Warrior-Princesses - Garrak Tribe

AN: Feel free to leave a comment. I'd love to see what you guys think since this is my first official and uploaded short story. Enjoy!

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(Set in the Conquest of Sin universe)

The sun hung low above the horizon and steadily continued to dip towards the infinite line, giving way to darkness of the night and its silvery counterpart.

As its heat and light faded, intense cold began to take its place, the flat and grayish steppe providing little shelter and heat for anyone travelling through it.

Four figures made their way across the expanse at a steady pace, the twilight doing little to slow them down. Thick furs covered the toned and strong bodies of three of them while the fourth, a slim and horned being with skin black as night, walked barefoot and naked alongside them without a care in the world.

The three were quietly envious of their guardian and guide's ability to withstand the elements like they were nothing thanks to his profane blood, giving him glances as he skipped and bounced beside them. His infinite stamina was also sparking envy in his charges, allowing him to do whatever he pleases without a care in the world.

His three charges were nevertheless more important than he was, despite his powers, as they bore the mark of the new ruler of the steppe, of the Slave Fields: Warrior-Queen Nayla.

A jagged crown was tattooed upon each of their foreheads, the white visible against their gray skin, to denote their status as warrior-princesses if their powerful presence wasn't evidence enough.

Nosfertez never lost sight of his three young charges, the princesses barely adults by orcish standards, and there was no telling how their task will go. That is why he was here. To ensure the safety and health of Nayla's promising daughters.

The Warrior-Queen was in her fifties now, a blink of an eye for a demon but considerable for a mortal, and it was time the three daughters learned what it takes to be a ruler.

Farrah, Hella and Tyra were three of over a dozen borne by the former Empress Cassia that served as Nayla's Queenguard. This also involved enforcing their mother's law and demands as her emissaries to all that denied Nayla's rightful rule.

Nosfertez's brothers and sisters, Seducers all, were assigned by the Patriarchs themselves to guard and guide the fledgling princesses who will, one day, make their own clans and further the new race of orc the demons and their mother's have planned.

"I honestly don't get why they keep resisting. Mother is being too soft with them." Hella, the more aggressive sister of the three, complained and glared to the west where the Karock tribe was.

"We gotta look at it from their perspective, Hella," said Farrah who had taken to diplomatic approaches more readily than her other sisters. Hella groaned but her sister continued on. "We're not 'proper' orcs in their eyes and how can you expect them to just let us breed their women and have the males die out?"

"Obviously they should grow some brains and let us do it cause we're better than them or it's the axe." Hella grumbled. Tyra remained quiet during the exchange, watching like a hawk for any signs of danger.

"Now Hella. Just because our patriarchs allow you to bring order to this region by your means doesn't mean they like any of the blood being spilled." Nosfertez chastised as he stopped bouncing and faced the grumpy woman. "Killing someone must be your last and final resort. Wouldn't you rather they live contentedly as your pleasure slave than dead and buried in an unnamed grave?"

Hella frowned and looked away. Nosfertez had been with these three since they were born, the Seducer becoming a sort of uncle to them as he first taught them how to pray to their dark gods. His chastisement hit a lot harder than even Nayla's.

" I guess... i still think they are dumb, though."

Nosfertez refrained from chuckling and nodded. "They are indeed stubborn and unwise."

"I think I see the village." Tyra declared from atop a crooked tree the winds had twisted but not hard enough to kill it.

"Finally. No offense, uncle Nos, but i could use some actual food." Farrah said with an apologetic smile.

Their food ran out two thirds of the trip and animal life was sparse around here so they could only rely on their one and only source of nourishment: Nosfertez.

The demon just smiled back, hardly offended by it and stepped back to vanish into the growing night. "I shall be watching over you."

"Thanks uncle Nos." All three sisters chimed together.

OoOoOoO

It was pitch-black by the time the three arrived to the edges of the village. Their orcish iod let them see in the dark fairly well, allowing them to avoid the defensive traps and pitfalls the orcs had placed around the perimeter. Their approach was hardly stealthy and hidden and they quickly noticed movement in the single rickety wood tower that rose above the huts and tents.

