They ventured north despite the warnings. Rain knew it was unwise to refuse the advice of a god, especially one that had so graciously changed her. They moved carefully, following the river and staying clear of any distinguishable landmarks. 

      For three days they navigated the narrow streams, carefully avoiding the sounds of fighting among the darker paths, or the clattering of steel in the hills. Eventually, Rain learned of Ocryn war bands, and found them easy to manipulate. Offering her body to them provided a wealth of life force, and an over-abundance of stamina. The Ocryns, however, were rarely strong enough to stand, or even breath, after their shared trysts. 

      Ocryn’s were larger than the average human, with a strength that was primal in nature. Like humans, they were also prone to sexual favors, perhaps even more so. Rain had left behind a steady line of broken Ocryn’s in her wake while journeying through the woods. She wasn’t sure why her power had a stronger affect on them then her human, or drow, companions. Regardless, she was happy to gorge herself on their life force. It made her marks burn bright, and cover her body from head to toe.  

      “I told you we should’ve sacrificed the drow,” Tjere spoke quietly while standing by her side. The trio of them stood at the edge of a clearing, overlooking a small village in their path. Not too far off, the sound of butchering combat could be heard. Not too far behind them, the drow clan kept silent in the shadows of the trees, keeping their children close as to not attract attention.

      Perhaps you were right, Rain considered Tjere’s words. She wasn’t excited about the prospect of rushing to the geists lands only to offer them her drow servants. It would make things faster, but she wasn’t willing to cross that bridge so soon. Not while there were better options. The woods hid all sorts of possibilities, and wherever there were people there was a stronger possibility of a vampire being among them. 

      Rain muttered a prayer of thanks to the god Roien, hoping this village was put in her path for a reason. 

      It was raining, and a small part of Rain’s past haunted her. She looked up to the sky only to find the canopy blocking most of the view. The sounds of the downpour against the leaves filled her with a sense of dread. Like the Season of Sorrows on the eve of her conception, the turbulent wind sang against the tree branches. Somehow, the thrashing of the storms wind had a more profound affect in the woods, than in her home city of Saleah.

      The collection of mud soaked buildings was perhaps the worst example of a village Rain had ever seen. The wooden fence surrounding the buildings appeared rotten. Rusted chains, combined with reed rope, bound the logs together in a loose assortment of walls. The woodlands foliage was so thick around the base of the aged pillars, one might easily pass by without noticing the village was even there. 

      Smoke could be seen billowing out from one of the central buildings, and small camp fires were lit around crudely constructed gates houses. What little rain got through the canopy, had no affect on the torches lit around what must have been a tavern, for it had the greatest concentration of inhabitants. There clothing was more vile and decomposing than the walls surrounding their village. Upon first glance, Rain wondered if they were ghouls, or emancipated corpses brought back to life using some kind of forbidden sorcery. But seeing them up closer, Rain could tell they were most definitely alive. She couldn’t help but wonder for how much longer.

      It was Namire who first noticed the hovel of a village, and spied upon the larger building that was discovered to be its tavern. The gangrene of its infrastructure, and stature of its sickly populace, wasn’t what concerned the dhampir so deeply. Mingling among the humans, drow, and teiflings scattered about the enclosure, were what looked to be Pharines in slave collars. 

      Rain was surprised to find Pharine’s this far to the west, but they were noticeably different than Namire. They were shorter, with thick fluffy tails, and larger ears than Namire’s. Most had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and they all seemed desperate. 

      “Namire, I had no idea Pharine’s lived in the woods.” Rain spoke quietly, although she didn’t feel like hiding her anger. It made it so her words were sharp. She had grown frustrated from the days of wandering through the woodlands, toward the lands Roien had promised her. The days had made her weary, and it didn’t help that the drow were dragging behind.

      Namire stood in front of them, her harsh gaze focused on the slaves. “Most of the clans migrated east centuries ago. They now live in the northern lands of Fanfow. But there were rumors of smaller clans remaining behind, keeping to hidden places or sacred shrines. I had no idea there were any here until…I found this place.” 

      Rain sympathized with her dhampir, after all, she had grown up in the alienage where life was little better than living in slavery. Where one offered squalor, the other promised depredation. It was common for elves to vanish in the middle of the night, or for entire families to go missing, only to be discovered months later serving as indentured servants to humans. Every few weeks, a band of guards would enter for routine inspections, and everyone noticed how many of the disappearances occurred during those times. 

      Had these been elvish slaves in the hands of human scavengers, Rain doubted she would’ve felt any less inhospitable as Namire. The vampiric Pharine had her hands on the hilts of her blades, and her fingers were shaking. Namire’s ears were at full attention, and her tail was stiff.

      Tjere stood to the side with her arms crossed. She had grown rather despondent over the past few days. Rain had a good idea why. So far, Rain had counted three dead among the drow, each of them drained of blood. Rain hadn’t felt like punishing her precious Tjere for her lapse of judgement. If anything, Rain felt rather bad for her. The drow were not sating Tjere’s hunger, and Rain knew it was partly her fault. She hadn’t been sharing herself with her dhampir’s as often as she should, something she would have to improve upon in order to prevent further tragedy.

