The Homecoming 153.

Arrival...

"Fuck it" growls Dorc da Orc as he pushes off from the south wall of castle Lé Dic, sending the raft he's on, spinning away across the moat.
The large ork who has been left out on the south moat of castle Lé Dic sourly smiles as he looks back through the fading light of dusk, and sees that drawbridge on this side of the massive castle has gone out across the moat once more.
The ork warleader, if he's able to get there, will be able to climb up onto the drawbridge, and finally enter the castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
The problem he has is getting there, since he doesn't have a paddle or a long pole to propell the raft he's on there.
And putting his hands in the water to paddle there is just not an option.
The ork weaponsmith scowls as he looks around, then he grunts an "Oh" as he spots another raft, well part of one, floating nearby. On it is a paddle he can use.
The big, burly ork just hopes that the raft he's on will drift towards it, so he can grab it.
"Come on ya stupid cunt" mutters Dorkindle as he wills the raft he's on to drift sideways to the broken raft that has a paddle lying on it.
The large ork who hails from the southern polar region of the world starts grinning as he starts heading in the right direction.
And as he nears the damaged raft, he suddenly looks away into the sky to the south as he catches wind of something.
The warleader of the ork race sits there on his raft, looking through the fading light of dusk of what's been a fine, early spring day here in the east of the kingdom of Druvic.
Dorc da Orc's attention is taken by the small airship, a ship's boat really, that he sees heading towards castle Lé Dic.
So much so, that he floats right by the damaged raft that has a paddle he can use on it.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks finally realises that he's missed the opportunity to grab the paddle he can use.
He loudly growls "Cunt" before sighing in resignation, as he figures he might be stuck on the moat on this side of the massive castle for quite some time.
"Hell, that's one big fucking castle" says Mira Reinholt the mage onboard the ship's boat that's approaching castle Lé Dic from the south.
Even in the fading light of dusk, with his human eyesight, the once powerful mage can see how massive the castle that's the home of the Lé Dic family is.
At the tiller of the flying boat, lord Farque nods his full helmed head in agreement. While at the base of the mast, the bound prisoner, mutters something under his breath that the mage Reinholt doesn't catch.
"You know if you keep moaning and bitching like that, we can always kill you" the Vexilian mage in exile tells the wizard in the Druvician aircorp they've taken prisoner.
The spellcaster who is part of the personal fleet of the lord high constable of Druvic, shuts up and goes back to seething in silence as he sits bound, at the base of the mast.
Mira Reinholt who is standing forward at the starboard rail, glances back and tells the undead warlord in the elven language "Looks like the town next to the castle is pretty badly damaged".
"I know" says lord Farque in the same language, who after a slight pause, adds in a dry tone "Remember I've seen what's here already".
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, slightly winces as he realises that the undead warlord would of seen castle Lé Dic when he went into the afterlife this afternoon, to the death realm. To retrieve Zubutai Timaginson, and return the barbarian hordesman to someone else who died in battle here at the massive castle that's been home to the Lé Dic family for centuries.
Someone by the name of Darid Parsen, a soldier in the Lé Dic army.
As the light continues to fade, and dusk becomes twilight, the mage Reinholt has to cast a spell to see more clearly, as only one moon is in the early evening sky, and that's low in the sky to the east at the moment.
And as the heavily armoured deathlord brings the ship's boat down in altitude as they get closer to castle Lé Dic. The swordmaster Reinholt catches sight of something in the moat along the south side of the massive castle.
"Ah" says the mage who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil, who then adds "Looks like Dorc is floating around on the moat down there".
The spellcaster who was once more powerful than any other mage of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands, can't help but grin at the predicament of the ork warleader. Who is stuck on a raft, floating aimlessly on the moat along the south wall of castle Lé Dic.
Lord Farque steps to the side, and looks ahead, and slightly smiles behind the faceplate of his full helm as he spots the big, burly ork on a raft, on the moat that runs along the south side of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
They see the large ork, who has been sitting in the middle of the raft he's on, stand up, and wave at them up in the ship's boat that's approaching castle Lé Dic from the south through the early evening sky.
"What's he yelling?" asks Mira Reinholt with a glance back at the lord and ruler of the lands Farque "Get me the fuck off this fucking cunt raft" replies Draugadrottin as he's also known by, to the people of his lands "Or words to that effect" dryly adds the undead warlord.
"Should i?" asks the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who after a momentary pause, continues with "Or i could just dump him into the water" the mage Reinholt then adds "After all, that is kind of taking him off that raft".
The lord of the death realm is silent, as if he's contemplating the exiled Vexilian mage's idea. It's exactly what he's doing.
But the deathlord of Farque eventually says "Bring him up to us" Des'tier as he known by to an older generation of elven kind who might know who he is, then adds "Though you don't have to be in a hurry to do so".
The once powerful mage from the city-state of Vexil grins as he watches Dorc da Orc down in the moat on the south side of castle Lé Dic, as the ship's boat gets closer and closer to the massive castle.
And as they fly over the moat at the height of about eighty feet, the large ork is basically jumping up and down, waving his arms, yelling out at them.
There's more than a few swear words involved as the ork warleader frantically calls out to them as he thinks they're going to fly right over him.
Which is infact what they do, and as the big, burly ork starts calling them all sorts of names. Most of which contain the words "Fuck" and "Cunts".
The ship's boat that's from a Druvician aircorp frigate passes over the south wall battlements of the massive castle that's been the home to the Lé Dic family for generations.
As it does, Dorc da Orc who is the middle of calling out to the undead warlord and the once powerful mage "You fucken cuntheads come back!".
He disappears from the raft he's been stuck on since just before the battle turned against the Harkonin army this afternoon.
