In the city of Ravenwood…
The guards stationed atop the high walls surrounding the city shook in terror as they watched the approaching orcs. A force of fifty. Three meters tall, large even for orcs, and clad in suspiciously well-made armor. Each orc carried a large, two-headed spiked axe. At the head of the army was a man wearing a dark, hooded cloak and carrying a staff.
"Go forth, and lay waste to these cretins!" the man ordered.
The orcs charged forward, moving around the man commanding them. They bashed their shoulders against the city gates, trying to gain entry to the city. Inside the city was meat, as well as breeding stock for their tribe.
"FIRE!" the Knight commander ordered, prompting the archers posted on the wall to loose their arrows at the coming orcs. Most of the arrows simply bounced off the heavy armor of the orcs, but a handful managed to find gaps or strike at just the right angle and with enough force to pierce the iron.
"Next volley!" the Knight commander shouted. The archers immediately readied another arrow on their bows as they waited for the order to fire.
"Steady!" the Knight commander called out. The archers each selected a target, trying to aim for weak points in the armor.
"FIRE!" the Knight commander shouted. This time, when the arrows rained down, many more found purchase, piercing eyes, necks, and oddly enough, groins. Around a dozen of the orcs fell, not dead, but badly wounded enough to no longer be an immediate threat.
This lasted for around ten seconds, at which point the orcs behind the wounded simply shoved their brethren to the side to take their place in slamming against the gates. The gate held for ten full minutes, the orcs hammering away at the city gates, the archers taking down a few of them, more orcs in the back stepping forward to continue. Meanwhile, the hooded man in the back was casting healing magic on the wounded orcs so that they could eventually rejoin the siege.
It was because of all of this that when the gate finally fell, the archers were already weary and had all but given up hope.
"This was always going to be the outcome," the hooded man declared viciously. "And now the city is mine, after the orcs take their cut, of course."
"Speaking of cuts…" a cold voice whispered behind him. He tried to spin around to see who had spoken when a sword pierced through his back, protruding out of his chest.
"Who–" the man sputtered, blood leaking from the corners of his lips.
"The Demon of Grimcrest," the cold voice whispered again before the sword was removed. Before the man could even think about retaliating, he felt a cold pain through his neck. He found himself looking at the world upside down. And then he saw a cloaked figure fall onto the ground. It was then that he realized he was looking at his own body. That was the last realization he managed, before the life faded from his eyes.
Zepar stood over the headless body of the enemy mage. It had now been a month since he'd originally left Gilramore, and a week since he and Orin had become blood brothers.
"It seems we've arrived just in time," Orin commented.
"Indeed," Vance replied coldly. "Just in time to exterminate some vermin."
"You don't mind if I thin their numbers a bit do you?" Zepar asked.
"Not at all," Vance said. "The safety of the civilians is more important than pride or experience."
Zepar simply nodded before raising his staff high in the air. "Mutatio Inanis!" he chanted. As he finished speaking, his mana surged. Dozens of the orcs found their bodies twisting and contorting. Many orcs were suddenly missing chunks of flesh, others had simply vanished, while more still had been seemingly crushed by an invisible force.
"Man am I glad you're on our side," Orin said nervously.
"Well?" Zepar prompted.
"Attack!" Vance shouted. The Knights and Zepar charged forward, Zepar holding a sword in one hand, and his staff in the other as he joined the knights in systematically cutting down the surviving orcs.
Finally, after a few minutes of combat, the final orc was slain. Just as the giant creature was about to fall, Zepar noticed something on the ground. His eyes narrowed as he darted forward, praying that he'd make it in time. He dove towards the ground, scooping something into his arms and curling his body protectively around it as he rolled across the ground and out from under the falling orc.
He stood up slowly, and smiled down at the small creature in his arms. He turned to see Orin and almost laughed at his friend's shocked expression.
"What's a kitten doing out here?" Orin exclaimed.
"Dunno," Zepar replied. "But I noticed him just in time." He slowly stroked the black cat's tiny body. The cat, in response, curled up in Zepar's arms and purred loudly.
"You could've gotten yourself killed," Orin pointed out.
"I know," Zepar replied. "I don't know what happened, I just moved before I'd thought it through."
Orin smiled at Zepar's answer. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to. He felt it was pretty clear how important the moment was.
"So, are you gonna keep him?" Orin asked.
"Yeah, I think I'll call him…Nyx," Zepar said while scratching under the kitten's chin. The kitten meowed in what almost sounded like approval.
"I think he likes the name," Vance said as he walked over to the other two. "Anyway, I propose we all go to the tavern. It's been a long journey, and I'd say we have much to celebrate."
"I wouldn't miss it, Captain," Zepar replied.
"Just Jeremiah," Vance insisted. "After everything we've been through together, I think we're past formalities."
"Alright then, Jeremiah," Zepar said with a smile.