The city of Highmast was fairly new in its construction. It had only been two centuries when the fleeing Lords of the destroyed southern Kingdom had fled northwards across the inland sea and found a large cove of which to create a city. Soon all manner of people flocked to this new place to grab their share of land, and to create opportunity for themselves or their families found in cities across the water.

It was still a modest city, with a quarter of its citizens living outside its stout walls in smaller towns, for they could either not afford to live within the city or they preferred to be away from prying eyes. Many people looking for work were often hired in the outer city as well, jobs for labor always welcome in the growing economy. A few hundred Dwarves had made their living within the city, being expert stonemasons, blacksmiths, and shipwrights, as well as miners further inland. A few Elves were present too, bestowing fine art, craftsmanship and wisdom, as well as various other races. Even its ruling class was a loose confederation of Lords or High Merchants, each playing their own games to further power or influence.

Markus did not know if that was what the Wizard Lord Amberglen had intended for him. There had been more than a few mercenaries looking to sign up for guarding this particular caravan, but the Wizard had chosen about half of them out and eyed Markus warily. He could probably tell I knew a spell or two, he told himself. Just outside the cobblestone streets and the looming city gate, Markus stood next to the Caravan as the wagons and mules were being loaded up. He had gotten there early in the morning, and leaned casually by the gate after having introduced himself as one of the hired swords.

Next to show up was a short, blonde headed Elf wearing a wide brimmed hat and a saber at his hip. He seemed to take amusement in many things, chatting up a few common girls as they waited. Markus had met the Elf and known him for a few months. The young man had thought him a bard, but he seemed ready and armed.

He flourished a dagger before the women, using a sleight of hand to turn it into a flower. The girls thought it was magic, but Markus knew better. He himself pushed off the wall and began to speak to the leading merchant, asking how long the journey would be.

"About a day give or take." he explained, hauling up another piece. Markus helped him out with it, using his young and strong arms to life it up over the side of the wagon. "What are you hauling?" the Swordmage asked.

"Spices and sea stone. There's good rock for mining in those hills up north, but the sea stone here is precious."

"So I have heard!" a voice said behind them. Eloryen the Elf strode forward. "Apparently its worth its weight in gold."

"Aye, something about the waters of the Cutlass coast, and the coral that grows near it. Makes it shiny like, but strong."

Valerie was a long way from home. She was starting to get used to it, being out of her element. It was nice to walk down a street or through a small town without every passing villager knowing her face, knowing her name. Valerie Winter, or perhaps one of the nicknames bestowed on her. Winter's Daughter she had not minded, being the only girl of four children in her immediate family. The nickname her brothers had given her, Snowflake, did not sit as well. Thankfully there were few that used it, and none beyond the borders of her family's domain.

Those that had constructed Highmast and the other nearby towns had likely never heard of her kingdom, or its troubles. They had no reason to care. This place had its own share of troubles, as she'd quickly learned. There was no shortage of work, even for an adventurer as untested as herself. This caravan escort was perhaps the most valuable job she'd been able to land, though the wizard that had chosen the team had scrutinized her carefully, to the point where she felt uncomfortable, and not in the usual sense. She couldn't rightly tell what exactly he was trying to discern, but whatever it was, she'd passed the test, and now made her way through the streets in the morning, geared up and with her sword at her hip.

About half of the hired swords had arrived by the time Valerie did, gathered around the cart loaded with goods and set to depart the city. She overheard the tail end of their conversation, and strode in to join them. She'd seen most present when the wizard had chosen the crew, but there had been little time for proper introductions then.

"It's very strong indeed," she said, making her presence known. She stopped before the group, hooking a thumb under her sword belt. "And quite useful in the right hands. Could have lords and ladies bidding for the chance to own a supply of this. It's good you have an escort for the journey." She extended her hand out to the lead merchant. "I'm Valerie Winter. Pleased to meet you."

"Tobias," the merchant answered, gently shaking her hand. He looked about to say more, but the light-haired Elf spoke up instead.

"Valerie," he said with a grin, "we didn't have a chance to meet earlier. My name is Eloryen." Valerie shook the Elf's hand as well, though her immediate impression was that he thought a bit too much of himself. Confidence was not such a terrible sin, she supposed.

The last of the men she'd also yet to meet, though of the mercenaries present before, he'd seemed among the few with some years of experience already under his belt. Hardly grizzled, he looked only a few years older than she, but Valerie knew how much a few years could change a person. How much they would certainly change her. "Valerie Winter," she repeated, extending her hand to the man.

The sun was now beaming down on them through a cloudless blue sky, giving Markus' dark hair and eyes a golden brown glow, even lighting up his navy tunic. Valarie would be able to see small glints from the chainmail cuirass he wore just behind it. Markus the Swordmage blinked and half turned to regard the newcomer. He recognized her from the other day, only half paying attention to everyone around him when they had all been presented.

"Markus Flintbrook." he told her with a closed mouth, friendly grin. He shook her hand and nodded. Eloryen the Elf leaned in and whispered. "If you're not going to court this one, I will." The words would be hard to hear if he had any sense, but Eloryen seemed to think human hearing was much worse than he had originally thought. Everyone gave him an incredulous look, not least of which Markus. "Shut up." the swordmage deadpanned. A few of the men laughed.

The Elf gave him a look as if he was wounded, and then slipped away with a wink to all of them. "He seems to be a master of first impressions." Markus said sarcastically, still eyeing the Elf as he walked off. "Sorry about him." He turned back to her and gave another smile. It was only polite. He had a feeling this woman might not be the most experienced in the world. Not to say she wasn't good with that blade she carried. She wouldn't have been hired if she didn't have the skill to survive, he told himself. Still, he'd lived through enough circumstances where others didn't. Luck was just as important as skill. In the end, he wasn't about to be rude to someone who might be dead tomorrow.

