Yes, with a spell.

She reached into her pocket as the orc approached her. Her fingertips gathered the dust that had settled in the seam of her garment. What she was planning was a simple trick, but a risky one. It would rely on her running as fast as she could to avoid being impaled on an angry orc’s **** cock – or an even angrier one’s sword-blade.

As the orc leader reached for her, she pulled her dusty fingers out and blew on them, chanting a quick spell. The dust billowed outward in a great cloud, growing in size while remaining thick and dark, until it was impossible to see. Working on sheer dead reckoning, Shairi spun round and made a dash for what had seemed the widest gap in the circle of orcs.

She heard the orcs yelling and swearing. She stumbled on the unseen, uneven ground but kept going. Gauntleted hands fumbled blindly for her, but never quite managed to close around her. Eventually, she burst from the cloud and threw herself flat in the brush, hiding.

She scarcely dared breath as she felt the spell dissipate. She heard the orcs begin to search, but their efforts seemed half-hearted. Apparently, none of them particularly wanted to waste time searching for a lone girl – even one that had caused them as much aggravation as Shairi had. After a brief search, they seemed to give up.

But Shairi lay still, worried it might be a trap, for quite a while longer. She only began to move when she heard Queiss’s voice by her ear. “Nice to see them quail before your vast mystic might.”

“Your sarcasm,” Shairi muttered sullenly, “Would be more cutting if you hadn’t turned tail at the first sign of trouble. Besides, I dealt with them.”

“Oh, and what was I supposed to do?” Queiss asked. “Anyway, they’re gone now. Go get your stuff, and we can carry on.” Shairi did so sulkily.

A short journey beyond the bridge was a crossroads. The sign posts were clear to read. To the south, the sign read “Baron Arkand’s Domain”. The petty nobles of the southern lands were as independent as kings – and as ruthless and greedy as any brigand.

To the west, the sign read “Grey-Barrow Mines”. Below, someone had pinned a notice: “Trouble! – Adventurers needed. REWARD.” As the sign’s writers had obviously known, the clear offer of a reward was tempting. Shairi was arrogantly certain she could sort out whatever trouble was afflicting the mining town.

To the east the faded sign just read “Old Necromancer’s Tower”. Of course, the mention of magic made Shairi curious – perhaps even curious enough to ignore the crude skull and crossbones that had been scrawled next to it.