Mercenary Tales 60.

The City-State Of Vexil. 

Or so they think they've killed Dorc da Orc. You see the thing about orks is that they're incredible difficult to kill. It's all to do with their natural ability to heal. Which constantly heals them no matter what. 

And if you want to kill an ork. You better make damn sure you've actually killed it. For though they can often look or seem dead. In actual fact they're still alive. Though barely. 

As it is when Lord Farque finds Dorc da Orc in the underground chamber the large ork was being held in by his captors. 

The undead warlord steps over the dead mercenary he threw down the underground corridor, and after a brief look in the direction he has sensed those he's after have fled in. 

The large heavily armoured deathlord walks through the open door into the chamber, where he finds the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who is a general in his armies. 

The lord of the death realm rolls his eyes as he sees the state that the ork warleader is in, and who he senses is barely alive. 

"Fucking idiots" mutters Lord Farque as he walks over to where the large ork is chained up "Should of chopped his fat fucking head off if they wanted to kill him" dryly adds the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque. 

Draugodrottin which is the name he's also known by to his people, rips off the magically enhanced chains pinned into the ground and wall holding the ork weaponsmith. 

The unconscious ork who the deathlord of Farque named warleader of the ork race a number of years ago, slumps over after the undead warlord pulls the spear out of large ork's throat that's pinned him to the wall. 

Des'tier which is Lord Farque's elven name, rolls Dorc over so he's lying on his back, he straightens the large ork's broken leg out. 

Then he places the chopped off lower left arm of the ork general next to the stump of that arm. Which has already stopped bleeding. 

Then the lord of the death realm takes one of the glass vials in the slots along the top of his belt, making sure it's the right one. 

Draugodrottin is just glad the large ork isn't dead, at this moment, he doesn't have a resurrection potion at the moment on him. He needs to get Helbe the elven thief to give him one, or steal one if the young elven noble hasn't got any at the moment. 

And if the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks was dead right now. Des'tier has no plans to bring him back as undead. 

For that sounds like pure stupidity in the opinion of the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque. As he can't think of anything more idiotic, truly a walking disaster it would be having an undead ork in the world. Though those plans will change in just under a hundred years from now. 

The undead warlord can't help but faintly smile behind the faceplate of his full helm, then murmur "The big dumb fuck isn't going to like this". 

Then Draugodrottin drops the glass vial into the open mouth of the ork general, then closes Dorc's mouth, causing the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world to swallow the glass vial whole. 

The large heavily armoured deathlord steps back and waits for the Greater Healing potion, the rarest and most powerful of all the healing potions, to work on the warleader of the ork race. 

Dorc da Orc groans as he comes up out of unconsciousness, the large ork feels something prod him in the side, rather uncomfortably, and a voice, which is familiar, say in orkish "Get up cunt". 

The ork weaponsmith opens his eyes, and though his vision is a little blurry for a moment, it quickly clears and he finds Lord Farque standing over him, looking down at him. 

Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name grunts, then attempts to sit up, he feels a little groggy, like he's drunk his entire village's store of winter wine. 

Which he and his two best friends, No Legs Munga and Onka Donka did one summer, much to the disgust of their fellow tribe members. 

It takes him a few goes, but the ork general in the Armies of Farque sits himself up. Then the large ork remembers what actually happened to him. 

He clears his throat as it's more than a little sore at the moment, then Dorc da Orc in a raspy voice says "Look what them cunts did to me" he holds up his left arm as he adds "Make me just like fucken Killer". Referring to Mira Reinholt the mage, who the large ork calls Killer. 

The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then actually looks at his left arm, and blinks in surprise a few times. 

"Huh?" murmurs Dorkindle who then frowns, before he mutters "Da fuck?". As he looks at his left arm, which is whole again. 

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world just stares at it for a few moments, then he glances down at his right leg, and finds that it's no longer broken. 

The general in the Armies of Farque is silent for a bit, then he says "Me fucken arm was chopped off" followed by "And me leg all brokey". 

"Not anymore" says Draugodrottin, who continues on with "All healed now" followed in a slightly dry tone with "Must be that natural fucking healing all you orks have". 

The warleader of the ork race glances sideways at the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque, not saying anything. 

The large ork is a lot of things, stupid being pretty much first amongst those things. But even he knows his natural ability to heal, can't reattach an arm, or heal a broken leg in no time at all. 

Dorc would call the large heavily armoured deathlord a fucking liar. Just not to his face, as he doesn't want his head kicked in. 

The ork weaponsmith instead grunts, then with his mouth feeling a little dry, and wishing he had some booze on him, the ork warleader smacks his lips. 

Dorkindle frowns as he thinks of something, then he smacks his lips once more as he realizes that there's a weird taste in his mouth. 

