"Gods above. See what I mean with this? It's all got outta hand." Alfred grimaced as the cart made its way to Branvel.
Eric said nothing. The stakes just got higher. He knew nothing of this world's religion, all he had gathered so far is that they were polytheistic. He had to take a chance.
"Alfred. Alfred my father didn't teach me a thing about the Gods, we're from a small mountain town, we never had any need to. I need the quickest explanation you can give. I think I might die if you don't." Eric said, voice shaking.
"Right. All you need t'know is when they ask any question, you say, 'By the mercy of the Gods' or 'If the Gods allow it'. Stuff like that. Y'don't gotta be a priest but ya gotta know when to say that stuff and you'll be grand, 'right lad?" Alfred said.
"Okay, sounds simple enough." Eric tried to play off his terror but it was unavoidable, the longer the cart moved the more signs he read. This was barbaric.
"Were these here on your way back yesterday?" Eric asked.
"No. Means they're still 'ere. Gonna be tense in there, hope you're ready lad." Alfred said. His voice dripping with concern.
"Ready as I can be. It's going to be hard not to draw attention." Eric said.
"Yeah, not many giants in robes with no shoes about... Look, 'ere's the story. You're a traveler, you got robbed by a group of bandits..." Alfred quickly spun up a backstory for Eric to use when he was inevitably asked about his circumstances, "And you stick to it, y'hear? Can't be changing too many details or we'll both be in front of an inquisitor today."
"Right. Keep my head down, pray if anything goes wrong." Eric said back.
"Looks like ya got it down, good thing too, we're 'ere lad. C'mon, stick to my side." Alfred said, pulling up to the gate stable and dismounting his horse.
Getting out the back of the cart, Eric saw an entire row of armored horses, not the wide, heavy-set laboring horse that Alfred owned, but tall, slender built war horses, each one had a travelling cart attached that could easily hold six to eight men. There must've been between thirty-six and forty-eight inquisitors there. The village was visibly tiny, couldn't be more than a hundred residents. Wasn't this overkill? Eric grew nervous and restless, he turned to see Alfred talking to the stablemaster.
"Look, I'm only 'ere to drop a lad off, I just need to go in, show him the inn then leave. C'mon Adrian, how long you known me now? Y'can't turn me away." Alfred pleaded.
"Alfred..." The stablemaster said, putting his hand on his shoulder, "Not now, mate. They're tearing the place apart. Said they detected magic in the area when you were 'ere yesterday mornin'. Mate, 'alf the village has been detained... Mate, Wendin's dead. Said he was doin' 'usury' for lendin' out money to folks. I'd pack up an' go 'ome if I were you."
Alfred's face dropped, "Weldin? What did he ever do? Fuck sake, right, lad, come on, back in the cart." He called back to Eric.
Eric was wracked with guilt. There was definitely magic in the area yesterday morning. It was him, arriving in the new world. It had to be.
"Oh, you won't be going anywhere." A voice called out from an indeterminable location.
Alfred and Adrian looked around searching for the source. When out stepped a masked, robed figure from behind the main stables.
"My, my Adrian. You wouldn't happen to be intervening in official Supreme Commands would you?" The masked man slinked over to the stablemaster, arriving behind him, placing two gauntlet-covered hands on his shoulders. His robes covered his body but his movements were as unnatural as they come.
"N-no your honor, not t'all." The stablemaster stood, shaking in his boots.
"Not what?" The masked man asked.
"N-not at all, your honor." The man forced his accent down into the pit of his stomach.
"Good. Because, if you were to do something so foolish as to warn people at the gate of our presence, we could only assume you're collaborating with people who need to be wary of us. Isn't that right?" Eric could see from a distance that as he said this, he tightened his grip on his shoulders like a vice, eliciting an expression of intense pain from the stablemaster.
"And what do we have here?" The dark holes in the man's ivory mask were fixed on Eric.
"Oh, fuck." He thought.
In an instant, the masked man used the same winding, slinking movements to close the gap between them and now he stood within arms reach of Eric. Up close he could gauge more of his appearance. He ware long, white and gold robes. His mask had no carved facial features, just a smooth, polished, ivory mask in a porcelain white color. On the hood of the robe, the same horizontal crescent moon shape of the necklace was embroidered in, the design, however, was a little different, this one had a spear head through the middle of it.
"Well, well, I didn't know there were giants this far into Aldburg." He said with a wry laugh.
