The Homecoming 130.

Turning Of The Tide...

A Harkonin soldier on the battlements along the south wall of castle Lé Dic. Hurries towards a nearby set of steps, until he's whacked in the shins with a shortsword swung by an injured Lé Dic soldier lying upon the parapet.
As that enemy soldier tumbles off the parapet to fall to the courtyard below. Another soldier from the fief across the border to the east swings his hand axe down at the injured defender lying on the parapet. Smashing in the top of the head of the Lé Dic soldier.
While behind them, another soldier in the army of baron Harkonin makes his way over the top of the wall, onto the battlements. Joining a handful of others who are on this section of the south wall, on the third, that's closet to the southeast corner tower of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
Over on the east wall of castle Lé Dic, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy as he watches Dorc da Orc across the otherside of the moat, throw enemy soldiers into the water after he whacks them down.
Looks to his right as the experienced squad leader who is his acting second tell him "Sir, across there to the south".
The spy from the elven principality of Alínlae who is in command of the defence of the east side of castle Lé Dic, looks to where the squad leader points across to the south side of the massive castle.
"Oh shit" mutters Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy as he sees that a fair few of the enemy have topped the south wall of castle Lé Dic. About a third of the way along the south parapet, closest to the southeast corner tower.
The spy Tanith quickly looks up at southeast tower, to where two archers and a crossbowman are located.
One of the archers and the crossbowman are shooting down at the enemy who have gained a foothold upon the top of the south wall.
The other archer, who looks like he's shooting down at the enemy on either the moat, or across it on the south side of the massive castle that's been home for the nobleborn Lé Dic family for centuries.
Hurries over and joins the other two who are shooting down at those soldiers in baron Harkonin's army who have topped the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
"Damn, they must be making a push over on that side" says Dalinvardél Tanith, who is commonly referred to as Dalin by the rest of the group.
Beside him the experienced squad leader nods in agreement, then says "Should we send two or three over there to help them?" followed by "Some of the townsfolk perhaps?".
The elven spy who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses in the principality of Alínlae shakes his head no, and says "We're stretched enough as it is".
The spy Tanith who has noticed that the war machines on the south side of castle Lé Dic have started up again. Flinging their shots over the fifty foot tall wall, barely getting over it at times, as their range is so short.
Tells the experienced squad leader who is his acting second "Have some of those with bows and crossbows that way, shoot across to the enemy on the south wall".
The elven spy gestures to the south along the east wall battlements as he says that, then he adds "That's the best we can do to help them".
As that way along the east wall, towards the southeast tower. Is fairly quiet ever since Dorc da Orc killed a group of enemy knights. As well as take out the enemy soldiers who were on a pair of rafts down that way in the moat.
Then Dalin briefly pauses as he thinks of something, then he quietly says "Maybe there's something else we can do".
The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae then looks across the moat, where on the otherside, he sees the large green figure of Dorc da Orc about thirty yards to the south of the road opposite the main gates here on the east side of castle Lé Dic.
Where he's just kicked one Harkonin soldier into the water, and grabbed another one by the throat, crushed it, then flung him into the moat as well.
Dalin quickly says to his acting second "Actually there's something else we can do" followed by "I'll need your help with something".
"Ha! Take a swim ya fucken cunt" chortles Dorc da Orc after he throws another enemy soldier into the water of the moat, as he makes his way back along the edge of the moat, towards the road that leads to the east side of castle Lé Dic.
The large ork, who is getting more pleasure throwing Harkonin soldiers into the moat than actually killing or injuring him.  As to him, he can't see a fate worse than getting wet.
Wipes his sweaty brow as the midday, well early afternoon really, springtime sun is warm, on what's a cloudless day in this part of the Lé Dic fief.
The ork warleader who detests the sun, and the heat it gives off, as much as he hates water.
Could do with a drink to parch his thirst. Ale, wine or fortified spirits would be good about now. But unfortunately he doesn't have any on him.
