3. Gatecrashers
Equestrielle the Corrupted raised her head, sniffing the air and snorting. The cold wind turned her breath to mist as it left her nostrils. She could smell danger in the air of the Faydark, a sense of impending violence that sent shivers through her blackened heart. Pawing the ground, she turned and headed towards her favourite watering spot, content in the knowledge that death would walk the hills of her home this night.
Gueri shivered. The nights in the woods were cold, compared to her homeland of Erud, and she pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. Jomen was having trouble getting their campfire to remain alight, even with his skill as a woodsman. Of the group, only Siobhan seemed undisturbed by the chill that had settled into the air since they had dispatched the orc sentries: understandable, since her home was permanently under the cover of snow.
Jomen sighed irritably and kicked dirt into the flickering fire. He turned to face the rest of the troupe.
"I give up. With all the rain and this mist, we might as well move on the camp now as wait here trying to make water burn."
The five friends looked at each other, the tension apparent in their eyes. They had been camped for almost an hour, trying to warm themselves before the attack - or rather, trying to raise their spirits in what now seemed a much more dangerous situation than they had expected. Ganth looked at his feet, unwilling to say anything. Eltheria remained in quiet meditation. Only Siobhan seemed anxious to attack.
"Och, now is as good a time as any, lads and lassies. Them orc won't be a- goin' nowhere, and waitin' any longer'll jest give 'em time to call in more help."
Jomen rose, and picked up his shield. He nodded. The others took a deep breath and all regained their feet. Silence descended.
"Of all the miners I have known, ye'll be the most remem-bered," Ganth sang, quietly. "And in this world or any more, we'll ne'er be apart. I'll carry ye with me in me soul, me mind, me bones, me heart." the song trailed away into a hum, as the group gathered close to each other.
It was Siobhan who broke them out of their introversion.
"PAP!" she exclaimed, her voice thunderous as always. "Tonight I may die, but bear witness tae this sword, this courage and your line. Many an orc will pass before me into the underworld, afore I go!"
"May Tunare bless us all," whispered Eltheria, calling magical protections onto the group.
"Quellious, spare a thought in your eternal meditations, for your servant goes to battle."
"May these trees, this ground watch and bear witness to the courage of this woodsman."
"Ah, stuff it!" Ganth said. "Ye're all gonna make it, and me too! We'll sing 'em a song o'destruction and pain they'll never be fergettin'!" He laughed, and a huge, brown-toothed grin spread across his bearded face. The others couldn't resist the dwarf's stout humour, and all smiled and chuckled.
Gathering their weapons and covering the fire, the comrades moved off into the night, towards the distant flickering lights of the orc camp.
***
Inside the orc chieftain's tent, a huge blue beast and a tall, slim dark elf were deep in conversation. The two guards at the tent entrance shuffled uncomfortably in the presence of the robed foreigner.
"This is not just another attack by a bunch of lowly elves, you know, Chief," said the elf. "I have received word from my masters that the group coming here do so for a reason. One among them bears a terrible grudge against your people. If she knew it was you who killed her father and brothers, I fear the tall one would be unstoppable."
The Chief grunted and reached for another gnomish bone. He crunched down on it, sucking out the marrow. The elf tried, but could not contain his disgust. The Chief chuckled throatily.
"Dat berberrian? She not make me fraid. Chief not fraid of none of dems skinnies. We see who da strongest after dey comes in here and I crunches on dere bones."
The elf sighed. How to make a stupid orc understand? It was bad enough that he had been sent here to use this senseless individual and his band of stinking underlings to further the cause of Neriak, but to put up with the megalomaniac meanderings of the tiny brain in its head was too much.
"Listen, Chief. I know you do not fear them, but they are stronger than you think. They are well-equipped. They are determined." The Chief snorted, but the elf continued. "Quite apart from the barbarian woman, there is another among them who must not escape. She is tied with an enemy of Neriak, and she must be captured, or killed." The Chief snorted again. The elf rose, swiftly and threateningly.
"Do not fail me, Chief. You know the consequences."
