...ad him away from the rest.
'Lords,' he thought, 'what is to become of me? A slave in some mine? Food for some bestial captain?' His mind raced.
He looked back, and saw the women of the tree-top village being led away single-file in chains.
Minhane felt a coal of anger burn in his chest. Orcs were not known for keeping female prisoners alive for very long...
Minhane was thoroughly confused now. He'd been washed (rather roughly), fed, some shaman had performed a ritual over him, and now his hands and feet had been shackled to a wrought-iron bed inside one of the many tents the Orc army had set up. He was mildly thankful for the scratchy fur blanket that covered him, but was beginning to worry about his immediate fate. 'Did the Orcs not capture enough female prisoners?' he thought to himself, and began to become truly fearful. Better to have died to an Orc than to wind up being sodomized to death by one.
His fear came to a peak when someone came to the tent and barked out orders to someone in the rough, guttural tones of the Orcish language. He saw the silhouettes of two burly Orcs take position to either side of the tent flap, and in came the same female who had chosen him.
In an almost ritual fashion, she hung her sword and lay her shield beside her bed on an oaken stand. She stood over him, running thick, gloved hands over his body, still covered by the fur blanket. A musky scent entered the tent, and Minhane became strangely aroused.
She removed her helm and rev...