Their arrows were all poisoned. Once an arrow pierced flesh, whether it struck a mount or an Orc rider, without prompt treatment the victim would suffer full-body paralysis within a dozen minutes or so, along with swelling and severe pain around the wound. In worse cases, they would die outright. Fortunately, there was a Shaman in the company. Otherwise, they would already have lost at least twenty riders, or even more would have been reduced to infantry.
These cowardly Elves were extremely cunning. They often trailed the company just beyond bowshot. Whenever they spotted an opening, they suddenly accelerated, loosed a Rain of Arrows, then fled again. If the Orcs sent men after them, they barely bothered retreating when the pursuers were few. Instead, they surrounded those Orcs and shot them dead together, leaving no time for a rescue.
At least thirteen brave Orcs Wolf Rider had already charged out, unable to endure the endless harassment, only to end up riddled with arrows like pincushions. In truth, although the poison on the Elves' arrows was potent, one or two hits would not kill anyone. But with a few more arrows, even if none struck a vital spot, the accumulated poison would soon kill an Orc.
If too many troops pursued them, the Elves fled immediately without hesitation, though sometimes they loosed another volley first, wounding a few Orc Wolf Riders. The Wolf Rider Company Commander leading the force was now at his wits' end. Even retreating had become extremely difficult.
The Elves were simply too cunning. As long as the Orcs faced them, they watched from a distance. The moment the Orcs turned their backs, they chased them down and loosed a few arrows. These shameless tactics were infuriating.
He therefore had no choice but to divide his hundred-odd Wolf