He'd seen enough high born in his life, and figured she must be one. He was one himself, he should know. A High born out in the wilderness was either disgraced or trying to prove something. Behind them, Tobias' call of 'ready!' was heard. If she looked passed Markus, she'd see at least a dozen mules and 3 wagons of supplies in a loose line. He gestured that they should get going. Tobias up front sat on his wagon. An armsman sat next to him with a loaded crossbow. All along the sides of the Caravan, the armsmen and mercs began to form up.

Valerie regarded the Elf with a look approaching amusement as he whispered his intentions to his friend Markus. A poor excuse for a whisper, considering that she was standing right in front of him. Still, he seemed the sort to flirt in jest and as a compliment, rather than simply making blunt advances. It was tolerable, if not particularly endearing.

"It's alright," she said easily, after Markus apologized for him. Her family's status combined with her position as the only daughter had led to a rather large number of similar unwanted advances. Eloryen's was not the most subtle of them, but it was far from the least, all the same. Valerie had never been able to approach romantic relationships easily, what with all the unnecessary trappings thrown on anything she might attempt. Thankfully, her parents had been kind enough not to force anything upon her.

"Friend of yours, I take it." It only made sense, if he felt the need to apologize for him. The caravan was soon moving out, however, and Valerie stepped to, keeping pace with Markus and the rest as they made their way out of the city. The morning was peaceful, the air comfortably warm, with only a gentle breeze gracing them.

Valerie reached up and pulled a few wayward strands of dark brown hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear. "Have you been a mercenary long?" she asked of Markus. The Elf hadn't made the best impression, but Markus so far struck her as an amiable man. "My experience is still just a matter of months, I admit. I've trained ever since I was a girl, though."

This young woman seemed easy going, which he found endearing. If one took small things too seriously, they might take life or death situations in unpredictable fashions. He grinned, as if he was amused at a secret joke only he was privvy too. "I've known him for a few months in the Highmast Taverns. He's mostly harmless." Markus explained as they reached the Caravan. He casually grabbed the reins of one of the mules and began guiding the beast forward as they set off into the forest. Calls ahead and behind them showed that everyone was now in position. A few Dwarves on the Wagon behind them grumbled and spoke to one another in their native tongue. "He mostly gets himself into trouble and I have to dig him out of it."

A light wind began to blow from the west, partially halted by the great oaks and elms that now surrounded them as they made their way into the wilderness. Marku's hair swayed lightly as he walked beside Valarie. He kept his shield strapped to his back, and his free hand resting on the pommel of his bastard sword. He generally fought with his shield at his back to keep away stray arrows or enemies he couldn't see. Of course if he was in a mass melee, he'd take it out.

"I have a few years under my belt. It gets easier as the months go by, mostly." he said. "A lot of it is walking and making sure you have food. The fighting never lasts long, to be honest. Just make sure your shoes are sturdy and your pack is full. That and clean weapons." He turned to look at her for a moment. He wanted to talk a bit more of how the fighting is, but he didn't want to sound like he was talking down to her. Plus, it took experience rather than words to know what that was like. No explanation in the world would keep her alive or condemn her to death. It was up to everyone individually.

"Your sword looks fine." he said, examining it closely. He of course meant fine as in 'finely made' and not merely 'adequate.' "No doubt if you know how to use it, you'll probably have no problem fighting one on one. Just make sure to slash and sweep against many foes. Goblins and Orcs tend to gang up on people when they can, for all their talk of Honor."

This woman must be fairly fit. Rapiers were about as heavy as long swords, contrary to popular belief. They had a similar amount of metal used to craft the blade. It was simply thinned and elongated to make it a superb thrusting weapon. Maybe once they made it to their destination he could see how good she was with the blade. He'd not sparred in a long time. It was something he lamented that whenever he drew his blade, there would be blood spilled before he sheathed it again. "Why'd you decide to come to Highmast and set off with this outfit?"
@Luminosity

Sturdy shoes, a full pack, and clean weapons. Valerie had those down, at least. Her knee-high boots, like the rest of her gear, were finely tailored and well-suited for long journeys. She took particular care to ensure her clothing and equipment remained in excellent condition, and had more than enough funds for when she couldn't perform the maintenance herself. She always tried to keep around double the amount of supplies she expected she'd need in her pack. She'd quickly grown used to carrying it, and it could be discarded swiftly enough in the event that she needed to fight immediately. Valerie was well aware that her speed was her most valuable attribute, and the one most vital to keeping herself alive.

"That's what I said to the smith who forged it," she replied, when Markus complimented her sword. Baldrick was the smith's name, but he no longer toiled over special order pieces for the children of Lord Winter. Now he worked day and night to produce blades and armor for the king's army. A true shame. "Slash and sweep. I'll remember." Valerie was hardly offended at receiving advice from the man. After all, she'd just declared her own lack of experience, and would be the first to admit that she had a great deal to learn and improve on.

Markus was correct that she would do quite well one one one; there was scarcely a swordsmen within the castle walls of her home that could defeat her in single combat, and she'd made certain that they were giving it their all. She gave them a royal thrashing when she suspected otherwise. But groups of foes had naturally given her more trouble to spar against. And though she usually managed well enough in the practice ring, her opponents lacked the killer drive that she would see in true battle. She learned that much quickly enough from the bandits and other minor threats that she earned her modest experience on thus far.

"Truth be told, it's mostly chance that brought me here," she admitted, eyes wandering on their surroundings. The wilderness outside Highmast had a certain beauty to it that she appreciated. The forests were not as thick in her homeland, everything felt trodden over, as though a thousand people had been there before and would be again tomorrow. There was energy here, more of the unknown than the mundane. "I imagine my nobility is fairly obvious. Events in my kingdom forced me to leave, due to a decision I made. It's... a bit of a long story." She wasn't necessarily opposed to telling it, but they'd only just met, and that decision had been a rather personal one.