"Hopefully they ask questions now and shoot later." Tyra said, shifting her furs to pull out her shield. It was a former Praetorian guard shield but repainted to fit Nayla's new regime; an axe with the mark of Sin on the axehead.

Moonlight gleamed off of steel battle axes the daughters had in hand and the small bits of metal hidden underneath their fur clothing. It is well-known that Nayla's daughters came not only well-trained in the art of war but also with magical armor that made them incredibly hard to beat.

They covered little and were made of leather and reddish adamantite. They are made to accentuate the femininity of the wearer with 'chaste' caps that cover the tip of the breasts, abdominal plates, smooth pauldrons and customary shinguards and bracers. They wore loincloths to hide their impressive manhoods.

The real protection came from foul demonic magics infused into the revealing suits that shielded and reflected both blade and arrow.

Farrah tugged at the choker and held onto the mark of Sin that hung off of it. She quietly spoke a prayer to her dark gods to keep this from turning bloody and just unsung her shid, her axe still in its hoop on her muscled hip.

The three sisters lit torches to let themselves be even more visible as a sign of non-hostility but it wouldn't be unusual for them to just use that to fire at them more accurately.

The light made it harder to see the approaching party of orcs but the sisters had inherited keen hearing from their sure to hear them grunting and talking quietly.

"Ask questions now, then." Tyra murmured and looked to Farrah who nodded and stepped in front to meet them.

Her counterparts were slightly bulkier than her, dressed in smelling furs that did little to mask their intense natural scent. Farrah and her many sisters had to get accustomed to the smell when they arrived here a year ago, having grown up amongst humans and over time it has grown on her.

They lacked the finesse and grace Farrah had inherited from her human mother and were massive machines of muscle and sinew. If she was not aware of her own strength and capabilities, she'd be rightly scared of the five orc men before her.

The leader was about to ask when he saw the tattoo upon her forehead and the fact she looked like a half-orc at best. Word travels, even in the Slave Fields, and they knew who she was.

The way that massive brow furrowed and creased, those black eyes unflinching on her, Farrah knew they had no intention in welcoming them into their village.

"Listen here, you don't want to attack us..." Farrah warned in guttural orcish, raising her free hand in a placating gesture. "Think of your village."

Hella tightened the grip on her axe and took a step forward. Tyra sighed and readied herself, powerful legs tensing to have her leap into action in a flash.

The tension built over the next few seconds, the only sounds of the wind gently swaying the short grass. Farrah looked intently into the leader's eyes, demanding he stand down. Orcs never responded to pleading or begging.

The other four orcs looked prepared but also uncertain what the next step was. The smooth females faced with rugged and bestial males, two sides of the same world face-to-face.

"You shall not harm our tribe." The orc finally declared, looking at all three threateningly with tusks bared. "Leave."

Farrah relaxed a bit but shook her head. "Your chieftain has ignored our queen's demand that all slaves be handed over. You continue to rape and breed them, forcing them to work until they die."

Her tone was calm and collected, not letting her true feelings show; feelings of anger and disappointment that the world allows this. She has a few slaves of her own that were rescued and have been given a worthwhile life, with one carrying Farrah's child of her own free will.

"They are slaves. That is what they are for." The orc retorted matter-of-factly and in an insulting tone like she should know what is obvious. "Your slaves are no better than ours."

"We are not here to debate differences between our slaves. We are here to speak to your chieftain and, if needed, put him to justice."

The orcs snorted in derision. Justice was hardly a concept in their primitive society. Might makes right. These females don't know how the world works.

"Let us pass." Farrah then said, no longer interested in entertaining these oafs any more. Her fierce tone stopped their amusement and they bared their teeth like wild dogs.

"Sis, do we really need these beasts in our queendom?" Hella asked in cultured human speech but unfortunately the orcs are well-versed in human and understood everything.

"You couldn't keep your mouth shut, huh?" Tyra asked as she lifted her shield and bolted for her sister in the front as the orcs charged a moment later.

Heavy mass of muscle and bone collided with Tyra's shield as she and the orc collided with a loud crash but neither gave way. Farrah had her axe in hand and swung downwards to cleave the orc's skull but it got blocked by his friend with a pillaged steel axe of his own.

