Wonderful 22.

The Nomads Plains...

Dorc da Orc growls as the large sword he's holding, goes between his legs and trips him up. The ork warleader grunts as he hits the incline face first, and slides further down into the cave that he's been living in for the past couple of weeks.
"Fuckass" mutters Dorc da Orc after he spits out a mouthful of sand, the large ork glares at lord Farque's sword, but doesn't say anything to it, as it's bound to hit him again, which is more than annoying since he's the one holding it.
Dorkindle sighs, then sits up, the naked ork weaponsmith brushes some of the sand off him, then glares at the nearby pool of water, he hates that more than the sword, even though the water keeps the cave cool during the hot summer days here in the north of the nomads plains.
The large ork grimaces when lord Farque's sword tells him to put on his pants if he's going to go out and take a piss when the local tribes children are nearby watching him "Not fucken Dorc's fault they fucken pervs" mutters the warleader of the ork race, who slightly flinches as his right hand holding what he thinks is a magical sword, slightly rises up. He breathes a sigh of relief when the weapon doesn't hit him.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe gets up and wanders over to the rocks where his gear is, and puts his pants and boots on, though only after he's able to let go of the large sword that belongs to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Dorc da Orc sits down with his back against the cave wall, and not for the first time he wonders how barbarian hordesman from the southern tundra are in these hot, arid plains, north of the equator, far, faraway from the southern tundra.
Dorkindle who didn't really listen to what lord Farque's sword told him about these people who dwell in these hot, desolate plains, snorts then mutters "Fucken pony riders, that got no ponies" the large ork finds this extremely strange, as they're obviously the same people to even him, who often finds that humans all look pretty much the same to him.
The ork warleader who often sleeps during the day time, as the heat outside is just plain unbearable to him, yawns as he thinks about having something to eat, probably some of head the dead wyvern that he's placed at the top of the rise above the cave that he's living in.
The large ork is just thinking about gnawing on some of that, when he starts to doze, thinking of ponies, and what he would like to do with them, which involves him fucking a heard of them, the ork weaponsmith chortles as he starts to doze.
Ork! shouts Ryn the Sword of Power into the mind of the warleader of the ork race, Dorc da Orc wakes with a start after just a few short moments of sleep "What?" growls an annoyed weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks who finds that he's instinctively taken hold of lord Farque's sword which he placed beside him.
Dorkindle frowns as he listens to the voice in his head, the voice that's been the most prominent one by far in the last five weeks. Which is both a curse and a blessing in the opinion of the large ork. For it's shut up the other voices in his head, including the annoying voice of his 'mother', which has been a relief. Though the fact that the voice of lord Farque's sword is worse that all of the other voices that are usually banging away in his mind, kind of negates the positive aspect of the regular voices in his head being quiet.
"Alright, alright you don't have to fucken shout all the time" mutters Dorc da Orc as he gets up and grabs his weapon harness and puts it on, then he picks up the plate of natural dragon armour he wears, then he stumbles over to the sand incline that leads up to the cave mouth as the large sword tells him, in no uncertain terms to hurry up or else.
The ork weaponsmith stumbles outside into the morning sunshine, putting on the plate of dragon armour that belongs to him.
Dorkindle looks to the east and mutters "Fucken humanlings" as he spots the children who were watching him earlier, making their way to their tribes camp.
"Now fucken what?" asks the large ork, who then mutters "Not north" as the voice of lord Farque's sword tells him to look to the west and south. The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks looks that way and frowns, then he grunts and looks up into the sky that way after the voice in his head dryly tells him to look at the sky.
After a few moments, and with the advantage of his natural farsight, Dorc da Orc spots something, it's a pair of wyverns, he grunts then says "Yeah me fucken see 'em" the large ork, who at seven and half foot tall, and is around seven hundred and fifty pounds in weight, is still the largest ork of his tribe, slightly frowns as he notices something.
The wyverns aren't wild, as there's a number of riders upon their backs, and they're flying in formation. Dorkindle has seen it often enough in battle, and knows that the two wyverns and those upon them, are on the hunt for their enemy.
"Hmmmmm" murmurs the ork warleader as he first scratches his chin, then his nuts, as he thinks about something, the large ork looks east again, at the camp of the tribe of nomads, and though it matches the surroundings, Dorc da Orc with his sight, not to mention his hearing and sense of smell, can easily pick it out from nearly a mile away on the rise he's on. He then looks at the wyverns again to the west and south, and knows that from the air, the human riders won't be able to see the nomads camp, but their two wyverns will more than likely be able to if they get a good sight of it.
The ork weaponsmith, then looks back to where the children who were observing him a little earlier from down in the boulder field, are now crossing the hard packed flatland that's partway to their camp.
Dorc da Orc shrugs, then says "So fucken what?" he then winces and glances at the large sword that he's holding, afraid that it might come up and whack him as the voice in his head yells at him.
