Suggestion 2018/08/02(Thu)14:01 No. 895739 ID: 8c0c37
File 153324367236.png - (94.26KB , 774x1032 , sexy_goblin_by_gjergji_zhuka-d95e4n8.png )

> Our birth name is Nyalla, and we were born as a slave to the Orcish Meatripper Clan.
> Our race is peculiar, we're the daughter of a reckless goblin who lost his life to rape one of the chieftain's elf slaves. Surprisingly, given their infertility, the elf grew pregnant and gave birth to us eight months later. Unlike most elf-goblin hybrids, we took after our mother, and inherited an unmistakably elven face and build, coupled with a goblin's skin and 'assets.' We're no more beautiful than an ordinary attractive elf, but we're thicker where it counts and the subtle goblinoid cast to our features has an arousing effect on most greenskins.
> Luckily for us, the chieftain was far more clever and patient than most Orcs in his position, and doubly luckily, the Meatrippers had a strong taboo against fornicating with their concubine's children. Upon our birth the chieftain, seeing our skin and face, realized how we'd look when we'd reached maturity, and decided to raise us as a virgin to be sold in trade. Sure enough, we reached the age of sixteen unmolested and around this time, Uruk Bloodgnasher won his campaign and began to demand tribute from his followers.
> Seeing a golden opportunity to retain his clan's wealth and earn Uruk's favor, the chieftain offered us instead of a vast quantity of conventional valuables. Uruk took one look at us, and immediately accepted the deal, sending the chieftain home with as many pillaged elven masterworks, fine jewels, and bags of salt as he could carry. The deal occurred roughly an hour ago, and at the moment we're sitting half-naked in Uruk's lap, dreading what he'll do to us once the sun's set.
> We suppose by birth we'd be a noble, but we've been a slave all our life. Granted, an extremely valuable, well-protected and pampered slave not allowed anywhere near any males beside the chieftain, but, still.
> We're barely five feet, and being an Orc's bed-slave sounds bad enough, but Uruk's!?! The Half-GIANT Uruk!?!?! We're panicking inside, it's all we can do not to show it, and we're praying to every spirit we know that we live to see tomorrow.

Try and use your feminine willes to avoid death by snuu-snuu.

If no-one else suggests a character in the next four hours, we'll run with >>895739.

>>895718
Luminera Iris Goldenhearth
Human
Unwilling

We are Si'sarra, a half-elven dancer of the great sands. It is said our father was an elf, come from distant lands. Why he traveled he never said, but he fell in love with our mother as she danced, and she with him. They shared only a brief time together, but from their union we came, and in so doing our mother proclaimed she was blessed with a gift unmatched by any other in the world.

Our people are nomadic humans that travel the lonely dunes from trade city to trade city, transporting goods. we trade and barter and live our lives peacefully. It is our people's custom to weave the stories of our ancestors and heroes into great dances, and it is our greatest pleasure to perform those dances every night before any who might wish to see them. We were hailed as the most graceful, most beautiful, most talented dancer the wandering tribes had ever seen.

It was those same dances that brought the attention of his Dark Majesty, the Ageless Mage, the Master of Magic. Even the stories of our people do not bless mortals with the knowledge of his origins, but none would dispute his power. When he came for us, he did so with the sky thundering above, and lightning splitting the dark skies.

He came, and bade us come with him, that we might grace his dark tower with our grace and beauty, and dance only for him. We knew the consequences of refusing, all did. To save our home, our people, from his cruelty, we went willingly, and pledged our dances only for him, forevermore.

>>895739
>>895760

I've got to give you props, both of these are a solid 10/10 and I'd be glad to run either. If there are more prompts like these, the quest will have been worth it for that alone.

>>895759

You'll need to specify a background, and unless you have a single Dark Lord in mind, a hastily rolled 1d3 dictates Udroghan the Undeterred.

>>895753

I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we're still in the character creation stage, the quest hasn't started yet.

>>895739
>>895760

It's been about long enough, and these suggestions had the most effort put into them, so I'm going to roll 1d2 and whichever it lands on will be our protagonist. Note, if you'd prefer the other, or a separate character entirely, if three say so I'll rewrite the opening scene.

> 1- Nyalla the Slave
> 2- Si'sarra the Dancer

>>895771

Pardon me, I'm retarded.

rolled 1 = 1

---

>>895772

An understatement, to say the least.

>>895773

Nyalla the Half-Goblin Half-Elf Slave it is. DreamerOfThings, I'm sorry your sublime writefaggotry has gone to waste, but there was an even 50/50 chance and fair is fair.

Your mother named you Nyalla at birth, elvish for Green. When you matured enough to understand, whatever your own thoughts were, the chieftain approved, and so it remained. You had no choice in your name, and it's been so long since then it's almost as much a part of you as your pointed ears or your so red "so-light-it's-almost-orange" eyes.

You've never had a choice, everything you've ever done was either decided for you, or so unimportant you didn't care to choose to start with. Like most slaves, you've come to terms with your lack of choice, but you inherited a measure of your father's temperament and as long as you can remember, you've pushed the limits of what was allowed.

Many of the chieftain's decisions struck you as ignorant, you didn't know why you weren't allowed to play with the other children, you didn't know why you weren't allowed to leave the tent without him nearby, and you thought his rules were nothing more than a heap of foolishness. Early on, you voiced your opinions often and every time, he'd beat you until your green ass was red, but he'd never go too far, and you knew it.

If it wasn't for your mother's whispers, your stubborn streak would've never died but eventually, you got the hint and learned to stay quiet, though you never quite submitted. Some slaves come to enjoy their dependence, but not you, never you. When the chieftain raised his voice, you stayed silent, and when he broke the backs of a dozen young suitors, you held your tongue, but you never accepted it.

