Tusk Love by Ategar Lightshroud: A Critical Role Fanfiction

Chapter 1

The gentle summer sun beat down on the open cart as it bumped over the Amber Road. Guinevere Bethrum sat in the back, crowded by her father's goods and their entire, meager estate. She was supposed to be protecting the goods, but her mind was wandering as she stared blankly at that road passing behind them. How she wished her feet could fly her to... anywhere.

She wasn't ungrateful for her father and everything he had done for her all her life; far from it. The life of a traveling merchant was not easy, and if she was tired of it, she knew her father had to be exhausted. It was just that the constant movement made it very difficult for her to start living her own life. If her mother were still there to take care of her father, Guinevere would've just taken her things and settled down in one of the towns they had visited. Perhaps Zedash.

"Guinevere!" That was when she realized that her father, Grerkor, had called to her at least three times. "You're supposed to be watching the cart. Not daydreaming."

"Sorry, father." She could swear that she heard him call her a silly girl under his breath. It was days like this that made Guinevere feel like her father cared more for his goods than her.

"Do you see anything?"

"Just dead grass and rocks." Grerkor would ask that same question every hour, on the hour when they were on the road. Ever since her mother was taken, he became a paranoid man. If not for the promising money he always said they would make in their travels, Guinevere was certain that he would've locked them both up in a home in the middle of nowhere. That was the one fate that was worse than her traveling lifestyle; at least as merchants, her prison was mobile.

Guinevere untied and retied her ebony braid, a habit she did repeatedly whenever she was bored on the cart. There was little else to do; the one book she had exchanged for back in Zedash had been read at least three times since the journey began. Consequently, Guinevere knew the story almost like she knew the back of her hand. How she wished her father would allow her to have more of a collection. "Too much weight" was always his excuse for denying her a basic library.

Right as she was about to tie off her braid, Guinevere was nearly ejected from the back of the cart. When she right herself enough to ask what had happened, her father's irritation-laid voice exclaimed, "Another pothole! How are we supposed to care for and deliver our goods if the Empire won't have the basic decency to care for the road!" Without listening to her father's complaints, Guinevere grabbed the crowbar from the tool kit and jumped out of the cart. Right as she knelt to insert the bar beneath the stuck wheel, Guinevere noticed that shape of the pothole. She had never seen such a perfect pothole created by the weather before.

Right as the thought crossed her mind, there was a violent tug on her braid. Guinevere's pained cry was cut short by her fear when a rusty but sharp blade was placed against her throat. Looking around, Guinevere found one man throwing her father off the front of the cart and kicking him repeatedly as Grerkor crumbled with cowardice. Another man was climbing into the back of the cart, rummaging through their goods and assets, throwing out anything he deemed useless. The man holding a dagger to her throat was breathing his sour, hot breath right into her, making her shiver in disgust.

Once the man beating Grerkor was satisfied with his violent work, he threatened, "Stay down, old man." Turning his attention to Guinevere, he sauntered up to glare hungrily into her mahogany eyes. With artificial politeness, he jested, "Forgive our rough hands, milady. We haven't enjoyed the warmth of a woman since before the winter hit, and we're all feeling a tad too impatient to invest in proper introductions.". His rough, scarred hand grabbed hold her dress sleeve and yanked, violently tearing it from her milky skin.

"Oi! Don't you dare start without me!" The one who had been rummaging through the cart dropped everything and rushed over to join his comrades. He dropped to his knees and started ripping Guinevere's skirt open from the bottom. Frozen in fear, Guinevere could only snap her eyes shut and try to block out the callused hands and lewd laughter as she awaited her fate.

Out of nowhere, one set of hands were ripped away and a cry became a faint before it was cut off with a sickening crack. "HEY!" The other two bandits released Guinevere, letting her fall into the dirt. Opening her eyes, she saw the bandits rushing at a towering mass of muscles bound in laurel green skin. Two giant hands grabbed the bandits by their necks and lifted them a foot off the ground. They made breathless chocking sounds as their feet kicked and nails clawed in panic. The savior's light blue eyes looked on these rogues mercilessly as his tusked mouth pressed into an expressionless line. His walnut brown hair was cropped short on the sides but had been left to grow long and wild on the top of his head. The coarse strands floated gently in the summer breeze and the muscles of his scared arms and chest rippled as he continued to squeeze the windpipes of the rogues. Guinevere didn't notice that the bandits eventually grew still. She didn't even notice the third bandit, whose back had been shattered when he landed violently on a large rock almost fifty yards away from the road. All she noticed was the statuesque half-orc.

Once the half-orc dropped the rogues into motionless, crumpled piles, he turned his attention to Guinevere. His ice eyes softened as they met her amber ones, though his expression didn't change in the slightest. Stepping over the bodies, he towered over her, causing her to withdraw from him; her father and told her horror stories of half-orcs. Her mind was telling her that he was a dangerous monster and that she needed to run. Her heart, however, kept her in place.

The half-orc's hand relaxed as he offered Guinevere his open palm. After a moment of hesitation, she laid her shaking hand into his large one. His hand gently engulfed hers and he pulled her to her feet. Their gazes upon lingered for what seemed like eternity, but in truth, was not even a minute.

"Back! Back, you beast!" Grerkor found his brave streak the moment he laid eyes upon the half-orc and pushed his way between his daughter and the tusked savior. "I'll not let you take her from me!"

"Father!" Guinevere grabbed her father's arm, trying to pull him back and calm him down. "He saved us!"

"Don't waste your kindness, silly girl! He could kill us in a moment of weakness!"

"Grerkor Berthum." The half-orc interrupted the arguing father and daughter. Taking a bow, he continued. "I apologize for the abrupt circumstances of our meeting. My mother asked me to escort you safely into Druvenlode. I saw the bandits from a distance and acted on impulse."

"What do you mean your mother sent you?! How do you know me?! Who are you?!"

"I am Oskar, Son of Ekisha". Ekisha was the merchant leader who had been corresponding with Guinevere's father through post about her new stocks and the job that she potentially had for him. This was the son of Grerkor's new employer.