The forest echoed with the sounds of battle as the orc champions charged my position. The clash of Kevinar’s steel against orcish shields and flesh, the guttural shouts of the enraged orcish ax men as they continued to swing and fail to connect with the evasive kobold, and the determined cries of my companions filled the air.

Bracing myself against the soft and shifting dirt of the hill, I dug my feet in and again charged the enemy as they came within range. Spinning in a Whirlwind Attack, one was frozen and temporarily subdued, rolling into the range of my skeleton ally who moved to tear at him with bony clawed fingers.

I tried to attack again before their axes could swing, but they moved quickly, chopping at my massive body with tremendous force. I found myself gashed in three places, down 31 hit points and spiked through with sharp agony.

There it is, Jeldorain noted, sucking on the agony of my flesh. Crying out, I let myself roll backwards down the hill, bounded to my feet with what I had to assume was a well-contested skill roll before rising up and pulling out my plan B. Calling a potion of haste to my hands from the ethereal strangeness of my inventory, I pulled the cork at its top and downed its contents.

Just in the nick of time, too, as the world slowed around me, revealing the orcish champions almost in range for another attack on my infernal body. I struck out at one, my icearigama slicing a neat line through his hide armor and drawing blood from the body within, before stepping back and whipping him again. With the speed at which I was moving, the befuddled orcs struggled to move into range as I backed up again and again, striking them until I reached the bottom of the hill. By that point one was dead, a second was frozen, and the third was hesitant, staying back out of the range of my attack.

Something about the expression on his face gave me pause though. My body slowed down, the effects of the potion expiring, and I tried to figure out just what trick the warrior had up his sleeve. As the eager form of my blood-drenched skeleton ran into view to attack the champion, I glanced left. Just in time to time to hear a thunderous roar tear through the forest, and to feel it lift me up and through me through the trunk of a hardy oak tree.

Dazed read a debuff flashing in the corner of my vision. Looking up from where I lay, I saw a boss meter appear at the top of my vision as a massive war orc smashed through the forest towards me, towering almost to my height, and about as wickedly awesome looking as an orc could be.

Above the health meter came the name: Gruulok Thunderfist, Orcish Warlord.

He was an epically monstrous figure, his broad shoulders and muscular frame casting an ominous shadow through the dusk-laden forest floor. His deep green hide was more scar tissue than skin, and it glistened like an oiled Chippendales model, juicy with the sweat of expectation. A jagged scar ran from his left eyebrow, slicing through where an eye should have been, giving him a menacing, asymmetrical appearance. His remaining amber eye locked onto my own, burning with a fiery intensity that spoke of battles won and enemies vanquished.

Woah, Jeldorain exclaimed inside me. To use the parlance of your world; that dude is wicked cool!

I got up from the ground, noting that the other champion had broken my skeleton but was not advancing to help his boss, It made me wonder what sort of area-of-effect attacks that meant this guy would have. He was wielding a massive tree trunk with surprising ease. Peering at it more closely, I realized it wasn't just any tree trunk; it was festooned with humanoid skulls, each one a grim symbol of Gruulok's prowess in battle. The macabre decorations clinked and clattered from bone-fashioned hooks as he charged, bellowing like a Viking berserker.

I stood and took a swing, hoping that I might freeze him and buy myself some time to figure out what to do next. The ax blade slashed a new bloody line into his thigh, but as far as I could tell, the damage only made him stronger. Moving into range, he raised his trunk and I swung again, scoring new damage against his torso. He was at 75% health, and after his trunk smashed me into the ground, I was at 10%.

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Worse, I now had an additional debuff alongside my apparently renewed Daze. This one read Stunned and in horror I realized that I couldn’t move. The 10 second counter next to both conditions suggested that I was a goner.

There was a flash of light, pale nature green that lit the entire battlefield with the force of daylight, and Schustak appeared before me. Waving his hands in an arcane manner, he threw a bolt of green magic at the tree trunk and I watched in surprise as it branched and flowered, roots growing out the end in Gruulok’s hand and sinking into his forearm with voracious excitement.