The Chief stopped eating. He swallowed heavily, and with difficulty. Turning his regard slowly to the elf, he opened his mouth to speak. Seeing the iron stare of the dark elf looming over him, he thought better of it, and simply nodded. The elf turned sharply about and, with shadows gathering around him, stepped out of the tent.
***
Just out of the reach of the light of the camp fires, Jomen and Ganth sat watching the orcs. They had been watching the movements of the foul creatures for some time, quietly discussing how best to attack the camp without attracting the attention of the entire enemy squad. Suddenly, from the largest tent, a dark elf stepped angrily into the light of the fire. The two guards outside the structure cowered visibly at his passing, before resuming their positions. Jomen looked questioningly at the dwarf.
"Well I don't know, do I?" whispered Ganth. "Looks like trouble, though."
Jomen nodded in agreement. They sat for a few more minutes, waiting to see where the elf went, and were disappointed to see him enter one of the smaller tents, still in the camp. Crawling quietly backwards, the pair made their way back to their friends.
"Definitely an inky in there, yop," said Ganth, as the group gathered together. "Knowing them inkies, probably a magical type, too." He sighed. "Just what we needed."
"I think we should wait a short while, let them relax a little," suggested Jomen, to the nods of the others. "If we can pull a few of them away without attracting the others, we'll be fine. I think I've found a good spot. Come on, let's go. Now's as good a time to get ready as any."
Jomen's spot was dangerously close to the camp, but looked well shielded from view. They waited what seemed an eternity for the guards to relax a little, then with the other four calmly preparing themselves, the wood elf set off into the light of the fires.
The first arrow thudded into the arm of one of two orcs standing talking by a tent. It took a moment for the pain to reach the creature's brain, then it shrieked and turned towards Jomen. As it ran towards him, the ranger backed away, landing another arrow in the beast's leg before dropping his bow and switching to whip and shield. The orc's cries had attracted three of its fellows from the camp - reasonable odds, Jomen thought.
He backed further away as the orcs continued to charge, then was joined from both sides by the rest of the group. The charging orcs didn't slow down. They crashed into the front line of the group, weapons flailing, as Eltheria shouted from behind: "By Tunare! They're all coming!"
The friends looked beyond their attackers in shock - from the camp poured a veritable wave of orc warriors. In addition to the four already upon them, another four were picking up weapons. Two more were beginning to chant. Yet that wasn't the worst of it: from the large tent came the Chief, towering over his underlings, and behind him from a smaller tent stepped the dark elf.
"For Halas! For my father! For my brothers! May my swords strike true!" shouted Siobhan, her voice rolling like a storm across the chill night. Her familiar battlecry woke the others from their moment of fear, and they all roared with her.
The first four orcs had all headed straight for Siobhan, much to the surprise of the rest of the group. Grunting as they came, their weapons pounded down upon her. Yet the barbarian seemed unperturbed, as if she were returning home. She parried the first orc's blow, dodged the second, and brought her huge sword down onto the head of the third. The sound of creaking ice was heard once again, and the orc froze solid where it stood, then fell heavily to the ground, its last breath escaping it in a hiss.
"That was fer you, pap," muttered the barbarian.
The fourth orc struck out with its spear, planting it in Siobhan's arm. She yelped, a sound far more female and childish than any other she had made, and kicked out at the creature. Her booted foot slipped wide.
Beside Siobhan, Jomen was busy. Chanting quickly, he remained concentrated on the orcs in the camp. The grass around them was growing wildly, weeds springing up from all over, trapping the orcs' feet and stinging their legs. Flames licked around another orc, and it desperately tried to swat them out - but these were magical flames, which avoided the creature's frenzied flapping and continued to burn. Only the Chief kept coming, tearing his feet from the vegetation and laughing as he approached, hefting a huge metal warhammer. Behind him, the dark elf was muttering something, and green light began to gather around him.
