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Gannicus500 [2015-09-24 01:47:11 +0000 UTC]

Ilsavel, Trianthus and Lyara hid in the undergrowth as they saw a band of fearsome orcs walk through the forest, roaring war-songs in their ugly, gutteral tongue. They had been following reports of attacks on caravans travelling the roads which cut through the great and ancient Damned Forest. Indeed, why anyone would travel through region the Wood Elves cannot understand. The Damned was reputedly infested with clans of Orcs and their goblin servants, and worse horrors besides. These Orcs were laden with booty taken from their recent raid.

"I count twenty-seven Orcs," Trianthus whispered, "though I venture that this is not their whole band!"

Ilsavel frowned. "We cannot let these beasts return to their main camp, then, can we?" she growled softly.

When the Orc band had taken the path downhill, the elves emerged from their hinding place. Young Lyara's boots crunched the twigs as she rose up. Both Ilsavel and Trianthus frowned at her reprovingly.

Lyara sighed. "I know!" she said. She hastily removed her boots before following her companions after the orcs.

Lyara, the alchemist, who was accustomed to the urban life of the Free Cities, winced with the effort of moving through the dark, shaded forest barefoot without crying out every step, which was either rough, sharp or slimy. She hid behind the thick oak tree just behind where the Orcs had stopped to catch their breath. She squated down to take some choice potions and powders from her knapsack, while her more graceful-moving companions had taken to the upper branches of the trees to find their positions of attack. Ilsavel, with her twin daggers, hung with her legs upside down. Trianthus, the archer of the group, perched on a whick oak branch like a bird, with his toes curling somewhat over the branches of his perch. Drawing his first arrow, it was the normal practice of the Deepwood Patrol for him to start the attack, to put fear into the hearts of their enemies and to thin out their ranks before Ilsavel set upon them with her blades.

The first arrow took a thickly-muscled Orc through the left eye. The bodkin of the arrow punched through the back of the skull before the Orc hit the ground. Shocked into alarm, the Orcs fearfully looks around before a second arrow punctured the throat of another Orc. A third penetrated the temple of one of the savages before protruding out the other end. A fourth Orc died when an arrow pierced the roof of its mouth, the bodkin slicing through the throat. The terrified Orc died choking on his own blood.

Twenty three, thought Trianthus.

Before the other twenty-three Orcs could scatter, Lyara emerged from hiding behind her oak tree. Armed with several hastily put-together pouches, Lyara bravely came close enough to the Orcish rabble before she tossed pouches at the doomed creatures. The pouches exploded on impact and released an acrid gas formed from mixed chemicals. The concoction was in no way deadly, but it stank fearsomely of rotting eggs and served to blind and disorient the panicking Orcish gang. Lyara broke into a run as two Orcs, a young male and female, armed with a spear and axe respectively, made to run after the young Elven scholar. But two arrows launched by Trianthus from the trees, took the male Orc between his shoulders, and the female through the forehead. Both dropped dead as Lyara ran to hide in the thicket to recover her boots. Lyara was no figher and had already served her part.

Meanwhile, with the Orcs blinded and gasping for fresh air, Ilseval, who was hanging upside-down from a branch, had kicked her legs upright, dropping down on two Orcs with both daggers aimed downwards, puncturing the top of both their skulls. Ilseval gracefully landed on her feet before yanking both daggers from the dead Orcs. She tried not to inhale Lyara's smelly alchemist gas while slicing the throat of a third Orc, a burly female with a missing eye. A big, meaty Orc hand grabbed her arm, but, blessed with her Elvish reflexes, Ilseval merely spun round and stabbed the crouching Orc warrior right through the eye and deep into the brain.

Trianthus loosed two more bodkin-pointed arrows before he somersaulted from the tree-branch. His bare feet lightly landed on top an Orc's shoulders, from whence he delivered a dagger-thrust to the the top of its skull. Stepping off the hulking form of his dying victim, Trianthus swung his bow-stave into the face of the nearest disoriented Orc. The swing had such force as to break the creature's nose and shatter his teeth and sent him reeling to the ground. Trianthus then struck his upturned bow downward on to the Orc's windpipe, crushing it on impact. An axe, flung by a large female Orc with large muscles, fangs and a pig-like nose, went flying towards Trianthus, but he did a graceful spinning flip in mid-air to avoid the weapon. He recovered his dagger and plunged it into the the jungular of a spluttering Orc.

Ilseval Stabbed both daggers into the chest of a burly young Orc, piercing its heart. Another Orc ran at her with a lowered spear,  but Ilseval performed a swerving jump forward over the crouched brute and rolled across his back, landing behind him before slicing her blades to hamstring the Orc. The next Orc attacked her her with a rusted falchion, but Ilseval pun around behind her, ducking under falchion-swing and sliced the muscles of the female Orc's knee, causing her leg to buckle, as Ilseval's other blade sliced across the Orc's neck in one motion. Two more Orcs came for to grab her arms from either side, but Ilseval plunged one of her daggers into one Orc's groin, where he sank to the ground screaming in pain. Ilseval, in the clutches of the other Orc, leaned back as it lifted her up, and wrapped both her feet around his head. She then plunged her remaining dagger two-handed. Once in the stomach, the second in the chest and a third time through his eye.

