You plunge your orc on a fork into the ground and pounce upon the two remaining ones, seizing the head of one and smashing it into a nearby fence post - as he loses his footing, you grab the outright fleeing leader by the collar of his armor and pull him back, locking your arm around his throat, making sure not to restrict the blood flow in order to prolong the moment as you twist around with the orc in hand to give Farmer Agatha your most sensitive, soulful look as you drive the heel of your boot into the downed orc's trachea, and keep it there for dramatic effect.
The collective asphyxiation of the two orcs firmly kept in your grasp provide a romantic backdrop as your eyes remain locked with Farmer Agatha. She bites on her lower lip as she grins coyly, cradling her waist as she ambles slowly closer. The backdrop noises subside as the orcs turn a redder, then a bluer shade of green, going out with the faintest of choked whimpers.
You collect the corpses and relieve them of their metal-studded clubs and mass-produced orcish swords, then pile them into a pyre in order to turn them into worthwhile fertilizer and thus extract some additional usefulness from their corpses. Let none say you are not a man of your word. Poked enthusiastically with your pitchfork, the fire crackles, and the smell of burning orc fills the air. From but a single whiff of it, Farmer Agatha's eyes water with delight. Herbert seems to have found a fine home in her arms, purring as she pets his head affectionately.
For a second or two you stand there, staring into her glistening eyes. You think you know the answer here.
[ ] Would she like to take a closer look at your spear? It's warm, and you can vouch as to where it's been.
[ ] Does she happen to have any tea inside? You're a little parched. Perhaps some periodicals you could peruse?
[ ] Oh, look at the time! Wouldn't you know it, it's orc o' clock! Dreadfully sorry, but you have some orc murder to catch up on.
[ ] A spot of intrigue is never hurt by a bit of mystery! Run like a force of nature and let her come to her own conclusions!
[ ] While you're in the neighborhood, has she seen any more orcs, perhaps?
[ ] How has she been? It's a little hard running a household all on your own, is it not?
[ ] Wonderful weather today, isn't it? The wind especially seems spectacularly ill.
[ ] Unconventional tactics are required. You have an even better idea!
Farmer Godwinson
- Body count: 8
- Sunday best (not entirely bloodstained!)
- Two homemade orcish sharp daggers
- Four homemade orcish cosmetic daggers
- Two homemade orcish spears
- Authentic orcish war axe
- Wood axe
- Mahalee's Cure-All x3
- Saw
- Handful of chicken feed
- Shovel
- Three orcish homemade metal-studded clubs
- Two orcish mass-produced short swords
- A pack of salt
- A flask of oil
- 23 copper pieces of uncertain origin
- Orcish leather travelin' boots x6
Herbert
- Complete lack of empathy
- Severe lack of initiative