Chapter 1

The slaying of the Orc Warlord Delrog by the Elven assassin Katrina broke the power of the greenskins for many years. As the orcs and goblins returned to their natural instincts of fighting each other the realms of men, elves and the dwarves made great inroads into orc territory.

But the realms of men were foolish. They knew that the orcs loved to fight each other but forgot that the inevitable outcome of this was the emergence of one who was stronger than the others. Greenskins admire strength and as soon as one of their number established dominance his power rapidly multiplied as more flocked to his banner.

So it came to be that an orc named Narfath rose to power and, as is often the way, declared a waaargh rampage against the world.

The first target was to be the Elven kingdom of Kevlava – home of the legendary orcslayer herself. With a single guiding mind and with brutal purpose the mass of goblins, orcs and ogres rolled into the rolling countryside of Kevlava.

With even more arrogance than is deemed normal for their race the Elvish army marched to meet the foe. The march was carried out in a remarkably casual manner. Little scouting, no attempt to stay within the confines of the elvish-friendly wooded areas. The generals of Kevlava were so used to beating disorganised bands of goblins that it seemed impossible to think of anything else.

This arrogant belief lasted until the first battle with the Narfath horde.

“Steady!” commanded the officers as the orc warriors surged at the shield wall, “Hold the line!”

“Watch the left!” yelled a voice.

“Wolf riders on the right!” came another.

The frontal advance was merely a cover for the double envelopment. The elves were outflanked, then surrounded, then slaughtered.

The defeat was a stunning blow to the Kingdom. Desperately the King ordered the drafting of anyone who was capable of holding a spear into the army. The young and the old, the crippled and the feckless were now all that stood between the orc horde and the capital city.

Thus it was that the 18-year-old Brienne found herself as the newest recruit in the Virtuous Maiden Regiment of High Kevlava. The tall blonde had previously only thought of herself as at best a possible ladies’ maid but here she was with the opportunity of becoming a warrior woman!

“For some reason our regiment was not present at the first battle with the greenish monsters, but we shall be there at the final one, the one where we crush them!”

The speaker was the Lady Isabella. She was addressing the assembled company of about one hundred young women, Brienne included.

“Till now it has been the sad process of running down our beloved unit, reducing it to the mere handful of you ladies today,” Isabella continued, casting a sharp look at the male beside her.

The male elf shifted uneasily. As a mermber of Kelava High Command he knew full well why the Maiden Regiment had suffered funding cuts. In the previous battles with orcish warbands the girls had encountered a particular difficulty few dared mention...

Orcs liked to rape Elvish females. Not just the casual lust that occurred in most pillaging armies, but a dark beastial, gleeful enjoyment of the act. When the orcs of Delrog had seen womem in the Kevlava battleline they had charged into combat with a never seen before ferocity. Thery had fought with a terrifying power that had undoubtedly contributed to the early Elf defeats.

The male sighed. When the orcs of Narfath saw these women – some of them mere teenagers – their lustful desire would enhance their attacking power But after that first defeat where was the manpower to hold the line?

Brienne was listening to Isabella with rapt attntion.

“She’s so beautiful... ,” she sighed.

Isabella was as tall as her with shoulder length dark hair, brushed back to show her left ear. High cheekbones drew the eye to her dark brown pupils, shining with passion as she lectured the women about the power of the sisterhood.

Like Brienne Isabella was wearing the uniform of the Virtuous Regiment – a breast-plate that shorn golden in the sunlight, the short white skirt that almost reached the knee and the golden shinguards that matched the breast-plate ... On Isabella the uniform looked magnificent, on Brienne it was awkward ... Her large boobs felt like they were been crushed inside the armor. She was fully aware that her fat ass meant that rather than fitting snugly the skirt was so short her panties were frequently on show.

Isabella’s martial prowess was also in contrast with Brienne. Isabella was a legendary sword wielder, an expert archer, a born rider. Brienne had never used a bow, been on a horse and the sword she’d been given was too heavy to taise above her shoulders.