The ork warleader grunts as he suddenly finds himself standing in a midships of the flying boat.
"Hey cunt" says Dorkindle to the mage Reinholt who has just teleported him onboard.
"And hello to you too Dorc" says Mira Reinholt to the big, burly ork who he hasn't seen in a number of weeks.
The ork weaponsmith looks aft and says "Hey" he briefly pauses as he remembers not to call the heavily armoured figure at the tiller a cunt, and instead says "Farque".
The lord of the death realm nods his full helmed head in reply to the large ork.
"Who this cunt?" asks the warleader of the ork race as he looks down at the bound prisoner, sitting at the base of the mast "He smell fucken magicky" adds the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
"Your next meal if he doesn't keep behaving himself" says lord Farque in the common language for the benefit of the wizard who is in the Druvician aircorp, specifically the personal fleet of the lord high constable of the kingdom.
Dorc da Orc chuckles, and starts to drool as he looks down at the spellcaster who has been taken captive by the undead warlord and the Vexilian mage in exile.
Then as Draugadrottin has Mira Reinholt drop the sails, and he brings the ship's boat down into the main courtyard here on the south side of castle Lé Dic.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who has spotted something, asks the large ork "Who's that?".
The big, burly ork from the bottom of the world grunts as he looks to where the once powerful mage is pointing.
"That baron Harky-cunt" says Dorkindle, who shakes his head then adds "Me miss all the good shit" followed by "Me fucken heard it, but me was stuck on that nasty water and didn't sees it".
On one of the towers of the central keep, looking down upon the main south courtyard of castle Lé Dic.
Is baron Raevar Harkonin hanging from a length of rope around his neck, tied to a buttress further above him about three quarters of the way up the tower.
The nobleman, who until just before dusk, was the baron of the fief across the border to the east. Hangs there dead, for all to see who are passing through the large courtyard that the ship's boat is dropping down into.
Even in the early evening, with lamps and torches lit here and there around the courtyard, the dead baron's body can clearly be seen.
The undead warlord brings the flying boat down onto the ground with the slightest of bumps, as they've gathered a crowd of onlookers.
"Bring him" orders Draugadrottin in the ork language, gesturing at the bound wizard sitting at the base of the mast.
And as the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world goes to grab the officer in the kingdom's aircorp, who screams in fright as the ork weaponsmith reaches down for him.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque says in the elven language "Knock the fucker out".
Mira Reinholt casts a sleep spell upon the wizard who serves in the personal fleet of the lord high constable of the kingdom of Druvic.
The wizard falls asleep in the middle of his scream, and Dorc da Orc grunts as he picks him up, and slings him over his right shoulder.
The warleader of the ork race follows the heavily armoured deathlord, and the once powerful mage over the starboard rail.
And the three of them make their way to the main doors of the central keep where a number of people are waiting for them.
The gathered crowd in the courtyard parts for them as they make their way to the large doors, where they see sir Percavelle Lé Dic quietly saying something to his niece.
"M'lord" says lady Linara Lé Dic to the large figure in the full suit of dark blue and black heavy plate armour who stops before her and her uncle, the former earl of Lé Dic.
"M'lady" answers lord Farque, who then after glancing at the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, says to the uncle and niece "There are some things we need to discuss in private".
The young girl who rules the Lé Dic fief leads them into central keep of her family's home.
As they enter the keep, and go through an antechamber, and enter the main hall, and make their way to a side door.
Mira Reinholt the mage, who walks beside Dorc da Orc as they follow lord Farque, sir Percavelle Lé Dic and lady Linara Lé Dic.
Looks around trying to spot the rest of the group. He soon sees them all, when they go down a hallway off the main hall, and enter another hall, that's a private chamber for the Lé Dic family.
And as the others call out to the mage Reinholt when they spot him. The ork weaponsmith next to him, nudges him with an elbow, which almost knocks the highly skilled swordmaster over "Who the fuck is that cunt next to that little monkey Shur Kee?" asks Dorkindle, who after a brief pause as he sniffs, adds in a mutter "Smell like fucken Zubu".
So that's him then, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself as he spots the soldier in the Lé Dic army by the name of Darid Parsen standing at a side table, next to Shur Kee the monk.
The exiled Vexilian mage slightly smiles as some of the others rush over to greet him. He sees behind Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera is a young man, who from the description that Narladene the ground pixie gave him, must be the young war engineer Tovis.
As he greets some of the others, the mage Reinholt nods for Dorc da Orc to follow after lord Farque.
The large ork with the sleeping wizard over his right shoulder, heads after the heavily armoured deathlord, who is sitting down at one end of the long table in the middle of the chamber. Sitting down with the lady Linara Lé Dic, sir Percavelle Lé Dic,
Along with Helbe the elven thief, as well as the ladies Marsaé and Hollis Duc de Laér who are already seated there.
The warleader of the ork race who doesn't even spare a glance for Darid Parsen, who slowly follows after Shur Kee the monk who is greeting Mira Reinholt.
Comes to a stops next to the chair the lord and ruler of the lands Farque has sat down on.
"What you want done with this cunt?" asks Dorkindle with a nod of his head at the sleeping wizard he has over his right shoulder. The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grunts as he sees the slight hand signal the undead warlord gives him.
The big, burly ork sighs as he has to stand there and be silent as the lord of the death realm talks to the lady Linara Lé Dic, and her uncle, sir Percavelle Lé Dic about matters that go way over Dorc's head, matters that frankly he couldn't care less about.
Gesturing at the sleeping wizard that Dorc da Orc has over his right shoulder, lord Farque quietly says to those gathered at this end of the long table in the private chamber of the Lé Dic family "He's part of a problem, that you have not just here in the east" Draugadrottin then adds "But a growing problem for the entire kingdom" . . . . . .