Infact the taste isn't weird, it's absolutely disgusting to the ork general, who suddenly realizes what it is. 

"Yuck" mutters the large ork, who continues muttering with "Fucken gross". As all he can taste in his mouth is the after taste of a healing potion. 

A particular nasty one in the opinion of the ork warleader. One definitely made by Helbe the elven thief. Who takes great delight in making potions that taste absolutely foul to the taste buds of an ork. But perfectly pleasant to everyone else. 

The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, who is itching to call Lord Farque a cunt for giving him such a potion while he was knocked out. 

Instead grunts, when the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque nudges him again with a steel boot, this time in the leg, and tells him "Get up". 

It takes a few attempts, but eventually the ork weaponsmith gets to his feet. 

Dorkindle goes to take a step, but instead stumbles to one side, and would've fallen over if the lord of the death realm hadn't grabbed him to steady him. 

Dorc da Orc who like all just after being healed by a potion, is a little woozy, and more than a little sore and aching, just grunts then sourly smiles after the large heavily armoured deathlord dryly says to him "Want me to fucking carry you?". 

"Nah Dorc good" eventually says the ork weaponsmith, who frankly finds even the thought of being carried around by the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque as absolutely humiliating. 

Though still a little unsteady on his feet, Dorkindle follows after the lord of the death realm who nods his full helmed head for the large ork to follow him. 

After stumbling for a bit, the warleader of the ork race, eventually makes it out of the chamber where he was held captive. 

As he does, and he follows after the large heavily armoured deathlord of Farque, Dorc da Orc asks him "You kill them cunts who catched me?". 

Des'tier shakes his head no, then responds to the ork general with "They got away" which illicits a grunt from the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. 

The ork warleader even though he's still a bit wobbly, moves up to be beside the undead warlord as they make their way through the tunnels and corridors of an unused section of the underground part of the town of Musille. 

And Draugodrottin asks the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks "Tell me about that lot who captured you". 

The lord of the death realm who knows that the large ork killed four of the group that they're after. He found their dead bodies on a street in the city of Vexil as he was making his way to where the ork general was being held captive. 

Listens to the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world tell him about those who captured him. 

As he listens, Des'tier occasionally reaches out to steady the ork weaponsmith who is still a bit unsteady on his feet after been given such a powerful healing potion. 

At one point the large ork walks into the wall to their right, and the lord of the death realm has to turn Dorkindle in the right direction, as they head through what's the abandoned section of the underground town. 

The lord and ruler of the Lands Farque frowns after the general in his armies says something, then the large heavily armoured deathlord asks the warleader of the ork race "This woman wasn't in command of them". 

"Nah" says Dorc da Orc who chuckles as they walk by a group of bodies, mercenaries who unfortunately encountered the deathlord of Farque. 

"The fucken magicky cunt was bossing it" says the large ork who follows that with "And only because some elven she bitch was out of it" he then adds "She the one in command". 

Hmmm that's odd, Draugodrottin thinks to himself as he wonders where Misa Geist is in all of this. 

The undead warlord nods his full helmed head and says "What's that?". In response to the ork weaponsmith telling him "Me know why they wants to kill Dorc". 

"They all shitty for what we did back in that fucken war" says Dorc da Orc who continues with "The big fucken one in the city" he follows that with "You know, the one where we first meeted Killer". "Oh?" murmurs the lord of the death realm, who then silently adds, now isn't that interesting. 

The ork general bursts out laughing, wheezing as he holds his sides as they head up a ramp like tunnel that leads outside, and he spots two dead trolls near the top of the ramp. 

"Fucken cunts" growls Dorkindle as he looks at the dead trolls in disgust, as they stand just inside of the opening that leads underground. 

Then the warleader of the ork race asks the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque "What we gonna do?" followed by "And where them fucken cunts at?" the large ork then mutters "Me gonna fucken kill 'em dead when we catch 'em". 

"They're back in the city" says Lord Farque who is looking westwards, back towards the city of Vexil. 

"And what we're going to do" continues Des'tier who follows that with "Is find out exactly what they're doing" he then adds "Not just trying to kill the two of us, but this conflict they're trying to cause between Vexil and Girdane". 

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grunts at that, then he frowns when the deathlord of Farque looks at him intently for a few moments. 

"What?" asks Dorc da Orc, Lord Farque is silent for a few moments more, before he finally says "I'm guessing they think you're dead" quietly followed by "Which will come in handy". 

"How?" asks the large ork who is a general in the Armies of Farque. Draugodrottin doesn't reply, instead he heads out of the underground tunnel, forcing the ork warleader to follow, as they set off for the city of Vexil on what's a cold and blustery winter's day . . . . . .