The Hire 22.

The Kingdom Of Nastell. The Duchy Of Phelm. The Border Region...

"Do you think many of them escaped?" asks Tamric Drubine "From Dorc and his goblins?" says Helbe the elven thief, who shrugs then adds "Possibly" followed by "If any did, it would only be a few".
The young field commander in the mercenary army from the lands Farque nods his head as he looks through the rain, back in the direction to where the battle took place last night.
Then Tamric Drubine, or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, looks at the young elven noble standing beside him, who says to him "If any did, it doesn't matter anyway" the elven magic user continues with "They know we're coming, so if they get confirmation of that, who cares".
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, nods his head, then murmurs "That's true i suppose".
And he nods again, when the elven masterthief from the island principality of Laerel tells him "What does matter, is what we do now, which will hopefully be something they don't expect".
Tam, who along with the elven princeling who is a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Are standing beneath the branches of a tree, as a downpour of rain sweeps across this area of the southern reaches of the Colevar Mountains in the north of the duchy of Phelm.
The field commander in the armies of Farque in one aspect is glad for the rain, as it's dropped the temperature today quite considerably in comparison to what it's been recently.
Though he doesn't appreciate the heavy rain because it's slowed down the army he leads, as they push further south into the duchy of Phelm.
Gesturing up at the grey, rain laden skies, the nobleborn teen who is a former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine in northern Sarcrin, asks the highly talented elven magic user "Can you do anything about all of this?".
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, who is the envoy of the mercenary army from the lands Farque, who deals with the robber barons of the unruled lands, north of the kingdom of Phelm.
Shakes his hooded head no, then says "I'm no where near powerful enough to bring up a wind to move this along" he continues with "No one in our armies are, apart from maybe the navigators on the Fídiablo".
The member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, then tells the young field commander "Even if i was, i wouldn't" the elven master assassin after a slight pause, adds "We can use this rain if it continues, and we run into more of them".
Tam lifts a questioning eyebrow, then listens in silence to what the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel has to say.
After awhile, and prince Helbenthril Raendril has explained what they should do if the rainfall continues and they run into another sizeable force of the enemy.
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin quietly says "Let's hope this rain continues for another day or so, and there's more of them not that far away from here".
The young field commander in the mercenary army from the lands Farque, who is leading an army mainly comprised of the armies of the robber barons Almard and Larimer.
Is about to continue, when he spots someone make their way from the line of march down on the road, and head towards the trees, one of which the nobleborn teenager and the elven princeling are standing beneath.
Switching to the common language, as he and Helbe the elven thief have been conversing in the language of the elves, Tamric Drubine says "Percy" to the newcomer who joins them beneath the branches of the tree.
"Absolutely splendid day today is it not chaps?" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic who has a wide grin upon his face, which is visible as he has the faceplate of his full helm, wide open.
"I wouldn't exactly call it that" says commander Drubine in a slightly dry tone of voice.
"I would" declares the heavily armoured knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, in his usual boisterous voice, as he looks away to their right amongst the trees that way. As he does, the grin on his face, gets even wider.
Both the young field commander, and the elven envoy roll their eyes. For beneath one of the trees in that direction, sits a rather soaked looking, not to mention, a very angry looking Dorc da Orc.
The large ork who is sitting against the trunk of a tree, is scowling at the falling rain. Which he refuses to walk in. Which is why he, along with his goblin battalion. Are waiting amongst the trees off to the side of the road. Instead of being in the line of march with the rest of the army.
The goblins who couldn't care less about the rain. As they're pretty indifferent to all types of weather.
Have stayed with the ork warleader, simply because he's their general.
Who once again, after a fair few years mind you. Led them to a victory in a battle during the night. Against a decent sized force from duke Hargen's army.
"Yes, absolutely splendid wot" says the grinning former paladin, who speaks loudly enough over the heavy rain, for the nearby ork weaponsmith to hear him.
