The Homecoming 132.

Unlikely Allies...

"There" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic who has spotted a raft that's just been put out, and those enemy who are upon it, are struggling to pole and paddle it across the moat to the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
Huffing and puffing behind the heavily armoured knight, Dorc da Orc spots the raft in question. Which he's pretty dubious about getting on, and whether it'll hold his weight.
The large ork sourly smiles as the former paladin further infront of him, stabs an enemy soldier in the back. Propelling the man forward with a fair bit of force, sending him crashing into a group of Harkonin soldiers who are at the edge of the moat.
The ork warleader who thinks the sword of knockdown should be his. After all, he's the one who got it in it's current shape. Though he, and it got hit by a lightning bolt cast by an enraged Mira Reinholt the mage.
To get it to it's current shape, which is the length of shortsword, when previously, the magical weapon was a longsword.
"Dorc's fucken magicky sword" mutters Dorc da Orc in his native language as he follows behind the former earl of Lé Dic to the water's edge.
Then Dorkindle's eyes open wide, and his nostrils flare wide as a look of utter disgust appears on his face, as the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che doesn't stop, and runs into the water.
The big, burly ork comes to a quick halt at the edge of the moat. While sir Percavelle Lé Dic kicks up water as he runs to the raft before it gets to far out. For the simple reason the moat drops straight down to about fifteen feet, just a few yards from the edge of the moat.
The uncle of lady Linara Lé Dic leaps forward to the raft, swinging the sword of knockdown as he does so. The former knight of the first class lands on the raft, hitting one of the enemy soldiers with his magical sword as he does so.
The Harkonin soldier goes tumbling sideways, smashing one of his fellow soldiers off the side of the raft, with the two of them ending a good twenty feet away from the floating raft, in the water.
"Unlucky for you chaps, this here piss, poor excuse for a boat now belongs to me" says the heavily armoured knight to the remaining Harkonin soldiers on the raft, which is lazily circling around as no one has got a pole or a makeshift paddle in the water at the moment.
"Get back here cunt!" yells Dorc da Orc as he watches the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che on the raft, just twenty feet away from him. Though it might as well be twenty miles, since it's water between him and the raft he wants to be on.
"Mine" growls the large ork who grabs a spear that's stabbed at him by a Harkonin soldier.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, who has grabbed the spear about a third of the way down the length of it.
Pulls it hard, sending the enemy soldier still holding it, up and over into the air. Flinging him away into the moat. Hitting the water with a splash.
Then the ork who hails from the bottom of the world, in the southern polar region. Flips the spear in the air, catching it so that the spearhead is now facing away from him, and in one smooth motion, he throws it.
Now, Dorc da Orc might not of been aiming directly at sir Percavelle Lé Dic. But the spear passes by the former paladin by just mere inches.
Going over the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che's heavily armoured right shoulder.
To take one of the Harkonin soldiers on the raft, right in the face. The spear hits so hard, it takes that enemy soldier's head right off.
Dorkindle grunts, it's not a grunt of satisfaction, nor is it one of dissatisfaction. It's just a grunt of acknowledgment. As he wouldn't of cared if the spear he just threw. Hit sir Percavelle Lé Dic or not. He's just fine with it hitting anyone on the raft that's drifting out on the moat.
"This way cunt, back here!" says the warleader of the ork race after the former earl of Lé Dic, kicks one of the enemy soldiers off the raft. And sends another one flying through the air, courtesy of the sword of knockdown, back to the bank, to land away to the right of where Dorc da Orc is standing.
The last Harkonin soldier on the floating raft, after finding himself alone on the raft with the famous sir Percavelle Lé Dic. Jumps off the raft, and into the water. He'll take his chances in the water, rather than being stuck on a raft with the heavily armoured knight who will more than likely kill him.
"Yeah that's it ya fucken knight cunt, this way" mutters the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks when the former knight of the first class, picks up one of the long poles, puts it into the water, and pushes against the bottom of the moat.