"This kind of work calls to me, I think. I've always been adventurous, excelled in my training, and a great many people can benefit from my skill and my sword. More than I could hope to serve at home. As for Highmast... there's opportunity here, and that often means danger." She wondered sometimes if her altruism was foolish, or reckless. She didn't exactly need the coin from this job, though her funds had been slowly dwindling since she left home. The danger of the work was undeniable, too. But she believed she was capable of facing it and overcoming it, and she'd yet to be proven wrong.
@POOHEAD189

The trail up ahead began to curve and slope upwards subtely. To the northwest there were mountains that were visible from the gates of Highmast, but were now lost among the trees and brush of the forest. All around them, armsmen marched and glanced toward the heavily thick treeline casually. Most wore boiled leather and chainmail, hefted spears and using them as walking sticks. Though some had plate armor and more armor piercing weapons such as poleaxes and maces. One larger man up front Markus knew by the name of Kerler had a spiked club made of ash.

She's quite forthcoming, he noted. A bit spirited, but there was nothing wrong with that. I am too. At least she wouldn't shy from a talk if I ever wanted one. Markus was not the most talkative person in the world, but he wasn't a shut-in either. The fact that it was a woman speaking to him also made him a bit more open. Not for any suggestive reasons, but he always felt that most of the men he traveled with were either going to be his fast friends, or someone he would just get annoyed. Most of them were not the former, and he had not spoken to many women mercenaries in his travels. There was one or two. Saerus the Ranger was now dead, he remembered. He had forgotten the other one's name. He wondered where she was. Probably dead within the caverns he had fled those months ago.

"Truth be told I have a bit of noble blood in me as well." he said with a friendly smile. The mule Markus guided sneezed and then snickered. He placed a hand on its muzzle and whispered to it. "Dina," he breathed to it, using the Elven tongue. "Lle maa quel." A few years being taught by an Elf, he learned a few things. He was by no means fluent, however. The beast seemed to calm somewhat, though from the words or the comforting hand, it wasn't clear. He glanced over the beast's back to see if something spooked it, but there was nothing. He did not yet have that sense of danger either. A sixth sense one gets from surviving more than a few skirmishes. It was a very quick look though, and he turned back to Valarie.

Up ahead, Eloryen sat atop the back of one of the wagons and gave Valarie a tip of his wide brimmed hat, accompanied by a wink. Markus shook his head but could not help but smile. "I probably understand why you left a bit more than you'd think. But you're correct, if you're looking for work, this is the place." The road was now getting a tad bit steeper, and they curved back around as they arrived at the beginning of the mountain's foothills.

"I hear Ogres make their home in the lowlands to the east, and Orcs as well. There shouldn't be too much danger between the town of Hillglen and Highmast," he told her. "I've walked this trail, but only once. If you ever need to hop on a wagon, no one will blame you." The young man reached into his pack, lifting his hand off his sword hilt, and produced some jerky. He idly began chewing on a bit, and he offered her some. He didn't give an audible offer however, his cheeks now fairly full.
@Luminosity

"Mm, thanks," she said, taking a small amount of the offered jerky. She'd already eaten breakfast back in Highmast, knowing well by now to take advantage of opportunities for well-cooked meals, especially before taking a job, or traveling. Valerie's own cooking was not entirely abhorrent, but she was no artisan, that was for sure.

She smiled slightly at his mention of using the wagons for a ride. "I'll be fine. One of the benefits of not lugging around the plate and mail." Valerie's gear was mercifully light, and she'd done all over her traveling thus far on foot. She knew how to ride, but wasn't particularly fond of it, and didn't actually own a horse of her own. It would've been poor form to steal own from her own stables. As a result, she was very used to hiking it on foot, and the journey would have to be very long indeed to tire her out.

Markus was proving to be more interesting by the minute. He'd appeared a more distinguished man than most, but it hadn't occurred to her that he might have noble blood as well. He looked very much the mercenary; perhaps she would as well, after a few years selling her sword. Valerie immediately found herself curious to know more. He knew some Elvish, too. She recognized the sound of the tongue, but knew not what he said. Very few Elves lived in Ardennia, and all who did conversed with her in the common tongue.

"Perhaps we can exchange stories over drinks then, after this job is through. You have me curious, Markus." He hadn't needed so much as a wink, either. Truth be told, Valerie hadn't found many people at all she felt she could really relate to since leaving. There was no guarantee that Markus was such, but she found him intriguing at the very least.

Of course, they would have to survive the Ogres and Orcs he spoke of, but it sounded like the odds of actually needing to use her blade would be slim. She rested a hand lightly on the hilt as she walked, all the same.
@POOHEAD189

He found himself smiling quite often when speaking to her. It'd only been a short while, and it was only now a small bit past noon, but he quite enjoyed having her around. "Anytime." he told her once he swallowed a bit of the food. He still chewed a bit of it idly, but otherwise he had only needed a quick bite. Her comment on the plate and chainmail was true enough, to a point.

"It's not as heavy as some make it out. But wearing it all day? You'll be tired as hell at the end of a march." he said, his hand leaving the mule's reins and sliding over the beast's furred neck to keep it comfortable. He'd learned long ago to take care of work animals. He'd always had a soft spot for them, and people's livelihood depended on them as well. "I've only been in one actual battle, near two years ago. Some of the Knights on foot had been walking all day and were even ordered to sit down behind the front lines, to keep them fresh for the fight if they were needed."

