Winter. The Town Of Gildin Dale.
In the town of Gildin Dale, like everywhere in the lands of Farque. And for that matter, pretty much everywhere across The Southlands.
Midwinter's day is a festival day, a day of celebration.
And though much of the morning was taken up with the games of kickball on the field next to the grounds, to the west of Gildin Dale.
The rest of the day, and now into the night. The celebration of midwinter has continued.
As a lot of cooking and baking has taken place over the last couple of days, and throughout the day itself.
And people go from house to house throughout town, eating and drinking, as they celebrate the auspicious day.
The midpoint in winter, where the turn towards spring is brought into the concious of the nation.
And elsewhere in the Southlands, and pretty much right across the world, south of the equator.
Equally north of the equator, today is celebrated as the midsummer festival.
The teenage army recruits, join in on the festivities. As this is the only day off they get during their training, here in the town of Gildin Dale.
And though pretty much all of them are battered and bruised in some way after this morning's rather vigours games of kickball.
That doesn't stop them joining in on the celebrations.
As this is about the only time they interact with the townsfolk for more than a few moments.
As ordinarily, they help with the support of the training with the recruits from throughout northwestern Farque.
They don't get to talk to them that much. As the recruits are busy from before dawn, to late in the evening most days.
While at other times, the teenagers who are being trained for the armies of Farque.
Are away from town, especially if they have to do the east trail through the forest. Where they're gone from Gildin Dale for more than a day at a time.
There's a few flakes of snow in the air this night. As people go from house to house.
After the town's priest, has a quick service to usher in the turning towards spring, which the midwinter's festival is pretty much all about.
Like throughout the nation of Farque. A sole priest can be found in most towns and citadels.
And though you'll not find clerics, or clergy with the ability to cast magic.
You will find priests and priestess of various gods and goddess throughout the lands of Farque.
Which one might think is surprising, considering who it is, that's the lord and ruler of the lands.
And how many beings who are similar to him, who can be found right across the nation, that bears the name of the warlord who rules it.
One such individual, is sir Morcin the avenger. The nobleman, whose nation of birth no longer exists.
Who is the sentinel for this area of the northwest region of the lands Farque.
A sentinel is the undead being who protects a particular area in the nation from outside forces.
Mostly along the border region of the lands that bear their lord's name.
The undead avenger is making his way through Gildin Dale, carrying a pair of bottles.
Something he's kept for such an occasion. As he heads to the pair of houses. That are side by side. In which live field commander Tamric Drubine and Saanea the witch.
While in the other lives Shur Kee the monk, and sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
The former knight, who willingly left his knightly order, making him what's known as an avenger.
He left to travel to the lands Farque, to join the famous mercenary armies, he had seen in battle.
This was over four hundred and fifty years ago, before he actually died.
Makes his way around the house that the short, statured monk from the far east coast of the continent, shares with the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
Where inside they have a number of the townsfolk visiting. Who from the sounds of it, are listening to an exaggerated account of a battle from sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
The undead avenger makes his way to behind the next house along. Where the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin lives with the spellcaster from the Maldin Hills.
They too have some of the townsfolk visiting. Who thankfully don't have to listen to what their friends and fellow Farqians are listening to in the house next door.
At least one can have a conversation, and get a word in whilst speaking with the young field commander and the witch who is his lover.
You can't really do that next door with sir Percavellé Lé Dic droning on and on, about how he won such and such battle.
Usually against his bitter rival. The ork general, Dorc da Orc. Who sir Morcin the undead avenger has come to see.
He finds the large ork sitting by himself, next to the woodshed behind the house that Tamric Drubine and Saanea are living in together.
The ork warleader, who is drinking from a barrel of ale.
Looks both contented, and annoyed. Contented because he's drinking after having a lot to eat today and this evening.
And annoyed because he had to give away some of his booze that he keeps locked in the woodshed he's sitting next to.
He didn't want to, but he was ordered to by field commander Drubine. And the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Handed over four barrels, two of wine, and two of ale. To the townsfolk. To help with the celebrations for the midwinter festival.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks looks up. And through the swirling flakes of snow in the air.
He spots sir Morcin the avenger approaching the woodshed he's sitting next to.
The large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque. Grunts with interest as he sees the glass bottles the undead being is carrying.
The warleader of the ork race becomes even more interested when he quickly sniffs. And identifies what drink is in the bottles the avenger has with him.
Crouching down next to the large ork, sir Morcin the undead avenger says in orkish "Here cunt".
And hands the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world one of the bottles he's brought along.
It's a clear glass bottle, and the liquid within it is clear too.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle, which is his given name, grunts in appreciation when he takes the bottle.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, pulls the cork out. And though he'd like to drink it all in one go.
He just takes a small mouthful, a sip really. Just like he sees sir Morcin do with the other bottle that he's just opened.
The ork who is a general in the armies of Farque, makes a face at the taste of the liquor.
Enjoying the taste, after only drinking ale and wine ever since he and the others arrived here in Gildin Dale at the end of autumn.
"Fucken good shit" states Dorc da Orc in his native language after he smacks his lips a few times, savoring the taste of the distilled spirits, that is extremely high in alcohol.
So much so, it would probably make a normal human blind. Or kill them if they drank too much of it.
"What's that fucken flav?" asks the son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. Whose rather large skull, he has tied to his belt.
"Juniper" replies the undead avenger, in the common language, as the word juniper doesn't translate at all in the ork language.
Dorkindle grunts, as he has absolutely no idea what that is. Though he knows lord Farque sometimes drinks that flavoured distilled spirit.
After taking another sip, then putting the cork back into the top of the bottle. As he intends to make it last. Well, at least through the night.