Ganth appeared, as always, behind the attacking orcs. With a grin, he slashed his knife down onto one of them, tearing through the cloth it wore. but the blade screeched and slid off some form of metal armour hidden underneath. The dwarf cursed and stabbed with his spear as the orc turned on him and bashed him with its heavy forearm. Ganth staggered back a step, trying to regain his balance.
Gueri and Eltheria chanted in unison behind the fighters. Magical lights were gathering around them, intensified by their proximity to each other. Two of the orcs in the camp found themselves suddenly surrounded by screaming, phantom death's heads, and cowered, trying desperately to run. Unable to tear their feet from the weeds growing quickly up their legs, the two creatures wailed and moaned, twisting first one way, then the other, dropping their weapons and covering their eyes.
As Ganth regained his feet, the orc pressed home its attack. It landed two blows with its short sword, slicing into the dwarf's chest and leg. Ganth roared in pain as his blood began to run freely. The orc smiled an ugly smile and grunted something at the rogue. It continued to advance, forcing the dwarf back towards the camp. Ganth, however, was not such an easy target once he had regained his balance. Moving as best he could, he turned round the orc until he was facing the camp, his back now towards his friends. He slashed quickly with his knife and jabbed with his spear, cutting small openings in the orc's armour and skin, harassing it continually. He began to sing.
Behind the dwarf, Siobhan was in full swing. Even with three enemies upon her, she was a formidable sight: dodging, parrying, slashing and kicking. Her powerful arms wielded their charges as if they were made of paper, but they sliced though their targets' defences with difficulty. Something was wrong. These were not the grunt orcs to which the group were accustomed.
Jomen, too, had noticed that these orcs were stronger, quicker and better equipped than others they had encountered. Whipping viciously at one of the three attacking Siobhan, he was having trouble drawing blood.
The two clerics continued their chants. Blue lights gathered around Siobhan and Ganth as the healing powers of the gods descended upon them, closing some of their wounds. Eltheria continued with the same chant, as Gueri switched to another and advanced into the fray, drawing upon the evil seeping from the ground to power the suffering she intended to inflict. As she finished her chant, strange blue clouds appeared around the three orcs. All three of them shuddered and moaned as Gueri transferred the pain Siobhan had suffered under their blows direct to their minds, wracking their bodies. Two of the orcs broke away and turned their attention to the cleric.
"Ohhhh, them there erudites is way too skinny, and them there ogger types is way too fat," Ganth sang. Despite his cheery, bawdy song, he wasn't faring so well against his attacker. To make matters worse, the weeds that Jomen had grown in the camp were showing signs of breaking, and one of the orcs was advancing slowly towards him, growling aggressively. The creature Ganth was fighting wasn't showing any signs of weakening, either, despite his continued attacks. "Ohhh, if Jomen don't do summat, I'm a-gonna die here," he sang. The wood elf could take a hint, even if it didn't really scan in the rhythm of the song. Casting quickly, he set fire to the approaching orc, then lashed out at the one fighting the dwarf.
Siobhan dropped a second orc. Turning to the two which had broken off to attack Gueri, she continued her attacks. She was beginning to weaken now, showing visible signs of tiring, as Eltheria reinvigorated her with Tunare's stamina. The barbarian's wounds were beginning to tell, too. Her armour was soaked in blood, and the metal shone red-silver. Her helm was cracked open on one side where an orc club had bludgeoned into it. She fought like a fury, slashing and hacking, kicking and shouting insults. One of the orcs swung round and faced her, but the other would not be turned.
"Uh oh," said Gueri, as the orc smashed its big blue arm down on her shield. "The others."
The weeds had broken, and by the look on Jomen's face, he was too exhausted to set them back again. The remaining orc warriors roared and charged.
Gueri braced her shield against the orc's club. Wood cracked against wood, and the erudite grunted under the attack. Swinging her own club low, she was rewarded with the sound of a resounding crack as the creature leg shattered. Moments later, her reward was taken away: blue lights shimmered around her attacker as one of the oracles in the camp finished its spell and healed the beast.