"Perhaps we can exchange stories over drinks then, after this job is through. You have me curious, Markus." The words from Valerie's mouth had him turn his head to regard her. He'd not given much though to it, to be honest, but it was at that moment he noticed that Valerie was actually quite pretty, as well as interesting. He'd learned after a campaign or two to never gallivant about like his mischievous Elven friend up ahead. Women mercenaries would go through the same trials as he, and they should be treated as such. But Valerie seemed quite easy to talk to, for some reason. Maybe it was because they had similar backgrounds, but truth be told he had abhorred the high class women back at his home. But she escaped the same as me... He admitted he was curious too. "I'd like that." he told her.

As they exchanged words, the terrain sloped ever upwards, curving this way and that. With the latest curve, north east was now on their right, gnarled trees on that side of the road growing a tad shorter and more spaced out than the thick treeline to their left. Shadows intermingled with the illumination of the day from under the looser canopy, and if someone were to look deeply into it, they would swear all of the ubiquitous dark and light would play tricks on the eye. Past that, there was a short drop that led to a slope that declined downwards into the lowlands.

It was from there the Warcries were heard. Primitive shouts and roars from the downward slope echoed through the trees, and humanoid shapes within the shadows began to grow clearer as the monsters raised their weapons and continued to shout. Half of the Caravan jumped at the sudden noise, the wagons halting and the crossbowmen now making sure their armor piercing missile weapons were cocked and loaded. A few Rangers that had signed on were stringing their bows, trying to keep their fingers from shaking. Markus suddenly grabbed the reigns to the mule, and gave Valarie a look of calm warning, though there was trepidation in his dark eyes.

He led the Mule back to one of the Dwarven workers on the wagon behind them. A few of them pulled the tarp off their wagon and pulled out crossbows and Axes they had stored with the spices. They began to load their crossbows with heavy bolts. Most men would need to use their foot and body weight to do it, but Dwarves were known for their strength and they did it by hand. "Looks like a scrap commin'" one of the Dwarves said to Markus as he grabbed the reigns.

"It might be a big one. Stay on the Wagon, fellas. Probably best to let them come to you." he told them. The yellow bearded one gave a nod and aimed down his crossbow. Another brown haired one donned chainmail and hefted a well made poleaxe. "Worry not lad, we'll handle ourselves well enough. You and the lass stick close."

"I know my contract." Markus chuckled. He knew the Dwarf meant that they could survive easier together, but the fact was Markus and Valarie had been assigned to guard that specific section of the Caravan. He still marveled that he'd found the ability to grin before a certain life or death situation was to occur. It was probably who he was speaking to. He might be more acquainted with Elven culture, but Dwarves had a down-to-earth quality about them. Well, that makes sense.

He turned around and unsheathed his Hand-and-A-Half sword. It looked well used but sharpened, with a pommel (and even the first 4 inches of the long blade) wrapped in leather. He gestured to the other side of the wagons with a nod to Valerie. "C'mon." he told her, slipping past the Mule he had handed them, and vaulting over the wooden supports that connected to two other mules to make it to the other side. @Luminosity

Valerie's pleasant thoughts of a friendly tavern and drinks with a new friend on the frontier were soon driven away by the harsh reality of the warcries. They were savage, guttural calls, of the kind of group of bandits or thieves would produce. Those groups wouldn't be so bold as to announce their presence before they struck. She shared the look of trepidation with Markus.

While he conversed with the dwarves, Valerie kept a watch on the slope, trying to make out their enemies through the trees. She could spot one here and there, but failed to locate if a mass of them were gathering at any single point, or if they intended to spread out as much as possible. The echoing of the shouts didn't help matters any, as the sound bounced off the trees on all sides, making Valerie glance warily in several directions, only to spot nothing.

She said nothing, for her throat had constricted somewhat, an unfortunate side effect of her sudden nervousness before the fight, to go along with the fluttering welling up in her belly. The repeated conflicts against bandits and the like had grown steadily easier, but she'd yet to test herself any further, until now.

Valerie found the chuckle and the grin from Markus to be somewhat astounding, going so far as to take her out of the swirling thoughts and worries in her own head. Perhaps she was worrying herself needlessly. She was very skilled, and neither Orcs nor Ogres would change that. That skill would see her through.

She nodded in return to Markus, drawing her own sword. It was rather simple in ornamentation for a duelist's weapon, and a noble's at that, but the craftsmanship in the cross hilt and the pommel were plain to see, as was the deadliness of the thin blade. She nimbly vaulted after her ally and settled into a ready stance on the far side, keeping herself mostly relaxed. Now came the ugly part.

How many Mercs and Armsmen are here? Sixty perhaps? Markus didn't know. He doubted an Orc warband would be much larger than that unless they had already amassed to storm Highmast itself, so there was that small comfort. The one reason why the savage race was no true threat to civilization was the incredible amount of infighting among the tribes. Every so often a charismatic Warcheif would appear and band the tribes together, but he had heard no such thing recently.

A line of the creatures stayed back, roaring and screaming. Between each yelling warrior, others streamed past them with wicked axes, maces, and notched swords of varying lengths. Their gait was apeish and their footsteps now audible as over fifty of them surged forward with a typical but formidable fury. Ten yards away, even their grunts and hoots could be heard as they leaped over gnarled roots and shouldered past one another to get at the Caravan first.

Orcs were brutish in appearance, with porcine noses and small tusks protruding from their mouths. Their arms were thick, muscled and long, and their eyes were piggish yellow in color. Before they reached the treeline, Markus had been muttering under his breath and holding his hand out at the oncoming monsters. As a few seconds slipped by, his final words of the incantation were uttered. Suddenly a bright flash erupted from his hand, and a ball of fire roared outwards to hit the treeline in a small explosion that burst across the face of an Orc and scorched two more. Their cries and whimpers of pain filled the air, but others pasted their hurt comrades and billowed out of the smoke like demons.