The axe had the symbol of the old Veterius Empire military on the side of the relatively polished head.

The blocking orc grinned smugly, showing yellow and crooked teeth, but it vanished a moment later as Farrah brought her shield straight into his face. The collision emitted a sickening crunch as nose and probably teeth were bashed in.

Hella warded off another incoming orc with a battle cry and leap, bringing down her hard soled bare foot into the charging orc's face. Much to her credit, she maintained her balance and weight, bringing the orc down and slamming his head into the ground with her heel.

That would've been the end of it had he not more friends to distract Hella from dealing the killing blow, bringing their own club and axe upon her to block with her shield.

It was a testament to her training, natural talent and strength that she only flinched as two brutes brought their weights down upon her guard but she could hardly withstand their barrage for long. Flecks of paint flew off the shield as they slowly but surely destroyed it.

Farrah gave herself some room to work with by bashing that orc with her shield and hacked again at the orc that was grappling with Tyra, trying to reach around the shield and wrenching it out of Tyra's hand. Steel sunk through skin, flesh and bone and carved into the sensitive gray matter of the orc's head.

Tyra shoved the dead orc away and plunged her foot down onto the stunned orc on the ground clutching his bleeding face and mouth. They wore no armor and Tyra's bare foot hit flesh like a hammer into his stomach that wasn't clenched to stop it from punching both a scream and air out of him.

He didn't last long as the warrior-princess hacked his face in two while her sister rushed to help Hella from being ganged up on by two muscle-bound beasts.

Hella was forced to her knees on top of the orc she pinned down and he was trying to grab and pull her down and would've succeeded if Farrah didn't come to the rescue and charged in with her shield to knock away the one wielding a club.

This gave Hella enough room and time to move her foot, which was now slimy and wet from both blood and the orc's saliva when he tried to gnaw at her heel, and sunk her axe into his skull.

The last two remaining orcs continued to fight and Farrah was dealt what would've been a mortal blow to the side as she was left wide open pushing the other orc back. Gray flesh didn't give way to the worn and jagged blade of an orcish axe and instead it bounced off without even breaking the skin.

"You asked for it!" Tyra roared and slammed into the orc as he was winding up for another swing, using her whole considerable mass to bring him down.

Hella chose to take vengeance upon the orc her sister brought down, reaching them in two quick steps and going for the head. Tyra had his arms busy and pinned, leaving him helpless to an attack from above.

Farrah could handle herself as she used her momentum and surprise of her foe to run him back until he tripped and fell. She followed up by deftly walking over him and slammed her foot against his throat, feeling the cartilage in there snapping to pieces.

At that point, the orc had other problems to deal with such as a crushed throat. Farrah stepped off of him and watched him suffocate in immense pain for a moment before sinking her axe into his skull.

"Think they saw us kill them?"

"Probably." Tyra said amidst pants, swinging her axe to get the brain matter and blood off of it.

"Are any of you guys aroused right now?" Hella asked sheepishly.

"No!"

OoOoOoO

The three sisters huddled up to plan their next move and even asked uncle Nosfertez for advice who was silent and somewhere but they all knew he was both amused by their conundrum and disappointed at them for leading the encounter to bloodshed.

Orcs obeyed strength, worshipped it as much as their heathen gods of bloodshed, rape and conquest, and the sisters decided to bring their terrible trophies of victory with them to the village.

Their approach wasn't expected as they no doubt thought the five warriors to have chased them away or slaughtered them. Farrah was disappointed when more warriors rushed out to meet them while Hella swung a disembodied head by the coarse black hair orcs are known for. She sent it flying to land at the first warrior's feet with a sickening squelch.

"I hope that the five that came to meet us are in the minority." Farrah said with steel in her voice, daring and challenging anyone who was bold enough to raise their weapons against her and her sisters. Unsurprisingly, one was so dumb to try it and charged out of the gathered crowd with a roar and axe in hand.

Farrah didn't even move as Hella grinned and dashed, the tall woman leaping into the air thanks to powerful legs and dove feet first onto the charging orc. Her feet collided with his face and she used her whole body weight to plunge him into the ground, smashing his skull to pieces.

