They finally made it.
Brennale.
The town’s wooden palisade loomed ahead, its gates wide enough for a merchant’s cart but narrow enough to choke an invading force. Two guards flanked the entrance - one a burly Ardel with a nose long since broken and reset crooked, the other a wiry - pig person? - his snout twitching beneath a rusted helmet.
The latter straightened as they approached, his accent thick as mud.
"Oy, state yer business," He barked, squinting at Theodore’s unconscious cargo. "An’ explain why yer draggin’ that one like a sack o’ turnips."
Linda instinctively reached for a wallet that didn’t exist, her fingers brushing empty air where her ID would’ve been back home.
Izze rolled her yellow eyes and flicked a hexagonal gold token - the Tarnished Blade’s sigil gleaming dully - directly at the pig-man’s chest.
"Calm your pig-tits, Snorrik." Izze drawled as the Snorrik guard fumbled her token, his stubby fingers nearly dropping it into the mud. The gold hexagonal tile - carved with three intersecting blades - flashed in the fading light as he turned it over to reveal the gold plate rank marker. "Bandits always have a reward here and we just happened to pick one up on our way here. The other three are dead just a bit up the road. Can go have someone check, I don't really fucking care, but we’re tired from the journey and need some to turn in this jackass!"
Theodore sighed, his free hand fishing out his own silver-ranked token - the edges slightly dented from years of use.
"Ashwick Hall will vouch for us," Theodore added in his measured tone.
The Ardel guard squinted at Linda, his crooked nose wrinkling as he jabbed a thick finger toward her.
"And hers? Ain't seen her before." He said, spitting grossly on the ground.
Linda swallowed hard, acutely aware of her empty pockets and the way her borrowed tunic hung slightly too large on her frame. She opened her mouth - to explain, to lie, to deflect - but Izze cut in sharply.
"She's our charge. Fresh off the wagon from Sollavar and hasn't earned her bronze yet. But you wanna argue with two ranked guilders over paperwork when we're delivering a bounty?" Izze growled, eyes narrowed on the burly man.
The Snorrik guard wheezed a nervous laugh, trotters shuffling.
"Aye, right enough then! No need fer fuss, eh?" He coughed awkwardly, waving them through with a jerky motion. "Mind the mud by the Crooked Plow. Flood last week left it proper boggy, din't it?"
Izze's grin was pure menace as she retrieved her token. Before the guard could react, she smacked his rear with a sharp THWACK that echoed off the palisade.
The Snorrik yelped, nearly dropping his spear as his ears flushed pink beneath wiry bristles.
"Twelve Hells, you li'l—!" The Snorrik guard whined, rubbing his stinging rear as his ears flushed crimson beneath wiry bristles. Izze's cackle rang sharp against the palisade, her yellow eyes glinting with mischief as she danced just out of reach of his grasping trotters. "Bloody Krithak menace," He grumbled, though the twitch of his snout betrayed reluctant amusement. "Ain't natural, a gob what hits like a draft horse packed into a pisspot frame."
Linda bit back an uncharacteristic laugh, pressing her knuckles to her mouth as the flustered guard flailed. Izze spun on her heel, braids whipping like twin grey lassos, and sauntered through the gates without a backward glance.
Theodore exhaled through his nose - half exasperation, half amusement - and adjusted his grip on the unconscious bandit before following, his staff tapping a steady rhythm against the cobbles.
"Izze…" Theodore said, voice dry as old parchment. "...antagonizing town guards is poor diplomacy."
The Krithak shrugged as she strode ahead, boots kicking up mud.
"Fuck diplomacy," Izze snorted. "Hogbreath needed a kick in the ass, his cheeks were sagging." She jabbed a thumb toward Linda without breaking stride. "Besides, silver-tits here needed the laugh. Looked like she was gonna piss herself back there."
"H- Hey!" Linda chimed in, lips pouting at the remark.
Theodore adjusted his grip on the unconscious bandit, the man’s ragged breath hot against his neck.
"Calyx's Mercy, you could have just shown your token without assaulting municipal employees," Theodore muttered, sidestepping a puddle of dubious origin.
Izze flicked a dismissive hand.