I wish I was a better mage, he lamented. The best he could do would be to enchant his sword, maybe teleport 20 feet, and shoot a fireball if the spell had been prepared earlier. Even doing all of that would tax him greatly, and it was all he could do to get his sword up in time in a two handed block to halt the swinging mace of the first Orc. Gods, they're strong. It had only been using one hand to swing, and he had barely been able to stop it. Granted it had momentum to its attack, but still.

He backstepped and allowed the next swing to fly wide, before he saw an opening and ran the Orc through the midsection. Footsteps pounded in his ears, and he barely saw the charging Orc from his right before he ducked. The dagger it held still slit a bit of Markus's forehead, bit of blood staining the ground from where he had just been cut. But he had ducked in time to keep it from being a dangerous wound. The charging Orc had not expected Markus to duck in time, and its momentum kept carrying it forward. On instinct, Markus shouldered its legs and sent it sprawling. The Orc's head hit the wagon behind Markus, and the Swordmage turned and stabbed it right quick as it was still dazed on the ground, before spinning and sweeping his blade in a wide arc like he had told Valerie to do. It was just in time, for 3 Orcs were on him and it was all he could do to keep them off of him with wide slashes. One was hit in the eye with a crossbow bolt, and Markus heard a Dwarven chuckle behind him.

Wait, Valerie. It had all happened so fast, he took a quick glimpse to the right to see if she was still living. He hoped so.
@Luminosity

Valerie made sure to give Markus a bit of space before the fighting began. His hand-and-a-half sword would need some room to swing, and she would make good use of the space herself. Despite the numbers on either side, it was no true battle, but still it would be the largest engagement she had ever been involved in. There was only one way to find out if she was ready.

The sounds of fire and screams erupted before the clash even arrived, as Markus revealed his talent with magic. She hadn't expected spells from him, but they were certainly welcome. It wouldn't come close to turning the orcs back, though, and a group of them rushed forward, one near the front charging straight for Valerie. He wielded a great two-handed axe. She knew she didn't have a hope of blocking that kind of weapon, especially when swung by something so strong.

His opening attack was swift and rage-fueled, as she expected it to be. The orc struck downwards with the axe, a blow capable of splitting Valerie from shoulder to hip, but she didn't let any fear she felt keep her flat footed. She ducked and darted sideways, the blade whooshing over her head, and leaving the orc entirely exposed as the weight of the weapon carried on. Their armor ranged from poor to nonexistent, and big as they were, they would fall quickly enough when struck vitally. Valerie plunged her sword into the orc's side, the blade piercing in as though the orc's hide was no more than gossamer. Immediately he was stopped cold, and fell to his knees. She removed her blade and made the end quick for him with a downward stroke of her own that lopped off his head.

One down, nothing to it, she reassured herself, as her second opponent charged her. She could hear Markus struggling with one behind her, but there was no time to look. She backstepped, leaning away from a wide stroke of the crude sword the second orc wielded. He was too predictable with his next attack, simply slashing back the other way, and Valerie turned it, deflecting the blow neatly away from her before she slashed the orc's leg. Her blade bit deeply, and forced the wounded orc to a knee. Before he could retaliate her sword had pierced his heart.

Her instincts in battle were not as sharp as Markus's, and she failed to notice the orc approaching on her right flank in time. She made the wide slash when she did hear the footsteps, only for her blade's edge to bounce off the face of a shield made of wooden planks crudely nailed together. The shield then slammed into her body, the orc's momentum throwing Valerie harshly onto her back and driving the air from her lungs. The sky above that suddenly filled her vision was soon replaced by the orc and his sword, which he slashed down with. Valerie rolled out of the way just in time, but the orc was quick, and just as she completed the roll he brought his shield down again. The bottom rim of the wood struck her in the abdomen, prompting a gasping cough as she was pinned in place. Valerie writhed underneath it, but could not escape.

A bolt from a dwarf's crossbow struck the orc in the lower back just in time, weakening the pin on her, and Valerie was able to maneuver enough to stab straight through the orc's leg, bringing him down. A second stab through his throat ended him, and Valerie clambered shakily back to her feet, stumbling over to the wagon for support while she tried to catch her breath and regain her strength. It wasn't over yet.

The Swordmage moved in a practiced motion of deft blocks and attack maneuvers with the two Orcs before him. It was a state of mind that did not last long, and while in it he had no real conscious thought other than the need to survive. The ring of steel and grunts of the Orcs, as well as the shear of Bastard sword filled the air, before Markus stood before two corpses. He had a large cut along the left side of his arm, and he knew that would turn into a rigid scar. It streaked across the upper part of his left arm, meeting his collarbone. That had been close.

A moment ago he had saw that Valerie seemed alright from what she had been doing, but once his wits return he saw her prone on the ground, trying to make his way over to her before he was relieved to see her having ended the monster. It was then the Dwarves, who previously had been firing their crossbows and stabbing at anything that came near, leaped off the wagon and engaged the Orcs. They moved in unison, probably having trained together since they were beardlings. The PoleAxe Dwarf speared on Orc like a spitted pig.

The dark eyed Swordmage made it over to Valerie, looking her up and down to make sure she was not seriously wounded. A bit of dirt stained his right cheek, and blood dripped down his forehead and collarbone a bit. Even a fraction of the chainmail had been sheared away in that cut, leaving a streak that opened up the collar of his clothing a bit. He breathed heavily, and once he was satisfied she was alright, he gave her a nod. "You sure you're new to this?" he said in jest.

Behind him, a ranger could be seen being hacked down by an Orc, only for another Ranger to shoot that Orc and fell it. Their enemies seemed to be thinning, but it was the simple truth that more Orcs came at them. Markus turned, and engaged the next one that leaped out of the trees, before another Orc that had been hidden in the brush leaped to take advantage of his exposed flank.