The ale barrel he did have early this morning. Was emptied before the battle for the massive castle even began.
Dorkindle wishes he had another barrel right now. After all he's been killing the enemy nonstop, even since the battle got underway.
The ork weaponsmith grabs a Harkonin soldier who has made it back to the bank, after falling from one of the floating rafts.
The big, burly ork has a look of disgust upon his face as he grabs the drenched soldier in the army of baron Harkonin.
Then the warleader of the ork race grins, then he crushes the right arm he's holding. And kicks the left leg of the enemy soldier. Breaking that as well.
Then he biffs the screaming Harkonin soldier back into the moat. Flinging him a good fifteen feet out into the water.
Then Dorc da Orc chuckles to himself as he watches the enemy soldier, with a broken arm and a broken leg, struggle to keep a float.
"Fucken drown ya silly fucken cunt" chortles the large ork who takes great delight in watching the Harkonin soldier splash around in a panic, struggling to keep his head above water.
"Bye bye cunt" says the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who waves goodbye to the soldier from the fief across the border to the east, after struggling to keep a float, sinks beneath the surface of the water.
Then Dorkindle bursts into laughter as he can see below the surface of the water, the enemy soldier thrashing about, trying to get back up to the surface.
"See ya fuckface" says the laughing ork warleader, who then suddenly frowns, and murmurs "Huh?" as he hears something.
"Yeah cunt, that's me" quietly says Dorc da Orc who hears his name being called out. The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, darts a look to either side. Then scratches his dreadlock topknot. As he's pretty certain it wasn't one of the myriad of voices in his head, that's calling out his name.
After all, they tend to call him things like fat cunt, or dumb cunt, stupid cunt, shit for brains, etcetera, etcetera. Or just plain, cunt.
This he's definitely sure he actually heard. And continues to hear.
With a frown upon his broad, green, feral looking face, he looks across the moat, and up to the top of the east wall of castle Lé Dic.
And ignoring a crossbow quarrel that hits him in the back of the head, which he barely feels.
The ork weaponsmith from the southern polar region of the world, looks along the battlements on the east side of castle Lé Dic.
He grunts when he spots the elven spy Dalinvardél Tanith, along with a Lé Dic soldier, waving out to him, and calling his name.
Dorc da Orc frowns, then he listens carefully over the noise of the battle as he hears the spy Tanith shout out something from on top of the east wall of the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for centuries.
The big, burly ork frowns, and sees the elven spy point away to the southern side of the massive castle.
"Not north" mutters Dorkindle as he listens to what Dalin shouts from the parapet across the otherside of the moat.
Then the ork, who to this day, is still the largest member of his tribe, the wolf tribe. Spots the spy Tanith give a couple of hand signals.
And though Dalinvardél Tanith, like most of those in the group, know a few rudimentary hand signals that were developed by lord Farque a number of years ago.
Which the ork warleader knows all of, when he bothers to remember them.
The large ork, who knows that it's surprisingly Mira Reinholt the mage, who knows more of the hand signals in the group, with the exception of himself, and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Makes a fist with his right hand, shakes it once, and points to the south side of castle Lé Dic.
Up on the east wall parapet, the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae, nods his head, then murmurs in the language of the elves "I hope that was the right signal".
As he watches Dorc da Orc nod, then turn and amble away, heading southwards alongside the moat, on this side of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
"Well he's going the right way" says Dalinvardél Tanith in common to his second in command, he continues with "That's something at least" the elven spy who once served in one of the more prominent noble houses in the principality of Alínlae then silently adds, now hurry up, and move that fat ass of yours Dorc.
As he watches the warleader of the ork race walking quickly, then finally breaking out into a jog, as he heads to the southeast corner of castle Lé Dic,
Dorkindle, who is thirsty for some alcohol. Who occasionally glares at the water in the moat to his right. Where towards this end of the east wall. There's just a single raft in the water. Damaged, with a handful of Harkonin soldiers clinging onto it, as it drifts about uncontrollably as they have no poles.
