Larus gave a signal with his hand, indicating two sentries to the left of him and three to the right.

Silently picking their targets, Kaille lines up his shot, aiming for the neck.

But then the man walks in front of them, relaxed and chilled as he saunters into the sentries view, raising an alarm.

Cursing him, Kaille and the lot hide behind the burned stumps awaiting the sound of the man being slaughtered, though all suspect he won’t be dead.

A large number of roars sound along with the thunking of metal in flesh, before silence ensues for a second, before triumphant roars sound out.

Peeking out from his hiding place, Kaille spots a grizzled orc holding a headless, pink, fleshy body, up in the sky, the head is held by another.

He’s dead?

The impossibility of the situation at hand had never occurred to him, since he had seen the man filled with arrows and then trampled by a horde but a few hours afterwards.

To see the man dead, was something not understandable; how did he die, how was he so easily beheaded?

No answers we given to Kaille, only a bark of orders from the grizzled orc which holds the body aloft.

Suddenly he drops the body as it glows a dim gold, and when the shine is gone, so is the body.

With another bark, a large group of orcs begin combing the area, searching for more enemies and the oddly disappearing corpse with some superstitious fear.

Cursing silently, Kaille begins to retreat, along with the others; to stay would be death without revenge.

Stealthily rolling from tree stump to tree stump, they slowly further the distance from the hundred wide search party, until someone finally decides they’ve searched enough.

The elves regroup and start a silent discussion of gestures.

Quickly, they make a decision and begin for the same place as before.

As they thought, there is no visible change to the guard’s alertness; due to the others sweeping and giving the clear.

Picking their targets, they all shoot, arrows quietly thunking into skulls, killing without so much as a gurgle.

Stalking up, they spend a few seconds retrieving their arrows and dragging the bodies behind a nearby stump.

They’ll be found soon, but will give them enough time to wreck havoc first.

Entering the humongous camp of hide tents and large, burning out campfires, they move as one, snaking through the tents predatorily.

Ears keen, arrows knocked, they slither through, listening for both patrols and the sounds of women.

Luckily, as this is still the mating season, many highish pitched grunting sounds emanate from multiple tents.

Stopping at a large circle of tents, they split into two’s, each pair taking a tent.

Kaille and Larus choose one which a slight squealing sound comes from and with disgust written on their face, slide through the tent flaps.

The horrendous sight of a male orc ramming his mate, from the back, while another from the front, faces scrunched up in glee; almost strikes them dumb with both disgust and intrigue.

The orc males, stunned by the sudden intrusion forget to roar at the intruders, and only finally manage a pained grunt as arrows stick out the back of their heads.

Kaille rushes up to the female, mouth stuffed and only allowing one shocked grunt before his sword slices open her throat.

Shuddering at the grotesque scene, they leave the tent, not bothering to count kills since that’ll waste time.

Back outside they’re quickly joined by the rest, all with the same grim look upon their faces.

To all of them, seeing orcs naked was in some ways worse than seeing them clothed and charging towards them.

Shaking the disturbing image from his head, he slots into their small snaking formation and continue their hunt.

The next few groups of tents are similar stories; all ended in the same grim manner.

After killing his sixth female, Kaille was with the group, making his way towards their seventh group of tents, when an orc stepped outside in front of him, letting the cool night wind brush against his sweating body.

Immediately, eight arrows pierce his skull, hiding a good portion of his horrific visage behind the feathers.

A longing grunt woos from the inside, and with the push of one of his group, Kaille quickly makes his way there, letting the rest split up for the rest of the tents.

Burshing aside the flap, he sees an orc female, lying on her front, bare back shivering in the cooling night.

Although her skin is green and the body is large and muscled with bulk, unlike the lithe yet toned body of the elves, one could see beauty in the body of the orcess.

Kaille however, just saw an opportunity for some personal vengeance.

Sauntering over with the best orcish grunt he can muster, he grabs its ass, eliciting a rather seductive roar from it.