@Luminosity

Valerie was able to engage the flanking monster before it could attack Markus, this time launching straight into an offensive of her own. The orc's skill with a sword was hopeless compared to Valerie's, lacking any form of training, and so after only a few blocked strikes it grew impatient and tried to make a counter of its own, but Valerie was the swifter, and impaled the creature on her blade, backing away swiftly to avoid its dying swings.

"I'm a quick learner," she replied breathlessly, to Markus's comment in jest about her being new. "I credit my excellent teachers." She was able to take their lives easily enough, what with their aggressive action and monstrous tactics. Her trepidation before the fight had given way to the rush of adrenaline being in the midst of it. There was no time to think in the fight, only time to react and move on instinct.

They continued the fight as a pair, felling the next immediate wave. Valerie had noticed the light wounds inflicted on Markus, but he seemed to have avoided anything too serious thus far. She herself had avoid taking even a single hit against the second group, and the hits from the shield-bearer before had shaken her more than anything. She felt fully recovered, if a bit short of breath. Their section of the attack had been solidly repulsed.

Others weren't faring as well. Up ahead, Eloryen was fending off two at once, and some of the mercenaries nearby him appeared to have suffered wounds ranging from debilitating to fatal. The orcs were gravitating away from where the resistance was fierce, and towards where they smelled weakness. Valerie was in motion without so much as a second thought.

"We have to help them!" she called, taking off and heading further up the column of wagons. She headed one of them off before it could arrive, briefly dueling the axe-wielding orc until she'd landed a fatal slash to its throat. After that, she sped towards Eloryen, causing one of the two menacing him to turn towards her.

This beast of an orc was at least two feet taller than Valerie, wielding a spiked mace already dripping with blood from another mercenary that had failed to avoid. She eyed it with alarm, holding her position and waiting for her fearsome opponent to make the first move. The mace came at her with startling speed, forcing Valerie to the side, putting the cart to her back.

It was a poor place to position, as the next strike was placed well, with not enough room for her to dodge backwards, and not enough time to duck so low. She blocked it as well as she could, but it was too heavy to turn aside. Valerie's arms rattled painfully as their weapons violently clanged together, the mace proving the victor. She stumbled a half step sideways and back. The next swing came upwards, looking to take her head clean off, and she only barely avoided it. With a hefty dose of luck, her swift strike of retaliation lopped off the orc's weapon hand.

Her monstrous enemy seemed to care little. It stepped forward, suddenly seizing her by the throat with its other hand. Her wind cut off, Valerie stabbed through the forearm of the limb choking her, but the orc only seemed aggravated. She was then thrown backwards forcefully, slamming into the wooden side of the cart and dropping in a heap. She gasped for breath on the ground, her head ringing from the impact. Come on, get up, she tried to urge herself, but her arms didn't listen at first, and she'd lost track of her sword. Was it still in the orc's arm?

She felt blood from the orc's stump of an arm drip briefly onto her cheek, before the monster lashed out with a kick that caught her in the chest and upper abdomen. Pain flared in her torso, and Valerie found herself unable to put up any immediate resistance. She just hoped her brave idea to run off and help wouldn't cost her her own life in a few seconds time.

"We have to help them!" she exclaimed, and ran to the aid of others further up the Caravan. "Wait!" he called, his hand out. She had already ran ahead. The warcries and the screams of the dying probably causing her not to hear him. He was just about to pursue after her before he was cut off.

The tumult of the melee suddenly increased in ferocity, and something huge passed through the treeline, rustling the branches that were half again as tall as Markus. A fist the size of a cannon ball pulled a branch out of the way, and a 9 foot tall brutish humanoid loomed between Markus and the running Valerie.

"Fuck me..." he breathed. An Ogre was certainly not a welcome sight. It eyed Markus hungrily, its free hand reaching out to grab him. In his opposite hand, it held a large carved log as a club. Markus lashed out on instinct, cutting its hand. It reared back and roared, before bringing the log down in a terrible arc. It slammed into the ground, Markus having barely avoided it with a quick roll. The Dwarf behind him wasn't so lucky. They had strong bodies, but the momentum and strength of the blow shattered the Dwarf's legs. Two others ran to the Broken Dwarf's aid and guarded him, while the one with the PoleAxe growled in fury and joined Markus in facing the Ogre.

Before it could pull the log back in, Markus had leaped forward and stabbed into the creature's exposed side. Its stomach was like a wall of flesh! His sharp blade pierced the hide of the Ogre, causing it great pain. It lashed out a weak backhand at Markus, connecting and lifting the Swordmage off the ground with the blow to hit a tree. "Ah!" he cried out, and slid down. Ache and stiffness engulfed him after the initial explosion of pain. It was moments later when he regained his senses, and he opened his eyes to see the Ogre holding the warrior Dwarf alof, attempting to crush it.

The Poleaxe was closer now, however. The Dwarf stabbed forward into the creature's collarbone, and with a fury he didn't know he had, Markus groggily got to his feet, and with a savage cry ran forward and sank two feet of steel into the beast's monstrous kidney. With a PoleAxe and Sword lodged in it, it weakened and dropped the Dwarf, falling to its knees. The Dwarf hit the ground on its feet, and stabbed the armor piercing point of his weapon into the Ogre's eye, killing it. Markus fell to his knees and caught his breath. Most of the Orcs seemed to have faded, and many of the Mercenaries were also likely dead. He turned his head out of curiosity to see how the battle fared up ahead.

A cold chill ran down his spine as he saw the Orc nearly as big as the Ogre standing above Valerie. He couldn't see her very well against the cart, but the hair and outfit he recognized. Shit. He got to his feet, lashing his hand out toward the Orc and concentrating. He had only one shot at this. He knew he couldn't make it there in time. "Seiroch!"

