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Breathless as he stared aghast at his dead foes, Gregor felt a bubble of rage swell within him, and wanted to lash out at the huge grey skinned corpses. Anything to prove that he hadn’t been bested by these bloody fools again, when Daria, her warhammer wet with blood met his steely hard gaze.

Brown eyes livid with fury, she strode across the room towards him as she growled, “You fool! How dare you put my lord’s life in danger!”

Greatsword leaping back up into his hands, he smiled at the bloodlust in her eyes, and beat her warhammer aside, her fists swinging in for his head as he ducked low, and kicked her hard in the ribs.

Grinning as she recoiled in pain, he could see her animosity build inside of her, her chest heaving up and down as Gauldryon called out from behind her. “Easy, my friend, he does not know the way?”

Gregor, however still eager for a fight, let out a mocking laugh, “yes, I do not know your precious ways. Show me, girl.” His voice egged her on as she came at him in a sudden rush, shoulder blasting into his stomach as they beat at each other with fists, their weapons toppling to the ground as he used his arm to block her punches, and deliver a few of his own. Some of which connected with her elbow as she headbutted him in the nose in a sharp explosion of pain and light.

Grimacing as he took another punch to the head, he thought his brains would fall out of his skull as he laughed, enjoying this contest of wills, her burning dark eyes gazing right through him as they fought like two bears in the wilderness, a part of himself relishing in the pain, the pleasure of combat, when a powerful burst of air split them apart.

Gasping for breath with blood coursing out of his broken nose, he could dimly make out the small diminutive form of Glindol, his blackened staff raised up before him.

Gauldryon, his blue eyes full of bitter disappointment, shook his golden crown, and whispered, “I thought you better than this, my friend.”

Her face flushed a deep red at his words, she looked back at him in what Gregor thought was infatuation, her left cheek badly bruised, and lips swelling purple, and picked up her warhammer.

Glowering at him with eyes that promised him death, she thrust a finger into Gregor’s chest, and snarled, “I know what you are, butcher. My people never forget.”

Staring after her in shock as she left through the door in a huff, Gregor had to admit that he found himself oddly drawn to her. Not that she was by any means pretty, but she had a fiery temper that he found fascinating maybe because it reminded so much of Caroline.

Half chuckling to himself at where his mind was taking him, he returned his attention back to the steel armored knight and his friends.

“So? Are you going to tell me why the elf sent you after me?”

Head still shaking from side to side, Gauldryon shot Gregor a look of annoyance, before he advanced to the dead family that still lay in front of the fireplace. The young orcish woman that was curled up in her husband’s arms, looked to have died a painful death with her mouth gaping open in a scream, her side torn open, when he scooped her up into his arms. The gruff bearded dwarf that followed him inside, doing much the same with the male. Which left Gregor looking around a room covered in dried bloodstains, broken furniture broken from their recent battle, and overturned shelves.

Eventually Glindol, and the elven archer, the only ones to stay behind, eyed each other in a silent exchange, and left without a word.

Gazing after them, he wondered why in the hell they would waste time on the dead? Life was for the living. And yet, he did feel a lot less angry now that he had killed something. It was a strange thing to realize how much rage had been building up inside of him, waiting to get out. Perhaps at another time, he would have wondered too, where that rage had come from, but at this point, he didn’t really care.

His eyes lit up with a gleeful hunger, he began to search the house from top to bottom, and found a gem encrusted book that looked to be far too valuable for woodsfolk, a few gold pieces tucked away in bedsheets, and a pair of silver mugs buried between floorboards.

Grinning at the easy discovery, he then considered slipping away while the others were busy outside, when he heard the sound of a voice, and peered out the cabin’s window.

Standing there in full plate armor that shone a brilliant white, the warrior knight knelt down on one knee between two shallow graves, and placed flowers atop their corpses. The words that came out of the elf's lips, almost melodic like an incantation, her voice full of heartache, sorrow, and pain. “In the glowing dawn of early sunrise, beneath the shattered seas of crystal blue, atop mountain peaks that know no end. He will be there, a warrior of light to break the darkness. May the light of the four suns shine down upon you for all eternity.”

In that moment as Gregor stared up at the elf hypnotized, he realized that he knew this tune. In fact, he could recall his mother singing it to him once. Her face, which had been lost to him for months, burned into his mind again as she smiled at him, her expression filled with joy as she sang over those that had been killed by the ghouls. Even then, she had appeared beautiful with rose colored eyes, a button nose, and long tresses of dark golden hair.

Worse still, he remembered where he had seen those braids before.

His gaze lifted up to see Daria as she reappeared amongst the trees, he could feel her anger still burning like hot coals as she stomped into the clearing, and rocked back on his heels as he suddenly saw himself surrounded by corpses.

...In a town far away from the rest of the world, in what some called the Blasted Red Waste of the Red Lands. Children wept from doorways, blood pooled in the streets, and strange men in moulded black armor looted the dead. While Gregor stood there staring up into a cloudless sky, wondering if he would get any food to eat? When he saw her, a young girl, the same age as he, with tears in her eyes, and colorful ribbons tied up into her braids.

Memories tumbling back into his mind, he remembered walking up towards her, grabbing her roughly by the arm, and dragging into a nearby alleyway. Her tearful eyes staring up at him in shock as he whispered, “you should hide. I don’t think they’re done killing yet.”

A knife pulled out from her belt, she seemed to shake her stupor away, and growled, “I will kill them for this!”

Gregor, only twelve, or perhaps fifteen at the time, didn’t really care one way or the other if she died. He would actually have enjoyed seeing her try. But at the same time, he worried what might happen if she did manage to hurt one of them. This lot, as far as he could tell, weren’t above killing women and children, and from what he had seen, they would take great joy from hurting them.

With that thought in mind, he bent her fingers backwards to disarm her, and punched her in the side of the head with the pommel, and carried her away. Taking her back to his shelter.