Mercenary Tales 55.

The City-State Of Vexil.

"Anyone see it?" asks Salinéll the elven maiden as they stand upon a rooftop near the middle of the city of Vexil on this cold and blustery winter's day. 

Shakes of heads are the response from the others, which gets a grimace of anger from the elven magic user from the principality of Alínlae who is the leader of the group. 

Then the wizard Margin says "Maybe Sorna and the others have spotted it" the Vexilian practitioner of magic continues with "If they have, I just hope they don't do anything stupid". 

Next to the wizard Margin, Mercer nods his head in agreement with him, and the elven warder Jarkellé does as well. 

As they know that Sorna is probably even more determined than Salinéll in seeing the large ork named Dorc da Orc dead. 

"If they do, the four of them should be able to handle it" says Jarkellé the elven warder, who is the equivalent of a knight protector. 

I hope, silent adds Jarkellé who nods when Margin the wizard says "With Brynn they should be able to" followed by "Or at least incapacitate it". 

Salinéll firmly nods at that, for the group all know she wants the ork taken alive, as she intends to make it pay for what it did a little over two and half decades ago during the Battle of Vexil. 

And a quick death is not what it deserves. As she plans to kill it slowly and painfully, once she gets her hands on it. 

After looking back in the direction they came from, Margin who would of preferred they went after the undead being, as he wants to see that destroyed more than killing the ork. 

Says to the elven magic user who leads the group "We should probably try and get a hold of Brynn and see what they're up to". 

Salinéll nods her head, then says "Good idea". Then with the wind whipping her hair around, the elven maiden along with her fellow practitioner of magic, Margin. 

Try to get in contact with the third spellcaster in the group, Brynn. Who like the wizard Margin, hails from here in the city of Vexil. 

The two of them, elven magic user and human wizard, are silent for a few moments. Then almost as one, they swear. "Fuck" mutters Margin the wizard, while Salinéll the elven maiden mutters "Shit". 

The leader of the group reaches out and touches the other two elves, Jarkellé and Gillomōnt, then the three of them disappear as she teleports them away. 

Margin reaches out and touches Mercer and the last member of the group, Fessum. And the three of them disappear as the wizard in the dark red robes teleports them. 

Before they do, Margin grimaces as he briefly caught a glimpse of what's happening when he got in contact with Brynn who is a sorcerer. 

And saw that the other four members of the group, Brynn, Kynil, Marcus and Sorna had found the ork they're after, and are confronting it. 

Margin as he, Mercer and Fessum disappear. Knows that it's Sorna who talked the others into attacking the ork. Wanting to kill it, not really caring about Salinéll's order that it should be captured. 

The Vexilian born wizard just hopes they get there before they kill the ork, or more than likely, the ork kills them. 

Dorc da Orc ignores a hammer that's thrown at him from the side, which bounces off his right bicep. He hardly even feels it. 

The squealing ork warleader, whose throwing axe missed the pair at the side street, the direction the hammer that hit him came from. 

Runs directly at the pair of humans, who stepped out from the nearby alleyway, who are closer. The large ork knows that they're the more dangerous pair. 

For the simple reason one of them is a spellcaster of some kind. It's just not the fact the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world can smell that one of them is a practitioner of magic. 

The fact that his hammer he threw at them, hit something right in front of the pair, before it dropped straight down to the ground. 

Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, saw a brief flash of blue light in front of the pair who stepped out of the alleyway. 

The ork general in the Armies of Farque has been around spellcasters most of his life, and he knows that particular blue light is a tell tale sign of a barrier spell. 

And the ork weaponsmith knows exactly how to get through and around one of them. After all he's come up against them numerous times, and defeated them. 

The large ork knows that if you hit a barrier spell hard enough or often enough, it will be destroyed. 

And Dorc being Dorc, that's to say a crazed ork. He goes for the hit it hard enough and it will fail method. 

The ork warleader runs head first into the barrier spell, which almost glows blue for an instant as one of the two humans behind it, staggers back a couple of steps, crouching over, before with a look of determination on his face, stands upright and glares at the big, burly ork from the southern polar of the region of the world.

As for Dorkindle, he shakes his head, and still smelling that the barrier spell is still intact. The large ork snarls, and quickly picks up his throwing hammer from the ground. 

The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who can smell and hear the other two humans rushing from the side street. Tosses his hammer upwards into the air and grins, then chortles. 

The ork general has learnt over the years a number of things about magic. And not all them from the spellcasters he's constantly around. 

Infact Dorc da Orc has probably learnt more about magic from Lord Farque than anyone else. And one of those things he's learnt about magic from the undead warlord, who he doesn't know is undead. 

Is that spellcasters tend to do the easiest and most efficient way to cast certain spells. Especially spells they constantly cast. 

And the warleader of the ork race who often forgets a lot, and I mean a lot of things he's learnt. 

Does remember this particular thing. And that is that spellcasters who put up shields, either barrier spells or protection spells. 

Tend to do it in the easiest way possible. Like straight in front of them. Not to either side of them, or behind them. Underneath them or, as in this instance, above them. 

So Dorkindle's throwing hammer that he tossed upwards, easily clears the barrier spell between him and the two humans who have attacked him. 

