4.31.21 Brunhilda the Brave

Image by Herm from Pixabay

“I’m not going in there!” Agnar stared at the old stone house. “It’s a horror movie waiting to happen!”

Brunhilda grabbed him and pushed him toward forward. “You want to be safe?” She opened the door and threw Agnar into the house, slamming the door behind them.

Agnar dropped his bow to the ground. “I thought these guys were ok? They have layers or something? Why are they trying to kill us?”

“That’s Ogres, you idiot. These are Orcs.” She put ear up to the door. The thunder of a dozen footfalls grew closer. “Ok, what do you know about Orcs?”

Agnar fumbled, rubbing his hands together nervously. “Bred by torturing elves, they lost all goodness, along with a lot of their intelligence, discipline and strength. They tend not to fight well against trained soldiers.”

“Which we aren’t,” Brunhilda said. “What else you got?” She drew out her sword and swallowed hard. It would be a fight to the death. She just had to make sure it wasn’t hers or Agnar’s.

“You smell that?”

Brunhilda nodded bravely. “Orc-stench.”

“Pizza,” Agnar said.

“Focus!” Her fingers twitched on her sword hilt.

“Nah,” Agnar said. “This is a TPK waiting to happen. Later.” He disappeared.

The clamor of Orc swords began assaulting the house. Brunhilda knew she couldn’t win; she sighed and removed the immersion helmet, tossing it on her bed. “Noobs.”  Brunhilda was a fierce warrior. Michelle was not. She turned the game off and left, hoping the pizza was pepperoni.