Winter. The Nation Of Farque.
On the grounds, there's an open area of ground to the side of the first course, that's the closest thing to a field anywhere near the small town of Gildin Dale, which is a forest town.
At this time of the year, the patch of open ground is pretty much devoid of grass, and is quite muddy.
And today, which is midwinter's day. It's the place where the teen recruits, who have their only day off from training all winter.
Are playing the game of kickball, while the majority of the townsfolk, along with their instructors, cheer them on from the sides of the field.
The game, which was Dorc da Orc's suggestion. As he has played it quite often in the past. Though usually with a severed head, and not the leather ball like the recruits are using today.
Has fairly simple rules. Two of the groups of ten are on the field at the same time, opposing one another.
At either end of the field, a pair of wooden stakes, about four foot tall. That have been hammered into the ground, about fifteen feet apart.
Each group of recruits has to defend their end of the field. While the other tries to get the leather ball through the gap between the wooden stakes, and vice versa.
Contrary to it's name, you don't have to necessarily just kick the ball to score a point.
One can pick it up and carry it if they want, as they try and score a point against their opposition.
Apart from that, anything goes. The only real rules is that no weapons are allowed on the field.
And that there's no eye gouging, or hits to the groin, for both boys and girls.
Though by accident, and deliberately, that does happen from time to time in the vigorous, and often violent game of kickball.
On the field at the moment, is the first group, playing the third group of recruits, who are based here in the town of Gildin Dale this winter.
On the sidelines, are the second and fourth groups. Who have already played a game.
And by the looks of some of the bruised and bloody teenage recruits in those two groups. Their game was a rather brutal affair.
As is the game out on the field beside the grounds at the moment.
For Marshay of the first group picks up the ball that Lamis has just kicked across the field to her.
And as she sets off for their opponent's end of the field.
A rather large teenage boy from the third group, runs across to Marshay, and with a swinging arm, hits her across the chest.
Sending her flying backwards to hit the muddy ground, and to spill the ball from her grasp.
As Marshay lies on the ground groaning after that hit.
The large fourteen year old boy, who when he's completed his army training, will definitely be in a heavy foot division of their lord's armies. Triumphantly picks up the ball, and goes to turn around to head the other way.
When he's suddenly hit in the back, as Dammis does a leaping, jumpkick. That hits the larger teenage boy, square in the back.
The larger teen hits the muddy ground face first. And the ball goes flying away.
There's a mad scramble for the leather ball. As three recruits from both groups try to get it.
A melee ensues, and punches, kicks, and elbows go flying as six of the teens on the muddy field fight for the ball.
Hamblin of the first group, who is fairly large, though lean and muscular.
Finally gets the ball, after he gets a punch in the guts, and a kick to the legs.
Though he retaliates with an elbow to the head of his assailant. Which sends that recruit from the third group, staggering away, totally dazed, not knowing exactly where he is, and what he's actually doing.
Hamblin gets free of the melee with the leather ball.
Simply enough, as Jinsa. Who in the short time this game between the first and third group has been going on.
Is without doubt the dirtiest player on the field by far.
Knees an opponent in the groin, dropping him to the ground.
And throat punching a girl in the third group. Who has tried to wrestle the ball off Hamblin.
The teenage boy from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the town of Gildin Dale.
Kicks the ball down field, to where Maselle is wide open, by herself, closest to their opposition's end.
Hamblin is tackled from behind just after he kicks the ball away.
And as he lies on the ground winded, with a face full of mud.
He grins as he sees Maselle, who has picked up the ball. Run through the gap between the two wooden stakes at their opponent's end of the field. Scoring a point for the first group.
Then he's punched in the side of the head by the recruit who tackled him to the ground, and is lying beside him.
Dorc da Orc bursts out laughing, slapping his thighs in exuberance as a fight breaks out between the two groups of recruits on the field, after the first group scored another point.
The large ork, whose idea it was to play kickball today. Is sitting at the base of a tree, drinking from a barrel of ale.
On what is now a sunny, but cold midwinter's day, that started off foggy, here in the town of Gildin Dale.
The ork warleader is enjoying the games of kickball. As the teenage army recruits from here in the northwest of the nation of Farque.
