A loud thunk reverberates through Stabby's head. His eyes open, his vision blurry.

Where am I?

He seems to be in a well-structured hut. He lies on a bed made with furs. The small building is wooden, built with a lamp that hangs from the ceiling.

The memories of what occurred come back to him. Wait, where's Grisha? Where's Stomper? How did they get out? What happened to the green man?

The thunk sounds again.

What is that? Maybe it's Grisha.

He wakes himself up with a shake and climbs to his feet. This area's safety is unclear, so he should be cautious.

He tiptoes to the hut's exit and moves to the door. As he hides, he hears parts of the conversation outside.

"It's... to see... Ogre.."

Only a few words can be picked out, but it seems friendly. And one voice sounds like...

He opens the door as quietly as possible, making a slight creak. Outside the hut, he sees a vast campsite with spiked walls. Most of it seems abandoned. Hut and torches scatter the site. Many of them, although well kept, appear to be unused for a long time.

The coast is clear.

Stabby slips through the crack in the door, staying low as he examines his surroundings.

To his left, hordes of weapons are lodged in the ground. A fence surrounds the spot, with a lock placed on the gate. Helmets and headbands hang from the handles, floating with the wind. Sets of orcish armor lay in front. A tremendous ax stuck in stone is set in the middle, a long banner with indecipherable writing flowing from the ax. The sight has a somber tone to it, though the reason eludes him.

In front, a hut bigger than the rest stands. A sign marked with more words from the foreign language is nailed above the door. A symbol of an anvil carved above it.

The thunk returns, the sudden sound causing him to jump behind a nearby bin. He crouches close to the bin, peeking out.

A huge, green man works at a sturdy table. His cleaver cuts with force and precision, then slides the amputated meat to the side.

He must be the guy from the forest. How was he able to survive? He could be dangerous. Stabby has to be careful.

The conversation becomes clearer. "Can't. Got things to watch over here. Both my butchery and the lil ones." The Butcher says, his voice gruff.

The second person, still hidden from view, says, "Though I understand, it's nevertheless disappointing. But if you ever change your mind, let us know. I wouldn't want to miss out on hiring a living ogre."

Stabby moves closer.

"That won't happen." The Butcher responds bluntly.

He could now see what the ogre looks like. He's built very sturdy. A bit of a gut, but that didn't matter when compared to his burly chest and thick arms. One of his tusks is half broken. That along with the many scars across his body shows he was a fighter at some point.

"Alright, I gotcha." The second says with a laugh. "And sorry about my brother, he hasn't had the best experience with waking up in unfamiliar places." He says, bending over into Stabby's view.

It is Grisha!

"It's fine. Little ones tend to be rather shy." The Butcher says, his words coming out as mumbles.

Stabby was about to mention the tactical advantages of his height when he notices something glowing from underneath the table.

Six eyes stay fixed on Stabby from the shadow of their protector, blinking every few seconds. Three on the left, one in the middle, and two to the right.

"They seem to have taken a liking to you," The Butcher says to the half-hidden shade. He waves his hand at the creatures, "Come out lil ones, there's no danger here."

The lurking beings come into the dim light of the torches. They hide behind the calves of the butcher but are just enough in the open to be visible.

They were imps.

The three-eyed fiend cried constant streams of blood, the red-stained tears draining into his lips like a fountain found in the underworld. The one-eyed fiend has arms that reach to the ground and a long tongue that doesn't fit in her mouth, forced to hang out the side. And the fiend with two eyes has a set of ever flapping wings and horns that scatter across his body, small flames coming out as he exhales.

"We may not be the prettiest creatures but we got confidence and strength on our side." The butcher says. The sentence gives a sudden burst of confidence to the imps, who step from behind the ogre's legs and flex their small arms.

Grisha seems surprised by their appearance. "Orcs and fiends, it seems all kinds of extinct creatures hang out around here. The combination of the two is especially odd."

The butcher pauses his cutting, laying down his cleaver and wiping his apron. "It is indeed."

Grisha gets up from the stone stool he sat on. "I apologize. Did I offend you?"

"No worries, it was something else on my mind." He changes the topic quickly, "Would any of you like some food? Since you're the first guests I've had in a while, it'll be free of charge."

"Sure," Grisha says with a smile.

Stabby steps out from behind the can and dashes at them. "Yeah!"

"Sounds good." The butcher grabs a sack and heads towards one of the more used huts, along with the winged imp.

The other two fiends move a round stone table towards the guests, surrounding it with stools.

As Stabby chooses a chair, the imps sit to his sides, staring up at him quietly. Stabby gives an awkward smile at the intense attention.

Why are they looking at him so much? Do they see him as a threat? The butcher said they liked him though... Ah, they must see him as their role-model and stare at him with supreme respect.

He shows off to the eagerly watching fiends, separating his clone from parts of his body as if he had more limbs.

Grisha watches with a grin as he sees his brother enjoy himself with the presence of the small red beings.

An enormous platter of meats slams onto the table, and the tremendous aroma of roasted meats fills the air.

"Food's ready." The Butcher says.

The flying fiend, seeing his siblings have fun with the slightly bigger, blue creature, quickly floats behind Stabby. He peaks over Stabby's shoulder to see the multitude of tricks the shade can do.

The mixed group of creatures grabs their portions of the mouth-watering meal, chatting about the ins and outs of butchery and the interesting customers the Butcher had encountered.

Grisha looks up as if he just remembered something. "I just realized how rude we've been. We haven't given you our names."

