The Forest Elf Ch. 02

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Yersia awoke the next morning to discover that General Shrogg was gone, however she was not alone. She knew it was very early in the morning; dawn had yet to emerge. The air in the tent was warm and dry; the fire was still burning low and crackling.

The female Orc, Verla, was at the table setting what appeared to be breakfast. She turned, looking back over her slouched shoulders when she heard Yersia stirring. Verla was dressed in a shiny red kimono which was covered with silver stitched accents that hung to the floor, dragging behind her as she walked to the east corner of the large tent. She opened a leather bag, much like a suitcase, and removed a folded garment. She methodically unfolded what turned out to be a long fur robe and meekly handed it to Yersia, avoiding all eye contact. The elf-girl took the robe, sat up on the bed with her legs tucked under herself and wrapped it around her stiff, naked body. She was immediately comforted by the cool, soft, mink material on her skin.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned, stretching her arms over her head while twisting from side to side. She pulled her legs out from underneath herself and scooted to the edge of the large bed. She slowly stood up and stretched again, immediately realizing how sore she was. Her back and loins ached and throbbed. Her jaw was sore, as well as the insides of her thighs. She slowly shuffled her feet toward Verla, who had returned to the table.

As Yersia approached the female Orc, she noticed that Verla was much larger than herself. Even though the female Orc stood with a prominent hunch in her back, she was taller by several inches and easily outweighed her by 90 pounds. The orc's hair was black and fashioned in a topknot on the crown of her head. Her face was very sullen and hollow, with narrow eyes that were sunken into her broad skull. She had a very short, thick neck, a loose double chin and undershot jaw that sat below her thick lips and yellow, dulled upturned canines. She had a thick, stout body and, despite her apparent age, seemed strong and robust. Her hands were deep green, much like the rest of her flesh, and speckled with warts. Her long black claws did not seem to curtail her efforts as she arranged Yersia's meal setting on the table.

"Good morning, my Lady. Lord Shrogg is tending to hissss soldiers and had to depart early. I pray you had a resssstful ssssleep," Verla said with a hiss as Yersia approached.

"Good morning. I slept like a rock. I did not even wake when the General left," she replied softly, not knowing exactly how to address Verla. Was she supposed to bow to her, or somehow show submission to her? Yersia was realizing how little she knew about her hosts' customs.

"My Lady, if I may? It isss my duty to assssist you in any way that I am able. With that, pleassse, Lord Shrogg isss not your General. He isss your Massster. I would offer you my advissse and recommend that you refer to him as Mastsser for that isss his place in your world now. Only hisss sssoilders and sssuperiors are allowed to refer to him asss 'General.' I do apologizzze, my Lady," Verla hissed submissively while returning her attention to the table.

"I'm sorry, I did not know. I afraid I do not know much about your customs. Thank you for telling me," Yersia said in a sleepy, yet thankful tone.

Verla motioned for the elf to sit at the table. She sat down and the Orc set a plate in front of her along with a large mug. On the plate sat a muffin of sweet grain bread, several types of fruit, boiled eggs and a steaming bowl of creamed cereal. As Yersia ate her breakfast, she could not help but think of her situation. Less than 24 hours ago, she was wandering through the forest as a hunted fugitive. She was cold, alone, and scared. Now, she was eating a fine breakfast in a warm extravagant tent in the middle of a Vandark encampment. She was no longer a virgin and belonged to an Orc general. She had always been told that the Orcs were filthy creatures that lived in slums and cared nothing about hygiene or luxurious comforts, yet here she was, in a huge tent with a large, jewel encrusted golden throne, plush fur carpets and a wonderful mink robe. Her mind was clouded by the recent events, but she knew that she was trapped, even if she did want to leave. Although scared, she was anxious about her future and where it would lead her.

She ate until she was full and drank some of the cool water from the mug. She opened her pack and removed some Kaukulala leaves and chewed them, cleaning her teeth and freshening her breath. A clean mouth was something Yersia was very particular about; she always had to have fresh breath. Verla did not leave the tent while Yersia ate, but rather tided up the bed and added more wood to the crackling fire. Yersia, still not sure of her status with Verla, twirled a soft strand of her hair around her finger until she worked up the courage to ask Verla. She stood and approached her.