Play with enthusiasm, and a fair amount of violence. That the ork weaponsmith hasn't seen much of when he's witnessed the game of kickball played elsewhere in the Southlands.
Of course it can't compare to when he played the game as an orkling, back in his homeland, the Ork Range. Which is in the southern polar region of the world.
The game there isn't called kickball. It's called cuntball. And it's not played with a leather ball. Considering leather is near impossible to find at the frozen bottom of the world.
Cuntball is usually played with the head of an ork from an enemy tribe.
Or an animal. Which was usually a seal in the case of when Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name, was a youngster.
And in cuntball, there are absolutely no rules whatsoever.
And the ork who is now the warleader of his race.
Can clearly remember a number of fatalities whenever cuntball was played.
It didn't help that there was no actual teams. As it was every orkling for themselves.
And instead of stakes at one end of the field you had to get the head or seal through.
You just had to keep possession of the cuntball. Until everyone else playing, was unable to continue.
Either by being knocked out, too injured to continue playing, or just dead.
Dorkindle as an orkling won quite a few games of cuntball.
It helped that he was largest of the orklings in the wolf tribe at the time.
The only time he can't remember winning. Was when one of his best friends, Onka Donka would play.
Onka would always win those games. For the simple reason no one else would play against the young shaman.
Who by far is the craziest, and the most mentally unstable of all the orklings at the time.
And that's saying something, considering they're all crazy and mentally unstable.
As there's no denying it, the entire ork race are totally mad.
The ork general chuckles at the memory of playing cuntball as an orkling.
Which had the added bonus, well for an ork at least. Where you got to eat the enemy's head or seal if you won the game.
Dorkindle doesn't think eating a leather ball can compare.
Even though leather is from a cow. It certainly doesn't taste like a cow. As the large ork has eaten a few leather kickballs in his time.
And he didn't find them particularly appetizing.
"Smack the cunts in the face!" calls out Dorc da Orc as the two groups out on the field continue to fight.
The recruits only stop fighting when Tamric Drubine the field commander shouts out to them to resume with the game.
The two groups break apart. And head to their respective ends of the field.
None of them need healing. Though a few of them are more than a little wobbly on their feet.
And are staggering as they join the rest of their group, at whatever end is their group's.
Where he sits, drinking from a barrel of ale. The ork general looks away to his right.
Where a little bit away, is his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Who is sitting on one of the benches that have been brought outside.
The large ork softly chuckles to himself. As the former paladin looks like he's swallowed something sour tasting.
The nobleborn knight originally from the kingdom of Druvic. Has been in a foul mood for the last couple of days.
Ever since he found out that the undead wardog Axe ate his sword of knockdown.
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic. Isn't mad at Axe.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic maybe an idiot, but he's not stupid. And he knows being mad at Axe is both futile, and extremely dangerous.
So the member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che has decided to blame someone else for the loss of his magical weapon.
And that person is his bitter rival, Dorc da Orc. Who in the opinion of the former paladin. If the large ork hadn't stolen the sword of knockdown.
Then he Percy, which is what those who know sir Percavellé Lé Dic well, tend to call him.
Wouldn't of sent Axe to go and retrieve the magical weapon. Which eventually ended up with the massive canine eating the sword of knockdown.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic, who is both a landed and an ordered knight.
Sits there watching the recruits playing kickball out on the field.
Not actually taking in what they're doing. As he's got his mind on other things.
Most particularly, like how he's going to get his revenge on his bitter rival, Dorc da Orc. For the loss of his sword of knockdown.
The kickball game gets underway again when both groups are lined up at their respective ends of the field.
And Findal, the blacksmith's son here in Gildin Dale. Has retrieved the leather ball, and placed in the very middle of the field.
Once the young boy has got clear of the field. The recruits at either end of the field. Look over to where field commander Drubine is standing.
There's at least a few glazed looks directed at the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
From the recruits in both groups in this game who have taken head knocks.
All the same, they closely watch the senior officer in the armies of Farque. Who is in command of the training that the teenage army recruits are doing here in Gildin Dale this winter.
The young field commander lifts up his right arm. And when he quickly drops it. The game resumes. With the recruits running for the ball in the center of the field.
