The Homecoming 130.

Turning Of The Tide...

A Harkonin soldier on the battlements along the south wall of castle Lé Dic. Hurries towards a nearby set of steps, until he's whacked in the shins with a shortsword swung by an injured Lé Dic soldier lying upon the parapet.
As that enemy soldier tumbles off the parapet to fall to the courtyard below. Another soldier from the fief across the border to the east swings his hand axe down at the injured defender lying on the parapet. Smashing in the top of the head of the Lé Dic soldier.
While behind them, another soldier in the army of baron Harkonin makes his way over the top of the wall, onto the battlements. Joining a handful of others who are on this section of the south wall, on the third, that's closet to the southeast corner tower of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
Over on the east wall of castle Lé Dic, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy as he watches Dorc da Orc across the otherside of the moat, throw enemy soldiers into the water after he whacks them down.
Looks to his right as the experienced squad leader who is his acting second tell him "Sir, across there to the south".
The spy from the elven principality of Alínlae who is in command of the defence of the east side of castle Lé Dic, looks to where the squad leader points across to the south side of the massive castle.
"Oh shit" mutters Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy as he sees that a fair few of the enemy have topped the south wall of castle Lé Dic. About a third of the way along the south parapet, closest to the southeast corner tower.
The spy Tanith quickly looks up at southeast tower, to where two archers and a crossbowman are located.
One of the archers and the crossbowman are shooting down at the enemy who have gained a foothold upon the top of the south wall.
The other archer, who looks like he's shooting down at the enemy on either the moat, or across it on the south side of the massive castle that's been home for the nobleborn Lé Dic family for centuries.
Hurries over and joins the other two who are shooting down at those soldiers in baron Harkonin's army who have topped the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
"Damn, they must be making a push over on that side" says Dalinvardél Tanith, who is commonly referred to as Dalin by the rest of the group.
Beside him the experienced squad leader nods in agreement, then says "Should we send two or three over there to help them?" followed by "Some of the townsfolk perhaps?".
The elven spy who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses in the principality of Alínlae shakes his head no, and says "We're stretched enough as it is".
The spy Tanith who has noticed that the war machines on the south side of castle Lé Dic have started up again. Flinging their shots over the fifty foot tall wall, barely getting over it at times, as their range is so short.
Tells the experienced squad leader who is his acting second "Have some of those with bows and crossbows that way, shoot across to the enemy on the south wall".
The elven spy gestures to the south along the east wall battlements as he says that, then he adds "That's the best we can do to help them".
As that way along the east wall, towards the southeast tower. Is fairly quiet ever since Dorc da Orc killed a group of enemy knights. As well as take out the enemy soldiers who were on a pair of rafts down that way in the moat.
Then Dalin briefly pauses as he thinks of something, then he quietly says "Maybe there's something else we can do".
The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae then looks across the moat, where on the otherside, he sees the large green figure of Dorc da Orc about thirty yards to the south of the road opposite the main gates here on the east side of castle Lé Dic.
Where he's just kicked one Harkonin soldier into the water, and grabbed another one by the throat, crushed it, then flung him into the moat as well.
Dalin quickly says to his acting second "Actually there's something else we can do" followed by "I'll need your help with something".
"Ha! Take a swim ya fucken cunt" chortles Dorc da Orc after he throws another enemy soldier into the water of the moat, as he makes his way back along the edge of the moat, towards the road that leads to the east side of castle Lé Dic.
The large ork, who is getting more pleasure throwing Harkonin soldiers into the moat than actually killing or injuring him.  As to him, he can't see a fate worse than getting wet.
Wipes his sweaty brow as the midday, well early afternoon really, springtime sun is warm, on what's a cloudless day in this part of the Lé Dic fief.
The ork warleader who detests the sun, and the heat it gives off, as much as he hates water.
Could do with a drink to parch his thirst. Ale, wine or fortified spirits would be good about now. But unfortunately he doesn't have any on him.
The ale barrel he did have early this morning. Was emptied before the battle for the massive castle even began.
Dorkindle wishes he had another barrel right now. After all he's been killing the enemy nonstop, even since the battle got underway.
The ork weaponsmith grabs a Harkonin soldier who has made it back to the bank, after falling from one of the floating rafts.
The big, burly ork has a look of disgust upon his face as he grabs the drenched soldier in the army of baron Harkonin.
Then the warleader of the ork race grins, then he crushes the right arm he's holding. And kicks the left leg of the enemy soldier. Breaking that as well.
Then he biffs the screaming Harkonin soldier back into the moat. Flinging him a good fifteen feet out into the water.
Then Dorc da Orc chuckles to himself as he watches the enemy soldier, with a broken arm and a broken leg, struggle to keep a float.
"Fucken drown ya silly fucken cunt" chortles the large ork who takes great delight in watching the Harkonin soldier splash around in a panic, struggling to keep his head above water.
"Bye bye cunt" says the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who waves goodbye to the soldier from the fief across the border to the east, after struggling to keep a float, sinks beneath the surface of the water.
Then Dorkindle bursts into laughter as he can see below the surface of the water, the enemy soldier thrashing about, trying to get back up to the surface.
"See ya fuckface" says the laughing ork warleader, who then suddenly frowns, and murmurs "Huh?" as he hears something.
"Yeah cunt, that's me" quietly says Dorc da Orc who hears his name being called out. The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, darts a look to either side. Then scratches his dreadlock topknot. As he's pretty certain it wasn't one of the myriad of voices in his head, that's calling out his name.
After all, they tend to call him things like fat cunt, or dumb cunt, stupid cunt, shit for brains, etcetera, etcetera. Or just plain, cunt.
This he's definitely sure he actually heard. And continues to hear.
With a frown upon his broad, green, feral looking face, he looks across the moat, and up to the top of the east wall of castle Lé Dic.
And ignoring a crossbow quarrel that hits him in the back of the head, which he barely feels.
The ork weaponsmith from the southern polar region of the world, looks along the battlements on the east side of castle Lé Dic.
He grunts when he spots the elven spy Dalinvardél Tanith, along with a Lé Dic soldier, waving out to him, and calling his name.
Dorc da Orc frowns, then he listens carefully over the noise of the battle as he hears the spy Tanith shout out something from on top of the east wall of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for centuries.
The big, burly ork frowns, and sees the elven spy point away to the southern side of the massive castle.
"Not north" mutters Dorkindle as he listens to what Dalin shouts from the parapet across the otherside of the moat.
Then the ork, who to this day, is still the largest member of his tribe, the wolf tribe. Spots the spy Tanith give a couple of hand signals.
And though Dalinvardél Tanith, like most of those in the group, know a few rudimentary hand signals that were developed by lord Farque a number of years ago.
Which the ork warleader knows all of, when he bothers to remember them.
The large ork, who knows that it's surprisingly Mira Reinholt the mage, who knows more of the hand signals in the group, with the exception of himself, and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Makes a fist with his right hand, shakes it once, and points to the south side of castle Lé Dic.
Up on the east wall parapet, the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae, nods his head, then murmurs in the language of the elves "I hope that was the right signal".
As he watches Dorc da Orc nod, then turn and amble away, heading southwards alongside the moat, on this side of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
"Well he's going the right way" says Dalinvardél Tanith in common to his second in command, he continues with "That's something at least" the elven spy who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses in the principality of Alínlae then silently adds, now hurry up, and move that fat ass of yours Dorc.
As he watches the warleader of the ork race walking quickly, then finally breaking out into a jog, as he heads to the southeast corner of castle Lé Dic,
Dorkindle, who is thirsty for some alcohol. Who occasionally glares at the water in the moat to his right. Where towards this end of the east wall. There's just a single raft in the water. Damaged, with a handful of Harkonin soldiers clinging onto it, as it drifts about uncontrollably as they have no poles.
Also glares up at the clear sky above. At the sun above, on what's now a very clear day here in this part of the kingdom of Druvic.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe, like ork kind. Doesn't get exhausted like other races. Who could fight at the pace he's been fighting in the battle today. For five or six days straight, without taking a rest. Before dropping on the spot, and getting some sleep.
Doesn't like the close proximity of the water. Or that it's such a clear, sunny, warm spring day today.
As it makes him uncomfortable. After all he's from the southern polar region of the world.
And though he's been gone from there for over twenty years. He will never fully acclimate to the weather here, north of the southern polar region.
"Fucken cunt sun" mutters Dorc da Orc as he jogs southwards "To hots" adds the large ork in a mutter.
"And fucken cunt water too" says the warleader of the ork race as he scowls at the moat just a couple of yards to his right.
Then his diatribe against the water and moat, as well as the sun in the clear, spring sky.
Is momentarily interrupted by one of the warhorses of the enemy knights he killed. Running by to his left, about thirty yards away.
"Oooohhhh sexy horsey" murmurs the big, burly ork, who then calls out "Here horsey, Dorc just wanna give you pats!". The ork weaponsmith laughs, for he wants to give it way more than just pats.
Then he grunts, as the warhorse, takes off running, heading south and east, away from the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for generations.
Dorkindle is huffing and puffing as he gets to the southeast corner of castle Lé Dic. And he has to go out about twenty yards, as the moat at the four corners of the massive castle, have a slightly higher bank, than the rest of it.
He runs around the corner, not quickly at all. But at a steady pace, that with his long legs, and stride. Covers a lot of ground, even though he isn't running at speed.
Once around the corner of the moat, Dorc da Orc comes to a stop and grunts, then he murmurs "Hmmmm".
For what he sees here, along the south side of castle Lé Dic. The battle is in a vastly different state than it is on the east side of the massive castle.
As loads from the catapults and trebuchets in the south courtyard of castle Lé Dic, barely fly over the south wall. He sees enemy soldiers all across the moat on this side of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
There's a hell of a lot more of them here. Either on their rafts, or in the water. And he sees those that aren't soldiers. Camp followers, as the army camp of baron Harkonin's army is situated to the south of castle Lé Dic.
Have joined in on the assault on the south wall of the massive castle.
The ork warleader frowns, then he scowls as he looks up at the battlements on this side of the castle. And he spots a fair few of the enemy up on the parapet of the south wall.
"Fuckballs" mutters Dorc da Orc, who let's out a deep sigh, then says to himself "How me s'pose to kill them cunts?" as he looks up at the enemy soldiers who have gained a foothold upon the battlements on top of the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
The big, burly ork who hails from the very bottom of the world. Grunts, and sets off at a jog, taking an axe and a hammer from his weapon harness as he heads along the bank of the moat, on this, the south side of the massive castle that's been the home to the Lé Dic family for centuries.
As he jogs towards the closest of the enemy, Dorc da Orc wonders how he's going to cross the moat, and get up to the top of the south wall of castle Lé Dic. So he can clear the enemy soldiers from the battlements.
"Hmmmm me will fucken work something out" the ork weaponsmith murmurs to himself. What? He's not exactly sure. Just that he'll find some way to get across the moat, and up to the parapet on the south side of castle Lé Dic.
In the meantime, Dorkindle roars like only an ork can roar, louder than anyone else can roar.
Scaring the living daylights out of the Harkonin soldiers and camp followers he's running towards, who turn and see the large ork coming towards them holding up the axe in one hand, and the hammer in the other.
With a maniacal looking grin upon his broad, green, brutish looking face, as he laughs in what can only be described as a crazed, and deranged manner, Dorc da Orc charges into the enemy on this side of castle Lé Dic, shouting "Get some!" . . . . . .