"Stick’s so far up your ass it’s poking out your mouth, Teddy!" Izze cackled, her boots slapping rhythmically against the damp stones.
They navigated the town's narrow artery, passing stalls that smelled of scorched sugar and river-salt.
Linda walked in a daze - her mind cataloging the architecture - timber frames leaning precariously over the street, the odd juxtaposition of refined stonework and raw, mud-caked alleys.
Theodore continued to drone on about the importance of professional conduct and the fragility of local relations, his voice a contrast to the noise of the town.
Izze simply responded with a series of theatrical eye-rolls and exaggerated shrugs, her focus already shifting toward the scent of roasting meat wafting from the distance.
Even Linda's new Aelvyn belly rumbled, but they had a bounty to collect.
As they rounded a corner, Ashwick Hall loomed over them, a squat fortress of grey granite and blackened oak that served as the Tarnished Blade’s local hub. The building breathed with a low, humming energy, the kind of place where the air felt heavy with the scent of whetstones and old leather. Through the open heavy-timber doors, Linda caught glimpses of the guild's interior: a cavernous hall where veterans sat in hushed clusters, their bodies mapped with scars earned from hard won experience. It was a space built for the brutal efficiency of the profession, where the only thing more respected than a sharp blade was a successful return from a quest.
"Small, ugly thing, ain't it?" Izze remarked, glancing back at Linda. "The Hall's a bit like me... compact, unassuming, but houses something deadly if you're stupid enough to step inside without an invitation."
Linda let out a soft, genuine giggle, the sound barely audible over the din of the town, though the comparison felt oddly fitting. She looked at the small, fierce goblin and felt a strange sense of kinship in their shared lack of traditional stature, even if Linda's "smallness" was more about her shrinking confidence than her physical height.
"The architecture is intentionally deceptive," Theodore explained, his voice taking on a lecturer's cadence. "Ashwick was originally a border outpost during the early expansion of Quorrith. It was designed with narrow corridors and tiered killing zones to negate the advantage of larger foes, like the Tholgar, who would find themselves bottlenecked and easy prey for the guild's specialized skirmishers." He glanced at the guild's sigil carved into the lintel, noting the precision of the work. "It is a monument to the strategic use of terrain and the necessity of professional violence."
Izze didn't do strategic entries, it seemed.
Linda should've known...
The Krithak slammed the heavy oak doors open with a violent crash that echoed like a gunshot through the cavernous hall. The sudden intrusion sheared through the low hum of conversation, plunging the room into an oppressive silence. At the long communal tables, a dozen veterans froze mid-sip, their eyes snapping toward the entrance.
Linda felt the shift in the room instantly.
It wasn't just a look, but calculation.
In a room full of seasoned adventurers, every gaze was a probe, searching for a weakness, a gap in the armor, or a slip in the footing.
Linda instinctively stepped back, her shoulder brushing against the cold stone wall as she shrank into the shadow of the two seasoned adventurers she'd traveled with.
Though the ranks in the room were mostly Bronze and Silver ranks like Izze had said, the air felt thick with the latent energy of blessings. She saw a dwarf's? fingers twitch toward a heavy axe, seemingly ready to fight, but Izze and Theodore didn't seem bothered at all.
"We're back, bitches!" Izze roared, her voice cutting through the silence like a serrated blade.
For a heartbeat, the room stayed frozen, the tension stretching tight as a bowstring. Then, the silence snapped. A thunderous roar erupted from the guild members - part greeting, part challenge - as heavy mugs of ale slammed onto wooden tables and boots stomped the floor. A massive orc? with a scarred jaw lunged forward, not to attack, but to slam a meaty palm against Izze’s shoulder in a greeting that would have knocked a human flat.
Theodore let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to deflate his entire posture.
"It is always like this," Theodore murmured to Linda, but his hazel eyes looked fondly toward the chaos.
With a practiced efficiency, Theodore hauled the man forward toward the heavy mahogany reception desk, no longer carrying him on his shoulder. The bandit’s heels dragged across the floor with a wet, rhythmic slap, a stark contrast to the sudden explosion of noise behind them.