      For now, Rain would keep the matter to herself. Perhaps after her next tryst with an Ocry chieftain, when her power was renewed, she would let Tjere have her fill. Maybe, she could ensure a human or two were there as well, to fully nourish both her dhampir’s thirst.

      “Don’t worry, it’s fortunate they were enslaved by humans. There’s more than enough warm blood to share.” Tjere took a step forward, then unsheathed one of her many daggers. She was about to pounce when Rain held up a hand. 

      “Do the humans have a name for this place?” Rain asked both of them with newfound authority in her tone.

      “King Barrow, my queen.” Namire answered swiftly.

      Rain thought it was an unusual name for a lost outpost. “Is there a king here?” Rain doubted it, but felt overtly curious. 

      “No, that’s just a dumb name for a dumb colony of humans.” Rain could hear the grin in Tjere’s voice. The dhampir stretched out her arms, and flexed her sinewy back muscles. Tjere was eager to dash forward, to be unleashed without a second thought.

      “There’s a lot of teiflings.” Rain decided to take a moment longer to look over the village. 

      Within the woods there were supposedly several Ocryn war bands on the prowl, and Rain would’ve preferred seeing them instead. The woods seemed to have plenty of them, more than enough to spare. This was the first time, however, that Rain had encountered Tieflings in person. Another name for them came to mind, one often used to describe them by humans in Saleah. 

      Blight born.

      Rain had only ever seen one before, but it was from a great distance. It had been a captive paraded around the city of Saleah on New Festives Day. The bluish skin, large horns, and devilish tail made him impossible to ignore. The dark coal eyes peering from underneath his hood appeared even more insidious. 

      Rain brushed the memory aside. In the cluster of rotting buildings, there were several such creatures. They each had different shades of skin, and varying shapes of horns on their scalps. Many seemed better dressed than their human counterparts. 

      It was rumored that Tieflings were known to use magic, and were descendants of the Demon Lord. If there was a population of them here, Rain assumed the Demon Lords influence wasn’t far away. She would’ve preferred to deal with Ocryn’s.

      “Makes sense,” the Tieflings didn’t seem to bother Namire. “I don’t see how else they could keep this place hidden without magic.”

      “Wait?” Rain paused. “Are you saying they are…not agents of the Demon Lord?”

      “It’s hard to say. I’m sorry my queen, but I am not sure.” Namire sighed, clearly more interested in the Pharines than the others. “These blight born may be working to help keep this place hidden, but as to why we may never know.”

      “They don’t call it the Barrow Lands for nothing.” Tjere scoffed. “This village probably switches allegiance every week.”

      Barrow Lands, King Barrow, humans creative ingenuity never ceased to impress Rain. Tjere was referring to what the humans had named this stretch of northern woods on their maps. However the dhampir had acquired that knowledge, Rain couldn’t be sure. Regardless, she found this stretch of wilderness dreary and foreboding. It was, however, one of the few isolated fiefdoms not under the growing influence of one of the Demon Lords wayward sons. At least for now.

      This particular parcel of land was bordered by marshlands to the north, and graveyards to the south. Rain could smell fear in the air, along with the spicy fragrance of magical energies.

      “They have a forge!” Tjere spoke out, noticing the rising smoke from the corner of the village. She took a step back, then rummaged through her rucksack hidden among the nearest tree. Rain caught the glint of iron ore, and leather strips in her pack. Satisfied, Tjere repackage her belongings, then returned to Rain’s side.

      “Something I should know?” Rain teased.

      Tjere struggled to hide her excitement, “Not yet my queen.”

      “I see markets,” Namire barely sounded interested. Her focus was still anchored to the slaves chained out in the open.

      Tjere flexed her shoulders, then studied the edge of her dagger while licking her lips. “Don’t forget, there are a lot of hot blooded men down there.” Tjere looked over to Rain with a nervous smile. “Let me slay the guards, and the village will be yours.”

      Rain beamed at the thought. Knights were still nearby, the sounds of clattering steel and wailing cries was evidence of that. Still, Rain knew her followers needed supplies, and besides, Roien was with her. Rain could feel the gods presence guiding her every step. 

      “Have fun you two.” Rain reached out to stroke Namire’s hair, while planting a hand on Tjere’s shoulder. “Just save a few humans for me. Preferably the men. Also…” Her eyes stabbed at Tjere’s frenzied excitement. “Leave the children alone.”

      “Of course, my queen!” Tjere jumped up and hugged her tightly, her embrace was something Rain didn’t expect. For several seconds Tjere held on firmly, and upon release, the dhampir darted towards the town of Kings Barrow with murder in her eyes. 

      Namire was already ahead of her, and Rain watched as the town began to scream.