The Homecoming 129.

Battle Fatigue...

"Well they're definitely dead" dryly murmurs Riley Hait the mercenary ranger when he sees the bodies of lord Milburn, his grandson Jared Milburn, as well the Lé Dic army commander, sir Galmot dumped into the moat.
One of the enemy soldiers who just threw the dead noblemen into the water. Drops to the ground when he turns and is hit in the back by arrow shot by an archer, further to the right along the battlements from where the ranger Hait stands above the gates along the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
The mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen, kneels down and takes a drink of water. And takes a small round loaf of bread, and a wedge of cheese from a castle servant who is passing them out, as he makes his way along this part of the parapet on the southern side of the massive castle.
The mercenary ranger, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who by no fault of his own, and by circumstances beyond his control, finds himself inhabiting the body of Riley Hait.
Fair scoffs down the bread and cheese that's been handed to him. As he can see a number of the Harkonin soldiers have got onto the battlements, away to the left of the gates, or the east of them.
With a mouthful of cheese and bread, the first thing he's had to eat since before dawn, and before the battle for castle Lé Dic began.
He sends a couple of townsmen, who have finished eating. To help out those defenders who are facing the latest threat from the enemy along this side of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for many generations.
As those townsmen, trudge away along the battlements, stiff and tired after an already busy spring morning.
The mercenary ranger who was brought up and trained by some of the elven warders in his homeland of Envadarlen. Looks up at the midday sky, and sees how clear it is above castle Lé Dic. With not a single cloud in the area at the moment.
Then Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, looks over at a crossbowman at the next merlon to the right, who has just shot off a quarrel from his weapon at the enemy, and said "They're making a big push on the wall".
"Fuck" mutters Riley Hait, who after taking another drink of water, gets up and looks down at the enemy on the moat, and across it on the otherside.
The mercenary ranger faintly grimaces as he sees that there must be every single raft the enemy has, on the water at the moment.
And if there isn't Harkonin soldiers on them, there's those in the water swimming to them.
As Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson sees that some of the enemy are even swimming to the burnt out siege tower in the moat. Just for a place to hold onto, to keep afloat, before they can get to a raft.
He sees in the distance, that even camp followers are coming forward towards the moat on this, the south side of castle Lé Dic.
Stretcher bearers, bakers, cooks, ostlers, fletchers, leather workers and even smiths are coming forward. Joining the war machine crews who haven't already made their way forward to take part in the assault upon this side of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
The only place the ranger Hait doesn't see a particular lot of the enemy. Is upon the trade road, near the moat, directly opposite the main gates on the south side of castle Lé Dic.
There upon the road, is sir Percavelle Lé Dic himself. Dispatching any Harkonin soldier who is unlucky enough to get too close to the heavily armoured knight who is the former earl of the Lé Dic fief.
The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che is using his magical sword of knockdown. And is sending enemy soldiers he hits, flying through the air in all directions.
The mercenary ranger who hails from the elven principality of Envadarlen does notice that the former paladin has his large magical shield on his left arm. As he's getting shot at every so often by enemy archers and crossbowmen when they get a clear view of him.
Riley aka Zubutai the son of Timagin, who is in command of the defence of the south side of castle Lé Dic, orders the archers and crossbowmen closest to him along the battlements, to target their enemy counterparts, who are trying to shoot at the former paladin.
Then the mercenary ranger looks around for the signalman, well that latest one, since the previous two have been killed.
"Ah fuck" mutters the ranger Hait as he sees the latest signalman being carried away by a couple of castle servants to the nearest set of steps, as there's a broken arrow in his side.
Riley Hait can't afford to take another soldier away, to become the signalman. As the defence along the parapet is already stretched thin. So he grabs a castle servant who has brought up buckets of water for the defenders to drink.
And tells him "I want you to go down into the courtyard and tell the engineer Tovis this" the mercenary ranger points to where the war engineer is beside the large trebuchet that is in action, as he explains to the servant what he wants Tovis to do.
"Now repeat back what i said" says Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman after he explains what he wants Tovis to do.
The castle servant repeats it nearly word for word, then the ranger Hait says "Good, and make sure he doesn't shoot anything on or near the road" followed by "And tell him not to worry about the range or us on the parapet, just make it close".
"Yes sir" says the castle servant, who takes off, keeping low, when Riley Hait nods for him to head down into the main south courtyard of castle Lé Dic.
"Might get fucking hit, but it'll take out a lot of them too" mutters the ranger Hait in the hordes dialect of southern tundra, who then says in the common language to those either side of him "Spread the word along the parapet" he tells them what's about to happen.
Once he does, he looks down into the large courtyard below. And sees the servant he sent down there, making his way to where baron Harkonin's former war engineer is charge of his depleted war machine crews. After sending half of them up onto the battlements to help out the defence of the south wall of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for centuries.
Ah well, might as well do something in the meantime, the mercenary ranger thinks to himself, who takes one of the replacement arrows from his quiver, puts it to his elven made longbow.
Riley Hait draws the weapon back, takes aim as he looks down across the moat to the bank on the otherside, and lets the shaft fly once he's picked out a target just off to the side of the trade road.
"You villain, take that" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic who sends another Harkonin soldier cartwheeling sideways off the road, smashing into two others who run at him.
The heavily armoured knight, whose voice is hoarse, and is holding his sword of knockdown in his right gauntleted hand, while on his left arm, is the large footman's shield, that's the shield of Saint Mar-che.
Turns quickly to his left, to where he caught sight of an enemy soldier with a loaded crossbow.
As he turns, he sees that crossbowman, hit the ground with a bit of force. The former earl of Lé Dic sees a yard long arrow in the side of the enemy crossbowman. And he knows who shot him.
"Good shot there, from the ranger fellow" says the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, who frankly wouldn't mind a little break to have a drink of water, and to catch his breath.
The nobleborn knight looks around, and though there's still some of the enemy on the trade road with him. He sees way more of them off to the sides, heading towards the moat. Where he sees as many of the Harkonin soldiers in the water, as on the rafts. Well those that can swim at least. As like all commoners in a kingdom such as Druvic, it's only those who live near rivers and lakes, who are more likely to swim.
Those who don't, for the most part, definitely don't know how to swim. Which is seen as a skill like reading and writing, or horse riding. Not for most of the common folk to partake in.
The former knight of the first class sees that the order must of been given to have everyone come forward to take part in the assault upon the walls of his family's castle.
As he sees stretcher bearers, carrying weapons instead of their stretchers. As they rush forward towards the moat along the south side of castle Lé Dic.
Cooks and bakers with clevers and knives. While other camp followers pick up any downed weapon they can find. He sees a young ostler with longsword that obviously belongs to an officer who is dead. While a cooks assistant, is carrying a helbard he's picked up from somewhere. Probably the worst weapon to use in an assault upon a castle wall, since it's so long, and unwieldy.
The uncle of lady Linara Lé Dic guffaws as a missile shot from one of the two ballista above the gates on the south wall battlements, slams into a group of the enemy away to his right, off the side of the road.
Then suddenly, a large chunk of masonry, about eight foot in length, weighing at least five hundred pounds. Smashes into more of the enemy in that direction.
"By jingos that's a bit close wot" murmurs sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who turns and has a look back at the castle that's been his family's home for centuries.
And as an enemy archer who draws s bead on him, drops when he's hit by a pair of arrows shot from the south wall battlements. The heavily armoured knight's eyebrows rise up in surprise when he sees a large rock, a boulder really.
Barely get over the battlements, and drop down into the moat, hitting a raft full of soldiers, and a few others swimming in the water.
"Huh?" murmurs the former earl of Lé Dic as he realises that the mercenary ranger Riley Hait must of ordered the resumption of the bombardment upon the enemy. As there's just been the one trebuchet that's been shooting away at the enemy, towards the rear.
Though now, with the enemy so close, the range of the war machines within the large southern courtyard of castle Lé Dic, is extremely short. There's a possibility their own war machines could hit the defenders up on the top of the wall, since they're shooting off at such short range.
Hmmmm Percy old chap, might not be too safe here with whatnot falling out of the sky thus, the former paladin thinks to himself, as he sees a half a dozen barrels of burning tar and pitch, just make it across the moat, and slam into some of the enemy just fifty feet off the side of the trade road to his left.
And as screaming Harkonin soldiers, and camp followers go running into the water on fire. The heavily armoured knight wonders if it would be wise to depart.
He shrugs, his broad heavily armoured shoulders and decides not to, as he sees a large number of enemy soldiers running up onto the road, heading towards him.
The ordered knight is pretty sure he spots the enemy army commander, sir Taevar. Following behind them, urging them on.
"Oh well, i guess not then" murmurs the former earl of Lé Dic, who decides to stay put when he sees what's coming towards him.
Besides, another load from one of the catapults or trebuchets in the south courtyard of his family's ancestral home. This time a boulder, slams down amongst the enemy away to the right of the trade road, this time a bit further away.
He figures being on the road is as safe as anywhere. As the shots from the war machines within the massive castle seem to be targeting the enemy away from the trade road, as well as those in and on the moat. If a loud splash behind him, and away to the right is anything to go by.
He lifts up his faceplate, and takes a drink from his water bottle he keeps on his belt as there's a brief lull in the battle near him.
Then he returns the bottle to his belt, and closes his visor. As the Harkonin soldiers who have come up onto the road, approach him at a run.
And though his voice might be a little hoarse after shouting and yelling so much during the battle, which is now into the early afternoon since midday has just passed.
The uncle of lady Linara Lé Dic, who also happens to be a former earl of the fief his niece rules, shouts "Lé Dic!" loud enough that many of the defenders upon the south wall battlements hear him, and shout "Lé Dic!" in return.
Then sir Percavelle Lé Dic runs towards the enemy soldiers rushing towards him on the trade road, and with the magical shield of Saint Mar-che upon his left arm, and the magical sword of knockdown in his right gauntleted hand.
The heavily armoured knight is quickly amongst the latest group of enemy soldiers to attack him.
After the first one goes flying backwards through the air, smashing into those directly following him. Those Harkonin soldiers all of a sudden wish they hadn't rushed onto the trade road to attack the famous sir Percavelle Lé Dic . . . . . .

