Mill’s head was throbbing, but he could still see the orc coming towards him, ready to end the young farmer. As Mill prepared himself for the emptiness of the void that was death a voice called out. "Turn Hell Hound Turn!" Saamir, bloodied and battered, charged towards Mill and engaged the orc. The fight was short, but brutal, Saamir cleaved into his foe’s arm before destroying the beast’s head. Mill was quite surprised that Saamir was able to kill the orc so quickly, especially since he was injured worse than Mill.
Saamir’s injuries and exhaustion seemed to catch up to him however, and he leaned against Mill for support. “Careful brothers, they’ll have the upper hand on open ground. Tread lightly.” Mill nodded it was sensible for them to take things cautiously, after all none of them were real fighters. However, Saamir seemed to reconsider his advice and spoke again. “On second thought, chase them down. If they see us halt our attack, it’ll steel them. We don’t want them to be steeled.” There was a certain merit to what he said this time as well, however, Mill didn’t understand why he changed his mind so quickly.
“I’m not sure that’s the wisest idea,” Mill said as he helped Saamir stand on his own. “But, I suppose if we’re going to die, it might as well be fighting. Catch your breath Saamir, I’ll try to clear the way.” Mill rushed forward, along with the other farmhands, his scythe at the ready. If we could limit the orcs movement, we could regain the advantage, he thought. Glancing around, however, showed that there was little they could do at the moment besides rushing to meet the orcs.
Mill lashed out with his scythe, no longer aiming for the body or head of the orcs. Instead he aimed for legs and arms, hoping to cripple the enemy and leave them to one of the others to finish off. While attempting to hold off the orcs, Mill saw Horace slip into his home, or what remained of it, he barely noticed at first however he did notice the two orcs enter after him. He knew Horace was a fighter, and being in an enclosed space might even help even the odds, but he doubted it would matter if the orcs caught him off guard. Mill broke off from his opponent and rushed towards Horace’s house, unfortunately the orc got one last blow in, if the burning sensation down his back was any evidence to go by. Ignoring the wound for his moment he saw the two orcs walking down the steps leading to the cellar, doubling his pace Mill tackled the one in the back sending all three tumbling down the steps.
Saamir’s injuries and exhaustion seemed to catch up to him however, and he leaned against Mill for support. “Careful brothers, they’ll have the upper hand on open ground. Tread lightly.” Mill nodded it was sensible for them to take things cautiously, after all none of them were real fighters. However, Saamir seemed to reconsider his advice and spoke again. “On second thought, chase them down. If they see us halt our attack, it’ll steel them. We don’t want them to be steeled.” There was a certain merit to what he said this time as well, however, Mill didn’t understand why he changed his mind so quickly.
“I’m not sure that’s the wisest idea,” Mill said as he helped Saamir stand on his own. “But, I suppose if we’re going to die, it might as well be fighting. Catch your breath Saamir, I’ll try to clear the way.” Mill rushed forward, along with the other farmhands, his scythe at the ready. If we could limit the orcs movement, we could regain the advantage, he thought. Glancing around, however, showed that there was little they could do at the moment besides rushing to meet the orcs.
Mill lashed out with his scythe, no longer aiming for the body or head of the orcs. Instead he aimed for legs and arms, hoping to cripple the enemy and leave them to one of the others to finish off. While attempting to hold off the orcs, Mill saw Horace slip into his home, or what remained of it, he barely noticed at first however he did notice the two orcs enter after him. He knew Horace was a fighter, and being in an enclosed space might even help even the odds, but he doubted it would matter if the orcs caught him off guard. Mill broke off from his opponent and rushed towards Horace’s house, unfortunately the orc got one last blow in, if the burning sensation down his back was any evidence to go by. Ignoring the wound for his moment he saw the two orcs walking down the steps leading to the cellar, doubling his pace Mill tackled the one in the back sending all three tumbling down the steps.