The Homecoming 11.

A Practice Yard...

There's a practice yard just outside the east wall of castle Lé Dic. And in it, Lisell Maera steps back and lifts her blade to indicate she's had enough.
Facing her, Tamric Drubine nods then says "You're getting better". The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin returns his sword to it's scabbard and adds "You should use the sword more often, you're actually pretty good with it".
The older teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury lifts an eyebrow, due to Tam not usually being one for compliments, especially encouraging one's.
"Maybe" says Lisell Maera, who prefers a shorter blade than a sword for close in fighting. She prefers ranged weapons even more. A bias she'll never truly get over no matter how good she'll get with a melee weapon.
"What do you think Dorc?" asks Tamric Drubine who looks away to their right to where the large ork is sitting upon the ground about twenty yards away.
Lis who is glad that there's a cold wind blowing this morning to help keep her cool, looks over at the ork warleader, who she sees isn't even looking at them. Infact he's paid them very little attention at all as they've practiced.
"Seems he'd rather watch something else" dryly says Lisell Maera in the elven language, the son of the former knight of castle Drubine in Sarcrin nods his head in agreement as they look at the ork weaponsmith who is looking further eastwards.
"Dorc!" calls out Tam, which illicits a grunt from the large ork, who finally looks away from what he's watching, and looks over at the two teens who have been practicing their swordwork this cool, winter's morning.
"What cunt?" asks Dorc da Orc, who doesn't look at them long, as he goes back to watching what's happening in the field further east of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
"Lis is getting better with the sword, don't you think?' asks the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin "Yeah sure, whatever cunt" says the warleader of the ork race in a non committal tone of voice as he continues to look away to the east.
Both Tam and Lis roll their eyes, then after sharing a look, the older teen from the west coast of the Southlands, says in the elven language "He's too busy watching that" the younger teen nods his head in agreement with her. Then the two of them wander over to where the big, burly ork is sitting on the ground.
After she takes a drink from her water sack, Lisell Maera looks away to their left, and sees a group of people making their way out of the castle, across the drawbridge, then along the road to the field that's a bit of a hive of activity this morning.
Amongst the group is the young lady of the fief, lady Linara Lé Dic. With her is her grandfather on her mother's side, lord Milburn. As well as the army commander sir Galmot, amongst others. At the back of the group walks sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who briefly looks in their direction before he continues down the road behind the others.
"What do you think of it Dorc?" asks Tamric Drubine as they look eastwards, the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who is an expert at what's being done in the nearby field, just grunts in reply to Tam's question. A rather underwhelming grunt at that.
"No good?" adds the former heir to castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin "It's fucken fine" says Dorkindle who continues with "It'll fucken work" he momentarily pauses before adding in a sour tone "The first few times".
The two teenagers, glance at one another, then they look at the large ork from the southern polar region, and Lis asks him "Then what?". The ork warleader slaps his large hands together, then quickly pulls them apart and makes an explosive sound, and follows that up with a chuckle.
"You sure?" asks Tamric Drubine in a tone of concern, Dorc da Orc scowls as he looks at them, then he says in his deep, growling voice "Of course me fucken sure cunt" he waves a hand away to the field to the east, and adds "Me helped build heaps of them before, and after a few goes, that fucker there is gonna be fucked".
"Hell" mutters Lis "Have you told anyone?" asks Tam "Them cunts don't wanna listen to Dorc" sourly says the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
Both teens wince, as they know that for the most part that the inhabitants of castle Lé Dic and the town of Massic it's located behind. Don't really what anything to do with the large ork now that they know what he is. It doesn't help that sir Percavelle has actively encouraged the locals to shun the ork warleader, and have them ignore him.
"Well we better tell them" says the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin "I agree" adds the orphan teen from the city-state of Brattonbury who continues with "Before they end up killing a lot of themselves down there".
"Fucken let 'em" says Dorkindle who is of the opinion that when things go wrong, which it will in this instance. Those involved will get what they deserve, considering they ignored him when he mentioned the problem to those who were building it.
