The Hire 88.

The Battlelines...

Dorc da Orc has made his way forward, and is waiting with captain Weldin's patrol at the very front of their lines, not that far from the enemy battlelines.
The ork warleader who is lying flat on the ground in the darkness before dawn, grunts as captain Weldin stops beside him and quietly says "Not long now warleader".
The captain in the Farqian mercenary army moves quickly on because the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world absolutely stinks at the moment.
Dorkindle looks back, at the army behind them, led by the young field commander, Tamric Drubine. Which is predominantly to the northeast and north of the city of Almaic.
Then the large ork looks forward again to the nearby enemy lines. Which range up to nearly half a mile north of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm, the northern most duchy in the kingdom of Nastell.
The ork weaponsmith carefully watches a particular stretch or section of the enemy lines. Which he can see more clearly than anyone else close by. Including other non humans.
As his peculiar sight that's unique to his race, doesn't just allow him to see in the dark like others who aren't human. But it allows him thermal vision. Seeing the heat signatures of various people and animals.
And it's showing him the stretch of the enemy battlelines he's paying attention to. Those enemy there are completely different to anyone else to either side of them.
Either side of that part of the battlelines just a couple hundred feet away. The enemy have the telltale signs of human beings, who glow slightly red in his ork thermal vision.
But the stretch of the enemy battlelines he's paying attention to the most. The heat signature of those there are also red, but with a green tinge. The ork general grins as he watches them closely.
"Fucken gob-a-lins" murmurs Dorc da Orc as he watches that particular section of the enemy battlelines. He then spots a darker greenish, blue tinge with red that signifies an elf. It's the scout in the Farqian mercenary army who is with the goblin battalion that the large ork is the general of.
Dorkindle blinks his eyes so he's back to his normal night vision which allows him to see clearly in the dark. That along with his farsight. When he turns his head and looks to the east. He sees that it's the mix of light and dark of false dawn away to the horizon in that direction. Actual dawn isn't all that faraway now.
The patrol captain, and some of his scouts drop down near the big, burly ork who is from the very bottom of the world.
The ork weaponsmith who is enjoying the cooler conditions of predawn, as there's a bit of a breeze blowing this morning. On what undoubtedly will turn out to be another warm day here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
Turns his head, and looks back behind them as he smells a familiar scent approaching. It's the runner Lisell Maera, who is keeping low as she approaches.
The messenger in the Farqian mercenary army drops down next to the large ork, between him and captain Weldin.
"You can begin whenever you like" says Lisell Maera in barely a whisper to the patrol captain.
The attractive young woman who hails from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, who is now a runner in the armies of Farque, then quietly tells the ork who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks "Dorc remember, don't push too far forward" she continues with "Tam wants the forward elements to move ahead all together".
"Me know" mutters Dorkindle with a grunt "Me came up with a lot of that fucken plan 'member" adds the ork, who to this day, is still the largest member in his tribe.
"Make sure you do" mutters the runner in the elven language. Then Lisell Maera, or Lis as she's more commonly called by those who know her well, quietly says in common to Dorc da Orc and captain Weldin "Good luck".
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Vexil gets up, and keeping low, she hurries back in the direction she came from in the darkness just before dawn.
"Shall we warleader?" quietly asks captain Weldin "Fucken might as well cunt" is the quiet reply of the ork weaponsmith.
Who gets up off the ground, and keeping low. Well as low as he can for someone seven and a half foot tall, who weighs seven hundred and fifty pounds plus.
The ork warleader moves out, and hurries forward with captain Weldin's patrol. Heading towards the enemy battlelines a couple hundred feet away in the darkness just before the light of dawn.
They head right to the stretch of the enemy lines that Dorc da Orc has been watching closely. The section that his goblin battalion took over earlier.
They took a large section of the enemy battleline fairly easy. With the elven scout leading the way. Killing any of the enemy who spotted them.
Then the goblins moved in silently, following behind the scout. Killing the enemy one by one before they even knew they were under attack.
They then took over the stretch of the battlelines in the defence of the city of Almaic. Acting like they belonged there all along.
It helped that there wasn't much in the way of communication between sections of the battlelines here to the north of the capital city of the duchy of Phelm.
When someone did come along. They, well to be precise, the elven scout. Killed that person. Usually after she got some answers out of her questions.
