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Not exactly sure what to do after that, he considered leaving again, when he heard a light cough from behind him, and turned around to find Gauldryon, his burnished steel plate set aside and replaced with a white surcoat emblazoned with the burning ring, the sigil of a holy order of monks that had taken vows to be the warriors of light. Namely, paladins.

His dark blue gaze filled with sadness as he looked at the woman, he spoke in a hushed tone, “When I first met Daria, she was but a young girl, one who had suffered through the many atrocities of the Cleansing Wars. She was alone, lost, and for many years she watched as her people were slowly being decimated by ghouls, black hands, kindred, and the battleguard. I do not know much of what occurred in her life back then, but what I know of the Red Waste is that most who go there, do not come out the same. In the waste, your people have a word for it, scourged, and I’m afraid Daria has been scourged far too many times.”

“Why tell me this?”

Smiling gently in reply, Gauldryon looked away, his gaze drifting north to the mountains and beyond. “So that you understand that it will take time for her to accept you as you are. And despite what you both might think, you need each other, if only to heal the wounds of the past.”

Head shaking at the thought that he Gregor had any such wounds, he wanted to grab the man and demand to know what he was talking about? When he realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to put the warrior’s skills to the test. Without his enchanted armor, shield, and sword, he’d be but a man. Whereas Gregor would be Gregor, the mightiest warrior in all the lands.

Grinning wickedly at such a thought, Gauldryon seemed able to read his mind, and smiled again, warmly this time, “you will get your chance,” before he returned to his seat by the campfire. The half balding dwarf that stood up, was regaling the gnome and elf of his most recent venture into Gilgathan. “...so there I be, neck deep in a cauldron full of boiling hot water, the giants all around me licking their drooling lips, when in walks Gauldryon, easy as you please.

“To be sure, the giants were stunned at the mere sight of him, before they all rushed at him. Course by then, I had managed to wriggle meself free, knocked over the cook pot in my haste, and caused a thick gust of steam as the water hit the coals. Then just as the mist was about to leave, I see a piercing white light like the rays of the suns right next to me, and there he stood with not a single drop of blood on him, and giants all dead all around him.”

Laughing as Gauldryon squatted down on his haunches to feed the flames, he chuckled, “it was not so simple as that. In truth, it had been pure luck that had saved us that day, a comet had crashed nearby, blinded the poor beasts, and in the confusion they slew each other.”

Pelwar, his nostrils flaring in annoyance, let out a loud harrumph. “Ye do know my version be way better. Why ruin a good tale?”

“It is a good story, but it is also not the truth, and I would not have our new friend be given a false impression of me.”

Rolling his eyes at the term friend, Gregor wanted to say that he already knew what kind of man he was. He reminded Gregor too much of those ancient folk tales, of heroic warriors that set out on adventures to slay monstrous beasts, when in reality there was no real evil in this world. It was just something fools like this one made up so that killing was much easier on themselves. Something he had realized a long time ago, when the battleguard had come to cleanse the Red Lands of the ghoul infestation. Having been taught that they were mean spirited, cunning, and vicious, he had thought ghouls evil too then, until he had wiped out entire burrows, nests, and cities full of them. In the end they had bled like any other creature of this world, had lived normal lives like most people do, and had died the same way.

Still Gregor never one to be out done, crouched down by the crackling flames, and held out his arms. “That is nothing. I once walked bare naked into a nest full of widow-walkers, spiders the size of bugbears with outer carapaces made of solid black steel. Then I beat them to death using a leg I tore from their bodies.”

Belly rumbling with mirth, Pelwar let out a loud guffaw, while Glindol shook his head in disbelief, and Tileya grinned mischievously. Her red lips curving into an delicious smile. “See, Goldy that’s how ye tell a story,” barked the dwarf with another laugh.

Gauldryon, his expression full of amusement, bowed his head low in acceptance, and brushed a hand across his long golden hair. “Perhaps then I should tell you of my time among the Honor Blades, and the Grand Tourney that was held in the Land of Dreams. Warriors from all across the continent were gathered together. And for fifty days straight we fought each other in tests of skill, strength, speed, intelligence, and endurance.

“On the fifty first day, I had bested all but one of my opponents, a warrior called Grey Tooth. Tied at twenty five victories each, we were quested with hunting down a dragon that had begun raiding villages for women.

"When we discovered the beast in the mountain, we found to our surprise that the dragon, named Hemlock, had not harmed the women at all, but had simply wished to hear them sing so that he could fall asleep easily, since he had trouble dreaming.

“We had decided then, that we could not harm the creature, but that we also could not leave without the villagers behind. So we had an enchanted harp made for the dragon that could play any tune he wished, and gave it to the beast instead. He was so delighted that he released the women, but now we had no way of determining who was the victor. In the end, we decided we both had won enough honor that day.”