"Madam Verla...I mean, Mrs. Verla, I...I...I well, my Lady, I am not sure what to call you. Are you in charge of me when General Shro... I mean, Master Shrogg is not here?" Yersia asked as she stood next to Verla, rubbing her hand up and down the soft fur of her robe.

Verla stopped working, perhaps perplexed by the question.

"Pleassse, my Lady," Verla stated with a bow of her head. "It isss you who isss in charge of me. I am your ssservant. Lord Shrogg asssigned me to ssserve you and to sssee to it that you are advised asss to your role and our customsss and to help you adapt to your new home. And pleassse, my Lady, asss your ssservant, you are free to refer to me asss such. I am not your Madam or your Lady. I am your ssservant and I may be referred to as sssuch if you so sssee fit."

Astonished, Yersia replied, "I could never! I could never call you my servant. Who am I to command you? I do not understand!" Yersia went on to explain that she was just a young elf woman who worked only as a nanny caring for small children and that she was not comfortable referring to an "elder" as a servant.

Verla, after listening and being empathic, understood that Yersia was only trying to be polite and considerate, softened up a bit, and lowered her guard. She and Yersia made small talk and, after getting to know each other a bit more, agreed that Yersia would refer to her as, well, Verla. It seemed that first names are not often used by the Orcs, but it made Verla smile, however so slight, nonetheless.

Verla finished making the bed and tiding up the tent. Yersia attempted to help but was quickly stopped by Verla. Once all was in order, she motioned for Yersia to follow her out of the tent. She sighed to herself and took one last drink of water before heading out after her.

Outside of the tent, there were several armed guards that stood at attention. They were huge Orcs, though not nearly as large as Shrogg, and were armed with wicked weapons. One Orc was holding a weapon made of a steel ball, covered in deadly spikes, attached by a thick chain then to a large handle. Another Orc was armed with a massive battle axe and another held a crossbow that appeared to weight over 100 pounds. All of them wore thick chainmail and plate armor and looked strong and very fit. If this is indeed the enemy of the Alliance, she thought, God help those poor men, elves and dwarves.

As she passed, she noticed that one of the guards was watching her. She instinctively turned toward him but the guard quickly snapped his head forward with his red eyes straight ahead. Yersia flinched slightly at his sudden movement and quickly scampered up to Verla.

She was lead away, through a row of tents, each with triangular flags perched atop tall wooden poles. It was still fairly dark outside; Yersia peered at the purple sliver of dawn low on the horizon. The early morning air had a chill and a layer of fog hovered over the valley. Most of the campfires had burned down, leaving heaps of smoldering coal and ash. The encampment was set in a clearing in the forest, on meadow was surrounded by huge trees on all sides. Off to the north, a tall, rocky cliff jutted above the trees, towering over 100 feet high. The encampment was about 100 meters wide and maybe 500 meters long. She guessed that, from what she could see, there must have been about 100 tents lined up in rows of 10. She could see in the distance, on the far end of the encampment, numerous Orc soldiers going about their business. Some were in military formation and others seemed to be tooling around some of the fires. The smell of cooking meat loomed in the thick air. The grass was cool and wet under her bare feet. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, hugging the warm fur robe to her body.

She followed Verla, who walked with a slight limp, on an earthen path along the edge of the forest. As she hiked along the path, a rustling in the nearby forest caught her attention. She turned toward the sound and saw two Orc soldiers step from out of the foliage, both holding giant mugs of ale, stumbling into the path. Obviously drunk, the Orcs were engrossed in a quiet conversation when they happened upon the elf.

Both Orcs immediately took notice to Yersia, who was standing only 30 feet away, puffed out the armor clad chests and growled and snarled loudly at her. They dropped the mugs of ale on the path, drew their swords, and began to charge. They quickly closed the distance between themselves and Yersia, hollering horrifying war cries as they prepared to butcher the helpless elf girl.

Yersia cried out in horror while stepping backwards, but she tripped on a tuff of grass and fell hard to the ground. Verla screamed and hobbled to the aid of Yersia, jumping in front of the attacking soldiers. With her hands held out as if to ward them off, she began yelling in the Orcs' tongue warning them to back off. One of the charging Orcs raised his boot and stomped it into Verla's stomach, launching her into the air, flipping her over backwards causing her to crash to the ground, leaving her gasping for air. Yersia screamed. She turned on the ground and clawed at the wet grass trying desperately to escape.

