The Eyes of the Night #01

The alleys of the GreenWood slums exuded a stifling atmosphere, saturated with acrid smells and languorous murmurs. A lawless zone, a territory shaped by unfulfilled desires and the total absence of authority. Here, Borz reigned supreme, his imposing shadow silhouetted against the pale glow of the flickering neon lights.

The hybrid orc advanced with a slow and assured step, his massive silhouette digging a respectful trail among the Tharians and humans seeking forbidden thrills. His green skin, marked by the tattoos snaking along his powerful arms, gleamed under the artificial lighting. Borz carried the scent of danger, a raw and untamable aura, reinforced by his Lykaon ancestry. His hairy body betrayed the beast within him, the one he tried to chain every full moon night, fighting against the curse imposed by E.G.G. Corp.’s experiments.

At his side, Boros, the scarred minotaur, accompanied him in silence. His massive build rivaled that of his leader, and his scars told stories of fierce battles and insubordination. He walked half-back, his dark gaze scanning the environment, weighing the wandering souls that haunted the district’s alleys. His imposing presence was enough to maintain order in this organized chaos, a brute force ready to unleash itself at the slightest sign of disrespect.

The duo’s passage attracted glances, some filled with fear, others with envy. Bodies intermingled in the shadows, hoarse breaths rose between the gaps of the dilapidated buildings. The streets echoed with muffled moans, dense and humid exchanges, and gurgling noises.

Borz savored this spectacle silently, his eyes piercing the darkness, capturing the slightest tremors of this nocturnal fauna. He himself was not insensitive to this atmosphere, and he could feel the latent excitement running under his skin, a familiar tension that was just waiting to be released.

Boros, more reserved, tried to contain his confusion. His gaze lingered on a scene that captivated his attention, a shiver running down his spine: in front of him, a rather well-built human, sporting a belly stretched to its limits, filled with the seed of his long-gone partner.

Boros watches the human moan, trying to expel this abundant seed gurgling in his intestines. This vision excites the minotaur, whose shape of his cock, molded under his pants, leaves no doubt of what he desires.

Observing the minotaur, Borz sketched a wry smile, he knew his right arm too well not to detect the fleeting glimmers of desire that set his gaze ablaze.

For his part, the hybrid admired the antics of an orc brutally manipulating the frail body gorged with Orkspire of a human whose pregnant belly sloshes with each thrust of his partner's hips.

Borz's products circulated in the darkness of the alleys, exchanged for money or favors. Orkspire, this powerful aphrodisiac stolen from the laboratories of E.G.G. Corp, had elevated him to the rank of king in this empire of pleasure, offering those who dared to succumb to his temptations nights of ecstasy beyond the ordinary. This black market of desire guaranteed him unchallenged power, a domination that extended far beyond the walls of the slums.

Yet, beneath this façade of excess and power, a deep anger boiled within him. The burden of his heritage, the taint of his Orc blood, the loss of control during the nights of the full moon, and the visceral hatred he felt towards those who had made him suffer… all this weighed on his shoulders in a menacing silence, feeding a ferocious rage towards those who had shaped him this way. Without Boros at his side, perhaps Borz would have already given in to pure savagery. But he was not a beast. Not yet.

Tonight, the city was his. Tonight, he would subdue it, as he had always subdued all those who stood in his way.

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This work will be available in the January package (Level 2/3/4) at the end of January.