Stranger in the desert

Malgor opened his eyes and blinked at a bright blue sky and a powerful, blinding sun. He shifted around and felt sand underneath him. It wasn't soft sand like that on the beach. It was harsh and coarse sand, scratching at his bare back. He felt heat shining down on him, almost sizzling his skin. He sat up and checked his surroundings.

He was in the middle of a desert, there was no doubt about it. There were sand dunes all around him and far over the horizon. The only thing that disturbed the sameness of the landscape was a small island of orange rock amidst the sea of sand. Malgor got up, feeling his bare feet touch the ground. He looked down at himself. He appeared to be only wearing a fur belt over leather pants.

"So, I'm to play these games too," he said to himself.

Malgor's brow dipped to his eyes, his frustrations growing. He was fully ready to continue on as he was, waiting for girls to be sent to his room and watching how they fell apart from the comfort of his tower. Being disrupted like this was perturbing to say the least. And that didn't account for the power held over him. These gamemasters that could change his attire in an instant and drop him in another world could not be taken lightly. Malgor had not encountered a being more powerful than him for a long time. He wondered if his dignity as a dark lord would continue to let him play the game like this, to give up control regardless if it were to his benefit.

For now, he had ****. He knew there was no way out unless the challenge was completed. He would resolve to find the girls as swiftly as he could so he could return back to the resort. But something dawned on him: he didn't even know the extent of his own power here. Helga said that they had gotten rid of their magic. Was his strength sapped as well? Concerned, Malgor walked across the dunes to the island of rock he had spotted earlier. Once he arrived, he clenched a fist ready to punch the rock and test his might. He hesitated, worried what the result would be, if he would foolishly break his hand on the stone. He growled, ashamed that he would even think of such a thing. He knew he'd never do it if he kept on doubting, so he swung his fist with full **** into the rock.

Luckily, as soon as his knuckles made contact, the boulder shattered under the might of his strike. Bits of stone flew across the sand and dust rose in the air. Malgor breathed a sigh of relief. His power was not fully gone. He then felt a slight pain in his fist. He looked at it and saw that the skin of his knuckles were scratched a bit. The slightest trickle of blood dripped from his hand. He stretched his fingers out, feeling the cuts wax and wane under his movements. It'd been a very long time since he had bled to something so minor.

He looked around. Even with his strength intact, the prospects looked grim. There was nothing but sand in every direction. There were no landmarks, signs of life, or other indications of where the girls might be. His only bet would be picking a direction and walking, but that could unknowingly lead him further away from his quarry. He fumed under the blazing sun, trying to think of the best way forward and coming up with no good answers.

"Speak your name!" said a voice.

Malgor was caught surprised by a voice in the middle of nowhere. He turned around and was even more shocked at what he saw. A woman stood there with a sword sheathed at her side. She wore leather armor that looked more like a bikini and her black hair was braided to the side. But most apparent, her skin was green. She looked like an orc. A female orc. But there was no such thing as female orcs, Malgor thought. He would know because he was the master of their race back in the land of shadows.

"Speak up stranger, so I may know your intent!" said the orc girl.

"That is no way to introduce oneself," said Malgor, "Tell me your name if you wish to know mine."

"Hmpf," said the orc, "I am not ashamed of my name. I am Yara or the Copperblood tribe! A traveler in these lands. Now speak your name and your purpose!"

Malgor might've felt provoked by the sudden confrontation, but he was honestly glad to be conversing with anyone from this world, especially since he had only moments ago been mentally preparing himself to be walking alone in the desert for days. And a woman as intriguing as a female orc warranted some attention from him. He also knew this would be his best chance at getting some help in this unknown place.

"I am Malgor," he said, "I seek six girls. They are mine and I must have them to return to where I was before."

"I see," said Yara, "Then I have ****."

Without much warning, the orc girl named Yara grabbed a small axe from her belt and hurled it at Malgor. Malgor was fast enough to catch it by its blade. The sharp edge did not slice deep into his palm, but left a small trickle of blood running down his wrist as he gripped the blade. He looked up to the girl who now drew a sword.

"I now know you are a ****-seeker of the devil queen's cult," said Yara, "And I am sworn to destroy all of you!"