"No! Get away," she screamed. "The Gener..."

Her plea for help was cut off when one of the Orcs grabbed her around her throat, lifting her clean off the ground. Yersia's robe fell open, exposing her bare flesh to the cool, moist air and to the gaze of the foul Orcs.

"What kind of whore be here?!" the Orc slurred, spit flinging from his black lips as he looked over her large, bare breasts.

His breath was putrid and rank, stinking of old ale and rotted meat. Yersia, unable to breath, clutched and grabbed at his wrists in a feeble attempt to free herself. She kicked her legs and feet struggling to escape. With wide, terror filled eyes, she looked into her attacker's face. Red eyes, nasty yellow canines jutting from his lower jaw, his forked tongue and wild aggression chilled her very blood.

"Filthy Elf," he slurred! "I'll break your neck and leave you to the dogs!"

Yersia felt the life leaving her body. Her vision began to fade and her resistance subsided when just then a large, clawed hand with a thick leather band around the wrist, welding a curved, gleaming dagger, reached around the Orc's neck and slit its throat from ear to ear. The cut was deep and clean, severing the juggler, windpipe and slicing to the Orc's neck bone. Hot blood spurted onto Yersia's face and breasts as the Orc release his grip from her neck causing Yersia fall crashing to the ground, gasping for her breath.

She glanced up at her wounded attacker. His neck and throat was cut; what appeared to be gallons of hot blood pour and sprayed out of his body. A deep wet gurgle could be heard escaping from his severed throat and she could hear the blood being inhaled into his lungs as he gasped for his very life. With each gut wrenching exhale, a bloody froth coughed from his mouth and ragged strands of flesh clung to the gaping wound. His would be slayer, still holding the dagger, held it high above the wounded Orc and plunged it downward into his chest, just above the armor plate that had once protected him. The knife was buried deeply into the Orc's heart; it was twisted around and worked side to side, until only the handle was visible.

Then, the huge, clawed hand released the dagger, reached over the dying Orc's shoulder, across his body, grabbing him by his chest armor. The slayer's second hand reached around his wobbling head, grapping him behind his ear and then twisted his head to one side. As his head twisted unnaturally to the side, Yersia heard a load popping sound followed by the head of her attacker being twisted off his body, decapitating him. His headless body collapsed to the ground, twitching and convulsing, blood still spurting from his arteries. His head was tossed to the ground next to its corpse, tongue hanging loosely out of its open mouth.

Yersia, coated with hot, sticky blood, turned to see the second Orc lunge toward the slayer, his sword held high. He swung wildly only to hit empty air and the ground; his query was faster than anything he had fought before. As he raised his sword for a second blow, he was pierced through the chest, heart and spinal cord, skewered like a slaughtered pig. The sword withdrew and the second Orc fell to the ground, paralyzed and dying. The slayer then brought his sword down with such power and speed that Yersia could hear the wind whistle past his blade as it split the head of the defeated Orc like a ripe melon, spilling his grey colored brains onto the ground. Both Orcs laid dead, their corpses littering the grassy floor of the meadow.

Yersia, in shock from the brutality of the battle, looked up at the slayer to see General Shrogg, her Master, standing above her, in a crouched battle stance, welding a long broad sword, looking in all directions for any other attackers. He looked like a God standing there, muscles bulging and ripped, like a fierce beast ready to battle all to the death. He sniffed the air, making deep grunting sounds as he did. His sharp eyes scanned the forest edge. He turned and spoke his native tongue to his soldiers, whom were now approaching from the distance. More of the General's soldiers arrived and secured the area. General Shrogg sheathed his sword and looked down at his partially naked and frightened pet. He knelt down at her side, and ran his sharp nails carefully through her hair. Noticing that her robe had fallen open he reached down and closed her fur robe around her, covering her nudity from the soldiers.

"Have these creatures harmed you, my pet," he said in a deep, soft voice. She was taken aback by his caring tone. A chill coursed through her body, sending goose bumps across her arms, legs, stomach and chest.

"No, my Lord...I mean, Master" she uttered through sniffles and with tearful eyes. "I think I am fine."

Shrogg momentarily turned his attention to his guards. He shouted orders to several of them while pointing to the area of the forest the dead Orc's came from. After a brief discussion, several of his troops hurried away and disappeared into the forest, no doubt looking for any others. More soldiers, apparently following orders, went to the aid of Verla, who was curled in a fetal position on the ground, blood visible on her lips and chin. Shrogg then returned his attention to Yersia.

