[center][h1][color=orange][u]O c h r e[/u][/color][/h1][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]  • Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ • [/center][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
A low, almost breathless sigh released itself from Ochre's lips as his gaze lazily surveyed the fallen figure before him, its brutish form unmoving besides the occasional spasm as the runic circle beneath it shone dimly with yellow, arcane light. Small, almost imperceptible sparks ran across the paralyzed orc, its eyes open yet unseeing without the breath of life fueling their gaze. The blacksmith's blade gleamed with each tiny arc of light that spread across the corpse, the blood dripping from its tip the same hue as the liquid flowing from a single, deep crevice across the beast's throat. As the magical trap slowly faded from the dungeon floor, its power fading without constant stimulus from its creator, the young man half-heartedly flicked his sword to the side as loose droplet of crimson removed themselves with the motion.

Honestly, they should have expected the dungeon to be full of tricks and mysteries, seeing that most if not all of the adventurers here have at least dipped their toes into a dungeon's depths before. It's what their known for after all, besides the loot that is known to lay within their expanses, as well as the monsters that protect them. But none of them were quite ready for a surprise attack from the floor of all things, especially from the normally intrepid orcs that had gained a reputation for their lack of intelligence.

Tilting his head slightly to glance at his nearby allies, he couldn't help but give one of the fighters that helped him out a slow nod of thanks, the bronze armor that he chose to enter the dungeon with creaking as the bottom of the helmet scraped the chest plate beneath it. Besides the orc he had defeated on his own, there were three others of the kind that had ambushed the small section that he occupied. Thankfully, the others of the party were capable of picking up his slack before he was able to set down a few traps, aiding another in defeating their foe. With that done, his sword was nonchalantly returned to its scabbard while a smaller, more versatile carving knife came into the grip of his free hand. 

And so, the blacksmith took it upon himself to begin to loot the bodies around them. Not for gold, nor equipment, but materials. Removing teeth, skinning the orcs' tough hide, anything that the body could provide for his work. Of course, the damage wrought by his allies had most certainly reduced the amount of quality items, but he had at least one, mostly intact body to scavenge from. Enraptured into his meticulous, methodical work, Ochre ignored the sounds of disgust coming from the closest of the party, as well as the yelling coming from two loudest nuisances a dozen feet away. They really didn't have to shout, they were in an enclosed space.

It wasn't clean, his efforts, but it wasn't a job most took to doing, anyway. It saved the hassle of needing to bargain in market places for good deals in leather, bone, and the like, as well as having the pleasant side effect of being around the same quality after a bit of refinement. After picking his own orc clean, he slowly moved to the next, content in his slow, yet steady drudgery until the party began to move again. It was much less troublesome than talking to another person, anyway, and with how practiced he was the energy-efficiency outweighed conversation as well.