The Homecoming 128.

Backwards...

Standing upon the right wheel platform of one of the trebuchets just off the side of the trade road.
Baron Harkonin frowns, then looks down at the messenger on the horse next to the war machine, who has just said "M'lord?".
The head of the Harkonin family looks over at sir Haleníc, who is mounted on his warhorse. The young landed knight is frowning too as he looks to the massive castle that they're assaulting.
"Haleníc what do you see?" asks baron Harkonin "Well" says sir Haleníc who briefly pauses, before continuing with "More of the men are getting to the top of the wall".
The baron of the fief to the east, nods his head in agreement, then the young landed knight in the saddle on the otherside of the messenger, says "Though i don't think they've taken any large section of the parapet yet".
"Been at it all bloody morning, they should've by now" mutters Raevar Harkonin, who then asks his young vassal knight "What about on the road near the moat?".
Darting a glance at his lord, the young landed knight from the north of the Harkonin fief, clears his throat, then says "I'm pretty sure sir Taevar is making his way back here".
The head of the Harkonin family nods, as he's sure he saw that too.
He briefly pauses, as a boulder flies by to the left of them. Shot from one of the trebuchets within castle Lé Dic.
It's the only war machine from both sides of the conflict, that's in action at the moment. Infact it's pretty much been firing non-stop since the battle began earlier this morning.
The boulder is headed for the Harkonin camp. To where the wagons, supply stores, and surgeons tents are located.
The baron then quietly says "So am i". As he too has spotted the army commander sir Taevar heading back this way.
Then Raevar Harkonin asks "The others who went with him?". Young sir Haleníc shakes his head no. Then the head of the Harkonin family asks "And that raving lunatic Percavelle?" he then adds "Is he still on this side of the moat?".
"I'm not sure m'lord" is the reply from the young landed knight, who is only seventeen years old "I can't see" adds sir Haleníc.
Who can't actually see if the enemy nobleman still stands. But what he can see, is a number of the men further ahead on the road. Not yet on the water, are going flying through the air for no apparent reason.
Baron Harkonin has seen this too. And though he wonders why some of his solders on this side of the moat are being flung about. He has a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with the former earl of the Lé Dic fief, sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
Don't tell me that madman Percavelle has killed half a dozen of my knights, and Taevar is high tailing it back here to the rear? the baron thinks to himself in disgust, he takes a look ahead again, before he looks down at the messenger.
"What is it then?" asks the baron of the fief across the border to the east, who with his army, has invaded the Lé Dic fief, after wiping out the army of lady Linara Lé Dic.
"M'lord, it's sir Parnak and the others" says the messenger, who followed at a distance, the group of landed knights who rode around to the east side of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
"What of them?" asks the baron, who goes back to looking at the castle, from where he stands on the trebuchet wheel platform, nearly nine feet off the ground.
"Ah they're all down m'lord" says the messenger, who would rather be anywhere else, than where he is now. Infact, he'd rather been in the thick of the battle, climbing one of the scaling ladders to the battlements of castle Lé Dic. Than telling his lord, what he witnessed around on the east side of the massive castle that's been the home for the Lé Dic family for generations.
With a frown upon his face, the head of the Harkonin family looks down at the mounted messenger, and says "What do you mean down?".
The messenger, who is even younger than the landed knight on the warhorse to his left, clears his throat, then says "Dead m'lord".
The baron blinks in surprise, and stares at the young messenger for a few moments, before finally saying "What, all of them?".
"Yes m'lord" is the reluctant answer from the messenger, who then adds "All of them".
"The fuck?" mutters baron Harkonin, who sees that young Haleníc is just as shocked as he is, after hearing what the messenger has just said. Then Raevar Harkonin asks "You sure?".
"I am m'lord" says the messenger who continues with "I didn't see everything that happened" followed by "But i saw sir Parnak fall last, then that green creature, picked him up over his head, and threw sir Parnak, who was still alive, into the moat".
The baron winces, then he mutters "Fucking hell" as he can imagine sir Parnak dying by drowning. As the rotund knight isn't exactly small to begin with.
And with the heavy iron plate armour he wears. He's not exactly light too. With all that armour on, baron Harkonin suspects sir Parnak must weigh close to three hundred pounds.
"Picked him up over his head?" murmurs baron Raevar Harkonin, who then asks the mounted messenger "How bloody big is that green thing?".
"Big" is the reply from the messenger, who continues after a pause with "Really big m'lord".
"By the gods" murmurs the head of the Harkonin family, who then quickly says "By the old ways" as he remembers that he's a believer in the old druidic ways, especially the ways of the dark druids.
The baron then asks the messenger who has just returned from the east side of castle Lé Dic "Where's that bloody green monster now?".
"Attacking our men around on the east side of the castle i guess m'lord" says the young messenger, who then adds "I came back right after sir Parnak was thrown into the moat, so I'm not exactly sure what it's up to" he briefly pauses, before continuing with "But i suspect that's what it's doing m'lord".
The lord of the neighbouring fief to the east, grimaces then waves away the messenger after telling him "Head back around there, and keep an eye on what it's doing" followed by "Come back, or send someone else back when it's either finally dead, or it does something else significant".
Fucking hell, seven of my best knights went around there! Raevar Harkonin thinks to himself with a shake of his head in disbelief, as he comes to terms at finding out that seven of his landed knights have been killed.
Then the baron looks over at young Haleníc, who has just said "M'lord". He looks to where the young knight gestures ahead of them on the road. And there the head of the Harkonin family, can see his brother inlaw, sir Taevar, who is the commander of his army, hurrying back on foot, to where the baron is standing on the side of one of the of the trebuchets.
Nearly out of breath, the Harkonin army commander spots the baron on the side of one of the trebuchets. And makes his way towards his brother inlaw.
Raevar Harkonin watches his army commander approach, and before the husband of his younger sister even comes to a stop, he asks him "Well, what happened?".
Breathing heavily, sir Taevar the army commander after glancing at sir Haleníc. Explains to the baron what's happened to him and the others who confronted sir Percavelle Lé Dic further along the road, near the moat.
The head of the Harkonin family is silent as he listens to his army commander. And though he suspects his brother inlaw is probably being a bit liberal with the truth. He's essentially telling him what actually happened.
Indeed sir Taevar the army commander is. Though he does embellish what he actually did in the confrontation with the former earl of Lé Dic. Telling that he had a greater role to play. Even though he never even crossed swords with the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che.
But for all that, he more or less tells the truth to the baron about what happened.
Fuck! Five more! Raevar Harkonin thinks to himself after getting over the initial shock of what his army commander has just told him.
The baron who rules the fief across the border to the east. Shakes his head, as he's realised that he's lost a dozen of his landed knights this morning.
And that doesn't include the loss of the only ordered knight he had in his army at the beginning of the day.
Sir Dontast, whose death at the hands of the enemy nobleman, the Range Lord, sir Parvin Dé Gorveré. Signaled the start of the battle for castle Lé Dic.
"That's a dozen" murmurs baron Harkonin "M'lord?" asks sir Taevar the army commandeer "A dozen of my damn knights are dead Taevar!" shouts the head of the Harkonin family, who continues with "Parnak, Galbín and the others who went around to confront that green thing, that ork or whatever it is. Are all bloody dead!".
The army commander blinks in surprise when he hears that. Then he grimaces at the implications of having twelve less knights in the army, and in positions of power within the Harkonin fief.
"Hell" mutters sir Taevar "I know, tell me about it" sourly says the baron, who then looks away to their left, but more towards the moat.
He gestures that way, and says to sir Haleníc who waits quietly nearby "Have a squad leader or an officer dispatch those two if they're still alive, Haleníc".
"Yes m'lord" says the young landed knight "And have their bodies, as well as lord Milburn's body dumped into the moat".
"I'll personally make sure it's done m'lord" says Haleníc, who puts his spurs to his horse, and takes off, calling out orders as he rides to where the two nobleborn prisoners, who though barely are still alive, have been staked.
As the young knight from the north of his fief goes off to dispatch Jared Milburn and sir Galmot. And to make sure they along with the body of lord Kievar Milburn are tossed into the moat.
Baron Harkonin hops down off the side of the trebuchet, and looks at his army commander, who also happens to be his brother inlaw.
"Walk with me" quietly says the head of the Harkonin family, and he along with the commander of his army, followed by a pair of the baron's personal guards.
Head to the picket line where the baron has his mount tied up.
"This isn't going as i had expected Taevar" quietly says baron Harkonin, the nobleman who rules the fief across the border to the east, quietly continues with "We're going backwards more than anything".
Sir Taevar, who is just glad he escaped with his life, after confronting sir Percavelle Lé Dic. Tells the baron "M'lord more of our men are getting to the top of the wall" he waves in the direction of the battlements along the south wall of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for centuries, as he adds "You can see for yourself".
"They've yet to take a section of the wall Taevar" says the baron, who continues with "And i suspect it's the same around on the east side".
"Give it time m'lord" says the commander of the Harkonin army, who follows that up, with "It's just gone midday, we're wearing them out, they can't hold on for much longer".
Sir Taevar points to the west of castle Lé Dic, to the town of Massic, and he says "We've burnt down their town" he then adds "Well at least half of it".
"That may be so" says the head of the Harkonin family, who then adds "But a dozen of my knights are dead. That loud mouth lunatic Percavelle is still alive. And so is that big, bloody green monster, which is apparently an ork".
The baron shakes his head, and mutters "It's enough to make a man pray to the gods".
The army commander, who doesn't hear that, looks around then asks "Has your advisor returned yet".
Raevar Harkonin shakes his head no, then he says "He hasn't" the baron continues with "I suspect he'll return in a timely manner".
Sir Taevar hopes so. For though he doesn't particularly like the dark druid Palvarc. Infact hardly any of the nobility in the Harkonin fief are that enamoured with the baron's advisor.
But the army commander can see the benefit of the dark druid. Who if baron Harkonin gives him permission to do so. Could do some significant damage to a section of the walls of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
As an ostler gets the baron's horse from the tie line, and the two noblemen who are brother inlaws. Watch as young sir Haleníc has the bodies of the three nobleborn prisoners, lord Milburn, his grandson Jared Milburn, and the Lé Dic army commander, sir Galmot.
Taken down from the poles they've been staked to. And carried to the moat, where they'll be dumped.
Baron Harkonin quietly says to his army commander "Send everyone forward, any reserve squads we've been holding back. The rest of the war machine crews. Hell, even the camp followers. Everyone!" he then adds "I want as many as possible assaulting the walls of that monstrosity of a castle".
After the ostler hands the reins of his mount to him, the head of the Harkonin family gets up into the saddle, and looking down at his brother inlaw, he quietly tells his army commander "By the gods, and by the old ways. I want that castle taken no matter what".
The baron is about to turn his horse away, but gestures back towards the trade road, near the moat, and says "And kill that damn insane bastard Percavelle while you're at it" baron Raevar Harkonin briefly pauses before adding "No excuses Taevar" . . . . . .