Your lack of choice has never sat right with you, and sitting in this behemoth monster's lap, you can't help but think things might've turned out differently if you'd stood up for yourself. As a calloused hand three sizes too large strokes your soft skin, it sinks in that it's far, far too late for that. Your beauty, your infernal, spirits-damned, gods-forsaken, never before seen beauty has led you here, and unless some sort of miracle happens, there's no way out.

You're in Uruk, "Reaver of Realms, Strangler of Serpents, Dread Defiler" Bloodgnasher's lap, and there's not a single damned thing you can do about it. At least you aren't alone. Almost a dozen others, elves, humans, gnomes and more, lay strewn about like so many scantily clad expensive furs. They're a rainbow of races, the only things they have in common are their breath-taking beauty, almost utter silence, and hateful glares toward you. For the first time in hours, the warlord's tent is empty and for once, the endless stream of tribute-bringer's lusty eyes aren't upon you. Before you can relax, the half-giant's hand ascends your stomach, nearing your chest, and you gasp in terror, only to sigh in relief as he merely gives your shoulder the gentlest of squeezes.

He speaks, and your inside you cower like a cornered rabbit in a den of starving wolves, but in the body, you sit straight. His voice sounds like the misbegotten son of an avalanche and a battlefield, and the rumbling his mountainous chest shakes you to your core. You're terrified to even glance at his grievously scarred, burned, and crushed face, but your life depends on it, so you do your best to listen.

> "Nyalla, you haven't said so much as a single word since I've seen you. I'd like to know if your voice is pretty as the way you walk and soft as your womanly curves. Tell me, and be truthful, what do you think of this?"

To your horror, his iron grip doesn't leave your shoulder, instead, he merely lifts an axe larger than you as if it were a toy and waves it around the throne room. Scattered all around in vast heaps are hills of gold, dozens of artifacts of every kind, and enough twinkling silver to blind a falcon. You're considering what would flatter him then most, when he speaks again and your blood runs cold.

> "And, what do you think of me?"

Though you cringe like a beaten dog, you force your eyes to rise and see the one who claimed you. A colossus in every meaning of the word, his rippling muscles are strong enough to snap the old chieftain like a twig, and the patchwork of white scars and black burns covering his leathery, grey skin suggests that he's done much more, and survived far worse to tell the tale.

You stand a measly five feet, two inches in the ancient reckoning, but this man, no, this monster, stands at a full nine feet and a third as wide at the very least. His stony skull has been savagely beaten, viciously broken, slashed apart, and stitched together so many times you can hardly call the mangled remains a face, and his smile, oh, full of thick, chipped tusks, sharp, cracked teeth, and an unearthly, slimy tongue. It shakes your spirit, but make a valiant effort to pull off what you hope isn't too seductive a smile, and you tell him-

> What?

>>895783
"A... man who could've conquered the heavens, but stopped. Y-you are terrifying, but I can't help but wonder if you'll be better to me than anybody else I've ever met."

"... For the first question: I see power, and no happiness. Can you eat gold? Play catch with artifacts? Do you LIKE talking to slaves about what happened in the tavern last week or what flavor of custard they're planning to bake or how their vaginas itch?

You've piled heaps and heaps of... stuff, and does it really give you pleasure? I don't know. I just figured you'd like killing mooks and @#$%ing us even more."

"And what do I think about you? I'm sorry, but my judgement is clouded. Right now, I cannot think of you as anything less than my jailer.

But I'm just a slave. I'm free to think what I want in my head. You hold control over everything else. So, how do you wish to plow me?"

>>895815
wut

>>895783
I see the power and the wealth, I know what you are capable of and all that you have accomplished.

I am afraid of what you could do to me, but I am at your mercy, and I can only suffer your will

>>895813
Everyone please pick my choice. It makes sense cuz we were raised to be a concubine essentially, so we should've been taught to be a bit smart and engaging, and with our elf blood, we should've absorbed our education much easier than regular Goblin. We're still young girl though, resigned to her fate, yet hopeful for any bit of ease.

>>895813
>>895834

+1 You've convinced me. It's flattering because it implies he's strong enough to fight the setting's gods, but it's exactly the sort of thing a nervous virgin turned concubine would say.

>>895815

This seems... unwise.

>>895840
Based anon

>>895774
Ain't no skin off my back. I did it more for the sake of options than anything else, and Nyalla is just as good a character to be playing. That's half the fun of this sort of thing, in my opinion.

>>895840
I agree, this seems the most likely and in character with who we're meant to be. He did ask us two questions though, and we've only answered the one.

>>895832
This does well in starting an answer to the first question he asked. I'd add on a little bit more maybe, but other than that excellent. Maybe combine the two, as follows?

"I-I see the power and the wealth, I know what you are capable of and all that you have accomplished. It shows a... man who could've conquered the heavens, but stopped. Y-you are terrifying, but I can't help but wonder if you'll be better to me than anybody else I've ever met."

>>895845
I think I answered both questions, but this seems better, so I'll go with this.

>>895783
Switching from: >>895813
to >>895845

>>895845

I'll jump on the bandwagon and make the switch from >>895813 to >>895845.

>>895845
>>895846
>>895848
>>895850

That's great to hear, glad to have you on board.

Seeing as you've come to a consensus.

> Roll 1d20+6 to endear yourself to the warlord, first come first serve.

>>895851

rolled 11 + 6 = 17

---

>>895851
Idk if this is how to roll, I came from half chan

>>895853
sheeeeeeiit not bad

>>895853
Kooks like our charm and assets are very appreciated.

> "I-I see the power and the wealth, I know what you are capable of and all that you have accomplished. It shows a... man who could've conquered the heavens, but stopped. Y-you are terrifying, but I can't help but wonder if you'll be better to me than anybody else I've ever met."

Endearing Yourself: Rolled 11+6= 17
+ 2 Beauty, +2 Novelty, +2, Uruk is Amused
[Moderate Success]

The warlord's grin widens more than any mouth's should, and his thunderous laughter booms throughout the tent.

