Chapter 108

Chapter 108

Chapter 108

They made camp later that night and trudged along the next day. Riven tried calling Allie twice, but each time he she’d quickly tell him she was busy and hang up shortly after confirming she was still ok. It was like she was avoiding him, and he was getting the feeling that she’d figured out her videos had leaked on the cortex for him to see. It was highly likely, knowing her, that she was trying to figure out what she was going to say before being confronted.

Ren told them it’d likely be nightfall by the day after that before they reached the place where the orcs had set up their own village. A three-day march in total, they had a lot of time to talk about various subjects that’d been on Riven’s mind.

Fay continued to study under Riven’s tutelage for trying to acquire his ‘wretched snares’ spell. The vision, intent, understanding and mana channeling were all pretty simple for Riven - but came a lot less so for the demoness. Still, she was not deterred and told him outright she expected it to take a couple weeks or even months in order to actually grasp it fully. In the meantime the succubus was just excited to learn something new, because knowledge like this was rarely traded between magical practitioners without a steep price. They often kept their knowledge close to the chest, which didn’t really make much sense to Riven when it concerned minions. To him, Fay was an extension of himself in many ways and making her great would only double down his own chances of survival. Perhaps other warlocks simply didn’t trust their summoned minions? He’d have to ask whenever he met another one of his kind.

Inbetween rest breaks they continued their trek until the third night, and this was when Ren began to make them slow down and be more vigilant in their approach. They were now coming towards a treeline where plains met the woods, and they were further away from the mountains than Riven had ever been since arriving here in the world of Panu. He could still see the towering, snow capped mountains in the distance - but they were quite a ways away now and out towards the west.

The sun had already set, but despite not being able to see as well as them - Ren urged the group onwards to take advantage of the cover of darkness. Coming along a slow-moving river that wound itself like a snake into the grasslands, Ren pointed to a large palisade wall along the northern edge of the river. It covered an area of maybe four square miles, and had numerous hunts and shoddy wooden buildings inside. Fires lit the perimeter with guards patrolling the area, though they were far and few between. Further in the settlement was lit up with even larger fires placed at intervals between buildings, and Riven couldn’t help but think that was a bit risky considering their tents were all very flammable.

“This is it.” Ren said solemnly, even angrily, while glaring out across the hundred yards separating them from the greenskin village. “This is where I take a step back... I will support you with ranged shots from the safety of the darkness if it comes to a battle outside their gates, but otherwise I cannot get involved. This is on you now, if you really want to take Ethel as a thrall - see it done well.”

Riven gave the man an irritated frown. As if he hadn’t done enough for them already.

Standing there in the dark of night and barely visible to the human naked eye if one strained hard enough, Riven turned his red eyes towards Senna’s father. “There will be children in there. I don’t want to kill them if I don’t have to. We will assess the situation first by sending Athela in, then based on what she says we will either try to negotiate or will scare them off.”

Ren grimaced, then nodded in confirmation. “Fine. As long as they’re gone from these lands that is all that matters to us. However, I must tell you that greenskins aren’t known for negotiations. They’re generally too stupid or too violent to even attempt it. Even from a very young age, their children are taught to be cruel and bloodthirsty, and leaving them alive will only curse future generations of other races by dealing with them when the greenskins have grown into maturity and are more dangerous. You may think me evil for saying it, but I truly think killing them all would be doing the world a great service instead of showing their younglings mercy.”

Riven considered the elf’s words for a short time, but dismissed them offhand. “Sorry, but I can’t just murder a bunch of innocent kids.”

Ren’s lips curled, and if Riven hadn’t been paying attention - he’d probably not have noticed the slight sneer. The sneer was quickly hidden, but it had definitely been there. “You’re a vampire. Isn’t that the kind of thing vampires do?”

This comment from the elf caused a flare of anger to erupt in Riven’s chest, but he pushed it down forcefully. And the facial expressions? After all he’d done for them, these people still looked at him like he was a monster. It was definitely off putting, especially after Ren had been so open with friendly talk along the way.

Riven shook his head. “Not this vampire. Athela?”

The demoness walked forward, utterly silent and grinning ear to ear with anticipation of the violence to come. “Yes master?”

She met Riven’s eyes.

“Just like how we talked it over. Kill the chieftain and any of these so-called ‘elites’ that Elder Bren warned us about. I want it done quietly and efficiently so you don’t draw any reinforcements. Otherwise I want you to assess the situation as best you can and report back to me when your job is done, let me know if you get any information that’d be useful in negotiations after we take off the head.”

Athela nodded in satisfaction, bowing low and spreading her arms out wide. “Your will is my command, master. It will be done!”