The Homecoming 127.

The Quirks Of Battle...

"Here sexy horsey" murmurs Dorc da Orc as he looks at one of the dead knight's mounts, which is cropping at the spring grass at the edge of the moat about twenty yards from the large ork.
"Bads horsey" mutters the ork warleader when he takes a couple of steps towards the warhorse, and it gives an alarmed neigh, before it trots away to the south.
Dorkindle grunts in disappointment, then sighs as he watches the warhorse wander away. It's not the first one he's approached, and bolted from him.
Animals inherently know when there's a threat around. And the horses of the enemy knights he's killed. Definitely know they're in danger from the large ork. Who doesn't particularly want to kill them. He just wants to fuck them.
Shaking his head, and sourly smiling. The ork weaponsmith makes his way back alongside the bank of the moat, here on the east side of castle Lé Dic. Back to where he dispatched most of the knights from the Harkonin fief. Who rode around from the south side of the massive castle, to specifically attack him.
The big, burly ork who is from the southern polar region of the world. Who is sweating in the midday, springtime sun. Comes to a stop, and grunts as he looks at the enemy across the water from him.
"Fucken now what?" mutters the warleader of the ork race as he scratches his topknot, which he dyed his favourite colour of purple during the winter. As he looks across the moat at the enemy.
They're on two of their floating rafts. Which they've poled further to the southeast corner of the massive castle, on this, it's east side.
They're much further away than any of their fellow soldiers on this side of castle Lé Dic. Who are more to either side of the trade road that leads to the main gates here on the eastern side of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
They're down this way, for the simple reason that there's far less defenders upon the battlements towards the southeast corner of castle Lé Dic.
And though they've only got the single scaling ladder between their two rafts. One of which is loaded with nearly a dozen soldiers from the fief across the border to the east.
They've got that ladder up, and there's a trio of them starting to head up it. And when the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks looks up. He sees just a pair of townsmen, or they could be castle servants. Above the enemy on that section of the battlements.
"Fuck" growls Dorc da Orc when he takes a step forward, and slightly slips down the small bank, and his right boot goes into the water.
He quickly steps back, and hisses like an overgrown enraged cat, as he makes a clawing motion with his left hand down at the water, which he looks at with a mix of anger and disgust upon his broad, green, brutish looking face.
"Nasty water" mutters the large ork, as he lifts his right foot up off the ground, and shakes it, trying to get the drops of water off his big, black boot.
The ork who was named warleader of his race a number of years ago by lord Farque. Sighs as he'd preferred to kill the enemy up close.
For the simple reason killing someone up close, with either your own hands, or a handheld weapon, is so much more satisfying than using a ranged, or thrown weapon.
And the fact if he throws any of his weapons at the Harkonin soldiers on the two rafts opposite him. They're going to end up in the water. Which he's certainly never going to retrieve. And no one else will go and get them for him too.
"Fucken asseyshit" growls Dorkindle at the prospect of some of his weapons at the bottom of the moat.
The big, burly ork who sees quite of few of the enemy on the two rafts looking over at him, wondering what he'll do.
Sourly smiles as he takes one of his throwing axes from the front of his weapon harness.
The large ork looks at it with fondness, as it's one he's had for many years.
As it was made by his friend, the ork smith. No Legs Munga. Who is called that, for the simple reason, he has no legs.
"Damn" murmurs Dorc da Orc in disappointment at the possibility that the throwing axe he's had with him for more than twenty years, which has been with him since before he was forced into exile from his homeland, the Ork Range. Will likely end up at the bottom of the moat, of all places, castle Lé Dic.
'You dumb fat fuck, you don't have to use your own fucking shit', the ork warleader thinks to himself, who then glares down at the skull of his mother, that's tied to his belt.
His 'Mother' has been fairly quiet during the battle for castle Lé Dic. Not saying much, apart from the usual, like hoping he gets himself killed. Or even better, he falls in the moat, and gets himself wet. Which is worse than death in the eyes of all ork kind.
"Shut your fucken whore mouth" mutters the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. Who he killed, which led to his exile from the Ork Range.
It was meant to be death. But the intervention of his mentor, the weaponsmaster Kull. As well as his friends, the smith, No Legs Munga. And the shaman, Onka Donka.
Who took it upon themselves to exile him, instead of letting the rest of the tribe kill him.
Which has led him to here, so many years later. Standing on the edge of the bank of the moat on the east side of castle Lé Dic. Annoyed that his 'Mother' has spoken to him. Concerning the potential loss of a number of his weapons.
"Silly fucken cuntbag" mutters the ork warleader, who after a final glare at the large ork skull tied to his belt. He must admit that she's right. Not that he'd admit that to anyone, ever.
Grunting as he returns his ork made throwing axe to the front of his weapon harness.
Dorkindle turns around and frowns, which looks like an angry scowl more than anything else.
Then he grins and murmurs "Get some" and he trots over to the nearest of the landed knights from the Harkonin fief he killed.
There he collects the dead nobleman's weapons. Then he hurries to the next dead knight from the fief across the border to the east.
The big, burly ork chuckles as he gathers all the weapons of the knights he killed. Apart from the two who ended up in the moat.
One he knocked in after hitting him with a hammer. And the other who he picked up, and threw into the water. To drown, as that particular enemy knight wore the most ridiculous looking heavy iron armour the ork warleader has ever seen.
With an arm full of human made, and human sized weapons. Dorc da Orc makes his way back to the edge of the moat.
Where he dumps all the weapons he's collected, onto the ground. He reaches down and picks up the long handled warhammer. Which could pass for one of his throwing hammers in his large hands,
"Get some!" shouts the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks as he throws the dead knight's long handled hammer at the enemy soldiers across the moat, on the two rafts up against the east wall of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for centuries.
"Got any more to drop on them?" asks Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy as he stands upon the battlements above the east gate of castle Lé Dic.
"Not here, but further along the wall we have" says the Lé Dic soldier the spy Tanith is talking to.
As the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae reloads his crossbow, the soldier he's conversing with gestures in both directions along the parapet, then he says "More further out, where they haven't tried to gain the top of the wall as much".
Dalinvardél or Dalin as he's more commonly referred to by the rest of the group. nods his hooded head, then he quietly says "Pity they can't try to gain the top of the wall, where we want them to".
The soldier, one of the few experienced squad leaders in the Lé Dic army, who didn't crossover into the Harkonin fief with the rest of the fief's forces. Waves southwards along the parapet, and tells the elven spy who is in command of the defence along the east side of castle Lé Dic "There's a few of them on a couple of rafts towards the corner of the castle" he then adds "We don't exactly have a lot of men that way".
"I know" says Dalinvardél Tanith who leans forward, and looks around the merlon to their right, then after seeing what's happening down towards that end of the wall.
To be specific, across the moat, opposite that section of east wall that's under attack from a couple of rafts loaded with soldiers in baron Harkonin's army.
He adds in a slightly dry tone of voice "It's being taken care of". The experienced squad leader leans forward and looks around the merlon too, then he says "Oh" when he spots who is on the otherside of the moat opposite those enemy who are on a pair of rafts towards the southeast corner of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for many generations.
"Send two we can spare down to there" orders the elf who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses in his homeland of Alínlae.
The spy Tanith who has just pointed in the direction of the southeast corner of castle Lé Dic then adds "Just in case one or two of them tops the wall down that way".
"Yes sir" says the squad leader, who then looks quickly around to see who they can spare from around this part of the parapet, to help bolster the defences along the top of the wall, towards the southeast corner of the massive castle.
As he does, Dalin continues to look around the merlon to the right. And after he shoots off the quarrel in his crossbow at any enemy soldier getting on a raft directly opposite the east gates of castle Lé Dic.
He looks towards the southeast, to where he sees the large green figure of Dorc da Orc standing upon the bank across the moat.
The elven spy who hails from the principality of Alínlae, wryly smiles as he watches as the ork warleader picks up weapon after weapon from the pile at his feet.
And throws them across the moat, at the Harkonin soldiers on the two rafts towards the southeast corner of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
And though a weapon here or there, misses those enemy soldiers the large ork is trying to hit. Most of them do hit the soldiers in baron Harkonin's army who are on those two rafts on the water, at the base of the wall, towards the southeast corner tower of castle Lé Dic.
"Ha! Get some ya cunt!" calls out Dorc da Orc with a chuckle, after he throws a sword across the moat, which smashes into one of the enemy soldiers on one of the two rafts the large ork is targeting.
The ork warleader who has been throwing the weapons he's gathered. Predominantly at the raft with more of the Harkonin soldiers.
Picks up a longsword, and biffs it across the moat. At the other raft, the one that has the scaling ladder on it.
Dorkindle grunts in disgust, and mutters "Fucken shitballs" as the sword misses everything, and hits the wall instead.
The big, burly ork from the bottom of the world, picks up another weapon. This time a broadsword. And he pulls his right arm back like he's going to hurl a throwing knife.
Which is essentially what he does. As he biffs the broadsword across the sixty foot wide moat.
And though most of those on the raft he's targeting now. Are lying flat on their raft. Those holding the scaling ladder for those climbing it. Are either kneeling, or standing as they keep the ladder as steady as possible, against the face of the east wall of castle Lé Dic.
"Get some!" shouts the large ork in a triumphant tone as the broadsword he just threw. Smashes into one of the four Harkonin soldiers holding the scaling ladder.
It takes off the side of that enemy soldiers face, and head. Knocking him back off the raft, into the wall. Before he slips into the water. Obviously dead, as he's missing part of his head.
The death of that soldier from the fief across the border to the east. Had the desired effect that the ork weaponsmith was looking for.
The scaling ladder becoming unstable, as it slides a bit to the side. Causing those climbing it to shout out in alarm.
"Dorc gonna fucken kill 'em all" declares the warleader of the ork race, who picks up an axe, and a shortsword. Throwing them one after the other, one from each hand.
The large ork, who is running out of purloined weapons to throw. Grins in satisfaction, as the axe slams into the back of one those climbing the scaling ladder. Who is about twenty five feet up.
Who falls and drops, barely missing the raft, and those on it. Many of whom are splashed with water, when he hits the moat.
Meanwhile, the shortsword. Misses it's intended target. One of the Harkonin soldiers holding the scaling ladder.
Nevertheless, it has the desired effect the ork weaponsmith is wanting.
Having the soldier he threw it at. Ducking as he lets go of the ladder he's been helping to keep steady.
Knocking sideways, one of the other soldiers, who has come forward to help hold the scaling ladder as steady as possible.
That leaves just two others holding onto the ladder, which is already a bit off kilter. Two of them, just simply isn't enough to keep the scaling ladder, steady and still.
So it slides sideways along the face of the east wall of castle Lé Dic.
Picking up momentum fairly quickly. Then as it slides sideways, those two who are still climbing it. Jump off, and hit the water.
Before the scaling ladder crashes down upon the other floating raft. The one with more of the Harkonin soldiers upon it.
Dorc da Orc chortles as the fallen ladder smashes down onto the other raft. Knocking off a few of those soldiers on that particularly raft. And others to jump clear of it, and into the water. As the scaling ladder, smashes apart the other raft. Here, towards the southeast corner of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
"Hehehe told ya, me gonna take care of them cunts" says the big, burly ork, as there's just a few of the enemy soldiers on the raft that's still whole.
While the others are all in the water, as is their broken scaling ladder.
Dorkindle picks up the last sword at his feet, and biffs it across the moat at those few of the enemy on the remaining raft.
He grunts as he misses, then Dorc da Orc looks around, and frowns then mutters "Fucken now what?". As he wonders what to do.
Then the large ork, shrugs his massive shoulders, and starts heading back towards the trade road. Where the bulk of the enemy Harkonin soldiers, who aren't already on the moat, are waiting to get on a raft as the assault upon castle Lé Dic continues . . . . . .