> "HAH HAH HAH! You, You think I'm terrifying? HA! FINALLY, some honesty! These ones here, they tell me I'm handsome, scream it even, but it's such an obvious lie! Can you imagine? HAH HAH!"

His axe gestures to the others, whose smooth faces stare at the Reaver of Realms in barely hidden fear. You imagine your face is no different. To your relief, Uruk's fist releases your shoulder but you have no respite, as his palm shoves your naked back, forcing you into his bare, chiseled chest.

His touch is much gentler than you'd expected, but his every motion exerts effortless strength and you feel you couldn't resist him if you tried. The half-giant's skin is rough, like stone made flesh and it worries you, but your entire body's being forced to touch it and you do your best not to whimper. You can't stand to see his ruined face any longer, so you stare at his bull-like pecs and try to count the scars and burns.

The warlord begins to stroke the base of your back, inches above your thighs, and his fingers feel like calloused, ripcord sausages. Were he not making a conscious effort to contain them, their simple touch might bruise and you shudder to imagine his power. He speaks again, and this time, his voice is softer but no less commanding.

> "Nyalla, I'm a merciless killer, a cutthroat pillager, and a behemoth of a brute. Laws are for lesser men, and I've broken those who wrote them over my knee time and time again. I do what I want, when I want, and neither man nor god can sway me, but if there's a single code I abide by, it's to reward those who serve me well."

As he spoke, his hand dwelled over your flat stomach, your delicate shoulderblades, and your petite back, coming to rest in your black hair. Without warning, it seizes your mane, and forces your sight from his chest to his head. You yelp in a mixture of fright and disgust as his vast, slimy tongue licks your cheek, and though you want to look away more than anything else, his unbreakable grip holds your face in place. He speaks, and you listen.

> "Nyalla, look into my eyes."

It takes several frightened moments but eventually, you manage to bring yourself to stare into the Defiler's eyes. They're a dark, clouded grey, but from the way he stares and takes in your face, you're certain his vision is nothing less than keen. You wonder how many saw them an instant before their gruesome death, and you can't help but wonder what he thinks of yours. Slowly and deliberately, he brings his mouth beside your ear and whispers loud enough for everyone present to hear.

> "Nyalla, you are mine and mine alone, but you need not fear. So long as your silken flanks and tender flesh serve me when I please, as I please without complaint, you'll come to find me most pleasant. Defy me, withhold what is mine, or speak when not spoken to, and you'll go to a place your screams can't reach me."

You blankly stare at his enormous bicep as he pulls away and his hand leaves your hair to scratch your smooth chin. The half-giant allows you to return to your place on his lap, and he chuckles.

> "HAH HAH HAH! I'm not that scary, am I? Nyalla, your voice intrigues me, it has the melodious lilt of an elf, and the faint snarl of a goblin. It is pleasing to my ear, and I want to hear more of it. You've already told me of myself, so go on and tell me something I don't know!"

You're quietly contemplating your life up to this point for almost a minute until his hand pinches your thigh and you squeal.

> "Well? How about it?"

For the sake of your life, you swallow your fear and scramble to say the first thing that comes to mind.

> Which is?

>>895858
"U-uhm, my old master is plotting to kill you and take over as warchief!"

>>895858

"W-when I was young, m-my chieftain killed twelve of my would-be suitors in front of me, and k-kept me under lick- LOCK, lock and key to preserve my virginity."

>>895860

I don't know if he'd buy that, if he was going to challenge Uruk, why would he tell us and offer us as tribute?

>>895860
I don't think this is quite accurate. From the description of our last master, it sounds like he's a bit more on the pragmatic side, and probably isn't one to decide betrayal is the smartest option against one of the most powerful beings on the continent. He's more likely content to keep his traded baubles and leave well enough alone.

As for what to actually say... honestly, I'm not sure we as a character have anything to say. We'd likely know elven, just because it sounds like our mother at least had a hand in raising us, but I don't think Uruk would be interested in that. Otherwise, we were literally kept as little more than a tribute in waiting till Uruk came along, so I can't imagine we picked much up knowledge or skill wise, unless OP wants to clarify otherwise.

For now, I'd say we have to come up with something, but Uruk values honesty it seems, or at least finds it more amusing than blind cowtowing and platitudes.

>>895881
This certainly feels more accurate and in line with whats going on. I'm casting my vote for this, unless something else comes along.

>>895881
>>895883
>>895858
Okay, I'll go with this instead. I put what I said to create le canon intrigue.

>>895885

> implying there won't be harem intrigue

TheDreamerOfThings has brought it to my attention I haven't clarified Nyalla's skill-set. To that end, I've designed a somewhat simplistic point-buy system to help you decide and flesh out Nyalla's character. You have 12 points to spend on an array of 44 plausible skills and languages, each skill and language has three levels, each level costs one point, and to gain a level, you must purchase the previous levels.

Level 1 is a novice skill or dabbling understanding of a language, level 2 is a competent skill or functional understanding of a language, and level 3 is a professional skill or fluent understanding of a language. Due to your background, you receive the first two levels in Orcish and Elvish, and the first level of Goblin for free.

Let's hardwave the wide language selection as your mother being well-learned prior to her captivity. If you take Literacy, assume you possess that level in Literacy for each language you speak. For (Racial) Lore, select a race from the language section. Maintenance refers to the cleaning and upkeep of equipment. Before you leap to Arcane Lore, keep in mind, it's conceptual knowledge, not practical knowledge, and a concubine typically wouldn't be allowed near the spellbooks, artifacts, and reagents necessary to use it to its full potential.

Now then, here's the list.

