Justice?

The queen's executioner is a monstrous orc, it's whispered he's responsible for all the disappearances in the villages that surround the capital. As he strides onto the sands of the arena, barely-restrained violence evident in his every step, my admiration for my sisters at the border grows. They have to regularly fight the barbaric creatures, see them as nature intended. I can feel myself shiver as the orc approaches, the dulled sword I was given a very pale imitation of the weapon he has. It has a blade that looks like it'd be as tall as I am and is made of black iron, the material deadly to us elves.

I half-turn as I hear shouting behind me, orders being passed from person to person, and am roughly shoved forward, the gates swinging open just before I'd have hit them. The orc moves to watch as I stagger out, I quail under his intense glare and bring my sword up into a pitiful guard. I glance at the queen, sitting high above us and surrounded by her private guard, but she is expressionless, no hint of her thoughts on her sculpted face.

With a bellow the orc charges, his sword held over his head, and for an instant I'm frozen in shock, life flashing before my eyes. At the last second I recover enough to leap aside, his blade scythes through the elf behind me and cuts her in two. I climb to my feet as the orc spins, two more elves die in what seems like seconds and their headless bodies twitch on the sand as blood spreads beneath them.

There are four of us left, four condemned by the queen. The orc is enjoying his sport, finds it exciting. His formidable length hardens as he chops and thrusts, as he whittles our number down until there's just two of us. The other elf drops to her knees, she begs right up to the moment the orc lifts her off the ground with his blade in her belly.

He leaves the sword in her when he turns to me. A cruel grin is on his face, a meaty paw closes around the blade of my own sword and effortlessly pulls it from my grip. I stagger when he backhands me, it's like hitting a wall, and then trip over a leg. The sand jumps when the orc descends, I can sense him kneeling behind me…

I scream as he thrusts into me, his length stretching me. A hand hits the ground just to the left of my head, leaves an imprint, and his other… His other grabs my hair, balls it up. He slams my head against the sand, hard enough to reach the firm layers beneath. I'm dead when he finally finishes, face a ruin and body swimming in a pool of orc seed. Perhaps a fitting end for a would be assassin.