Story Part 25 (Patreon)

Her head was pounding. Something unpleasant-smelling, dried mud, perhaps, caked her skin. She was lying on something hard and flat. A wooden floor? Muffled voices filled her head. They seemed close, but sounded distant through the haze of her emerging consciousness. “She was…vigorously enjoying the beauty of our river, so I went closer to inspect, as quietly as possible. She seemed to have heard something, so I remained quiet, only moving in again after she had resumed her activities. That’s when I found--THIS.”

“Thank, you Rogbut, for bringing this to my attention. Did you see anyone else? One scout usually brings more.” “No one, my Jarl.” “Well, we will increase patrols in the area. In the meantime, double the guards on the watch assignments, and tell every warrior to be prepared for war.”

Miri struggled to open her eyes, to lift her head. A rough voice, closer to her, shouted, “She’s coming to!” “Ahhh, now we’ll get some answers.”

Able to look around for the first time, she found herself on the floor of a large, timbered hall. The brightly-colored shields on the walls caught her attention as she focused. Between them was a stone throne, upon which sat a plate-armored orc, surrounded herself by burly orcs, while others occupied benches off to the side of the throne. A luscious banquet was laid out on a table nearby. She was not sure how long she had been unconscious, but its scent tugged at hunger pangs. There was no time to think about food—this situation was serious.

“Shall I restrain her, my Jarl?” said the rough voice just above her. “If she tries anything, do. But, short of magic, I don’t think we need to fear one unarmed, nude elf.”

The armored orc locked eyes with her. “Rise, elf, and kneel. You are before Lazgar, Jarl of the Stone-Swamp Clan. I have questions, and you will answer, if you know what’s good for you. Who are you working for and what were you doing in our territory?”