> Languages:

> Common (Trade)
> Orcish (Orc)
> Elvish (Elf)
> Goblin (Goblin)
> Dwarvish (Dwarf)
> Drowish (Drow)
> Gibberish (Kobold)
> Saurian (Lizardfolk)
> Gnomish (Gnome)
> Haumic (Human)
> Gnollish (Gnoll)
> Ogrish (Ogre)
> Trollish (Troll)
> Giantish (Giant)
> Aquan (Water)
> Ignan (Fire)
> Terran (Earth)
> Auran (Air)
> Infernal (Demon)
> Abyssal (Demon)
> Celestial (Angel)
> Draconian (Dragon)

> Skills:
> Cookery
> Sewing
> Cleaning
> Dancing
> Storytelling
> Maintenance
> Massaging
> Seduction
> Etiquette
> Diplomacy
> Intimidation
> Deception
> Knifework
> Poisoning
> Cantrip Casting
> Courtesanship
> Childrearing
> Literacy
> (Racial) Lore
> Planar Lore
> Arcane Lore
> Tactical Lore
> Worldly History
> Planar History

>>895894

Pardon, 46.

So it would look something like this then:

Elvish: 2
Orcish: 2
Goblin: 1

Literacy: 1
Seduction: 1
Deception: 2
Massaging: 2
Elf Lore: 2
Orc Lore: 2
Storytelling: 1

That brings us up to 11 points spent, but honestly, I don't think we have a story reason to learn anything else extensively. Our backstory literally has us being told to sit in a corner and stay quiet, anything we'd have learned would either be from watching, or from how our mother interacted with us, and a large number of those skills would likely be barred to us, simply because we might damage ourselves, and that's bad for business.

Deception can be justified as us having years of practice because we kept our mouth shut and acted the compliant slave, even if we secretly wanted the master dead. Seduction from watching what female slaves did around their masters. Storytelling is from younger years, and is also how we picked up the various lore of our society and our mother. Stories do a lot to impart information, especially in tribe based or feudal societies.

Maybe someone else can come up with a better spread, or even just where to throw that last point so it makes sense.

Goblin: 1
Common: 2

Maintenance: 2
Poisoning: 3
Intimidation: 3
Knifework: 1
Cleaning: 1

We don't need romance, we need to kick puppies and poison some people. Uruk will find our abilities to stab people one of the sexiest things ever.

>>895900

+1, let's put the last point in sewing, since that's something relatively harmless and sedentary that wouldn't be too out of place.

There's been little activity in this thread, but as long as someone's posting I'll keep writing.

>>895900
>>895908

Your initial skill spread is:

> Elvish: 2
> Orcish: 2
> Goblin: 1

> Literacy: 1
> Seduction: 1
> Deception: 2
> Massaging: 2
> Elf Lore: 2
> Orc Lore: 2
> Storytelling: 1
> Sewing: 1

Much more mundane than I'd expected. I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised we won't be jumping through hoops to justify Nyalla's fluency in Draconian or academic knowledge of Arcane Lore.

>>895889

Rest assured.

>>895881
>>895883
>>895885

> Roll 1d20+6 to satisfy the warlord.

rolled 6 + 6 = 12

---

>>895945

It feels like we're a fapbait NPC in Orc Warlord Quest.

rolled 10 + 6 = 16

---

>>895945
The last skill probably shoulda been Dancing or Childrearing

> "W-when I was young, m-my chieftain killed twelve of my would-be suitors in front of me, and k-kept me under lick- LOCK, lock and key to preserve my virginity." 

Impressing Uruk: Rolled 6+6=12
+ 2, Beauty, +2, Novelty, +2, Uruk is Amused
[Minor Success]

The half-orc's greedy fingers slide over your inner thigh, beneath your fabrics, and against the supple skin to either side of your thonged maidenhood. You're terrified, but you bite your lip and bear it. You weren't sold as tribute two hours ago, and the sun hasn't even begun to reach its zenith! S-surely he wouldn't-

Your breath quickens as his finger softly pushes into your thong and stops, just before penetration. By the time his sausages drift away from your most private place, your brow is dripping with sweat and it's not entirely due to the heat. His chest rumbles again, this time with a mere chuckle.

> "Twelve warriors dead, only to see your innocence untarnished? Fret not, sweetmeat, later tonight we'll see to it their sacrifice wasn't in vain! Heh heh heh!"

Did he just call you sweetmeat? That, that's not, aaaagh! You groan and it's all you can do not to scream! The brute's squeezed your ass cheeks hard enough to leave visible welts, and you can't so much as utter a single curse! No-one's touched you like this before, to beat you, maybe, but to violate you? It's almost unthinkable and in the injustice of it all, a part of your youthful defiance returns.

> "W-why would yo- Aieee!"

Your tirade is cut short by a second pinch to the nape of your neck and a harsh glare from the others. Uruk doesn't scowl, but the look of stern disapproval on his face is far more intimidating.

> "When I want an opinion, I'll ask an advisor, not a slave. Nyalla, I've grown tired of your pretty little voice and you'd do well to stay silent. As for why, the rest of the tributaries should be arriving shortly, and I want them under no diillusions of whose you are. Do you understand?"

For a second, you almost say yes but instincts honed by years of forced silence take over in the nick of time. You give him an apologetic nod and a faint smile, though inside, you're smoldering. Just like that, any evidence of criticism on the half-giant's face vanishes to be replaced with a cavernous, mirthful grin.

> "Ah, you're a fast learner! If only the rest of the slaves grasped so quickly! Keep pleasing me like this, and I might not even need the others! HAH HAH HA-"

Your master's guffaw is cut short when a shout can be heard outside. Uruk waits a moment, then replies in kind. Then one of the largest Orcs you've ever seen, wearing a suit of faintly glowing plate mail slides under the tent flap, and directs a deep nod to the colossus. Uruk waves his axe and after a few moments, the Orc begins to speak.

> "High Chief, I am dishonored to disturb your pleasantries, but the remainder of today's tributaries have begun to arrive."

The warlord asks,

> "How many?"

The Orc pauses,

> "Little over six-hundred."

He says,

> "Thrakka, the sun won't fly forever, what are you waiting for? Usher them in!"