Which of course caused his three companions to clap their hands in delight, their eyes wide with wonder as they stared at the young man. While Gregor inwardly fumed with a simmering white hot rage. Blasted, lying, weak willed mud eating, puke drinking, bastard. He had cheated Gregor again.

But before he could say another word further, tell them of his many other daring exploits, Daria loomed out of the darkness, her grim visage worried as she all but ignored him. “My lord, I believe we may have found some more trouble.” She then waved her arm back, and male orc appeared from behind her, his brown leathers covered in dust, his tusks ripped out of his mouth, and his eyes strained red from tears. “Dish him? Yer lord.”

Head nodded in reply, the orc stumbled into the firelight, his expression haggard with exhaustion as he balled his fists up at his sides. “Mi lord, kindred hash taken me family, attacked our village, and taken dem south. Plish help them. Help me family.”

Blue eyes suddenly blazing with a fiery light, Gauldryon immediately stood up, and patted the orc on the shoulder as he spoke in a low dangerous tone, “I swear to you, noble orc. I shall find your family. Or I shall die avenging them.”

Gregor, however more interested in reaching Vanclar very much alive, held out his arms again. “Wait, you’re not really going to go after them are you? It’s too far out of our way, and they’re probably dead by now, sucked dry, and fed to the birds. We’d better off heading down south-east. It’s the only safe route through Vanclar. Besides, you can’t take on a whole pack of bloodsuckers. They’ll tear you and your pretty armour into ribbons.”

Blue eyes still burning with rage, Gauldryon snapped, “No, but you and I can.”

With no way to back down from a direct challenge to his manhood, Gregor grimaced, and wondered again why he was bothering with these knuckle dragging fools, when he noticed Daria watching him again. And for reasons he couldn't control, he couldn’t help but nod his head. “Fine, but I’ll take the lead. I don’t need you stomping about, and letting them know that we’re coming.”

~*~

Guided back by the orc to his home village in a dark, deserted grove of trees, Gregor was the first to see the carnage left behind by the kindred, newly born vampires that had no memories of their past lives. Creatures that had nothing to cling onto, except for their own burning hunger. Usually caged for the first few years of their lives, they would be taught by their new fathers or mothers how to live, how to be a part of their new culture, and about their new identity. But as was common around these parts, there were a few kindred who managed to escape or some careless higher vampire purposely spread his or her disease without a care for their responsibilities.

Growling underneath his breath at the stench of rotting corpses, he could see bodies lying out in the open streets, their caracases torn open, blood splashed across the soft muddy soil, and a quiet stillness that was only broken by the cawing of carrion birds. Hundreds of black feathered bellow-hearts winging their way across wooden thatched homes of hovels, and fluttering into the starry night sky in a flurry of black wings. Gauldryon, his gaze studying the torn wooden buildings, looked about ready to sick up his stomach with disgust. While Glindol, his staff waving about him in the air, carried a glowing ball of white light that shone into the darkness, the gnomes whispered words much like a prayer.

More interested in what could have been left behind, Gregor’s gaze moved first to the wooden chests stowed away on the backs of wagons. Some of them abandoned in the middle of the road, their borels dead, and their guts emptied out beside them. It was as though monsters had torn through their bellies as round white eyes filled with agony stared back at him.

No beast should have had to die this way. It was a strange feeling to know that they had suffered. But that was the way of life sometimes.

Footsteps light on the ground, he continued on, guiding Biter forward beside him, when he heard a sort of moaning sound that drifted through the tall oak trees. It was like the wailing of a spirit, but that was usually more common in bloodsoaked battlefields, mausoleums, and graveyards, the untold guardians of the dead.

Hand held onto Lost Flame just in case there was trouble, he thought about drawing the enchanted blade from his back, when he felt Daria’s stern gaze upon, and felt his cheeks flush red in embarrassment as though he were some rookie entering an abandoned, derelict village for the first time.

This was not the first time he had seen or smelled such carnage, but the gods be damned, why couldn’t he think clearly around her? It was like she had put a spell on him that distracted his mind.

Upper lip stiffened into a snarl, he patted the great black stallion on the neck, feeling the beast quiver underneath his fingers, when Biter neighed, and nudged him in the shoulder. The black stallion, unwilling to go any further. Not that Gregor was surprised. He didn’t much like the look of this place either.

Tying him off to a wooden fence post in front of a tavern, called Lucky’s Hole, Gregor desperately wanted to just turn back and leave. This place just didn’t feel right to him. Not to mention, he wasn’t in the habit of seeking out danger without getting paid. Still, he reasoned to himself, maybe he could get Gauldryon alone somewhere without his friends, or find some hidden treasure that the kindred had left behind. Surely the black fangs couldn't have taken everything?

But just as that thought occurred to him, he turned back, and noticed that the orc was missing. One of many signs that he should never have come here as he asked, “Where’s the greenskin?”