Reinforcements arrive

Panting hard, you watch Scars as he painfully lifts his swords back up into combat readiness, moving more slowly and trying to hide his fatigue. You struggle to fight back a sob rising in your throat, why couldn't things ever work out? Just when you thought you were going to get out, that blind, violent monster shows up, and then after fighting so hard and triumphing over it, two more of its friends arrive and stomp all over your hopes.

The half-elf keeps you behind him, slowly backing up to the other side of the room. The two creatures approach similarly, creeping forward silently with that inhuman dexterity. As the room widens out, they break off into two directions, one on each side, forcing the half-elf to look back and forth between them.

So they're not completely mindless, you think in horror. They are capable of teamwork. You are thinking about trying to pull Scars back out of the room when suddenly you hear the sound of metal plates sliding against each other and leather-footed booted tromping on the stairs behind you.

It's the prison guards. More than half a dozen of them, layered in plated armor. You even recognize the Elf with the golden, braided hair, the one who snubbed you a while ago. The apparent leader of the group halts in from of the door way when everyone turns in his directions. He looks over at you and Scars, and then towards the two creatures approaching. He evaluates the situation immediately, and points his sword forward at the monsters.

"Protect Scars!" The leader of the squad yells. The other six give a sharp call in confirmation, hoisting up their shields.

Armor shining orange off the fires, you watch as the seven guards advance forward in a rush. Trampling over splintered wood, their plated boots hit the ground hard and they cross the distance between you and the demons, hammering against the two violet monstrosities and pushing them back by the sheer weight of their bodies. The Elf guards work cohesively, covering each others blind spots and striking consecutively to try and keep the monsters on the defensive.

One of the creatures picks up one of the guards with both hands. The guard shouts in terror, swiping frantically at the monster's head, but to no avail. It hurls the poor Elf to the far corner of the room, smashing him against the wall. You flinch from the impact and think for a moment that the guard is dead, but moments later you hear him groan as he forces himself back on his feet. Your jaw drops as you see the same guard charge back into the fray, ignoring his wounds and that he was thrown more than twelve feet across a room. You think that you'll have to re-evaluate those weak-bodied Elves.

The battle escalates as Scars joins the other Elven blades. Calling out commands and directing the others to the creatures' weaknesses, the tendrils hanging off their head. The monsters flail and strike the guards, sending some of them flying like the one you saw before, but the tenacity of the Elves wins out. At the end, both monsters lie broken on the ground, tendrils cut, and two of the prison guards dead.

The other five gather around in a circle, bow their heads and mutter a prayer for the their fallen comrades. Amongst the wreckage of the room and the chaotic noises coming from above, they whisper. When it's over, Scars says quietly, "I'm sorry that you had to die for my sake."

"We're glad to have fought with you." The braided jailer speaks up. "Dying and fighting by your side is not something to regret. It is an honor."

With the ritual over, they turn back around to face you two. Several of the guards start to notice you and, despite what just happened, their glances wander over your body. As much as you want to tell them to stop, they did just rescue you and Scar from danger. Even so, watching them, watching you, brings back the memories of the gangbang and makes you shift uncomfortably. The half-elf notices the way you shy away from the guards and his eyes widen dramatically when it dawns on him what happened between you and them.

"Melena." Scars speaks out to you in a fierce tone, locking eyes with each Elf. "Did these guards **** you? Tell me honestly."

"...yes."

Scars blade flicks forward and stops a hairsbreadth away from the leader's throat.

"Apologize."

The guard swallows hard, his throat touching the edge of the sword and drawing a small line of blood. He licks his lips as he tries to formulate a response.

"Scars...we didn't think that-"

"Apologize!!" Scars eyes narrow dangerously.

His face turns pale, his lips ashen, and he turns to you in a jerky motion. "Forgive us, please!" The jailer says suddenly, lowering his head apologetically.

The other four turnkeys follow in suit, turning stiffly towards you and bowing low. "Forgive us!" They repeat in unison.

Looking at the five guards, prostrating themselves to you, bile rises in your mouth in utter disgust. To be honest, the prison **** wasn't exactly a terrible experience, just embarassing. But the event was the icing on the rancid, putrid cake that was the Elven, bigoted culture.

Because they're one of the oldest races and probably won some massive war thousands of years ago, they think they're superior to everyone else. Humans, dwarves, goblins, lizardmen, all of them are below their divine race. They claim the pinnacle of civilization, and yet they greedily accept slaves, contridicting their own noble birthright.

But then again, Scars came to save you. And they came to save Scars. And now they're apologizing to you, a human woman. A cultural precedent, you think. You think back to what you told Glaw so many days ago, that the world belongs to all of us, not just any one race. If you really plan on defeating the Demon overlord and his armies, you cannot do it alone.

Sighing in resignation, you say "Yes, I'll forgive you."

"Well then," Scars replies, glowering at the others, "Since you are so sorry," He points a finger at them. "All of you will take the lead. We're going to get out of here and you will clear a path for us. Melena and I will provide support in the rear. Do you understand?"

All the jailers bob their heads eagerly, apparently glad to have a way out of Scars wrath, even if it means throwing themselves at the enemy. The file up in front of you in a spearhead formation, shields and swords facing outwards. When they are standing firm and at attention, the half-elf looks over at you one last time to make sure you're behind him, where he asked you to be.

"Move!" Scars shouts, pushing the Elven guards forward towards the battle on the surface.