Thrakka nods once again and leaves the tent. Moments later, a group of less-equipped Orcs enter holding bulging sacks of gold, silver, and jewels. While most stare at the piles and slaves in shameless greed, Uruk doesn't seem to mind, and after the customary bows, they begin discussing the manner of their tribute.

It's a bit interesting at first, but half an hour goes by and boredom begins to set in. Only a dozen tributaries have gone by, and you realize this will likely continue for a very long time. Ugh.

> What should you do for the rest of the day?

> You should try to sleep, you aren't that tired, but perhaps dreams could distract from the circumstances.
> You should massage Uruk, if you you do it well, you might get him to stop fondling your stomach, shoulders, and back.
> You should pay attention to the tributaries, it's boring, but you suppose the treasures are nice enough and you might learn something.

Pay attention up, you know how to watch things and learning is always good. The more we learn, the more we get chances to escape.

Suggestion 2018/08/04(Sat)10:50 No. 896016 ID: f9154f
File 153340503097.jpg - (124.05KB , 660x1020 , 1c6so6lun_61b2ff9dab742711e551c85febc778e6.jpg )

>>896004
> You should massage Uruk, if you you do it well, you might get him to stop fondling your stomach, shoulders, and back.

>tfw qm isnt nice enough to take my higher roll

>>896016
Is this image spoilered? I thought I clicked Spoiler Image checkbox.

>>896009
>>896004
I picked Massage cuz Nyalla has Massage II so she would resort to something she's good at. I'm fine with this though, if other people wanna pick that, or some other version of it.

>>896004
Can we do both Massaging and Paying Attention to The Tributaries?

>>896017
Yes, spoilers just don't show up inside the thread.

>>896026
Okay, thanks. I've never used this site before, didn't know it even existed.

>>896016

Being a half-giant half-orc's concubine ain't easy, you get one roll per action and that's that, first come, first serve.

>>896024

You could, but your attentions would be split and you'd have to roll twice, at a higher DC.

>>896009
>>896004
Fuck it, I'll switch to:
> You should pay attention to the tributaries, it's boring, but you suppose the treasures are nice enough and you might learn something.

How come more people haven't posted in this quest? Is it cuz it's not a furry quest?

>>896041
Chill, m8. It's because a few quests go slower than anothers, and this one doesn't really use a lot of images or are the aesthic of people.

>>896041

Off the top of my head, I can think of several reasons, first and foremost being

> I don't have the faintest inkling of artistic talent but I've been told I'm a passably decent writefag, so this is a text-quest, not a draw-quest, unlike the majority of threads on this board which can be a serious turn-off.
> The premise of the quest indicates a blatant and shameless magical realm, which is somewhat more acceptable here than elsewhere, but may not be to the majority's taste.
> I don't have a reputation for writing quality quests on this board, which is to be expected because I'm not a regular here, but again, can be a serious turn-off.

>>896017
>>896028

Stop being such an obnoxiously obvious newfag. You'd complain about this sort of behavior on half-chan, tgchan is one of, if not the last bastion of original questing, and should be no different.

>>896009
>>896040

> Roll 1d20+0 to pay attention to the tributaries

rolled 8 = 8

---

>>896057
Well, I've never used boards with Spoilers, only ever browsed a few boards. Hardly use half chan nowadays. Just didn't want to offend people and mods here.

>>896058
sheeeeeeeeiiit

>>896026
>>896028
For bonus confusion, spoilers function differently in different boards! For example in /quest/, the spoiler only shows up outside of threads- it protects the general audience browsing the board, but assumes people opening a thread know what they're in for. But it /questdis/ it still shows up inside threads- it assumes people browsing the fanart thread don't all want to see lewds.

Also welcome new guy, enjoy your stay.

>>896062
Okay, thanks. I'm used to Spoilers spoiling inside the thread, so I just wanted to be sure.

> You should pay attention to the tributaries, it's boring, but you suppose the treasures are nice enough and you might learn something.

>>896063
Nice to meet a new poster. You can continue these discussions about board rules in "QuestDis".

Paying Attention: Rolled 8+0=8
+ 4, Keen Senses, -2, Language Barrier, -2, Uruk is Distracting
[Minor Failure]

An endless flood of the conquered and the conquerors come to offer tribute to the Dread Defiler, and you struggle to keep track. Only some speak Orcish, most of the rest either talk in a simple dialect you can't understand, or in their native languages to heavily accented translators who repeat with poor grammar. You struggle to pick out snippets of Goblin, you hardly hear so much as a word of Elvish, and your Orcish isn't nearly enough to get by.

Compounding your difficulty, the tributaries arrive, offer their tributes, and leave at a breakneck speed enforced by several heavily-armed guards. Occasionally, they only say a single word, and almost as often, not even that! To your frustration, most of the Orcs must've fought alongside Uruk on his campaign, because they don't bother to introduce themselves beyond a grunt! Besides that, the warlord keeps flaunting you to everyone with eyes and rubbing your ears, which makes it a bit hard to focus!

Despite the language barrier and incessant fondling, you manage to put together a few bits and pieces of the narrative, and while you're sure you're far from the whole truth, at least you aren't completely in the dark.

You've gleaned the following,

> Uruk Bloodgnasher isn't THE warlord so much as he is the mightiest of many warlords, and the only one both brutally cunning and cunningly brutal enough to unite the scattered warbands into a single horde.
> Though many of Uruk's warriors swore to follow him and him alone, most only fought for themselves and the promise of slaves, treasure, and territory. With the southern continent conquered and only scattered pockets of resistance remaining, they've gained each in abundance and Uruk's horde has begun to go their separate ways.
> Uruk's horde consists of nearly every monster, marauder, and savage on the continent, and myriad races are represented. To keep such a divided force from squabbling among themselves, Uruk has devised a new form of government of some sort, called Kratokracy. Unfortunately, you can't understand enough to piece together the specifics.
> Most of Uruk's slaves were forcibly taken as plunder during his conquests, and while you aren't Uruk's only slave to be taken as tribute, you're the first that isn't royalty. Your exotic appearance is a matter of great curiosity, and several offers were made to buy you for enormous sums, though Uruk turned them down, stating he wouldn't trade an irreplaceable jewel for any amount of treasure he could get elsewhere. You aren't sure if you should find that flattering or worrying.
> Prior to today, you've only seen Goblins, Orcs, and Elves in person, and you only have stories to tell which race each tributary belongs to. You're reasonably sure you've seen Ogres, Gnolls, Minotaurs, Trolls, at least three different kinds of Humans, what you think might be a frog person, a pair of snakes shaped like people, and in one terrifying moment, a levitating undead wizard.

