Spitfire

Though the dancers were frightened by the size of them and their tusks, the Orc's weren't as grabby as human guests were. Around the room the dancers did their best to relax and entertain the Orcs by feeding them and dancing on them. The room looked like a huge orgy was going on.

Cyrus smiled charismatically as the Orc beside Malach waved him over. He danced his way over, his layered skirt swishing with him and the beads clank in rhythm to his hips while moving to the tempo played by the musicians. He gracefully glided past Shireen who was erotically dancing with 3 other dancers. Their dancing mimicked sexual acts for the entertainment of the orcs who seemed very drawn in to the show.

As Cyrus danced in front of Malach, there was more food brought and placed on the small tables set up beside each seat. Malach watched Cyrus dance hypnotically before him, though he enjoyed the sight he didn't make it known. He knew the dancer enjoyed dancing, but he looked terrified each time they locked eyes.

Malach listened to the movement upstairs, knowing his men that were up there had found the secret passageways between the walls as he could hear them coming down to the main floor. A series of taps, a code the Orc's made, was sounded and Malach knew his soldiers were in position. Glancing at Durlag he leans back a bit and utters under his breath.

"I'm ready to retire." After he said it Cyrus got on his knees in front of him and climbed into his large lap, startling Malach he tried remaining calm. 'This is bad. Don't rub against me- dammit. Get off of me elf.' His mind was racing with thoughts as he panicked.

Durlag nodded with an approving laugh and took a drink of his ale, then went to go speak with Stein. As he left his seat, Malach watched Cyrus dance sensually on top of him. Though he enjoyed it he kept his hands to the side of himself. The way the elf smelled made it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. The elf's emotions were quite mute, soft notes of burnt wood and daisies came from him, telling Malach that the elf liked him, but was also afraid of him. The elf's skin smelled sweet like melons, his natural scent.

Malach heard the dancer that was sitting with Durlag move behind him. He soon felt their arms slide over his shoulders. She wasn't afraid of him at all, the strong scent of apples told him she wanted him. And that made Malach uncomfortable.

"Shall I feed you your highness?" The soft and sultry voice of Zestari touched his ears, one of the more experienced dancers. Her fingers trailed over the top of his mask. Malach was somewhat panicking inside. 'What is taking Durlag so long?' He thought to himself as he shook his head to the woman politely. His eyes were glued on Cyrus who grinded on him, he couldn't help but look over the golden leaves and flowers painted on his chest and down his arms.

"No.. I'm not hungry." His hands were lifted from his sides by Cyrus, who placed Malach's hands on his butt. Zestari startled Malach by licking his ear. Her hot breath made him tense up. The both of them were flustering Malach beyond his comfort zone.

"Perhaps you're hungry for something else, my Lord?" Her hands went to the top of his hooded tunic, she untied the strings quicker than he expected. He clenched his jaw as her hot hands delicately slid onto his bare chest. 'This is bad.. So bad…' Malach was mentally cursing Durlag.

'What the fuck Durlag!? This was not a part of the plan!' He cleared his throat and went along with it to keep from being suspicious, this was the whole point of these kinds of parties. His soldiers just watched as they themselves enjoyed the elves that were doting on them. Malach glared at the orcs, he would scold them later for being so easily distracted.

He couldn't even respond to the elf, his hands were made to squeeze the elf's butt on his lap and all he could think of was how nice the cheeks felt in his hands, how the cheeks jiggled with his hips wiggling and grinding against his groin. Cyrus started helping Zestari open his shirt. There were a lot of scars that became visible, and despite Malach's discomfort he didn't want to raise suspicion until Durlag signaled him. Zestari pulled Malach's head back and hovered over him.

"Can I lower this?" her long blond hair brushed against his face as she looked at him. Her eyes were a bright pink that made her warm skin glow. Malach was hesitant, shuttering as Cyrus licked his chest. He nodded to her, even though he really didn't want his mask off.

As Zestari lowered the mask she carefully lifted it over his 4 tusks, tracing her fingers along his jaw and over his lips. Malach had scars on his nose, a scar coming from his top lip, and some on his chin that were noticeable through his short dark purple beard. His jaw was quite wide, but compared to the other Orcs, his facial features were slightly softer and his nose was a bit longer.

