by Eric Vall
Then she pummeled the guy on the ground with her club about eight times as he snarled and tried to get away, but he didn’t stand a chance.
His head was already battered on all sides and I could hear his bones cracking from here. Still, he attempted to drag himself through the mud to escape her fury, and the ogre woman finally tossed her club away to pounce.
She proceeded to maul the fuck out of him until his skin was strewn all over the place, and once his snarls died away, the ogre woman let out a grunt of victory before climbing off him.
Then a low whistle sounded at my back, and I turned to find Haragh dumbstruck with a crooked grin on his face.
“Would ye’ look at her,” he sighed hazily.
I raised my brows as I looked back again, and the ogre woman was washing the blood off her hands in a puddle of mud beside the shredded ogre’s remains.
Despite the brawl, her black hair was still neatly braided in a thick strand down her back, and her green skin wasn’t nearly as sweaty as the rest of the onlookers. So, that was something.
What really stood out was the fact that everyone around her looked both terrified and hungry as they eyed the ogre woman, and I got the feeling they were trying to decide if they should risk the same fate or not. I could tell by the tension in her muscular shoulders that she sensed the same thing, but the ogre woman just kept right on cleaning herself up with a stern scowl on her face.
She finally stood up to get her club, but another ogre snatched her arm like a total fool, and I cringed just before the woman flipped around and clawed out at his face. She hooked his eyeball, too, and as it went rolling across the mud, she wrenched her arm free, kicked him in the groin, and punched him straight down to the ground.
“Oh, shhhit,” I groaned as I heard his skull crack, and the guy swayed on his knees as blood oozed from his eye socket.
Then the ogre woman grabbed his head, and with a savage war cry, she ripped it off his shoulders and hurled it at the band of ogres watching not far away.
“Gods,” Haragh sighed. “She’s a hell of a woman.”
“Yeah?” I asked, and my voice wavered as I eyed the bodies in the mud.
“Oh, yeah,” the half-ogre assured me.
I shrugged and nodded my agreement because I really couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that, and as I watched the ogre woman stomp her boot on the severed neck, blood spurted out on the feet of the other men.
“Go talk to her,” Aurora said all of a sudden, and I couldn’t believe how nonchalant her expression was.
“What?” Haragh and I both scoffed.
“You like her,” the half-elf said with a teasing grin. “Go talk to her, she’s cute. Help her get her club back or something. That’d be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“There you go!” Cayla agreed.
“Nah, I couldn’t,” Haragh said as he eyed the fierce woman. “You need a pride to pull a stunt like that. And she don’t even want to be won. Look at that fire in her eyes … she’s really somethin’ else, though.”
I smirked as the same funny grin came to his face, but I could see what he meant. The ogre woman looked ready to tear the flesh off the next guy to step within ten yards of her.
“Mason, move your arm,” Aurora ordered.
“What?”
“Move your arm,” she insisted.
I narrowed my eyes and bumped my arm out to the side because I had no idea what she was getting at, and Aurora promptly dropped her carcass leg and strutted off into the fray of ogres.
“Alright, that’s not how a pride works,” Haragh sighed, “ye’ can’t let her just tell you what--wait, what’s she doin’?”
My stomach dropped straight through my ass as Aurora grabbed the bloody club from the mud, and she strained and slipped as she power dragged it over to the ogre woman.
I watched the fierce ogre’s eyes narrow menacingly while she eyed my half-elf’s every move, and my hand was on my revolver in less than a millisecond.
Haragh gasped and grabbed my arm, but before either of us could argue with each other, Aurora was already hoisting the handle of the club up to the ogre woman.
Our jaws dropped when she actually took it, and then Aurora beat her chest with an adorable grunt before she pointed straight at Haragh. I could hear his breath catch as the ogre woman looked up, and as I glanced between the two, I half expected little hearts to come popping out of his eyes.
Aurora was already strutting back to her position, though, and she muttered under her breath for us to start walking.
“Go!” she hissed as she grabbed a leg of the carcass, and we promptly turned away and continued heading in the direction Grot had gone.
