The Homecoming 116.

In The Thick Of It...

Whacking out some of the bolts and arrows in his right arm. Dorc da Orc growls, then dives forward into some of the Harkonin soldiers who are trying to get out of his way.
The large ork knows that to be in amongst the enemy is the best chance of not being shot at so often by those with crossbows and bows.
The ork warleader, gets up, and grabs one of the soldiers, who is howling in pain with a broken leg.
Dorkindle picks him up by that leg, and an arm. The ork weaponsmith swings around in a circle, before he flings the screaming soldier away.
Sending him crashing into a group of the enemy, who are trying to avoid the big, burly ork as they rush towards the moat. Which is about fifty feet behind the ork, who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
The large ork from the bottom of the world, chuckles as at least half a dozen other Harkonin soldiers go down when the one he threw at them, hits them.
Then he looks quickly away to his right, towards the trade road that leads to the east side of castle Lé Dic.
Dorkindle runs that way, throwing an axe he takes from the front of his weapon harness. That slams into the face, and explodes the skull of the wagon driver, who has just brought his wagon to a halt on the trade road.
The warleader of the ork race sourly smiles, as the four soldiers on the back of the wagon, swing the side by side ballista, they're the crew of, around in the direction of the large ork.
There's the the familiar sound of a thunk of a ballista being fired over the noise of the battle. But it doesn't come from the side by side war machine, that's in the back of the wagon. It comes from one of the two up on the parapet of the east wall of castle Lé Dic.
It's missile slams into the back of the wagon that has the side by side ballistas, designed by the war engineer Tovis.
One of the soldiers is torn in half, and  another has the twelve foot long, heavy spear go through him, picking him up, and throwing him off the back of the wagon.
One of the other four man ballista crew, dived off the side of the wagon. While the other, just stands there, completely stunned that the missile didn't hit him, and he's totally unharmed.
That's until Dorc da Orc grabs him by the leg, and growls "Mine cunt" as he yanks the Harkonin soldier off the wagon, before he jumps up onto the back of the wagon with a loud, and high pitched hysterical laugh, that sounds like an enraged pig squealing.
Seeing that both ballistas are back in firing position, and that there's a missile in each one.
Dorkindle swings them around on the wooden, circular, turntable they're on. And he pulls back on the heavy rope that connects the two metal levers that fire the war machine.
The two ten foot long heavy spears, shoot off, connected by a chain. Which the ork weaponsmith shot back in the direction of the massive castle that's under attack from baron Harkonin's army.
The big, burly ork didn't shoot at the castle as such. He shot at the moat instead. To be exact, at soldiers on one of the floating rafts trying to get to the east wall of castle Lé Dic.
The two missiles, and its chain, rip apart half a dozen Harkonin soldiers, and shatter the scaling ladder they had with them.
The ork warleader didn't even see it hit, as he's too busy pulling the side by side ballistas back into firing position, as he swings them around again.
Dorc da Orc chuckles as some of the enemy shooting at him with their crossbows, and others who were rushing towards the wagon he's on the back of. Dive to the ground, and out of the way of the side by side ballistas being pointed at them.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks in the southern polar region of the world. Then loads the two ballista, putting a heavy longspear in each one.
These two aren't connected by a chain, so they're quicker to load. Especially by a large ork, who can put the ten foot long spears in each ballista with a single hand.
"Get some!" shouts Dorkindle as he fires off the war machine at more of the enemy, this time at those on the otherside of the trade road from where he get off the moat.
The warleader of the ork race who is amongst the enemy army, looks quickly around. And though he sees those who are mounted. He doesn't see any of the nobility. Well at least no knights in suits of plate armour.
The big, burly ork, who to this day, at seven and half foot tall, and seven hundred and fifty pounds in weight, is still the largest member of his tribe. Has got amongst the thick of it in the battle, for the sole purpose to take out as much of the nobility and officers from the Harkonin fief as possible.
