Horace heard a clash of steel armor, and roars, as two Orcs... And Mill, came tumbling down the stairs. The biggest of the two got up, while the other was on the ground possibly in a concussion. The Orc sent a bone rattling roar, revibrating through the small cellar. Horace readied his discarded sword, and got into a secure stance, rivaling that of the Orc's sloppy lump. 

This Orc was tough one, with full Damascus armor, and a mace to go with it. While it was tough, it was slow, and heavy, but it would be hard to get a hit in. The Orc tried to get a hit, by slamming down on Horace with his mace, but Horace was quick, and was able to get his main body free from the blow, but the mace slammed down on his exposed foot, causing a searing sensation to shoot up his leg.

The Orc was about to finish him off, but Horace has a plan. Horace, carefully took a flame powder arrow and flung it at the Orc. When the phial broke, and the powder came into contact with oxygen, it exploded with life, and incinerated the Orc's throat, charring it, until it became crisp, and dead skin fell off in flakes.

[color=0072bc]"Thank you, Mill. That could have ended rather badly for me, if not for you. Now we must find the others."[/color] [@Decker126]