The Homecoming 126.

Up The Wall...

He slips and almost goes down, almost falling off the raft he and some of the others are on.
"You okay?" asks Tramel, a soldier he just met today, who hails from the very east of the Harkonin fief. Who helps him to stand, as those holding the ladder, struggle to keep it steady against the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
"Right you lot, start heading up after those two" says a soldier who has taken over command of those on this raft, and the one further to the right, since there's no squad leaders with them.
He looks up the ladder, and watches the two who are already on it, heading up, rung after rung, trying to get to the top of the wall on this side of the massive castle.
He looks back behind him, to across the moat. To where the road on the south side of castle Lé Dic is.
He faintly grimaces, and is glad he's not back there. As there's an enemy knight back there. Who the others have identified as the famous sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
Who has killed a number of their own knights. And is now killing those common born soldiers like themselves. Who have been ordered to attack him.
From what little he knows of battle. And he knows little. As this is only his second. The first battle he was in, was when the Lé Dic army was wiped out, back across the border in baron Harkonin's fief.
And he was at the rear, amongst the camp followers. And didn't see any of the action.
But what little he does know of combat from he's witnessed this morning. Is that he doubts anyone will even touch the famous sir Percavelle. Who is hitting the baron's soldiers, and sending them flying through the air.
"Magic" says one of the others on the raft, who spits in disgust into the water, as he too looks back across the moat. And watches the heavily armoured knight who is the former earl of Lé Dic. Who dispatches anyone who gets close to him.
"Right you three, up you go" says the soldier in charge who looks at him, and Tramel, as well as the soldier who just spat into the water.
"You get up onto the parapet up there, and you kill as many as those unbelieving Lé Dic bastards as you can!" loudly adds the soldier in charge of them on the raft, as well as the raft next to their's.
The common born soldier who looked back at sir Percavelle Lé Dic and spat into the water. Is the first one up. Followed by Tramel. Then he goes up after him.
Glancing back, and he sees the soldier in charge give him a nod of encouragement. Before turning to help another soldier onboard the raft. Who has swimmed over from a raft, that was put out from the bank across the moat. Before it was sunk by a shot from an enemy ballista above the south gate of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
He looks up, and briefly pauses as he waits for Tramel to go up a couple of rungs. He starts going up the wooden rungs too.
As he does, he sees Tramel's boots, and legs shaking. From the scaling ladder, which isn't exactly steady. Or from fright. He's not too sure.
What he is sure of. Is that he's shaking too. And it's definitely from fright, as well as the unsteady ladder.
Which he feels momentarily push away from the south wall of castle Lé Dic. Before it settles back down against the face of it.
He doesn't look up. Where he guesses the enemy are trying to push the ladder off the wall. Besides, he doesn't look up, for the simple reason that Tramel and the others on the ladder above. Block his view of what's happening right above them.
He could swing out to the side, to get a better view to the top of the ladder.
But, he's definitely not doing that. He's having trouble going slowly up one rung, after another.
He's barely above those on the raft below, and the soldier in charge of them, is yelling at those further up the scaling ladder, to hurry up and to top the wall.
"Watch out!" shouts a voice from above which he recognises as the soldier who spat into the water. Who is directly above Tramel.
He flattens himself against the ladder, and hugs it to him. And holds it for dear life and closes his eyes.
He hears a scream, and something, someone really. Passes by him, to his right.
He opens his eyes, and breathes a sigh of relief when he hears a splash. He looks down, and sees one of the two soldiers who were further up the ladder. Now in the water, holding his bloody and ruined face.
It looks like he can't swim. As he struggles to keep a float, and try to get to one of the two rafts that are fairly close to one another.
And though the soldier in the water is wearing very little in the way of armour. Like a lot of the common born soldiers on both sides of the battle.
He's finding it difficult to keep a float, as he splashes around with one hand, while holding his bloody face with the other.
He shakes his head slightly, and looks away from the soldier struggling in the water. And resumes his climb up the scaling ladder to the top of the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
He puts one shaking hand on the wooden rung above him. Followed by his other hand. He waits a moment as Tramel goes further up the ladder. Then he pulls himself up, grasping the next rung with his left hand. Then he blinks as something skims across the wall directly infront of him.
It takes him a moment to realise it was a quarrel from a crossbow. He looks away to the right along the battlements, and sees about forty feet further along that way, an enemy crossbowman pull back behind a merlon. Most likely to reload his weapon.
He blinks in surprise as he realises that someone has just tried to purposely kill him. Something that hasn't happened yet in the battle, until just now.
And as he holds onto the ladder. He wonders if he'll even get to the battlements above. Or if he'll die like so many others have done so this fine spring morning, in the battle for the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for centuries.
He continues on up the scaling ladder, glancing to the right. And the other ladder that's up about fifteen feet away. Where those on the nearby raft, have just started up the ladder that they've put up against the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
He slightly shakes his head in disbelief as he sees one nibble soldier, fair race up that scaling ladder.
He's the first of the baron's soldiers up that particular ladder. And he's the first one to be killed climbing up that ladder too.
He blinks as the fast moving soldier on the next ladder looks his way, and grins as he passes him by while scampering up that ladder.
Until he falls off the next few rungs, with most of his head missing, and the rest of it a bloody, pulpy mess. When a large rock is pushed off the battlements above and hits that soldier right on top of the head.
As that near headless soldier, falls and slams into the raft below. Sending a couple of soldiers on it, into the water. And the scaling ladder to slide to one side, before those holding it. Catch it, and set up against the face of the south wall again before it has a chance to drop into the water.
He briefly let's go of the ladder he's on, and touches his head. And wonders if the pot helm he wears will be able to withstand a rock, or anything else pushed off the battlements above.
He rather doubts it as he grabs onto the rung infront of him again, with his free hand. Takes a breath and resumes his climb to the top of the wall.
And though the top is about fifty feet above the water. He never really realised how high that is, until he nears the top and glances first up, when the soldier who spat into the water back down on the raft, shouts "He's on the top!".
Then next, he looks down and sees how far he and the others have climbed. He was shaking before, now he's fear quaking in his boots as holds onto the scaling ladder as he see how high above the moat he is.
He looks up, when directly above him Tramel yells at the soldier above him "Get up and help him!".
He looks up, when Tramel looks down and says to him "Hurry lad, there's not that many of them up there by the sounds of it".
He nods his head, and though he's shaking, as is Tramel above him. The two of the them hurry up the last handful of rungs.
As the soldier who went up first out of the three of them. Almost jumps up to the top of the wall, to join the other Harkonin soldier who has made it up onto the battlements, here on the south side of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for many generations.
He climbs another rung, and reaches down with one hand, and draws a dagger. They all have short weapons, daggers or hand axes for the most part. As well as their main weapon. Which is usually a shortsword. Those with more experience, who have been in plenty of battles. Might have a two handed axe, or a hammer.
It's only squad leaders and officers who have longswords and broadswords. Like knights do. As they've trained to use those weapons.
While most of the common born soldiers like him. Those who are conscripts, levies really. Only have the most basic of training with weapons. Usually teaching them not stab themselves, or their fellow soldiers in baron Harkonin's army.
And to swing their weapons at the enemy. Who will always be those in the Lé Dic army. It's just the way it is in this part of the kingdom of Druvic.
Keeping a tight grasp on his dagger in his right hand. Which he's been told, will serve him better at the top of the wall than his shortsword. Well, at least until he's standing on the parapet.
He heads up the next two rungs, when he sees Tramel top the wall, and disappear over it. As there's shouting and yelling from the battlements directly above him.
He goes up the next rung, there's only one more. And he needs to stand on it, to haul himself up onto the top of the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
He quickly looks down, rather wishing he didn't as he sees how high up he is. Basically forty five feet above the water. And he sees that others are making their way up the scaling ladder he's on now.
He looks back up, takes a deep breath. And climbs onto the last rung, and with most of his body leaning against the top bit of the wall. He reaches up and over to grab onto very top of the wall, so he can pull himself up, and over.
Leaning over the top of the wall, someone grabs him and pulls him up and over. The next thing he knows, he's falling. Not far, about three or four feet, and all of a sudden, he finds himself lying on the parapet of the south wall of the massive castle.
"Get up youngster!" shouts Tramel, who must of hauled him over the top of the wall.
He blinks as he finds the older soldier from the east of the Harkonin fief, standing infront of him, looking back down at him.
He scrambles to his feet, then spins around, when Tramel yells "Lookout, behind you!". He instinctively shoves his right hand out as he spins around.
He stands there in shock, with his dagger in the guts of an enemy soldier. An enemy soldier, with a dazed look on his face, and a head wound, that's bleeding profusely.
He yanks his dagger free, out of the enemy soldier's stomach, and boiled leather armour.
The Lé Dic soldier doesn't say anything as he falls down. He looks at the enemy lying on the parapet. Not quite believing that's it's the first person he's ever killed.
He looks up, and seeing none of the enemy that way. Well none who are particularly close. He spins back around. And finds Tramel hurrying to help the other soldier. The one who spat into the water, when he mentioned magic when they were watching the enemy knight, sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
The Harkonin soldier who got up onto the battlements before the three of them. Is down, with what looks to be a townsman, or a castle servant. Rolling across the parapet, stabbing one another with their daggers.
Seeing Tramel throw his dagger at an enemy soldier, then drawing his sword.
He draws his shortsword too. After he puts his bloody dagger back into it's sheath.
As Tramel and the other soldier face off against a pair of Lé Dic soldiers. He stops and stabs his shortsword down into the back of the castle servant.
He then rolls him off the Harkonin soldier. Who he finds dead on the parapet, from a number of stab wounds. Especially to the face and throat.
He hurries forward to help the other two, who he notices are trying to back the two enemy soldiers towards a nearby set of steps. For if they hold the top of the steps. Then they along with those coming up the two ladders that are close to one another. Will be able to hold a section of the wall. Once they do, it'll be easier for the baron's men to take this side of castle Lé Dic when they've got a firm foothold upon the south wall battlements.
Suddenly the soldier who spat into the water when they were on the raft on the moat. Yelps in fright, when one of the enemy, shoulders him aside.
And though that Lé Dic soldier is dropped by a sword blow to the head. The Harkonin soldier who hit him as he was shouldered aside.
Falls from the back of the parapet, to the courtyard, nearly forty five feet below. He hits with what can only be described as an audible splat.
He shakes his head in disbelief, as he never even learnt the name of the one who spat into the water.
"You bastard" growls Tramel. He turns when he hears that, and sees that the older soldier in the Harkonin army has downed the other Lé Dic soldier. Slashing open the enemy soldier's throat. More by luck, than by skill. Still, the same result. As the Lé Dic soldier falls to his knees, then flat on his face, as blood sprays from the slash across his throat.
"Lad, hold those steps for the others" says Tramel who then groans. It's then that he sees that there's a long dagger is in the side of the older soldier.
As Tramel staggers back against a merlon, he hurries to the older soldier. Who plops down onto the parapet and sighs.
He reaches down, to see if he should pull the long dagger out of the side of Tramel. But when he looks at the face of the soldier from the east of the Harkonin fief. He sees the older soldier slightly gasp, then his eyes close, and his head tilts to one side, then he slumps to that side, dead.
He gets up, and after looking at Tramel one last time, then he looks back, and seeing a pair of hands come over the top of the wall, where he and Tramel and others came up onto the battlements.
He moves to the nearby steps, which are only about ten feet away. He gets there, and looks down the steps and sees a couple of townsmen or castle servants near the bottom of the steps.
Looking up at him a little apprehensively as he stands there with his shortsword in hand.
Then as he hears further behind him the next of baron Harkonin's soldiers climbing up onto the top of the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
He looks along the parapet, in the direction of the middle of the battlements, above the gates on this side of the massive castle.
He blinks in surprise as he sees a figure standing about fifty feet away, looking in this direction. Someone just over six foot tall. In dark, hardened, and rather expensive looking leather armour. Not wearing a tabbard of the Lé Dic fief.
Standing with what he at first he thinks is a stave or a staff in their hands. It takes a moment to realise that it's a longbow in the hands of the individual looking at him.
Who sees has an arrow to his longbow, and has pulled it back, and drawn a bead upon him.
Something punches into him, into his diaphragm. And he's picked up off his feet, and is flung back a good, six or seven feet before he hits the parapet.
He lies there, and tries to take a breath. But is unable to, he slightly lifts his head. And finds that there's a substantial sized arrow in his sternum.
It must be near a yard in length, with at least a third of it in him, if the rest of it sticking out of him is anything to go by.
The back of his head drops back down onto the parapet, and he looks up at the clear spring sky above castle Lé Dic as he gurgles his last, and bloody breath before he dies.
Riley Hait the mercenary ranger puts another arrow to his elven made longbow. Draws back, and let's the shaft fly.
It takes the Harkonin soldier who has just climbed to the top of the wall, in the side of the neck, sending him flying backwards off the battlements to the moat below.
The ranger Hait briefly glances at the first Harkonin soldier he shot. The young one near the steps leading down to the courtyard below.
Then he orders a couple of nearby Lé Dic soldiers, and a trio of townsmen, to head that way along the parapet, to repell the enemy who trying to gain a foothold upon that section of the wall. That at this moment, is empty except for the dead bodies . . . . . .