He was right, Eric was indeed taller than he was, this was the first person in the new world he had seen who was even close to his height, but still, he stood a few inches shorter.
"I jest, of course. Say boy. What's your name?" He asked, no emotion in his question.
"Eric, your honor." Eric replied.
"Am I not worthy of hearing your family name?" The masked man said, tilting his head.
"If I have one, I never learned it, your honor. Father never said I had one." Eric replied.
"How unfortunate." he said in turn, "Say, where are your shoes, boy?"
"Got robbed by bandits about two days ago. I came here today to buy some new clothes. Robes aren't really my style." Eric said with a smile.
"Perhaps not, you are a touch broad for... elegant garments." He replied, sarcastic venom dripping from his voice, "Could a man your size not fend off these bandits?"
"I may be big but I'm not stupid. One unarmored man can hardly fend off five armed men, can he?" Eric snapped back.
"Oh, I like you." The man said, "Here, I doubt you're the heretic we're looking for, nobody who attracts attention like you would be stupid enough to be a warlock, and no warlock is humble enough to allow himself to be robbed." With that, the man, who Eric now understood to be an inquisitor for certain, handed him a piece of paper, on it, the half moon symbol painted on in blue, "Anybody calls you for questioning, you show them that."
"What about my traveling companion?" Eric asked, gesturing to Alfred.
"Ah, yes, here, I doubt you can even read, let alone practice magic." The inquisitor said, slinking over to Alfred and handing him the paper, voice oozing condescension.
And with that, he took off, walking through the village gates, head held high.
"Eric, lad, are you insane?" Alfred asked, "I can work with that if y'are but y'do gotta tell me now."
"Perfectly sane, why do you ask?" Eric replied with a laugh and grin.
"Fuckin, c'mon, let's get this over with quick. We'll 'ave Helga make you some sandals or something, gotta be quick, you're leavin' tomorrow. Guess we'll have to see what's what about room'n'board with Weldin gone..." His voice was layered with sorrow.
"Yeah, thank you for this Alfred." Eric said.
"Should be thankin' you, these passes aren't easy to get, should keep us safe 'till we leave."
Walking through the timber gate, the first thing the pair noticed was the quiet. What was normally a bustling market was now eerily quiet, no trade, no movement, no laughter. The houses were, as far as Eric could tell, made in the old European style, timber frames, Wattle and daub walls with the occasional white plaster and black paint on the timber. Thatch rooves were the popular style and dotted along the cobbled roads through town were wooden market stalls which had been abandoned.
The two men walked through town, a few villagers stood outside their homes, heads down low. People stopped to look at Eric as he walked through, whispers of his height and scars crept through the air. They came upon a small house, single story, outside was a wooden sign with a shoe painted on it, no writing. Alfred walked up to the entrance and knocked on the particularly well made wooden door.
"You've already searched my home and shop, don't you see the sigil on the door?" A frail old woman's voice called out from behind the door, "Please, I don't want any trouble."
"Helga, it's me, Alfred. Open up, I need something made very quick, maybe a couple things." Alfred said.
The door creeked open, an eye glared out the crack in the ajar door, "C'mon in laddies, c'mon, don't loiter out there, can't have 'em seeing you." She beckoned the men and opened the door.
The woman was likely, as old as a person could get in this world. Her back was permanently bent over from a life of laboring, she wore a black dress and veil for her hair and walked with two walking sticks. She sat on her stool and turned to face them. Her hands were clearly arthritic and her face had deep, deep wrinkles and signs of age.
"What could you possibly want right now. An' who's this giant?" She said, gesturing to Eric
"Well, it's him I need things for. Real 'ero this one, saved Anne and Hilda from goblins with nothin' but his bare 'ands. Needs sandals though, clothes got robbed by bandits 'fore he got to the farm." Alfred explained.
"You'll 'ave to pay extra but I can 'ave him measured an' fitted by tomorrow." She said.
"You old bat, y'still price gougin' with the inquisitors 'round? Must 'ave a death wish. How much?" Alfred said.
"One sliver." She said with a dry chuckle.
"One sliver? Y'must be outta your mind! Y'finally gone senile 'ave you? You're not getting more than seventy-five coppers you thief!" Alfred replied, outraged.
"Oh, and I suppose you have a stockpile of leather? These damn inquisitors came at the worst time, they blocked the good shipment from Annti. I get all my leather from Annti, Alfred, I'm running out as is, I can't charge normal prices for this beast! Look at the size of his feet!" She said, making her case.
