...He'd fought one to a standstill before a blow to the back of his head took him out of the battle. Now, seated with the rest of the male prisoners, he began to seek out the one he went toe-to-toe with.
Leading a trio of other females, all clad in chainmail hauberks, leather leggings, and faceplates, she came up to the group, and began to look the prisoners over. Roughly handling them to check for injuries, she paused at him. Though the slits in her helm, he saw a pair of red eyes peering back at him. She nodded, and he was unchained from the rest, only to be fitted with leg shackles and manacles. At the end of a few feet of chain, she lead him away from the rest.
'Lords,' he thought, 'what is to become of me? A slave in some mine? Food for some bestial captain?' His mind raced.
He looked back, and saw the women of the tree-top village being led away single-file in chains.
Minhane felt a coal of anger burn in his chest. Orcs were not known for keeping female prisoners alive for very long...
Minhane was thoroughly confused now. He'd been washed (rather roughly), fed, some shaman had performed a ritual over him, and now his hands and feet had been shackled to a wrought-iron bed inside one of the many tents the Orc army had set up. He was mildly thankful for the scratchy fur blanket that covered him, but was beginning to worry about his immediate fate. 'Did the Orcs not capture enough female prisoners?' he thought to himself, and began to become ...