Kip raised his shield and squinted his eyes as the Fireball spell exploded, watching with a grim smile. Orcs first being torn apart by the initial explosion, then having their skin, and muscle melted, and bones charred in almost an instant. Like most area spells, Fireball has a set diameter because of the shielding used during casting to prevent the heat from escaping. There was still a bit of leakage, like the difference between the temperature inside a kiln to the outside. It wasn’t just a bunch of flames that washed out endlessly, wasting energy to the atmosphere. Almost all projected spells were designed with shielding to withhold the energy and direct it. Even cone shaped spells. Oh, one could of course forego the shield aspect in the spell’s casting, but you would end-up with a much larger damage zone, but a much smaller kill zone, never mind the shadowing effect that would keep those in the shadow of the person beside them safer still. The closer packed the horde, the more the shadow effect would help from the expanding flames. Hence the use of a shield to focus and rebound all the spell’s energy, and greatly reducing the shadow effect from passing flames. Maximum damage, less wasted potential.

Fire was Nicks specialty. His fire spells were a lot more potent in their intensity. While most flame spells could heat metal to a high degree or burn flesh. Nick’s fire would slag that same metal and evaporate soft tissue and char bone beneath. He didn’t char the ground, he scorched earth, near to a dragon’s flame in power. Which also gave him the curse of boiling blood. He was mostly protected, as the magic was his, the intensity of his fire aspect was so great that it over road his innate protection. It was a blessing and a curse. His blood did not actually boil, that was just what the condition was named.

He had put a lot into that spell. It was a glorious sun in a darkest moment to Kip. Orcs being ever deserving of such affections. So, it was no wonder he heard a grunt, as Nick plopped onto his ass. He might even be out of the fight for a while. Only a couple of Orcs that came out of that sphere were still able to move. A true showing of how tough these monsters were. No man would have exited that kill zone. Unless said man possessed his own magic capabilities to counter such a spell. Against Nick’s fire, you would need to be a prodigy yourself.

The beasts kept coming, with even more fervor. Spit stared to fly as they lost control and entered a berserk state. Their fast-lopping strides becoming even faster. There was little hope against charging War-Orcs. They were so densely muscled, once they got moving you would need a double shield wall spiked into the ground to even have a chance of stopping it cold. Even then some would push through on the backs of their brothers.

Kip knew he was done. The best he could do would be to dodge as they came and try to attack as they passed. That would be impossible within a charging horde though. So, he ordered everyone back and around the corners of the buildings. From there they could strike out safe from the charge. He did not bother to have Mic sent away. These things would crush this village flat. If you ran, they would outlast you.

Kip watched from around the corner to gauge when to attack. Shield held against his chest, sword arm limber. Their momentum would carry them past into the village and he would extract his pound of flesh first.

Then behind him he heard a woman scream. Suddenly he was blown a step forward with the others at his side, those across the opening in front of the other cabin were blown back like trees in a heavy wind. Their bodies bent at the waist and were forced a step or two back, most, fell down. He was covered in a hurricane of wind that swirled around him. After the initial buffet he was held in place as the wind blew around his form holding him firmly in place. Almost lifting off the ground in a vortex. His eyes got huge as he now had a very clear view of what happened to the War-Orcs.

The epicenter of this blast originated from or on the other side of the other open gate. The gale winds blew from his rear, but the Orcs directly out from the other gateway were tossed outward far afield those at his gateway were tossed sideways. But not just thrown, it was as if some great beast was tearing into the Orcs flesh. Opening great chasms, you could see their insides. It was not a present spell. He could not imagine the immense pain they were going through right now. He never thought he would feel sorry for something so wantonly destructive in their nature, but he felt a twinge now. There were being rent open by these winds, that was not all, they were not throw away as fast as you would expect. There was some resistance to their journey though the air. The worst was the blood and chunks of flesh that flew by next. It was like the chum they used to attract predatory fish. A mist of red, mingled with small and larger chunks of green-grey flesh. It lasted less than three seconds and he was forced to visually process a true bloody gore filled apocalypse. The wind died suddenly as it came. Of the Orcs? There was just a swath of red throw out from the village, with viscera and flesh for tens of meters. The farther out the more intact the bodies were. At the back of the small horde there were even a few survivors struggling and failing to rise up, as their bodies were no longer whole.

He heard a female voice say, “I’m not cleaning that up.”

Up on the roof beside him he heard rustling as Mel and Nick righted themselves. Then with glorious triumph knowing you just survived your certain death by torcher and dismemberment Nick leapt into the air on the house and screamed like a lunatic, “NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN ABOUT!” He was fist pumping turning in a little circle.

‘He’s lost his mind!’ kip thought. Mel just groaned looking out at the painted landscape. Then called down to her brother.

“Kip, I have no idea what the horse droppings just happened, but someone needs to go out and finish off those po… beasts.”

‘She almost said poor. She felt it too, not just me. The poor bastards.’ After a shake of his head, he called up, “Heading out cover me… well just in case you know?”

She nodded down, was he as pale as she was? Just what happened here?

He could hear Canson giving orders to the men at his side but did not see any move out into the slippery mush of flesh and innards. He didn’t even bother to wave any of his men into action, they were far too far gone. He did notice Mic follow out after a few seconds of gathering himself. You did not become an adventurer by having a weak disposition. Still, this was nothing like he had ever witnessed. Nick dropped back down and laid on the roof panting. ‘He just got wackier. Gonna need a restraining collar for him soon.’ Kip thought with a small smirk starting to play on his lips. Realizing himself, fully getting it, that they had just dodged the dragon’s breath.

He was sure it was the girl. The way Nick was bouncing around like a puppy you teased with a treat and going on about her magic aura. ‘Had to be. But hells, that was some wind spell. I’m just happy as a pig in a mud pen that it had friendly fire. If it had been shielded… There would be nothing, but thick red paste and bones left.’ He shuddered at the visual.

Once Kip was farther out, he could see no one at the other gate at all anymore, Mic had finally caught up.

Mic looked side-glance at Kip, “That was, well, just, I…” He shuddered not finding the right words.

“It was something all right.” Kip nodded to his compatriot, trying to be the mans calm in his storm.

In silence they went about finishing off the few Orcs that still managed to draw breath. It was not as hard as watching them being torn apart. This was a mercy.

“I never thought I would feel bad for Orcs…“ Mic softly related.

“Seems we all feel that way to a degree or another. Except maybe your brother.”

Mic looked back to the roof where only Mel stood watch over them. Everyone else had cleared out as well.

They headed back to the inn for answers.