"We better go down there and warn them" says Tam, the large ork snorts and loudly mutters "Fuck 'em" the nobleborn teen says "Dorc!" in rebuke, which causes the warleader of the ork race to scowl, though look closely at the teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The ork weaponsmith grunts, then he shrugs his massive shoulders and gets up off the ground. He follows behind the two teens Tam and Lis, who are heading out of the practice yard. And are making their way to the road, which heads down to the field where the newly repaired trebuchet is located, and is about to be tested this morning.
As they reach the road, Lisell Maera looks back, and she spots Riley Hait the mercenary ranger and Shur Kee the monk crossing the drawbridge on this side of the castle.
The other member of the group here at castle Lé Dic, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, has gone out with a patrol. They left yesterday, to check on things further to the east in the fief. Near where it borders fief Harkonin to the east.
"Dorc have you told Riley about it?" asks Lisell Maera, who nods her head to the war machine sitting in the field they're making their way towards "Nah cunt" is the answer of the large ork as he follows behind the two teenagers.
Lis informs Tam that both Riley Hait and Shur Kee are heading this way too. The nobleborn teen looks back, and spots the two of them, amongst some of the other people who have left the castle, and are leaving the castle, to get a closer look at what's taking place in the nearby field.
"Wait up for them" quietly says Tamric Drubine in the elven language, who slows down so that the mercenary ranger and the physical adept can catch up to them.
They wait for the two who have just left the castle, and it's not long before the mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen and the short, statured monk from beyond the Southlands catch up to the three of them.
When they do, Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera quickly inform the ranger Hait what the ork weaponsmith has informed them about the newly repaired trebuchet.
"Hell" mutters Riley Hait the mercenary ranger as they walk along the road to the field, he looks at the warleader of the ork race, and asks him "Dorc is this true?" he nods towards the war machine, and adds "About the trebuchet?".
"Yeah cunt" is the reply of Dorkindle, who truth be told, is looking forward to the trebuchet failing, so he can watch the number of people near it, die or get seriously injured when it shatters apart under the enormous strain and pressure it'll have to withstand. The big burly ork then explains what's exactly wrong with the trebuchet.
They get to the field, where Dorc da Orc remains at the edge of it, as the trebuchet has just had a test shot, without a load attached to it. Shur Kee remains beside the large ork after hearing the ork weaponsmith's explanation of what's likely to happen. The monk in the order of Bru Li thinks it's best to keep as far away from the war machine as possible.
As they stand at the edge of the field, Riley Hait and the teenagers, Lisell Maera and Tamric Drubine hurry forward to where the heavy war machine is located.
"Ha!" says Dorkindle, who then adds "Couple of shots with a cunt like that, and them fuckers there are all dead" and chuckles as a load of boulders in a net are attached to the arm of the trebuchet.
Shur Kee winces as they watch Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman quickly talking to sir Percavelle Lé Dic and others who have come down to the field to watch the newly repaired war machine be tested.
"See, it's s'posed to be fucken like that" says Dorkindle who holds up one large hand and his other at angle against it. They're directly in line to the side of the trebuchet, that's over a hundred yards away from them.
And the acolyte in the order of Bru Li can see the angle that the ork weaponsmith believes the swing arm of the war machine should be. And though it's only fractionally off, with the amount of pressure the trebuchet is under with the loads it flings away. It will definitely fly apart sooner rather than later because it isn't in perfect alignment at the correct angle.
The short statured monk from the far eastern coastal kingdom of Wah Lee knows that though the large ork is incredibly thick about most things, and quite deranged. When it comes to warfare, and the weapons and machines used in conflict, he's incredibly knowledgeable.
When ordinarily he doesn't know what day it is, he'd definitely know the weight and size of a load, from just a glance, at what a war machine is able to handle, even if it is in perfect working order.
Which the one further in the field they're looking at, isn't in at the moment.
"Looks like they are not listening to friend Riley" quietly says Shur Kee the monk, this causes Dorkindle to snort, then chuckle and murmur something in the incomprehensible language of the orks. Which Shur Kee correctly figures is derogatory about those the ranger Hait is talking to.