Dorc da Orc once again reloads the war machine he's taken over. Sniffing as he does so.
And as he pulls the side by side ballistas back into firing position, he grunts as he looks away further to the right.
To the southeast corner of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family. The ork who was given the title, and position of warleader by lord Farque a number of years ago.
Can smell more riders and their mounts around on the south side of castle Lé Dic. Though some of them are in suits of armour. Most in heavy plate armour, made in the usual steel. Though one is in a suit of heavy iron armour. Which has a clear, distinctive smell to the nose of the large ork.
He catches a whiff of those who are heavily armoured, including whoever it is in the distinctive suit of iron armour.
Are riding in this direction, towards the east side of castle Lé Dic, from around the southern side of the massive castle, that for centuries, has been the home of the Lé Dic family.
"Get some!" shouts the ork weaponsmith as he fires the war machine again, sending the missiles towards a nearby catapult that a number of the enemy are running around, for cover.
One of them is clearly an officer, if he's nobleborn, Dorkindle has no idea. But one of the heavy spears, slams into the back of that officer, pinning him to the side of the catapult.
While the other heavy longspear, takes off the right arm of one Harkonin soldier. Before slamming into another. In the back, going through him, and into a third soldier from the fief to the east. Who goes cartwheeling next to the catapult, with the missile through his lower back, just above the left hip, and out the right side of his stomach.
Dorc da Orc chuckles as he jumps off the back of the wagon after kicking the base of one of the ballista sending it sideways into the other, and ripping off the rope that connects the firing levers.
He lands on top of a Harkonin soldier who was running at the wagon, with a great axe. Dorkindle who has squashed the enemy soldier. Though not to death, kills him, when he bites into the Harkonin soldier's face, and tears most of it off, including the man's jaw, and much of his throat.
With a face covered in blood, the big, burly ork, gets up, grabbing the enemy soldier's great axe as he does so.
The axe is barely bigger than one of the ork weaponsmith's throwing axes. So he throws it at some of the enemy across the trade road, trying to evade him, as they rush towards the moat carrying the raft that they built as the baron's army was making it's way to castle Lé Dic.
"Get some" mumbles the ork warleader as he chews the jaw and face that's in his mouth, when the axe he threw hits one of the enemy soldier's across the trade road carrying a raft.
Then in his lumbering stride, Dorc da Orc takes off running. Well, it's jogging really. To the road, then across it, taking a hammer from the front of his weapon harness. And longspear from across his back.
"Get some ya cunts!" yells the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
He swings his hammer at a Harkonin soldier who gets too close. And as another goes down with a bolt in the side, shot from a crossbow up on the battlements along the east side of castle Lé Dic.
Dorkindle slams his longspear into the guts of another soldier from the fief across the border to the east. All the way through his body, and out his back. With at least four feet of the longspear out the Harkonin soldier's back.
The warleader of the ork race lifts the longspear up high, and shakes the enemy soldier skewed by it, and after roaring loudly, shouts "Get some!".
"Take that!" shouts sir Percavelle Lé Dic as wades through the enemy, here, across the moat, along the south side of the massive castle that's his family's ancestral home.
The heavily armoured knight who knows he's at his most advantageous, not to mention, most destructive. Being in the thick of it, close in amongst the enemy.
Yanks the pick end of his hand axe out of the face of the enemy soldier he's just slammed it into.
Then backhands, the hammer he's holding in his other gauntleted hand. Shattering the jaw, and smashing the face of another of the baron Harkonin's soldiers.
The former earl of Lé Dic yells "Take that you knave!" as he uses the hammer to block an enemy soldier's sword, then he kicks him in the groin with a steel boot. Instantly dropping that soldier who hails from the fief across the border to the east.
Out of the corner of his left eye, sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's commonly referred to by the rest of the group.
Spots a number of riders heading eastwards, probably around to that side of the massive castle that baron Harkonin's army are assaulting this fine spring day.