Alfred sighed and nodded, accepting her reasoning, "We've gotta split a gold, we uh, we heard about Wendin."
"Terrible business, I warned him y'know, years ago. Can't be charging the rates he was without reporting the income but... wouldn't listen. 'Ere, I've got some coins 'ere. What do we say to eight silvers and a hundred coppers? Plus the sandals of course."
"Sounds good." Alfred said.
After some measuring, clay tablet drawing and coin splitting, the two men were on their way to the inn.
"Shame it's gonna take so long but, y'know. She doesn't have spare stock in giant size." Alfred said with a laugh.
"Right this narrative must end, I am not even that tall, you're all just oddly small. The man outside was almost my height." Eric replied.
"Lad, Inquisitors are almost always sons of lesser nobles. Y'still taller than him. You're basically as big as humans come, any bigger and you'd be suspected as an orc in disguise or somethin. Pretty sure you're the same height as the King." Alfred explained, "And he's known for being big."
"Ah. That bad? I mean, my father was a bit taller than I am now, always thought it was normal." Eric said.
"No lad, maybe you're just part giant, 'ear odd things about Northmen, could be a descendent of the mountain kings." Alfred said with a giggle.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Eric said sarcastically as they walked through the streets.
As they approached the inn, the growing smell of fire filled the air and a brief look upwards confirmed their suspicions.
"Oh Gods." Alfred said, darting around corners and through alleyways until he reached the bonfire that used to be the inn.
Out front, Eric's previous analysis was confirmed, there were forty inquisitors, all stood in a circle around the former in, the flames casting their shadows dancing on the floor, ash clinging to their white masks and robes. Every few moments they would chant in the language Anne had used and a new belch of flame would erupt from their outstretched hands. From the wreckage, although smothered by the crackling, burning and collapsing sounds of the inn, faint screams bellowed out.
Eric's blood ran cold and his ears began to ring. The vile smell of burning hair filled his airways and he couldn't help but gag hard, choking on the smell. Before he could truly process what it was he was seeing, he felt a hand on his back.
"It's unfortunate but some things just need to be cleansed." An all too familiar voice said, "Oh, you weren't planning a stay were you? That really would be unfortunate for you." He said with a laugh, the inquisitor's cruel humor on full display.
"What did they do?" Eric's question escaped his lips before he could think.
"Well the husband was deeply engaged in usury and the wife? Well, a search of the basement showed all types of unapproved alchemical research. Such witchcraft cannot be tolerated, you understand?" His fingers sunk into Eric's back.
"How terrible..." Eric said, "That such ordinary people could do such things." He added, trying to save face.
"Indeed. You weren't planning a stay were you?" He asked.
"Unfortunately I was, I'm new to the are, don't know if there's anywhere else to stay." Eric said, "Wasn't planning on a long stay, I'm getting the carriage to Veldia tomorrow. Or well... was." Looking around at the flame-lit inquisitors.
"Really!?" The inquisitor's voice suddenly filled with excitement, "What a tremendous coincidence. We're heading back to our base in Veldia's Cathedral tomorrow. We're also your best bet out, all carriages in have been halted for the quarantine of Branvel. The arms of the church are always open to those in need boy." He said. Despite his face being totally covered, it was clear from the sound of his words he was positively beaming under the mask.
"Oh... what a coincidence. I guess I'll have to join you then. If you'll have me." Eric tried his best to hide his fear and awkward feelings, "I still have uh, nowhere to sleep though."
"Nonsense. You can stay in my tent. I was meant to bring an acolyte but he came down with a fever right before the mission, bad timing. But, all things are surely right by the Gods, it means I have an extra bedroll for a traveler in need."
"By the mercy of the Gods it is so." Eric replied.
"Oh fuck, fuck this isBAD. Look, all you have to do is keep your head down, play the ignorant giant role and get a ride to Veldia, once you're there you can put some distance between you and them and think of a plan, like where to go after you get the hell out of Veldia." Eric reassured himself in his head over and over.
"Delightful. Come, it's not safe to stand so close to a fire this large, wouldn't want you getting sick now would we? I trust your companion can see himself out of the village." He wrapped his arm around Eric's shoulder and started dragging him off in a new direction.
Despite the flowing robes and fabric, Eric could feel that this man was terrifically strong, made up of dense, well trained muscles. With his arm out, he could see the inquisitor's waist, from it hung a long, ornate, swept-hilt rapier along with a coin-purse and a small, beautifully decorated book. He took in as many details of the inquisitor as possible, who was undoubtably doing the exact same thing to him in that moment. Every piece of Eric's intuition told him this was a disastrous idea, that he should make an excuse to leave with Alfred now.