The floating raft spins towards the bank, until sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's commonly referred to, by the rest of the group. Pushes the end of the pole against the bottom of the moat again, and the raft spins away from the water's edge.
Dorc da Orc's mouth drops open, and an incredulous look appears upon his face, when the former earl of Lé Dic says to him "Hurry you filthy green beast" as he waves for the large ork to come over to the raft.
"The waters of thy family's moat tis shallow for the first few yards, you have nothing to fear from drowning wot" says the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, who then grins behind the faceplate of his helm as he knows how much the large ork despises water.
"You dumb fucken knight cunt, Dorc's not getting in that fucken water!" says the ork weaponsmith is his deep, growling voice. Then pointing down at the ground, the big, burly ork demands "You fucken get back here with that fucken raft now, you silly fucken cunthole!".
"No can do, you filthy stink beast" says the grinning sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who pauses as the big, burly ork slams his axe down into the head, and then body of a Harkonin soldier who runs at him.
And grabs a second, who also goes to attack him. And throws him into the moat, to land next to the raft that the former earl of Lé Dic is on.
"Quaint" sourly says the nobleborn knight as water splashes up onto him, from where the enemy soldier hit it, after being thrown into the moat by the ork warleader.
"Hurry up beastie, I'm going now" says the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, who sticks the long pole back into the water, after he kicks the Harkonin soldier in the face that Dorkindle threw into the moat, who tries to climb up onto the raft,
"Cheerio" says Percy with a wave of farewell to the ork weaponsmith standing at the water's edge.
Behind the faceplate of his full helm, the grinning former paladin guffaws as he watches the big, burly ork, who has what can only be described as an enraged look mixed with disgust upon his broad, green, feral looking face at the possibility that he might just have to get wet.
"Dorc gonna fucken kill you" growls the ork warleader in his native language as he scowls at the heavily armoured knight on the raft, who he just knows is grinning at him behind the visor of his full helm as he watches him.
The former earl of Lé Dic once again puts the pole in the water and pushes, though this time towards the bank that the big, burly ork is standing on. Though he doesn't do so again, leaving the rickety looking floating raft, a few yards short of the water's edge.
Seeing that the nobleborn knight isn't going to bring the raft in any closer. The scowling ork weaponsmith grimaces in disgust, then after muttering "Krom" he takes a step forward.
He closes his eyes as he does so, and makes a retching sound mixed with an angry hiss as he feels his boots and legs getting wet.
"Hurry you bloated beast" says the grinning sir Percavelle Lé Dic as he watches the large ork walking through the water.
Dorkindle grunts after he takes another step, and he bumps against the edge of the raft. The ork warleader opens his eyes, and leans forward, and almost slides onto the raft.
The former knight of the first class kneels down, as the big, burly ork flops aboard like a fat seal that's out of the water, propelling itself forward on the ground.
And though the end of the raft where the former earl of Lé Dic goes up in the air a bit as the large ork gets onto the raft. It goes back down to water level with a small splash when the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks gets most of his bulk, more or less into the center of the raft.
The nobleborn knight who once ruled the Lé Dic fief gets up and steps over the ork warleader. When he's at the other end of the raft, sir Percavelle Lé Dic puts the long pole into the water, and pushes off.
"Paddle you useless creature" says the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che "Neh get fucked" says Dorc da Orc as he basically lies there, though he tucks his knees under himself, and he keeps his arms in close, as far from the water as possible as he keeps a weary eye on it.
"Pick up one of those oars and paddle you big, fat filthy imbecile" says the heavily armoured knight who has to use all his strength to push down on the long pole to keep the raft, and the considerable weight on it moving forward towards the south wall of the massive castle that's his family's ancestral home.
That weaponsmith from the southern polar region of the world spots one of the makeshift paddles lying on the raft, and he grunts when the former paladin in his overly loud, and quite pompous sounding voice tells him "By the gods, paddle you smelly beast, more of those Harkonin blighters are getting to the top of the wall as i try to propell your fat derier towards the castle".
