Day five. We're down two Orcs already. One minute they were on patrol, the next... well. We just don't know what happened; no-one saw the attackers but they certainly made their mark. We all heard though. A smattering of gunshots like the fury of Gorum. I've never seen so much blood at once, and I grew up with almost nothing but. I'm scared. I will continue forth. I have a job.
Day seven. Six down, and the attackers are playing with us. Our scouts found scattershot embedded in the trees ahead. The only psychic residue I could sense was one of sheer hatred. It would be nice to sense something else for a change.
Day eight. I shouldn't even think this, but I can't bring myself to mourn the loss of Weaponmaster Gozan. He was a brutal piece of work, and he beat me more than any other of my "tutors". In fact, all of the Orcs taken so far have been the worst of us. Small mercies.
Day ten. Nothing more. The attackers have turned silence into a weapon, and no-one sleeps.
Day thirteen. Last night, we lost half of our remaining forces. The attackers staged a raid, knowing that we were too exhausted to fight back effectively. We still haven't seen a single attacker, though I caught a glimpse of orange in the night. My shot didn't quite hit its mark, but that's the closest anyone has come yet.
Day fifteen. Ten days after this all started, and I am running as fast as I can. My pistol is near-out of ammunition, but I can feel its strength surge through me as my legs become stronger and my speed triples, quickly outpacing the woodland animals fleeing the carnage. It is bad form for an Orc to flee the party, but as the raiding party at this point is a one-person affair, I feel like I am within my honour to make a tactical retreat. Or, as Gozan would have said, I am nothing but a coward. No matter. I continue running, and I know that nothing can outpace me, even though such unkind terrain. That's when it appears before me, in a tree some paces ahead. The hellish firelight I'd seen before... it was the eyes of this creature. This demon, I must assume. It has eyes of hellfire and midnight horns, and it is wielding an identical pair of firearms that rival its own body in size. I slow to a stop, raising my gun in a rapid action trained smooth but too worried jagged.
"So. You are an outrider. Why have your comrades been attacking us?"
My voice is less assured than I would like. This creature is not fearsome in any way, yet... I am unsettled. The imp merely chuckles, its voice tinny and with a slight reverberation, as if it were speaking from a massive iron pit rather than its own narrow neck. It appears to be staring at me intently, though its eyes are pupil-less. I pull the trigger, and suddenly it is closer, on a branch beside my face. I didn't see it move, but I can feel its breath. I was expecting heat, but the unspoken voice told of nothing but cold. I let out a breath as I felt a still-warm steel circle rest upon my temple.
"That wasn't very nice, now was it?"
"What are you?"
"My name is Killerath-Annion of the Blackstone Wastes. I don't know what that means or where that is, so I go by the name that the Gnomes gave me. Call me Kiana."
Its... Her voice is friendly, though unearthly. It is not a voice that engenders trust. I slowly realise something.
"There was only you. There were no other attackers."
"Clever! Well done."
"You are a Tiefling?"
"Hellspawn? Hah! Not likely. I'm a Kval, and no I don't know what that is. I'm small, I'm fast, and I'm strong. That's all I need to know.
"I.. I see."
She seems to realise something, her gaze de-intensifying somewhat. It is now merely torchlight, rather than the burning inferno it had been.
"Interesting. You're not very good at this Evil business, are you?"
"Evil? We're not evil. We simply march for the honour of our people."
"Your friends back there pillage for personal convenience, wage wars for the purpose of gaining a few inches of land and, not to put it lightly, kill 'cause it's fun. Li'l ol' me is sorta dedicated to stopping that kind of behaviour. You, friendo, are not like that."
"I am an Orc, whether in blood or otherwise."
"The important blood here is other peoples'. You're amoral, selfish and all too loyal to the wrong side, but you're not Evil, not yet. Look for the Crashing Tempests, tell them that the imp sent you. You don't have the skills yet, but you will."
With that, she was gone, and I was for the first time entirely alone.
