A strong wind blew sand across the parched landscape, covering the tracks of the two riders as soon as they were made. The two figures pulled their cloaks tighter about themselves and huddled close to their mounts, trying not to be blown off in the growing storm. Shelter was scarce and seeking it would likely only get them lost.

With their shouts lost in a screaming wind, the mounts were brought to a halt and the riders did the only thing they could; they waited for it to die out again. As quickly as it had come, the storm died away, passing the travelers by as it continued to ravage the barren lands with its anger.

Both of the riders dismounted, shaking the dust from themselves before cleaning their mounts. “This isn't good, Kai.” One of the figures said, using slender fingers to brush the dust from around the kerstaug's saddle. “That storm's going to cover her tracks as thoroughly as it did our own.” Pulling back the cloak's hood, the wood elf squinted her eyes as she turned to watch the fleeing dust storm.

“Yeah, and nothing good will happen if we return without her.” The man replied, patting his horse's neck to calm the skittish animal. “But let's not give up yet. She couldn't have gotten far, and there's precious few places to hide out here. At worst, we have to dig up a body.”

Ryllae nodded and climbed back into the saddle, her hands grasping the thick fur around the kerstaug's neck. “Let's just hope she hasn't found any of those precious few places.”

The pair rode together in silence, both lost in their thoughts. The ground had been swept clean of all trace of their prey. Only the tracks of their own mounts in the fresh layer of fine dust gave any hint of life in the tortured land.

Kai suddenly halted, staring intently at a small shadow across the ground ahead. Ryllae watched him curiously as her own beast came to rest beside his stallion. “What do you see?”

“Something that shouldn't be there.” He answered slowly, raising a hand to shade his eyes, then pointing into the distance with his other hand. “I think we may be in luck. What do you see just up ahead there?”

Ryllae turned to look in the direction he indicated, spotting the dark patches of ground immediately. “Is that a shadow?”

Kai urged his horse forward again. As he got closer, he climbed down from the saddle without waiting for the beast to halt and approached the anomaly on foot. Large dark patches littered the ground, staining the fresh dust that attempted to conceal it. The human knelt down and dragged a finger across one of the dark patches, coloring his skin in various shades of red.

“Blood?” The wood elf asked as she approached, not waiting for an answer. “She must have been here. And not long ago, either. It looks fresh. And there's a lot of it.”

“There aren't any bodies.” Kai remarked, dusting his hand on his trousers before returning to his horse. “She wasn't hurt when she escaped. That can only mean two things, and neither of them are in our favor. Either she's somehow managed to injure herself, or someone else found her first.”

“You're right. I don't care for either of those options. But if someone else had her, where would they take her and how?” Ryllae replied sourly. “Then again, there's an ork fort not far from here. Chances are, that's where we'll find our target. In one form or another.”

The first sun was just sinking past the horizon when the riders reached the fort. The gates were open but there were no visible guards. Columns of thick black smoke billowed into the sky and loud voices filled the air. “This can't be good.” Ryllae said.

Dismounting, the pair walked their mounts to the open gate and peered in. Kai was surprised by what he saw, but Ryllae backed away quickly. “Kai, we need to get out of here. Now. Hurry, before someone sees us.”

“What? Why?” The man asked, hurriedly taking a step back from the gate. “What's going on in there?”

“Halt! Who goes there?” Another voice cried out. Before the pair could move any further, a train of mounted orks charged from where they had hidden behind the wall. Within seconds, they were surrounded. Heavily armed orks sat astride equally armored hyolfs, the large predators snarling menacingly at the interlopers.

The stallion reared and kicked out at the beasts, nearly pulling the reigns from Kai's hand. The human calmed the skittish beast before turning to face the orks, hands raised in submission.

“Too late.” Ryllae sighed in resignation behind him. “Now we're going to have to participate.”

The last place Kai had expected to find himself that day was seated at a crudely built banquet table being served a heaping plate of food by a bunch of gregarious orks. The table appeared to be built from the doors of a stable, barely held up by bundles of crossed spears.

The offered meal consisted of a dry black bread, heaps of roasted meat and a thick, dark stew. Several jugs of bitter wine were scattered across the tables to be shared between all of the occupants. None of it appeared particularly appetizing to Kai, but as he looked at the feasting orks around him they were in uncommonly high spirits. Brun and bruha alike sat at the table, laughing and exchanging stories as they feasted.

Beside him, Ryllae pushed her plate further from herself with one finger, her face wrinkled in disgust. “They're not... eating the tarin are they?” He whispered.

“No.” The wood elf answered back, her voice just as quiet. “Even these barbaric savages aren't that disgusting. I hope. This is a death feast.”

“Oh.” Kai replied, feeling no less confused.