The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, is pretty sure he spots the recognisable form of sir Parnak leading those enemy riders.
The ordered knight snorts in derision as he thinks of the ridiculous heavy iron armour that the rotund sir Parnak wears.
The former paladin knows that it's effective against blades, and weapons with points. But that black iron, is extremely heavy. And susceptible against anyone who is quick, or strong with a blunt weapon, like a heavy hammer.
The nobleman who once ruled this fief, headbutts a Harkonin soldier. Dropping the man from the fief across the border to the east, whose face has been shattered by the face plate of sir Percavelle's full helm.
Then with an underhand swing with the pick axe, the nobleborn knight whacks another of the baron's soldiers between the legs.
"Sorry about that old chap, you shouldn't of got in the way" says the former knight of the first class, after he steps over the enemy soldier, who dropped after the ordered knight yanked out the pick axe between the man's legs.
As another of the enemy infront of him, drops to the ground, with a bolt in the left thigh, shot from crossbow up on the south wall battlements of the castle.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic hurries onto the road that leads to the main gates on the south side of the massive castle, that his family have called home for more than four centuries.
The heavily armoured knight looks along the road, and off to the west side of it, he spots armoured riders heading this way.
"Well tis about time wot" says the former paladin, who grins as he sees who is amongst the riders heading this way from the rear of the Harkonin army.
Well if it isn't that popinjay, Taevar himself, the nobleborn knight thinks to himself when he spots the enemy army commander amongst those riding towards the moat.
The former earl of Lé Dic, who makes sure the heavy, canvas bag is still secure over his right shoulder. Grins in anticipation as he watches the group of nobleborn riders heading this way.
Then the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che yells "Take that you villainous swine!" as he slams the axe head of his pick axe into the mouth of Harkonin soldier trying to prove his worth by taking on the former paladin.
Then he brains another Harkonin soldier, a short one. With his hammer, down into the crown of that soldier from the fief across the border to the east.
Kicking that body to the side, before it drops to the ground. Sir Percavelle Lé Dic steps out into the middle of the road, and waits for the approaching riders.
He sees that none of them have lances. And though if he was one, and he was riding here to confront him. He would ride himself down.
Though the ordered knight knows none in the group of enemy will even contemplate doing that. As they'll want to face the famous sir Percavelle, on foot, in armed combat.
Weapons against weapons, even though there's six, heavily armoured noblemen riding towards him.
Hmmm six against one Percy old chap, the uncle of lady Linara Lé Dic thinks to himself, who then chuckles and says "Barely even odds i should think" the heavily armoured knight then silently adds, though i shall have the advantage, since all know, i, the great sir Percavelle, is the paramount knight in all of the world.
Still holding the dead Harkonin soldier skewered by one of his longspears, Dorc da Orc after having a quick look around. Heads southwards, here along the east side of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for generations.
The big, burly ork roars as he shakes the longspear with the dead soldier on it, as he heads back a bit towards the moat as he jogs parallel to it.
The ork warleader runs into some of the enemy, knocking one down flat, sending another reeling to the left, and shouldering another away to the right. Where he crashes into two others, at the rear of a group of six of them, who are carrying a scaling ladder towards the moat. The ladder goes down as the two at the back hit the ground, when the one the ork weaponsmith shouldered, smashes into them.
Dorkindle continues on his way towards the southeast corner of castle Lé Dic, where there's less of the enemy.
Then the large ork, who is sniffing as he lopes along, in his lumbering stride. Grins a few moments before he sees a group of riders come around from the south side of the massive castle.
Dorc da Orc chortles, then shouts "Get some!" when he sees the riders, who are all armoured in heavy plate. Spot him, and turn in his direction and start riding towards him.
As he angrily, well it looks angrily, but to him it's with glee, that he violently shakes his longspear that has a Harkonin soldier skewered on it, in anticipation as the nobleborn energy ride this way . . . . . .