It had been days since her hunt for freedom: decimating her prey underneath the mass of her club-like sword before breaking free out an into the open. However, she had never seen much of anything except for what was just out of view from her pen and the space of the arena. The trees that surrounded her were a new sight, but didn't spend time checking them out more. After all, she was a slave who killed her master. She wanted to get away from that place as much as possible and this landscape was the only one not surrounded by water.

The small echo of rattling chain still rung around her neck from her thick, metal collar as she pushed herself forward under the moonlight along with the sound of shifting dirt as her sword drug through the ground. Every day was one with less food, and while she was able to get by without food and water for some time (thanks to her previous living conditions), it still sapped her of energy to wield her weapon.

Still, it wasn't long until she fell down onto her knees, holding her stomach as it rumbled for a meal. She knew she had to eat soon, because even if she did live long enough without such essentials, she still needed them. She also needed sleep, feeling her eyes stare dully at the dirt floor… eyelids getting heavier as she was losing strength in her limbs to even keep her body off the floor…

Diantha had almost become a slave, but was lucky enough to have been saved from that fate before things progressed much beyond her being initially captured. While she had been in town, she went ahead and sold one of her former captor’s daggers for a small pack and some assorted fruit to go in it. She began making her way back into the forest, far from where she had been the night before, but that didn’t bother her too much. As she was eating a peach, she spotted a woman ahead, noting that she seemed to be having some trouble even standing up. She also immediately noted the large metal collar she had around her neck, that certainly didn’t look comfortable. Wondering for a moment what sort of ordeal this poor woman may have gone through considering what just happened to her, she decided to see if she could help in any way. “Are you alright?” She called out as she picked up the pace a bit, bounding over till she was just about a dozen feet away.

The new, strange voice snapped her out of her drowsy state and back alert, adrenaline help pushing herself back up to her feet before bounding around and facing the new voice, feral eyes staring down the new figure. However, the quick movement caused a branch to catch a part of her old, battered rags before tearing a new hole into them. Of course survival was more important than fashion, causing the tiger-kin to ignore the damage and focus on what was before her, both hands grasping the hilt of her thick blade as she struggled to keep the weapon in the air.

The top half resembled many of the competitors she was used to fighting, though the bottom half resembled that more of the beasts she had to slay for entertainment. Why was this person a mix of the two kinds? Arms to wield weapons, though legs of an animal to grant agility… What animal legs were they, anyways? They didn't resemble anything she had to face before… then again, they offered no claws at all. As well as no fangs, no blades, no arrows. Nothing except for a half-eaten fruit…

The sight of the food caused her stomach to churn and grumble loudly, making Eden lose her focus and fall back to her knees and the metal weapon gashing an edge into the soil below. Still, even in her crippled condition, her eyes stayed locked on the figure. She should not make herself look weak. She cannot let herself be seen as easy prey!

"Hrm… Needs more salt." Delanac set aside the spoon and sprinkled in a pinch of salt crystals into a simmering pot. Covering it with the lid, he leaned back as he waited for the soup to come back to a boil. He had heard from a Vilpamolan tavern keeper that there was nothing better than stewed meat from wild game, so he decided to give it a try himself. So far his hunt had been successful, and he caught himself a couple of rabbits and pheasants. Tossing more kindling into the fire, he cracked open the lid to see if the meat was done. The savory smell of potatoes and broth wafted in the air, and would draw the attention of anyone nearby. Humming to himself, Delanac polished a wooden bowl he produced from his rucksack as he prepared the ladle.

He had never cooked rabbit before, and he hoped he didn't overcook the meat. The worst thing that could happen would be that the meat either became dry or stringy. Earlier he had cooked some potatoes, carrots, and diced onions in the pot until they became soft, and added water to fill it halfway. Then he tossed in some dried herbs and crushed pepper and let them infuse the food with their fragrance. The meat was put in last, as while the vegetables were cooking he cleaned the animals and rubbed salt into the meat. Scooping a generous amount of the stew into his bowl, he recovered the pot and waited for his food to cool. 

Diantha was sure not to get too close. The woman seemed to be rather wary and the last thing she wanted to do is give her a reason to skewer her with that sword she was carrying as that would be a bad end to a dreadful day. She greeted the woman with a warm smile and reached into her pack in a slow and deliberate motion, pulling out the first thing she could find, which turned out to be an apple. As she did this, she spoke softly with a kind tone, trying to ease the tension. “It’s alright, just relax. I’m not here to hurt you, you’re better armed than I anyway. Here, would you like something to eat? I have a bunch of fruit and I’m happy to share. My name is Diantha, I live here in the forest, well, somewhat nearby anyway.” As she finished speaking she moved just a little further toward the woman and held the apple out in her hand. It was then though that the smell of a cooking fire and the food that was being warmed by it wafted past her nose and she blinked a bit. “Hmm, smells like we’re not alone…”

Her eyes closely watched the actions of the other, watching her hands move slowly into a large sack she had on her. Was that where she was holding her weapon? Even if she was at the point of straining herself, she hefted the club-like blade up into the air, though it was clear she was struggling to keep it up by the blade shaking, as if a rookie swordsman facing against hi first real danger as well as her teeth gritting as her weakened arms struggled against the massive weight. It was no accident either. The blade was forced for the arena as a a more comical item: strong, durable, ad highly destructive, yet massive and so heavy that many who tried to pick it up simply turned themselves into open targets.