With a glance in their direction, Dorc da Orc growls something in the totally incomprehensible language of the orks, before he goes back to scowling at the grey skies above them.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic or Percy as he's more commonly referred to by those who know him well. Might not know what the large ork just growled. But he assumes it's something derogatory. It was.
The large, heavily armoured knight from the kingdom of Druvic couldn't care less, and he chuckles then loudly says "Excuse me chaps, i shall join the others and continue the march south on this absolutely fantastic day".
The nobleborn knight, who is a member of the knights of the order of Saint Mar-che, after a pointed look in the direction of the ork warleader.
Makes his way back down the slight incline to the road. And rejoins those in the heavy foot battalion in the mercenary army from the lands Farque who he's been with since the combined army led by Tamric Drubine. Left the valley, in the southern reaches of the unruled lands to the north of the kingdom of Nastell. That was used as a staging ground for the armies of the five robber barons who have decided to wage war upon the duke of Phelm, duke Hargen.
As Tam slightly shakes his head, and Helbenthril Raendril wryly smiles as they watch the former earl of Lé Dic rejoin the line of march.
Narladene the ground pixie, who has been out beyond the lead scouts of the army that commander Drubine leads. Lands upon the right shoulder of the elven princeling she's attached to.
The naturally magical creature who is originally from the Sunreach Mountains. Who first met the elven magic user she attached herself to. In the kingdom of Druvic, well over a decade ago now.
Who makes herself visible to Helbe the elven thief as she normally does. Also makes herself visible to the young field commander in the mercenary army from the lands Farque.
"As i was coming in, i spotted them heading forward along the line of march" says Narladene the ground pixie who speaks in elven "I guess they're probably looking for you" adds the tiny winged creature as she looks at the elven masterthief, whose right shoulder she stands upon.
"Probably" sourly says the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel, who along with Tam, knows exactly who she's referring to.
Forgetting about the robber barons Almard and Larimer for the moment. The elven master archer nods to the south with his hooded head, and asks the naturally magical creature "Find anything?".
"I did" replies Narladene, who continues with "Nearly twenty, closer to twenty five miles away to the south" the ground pixie follows that up with "The enemy" she briefly pauses, then adds "An army of them, looks to be more than ours" she briefly pauses once more, before finally saying "They're digging in".
Helbe the elven thief and Tamric Drubine share a look. Then the young field commander in the mercenary army from the lands Farque says "Well" he pauses before adding "Let's see if we can do something against them".
"Yes let's" says prince Helbenthril Raendril, who then adds "But first thing first, I've got to deal to something else".
The highly talented elven spellcaster, had spotted the two robber barons, Almard and Larimer. Along with the their seconds, and a few of their senior officers hurrying along the side of the line of the march.
"You do that" says Tam as he sees the robber barons and their hangers on, heading this way through the pouring rain.
"I'll just inform our senior staff as to what's going on" adds the nobleman teenager who is a field commander in the mercenary army from the lands Farque.
The two of them move away, with the elven envoy heading towards the robber barons Almard and Larimer.
While the young field commander goes to speak with his subcommanders and other senior members of his staff. One of whom is Dorc da Orc, whose job is to keep an eye on the nobleborn teenager who was appointed to the rank of field commander in the armies of Farque during the winter that's just gone by.
Dorc da Orc sourly grunts, then mutter "Fucken shitballs". After Tamric Drubine informs him of an enemy army larger than there's, over twenty miles away to the south. Then Tam moves away to inform others in his senior staff, in the mercenary army from the lands Farque.
The large ork, with his back against the tree behind him. Who sits where the branches above him are thickest. The warleader of the ork race doesn't want to get any wetter than he already is.
Sighs, then goes to yell for Teabagger, who is the commander of his goblin army. But grunts, as he finds that the small, bright green goblin, has hurried over to his side, after seeing commander Drubine speak to his general.
"We going to rejoin the line of march, general?" asks Teabagger the goblin Cunt, which is his full name given to him by Dorc da Orc.
The big, burly ork who hails from the frozen wasteland, that's the southern polar region of the world. Grunts, then scowls up at the grey skies as it continues to pour down with rain this morning.
