All around her were dark, gleaming eyes and gnashing teeth snapping at her with malice. Atalia sighed and prepared herself for the wave of orcs that would rush her at any moment. After their leader boomed, shouting his demands to his hostile ranks, the snarling creatures advanced toward her. One by one she eliminated them, twirling blades singing as they cut through the air. Each contact of the sharpened metal caused inky black blood to spew forth from severed limbs and harsh gashes to throat and gut. While her blades were deadly, the blunt blows she dealt were painful and debilitating. The mercenary was fast, using her size to her advantage to strike first. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in brutality, slamming her elbows into noses and throats, crunching bone and collapsing wind pipes. As they rasped and struggled for air, she struck them down with a fluid swipe of her blade. Her legs crashed into rib cages, knee caps, and faces, wherever she could to do the most damage and ensure that her attackers were unable to get back up. But, no matter how effective she was, no matter how skilled or fast, she was still outnumbered.<br/><br/>Atalia was hacking and swinging, trying to clear a path toward the exit. When it seemed as though she were getting close, one of the vile creatures managed to pull her back and block the way. She grabbed the hand on her shoulder and smashed the back of her head into the orc’s face, causing it to squeal in pain. Before she could drive her blade into its stomach, another grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged her back. Atalia yelled, instinctively reaching for her head to get it to let go as it dragged her to the ground. She struggled to regain her footing, the soles of her boots sliding against the dirt. Somehow she managed to stand, just long enough and high enough to tackle the orc at the legs. The mercenary drove her blades into the creature’s chest again and again. Her arms were eventually caught, and she was apprehended by so many that she could only twist and wiggle in their grasp.<br/><br/>The orcs disarmed her as the pinned her to the ground, removing even the weapons she concealed in her boots and strapped to her thighs. Without them, she would have difficulty getting out of the ropes they tied around her wrists tightly. To prevent her incessant kicking, which had become troublesome for the poor creatures that tried to hold her down from shattered jaws and busted lips, they also bound her legs together. With her properly restrained, they hoisted her up against the wall, off the ground so that her feet were dangling above the dirt.<br/><br/>The remaining orcs parted as their leader moved toward the mercenary, dragging a massive ax behind him that likely weighed more than she did. “Pretty little thief,” he sneered through revolting teeth. “How will we dispose of her?” He called over his shoulder. A wretched symphony rang out, all calling for her death in some violent manner. Some wanted to peel her flesh from her bones, slit her throat and bathe in her blood. There were demands to rip her from limbs from her body and eat her alive. Each threat made her struggle harder against her binds. Her mind raced to think of a way out, but there weren’t too many options. Atalia could barely see the way out, the depths of the ruins too dark for her to see beyond the roaring creatures calling for her death in rather inventive ways.