Trianthus threw his blade at chubby young Orc, who got the blade through his head. Two of his companions ran at Trianthus, but the Wood Elf ranger quickly drew an arrow, loosing it while it was within seven-feet of him. The other Orc got eight inches close to Trianthus before loosed the second bodkin through its nose. The beast shuddered as he fell to the ground.

The huge female with the piggish nose, who had earlier thrown the axe toward Trianthus, set upon him with a drawn falchion. She stood at seven-feet and six inches of pure Orcish bone and muscle, dwarfing Trianthus, who himself measured at five-foot ten-inches in height. Trianthus ducked under one of her swings, spin away from the second and backflipped away from the third as it tried to cut him below the knees. Trianthus then delivered a stinging smack of his bow-stave across the huge female's face, drawing blood. He smacked again, at her wrist, making her drop her falchion. But before he could continue his assault, the Orcess delivered a terrible punch to his sternum, her huge fist knocking Trianthus five-feet backwards, his legs rolling over his head before landing on his front-side. The chief Orcess stumbled toward Trianthus as he struggled for breath in his cracked sternum. The furious Orcess leaned down and grabbed the Wood Elf's hair, by she lifted him up. His feet dangled far above the ground. Trianthus screaming from the pain at his scalp, swung his fists at the face of the Orcess. But she had a rock-hard jaw, bruising the Elf's knuckles on impact. The Orcess then grabbed Trianthus by the throat, her whole, massive hand entirely going around Trianthus' neck. She squeezed hard. Trianthus hands went for her eyes, but she snarled contemptuously and simply stretched out her arms, putting her face out of reach. Trianthus' kicked at her chest, to no avail. His hands tried to prise her fingers in desperation. The Orcess was huge and immensely strong, and Trianthus, who was stronger than most Elves, was puny compared to her raw power. His smaller hands scratched and slapped pitifully at her huge hands. His bare feet kicked and scrabbled helplessly as the breath was being choked out of his body. A bloodied, sadistic grin spead across the Orcess's harsh, ugly visage. Enjoying her apparent victory over this puny little Elf.

The four of the remaining five Orcs, seeing most of their comrades dead and two wounded, fled for their lives. Ilseval turned around to see Trianthus being slowly strangled by the huge Orc. She grabbed a fallen war-axe and ran toward the Orcess and swung it into the back of her thigh. The Orcess suddenly dropped helpless Trianthus and let out an tremendous, bellowing howl which sounded like it could have come from the mouth of a lion. The Orcess, quick as a snake, swung around and punched Ilseval, sending her flying six feet away. The Orcess tried to remove the embedded war-axe, but was struck in the face by a pouch flung at her by Lyara. Lyara was terrified, but the noxious chemicals stung the Orcess's eyes and the vapours were filling into her nose. She screamed in panic and frustration.

Trianthus, recovering, picked up his bow-stave, leapt over the crouching Orcess and landed behind her. He slipped the bow-cord passed her head and against her throat. Then, twisting the bow-stave around, he grabbed it on both sides and pressed both his feet on the back of the Orcess. Pulling himself upright so the cord sank deep into her neck. Trianthus held her there until her struggles ceased and she made her final gasp. The Orcess's body sank to the ground, half-burying Trianthus.

Even both Ilseval and Lyara together struggled with the corpse of the Orcess. She was as heavy as a ploughhorse. They pulled Trianthus, who had received two cracked ribs and a bruised throat. Ilseval interrogated the two wounded Orcs, discovering that their warband was called the Raging Boar and their main camp was situated six miles north. She thanked them by slicing their jugulars. Lyara tended Trianthus as Ilseval returned to their side. She tenderly kissed old friend on the mouth and took his bruised hand in hers.

"We have to travel home and alert the everyone to this situation!" She stated. "You're badly wounded as it is!"

"Four of the scum have fled. They know we're on to them, now! You said yourself that we can't let them return to their kindred."

Ilseval stroked his cheek. "I'd rather not lose you, Trianthus!" she said fondly.

Trianthus used his huge bow as a walking staff while half-supported by Ilseval, while they and Lyara walked back to the realm of the Wood Elves to alert their people to the dangers that were brewing among the Orc-kind.

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Edited.

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Gannicus500 [2015-07-02 00:30:35 +0000 UTC]

The alchemist's wood elf companions must find her weird, wearing shoes and all. Probably a custom they think she picked up from her human colleagues.

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gakusangi [2014-07-10 12:11:54 +0000 UTC]

There's a classic sort of charm to your characters ^_^

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Celestialhost [2014-06-27 16:59:19 +0000 UTC]

Good stuff

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JuanaIgushi [2014-06-27 12:02:51 +0000 UTC]

Lovely ears! Also quite inventive clothing. Always good to see something new from you!

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