Word had spread amongst the villagers who were frantically gathering belongings. Romund followed after me and addressed them, explaining that they would need to prioritise the grain and bodies for a quick escape. As I made my way past the corpse of Snaglak, the strangest thing happened. The mace in my hand started to draw me towards the body, as if someone was gently pulling the dangling skull. The vertebrae were taut and insistent, but if I pulled hard enough I could resist the pressure. I decided to let it play out and followed my little spirit guide.

The crippled orc saw me and started laughing. “You all ded now. Ma boys’ll eat yer gizzards.”

“You won’t get to enjoy them though,” I sneered.

Without needing my order, the villagers set upon him with whatever they could find. His laughter soon gave way to screams of pain as he was put to death. While the bereaved did their thing, my mace was doing likewise. The glowing purple skull sought out Snaglak’s head, almost like it wanted to reacquaint itself with the damage it had caused. As soon as the evil aura touched the buckled helmet, the orcs head detached itself in a purple flash and now hung from the flail in place of the bandit’s gnawed cranium. Snaglak’s ghastly, eyeless face was upside down. The loose helmet should’ve fallen off by rights, but that little hunk of rusting iron was now magically a part of the weapon.

“That’s new…”

I smashed the orc’s head into the nearest chair and it was no less robust than its skinless, fleshless predecessor.

“What happened to the other one?”

My words were a conjuration that triggered them to immediately swap. Another thought and Snaglak was back at my disposal.

“That’s gross and cool at the same time.”

I left the unlooted bodies for later and checked the new bestiary entry. The missing information had appeared.

Name – Orc Raider (Lvl 4)

Description – A common orc warrior used as fodder by the goblin overlords. As ugly as they are useless at anything but killing and dying.

Weakness – Poison. Leadership

Immunities – None

I checked what it had to say as I walked away from the village square.

Leadership (Orc) – Without a brutal, guiding hand, orcs are prone to routing on the battlefield at the first sign of unfavourable odds.

That explained their behaviour when I killed their leader and went a little bit nuts. I’d been under the impression I would be facing a full raiding party. This update gave me some hope that I might be able to cause enough damage to have them scuttling back to their caves again without fighting the full fifteen, or however many they truly numbered.

The smell of country living and fresh slaughter gave way to a soft breeze that carried the earthy innocence of recently tilled fields from the north. My eyes adjusted slightly to the darkness and I looked down with surprise at my entirely plain mace. The ever present purple glow had faded to nothing. I could just make out the outline and the gentle clack of bone on bone. It was as if the weapon also adjusted itself to the surroundings. My burgeoning plan would be for shit if I tried to sneak up on them shining purple like a cracked glowstick.

The wagon beaten road before me led directly to the approaching points of torchlight. I jumped the drainage ditch on the right and made for the treeline in the distance. The meandering road cut through the trees, and that would be my opening. Ducking into the absolute darkness of the forest canopy, I trod as carefully as I could through the underbrush. The orc raiding party was grunting out a war cry with each step that reminded me of a Viking show I’d watched. The rhythmic, guttural chant of ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, echoed down the hillside towards me. I suspected the intimidating grunts were as much for their own motivation as a means to scare the beleaguered villagers. Keeping low, my stealth was activated and I moved cautiously towards the hacked hedges that skirted the path. The call of their approach was joined by the clatter of feet and armour. Previously pitch-black, the weakly fluttering flames started to pare back the layers of gloom. I caught sight of the leader running at the front of the procession.

Name – Malkar the Frenzy (Lvl 5)

Description – A raid leader of the Skullsmash Clan. Malkar is a whirling dervish of melee insanity, driven by chronic toothaches caused by poor dietary choices.

Weakness – Poison Leadership

Immunities - None

Decay had eaten into his tusks and fanged teeth. Deep hollows of festering rot marred the yellow bone. He had murder in his eyes. The raiders followed closely behind, each carrying their own torch. I now knew the number of my enemy. Leading up the rear was one of the earlier diners at the meat feast. The Drunk debuff still lingered amongst the group of orcs as they passed in single file. I gave it a few seconds and then jumped from cover. My lightweight armour and general caution ensured I made no noise as I landed. I ran after them, the soft soles of my moccasins causing the faintest patter of contact on the compacted mud. Their enraged chant and heavy armour masked my approach as I neared the last orc and activated my dagger. Its greasy black hair was knotted and adorned with small bones, giving me an amazing amount of purchase as I reached out and yanked it. The orc’s momentum carried it forward, but I had the head firmly in my grasp. I used all my strength to stop its body crashing to the ground and stabbed down into the shocked, upturned face. Crits flashed as it gurgled and died. The others, so caught up in their rage, had missed my attack completely and the pools of fluttering torchlight left the corpse in darkness.

“So far so good,” I whispered, ignoring the body to loot later.

My heart was hammering, a feeling I was getting used to. I kept low and raced after the others. The drunkards were flagging, leaving a growing distance from the rest of the raiders. I repeated the trick, this time jamming the blade up below the helmet and base of the orc’s skull. It went limp and I lowered it to the dirt before leaving the body. Twice more I successfully used my stealth to kill the inebriated orcs. Malkar must have sensed something because he came to a sudden stop with his group and whirled around to face me.

The orc in my grasp twitched and died with my dagger in his brain. I looked at the pack of monsters like I’d been caught masturbating. “Erm, it was an accident?”

The body clattered to the ground at my feet. I knew I couldn’t hope to outrun them so I prepared for combat.

“Dat’s ‘im?” snarled Malkar.

“Yeh, dat’s da one. ‘Im an’ ‘is boyz snuk up on us.”

Malkar looked around at the shadows. “I don’ see no boyz. I see one softmeat.”

“Dere was. I swears.”

“I’s deal wiv you later!”

The group circled me, looking to Malkar for the order to attack. I grinned and called my reinforcements. The night stayed silent.

“What the hell?” I checked my bar and died a little inside. The swarm was now affected by a thirty minute cooldown that I hadn’t noticed. The tutorial really had spoiled me with the ability to spam the rodent army. I groaned aloud and the orcs laughed at me.

“’E’s scared.”

“’E should be,” growled Malkar, entering the ring.

“I know this might not be the best time, but I can recommend a natural toothpaste that you can make from charcoal and wild mint.”

“Wot?”

“It might help with your oral hygiene problem.”

“Why’s you using big wordz? You fink we’s dumb?”

“Obviously, but that doesn’t stop me being able to help with your toothache.”

“You finks I want da pain gone?” Malkar laughed, his rancid breath carrying on the wind. “I like da pain.”

I hammed it up like an ‘80s action movie. “Well you’re about to feel a whole lot more of it.”

The orcs laughed evilly. Malkar nodded in grudging respect and pulled out two rusty meat hooks from his belt. As well as the flecks of orange, darker liquids stained the filthy metal. I could almost feel myself turning on the spit already.

Swapping hands with the dagger, I activated my flail and Malkar hesitated at the gory sight.

“What’s you do to my bruvva?”

“I made him my bitch.” Suck on that, Arnie!

The orc leader started to tremble with anger. He reached one of the hooks towards his mouth and buried the sharp tip into a vast, septic cavity. The roar of inhuman rage caused my inner Schwarzenegger to crawl back into the dark and start sucking his thumb. I saw a Frenzy buff appear next to his name. Before I could see what benefit it provided, I saw what it provided. Malkar came at me like a bull out of a gate, swinging his hooks wildly at my head. I hastily backed up, straight into the pushing hands of the others. I used the momentum of their shove to forward roll under the vicious weapons. Coming to my feet, I lashed out in fear, swinging my arm blindly behind me. Malkar turned straight into the severed head of Snaglak. The twin horns raked deep furrows in his upper arm, the wound spraying black blood over the onlookers.

The orc chief looked at the cuts, quivering with fury. “You cut me’s. I’s gonna eat you raw!”

The huge brute came at me again, the hooks a blur of frenzied swipes. Again, I was forced backward into the loving arms of the raiders. I prepared to roll out of danger as I had before, only to find them holding my belt tightly. Malkar grinned, yellow slobber drooling, and swung a full-blooded blow at my head. I tucked my legs in and dropped to the ground, feeling the hook brush the top of my leather helm. The mud, little better than concrete, sent waves of jarring pain up through my knees. I swung the flail backwards over my head, catching the clasper of my belt full in the face. I was filled with grim pleasure when I heard the sickly crunch of bones and felt the release of my cheap cord.

Malkar had swung with such ferocity, he spun like a top. I took full advantage, using the vertebrae of my flail like a bolas around his ankles. Yanking the weapon, I pulled the orc leader from his feet. Crashing to the ground, the hooks flew from insensate fingers. I thrilled at my combat prowess, readying myself to dive on top of him. Several pairs of arms put paid to that idea as they dragged me upright.

“Get the fuck off of me!” I snapped, trying to thrash out of their powerful grasp.

Malkar sat up and casually freed his bound legs. He appraised my weapon with grunts of approval. “I’s like it. I’s gonna keep it. Dat way’s, my bruvva can keep killin’ you softmeats.”

“Get your goons to let me go and fight like a man!” I yelled. The words had far less conviction than I’d hoped and sounded more like a plea than a threat.

Malkar laughed and the rest of the orcs joined in on cue. Holding Snaglak’s head alongside his own, the pair of them stared at me. “E’s scared, Snag. Would you like me ta butcha dis sofmeat for ya?” His massive hand worked the ghastly head’s jaw and he imitated the voice of his slain brother. “Why yes, Mal. I’s sure would like dat.” Malkar nodded sagely. “It’s done, bruvva. I’s gonna feed you dem nuts.”

Dem nuts crawled up inside me. My rat swarm still had almost ten minutes until it became available. I wasn’t expecting to last five. With nothing else up my sleeve, I activated my Fated ability on Malkar. He staggered back as if struck, staring around at the party in confusion. Tendrils of red life essence started to bleed from his skin. The misty crimson curled through cracks in his armour and floated towards me where they coalesced into a nebulous sphere. The spell had drawn about a quarter of the remaining health pool from the orc and he glowered at me.

