The day I met Tori is probably something I'll always remember. I was traveling the Argyle Highway (so called for the unusual configuration of cobblestones requested by the geomancer in charge of the project) towards the west, the direction in which all things tend to travel. I was alone, just wandering the countryside from town to town, when I heard a bellow in the distance and looked up to see a cloak-clad minotaur charging at me from around a bend in the road before me.
Thinking I was beset by marauders, I reached to draw my sword and was most upset to recall that I'd lost it in a game of dice two nights before, to some weasly fellow who I was now certain had been cheating. I looked up with a sense of very immediate forboding, and prepared my groveling face. My apparent assailant drew rapidly closer and moments later pulled up short before me. Looking up, I was surprised to readily recognize that this was a female before me (and a rather attractive one, at that), and struck dumb when she smiled cheerfully at me and and announced in stumbling Orcish, "Greetings! I am a peace offering from the elders of the stone-skull clan, who send their humble respects!"
I thought she must have failed to properly dictate her message, until she pulled her robe open to show me her heaving peace offerings, right at the level of my eyes. I am not the luckiest of men, the gods saw fit to grace me with an extra helping of body hair, and oversized ears flanking an exceedingly round head, perched on a neck as thick as a tree trunk.
Prettier men often curse me for being ogre-blooded, and while I always swear them off I wonder if had I known my parents, might I not take the idea more seriously. At any rate, I don't see fit to complain about my lot in life, but if my eyesore features aren't enough, my most truly ogrish feature (it's like the gods were compensating for everything else and went overboard with the man-bits) do a good job of affording me many more opportunities to admire the backside of the fairer sex than any of their other angles--mostly while they're running out the door. But here I was, in the presence of what I had to admit was the most comely minotaur woman I'd ever heard of.
To be fair, I didn't know minotaurs even came in the female variety. And if I understood correctly (I was pretty sure that I did) she was making an offering of herself to me. I suppose my prolonged silence (and staring at her chest) was misinterpreted, because after a moment she shifted uncomfortably and her smile vanished. "Is something wrong? Please, I got lost on the way and I have been running for two days. If you will not have me, I have failed my clan. I am ready to serve you however you please!"
Feeling vaguely suspicious, I nevertheless dared to wonder if perhaps the gods were rewarding me for my grudging good-naturedness. Silently thankful that I spoke Orcish, I muttered "Hell yes, I'll have you...." in the common tongue under my breath and looked up, only to see her crack an excited smile "Oh, you speak Mirish!"
I began to correct her, then brushed it off. Every little kingdom from the Cradle of the Sun to the western cliffs claimed their own tongue, and travelers like myself just learned to ignore the fact that it was all, in fact, the same language. The local patriots generally took exception when they thought you were taking away their national identity, even when it wasn't theirs to claim in the beginning. It hardly seemed wise to test if minotaurs felt the same about it.
"Sure I do. Odd thing for you to address someone in orcish first, 'specially with you not being an orc. And just as odd to be running down the highway wearing nothing but a leather cloak. I suppose you could toss any bandits fool enough to assault you clear across the highway, but even a girl of your size must get cold...?"
She shrugged, and I took careful note of the bounce of her firm, round breasts, and the lesser bounce of the heavy brass rings she wore through her exceptionally large nipples. A third, matching ring hung from her septum, and her tongue flicked at it idly while her eyes lowered to her own form. "It's not so bad if you keep moving. And anyways, I'm wearing a loin cloth." I scoffed, and retorted "Not much of one... A stiff breeze would show me your promised land, there." I gestured towards her nethers.
Her eyes went wide at that, and she asked innocently "Do you want to see it?" She hastily tucked the skimpy scrap of modesty into the string holding it up, providing me with a complete and unabridged view of her biological features. She shifted suddenly as if impatient, and continued "At any rate, I'm ready whenever you are. If you need to talk to your... men, or whoever... I will wait for you."
