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It seems there is not say. Nothing else to point out about the dire situation you three have stumbled across. Dire? Well, that would depend on the eye, since it is under the blood lust of battle that both Baster and Ilesys seem to thrive. And as such, both woman charge mercilessly towards their enemies.

Baster chooses the orcs as her targets. As a genuine monster slayer, the green creatures are the closest thing to a decent adversary she finds among the enemy ranks. Presently, her sword strikes the thick skin of the creatures, hitting with almost inhuman speed and draining the life of two of them.

Meanwhile, Ilesys whirlwinds towards the ranks of spearmen parring her twin blades in a maelstrom of steel. Despite being protected by the shield wall and wearing light armor, two of them fall death at her feet.

Seeing the two ladies causing such a destruction among the enemy ranks, Erard can but charge as well towards the swordmen who stand in front of him. Swinging his battleaxe destructively, two warriors perish after his relentless advance.

Clearly shocked by a charge they were not really expecting, none of the enemies are capable to score a hit in your parry in a very lame counterattack*.

Now that the first move has proven so successful, is time to inflict the final blow to your wounded foes.

I smile wickedly when two off my oponents fall dead at my feet. And my smile becomes even broader as I realize that both Baster and Erard have had a similar luck. 

With no hesitation, I throw my swords towards the remaining spearmen, aiming to cut their throats off. Lost as I am in the ecstasy of battle, all I can think about is ending with the life of those people from who I know nothing: whether they are good or bad people, whether they have a family...but at this moment I do not care. 

As the trio swung their steels, bodies dropped to the floor. Two lay at each one’s feet, orcs and humans alike. Dumbfounded as they were, their counterattack was pathetic like that of small children.

Baster wrinkled her nose from behind her shield at the last orc standing. She was not a perfumed lady. Her skin was moist with transpiration behind steel and padding. Yet it was mostly new sweat, salty but sweet. The creature reeked of last years’ sweat. Somehow, it was worse than working in a pool of knee-high manure.

As it should fucking be, she thought as she crashed with her shoulder on the orc’s chest, butting him away from arm’s reach. Not away from sword’s reach, tough, as the green skinned humanoid promptly discovered as fifty inches of steel sought his heart.

Your superiority over the fools who try now desperately to net get killed by your mighty blows is overwhelming.

After a short exchange of metallic cries from her sword with the orc's, Baster easily sinks her steel into the poor creature chest, killing it immediately.

Meanwhile, Ilesys maelstrom of blades finds continues unstoppable curtailing armor, flesh and bone. Quickly enough, the three remaining spearmen lay dead at her feet.

Erard, engaged with two swordsmen, easily beheads one of them with his blood thirsty axe, while quickly parries the other one's thrust. The poor soul, seeing himself now completely outnumbered and with the bodies of his companions bleeding death by the floor of the main room, decides is time to make a run for it and flees towards a big door opposite from where you got into this room.

At the same time, the lonely archer releases an arrow towards Baster, just to follow his fleeing companion as soon as the bow releases the string.

The projectile flies straight, but is easily blocked by the Baster's shield as she raises it to protect herself from the archer.
 

Once the job was done, Baster stepped over the orcs’ bodies, raising her shield to deflect the arrow the archer had loosed before fleeing. The three greenskins lay dead, none of them looking the least bit intimidating in death.

Seven of the nine humans had forsaken their lives on that room, and their bodies had become a grim decoration for the splendid palace.

Baster wiped the blade of her sword on one of the spearmen’s clothes. She would dip on the flesh and blood of many more that day, as was her job, but at least she would get that hideous orc’s musk off her.

I bet those two are rallying their friends right now, Baster said, grinning. Shall we follow the fools and show them some despair?

She was not stupid, but the trio's purpose was to raise a ruckus and gather attention to them, which seemed nicely suited to her reckless approach.

I was breathing hard from the excitement brought up by the fight,  looking how our enemies were fleeing. 

- You cowards!- I said, raising my voice, aiming to be heard by them. Maybe they'd come back. But it didn't seem likely to happen so I cleaned my swords before putting them back in their sheaths. And then I drew my hands to my hair, trying to make some order out of it. Then Baster talked, suggesting that we should follow the ones that were running away.

- I agree.- I said, nodding my head.- There's no point in taking any of the other two exits if what we want is to keep them focused on us.- I hoped I had not said that last bit too loud, revealing our intentions to our foes. But there were no foes to be seen in that rectangular room. 

Erard looks pleased to see the enemies flee. Resting his axe to one shoulder, he rewards you with a wide smile.

- Well then - says after listening to Baster's proposal and Ilesys agreement.

- What are we waiting for? -

Without further add on, the strong man burst into a run towards the door where the two foes disappeared seconds ago. However, his race is a short one, for what seems to be an invisible blow suddenly strikes him, bringing the entire body of the huge human to the floor, like a sack of flour falling from a barn's crane.

As all three were in accord, Baster rushed after the elder brother. Suddenly, his ox-like body collapsed to the floor, like he had run into an unseen wall.

I raced forward, together with my two companions, my swords in my hand. But suddenly, something happens. The old man's son falls to the floor, with no apparent reason. 

- What the hell?- I ask, but I can see in Baster's expression that she is as clueless about what just happened as I am. 

As your first footsteps run you towards the door where the enemies fled through, you feel the breeze of a cold wind followed by a relentless force that pushes you to the floor. Only Baster, tough as she is, is capable of resisting the magic energies that thrives to take you off your feet.

Ilesys and Erard fall to their backs, losing the initiative in the combat sure to come... since from the same frame you were heading to, more foes emerge, one of them, the cause of the energies that now embed the air of this main hall, a Mage.