Beside them, Izze had already slammed her forearm onto a scarred wooden table, locking eyes with the Orc brickhouse. The Orc was a mountain of muscle and green hide, darker than the Krithak's own skin, his forearm nearly the size of a heavy-duty truck tire. He let out a guttural grunt, his massive hand clamping around hers with a force that made the table groan. Izze didn’t whine and leaned into the struggle, her small frame trembling with sudden, concentrated effort. Her Drevan blessing flared - not as a spell - but as a primal instinct of a proverbial hunt, her center of gravity shifted perfectly, and her grip tightened into a vise as she used the orc's own momentum against him, her yellow eyes wide and manic.
"Guess I'll stick to Theodore while Izze is busy..." Linda whispered to herself, her eyes looking at Theodore dealing with the bounty.
It spoke of the trust between Theodore and Izze, the fact that Izze wanted the reward quickly, but allowed her Ardel companion to handle it.
Linda liked that, hoped she could trust and be trusted, but knew all good things came in time.
Confused by the sudden chaos and the territorial energy of the guild hall, Linda tried to edge toward Theodore. She felt like a ghost in a room full of dangerous people, her gaze darting between the scarred veterans and the heavy weaponry leaning against every surface. She had just managed to take two steps before a massive, calloused hand clamped around her upper arm. The grip wasn't violent, but it was absolute, as an ogre? woman - this was getting a little annoying not know the names - hauled her backward with effortless strength.
The ogre woman was big...
...in many ways.
The woman’s grip was like an iron shackle, pulling Linda away from the safety of Theodore’s clinical presence and hauling her toward a dim, secluded corner of the hall. Linda stumbled, her breath hitching as she was pressed back against a wall of rough-hewn stone. The ogre woman was a mountain of a woman, her light brown skin mapped with the creases of age and a life spent in the sun. She was heavy, her stomach rolling over a leather belt, and her breasts hung low and relaxed beneath a coarse linen tunic. She had a wide, flat nose and short, choppy brown hair that looked like it had been cut with a combat knife, giving her a stern, hard air that hit Linda with a sudden, jarring familiarity.
The ogre woman looked like her old teacher.
A teacher she had a crush one - well, she had a crush and lusted after most older women - and that wasn't good...
Not good at all...
Linda's cock gave a traitorous twitch and her pants tented a bit.
"Fresh meat," The ogre woman grunted, her voice a low, gravelly rumble that sounded like boulders grinding together in a riverbed. She leaned in close, the scent of old tobacco and pungent musk flooding Linda's senses. The woman's eyes, small and amber, tracked down from Linda’s silver hair to the curve of her chest, then lingered on the tan skin of her throat. "Pretty little thing like you not belong in Hall. Too soft. Like ripened plum waitin' for bird to peck."
Linda felt the heat rush to her cheeks, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She tried to shrink back, but the wall was cold and unforgiving against her spine.
"I- I'm with them," Linda stammered, gesturing vaguely toward the chaos of the main hall, though her voice was barely a whisper.
The ogre woman didn't budge, her massive frame blocking out the light, creating a private, suffocating pocket of space.
"Don't matter," The ogre woman grunted. She reached up, her thick, calloused fingers clamping around Linda's chin with a firm, possessive grip that forced Linda to look up and meet those predatory amber eyes. The woman’s thumb brushed against Linda's jawline, a slow, deliberate movement that sent a jolt of electricity straight to Linda's core. "Pretty face, soft skin. Like a doll." Her gaze drifted lower, scanning the curve of Linda's hips and the unmistakable swell beneath her trousers. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corners of the ogre's wide mouth. "Like what I see. Very much."
This is how Linda was supposed to feel.
Not like Theodore, but like Izze and this woman.
Something flickered in Linda's chest - a sudden, stubborn spark that overrode her introverted instinct - and she didn't pull away. She leaned into the ogre woman's touch, her green eyes narrowing as she felt the heat of the other woman's calloused palm. The power dynamic shifted in a heartbeat, and while Linda was physically outmatched, she realized the woman was expecting her to cower, the unexpectedness of her resolve created a momentary opening.
"And what exactly are you going to do about it?" Linda asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
She didn't use a curse word, but the challenge in her tone was clear.
The ogre woman let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh that vibrated through Linda’s chest.