"That'sit!" he thought.
"Ah, excuse me, I need to go back." Eric said, "See, my companion still has my coin-purse."
The inquisitors head whipped towards Eric, "But I thought you were robbed."
"Well, yes, the money is actually from my companion, see, when I stumbled upon their farm, he was away trading, leaving his wife and daughter alone, there was a goblin attack and well, see, one thing lead to another and I ended up saving his daughter from two goblins so, it's a reward of sorts, see." Eric stumbled over his very real excuse, incapable of containing his nerves around the inquisitor.
"Well, I can hardly deny you such a hard earned reward. Go. Meet me at the other end of town, just follow the cobble road there, you can't miss it." He said, releasing Eric and walking away in that unnerving glide-step the inquisitors seemed to share.
Eric ran back to find Alfred, which he did, just as he was about to leave town.
"Alfred!" Eric called, "Alfred wait!"
He spun around and ran towards Eric, "By the Gods lad, you're still alive?"
"Didn't think I'd fail that quick did you?" Eric replied.
"Oh, damn, here." Alfred thrust the coin-purse into Eric's hands, "You're gonna be needin' that lad."
"I've got to head back quickly, you take care of yourself alright?" Eric said.
"Should be me saying that, lad. Just, just stick to what we discussed alright?" Alfred said in hushed tone, "Right, I'll be off, make sure you get to Veldia safe now lad." He turned and walked out the gate, not wanting to prolong the goodbye.
"I'll be back for you one day, tell Anne and Hilda I wish them well!" Eric called after him.
His solitary walk through the town was a march through sorrow, faint sobs behind closed doors, stifled by the fear of being caught weeping for a heretic, starting another round of questioning. His feet slapped against the cobbles, he was getting heavily injured by this at this point.
After hobbling through the smoke, he arrived at the far north of town, by the gate was, like the inquisitor said, a whole camp of high tents, and stood in wait was the inquisitor. He set upon Eric with the same winding glide-step as before. Knowing he carried a rapier made the unnerving sight even more intimidating.
"My, my, we really need to get you some shoes, boy, you're practically falling over." He said.
"What do you think I'm picking up tomorrow morning?" Eric said with a laugh, "I mean, look I understand stealing weapons, even the clothes, fabric isn't cheap. But I really doubt they'll find any money for hide shoes in my size." Eric said.
"Indeed, rest assured, should we find them on our return journey..." His voice carried the type of malice one only gained through years of bloodshed. It was Eric's first time hearing something like that, it terrified him.
"Man your size, surely you carried a weapon?" The inquisitor probed.
"Ah, no more than an axe for camping. Afraid I'm not the best of fighters, never really had any need to growing up." Eric replied, "Didn't much care for killing goblins either."
"Is that so?" The inquisitor responded with a chuckle, "Guess looks can be deceiving. Man your size... we'd be happy to train up for some... work." He said, looking straight through him.
"Ah, I don't know, I hear you have to be young to learn all that swordsman stuff." Eric retorted sheepishly.
"Normally, I'd agree. But it's not everyday you find an untrained civilian bigger and stronger than entire lineages of knights. I think you could learn with just a year of rigorous training. If you like, I can write you a letter of recommendation to the Imperial Guards training camp. They'd have you ready for us in a year or so." The Inquisitor divulged.
"I mean, maybe, I'll think about it, consider if I have the mental fortitude for it." Eric replied, hoping to placate him, it worked.
"Well, if you decide on it, you let me know." He added, "Here we are, my tent. You'll want to rest up no doubt. I'll wake you up at sunrise." With that, he sauntered out.
It was an hour after mid-day. Eric wasn't tired. He stirred and tried to sleep but to no avail.
Gliding through the streets, the Inquisitor scanned the alleys and windows, looking for anyone... suspicious. The report was clear, the area surrounding Branvel had seen an unimaginable spike of raw magic, yet their investigation had yielded a money-lender, some cheating spouses and a herbalist. This was a disaster. Unbeknownst to Eric, the Inquisitor he had been encountering was captain of this conclave. The third son of a lesser noble family of knights, Alren Von Karthstieg had been made captain at a tremendously young age, his blend of family swordsmanship, royal system swordsmanship and distinct religious fervor made him a prime candidate, his results spoke for themselves, until today.
