The Hire 4.

The Colevar Mountains...

Down in the foothills away to the south it's warm and dry. Extremely so for the early part of summer.
But further north, up in the higher peaks of the mountains proper. Especially above the snow line, it's colder. Much to the delight of one individual.
Near the top of a twelve thousand foot high mountain. He's buried himself beneath the snow to keep cool.
He only spent a few days away to the south in the foothills of the mountain range. And that was enough for him to get out of there. As it was too hot for his liking.
He headed north into the mountains themselves. And though it's still too warm for his liking. The higher up he went, the cooler it got. Much to his relief.
Now that he's found a perfectly acceptable mountain. Where it's high enough the snow won't melt towards it's peak.
He's decided to stay here as long as possible. Even though he should probably be down in the foothills further to the south.
And the fact he's run out of the booze he brought with him. And he's also eaten everything he brought too.
So he needs to go hunting for something unless he wants to go hungry. Which he definitely doesn't.
But for now, that can all wait. As it's the middle of the day. The warmest time of the day. Even at this altitude.
So he's fast asleep, beneath the piles of snow he's buried himself in.
He's just dreaming about being with his friends Onka Donka the shaman and No Legs Munga the blacksmith. Eating fresh seal meat and drinking winter wine. After they've got into a fight against a bunch of those ingrates in the seal tribe.
When all of a sudden he feels himself waking up. The smile on his sleeping face turns to a slight frown. As it feels like he's moving.
"No mommy, me don't wanna get up" murmurs Dorc da Orc in his sleep, even with a mouthful of snow, the large ork softly chuckles, before he adds in murmur "Heh stupid bitch, me kills you already".
The ork warleader grunts as he gets the sensation that he's sliding down the side of the mountain he's on.
He grunts again as he wakes himself up. Then blinking snow from his eyes, he opens them and looks around.
He's feels like he's definitely moving, as he stupidly blinks as he looks up at the clear midday sky, wondering what's going on.
That's when he realises that something's got a hold of him by the right leg. And pulling him through the snow, and down from the top of the mountain.
"The fuck?" mutters Dorkindle, who with a scowl upon his broad, green, brutish looking face. Lifts his head up, to see what's going on.
The big, burly ork who hails from the southern polar region of the world. Who is definitely at home in the snow covered higher peaks of the Colevar Mountains. Than he is down in the hot and dry foothills, away to the south.
Goes completely still as he sees what's got him by the leg, and dragging him down through the snow near the top of the mountain.
"Nice doggy" murmurs Dorc da Orc in a nervous tone of voice as he sees his leg in the maw of one lord Farque's wardogs.
"You wanna let your friend Dorc go?" murmurs the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who then winces as the massive canine picks him completely up off the ground by the leg.
Before letting him go, and dumping him in the snow. Then barks at him.
"Fuck" mutters the ork warleader, who then grimaces as the wardog from the lands Farque growls at him.
The large ork sits up, and after a quick examination of his leg. To make sure the massive animal didn't take a bite out of it. And finding himself still in one piece. He looks at the wardog and takes a sniff.
Dorc da Orc grunts as it smells cold like it's master, and the 'special soldiers' in the armies of Farque. As the ork weaponsmith thinks of the undead. Though he doesn't know that they're not alive.
After the massive canine bites at the snow, and chews at it to get the disgusting taste of ork out of its maw. It barks again at the big, burly ork. Then sits down and watches him.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks sourly smiles as he looks at the massive wardog just sitting there watching him.
It's definitely one of the largest of the rare breed. And since it smells cold. The ork warleader can guess which one it is. It helps that they have easy to remember names.
"Hammer" says Dorkindle who then flinches as the massive canine gives him a look of pure disgust before growling at him.
Then the big, burly ork from the very bottom of the world sourly smiles as he should of figured it out immediately at which of the wardogs it is.
"Axe" sourly says the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, which earns a bark and a wag from the stubby tail of the massive canine.
The large ork shakes his head. As he knows that Axe, who he's fought alongside in battle with. Has a tendency to play pranks on him.
Specifically anything that involves water. With Dorkindle ending up in that water. Much to the disgust of the warleader of the ork race. And the delight of Axe.
Fuck me, it had to be fucken you, the ork weaponsmith sourly thinks to himself as he looks at the wardog from the lands Farque.
Then realising why Axe is here, Dorc da Orc says to him "Is Farque here?".
The undead wardog barks, and wags his stubby little tail as he looks away to the south, to the foothills in the distance.
