"Tiru, some beast men can change into a lesser form, can you change into a kitten?" She looks up at me confused. "I need you to fit in my bag so I can keep you safe, I need you to be smaller."

She rubs her shoulders and bites her lip nervously before transforming into a small cat. After she climbs into my bag, I grab the rest of my gear before stomping downstairs.

"Ah Sedatia wonders, how was your neko sir?” Sedatia asks.

I step up to the counter with a disgusted scowl and set three coins on it. She looks at me confused.

“What is it you need, should Sedatia accompany you back to your room, I know the neko is inexperienced, but most like to be the first."

I take a deep breath trying to hold back my rage and push the coins closer.

"I like you Sedatia, the first coin is to see your lovely bosom again, the second is a little extra from the bath, the third is a bribe to get you to leave so I don't have to kill you for selling children."

She pulls down her blouse displaying herself proudly for me.

"Go ahead and grab them."

I reach over and grab her breasts. Definitely worth the coin, damn I should've had her last night. She covers herself again and steps around the counter. Soft scales and sharp claws grab my shoulder.

"Sedatia hopes you live, if not that, Sedatia hopes you a quick death."

A rowdy group of men enter as they see Sedatia flee. I wouldn’t say they look strong, but they are certainly angry.

"Who the fuck sent that lizard whore runnin',” a large man yells stepping forward.

He’s large in relative terms around six feet so a few inches shorter than me. His shoulders are broad and he comes with all the brawn of living the low life. Probably one of the ones that likes to be the first, and well be mine tonight.

"I only see one man in here and it's that green skinned pointy eared bastard over there,” another man says pointing his thin wrinkled finger at me.

The second man is older. A fitting image of how age does not always bestow wisdom.

"Tiru I'm going to set you down, do not intervene."

I set my bag on the floor by the counter. The large man approaches popping his knuckles. His fists are damn near the size of my head, and past a small veil of shadow from the hood on his cloak I can see two tusks protruding over his bottom lip. A mixed blood orc such as my self. Only he doesn’t hail from elves and orcs but something less gentle. Downward fangs they’re called in the tomes my mother used to read me. Easily provoked with a violent nature. They’re often found in the Crimson Isles in the equatorial regions of Terra along with Sabres. Catlike humanoids not unlike Veneficus.

He throws the first punch, and I duck. My fingers wrap around his neck tightly before I lift him into the air and slam him on the ground. He’s off put by my strength. My attack knocks the wind out of him and I grab a stool smashing it on his chest before he can recover. He struggles to breathe as the stool shatters to piece stop his chest. I pick up a piece of the stool and smash his face in with it. It breaks to more pieces as gore splatters everywhere.

He's not drawn final breath yet though. My hand wraps a piece of splintered wood, my palms near too callous to be pierced by it, and lodge it in his eye socket. With blood splattered on my face and chest I rise from the gruesome corpse.

"Anyone else?"

The group charges at me angered that I killed their big guy. That's a mistake for them. I break the old man’s nose with one punch, actually I think I make his face cave in. The second guy gets me with a jab to the ribs, but I kick his knee breaking his leg backward. He gives out a loud shriek before I slam his head into a table sending a handle full of teeth pattering across the wooden floors.

Third guy's a charm, he throws a kick that backs me into the wall behind me. He rushes in and I grab his first punch then spin him around into the wall. He's off balance so I throw a bunch of punches. The back of his head bounces off the wall with every punch. Another guy grabs my arms, and I finish the third guy with a kick to the chin that makes a loud snapping noise as his neck breaks.

I fall back on dick head number four. It stuns him and I roll over climbing on top of him. Blood splatters all over me as I pound his face into ground meat. You don’t always need a sword. Sometimes your bare hands can be more satisfying.

My bloodlust quenched I stand grabbing my bag. Tiru peaks out and stares at me with her big teal eyes.

“Where did you learn to fight like that,” she says her voice shaking in terror.

“My mother, she told me always go for the throat, and if there are any limbs in the way cut or rip them off.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

It’s strange talking to a small cat in a bag. The terror in her eyes is somewhat unnerving.

“What if more men come?”

"It's ok, we're leaving,” I reply.

I grab the slaver’s wagon heading away from the grim scene. Tiru turns back to her normal form and grabs my bloody arm hesitantly.

"What about the others?"

I look over at her with a cold stare.

"Not my problem."

She moves closer to me rubbing her soft ear against my arm.

"Please, they have my brother." She grips my arm tight. "Please I'll do anything."

I stop the wagon.

I don't need to help her. I already paid for her to do anything. I can't help thinking about how many young half orcs or half elves are that boy right now though. How it could have been me. I hand her the reigns and pull my dagger.

Men don't scream as much when you use a sword. A sword is quick and lethal for a warrior. A dagger is the same for an assassin, I'm not an assassin. They suffer at my dagger. An entire encampment of slavers. I can’t well describe what happened, as I blacked out from blood rage.

Stepping into the back room of a luxurious home I see a Neko boy in chains with blood pouring down his back. Two older men and a woman are smoking at a table. The scene is disturbingly pornographic. The way I kill them is more so. I'll just say the gods gave them the ability to procreate. I took it away.