After being circled by the orks, they had been escorted into the fort and brought before who Kai assumed was in command of the fort. The ork wore nothing more than a furred loincloth and at first glance, Kai thought it was a small brun. The ork's skin was so covered in scars and tattoos that none of it was left bare, each one considered a badge of honor among the violent race. Both of the ork's short tusks had been broken off and replaced with iron spikes. One eye was milky white with a deep groove crossing the socket.

“A fleshie and a tree hopper?” The ork spoke in a high pitched, gravelly voice, completely opposite to what Kai had been expecting. “Here?” Her laugh was as harsh as her speech. “Have you gotten yourselves lost, little ones?”

“Actually we're looking for... an escaped prisoner.” Ryllae replied. Kai stole a glance at his companion, noticing how tightly she pressed her lips together, barely holding back her disdain.

The bruha laughed again. “You let one escape? If you killed them in the first place they wouldn't be able to get away. No matter, we can talk business tomorrow.” Turning to one of their escorts, she barked orders in a language that sounded to Kai like the clearing of a dust-clogged throat. “Come, little ones. Join us for the feast to honor our fallen!” No more discussion had been allowed as they were ushered to the table and made to sit, food-laden plates set before them.

Kai had seen no livestock in the fort and knew there was no grazing to be found for miles. Curious, he pulled a small strip of charred meat from his plate and nibbled on it. It had a slightly bitter flavor, but otherwise seemed perfectly edible if a little bland.

“This is wasting our time.” Ryllae muttered angrily beside him, drawing his attention away from the meal. “That light-cursed tarin is probably miles away by now.”

“Tarin?” One of the orks repeated. A pregnant silence fell over the feasting crowd. Kai felt every eye shift to the two of them and squirmed nervously under their weight.

He cleared his throat nervously. “Yes. A tarin.” He replied to the staring orks, silently praying his voice wouldn't crack. Such an obvious show of weakness could prove deadly, even among allies. “We are in pursuit of an escaped tarin doe. We tracked her here from the dead plains, but then a sandstorm erased her tracks. I don't suppose any of you have... encountered this individual?”

The silence continued to weigh heavy on the gathering. “Is your little lost cow a MidKnight?” A brun finally asked, although his question only seemed to increase the tense atmosphere.

“Well, yes, actually.” Ryllae answered instead. “Unfortunately she is of particular importance to... the one who sent us to retrieve her. Alive or dead makes little difference to him. Or us.”

Much to Kai's surprise, the orks began to laugh, and as suddenly as it had come, the danger passed. The pair were once again ignored as those gathered went back to eating and sharing boasts. “Don't worry, little tree sprite.” A Bruha said to Ryllae, pointing at the wood elf with a large bone that she had been gnawing on. “You will have your cow. She may have gotten away from you, but she was no match for orkish might!” The bruha laughed and slammed the bone against the table, making it wobble.

“Tomorrow you can have her. Tonight we gain the strength of our kin!” Speech delivered, the bruha went back to chewing on the bone until she managed to crack it open, sucking out the marrow.

“Well, that's one mystery solved.” Kai said softly, once more picking at the pile of meat on his plate. “If the tarin was here, that would explain the need for a death ceremony. Although it seems a little short sighted to kill all of their livestock for one feast.”

“They don't.” Ryllae muttered beside him, shoving her own plate further away.

“But I didn't see a single beast in the entire place except those shaggy mongrels they ride. There's certainly no grazelands to support a herd of kordox. And there is enough food here for an entire month of rations. What else is there to...” Kai's words trailed away as he looked down at what he had been eating. “By every dead god! Do they eat their own?!”

“Even if they could support kordox here, they'd never use them for a death feast.” Ryllae replied softly. “It's mostly hyolf meat.”

“What?” Kai exclaimed, although his relief was immediate. “Why would they eat their riding beasts? It doesn't look like they have any shortage of supplies.”

Ryllae turned her head in his direction, although her eyes refused to settle on him. “Don't you know anything about their traditions?” Kai simply shook his head while staring suspiciously at his plate. “Well, when an ork dies honorably in a battle, they will feed his or her body to their hyolf. If the beast was also killed, then both of them get fed to any unattached hyolfs. They will then butcher the beast and eat it to gain the strength of their fallen comrades. The entire day is dedicated to this... ceremony. That is basically an ork death feast. There are a few nuances, but they really don't matter.” She then looked away, wrapping her cloak tighter around herself. “I won't sleep in these walls tonight. It stinks of these green-blooded rot breaths.”

Kai pushed away his own plate, turning his attention to their hosts. The orks used no utensils to eat, grabbing their food in grease-covered fingers and tearing into it like starving animals. Those not busy eating exchanged stories about victories recent and long past. Trying not to be obvious, he listened in on their stories.

“Twenty ghouls with one swing of my sword!” One brun claimed. “I was killing them faster than the necromancer could rise them back up again! And Urku's strength will help me take down even more!”