"Fucken figures" mutters the big, burly ork as he looks away to the south, then he says "The fucken army here now too?". This also gets a single bark from the massive animal.
Which Dorkindle correctly remembers means yes. While two barks means no. Or to him, a growl is usually a no too.
The ork, who still to this day, is the largest member of his tribe. Grunts in disgust at the prospect of heading down into the hotter climes of the foothills to the south.
The ork warleader who would like nothing better than to cover himself back up in snow, and go back to sleep.
Knows that's impossible now with the undead wardog Axe sitting just a few yards away from him, watching him closely.
For if he just stays here. And refuses to go back down into the foothills to the south, to join up with the bulk of army that's recently arrived from the lands Farque.
Axe will simply take him there himself. And there's nothing Dorkindle would be able to do to stop him.
The big, burly ork who first fought side by side with Axe a decade ago across the Great Western Ocean, in Nors and Tran.
Knows how strong and powerful the massive canine is. It's easily twice the weight of the large ork. And far stronger than it looks.
It's not everyday one finds any animal, let alone a dog. That stands eye to eye with the seven and half foot tall ork warleader.
Dorc da Orc who would like to tell Axe to fuck off. Knows not to, and instead he grunts as he stands up.
The large ork then stuffs snow down into the front of his grubby knee length pants to help him keep cool as he heads down the mountain.
He then says to the massive canine sitting there watching him "S'pose we better fucken go down there then" as he gestures away to the south.
Axe barks, gets up, and starts heading down the mountain. He briefly stops, and looks back to make sure the big, burly ork is making his way down too.
And seeing that Dorkindle is, the undead wardog continues running down the side of the mountain.
Dorc da Orc trudges through the snow as he walks down the mountain he's been up the last week or so.
He sourly smiles as he watches the massive animal from the lands Farque barreling down the side of the mountain at breakneck speed. He knows Axe can move even faster, so fast that he's just a blur.
But for now, the undead wardog is keeping within a couple hundred yards of the ork weaponsmith. Sometimes stopping, and running back up the mountain with ease. To make sure the large ork is still heading downwards.
And when he sees Dorkindle still making his way down the side of the mountain. Axe takes off again, bounding through the snow, flinging powder up into the air as he runs.
The only positive thing that the big, burly ork can think of with the massive canine around. Is that he can speak in ork to it. Which it can perfectly understand.
Though swearing at it, and calling it names. Isn't so easy when it's able to understand everything you say.
Fucken mutt, Dorc da Orc sourly thinks to himself as he watches the undead wardog. Then the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks as he continues to get lower and lower down the mountainside, approaching the snow line.
Looks away to the south, and the foothills in the distance. Where a war is about to intensify, now that the bulk of the mercenary army from the lands Farque has arrived here in the unruled lands in the south of the Colevar Mountains.
And though he knows the heat of summer down in the lower climes is going to be brutal on him. The prospect of a full on war cheers him up quite a bit.
"Fucken get some" murmurs Dorkindle with a grin forming on his broad, green, feral looking face at prospects of being involved in another war.
Then he grunts, stops, and bends down and grabs handfuls of snow, which he once again stuffs down the front of his grubby, knee length pants to help him keep cool as he heads further and further down the side of the mountain he's on.
The next morning, in a mountain village in the unruled lands claimed by one of the robber barons. Shur Kee the monk who has just broken his fast, with curried vegetables wrapped in a flat bread. And a green tea, though not the proper green tea of his homeland of Wah Lee far to the east, on the otherside of the continent.
Has just taken a seat on the stone steps behind the boarding house he's been staying in. About to enjoy the early morning sunshine, as it's quite cool here first thing in the morning.
When he hears a scream from around the front of the boarding house.
Grabbing his staff, the short, statured monk runs around to the front of the building. As he hears more screams, followed by shouts of "Monster!" by some of the villagers.
"Everything is alright friends" says Shur Kee the monk once he's made his way around to the front of the building, and sees what has caused all the commotion.
The acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li then tells the villagers on the lane "He is not a monster". With more than a few disbelieving looks in his direction, the physical adept adds in murmur in the language of the kingdom of Wah Lee "Well, he actually is really".
Shur Kee waves to the large green figure entering the village that perches on the side of a mountain.
Dorc da Orc, who the short, statured monk knows has been higher up in the mountains somewhere. Just nods his head in reply as he approaches the boarding house that Shur Kee is standing infront of.
