Glurthag was a warrior. Under the pale light of the stars, he thought about tomorrow's war party. He needed to hunt a beast and bring back its meat to earn his spot on the party. Otherwise he'd remain with the women and children and other peons. He was no peon.
He had found his mark. A wild warg making a bed for itself, digging out a hole. He approached carefully.
Suddenly, he saw another presence nearby. A skittering of dark shades as he realized what it was. A beast of darkness. The night's hunter. Too fearsome to risk engaging, it did not try to kill you, it consumed your soul. But he needed that damn warg!
He watched from behind a tree as the shade consumed the warg... watching the warg's very existence being plucked from him... the shade cooed as it consumed the warg's essence. As suddenly as it appeared, it no was longer there.
The warg was dead... Glurthag quickly ran to it and grabbed the dead carcass... there was no marks on the body. He slammed his axe hard into the flesh to make it look right and carried it on his back as he returned to the camp.
Glurthag was an orc of the Clan Brute and he would prove his glory to the warchief. His only desire was to one day become an elite. To fight in many wars and finally earn the right to be by the warchief's side. The drums of war were beat and his heart thumped in his green chest as he gripped his club, ready to slay the weaklings who would feel his strength.
He presented the meat to the warchief directly, kneeling for approval.
The warchief gave him a knowing look and had the warg's flesh burned. But he did not punish Glurthag. He allowed him to join the war party.
Glurthag rose. It was a time for him to taste true war!
They rolled over the hill, the wargs swarming in front as horns blew and they were whipped into a frenzy by the shamans calling for elf blood. The settlement looked quite different than Glurthag's hovel, a pile of dirt and stones piled up with human flesh stretched tight over the top to keep the rain out. The warchief bellowed out and the orcs grunted and Glurthag was carried along in the wave.
Meanwhile, the elves were prepared for this attack. The female scouts of the Ellythari fired arrows along the Path of the Forgotten as each intermediate scout relayed the message along with their own arrow. News of the attack had already arrived a week before.
The elves launched their sneak attack and showered the orcs with a hail of furious arrows. Their look of confusion as their ranks broke and they began to chase after the elves who dived in and out of trenches dug out days before.
The warchief was dead!
Glurthag was confused and afraid. This war party wasn't supposed to end this way! But now, every orc was for himself. He jumped into a nearby trench and wondered if this was the day he was going to die. He looked to his side and was surprised to see a female elf staring back at him. For a second he wanted to bash her skull in, but her eyes... they were purple and violet and indigo all at once - they shimmered. They were unlike anything he had never seen before. He knew he would die that moment when he became lost in her eyes. Eyes which danced with infinity.
"Your horde is destroyed, I should kill you now... but yet I stay my blade, there is something different about you..."
Glurthag grunted, his angry look softened.
"Run now. But don't think I won't gut you like a pig anyway. If you get back home before one of our arrows snuffs your life, tell your clan to never attack again." She drew her dagger.
Glurthag began to stamper back... but he felt a strange stirring in his stomach. He had never felt this way before and he began to question his emotions. This is elf meat, meant for eating. But she was so soft and slender. Skin was pale white, not like a human's pink flesh but literally as white as the pale moon. Her hair was golden and poured out from under her cap, all the way down her slender bottom. She was dressed in just strips of cloth that barely covered her breasts. Her bare legs were crouched, but he could see she wore things on her feet that made her seem taller.
Glurthag gripped her wrist and his incredible strength made her drop the dagger.
Gwennyth looked at his hand in fear, she realized she had made a terrible mistake feeling sorry for this brute. He could be confused for an ape, if not for his bright green color. He was hairy all over, shirtless and his muscles... she had seen many human men try to flaunt themselves to gain her attention, but this orc was at another level. His arms were thicker than her entire torso, his rippling abs seemed effortless. He wore a breach cloth that seemed to hide an inconveniently large bulge. Was he aroused? She blushed briefly, but knew that he could shatter her arm if he wished... but yet he did not.
Glurthag stood up and grabbed the elf, throwing her over his shoulder as he leaped out of the trench. There was chaos everywhere, but he saw a path and bounded over in several long leaps, keeping his prize clenched tightly on his shoulder. He entered a thick part of the forest and finally threw her down. She looked up at him in fear.
Gwennyth's mind raced furiously, thinking how she could escape. She didn't recognize the part of the forest they were in, at least well enough to know if any scouts were nearby. She realized there would already be an arrow in this beast's neck. Elven eyesight was so good, she would have been seen from a mile away, but this forest was so thick.