The orc girl rushed down the dune, her sword raised high above her head. A battle cry rang out through the desert as she came at Malgor, ready to bring her blade upon him. He didn't have time to think about why she was suddenly attacking him. He had to act. He took the axe he had caught by the handle and threw it back at the girl. She leaned backwards, nimbly dodging the axe and letting it fly over her, hitting the sand behind her. She then continued her ****, reaching Malgor and swinging her blade. Malgor instinctively swung his hands forward and grabbed the sword in both of his hands. Yara snarled as she pushed the blade against his grip. More blood flowed down his arms. Malgor felt the metal cutting into his hands, its coldness sinking into his skin. It didn't hurt too much and it seemed that his flesh was too tough to cut through completely even with the full **** of a slice, but the pain and the blood came so easily without his armor. It had been so long since Malgor had fought through pain and blood like this. Since he fought for his life. It was intoxicating.

Malgor clenched his teeth and wrenched his arms. He bent the sword in his grasp, ignoring the pain as it sliced his hands more and more. Soon, the metal gave out and snapped in half. Yara yelled and fell back, shocked at her weapon being broken by bare hands. She slammed down onto the sands below as Malgor stood there, red dripping from his arms. He dropped the broken blade and looked at his bloodied hands, the result of this test of strength. He felt more alive than he had ever been even during his conquests. He smiled. Yara growled and got to her feet again.

"That blade should've cut your hands from your wicked arms," said Yara, "What sorcery allows you to break metal with nothing but your flesh?"

"No sorcery," said Malgor, "It is my power alone. I am the dark lord of another world. And you have stoked my battle fire. Even if you run now, I'll chase you down until my bloodlust is sated."

"I will not run," said Yara, "I do not care how strong you are. I am sworn to bring you down!"

Yara drew a knife from behind her belt. She held it out in a battle stance, ready for another round. Malgor took his own stance, his smile growing more manic. He was excited to fight, to feel blood rush through his body as he defended himself and conquered an enemy. He was having fun.

Yara ran at Malgor and slashed at him with the knife. Malgor dodged backwards, evading each strike she made. It was strange for him, having to dodge attacks. He hadn't had to do that for a long time. The thought of each strike bringing actual harm to him, that each move he made was one that truly brought him out of harms way, was exhilarating. She went for a stab, but Malgor moved to the side and grabbed her arm. He then twisted her wrist, causing her to cry out in pain and drop the knife. He then delivered a heavy kick to her torso and sent her flying back. This time, he pursued her as she fell down.

But Yara was ready this time. As he approached, she kicked his knee, causing him to stagger slightly. She took advantage and got to her feet, delivering a punch to his stomach. Malgor reeled over from the blow, but he then realized that it didn't hurt nearly as much as the blade did. She then delivered a punch to his head. He didn't even try to defend himself. The blow connected and his face turned with it, but he immediately turned his face back with a smile planted on it. Yara looked at him in shock, knowing that she had put full effort into that punch. She punched him in the face again. The same result. Then again and again and again. With each strike his smile grew wider as it became clear that without a weapon there was almost nothing she could do to him. Finally Yara stopped. She had struck him enough times that it became clear to her what was happening. He was toying with her.

As she hesitated, Malgor swung his head back and slammed it into Yara's, headbutting her so hard that she was sent back down onto the desert sands. This time her back ached from the impact and she couldn't recover immediately. As she writhed and groaned, Malgor jumped on top of her, grabbing the knife that she dropped and hoisting it up in his hand, ready to finish her off with one piercing blow. But then he stopped. He saw her struggling on the ground and looking up at him, her eyes filled with dread. She believed her life was over now, that it belonged to him. The feeling was familiar. It was the same feeling he felt whenever he took one of the girls to bed. Bloodlust gave way to arousal. His cock even began to harden in his pants. Suddenly, he did not wish to end the life of this warrior. He chuckled to himself, realizing the games were starting to change him as well. He tossed the knife away.

"What are you doing?" said Yara, "Are you not going to finish me?"

"Is that what you want, orc?" said Malgor.

