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The orcs were finally gone. A half-starved horde of the green-skinned warriors had launched a desperate attack against the remote village of Guardhill that stood near the crolian border, no doubt driven to attack by the harsh winter that seemed to be finally releasing its icy fingers on the Badarian side of the border. Well over 200 well-organized orcs had just a week prior launched a surprise attack against the walls, nearly getting over them on the first attempt with the help of their magic-users and only a desperate fight had pushed them back. Stopping them hadn't gotten any easier with the subsequent attempts, as the accursed shamans had managed to collapse part of the wall, and after a week of fighting, a decisive counterattack had slain most of the shamans, finally scattering the remains of the warband. Even as most of the town celebrated, some of the soldiers had been dispatched to make sure that the orcs truly were scattered.
Five strangers, however, had stood above the others when the fighting began, and it was only with their efforts that the first attack had been repelled before breaching the walls, and they had spearheaded the assault to slay the orcish shamans. Now the five - an exotic looking su-ku-ta warrior with a challenge on her lips for any that thought to take advantage of her beauty; a scarred mercenary with blonde hair and a heavy sword hanging on her back; a tall amazon-woman with obvious air of authority around her despite her worn breastplate and blade; a silver-haired elf standing proud with weapons hanging from her back; and a battle-hardened man wearing masterfully crafted plate-armor and showing obvious signs of dragonic descend - are standing before the lord of this land - a young man with idealistic glint in his eyes and a bloody bandage tied across his arm who is just finishing his speech praising their bravery and skill at arms: "-and so I have decided to grant you a boon. Name your price; if it is within my power, it shall be granted to you."
Five strangers, however, had stood above the others when the fighting began, and it was only with their efforts that the first attack had been repelled before breaching the walls, and they had spearheaded the assault to slay the orcish shamans. Now the five - an exotic looking su-ku-ta warrior with a challenge on her lips for any that thought to take advantage of her beauty; a scarred mercenary with blonde hair and a heavy sword hanging on her back; a tall amazon-woman with obvious air of authority around her despite her worn breastplate and blade; a silver-haired elf standing proud with weapons hanging from her back; and a battle-hardened man wearing masterfully crafted plate-armor and showing obvious signs of dragonic descend - are standing before the lord of this land - a young man with idealistic glint in his eyes and a bloody bandage tied across his arm who is just finishing his speech praising their bravery and skill at arms: "-and so I have decided to grant you a boon. Name your price; if it is within my power, it shall be granted to you."
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