"Yeah" says the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, in a rather unenthusiastic tone of voice.
Teabagger, who knows exactly what's upset his general, says to the large ork "Wait here boss, er general".
The small, bright green goblin, who like all the other original members of the goblin battalion in the mercenary army from the lands Farque, hails from the kingdom of Melaurn.
Tells the big, burly ork "Me and the some others have got something for you".
Dorkindle, who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, grunts. And Teabagger hurries away. Only tripping over  just the once as he goes and gets something.
A short while later, and the goblin commander and a few others in the goblin battalion make their way to where their general is sitting beneath a tree. Dreading the fact that he's about to get soaked again.
For Dorc, like all ork kind. Absolutely hates water, and hates getting wet.
Teabagger as he returns to his general, trips over a couple of times with the three other goblins who are helping him to carry something.
"We made this for you general" says the small, bright green goblin when he and the others stand beside the warleader of the ork race.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, which is one of the twenty tribes of ork kind to be found at the bottom of the world.
Turns his head and looks at the quartet of goblin soldiers. Then frowns as he looks at what they're carrying.
"What the fuck is that?" asks the ork general of the goblin battalion within the mercenary army from the lands Farque.
Dorkindle watches as they unroll what they've brought him. And he sees it's the side of one of the tents. One of the waterproof tents.
It has a hole in it, and around the hole, is more of the tent material, that's bunched up.
"See general" says Teabagger the goblin Cunt, who goes onto explain to the big, burly ork "You put your head in through this hole, and you drape it about you" the goblin commander then adds "Then you put this flap bit over your head like a hood on a cloak".
Dorc da Orc blinks a few times as he tries to imagine what Teabagger just explain. Then it finally dawns on the large ork to what it is, when the small, bright green goblin who commands the battalion, says "In some places along the coast where they get a lot of rainfall, they call it a poncho".
A grin splits the broad, green, feral looking face of the ork warleader. Then he barks in laughter, and says "Ha! You smart fucken gob-a-lins" followed by "Did you cunts make that?".
"Yes general" answers Teabagger, who then adds "This morning when we stopped".
Dorkindle chuckles again, then murmurs in the ork language once more "Smart fucken gob-a-lins".
Then he gets up, and with the help of the four goblins. Puts on the poncho a group of the goblins made out of one of the waterproof tents they flinched from the army of one of the robber barons.
Donning the poncho doesn't exactly go smoothly. As twice Dorc puts it on backwards. With his face, facing into the hood part, instead of out.
But after a lot of twisting, not to mention growling, shouting, as well as swearing in the ork, common and goblin languages.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, eventually gets the poncho on the right way.
It drapes down to just below his knees, and looks kind of ridiculous. As he resembles the side of a dark, green coloured tent.
But Dorkindle doesn't care, for when he steps out from beneath the tree he's taken shelter under since the rain started pouring down earlier this morning. He's relatively dry, with only his big, black boots, and his lower legs, occasionally getting hit by the rain drops.
"Fucken sweet" murmurs the large ork, who pulls the hood down further over the front of his big head, and grins as he adds "Me just like them cunts, Killer and the two tree fuckers".
Referring to Mira Reinholt the mage, Helbe the elven thief, and Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy. All of whom wear hooded cloaks.
Turning to Teabagger, and the three other goblins, their general who is still grinning, says to them "Go and get our fucken army".
He continues with "We gonna join back with these cunts" as he waves towards the army, marching south along the road just down infront of them.
"The enemy got a big army fucken that away" adds Dorkindle who gestures away to the south, before he adds "And we gonna fuck 'em up when we find them".
"Yes general" say the quartet of goblins, who then hurry away, to inform the rest of their battalion, that they're rejoining the line of march.
Dorc da Orc sourly smiles, and mutters "Fucken gob-a-lins" as the four goblins, in their rush to follow their general's orders. Trip each other up, and fall over one another in their haste to carry out his orders . . . . . .