This tale starts with the story of Threeock and Ecleus, seasoned warriors in the seemingly endless border war with the Threshen Orcs. Though Threeock was only 232 moons by Earth reckoning and Ecleus a mere 280, they had survived battle with their natural enemies for over 24 passes of the moon. They rested momentarily with the beginning of the day. There had been no attack that night and they had eaten particularly well the evening before. There would be no attack during the day for the Threshen were almost exclusively nocturnal.

"Greetings friends," came a voice from the narrow path leading up to their watchtower. "Thanks to God for the grace of a night free of attacks," the volume rose as Sternk, their relief arrived.

"Yes, but I'm weary all the same," replied Ecleus with good cheer. "You go ahead Threeock, I can wait a while longer for Eff."

"Thanks," she replied, "my trip home will be a little more pleasant for your courtesy."

Formally, "I relieve you, Threeock of Banta," intoned Sternk.

"I stand relieved, Sternk of Banta," she spoke and turned to make the steep descent.

"It won't be long Ecleus, she just stopped by the mess tent to wheedle a bit more of that roast from the cooks," Sternk laughed. Eff's appetite was second in renowned only to her prowess in battle.

The talk trailed away behind her as she fixed concentration on her steps. "It would be a pity to survive many moons of battle only to lose my life to a careless misstep." But she stumbled further down the trail anyway, weary as she was. She bit her lip to concentrate. "Just a klomter more, I'll be in camp." She walked quitely, listening to the sound of her leathers padding over the soft earth near the bottom of the slope. As she turned the next corner, she was greeted by Eff's sightless eyes staring up from a bodiless head, her left eyelid fluttering just a bit in final spasm.

Threeock crushed down the revulsion of her friend's quick agony and drew her sword, ignited by fear, adrenelin sharpening her dulled senses. Wary and poised, she moved to open ground in sight of the slaughter. She would see whoever did this if they had not left before Eff's last breath. An Orc would watch the blood drain from their victim's body and their eyes would glisten with greedy pleasure.

But there was no movement or sound. She waited for a full five minutes then began to scout the area a little more carefully. It wasn't long before she found Eff's body and the slain corpse of a low breed Threshen whose mighty arms gripping a blood encrusted axe, had flown Eff's head ten paces, but not before Eff's sword sliced his thickened skull down to the neck. They died in the same moment.

Threeock, whose battle powers were being slowly overtaken by exhaustion, overturned the face of the orc. His expression was contorted by terror.

Threeock gasped! Orcs died with joy on their faces, infuriating joy, as if their lives only had meaning in death. She pushed back her tears at Eff's loss, this puzzle did nothing but hurt. She wasn't up to solving it now and satisfied herself by taking his totems and trotting back to camp. His fellows would not bury him without his totems, but would let the birds and beasts eat their fill.