The Keep

Series includes violence and sex and is not recommended for young readers

The young troll’s jaw broke with the force of the bigger boy’s blow. Reeling back, he grasped his now displaced green jawbone, glaring at the bully who smirked down at him. Tears welled up in his eyes despite his best efforts, and laughter erupted around him. “What a wimp!” The red crest atop the larger boy’s head bobbed back and forth wildly with his bellowing laughter. In the older boy’s still pre-pubescent, high-pitched voice, he ceased the laughter and pointed to him, “Dat’s what ‘appens when ju get raised to be a woman!”

The rage built inside the young boy. His father had abandoned his mother before he was even born and he had born that shame his whole life, to hear it now at his most vulnerable…

Seething, the young little forest troll didn’t hear the other jabs directed at or about him. His vision was but a narrow tunnel that led to the elder boy who broke his jaw. His chest huffing with furious breaths, he let out a high pitched yell before charging at the object of his hate, his fist raised with every ounce of fury he held. Before the fist could find its intended target, the larger boy grabbed it from the air, twisting it away from him.

The young troll’s eyes bulged with disappointment. Then shut. His middle finger was twisted back painfully; so very painfully. He cried out in agony until the digit cracked, broken. Useless.

He slumped to his knees and before he could finally run off, was kicked to the dirt, his green hair masked with greyish brown soil. The voice spoke out above him again, “Who do ya think ya are, ‘ey? Ju can’t stand up ta me! I’m Jumwa!” Laughter and some cheers broke out around him, but the boy saw none of it except through blurred, watery glimpses before blacking out.

It was near an hour later or more before he awoke with his head in the lap of his mother. He knew it was her before he even opened his eyes and then promptly shut them again. Shifting onto his back, he muttered angrily, his jaw already beginning to heal, “Who does he t’ink he is? De Chieftain’s son?!” His mother, a tall and strong woman with carefully braided long green hair, gave him a soft shush and caressed back his green hair, no longer in a ponytail.

“He’ll nevah be a Chieftain! It’s all crap ‘e says!” The boy cried out before breaking into sobs. His life was pain.

~~

The broad and mighty Jumwa’jin holds the orc by his leather vest, the material clenched between thick blue fingers as another brutal punch to the tusked face nearly tears the massive man from the Chieftain’s grasp. Drawing back for another punch, Jumwa snarls and lets the orc have it, shattering the jaw of Gor’log, the informant.

A giggle erupts from a dark corner of the room in Jumwa’jin’s home. Sliding down from atop a pedestal, the tanned and dark haired elf, Anjasa, struts over towards the pair. She wears an assortment of beautifully sinister leather armour that couldn’t hide the curvaceous body beneath, especially with her every move seeming to draw attention to her assets. She snaks an arm over the bare shoulders of her troll lover, his body hunched as he interrogates the orc, still clutching onto him. “I don’t t’ink ju gonna get anymore outta him, lovah.”

Jumwa draws back and punches the orc again, grunting slightly with the effort. Dropping him to the hard floor with a crack as skull impacted stone, “Dat isn’t de point anymore.” Standing up straight, Jumwa dwarfs the elf Anjasa. He raises one of his broad, bare feet and brings it down on the orc’s neck, stomping it once, twice; three times brings a loud snap and a sickening gurgle, signifying the last shreds of life escaping.

Eying the dead orc, Anjasa bites her bottom lip before grinning, twirling about on a tiptoe, until she stands before Jumwa, her eyes peering up over his bare, hulking chest to his creepy, black and white tattooed face. “So dat’s his punishment for bringin’ us useless information, hm?” She rests a hand just above his dark mail kilt at his steely lower stomach.

Jumwa shakes his head slowly, bending down slightly so he was not towering over the seductive elf so high, “No… not useless.” He removes Anjasa’s hands from him, and turns, walking over to a large chair and seating himself in it, slumping down. He stares across at her and the body, hands draped over the edge of the seats armrests.

Quirking a brow and sauntering over to him, she smirks and seats herself across his large lap, “What’chu mean, not useless? Not like we could assault Garadar. And we’d need a’ army o’ thieves ta steal it.”

Jumwa shuts his eyes and smirks, “An army. Jes.”

Anjasa almost snorts with laughter and slaps the troll’s chest, “Oh come on! You can’t use the Tribe for that! We’d be all hunted down an’ killed!”

Grinning, he shakes his head and opens his eyes into narrow slits, “Not de Tribe. No. We will need… outside contractahs, hmm?”

The elf rolls her eyes, “Dat would empty any treasury to contract dat many.”

Bringing both his hands to Anjasa’s shoulders, he grasps her firmly and swivels her towards him, leaning in so that his pointed nose touches her tiny one, “Den we bettah get to deciding which treasury to empty den, hmm?”

Anjasa stares blankly for a while, intimidated a little as always, before her eyes light up and she licks her lips, “Ju an’ me?” He responds with a nod. She grins widely, “Damn baby, I got just de right idea den!”

Their lips meet in the dim light of the room and Anjasa kicks up her legs before wrapping them about the thick midsection of her Chieftain.