***

Athela gracefully slid over the palisade, bare feet touching the ground with such delicacy that not even the dirt underneath moved upon her touch. The corpses of the three goblins she’d killed along the way were silently cast aside and hidden under a loft of dirty hay, sliding off the blades of her arachnid limbs like overly-cooked meat off a metal spit.

She licked her lips, her red eyes narrowed, her teeth began to sharpen and she scanned the immediate area for any signs of potential enemies. She was standing in the middle of a penned storage area likely meant for herd animals, but it was currently completely empty. Wooden, thatched huts were scattered about the immediate area in uneven rows, and bonfires lit up the streets in iron bowls every couple dozen yards. Despite this it wasn’t very well lit, and Athela quickly made her way towards the center of the greenskin village without much problem at all as her dark body blended in with the shadows of nearby buildings.

She passed by numerous abodes on her way to the center. Rickety wooden furniture and dirt floors were the norm, with hay often stuffed into sacks made from animal skins for beds. The walls sometimes contained racked animal skulls as trophies, with a few of them even donning human or elf skulls too. Many of the huts had open windows where orc women were shepherding tiny orc children, many of them devoid of any tusks at this point but all with the same green skin and black hair. Others had an occasional goblin servant cleaning up after them, and fewer still contained orc men with the familiar large frames and hulking muscles of their kind.

Still, the lack of warriors was noticeable and Athela felt a surge of self satisfaction upon knowing that they’d help quell the tribe’s numbers and military might already. She was making quick time through the village and guessing at where the tribal leaders would be when she abruptly stopped at the sound of a call out from a nearby watchtower.

“Eh! Who’s dat!? Show yaself!”

The watchtower was also made of wood, and it stood about four stories high with a long ladder going up to a boxy container that sentries could look out of. An orc archer was staring down at the dark alley she was residing in, and although she could tell he wasn’t sure of what he’d seen - she’d definitely been spotted.

Before the orc could mutter another word, crimson threads ripped out of Athela’s fingers and flew upwards towards the support beams of the tower. She didn’t have sufficient control over the threads at that distance for a surefire hit, so instead she used them to yank and catapult herself from the ground all the way to where the orc’s head was sticking out over the side.

She gently tried the door.

It was locked.

Her eyes drifted upwards towards a gap in the roof where the ones who’d built the building had left a hole small enough for someone like her to barely slide through, and her smile widened. Her fingers turned into claws again and she passed the door by like a shadow - noiselessly scaling the building to where the hole was at rapid speed. One of the perks she liked most about her new body was the trait containing an almost absolute sound-dampening effect when stimulated, as it made moving about for assassination purposes all the easier.

She poked her head inside, seeing a long hallway filled with various contraptions, chests, weapons, armor, and other items. They were no doubt the product of raiding the surrounding area to take whatever the local neighbors had after killing and eating them, because many of the items were far more intricate and delicate than what Athela would expect barbarian orc artisans to craft. Greenstalk Village was probably just the most recent victim of these creatures, but it certainly wasn’t the first.

Her bare feet landed on the wooden second-story floor and she slid through the dark corridor, following the circular hallway to occasionally stop and check each room. Some of them were storage units filled with boxes and barrels, others trophy rooms with stuffed animal heads and liquor cabinets. There were also a few bedrooms for people to sleep in, but every single one of them was empty.

This was a little odd. The chieftain could be downstairs... Maybe he was at the fighting pits watching the scuffles. But wouldn’t there at least be more guards inside?

Finally she came to the largest door on this floor. It was thicker than the others, had a large iron handle, and was positioned right in front of the stairway leading up from the first floor. She glanced downstairs, noting how it was dark down there as well, and noted there was no sign of life either by noise or sight.

Curious.

She turned back to the larger door more warily when she heard the crackling of fire coming from the other side. There were no other ways in, thus she stepped back and attached a small string to the thick iron handle, then she backed even further out of sight. Pulling on it, she realized it was a lot heavier than she’d originally given the door credit for. She had to yank just a little bit harder, but the door began to budge and creek ominously. Firelight poured into the dark hallway, but from her current position she could only see the left-hand side of the room - which was completely barren.

Then a deep, booming voice called out to her from inside, beckoning her to make herself known. “Come in, demon... I have felt your presence since you stepped foot in my village. I have been waiting for you, as we have much to talk about.”

Athela only hesitated for a moment, somewhat surprised that she’d been found out, then carefully proceeded forward.

