The Orc

• Posted by Premier Eden August 5, 2013 - 864 views
  The bandits walked past the Orc's alcove again, their torch bringing an eerie glow to the tomb as they muttered to each other about magic, pick pocketing, and mead. The Orc shifted, his legs starting to grow numb from waiting. Then as the bandits rounded a corner, a wheeze and rustling sounded, followed by the creaking of old bones, as the joints complained as they were unceremoniously forced into movement again. The Draugr slowly creaked up behind the bandits, his greatsword glinting through the rust that caked it. As the bandits became aware of their unnatural company, the Orc moved. Sliding from his hiding spot, the Orc hefted the battleaxe, the dark metal gleaming in the limited torchlight. By the time he had moved, however, it was too late. The bandits were little more than corpses on the floor, the Dragur's greatsword dripping their fresh blood. The Draugr turned as it sensed the Orc's presence, but it was too little too late. The edge of the axe crashed into the chest of the wight, caving in the brittle skin and chest of the abomination. The corpse glared at the Orc as its icy blue eyes started to fade, shadows from the dropped torch dancing over its ancient features, before the undead returned to its brethren. The Orc dislodged his axe from the remade corpse as more creaking and rustling sounded through the tomb, followed by the unmistakable sliding of steel. The Orc turned from his fallen opponent to see more Draugrs rising from deeper in the tomb, bent on protecting their necromantic overlord. The Orc hoisted his axe over one of his shoulders, before bringing the dark blue and purple magics of oblivion to his palm. Sending a burst of the wispy magic from his outstretched palm, a fiery atronach materialized from the gaping portal to oblivion. The Draugr charged, rasping phrases in their dead language. The Orc charged in return, laughing gleefully as he sliced through the Draugr, his atronach lighting and burning the way at his side.