"Dairy what?" mutters Dorkindle, who picks up the paddle, reaches out over the raft, then the water, and carefully sticks into the water, making sure he doesn't get wet.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, slowly sweeps the makeshift oar back through the water. And though he isn't particularly fast, he gets the raft moving a bit quicker now as he helps the former earl of Lé Dic.
The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, who has the shield of his order on his back again, looks up to the parapet above the main gates of the south wall of his family's castle.
Then as both he and the large ork ignore a fairly substantial sized rock, a boulder really. Flung from one of the war machines inside castle Lé Dic, that lands with a loud splash further behind them in the moat.
The uncle of lady Linara Lé Dic searches for someone on the parapet of the south wall.
"Where is he?" murmurs Percy as he continues to pole the raft, basically forward, towards the wall.
"Ah there he is" adds the heavily armoured knight, who then calls out "Ranger!" to those defenders above the south gates of the castle that's been home to his family for centuries.
Looking down at the moat, Riley Hait the mercenary ranger spots the floating raft that sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Dorc da Orc are on.
The ranger Hait slightly frowns as the two of them aren't heading towards the siege tower in the water that the former earl went down, to get across to the otherside of the moat. Besides the top of that has now been burnt away.
He sees that they're making their way towards the gates itself. Then the mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen narrows his eyelids as the former earl of Lé Dic calls out to him, and points at something.
Riley Hait immediately understands what Percy wants. And he starts issuing orders. As the mercenary ranger does, he gives a hand signal to the two upon the raft. One of many on the water. But the only one with a large ork, and a heavily armoured knight on it.
"Beast, what signal did the ranger fellow just give wot?" asks sir Percavelle Lé Dic "Huh?" mutters Dorc da Orc, who lifts his head up, and looks up to the battlements above the gates, where he sees Riley Hait the mercenary ranger repeat the hand signal.
The large ork grunts, then tells the nobleborn knight "He gonna fucken open it" followed by "We better fucken hurries".
The former paladin, who though demoted, still remains a member of the order of Saint Mar-che. Puts in more effort as he poles the raft towards the south wall, going across the gates, just to one side of it.
Dorkindle picks up another of the makeshift oars, and biffs it at one of the nearby rafts that the enemy are on.
Hitting one of the Harkonin soldiers on it, who knocks one of his fellow soldiers into the water when he falls off the raft.
"Almost there" murmurs the heavily armoured knight as they near the wall, about thirty feet to the right of the main gates.
Percy digs the pole into the bottom of the moat one more time, pushing the raft forward. Then he moves forward, basically jumping over the prone ork warleader who is as low as possible on the raft.
With the long pole in hand, the knight who is both landed and ordered, swings it away to the right. Whacking it into the enemy on a raft up against the wall, where they've got a scaling ladder up, which a few of them are climbing up.
"Lé Dic!" the former earl of the fief shouts his family's name.
"Ah fuck up ya cunthead" mutters the warleader of the ork race, who then murmurs "Me gets you" and grins.
As the enemy are knocked off the raft further to the right of their's. And those enemy up the scaling ladder start to fall as it slides away further to the right.
The portal, or sally port right infront of the raft the heavily armoured knight and the large ork are on, opens up.
Dorkindle gets up grinning and goes to grab sir Percavelle, to yank him back, preferably into the water.
But the former knight of the first class has already leaped forward, and crossed the six foot gap across to the open doorway, and into the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
"Fuck" mutters Dorc da Orc in disgust, who stands completely upright, then after scowling at the water all around him, not to mention angrily hissing at it, he too leaps forward.
The ork weaponsmith makes sure to keep low, and he does, so that he can get under the height of the open doorway. Once inside the south wall of the massive castle, those defenders who opened the sally port, quickly close it now that sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Dorc da Orc are within the walls of castle Lé Dic . . . . . .