I was in the woods now, at the base of the mountain, after having followed the information from the town head. The farm whose owner had most recently spotted lurking orcs was not far behind me and I could still make out the image of wheat between the thickening trunks of trees.

Assured I was out of sight from any prying eyes (mostly from the disgruntled town head), I hunkered behind a large tree and laid my dagger and weapon at my feet. It would do no good to stab myself with them on accident.

I closed my eyes and focused; this was a lot more difficult to get right without my trusty mirror back in Alesdale.

I held down the groan of moving muscles as my body conformed to the image I delicately pictured in my mind. For a breathless moment I was a mass of writhing flesh and shifting bones. When my skin stopped crawling and the joints snapped firmly into place, I let out the air I was holding and opened my eyes.

Shapeshifted, I was a head shorter than my plain adventurer form. A few inches over five foot, my legs were visibly longer than my torso, and my hands were thin with dextrous fingers. I was stronger and more agile overall in this shapeshift due to careful consideration of the muscles that were long and taught underneath the skin.

And I made certain the face was attractive. Not too attractive though. I had decided on the reliable-younger-brother appearance with a straight nose, large eyes, and clear jawline. Decidedly young, hero-me would grow into a relatively tall, fit person. This was the particular shape I would use as the Friendly, Approachable Hero, and was surprisingly the shape most suited to my style of combat.

The hair was also flirtatiously long, for reasons I will get to, but it was often a distraction for both others and me so I folded it up, twisting it once, and pinning the middle with a large clip. From repeated practice, this style left the ends of my hair fanning out just above my head and would not loosen easily.

Plus it was easy to put up.

Sword and dagger re-placed around my hips, I quietly resumed my search for the orcs. My stealth skill activated under the conscious movement to go unnoticed.

Not long afterwards, I found signs of orcs. I didn't expect it to be difficult, however, since orcs were generally quite large and messy. If I had the nose of an animal, I could probably smell their filth from a mile out.

A clear path, not made by animals or forest acclimated monsters, was tramped into the underbrush. Broken twigs and deep footsteps were obvious enough to anyone with any experience hunting. I followed the path deeper into the trees, careful to remain downwind from the direction of travel and at distance from the path. I could not tell from the trodden path if the tracks were fresh, since it was too well used.

And I began to worry about the amount of orcs in the forest. Their presence was too clear, too easy to find.

I held back a laugh, and a gag, as I suddenly froze in place.

I smelled the orcs before I saw them.

Inching silently closer, three orcs sat around a felled wild boar. They were passing around the creature’s legs and digging deeper into the raw flesh with their blunted nails. Blood, BO, and Shit. That was how orcs smelled, and it was revolting.

Orcs were wholly fat creatures. They had squat, trunk-like legs, arms nearly as long as they were tall, short, yellowed tusks that rose from their jaws, and dirtied pink skin that struggled to hold in their bulbous stomachs.

The sheer amount of fat they had made their physical abilities heavy and powerful, and any edged weapons had difficulty penetrating through to their vital organs. I needed a way to topple them over so I could land a finishing blow out of danger of their flinging arms. Preferably, I would pick them off one at a time.

Then, one of the orcs rose and made for my direction. Perfect. Silently drawing my sword, both hands on the handle, I waited for a moment the orc was distracted.

I forgot to mention that orcs are naked except for a ragged piece of animal hide covering their privates.

This one in front of my eyes pulled that same cloth up revealing its ugly thing to the world.

It took all my willpower not to throw up.

When a stream of foul smelling liquid splashed down on the ground, I knew the monster was distracted enough. I inched around carefully, trying hard not to look away and miss my opportunity. In one smooth movement, I aimed at the slightly less meaty spot just above the shoulder blades and struck with enough force to pierce a boulder.

My blade met a bit of resistance, but it sunk deep into the orc’ neck and severed the monster’s spine. The orc died with little more than a gasp for breath and a sickening squirt of urine.

I had more of a struggle removing the sword from its fat neck, than I did killing it.

