Malcolm hacked at an orc with reckless abandon, his hand straining on the short swords handle. The orc staggered back a few steps due to Malcolm's hectic offense, he may had lacked any real skills with the sword, but he put on a great show of acting as if he was skilled.

His movements were fueled purely by fumes of ebbing adrenaline and rage, if it wasn't for that potion Lady Lorne had given him, he'd probably be hyperventilating on the ground.

Or he'd be dead, Malcolm didn't have much in the calisthenics department. All those years wasting about playing video games and sitting behind a desk in the other world did little to improve his physique and stamina.

Before he could swing his sword again at the orc, an elven woman tackled the brute to the ground and began to bash him in the head with a round bronze shield.

"Uh, thanks."

The elven woman just let out a roar of rage in response as she continued to bash in the orc skull.

The camp had erupted into a messy battlefield. Someone had even set fire to a few tents to better illuminate the field, or maybe it was just to add to the chaos. Either way, Malcolm was thankful for the light. It was Malcolm's first time in such a battle, but he quickly found out he wasn't too bad in such situations.

The orcs flooded out of their tents and guard post, there was quite a bit more than Malcolm had first thought. But still they held the advantage in numbers, though the orcs held the advantage of skill and strength.

"Keep it up, we've got them on the ropes! By morning we'll all be free!" Malcolm hollered into the air and he was more than a little surprised when he was answered by a whoop of war cries from the other captives.

A wave of prompts popped into his vision, but he quickly shook his head to get rid of them, they'll have to wait. This was not the time to start poking around his status and reading notifications. With a few other quick gestures, he autoionized his combat log as well, seeing the constant stream of information at the side of his vision was getting annoying.

A small scream caught Malcolm's ear and he turned to find the source, his eyes narrowed with hate as he found his target. Barolo. The fat orc was rushing away from the conflict, doing his damnedest to avoid all the intense fighting around him. A male elf with flowing green hair tumbled in front of Barolo, an artwork of rage on his face as he brandished his sword.

Malcolm began making his way towards them. His eyes widened as he saw what Barolo thrust in front of him to halt the green haired elf from attacking him. The little girl, dammit! It was the same little girl that had been ripped away from her older sister.

She screamed again and wiggled in Barolo's tight grip as he held her high by her neck, but flail as she might there was no escape from his firm grasp. The green haired elf snapped a few words to which Barolo hollered in reply. Malcolm could barely hear them as he drew closer. It seemed all the others on the field were too busy fighting for their lives to take notice of the hostage situation happening right next to them.

"Drop your weapon, grass head!" Barolo huffed. Malcolm was finally just close enough to hear them. "Or the runt gets a broken neck."

The green haired elf raised his sword even higher, his sharp chin jutted out in defiance. "You will release her, or my blade will taste orc blood, do you not have any honor? To threaten a child in such a way-"

"Shut your mewling hole! I won't be talked down to by a filthy Swamp Elf!" Barolo interrupted the elf. His grip must've tightened because a choked scream came out of the girl's throat. "Now, drop your weapon!"

"Darion, b-brother..." The girl coughed. "Elenore, our big sister... She's dead. T-they killed her." Her warm brown eyes seemed to go blank as she played the memory through her mind again, then tears began to flow down her cheeks as her small body started to shiver in sobs. "I don't want to die! Darion, p-please!"

"Milly, it's going to be alright." Darion spoke, his voice was soft now. "We'll get out of here. We'll take Elenore and get out of here." He lowered his blade hesitantly and looked back to Barolo. "Swear to release her, s-she's all the family I have now."

"Swear?" Barolo snorted. "I swear upon my title as chieftain of this tribe! I will release her as soon as you toss your weapon."

Darion looked to the ground and with a sigh he lobbed the sword to the side, or at least he was about to. Just as he sighed and looked up at Barolo's hideous face, he caught a flicker of movement behind the orc. A dark-skinned man poised to strike with a blood-soaked sword in his hands.

Barolo must have been alerted by Darion's sudden shift in attention, because he began to turn, the movement shifted him away from Malcolm; who was just behind him and aiming his blade to stab into the bastard's armpit. His idea was to stab into the armpit and angle to blade to plunge right into the heart, a quick and effective killing blow. But thanks to Barolo's sudden movement, the blade missed the armpit but instead plunged into the orcs meaty shoulder.

Barolo roared in pain and released the girl to clutch at his wound. Twisting and swinging his arm to backhand his attacker. Malcolm ducked, then sent his fist crashing into Barolo's roll of chins. The orc quickly recovered and grabbed Malcolm by the neck and plowed a ham sized fist into his gut.

"You!?" Barolo hollered. "Of course, it's you, this is all your fault! All of it!" Again, he punched Malcolm in the stomach, then in the face.

Malcolm looked pass Barolo to see the green haired elf, who the little girl had called Darion, kneel in front of her to give a quick hug then quickly pulling away and pointing for a safe place for her to hide.

"Milaina! Quick run! Find someplace to hide, I will find you." Darion shouted at his little sister as he gripped his blade and eyed Malcolm and Barolo's fight, looking for an opening.

"You ruined everything!" Barolo continued to shout in Malcolm's face, oblivious to his surroundings. His red eyes boiled with hatred as they bore into Malcolm. With a slight twitch he pulled the blade from his shoulder and placed it at Malcolm's neck. "I'm going to cut off your head and shit down your neck!"

