“Where’s that little snot Zongo?” spat Tahlavain, referring to the group’s recently acquired goblin companion. He was upset that the goblin had gotten him trapped alone in a room full of bloodthirsty orcs. Luckily, his eladrin companions were able to reach him by teleporting past the portcullis that had been dropped to block their way. Wondering himself where the creature had run off to, Jihad craned his neck to look behind him, the last place he had seen the slippery creature. The sudden movement sent a shock of pain through his body forcing him to grimace.
“I don’t see him,” grunted Jihad, stretching his strained neck. There was a knock from under the large wooden table in the middle of the room. It was quickly followed by the wet sounds of tearing flesh. All four companions were now peering at the muscled corpse of the orc leader which was splayed on the floor, legs spread-eagle, the upper half of his torso hidden in the shadow cast by the table. His body wobbled in rhythm with the cutting sounds. After a few seconds it stopped. A moment later the bulbous green nose of Zongo, highlighted by his beady red eyes, poked out of the darkness.
“First Bite?” he screeched questioningly, dragging the thick, meaty left arm of Darko from under the table. He was eyeing Jihad. As Zongo dragged the limb across the floor towards the eladrin paladin a dark stain of blood trailed behind the recently separated shoulder.