One orc struck true, a glancing blow from another, and a miss from the next as he ducked under it. About as expected. The pain from the strikes was manageable, for now - Blain grit his teeth and remained silent, answering with a strike of his own to the Uruk's. They were three orcs that would not be attacking anyone else while he held his ground. It didnt matter.
He wished to consider himself brave but knew better - he had simply felt like there was nothing else for him to do but stop their advance. At least do your job as a shield. Sneered an internal voice. He'd heard that warriors cried out in combat, to threaten the enemy, to boast, to intimidate - but Blain felt no such compulsion. It felt right to deliver sword strike after sword strike - like hammering at an anvil. Orcs could pass for slag... His vision darkened as the orc blade bit deep, but he swung his own in turn.