"Friend Dorc you must do something" quickly says the monk in the odd conical shaped hat "Dorc not your fucken friend cunt" mutters the ork warleader in his own language, he then adds in common "Nah monkey, them cunts won't listen to Dorc, me already fucken try, and they ignores me" the large ork shrugs then says "They dead soon".
A cheer goes up from the gathered crowd, those at the edge of the field, and those closer to the trebuchet, which the crew manning it, have just sent off a shot of boulders flying through the air.
"See" says Dorkindle, who then adds "That shit should've gones much longer than that" he continues with "They got the angle of the fucken arm all wrong".
Shur Kee grimaces, then says "Dorc, come along you must hurry" the living incarnation of the Jade Warrior Bru Li quickly adds "Look, young Tamric and Lisell are down there". Thinking quickly on his feet, the short statured monk says "Lord Farque would not appreciate it if any harm would come to them, or to friend Riley".
Shur Kee refrains from mentioning sir Percavelle Lé Dic, as he knows the large ork couldn't care less about the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che.
Dorkindle scowls at the physical adept, then he sourly mutters "Fucknuts" and adds "Oh alright" when Shur Kee tells him "Hurry Dorc, you must get these people away".
They set off quickly across the field, and the acolyte in the order of Bru Li who has known the large ork longer than anyone else here at castle Lé Dic, and knows what he's mostly likely to do, says to the ork weaponsmith from the southern polar region "Do not harm any of them friend Dorc".
The ork warleader sourly grunts as he was intending to draw some weapons, roar at everyone, then start attacking them if they didn't get away from the doomed trebuchet.
The large ork suddenly grins, then he chuckles as he comes up with another idea instead, which will be more effective to be honest.
They reach the group that the ranger Hait is desperately talking to. Dorkindle ignores them, and walks between them, causing people to hurry out of his way.
Once he's in the middle of them as they've spread out. And as more than a few, including sir Percavelle frown as they look at him, while a large boulder is dragged into position by a team of horses, to be attached to the rope and chain on the end of the arm of the trebuchet. Dorc da Orc drops his pants and proceeds to take a shit.
The large ork who normally takes a crap at least a few times a day, due to the vast amount of food and alcohol he consumes. Hasn't had a dump since yesterday morning.
And it shows, because he sprays shit everywhere out of his ass. Which causes people to flee. Well those who haven't already when he first pulled down his grubby knee length pants.
Dorkindle squats there chuckling to himself as people run away, as dark black, green shit squirts from his rear end.
"Aaaawww yeah that's good poos" murmurs the ork warleader as he looks back at the shit he's sprayed across the ground. The large ork, who is now by himself in this part of the field. Looks over at the trebuchet crew. Who have stopped what they're doing, and are staring at him in disbelief.
Not bothering to pull his pants up, Dorc da Orc reaches down and picks up a large handful of shit off the ground. He goes for the more solid looking stuff, as he'll need it for what he wants.
The ork weaponsmith laughs after he takes a bite of the shit he's grabbed, then throws the rest of it in the direction of the crew working on the war machine, who flee when the shit comes flying through the air towards them.
Pulling up his pants, Dorkindle walks away, taking one of his throwing axes from his weapon harness as he does so. The large ork heads to the edge of the field where most of the people who have remained, when the vast majority are quickly heading back up the road to the massive castle that's nearby.
Dorc stops, turns around and throws his axe, he turns back around, and continues on his way while his axe is still in mid air. The axe goes about fifty yards, and cuts through the release rope of the trebuchet.
The arm goes to swing, as the counterweight sets into motion the large boulder that's been attached to the war machine. It barely moves when the trebuchet shatters apart from the incredible strain that it's under as the load bearing arm was repaired and placed at the incorrect angle. And though that angle was only slight, that's all in needed to be, for the war machine to catastrophically fail. Killing anyone close to it. That's if there was actually anyone close to it, which there wasn't.
Stopping at the edge of the field, and looking at those who have remained, in particular sir Percavelle Lé Dic, Dorc da Orc says "See, told ya it wouldn't work ya cunts" before he continues on his way towards the road and back to the castle . . . . . .