The Hire 86.

The City Of Almaic. The Duchy Of Phelm...

It's early in the morning. Infact it's still basically night time when they're given their orders.
They go ahead with others in the forward elements. Ending up just a couple hundred feet from the enemy battlelines just to the north of the city of Almaic.
They've left their general behind, for the simple reason none of them could wake him. Which is fine by them. As he'll eventually join them.
They wait for the order alongside the patrol led by captain Weldin. Out infront of the army led by the field commander Tamric Drubine.
It's still dark when one of the messengers turns up with a scout.
Teabagger the goblin cunt recognises the messenger as the young woman Lisell Maera, who whispers to him "Where's that general of yours?"
When the small, bright, green goblin who commands the battalion explains to the messenger that the general is back up the incline a half a mile to the north, fast asleep, and snoring.
Teabagger is pretty sure Lisell Maera, or Lis as she's more commonly called. Mutters something rude in the elven language, before she gives him and captain Weldin the orders.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, who is now a runner in the armies of Farque. Heads back to where she's come from. Leaving the scout behind with them.
Teabagger looks at the elven scout. And figures she must be one of those specifically trained by the elven princeling, Helbenthril Raendril. Because captain Weldin treats her with the respect one would normally give a higher ranking officer.
The elven scout quietly says to Teabagger "At least you and your battalion can see clearly in the dark".
She looks a little dubiously at the small, bright, green goblin and quietly tells him "Just make sure you lot are quiet".
"We will be" quietly says Teabagger the goblin Cunt. It's one of the reasons they left their general behind fast asleep. He's not exactly known for being quiet. Infact, the complete opposite. For this early morning's business. Calls for stealth more than anything.
The elven scout in the Farqian mercenary army points to where she'll go. And where she wants Teabagger and the rest of the goblin battalion to follow her.
He nods his head in understanding. And though goblins are accident prone at times. They can move in almost total silence at times when they want to. It's why their battalion has been with the forward elements during the robber barons campaign against the duchy of Phelm, and it's duke, duke Hargen.
"When?" quietly asks the goblin commander who is sitting on the ground next to the kneeling scout "When i get the signal" is the quiet reply of the elven scout, who also happens to be one of the assassins, whose training was completed by prince Helbenthril Raendril.
"We'll be the first ones" quietly adds the scout who is originally from the elven principality of Envadarlen before she moved south to the lands Farque a few decades ago.
The small, bright, lurid green goblin who commands the battalion of goblins in the Farqian mercenary army, grins at hearing that they'll be the first ones.
He glances at the elven scout beside him, who isn't looking towards the enemy lines just a couple hundred feet away. But back towards their own battlelines.
Teabagger, suspects. Correctly as it will turn out. That she's waiting for the signal to proceed. Which will start the attack upon the city of Almaic, the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Back within their battlelines, further to the left, or east upon the incline where Dorc da Orc is fast asleep.
A number of those who have planned the attack upon the city of Almaic. Are up and awake, looking towards the enemy battlelines and the city of Almaic.
"How long until dawn?" quietly asks Tamric Drubine after he yawns "A turn of the sand glass" is the quiet reply of Mira Reinholt the mage who looks at the sand glass on the small camp table out infront of the command tent.
The young field commander can make it out thanks to the partially shuttered lamp hanging from one of the tent poles.
He sees that the once powerful mage who hails from the city-state of Vexil has recently turned the glass. And that the sand from the top half is falling again into the bottom half of the timepiece.
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin who is now a field commander in the armies of Farque looks to the city to the south.
Then he quietly asks the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster "Can they be destroyed?".
The mage who is in exile from his homeland of Vexil, knows exactly what Tamric Drubine, or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, is referring to.
The mage Reinholt slightly shrugs his shoulders, then quietly says "Not easily" he continues with "Even when i had all my powers it was difficult" he then adds "It's easier to drain them of power".
The spellcaster, who was once more powerful than any other mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, briefly pauses before he quietly says "Or just use one of them to attack the others, that works more often than not". The Vexilian mage in exile then adds "It's why you find them so often on airships".
The two of them are discussing magetubes. Some of which are on the top of the north wall of the city of Almaic. Hidden beneath canvas coverings.
