Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

From the portal emerged a ragged figure, draped in a robe, adorned with injuries and a two-inch scar on his upper back.

It was Jaegar, disheveled from his endeavors in the crimson realm. Despite his weariness and wounds, he stood tall before Angelina, who looked at him with relief. A genuine smile graced her lips as she greeted him.

"I am back."

***

Somewhere distant from the civilized human lands, nestled within a vast mountain valley, lay an orc settlement. Its structures made of rough-hewn wood and stone blend seamlessly with the natural surroundings.

The valley echoed with the sounds of metal and other noises, their imposing figures revealing their raw strength and primal nature. With their green-tinted skin and menacing tusks jutting from their mouths, they presented a fearsome sight.

In the heart of this rustic settlement, where wooden huts stood firm against the elements, there resided an orc like no other. His face bore intricate markings that told tales of battles fought and challenges overcome.

He was a warrior among warriors, respected and admired by his kin for his courage and prowess in combat. His name was Grak'Gor, a name that sent shivers down the spines of those who had witnessed his might on the battlefield.

Inside his humble wooden hut, Grak'Gor was butt naked as he was holding a woman by her waist, gripping her tightly. He almost squeezed her waist as his hands wrapped around her waist.

He humped his giant into her hole, which now stretched around his long, thick shaft.

She whimpered, and writhed, letting out cries of pain. Her eyes rolled up, tears falling down her cheeks as she endured the forceful thrusts. Grak'Gor's expression remained stoic, unaffected by her suffering, as he continued to dominate her with his raw power.

The room was filled with a mix of agony and pleasure, creating an unsettling atmosphere that showcased the true nature of Grak'Gor's dominance in combat and intimacy alike.

Grak'Gor, fueled by his primal instincts, paid no heed to her pleas and continued his relentless assault. The room filled with her moans and cries for help as Grak'Gor's dominance overpowered any resistance she could muster.

After a few more thrusts, he released an ample amount of his liquids, enough to drench her in them.

Then, throwing the woman aside, he got up. That woman was lying unconscious. Grak'Gor stood tall, his chest heaving with the satisfaction of his conquest. The room fell silent, save for the sound of the woman's shallow breaths, as Grak'Gor basked in his victorious dominance.

He wrapped a cloth around his waist and walked towards the exit, leaving the woman behind, still unconscious and covered in his fluids. Grak'Gor's presence lingered in the room.

Grak'Gor emerged from his dwelling, meeting with his loyal warriors, who were eagerly awaiting his command. With a determined expression, he inquired, "Have we completed all the preparations?" The response came swiftly from one of the orcs, "Yes, Chieftain, everything is ready."

Grak'Gor surveyed the bustling activity around him, the sense of purpose palpable in the air. "This time," he declared, "we need to strike at the humans with swift and decisive force. Those wimpy mutts won't know what hit them!" A cunning glint sparkled in his eyes, revealing a strategic mind eager to outmaneuver their adversaries.

One of the orcs voiced a concern, "But Chieftain, we've heard that a man is coming. His presence may hinder our plans." Grak'Gor's brows furrowed, irritation evident in his voice. "That darned prince! Why can't he just stay in his home?"

He took a moment to collect his thoughts before asserting with unshakable resolve, "No matter what obstacles come our way, we are not backing down. We have fought too long and too hard to let anything stand in our path."

Then all of them were dispersed, and Grak'gor walked inside and continued his activity from earlier.

Unbeknownst to the orcs, Angus, accompanied by his forces, was riding swiftly toward their camp. As they approached, Angus led his men, landing right in the heart of the settlement. The orcs were taken by surprise as shouts of alarm filled the air, and Grak'Gor was jolted out of his momentary satisfaction.

He hurriedly exited his dwelling to witness the arrival of Angus and his formidable legion mounted on laigurs. The camp was now surrounded, leaving the orcs with little room to maneuver.

Angus landed right in front of the Grak'gor residence. He got down from his mount.

With an amused expression, Angus strode confidently towards Grak'Gor, their eyes locking in a moment of intense confrontation.

"Hello, Chieftain," Angus said, greeting him in a tone that carried both authority and amusement. "I have been meaning to meet you for a while."

Grak'Gor's expression darkened, realizing that the man they had discussed earlier was none other than Angus himself.

Chaos erupted as the orcs, fiercely loyal to their chieftain, clashed against the powerful wizards. The battle was fierce and relentless, as both sides fought with unwavering determination.

Angus, displaying his mastery over the arcane, lifted his hand, exerting a powerful force that restrained the mighty Grak'Gor. The chieftain found himself immobilized, unable to break free from Angus's magical grip.

With measured steps, Angus closed the distance between them, his gaze locked onto Grak'Gor's. "I've heard that you like to torture humans," Angus remarked coolly. "Is it true?" His words were charged with a mixture of curiosity and accusation.

As the chaos continued to unfold around them, cries for help and the crackling of flames filled the air.

The clash between them, the clang of armor, and the roars of orcs filled the valley with an atmosphere of turmoil and desperation.