Carts are pulled back onto the beach by a set of blinded elven slaves
only able to respond to the crack of the whip finding their shoulders
and hindquarters. They each grunt through their bitgags as the goblin
cackles and cracks the whip repeatedly against them. Massive orcs
wander alongside the cart until the collective reins are pulled back
informing the elves that they're to stop. The goblin then begins
barking orders of the orcs who go to work opening up the back of the
cart. There's mumbling inside but these noises are soon drowned out
by wood being dragged upon wood as the orcs pull out wooden poles and
each take them right by the waters edge stabbing them down into the
sand.
The
mumblings turned to shrill screams from a few as the orcs step back
to admire their work. The female side of the warriors who had first
landed on the beach to claim it as a foothold for their Queen had now
been returned to it. Only all four limbs had been chopped off and
their bellies all stuck out filled with a mixture of goblin and
orcish seed. The poles that hold them up have been given the effect
of being stitched in through their backs as they simply hang off them
staring out at the wide river, seeing their homeland off in the
distance. A few call out for help, others cry out from the pain
they'll just have to accept as their norm, while others have given up
and simply wait for death. One of the latter is the former commander
who stares off blankly over the waves as behind these “banners”
the elven cart pullers are whipped into moving back to the camp.
The
former elven platoon commander stands by the side of the tent holding
onto the massive orcish face helm as her Master, Contessa, readies
her weapons. One of which the former commander recognizes as her
enchanted dagger given to her by the Queen Alicia. Therefore, at this
time before Contessa's assault on the human kingdom, the elf finds
herself with conflicted feelings. On one hand, she stands wearing
little more than a iron collar around her neck acting as a sign of
her slave status, or otherwise being property of Contessa. Though on
the other, Alicia was killed. Executed by the humans and her head
adorns a outer wall where she's been marked a traitor.
“Helm.”
Contessa
commands driving placement back into her fellow elf's head as the
former commander acts handing it out to her Master. Contessa looks
back and perhaps understanding the feelings of conflict running
through her slave, smiles at her warmly. She reaches out touching her
steel gauntlet along her cheek.
“In
bed with you,” She begins as she turns putting on the orcish helm
overtop of her head and face causing her voice to become distorted,
darkened almost. “I won't be long.”
The
slave obeys getting into the cot as Contessa pushes her way through
the tent flaps to the outside where her army of orcs await her.
They're already formed into ranks facing toward the human capital
where not a soul has been sent out to greet them. Contessa steps up
onto the back of her werebeast and flicks the reins to begin her trip
toward the front of her massive, field covering army of roughly ten
thousand soldiers. Up front her new second, the goblin warchief,
awaits her.
“Has
there been any movement?” Contessa asks through the small opening
of her steel orc face.
“None,
Master.” The goblin replies. “We've sent crows overhead but they
report no military advance even from behind their own walls.”
“Then
it'll be an easy slaughtering.” Contessa states looking back at the
gates far ahead of them.
--
Inside
the royal palace, her Holy Empress Elizabeth sits in a parlor
entertaining a few of her dignitaries when she's approached by an
armored yet still decorated general. When he's called forward, he
leans in and begins whispering to Elizabeth about Contessa's army.
Elizabeth sighs and nods giving a single order before returning to
her guests.
The
general presses a hand to his chest in salute and marches off down
into the depths of the dungeon where the torturer looks up through
the small slits of his black mask.
“By
order of her Holy Empress Elizabeth,” The general begins, “Release
the archangel.”
--
Back
outside, Contessa is about to call for the horns of war to be sounded
when the front gates finally open. Curiously, she waits as a lone
woman with platinum hair walks out. Dressed in rags and chains, she
timidly walks forward another thirty paces where she stops.
“A
messenger?” The warchief wonders. “Or a sign of their
submission.”
Contessa
ponders the possibilities. “Bring me her head. We'll see if they
decide to send out another.”
“As
you command.” The warchief gleefully responds as he flicks the
reins of his wolf who begins to charge forward. The goblin lets out a
wild yell as he pulls out his ax while the woman before him looks up
with tears in her eyes.
--
A
few minutes later, the same general steps into the courtyard of the
palace where her Holy Empress is in the midst of a croquette game
with her same dignitary friends. She's about ready to hit the ball
when she notices the shine off the generals armor.