Ganth and Jomen were struggling badly. The elf had managed to turn the orc away from his badly wounded compatriate, and had used the last of his spiritual resources in healing what he could of the dwarf's wounds. Under attack, he still found time to consider his friend - if it hadn't have been for those last four orcs in the camp, and the oracles, things would have been alright. Now he was worried about the stout rogue. His wounds were deep, and many. He was staggering more than moving with his usual grace. Whipping out at the orc in front of him, Jomen was horrified to see that the beast's wounds were healing, and a magical armor was forming around it.
"The oracles!" shouted Jomen.
Siobhan reacted instantly. Skewering the orc in front of her with the full length of her sword, she quickly swept it aside and headed towards the camp, only to find her path blocked. The Chief had been waiting for her, and was backed up by four more warriors. Behind her, Eltheria shrieked as she was hit by the shock of a spell. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, the barbarian was reassured to see the elf's face contorted not by pain, but by anger, and the red magical lights that expressed it gathering around her hands. She noted that Gueri was faring reasonably well against her opponent. Good. She could deal with this so-called Chief.
"So yous is dat berberrian wumman wot da inky done tell me bout, is yous?" the Chief grunted, in a slurred and incredibly ugly attempt at the common tongue.
"Aye."
"Me done killed yore famlee, me done did," the orc chortled, his hands on his hips as he laughed a guttural laugh. "Dey done died like little pixies. And den me eated dere bones."
The battle seemed to stop. The orcs all paused as their Chief made this terrible confession. Jomen and Ganth gasped. Eltheria and Gueri breathed in sharply, their eyes wide. Siobhan simply looked the Chief in the eyes, an anger brewing deep inside her that she had never felt before.
"Aye. Well, it's taeme for you tae meet yer maker, y'great ugly bag o'pig swill, and seein' as how you smell like a cyclops's rear end, it's going tae have tae be me what kills you."
The Chief's eyes widened in anger. He let out a huge, blood-curdling roar and, raising his warhammer high, charged at the barbarian, quickly followed by the four warriors behind him. Siobhan didn't move.
"Oh, 'eck," muttered Ganth.
Equestrielle the Corrupted raised her head, sniffing the air and snorting. The cold wind turned her breath to mist as it left her nostrils. She could smell danger in the air of the Faydark, a sense of impending violence that sent shivers through her blackened heart. Pawing the ground, she turned and headed towards her favourite watering spot, content in the knowledge that death would walk the hills of her home this night.
Gueri shivered. The nights in the woods were cold, compared to her homeland of Erud, and she pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. Jomen was having trouble getting their campfire to remain alight, even with his skill as a woodsman. Of the group, only Siobhan seemed undisturbed by the chill that had settled into the air since they had dispatched the orc sentries: understandable, since her home was permanently under the cover of snow.
Jomen sighed irritably and kicked dirt into the flickering fire. He turned to face the rest of the troupe.
"I give up. With all the rain and this mist, we might as well move on the camp now as wait here trying to make water burn."
The five friends looked at each other, the tension apparent in their eyes. They had been camped for almost an hour, trying to warm themselves before the attack - or rather, trying to raise their spirits in what now seemed a much more dangerous situation than they had expected. Ganth looked at his feet, unwilling to say anything. Eltheria remained in quiet meditation. Only Siobhan seemed anxious to attack.
"Och, now is as good a time as any, lads and lassies. Them orc won't be a- goin' nowhere, and waitin' any longer'll jest give 'em time to call in more help."
Jomen rose, and picked up his shield. He nodded. The others took a deep breath and all regained their feet. Silence descended.
"Of all the miners I have known, ye'll be the most remem-bered," Ganth sang, quietly. "And in this world or any more, we'll ne'er be apart. I'll carry ye with me in me soul, me mind, me bones, me heart." the song trailed away into a hum, as the group gathered close to each other.
It was Siobhan who broke them out of their introversion.
"PAP!" she exclaimed, her voice thunderous as always. "Tonight I may die, but bear witness tae this sword, this courage and your line. Many an orc will pass before me into the underworld, afore I go!"