They were installed there in the recent rebuilding of the north wall of the city that's taken place over the last decade or so.
"Besides, we might not want to destroy them remember" quietly says Helbe the elven thief who suddenly appears beside Mira Reinholt and Tamric Drubine, and the others with them outside the command tent.
The son of a former knight of castle Drubine in the north of the kingdom of Sarcrin nods in understanding. As those deadly magical weapons upon the top of the north wall of Almaic can be turned on to the enemy.
Firing down at their own battlelines just to the north of the city, that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm,  which is the northern most duchy in the kingdom of Nastell.
"Though taking them out would be the safest thing to do" murmurs the young elven noble, who like the mage Reinholt, is a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The army led by Tamric Drubine is to the northeast and north of the city of Almaic. While field commander Leivyn's army is also to the north of the city, as well as the northwest.
While the army led by field commander Talbot throughout the night has moved around to the west of Almaic.
While general Halvane's army, the largest of the four armies that has come down from the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains, into the duchy of Phelm, here in northern Nastell. Is still approaching Almaic from the east. With only it's forward elements in position.
The trio of Mira Reinholt, Helbe the elven thief, and Tamric Drubine. Look over at subcommander Waiamin, who is commander Drubine's second.
"Seems they've woken up and are making their way here" quietly says subcommander Waiamin who has been quietly speaking with one of the Farqian spellcasters.
They all turn, and look to one side of the command tent behind them. It's only prince Helbenthril Raendril out of he, Mira Reinholt and Tamric Drubine who spots them.
"They're heading this way alright" quietly says the elven magic user "Hopefully they get lost in the dark" dryly mutters the mage, who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster.
The camp and battlelines are predominantly dark, with no cook fires going as well as no torches, and very few lamps.
"Here's hoping" murmurs Tamric Drubine, referring to the robber barons Almard and Larimer, whose armies predominantly make up the force led by the young field commander in the Farqian mercenary army.
"Where's Percy?" asks the elven masterthief as he looks around and doesn't see the former paladin, sir Percavelle Lé Dic anywhere.
"With Darid and his company" replies the swordmaster Reinholt, who continues with "To keep him out of trouble more than anything".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel nods his hooded head in understanding to that. And does so again, when the exiled Vexilian mage gestures away to the right along the incline and adds "And the big, green stinking idiot is over there, still fast asleep".
"That's definitely for the best" murmurs the elven master assassin, who continues with "No way in hell  he could keep silent for long, with what his goblin battalion is about to do".
"Ain't that the truth" dryly says Tamric Drubine, who along with his fellow field commanders Leivyn and Talbot. And with their senior staff. As well as the council members Mira Reinholt, prince Helbenthril Raendril and Darid Parsen. Not to mention Dorc da Orc. Have developed, and come up with a plan to take the city of Almaic.
And finally defeat the army of duke Hargen of Phelm, and those of the nobility of the duchy.
"Flip a coin to see who deals with them?" asks the elven masterthief to his fellow councilor Mira Reinholt.
"Not one of your coins" dryly replies the once powerful mage, who then adds "Besides you're the envoy, it's your job to deal with them".
"I knew you'd say something like that" mutters the elf, who is still not two hundred and twenty years old, fairly young for an elven royal who could live to be fifteen hundred years old.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel sourly smiles, then says to his fellow councilor and the young field commander "Tell me when you want to give the signal".
Then Helbe the elven thief makes his way back alongside the command tent. To intercept the robber barons Almard and Larimer, along with their seconds. To stop them from annoying Tamric Drubine, and others of the young field commander's senior staff.
Further along the incline, in between snores, Dorc da Orc loudly snorts. Which wakes him up from his sleep.
The large ork blinks as he lies there on that ground, wondering where he is. Then the ork warleader grunts as he remembers where he is, and what they're going to do. The ork weaponsmith sits up, then frowns.
"Where me fucken army?" mutters Dorc da Orc as he looks around and finds no sign of his battalion.
He looks behind him, to where they made camp when they moved to this position. It's empty.
The nearest are others in the Farqian mercenary army, who are part of the force led by the young field commander Tamric Drubine.
The big, burly, feral looking ork who hails from the southern polar region of the world. Looks towards the city of Almaic to the south for a moment, then he looks away to his left along the incline he's on.