By the time the stream of tributaries has turned to a trickle, new mountains of treasures are piled to the roof, and the warlord is thoughroughly tired of sitting on his throne. Even more so as there isn't yet a throne large enough to accommodate him, and he's forced to make do with carved wood covered in furs. You gasp in surprise as his titanic hands grip your torso and he stands to his full height, before gently flinging you to onto the cushions.

You land with a yelp, your short fall muffled by soft velvet and smooth silk. Almost instantly after, a rush of red fabric brushes your face, and you realize he has a full unobstructed view of your thong. Above you, Uruk laughs as you scramble to sit upright, then effortlessly slides on a suit of chainmail larger than some of the smaller slaves. He raises his voice and each of you listens.

> "HEH HEH HEH! I've had 'bout enough of that damned chair for one day. They're holding a feast in my honor outside, and I'm of a mind to see the sights, hear the sounds, and celebrate! Then, once I've quenched my thirst, slain my challengers, and eaten my fill, I think I'll have a piece of sweetmeat for desert!"

He surveys the peerless expanse of treasure, ogling priceless artifacts and your shapely bodies alike, then breaks into a ferocious smile and sighs in satisfaction.

> "It's good to be Conqueror! I'm heading off. Anything happens, I've posted a pair of guards outside, and if anyone's hurt, I'll throw whoever started it to the crowd. There should be more than enough bread and wine to content yourselves, but keep Nyalla away from the booze, I want her awake for tonight. Feel free to converse or do whatever it is you do when I'm not around. Bye."

At that, Uruk leaves the enormous tent and for the first time, you're alone with the rest of the slaves. They're looking at you with a mixture of disgust, disdain and in a few eyes, an emotion that could be jealousy. Your opinion of them isn't much better, but you suppose you'll be spending a long time with these people, so you'd best get to know them.

> What do you want to talk about?

> [Write-In]

We should probably focus on finding out who everyone is and who's got the most influence among the group. Even a harem, willing or otherwise, has it's own internal politics, and it'd be best to find out as much as we can about it. Barring that, and assuming we can get anyone to talk to us at all, we should continue gathering whatever information we can get. We may have been kept in the dark with our former master, but that doesn't mean we have to be here, so long as we continue to understand when to keep our mouths shut and what it appropriate for us to say or do at any given moment.

>>896081
>>896079
Okay, sounds good. Maybe we can offer some of them massages to make them more likely to talk or something. Fix their clothes, kek

Just talk about their life and ask for their lifes before being a slave, maybe a bit of knowledge or something.

There's eleven concubines beside yourself, and for the fun of it, I've written a simplistic generator to add a bit of depth to the character caste. If you want to participate, roll 3d20 on the table below eleven times to generate the concubines, don't roll twice in a row, that's poor form.

Race:
1-5 Human
6-8 Goblin
9-10 Halfling
11-12 Dwarf
13-14 Gnome
15-16 High Elf
17-18 Dark Elf
19 Tiefling
20 Aasimar

Status:
1-10 Plunder
11-16 Claimed
17-20 Tribute

Attitude:
1-8 Hateful
9-12 Disgusted
13-16 Jealous
17-20 Apathetic

rolled 17, 7, 13 = 37

---

I really hope mine is lovely!

rolled 8, 19, 1 = 28

---

>>896107

I wrote the generator, so I'll roll once or twice and speed things up a bit.

rolled 11, 8, 4, 6, 20, 9 = 58

---

>>896107
I'm just gunna roll twice here in one thing cuz this quest isn't popular so we'll be here all week. I'll prob roll again twice in a row if nobody posts in a few hours cuz fuck it.

>>896110
>jealous dark elf
kino

rolled 15, 1, 9 = 25

---

>>896107

Rolling

rolled 17, 15, 7 = 39

---

>>896107

rolled 6, 10, 5 = 21

---

>>896107

rolled 12, 15, 16 = 43

---

rolled 2 = 2

---

>>896112

I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I specifically said not to roll twice in a row. You aren't the only poster in this thread, save some space for everyone else. For the sake of fairness, I'll flip a coin and take the result.

> 1: Hateful Plundered Dwarf
> 2: Apathetic Goblin Tribute

rolled 4, 19, 3 = 26

---

>>896121

Apathetic Goblin Tribute it is. By the look of these rolls, Uruk has a preference for Drow and Goblins, which might explain his lust for you.

>>896107

Rolling again. Hopefully we get a Human or Gnome, so my earlier fluff text isn't incorrect.

rolled 2, 17, 11 = 30

---

>>896123
Wow, God has answered you. Dude, I want the fucking quest to go on, I don't want to fucking be here for days.

rolled 14, 7, 19 = 40

---

>>896107

C'mon aasimar

rolled 8, 20, 9 = 37

---

>>896107

>>896136

Close enough.

rolled 10, 19, 9 = 38

---

meh

>>896110
>>896111
>>896112
>>896116
>>896117
>>896118
>>896119
>>896123
>>896130
>>896136
>>896138
>>896140

Behold, Uruk's concubines:

> Jealous Claimed Dark Elf
> Hateful Goblin Tribute
> Apathetic Goblin Tribute
> Disgusted High Elf Plunder
> Hateful Claimed Dark Elf
> Hateful Goblin Plunder
> Jealous Claimed Dwarf
> Apathetic Human Tribute
> Disgusted Human Tribute
> Disgusted Gnome Tribute
> Disgusted Goblin Tribute
> Disgusted Halfling Tribute

The results are a bit strange, and if you look between the lines, tell something of a story.