"May Tunare bless us all," whispered Eltheria, calling magical protections onto the group.
"Quellious, spare a thought in your eternal meditations, for your servant goes to battle."
"May these trees, this ground watch and bear witness to the courage of this woodsman."
"Ah, stuff it!" Ganth said. "Ye're all gonna make it, and me too! We'll sing 'em a song o'destruction and pain they'll never be fergettin'!" He laughed, and a huge, brown-toothed grin spread across his bearded face. The others couldn't resist the dwarf's stout humour, and all smiled and chuckled.
Gathering their weapons and covering the fire, the comrades moved off into the night, towards the distant flickering lights of the orc camp.
***
Inside the orc chieftain's tent, a huge blue beast and a tall, slim dark elf were deep in conversation. The two guards at the tent entrance shuffled uncomfortably in the presence of the robed foreigner.
"This is not just another attack by a bunch of lowly elves, you know, Chief," said the elf. "I have received word from my masters that the group coming here do so for a reason. One among them bears a terrible grudge against your people. If she knew it was you who killed her father and brothers, I fear the tall one would be unstoppable."
The Chief grunted and reached for another gnomish bone. He crunched down on it, sucking out the marrow. The elf tried, but could not contain his disgust. The Chief chuckled throatily.
"Dat berberrian? She not make me fraid. Chief not fraid of none of dems skinnies. We see who da strongest after dey comes in here and I crunches on dere bones."
The elf sighed. How to make a stupid orc understand? It was bad enough that he had been sent here to use this senseless individual and his band of stinking underlings to further the cause of Neriak, but to put up with the megalomaniac meanderings of the tiny brain in its head was too much.
"Listen, Chief. I know you do not fear them, but they are stronger than you think. They are well-equipped. They are determined." The Chief snorted, but the elf continued. "Quite apart from the barbarian woman, there is another among them who must not escape. She is tied with an enemy of Neriak, and she must be captured, or killed." The Chief snorted again. The elf rose, swiftly and threateningly.
"Do not fail me, Chief. You know the consequences."
The Chief stopped eating. He swallowed heavily, and with difficulty. Turning his regard slowly to the elf, he opened his mouth to speak. Seeing the iron stare of the dark elf looming over him, he thought better of it, and simply nodded. The elf turned sharply about and, with shadows gathering around him, stepped out of the tent.
***
Just out of the reach of the light of the camp fires, Jomen and Ganth sat watching the orcs. They had been watching the movements of the foul creatures for some time, quietly discussing how best to attack the camp without attracting the attention of the entire enemy squad. Suddenly, from the largest tent, a dark elf stepped angrily into the light of the fire. The two guards outside the structure cowered visibly at his passing, before resuming their positions. Jomen looked questioningly at the dwarf.
"Well I don't know, do I?" whispered Ganth. "Looks like trouble, though."
Jomen nodded in agreement. They sat for a few more minutes, waiting to see where the elf went, and were disappointed to see him enter one of the smaller tents, still in the camp. Crawling quietly backwards, the pair made their way back to their friends.
"Definitely an inky in there, yop," said Ganth, as the group gathered together. "Knowing them inkies, probably a magical type, too." He sighed. "Just what we needed."
"I think we should wait a short while, let them relax a little," suggested Jomen, to the nods of the others. "If we can pull a few of them away without attracting the others, we'll be fine. I think I've found a good spot. Come on, let's go. Now's as good a time to get ready as any."
Jomen's spot was dangerously close to the camp, but looked well shielded from view. They waited what seemed an eternity for the guards to relax a little, then with the other four calmly preparing themselves, the wood elf set off into the light of the fires.
The first arrow thudded into the arm of one of two orcs standing talking by a tent. It took a moment for the pain to reach the creature's brain, then it shrieked and turned towards Jomen. As it ran towards him, the ranger backed away, landing another arrow in the beast's leg before dropping his bow and switching to whip and shield. The orc's cries had attracted three of its fellows from the camp - reasonable odds, Jomen thought.