In a blink, Markus appeared behind the Orc as it removed Valerie's sword from its arm. Later that night, he'd think back and wonder why he always decided to make the most out of a situation, but he couldn't help himself. He had a dangerous glint in his eye as he spoke. "Hey Swamp Water." he said. The Orc blinked at the noise. "You should have chosen to finish the Elf. I might have let that slide."

The last thing the Orc saw was a flash of steel, before its head was separated from its shoulders. The Swordmage's bastard sword sheared through bone and tissue, blood droplets flying as its head tumbled to the ground. The Orc's body comically twitched and flailed a bit, before it fell limp upon the ground.

"What!?" Eloryen said, picking himself up after having been thrown into the wagon by a dying Orc with the last of its strength. Markus glanced back to Eloryan and gave a subtle wink, showing he had been joking. It was a rare sight to have someone as smooth as the Elf taken aback.

His amusement faded though when he saw Valerie on the ground. He rushed forward and knelt down, brushing some of the hair out of her face and checking her. Satisfied she hadn't been stabbed in her upper body, he stood up, and reached down to give her a hand. "Can you stand?" he asked breathlessly. They gripped forearms, and he pulled her to her feet and gave her a nod.

Other than a few sporadic cries, it seemed the battle was now nearing its completion. Bodies of Mercenaries and Orcs were strewn under and atop the wagons. A few were laid broken near the gnarled roots at the treeline. Tobias the Merchant appeared out of the thinned crowd at the fore, his apron and midsection covered in Orc blood. He held a cleaver, and Markus looked down to his free hand that now only had 2 fingers.

"Damned Orcs," Tobias seethed with a wrath, which was very much out of character for the man. "Once we get to Hillglen, I'm going to have a talk with the mayor about this."

Eloryen stepped before Markus and Valerie, taking his hat off and smoothing his golden mane of hair, before placing the hat atop his head once more. "Well, that was eventful."
@Luminosity

Valerie was able to get to her feet with the help of Markus. "I'm... yes, I'm alright," she managed. She had to take a second to confirm that she was actually telling the truth. She wasn't bleeding from any wounds, but that orc had thrown and hit her with significant force, and there was still a pretty debilitating pain in her torso, one she hoped would pass soon. It lessened a bit with each slow breath she took in and exhaled, which was a good sign. Regardless, this was going to result in some bruising.

But she was alive and whole, and that was more than could be said for quite a few of the mercenaries. A few looked to have been cut down right where they stood when the attack started, finding themselves out of their leagues battling against a bold orcish raid. The smell of blood was heavy in the air. In the battle's immediate aftermath, Valerie could feel her adrenaline fading away. She began to feel a little sick to her stomach; it wasn't the first conflict resulting in death she'd been involved in, but that had been by far the worst. The orcs were capable of such unbridled violence. She had to lean back against the nearby wagon for support, but she at least avoided embarrassing herself.

"Eventful's one word for it," she said, once her breathing was a bit steadier again. Horrifying might have been her choice. The point of armed escorts for caravans was usually to discourage attacks from ever happening, and much of the company likely hadn't expected to get into a fight in the first hours of the trip, or at all. Now a great many of them would never see home again, leaving the strength of the survivors severely reduced. If another attack of that force came, they could easily be cut down to the last.

"Thanks for saving me, by the way," she said to Markus, a bit more subdued. Her hair had become a bit disheveled during the last stages of the fight. She idly worked to fix it. "I probably shouldn't have run off... took on a bit more than I could handle. But I thought the others needed the help." And she was probably right. It'd nearly cost her life, but she'd at least been able to cut off some of the orcs swarming the section, and delay the biggest of them as best she could.

Markus had his hands on his sword belt, looking very much the ragtag young mercenary that he was with his jagged but shallow wounds and dirt stains marring his fine features. His hair was unkempt and disheveled, though that wouldn't usually be out of the ordinary unless you count the bits of blood lightly dripping off his bangs from the forehead cut. His body was turned towards the group, but his dark eyes gazed into the forest as Eloryen spoke. He was used to the Elf's matter of fact manner of speech now. He only gave a small exhale of air to show his amusement at the comment.

He was quite glad Valerie was alright (and himself, but who's counting?), and he chose not to look at her to save her from a bit of embarrassment. It was an odd thing to him, to see so much of himself and how he first started out in this young woman. It was confusing for him to say the least, and he had to mentally tell himself that apart of that was also that they had seemed to hit it off quite well. That, and the fact you very nearly died there. That might mess your thoughts up a bit. His lips curved into an inward smile as the thoughts drifted through his head. He never failed to be a smart ass, even to himself. He was quite glad it was just a quirk, and not a representation of his morals.

As he listened to Eloryan begin to speak on how he had felled a beast twice his size, Markus still seemed to be in another world and lost in thought. Most would think he had a stoic quality to him that came natural. It did, in a way. After surviving a few encounters. It made men a tad more rugged in their visage. Women too, he had noticed. He wasn't about to brag about that Ogre, at least not without the Dwarf present to get some credit. They would need to help the wounded.

He blinked, broken out of his reverie by Valerie thanking him. Just for a moment as his thoughts switched back to reality, he looked a few years younger at the simple fact he was not so deep in thought as he often was. "Oh," he replied. "You would have done the same for me. And don't worry, that was more brave than anything. Maybe in a larger battle, formations would count more. But you went and did your best. That's all any can hope for." His smile was genuine and full of camradery.

