Tyris loved horses, fast riding, the feeling of endless heady freedom. But at the same time, she hated the steppe. Hot, dusty, dry. And completely boring. There is nothing to catch a glance at. And there are no worthy enemies. Small tribes of goblins and orcs, hating each other more than Erathian enemies. And there is no one to fight with, especially since Tyris arrived here straight from the heat of the great wars with the kreegans, nihgonians and necromancers.

After all these feats, she quarreled with the commander, who allows greasy jokes against her. That fat wineskin longed for her, a slender blonde amazon. But not a saddle for a mare. When he slapped her ass, she responded with a fist to the jaw. The fat man flew aside like a sack of straw and never got up. When he fell, he broke the back of his head. They did not cry for him much, but Tyris was deprived of the right to command a cavalry squadron and sent here, in the steppes of Krewlod, the saddest place in all of Antagarich.

The sun has reached its peak in the sky. A small Erathian band is barely trudging along the road to the west. Not surprising, since Tyris was the only one on horseback. All the others, namely two dozen spearmen and a dozen crossbowmen, walked on foot. The soldiers were so exhausted by the passage that they did not even have the strength to use foul language. They also had a bracadian magician with them, apparently not old, with a black beard with gray. He walked heavily, leaning on his staff. Sorry sight. And this is the elite of the kingdom of magicians. Can’t even conjure a canopy for herself. Well, or some magic horse. He was assigned to the band just before leaving, Tyris did not even have time to remember his name. However, what’s the difference, these bracadians all have one bearded face.

Going to the steppe on foot is not a good idea. But you can’t argue with the order. Moreover, this is not a punitive raid. Tyris was ordered to take with this detachment a small fort on the mountains. They walked from the very early morning, but the mountain range seemed to remain in place. Tyris impatiently urged the warriors, she wanted to make it to the fortress before dark. But people were very tired, even her horse walked dejectedly and hung his head. The sun was burning mercilessly, Tyris wanted to rip off the shell and helmet, on which it was just right to fry bacon. But taking off the armor in hostile territory was still not worth it. In the drifting haze, quivering black dots appeared on the horizon. First a few, then more and more.

Tyris put her palm to her forehead with a visor so that she could see better. Goblins, just a bunch of goblins. Besides, on foot. Well, at least some entertainment in these godforsaken lands.

«Guys!», she shouted, «Getting ready for battle!»

The mage, panting, walked over to Tyris.

«Milady, there are too many goblins! »

«So what? », asked Tyris mockingly and with contempt, «each of my fighters can lay down two or three of these freaks! Really guys? » The warriors shouted a battle cry out of tune. But there was no certainty in their voices.

«Maybe we can get around before it’s too late? », asked the magician, wiping drops of sweat from his forehead, «Apparently, these are raiders. They won’t mess with us if we don’t attack first! » «You’re just a coward! In Bracada, everyone is born with a chicken soul? »

The magician sighed, but said nothing in response. Tyris began building her small squad for the battle. The goblins, seeing that the Erathians were determined to fight, shook their clubs overhead and made growling sounds.

Tyris lined up the spearmen in a small wedge. I placed the shooters on the flanks. The magician had to stay behind and cover those enemies who managed to break through one of the flanks.

«Forward!», Tyris commanded. Her small army began to attack the enemy. The goblins rushed to meet with shouts, a slaughter ensued. Tyris slammed into the enemy formation with a whoop. If, of course, this messy crowd of green-skinned freaks can be called a formation. They wavered and ran away, losing their wounded and dead.

«Chase them! », shouted Tyris in excitement. Of course, it looks a bit like a distraction, but these are not kreegans, or even tatalians. Just a chaotic crowd of barbarians. The warriors, forgetting about the heat, chased the retreating with shouts. The hot air cut through the whistle.

«Milady! This is an ambush! », shouted the cowardly magician. During the entire battle, he never even fired his staff. And then he collapsed dead, a throwing axe sticking out of his forehead. It’s good that she didn’t remember his name. Now it is no longer necessary.

The heads of the orcs appeared from behind the stone ridge. Their axes snapped left and right with a piercing whistle. Tyris lunged at them, but felt a strong blow and flew off her horse. The goblins shouted joyfully. She saw only green bare feet with sharp inhuman claws. Tyris reached for the dagger at her belt. She always carried it with her. He will not save from a superior enemy, but you can always kill yourself to avoid shameful captivity. But she didn’t have time, a strong blow, and Tyris began to lose consciousness. The last thing she saw was the goblins and orcs scurrying across the field, busily finishing off the last of her warriors.

By the time Tyris regained consciousness, it was already getting dark. She was without armor, as well as without all the rest of the clothes. She was in some local mountain settlement. She was stripped and shackled to a post by the hands. Tyris swore as dirty as she could. She didn’t kill that fat one in order to fall into the clutches of these underdogs. Goblins were everywhere, and there were many. She had never seen so much in her life. Somewhere on the top of the mountain, the rhythmic beat of two drums was heard. Many goblins pulled down their pants; Tyris stared in disgust at their little protruding green scions. Apparently, all those present were males. But they did not approach her, as if they were waiting for something. Although one, the smallest, licked his lips with a long tongue and laughed gutturally.

The rhythm of the drums quickened a little, and a third, more muffled, joined them. The goblins and orcs parted respectfully to make way for the green giant carrying a club emblazoned with a horned Krigan skull on his shoulder. Ogre Mage. Her dagger hung from his belt. Tyris swore even dirtier.

The hubbub fell silent. The ogre spoke in an incomprehensible growling language. The goblins and orcs listened to him respectfully. He raised the club over his head and shouted. The skull’s eye sockets flashed red. An unusually wild barbaric magic spilled into the air. Everyone in the crowd growled a hundred sips. Their members began to swell and grow. Tyris gritted her teeth in rage. The ogre waved his hand, and at his command, one of the orcs pulled out the wedge that fastened her chain to the post. Tyris dropped her stiff hands with some relief. But this feeling did not last long, green excited bodies surrounded her on all sides. Many clawed hands crumpled and pawed her breasts, buttocks, pubis overgrown with blond hair. Someone grabbed her hair and brought her to her knees. Green dicks with blood-red heads, smelly, began to rub against her face. The rhythm of the drums sped up again. Tyris was angry, but a strange excitement grew along with the anger. Apparently, the ogre’s magic worked on her too. Something hot throbbed in her vagina, her nipples swollen and swollen. She was aroused against her will.

She wanted to swear again, but instead took the nearest scarlet head into her mouth. It was that little goblin. He growled, his cock throbbing, filling her mouth with hot semen. Tyris coughed and spat. The first graduate has already been pushed aside by others. Two red heads were already poking her in the face. Other green and red dicks were already rubbing against her shoulders and back. Tyris took the two nearest in her hands, the chains on the shackles rang. The answer was a satisfied, chesty rumbling. The one on the left, too, could not stand it and fired, hitting her in the cheek. Tyris did not wipe off, the yellowish seed trickling down onto her neck. A new member lay in the left hand. In the meantime, another willing person was already poking her in the anus. Tyris was breathing heavily, now she could not wish for anything better. Yes, take me. Fuck in all the holes, you fucking bastards!