Yara didn't respond, instead meeting his eyes with a warm gaze. Before either could say anything, the sound of something approaching over the dune rang through the hot desert air. Malgor and Yara looked towards the source. Over the dune came a group of three men, each riding giant lizards. The mounts skidded across the sands with ease and the men hooted and hollered as they saw Malgor sitting atop Yara. They rode up to them and dismounted their lizards before approaching. They each wore leather outfits, shirtless except for leather straps over their shoulders. Each one was armed with scimitars and spears. They smiled arrogantly as they reached the two.

"Look what we have here!" said one man, "A couple of lovebirds in the desert! Wouldn't call this the most romantic spot, but hey!"

"Good finds," said another, "The man looks strong, and the woman isn't half bad!"

"Who are you?" asked Yara, "What business do you have in the desert?'

"We could ask you the same thing," said the first man, "Luckily, our business here is the same as yours. Or should I say, our business is you."

The man pulled an amulet that was hidden behind his leather strap. It was the symbol of a blank head with two great horns protruding from it. The sight of it made Yara's eyes go blind with rage.

"Devil queen slavers!" said Yara before looking back to Malgor, "But you... you aren't one of..."

"Grab them both," said the man, "We can sell the man to a mine somewhere. The girl can be sold to some nobleman's harem."

"You sure we shouldn't give her straight to the devil queen?" said another man.

"The devil queen doesn't like the greenskins," said the first man, "She says they're dirty. But there are paying customers with more exotic tastes than our mistress has."

"Wouldn't exactly call it 'exotic'," said the other man, "Any man can see she's quite the beauty."

Malgor got up off of Yara, standing tall to face the men. The men noticed and simply laughed, amused that an unarmed man might try and fight them. It was another feeling Malgor wasn't used to: not being immediately recognized and feared. Like the pain, it was refreshing. How long had it been since he had worked to put fear into another living being? How long since he had been able to surprise another with his power? He smiled, knowing that these men had no idea what they were facing. The first man drew his scimitar.

"The mines need your arms, not your legs," said the man, "You try anything funny, I take one of them off."

"That would be most unfortunate, wouldn't it?" Malgor said.

He smiled, and the men laughed. Malgor started laughing with them. Yara stared with abject confusion at the whole scene, how Malgor could be so casual with slavers who threatened his well being.

"Ah, you're a funny one," said the man, "We'd keep you to work our own mines if only..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Malgor had walked right up to him and plunged his hand into his chest. Blood surged from the great wound and painted the sands below them. The other men recoiled in horror as the man screamed. Malgor lifted him into the air, gripping onto the hole he made in his torso.

"The fuck!" said the man, "How is that...!"

Malgor pulled his hand out of his chest and ripped the beating heart directly from it. The man's body fell to the ground, folding over itself into a bloody mess, shaking and convulsing as life left it. Malgor held onto the man's heart as it slowly stopped beating. He then closed his fingers and crushed it, squishing it into a formless pile of meat. He dropped the remains to the floor and breathed in like he was savoring the smell of the blood. The two remaining men got over their shock and drew their spears.

"Forget the mines!" said one man, "Kill that monster!"

That man then charged at Malgor with the spear. Malgor grasped it by the wooden shaft below the point. Even with one hand, his grip was so strong that the man was stopped in his tracks and couldn't move his weapon at all. Malgor then twisted his wrist and snapped the spear in two. Holding the piece of the spear with the blade on it, he then turned it around and rammed it into the stomach of the man before he could even comprehend what had happened to his weapon. He keeled over and coughed up blood as his guts spilled from his wound.

The last man was visibly terrified, but he tried to take advantage of his fellow's **** by running with his spear aimed at Malgor's turned back. But from out of sight, Yara lunged up from the ground and stabbed the man in the thigh with the knife Malgor had tossed aside. The man's screams caught Malgor's attention. He turned to see Yara pull the man down to the ground and stab him repeatedly up his body until finally sinking her blade into his neck and pulling it out, letting blood gush from his throat. The red splattered onto her green face in a way Malgor couldn't help but find aesthetic.

