[i]How many Mercs and Armsmen are here? Sixty perhaps?[/i] Markus didn't know. He doubted an Orc warband would be much larger than that unless they had already amassed to storm Highmast itself, so there was that small comfort. The one reason why the savage race was no true threat to civilization was the incredible amount of infighting among the tribes. Every so often a charismatic Warcheif would appear and band the tribes together, but he had heard no such thing recently. 

A line of the creatures stayed back, roaring and screaming. Between each yelling warrior, others streamed past them with wicked axes, maces, and notched swords of varying lengths. Their gait was apeish and their footsteps now audible as over fifty of them surged forward with a typical but formidable fury. Ten yards away, even their grunts and hoots could be heard as they leaped over gnarled roots and shouldered past one another to get at the Caravan first. 

Orcs were brutish in appearance, with porcine noses and small tusks protruding from their mouths. Their arms were thick, muscled and long, and their eyes were piggish yellow in color. Before they reached the treeline, Markus had been muttering under his breath and holding his hand out at the oncoming monsters. As a few seconds slipped by, his final words of the incantation were uttered. Suddenly a bright flash erupted from his hand, and a ball of fire roared outwards to hit the treeline in a small explosion that burst across the face of an Orc and scorched two more. Their cries and whimpers of pain filled the air, but others pasted their hurt comrades and billowed out of the smoke like demons. 

[i]I wish I was a better mage[/i], he lamented. The best he could do would be to enchant his sword, maybe teleport 20 feet, and shoot a fireball if the spell had been prepared earlier. Even doing all of that would tax him greatly, and it was all he could do to get his sword up in time in a two handed block to halt the swinging mace of the first Orc. [i]Gods, they're strong[/i]. It had only been using one hand to swing, and he had barely been able to stop it. Granted it had momentum to its attack, but still. 

He backstepped and allowed the next swing to fly wide, before he saw an opening and ran the Orc through the midsection. Footsteps pounded in his ears, and he barely saw the charging Orc from his right before he ducked. The dagger it held still slit a bit of Markus's forehead, bit of blood staining the ground from where he had just been cut. But he had ducked in time to keep it from being a dangerous wound. The charging Orc had not expected Markus to duck in time, and its momentum kept carrying it forward. On instinct, Markus shouldered its legs and sent it sprawling. The Orc's head hit the wagon behind Markus, and the Swordmage turned and stabbed it right quick as it was still dazed on the ground, before spinning and sweeping his blade in a wide arc like he had told Valerie to do. It was just in time, for 3 Orcs were on him and it was all he could do to keep them off of him with wide slashes. One was hit in the eye with a crossbow bolt, and Markus heard a Dwarven chuckle behind him.

[i]Wait, Valerie[/i]. It had all happened so fast, he took a quick glimpse to the right to see if she was still living. He hoped so. 
[@Luminosity]