Maruc ducked. The scimitar clanked off his shield. The priest bobbed his head over the rim only to be met by the foetid breath of the orc but inches from his face. The orc snarled. Maruc grinned, then headbutted it. It lost its footing in surprise and backed into another orc. Maruc swung his flail in a lazy arc that connected with the beast’s head with a sickening crunch. “It seems they are quite game!” he said stepping over the corpse and engaged another.
Feldard knew his heavy crossbow would take too long to reload, so he dropped it to the floor behind him and pulled his battleaxe, moving forward to engage the charging orcs with his usual dwarven zeal.
As the first of the three came within reach of his battle axe, his weapon was already at its zenith in its arc. Feldard let the blade’s momentum work with his strength, giving him the power he needed to cleave through leather armour, orc flesh and bone. He paused just long enough, ignoring fresh wounds to determine if another strike was needed to finish the foul thing off or if he could move on to the next.
Too high on adrenalin to care about the pain, the mage bounced behind the the line of warriors, his staff clasped loosely in one hand. He tried to gauge the situation. The dancing light of the lightstones made it difficult so he held up his own. Four, no three left? Light caught Feldard’s magewrought axe as it sprung into his grasp. Miklos stepped back out of his swing. This was going to be a short battle…he hoped.
Disgusting bits of slimy orc meat sent flying by Feldard’s handiwork splattered Stephan as he made his own attack. Using the jumble of rocks to his advantage, Stephan maneuvered one of the brutes such that it soon tripped, falling backward, right into the path of Maruc’s flail.
The magic stone lights flicked about the stone walls while the battle raged.
Hasan, last to alight on the upper ground, would also be last to engage in battle. Still, he did what he could, and first things first — the elf ran past the mage, hoping to head off any orc that passed the dwarfs or the energetic Maruc before it reached the unarmored mage. Seeing none pass, the elf plunged headlong in the melee himself, swiping with his sword whenever orcflesh appeared in reach.
Hernane, grimaced in the flickering light cast from the lightstones, the heavy grunts and clashes of metal from the battle surrounded her, but did not distract her from the snarling orc’s face that was in front of her. Blocking an attack, she backhanded her axe and exhaled sharply as she felt the axe bite home cutting to the bone, the blood spurting to her left over towards Stephen. The blood of her ancestors and the honour of her clan dictated that this battle would be fought to the last, with no mercy and quarter asked for.
Pulling her axe free, Hernane did not realize at how flawlessly the Dwarf maidens’ combat training worked, she continued to swing her axe at whatever orc face appeared in front of her, the red mist of hatred for the green skin blocked out any pain and feeling of exhaustion that she was feeling. Hernane could feel the battle shift, she knew these orcs were beaten, and so apparently did they.
As the three remaining turned to flee, Hernane was determined that none would escape. She cut one down with her axe but the other two ran toward the rock teeth that partially blocked the exit.