He backed further away as the orcs continued to charge, then was joined from both sides by the rest of the group. The charging orcs didn't slow down. They crashed into the front line of the group, weapons flailing, as Eltheria shouted from behind: "By Tunare! They're all coming!"
The friends looked beyond their attackers in shock - from the camp poured a veritable wave of orc warriors. In addition to the four already upon them, another four were picking up weapons. Two more were beginning to chant. Yet that wasn't the worst of it: from the large tent came the Chief, towering over his underlings, and behind him from a smaller tent stepped the dark elf.
"For Halas! For my father! For my brothers! May my swords strike true!" shouted Siobhan, her voice rolling like a storm across the chill night. Her familiar battlecry woke the others from their moment of fear, and they all roared with her.
The first four orcs had all headed straight for Siobhan, much to the surprise of the rest of the group. Grunting as they came, their weapons pounded down upon her. Yet the barbarian seemed unperturbed, as if she were returning home. She parried the first orc's blow, dodged the second, and brought her huge sword down onto the head of the third. The sound of creaking ice was heard once again, and the orc froze solid where it stood, then fell heavily to the ground, its last breath escaping it in a hiss.
"That was fer you, pap," muttered the barbarian.
The fourth orc struck out with its spear, planting it in Siobhan's arm. She yelped, a sound far more female and childish than any other she had made, and kicked out at the creature. Her booted foot slipped wide.
Beside Siobhan, Jomen was busy. Chanting quickly, he remained concentrated on the orcs in the camp. The grass around them was growing wildly, weeds springing up from all over, trapping the orcs' feet and stinging their legs. Flames licked around another orc, and it desperately tried to swat them out - but these were magical flames, which avoided the creature's frenzied flapping and continued to burn. Only the Chief kept coming, tearing his feet from the vegetation and laughing as he approached, hefting a huge metal warhammer. Behind him, the dark elf was muttering something, and green light began to gather around him.
Ganth appeared, as always, behind the attacking orcs. With a grin, he slashed his knife down onto one of them, tearing through the cloth it wore. but the blade screeched and slid off some form of metal armour hidden underneath. The dwarf cursed and stabbed with his spear as the orc turned on him and bashed him with its heavy forearm. Ganth staggered back a step, trying to regain his balance.
Gueri and Eltheria chanted in unison behind the fighters. Magical lights were gathering around them, intensified by their proximity to each other. Two of the orcs in the camp found themselves suddenly surrounded by screaming, phantom death's heads, and cowered, trying desperately to run. Unable to tear their feet from the weeds growing quickly up their legs, the two creatures wailed and moaned, twisting first one way, then the other, dropping their weapons and covering their eyes.
As Ganth regained his feet, the orc pressed home its attack. It landed two blows with its short sword, slicing into the dwarf's chest and leg. Ganth roared in pain as his blood began to run freely. The orc smiled an ugly smile and grunted something at the rogue. It continued to advance, forcing the dwarf back towards the camp. Ganth, however, was not such an easy target once he had regained his balance. Moving as best he could, he turned round the orc until he was facing the camp, his back now towards his friends. He slashed quickly with his knife and jabbed with his spear, cutting small openings in the orc's armour and skin, harassing it continually. He began to sing.
Behind the dwarf, Siobhan was in full swing. Even with three enemies upon her, she was a formidable sight: dodging, parrying, slashing and kicking. Her powerful arms wielded their charges as if they were made of paper, but they sliced though their targets' defences with difficulty. Something was wrong. These were not the grunt orcs to which the group were accustomed.
Jomen, too, had noticed that these orcs were stronger, quicker and better equipped than others they had encountered. Whipping viciously at one of the three attacking Siobhan, he was having trouble drawing blood.
The two clerics continued their chants. Blue lights gathered around Siobhan and Ganth as the healing powers of the gods descended upon them, closing some of their wounds. Eltheria continued with the same chant, as Gueri switched to another and advanced into the fray, drawing upon the evil seeping from the ground to power the suffering she intended to inflict. As she finished her chant, strange blue clouds appeared around the three orcs. All three of them shuddered and moaned as Gueri transferred the pain Siobhan had suffered under their blows direct to their minds, wracking their bodies. Two of the orcs broke away and turned their attention to the cleric.