The boss screamed, his health steadily dripping to 50%.

“Are you okay, idiot?” Schustak sneered. Unable to move, I simply blinked my eyes. His expression softened. “This is a fight not meant for your level. Learn to run if you wish to survive in this world.”

Overcoming his pain and shock, Gruulok roared and swung the tree trunk at Schustak, who in turn raised both hands as if to catch the attack. A hard carapace of thorns rose swiftly from the ground, sprouting faster than the eye could credibly follow, its sharp and wickedly curved spikes gleaming menacingly as they tore into the boss’s body. As the Stunned status ticked down, I found myself able to move my head and I scanned the battlefield as well as I was able, worried for my friends. I noted that all combatants had stopped fighting, and were watching the match between Schustak and Gruulok with interest.

All except Ike, who had disappeared from the battlefield completely.

Turning back to the fight, I saw Gruulock tearing the thorns out of the ground with bloody fists, his eye crazed and narrowed. Schustak waved his hands forward, and the thorns launched themselves over the orc’s body, ripping at every bit of exposed skin.

And from behind him came the figure of Ike. Seizing the moment, with swift and deadly trade mark dirty fightmanship, he lunged at the orc leader in an attack from the rear, slashing deep gouges into the back of the boss’s heels, and dropping him to the ground. The entire area shook with his fall, and the orcs of his tribe turned, taking heel into the night. Now standing upon Gruulok’s back, Ike turned his curved sword downward and drove it into the place where spine met brainstem.

The word: ‘Coup de Grace!’ flashed over the boss bar, and the monster gave one final spasm before moving no more.

Scratch what I said before, Jeldorain said his mental words mingled with appreciative awe. I like Ike.

My Stun wore off and I started laughing. Schustak regarded me with one scornful eye and walked off while Ike walked over to check me over.

“You and Schustak saved me,” I said, my voice cracking in the adrenaline-reduced aftermath of the fight.

“Sure did,” Ike replied, reaching out a tiny hand to help me up, before realizing how ridiculous a gesture it was and pull it back to his side. “Probably not the last time we’re gonna do it neither.”

I still don’t trust Schustak, Jeldorain announced. But this time his words were grudging and uncertain.

I don’t think we have to trust him, I thought back. If he is who you think he is, he’ll be on our side until we’re at the level the Goblin Empire wants us to be at. And when that happens, we might be strong enough to fight back.

Jeldorain growled agreement, fading back into my soul as all of us moved back towards Jon to regroup, rest and recover. It was a powerful fight, and I was left to wonder how difficult this quest was going to be if these were the random encounters we had to deal with to get there.

Treating Jon, looting the bodies, and distributing the coins, we went back to camp, set up a rotating watch, and lay back, listening to the warm healing words of Brandosyeus.

In a realm where moon's glow did stun,

Brighter far than the golden sun,

Lysandra roamed, a maiden fair,

With lustrous locks of silver hair.

Eyes deep as night, a gaze so true,

In lands vast, she'd wander through,

Seeking souls, in shadows cast,

Lost in time, bound to the past.

With every step on ancient ground,

Stars did twinkle, all around,

A trail of stardust in her wake,

A path of dreams, for all to take.

Her voice, a song, pure and clear,

Echoed through the universe, drawing near,

Mending spirits, shattered and torn,

Calming hearts, weary and worn.

Warriors scarred, from battles fierce,

Children lost, with tears that pierce,

Creatures of night, in torment deep,

All found solace, in her song's sweep.

For Lysandra's melody, so divine,

Wrapped them in warmth, made stars align,

Healing wounds, easing their strife,

Bringing hope, and a new lease on life.

Brandosyeus's voice flowed through the camp, a gentle aura enveloping everyone. The soft bliss of the music washed over me, and even as my hit points rose and my new wounds knitted into faint scars, I fell away into the realm of dreams, my last wish being that I would see my family there once again in a land without war orcs and forest sharks.