As the two groups of teenage recruits dash towards the ball, with the fastest of them.
Quickly getting out infront of their fellow group members.
Tamric Drubine the field commander quietly says "Damn, they play for keeps here".
Next to him, his lover, Saanea the witch nods in agreement.
Then the spellcaster from the Maldin Hills winces. As does field commander Drubine.
As the first few recruits from both groups don't even bother to go for the ball.
They run at each other. Trying to take one another out. So they can't get the ball at all.
The object of the game of kickball. Well, today's midwinter's games here in Gildin Dale. Is the first team to score five points, is the winning team.
The first game, which was between the second and the fourth group of recruits.
Didn't even get that far. It ended prematurely at four points to three points, in favour of the fourth group of Farqian army recruits.
When the undead wardog Axe suddenly ran out onto the field, and took the leather ball, and ran away with it.
Sir Morcin the undead avenger had to run after the massive canine to retrieve it. As that's the only ball in town they've got.
Now the undead wardog is on the otherside of the field. Walking back and forth, barking in excitement, and encouragingly as he watches the teenage recruits out on the field, playing kickball.
The undead avenger sir Morcin isn't that far from Axe. Keeping an eye on the Farqian wardog.
Making sure there isn't a repeat of the previous game. Which ended abruptly, thanks to Axe taking off with the leather ball.
The score at the moment in this particular game, is three points each.
The most recent point by the first group, has tied up the score.
The ball which has squirted off to one side as the first lot to get to the middle of the field, are too hell bent on taking one another out.
To pay too much attention to the actual game they're playing.
So that the teenage recruit Markell of the first group. Finds that he has a free go at the leather ball.
The thirteen year old teenager kicks the ball as hard as he can.
And true, he's trying to kick it towards the third group's end of the field.
That's fairly secondary to what he's actually trying to do.
Which is kick it straight at the head of one of his opponents, who is running straight at him.
The leather ball, which is covered in mud, and a lot heavier than it was before the kickball games got underway.
Hits one of the teenage girls in the third group of recruits, dead in the face.
Her head snaps back, and she's knocked down to the ground, landing on her back, definitely knocked out cold.
A number of groans come from some of the townsfolk, and even a lot of the recruits from the second and fourth groups, who are watching this game between the other two groups of ten each, who are living and training in the town of Gildin Dale this winter.
There might be groans of sympathy from them. But from Dorc da Orc there comes a loud peel of laughter.
Followed by the large ork shouting out "She got knocked the fuck out!". Before he continues laughing as he found that exceptionally funny.
A couple of the townsman hurry onto the field, and grab the unconscious teenager.
And carry her off the field. So that Saanea the witch can heal her with a spell.
By then, the first group scores another point, when Dammis kicks the ball through the stakes in the ground at the opposition's end of the field.
The score is four points to three, in favour of the first group. When the teenager who was knocked out when the leather ball was kicked into her face. Makes it back onto the muddy field that lies next to the grounds.
The third group score the next point, and even the game up.
When one of their recruits, gets an opening. And drops the ball, and as it bounces back up off the ground, he kicks it.
Sending it sailing through the air, over Farnid. Who is back towards his group's end of the field. Trying to stop any attempt of the ball going through the gap in the stakes.
Which is exactly what happens, as the ball hits the ground behind him. And though the field is muddy, the kickball rolls a good ten yards. And goes through the stakes at that end of the field. Tying the score between the two groups of recruits.
As the blacksmith's son Findal goes and retrieves the ball, and return it to the center of the field.
The two groups as they stand at either end of the field, quickly discuss tactics. For whoever scores the next point, will win the game.
The third group decides on something, as does the first.
Then both groups of teenage army recruits look to where field commander Drubine stands, with his right arm raised up into the air, waiting for him to drop it down.
With a shout of "Fuck each other up!" coming from general Dorc. And other shouts of encouragement coming from the crowd watching the kickball game, along with the undead wardog Axe barking with enthusiasm.
The two groups of recruits take off running to where the leather ball is, when the young field commander drops his arm for them to resume the game.
With the group scoring next, will win the game of kickball. Which is all part of the town of Gildin Dale's midwinter's day festival . . . . . .
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