“Hm?”
“Near
total obliteration of the enemy forces, your majesty.”
“Near?”
Elizabeth asks still studying up on her play.
“We
have the commander in custody.”
Elizabeth
doesn't say anything. Rather she just hits her ball through the
nearest hoop. It's not the next in line for her but no one dare say
anything about it as she stands back up proper passing her mallet
along to a servant.
“My
dear friends, I believe it's time for a banquet.” She muses pulling
off her gloves. “Over both of my victories today.”
--
The
banquet is a loud, exclusive affair filling the main hall of the
palace with nobles of many families. All of which are human, of
course, with elves working the servant class. Elves who had to flee
their own homes and given the sanctuary they requested through this
returned requisite. Her Holy Empress remains on her throne as
Contessa's former mask rests down at her feet as a trophy of
Elizabeth's claimed victory. There's no sign of the archangel
anywhere as she's presumably been returned down into the dungeon.
Soon though, Elizabeth rises from her throne and it becomes a solid
sign that the noisy merriment is to be put on hold. With no noise,
her orders can be heard clearly through to outside the hall.
“Send
it in.”
The
far doors open and a set of four soldiers march in with Contessa
stripped and chained follows in the midst of them. Despite the
attempt at washing and covering her in makeup, there's the obvious
signs that the torturer has been having his fun with the defeated elf
as lash marks dot all over her slender frame. She stands with a
defeated look in her eyes, four chains connected to her collar, and
nothing to show for her warring efforts. One soldier approaches her
and holds out a champagne flute. Contessa eyes it for a moment then
looks beyond it to the smirking Holy Empress. From her she glances
around at the gathered masses waiting for the event. With a weak arm,
Contessa reaches up taking the glass flute and then brings her head
up to speak.
“A...toast..”
“Clearer.”
One of the soldiers holding one of her leashes commands. Contessa
clears her throat and tries again.
“A
toast to the Holy Empress Elizabeth, the true descendant of the Gods,
and her mighty empire. May her reign never end.”
The
gathered nobles agree and take sips of their drinks. Contessa locks
eyes with Elizabeth as the two sip their drinks though shortly after,
the elf looks away nervously.
“Well
said from the defeated.” Elizabeth replies. “I look forward to
seeing you on the battlefield on the better side. Get her ready.”
With
a gesture of her hand, the four leashes are tugged and Contessa is
led from the hall as her Holy Empress goes back to her guests.
--
The
warships of the humans arrive at the northern coast of the southern
continent. Bridges are splashed down into the water as soldiers step
off to what had previously been the elven territories. Now they are
marked by elven and human corpses alike, all set upon spikes with
limbs cut off and some stomachs even sliced open. Their flesh decays
in the sunlight as her Holy Empress disembarks her ship and steps
upon the set rose pedals laid out by her elven servants. She
approaches one body in particular where the goblins, after slicing
her open, have found it quite a treat to rip out the former
commanders entrails and run them down her throat. Elizabeth sighs
shaking her head.
“Such
savage displays.”
“We'll
just have to one up them, your majesty.” The general responds to
which Elizabeth smiles.
“We've
certainly started. Contessa!”
Upon
the command of her Mistress, Contessa races off the boat having been
transformed into a personal steed of her Holy Empress. Gone were her
arms and replaced with sharpened claws. Her skull ripped off to allow
for easier access of the bolts holding her blinder and gag mask in
place. Her breasts are enhanced in size with nipple rings large
enough for the toes of Elizabeth's armored boots. In her ass is stuck
the branch of a mighty oak with the former elven king's severed head
set as a decoration and in her pussy is the melted remains of her
mask. The former elven commander of the orc's army obediently comes
to the side of her Mistress whom sits into the saddle gripping the
reins. She slides her boots into the stirrups as she looks to the
general.
“Nothing
survives behind us, general.”
“Of
course, your majesty.”
Elizabeth
gives the reins a gentle flick and Contessa crawls off stabbing her
piercing front hooves, as they are, into the sand as she does. With
her gone, the general turns to call and order up the army. Meanwhile,
in the depths of a prison ship, the platinum haired woman rests.
She's shackled to the wall and still wears her rags but very slowly
sings herself a smile.
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