He who wields the power of magic stands by the door frame, reading a spell, while two Black Orcs emerge from the room behind and charge towards the fallen Ilesys and Erard...

Ilesys’ question answered itself.

Just as Erard’s body hit the floor, Baster felt the wind pushing her like the mighty blow of a titan. She opened her legs to a wide stance, planting her feet firmly on the ground. It might as well had tried to uproot an oak.

It was no giant on the other side of the door. Just a middle aged man in a robe. She had seen his like, during her time with the army. The ones who didn’t fight put their bodies on the line, but fought with words of power, able to topple stone walls like they were made of sand.

Yet had he been the only menace, she would have cut him in two without a thought. He was not; two figures emerged from another door. As heavily armored as her and bulkier. Orcish features under their helmets, but a darker skin.

No time for a damned nap!, she shouted to her companions, both fallen to the magic of the wizard.

The black orcs charged towards the fallen ones. She glanced one last time at the mumbling wizard. He wouldn’t have wasted his time with a wind blow if he had some real power, she thought. Which suited her well, for he wasn’t the prey she was interested in.

Baster ran to intercept the charging  beasts. She caressed the hilt of the ogre cleaver. Not yet, no need. Instead, she drew her longsword, braced her shield, and clashed with the orcs like a human sized bullet with a mean blade.

Eyes up here, cocksuckers!

Baster's charge is devastating. For the bloodthirsty woman, born and trained as a monster slayer, even the bulky black orcs, pure masses of muscle and ligament, are nothing but another piece of soft butter for her sword. Smashing first the one carrying a terrifyingly big two handed rusty sort-of-sword, she opens his chest in two in a quick parry. Immediately, she moves to confront the other foe who, in disbelief of what he just say happening to his companion, doesn't even mange to hit a blow on the powerful woman. Instead, he also gets to feel the cold steel of her sword running long through his entire flank. Wounded but still alive, the black orc grunts something incomprehensible and readies himself for a new assault by Baster.

Meanwhile, the mage releases the power of his words. A new invisible force pushes you again.

At the same time, the two foes who run away earlier, show up again behind the mage, ready to engage you one more time.

Baster hacked and pushed, and one orc was at her feet, chest slashed open, ribs crushed and lungs filled with their own blood.  And yet she pushed against the one standing, her sword finding tender flesh under the mail and plates. The magic wind blew against her, unable once more to make her fall.

She lowered her shield, locked foreheads with the brute and bared her teeth in a fierce smile, never stopping her sword's assault.

I feel my back bumping against the floor and the second after I see Baster's shadow falling over us as she runs to stand between her two fallen companions and their foes. 

- Finish them off.- I half shout at her, as I am incapable to move. At least my legs don't seem to be responding. Neither do Erard's

- WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO US?- I shout to the Mage. I can see his cape floating, which makes me feel even more useless. Trying to fight his power, I aim to reach one of the throwing knives at my belt. 

The bloodshed rages on.

A death move, performed with an exquisite finesse for her muscled body, is set in motion by Baster and ends up in the decapitation of the last standing black ork she is facing.

Meanwhile however, the filthy spell conjured by the mage, takes his tall again with Ilesys and Erard, who can not manage to stand up and face the enemy who has joined the fray.

From behind the mage, the archer shots at Baster. At this distance, it is difficult for the arrow to miss its target. However, the barbarian woman's body is as strong as a troll's pelt, and the arrow all but inflicts an insignificant flesh wound in the woman's thigh as it passes by.

But the story is different for the spearman. Seen his opportunity at hand with his opponents prostrated at the floor, he jumps over Ilesys thrusting with his spear. The steel tip of the weapon reaches target on the defenseless woman...

Once again, the mage calls upon the winds of magic and conjures his annoying spell aiming to bind you to the cold floor.

Alone, the black orc wasn’t a menace to her. She hooked his shield her her and yanked it from his hands. He met her sword once with his, yet she was stronger and faster, slashing again to severe his head cleanly.

Something hit her thigh. An arrow, probably, but it didn’t even leave a scratch.

As she was turning to face the damned wizard, the wind hit again. This time, as she was on one foot, she wasn’t able to widen her stance to withstand the push, which made her fall on her ass.

I hope you’re having fun! she shouted to the mage. You won’t enjoy what’s coming next.

Frozen by the mage's spell I cannot prevent the spearman from hitting me. I push my teeth together, not letting go a cry of pain as I try to concentrate all my energies on cutting the man's ankles, probably one of the few places I can reach from my position. I smile when, after a great deal of effort, I see one of my blades cutting through the foe's  flesh. However, that is all I can do to face the mage's power, since most of my body is glued to the floor by its magic. 

I'm about to suggest Baster that she starts a direct attack to the mage when she seems to read my mind, threatening the man  to await whatever hell she's preparing for him.

- You bastard. Do you think a simple stick is gonna stop us from taking your life?

Shouting an intimidating war-cry, Erard manages to loose free from the trickery of magic and stands up infuriated after the display of filthiness from your enemies. There is no honor in binding a foe to the ground and hitting them while vulnerable. And the choleric huge old warrior will make them pay for that.

In the blink of an eye, his blood thirst glides him where the mage and the archer stand and, with a quick furious blow, Erard behead them mercilessly.

Meanwhile, even from her disadvantageous position, Ilesys shows her mastery with the sword. With a quick move of her wrist, she points the blade up holding it against her whip. Unable to stop his charge, the spearman stubs himself on the inner thigh while advancing to commit a killing blow.

Soon, blood pours from the open veins, the fated man desperately trying to hold his vital liquid with both hands. Soon enough, he fall dead to the floor.