"I don't mind. Names mean nothing in the long term."

"Even so, as a prince, I have standards to live up to." Grisha stands, giving a slight bow. "I am Grisha, First prince of the Shadowlands." He beckons Stabby to follow his example, "And this is Pasha, sixth prince of the Shadowlands."

Stabby does what his brother asks. The difference between how Grisha talks with Stabby and when he talks with others is still weird to get used to.

The butcher looks up at their display with a lack of amusement. He goes back to eating, saying, "The name's O'gu the butcher, last survivor of the orcish tribes. The little ones are Red-eyes," he points to the three-eyed fiend. "Long-claw," pointing to the one-eyed female. "And horns," Finishing with the two-eyed winged imp.

"Oh, that reminds me, we still haven't thanked you for saving us from the hybrids. Thanks for that." Grisha says.

"Really shouldn't be thanking me. This little one, here, was the only reason I came." O'gu grabs long-claw and puts her on his shoulder. She resists at first, trying to grab on to Stabby, but gives in to the strength of the ogre. "She likes to wander, and yesterday when she went back to examine the corpses of those orc-spiders, she saw you guys wanderin' through the area. Seeing you two head to the sacred ground of the forest, she got worried and hurried back to tell me." He pets Long-claw, and she happily curls against his hand. "I told her, it ain't my problem if people wander into sacred areas without caution, but she convinced the other children to save ya. So, I went along. They did the most work, though."

"Were you able to beat them?" Stabby asks, still curious about how their fight finished.

O'gu lets out a guttural laugh. "No. They were all around my skill when they were mere orcs. Only reason I could beat them in their current hybrid state is 'cause they disliked the fire the lil ones created. Even then I still barely held them off to a draw."

"They were quite formidable," Grisha says, thinking back to his own fight with the beings. "But you said they were once normal orcs. What happened to them?"

O'gu sighs, "Well... that silken forest was once just a graveyard for the wood tribes. After the wars with the fiends, all our villages became that way. They laid in peace for a time until villagers near it saw it as a place to pass through for trade routes."

"It's a lot quicker than going around," Grisha says.

"Aye," O'gu agrees. "I noticed the spirits in that area grow restless from the trespassing, and angry with their lack of ability to do anything about it. I had an urge inside me to do something about it myself, but... I have a graveyard of my own tribe to protect here. They grew angrier and angrier, trying to scare off the traders anyway they could, but since they were just ethereal, they couldn't stop 'em. Then one day, the orcs went quiet. The pause left me curious. The lil' one's too. But I thought the situation might be dangerous, so I forbade them to go and I went instead. What I saw that day, still chills even an ol' ogre like myself."

The tale seems to scare the imps, and they grab onto Stabby, hiding between his arms. Stabby comforts the fiends, pulling them close.

O'gu continues, "As I neared the forest an odd glow shone from within, right in the center of the graveyard. I approached the area cautiously, having a hint it was some kind of necro trying to raise the orcs... It was much worse than any necromancers could have been. The graves of the four tribe guardians were shattered, the warrior's corpses lain on the floor. In the middle stood a frightening lass who wore not much but her long cloak of eyes. She turned, revealing more eyes of all kinds of creatures, but these differed from the ones on her cloak. They moved and blinked. Their pupils dash around, seeming as if they're trying to find an escape. She held a bag that looked normal but felt off. The lass plunged her hand into the bag and dug through the orbs which outlined the outside of their container. Pulling out, she revealed four more living eyes, ones that belong to spiders. After that, she noticed my presence. Her face slowly shifted towards mine. With an evil grin, she stared at me with four more orbs of sight on the sides of her face. I felt I should fight her for defiling the dead in such a manner, so I grabbed for my ax, but... my presence meant nothing to her. She just turned back to the bodies, as if I was nothing." O'gu's head drops. "And to my shame, I didn't fight her. The way she turned away scared me more than getting charged by Death's feline. I retreated home, gave up my title as a warrior, and never went towards that forest again. At least till yesterday. And now it seems the spirits of those warriors defend their lands in corrupted forms. To this day I still don't know if what she gave those orcs was a blessing or a curse."

"That's where those eyes came from." Grisha mutters to himself, before raising his attention back up to the ogre and saying playfully, "That was some impressive storytelling though, didn't take you for the type of person to be good at this kind of thing."

O'gu responds, in a serious tone, "It's not hard to tell a story you think about every day."

"True." Grisha chuckles, then says, "But honestly, thank you for telling us about this. The shades have heard nothing about this area for a while, and the presence of that woman is unnerving. I'll notify the shadow mother about this event."

"Do what you will," O'gu responds.

They continue to eat their meal as Stabby continues to play with the imps. While showing the imps how to summon weapons, a question crosses his mind.

"Are they your children?" Stabby asks the ogre, the noticeable difference in race and appearance between O'gu and the imps confusing him.

Grisha glares at him for the rude question, but the butcher answers without issue, "Biologically? No. Through bond? Yeah. They were once in the care of a dear friend of mine, but now..." He pauses. "I don't know where he's at, nor if he still lives."

Stabby is about to continue his questions when a shout interrupts the meal from outside the gate of the outpost. "Is the Butcher here? We've come with a request."

O'gu hastily stands, silencing the shades before they can ask who was asking for him. He replies to the sudden visitor, "Give me a moment. Got some cleaning real quick." He turns to Grisha, whispering, "Take the lil ones and hide."

"Who are they?" Grisha whispers.

"The light empire."