“They’ve been dogging our trail for the last couple of hours. Can’t we just do something about them?” Nimble asked.
“We need to keep moving. If they want to follow us, they can.” Feris urged.
“I’m afraid I have to agree with Nimble.” Allianora said with a frown. “We don’t know what mischief they’ll get up to when we finally camp.”
“I’ll handle this.” Rathgar grunted
“You can’t take them all on.”
“I don’t need to.” Rathgar reigned in his horse, and wheeled it around. “Oi!” He yelled out “You pink bellied sons of elves! Skulking in shadows like worms! Show yourselves!”
For a long moment nothing happened. Then from behind some rocks stepped a group of 8 desert orcs. Their green skin tough and leathery, with little of the bulk that their kind usually show. Instead they were tall, wiry, nearly naked, but covered in tattoos and piercings.
“We’re passing through, and unless you want trouble you’re not going to bother us!” Rathgar continued.
The largest of them stepped a little closer. “We’re more than you” it growled out. “You tired, you hot, you weak. Why let you pass?”
“Because I’ll pound your face into the sand, that’s why.”
The orc appraised Rathgar, then turned and passed his spear and steel dirk to another of his tribe. “Then do so.” he said stepping forward.
Rathgar dismounted, disarmed, and shimmied out of his chainmail shirt. “Are you sure this is a good idea? You know what happened last time you tried this.”
“Yeah, but these are desert orcs.”
“They’re not all that interested in random killing.”
The orc champion stood waiting. He rolled his head side to side, and cracked his knuckles in anticipation. Rathgar walked right up to him, and looked him in the eye. They stared at each other, and the moments stretched on. They began to move simultaneously, kicks, punches, pushes, grabs. After several moments Rathgar landed a blow that knocked the orc off of his feet.
Something from the opposing group caught her eye. One of the orcs was holding some sort of amulet and moving his lips. “Rathgar! Be careful, there’s a caster!”
The orc champion pushed himself up and as he brought his fist back it began to morph very quickly. The fist flattened and elongated, and the skin peeled back and the bone stretched out into a barbed sword-like blade.
2nd level shaman spell
Range: 5’ per caster level
Duration: 1 round per caster level
Effect: one individual
This spell causes a target’s arm to morph into a blade that can be used as a sword appropriate for the creature (i.e. goblins-shortsword, humans normal sword, ogres 2h sword). Every successful hit will do the type of damage appropriate for the creature, and also cause 1 point of constitution damage.
This transformation causes 2 points of Constitution damage which can be healed at a rate of 1 point per day of rest.