BALLAD OF THE ORC PALADIN

trials of the forest

he cold wind cut through the thick forest, carrying with it the distant sounds of creatures stirring in the shadows. The dense woods of Valkra loomed tall and imposing, their branches twisted and gnarled as though warped by the magic that suffused the land. Kaito's party continued their journey toward the ancient temple, but the road ahead was far from straightforward. The landscape itself seemed hostile, as if the land was trying to prevent them from reaching their destination.

They had been travelling for several days since entering the deeper parts of Valkra, and while they had encountered the eerie stillness of the wilderness and the constant sense of being watched, no direct threats had presented themselves. That sense of foreboding only heightened Kaito's unease.

Grushak, as always, led the way with his axe slung over his broad shoulders. He had become something of a guide in these treacherous lands, his experience as an orc warrior giving him an innate sense of danger. Beside him, Sylvara moved silently, her elven senses always attuned to the slightest changes in their environment. Borin and Seris flanked the rear, while Dorian hovered somewhere in the middle, quiet and alert. Kaito remained near the front, his thoughts heavy with the weight of what lay ahead.

Suddenly, Grushak raised a hand, halting the group. His yellow eyes narrowed as he scanned the area. "Something's up ahead."

Kaito instinctively reached for his dagger, his heart quickening. "What is it?"

Grushak pointed toward a cluster of trees where faint movement could be seen through the mist. "Looks like a caravan—though I can't tell if it's in trouble or just resting."

Seris narrowed her eyes, her golden pupils glinting in the dim light. "If they're smart, they wouldn't be out here unless they had no choice. Let's approach carefully."

The group advanced cautiously, their weapons at the ready. As they neared the clearing, they could see it more clearly—a small merchant caravan, the wagons circled defensively, with a handful of armed guards surrounding them. The tension in the air was palpable. Something wasn't right.

"Help! Please!" a voice called out from the camp.

Kaito moved forward, his instinct to help overriding his caution. As they approached, a middle-aged man, clearly the caravan's leader, rushed toward them, relief evident on his face.

"Thank the gods you've come," the man said, his breath coming in quick gasps. "We're in trouble. Creatures... something's been stalking us for days. We haven't been able to rest properly, and we've lost two guards already."

"Creatures?" Sylvara asked, her voice calm but concerned. "What kind of creatures?"

"We don't know," the man replied, shaking his head. "They stay in the shadows, but they attack at night. We've tried defending ourselves, but they're fast—too fast. We're heading to Redwater, but we won't make it without help."

Kaito exchanged a glance with the others. The journey was already dangerous enough, but leaving these people to fend for themselves would be a death sentence for the caravan.

Grushak grunted, eyeing the merchant. "We're on a mission, but we can't leave you to die. What do you need?"

"We need protection, at least until we're closer to the borders of Redwater," the merchant said. "If you could help us for just a day or two, we'll pay you. We don't have much, but we'll give you whatever we can."

Seris crossed her arms. "These creatures that attacked you—did you get a look at them? Anything we should know?"

The merchant hesitated, clearly unsettled by the memory. "They're... they're fast. We barely see them before they strike, but their eyes glow red in the night. They're like shadows, slipping through our defences. We think they're drawn to something we're carrying."