Also glares up at the clear sky above. At the sun above, on what's now a very clear day here in this part of the kingdom of Druvic.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe, like ork kind. Doesn't get exhausted like other races. Who could fight at the pace he's been fighting in the battle today. For five or six days straight, without taking a rest. Before dropping on the spot, and getting some sleep.
Doesn't like the close proximity of the water. Or that it's such a clear, sunny, warm spring day today.
As it makes him uncomfortable. After all he's from the southern polar region of the world.
And though he's been gone from there for over twenty years. He will never fully acclimate to the weather here, north of the southern polar region.
"Fucken cunt sun" mutters Dorc da Orc as he jogs southwards "To hots" adds the large ork in a mutter.
"And fucken cunt water too" says the warleader of the ork race as he scowls at the moat just a couple of yards to his right.
Then his diatribe against the water and moat, as well as the sun in the clear, spring sky.
Is momentarily interrupted by one of the warhorses of the enemy knights he killed. Running by to his left, about thirty yards away.
"Oooohhhh sexy horsey" murmurs the big, burly ork, who then calls out "Here horsey, Dorc just wanna give you pats!". The ork weaponsmith laughs, for he wants to give it way more than just pats.
Then he grunts, as the warhorse, takes off running, heading south and east, away from the massive castle that's been the home of the Lé Dic family for generations.
Dorkindle is huffing and puffing as he gets to the southeast corner of castle Lé Dic. And he has to go out about twenty yards, as the moat at the four corners of the massive castle, have a slightly higher bank, than the rest of it.
He runs around the corner, not quickly at all. But at a steady pace, that with his long legs, and stride. Covers a lot of ground, even though he isn't running at speed.
Once around the corner of the moat, Dorc da Orc comes to a stop and grunts, then he murmurs "Hmmmm".
For what he sees here, along the south side of castle Lé Dic. The battle is in a vastly different state than it is on the east side of the massive castle.
As loads from the catapults and trebuchets in the south courtyard of castle Lé Dic, barely fly over the south wall. He sees enemy soldiers all across the moat on this side of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
There's a hell of a lot more of them here. Either on their rafts, or in the water. And he sees those that aren't soldiers. Camp followers, as the army camp of baron Harkonin's army is situated to the south of castle Lé Dic.
Have joined in on the assault on the south wall of the massive castle.
The ork warleader frowns, then he scowls as he looks up at the battlements on this side of the castle. And he spots a fair few of the enemy up on the parapet of the south wall.
"Fuckballs" mutters Dorc da Orc, who let's out a deep sigh, then says to himself "How me s'pose to kill them cunts?" as he looks up at the enemy soldiers who have gained a foothold upon the battlements on top of the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
The big, burly ork who hails from the very bottom of the world. Grunts, and sets off at a jog, taking an axe and a hammer from his weapon harness as he heads along the bank of the moat, on this, the south side of the massive castle that's been the home to the Lé Dic family for centuries.
As he jogs towards the closest of the enemy, Dorc da Orc wonders how he's going to cross the moat, and get up to the top of the south wall of castle Lé Dic. So he can clear the enemy soldiers from the battlements.
"Hmmmm me will fucken work something out" the ork weaponsmith murmurs to himself. What? He's not exactly sure. Just that he'll find some way to get across the moat, and up to the parapet on the south side of castle Lé Dic.
In the meantime, Dorkindle roars like only an ork can roar, louder than anyone else can roar.
Scaring the living daylights out of the Harkonin soldiers and camp followers he's running towards, who turn and see the large ork coming towards them holding up the axe in one hand, and the hammer in the other.
With a maniacal looking grin upon his broad, green, brutish looking face, as he laughs in what can only be described as a crazed, and deranged manner, Dorc da Orc charges into the enemy on this side of castle Lé Dic, shouting "Get some!" . . . . . .