Location: Unknown home in the north-west patch of the Swamp

"Mom, what did I say about wasting our cross bow ammo?" Gula said to the sweetest woman in her life, who was currently looking at a wild chicken freshly pinned to a tree.

Its murderer in question was the 5'11 inch Orc, Durka, who was currently deciding on how to prepare her latest victim. She had two long braids of brown hair with three cornrows on the left side of her scalp with the rest growing out and pushed off to the right with two bangs going past her eye.Her eyes were black spheres with red irises and her multi ridged nose came with a ring piercing in between her nostrils. The larger, muscular body of the mother was a stark contrast to her daughters almost ballerina frame

"Come on, you ever use these things? It's so cool to hold a weapon that has it's own tension, just waiting to go off." Durka said with a grin, her dark green lips sliding over her slight tusks.

Gula tapped her foot impatiently. " Look at the bolt" she pointed towards the dead fowl, its weight breaking the bolt at the head buried in the tree. "The metal on it is worth more than a dozen chickens. We only have a few of these things and unless they send another caravan filled with idiots into the forest we aren't easily getting anymore."

" We are lucky we got this many as is." Gula half sighed. She was a wayfarer, a specialized fighter who was stuck somewhere between ninja, one-man army of commandos, and a scout. She was typically in the northern mountain area but the regions higher ups sent out the call for a massive operation in the lowlands forest to the west. A great harvest was made of that caravan, with the valuable wheat and weapons adding to the lean stores of the Alliance, the mutual coordination pact between orcs and Frojan, the man sized frogs who were native to the swamp.

"We were at the front lines of that fight, those bullshitters should have at least given us more ammo, if not some wheat." Durka grumbled as she headed into their house. It was a mud brick and small log construction with a main area for cooking, discussion, and armor/ weapon preparation. It had two side rooms for their respectively private areas. The hard dirt floor had been flattened with use to the point that it wasn't mud like most of the surrounding land.

Durka made her way over to a hanging pot and started cleaning her prize. Gula made her way to her room, The 5'6 orc was of a slim, muscular build. Her eyes were of the same pitch black of her mothers but with gold irises. Her leather armor was a simple flap with some thicker padding on her shoulders and outer thighs hanging off the side of her straw bed. She put this over her white wool shirt and brown pants after changing into a new pair of hemp undergarments.The small sword sheathed in a leather holster that was leaning by the bed was the only other ornament in the room, which she quickly strapped to her side. Gula strode back into the main room.

"Mom, where is the grease? I am not going to take the chance that the frojan have any to spare for our travels." She said, her mother had finished plucking the chicken and was working a piece of flint to start cooking her chicken soup. Durka stepped over the small stack of vegetables and went to her room. She came back with a small bowl and smeared the brown goo over the blades entrance into its sheath.

"Now let me take a look at ya". Durka looked over her daughter. The bangs of pitch black hair were off to the right side of Gula's face, similar to her mothers but no braids or cornrows as the hair was cut at the neckline. It seemed like just yesterday this little bundle of joy was making cooing sounds and laughing as she bounced up and down on her knee. Now she was a fully fledged soldier, and not just any soldier but a wayfarer, one of the most grueling and dangerous positions in the forces. Gulas scars, the most prominent of which was a long slash along her left eye and a horizontal cut across her nose were hard earned trophies, which may have even enhanced her beauty to certain eyes. Sadly, there was one piece missing from this ensemble.

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Durka went back to her room and came back with a black leather collar. Her own neck had been tattooed with a black ring at the outset of her puberty, which all second generation Shamed had so this piece was for her daughter. Gula's eyes looked at the hated object with practiced indifference.

"Thanks Mom." Durka said to no one in particular. Her hands had a shake almost impossibly light to be noticed by any one but the daughter who had a lot of practice noticing the subtle tells of her mother's unsaid sorrow. She made sure to be behind Gula so that she couldn't see the mix of rage, sorrow and remorse that she never could keep off her face when this daily ritual had to be performed.

"Fucking bitch." Gulas said as her mother strapped on the collar as gently as she could. Moving her hair out of the way to allow the collar to be placed around her neck, she gave a slight intake of breath when she felt it slide past her sharp ears.

The expected squeeze around her neck came and Gula let out her breath. 'When will I be free of this?'. Gulas then turned around and gave her mother a hug. Durka returned the gesture and gave her a pat on the head for good measure.

"I'll pick up Lokan for this run, I'm sure she will love this mission." Gula then rushed out of the house, leaving her mother to prepare dinner alone. She headed out and took a wooden boat onto the nearby creek, following its flow she came upon a large house. It was made to look like a regular patch of cattails and willow trees but her knowledge of this area showed her experienced eye the truth of this place.

The cattails obscured the holes that provided the ventilation for the semi underground structure as the willow trees provided a pseudo roof. A soft carpet of grass allowed the boat to go up onto the small island home like a ramp.

"Lefty, I wanted to do a run with some skavy, you in?"Gula called to her friend. A pair of bright red irises with slit eyes peeped out the hole behind the cattails. A few seconds later, the friend in question came out from a hatch by the trunk of two of the willow trees. As a Enten, she had blue frill of a snake on her head and neck, just barely protruding out past her neck.

Her jaw, chest, underhand, and legs had a smooth light blue more similar to a gecko while her back and almost body length tail had the hard scales of a snake with a deeper blue, her snout was also similar to a snakes but there were also some distinctly human features in her as well. She had the long eyebrows and considerable chest size of a human female as well as the same general structure of shoulders and legs. Although her tail forced her anatomy to have wide hips to accommodate it.

"Sure Lefty, I have some left over, you have any of the other shit we need to make more?" Lokan asked. They both had a long scar along the left eye, the obvious child like nickname being established in their formative years together.

"The gang has the stuff we need, usual split for goods, transportation and sales?" Gula asked. Typically the frojan gang would take a cut for moving them and the goods, while Lokan would take a cut for making the sale itself, leaving Gula the task of making and getting the goods themselves. The frojan and orcs were a known quantity with few people willing to sell or buy with them, openly in the daylight anyway. The Enten were an almost unknown quantity, as long as elves weren't involved. This allowed her a lot more leverage to get into human settlements, it also meant she had to smuggle the goods into town herself. This proved to be a very profitable arrangement for Lokan in particular but the money made was enough to leave all parties satisfied with the business.

"Sure, we got some by the house and once mom is done cooking we can make the stuff and get lunch at the same time." Gula got Lokan's hand and brought her onto the boat, her purple robe ensemble proving a hassle in moving into the wooden vessel. Lokan took a paddle and they both began the journey back to Gula's home.