The Homecoming 125.

Across The Battle...

Swaying away from a blade swung at him, sir Percavelle Lé Dic shouts "Huzzah!" in a triumphant tone of voice as he slams his swordcatcher into the faceplate of sir Hamdell's full helm.
The former earl of Lé Dic rips the four inch long iron prongs out of the visor of the enemy knight's helm. Almost ripping it off sir Hamdell's head, before the knight from fief to the east drops to the road dead, with blood spraying from his ruined face.
The heavily armoured knight who is the uncle of the lady Linara Lé Dic, steps back from the enemy nobleman he's just killed.
Then looking ahead, the former paladin says in a cheerful tone "You seem to be running out of knights there Taevar old chap" the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che shakes his full helmed head as he continues with "A poor showing on your part if i do say so. Tis not one you would want for a commander of an army".
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic flips up the faceplate of his helm, and he grins as he says "Then we all know the only reason why thou is Raevar's army commander, is because you did bed that ugly troll like sister of his, whom you ended up marrying" the former knight of the first class then dryly adds "I thought my marriage to Marsaé was frought with danger" he continues with "Tis nothing compared to what you have to face every time you mount that ugly trollop that is your wife".
Seething in anger as he looks at the grinning former earl of Lé Dic. The Harkonin army commander sir Taevar goes to run and attack the uncle of lady Linara Lé Dic. But stops himself as he looks at the all the other nobleborn knights from the fief across the border to the east, who confronted sir Percavelle with him.
They all lie dead on the road here on the south side of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
Baron Harkonin's army commander glares at the former earl of Lé Dic who with ease, dispatched five of his fellow landed knights from the fief to the east.
And though they tried to attack the famous knight at once. And kind of achieved at times. They barely scratched the armour of the ordered knight.
Sir Taevar looks with disgust at the two weapons that sir Percavelle holds in his gauntleted hands. One a swordcatcher, or sometimes called a swordbreaker.
And the other, a strange looking weapon that looks like a long iron poinard, that has a lance like butt, as a hilt and grip.
Both weapons one would associate with a mercenary. Not a nobleborn knight. Especially a landed one from the rual, and conservative east of the kingdom of Druvic.
With a slow shake of his head, the Harkonin army commander backs up.
"Dost thou flee Taevar?" asks sir Percavelle Lé Dic in a cheerful manner, the nobleborn knight who is a member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che continues with "Such a disappointment you are Taevar. A thoroughly useless commander at arms, and a coward to boot".
The grinning former earl of Lé Dic then says "Slinking away after one little scuffle" the ordered knight looks around then says to the Harkonin army commander who is backing away "What dost thy men think of such a commander?" he then adds "Not much i would say".
The former knight of the first class briefly pauses, then he says "But i wonder what that self loathing cretin Raevar will say when you slink back to him with your tail between your legs, like the cowardly cur that you are".
Baron Harkonin's army commander snarls in outrage, then sir Taevar shouts "You pompous ass!" he follows that with "Do us all a favour and die!".
Then as he backs away along the road here on the south side of castle Lé Dic. Sir Taevar looks around at those Harkonin soldiers who are nearby, who have kept back from where the knights have been fighting.
After all, in a kingdom such as Druvic. When enemy noblemen fight. The common born soldier keeps well out of the way.
It's only when they're confronted by an enemy knight. Will a soldier of common birth, fight them in battle.
"Attack him!" shouts the Harkonin army commander, pointing his sword at the former earl of Lé Dic as he continues to back away along the road, heading further away from the moat, and the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che. Who is just as deadly and destructive in battle, as he's always been.
With resigned looks upon their faces. Those Harkonin soldiers who are nearby, who have yet to get on the water, to get over to the south wall of the massive castle that they're assaulting.
Move towards the former earl of the Lé Dic fief after being ordered to do so by their commander.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's often commonly referred to, by the rest of the group.
Sourly smiles as he watches sir Taevar hurriedly back away along the road. While those nearby enemy soldiers approach him.
"And dost the coward flees back to his master" murmurs the former paladin with a shake of his full helm head as the Harkonin army commander, turns and basically runs away down the road.
Percy sighs, then drops his swordcatcher and the long, iron armour piercer into the heavy canvas bag at his feet.
Then he slaps closes his faceplate with a gauntleted hand. Then the heavily armoured knight grins, as he takes what looks like a long dagger, or a very shortsword. From the left hip on his belt.
He flips it in the air, catching it again by the hilt as he continues to grin. "Now who wishes to be first then chaps?" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic to the enemy soldiers, who now rush him.
I guess it will be you then, the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che thinks to himself, who sidesteps to one side, and thrusts the small sword forward at a Harkonin soldier who has just jabbed a short spear at him. Sir Percavelle Lé Dic hits him with the magical sword of knockdown.
Up on the south wall battlements of castle Lé Dic. Riley Hait the mercenary ranger rolls his eyes, and wryly smiles as he sees an enemy soldier across the moat, on the road. Go flying backwards with force, smashing into two of his fellow soldiers from the fief across the border to the east, before hitting the ground thirty feet from where he was just standing.
"Someone's using that damn sword of their's now" dryly murmurs Riley Hait the mercenary ranger in the hordes dialect of the southern tundra as he watches sir Percavelle Lé Dic down on the road, on the otherside of the moat from the south wall of his family's ancestral home.
The ranger Hait who just witnessed the former earl of Lé Dic dispatch five enemy knights quickly and with ease. Shakes his head as the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che is being surrounded by those enemy soldiers near the road. Who have yet to get on the rafts that are crossing the moat to the south wall of the massive castle.
The mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen knows the enemy won't surround the former paladin for long. Not with him now using his magical sword. The sword of knockdown.
Harkonin soldiers go flying backwards one at a time. Smashing into those further behind them.
While others go tumbling sideways through the air when the former earl of Lé Dic hits them from the side with his sword of knockdown.
One of them even goes straight up into air, when the heavily armoured knight ducks down, and slams the sword of knockdown up into the groin of that Harkonin soldier.
Who goes flipping end over end as he goes up more than thirty feet into the air. Before he comes back down, crashing into two of his fellow soldiers in the army of baron Harkonin.
The mercenary ranger who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who by circumstances beyond his control, just so happens to find himself inhabiting the body of one, Riley Hait.
Takes one of the new arrows that's been handed out to him and the other archers along the south wall battlements. Puts it to his elven made longbow. Draws the weapon back, and lets the shaft fly.
The arrow slams into the back of a Harkonin soldier who runs at sir Percavelle Lé Dic from behind.
"Push them off!" shouts the ranger Hait as another scaling ladder goes up against the face of the wall, this one further to the left, or west of the gates here along the south side of the massive castle.
Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman who figures it must be late in the morning now, looks for another target. And spots one, when he sees an enemy soldier across on the otherside of the moat. Has loaded a crossbow, and has lifted it up.
And is waiting for the opportune time to shoot the former earl of Lé Dic. Who is surrounded for the most part. Though not for long, if he keeps hitting the Harkonin soldiers close to him, with his sword of knockdown.
The human ranger who was raised and trained by some of the elven warders in the principality of Envadarlen, notches another arrow. And draws it back as he takes aim. The ranger Hait shoots off the arrow, sending it flying towards the enemy soldier with the crossbow who is waiting for a clear shot to shoot sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