In front of her was a throne of furs and skulls, with a tapestry of a tusked orc skull hanging on yellow linen in the background. Sitting on the large chair in front of a stone fire pit built into the floor was a large, hunched over orc wearing a wooden mask painted yellow and blue. Probably the chieftain by the look of his shirtless, heavily tattooed chest often identifying orcs in positions of power, and he wore a number of feathered items that made him look like a peacock. He had feather pauldrons the color of burnt orange, along with feathered bracelets and anklets to boot. Feathers adorned the mask around the periphery along the top and sides, with leather straps keeping it securely fastened to the orc’s head - and he held a long, wooden staff carved into the shape of a cobra’s head. Two emeralds adorned the staff for the cobra’s eyes, and a single green sigil akin to Aztec hieroglyphs was glowing brightly along the front of the wooden cobra’s flared hood.

He also wore many rings, some of them intricate gold and platinum while others were more plain and had a sickly aura about them that Athela could even feel from here. A mixture of forest and swamp mana if she had to guess. Beside him and on either side of the throne stood two heavily-outfitted orc warriors, each equally as big as the chieftain himself. One carried a large claymore almost the size of a man and was decked out in heavy iron plate armor, having a large swath of horse hair creating a frill along a barbute-styled helmet. The other one was adorned with thick studded leather and carried a large basic warhammer with a round shield, being absolutely bald and wearing golden hoop earrings on either green ear.

Athela confirmed that there were no traps within the immediate vicinity of the doorway and stepped through, smiling venomously with sharpened teeth across the fire pit between them and letting her hands fall out to either side of her with palms facing outwards. “Ah... So here you are at last... Tell me, how did you know I was here? I thought I was being rather elusive. The sentries outside never even saw me coming...”

The orc with the claymore let out a rumbling growl and took an aggressive step forward, but the chieftain stopped him with his cobra-shaped staff as it slammed against the other orc’s metal breastplate with a clang.

The chieftain then laughed and leaned forward to get a better look at her. “And why would I tell you how I knew? You’re a treacherous little snake, aren’t you? Yes, I have heard about the arshakai from that elfling village near the base of the mountains. You, the brutalisk, the succubus, and that vampire master of yours. After our failed raid on the elf camp, we lost many of our seasoned warriors where we would have succeeded in culling the threat of the elves otherwise... but the few that managed to escape reported back what they’d seen.”

The chieftain settled back into his chair and stared at the wickedly smiling demoness, curiously tapping a finger along the armrest of his throne. “Tell me. Why would a vampire help high elves? Surely you cannot trust them, they would sooner kill a vampire than they would an orc.”

Athela pondered whether or not to engage the chieftain further. It couldn’t really hurt, her cover had been blown already. But just in case she failed to kill him now that she lacked the element of surprise - she decided to play Riven up in the minds of the greenskins here so they’d think twice about a countermove should the time come.

“Help them?” Athela let out a charming, lady-like laugh and let her right hand dangle as she raised that wrist over her mouth and fluttered her eyes seductively. “Oh no... They’re merely food for the coven! They just don’t know it yet, but they will submit eventually... You see, your warriors were trespassing on our claimed lands. The elves are ours to feed on, they belong to my master, not to you...”

At the word ‘coven,’ the chieftain’s eyes narrowed and the warrior with the warhammer stiffened. Vampires had a very bad reputation even amongst the most hardened of warriors. They could regenerate extremely fast, they could see in the dark - turning night battles heavily in their favor, they had more speed and strength than most of the mortal races did on average, and all this made them very hard to kill. Usually vampires were territorial by nature, especially if other vampires encroached on their feeding grounds. This usually meant they were solo hunters, so if there was a group of vampires instead of just one to deal with... it complicated things for the orcs in a very big way.

Athela could immediately recognize the realization of their situation in the chieftain's eyes, and her already big grin spread literally from ear to ear in a sickening display. The usually white, brilliant, human-like smile was gone, and instead was the look of a casual predator eyeing its next meal with a tinge of amusement.

The chieftain stopped tapping his finger and stood to his full height, anger apparent in his voice - but he kept it contained while gripping his wooden staff. “I wish to bargain with your master.”

Athela blinked, and her smile began to fade as irritation welled up inside her. Her mission had originally been to kill the chieftain and scout out the orc village, but he was already wanting to negotiate the orcs leaving this land instead of brutally killing everything there. If she gave up this opportunity for an easy victory, Athela would never hear the end of it.

With a loud sigh and an obvious frown, she folded her arms and sneered across the fireplace while leaning against the doorframe. “Unfortunately I was told that negotiations actually are on the table... So if you have a deal that I think my master can agree to, I will hear you out. I suggest you not waste my time and spit it out, filthy creature, for I have better things to do than gawk at your unsightly features or smell the piss that lingers in the air here.”

The chieftain angrily growled, but reigned in his temper despite her insults and nodded just once. “Very well. Let us discuss terms.”