"Spunky. Name Brulga. Pick good," Brulga grunted, her voice sounding like gravel shifting in a landslide. "Little doll got teeth." Without warning, the orc womans massive hand descended, her thick fingers cupping the bulge in Linda's pants with a heavy, possessive pressure. The grip was firm, molding to the length of Linda's cock through the fabric, squeezing just enough to elicit a sharp, involuntary gasp. "Like teeth. Make more fun when Brulga break them."
Linda’s head spun.
The sudden, blunt sensation sent a wave of heat crashing through her, drowning out the noise of the guild hall and the lingering fear of the unknown. She felt a surge of reckless defiance, the kind of "screw it" moment that usually only happened in the safety of a locked room with a screen in front of her. With a soft, broken moan that escaped her lips before she could stop it, Linda surged upward. She grabbed the coarse linen of Brulga’s tunic, pulling the massive woman down and pressing her lips firmly against the ogre's wide, calloused mouth.
The kiss was hot, tasting of salt and bitter tobacco, and it felt like a collision of two different worlds. Brulga didn't hesitate, her mouth opening with a hungry, predatory eagerness that swallowed Linda's breath. While one of Brulga's massive hands remained clamped around Linda's cock, squeezing with a rhythmic, possessive force that made her toes curl, the other hand migrated upward. The ogre's thick fingers dug into the soft curve of Linda's breast, kneading the flesh with a heavy-handed curiosity that left her lightheaded.
Brulga pulled back just an inch, her amber eyes glowing with a sudden, fierce intensity. She leaned in, her voice a low, vibrating rumble against Linda's skin as she trailed her lips toward the sensitive line of Linda's chin.
"Little doll brave," Brulga whispered, the words vibrating through Linda's skin. "Brave get reward."
Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, the massive woman sank to her knees. The shift in height was jarring, the floorboards groaning under Brulga's weight as she descended, her gaze never leaving Linda's flushed face.
"I'm L- Linda," Linda blurted out, the admission of her name feeling like a surrender and a victory all at once. As Brulga’s thick fingers worked the fastening of her borrowed trousers, Linda felt a dizzying rush of adrenaline. "This is... this is really hot." She whispered more to herself than the ogre woman.
This is how it was supposed to be, Linda thought.
She really understood that now.
Brulga didn't answer with words. She simply hooked her thumbs into the waistband and hauled the fabric down with a singular, powerful tug. The cool air of the hall hit Linda's skin, but the warmth radiating from the ogre woman's body was more intense. There, exposed and pulsing, was Linda's eight-inch cock and heavy balls, standing out starkly against her tan skin. Brulga paused for a heartbeat, her amber eyes widening as she took in the sight, her nostrils flaring as if she were scenting a prize.
"Pretty doll," Brulga grunted, her voice a low rumble of approval. "Got big gift. Brulga like gift."
The ogre woman didn't waste another second. She leaned forward, rubbing her rough, weathered cheek against the length of Linda's cock, the friction of her sandpaper skin sending electric shocks of pleasure straight to Linda's brain. Then, Brulga opened her mouth, her wide tongue sweeping in one long, wet stroke from the base of Linda's heavy balls all the way up to the sensitive tip.
The sensation was visceral.
Brulga groaned, a sound like shifting tectonic plates, before locking her lips around the head of Linda's member. She sucked with a powerful, rhythmic vacuum, her tongue swirling around the glans with a hungry intensity that left Linda's knees buckling against the cold stone wall.
Linda threw her head back, the crown of her skull thudding against the masonry as a jagged bolt of pleasure surged from her groin to her fingertips.
"It f- f- feels so good," Linda gasped, her voice thin and trembling. "Oh, it feels so g- good!"
The ogre woman didn't stop, descending inch by inch with a slow, predatory precision. Brulga’s wide nose eventually pressed firmly against Linda's pelvis, the bridge of her flat nose smashing into the soft, sweaty skin of her groin. Brulga paused there, her amber eyes locked onto Linda's flushed face, and huffed a thick cloud of hot air out of her nostrils.