"Got him" murmurs Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy as he hits an enemy soldier with a bolt he shoots from his crossbow. The elf from the principality of Alínlae, is making his way along the top of the east wall of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for a number of centuries.
The spy Tanith rolls his eyes as he looks to where Dorc da Orc is across the otherside of the moat. The large ork is more towards the southeast corner of castle Lé Dic.
There he's fighting a number of knights from the fief across the border to the east.
And as Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly referred to, by the rest of the group. Suspected would happen, the ork warleader is having little trouble dealing with those landed knight from the Harkonin fief, who have ridden around from the south side of castle Lé Dic.
"Watch out for those down there!" calls out the elven spy who points to a couple of rafts being poled down the moat, towards the southeast corner of the massive castle, near where Dorkindle is fighting the enemy knights.
There's less defenders upon the top of the wall in that direction. And the spy Tanith sends a couple of townsmen that way to help out those down that end of the parapet.
Then Dalin glances back across the moat to where the large ork is. The elf who was once in the service of one of the more prominent noble houses in his homeland of Alínlae. Winces as he sees what the ork weaponsmith has just done.
"Cuntface" growls Dorc da Orc who has just been stabbed in the left arm with a sword. He whips his arm to the side. Yanking the sword, which is still in the fleshy part of his upper arm. Out of the hands of the enemy knight who has just stabbed him.
"Get some!" shouts the large ork who then brings his axe down, across the front of the noblemen infront of him.
The axe cuts down through the black, beak like faceplate of sir Amarnéré. The knight from the Harkonin fief, who is in a suit of white plate armour. With the exception of his helm, which is all black. Falls backwards, minus the front of his full helm, including the beak like visor. Not to mention the front of his head.
Dorkindle chortles, then says "Told ya, you a fucken cuntface" as he looks down at the dead landed knight from the fief across the border to the east "A fucken bloody cunt too" adds the ork warleader with a laugh.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then grunts, as well as grimaces, as rips the sword out of his arm.
He then throws it at one of the two remaining knights to of confronted him. It's the one who has staggered his way alongside the moat. After being thrown from the saddle, after his horse was killed by a spear the large ork threw at it.
Sir Timack doesn't even see the sword that's been biffed at him, come his way. But he certainly feels it, as it hits him right in the middle of the breastplate as he's turning this way.
He's picked up off his feet, and flung backwards a good dozen feet, and hits the edge of the moat with a splash.
He wasn't killed by the impact of the sword hitting him, as it didn't go through his armour. But he's doing a fine job of dying now, by way of drowning. As he starts to sink in his heavy armour. More dazed than he was when he came staggering this way.
There's only one of the landed knights left from the Harkonin fief who came around from the south side of castle Lé Dic to confront the big, burly ork.
Sir Parnak, who slowly backs away as he grips his long handled hammer in his gauntleted hands.
The noblemen from the fief across the border to the east watches as the large ork steps over the dead body of sir Galbín. That knight's coppertone armour is badly dented in a number of places. Most of them caused by the fists of the large, green, creature. That sir Parnak now definitely believes is an ork.
As he backs away, the landed knight who led the others around to this side of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for generations.
Steps around the dead sir Lameré. Who had a broken arm earlier when he was propelled backwards off his horse when the shield he had up as he was riding. Was hit by a hammer thrown by the big, burly ork.
Sir Lameré now lies there on his side on the ground with not just a broken arm. But also two broken legs. Not to mention the spear that's completely through him.
A spear that's punched through his steel breastplate. Through his body, and out through his steel backplate.
Until he saw it, sir Parnak never thought a spear could go through heavy, steel plate so easily. As if it was shot like a missile from a ballista.
That was the force in which the spear went through sir Lameré, who was already down at the time after his legs were broken by a hammer that was flung low at him by the large ork.
Now sir Parnak finds himself alone against the big, burly ork. The closest help to him, is a some of the baron's soldiers on a couple of rafts on the water. Trying to put up their scaling ladders down this end of the long east wall of castle Lé Dic.
The rotund knight in the heavy iron plate armour gulps in fear. As the large ork, who not just has a face covered in blood. But also has blood splattered up and down the front of his body. Nearly all of it nobleborn blood from the dead knights in baron Harkonin's army he's just killed.
Starts stalking him, with an insane looking grin upon blood smeared face.
"You'sa gonna die motherfucker" chortles Dorc da Orc as he walks towards the landed knight wearing the heavy iron plate armour. The large ork reaches down and picks up the hammer he threw earlier that broke the legs of one of the enemy knights.
And as one of the dead knight's mounts runs by thirty yards behind him. Dorkindle throws his hammer at the retreating enemy nobleman, who is backing up towards the moat which is behind him.
Sir Parnak ducks, swinging his long handled hammer to protect himself as he does so. He probably shouldn't of swung his hammer. As he would of avoided the hammer that was just thrown at him anyway.
For as it turns out, he swings his long handled hammer into the path of the thrown hammer, hitting it. The force of the impact knocks him down, and knocks his long handled hammer out of his gauntleted hands with a violent shudder.
Sir Parnak winces at the shock he felt going up his arms at his hammer getting knocked out of his hands. And as he goes to get up, he looks up, and finds the big burly ork standing over him.
"Going somewhere cunt?" asks the warleader of ork race, who stands on the enemy knight's hammer as the nobleman tries to grab it.
Sir Parnak yanks a long dagger from his belt, and rams it into the left calf of the large ork standing over him.
The ork weaponsmith growls after getting stabbed in the leg, he bends down and punches the nobleborn knight.
"Ouchies" mutters Dorkindle as he shakes his right hand after punching the prone knight in the breastplate.
And though he dented the heavy iron plate. It's no where near the size of a dent he would normally punch into heavy steel plate armour.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of the orks, reaches down and rips out the long dagger that's in his left leg, he throws it away. Then he grabs the prone knight on the ground, who is trying to roll away.
"Na cunt, me got you" says Dorc da Orc as he holds the nobleborn knight by the left arm, and starts dragging him towards the moat, which isn't all that far away.
The ork warleader is grinning as he makes his way to the water, while sir Parnak tries to struggle free. To no avail, as the large ork has a firm grip upon his left arm.
The ork weaponsmith who hails from the southern polar region of the world. Briefly hisses in anger and disgust as he stops at the water's edge.
Then he picks up the nobleman he's got a hold of, and tells him "Time for you to go for a little swim ya cunt".
"No!" shouts sir Parnak in panic, as he's picked up off the ground, then lifted up above the head of the big, burly ork.
The rotund knight, who weighs a fair bit to begin with. And is a hell of lot heavier as he's in his full suit of iron plate.
Tries to struggle out of the grip of the large ork, who holds him up above his head. Then sir Parnak feels himself thrown through the air, out across the moat.
There's a moment of brief silence, then he screams in absolute panic. Just before he hits the surface of the water, about fifteen feet out from the edge of the moat.
Dorc da Orc chuckles, then murmurs "Dumb fucken cunt, wearing that dumb fucken armour" as the enemy knight in the suit of heavy iron plate armour sinks quickly below the surface of the water, and even quicker out of sight as he sinks like the proverbial stone.
There's a wide grin upon his face as he sees the panicked ripples upon the surface of the water. Which doesn't last long, as that enemy knight isn't going to resurface anytime soon, or for that matter, ever.
Then the warleader of the ork race grunts as he looks across the moat, to a pair of rafts, that have a number of enemy soldiers on them.
"Now how me s'pose to get to them cunts and kill 'em?" mutters Dorkindle as he watches those enemy soldiers across the moat at the base of the east wall of castle Lé Dic . . . . . .

The Homecoming 124.

Fight Or Flight...