>>896081
>>896098
>>896100

> Roll 1d20-2 to gather information from the concubines

rolled 7 - 2 = 5

---

>>896142

>>896143
Only gathered spit, a ripped dress, and fucked up hair

Conversing with Concubines: Rolled 7-2=5
+2, Deception, -2, Hostility, -2, Language Barrier
[Moderate Failure]

Drawing on years of experience, you give an innocent smile and say in Orcish, "My name is Nyalla, what is yours?" Most of the slaves don't seem to understand, so you repeat yourself in Elvish and frown as the High Elf scowls. Her grasp of the language is perfect and her voice sounds like the wind chimes outside of your old chieftain's tent. It would be beautiful, if it weren't twisted in self-justified disdain.

> "Filthy mongrel, do not insult the eldest of tongues with your wretched keening! You are nothing more than vermin, twisted into the shape of an elf! A disgrace to the ancients, valued only by the lowliest of scum and crudest of brutes! May Uruk break you over his knee, you worthless gutterborn half-goblin harlot!"

At that, she crosses her slender arms, turns her nose up at you, and walks to sit on the far side of the tent, as far from you as possible. You're almost hurt, and when you attempt to repeat yourself in Orcish, one of the Dark Elves interrupts you. Her Elvish isn't much better than yours, but it's legible enough to grasp.

> "It amuses me to see beauty in the lesser races, goblins, humans, even gnomes. It's a delight, to know that one day old age will claim you, and in time, the only thing separating you from any other idiot koira will be an empty memory. Granted, you're of Elven stock and age will come slowly, but remember, its swiftness is of no importance, one day it will reach you. Ha. Enjoy your beauty while it lasts, goblin."

She smiles with lips that've seen the dawn and dusk of centuries and turns to speak to the other Drow in their flowery, hissing language. The second Dark Elf glares at you in incandescent spite, then glowers and does her best to ignore you. They chatter back and forth between themselves, occasionally displaying cruel smiles at your expense, and you do your best to ignore them.

So much for your Elvish. There are four Goblins here, and while you don't know much of the language, maybe one knows enough Orcish to communicate? They're reclining on cushions by themselves, and you invite yourself to sit beside them and slowly say in Goblin, pointing to yourself and to each in turn,

> "Me, Nyalla. Who, you?"

Three glare in disgust, then continue like you're not there. The fourth giggles, points at her ample chest, and speaks in a slow, patient tone.

> "Me, Jabyth. You, in for HARD time. Uruk is BIG, if he take you, it HURTS. Soon, it gets not so bad, but tonight? Hnn."

She holds her hands so her palms face each other, then moves until a foot of space is between them. You stare, dreading the thought, and in morbid curiosity ask,

> "How did he... You?"

Jabyth smirks, gestures toward a clump of gold-threaded pillows five feet high, and pantomimes being bent over.

> "Uruk is BIG, he used to take me every night, leave me sore in every hole, but he no care. He is rough, can get tent-full of Goblins if he want and he knows it, so he no care if he HURTS one or two. But Jabyth no complain, she keep Uruk happy, so now, Jabyth's tribe gets good swamplands."

She beams in pride, appraises you from head to toe, and nods.

> "You goblin AND elf, Uruk can't get tent-full of you and he knows it, so he be gentle. Easy. He is BIG and it will hurt, but he will be careful not to HURT. If Jabyth can take Uruk, Nyalla can."

That's somewhat... reassuring, and even if the rest won't speak to you, this Goblin seems friendly enough. Perhaps being Uruk's slave won't be so bad after all. You have nothing else to do, so you keep talking to Jabyth and she's all too happy to chit-chat.

> Apparently, most of Uruk's slaves, Jabyth included, are tributes that have been offered within the last month.
> The slaves in the tent aren't Uruk's only lovers, only his favorites. He keeps a kennel of less attractive slaves and those he's grown bored of he often visits, and free women seeking strong sons have intercourse with him on a regular basis.
> Uruk has a stamina that matches his stature, and often exhausts several slaves in a single night before he feels the need to rest, though just as often, he'll pleasure himself with a single slave for hours on end.
> Jabyth is worried Uruk might gift her to a lieutenant soon, and says she'll teach you Goblin if you'll teach her Orcish.

Despite the lingual issues she's a good conversationalist, and you think you've begun to kindle a platonic relationship with the Goblin. Of course, the rest of the slaves seem to hate you, but you're sure they'll come around. It's getting darker in the tent, and while that's not a problem for most of you, one of the Humans lights a scented candle. Once you've caught a whiff, you realize Uruk'll be arriving to vent his lusts any moment now, and the suspense is killing you.

You sit and wait, and as the hours pass and he doesn't arrive, you begin to think that maybe, just maybe, he'll be sleeping in another tent tonight. Your hopes are shattered when the tent flap flies open and in steps the behemoth. His chainmail is covered in blood, his axe is caked in gore, and his horrible smile hasn't abated in the slightest.

The warlord flings his chainmail shirt to the side, tosses his legendary axe onto a pile of lesser weapons, and reclines upon his throne. Immediately, the slaves scurry to polish his arms and armor, strip him from his clothes and leggings, and clean the viscera from his body. One of the Goblins moves to recline against his chest then squeals as he twerks her breasts and flings her aside. He grins at you, and pats the empty space on his lap.

> His intentions are obvious, but what do you intend to do?

> Take your place on his legs and allow him to grope, fondle, and stroke you to his heart's content.
> Turn the tables on the half-giant, and put your hard-learned skills as a masseuse to good use.
> Take a sponge and bucket, and do your best to clean his bloody filth alongside the others.

