away with final glances of revulsion.
"Upstairs. Twelve marks," rasped Jana, looking into the bottom of her mug before setting it down.
"Twelve fucking marks?" roared the orc, letting his purse fall back to his side. "You're out of your fucking mind. I can get an orc girl for four and a half. Up the arse, even!"
Jana shrugged, though her eyes darted back to his rank insignia. "Go fuck some loose-cunted orc girl then." She turned back to the bar, avoiding the gazes of the crowd. "You know why I have to charge extra," the whore muttered.
The orc gritted its teeth with annoyance, but after a moment's indecision barked, "Fine, whore. Twelve. Better be worth it."
* * * * *
"Your room smells nice," said the orcish soldier conversationally. The small wooden bed creaked slightly as he sat down. One boot came off with a damp, sweaty sound, and the monster tossed it in a corner.
"Thanks," said Jana in a hollow tone. She turned down the threadbare brown blanket in a feeble, perfunctory gesture. Underneath, a small, lumpy grayish pillow was slowly leaking feathers. The orc's other boot crashed into the corner as well. "So what's your name?" she asked blandly, untying the knot on her bodice. Jana unceremoniously slipped off her gown, letting it crumple to the floor. Naked, she crossed the room to the only other piece of furniture, a crude wooden table. On it sat a smoky, flickering tallow candle, and beside it a small clay pot with a crumbling cork stopper. Jana made two neat stacks of the orc's twelve silver pieces and picked up the pot.
"Halgog," said the orc, standing up and stretching. "Sepnarkh Halgog." He clawed at the buckles of his armor, peeling it away from his sweaty, muscular flesh. Looking up, Halgog caught sight of Jana's naked form and grunted. "You have a good arse," he offered politely. "Nice big tits, too."
Jana made no response. Dipping one slender finger into the pot, she took out a thick pat of glistening hebish oil and deftly slipped it inside herself. After a moment, however, she stopped and looked back at him. "Sepnarkh?" Jana repeated, swallowing. "You must be very important." The whore hurriedly recorked the jar of lotion and set it back on the table.
Halgog grinned, exposing yellowed teeth. He tossed the last of his dank-smelling armor into the corner with a dull thud. "That's right." The orc reached down into his leather codpiece and scratched at himself. "Bet you never fucked a nobleman before, eh?"
Jana's face was expressionless, but her thin smile tightened until her lips cracked.
His armor removed, the monster had a good scratch under his arms and around his heavily muscled neck. "I'm the commander at the Sunkald Tower, in fact," Halgog boasted. "Appointed there by the Arkhon himself. Got half his guns up there."
"Cannon, huh?" asked Jana, drawing herself up taller. The whore set a bright smile upon her face and strolled gracefully over, setting her shoulders back to let her heavy breasts bob up and down with each step. "I would have figured a strong fellow like you for the infantry." One hand reached out to toy with the deeply-gouged ridges of the orc's huge chest muscles.
"Infantry?" scoffed Halgog. "Fuck that! Tramping in the mud and huddling in trenches like a rat." His eyebrows creased in sudden mirth, and he took a step back. "Hey, whore, I got the biggest cannon of all right here." The orc pulled off his codpiece with a flourish, and his weighty package tumbled free. The monster's cock was no longer than a human's member, but very thick, formed of heavy, accordion-like folds. "Think that can do some damage?"