The dark druid Palvarc hits the ground and rolls. And narrowly avoids the white ball of strange energy, that passes to his right.
The advisor to baron Harkonin, who makes sure to keep a hold of his staff.
Looks up as the short fellow wearing the odd conical shaped hat disappears from sight again.
The practitioner of magic from the fief to the east, looks away to his right, and sees the ship's sorcerer running across the hilltop.
The strange white ball of energy coming down from the late morning sky, hits the ground just behind the officer from the downed airship. And it dissipates without doing any damage.
The dark druid's staff swings towards the ship's sorcerer. Baron Harkonin's advisor, who assumes the officer from the warship that lies near the base of the hill, is about to cast.
Blinks in surprise as the sorcerer in the kingdom's aircorp. Comes to a halt, then topples over sideways, and hits the ground.
Helbe the elven thief shifts away after knocking out the sorcerer who joined the dark druid upon the hilltop.
The blurred and shielded elven magic user, shifts to where he's taken Shur Kee the monk. On the deck of the downed frigate lying at the base of the hill.
Looking at a few of the survivors who are climbing down off the airship that he brought down. The elven masterthief sees that the second of the ship's boats, is putting down near the first. Which is about forty yards behind the downed frigate that's part of the personal fleet of the lord high constable of Druvic.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, glances at the short, statured monk who is blurred to everyone else.
And he notices that the jade shard he wears on a silver chain around his neck, is no longer glowing green.
"You okay?" quietly asks Helbe the elven thief, as they stand near the poop deck of the downed airship.
"Your pendant isn't glowing anymore" quietly adds the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel.
"I cannot sustain the meditative state indefinitely" quietly says Shur Kee the monk as the two of them watch a pair of air sailors help one of their fellow crew over the port rail near where the aft mast is down over the side of the ship, and down a cargo net the survivors of the crashed airship are using to get off the destroyed frigate.
"I need a bit of time before i can go back into the state of incarnation" quietly adds the short, statured monk who hails from the far east coast of the continent, from the kingdom of Wah Lee.
"Not long i hope?" quietly asks the elven master assassin, who though he hopes the acolyte in the order of Bru Li can eliminate the dark druid Palvarc. He has one other option up his sleeve. Though he doesn't particularly want to use it.
Though it's not up to him. It's up to her.
"No, not that long" quietly says the physical adept in response to the elven princeling's question. "Not long at all" adds Shur Kee a few moments later, who reaches up and clutches the jade pendant he wears around his neck.
He let's go of it, and the shard of dark green jade is once again glowing.
"Ready when you are friend Helbe" quietly says the short, statured monk who speaks in a slow, deliberate way when he's in a meditative state.
Though when he's in the midst of combat. He shouts as he fights. Shouts in a voice that you don't usually hear from the usually soft spoken acolyte in the order of Bru Li.
The highly talented elven spellcaster takes hold of the right arm of the physical adept. And he shifts them away, up into the sky.
In a blink of an eye whilst in mid air, he shifts again. Shur Kee to the hilltop below, and him to somewhere else. As he does, he once again drops the blur spell from the short, statured monk. As his unique power, when he unleashes it. Pretty much negates all magical spells upon him, as well as at him.
The dark druid's staff points down to the otherside of the hill, the side that the downed frigate is at the base of.
Baron Harkonin's advisor sourly smiles as he figures the hidden spellcaster, who is more than annoying to say the least. Is somewhere down on the the destroyed airship, or near it.
Palvarc looks down at the sorcerer lying flat on his face, and finds the man is only unconscious.
The dark druid quickly revives the unconscious sorcerer with a spell, and as the ship's officer groans as he wakes up, Palvarc the dark druid says to him "Get up" followed by "And ward yourself" he then silently adds in a dry tone, not that it'll help you if you get hit by one of those balls of whatever the hell it is.
The spellcaster from the Harkonin fief glances up, then away to the south, as he staff jerks upright in his hands, then away to the left, to the south. Indicating where the hidden spellcaster is.
The dark druid who wonders how the hell someone can move that fast by spellcraft, since even the quickest of teleportation spells takes a few moments to cast, and to reappear where you want to teleport to. The shorter the distance, the quicker the teleportation.
But the hidden spellcaster, is moving about so ridiculously fast. That Palvarc wonders if they're actually teleporting. Not to mention they're also moving the short, fellow in the odd, conical shaped hat about in the same way.
"Hell" mutters the ship's sorcerer next to the dark druid as baron Harkonin's advisor is about to plant his staff on the ground, with the top touching the ground. For then it can also sense any movement in the vicinity. Not just spellcraft and magic, as well as practitioners of magic.
Palvarc spins as the ship's officer, who has just stood upright, after getting up off the ground, is going to cast after he puts up a barrier spell around himself.
"Move you fool!" shouts the dark druid from the Harkonin fief as he sees the short individual, wearing the strange white clothing, and an even stranger hat. Standing just thirty feet from the two spellcasters.
Palvarc is already moving as he sees the short fellow, who has his hands down by his side, thrust them up and forward, as he shouts "Bru Li spirit!".
Once again baron Harkonin's advisor wonders what that means. He might not know. But what he does know, is that the nine foot wide ball of white looking energy heading this way. Is dangerous to say the least. And probably deadly if one is to be hit by it directly.
As it nears them, and he dives out the way. The practitioner of magic from the fief across the border to the east, grimaces as the senses a fairly decent sized fireball behind him,
Palvarc hits the ground, then looks back. And sees the fireball cast by the ship's sorcerer heading straight at the strange white ball of energy.
It doesn't go far the ten foot wide ball of liquid fire. Barely travels a dozen feet before it runs into the approaching ball of strange energy that the short fellow in the odd looking hat, sent hurtling this way.
The dark druid blinks in surprise when the fireball hits the strange ball of white energy. It just blinks out. As though it never existed. As though the ship's sorcerer never cast it.
Palvarc has never seen a spell drop like that before in his life. Not even when a spellcaster dies with a spell still active. Disappear so quickly as the sorcerer's fireball did just then.
He's even more surprised that the ball of strange looking white energy doesn't seem to be effected at all. As it just continues on it's path in this direction.
And though baron Harkonin's advisor has dived out of the way of it. Not so the sorcerer from the downed frigate.
Who stands there utterly dumbfounded that his fireball has disappeared without a trace.
And with a look of total incomprehension upon his face. The officer from the destroyed airship that lies at the base of the hill.
Is hit full on by the strange looking white ball of energy, that is not magical in any way.
Palvarc draws in a sharp breath as the ship's sorcerer who has his barrier and protection spells snuffed out by the strange ball of white energy. Is picked up off the ground, and with his arms and legs spread akimbo, he's flung backwards through the air.
He goes flying backwards at speed. And he arcs back, and goes flying off the top of the hill, before disappearing from sight down the side of the hill.
The dark druid who saw the bewildered look upon the face of the ship's sorcerer when he went flying back through the air.
Senses for the officer from the downed frigate as the ball of strange white energy goes off the side of the hill, and continue through the air for about hundred feet like the previous one's did, and like them it disappears.
Baron Harkonin's advisor can't sense the destroyed warship's sorcerer. Nor can his staff sense him. Palvarc knows the spellcaster in the personal fleet of the lord high constable of the kingdom. Lies dead somewhere down the side of the hill.
The dark druid who is lying on the ground, looks forward, and he lifts his arms up, and plants his staff into the ground, tip first as he looks at the short fellow in the odd hat, who looks this way.
Baron Harkonin's advisor, unleashes the full power of his magical staff. A staff that was crafted by a woodsman many years ago. Which came into the possession of a dark cleric, or necromancer over fifty years ago. Who turned a mundane staff, into a magical one.
Who rose some dead individual from their grave. And controlled that poor undead soul, to capture a ground pixie of all things. Who now wingless, and crippled. Lies trapped within the gnarled, fist sized gnarled top of the staff.
A staff that came into the possession of the dark druid who searched throughout the kingdom of Druvic, and surrounding lands. For anything to give him an advantage in spreading the old ways, the dark druidic ways.
The earth is ripped apart, and torn apart, and flung into the air, as a crack appears across the hilltop. From where Palvarc has his staff in the ground, to where the short individual in the funny looking white clothing, and wearing the strange looking hat is standing.
Just as the ground erupts upwards where that man stands, he vanishes from sight as the earth continues to be torn apart and thrown upwards along the top of the hilltop.
"Hell that was close" says Helbe the elven thief as he and Shur Kee the monk float in the sky, about a hundred yards further east of the hilltop.
The young elven noble who knows the short, statured monk can protect himself from direct attacks from magic. Knows it's a little harder for the acolyte in the order of Bru Li to protect himself from indirect attacks from magic. Or to be exact, the indirect effects of spellcraft.
Such as the earth being torn apart, and thrown up right beneath him.
The elven princeling has seen Shur Kee protect himself in the past by something similar. A large building falling on top of him by Mira Reinholt the mage who was more than a little careless with what one of his mageglobes blew up when they, and the group at the time were across the Great Western Ocean, in the cities of Nors And Tran.
And how the physical adept was buried in rubble. But safe inside of one of his balls, or orbs of what the young elven noble understands to be made up of spirit energy.
"You okay?" asks the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel as they float in the air, unseen by anyone. While they watch the top of the hilltop crack open. From where the dark druid lies upon the ground holding his staff.
To where the physical adept was just standing, further across the hilltop, then down one side of the hill, going a good sixty to seventy feet down that side of the hill.
The crack is a foot or so wide in some places, to over a dozen feet in others. Being as shallow as a few inches in places, to as deep as dozen feet in some other places. Soil and rocks from the crack is strewn across the hilltop, and down the side of the hill that's been torn up.
"I am fine friend Helbe" says Shur Kee in a slow voice as he replies to the highly talented elven magic user.
"Well, we've pissed him off for sure" quietly says prince Helbenthril Raendril, who spots some of the crew from the downed frigate. Some from the crashed warship itself. And others from the two ship's boats that have set down behind the destroyed airship.
Making their way up the hill the dark druid Palvarc is on. Until they feel, and see what's just happened. As the crack in the ground comes down the side of the hill, that they're heading up.
"Keep at it" says the elven master assassin, who shifts Shur Kee down to the hilltop, where the dark druid is standing up again. While he shifts away to the north. When he reappears there, he has to quickly shift away again as a beam of dark, green, malevolent energy comes shooting his way.
Palvarc the dark druid growls in anger under his breath as he shoots of a beam of energy from the tip of his staff, up into the sky to the north where his staff indicates the hidden spellcaster is.
Baron Harkonin's advisor scowls as his staff jerks to the west, to show him where the hidden practitioner of magic is now.
The dark druid doesn't look that way, because out of the corner of his eye. He sees that the short fellow wearing the odd looking hat, has appeared on the hilltop again.
Fucking hell, damn it! Palvarc thinks to himself in disgust as he goes to cast a spell as he sees what the short, statured individual is doing again.
The dark druid is already moving as he needs a few moments to continue casting his spell. He jumps over the crack in the ground, and grimaces as the short fellow in the strange clothing, and wearing an even stranger looking hat. Turns so he continues to face him.
Palvarc sees him thrust his arms, and hands out infront of himself, and once again shout "Bru Li spirit!".
Come on! baron Harkonin's advisor thinks to himself as he grips his staff as another of the balls of strange white energy forms, and comes barreling towards him.
The dark druid almost breathes a sigh of relief as his spell is complete. And with the nine foot ball of strange white energy less than twenty feet from him, Palvarc disappears as he teleports as faraway as he possibly can.
A moment later, and prince Helbenthril Raendril collects Shur Kee the monk. And he shifts eastwards in pursuit of the dark druid Palvarc who is heading that way.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel shifts half a dozen times, before he and the short statured monk, freefall through the air, with the elven magic user holding onto the physical adept by way of a spell.
"Need a moment" explains Helbe the elven thief as they fall from the sky, who continues with "Have to teleport" as he looks to the east, and north where he senses baron Harkonin's advisor is going.
Then the two of them disappear, as they chase after the dark druid Palvarc. Who decided that flight would be a better option, than to fight against an opponent he had no answers to . . . . . .