From the depths of darkness in the isolated mines, laughter echoed from the mouth of the hairy warrior, "Hah! Y'know me, d'you?!"
With heavy, yet agile steps, the bestial man approached with violent haste. There was no hesitation from the archer, releasing another orange-tipped arrow right for the incoming hostile.
Only a laugh escaped from Thros as the massive blade swiped in front of him, dismissing the projectile. It exploded into bright sparks behind the man, who continued on his bloody march.
'He swatted it away–?' Otto witnessed.
The bowman reached behind his back, though the motion was too slow; the berserker reached him quicker than anticipated. He looked up, locking his eyes onto that harrowing cleaver as it was brought down–
"Hrgghh!"
Once more, he was intercepted as the wall of scarlet muscle arrived between them. Right down the middle, the enormous edge cut through the orc's torso, leaving a splash of red to paint the ground.