It was a quick death, just like they were trained to fight by their mother and a demon tutor who seemed to relish combat far too much to be allowed by the Patriarchs. Hella took to her teachings the most, using her whole body like a lethal weapon and the dive attack is just one of many.

The crowd backed away as Hella stepped off and wiped the blood on her soles into the grass and dirt, looking quite pleased with herself and crossing her arms under her buxom chest.

"Have we eradicated all of those who dare silence us?" Farrah asked with a raised eyebrow and the mute crowd shifted nervously. If her and her sisters weren't recognised as emissaries of one of the largest united orcish clans that has graced the Slave Fields, they would have to run and try to survive. The three before them had been part of the campaign and fought in many battles alongside their mother and the demonically-infused sorcerers. And they all knew this, or at least heard of it. Word travels far.

"I will take that as a yes. Take us to chieftain Garrak."

"I will take you." Offered a woman who was missing her arm at the elbow. Her body was draped in furs but the scars went up her neck like grapevines and settled around her temples. A former shamaness that had been ritually carved up to manipulate the flow of the steppe. The slashes across those lines denoted her severance from the powers.

The rest watched the three sisters suspiciously and with apprehension as they followed the former spirit guide towards the center of the village where the tallest hut stood.

It wasn't a fancy construction at all but to the orcs it was a showing of power and prestige as it was the most structurally sound and decorated hut out of them all. The walls were made of solid wooden beams that were hard to get in a steppe of this size and hundreds of pelts and furs stitched together to form the covering.

Silken drapes that were at odds with the wild construction that covered the entrance were pulled aside for big brutes to step out clad in furs and wooden armor. They glared at the shamaness for leading them here and jerked their heads to the side.

The woman obediently left and then their attention was on Farrah who was almost a head shorter than them. Farrah didn't let it show that she was intimidated by them. It was easier to meet your enemy when she had hundreds of allies at her back.

"We must speak with your chieftain. We will not accept any more delays."

Tyra tossed her own severed head in front of the two guards, raising an eyebrow. This seemed to jog their memory who they were dealing with and stepped aside.

The inside of the hut was warm and filled with the scent of incense that failed to mask the intense musk of male orcs. The floor was soft underneath their feet as it was carpeted in more furs and stolen tapestries that were repurposed for flooring. The middle was dominated by a large fire pit surrounded by carved wooden benches and pillaged furniture where the finest warriors of the tribe ate with their chieftain.

Speaking of the chieftain, Farrah glared across the roaring fire of the pit and at the makeshift throne of bone, pelts and stone. The dissident chief sat relaxedly in his seat, legs spread and two collared and leashed women forced to polish his impressive orchood and the hairy balls hanging low beneath. His many orcish wives lounged on pilfered pillows and sheets around the throne, several in different stages of pregnancy.

Just like any other orcish tribe, the chieftain took for himself the finest females available, leaving the rest for his followers and Farrah counted ten wives. He was a greedy chieftain. Her sisters snorted and followed her steady and calm approach around the flaming pyre.

"So the warrior-queen has sent her cubs to take me down?" Garrak's voice boomed throughout the hut in mockery and a tinge of incredulity. He shifted in his seat and leaned forward to get a closer look at the quarter-orcs, ignoring the softly moaning women; a bronze elf and tanned human, as he looked them over with thinly-veiled hunger.

The daughters hardly covered themselves up, raised naked or in just loincloths since they were children.They also were exposed to many a lustful look, both from their mothers, their tutors and other orcs, but the malice in Garrak's devouring stare was palpable. In his mind they were future slaves to be debased and chained up as an example to the Warrior-Queen.

Neither daughter pitied him.

"Chieftain Garrak, you've failed to heed the demand made by the Warrior-Queen of all tribes that live in the Slave Fields." Farrah declared, reaching into the pouch on her hip and producing a vellum scroll and reached out for the chief to take.

He stared at the scroll for just a moment before swatting it away and out of Farrah's hand. "The first, last and only Warrior-Queen is dead. A disgusting dark time in our history where we let a woman lead us."