“The hell are ye’ doin’?” Haragh growled under his breath.
“Meddling,” Aurora giggled.
“Oh, come the fuck on,” he groaned. “Mason don’t need yet another woman! Are ye’ tryin’ to rip my heart right out of my chest?”
I was about to clarify that I absolutely did not want that woman, but Aurora snorted loudly.
“Haragh, you just walked into town with the guy with the big pride, right?”
Haragh furrowed his brow. “Yeah, so?”
“And in this formation, you are literally his right-hand man,” Aurora continued while she struggled to haul the carcass along. “So, if an ogre like you can get a guy like him to make his women do your bidding, that’s something an ogre like her is gonna notice.”
Haragh stared blankly ahead as he slowly caught on to her scheme. “Oh.”
“Well played,” Cayla chuckled. “I’d say that ogre woman definitely noticed.”
Haragh, Hulsan, and I all looked back, and damn it if the ogre chick wasn’t still watching us walk away.
“Oh, shit,” I said with a grin. “I can’t believe that worked.”
Haragh didn’t say a word as he mechanically walked on, but he looked about ready to throw up from the state of his nerves, and he stayed that way for the entire duration of our trek through the lair.
I was mostly wrapped up in the sight of Aurora pounding her chest and grunting her heart out, though, and every time I looked back at the half-elf, she looked pretty pleased with herself despite the huge dead body she was forced to carry for me.
Then we got to the mouth of the pass, and my women and I all stopped and stared.
The ocean crashed wildly on the black rocks that jutted up along the coast, and the sheer cliffs towering on either side of us dripped with golden falls of molten lava that oozed into the sea.
What I initially thought was smoke was actually plumes of steam that billowed up all along the cliffs in both directions, and it wafted across the long line of ogres slowly shuffling down a path surrounded by jagged rocks that led to a dim overhang below.
“You didn’t mention any active volcanoes in the region,” I muttered as I craned my neck and looked uneasily at the cliffs blocking us in, but Haragh just shrugged.
“Eh, they’re always drippin’ like that,” he said and turned down the rocky path. “This way to the caves! Smells good, don’t it?”
It smelled like sulfur, salt, and charred flesh, but I nodded anyways as Haragh sent me a big grin over his shoulder.
“Damn, it’s good to be back,” he sighed once more, and then he held up a finger as he quickly jogged off the path a ways and snatched a stout white bird right off its nest.
The bird flapped wildly as he held it away from his face, but with a flick of his wrist, the neck was snapped, and the bird went limp. Then the half-ogre smiled like a kid on Christmas, propped it under his armpit, and gestured for us to follow.
Hulsan was chuckling to himself as he shoved his hands in his pockets and continued onward, and we all began the descent along the treacherous coast.
The air was in a constant flux between a cold sea breeze and a hot steam bath as we made our way down, and the black rocks under foot were worn smooth from centuries of ogres shuffling their way to the caves. I could hear more growl
s and throaty laughter over the sound of the crashing waves, and the glow of firelight came into view as we rounded the edge of ridge to dip behind a fall of lava.
Then Haragh jutted his thumb ahead and sent me a nervous look, and I picked up the pace a bit to join him.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Grot’s already charrin’ his kill,” he muttered, and I squinted in the glare of the lava to get a glimpse at the cave ahead.
The entrance vaulted twenty feet above our heads, and when we entered, there were large bonfires all over the extensive cavern. It was like someone carved out a slice of the cliff for a hundred yards, and along one side, lava oozed across the open view of the sea. The ground was damp and littered with bones and broken mugs, and ogres gathered around the fires as they drank and feasted on raw or charred creatures.
Each bonfire had a large stone vat bubbling beside it, too, and the ogres dipped their stout mugs in for refills of the same smelly stuff they’d been drinking at the lair. Except for the few with prides.
These ogres sat on their flabby asses while their ogre women filled their mugs, charred their kill, and some of them even tore the meat from the bones for their men before feeding it to them with their teeth.
