The sun was shining brightly this particular morning in the mining town of Fort Cibu. Warstomp yawned as he came to life from his nightly slumber. He was a large, sturdy, brusque, charcoal-colored, ork. Warstomp was a corporal in the Peace Protection Corps of the Provisional Army of the Tarki Masni Territories. He worked at the mine keeping order, ensuring no unauthorized personnel got through, and identifying and exterminating potential threats to the safety of the workers and the quarry itself. Warstomp yelled out, "Pooka!"
Pooka was a ghoulish looking, pickled hued, imp. The small creature was the family servant who helped with all manner of cooking, cleaning, and washing.
"Yes, master," inquired little Pooka.
"Draw my bath!"
"Yes, master."
Warstomp stammered to the tub and sat in the hot, relaxing water. Pooka sponged off his patron. After the bathing, Warstomp put on his uniform and went downstairs. His wife, Crookedla, was sipping tea at the table while the twins, Wallalga and Wallacezoga, ate their oats. "Eat up, girls! We have to get you to school soon."
"Good morning, girls, Crookedla," Warstomp said.
"Morning, daddy," his daughters rang out in unison.
"How'd you sleep dear," inquired his wife.
"Pretty good."
"Are you going to eat breakfast?"
"Not this morning. I need to get to work."
"Master," Pooka interjected. "Here is your lunch pail. And, here is a slice of meat pie to eat on the way."
"Thanks," Warstomp said accepting the items and heading out the door.
Warstomp typically walked to work with Badmorgan, another ork.
"Greetings, corporal," Badmorgan said.
"Sergeant," replied Warstomp. "How's it going?"
"Pretty good. Did you have a nice weekend?"
"I did. How about you?"
"Not too bad. I got in a little trouble if you know what I mean," the muddy brown ork intimated.
"Oh! Good for you, sarge," Warstomp grinned.
"Yeah, tight little number."
"Tell me about her," Warstomp took the bait knowing his superior was a sexaholic and would fuck most anything.
Badmorgan was into interspecies sex. "It was cute, pink unicorn. Fucked that pretty pony up the ass."
"Damn, I heard they're wild."
"Everything you heard is true."
Indeed, Badmorgan had gone to the Rawtra Forest on the edge of town looking for a raunchy hook up. That is where he met the young, equine-like being. The adorable Rosparkle was prancing about wiggling his firm buttocks. Badmorgan was drawn to him for some reason. He pulled out his hefty, foot-long dick and flashed it at the galloping pony. Rosparkle smiled and shimmied over to the burly ork.
The sergeant started, "That pony ass bitch took this dick like a champ. Had that slut naying and screaming. Kept begging me to fuck harder and deeper. I nutted like four times before I left."
"Wow," Warstomp was impressed.
"I'm telling you, man. You need to get you some strange on occasion."
"I'm good for now."
"If you say so," replied Badmorgan as they neared the mine.
"See you later, boss," Warstomp said going off to his post.
They day went along without any hitches. Warstomp stopped by the office to see if Badmorgan was ready to leave. The sergeant was still working on his end of shift report and told Warstomp to go ahead without him.
"See you later, dude," Warstomp said.
"Oh, one minute," Badmorgan looked up. "We are being asked to escort the caravan to Port Rinesmas tomorrow. Can I count on you?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Great! We'll be staying overnight as well. Hope that is not a problem."
"No, sir! No problem at all."
"Very well! See you tomorrow."
Warstomp went home and dined with his family. He told his wife about his work trip the next day.
"I envy you," Crookedla admitted. "Port Rinesmas is so beautiful with such wonderful shops and bazaars."
"Yeah, it's nice! But it's work. So there won't be much, if any, fun at all."
"Master," said Pooka. "Perhaps you could make time for an ale while you're there."
"I'm sure I can do that," Warstomp chuckled.
"Excellent, master! My brother owns a pub there. It's called Hallievous Ale House."
"I will check it out."
"I'll write down the info and an introductory letter for you before you leave," Pooka volunteered.
"That is so thoughtful of you, Pooka," shared the woman of the house.
The next day the caravan set out. Warstomp and Badmorgan were the protection detail. Along for the journey was the mine's head of transportation - a centaur named Weaverical. There was also a pixie called Twinlenald who was the inventory specialist.
A few hours into the journey, the caravan stopped for lunch. The various beasts and creatures ate their morsels.
Badmorgan mouthed something to Twinklenald. The three-foot-three-inch fairy followed the huge ork into the thicket.
