Tjere returned to Kings Barrow covered in blood from head to toe. Her ivory colored hair was coated with gore, her bangs glistening with a harsh crimson sheen. Bits of meat and sinew clung to her locks in sickening fashion, and her pale blue eyes struck like thunderbolts.

      The short sword she carried was oiled with the blood of her victims, and Rain noticed several smaller daggers were missing from the dhampir’s belt. Rain also noticed more than one new vial of dark liquid attached to the strap around her waist. They were but small souvenirs for a night of blissful mayhem.

      The dhampir’s grim appearance was in stark contrast to Namire’s, who seemed remarkably clean, except for a streak of blood on her chin. Even her tail was spared from the bloodbath the two had clearly enjoyed.

      They didn’t return alone.

      More than a dozen steel barred crates, each close to three feet tall, were dragged in on a massive carriage that took a dozen horses to carry. They were filled with dozens of women garbed in brown rags. Misery was their name, and starvation their epitaph, for each were gaunt with malnutrition. Yet, there was a fire in some of their eyes, even if it was but embers.

      It took specialized tools to break the locks, and Rain watched as the occupants were carefully extracted, several carrying babes in their arms, and taken to a makeshift nursery. One of the freed slaves stood out from the rest, a young girl probably no older than herself, who seemed unwilling to move until the final crate was opened. 

      The girl was surprisingly fit with thick arms, a broad chest, and supple sinewy legs. Despite her noticeable musculature, she was rather short in stature, standing just taller than an elf, but shorter than a typical human. Her skin was a light pale green, and she had sharp ears, and red eyes on her freckled face. Dark blue hair crowned her scalp, and a single sharp tooth poked through her dark lips.

      Rain expected her to rage against its occupant, which would’ve been suicide, and was surprised to watch the girl cling to the orcs massive bulk. The way the slave wrapped her arms around the orcs bicep, it was clear she wouldn’t part from him easily. The other women, while weak beyond words, offered the creature only scorn, and some pled for his death.

      While Rain suspected the reason behind their hostile glares, all it took was a single look at the orc to confirm her suspicions. The shame on his face was blatant. The orc, mighty as he was, was but a breeder; the women in the cages surrounding him were there to sire his offspring. The younger girl clinging to his arm was very likely his daughter.

      There had been stories used to scare children from running away from home, and keep them from venturing outside the alienage. Tales that spoke of half-orc children being bred for menial labor. Those who found themselves alone at night risked being taken to provide such offspring, under the observation of wicked slaver masters.

      The reasons were simple, and cruel, enough for Rain to understand. Orcs were strong, durable, and could easily be trained as competent slaves, but most importantly they were cheap. Too bad there weren’t enough of them to sate the markets, hence why cross breeding was employed. Cross breeds were more valued, at least by comparison, and easy to make. All a slaver would need was a collection of concubines, preferably of human or elven stock. 

      Once all the women had been taken away, and the orc was escorted to a separate building with the half-breed unwilling to leave his side, Rain needed a moment to contemplate what she had seen. There was some discussion as to whether the orc should be allowed out of his pen at all, but even an orc would prove little match for two dhampir’s, and a rising succubus. Rain did find it curious that the beast didn’t at least try to escape, instead it followed their directives without muttering a single grunt of complaint.

      Once the slaves had been cleared, Tjere explained the slaughter to her master in the comfort of her private chamber. Two dozen mercenaries, at least three Knights belonging to a lesser order, and no less than nine hoplites from the Mire countries, were delivering these slaves to the Vampire Counts of Kur Sang, only to find themselves lost. Kur Sang was several weeks away, well beyond the influence of Kings Barrow, and thus not too great a threat to Rain’s entourage. 

      They fought well, according to the dhampir, but proved slow in their armor, and were exhausted from days of marching. Namire slayed three of the hoplites, one of the Knights, and two of the mercenaries, and found herself woefully embarrassed at how quickly Tjere slayed the rest.

      With the guards dead, the slave owners quickly followed to the grave. Tjere’s skink servant rushed back to Kings Barrow, who then brought back a team of fresh horses to help drag the massive carriage back to the village. The stink of war was near, as larger conclaves of Knights were fighting in the valleys nearby. She feared it wouldn’t be long before the front of that war would come to Kings Barrow. 

      Tjere’s report was flavored with details of how she relished each of the Knights combat abilities, although she wasn’t interested in the hoplites, who proved unskilled, despite their gear. The mercenaries were at least worthy of some respect, and had they not been exhausted they might have proven a match. Even Namire was disturbed by their fanaticism, which was usually reserved for Knights. 

      As for the slaves, both the dhampir’s were disturbed by their shared discovery. When Kaivese entered the shrine, he brought with him a pair of healers who diagnosed the condition of their new charges. Rain listened with apprehension. 

     Women forced to breed with orcs found themselves forever changed. Taking their seed did something to the womb. Menstral cycles grew more frequent, and far more painful, unless of course, they sought pregnancy. Women impregnated by orcs were prone to birthing twins, triplets, or even quadruplets, and their milk never stopped flowing from overworking mammary glands. Even starved and emaciated, all the women rescued from their cages were well endowed, with dark nipples blossoming with motherly fluids.

      For these reasons, it was rare for women to seek out any form of relationship with the otherwise hard working clans of Ulgor the brute, who was said to be the founder of the lines of orcs. Yet, when human genes were mixed with Ulgor’s line, their offspring was said to be unnaturally strong, healthy, and long lasting. Even if orcs were considered savage by most races, their courage was hard to ignore. While not as tall or ferocious as their pure blooded orc cousins, half-orc breeds were many, and spread wide in the hidden places of the world. 

      Rain had never seen the product of an orc with elven blood before, and seeing the poor girl clinging to her fathers arm broke her heart. She wondered if all half blooded children were so loyal to their orc parents, or if this was but a unique example. Rain also couldn’t help but wonder where the mother was.

      Later that evening, the slavers journals were presented to her, written in a language born of the same root of the Saleahian peoples. Upon reading them, she learned an awful truth. The orc was but a slave himself.

      The slaver tried to encourage the brute to fall upon the women without complaint, but the orc refused to rape the women our of some code of honor. And thus the slavers tried a new tactic. When the orc refused to breed, the poor victims were instead killed in front of him, often eaten alive by their own dogs. The message was well received. Mate with the slaves brought to him, or let them suffer a more cruel fate.

      When the slave was overcome by his insurmountable strength, the slaver was pleased, jubilant in fact, and wrote in great detail for each of the orcs mating conquests. He would write how the victims cried until their eyes dried up, and eventually grew limp after the second or third breeding attempt. Those that failed to show signs of conception after a few weeks of travel, were cast aside, left to wander naked in the dark woodlands surrounding them. Abandoned they would likely meet an unknown, but terrible fate.

      All the while, if the orc refused, the woman would simply die in however cruel a fashion the slaver felt eager to devise. Reading these tales, Rain felt some level of sympathy for the orc, who accepted that mating with the women, even forcibly, was better than watching them die, and had little choice in the matter. 

      “I wish to speak with this orc,” Rain finally whispered. Beads of cold sweat ran down her spine, and there was a knot in her stomach that only reminded her of just how fertile she was right now. Her curse brands were glowing, and yet Rain felt tired, and drained of energy. She certainly wouldn’t consider standing in front of a fully grown orc alone.

      “Will you accompany me?” She asked her dhampir’s who were still filthy from their previous fight.

      “Of course m’lady, you can always count on us of course,” Namire answered with a heart warming smile.

      “I was going to insist on accompanying you anyway,” said Tjere who finally started wiping down her blade. “Simply give the order, and the beast dies tonight.”