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Orc Camp Omega

Cast under dull gray skies, filled with their absence of color or life by rolling pillars of churning smoke. These billowing chaos pyres mark the end for many a living being at the hands of the orcs. One particularly egregious offending tribe, the Omegas, marked by their black and white body paint, did everything necessary to earn their clan name.

Orc camps in general aren't a great place to be but given the options, most would sooner run a blade through their neck than be taken up by the Omegas. It wasn't a work camp, not a camp for prisoners of the great war, no, this was a genocide on all things living, war crimes hastily committed as soon as your chains drug through the gate. You had no name, got no number, you were a new set of holes, you were an outlet, a living whipping post for any orc. Maybe you'd get "lucky" and two orcs would fight over you killing each other in the process but that just makes a vacuum, and you're still there. Once inside camp Omega, you don't leave, no one does.

Que a rather resounding volley of wolf whistles and calls when a war party returned from the elf territory. One horse rider flanked on either side by rows of warriors, towing a line of voluptuous elf maidens. Dress and bodies baring the marks of a fight, blood, torn clothes, bruises, or in the case of the last elf, a limp. Nothing terribly new about these additions but what drew most every ones attention was the third elf of seven. Tall, blonde, well chested, not a scratch on her, wrapped in fine white silk linens and gold bands.

A lone star among the space of morbidity, mud, burning corpse pillars, sex slavery, and screams. They walked, heads held down, attending guards fighting off several advancing orcs while marching toward a central fire. Our horsemen yelled something in orcish that made every hungry set of eyes freeze in their tracks. Seeing how much pull he had, that must've been the leader or a higher up, grinning as he was now assaulted by just as many pleading looks.

It took a minute but eventually he caved, turning to the very back two guards and nodding. Within seconds, the last elf, the one with a limp, had her chains split as she was mobbed by an easy dozen orcs. Some beating her, most trying to find or making a hole to jab their pork missile inside of, her screams were quickly muffled with a bash over the head and a throat fucking. She disappeared not long after that, drug off to one of the surrounding huts where who knows what type of atrocity would befall her.

The remaining six now stood before the camps main "bonfire" a grueling compilation of all the realms races, defiled and set ablaze. Living huts, sharpened timber pike walls, every manner of torture one could be subject too on full display, the highlight, one could say was a group of orcs gathered around a pit. Every camp has a latrine, this one was massive, to the point of being closer too a cesspit than anything else. The orcs were laughing at three halfings they'd submerged in the middle, taking bets at which one would drown last.

Still, the six elves stood, bodies held by most orcs there, yet nothing was happening. Were they waiting for something, it seemed so as the leading horseman sat patiently. They'd rightly just assume that this was to be their end but taking in everything, our stand out maiden took a deep breath.

From between her lips ascended a sirens song, a tone with such beauty and mass it froze every last living being in that camp. Her song filled other elves with hope, and joy, the very notes themselves a gift from the heavens. Such purity, such, living charm was a rarity even where it was taught and farmed. For a time, everything stopped, her words calmed the gruesomeness, slowed the fires of death, and even soothed the savage orcs.

As every song bird sings, there's a cat waiting to eat, she didn't see the jagged axe head coming until it ripped through her neck, severing and sending it not too far. The head was now free game, to be picked up and fought over as such, the hot new communal flesh light if you will. Her eyes hadn't even stopped twitching before the first load was drooling out of the neck hole. Following suit, her body was set free and drug off, immediately gang raped, those supple double H elf tits ripped off and fought over.

A massive orc, one not seen before, emerged from his hut, shouting angerly, presumably at the song. Words carrying some definite weight, the horsemen turned after his berating, gesturing with his head toward the fire. Several guards shoving the last five elven women into the inferno, their screams an immediate counter weight to any chant.

It was too late, even as they kicked and cooked, the fire consuming their flesh, feeding hungerly, extinguished. Our brand new burn victims left skinless on a bed of flowers while lush fauna and life continued to erupt. Grass, trees, shrubs spread as if painted by napalm, rapidly sucking up every last chunk of organic matter and converting it to new life.

Camp Omega, a place so beset by death, so entrenched in the evil it committed, the gods saw fit to send one of their own. With her sacrifice, and the lives of countless others, the world tree was born. Its rooting drove out the orcs, back to their volcanic mountain dwellings. In their absence however, an even worse monster had taken roost, for here, in this region, there be dragons.