Kaille, mind racing with traitorous thoughts of the human, quickly knocks an arrow, shooting it through one of the eyes but seemingly having no effect.

Suddenly terrified, reminded of this man’s supposed invincibility, he tries moving back, only to trip as his feet are bound in rock somehow.

Knocking a desperate second arrow, he aims towards the orc, who ducks under the table as it thunks into the wood, piercing through it.

The human rushes towards him, holding a hand up, which gets an arrow through it and into his face as he does so.

His other hand is raised towards the orc, who does nothing but hide under the table, an unintelligible conversation happening frantically between them.

Kaille is estranged by the action; the human trying to call a ceasefire when he is obviously on the side of the orcs…but then again he saw the human killed by the orcs, so he can’t be that friendly with them.

Lowering his bow, the human motions to drop it…like hell he will.

The human sighs, motioning to drop his quiver instead.

Kaille does so.

As he does, the orc stands up, blood running freely down his shoulder and a less than pleased look emanating from his wizened eyes.

The orc grunts something towards him and oddly enough the slave girl reiterates in Elvish.

“You are said to be his friend” The slave points to the human “Thus Tkhoron will spare you for now” Even the slave looks doubtful at what she translated, since Kaille did put two arrows into his ‘friend’.

Seeing no reason to continue, or rather any way to escape, he simply nods

...

...

(Orcish ) “Gharla continue to translate to ‘that’” Tkhoron points at the elf; whom still looks quite threatening, even without arrows.

He stands the table back up as well as the stools and sits down, getting served some grog by Gharla.

“So what are you doing here…and with elves?”

“The elves are my escort and I am here to collect my book” The man sits back down too, looking rather unconcerned that there is an arrow planted into one of his eyes, much to Thkorons disgust.

“Book?” What an odd thing to waltz into an orc war camp for…

(Orcish) “Gharla, what did I do with that book I was given a few hours ago?” Time is taking its toll with his mind, but he swears he was given a strange book today, perhaps coincidence…more likely not.

(Orcish)“You threw it in the fire” Gharla, not following the conversation which takes place in common

…

..

.

“I’m sorry, but it seems that I threw it in the fire…”

“Oh” The man looks surprised but not distraught as Tkhoron would’ve thought. “Which fire is it?”

Tkhoron points to his blazing fire pit in the middle of his house and notices the rough outline of the book flickering in the flames, probably all that’s left of it.

The man stands up, walks calmly over to the fire and reaches into it, taking the large black tome with pulsating red lines out of the fire…seemingly unscathed.

“Phew, that really would’ve sucked if this can be burnt to a crisp” The man wipes his forehead with a burnt arm, as if not noticing it.

Tkhoron is about as shocked at the rest of the room at the man’s chilled behaviour…added with the fact that the book is unburnt.

“Just what is that book and what are you?” He blurts out, fully curious as to what is within his tent tonight.

“The book, I don’t know and me…I think I’m still a normal human…maybe” Even he’s starting to sound unsure of his own race...

The man walks back to the table, dusting off the ash from the book, before grabbing his drinking skull and downing the grog.

“Now, it was enjoyable to meet a shaman, but I really must be going, for I do not have time for idle conversation” He bows respectfully towards Tkhoron before beginning to leave the tent.

“Wait, you can’t just go out there, and with an elf; you would be killed on sight…or at least the elf”

He sees the elf nod at him as Gharla translates.

The man stops and turns back around “Hmm true…could you escort me out then? I’m sure your fellow brethren wouldn’t attack you”

Tkhoron nods, already planning to do so; more to save his own brethren from having to deal with what is obviously not a normal mortal.

All four of them exit the tent, to see orcs running around raging as they bellow to one another, ripping through tents to try find the intruders.

Almost all the nearby orcs stop upon spotting the elf and the man…but all their charges falter upon seeing Tkhoron leading the group.

Some looked upon him with respect, as if they believed he had captured them, while others just looked confused.

“DEMON” One shouts from a distance and the suddenly quiet area swivels round to a youngling orc, who looks and points at the man with utter terror, before screaming and running away.

Tkhoron glances at the man, who just shrugs his shoulders knowledglessly.

Orcs from other sides of camp begin making their way there, the rumour quickly spreading of Tkhoron and two prisoners, one being a Demon.

Within a few minutes, what seems like the entire camp is there, some shouting questions while others whispering worrisome things to one another.

“SILENCE” Tkhoron raises his hands, causing all to quieten and look at him. “THESE TWO ARE NOT MY PRISONERS” Everyone just cocks their heads in confusion, many beginning shouts of protest. “THEY ARE NOT TO BE HARMED AS THEY LEAVE OR WHEN THEY’VE LEFT THIS CAMP”

Although he is the authority of the place, many shout very vile things towards him, disagreeing with him and roaring for blood.

