Still, it was injured, and he snatched his ax from his belt and swung it with all the power he could manage while still half-prone.
The impact cut deep, broke the creature's jaw, and spun it into the water.
“By Janus’ lice-infested, snot-filled scrotum, you fuckers chose the wrong barbarian to fight.”
Another dove forward to catch him while he was still on the ground, but it stopped short when Brahgen rushed in, drove his dagger hard into its side, and elicited one of the hiss-edged roars that issued from all around them. The beast wasn't dead but it certainly was wounded. The dwarf screamed at it, pulled his dagger free, and stabbed it repeatedly to make sure it was dead.
Skharr’s face broke into a grin at the sight. He pushed to his feet as another two monsters surged out of the water and swung their tails to try to upend him again.
He would be damned before something like that worked a second time and jumped back before they could strike at him, then rushed in before they could recover.
A spear scored across his shoulder, barely enough to break the skin, and a scream bubbled from deep inside his chest as he sank his ax into the creature's skull.
He realized he had been a little too enthusiastic as it was now buried too deeply, and when the beast twisted away, the weapon was yanked from his hands.
Another tail arced viciously and he leapt to the side, unslung his sword from his shoulder, and drew it in a single, smooth motion. The blade gleamed even in the dark of the mist, and he immediately felt like he should have had the weapon in hand a little sooner as he swung it at the creature that was still standing.
It raised its spear to block the strike but it wasn't effective. The blade cut cleanly through the weapon, into its shoulder, and all the way to its ribs. He felt like he was sliding a hot knife through fresh butter.
With his adversary dead, he removed his weapon in a clean pull and turned his attention to three of the creatures that looked like they had a mind to attack Brahgen. None of them had realized that they were now the focus of his attention.
A smooth swipe was all it took to behead one of the beasts, and as another lashed its tail, he brought his blade down to cut into that as well and left the appendage to writhe on the ground with no creature attached to it.
The other turned and screeched loudly as he deftly parried the strike from its club and slashed his blade across the lizardfolk's stomach to disembowel it smoothly before he turned to the one that had lost its tail.
It looked like the monster had difficulty keeping itself on its feet as it struggled to swing its spear to strike him.
He smirked, leaned out of the way of a lunge that came a little too close, and buried his blade in the beast's chest.
"Are you all right?" he asked when he noticed the dwarf was covered in blood.
"Aye…it’s not my blood." Brahgen nodded before he touched a small gash on his cheek. "Well, not all mine."
"That sensation you're feeling—half a sense of elation and the other half invincibility?"
"Yes." The youth narrowed his eyes. "How did you know?"
"I've felt it enough times myself. Learn to enjoy the first without indulging the second. It is the reason why many young fighters throw their lives away in battle."
Brahgen nodded and carefully wiped off some of the blood that had collected on his beard.
The orcs appeared to have dealt with the rest of the lizardfolk. Either they were sick of fighting and had withdrawn or their numbers were depleted. Skharr had a feeling there were many more of them spread throughout the godsbedammed swamp, but it would take time before the other fuckers reached the area where they were standing.
The orcs had lost a couple of their number and tended to the bodies carefully to prepare them to be carried to their tribes for a proper burial instead of leaving the bodies for the monsters to eat.
They seemed in good spirits, oddly enough, and a few of them gestured at Skharr, made a motion like they were swinging a sword, and laughed. They made the signs for his benefit, of course, as they had no issues communicating between themselves.
"They are calling you the Killer," Brahgen told him.
"Do they not have archers of their own?" he asked.
One of the orcs laughed, shook his head, and repeated the gesture, this time slower so they could see him signing what looked like a square before he swung an imaginary sword.
"I don't understand." The dwarf shook his head. "That's…kill, yes? But I don't understand the other one."
An orc coughed and rolled his eyes before he leaned forward and spoke in a thick, gravelly voice.
"Reaper."
It was good to know they could speak at least some of the common tongue, even if they chose not to. Whether the name had any alternative significance for them, the barbarian couldn't tell but it seemed to amuse them greatly.
"Why?" Skharr asked.
The orc made another series of quick gestures, one where he drew his arm back like he was shooting a bow.
"They are impressed that you shot an arrow that killed two of the lizards," Brahgen explained. "And your skill with the sword is another item of note. I think they approve of your fighting skills."
A quick nod was the answer to that.
"I've been called worse," he replied. "I suppose that is somewhat similar to DeathEater too, so I think I'll take it."
The orc grinned and nodded before he turned to join the others.
Still, it didn't look like he'd been in a position to help them. They were solid fighters with all the skill in the world but there would always be casualties in this kind of fight.
Yet he could see the orcs didn't look like they were preparing to continue. In fact, it appeared that they had every intention to return the way they had come.
The chieftain checked her people to make sure they had suffered no injuries before she turned her attention to Skharr and Brahgen. She began to talk in the signals that had begun to frustrate the barbarian because he couldn’t understand them.
"Dwarf?"
"They…they're saying this is where they stop," the youth answered. "The lizardfolk have been scared away and the dungeon is a short distance ahead. Stay…stay on the path, and do not trust the water."
That seemed fairly direct and in truth, this was more than what he'd expected in the way of help. Still, now that they had an idea of what they were facing, he didn't want to think about the possibilities. The lizardfolk were no doubt working under the influence of something, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what.
Skharr nodded and raised a hand in farewell as the orcs lifted their dead and set off the way they'd come. They hadn't so much as paused to try to collect anything from the creatures they'd killed.
"Without so much as a goodbye," the dwarf muttered.
"I don't think anyone could blame most orcs for not abiding by human concepts of politeness." He took a moment to collect his ax and arrows from where they were still buried in the dead lizardfolk, careful to clean them and his sword of blood before he stowed them. "Come along, dwarf. We don't want to be caught out here at night."
"You'd prefer to be caught inside a dungeon at night instead?"
"No, but it's the better of two poor options. Although we wouldn't be sleeping either way."