<span style="font-weight: bold"> Johan </span><br/><br/>With a firm hold around Drojee's neck, it's easy enough for Johan to feel the orcish part of her heritage bubbling to the surface now and then. Every few seconds, he can feel her muscles tense, could feel her fighting to keep control of the urge to just turn around and stuff him right back down her throat. Of course, with all of her allies firmly 'dealt with', trying to do it would be suicidal. The orc part of her, however, seemed to care very little, and he can feel the internal conflict every bit as much as he can sense it.<br/><br/>What few struggles she DOES put up, though, are....decidedly pleasant. Though orcs tended to have slightly rougher skin, Drojee's was anything but - the more human (or whatever her other half was) side of her made her skin surprisingly soft and supple, perhaps not as much as a human or elvish woman, but a very close second. It was...distracting, to say the least, when he felt himself more than a few times rub up against the soft, fleshy curvature of her rear, just barely concealed beneath her thin clothing and piteous armor. Even more, he can feel her breasts bouncing lightly against the underside of his arm as he struggles to maintain his hold, the soft, cushy flesh no doubt padded by more than a handful of individuals just slightly less lucky than he had been.<br/><br/>Eventually, she seems to wrangle in the more 'violent' side of personality, her muscles finally growing lax. It gives ample opportunity to...'sample' his catch, a little nibble against her ear more than enough to get a hint of her flavor on his tongue. It was...pleasant. Far more pleasant than it should have been. There had always been some measure of fun in running his tongue along the smooth flesh or fur of another, but this was subtly different. It wasn't immediate sexual excitement he felt, but something different, something a bit more primal, a bit more...eager. As if on cue, his thoughts shifted - not of his own volition - to just how hungry he was, how many hours it had been since his last meal. Fighting was always hungry work, but now...he was ravenous. Was it the half-orc's flavor that had spurred such hunger...?<br/><br/>Surely not. It'd just been a long day.<br/><br/>Naji briefly lifts a brow, studying the strange look that crossed Johan's face. The light of the fading sun makes it a short look, though, and squinting her eyes, she turns away with a little smirk "You're right. Maybe I oughta pay her to hogtie you. After all, if anyone is gonna eat you, it's me." She said it so simply, so matter of factly. Even though he'd known the dark elf for quite some time, Johan still could not quite put his finger on just how serious she was. She had, after all, always let him out in the past....but, his little 'trips' had grown progressively longer. Not that her stomach was especially powerful by any means, but even she could digest someone, given enough time - and assuming they didn't fight hard enough to upset her seemingly rather delicate tummy. Mention of tying up the orc has Naji swinging off her pack, but when Cyria steps forward to offer her own services, Naji once more slings it back up onto her back, instead turning her attention to gathering up the coins and sellable equipment from the two that were quite soundly dead, blasted to bits by Alura's rifle "Well, if you have her covered, might as well pick out what we can and head into town. Don't want a random patrol happening upon this and asking questions. Not that they'd really care, given where they'd be coming from." Lips tight, Naji kneels over the pig-girl and starts rifling, removing everything that was still usable.<br/><br/>Though Johan's grip relaxes, Drodjee seems to realize she's soundly beat. Rather than lashing out when he finally lets go, she simply sinks down onto her knees, scowling at the group, and then casting an equally as venomous look in the direction 'Cheesy' had run off "Traitorous bitch. Leavin' us behind. Shoulda let her go in first. Natural selection my green--" Cyria's approach earns another harsh look from the half-orc woman, but again, she chooses not to lash out and make her bad situation any worse, and with a few quick wraps, Cyria is able to firmly tie her arms behind her back, the sticky webbing more than enough to keep her complacent and contained, at least for now "Nng. Bit tight, ain't it?" She complains stoically, affixing a decidedly unhappy gaze upon the drider when she scuttles back around to her front.<br/><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"> Cheesy </span><br/><br/>With noone giving pursuit, Cheesy is gone! The only one who managed to get away from the little, failed ambush!