When Zestari went to grab the pitcher of beer he quickly tried looking for Durlag, inhaling deeply he caught his scent. Zestari took a mouth full of ale and came back to Malach. Pulling her hair over her shoulder she pressed her lips against his and used her thumb to pull his chin down. Once his mouth parted she let the ale slip out of her mouth into his, a sight the great Brotgam Beerbringer himself would envy, the God of beer and cheese.

Malach was unfortunately enjoying it. Which Cyrus noticed by the rise in his pants. Zestari held her mouth over his until he swallowed the earthy ale. His neck was flushed. 'By the Goddess Hoki, this needs to stop…' Malach mentally pleaded to the orcish goddess of pleasure, hoping she would spare him of this current torment.

—-----

Durlag had told Stein that Malach and the others were ready to continue to the rooms upstairs with the elves that were entertaining them. Upon seeing that the elf he was with was now all over Malach, he told Stein, Malach wanted 2 of the elves dancing on the floor to accompany him. To make the King 'extra' happy, handing Stein a bit of extra gold. Asking that he let Durlag have 2 for himself. It was only fair, he figured.

Stein happily clapped his hands 3 times upon returning to the main room with Durlag beside him. "We can bring this to the rooms upstairs to give yourselves some privacy to truly enjoy the fine goods of Nual."

He snapped his fingers at Shireen and the 3 other dancers in the middle of the floor and clicked his tongue as he motioned his head to Malach. "Shireen, Hiase, join King Malach, Zestari and Cyrus, the king has a big appetite and needs extra care. Juniper and Alasse, if you would be so kind as to join Durlag." Stein motioned a hand to the tall dark green orc beside him.

Thera cast a jealous glare at Durlag. Getting up she spanked the small elf man with her. He yelped excitedly, and it seemed the elf enjoyed big green ladies. He waited for her to drink down her pitcher before leaving the main room.

Cyrus and Zestari started helping Malach up, towering over them a bit as their heads came just below his chest. Before anyone else happened to see his face he covered it back up with the mask. Sighing a bit in relief as he had to duck his head a bit. He looked down at the elves around him, then glanced at Durlag who bumped into a servant carrying a tray of emptied food, the metal tray she held fell onto the floor with a loud crashing sound.

In mere seconds the elves were all forced onto the ground, pushed down by the Orcs beside them as the walls broke open. More orcs had started exploding into the room, carrying ropes and weapons. The room was filled with the terrified screams of the servants and the elves as they scurried away from the fighting that was now occupying the room with guards pouring in from doors and stairways.

Malach pushed Zestari and Cyrus into Shireen and Hiase, making them pile onto each other as an orc burst from the wooden wall behind him and handed him an axe. Before Cyrus could even begin to process what just happened Malach swung his axe over him and the elves upon the floor with him. A head of a guard fell beside them, splattering them with blood. They stared at the headless body that plopped beside them with wide eyes.

Cyrus stared at the head in horror, breathing sporadically as panic threatened to consume him he clung to Shireen desperately. Malach killed another guard near them, kicking his body away before he bent down and yanked Cyrus up by his arm.

"Get the slaves and servants out of here!" Malachs voice roared at him. Cyrus was paralyzed by fear. His heart was thundering in his ears as he stared at Malach. His eyes caught onto a guard coming to them. Thera tackled him before he could reach Malach.

Malach looked to the other elves upon the floor, then took a glance around. He needed Stein. He needed the elves out of his way. He pulled the elf closer to him. He spoke softer, but loud enough to be heard.

"Look at me." Cyrus was trembling as he looked at him. Shireen was crying as she got up and held onto Cyrus.

"If you stay in here you will die. Now go." He didn't listen to their messy sobbing as he couldn't understand them. He needed to stay on alert and fight, not baby sit some slaves.

His senses picked up hounds coming from outside. He yanked up the other 2 and pushed them all to the huddle of slaves to the back end of the room.

"Get out of here!"

With that final command he turned around and joined his fellow orcs. If the slaves didn't listen now, he could only try his best to protect them.

Stein was blowing into a magic attuned flute as he had the remainder of his guards beside him. The high pitch squeal from it pierced the orc's ears painfully. Most of them covered their ears in the middle of the fighting, giving the humans a bit of an advantage as they couldn't hear it. The hounds Malach sensed burst through the front doors. His ears were stinging, which distorted his senses.