Then, Brulga pulled back just enough so that only the sensitive, leaking tip of Linda's cock remained perched between her heavy lips. The ogre woman let out a wet, guttural chortle, then suddenly clamped down, sucking with a violent, rhythmic vigor that sounded like a wet boot pulling out of thick mud. The vacuum was intense, drawing the blood into Linda's head as her hips jerked forward instinctively. Linda’s fingers dug into Brulga’s thick, muscular shoulders, her breath coming in jagged, high-pitched hitches.
"You're... you're such a g- good girl," Linda whimpered, the words feeling reckless and right as she looked down at the massive woman devouring her.
Brulga let out a muffled, vibrating grunt of approval, her throat working in a deep, wet swallow. She didn't just suck, she engulfed, her mouth acting like a warm, muscular vice that clamped down on Linda’s shaft with bruising intensity. The sound was obscene - a series of thick, squelching pops and rhythmic slaps as Brulga’s heavy cheeks hammered against Linda’s pelvis. The ogre woman used her tongue like a piece of raw leather, scrubbing the underside of the head with a frantic, sliding pressure that sent white-hot spikes of electricity shooting up Linda's spine.
"Wait- stop! I'm- I can't!" Linda gasped, her voice cracking. Her hips were bucking wildly now, the friction of Brulga's rough tongue pushing her toward a cliff she couldn't climb back from. But Brulga didn't stop; she only widened her eyes, a predatory glint appearing in the amber depths as she took the full length, burying Linda’s cock deep into the cavern of her throat. The vacuum pressure intensified, pulling the seed from Linda's core with a violent, magnetic force that left her vision blurring.
With a strangled cry, Linda’s body locked tight, her toes curling in her wraps. She drove herself home one last time, slamming deep into the ogre's throat as a torrent of thick, hot ropes of seed erupted from her, filling Brulga’s mouth in heavy, pulsing bursts. The volume was staggering, a visceral release that left Linda shaking and breathless, her member throbbing rhythmically as she poured everything she had down the ogre's gullet. Brulga didn't flinch, taking every drop with greedy, guttural gulps, her throat working in a rhythmic, swallowing motion that sounded like thick mud sliding down a pipe.
When Brulga finally pulled away, a long, silver thread of saliva connected her lip to the leaking tip of Linda's cock. Linda was trembling, her lungs burning as she tried to remember how to breathe, but the release hadn't been enough to sate the ogre's hunger.
Brulga let out a low, wet huff, her nostrils flaring as she scented the musk of the climax.
"Little doll leak," Brulga grunted, her amber eyes flashing. "Still got more. Brulga take all."
Before Linda could even gasp a warning that she was too sensitive to touch, Brulga lunged forward. She engulfed the length again with a violent, vacuum-like force, her wide tongue scrubbing the sensitive underside of the shaft with the texture of a wet pumice stone.
Linda’s head slammed back against the masonry, her fingers clawing into Brulga’s muscular shoulders as the friction drove her straight back to the edge.
"Wait, I- oh goodness!" Linda whimpered, her voice cracking as the sensation peaked almost instantly again.
Her little lesbian brain was being fried by this ogre woman.
Brulga didn't flinch, taking the torrent with greedy, guttural gulps - her throat working in a series of thick, squelching pops - as she wrung more cum from Linda. The ogre again stayed there for a long moment, savoring the taste, before pulling back with a loud, wet and lewd POP. She wiped her mouth with the back of a calloused hand and gave a sharp, approving bark of a laugh.
Without a word, the ogre woman reached down, her thick fingers surprisingly nimble as she guided Linda’s throbbing member back into the fabric of her trousers.
Brulga didn't just dress her...
...she gave a possessive, lingering squeeze to the bulge, ensuring everything was tucked tight.
Then, the massive ogre woman rose to her full height, the floorboards groaning in relief as she loomed over the trembling Aelvyn once more.
Brulga leaned in, the scent of tobacco and salt clinging to her skin, and brushed a stray silver lock of hair away from Linda's flushed face.
"Little doll have fire," Brulga whispered, her voice a low, vibrating rumble that echoed in Linda's chest. "Find Brulga later."
With a final, predatory wink, the troll woman turned and lumbered away through the crowd, her heavy footfalls fading into the roar
Linda has no idea how that just happened, but she definitely wanted it to keep happening...
Spoiler
Inspo for Brulga.
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