And when the large ork reaches the living incarnation of the Jade Warrior Bru Lee, Dorkindle says to him "Get your shit little monkey" the ork warleader waves to the south as he adds "We fucken going back".
As the physical adept hurries inside, the warleader of the ork race stands in the shade offered by the overhanging eaves of the building's roof.
All the while, curious villagers watch him from a distance. The big, burly ork who is from the southern polar region of the world knows that there's dwarves in the southern reaches of the Colevar Mountains that the robber barons claim as their's.
A little disappointingly for the ork weaponsmith, there's none living in or near this village. All the inhabitants are human. So he just scowls at them as they watch him from a far.
And before the large ork can start swearing at the watching villagers. Shur Kee the monk makes his way from the boarding house, carrying his pack, and wearing his odd, conical shaped hat as well.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks just grunts, and sets off. Heading south through the village that's a few thousand feet up the side of a mountain.
The warleader of the ork race sighs as he's out in the sunshine again. It's already too warm for his liking. And it's just after dawn. He's definitely not looking forward to later in the day. When they're even further down in altitude. Where it will be even warmer than it is now.
"Have you got word from the army?" asks Shur Kee as they leave the village that has no roads, just lanes and pathways that run through it.
"Fucken something like that" is the muttered reply of Dorc da Orc as they follow one of the paths that heads southwards, and downwards. Heading in the direction of the foothills further to the south in the mountain range.
Dorkindle is sipping from a wine sack he flinched from a cellar on the northern edge of the village that Shur Kee was staying in. While the large ork was further north, and further up in the mountains.
Sniffs a few times, then takes a branch in the path that goes to the left, and down through some trees.
It's once the they're through the trees, and out of sight of the mountain village.
That they're joined by the undead wardog Axe. Who was completely still, and looked like a dark boulder off to the side of the path to Shur Kee, until he moved, and stood up.
"Lord Farque is here now?" asks the short statured monk, which gets a grunt in the affirmative from Dorkindle. And a bark, and a furious waging of the tail from the massive canine that's native to the lands Farque.
"Rest of the fucken army is here too" says the ork weaponsmith as Axe keeps pace with them, though keeping to one side of the mountain path that's only wide enough for a large ork from the bottom of the world and a short, statured monk who hails from the far eastern coast of the continent.
"I wonder if those so called robber barons paid up?" quietly muses the physical adept "They fucken better of" mutters the warleader of the ork race. Who then along with Shur Kee, looks at Axe, who barks a few times, and yips as well.
The acolyte in the order of Bru Li, and the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks share a look. Then Dorkindle shrugs his massive shoulders, then says "Fuck if me know" he continues with "Me just know when it's a fucken yes or a fucken no".
Shur Kee nods to that, as that's all he knows from the wardogs of Farque too. One bark for yes, and two for a no. Anything else than that, and he has absolutely no idea.
"Me guess that they fucken have" says Dorc da Orc, who then asks the massive animal keeping pace with them "Hey doggy" followed by "Axe" then "We gonna go do some fucken war?".
The undead wardog barks once for yes, then he trots ahead, leaving the two living beings behind.
"See" says the large ork, who then tells the short statured monk walking beside him "Them baron cunts must've fucken paid up" he then adds "The cheap fuckers".
As Dorkindle looks ahead at Axe and scowls. Since the big, burly ork doesn't smell particularly bad this morning. Due to the fact in the middle of the night. The undead wardog, tripped him up into a shallow mountain stream. And stood a paw on his back, and held him down under the water that rushed over the large ork and washed him.
Shur Kee wonders if those paying the mercenary army from the lands Farque. The robber barons of the southern reaches of the Colevar Mountains. Will continue to pay lord Farque's army once their campaign against the duke of Phelm in northern Nastell progresses.
The acolyte in the order of Bru Li, from the brief amount of time he was around the robber barons as Helbe the elven thief negotiated with them.
Didn't trust a couple of them at all. And the others weren't exactly trustworthy either.
However the war goes against duke Hargen of Phelm goes. Shur Kee can foresee difficulties with dealings with the robber barons. Especially with one of the terms of hire for the mercenary army from the lands Farque. In that those in command of the mercenary army from lands faraway to the south in the Southlands ruled by the lord Farque. Would take over command of the campaign against the duke of Phelm.
The acolyte in the order of Bru Li can definitely see difficulties with that if his brief encounter with the robber barons of the southern reaches of the Colevar Mountains is anything to go by . . . . . .