“I feel stronger already!” Claimed another, cracking a bone to suck the marrow. “I feel as though I could take on the entire army of shamblers with my bare hands!”

“Grang was one of our strongest warriors!” Cried a bruha nearby. “With his blood in my veins I will bring honor to both our names!”

“After these fools finish eating, they will want to do their reenactments.” Ryllae grumbled, pulling Kai's attention back to her. “Then they'll want to wrestle each other like a litter of pups outgrowing their milk teeth.”

“They don't seem to be paying us any attention right now.” Kai replied softly. “Maybe we can sneak out of here to find the tarin.”

“They may look preoccupied but they'll take notice the very second we stand up.” Ryllae said bitterly. “And they'll take it as an insult, of course. Why would we not want to honor the bravery of their slain. They're barely tolerating us now for rejecting the blood bread and roast mongrel meat. Our only choice is to wait until tomorrow when everything is done. At least we won't be expected to participate in the fights. They consider us too weak and frail to join them.”

Kai looked at the nearest ork. Beneath thick grey skin bulged powerful muscles. Tapered black claws grew from thick fingers that were twice as thick as his own. Short tusks grew from a squared jaw filled with the sharp teeth of a predator. Raised from infancy in a war-loving culture where only the strongest were allowed to thrive, the young man had little doubt about who would win in a battle of hand to hand combat.

Looking at Ryllae, he couldn't help but compare her to their hosts. While there was no race in all of Eidra better at survival in a forest, the wood elves were not built for intense close combat. Long and slender limbs grew from a short rounded body. Mottled brown skin resembling tree bark gave her limbs the appearance of tree branches. Her face was vaguely feline in appearance with an elongated jaw that could almost be considered a muzzle. Her eyes were large and green with pupils that were sideways slits instead of round like his own.

“I don't think I disagree with them.” Kai muttered to himself.

Oblivious to the celebration of the orks a few short miles away, Taiyra worked frantically. Taking another handful of dried leaves from her supply, she dropped them onto the smooth flat surface of a stone, using a smaller stone to grind them into a fine powder. After a good amount of saliva collected in her mouth, she carefully spit onto the powder and used the rock to mix it into a thick paste which she then scooped up and smeared onto her bite wound. Her arm was already swollen and sore from infection. With the last of her bandages, she wrapped the wound tightly, wincing at the pain.

Her own injury finally taken care of, the druid stole a glance at the MidKnight who rested a few feet away. The undead doe glared at her with murderous fury, but had finally ceased struggling against her bindings. Lacking any rope, Taiyra had been forced to use nearly her entire supply of bandages to tie up her dangerous guest.

“If you promise not to bite me again, I'll untie your mouth.” Taiyra said. “It would probably make it easier to breath.” The MidKnight snorted, her hateful gaze promising only violence. The druid offered her a smile, but it failed to soften the other doe's disposition.

Keeping her injured hand close to her chest, Taiyra walked over and knelt down beside the Midknight. “Now mind your manners.” She chided as she reached for the bandage holding the MidKnight's mouth tightly closed.

“Now take off the rest of them so I can kill you properly.” She snarled as Taiyra pulled off the binding and jerked her hand away.

“I'm afraid I can't do that. I'm sorry.” The druid replied with genuine regret. “It's my fault you're awake, so you are now my responsibility.” She sighed softly, moving away from the bound doe.

The MidKnight narrowed her eyes, her lips pressing tightly together. “He can't have me back.” She growled through clenched teeth. “Whatever he's promised you will be a lie. He'll simply kill you and make you one of his servants. Not that you'll live long enough to take me back to him.”

Taiyra lowered her chin to her chest and closed her eyes. Already she could feel the chill of the necromatic sickness creeping over her. She would survive, but it would not be an easy night. “I think you have the wrong idea about me.” She said weakly. “I haven't been promised anything by anyone. I came across what I thought was the body of an innocent victim. Had I known you were one of the Undead King's servants yourself-”

The unrestrained hatred that came from the MidKnight's scream made the druid snap her head up and look at her captive, wondering if she was somehow in pain. “I serve no one!” Snapped the other doe, her body shaking from the force of her rage. Her eyes glowed brightly as if lit by an internal fire, yet shed no illumination onto their surroundings.

“Of course you are.” Taiyra replied patiently, as if explaining a complicated concept to a youngling. “You're a MidKnight. One of the Undead King's elite soldiers. Although, I will admit that I've never heard of a tarin successfully being turned before. Still, here you are”

“Apparently it wasn't very successful.” The MidKnight said bitterly, fighting against her bindings again.

The burn of fever began to overtake the growing chill, making the druid feel as if she was somehow being burned alive by a flame of ice. Her strength began to fade away rapidly, causing her to lean further and further over until she was finally laying on the cold stone floor, finding both pain and comfort there. “We'll... Talk more... later.” She said softly, her words slurring as her thoughts grew sluggish. “After... the fever passes.”