The Rise of a New Ruler
A story about a futa orc in a DND world
Chapter 1
by 
Firstup
Sorry, though this died
As Zerthrie walks out of the tent, her met outside; it was obvious what happened there. Even though her brother was the chief of the tribe, he had to do what he did.
Zerthrie-"That fucking cunt, he knows that when I get drunk, I can't control myself; it's his fault for not keeping a better eye on me."
As she keeps talking, her words slowly fall into mumbles as she looks down at the ground, not even making eye contact with her . Zerthrie is a futa orc who has done nothing with her life; she has been spoon-fed from her father as his favorite child and so hasn't taken up a single responsibility, so when the time came for her father and the tribe had to choose a new chief, her brother was the obvious choice.
Her was a captured elf, he... she, it's always so hard to tell, was wearing the clothes given by Zerthrie when she first caught it. The clothes consisted of a corset, a cloak, and a chastity belt covered by a kilt made from old fabrics. All of this made it so other orcs wouldn't get any ideas of touching it, and even with the threats from her father now silenced, most orcs were too busy to do anything, something was happening that Zerthrie didn't know about. _' That's a first' _Zerthrie thought.
As Zerthrie and her walked down the row of tents, she couldn't help but think of what brought her to this moment.
Two days ago, Zerthrie's father was on his bed; the gods above came down. They fought him in one to one combat. Still, after almost killing the god of war, the gods got angry and threw dirt in his eyes and stabbed him with a poisoned blow, Though behind closed doors, the truth was that he has been sick for a while, the story has been going around for a time to stop others from taking his place while he laid in bed. Today was worse than the previous days. It seems that a batch of lousy grog will be the end of him. One of the chief's guards calls Zethire into her father's tent. All she could do was watch as her father finished talking to her brother. He stood up and walked out; he was the most orc looking orc out of the entire tribe. He wore furs from the countless hunts that he has been on, his muscles looked and felt like rocks from the endless battles that Gnorth won, and he walked straight to the throne tent.
Zerthrie went to her father's side and looked at him; to even think of What may happen to her father drove tears into her eyes. With the last of his strength, he whispered to her. "I'm sorry, I should have been a better father and thought you how to be a chief." With that, he left her alone, and only with the complete silence of the guards who show no emotion, she is left to her thoughts. _' He made Gnorth chief... I need a barrel of grog.' _She left the royal guards to attend to the funeral arrangements; was a daily occurrence in her tribe, between the wars with men, elves, and dwarfs that travel in their lands, orcs with battle scars and missing limbs were everywhere. However, there is no better glory then dying from combat, so they don't accept help, and since the chief died from "combat," he will be treated like the rest, burned, and the ashes and bones used to turn iron into weak steel. Zerthrie immediately walked to the nearest bar tent to start the first of many drinks.
As time went on, everyone waited for the steel made from the last chief to be forged into a sword; Zerthrie took the time to get as drunk as possible as Gnorth worked as a pre chief, slowly being brought up to speed on all that he needs to know before he is made the new leader. However, for the time, the tribe stayed silent as they mourned. When the sword was finished, it was hands down one of the best blades that the tribe has ever produced, it was soon brought to Gnorth, and the cheifing ceremony started and ended without Zethrie, who was too busy drinking. However, when she heard about a celebration with EVEN MORE GROG, she couldn't be stopped, after that her memory blacked out, and she woke up in chains in front of Gnorth sitting on the Cheif's throne.
Gnorth- "Where is the sword?"
Zethire- "What?
G- "Last night you took the sword and ran around hacking at anything you could find, thank the gods that you can't weld a sword like you can handle booze or we would all be dead, I want that sword, and if you get it I'll forget the rest you did."
Z- "Wha... I don't even remember leaving the table at your ceremony. What else did I do?"
G- "You stole my sword, ran to the cells where we keep all of our unsold slaves, and them. We are still cleaning the floors."
Z- A blush comes over her face as forces the memory back to her mind to no avail; nothing of the night is coming back to her. "I'm... I'm sorry, but you know that I get horny when drunk. You should have kept an eye on me like you always do."
G- "I don't have time to do that anymore, I'm the chief, and you are simply dead weight; if you give me back the sword, then I'll forgive the swings at me that you took, and you can work with the slaver to earn back the money that you stole when you popped all of the 's cherries."
Z- "I don't know where it is... and even if I did, I wouldn't work. I'm your sister. Make this go away!"
G- "I can't do that; my first order cant be one that is to cover up embarrassment; I have no other option to exile you. Though you will maintain your status as my sister, you can never come back though you will not be attacked by us as long as you stay peaceful and quiet, now leave before I come to my senses and kill you as I should."
She knows that if she stayed around that, he would follow through with his promise, so with a head hung low, Zethrie walks out of the tent, only to be met by the only she didn't .
Zethire was given two weeks' provisions, a map of the general area, some books that they stole as reading material or toilet paper, and her . The rest was things she owned, like a set of unused light armor and some camping supplies. With it, all packed onto her 's back, she walked to a nearby camping grounds that only she knew about, and after a day of walking, she arrived to find her only means to defend herself, her brother's sword, the one with her father fused inside of it.
Firstup here, this is my first story, and I want it to be a mix of smut and story. There will be sex scenes and such, and I'm happy to pander to more taboo kinks, though only with the audience's desire to do so. Here is the first straw poll.