Puzzled, I eyed her with that same suspicion I felt, like perhaps this was some kind of trick. "Ready for what?" "Sex, of course. I am my clan's most beautiful, and I've been sent to serve your pleasure." She made her words sound like a proclamation, clearly proud of her status. "What, right here in the road?" She shrugged "Unless you have a tent set up...?" I looked around demonstratively, and shrugged. "No tent, no men..."
I gestured towards the base of a large oak tree off the side of the road, which was surrounded with a thick grass that looked likely to be more comfortable than a lumpy, ill-maintained cobblestone road. She threw her leather cloak down and lay on it, her legs curled under her, and gave me an inviting look, something which I'd never been privy to in this situation.
I dropped my small pack and undressed myself with all reasonable haste, taking the time to really look her over. Her breasts were lovely, shapely and full, and her skin was an even golden tan, giving way to a delicate pink in her tender places. Her face was framed in a tumble of wavy yellow hair that looked remarkably well-groomed, not the least bit tangled or laden with debris. The golden riot was pierced by a pair of long, sharp horns protruding straight out to each side from just behind her temples. The absurdity of the notion stuck with me, but I didn't care--I was going to make it with a minotaur, and a right sexy one, and the working stiffs in the next town didn't ever need to know.
Her face actually lit up when I slid off my pants, it didn't take me long to figure out that being (I estimated) close to eight feet tall, she might be just the woman to appreciate the one good thing I had too much of. I pushed her loincloth out of the way, and we spent the next half hour amidst much grunting, swearing, praying, and agreeing, and much to my surprise, she cut loose with an enthusiastic "MmmoooOOOOOoo!" when she reached her climax. Despite her odd mannerisms, it was every bit as rewarding an experience as I had hoped, and with pride I noted that when we were done, she wore a goofy, satisfied expression. Her eyes closed, she giggled softly, and murmured "I had heard that you're very thorough when it comes to war, but I guess that's not all!"
Just like that I realized I might never get another chance with a woman like this, brute or no. Apprehensive, I asked her "How long will you stay?" Her eyes opened and turned towards me. "I'm yours now, warlord. I'll stay with you forever if you'll have it. It would be a token of goodwill between my people and yours."
Excitement rose within me and crashed like a wave, then slowly receded as I realized the entirety of what she'd said. Warlord. I considered this for several long moments, during which she began to grow agitated. Finally, I ventured another question. "How long have you been looking for me, then?" She blushed and looked away, slightly embarrassed. "Oh... A few days... Perhaps a week... I was daydreaming when I reached the crossroads and I turned west without noticing, I didn't realize my mistake for a few days and I had to backtrack. The elders told me that you would be the first one I met on the road, I'm glad I found you before you turned north."
I'd reached the Argyle Highway just a few days earlier, coming up from a southern road, and had been following a small army of goblinoids on a war campaign. The crossroads she spoke of were a mere half day's march ahead, I'd planned to camp there come nightfall. If she hadn't encountered them, they must have already turned north. Memory returned to me, a rumor I'd heard on the southern road, that the war band was led by a ruthless brute of an ogre.
Understandable I supposed how this minotaur would make the association, if she'd never seen a real ogre before. She had missed her intended betrothed, and mistaken me for the ogre tyrant she was sent to meet. I considered the situation, and thought perhaps she had come out the better for her mistake. Regardless, her youthful enthusiasm for her task would be crushed, not to mention her clan identity, if I told her that she had failed and that her clansmen were likely dead by now. And I wasn't sure I could bear the idea of her leaving me for an ogre, even were it the case that her mission was not already failed.
It was decided, I supposed, and I gave an inward sigh. I was a warlord now. I climbed to my feet, brushed myself off, and gathered my belongings. "What's your name anyway?" "Tori." I replied "Ned," and immediately wished I hadn't. Tori looked at me, confused. "The elders told me that your name was Hezuul Face-breaker" I cleared my throat, and nodded "Yeah, that's right. I got something caught in my throat. Hezuul."
She gave me a funny look, but didn't say anything else about it. Instead she cut loose with an enormous yawn, then glanced down the road. "Where is your army?" Thinking quickly, I replied casually "I ordered them to stay behind me. They're noisy. I'm going to go talk to them, wait here." "Okay."