Fortunately, the attack was silent and the remaining two orcs were still squatted around their meal. They didn’t seem like they were going to move anytime soon and I had a limited amount of time to attack now that my sword was bloodied. Eventually, the smell of fresh blood would leak through the overhanging stench of orc.

I doubted my magic could completely take one out, but it could be a long enough obstruction to kill the other.

I waited until the orcs both had their mouths stuffed with meat, then sent a compressed fireball toward the one on the right and dashed toward the orc on the left with my sword raised.

My chant was completed under my breath, but still the orcs were alerted to the attack. Whether it was the sudden light or sound of the burning flames, or some bestial instinct, the orcs abruptly rose to their full height.

However, the orc facing the oncoming ball of fire was unable to dodge in time and was sent tripping backward. The other orc noticed me and quickly turned to stop my charge. I slipped under one swinging arm and slammed my sword into the back of its leg.

The orc struggled to remain standing, but my sword was lodged into its leg. The other orc hit by the fireball was staggering back into the fight, front scarred red from burns. I hurriedly stabbed my dagger through the sword-stealing orc’s neck with all my strength.

There was no time to make sure the orc was dead or retrieve my weapons, since I had to quickly back away from the angry burnt orc. It roared, a loud guttural cry that shook the leaves on the nearby trees. I was much faster than the lumbering monster and led it away from the other, now probably dead, while dodging its swinging arms.

Under one overextended swing, I rolled out toward my weapons and managed to yank them from the dead orc. They left the bleeding flesh with a sickening squelch, but I was in time to plunge my sword into the back of the charging orc’s legs and dodge out of the way. It easily fell, and while it struggled to get back up with only one squat leg my dagger entered the back of its neck.

I spent the next heart-pounding minutes catching my breath and easing my nerves down from the rush of excitement. I made sure to clean my weapons of blood and sticky fat, important since I planned to continue to hunt down more orcs. While I did not want a swarm of monsters to be attracted by the fresh blood, I did not have much time to burn and bury the bodies. Although, before leaving the scene, I did cast fire magic to burn as much as possible and made sure the fire conjured by the spell would not spread.

I spent the rest of the afternoon stalking through the forest, careful to mark my path for an efficient retreat back to town, and I found many more orcs. For the majority, the orcs were alone or in groups of two. Only twice more did I find a group of three, and my suspicions were growing that something was happening in this forest.

Orcs, in these numbers and refraining from plundering a town ripe for the pickings, simply made no sense. I was beginning to get the sinking feeling these orcs had a leader somewhere nearby keeping them inline. Still, they had yet to attack the town when they could easily massacre everyone there.

It didn’t make sense until I noted down the location of my orc sightings. They were concentrated around the most eastern portion of the forest. Since I had already travelled a good distance into the forest, I suspected they were coming further from the north.

Was there a larger force of orcs in the northeast? The orcs appearing here in this forest could simply be remnants at the very edge of the horde.

Worrisome.

Such thoughts trickled through my head that night after I returned to my room at the town inn. I had changed back into my usual adventurer shape and packed the collected proofs of the orc subjugation, the tusks, into the lockable dresser. I desperately wanted to either purchase a magic bag, which was enchanted with rare (and expensive) expansion magic, or acquire the skill.

Exhausted, I rushed through my nightly routine and examined my skills for any changes after my busy day of adventuring.

Skill researchers have long since proven that people can absorb magical energy from defeated monsters--a term for creatures that have, use and accumulate mana.

Gorzulothe

Race: Pascheel

Job: Shifter

Active Skills:

Stealth                   Critical Strike                      Power Strike                       

Fire Beg                 Water Beg

Passive Skills:

Presence Reduction                          Dagger Arts                           Sword Arts

Dual Wielding

Mana Manipulation                          Mana Regen Minor

Racial Skills:

Shapeshift (Hero/Adventurer)                   Skill Transfer                              Pascheel's Enhancement

Pascheel’s Release (Unique)        

[~1700wds]