Bad Things Happening to Elves
WARNING:
This is a dark and unhappy story, a work of niche fantasy. I want there to be no misunderstanding upfront.
If that sounds like something you don't want to read,
please
don't read this story. I'm not out to shock or offend anyone. I'm just catering to my audience.
But if you're the type to get offended anyway, don't worry, everything's alright in the end. I follow the rules.
You have been warned.
*****
The Company Whore
Nialle strode into the recruitment office, past the attention of the soldiers within, and straight up to the recruitment officer's desk. "I want to join your army," she said decisively.
The recruitment officer glanced up at her from his paperwork for only a moment before smiling and turning his attention back to his desk. "That's funny, girl," he said, "but I don't have the time for jokes."
"I'm serious," said Nialle.
The recruitment officer afforded her another glance, this time without the smile. His eyes lingered as he took in her appearance, including the delicate cast of her face and the ears behind them. "Why's an elf woman want to join a human army?" he asked.
"You're fighting the orcs, yes?" Nialle asked back.
"Aye," said the recruiter. "And why's an elf woman want to fight orcs?"
"I have my reasons," was all she said.
"And what's an elf woman think she's gonna do against an orc horde other than provide them with some reluctant entertainment?" the recruiter continued.
"I can handle myself in a fight," said Nialle, growing impatient. "What's it matter to you? You get one more body in the field between you and them. Sign me up already."
The recruiter grinned. "You're spunky, girl," he said. "The men'll like that on the front. Been a while since most of 'em seen any kind of woman, much less one as fine as you."
"I'm not applying to be the company whore," said Nialle, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "I'm applying to kill orcs. Do you want my help or not?"
The recruitment officer looked at her again, this time long and lingering - not as a nuisance, or as a potential soldier, but as the delicious looking young woman that she clearly was. Her skin was lightly tanned, her black hair pulled back in a long braid that hung over her shoulder and draped down to her navel, which was exposed in the cropped and tight-fitting shirt that she wore. Beneath it he could make out pert, ample breasts, still firm and held upright by her youth alone. Long, slender legs rounded out her eye-pleasing package, exposed for inspection by the short shorts which she wore low on her hips. At the top of them, a slight V could be seen curving down into her shorts, out of view, toward that prize which these elf girls treasured the most on themselves and which, unfortunately, few human men were ever allowed to experience - at least, by elf girls who were allowing them willingly.
This thought led quickly to another, and the recruitment officer grinned to himself in such a way that Nialle shuddered and took a step back from his desk. Whatever trepidation it may have given her, however, was replaced when he looked up at her face again and said, "Luckily for you, you're right. We need every body we can get between us and the orcs. You have no qualms about heading out to the front lines of the war?"
"None," said Nialle, her eyes shining. "I prefer it there."
"Good," said the recruitment officer, removing a sheaf of papers from a drawer in his desk. "Then that's where you'll go. That just leaves us with the paperwork..."
***
A week later, Nialle set her first foot into the main camp of the human forces on the front lines of what was being called the Orc War. She had dug out an old suit of her family's leather armor for the occasion, which consisted of a light breastplate, short faulds, and gloves and boots which ran to her elbows and knees, respectively. It was light and scarce by human standards, leaving her midriff, thighs, and upper arms exposed, but elven armor was designed for movement and agility, not bulk and coverage.
She wore it even during the long trek to the camp itself, nestled as it was deep in the forests at the foot of the orcs' mountain stronghold. At night she slept with it on, clutching her longbow in her hands and imagining the feel of it tensing and loosening again and again, sending arrow after arrow into the faces of the orc horde.
The weapon was the last item that she had by which to remember her sister, who had been unable to get to it before the orcs had come upon her.
Nialle remembered hearing her sister's agonized screams, remembered sprinting through the trees to reach the edge of the cliff. In the clearing below, the orc raiding party had come upon their camp while her sister slept and Nialle was away, and by the light of the fire she could see every detail as they held her down, their massive and rough hands crushing her naked torso to the dirt, and raped her mercilessly. Her bow lay beyond reach in the shadows of the camp, and Nialle had been carrying no weapon but a small dagger. She was helpless above the scene of the cruelty and could only watch in horror and anger as they passed her sister between them, each of them driving their thick, brutish cocks greedily into her even before the one before had finished. The scream which had alerted Nialle had been cut short as one of the monsters stuffed her mouth and began pounding away at it, but she could still hear her sister's muffled protests even up here.
Nialle had dared not call out for fear of alerting the orcs to her presence. They would either disappear back into the forests with her sister or, perhaps worse, send a pack of their raiders up to collect Nialle as well. Instead, the terrified elf had fled as quickly as she dared down the path leading back to camp, hoping to find a more suitable weapon and catch the brutes by surprise.
By the time that she reached their camp, however, her sister's muffled cries had ceased. She realized why once she reached the circle of firelight. The orc raiders had vanished before she approached, surprisingly swift and stealthy when they had need of it. Her sister was gone as well, carried away by her attackers, leaving only a few leftover splatters of spilled orc cum and the tattered remains of her underwear to show where she had been at all.
That was months ago. Since that time, Nialle had scoured the forests surrounding their home looking for traces of the orc raiders and her sister. Of orcs, she found plenty of evidence; as time went on, the bastards were becoming bolder and bolder in their activities, leaving traces of their presence all throughout the land. Other tales like Nialle's became commonplace, of people who had lost sisters, wives, mothers, and daughters to the lust of orc raiders, who came upon their travels or even their very homes when they were at their most unguarded. Those few who reported trying to fight back, and living to tell of it, bore the scars of their encounters. None were able to claim to have saved their loved ones from their fates.
Of her sister, however, Nialle found not a trace. It was as if, after her group ravaging, she simply vanished. This, she realized, likely meant that they had taken her sister back over the mountains, where their strongholds flourished.
The only way that she would see her sister, she realized, would be if she could reach the orc strongholds themselves. And the only way to do that, apart from becoming one of their victims, would be to drive the orcs out. When she heard that the humans were massing an army to take the fight to the orcs for a change, Nialle knew what she had to do, even if her own people thought it suicide and folly.