Dorkindle spots the command tent has been moved there. And that commander Drubine is there with his senior staff.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks scowls as he sees who is standing with the young field commander.
"Fucken killer" mutters the warleader of the ork race who hasn't forgotten that the Vexilian mage in exile, Mira Reinholt dunked him in a river yesterday afternoon.
The large ork gets up off the ground, and makes his way along the incline towards the command tent.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he more commonly called by those who know him well. Is just able to make out the large form of Dorc da Orc stomping his way towards them.
The nobleborn teenager nudges the mage Reinholt and quietly tells him in elven "Dorc" followed by "He looks angrier than usual".
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster looks to their right and briefly flashes a smile. As he sees in the light from the partially shuttered lamp on one of the tent poles. An irate looking Dorc da Orc stomping his way towards him.
Knowing that the big, burly ork who is still wearing the rain poncho members of his goblin battalion made for him. Is angry with him for giving him an unexpected dip in a tributary of the river Mareb yesterday afternoon.
Brings the ork warleader up short before he can throw a lethal punch at him, by telling him "Your battalion's in position Dorc" followed by "Ready to begin the first phase of the attack upon the enemy".
The ork weaponsmith who hails from the very bottom of the world, stops right next to the once powerful mage, and briefly blinks in confusion as he wonders what the swordmaster Reinholt is going on about.
Then Dorkindle recalls the plans to attack the enemy battlelines then the city of Almaic.
The ork warleader grunts, turns and looks down the incline, to the south and west as he loudly mutters "Why them cunts go without me?".
"Because you're too damn loud" murmurs the Vexilian mage in exile. While the big, burly ork spots the goblin battalion in the distance, fairly close to the enemy battlelines.
"You can join them after sun up, when they've completed the first phase" says field commander Tamric Drubine, who then tells the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks "Besides i want you here to tell me what you think the enemy is going to do once the first phase of the attack is underway".
Dorc da Orc grunts, as he does recall, that is one of the things he is supposed to do when a battle is underway. If he's not in the thick of the fighting. He's to inform the young field commander what he thinks the enemy may or may not do.
For out of everyone in the armies who have come down out of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains, into the duchy of Phelm here in northern Nastell.
The big, burly ork race can read the ebb and flow of a battle, with ease and quickness like no other. It's an inbred ability that he has. It's the main reason over a decade ago, he was named warleader of his race by lord Farque.
They all turn as Helbe the elven thief along with the robber barons Almard and Larimer, along with their seconds join them infront of the command tent.
The robber barons switch their questioning from the elven princeling to the young field commander. That's until Dorc da Orc growls at them with "Fuck up cunts" followed by "Or me kills you".
Larimer and Almard instantly fall silent, and along with their seconds. Move a little away to one side. Away from the threatening ork weaponsmith.
They also move away for the simple reason the big, burly ork reeks beyond belief. They can only imagine how bad he'll smell once the sun is up, on what will more than likely be another hot summer's day here in the duchy of Phelm.
"Hell, Dorc should be the envoy" quietly says prince Helbenthril Raendril in the elven language.
Both Mira Reinholt and Tamric Drubine wince at that, then the once powerful mage dryly says in elven "Well the negotiations would be short, that's for sure" followed by "Not to mention bloody".
The elven masterthief and the young field commander chuckle at that, while Dorkindle loudly mutters "What the fuck you cunts laughing about?".
After a while, they all go back to looking at the enemy battlelines, as well as the city of Almaic.
And eventually Tamric Drubine who has been glancing at the sand glass on the camp table every so often, sees that the bottom part, is more than half full now. "You can give the signal" quietly says field commander Drubine in elven to councilor Raendril.
Helbe the elven thief slightly nods his hooded head, then by way of a mindspeech spell, he gives the signal to the elven scout who'll get things underway in the battle for the city of Almaic.
"You ready?" quietly asks the scout "We are" replies Teabagger the goblin cunt "Follow me once I'm in their lines" says the elven scout.
The small, bright green goblin commander nods in understanding, then he watches as the elven scout in the Farqian mercenary army, gets up and moves in silence towards the enemy battlelines to begin the battle for Almaic . . . . . .