Dropping his trousers, he rams it carelessly, but it doesn’t seem to mind, rather it seems to rather enjoy the pain.

Hands go up towards its back, keeping the top half pushed on the floor, while its ass rises to the air, grinding around has he pumps furiously in beat to her grunts.

Feeling it well up, he flips it around with its help and looks into its eyes of pleasure, which disintegrate into a mix of terror and disgust.

Before it can react, his sword punctures lightly through its throat and he continues to pump as blood gushes onto its breasts and his face.

Ejaculating onto its breasts, his seed mixes with the blood causing something to flutter inside him.

The orcess gurgles the last vestiges of its life as he stands up, face gleaming with pleasure, tongue licking his lips and stomach churning with some strange sense of joy as he looks down upon the dying thing.

His member immediately goes hard at the sight.

Straddling it, he enters once more, squeezing tightly through the hole in the throat, squishing more blood out, splashing onto much of his lower body.

Ejaculating from just a single slow thrust, he once again looks towards its eyes, seeing no life emanating from it.

Standing up, he clothes himself once more, letting the blood dry on his bare skin, feeling elated by it in a strange way.

With Layenna it was sweet, passionate. But in there it was something else, something that truly thumped his heart and sent tingles down his body. It felt…tasty to watch it quiver as he thrust the life out of it.

What was also strange to him was that once he started, he had completely forgotten about her; about Layenna. All that mattered was watching the life slip away from that thing.

However it didn’t feel like he cheated on her, since it was just a mindless beast to him, an object rather than a being of life.

But when he left the tent, to see the rest of his group looking at him quizzically, wondering what happened inside due to it taking some time, he had a small doubt as to whether he was wrong in doing such a thing.

Though no time is given for them to ponder as Riemer, the eldest and therefore the leader; has them go to the next set of tents.

He however, stays behind and gives a gnarled grin to Kaille.

“Nothing like watching it die while you’re inside it” Riemer whispers lustily, before rejoining the group, a hungry grin plastered on his face.

Kaille could do nothing but agree, the elation fills him once more as he knows it’s not wrong to do such a thing if he’s not the only one.

Heart free of guilt and worry, he follows after them.

But all thoughts of having a second round with another thing as further revenge is lost at the roars of war bellowing from much behind them.

Finally someone had discovered one of the many bodies they had found.

Cursing, the begin to run through a camp of half to full naked orcs storming out of their tents, axes ready to chop apart any enemies.

Dodging past a few disoriented orcs that rushed out still half asleep, they rush towards the opposite end of camp from where they came in.

“Into the tents quick” Riemer whispers to the group and they all split up, hiding in various tents which owners seem to have already left.

Kaille dives into a larger tent, more round than the others and with a taller roof, hole in the middle too with a small bit of smoke still puffing out from the hole.

Barging in, bow at the ready; he looses the arrow in shock, embedding it through the neck of the ‘human’, spurting both blood and grog out in a mix of red and black.

He had barged into a bizarre scene; the human was sitting on a crude stool drinking a murky black liquid from a skull, while opposite him sat an elderly orc with greying hair, a wolf mantle hanging from his still thick shoulders, also drinking black liquid from another skull.

A third member, a lithe, tall yet green fleshed being with small tusks and pointed ears, sat chained in a corner looking at the seated duo with mild interest.

All now turned towards him, eyes filled with a mix of different emotions.

“Just what the hell is going on?” All speak in a different language, none understanding the other.

…

Tkhoron paced silently around the small roughly hewn statue; one of a young orc standing, axe head to the floor and eyes cast down in prayer.

Sweat ran down his already sweat encased body, dripping onto his hide shorts; already moist from sweat.

He paced around it for the eight hundredth time, only seventy four more to go.

Each time he went round the statue, he would repeat the rites of death, calling the soul from the battlefield, to the statue; a beacon to light the path to eternal slumber.