Grot was in the furthest corner with the largest fire in front of him, and he laughed heartily as an ogre woman nearly as big as him coyly chewed on a massive bone beside him. He had three others in formation around him, too, and judging by the many feathers, mugs, and bones piled in the shadows, I guessed he spent most of his time right here being doted on by his pride of genuinely intimidating women.
All of them were scary big and unfortunately underdressed, but at least their huge ogre nipples weren’t hanging out of their scrappy leather bikinis.
They lounged like sweaty queens as the steam coursed in around them, and while two of them fanned Grot with severed black bird wings, the one with the bone stood to refill his mug.
“Flynt!” Grot suddenly barked when he saw us, and he gestured to the space on the other side of the fire from him.
“Here we go,” Haragh muttered nervously. “Yes or no questions.”
“But I need to find out how many are missing,” I hissed back. “That’s not a--”
“Get creative.” Haragh shrugged, and he cleared his throat loudly before discreetly jutting his chin toward the women.
“Right,” I muttered, and I motioned for them to bring the carcass forward.
They muscled through the effort of hoisting the body onto the fire, and when the giant thing sent sparks flying as it crackled and burned, Grot let out a grunt of approval.
Then I dropped down to sit on the wet stone floor with my women in formation, and Hulsan joined us as Haragh headed over to chuck his bird onto the flames as well.
“Haragh!” Grot chuckled from his belly.
“Grot,” Haragh said with a respectful nod. “How ye’ bee--”
I jumped as the half-ogre was suddenly snatched right off his feet, and Grot locked him in a neck hold under his sweaty armpit as he gave him a very violent noogie.
“Good to see ye’, little one,” the leader chortled with Haragh’s scowl smooshed against his big belly. “Thought ye’d stay away forever, ye’ little shit.”
“Nope,” Haragh mumbled, and he struggled to free himself. “Just studyin’ and workin’ in the Order for a little.”
Grot snorted and finally released the man, and I grinned as Haragh tensely righted his rumpled Defender garb. He avoided all of our eyes as he took his seat, and I could tell he was blushing, even in the firelight.
“You guys old friends?” I chuckled.
“Hah!” Grot barked, and he took a long bubbling drink from his mug.
“He’s my uncle,” Haragh muttered.
“Wait, seriously?” I asked, but Grot was already done with his mug, and he gestured for his woman to refill it.
“Baby Haragh,” he chuckled. “It’s good seein’ the wee one back again. Used to play catch with the tyke when we were young.”
“That’s cool,” I said with a nod.
“No, it isn’t, I was the ball,” Haragh growled, and he glanced at Grot. “Ye’ gotta stop callin’ me that, I’m not a boy anymore, ye’ know. I kill shit all the time. Even took on a whole group of elves and buried ‘em in the ground.”
I tried not to laugh as I imagined the relationship these two had growing up, but Grot stopped chuckling as his bloody brown eyes looked vaguely intrigued.
“Did ye’ now?” he grunted.
“Yep,” Haragh said as he sat a bit straighter. “Flynt was there.”
Grot looked at me, and I nodded. “Yeah, he saved my ass. Sixty elves, and he took them ten at a time.”
The leader looked genuinely impressed by this, and he eyed Haragh like it pained him to admit it. He didn’t say anything more, though, he just received his fresh mug and started drinking, and as he slurped noisily, he gestured to the vat.
Haragh sent me a look that made me realize I really shouldn’t turn down the offer, but I didn’t have a mug, and I had a feeling asking for one would be some kind of taboo amongst the ogres.
Then I heard Hulsan clear his throat, and when I looked over, there was a massive mug made of the same black rock as the cave sitting beside me. He must have formed it behind his back, because the leader didn’t seem to notice I hadn’t brought it in with me, and Hulsan smirked as he casually looked away.
I sent Cayla to fill the mug, which initially felt like poor form considering she was a princess. I couldn’t resist the opportunity, though. Her leather clad ass was one of my favorite views, and as she strolled it past me to head for the bubbling vat, I didn’t regret the decision for a second.