He grit his teeth beneath his mask, he had to know what was going on in this village, his reputation and future depended on it, he may have been a prodigy but he wasn't beyond reproach. He knew this as well as anyone.
"If there's nothing here we're going to have to fan out into the countryside next week. I really don't want to have to do that." Alren thought to himself as his feet glided across the cobbles.
"Ugh, a mage wouldn't hide here. It's the first place we'd look. We're going to have to do it aren't we." He continued his thoughts until he was back at the burning inn, inquisitors fell into formation at his arrival.
"Gentlemen, all available information shows we've purged this town of its filth. We'll return to Veldia and begin planning our expansion into the countryside, the reports don't lie, the mage just isn't here." Alren said before turning his body dramatically and leading the men back to camp.
"There's no way that giant doesn't have something to do with this. His appearance is too coincidental, a spike of magic and then the tallest man anyone ever seen appears out of nowhere with no belongings? Isn't that too suspicious?" He thought, "Ah, whatever, we'll interrogate him at Veldia." He continued.
That night, the whole village fell silent. Despite his restlessness, Eric had fallen asleep early and Alren saw fit to watch him for half the night from his side of the tent.
"What are you hiding?" Alren pondered, examining Eric's features.
The most suspicious? His teeth. He had noticed while talking to him earlier but Eric may have the most flawless teeth in the world, they were white, really white. Alren had never seen anything like it. People cleaned their teeth, yes, some were whiter than others, yes. But Eric? It wasn't just a bit whiter, they were practically radiant in comparison. The size? The teeth? Something was just off about Eric.
After a half night of observation, Alren began to meditate, the Inquisitors did not need to sleep after a certain point in their spiritual journey, instead, they would meditate on the Gods, drawing energy into themselves to replenish their bodies manually. It was an alternative that required them to be stationary, yes, but it enabled them to still be alert, preventing any ambush or assassinations.
Come morning, Alren was impatient to leave, he woke up Eric as soon as dawn broke.
"Come on, wake up. We're running your errand then leaving for Veldia." Alren said.
"Hm? Oh, yeah, come on, lets go." The giant replied.
Walking together through the streets, Eric kept yawning.
"What's wrong, didn't sleep well?" Alren said sarcastically.
"Guess I'm struggling with the unfamiliar places." He replied.
"Yeah, I bet you are." Alren thought.
"Where are we going anyway." Alren asked.
"Picking up shoes. Prepaid don't worry." The giant replied.
"Hah! Really?" Alren said, laughing earnestly, "Okay, that makes sense." He began to wonder if he really had been just a victim of bandits after all. It would make sense, it'd be difficult to travel discreetly at that size, right?
The smell of the burning inn still lingered in the air, as they approached the cobblers house, the giant took stride ahead, knocking on the door.
"Helga, open up, it's me. I'm not alone." The giant said.
"Oh? Need a warning does she?" Alren inquired.
"Ah, she's just paranoid." He replied.
The old woman peered through a crack in the door before gasping and slamming it shut. After some rustling and rattling inside, a pair of leather sandals came flying out of the door, before it was slammed shut again.
"I've told you all everything I know, please, I don't want any trouble." The frail voice called out from behind the door.
"Thank you Helga, they fit great." The giant said before turning and walking away from the door, "Come on, we don't have time for her paranoia, right?" He added.
"You're certainly right about that. How's the fit?" Alren asked.
"So good. Wore my feet damn close to the bone walking on all these rocks. I swear if I ever catch those bandits I'll... I'll. Okay I don't really know what I'll do but, they better hope I don't."
The two men shared a glance before both breaking down into giggles.
"Easy there, wouldn't want them to face your wrath would we." Alren said sarcastically, "Come on, we need to head off soon."
After a brief walk through the silent town they arrived at the far camp, which had been entirely packed away already by the other inquisitors, who, upon seeing Alren, fell into formation and gave a cross-armed salute.
"Captain!"
The giant turned to Alren, "Captain?" He asked shocked.
Alren just gave a chuckle, "Come on, into the carriage, we're heading out."
Eric sat across from the inquisitor, he couldn't believe it, this wasn't just a faceless soldier in the Gods army, he was the captain.
"Why is he so interested in me? This is really bad." He thought to himself, snatching glances at the lily-white mask, trying to gauge any emotion from his body language.
"Make yourself comfortable. We'll be riding for two and a half days from here." The captain said.
"Yeah, guess I should." Eric replied.
