Gyda Lionrock thinks her visit to Asclan Peak is for one reason and one reason alone-to procreate and finally welcome that child of her own. She could have never guessed she would also leave something behind inside the mountains, but it was her hear...
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"Go wash yourself, you disgusting maggot. Tonight, you're to breed with one of the fair, fragile creatures, so the least you can do is wash that caked layer of mud off your face!" I smacked the younger one against his head. "Cause you stink, boy."
"Fucking hell, Orvar!" Vildon said, rubbing the back of his head. "That hurt. You really don't know your own strength sometimes!"
I massaged my ears. "And you don't know the damage your screeching voice brings to my ears sometimes."
"Fuck you," he replied, standing up from my couch.
"Hey, don't talk to your commander like that," I answered before I planted my foot against his butt. It was going to be his first breeding moon tonight, so the boy should put some more effort into this meeting. "And give your dick a good scrub too!"
"Orvar!" he said, annoyed, hands now rubbing his ass.
I laughed. "What? They like your dick to be clean. If you don't believe me, ask Betsy!"
One thing I'd learned from my annual meetings with these pale weaklings was that they were very keen on hygiene. Keeping clean, however, was a skill some of my brothers hadn't mastered that well, especially not the younger ones.
"What does it matter what they want, anyway?" Vildon asked. "They already think we're disgusting and hideous, whether my dick is washed or not."
I couldn't deny that what he just said was true. Over the past centuries, we'd done nothing but stick to the rules, making these humans feel at ease during that one night a year, but the disgust and shame were always readable in their eyes, even though their cunts wept at our touch and begged for our cocks. Something they would never admit.
There were a few exceptions, I had to admit that. Some of them were okay, I suppose. Like Ston's shrew. Though you could hardly call her a woman. She was more foul-mouthed as he was, and bad-tempered too.
If you ask me, these humans should be worshiping us instead of shaming us. If they would only take a second to appreciate us. Appreciate the way we live: retreated in the mountains, never feeling any kind of warmth around us, only to slog in the mines day after day. Don't get me wrong, I'm used to this way of living and cannot stand the light of the sun or the warmth of spring. But before this agreement with humans — many, many years ago — orcs lived in towns too. Lived as kings, even. We were powerful and dominant. And now? Now we were seen as grotesque, dumb, and filthy.
The worst part of it all was that we were dependent on these fragile humans. We needed them. But what other choice did we have? We wanted sons. We needed sons, or we would be erased off the earth, a fate that our orc women had undergone as well.
"It matters because..." I answered, standing and grabbing Vildon's collar, pulling him closer. "These creatures need to produce our offspring and they need to feel at ease to do so. You know the stories about what happened in the past, hm? If their feeble bodies are too stressed while breeding, our sons die. They're fragile, not strong like our orc women were. Sadly, this is what we have to deal with, so fucking wash your fucking prick if I fucking tell you to. Do I make myself clear, you little shit?" I growled, releasing him.