Today was a long day for him, for he had walked and spoken since the midday till the late hours in the night, without rest or food or drink.

It was his duty as the shaman of the tribe, his duty to bring the lost souls back home so that they did not wander and disrupt the balance of the world.

He knew that their bodies were gone, carved up for the supper of the elves, but at least he could save their souls from such torment.

As he circled around for the eight hundred and sixth time he came across a most bizarre thing: A man.

This man was no orc, but a human as Tkhoron quickly remembered.

The human sat at the foot of the statue, looking rather relaxed as he mutters to himself.

“Damn, been a while since that’s happened from a normal creature” He sighs into the air, not noticing the aging yet hulking being standing but feet away.

“Human” Tkhoron growls, clenching his fists, half ready to kill the thing, but also curious as to why it is here.

The human turns to him, a large look of surprise plastered to his face. “I can understand you!” He jumps up exalted.

Tkhoron seems slightly taken aback by the sudden and…happy reaction of the human. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to grab a book someone stole from me” He says, bowing gracefully towards Tkhoron. “You seem to be of some import” His eyes glance to the wolfskin mantle that Tkhoron has wrapped around his shoulders “So could you help me find and then return my book to me?”

“Human, I will kill you before I would help you” Tkhoron growls, tusks glinting in the moonlight as he takes a menacing step forward.

“Sure, go ahead” He bows, offering his head and neck to Tkhoron.

Tkhoron…is not quite sure what to do; to laugh, to be suspicious, to question or to simply kill the man and be done with it.

If the man is offering up his life, he must have some trick up his sleeve is what Tkhoron believes.

The man sighs towards Tkhoron’s indecision. “Fine, I’ll do it myself”

He begins slamming his forehead on the edge of the small stone platform the statue stands on and to Tkhoron’s shock, the man’s skull splits; all above the nose jerks backwards a few inches, but the man doesn’t stop, even as the top half is rammed off ripping brain matter along with it and leaving a large amount of the brain still bobbing in the remaining liquids of the head.

The man raises a fist, smashing it down in his soft brain, sludging through, spattering bits all around him.

Tkhoron just looks jaw dropped towards the scene as the man falls over, obviously dead. But his jaws almost crack at how wide he opens them as the man reappears at the base of the statue in a small flash of gold light, fully recovered.

“You said that if I died then you’d help me?” He grins towards Tkhoron, who is still trying to pull his own brains back together, as if it were his that had been spattered all around rather than the man’s. “Or are you going to be semantic and have you kill me yourself this time?”

Tkhoron, numbly shakes his head, mind still boggled as he bows towards the man, gesturing for him to follow as he makes his way into his own hut.

Sitting down on a crude stool, he offers the man another and snaps his fingers, getting Gharla, his slave woman, to fetch two open skulls, pouring grog into each.

She then calmly chains herself to the wall, fully knowing what retribution she is given for not doing so.

“So tell me…what are-” Tkhoron begins.

*Thunk*

An arrow protrudes from the man’s throat, entering from the front, letting grog and blood to squeeze past the arrow with a squelching noise.

Though a quick glance in the man’s eyes show that it hasn’t affected him in the fatal way it would do to any normal human.

All turn towards the newcomer, a young, lanky elf with sleek blond hair, holding a bow, looking with confused recognition towards the man.

“Just what the hell is going on?” All speak in a different language, none understanding the other.

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Author's Corner: Hey, i'm baaack!!

Oml, finally getting somewhere.

I say that, but honestly i've just opened up like at least another chapter for this arc (so much to write!).

Anyways, hopefully you enjoyed it(not sure that's the right words to use in this context...But then again, who am I to judge(since i have written it so fair dooos).

Also, please review and comment as you lovely people always do and continue reading this slightly bizarre arc.

By the way, Aethelred, where in the name of fiction have you read about cannabalistic elves. I want to read that so bad! i mean if elves are cannibals it's gotta be a pretty awesome fiction!!

-TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD