Stuck As A Dungeon Mob

The weapons fell cutting through the air and slicing open the skin of the fervent orcs. Fists flew in a flurry as the mostly unarmed orcs had to wrestle their opponents. Some even went as far as tackling and directly jumping onto their adversaries.

It was a savage fight by all accounts. Each side fought for a different reason, neither noble nor righteous, but nonetheless beautiful.

“Argh!” One of the orcs screamed furiously as an axe dug into their side. The orc took it personally as he gripped his opponent’s safeguarded head and forced just enough space to bite onto his opponent’s exposed neck.

“Aaaah-! you beast!” The orc promptly let go of their axe and tried to free themself without much success. The crudely crafted armor had made his movements more rigid, the orc strained himself to knee the opponent that fiercely clamped their jaws onto their neck.

“Urgh-!” The orc grunted, but not even the blood that squirted onto his face from his opponent’s neck became a deterrent. Nevermind a simple knee!

The orc pulled back like a wild animal that had latched onto their prey. The tender red flesh of the orc’s neck was exposed for all to see. But as the orc’s throat had been left mostly unharmed, the battle was not yet over.

“Taste my fist!” Even with his neck feeling the cool night breeze, the orc still swung full force at his opponent. As he had let go of his axe, the battle had begun to devolve into an animalistic slugfest. The orcs could not hide their true nature as brutal battle fanatics.

All the other encounters were not much different, they all seemed violent and lacking grace. The sole differences were instances in which both sides held weapons. In which case their hands would tremble from the potent vibrations as their weapons clashed with one another.

They would muster their strength, going as far as burdening their muscles, with the sole goal of cleaving their opponent in half.

The only hint of civility was the slim and aesthetically pleasing Sharog. Her soft voice seemed to sing to the surroundings as she chanted her deadly elementary spells.

Enemy orcs would discover themselves being pushed into something they wished to dodge or one of their opponents suddenly being saved by the wind. Some would notice that they couldn’t find themselves as they were already dead from a sharp blade of wind or a well-timed push.

Sharog continued to chant, this time the verse she sang had a deadly gleam to it.

“Get her!” Someone yelled alerting others about the true threat but their screams fell on deaf ears.

The sacred tribe’s forces were already tired. The orcs they faced beforehand numbered no more than 30 but it wasn’t as if their own numbers were catastrophically large. They still had to exert some force leaving some more tired than others.

The will of their enemies was simply too much as well. While they had just been burdened with the news of their chieftess’ passing, their enemies were fighting for their freedom as well as their revenge.

Even though their armors and weapons gave them an advantage, it became plainly obvious that the casualties to be suffered were substantial. Regardless of the outcome, the sacred tribe would be no more.

“Make way!” Sharog suddenly yelled to her allied orcs. The orcs who were in a fierce standoff could not turn to look but those that did would see a cyclone of sharp wind that seemed to slice the very air around them.

Nonetheless, as they noticed their other members retreating, even those in a fierce struggle were forced to scoot their way back. Sharog, who was meticulously controlling the vortex spell with beads of sweat, was now surrounded by the survivors of this first interaction.

Naturally, as the Sanctuary Orcs retreated, the sacred tribesmen continued pressing forward. This was until someone finally saw the spinning whirlwind of death that immediately began to make its way over once the Sanctuary orcs were in relative safety.

The potent whirlwind started to make its way towards them however making it too late for regrets. The building’s thatched roof even began to fly off and the cobblestone would occasionally receive deep gashes as the tornado skidded across the stone-paved ground.

Most orcs immediately tried to turn back.

“Aaaah! F*ccck! One cursed as they turned tail to run. Having pressed forward, the orcs were restricted by the hallway however meaning that none would be spared. The only way out was back but that made for a disorderly retreat. ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

Some would trample over others and some would trip on their own to be trampled. The tornado, which had expended most of Sharog’s mana, thus began its redecoration process as it painted the cobbled walls in red.

Luckily, the vortex lost power as it minced one orc after another in its path towards freedom. By the time it reached outside and began to disperse, most of the orcs maintained their lives…

“My- My arm!” “Argh! My leg!” They kept their lives but a lot were crippled.

Some cried of pain and some cried of anger. Regardless, they could breathe sighs of relief having lived past the short ordeal.

“Wh- What…?” One of the orcs that had escaped much earlier was dumbfounded as he found a wet fleshy bit stuck to his arm. It made for a terrifying realization.

The winds that seemed to work like a blender shot off bits of flesh and raw meat over the orcs as it dispersed. It led to some orcs being slapped by what used to be their friends or comrades.

“Kill them! KILL THEM ALL!!!” One orc who had thrown themselves aside yelled with extreme anger. Their green skin was red with fury but their voice also carried hints of pain. They failed to see one of their close associates exit the plain building.

The others similarly chanted, especially those that gazed into the corridor. It depicted a scene straight from hell as the as viscous red blood tainted the surroundings and the bits of flesh that stuck in between the cobblestone created meaty walls.

“””Kill them!””” The orcs chanted with extreme grief. If they were to survive the odds were high of them suffering from PTSD.

But… They had a firm belief in their skills and they had a firm belief in their equipment. But most of all, they had a firm belief in god! With the help of God, they would trudge past this disaster and be met with new opportunities! With the will of heaven, they as the blessed would emerge victoriously.

Thus, with newfound determination, they all stood up, grabbed their weapons, and entered the nauseating hallway. The carnage did not serve as a large enough deterrent.

On the other side, Sharog collapsed onto her knees feeling somewhat relieved. She felt that they now had hopes of winning.

She shot a glance forward and was overcome with disgust. She suddenly felt fortunate to have been left to starve for hours inside of the prison cells.

“Roooar!” Suddenly a loud roar came from behind Sharog catching her attention. It was a lumbering tall orc that reminded her of a sturdy wall. It was also similar to one of the orcs that lead to her capture.

“God has not forsaken us!” As the roar reverberated through the large corridor, it made its way towards the sacred tribesmen like a funnel. The orc had made its presence known to all immediately improving the mood of some sacred tribesmen.

Of course, that great mood would immediately dampen after taking a good look at the red hallway once more.

Sharog’s expression darkened. Close observation revealed that the casualties of the battle had left her with approximately less than fifteen orcs. It was not a good enough amount to handle the meaty giant.

Another roar then followed and the giant had its runes start to light up and activate. Its tumbling posture seemed to have straightened and its seemingly sluggish steps livened significantly. It began to madly dash forward reaching her and the other orcs in no time at all.

It reached her and with a bang, it slammed its fists on the ground creating a powerful shockwave. Some of the orcs that were near Sharog cast her aside and took the brunt of the attack to become roadkill plastered against the ground.

“Ah!” She screamed involuntarily and her face turned haggard. The ugly and lumbering orc however didn’t even bat an eye. It most likely didn’t even have the mental capacity to think about what it had just done.

Instead, it swung its fist towards two other orcs who quickly dodge to the side. They felt a breeze hit their body making them feel somewhat terrified. Their earlier enthusiasm seemed to have become doused.

“Die you heretics!” An orc yelled with a flushed expression. It felt as if justice was finally being served.

The giant orc swung out again actually landing one of its deadly blows on one of the orcs. They tried to defend themselves using their axe but were still sent darting towards the wall. It collapsed and their body did not lose its momentum as it slid further following the crash.

The giant orc didn’t pay that one any more attention and instead turned towards the weakened Sharog with a foolish grin.. It clasped both hands together and swung down strongly.