Malcolm groaned in reply, he was in a world of hurt. Barolo might have looked like nothing but a hunk of lard, but each of his punches landed like a damn cannonball.

"Or maybe since you have such an issue with us using the other slaves for pleasure, we can just use YOU instead. How would you like that? You're pretty enough." He tilted his head back and let out a guttural laugh. The orcs hot rancid breath caused Malcolm to scrunch his face up in disgust.

However, before Barolo could continue to gloat at Malcolm, another voice spoke up.

"Barolo, Chieftain of the Bull Slug Tribe! My name is Darion Oakwolf. You had my sister killed. Prepare to die."

Holy crap, did this guy just almost word for word quote the Princess Bride? Inigo would be proud.

"Who- ARRGGHH!"

A glimpse of green hair flashed by them and a deep gash appeared in Barolo's gut, before the orc could even rear in pain there was another flash of green and yet another deep tear ripped into his flesh.

Barely clinging to consciousness, Malcolm began to struggle to Barolo's loosening grasp. The Large orc had crumpled to a kneeling position as Inigo Montoya's green haired fan boy continued to zip back and forth, slicing into the orc with each pass.

"Not... Letting you go... Filthy humaAARRHH!"

A flight or fight response began to buzz into action within Malcolm, he started to wildly struggle against the orcs iron hold. He kicked at the orc feverishly, making sure to aim his most ferocious kicks at the flesh wounds to cause the most pain.

"Let. Me. Go. You. Ugly. Sack of fecal matter!" Malcolm shouted as he began to kick the orc in the face as he slumped to all-fours. "Don't. Make. Me. Curb stomp you like that dude in American History X! Ah."

Finally, the orc released his grip and Malcolm was able to pull himself away. After a few relieving breaths of air, he forced himself to stand up straight. He scanned the area around him and gasped in shock. The battleground was littered with bodies and the desert sands had become muddy with blood. Though, the battle still waged on. A spark of hope blossomed in him as he scanned the battle again and saw that there were a lot more captives standing than there were orcs. We are winning, this is almost over.

Malcolm looked to Darion, he appeared completely drained; apparently his mad dash attack took a whole lot of stamina. The elf stood hunched over his sword as he panted, his green hair clung to his sweaty forehead. The little girl from earlier had crawled out from underneath a nearby wagon and wrapped her small arms around him.

"Hey, uh Darion. You alright over there?" Malcolm called out to the elf.

"Aye." Darion said with a huff. "What is your name by the way? I feel I should know the name to savior of my little sister."

"Malcolm, my name's Malcolm. And it's no biggie just doing what anyone else would. How is she?"

"She is fine, thanks to you." Darion huffed again. The little girl by his side nodded, tears flowed from her large eyes, but she smiled at Malcolm.

"Good, we- Oh, hell nah!"

When Malcolm had glanced back to where Barolo had been whimpering in pain, he saw the pathetic brute slowly crawling away. This damned yellow-bellied bastard is trying to run away!

"Hey! Where in the hell do you think you are going?" Malcolm called out to him. Scooping up a long sword from the ground, he made his way over to the disgraceful chieftain. "Bring that butt here orc boy!"

Just as Malcolm was behind him, Barolo snapped backward and lunged with his dagger in hand. Malcolm was mid-step when he noticed the attack and barely managed to dodge as he slipped in the bloody mud.

"You, fat sneaky bastard!" Malcolm grunted as he straightened himself.

Almost effortlessly he hacked down with his long sword. The steel blade sliced through the orcs grubby fingers and sent the dagger flying. Barolo cried out in pain as he cradled his newly maimed hand.

"H-hold on!" Barolo sputtered. The large orc was on his knees before Malcolm, the anger in his bloodshot eyes seemed to be replaced with something else entirely. Fear. "There must be something I can do or give you to spare me! Gold? Women? Girls?... Men?!"

New Quest! Spare Barolo's Life. Info: Let Barolo escape and take him up on his offer. This will most likely make you an enemy to the fellow captives. Rewards: Unknown sum of Gold, A possible love slave.

Do you accept? Yes or No.

"I-I have a treasure chest! I'd gladly give you... Half of it! Just please, spare me!"

Malcolm's face twisted in disgust. He couldn't believe that after all that the chieftain had done and said, he'd have the audacity to beg for mercy.

"After all that you've done," Malcolm leaned in close to Barolo, his voice harsh with anger. "All the pain and suffering you have initiated. Not to mention the atrocities you were planning on doing to all the women and children tonight... You truly believe you deserve mercy?"

Malcolm held the blade against the orcs neck, his grip on the swords handle was so tight he could barely feel his fingers. He looked the orc dead in the eyes and watched as the old orc tried to think of something, anything to say in his defense.

"Can't think of anything?" Malcolm said almost sympathetically. "That's fine, I actually have an idea. I know exactly what you deserve."

He raised the sword above Barolo's head, the orc's eyes widened in fear as he looked into Malcolm's now hollow eyes.

"No! I'll give you anything! Pleas-"

The sword came down swiftly, the blade almost made a musical note as it whooshed through the air. Once, twice, and finally a third time. Hack, thwack, and then finally chop. The swords edge was quite dull, but the job was done.

Malcolm could already feel that the wet chopping sounds and gruesome scene would haunt him for many nights to come. B-but it needed to be done. He had to die... Didn't he?

Quest: Bound by Chains Completed! 5000 experience received!