“Wot you do?”

I ignored the question and stared at the swirling mass. I flinched as it shot straight at my chest like a bullet. The essence landed like a horizontal drop of blood, spreading across my body where it permeated through my skin. I felt revitalised by the lifeforce and redoubled my efforts to wrestle my way free. More hands shot out to hold me in place, ending my futile attempt at freedom.

“You a magik softmeat?” Malkar mused, rubbing Snaglak’s sagging chin. “Boglug da boss will want’s to meet you.”

“We not eatin’ ‘im?”

“Nah, da boss will want’s to cut ‘im open an’ see what’s inside. Tie ‘im tight, den we’s gonna get da rest o’ da meat.”

What an absolute failure I’d turned out to be. My time playing computer games had made me far too confident in my own abilities. I’d now spend the remainder of my first life being taken to Silverspear and having my guts rendered for their non-existent secrets. In the meantime, Astrid and the others would be put to the sword again. I could feel the foetid breath of one of my captors over my right shoulder. Leaning as far forward as I could, I whipped my head back and butted the orc in the face. The tusks cut through my helm and scalp, wounding me as much as I had him but I didn’t give a fuck.

Malkar laughed. “You got’s fight, softmeat. I like’s dat.”

I sagged in their clutches, defeated. Out of nowhere, the night came to life with the sound of weak, fluttering whistles. A rain of arrows thudded into the orcs, the ground, and my arm. I yelled in pain as the second volley pattered down, another shaft taking me in the thigh. The restraining arms let me go and I fell among the half-buried arrows, snapping the one buried in my leg. Curling into a tight ball to minimise my target, a third volley whined as they fell. Malkar looked at his dead and dying companions and then the black sky. When no more projectiles came, he turned to run. I lashed out with my dagger, taking him across the back of his knees. He roared in agony, collapsing to the mud next to me on useless legs. Injured as I was, I climbed atop him and made quick work of the brute with two brutal stabs to his head. Reclaiming my flail, I rolled onto my back and tried to breathe through the pain. I didn’t want to pop a healing potion with something still inside me. The way my luck was going it would fuse the bloody things to me and I’d look like a walking pin cushion for the rest of my short days.

“Hold on, Mark of Brite’On!” yelled Romund, charging from the darkness.

The remaining orcs turned tail and ran. Their brief escape attempt ended at the sharp end of pitchforks wielded by the villagers who had circled behind the group under cover of my abysmal fight.

I clutched the flail to my chest as my health bar flashed at thirty percent. The plucky farmers made sure that everything except me was dead before they came to render aid.

“Hold still, Mark. We can get you to a healer.”

“Just yank them out for me, will you?”

“Yank?”

“Sorry, pull. Language malfunction.”

“You want us to draw them out? The barbs will tear you up something awful.”

“It’s ok. Just do it.”

Romund looked horrified, but he nodded to two of the men at his side. They held me down while the elder tried his best to pull them free. I bit down on my right hand with enough force to break the skin. By the time the second emerged with a wet pop, blood stained my teeth and coursed down my fingers.

“Thanks,” I said, shuddering from the torturous extraction. Popping a health potion, I laid back while it put me back together.

The villagers all backed away as my wounds miraculously closed leaving me unmarked.

“What are you, stranger?”

“Just someone sent to help. Not that I’ve been much use so far.”

“Surely you jest!” argued Romund.

“You saved us all. Not once, but twice!” added Pieter.

“And I got my arse handed to me.”

Romund was puzzled. “I know not what that means.”

“It means I was beaten soundly in battle.”

“Mark of Brite’On. You went up against two raiding parties of orcs. Alone. Have you any idea how remarkable that is?”

“I guess not.”

“Grand Marshal Dawnstar will be eager to meet such an accomplished warrior.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Romund, but I’ll remind you of the fact that I was about to be a goblin plaything until you came along.”

The elder smiled, the grief all too fresh. “After what you did for us, we couldn’t have lived with ourselves without helping. We may not be warriors, but we always try and pay our debts.”

“I’m the one in your debt. Aside from the arrows.”

His face blanched at the mention of their accidents. “I’m so, so sorry. We aren’t accomplished hunters. We were desperate.”

I laughed and patted him on the back. “I was joking, my friend. I’ll take any number of arrows if it keeps me out of Boglug’s hands.”

“Would I be presuming too much if I…” Romund broke off.

“If you what?”

“If I asked you to reveal your secrets? How you are what you are?”

“Perhaps one day. Tonight we need to start heading back to the garrison you mentioned.”

“What should we do with the orcs?”

“Leave them. I’ll do my thing and join you shortly.”

“I’ll leave a couple of the villagers to keep an eye on the pass, just in case.”

“Good idea. A bit of caution never hurt anyone.”

Romund started to walk away, then looked back. “Thank you again, Mark. We are fortunate to have met you.”

I couldn’t help it; I blushed. “Get out of here, you big goof. I’ll be along soon.”