"Ohhhh, them there erudites is way too skinny, and them there ogger types is way too fat," Ganth sang. Despite his cheery, bawdy song, he wasn't faring so well against his attacker. To make matters worse, the weeds that Jomen had grown in the camp were showing signs of breaking, and one of the orcs was advancing slowly towards him, growling aggressively. The creature Ganth was fighting wasn't showing any signs of weakening, either, despite his continued attacks. "Ohhh, if Jomen don't do summat, I'm a-gonna die here," he sang. The wood elf could take a hint, even if it didn't really scan in the rhythm of the song. Casting quickly, he set fire to the approaching orc, then lashed out at the one fighting the dwarf.
Siobhan dropped a second orc. Turning to the two which had broken off to attack Gueri, she continued her attacks. She was beginning to weaken now, showing visible signs of tiring, as Eltheria reinvigorated her with Tunare's stamina. The barbarian's wounds were beginning to tell, too. Her armour was soaked in blood, and the metal shone red-silver. Her helm was cracked open on one side where an orc club had bludgeoned into it. She fought like a fury, slashing and hacking, kicking and shouting insults. One of the orcs swung round and faced her, but the other would not be turned.
"Uh oh," said Gueri, as the orc smashed its big blue arm down on her shield. "The others."
The weeds had broken, and by the look on Jomen's face, he was too exhausted to set them back again. The remaining orc warriors roared and charged.
Gueri braced her shield against the orc's club. Wood cracked against wood, and the erudite grunted under the attack. Swinging her own club low, she was rewarded with the sound of a resounding crack as the creature leg shattered. Moments later, her reward was taken away: blue lights shimmered around her attacker as one of the oracles in the camp finished its spell and healed the beast.
Ganth and Jomen were struggling badly. The elf had managed to turn the orc away from his badly wounded compatriate, and had used the last of his spiritual resources in healing what he could of the dwarf's wounds. Under attack, he still found time to consider his friend - if it hadn't have been for those last four orcs in the camp, and the oracles, things would have been alright. Now he was worried about the stout rogue. His wounds were deep, and many. He was staggering more than moving with his usual grace. Whipping out at the orc in front of him, Jomen was horrified to see that the beast's wounds were healing, and a magical armor was forming around it.
"The oracles!" shouted Jomen.
Siobhan reacted instantly. Skewering the orc in front of her with the full length of her sword, she quickly swept it aside and headed towards the camp, only to find her path blocked. The Chief had been waiting for her, and was backed up by four more warriors. Behind her, Eltheria shrieked as she was hit by the shock of a spell. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, the barbarian was reassured to see the elf's face contorted not by pain, but by anger, and the red magical lights that expressed it gathering around her hands. She noted that Gueri was faring reasonably well against her opponent. Good. She could deal with this so-called Chief.
"So yous is dat berberrian wumman wot da inky done tell me bout, is yous?" the Chief grunted, in a slurred and incredibly ugly attempt at the common tongue.
"Aye."
"Me done killed yore famlee, me done did," the orc chortled, his hands on his hips as he laughed a guttural laugh. "Dey done died like little pixies. And den me eated dere bones."
The battle seemed to stop. The orcs all paused as their Chief made this terrible confession. Jomen and Ganth gasped. Eltheria and Gueri breathed in sharply, their eyes wide. Siobhan simply looked the Chief in the eyes, an anger brewing deep inside her that she had never felt before.
"Aye. Well, it's taeme for you tae meet yer maker, y'great ugly bag o'pig swill, and seein' as how you smell like a cyclops's rear end, it's going tae have tae be me what kills you."
The Chief's eyes widened in anger. He let out a huge, blood-curdling roar and, raising his warhammer high, charged at the barbarian, quickly followed by the four warriors behind him. Siobhan didn't move.
"Oh, 'eck," muttered Ganth.