“Hey, they seem angry, how many of them died?” The man asks Tkhoron, who too also assumes that the commotion was caused by numerous killings, most likely from the escort.

Peering around he sees a few blood stained orcs with fresh wounds, while some carry the heads of freshly killed elves.

“HOW MANY OF OUR BRETHREN WERE KILLED?” HE asks the crowd, to which ‘too many’ was the most approximate response.

“Too many apparently” He shrugs his shoulders towards the man.

“Ask my friend” The man suggests.

Doing so he finds out they killed one hundred and thirty six before they went into hiding.

“One hundred and thirty six but they may have killed more by now”

“Hmm...” The man thinks deeply. “Tell them they can kill me one hundred and fifty times”

Tkhoron was shocked…but a lot less so than when he first met the man: Death meant nothing to him; dying one hundred and fifty times was as normal to the man as breathing air was to Tkhoron.

A demon indeed.

He tells the camp this offer, to which most look confused as to how they’ll kill the man one hundred and fifty times, while others pass on rumours about the ‘demon’.

Walking forward, the man goes up to a particularly bulky orc, pointing at his gleaming axe and then the side of the man’s neck.

Understanding, the orc gladly chops, beheading the man for all to see.

His body falls to the ground, where it disappears in a flash of light…

Screams come from the east as the man walks through the crowd, completely unharmed.

“ONE” Tkhoron counts for all to hear.

Gulping, anther orc steps up, ramming his axe through the man’s skull, splitting it with a second swing, but the man still stood.

A third swing killed the man as announced by this blinding flash of light.

“Two” He said in a more grim tone, watching the man make his way into an enlargening circle, all looking in both shock and horror at the man, who keeps on coming, appearing from the grave of their ancestors.

Another orc steps forward, ready to collect the debt that he is owed

…

...

Demon.

That was the only word Kaille could use to describe the man.

He had witnessed over a hundred deaths of the man, each more brutal than the last, till eventually a whole dozen of orcs were crying as they hacked him to pieces, seemingly feeling a lot more pain than him.

Finally, they stop hacking his body and with a flash of light the one hundred and fiftieth death was confirmed.

The man still walked into the circle, almost a kilometer wide due to the sheer superstitious terror of the orcs, which Kaille was heavily inclined to agree with.

After bowing to the large crowd of orcs, the man picks up the book, the only thing that dropped when he died, and headed back towards Tkhoron and him.

…

...

“The debt is paid I believe?” The man asks, to which Tkhoron soundlessly nods, unable to produce words at what he had seen. He thanks the elements this man does not want to kill this camp, for he surely could. “Perfect, so my escort and I will go now. But ah, may I have your slave?”

Tkhoron usually would react abrasively at such a demand, since his slave was useful in many manners, but one does not deny a demon.

He hands Gharla over to the man without a second thought, worrying more for his own people.

The man takes off the chains, breaking them with his bare hands to the gulps of many orcs. That strength could break necks if it wanted to…

Though Tkhoron is surprised as Gharla as to why the man is freeing her.

“Why are you freeing her?”

The man just chuckles “The physical chains will not enslave her to me. Her gratitude and fear will” His smile is innocent, but Tkhoron can see the darkness behind it.

With a last bow, they leave and Tkhoron sees that Gharla willingly follows, enslaved indeed…

…

...

Gharla had been through a sewage of emotions, not understanding this Demon’s intentions or thoughts in the slightest.

It had freed her, breaking off her chains with worrying ease, but she did not feel free; for some reason she felt even more chained than before.

Thkoron was not unkind as most would believes orcs could be, especially to that of a cursed half-breed as her; he was nicer, harsh at times yes, but he would not beat her to an inch of her life or take her at his own whims.

She was useful to him and thus he did not treat her like the muck she knew she was.

The man spoke unintelligibly towards her. What was he asking of her? What would happen if she could not respond to him?

These were the questions that spouted in her fevered mind, her fear ever so slightly wavering when the Demon dismisses her with a wave as if no longer bothered by her.

One thing she did understand was his gesture to follow and willingly she did.

They walked for hours under the moonlit sky, below the lush canopies and silent trees.

The elf, a ‘friend’ of the Demon stalked alongside them, keeping a more than respectable distance between him and the Demon.

Suddenly, after hours of tirelessly sauntering through the still forest, the Demon stops and puts his book on the ground, pointing at it and then Gharla.

She understood she was to look after it and stay here…and she did not even wish to think about the consequences if she were to fail either of those two tasks.

After she nods frantically, the Demon lies down and nods off without a single worry in the world.

Whoever this Demon was, she was his slave now, without physical chains, but ones of fear.

And she felt she wasn’t the only one who felt enchained to him such…