Thread: The Barbarian Queen [Pryde and Kolren]

The Makashi tribe was not known for their pleasantries, even when dealing with highborn. They certainly didn't treat the coming of the prince as any kind of royal visit. No, the huge camp buzzed with activity like it always did, nobody paying the prince any special attention. In fact, he was barely noticed, as he was lead through the grisly encampment. He was already just another slave, and a a male on at that, making him worth less than any member of the tribe, and even less worth than many of the slaves. Two large women escorted him, but they didn't seem to pay him any mind either. Fires were crackling, pots were brewing, axes were sharpened, and crates were carried back and forth by slaves, mostly male. The camp felt very much alive, like a bloated, black heart, beating to the rhythm of the daily routines. All of the women looked powerful, and many wore little clothing, exposing their toned, strong bodies. A few did take notice of him, and his fine princeling clothes and beautiful face. One tribeswoman, at least three times his size, stopped and grabbed his face. She held him by the cheeks, squeezing his face, mushing his lips into a duck-mouth. She seemed to ooze with sexuality, and licked her lips before she uttered something in a harsh, guttural speech. He appeared to have been the vocal point of a joke, because all around him the sisters laughed, even the guards who were leading him. One of the guards, however, snapped at the one who squeezed together the prince's cheeks, and the sister grimaced, but let go, and went on her way, after saying something else which caused yet more laughter. The guards pushed him onward, deeper into the camp. The further into the camp they got, the worse the smell became. To the prince's spoiled nostrils, it could perhaps compare to the smell of a full latrine on a hot day. The sisters of the tribe didn't seem bothered by it at all. They actually seemed to revel in the dirth and filth of their home. Their bodies, unwashed, grimy with sweat, their hair fatty and unkempt. It also seemed like they didn't have much respect for the men that were here. On one occasion, they passed three women ganging up on a thin, naked boy. They were pushed him into the mud as they laughed, hitting him and roughly grabbing his manhood. At the center of the camp, was the warlord's tent, which was huge compared to the rest. The stench was just as evident here, however, or perhaps even worse. He was pushed inside the tent, where Arannia, the Barbarian Warlord Queen, was waiting for him. At the time of their arrival, she appeared to be relaxing. She was in a state of undress, leather rags covering only one of her immense breasts. She was sucking on a meat bone when they came in. She spoke that guttural speech to the guards, and they left them, smirking to themselves. They knew what lay in store for the princeling. Welcome, she said. Her Common tongue was harsh, the consonants very hard, and the vocals slurred. To the tribe Makashi. The greatest tribe in the world. The greatest people in the world, she said, her voice grand and booming. She exuded an aura of strength, power, and charisma. She stood up, and walked over to him. He reached her only to her chest. Such a nice little lady your father has given me, she said, smiling down at him. She grabbed his face, her fingers grimy with fat from the meat bone, and turned his head this way and that, inspecting him. She seemed to like what she saw. Since you are a lady? You no look like a man, she said, grinning at him.