However, instead of something like a dagger, the other pulled out something more like another piece of fruit. She made noise, but all of it passed over her head. Was the other going to tease her with it like her old owner? … If she was, then she could have done it with the one she had in her other hand. No, she held it out, carefully pacing herself towards the tiger-kin and her solid weapon, before stopping midway, making noise once more.

That was when the smell flooded her nose as well. While she could not say what she was smelling was, it was enticing. She could feel herself drooling just by the smell of it before her stomach churned again even harder this time, forcing Eden to drop her massive weapon into the floor with a loud crash before falling to her knees, arms over her stomach as her stomach demanded what she was smelling.

"If you want any of this, you are going to have to perform well." Her old owner's voice echoed in her mind. Even after he took his life, that voice and the images of him still haunted her. Her eyes dulled down as she curled up more into a sitting ball, making no real movements as the damage he did to her took over, telling her to submit to nothing more than the smell that kept tantalizing her.

Delanac had been sitting around waiting for his stew to cool when he heard a loud crash. Standing up, the orc looked around. Was it an animal? He should've known the smell of meat would have lured them here though who was he to blame them? Taking his shield in his free hand, he carefully walked in the direction of the noise. Maybe it was a heavy branch that fell off a tree. As he made his way through the bushes, he held a shield at the ready while his right hand had the bowl of soup. He wasn't going to set it down to come back and find some animal stuffing its face in his hard-earned meal.

Wading through shrubbery, he stopped when he entered the clearing. The orc's eyes were greeted by what looked like a fight, or the beginning of one. There was a beast-kin woman bearing a hefty blade on one side, and some sort of female centaur…deer-hybrid on the other. "…Oh. Pardon me ladies. I'll just take my leave now, if you don't mind." Seeing how the situation looked Delanac figured this was a private matter, and didn't want to get tangled into it.

From Diantha and Eden's perspective they would hear something coming from the bushes and see a large, muscular figure push his way through the brambles. The smell of the meat stew would grow steadily stronger the closer he came. 

She frowned a bit as the tiger girl once again grabbed her sword and pointed it toward her, thinking correctly that she must have assumed Diantha was pulling a weapon out of her pack. She would ultimately just put the apple down on the ground and back away, but this was about the same moment that an orc appeared, apparently the source of the scent she smelled, or at least his meal was. She quickly turned to look at him as he promptly excused himself and seemed intent on leaving them alone. Normally she would have left him to do that, but she felt like this girl needed help, and her attempts weren’t really working out too well so far.

“It’s not what it looks like. I just happened upon this girl, she seems to be about as weak as she is hungry, probably related issues. I’m not sure if she can speak though, she either doesn’t understand me, or is just too afraid of me. Judging by the metal binding around her neck, she may have suffered a similar fate to what happened to me recently…”

Her eyes stared at the apple set before her blandly, as if she was merely looking at its general direction. It was hardly as enticing as the smell, but she knew it wasn't for her anyways. She did not earn it. It was only there to remind her of her position… that she freed herself from… Grasping her head, she tried to fight off those thoughts. She did not belong to anyone anymore… as she took that orc's life to earn her freedom. So why… why was she still thinking in such methods?

Hearing the rustling of the woodlands nearly, her head and eyes lazy shifted over slowly to see what came up, but what she saw made her eyes grow wide and chest heave in panic. The height… the skin color… it could not have been… could it? Her hungered and tired state, along with the darkness of night, started to color in detail on him that did not exist. His clothes and armor shifted to that of a suit and that concerned faced shifted into a malicious smile.

"You think you can get away with that?" was thrown into her ears, versus what he said himself. He… he came back from the dead… to punish her for her actions. The bowl of food… he was going to devour it in front of the kinfolk, taunting her with scraps of food before tossing them outside of reach. And at the end…. he was going to punish her for taking his life….

Covered in a cold sweat, hyperventilating as she curled up into a ball, a scream of panic was quick to explode from her lungs, echoing through the woodlands as she cowered for her life.

"Oh, apologies to you then. Lot of bad folk going around these days." When the doe mentioned the bindings on the beast-kin's neck Delanac's brows knitted together into a frown. Slavers. Of all the people he despised, he hated those rotters the most. Making a living off the blood, sweat, and tears of others while treating them like objects–they were lower than thieves. At least pickpockets worked to get what they stole, but slavers made their money off of people they kidnapped and worse. He couldn't blame the starving girl for behaving the way she did. Being a slave broke people and left them hurting in ways that salves and medicine couldn't heal. A terrible mess, it was.

When the beast-kin girl took notice of him, her eyes grew wide and flew into a panic screaming. The scream sounded like somebody crying bloody murder and shook him to the core. Whatever the slavers did to her, it was enough to make her cave like pile of bricks. Was it because of him? His size and build often made people sidle away and avoid eye contact, but he'd never garnered such a violent reaction before. It was probably because he was an orc. Whenever someone mentioned orcs most people imagined bloodstained barbarians clad in bones and animal skins, with war paint streaked down their faces. It was hard enough that families like his on Yovaesh were able to build up their reputation as skilled artisans and craftsmen contrary to the stereotype. It was hard to change what people thought, however.

Not wanting to distress the poor girl any more, he carefully approached within a meter of her and set the bowl of stew down gently. He left the wooden spoon in the bowl so she wouldn't have to pour it into her mouth. Backing away, he spoke quietly to the cervitaur. "I've set up camp not too far from here. If you'd like to stop by just follow your nose." He then disappeared into the trees returning to his campsite.