"I owe every plane and car journey back home an apology." He thought.
Two harrowing days later, through woodland and farmland, camping under the stars and riding down the bumpy, unpaved road to Veldia, Eric had grown frustrated with the journey, not that he would reveal such. He had spend two days masterfully dodging probing questions from the captain and malicious-feeling observation from the other Inquisitors. Now, he sat arms crossed opposite the captain, who had said nothing for half the journey. They were riding in a new woodland, it was more rugged than the first, with many hills covered in tall coniferous trees. Just half a day remained, he mustered his courage and stuck to his plan. Nothing could go wrong from here.
"On the hill!"
A cry came from behind the carriage followed by the sound of an explosion and whinnying horses. Before he could process this, he was in the air, the carriage shattered to smoldering splinters, the last thing he saw was a green-skinned creature covered in bones and feathers. He smacked into a tree, hard and fell unconscious.
Alren however, had drawn his sword mid-air and landed on his feet with little more than a stagger, he whipped his sword left and right, parrying arrows mid flight before winding up the hill along with the other inquisitors, running his blade straight through the goblin shaman while his conclave dispatched the archers. From deeper in the woods, heavy footsteps echoed, clearly on the approach. A guttural roar bellowed from the tree line and crudely armored orcs came blitzing through. Alren leapt backwards down the hill as a heavy steel axe crashed into the tree to the side of his head, half-felling it in the process. Had he not dodged, he'd be dead for sure.
He steeled himself, taking a long-point guard against the orc attacking him. To his dismay, a brief examination revealed this was an orc chief. His armor was of much higher quality, and his decorations were far rarer. Orcs decide their chiefs through combat, he was alone against the strongest they had.
It flung itself down the hill with an overhead swing of its axe, burying it into the floor. Alren seized his opportunity, after an artful side-step, he thrust his rapier at the gap in his armor. He had him.
Clang!
The damn thing had tilted its head, blocking the strike with its helmet. Alren jabbed again as he darted backwards, putting distance between the two. He caught glimpse of his conclave, they were holding up well enough, but there were many casualties in comparison. The initial onslaught had caught them off-guard, they should be capable of dispatching the rest without failure.
Unlike his orcish tribe, the chief, now on flat footing, wasn't a mindless brute in combat. His strikes were structured, always presenting threat to Alren. He parried and withdrew from the axe time and time again, narrowly avoiding the end of his life with each axe strike. He took a deep breath and began to chant, his steps became faster, his sword lighter, he was on the offensive. Slashing, thrusting and parrying at the chief he prayed for success and as he did, a slash landed square on the orcs right hand, severing two fingers. It roared in pain and as it did, Alren felt a tremendous weight on his shoulders.
"Fucking magic!" He thought.
He felt as though he was dragging his feet through a pool of mud, the chief came barreling towards, him, two handed axe now in one hand. Unstructured, wild swings crashed into Alren's blade and with a tremendous upwards swing, he was sent crashing into the slope of a hill.
"Oh, so this is it." He thought.
Clang!
Alren's eyes widened. An axe blade was wedged not just into the orc's neck, but a few inches into its armor as well. Its corpse came crashing down at Alren's feet, there, stood tall, was Eric, both hands on an orcish axe. Blood dripped down from the top of his skull, matting his hair. His arms and legs were all bleeding, his white robes singed and blood soaked. He turned back towards the rest of the orcs and let out a harrowing scream of his own before running on unsteady legs directly into the fray. With a wild horizontal swing he smashed his axe blade into an orcs stomach before kicking it to the floor. From an unseen alcove in the trees, a stone-tipped arrow flew forth and pierced Eric's calf. He cried out in pain and buckled down onto one leg.
Eric locked eyes with an approaching orc.
"Fuckit."
He staggered up and with all the strength in his body swung the axe down over his head at the orc's skull. Maybe it was the length of the axes, maybe it was the length of Eric's arms, but as an axe swung passed his face, ripping open his cheek and nose, his axe crashed directly into the orc's head. His blade alignment was off, it didn't matter in terms of lethality, but the axe spun out of his hands and onto the floor. Eric collapsed, accepting his fate not understanding that he had just killed the last orcish raider. With a heavy sigh, the unlikely warrior, still very concussed, passed out.
The entire conclave stood in shock, only a few left to chase down any straggling goblin archers or orcish warriors.
"What the fuck was that?" From the back, an unnamed inquisitor simply couldn't hold his tongue.