Cayla’s backend formed a perfect, porcelain heart shape as she bent over the edge of the vat to fill the mug, and I shamelessly enjoyed every inch of bare skin from her leather boots to the little cleft between her thighs.
All of Grot’s women sized her up nearly as much as I did, but the princess didn’t seem at all intimidated by the scrutiny. She made sure to fill the mug all the way to the brim like Grot’s women had done before she brought it over to me, and then she obediently returned to her position while I tried to remind myself how not cool this arrangement was, even though it was kind of awesome.
Then I caught a whiff of the drink, and things got way less cool.
My mug wasn’t as ginormous as the ogres’, but it was still respectably huge, and I probably could have shoved my whole head in it if it wasn’t brimming with bubbling brown whatever the hell was in it. It smelled like it had undergone some serious fermentation process, and it burned in my nose like pure fire. I half expected my rune to act up just at the smell of it, but since it didn’t, I figured I probably wouldn’t die drinking it at least.
Haragh held a mug identical to mine in hand as he went to get some for himself, and when he sat down and drank it without pause, I quickly joined him and just hoped I wouldn’t end up spewing it all over Grot and his women.
“Hmm,” I said as furrowed my brow after a tentative sip.
“Good, in’it?” Haragh belched.
“Yeah, actually,” I chuckled. “It’s like Fireball Whiskey, but with a tang to it.”
“Never heard of it.” Haragh shrugged as he finished his entire mug. “Ogre Rosh is highly coveted amongst the other regions. Ye’ can’t find it anywhere else, and the recipe’s over nine hundred years old. Passed on for generations. It’s the only reason anyone ever bothers with us. They’re all lookin’ to get a bit of Rosh.”
Grot snorted. “Aye, and they can kiss my ass these days. I cut them all off, the bastards. Temin’s probably up there in his castle cryin’ over it now.”
I raised my brows as I eyed the bubbling vat, and I kind of doubted it.
“Any Rosh left in that shit city of yours, tyke?” the leader asked Haragh.
“Nope,” he said as he stood for a refill. “Last of the Rosh ran out about five years ago.”
�
��Hah!” Grot barked again, and his women chortled with him. All of their sweaty green bellies jiggled in their amusement, and I glued my eyes to my Rosh as I tried not to gag at the sight.
I could have sworn one of their belly buttons had mold growing out of it, but there was no way I was risking a second look to find out for sure.
“S’pose that’s why he sent ye’,” Grot grunted, and I looked up to see his bloody brown eyes boring into mine with deep loathing.
“Uhh … no,” I replied. “I came here because your ogres are being enslaved in the far east.”
Grot lowered his great stone mug, and then he slowly leaned forward as he propped his elbows on his dirty knees.
“Say the name of the one who told ye’,” he demanded in an ominously low voice, and his women all glared at me.
“No one told us,” I said. “We saw it for ourselves.”
Grot’s heavy eyelids finally lifted a degree as his nostrils flared, and he shoved his mug to the woman on his right.
“Tell me where they are,” he growled.
The command in his voice made my hackles rise just a bit, but then I remembered who I was dealing with. Any other creature probably would have asked “where are they?” but that would have been beyond a yes or no question. Now that I was catching on to the ways of the ogres, I realized this could all go very simply, and I downed the last of my mug before handing it back to Cayla for her to refill.
This was going to be the easiest job I’d had in ages.
“They’re in a fortress in the eastern foothills,” I told Grot. “There’s an asshole who calls himself the Master, and he’s using rune magic to possess all kinds of creatures. Elves, humans, giants, you name it. I’m the guy trying to kick his ass, and Haragh’s helping me do it.”
Grot narrowed his eyes, and Haragh puffed his chest out a bit beside me.
“Prove it,” Grot growled, and Cayla sent me an uneasy glance as she set the mug down in front of me.
“I couldn’t get an exact head count,” I told the leader, “but from what I’ve heard from the mages who saw them, too, I’d estimate you’re missing at least thirty ogres. By now, probably more. Am I right?”