Then it comes down, falling through the air, towards the pair of humans who think they're safe from the large ork who is grinning at them. 

"Watch out!" shouts Marcus who glances up wondering why the ork threw it's hammer up into the air. 

He shoves Brynn the sorcerer to one side, and the hammer which is like a heavy sledge in the hands of a human. 

Comes down and barely misses the sorcerer, but it does clip Marcus on the left shoulder, and he drops to the ground screaming. 

Meanwhile the sorcerer Brynn who was concentrating on maintaining his barrier spell, which almost failed when the large ork ran head first into it. 

Drops to the ground when he's shoved to one side by Marcus, dropping his spell as he does so. And the barrier disappears from between them and the ork they're after. 

Dorc da Orc chuckles, then steps forward as he smells that the barrier spell is now gone. The ork warleader then stomps on the right leg of the man on the ground, screaming in pain from what looks like a broken shoulder. 

Then picking up his hammer again, the ork general in the Armies of Farque turns to the other man, who he correctly assumes is a spellcaster, who is trying to scramble to his feet. 

"Fucken get some" says the large ork who pulls back his right arm, in which hand he's holding the hammer, intending to kill the practitioner of magic who attacked him on this cold and blustery winter's day in the city of Vexil. 

Just then a short spear slams into the right side of the ork weaponsmith's face. Driving into his cheek, and into his mouth, destroying teeth, and cutting up the inside of his mouth, and tongue. 

With a gurgling growl, the ork warleader who grimaces in pain, whips his head to one side, yanking the spear out of the hands of who attacked him. 

"Die you fucker!" shouts Sorna after shoving one of his short spears up into the face of the large ork he wants dead. 

The mercenary, for infact he actually is a mercenary unlike most of the others in the group. Grunts as his spear is yanked out of his hands, whilst still in the face of the ork. 

"Move" says Kynil to Marcus who was hell bent on attacking the large ork when they randomly caught sight of it a short while ago. 

Kynil a sword mistress from the kingdom of Girdane, stabs the point of her longsword into the back of the ork's right leg, just behind the knee. 

She hears it hiss in anger when she rips out her blade, while it attempts to pull Sorna's spear out of it's face. 

As for Sorna, he backs away, giving the sword mistress room, while he takes his other short spear from the strap across his back. 

The mercenary glances at the others, and sees that the sorcerer Brynn has got to his feet. While Marcus who is injured, is trying to crawl away, groaning in pain with every movement that he makes. 

Sorna also sees that the street we're they've attacked the ork, is emptying. As people run away from the violent confrontation between the four of them and the large ork. 

"Out the way!" orders Brynn the sorcerer, who does not look like a spellcaster at all. No robes or cloaks for him. The Vexilian born practitioner of magic looks like a workman, or labourer in his clothes. 

And although Sorna would love to shove his other spear into the throat of the ork. He quickly backs away. As does Kynil who just whipped her sword, cutting the ork across the back of his other leg. 

Then the large ork goes flying backwards about twenty feet, and slams into the front of the building they're fighting infront of. 

As it does, it's attempting to rip Sorna's spear out of his mouth. Which it actually does, after it drops to the ground, sitting there, slumped back the building front. 

Both Sorna and Kynil move in. With the mercenary planning to kill it. While the sword mistress and the others intend to wound it enough so they can restrain it, as per Salinéll's orders. 

The quicker moving Kynil gets closest to the downed ork first, and she barely avoids a swing at her legs by it's big, meaty left fist. 

She stabs it in the left arm, and hops backwards and out of the way as it growls a bloody gurgling growl, and says something in it's own language. 

Then Sorna with short spear in hand, moves in from the other side. Fully intending to shove the point of his spear into the throat of the large ork. 

Unfortunately the ork is expecting something like that, and all he does, is take the other spear of the mercenary's that he pulled out of his own face. 

And stabs at Sorna, hitting the Vexilian born mercenary in the groin, and continuing on through his body and out his lower back. 

Sorna yells in pain, which is cut off as he's pulled forward with force by Dorc da Orc, pulling him towards him, falling over onto the ork warleader. Who then bites him in the face and head. While the other person attacking him. The woman, screams, then repeatedly stabs at his side, face and neck with the point of her longsword. 

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grins a bloody grin after ripping off most of the mercenary's face, before shoving the body off him. 

And with that Sorna dies just as his father did during the Battle of Vexil just over twenty five years ago, at the hands of Dorc da Orc. 

Dorkindle slaps the sword away that's repeatedly stabbing him in the left side, sending it flying from the hands of the sword mistress who is now hell bent on killing him. 

"That all you fuckers got?" growls Dorc da Orc in a bloody growl, the ork general in the Armies of Farque who is speaking in the common language, continues with "Come and get some ya fucken cunts". 

And with blood flowing from his mangled mouth, the warleader of the ork race goes to get up. As he does, the large ork spots a trio of people, elves in fact, suddenly appear towards the end of the street. 

A moment later, three more people suddenly appear to one side of them. Then the battle with Dorkindle really gets underway as the six new people hurry this way towards the ork weaponsmith on this cold and blustery winter's day here in the capital of the city-state of Vexil . . . . . .