The hounds growled and leapt at the orcs. Malach punched one in the nose that latched onto his arm and tossed it at a human guard trying to charge at him. He pulled down his mask then inhaled roughly before letting out a deep gnarly roar that shook the entire building. It freaked the hounds out, they whimpered and cowardly backed away from him. The humans were startled but it didn't stop them.

Malach had an overwhelmingly intimidating scent, he was able to suppress it or release it upon command. It worked against the hounds, but unfortunately it also caused great discomfort to his soldiers. Malach ignored their complaints as some of them felt sick from the roar.

Once the hounds were taken care of the orcs moved in to capture Stein. Malach yanked the flute from the man's hands and held it out to one of the orcs beside him. They took it and crushed it in their mouth with their tusks. The ivory flute splintered and shattered, falling to the ground from the orcs mouth, a soft light shined and dissipated from the flute, showing that the incantation upon it was nullified.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you." Stein grimaced as Malach started tying him up. Before he got his mouth covered Stein was able to shout using a magical ability only humans from Euronshire could use. The marking upon the man's tongue allowed him to control nearby humans that would hear his shout.

"KILL THE SLAVES! BURN THIS WHOLE PLACE!"

"Great..." Malach groaned as he punched Stein, and stuffed a rag in his mouth and wrapped a strap over it. He quickly ordered one of his soldiers to take Stein and keep him alive.

It didn't take long for the humans affected by Stein's shout to get there. This sent the orcs into a frenzy trying to kill the dozen or more thugs and thieves that poured in from outside in the dark city streets. They carried torches and swords, under Stein's mind control they did as he commanded. Setting fire to the building and attacking the orcs and servants. Some were able to slip past the orcs during the commotion and searched for the slaves who were no longer in that room.

—---------------

Once the hounds burst in Cyrus and the other slaves rushed down stairs. Pushing past guards who rushed up to aid Stein and trying to escape the fight as Malach told them to. So much was going on but Cyrus and the others were in such a state of shock and panic they had no idea what to do.

Once they were down stairs and inside the slave quarters Cyrus paced the floor. His heart was racing and his head was swarming with the intense images and sounds he heard for the first time. Holding his head and whimpering as he hit his head with his palms.

"Come on, think! They spared us for now but it's only a matter of time before they come for us too!"

Shireen stopped him from his pacing, she kissed his forehead and made him look at her. "It's time we run. If we stay here, we risk dying."

One of the younger slaves spoke up with a weak trembling voice, "If the guards see us trying to flee we will die! Master Stein will protect us!"

Cyrus began breathing easier. Hugging Shireen tightly he looked at the others and shook his head.

"Stein doesn't care about us. We are property. The guards will be busy trying to fight the orcs. If we stay we die, if we leave we can die but there is a chance we can survive. I'd rather take my chances running while I can."

He had hoped what he said resonated with them. It took a few minutes before they all began getting up. The fighting upstairs was loud. The beastly roar upstairs caused a tremor in the basement, it startled the slaves and encouraged them to make haste.

Cyrus led them out into the cave where they left the caravans. They snuck single file in a long snake chain down the steps. The sneaking was impossible with the beaded clothing they wore but they had to try.

Seeing no guards he motioned them to come with him to the caravans. Before they could try to get on, a group of dirty looking pirates came out and stood at the top of the steps and pointed their swords at them.

"Yer not going anywhere!"

Cyrus instinctively demanded they run down a tunnel that was to the left of the path the caravans took to get there. He grabbed a bottle of liquor and a torch off the wall and placed himself between the running slaves and the men who rushed towards them with swords.

He bit the cork and yanked it out, spitting it to the side he swigged the strong bitter liquor and filled his mouth with it. Waiting until the men got close enough he sprayed the liquor from his mouth in a stream through the torch, setting one man on fire and the other 2 were stalled trying to not get burned.

Using this moment to retreat he broke the bottle with the rest of the liquor still inside it as he smashed it in the tunnel's entry way and tossed the torch on it. Setting the pathway ablaze behind him as he ran to catch up with the rest of the slaves.

The fire would buy them time to run but not much. If only he and his people could use their magic, this would be so much easier. Cyrus began ripping off beads from his sash and dropping them to leave a trail. 'I need to divert them!' His thoughts screamed as he ran.

He almost couldn't stop himself from running into Alasse. Looking ahead he saw a 3 way split in the tunnel. Shireen wasn't sure which way to go and the elves were in a state of blubbering panic.