As Malgor was distracted, the man he had stabbed with his own spear was crawling away, holding his wound to keep any more organs from falling out as he weakly tried to get back to his mount. He moaned and choked on blood as he feebly pulled himself across hot sand. Both Malgor and Yara saw him. Yara pulled the scimitar from the belt of the man she had killed and made her way over to the crawling man. Malgor didn't interfere. He simply went to the first man he killed and pried the scimitar from his hands. He wanted a weapon for when Yara was done with whatever she wanted to do. He then simply crossed his arms and watched. Yara reached the crawling man before he could make it to his lizard. She grabbed his head and pulled him to his knees.

"No, please!" he yelled, "I'll speak in your favor to the devil queen! She'll reward you if you let me live!"

Yara said nothing and instead brought the scimitar to his neck and sliced right through. His body fell to the ground as Yara lifted up his severed head. She held it triumphantly against the backdrop of the blistering sun. She then spat on the head and tossed it away, letting it roll down a dune and into the pit of the desert. She then turned to face Malgor again. Thinking their fight would continue, Malgor lifted his own scimitar and approached. However, Yara responded by holding her hand up in a pleading gesture.

"Wait," said Yara, "You're not with them?"

"I thought that was fairly obvious from the way I disemboweled them," said Malgor.

"Then why are you looking for girls?" said Yara, "That is something only devil queen slavers do!"

"I told you, I need them to return to the world I came from," said Malgor.

"So you spoke the truth then," said Yara, "You are from another land and your strength is no mere sorcery."

"Indeed," said Malgor, "Now, it has been a long time since I've had a fight quite like this. The blood is still running hot in me. So tell me right now if you're going to fight me or not!"

Yara looked down for a moment, contemplating. She then sheathed her scimitar.

"I no longer wish to fight you," said Yara, "I care not for your goals or your plans for these women you seek. All I care about are the followers of the devil queen, and you are not one."

Malgor was slightly surprised. He was sure the orc girl had some pride in her that would've kept her fighting no matter what, but that seemed not to be the case. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not. He certainly wished to fight some more, but on the other hand, he had already realized that he did not wish to kill this oddly beautiful orc. He sheathed his blade.

"Very well then," said Malgor, "If you won't hinder me, aid me. I need to find these girls. I do not know where they could be. Is there a city around here?"

"There is the city of Ardaan-kel," said Yara, "It's a day's walk from here in that direction."

Yara pointed out to the desert. Malgor looked in the direction. Though he saw no signs of civilization, he had no other leads to go off of. Besides, he had no reason to believe this woman would lead him astray so casually.

"Very well," said Malgor, "I should head there. I expect that the girls will try and find their own way to the nearest city as well. Perhaps we will find each other there."

Without too much hesitation, Malgor began to walk towards the city.

"Wait!" said Yara.

Malgor stopped and turned back to the orc girl.

"Ardaan-kel is my destination as well," said Yara, "There lives the devil queen herself, leader of the slavers. The one I'm sworn to kill. They are the ones who attacked you here. Perhaps you are looking for some payback."

"What are you suggesting?" said Malgor.

"Let us accompany each other," said Yara, "Help me kill the devil queen and in turn have some vengeance for yourself. And if you wish it, I can help you find these girls of yours too. We aid each other. It would only be fair."

Malgor considered this alliance, one with someone who not moments ago was trying to kill him. He didn't feel like she was lying. If anything, her words were blunt like stone, making no attempts to hide anything. Even when she intended to end his life, she said so in words as clear as glass. If anything else, he wouldn't mind more excuses to fight in this world.

"I'll accept it," said Malgor, "Killing these cultists should prove trivial yet entertaining."

"It is entertaining, believe me," said Yara.

"But come now," said Malgor, "We must make it to the city posthaste. Perhaps we can use these lizards our attackers rode."

"The riding lizards?" said Yara, "Your land, or world as you call it, must be far from here. It might as well be another world. Riding lizards are very aggressive. They don't let anyone but their bonded riders mount them. However, they will make excellent meat for the journey."

Yara drew her sword again and approached the lizards. Malgor watched casually as Yara lifted it, ready to hack the creatures to pieces. He couldn't help but smile a bit, a little impressed by her gumption.