The ork, who to this day, is still the largest member of the wolf tribe of orks, says in his native language "Thanks cunt".
The local sentinel nods, and says in orkish "No worries cunt" before he sticks the cork back into the top of that bottle he's holding.
And then as he crouches near the ork general, the undead avenger says "There's some fucking sky lights going up later".
A look of anticipation and excitement appears on the broad, green, feral looking face of the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
"Aww fucken sweet" says the warleader of the ork race, who continues on with "Dorc likes sky lights".
The large ork has enjoyed the craft of skylighters. And though there aren't any here in the town of Gildin Dale.
There's enough of the townsfolk, who know how to set the sky lights off.
As they were dropped off by an airship from the Winter Palace at the start of the week.
Along with a number of supplies. Predominantly foodstuffs, that's difficult to find or grow here in the small forest town of Gildin Dale.
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. Who he killed, because she was doing her best to kill him at the time.
Chats with undead avenger who speaks his native language. Something he enjoys hearing, even if spoken by a human. Who admittedly speaks orkish even better than he does.
Inside the kitchen of the house he shares with his lover, Saanea the witch.
Tamric Drubine the field commander looks out one of the glass windows.
And by the light of the hanging lamp in the back portico.
He spots Dorc da Orc and sir Morcin out by the woodshed in the yard behind the house.
The two of them are chatting about something as the occasional flake of snow can be seen falling this night.
The nobleborn teenager, who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
Watch as the two outside in the backyard, next to the woodshed. Chat about something. As they occasionally drink from the bottles they both have.
Though Dorkindle does drink more steadily from the barrel of ale he has also broached.
Tamric Drubine, or Tam as more often than not, he's called by those who know him well.
Turns and makes his way into the main room of the house, where Saanea the witch has just farewelled some of the townsfolk.
And just welcomed some of the teenage recruits into the house.
Some of whom are little tipsy, as they've been drinking this night in celebration of it being midwinter's.
The nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who is now a senior officer in the armies of Farque.
Listens to the conversations of the recruits who are from throughout the northwest of the lands Farque.
He hears about their hopes for placements in their lord's armies.
As well hearing about who they actually are. As he's never really got to know any of them since they arrived at the start of winter.
The young field commander only knows the basics about the recruits, who are four and five years younger than him.
So from the seven or so in the main room of the house he shares with his lover, Saanea the witch.
He learns more about the teenage army recruits. Their hopes, and fears before be selected for recruitment.
To how they're actually dealing with their time here in the town of Gildin Dale.
Tam who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Is actually pleasantly surprised at how well the young teens are coping with their time in training, whilst based here in Gildin Dale.
He along with the other instructors, haven't run across any recruit who is homesick.
Though no doubt, plenty of them probably were when the training first got underway.
Nor has field commander Drubine found any of them, absolutely hating what they're doing.
With it being halfway through the winter now. The teenage recruits from here in northwestern Farque have become accustomed to their training.
And have got used to both the physical and mental challenges. Which will get more difficult as the winter continues.
As the Farqian army recruits, eat some of the food that's been left out, and they drink from the barrel of watered ale that Tamric Drubine has opened.
They tend to speak with Saanea the witch more than they do the nobleborn teenager from Sarcrin.
Due to the fact he's in command of the recruits training here in Gildin Dale.
Though a few of them open up to the young field commander. Telling him about their lives before they were recruited. And talking about what they hope to achieve once they're placed in one of the armies of Farque.
Tam speaks very little, occasionally saying something. More likely to nod, as he gets some of the teenage recruits to open up more.
Until finally there's a call from outside, as it's nearing midnight.
The recruits, followed by the couple make their way out onto the front portico.
Field commander Drubine looks to the right and left, and sees others have come outside from their homes.
Including sir Percavellé Lé Dic and Shur Kee the monk from the house next door.
They all make their way onto the street, and start heading to the west side of town.
The senior officer in the armies of Farque looks back, and sees Dorc da Orc and sir Morcin are heading this way too.
And soon, most if not all of the people living and working in Gildin Dale this winter.
Have made their way to the west side of town. Overlooking the grounds just outside of the forest town.
And though there's only one moon up high in the night sky at the moment. It's enough to see that there's movement out on the grounds.
Tamric Drubine puts an arm around his lover Saanea the witch. As flakes of snow light drift around in the air.
As they and everyone else wait with anticipation.
The young field commander faintly smiles as he hears Dorc da Orc say something in orkish. In a quite an obvious impatient tone.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world doesn't have to wait too long.
Because there soon comes the sound of a dull thud that echoes across the grounds.
And all those waiting and watching here on the west side of the town of Gildin Dale.
See a small spark of white light shoot up into the night sky, going a few hundred feet up.
Before there's an explosion of colour, along with a rather loud bang, as the sky lights are lit.
Appreciative awwws and ahhhs, come from those watching. As the townsfolk on the grounds tasked with letting off the sky lights.
Set one after the other off. Sending a myriad of colours, and sounds. Flashing and banging across the night sky above Gildin Dale.
And though all of those watching enjoy the midwinter festival sky lights.
It's the children who have been allowed to stay up late. Along with general Dorc who enjoy it the most.
Sir Morcin the undead avenger who has stepped back. As the ork warleader claps with enthusiasm, and shouts for joy each time a sky light explodes in the night sky.
The undead being watches the townsfolk, the teenage army recruits, and their instructors.
Having an image of them in his memory forever.
As he does every midwinter's night here in Gildin Dale for the last few centuries.
Ever since he was appointed the sentinel for this area in the northwest of the lands Farque . . . . . .
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