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[i]Sashla stood motionless on a rock on the empty plain. Blood trickled from her knee in branching paths, and her torn robes danced in the wind like banners on a pole. He held in her hands a necklace - the only remains of her mother. At the roots of the tower of smoke splitting the endless horizon in two, the smoulders of her home village surrendered themselves to a settling cloud of ash and dust. Her elven eyes were not strong enough to make out details, but in the centre was the unquestionable shape which had heralded the tide of doom for her people:

Druzhik Maneshaver.[/i]
[hr]
“Those are some beautiful locks you have.” An ever-young man, hair like gold flowing over long, sharp ears, glared daggers into the flesh of his adversary. A tough, leathery hand held him by a fistful of those golden strands, one not even his elven strength could best. Its owner, a bald, ox-horned centaur with bloodshot eyes, brought the hair closer to his nose and gave it a deep whiff. The man struggled against the perverse beast.

“Unhand me, you animal!”

“Ah…” whispered the blissful creature. “You must bathe regularly. An impressive feat out here in the grasslands…” He lowered himself to eye-level with the man. “You know what happens now, don’t you?”

The man grit his teeth together. “I… I will rip your disgusting, fungus-ridden tongue out–!” All around the two, a rocking choir of laughter rang out and hooves clapped to the ground. The man withered briefly. The Maneshaver grinned mockingly and stuck his tongue out. 

“Heeh! Go a’eah! Guh ih ou’!” After seeing nothing but a fading scowl from the elf, the Maneshaver sucked his tongue back in to the sound of more laughter. “See, this is why I don’t like your kind. You’re just so…” He snapped his fingers searchingly. “... Well, you just don’t know when to quit, you know?” He gestured to the charred ruins and several corpses around them. Groups and lines of prisoners tied with simple rope intermittently appeared in between walls of centaur slavers. “I didn’t -have- to kill and enslave all of you. You could’ve just paid up as I asked.” A mighty hand extended to accept an obsidian knife while the other lifted the elf by the hair. “And yet, you always resist… Always, always, always.” 

“You… Horsefucker…!”

“Don’t bring Aslimor into this!” The Maneshaver sighed. “Honestly, I almost don’t feel like punishing you.” A brief pause. “... Longlegs, what are your thoughts?”

An imposing mare answered sharply: “Grind him into the grass, I say!”

The Maneshaver nodded. “Towfur?”

A blonde stallion tugged at a link of ten slaves and kicked up a front leg. “INTO THE GRASS!”

The Maneshaver nodded again. “Mossnibbler?”

A black-spotted white mare with great horns rubbed her chin pensively. “The grass is thirsty at this time of year. It would do good with some moisture.”

Yet again, the Maneshaver nodded appreciatively at the advice. “And you, my dear lieutenant?”

A mountain of muscle, bulbous from hoof to halo and crowned with a forest of antlers, huffed like a bull in heat. “He insulted me by name. I will peel off his skin with my nails and use it for rope; I will grind his bones into meal and use it for facepaint; I will plant tree seeds in his organs and bury them, then chop down the trees that grow from them and use them for firewood. All this I will do, or my name isn’t Aslimor Horsefucker.”

The Maneshaver nodded one last time. “My bloodsworn have spoken. You now know what fate awaits you, little man.” He then brandished the knife in front of his eyes. “... But first, I will have my way with you…”

Before the man could reply, an unspeakable pain sliced into the top of his forehead, slowly and coarsely making its way along his entire scalp, far down his neck.

[hider=Summary]
A super short post! Here we meet the centaur band led by Druzhik Maneshaver as they fuck over an elven village in the grasslands. Confronted by the village chief, the Maneshaver contemplates what to do with him. His bloodsworn companions, Longlegs, Towfur, Mossnibbler and Horsefucker all agree that he should be ground into the ground. Maneshaver agrees, but not before scalping the everliving fuck out of him.
[/hider]