After wrapping the boy in a pelt, I carry him back to my wagon before lending the keys to a few of the older slaves. They quickly seek to free the others and disappear into the night.

Tiru gasps as I jump up on the wagon setting him inside. I grab her shoulder trying to calm her.

“They got theirs, let's leave."

She stirs the horses, and we take off.

After we venture a few miles away from the village, I order her into the wagon with her brother. Neko have healing abilities that her brother desperately needs. I'm not sure about half bloods. Surely half-bloods do too. In any case it's better for him to have his sister by his side. No matter the wounds that heal they'll both be scared. This world is cruel, maybe it's not wrong for the destroyer to be here.

I stop at a small tavern off the road headed to Caldera. It’s a bland establishment, by that I mean there is nothing bold about its architecture or décor. Seems more like someone knocked out a wall in their home and lined the walls with spirits. ‘Grog’s Tavern’ the sign reads with no attempt to seem clever.

There are only a few patrons, that's good for me. I step up to the counter and an orc greets me.

"Good evening mixed blood, I have few customers tonight so enjoy whatever table you like." He leans in whispering. "The king suite is discounted, I have few customers, so if you've a party and need privacy, that's the suite for you."

I shove some coins on the table and do a poor job of sneaking Tiru and her brother upstairs.

Unlike the rest of the tavern the king suite is exceptional. There’s a bath and two beds, a balcony as well. I set Tiru's brother on the bed and sit in the floor. His wounds are healed but scared. I lean over and he twitches as I touch the lashings on his back. Tiru’s trembling at the edge of the bed.

"I should have more than earned your trust by now, he is weak, I’ll get some food don’t run off,” I say stepping toward the door.

“Where would I go?” She replies her soft furry ears folded down.

I step back downstairs into the makeshift tavern.

"Ah you return, you have younglings, I have some small meals that may suit them, I prepare them daily for traveling couples."

The orc greets me with a smile as I sit at the crudely made bar.

"An ale my brother, and two of those meals." He pours me a pint and hands me two small bags. "How long do these meals last if you don't mind me asking?"

He leans in.

"A few weeks, dried meat with a little salt takes longer to spoil, potatoes last a while, the dried fruit keeps as long as the meat." I hand him a few extra coins and he slides me a large bag. "If I may ask, the young ones, they obviously aren't yours, why help them?"

I smile.

"I saw young Orcs, Elves, even Ruksha enslaved, I don't care if I'm doing what's right, only that I'm doing something."

He pushes my coins back, and whispers.

"Usque ad Mortem."

To Orcs this means 'warrior until death.' It’s an old saying from a time before memoriam. A time when war raged across the lands of Terra engulfing all races in violence. Orcs clashed with men and elves, beast people fought anyone who came across their lands. The only race untouched by it was the dwarves. Gods know where they’ve been or are now. Tunneling deeper into the earth trying to find hell I suppose.

After an accord was reached the violence stopped for a while. The Dominion rose to power. A round table of public officials from different races meant to speak for their people. I lived in the ‘peace’ of this accord my whole life until the people realized they were still oppressed.

Disdain for any race that wasn’t human grew with the greed of man. Until it was so strong that man broke the accord, slaying the representatives of the other nations in a bloody power struggle. Sanguine Noche it was called. For the streets ran a slick crimson with blood. That’s when they came for me and my mother.

“Ad Mortem,” I reply kicking back my ale.

He smiles and sets a bottle on the table.

“So you’ll remember me on the road ahead, and perhaps to leave the roads you’ve travelled behind.”

Scars adorn his face and arms. He’s obviously a veteran of combat. Seen his fair share of bloodshed.

“I don’t think I got your name,” I say grabbing the bottle.

“Name’s on the sign,” he replies.

“Thank you for your generosity, Grog.”

I return to the room with food and the boy is awake. He's terribly weak and frightened. Tiru tries to calm him as I move closer to give him food. He hisses at me and waves his hands as if he has claws. I hit him in the face with a bag of food and he paws at his nose.

"Sit and be calm kitten, I've no time for disobedience."

The kittens eat and I motion them to the bath. They are reluctant, but it's bathe or be drowned, so they choose wisely. I'm gentle with Tiru, she can mostly bathe herself, she just needs a little help with her back.

"Are you an orc or an elf?" Tiru asks.

I try not to drown her brother as I bathe him.

"I am neither, I am Dirk." Tiru tries to stand, and I push her back down in the tub. "You can wait until I'm done." She crosses her arms.

I don't want her walking about naked. She needs to learn some manners. We’re not animals.

The boy looks up as I gently rub cleaning oil into his hair. His big green eyes make him seem like he wants to say something, but he remains silent. I look over at Tiru,

"What’s your brother's name?"

She looks over at him and he nods with a smile.

"It's Gatz, he's kind of shy, he only talks to me."

"Tiru I'm headed north to Caldera, is there anywhere safe I can take you and your brother?"

Tiru looks down into the bath water.

"The safest I've ever felt," she looks up at me, "is with you."