Arnar's victorious smile stretched across his face as he surveyed the defeated orc horde.
His expression reminded of mockery and contempt, relishing in their humiliation. "How did you let a mere woman best you?" he jeered, his tone dripped with scorn.
Playfully, he pushed one fallen orc with his boot as he glanced at Eira. "Well done, love," he commended, acknowledging her prowess in battle.
Curiosity piqued, Arnar squatted down beside the defeated orcs, his eyes began to scan their grotesque features.
Their skin was rough and discolored, marred by scars and blemishes. One had a single eye and a twisted, misshapen nose, while another sported swollen and damaged lips.
Their appearance was a testament to their violent nature and the harsh lives they led.
Standing up once more, Arnar's demeanor shifted, his tone became more serious. "I didn't anticipate these rats would venture so far. Let's proceed, but keep your guard up," he cautioned.
The forest fell into an eerie silence as they approached the gate of the orc village. Two guards, caught off guard by Arnar and Eira's unexpected presence, stood frozen in shock and panic.
Their expressions twisted in disbelief at the sight of the elf king and his companion.
Without missing a beat, the guards instinctively brandished their weapons, a futile attempt to defend their village from the intruders.
Arnar, unimpressed and undeterred, nonchalantly removed his regal gown, revealing his muscular frame and the gleaming sword strapped to his side.
"We can do this the easy way, or you can all burn in hell," he taunted, his eyes shifted with arrogance. The orcs, insulted by the elf king's condescension, immediately launched into an attack.
Arnar let out a hearty laugh, his amusement was evident in the face of their aggression. "They never learn, do they?" he remarked. With swift and precise movements, he deftly evaded their clumsy strikes, dancing through their midst as if engaged in an elegant and deadly ballet.
"You filthy creatures…" He tightened his grip.
His sword sang through the air, swiftly severing the orcs' necks with a single fluid motion.
One powerful kick sent the village gate crashing inward, splintering upon impact.
Like a force of nature unleashed, Arnar stormed into the village, his presence akin to an explosion of fury and power.
"Are you not going to observe their energy?" Eira interjected, her eyes scanned with curiosity as she observed the fallen orcs.
Arnar glanced down at the lifeless bodies and scoffed dismissively. "An energy emanating from such disgusting creatures would be an offense to the elves," he remarked, his tone dripped with disdain.
Confidently, Arnar and Eira strode into the heart of the orc village, their presence commanded attention and sowing confusion among the remaining inhabitants.
Orcs who caught sight of the elf king and his companion froze in their tracks, uncertain of how to react to their unexpected intrusion.
Whispers and murmurs filled the air as the villagers exchanged bewildered glances.
Fear mingled with curiosity in their eyes, unsure of the intentions of their unwelcome guests. The orcish warriors who had been trained to fight and conquer found themselves momentarily paralyzed by the presence of the legendary elf king.
Undeterred by their confusion, Arnar scanned the village with an imperious gaze.
The chaos that ensued served only to amuse him further. His laughter rang out, echoing through the tense atmosphere. "Such a pitiful display," he chuckled.
The orcs bristled at his mocking tone, their anger rose and their desire for revenge grew immediately.
With a swift motion, Arnar unsheathed his sword once again, the glint of its blade caught the sunlight.
The orcs, consumed by their fury and driven by a desire to prove themselves, lunged at the elf king, their crude weapons were raised high.
Arnar, easily sidestepped their attacks, "how pathetic," he mocked as his body kept dodging the throws of the hammers.
Arnar's movements were simply fluid and calculated. His sword became an extension of his will, a deadly dance partner that effortlessly dispatched his foes.
The clash of steel against flesh filled the air as he parried and countered with a lethal precision.
Eira, not to be overshadowed, unleashed her own power. Calling upon the element of wind, "sereni…"
she channeled its force through her petite frame. The air around her began to stir, forming gentle whirlwinds that twirled and danced at her command.
With a serious expression etched upon her face, she focused her energy on the attacking orcs, her delicate hands became instruments of destruction.
Swift strikes and gusts of wind battered the orcs, throwing them off balance and shattering their feeble defenses.
They stumbled and faltered, unable to withstand the combined might of the elf king and his magical wife.
One by one, they fell before the onslaught, their bodies littering the ground like discarded playthings.
The once-chaotic village now fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of heavy breaths and the wind whispering through the trees.
Arnar and Eira stood amidst the wreckage, their victory was complete for now.
"Couldn't be any easier," he whispered to Eira, as he slowly was placing his blade behind his back.
The air was thick with the scent of defeat and the realization that their village had been laid to waste.
Arnar's laughter resumed, a triumphant sound that reverberated through the village. "No matter how hard they try, they will never surpass us," he declared with confidence.
IWith a final glance at the defeated orcs, he turned to Eira. "Let us continue. There is more to be done."