A beast, covered in crude leather, dragged the corpse of another elven woman. It was only recently that they had managed to create a camp near the heart of their enemies, yet it was not over.
Their benefactors had warned them that they had to remain put and feed the dark pools.
For what purposes, they did not know. However, it was due to their benefactor that they would at long last reclaim their ancestral land.
"Dis' was our land." He grumbled, throwing an elven corpse onto the pile.
The elves had stolen it from them, and now it was time to reclaim what belonged to them. And what was the price? Mere allegiance to a powerful entity.
His tribe was not unfamiliar with submission to the gods or their servants, after all, it was their will that made them what they were.
His steps were heavy, digging into the ground as he made his way toward a final elven corpse. The final spoil of the latest ambush. It was a shorter girl, whom he had assumed was the offspring of the previous one.
Yet, he decided against feeding the black pool with this one. His stomach grumbled.
He grabbed the leg and ripped it off. The fragrance of fresh elven meat invaded his nose before he dug his sharp teeth into the soft flesh of elven young.
The blood dripped, staining his orange-striped fur.
Soon.
He grabbed a small black cube hanging around his neck and crushed it in his hand. The rot within began to spread, and he threw it onto the pile.
The leg he had ripped off was only bones, so he threw it to the pile and grabbed the arm before chomping on it as the rot devoured the corpses.
He finished the other limbs and threw rest of the girl into the pile.
Soon, a black pool formed, its smell was disgusting, yet it only brought hope.
"Chieftan." A raspy voice reached him.
He quickly snapped toward the voice.
Who stood in front of him was a humanoid shrouded in darkest cloaks, their scrawny arm hidden in the sleeves of their clothing, and their face obscured, only a single illusory eye decorated the darkness within.
Each word the man spoke made him fear for his own life, his instincts screamed.
"Tis' an honor, benefactor. The task is complete."
The cloaked figure did not speak, instead, it merely approached the pool.
"Good, the great inquisitor shall reward you for the job. In two daylight cycles, your promised army shall arrive, and then you will lay waste to all your enemies," He said, "this land will belong to your people, once more."
Chieftain grunted in approval and hit his chest.
"I thank you, great benefactor. Dis' was all your doin'."
"Mention it not, we have made all the preparations. You merely need to reclaim what is yours." He spoke in a monotone voice, his gaze focused on the expanding pool of rot.
With the final words, the benefactor disappeared, leaving nothing but a petal of twilight rose behind.
The petal landed in his hand, its color was beautiful, black with a purple hue, resembling a night sky. Soon, a voice reached his keen ears."Chieftan! The warriors are demanding to know when our assault will begin!"
A growl resonated from within him. He stepped past the fellow warrior and ventured toward his tribesmen, gesturing for the warrior to follow him.
The foliage separated before him, and he came face to face with a group of his berserkers.
"Um'Am, when will we feast? We grow tired of eating occasional elf. We thirst for a grand feast! "
The chief towered over his berserkers, yet his respect for the warriors was great. They would be the ones who would put down their lives to reclaim what belonged to the great tribes.
He growled. "The benefactor promised the army in two daylights. We must stay put until then, and then we will take what was ours."
"Tis' for your own good that it is done, the elves are starting to get rare, and most are given to you to conduct the ritual. We are growing hungry, Chieftain."
The chieftain's tail swayed, "The hunting party will return soon. They will bring you your food. We do not need to feed the pools anymore."
The berserkers nodded.
As if on cue, the rustle and heavy footsteps and muffled soft screams made his ears perk up.
"Ah, just on time. Tis' time to feast, my warriors!" he shouted, gesturing for them to prepare the chopping tables.
A variety of beastmen arrived from the thick forest. The front carried a thick spear with multiple impaled dead elves, followed by a group bringing a group of two females and one male bound together in a crude rope.
And right after them was another group dragging a dozen dead elven soldiers.
Their muffled screams were of no consequence. They were food.
"Why are these creatures alive? We do not have time for husbandry now, you will not get milk or any long-term benefit. Kill them at once."
"Cheiftan!" The leader exclaimed. "My warriors wished to keep them alive so that the flesh remains fresh for longer, they say the elven flesh tastes better that way. I wished to fulfill their wish for a job well done."
Um'Am plunged into thought, his tail swinging wildly. "I will allow it, but butcher and divide the dead ones first. My berserkers demand food right now."
The leader bowed deeply, his lizardlike appearance giving him a slight sheen.
The lizard approached the bound group, their tears staining their faces, yet still holding a hope of escape.
He dragged them into a nearby cave that served as the food storage and quickly pushed the group inside before quickly placing the wooden bars and tying them as tightly as possible with his superior strength.
The cave was cold and dark, and the elves wore only scraps that remained after the battle; however, the elves would be eaten soon, and it did not matter if they were cold.
The fear would make the meat even more delicious. His forked tongue licked his nose. "I am hungry… 'tis time to see if the butchers divided the corpses."
His fellow tribesmen were hard at work dividing and already feasting on the delivered corpses, even the chieftain was indulging by eating a whole elven male.
He approached the nearby chopping table, on which was an arrangement of elven organs and limbs. The only organ that his tribe would even consider consuming was the heart. The brain and stomach would be thrown away to fertilize the land once more.
After all, consuming the heart would grant them the strength of the slain victim, while others would carry diseases that could ravage the tribe.
However, when it came to him, he enjoyed feasting on the entrails. As a lizardman, he was blessed by powerful immunity, allowing him to eat any meat.
Yet despite that, why would he put himself down and consume the leftovers when the real meat was on the menu?
He grabbed a leg and dug into the thigh. "Shame we are missing the quality elven cheese and milk, but what can we do," he complained while chomping down on the flesh.
Two daylights. Just two more and we shall feast on all of elven kind.