"Come, my pet. I will escort you myself." With that, he assisted her off the ground, lifting her into his arms. He carried her through the mist, along a path into the forest while some of his guards followed far behind, scanning the forest for danger. The sky was now turning a deep shade of purple as dawn grew nearer. Yersia closed her eyes and rested her head on the bicep of her master. She basked in the radiant heat that emanated of his body. She could feel the power of his legs as he stepped effortlessly over boulders and ragged tree roots. The forest was thick and the trees loomed tall; the air felt cool and wet. Yersia felt safe, protected in her Master's strong arms. She was soothed by his musky, male scent. She felt relaxed and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Moments later, she opened her sleepy eyes and looked at her surroundings. Through the thinning fog, she saw a column of steam rising into the still air above the forest trees. The forest started to come alive with the chirps and squawks of birds. The sky continued to brighten and long billowing clouds hung motionless overhead. As Shrogg walked along the path, deeper into the woods, the trees began to spread out and the path widened.

Soon, they emerged in clearing in the forest. The forest floor was covered soft mosses and grasses; everything was covered with drops of morning dew. In the middle of the opening, was a large pool of water with steam rising from it - a mineral hot spring.

Mineral hot springs were scarce in this part of Tlateott. Most often, they are found near underground mines, where the dwarves have unearthed a rare mineral - morsiphite - while burrowing under the forests and through the mountains seeking their treasures. The morsiphite found in the spoil from their mines often washed into ponds, turning them into hot springs, however, the springs appear naturally as well. Morsiphite has very powerful medicinal and rejuvenating properties, capable of cleansing wounds, relieving sore and achy muscles, and healing a variety of other ailments, simply by soaking in it. Uniquely, morsiphite reacts with water, creating heat, which is why all morsiphite springs are warm. Sorcerers, wizards, and witches have particular interest in the mineral for it also has magical properties.

The morsiphite spring before Yersia was large, oval shaped, nearly 150 feet from side to side. At the far end of the spring, a sheer rock wall jutted out of the water and climbed 100 feet overhead above which, the thick forest continued. Grass had growing right up to the bank of the spring and wrapping around the right shore to the wall of the cliff. On the left side of the spring, the ground was covered by large, flat, moss covered rocks that lead up to and dropped into the spring like steps. The rocks were worn smooth with dulled edges which made walking on them barefoot comfortable.

In the middle of the spring, a small island rose from the water with large willow tree growing from the center. The willow was huge and had long, leafy, draping branches that hung over and dipped it tips into the silvery water. The island's banks were sandy with areas of grass and moss and relative flat. The complete serenity of the spring was something Yersia had never experienced.

Shrogg stepped over to the flat rocky bank of the spring, squatted down and set Yersia's feet on the ground, allowing her to stand up. She shivered and hugged the robe tight around herself as she took in her surroundings. The soft, damp moss covering the rocks felt cool under Yersia's feet. She lifted her face toward the sky and closed her eyes as the first rays of sunshine, radiating through the trees, filled her with warmth and vigor. Her thick black hair hung over her face, back and slim shoulders. She lowered her gaze to the spring, noting the clear, steaming water, smooth as a mirror. She stepped forward on the mosses toward the spring. She shivered from the chill of the cool dew under her feet and hugged her fur tighter to her body.

Yersia looked at the edge of the spring to see a neatly laid patchwork of smooth granite rock at looked as if it has been set there by master masons, creating a large patio leading into the spring. She walked across the rocks feeling the coolness they collected throughout the night. The granite patio ended in a step that dropped into the spring.

Yersia stood at the edge of the step, peering into the water where she could see several more steps leading uniformly into the spring. She lifted her leg and dipped one of her toes into the inviting water; it was very warm but not overly hot. She placed her foot into the water and swirled it around sending small ripples outward and away from her in all directions, corrupting the mirror finish of the spring. She looked at Shrogg through the steam and mist. He was standing in the distance, scanning the forest before sending his soldiers back to the encampment. She untied her robe, slipped it off her thin shoulders and laid it on a large stone next to the spring. The cool damp air immediately gave her a chill, causing goose bumps to rise all over her olive, blood splattered, naked body; her nipples hardened and stiffened.