The mage was tall, muscular man in riding breeches and boots, with a moustache even, and he seemed terribly arrogant. Ygdri's axe surged forward and he didn't modify his stance, either. He stood there, smiling in a feral and indulgent fashion at the orc-maid as the axe hit something in front of the man's head; sparks flew and the axe careened off at another angle after hitting something that seemed hard. Beneath his feet was a circle of some sort, all arcane glowing runes in a fog-shrouded clearing. He never set foot beyond it, not once, though he came at the edge to look down his long, somewhat pointed nose at Ygdri, completely self-assured despite the danger of the situation.

"Little orc-girl, did you really think you could just ride around my golem and throw an axe at me and end it?" His tone made it clear that he was more amused than anything, perhaps a bit impressed with the bravery of the plan even as he was chiding her for underestimating him. But however benign the demeanor, the fact was that he gestured lazily at her with something in his hand -- a rod of some sort, with a dragon's head sculpted at the end of it. That did not look terribly good...

--

That knock took the wind out of Koloch, but he'd spent a rough childhood, brief as it was, under an armsmaster that regularly knocked him windless as a matter of training and conditioning -- Koloch was not the strongest or fastest orc, but he had reserves of stamina and grit to spare, the ability to growl, 'keep going' when his ankles and legs cried out for relief and his arms went buttery and wobbly. 

Or when he was sucking in air through his teeth and trying not to think of how much pain he was in. He managed to get to his feet with the assistance and managed to grunt his thanks for the assistance, though he could feel the bruise underneath the plate and the mail. The thing throbbed badly, and that was with his blood up and everything swirling around him. He tried to put the pain in its place enough to function, and that was strictly a matter of vitality. He was dismounted, and had no idea where Kalshkar until he heard some human scream and the growls of the warg; apparently, she'd gotten right to work, rider or no. 

As it turned out, the noise and the sudden attack on the mage's position alerted Achnal troops in the area, though these fellows weren't the typical Achnal, draped in furs, wielding bows and mounted, or slinging around lances. These were lamellar-wearing men in helmets with visors, kitted up for an actual fight on foot and heavy, much heavier than the typica Achnal types, on weaponry. 

Looks like the Chosen were in the right place then, locked in some fight with what looked like the mage's personal bodyguard. He managed to strike for Kalshkar with his halberd in hand and land the spike of it into some human's back, taking the spine right out and leaving the man to crumple and mewl piteously from the sudden paralysis -- he'd bleed out, but he was no longer Koloch's problem. Five of them were on his warg, four now, and he gave a loud whistle to the old girl so she knew to break off the fight and head his way, even as he lashed out with his halberd at the next man. That one got taken with the staff by the legs and then got the axe when he staggered, leaving him a cleaved and bloody, but dead, mess. His warg had two more taken care of, one already dying and the other about to, while the last man...well, he landed some blows on Koloch and got his attention.

"Die, tusker!" came the snarl. This one had even better armor than the rest, and a fairly ornate axe and shield. The stuff was a little too frilly for his tastes, but some warriors loved the display; this one had engraved muscle and so forth on his breastplate, and the whole appearance of some sort of pretty boy statute made into life. [i]I bet you're as ugly as I am and your lance isn't as long[/i] Koloch thought with a fierce grin. He knew what the psychology behind that panapoly was, and he started laughing -- intentionally. Booming laughter, from behind his visor. He was sore, beaten and drenched in sweat now that the battle was joined, but he boomed laughter as if he were some silly orc berserker.

The taunt from an orc, of all things, had its effect and the well-trained, exquisitely armored warrior suddenly seemed to take offense that some crude scum orc was laughing derisively at him. An exquisite defensive position suddenly became a liability when Koloch demonstrated that he really did know what he was doing with that halberd -- he hooked it onto the man's shield, gave a hard pull toward him and sent the mage's guard captain stumbling just enough to allow him to drive the spike on the head of his halberd into the man's eyeslit. If Koloch could be accused of being overly fond of a specific tactic, that was probably one of them -- he was deceptively fast on the counter and able to bring that spike in line with the man's head. He practiced on melons with a helmet strapped on as a matter of course.

There was gore on his weapon when he yanked it loose from the still-twitching body. He briefly regretted that he wouldn't be able to loot this bastard until later, after someone else might take some of the best loot, but he had work to do. His warg was savaging some man's intestines, but he left her to it -- he was no warg handler, and she seemed to be quite content to do her own work. It was only after a moment, peering through haze and listening, that he forged ahead toward the next orc he could find. 

As it turned out, it was the snake tongue, and that was probably the tusker he was most happy to see -- long ears and sharp eyes in this foggy haze were the best possible defense. "We've got a damned golem and tuskers scattered all over fighting the bunnies. We need to find the mage and end him before he ends us. Any idea which way?"