I swept my eyes over the others, then found a half-orc staring at me in confusion. His tongue hung limply from his mouth, his pupils almost vacant. He was definitely the least intelligent of the bunch, and also had the great fortune of picking up the cleaver with the Swiftness rune from Renkish’s corpse.
Thus, he was the prime candidate for my next move.
I held my victim’s gaze and blasted his consciousness with my own, looking to steal his will away from him. Gavin had managed to ward off my attempt to take his mind, but he was far stronger than any one of these raiders. Ralph would have given him a run for his money, but I didn’t plan on taking his mind—at least not yet.
My victim’s eyes widened, and he snarled while his comrades charged toward me. The half-orc was frozen to the spot, locked in this battle of wills despite his struggle to rid his mind of its interloper. Tilting my head, I probed again, harder this time, but it was like trying to claw my way up a cliff of greased glass. After a second that felt like minutes, a chink in his mental armor gave way, and I clung to it for all I was worth.
The other raiders were a mere twenty-feet from my dais, closing in fast. I wrestled the stupid half-orc’s mind until it collapsed under the sheer force of my will.
Charm Test… Success
Jukha (Scalper) Enthralled!
“Throw yourself upon your comrades!” I commanded the half-orc.
He held his cleaver aloft, its blade glowing with a dark energy. Jukha surged forward, the light trailing behind him like an after-image as he pursued the other raiders.
As the first half-orc leaped up onto the dais, I caught hold of the only weapon left to me—my reward for the raiders, a replica of Gavin’s Savage Mace. The Swiftness sigil shone as I took it in my hand, and the essence flooded from my body into the weapon. I spun to face my enemy as he raised two pig-sticking daggers. His movements were slowed, as though he was fighting while submerged in water. My club hit his face with a devastating crunch, caving in his skull. His head snapped to the side and sprayed bloodied brains over the half-orcs behind him.
I’d learned my lesson from fighting Gavin, spending dozens of hours training my elf to learn his strengths and weaknesses. As long as an enemy didn’t get too close and take hold of me, I would be fine. And with the Swiftness sigil, I could evade almost any attack.
I let the mace slip, and it turned end over end until it smacked into the wall. Before my first kill’s knees even had time to crumple, I’d caught one of his hands. I wrenched the wicked dagger from his grasp and gripped it in my palm, enjoying the weight of it and the harsh wooden handle against my skin. By far, this was a more fitting weapon for a Tainted Elf than a skull-cracking rock on a stick. I wasn’t sure whether the Swiftness rune would still be active if I dropped the mace, so I performed a quick test.
My limbs raced as my dagger punctured a raider’s throat. His skin peeled before the keen point of my blade, spraying my hands and bare chest with his lifeblood.
Yeah, I was still fast as hell. The Swiftness sigil must have stayed active even without the enchanted weapon, but I didn’t count on the effect being permanent.
My enthralled half-orc finally pounded into the backs of his comrades, and they scrambled up the dais to escape his fury. A few raiders turned their attentions upon the traitor, and even a Swiftness enchantment couldn’t save Jukha from a dozen blades carving him into a thousand pieces.
Well, he’d been helpful while he’d lasted.
I moved like liquid carnage as I weaved through the half-orc ranks. They were certainly no comparison to Gavin, and I thanked Lilith for that. My dagger found hearts, kidneys, and intestines—all offerings to the Infernal Goddess that fell to the tiles. Whenever I felt the magic inside me waning, I doubled-back, kicked up the mace, and empowered my body with its sigil. I protected the weapon while fighting, not allowing the half-orcs within range of the object that could boost my speed at a mere touch. It was almost like an art form and I took almost as much pleasure in dashing their flesh with my blade as I did in making my dungeon beautiful.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bertha sinking her Savage Halberd into a raider’s chest, wedging the blade in his spine. Wailing, her victim remained on the weapon as she swung it into Ralph’s path. Ralph carved the half-orc in two with a downward slash, freeing Bertha’s blade in the process. My champion burst through the shower of blood to swiftly deliver a kick directly into Ralph’s chest, but she wasn’t done yet. As she landed, her other leg blasted out behind her, catching a half-orc in the face and dislocating his jaw with a grisly pop.
Hands empty, I turned to an old trick of mine—kicking out the knee of the nearest Adventurer, from behind. His body kicked backward, instinctively, into my waiting hands.
I caught hold of his head, a slim, strong elf arm wrapping around his neck. I torqued as he fell, feeling his neck come apart like a wet branch and sending his nerveless body to the floor. Bertha took advantage of an opening, and I watched as she wedged the blade of her poleaxe into the skull of another half-orc; she kicked out at his upper chest, ripping the weapon free of his head