"Oh alright" mutters the large ork who sighs, as he figures it would be best to do what he's told to do, for the simple reason it would shut up the voice of lord Farque's sword for the moment, and will save him a thrashing, as the large sword knows exactly how hard to hit him, without breaking any bones, or cracking open his skull, but still hurt like hell.
With a sigh Dorc da Orc starts down the rise towards the boulder field, he grimaces and breaks out into a jog when lord Farque's sword yells at him to hurry the fuck up.
"Should we sneak a look at him late in the afternoon?" asks Amagin as the five children head back to their tribe's camp, they all know the monster rests during the day time, and is awake again around sunset. They've all seen him in the fading light of dusk, though they prefer to watch him first thing in the morning, like they have this morning. For the simple fact his antics seem to be funnier in the morning than they are at the end of the day.
"Maybe" says his cousin Halatai who like all the children, even young Flalil is keeping an eye on their surroundings as they head back to camp, the son of the tribe's leader continues with "Depends if we have to keep an eye on any of the herds i suppose".
His cousin Amagin grunts as he forgot about that, while the brothers Domatai and Tolagin nod as they too might be asked to watch some of the herds into the early evening, or if not that, then some other task. For the children of the nomads tribes work almost as much as the adults. They have to if they are to survive in the harsh environs that they live in.
Halatai as they cross the flatlands keeps a careful watch on the sands to the east where sand dragons dwell. And though the monster that dwells in the cave killed the sand dragon that's been pestering the tribe the most often of late, there are others lurking in the sand that's not all that far away.
Tolagin the oldest of the children, who also has keen eyesight, frowns as he looks back to the west, he quietly says to the others "What's that in the sky?" they all look back, and after a few moments as they look to the west and slightly south, Halatai recognizes what is they've seen "Wyverns".
The children walk a bit quicker, glancing back as they do, Domatai says "Two of them" followed by "A mating pair?" Halatai shakes his head, then quietly says "It's not the season" the children all know that the wyverns of the plains fly in flights of a handful of them, up to dozens. Or alternatively they will fly solo, the only time you see a pair of wyverns is if they're mating, and the season for that is in the late autumn, not the height of summer as it is now.
Halatai then says "Besides they're not flying like a pair about to mate" the ten year old boy who is the best with the bow and the knife amongst the tribes children, then adds "They're flying too straight and level for that" the son of the tribes leader, after a brief pause as he knows that it can only mean one thing, quickly says "Townsmen" followed by "Raiders".
"We're too far east" says Domatai as they all move a little quicker, though not at a run, because doing so might alert the keen eyesight of the approaching wyverns "Not far enough" says Halatai, who knows that Domatai is indeed correct, as they're way too far east into the plains, not to mention north, that they would ever see townsmen raiders.
Who are usually found near their own lands, either on foot, horseback, or on their tame wyverns, which are bred from wild wyverns of the nomads plains for generations upon generations.
But not this morning, as there's definitely a pair of tame wyverns flying in this direction, it's confirmed when Tolagin says "I think i see riders" as he looks back and watches the wyverns for a few moments.
The children all know that they're in trouble if they get caught out here in the flatlands, their only hope is to get into the dry ravine that leads to their tribe's camp. Though getting there before the approaching wyverns get here, might prove to be a little difficult, for Tolagin says "I think they've spotted us" they all look back, and see that the pair of wyverns are swooping downwards as they head directly this way.
Taking change of the situation, Halatai knowing that they've only got one chance of survival, yells "Run to the ravine!" the children take off running, and if the wyverns hadn't seen them already, they definitely have now, for the children hear the two wyverns screech to one another in triumph as they head down towards their fleeing prey.
As they run, Halatai is pretty sure he hears something else, but he's not to sure, as all can hear is his own breathing, his heartbeat in his ears, and the effort of the other four children with him.
The lip of the ravine is close, and the tribe's leaders son shouts "Jump" he grabs his little cousin Flalil and leaps down into the dry ravine with her as the shadow of s wyvern appears on the ground around them.
He hits the slightly sloping ground in the ravine with a grunt, barely holding onto Flalil as they, and the other children hear the loud screech of one of the wyverns, and smell it's strong reptilian like odour.
If there was ever any doubt that these were tame wyverns, that's put to rest as Halatai hears the voices of men calling out in the language of the townsmen as he along with his cousin Amagin scramble into some nearby rocks. They may not offer protection like the boulder field at the foot of the nearby rise would do, but it's the best cover available to them.
"What's that?" murmurs Halatai as he puts down his cousin Flalil, he's sure he's just heard a roar as he looks up and sees one of the wyverns rising up into the air, while out of the corner of his eye, he spots the other one swooping down towards the ravine.
Then Halatai along with his two cousins Amagin and Flalil hear, then see something totally unexpected "Huh?" murmurs a surprised Amagin, while an equally surprised Halatai murmurs "By the plains gods, what the hell?" . . . . . .