Taa, Whisperer of Grum'tak

The surviving members of Taa's family were so proud. His older brother hosted a party that lasted three nights, the satyr's older sister auctioned herself off as a for a week and donated the money to the temple and his mother went next door to fuck master Rae and his son Alfred.

Petrified, Taa was thinking of running away.

It was the last day at the temple, along with a dozen other young satyr Taa had been competing manditory service, cleaning, cooking food for the parties and crushing grapes into wine. It was a clumsy accident. His hoof caught on a tile, it came loose, slipped down the stairs, gathered momentum and crashed into a statue of Grum'tak. Taa could have died of embarrassment and shame when the statue toppled over and smashed.

Then came the flames. Green flames burst from the remains of the stone god, flickered brightly for a minute and then died. Dozens of people had seen.

The high priest waisted no time in appointing the young goatman "Whisperer of Grum'tak". There hadn't been one in generations. And now Taa had some sort of formal role in the temple he didn't even understand.

He didn't want this. Responsibility, no thanks. Decisions to make, not for him. Judgement, yuck.

Fang! What sort of name was Fang! She was a half-orc who was about to walk into Taa's "office" in the temple. Half-orc-what? Half satyr? Did that happen? He'd been told she'd have a problem and he'd need to solve it.

Taa was already bored waiting for Fang. He'd pushed both chairs and the table the low priests had left into the room into the corner. He'd made a pile of cushions in the middle of the room. That was more comfortable. He'd sampled from each of the five jugs of wine in the room. He'd trotted back and forth until he couldn't bare the sound of hooves on the tiles any more.

Finally the door opened! Fang was half orc and half human. It was easy to tell. She was about six feet tall, a bit taller than Taa, and a lovely green colour that reminded him of fields. The half-orc was thin and wearing adventuring gear, or what was left of it as it looked like she has been fighting, with simple breeches clinging tightly to her shapely legs, a bodice, boots, weapons, a bandana around her and probably loads more on underneath. Crazy. Taa wore nothing and thought himself better off for it.

"I petition for safe passage!" Fang blurted out, slamming the door behind her.

The question was just as confusing as he had feared. What did it even mean. "Passage?" Taa repeated the word carefully.

"Yes! For myself and the exiles. No, wait!" Fang hung her head, took a breath and said, "If you allow the exiles to pass through safely then I'll surrender myself to your dark rituals!"

This made no sense. "Dark rituals?" Taa asked only to receive a nod in response.

At least she was pretty. Her bodice had been torn in her fight and Taa could see a lot of flesh. Orcs had great stamina, right?

"What was that?" Fang asked, "I couldn't hear you..."

Taa blinked. He had said something, hadn't he? He couldn't remember what it was. His cock was hard. He must have been thinking about Fang's tits rather than listening.

The half-orc's eyes were wide open, her mouth agape as she stared at his eight inch shaft.

Awkwardly, she edged closer, "I... I... Maybe? Um? You're whispering?"

Oh, thought Taa, the Whisperer of Grum'tak; this is how it starts.