Ventus shifted slowly in place. They approached from everywhere- All sides, with no gaps in their formation, despite how disjointed their numbers were. That's all they had over him, really. Numbers. That's all anyone who didn't deserve power had, the allegiance of imbeciles and cowards who's desires drove them on instinct alone. Beasts incapable of introspection were doomed in a world like this, but those who found themselves outside of allegiance shared a similar fate. Ventus knew that, it didn't bother him. He was practically dead already. A redundant chill echoed through his body in waves as the war band closed in on him. Each monotonous beat of his heart lined up perfectly with his analysis of the onlookers. Unusually calm, Ventus used it to coordinate his strikes, like a metronome, ducking below the first battleaxe and drawing his dagger. Firmly gripped in his left hand, Ventus spun leftwards and flicked his arm towards the grunts neck. A stream of crimson lashed out, and the orc fell forwards. Ventus hopped to the side, pushing his unusually lithe Orcish body away from where his first kill fell, and towards another attacker, who seemed unprepared for his agility. The second Orc had his battleaxe drawn, prepared to swing it overhead, but that left a painfully wide opening that almost prompted hysteria in Ventus. It was laughable, these idiots had no idea how to fight. They were barbarians! But as Ventus flipped his dagger around, and slashed at the second Orc's throat, the rest of the war-band grouped up more tightly than before. Two free kills, that's all he could manage? Ventus hopped past the second orc, to his right as his second mark lost his hold on the battleaxe he wielded, and behind him by the time he'd fallen to the ground. Ventus sprinted past the thinnest ranks, towards Ungrog himself. But with so many Orcs between him and the chief, there was no guarantee that he'd reach his target.
Ventus dodged deftly, ducking low in his sprint, below a high axe swing, and using his dagger to parry another attack that came from in front of him. He used the hilt of his blade, and twisted his body around the oncoming axe swing, using its momentum to dig his right hand straight into the attacker's throat, nails first. Ventus kept his 'claws' sharpened, and although they weren't the cleanest or deadliest weapons in his arsenal, the unsuspecting Orc wouldn't pay much mind to such a barbaric attack. His third kill slowed him down, enough for several orcs to surround him from all sides. Ventus spun his body a full 360 degrees to survey his surroundings, counting 4 immediate threats, all wielding similar axes. Brutish, inaccurate weapons Ventus thought. He pulled his bloodied hand from his prior attacker during his spin, and flicked the blood towards one of his newest attackers, striking his eyes. It didn't stop his momentum, but Ventus dashed towards him, past the killzone of his axe, and pushed his way behind the Orc, using him as a shield while one of his brethren lashed out towards Ventus. The fourth kill was not Ventus' to take, as one of the orc's own allies cleaved into his shoulder blade with reckless abandon. The power from the attack did however push Ventus back, but he manages to stand his ground, pushing away from the cleaved Orc, and towards another attacked that rushed him from behind. Ventus paused and looked towards the warband's flank. "Reinforcements?" He muttered, barely sifting past the oncoming orc's ace swing with a shift of his body weight. His thoughts pushed him of balance, however, forcing him to trip, and fall into a clumsy roll. Although the uneven ground didn't put him in a lethal position, Ventus was unable to completely dodge the next attack that headed for his person. He felt the sting of steel slice through his right arm, at least an inch deep, before he was able to return to his feet. Suddenly he was out of position, and out of luck.
"Only four.. Haha.."
Ventus sighed as he continued to shift his was around several more attacks, unable to counter with his ego wounded so thoroughly. He could do without an arm, but letting himself get distracted twice in one day?
Maybe he deserved to go out like a coward.
The Captain wrapped herself tighter in her cloak. The temperature was still dropping, but without any moisture, it didn't stop the dust from permeating the air. For nearly a minute now, she'd been studying a strange sound she heard coming over the wind. She strained her ears to make sense of it, and only when the breeze turned her way was she able to make it out.
It was the sound of battle.
"Nilfrog," she called out.
The orc scout jogged up beside her and saluted. "Yes milady?"
The Captain pointed in the direction she heard the sound. "Take your warg and tell me what's going on over there."
Nilfrog saluted. "Yes milady."
He slung onto his warg and darted for the hills. The Captain withdrew her telescope and watched him ride away. She couldn't help holding her breath - in war, every second counted. The battle could well be over now, for all she knew, and whatever transpired would likely be over before she arrived.
Nilfrog disappeared over the ridge, and reappeared a few minutes later making hand signals.
Enemy warband attack. 1 opponent.The Captain snapped her telescope shut. "Victors! Scramble!" she barked back to her army. Orcs shuffled out of their tents, hastily pulling on their wargear. The Captain gestured back to the hills and shouted, "Enemy warband by yonder hills! Assemble and ride, on the double!" She raced back to her tent, strung her bow and belted her sword, and swung onto her warg. In less than a minute, her whole army was mounted and ready to go. All three hundred of them took off behind her. They instinctively knew that this mission demanded stealth, and so they held back their war cries as they approached the battle. The Captain hand-signalled for half the army to break off and attack from the flank. As they drew nearer, the sounds of battle grew louder. Suddenly, they emerged over the hills to find an orc warband launching concerted attack upon a single individual.
That individual was an orc, a mercenary or assassin by the looks of him. He seemed a bit small to be Fellmoran, but the Captain didn't have the time to give him a closer look. She raised her bow and took a shot at the lead orc. The arrow plunged through his neck and killed him. The loss of their leader got their attention just as both waves of her army plowed into the enemy forces. The enemy orcs let out surprised shrieks, followed by terrified wails. Then, and only then, did her orcs let out their war cries.
The Captain weaved through the pitched battle to reach the lone mercenary. Her warg slid to halt beside the orc's battered body. She leaped down, raced over and dropped to one knee beside him. "You! Orc! Are you okay? Can you hear me?" She gently slapped his cheeks for a response. None came, but he was still breathing. So she lifted him onto the warg and escorted him back to camp. She weaved back through swinging axes and flailing orcs to get away, and had to shoot down a few rogues who threatened her. Soon, the battle was nearly over, with the last few stragglers chased down and subdued by her fastest units.
Several Victors jogged over to see the orc they'd just saved. "Will he be okay?" Borack asked. The Captain lowered him onto a blanket and set about studying his wounds. "Maybe. His wounds are serious. Hand me my medical bag over there."
__________
Ventus awoke to find an absurdly short orc leaning over him. "Ah, you're awake, little master! You've been out for two days straight. The Captain was able to patch up the wounds in your shoulder, legs, and belly, but it could be a while before you're fully healed. How are you feeling?"
