Fear. Blood. Pain. All elements of combat, elements that even the bravest warrior experiences. Such was the events that unfolded in the scant few seconds since the Silver Shields had reached the coach. The orc had raised his sword in some endeavor to present a fearsome visage. It had not worked, evident by the quick thrust by Karvos. Melee were not clean affairs, combat was messy, with blows felling opponents from every angle. Such would be the outcome today. One against two, unless the one was supremely skilled and the two were inept farmers, the single one would fall in a matter of seconds. It was amazing, had Lars had time to watch the elaborate move the orc did to avoid being run through, and nary his sword moved from its overhead position. It would have been a marvel of unprecedented skill, balance, and strength. The sinisteral maced moved deftly, body shifting, moving and yet the sword remained overhead even as the orc fell backward. It mattered not though as soon as Karvos made his move so was Lars moving. Two quick steps and the shield was smashing into the orc even as his mace collided with the halberd shaft, the impact as Lars threw his weight behind it, the shield rising up a bit so that the top edge would be ready to turn away the longsword still held high. It would be easy to set aside the sword from this position. The war sword, held in a low guard, with a quick flick of the wrist was now moving to get behind the right leg of the orc, as the blade slipped between his legs. With the overly elaborate defense and his falling back, the blade would achieve its aim. To slice through the leather leggings at the orcs right knee, the attempt was to hamstring the orc. With the orc falling backward, along with the impact of the the shield, it would not be beyond the realm of possibilities. With the Orc being preoccupied on his defense, the move would be neigh impossible to avoid. The blade would be withdrawn from its postion, the edge of the blade pressed against the back of the orc's knee as it was drawn out.