[b]Mill Grayer, Cowfallow Bridge [/b]


Mill wasn’t sure why he had followed some of the other farmhands back to the village. If there was something wrong, could they really do anything? If Fala and The Rat were to be believed, and he did believe in them, then no matter what he did it wouldn’t really change anything. Still, seeing the fleeing villagers and the panic caused by the orcs made Mill feel oddly content with his decision to join the others. He would most likely die, but maybe he’d die thinking he did something somewhat worthwhile, even if no such thing existed. 

Mill watched one farmhand, Saamir perhaps, being knocked down by an orc. Before he could move to help him, another orc intercepted him, swinging a vicious looking ax at his head. Mill stumbled back, and fell to the ground.  Before the orc could make a second swing, Mill lashed out with his scythe cutting into the orc’s leg just above the ankle. The green skinned brute also fell onto the bridge and Mill scrambled to his feet quickly. He swung the scythe once more plunging the blade into the orc’s chest and finishing it off. 

He had barely pulled the blade out of his fallen foe when another orc attacked him. This one swung a large sword that Mill was barely able to block with the long shaft of his scythe. However the orc was much stronger and forced him to his knees, struggling to keep the orc’s sword away from him.