"Let's get these Wagons going." Tobias sighed, gathering his wits about him. One of the peddlars that had driven the wagon behind him was tying his wound up in bandages. Behind them, workers began packing up the spilled contents of various wagons. There were still cries of pain as well. Woeful moans of those near death, or clinging to life. "I am going to need a drink after this. Hopefully the bartender will allow me free drinks for a song or two." the Elf half jested, and gave Valerie a wink. "You know I'm always needing a lovely assistant."

That did have Markus snorting a bit to hold back a chuckle. Just the way Eloryen was. He shook his head, and gave Valarie another smile. "I think after we get the wounded on the Caravan, you might want to take that wagon ride I offered earlier." he said. "I know I will."
@Luminosity

Valerie half-heartedly smiled back at Eloryen, but the aftermath of the battle left her not in the mood to be flirted with. She understood it was just his way, though, and so refrained from getting any more annoyed with it. Perhaps it was just how he forced some sense of normalcy back into the scene. She didn't feel particularly lovely at the moment, either, what with the blood spattered on her (none of it her own, thankfully) now beginning to dry, bits of dirt in her hair from when she'd hit the ground twice, and the sheen of sweat worked up from the fight.

"Probably a good idea," she replied to Markus, when he suggested the wagon ride again. It definitely felt more inviting now. There was work to do first, though, and they soon set out finding injured that were not beyond saving, and carefully transporting them back to the caravan. Valerie regretted that she didn't have any sort of trained skills in healing, leaving her unable to help them any further. There appeared to be a few among the mercenaries with some medical knowledge, mundane or otherwise, and most of the wounded they pulled in appeared to have a pretty good chance of pulling through.

Still, there were others that had already passed on, and there was nothing to be done for them but to recover the bodies, and to see that their final wishes in the event of their deaths were fulfilled. Hopefully they could at least be transported back to family, or given their desired rites. As for the slain orcs, the bodies were left behind. If the other orcs wished to reclaim them, they could return later and do so at their will.

Once they were back on their wagon and moving again, Valerie took the opportunity to untie her breastplate and set it aside, carefully checking over her sternum and ribs for any fracture. It was tender to the touch, but as far as she could tell she was still entirely intact.

"Why did they attack?" she asked Markus, taking up her armor again and beginning to secure it. There was still a chance of danger, of course. "Doesn't seem like orcs would care much for spices and sea stone. Are they just that eager for our blood?"

Markus might have been used to it by now, but it still effected him. The savagery of the Orcs would stick in his mind far longer than he'd enjoy. He saw good men that had been merrily drinking the other day now butchered like so much cattle. Hell, not an hour ago the day was bright and sunny, and these men and women were looking forward to getting their pay at the end of the day. Now...
He grunted as he hauled the last wounded man on the wagon. He was a burly ex-soldier with a bit of cloth wrapped about his head now. Markus himself could relate. He had to tie a bit of cloth to his head for the wound, though merely for pressure. It looked very much like a headband to him, his thick hair hanging over it.

He pulled himself up into the Wagon next to Valerie, aching all over and stinging from his wounds. He made sure not to look at her as she checked herself for her own wounds. The bumping of the wagon caused their bodies and heads to sway back and forth lightly as they set off, and he suddenly felt very much in need for a night in a secure location with plenty of ale.

His arms were crossed and resting on the crest of the wagon's side, Markus' chin atop his arms as he surveyed the forest that slowly became more and more sparse as their altitude rose. Valerie's question caught his ears. "I'm no expert, but I've heard stories." he breathed. "Orcs favor strength. Some tribes send out war parties to test their mettle against whatever they can find, to show they are worth something to their tribe. Sometimes they go out, and try to grab human prisoners to...-" He let that thought slide. "Other times, I believe they're looking for weapons. They can't forged steel well, but we can."

Another bump in the road, larger than most, brought Markus' attention for him to lift his head and gaze forward. He saw the gates of Hillglen over the treeline. Only another mile, it seemed. He allowed himself a small smile. He'd always liked the town. It was a frontier outpost, and a place where daring miners and adventurous hunters found refuge for a small bit. A few Knights of to slay great beasts also found the place to be a good starting point for rumors of such things.

The town's wall wasn't very tall. Only a head taller than an Ogre, but they were strong. The walls made of mountain stone, with some sea stone for good effect on the parapets, and the buildings within were a mixture of stone and hardy timber. Inside, a small barracks would be to the left, and further in would be the Tavern dubbed the Orc Ire and Dragonfire for the adventurers and travelers that flocked there. The Inn would be across the town three streets over. He wasn't entirely certain where these wagons would be heading, however. To see the Marshall perhaps, but he'd not met her before. He believed he recalled it being a her, though.
@Luminosity

An attempt to prove their worth... Valerie wasn't fond of casting judgement on those she wasn't familiar with, but everything Markus told her left her with the impression that the orcs had a very backward culture, savage even. The attack they'd just survived had no other purpose than to slay them and take their weapons from their corpses. Valerie doubted an orc would even find much use for a sword like hers. It was a colossal waste on both sides, but there likely wasn't any way to persuade them into stopping. Which left them with the unfortunate ultimatum of killing or being killed.

The bumps in the road gave Valerie small jarring pains, but she imagined her discomfort was nothing compared to those who had received more grievous injuries in the fight. She turned to see the sight of Hillglen approaching, with walls of stone and timber protecting the little outpost. As they approached, Valerie noticed a great deal of wear on the walls. Splits in the wood where arrows had once struck it, or even gashes left from an axe, evidence of an orc or some other creature trying to literally tear the defenses down.

"It looks like this outpost deals with these attacks often," she pointed out. One nearby section of wall had signs of recent repairs, with the stones in place there looking significantly less weathered than those surrounding it. "I wonder if anything can be done." Likely they just didn't have the manpower to do anything more than weather the assaults, but Valerie found herself curious if they even knew where the orcs were coming from beyond a general direction.