As if he was on autopilot from the adrenaline, Cyrus grabbed a torch and held it in each tunnel way. The second one slightly danced from a small breeze. Handing Shireen the torch he looked back to see if the men had caught up yet.

"This should lead outside. Keep running and don't look back. I'll join soon." As they protested Cyrus insisted. He took a sash from a dancer and started tossing beads down the first and 3rd tunnels.

"Go now! We don't have time!"

Shireen cried but led them down the path. Cyrus watched the light fade as the group of them rushed down. As he heard the men running behind him he jingled the sash he held to catch their attention away from the jingling of the running elves. Once they were in view he hollered at them, "Come and get me!"

Darting down the 3rd pathway he kept dropping beads. His chest was burning and his legs were weakening. He fell down a small flight of steps he couldn't see and skid across the dirt and rocks at the bottom. His body hurt, and he felt he couldn't continue running.

"Get up Cyrus…" He urged himself to go on. While coughing he scrambled to his feet. Slumping over a crate he could hardly see he pulled himself over it and tossed the sash to the other side of what seemed to be a storage room area. He ducked low, wheezing as he tried to steady his breathing.

The men after him were slowing down, he could hear their ragged breathing echoing as they jogged down the path. Cyrus opened a crate that was beside him, maybe there was something he could use he hoped. Sticking his hand in he cut his finger on the sharp edge of a sword.

Flinching back he carefully pulled the sword out. Hearing the men very close he held the sword hilt in his hand, it was heavy and he was no fighter. But he was desperate. Even if he died so that Shireen and the others could live, he had to do it. He couldn't afford to hesitate.

The room slowly became illuminated by a torch being held by one of the men. Cyrus squeezed the sword hilt and clenched his teeth as he crouched behind the crate. He prayed the gods would grant him strength. Out of all the things the Gods put him through, he deserved some kind of luck. He was tired of praying and getting nothing. In his desperation he prayed to Ashuura, the goddess of life, and to a goddess he never prayed to before.

"Dae'tamoura.. The savage Goddess, give me strength to fight these men. Ashuura, I have always been an obedient slave, some guidance and aid for once would be very appreciated." He spoke just under his ragged breath.

The torch was put into a wall holder, Cyrus could hear the dirt and rocks under their feet as they searched the room. When he heard them pick up the sash he gathered all his courage and rushed out. The sword dragged upon the floor and sparking as it hit the rocks he swung it in a wide upward arc as hard as he could.

The man was able to dodge the sword just barely as Cyrus sloppily swung at them. The sword tip hitting the ground Cyrus almost lost his balance. His arms were already burning from the weight.

"Gutsy, I like that in a slave." One man laughed.

Both the men started attacking Cyrus. He was barely able to keep some distance between them by tossing the sword back and forth.

Clashing blades together with one of the men Cyrus wasn't able to defend himself as the other man lunged his sword at him.

Cyrus whinced sharply as his arm got sliced, but he was able to retreat far enough that it wasn't too deep. He was panting and wheezing. The sweat covering him made the dirt and dust that got tossed up stick to his skin and the golden paint.

Cyrus was about to defend from the swing of one of the swords when the harsh sound of a spinning axe echoed in the tunnel, and before he knew it the man that was swinging at him was hit in the head with a large flying axe. His body flew with it and crashed into a crate next to Cyrus who was too terrified to move.

Him and the other man looked down the tunnel path where Malach came to view, without even a second glance the Orc dodged the man as he swung at him. Malach easily took the sword out of his hand and stabbed him through the head with such fluid movements it was as if he was just dancing.

Malach paid no mind to the body who just collapsed with a sword in its head and walked over to retrieve his axe from the other body. Yanking it out he looked at Cyrus. The lower half of his face was covered again and his hood was back up over his hair.

Cyrus had the sword pointing to him, trembling as he could barely lift the tip up; he stood his ground to the Orc as he didn't trust him. He flinched backward a step as Malach held his hand outward, attempting to calm Cyrus down.

"Put the sword down-"

"Why?! So you can take me as your own slave? Eat me? Rape me?"

Blood trickled down Cyrus' arm and onto his golden wrist cuffs as he held the sword which was practically on the ground.

Malach's ear twitched at the sound of 3 more guards, probably from within the mines, ran through the tunnels. He harshly sighed, growing impatient he held his bloody axe in his hand.

"If you want to die here, be my guest."