>>896171
> Turn the tables on the half-giant, and put your hard-learned skills as a masseuse to good use.

>>896171
Kinda disappointed in the results, woulda liked making some peace with harem mates. They're gunna be hard on us in the future.

> Take a sponge and bucket, and do your best to clean his bloody filth alongside the others.
Present yourself as intelligent and submissive. Once he trusts you to do his secretarial, janitorial, and/or *shudder* legislative work for him, he will be less keen to damage you. All the good replacements would quickly stab him in the back for their real bosses.

>>896171

> Turn the tables on the half-giant, and put your hard-learned skills as a masseuse to good use.

>>896182

I agree we need to focus on getting on Uruk's good side, but if he's going to fuck us, we want him as relaxed as possible.

>>896174

If we're Uruk's favorite concubine it won't matter what the rest of the slaves think because we'll be on top. They may have seniority, but we're unique and therefore, inherently more valuable.

>>896182
>>896187
He's like how we've acted so far. We're willing to commit to his pleasure, but we're also willing to speak our mind and be an individual. He likes how different we are, we also have a literal skill called Massage and we're breddy decent at it, too.

>>896187
You know what happens to people who hold a position of implied authority that did so by stepping over and pissing off everyone that is now below them? They tend to get stabbed. A lot.

>>896194

True, but at the moment the greatest threat to our lives is in between Uruk's legs, and I think it's best we get him relaxed before he goes to pound-town.

>>896200
I don't think he disagrees with the massage action, I think he's referring to your response to my post. If you know anything about the Turkish Harems, then you'd know that it was very much as political as the rest of the government.

>>896202

I doubt the Half-Orc warlord's sex slaves have a serious impact on the way he governs things, but if we can learn a few languages and get to be Uruk's favorite, that could change. We definitely need to keep an eye on the others, but he said there'd be dire consequences for violence so I don't think we need to worry too much.

>>896205
Women, especially Elf women, don't care about "dire consequences". They are arrogant enough to believe they can get away with it, or petty enough that they don't care about the consequences.

>>896207

That's a lot to assume but I'll take your word for it.

> Turn the tables on the half-giant, and put your hard-learned skills as a masseuse to good use.
Hoping for a huge sucess here.

>>896172
>>896187
>>896216

> Roll 1d20+4 to massage Uruk

rolled 7 + 4 = 11

---

>>896220
pls give gud roll

>>896223

Tsk.

> Roll 1d20

rolled 10 = 10

---

>>896227

>>896228
Confined to mediocrity forever, just an unusual fucktoy and nothing more.

Uruk's had his hands on you since you've first seen him, and it's high time you turned the tables on the half-giant.

Massaging Uruk: Rolled 7+4= 11
+4 Massage Skill
[Minor Failure]

Rising from the cushions, you purposely pace to the side of his throne, deliberately halt mere inches out of reach, and knowingly lay your delicate hands on his rippling bicep. He gazes in slight interest as you stroke his taut sinews, gently kneading the kinks out of the muscle, and reclines with a sigh.

Moments later, he seizes your forearm, and forces your entire body over his knee with nary a grunt. You struggle to prop yourself up on your elbows, and he yanks your hair, forcing you to your knees where you can almost see face to face. There's no sign it took any effort whatsoever in his eyes, and as you shake with fear at the mistake you must've made, his second hand rises across your back, slides under the strap of your brassiere, and without so much as a moment of struggle, tears it apart.

The tent is silent as the fabric falls to land in his lap and you instinctively cross your arms to shield your exposed mammaries from prying eyes. His powerful hand grips your wrists, and his voice thunders in your ears.

> "They've hidden behind silk all day, and I've waited long enough. Now, are you going to move your hands and let me see them, or do I have to tear something else?"

Slowly, with an unbidden tear springing to eye, you reveal your breasts to the behemoth and turn your face away, not wishing to see his lust. They are round, plump, and perky, more than enough to fill ordinary hands, but small enough Uruk's palms have room to spare. He marvels at them for some time, then takes a tender nipple between his fingers and twists, until it hardens. You gasp at the sudden pain, but don't dare curse and bite down on your lip as he takes the other breast in hand.

Once both nipples are hardened and you're drenched in nervous sweat, he pushes your face into his and you can't keep looking away. His tongue licks your chin, slides across your cheeks, and stops at your closed lips. He grunts and with a whimper, you open your mouth and let him in. Uruk is massive and muscular in every way, he pushes your tiny tongue's pitiful defiance aside and explores your mouth at leisure. You're powerless before him, his want is unlike anything you've ever experienced, and as he presses his slavering maw into your trembling lips, it dawns on you that this is your first kiss.

His iron fists hold you there for several minutes, and when he releases, you take in a frantic breath of musky air. Seconds later, your mouths have rejoined and he's taken to fondling your rump beneath the silks. As he squeezes a quivering ass-cheek and growls with animalistic lust, you discern the inevitable is soon to come, and the only difference is how you wish to take it.

> In one word, describe your mindset going into this.

>>896246
Earnest

God, you're going to kill that chieftain and Uruk with a rusty knife.

>>896250
wut

Numb.

>>896254
>>896250
You guise are forgetting we were for the sole purpose of being his concubine. Obviously, the real thing is always more than you expected, but we're not some dumb peasant chick he picked up.

>>896254

+1

>>896255
Still wish to murder him, ok?

>>896254
>>896259

> Roll 1d20+8 to satisfy Uruk

rolled 5 + 8 = 13

---

>>896268

rolled 18 + 8 = 26

---

>>896268

>>896269
ahahahahahha

>>896264
I don't think you're roleplaying right, though. It seems you're projecting your own feelings onto Nyalla, someone raised in the Goblin/Orc culture and taught to be a good concubine for a powerful Orc/Goblin.

>>896288
Pretty much, m8!

>>896298
really make me think

>>896246
QM is kill?