The enemy, in this case, duke Hargen's army. And those of the duke's nobles defending the city of Almaic. Know that the armies of the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains have arrived here just outside of Almaic.
But they have no idea what they'll do. Apart from attack the city. Specifically how? The duke's military commanders are still trying to work that one out.
They'd never figured that a section of their own defensive line. Will act as an open door for the enemy who have invaded northern Nastell.
Shouts come from the battlelines as they're spotted running forward. And those with bows further to the side start shooting at them. That's until they come under fire from their own line.
Dorc da Orc chuckles in the darkness as he runs forward. The large ork refrains from roaring as he runs. Which is rather instinctive when it comes to battle for him. He's rather proud of the fact he doesn't roar. And only chuckles as he hurries forward towards the enemy battlelines.
The big, burly ork who hails from the southern polar region of the world. Follows behind the scouts and captain Weldin through a gap in the earthworks. Where the enemy have built palisades as part of their fortifications in their lines.
"Go" quietly says captain Weldin, while Dorkindle grunts in agreement. Teabagger the goblin Cunt nods in understanding. And quickly says something in the goblin language.
Many in the goblin battalion start moving towards the next enemy line. While others fight the enemy to the sides, who have rushed this way to stop those who have breached their lines.
The ork warleader takes a quick look up at the top of the north wall of Almaic, which is about a quarter of a mile away. The ork general of the goblin battalion sees that the magetubes have been uncovered.
And that they, and the other war machines up there will soon start firing once the first light of the day dawns.
There might be spellcasters and non humans up there who can see what's happening. But most of the crews up there are human, and will need a bit of light to see by.
And even then they'll only shoot at the army to the north of them. Not at their own battlelines, which now have been breached.
Dorc da Orc looks back down, and hurries after the small, bright, green goblin that's Teabagger.
"Fucken get some" murmurs the ork weaponsmith, who has got amongst the enemy battlelines, and has yet to kill anyone. Which is a bit of a rarity. Not to mention a bit of an odd feeling for the big, burly ork. Who is accustomed to killing the enemy, any enemy. Once he's amongst their battlelines.
"They're in their lines" quietly says Helbe the elven thief. Next to him, his fellow spellcaster, and member of lord Farque's personal council. Mira Reinholt the mage nods his hooded head.
The once powerful mage glances sideways at the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel, who asks him "If you can handle things here, I'm off".
"I can" says Mira Reinholt the mage, who accepts a couple of spell gems full of power from the elven magic user. The exiled Vexilian mage adds them to the ones he's already got secreted away within his summer cloak.
"Stay safe" quietly says the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
"Of course" says the elven masterthief with a grin. Which causes the mage Reinholt to wryly smile as he knows that the elven masterthief will in no way, be safe in whatever he does this morning.
The young elven noble who is the youngest grandchild of the ruling prince of Laerel then disappears as he blurs himself before shifting away.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who still to this day, is the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil. Until he was kicked off it. And sent into exile for betraying his homeland during the battle for Vexil eighteen years ago.
Makes his way over to where Tamric Drubine and others of the young field commander's senior staff are standing.
The swordmaster Reinholt will be keeping fairly close to young Tam this morning as the battle gets underway. He'll also keep an eye on Lisell Maera when she's here with this army.
Right now she's off to the next army along to the west, the one led by field commander Leivyn. Which Darid Parsen the cavalry commander is with now.
While Shur Kee the monk is around on the west side of the city of Almaic. Keeping an eye on the young war engineer, Tovis.
For though some of the war machines are here to the north of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Most of them are around on the west side, with the army led by field commander Talbot. For the simple reason, that side of the city of Almaic isn't walled. And the war machines will do most of their damage there.
After glancing away to the east, in the direction the sun is about to rise. Councilor Reinholt quietly says to the young field commander who leads the army that's predominantly made up of the armies of the robber barons Almard and Larimer "They'll start bombarding us any moment now".
"I figured as much" says Tamric Drubine, who then asks the spellcaster who is also highly skilled swordmaster "Can you add to our defence with the others?".
"Hardly" is the dry reply from the mage Reinholt, who then continues on with "Even if i still had all my powers, that isn't exactly something i would do".
He tightly grins as he adds "I'm a mage remember, we're not exactly the defensive type" the member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque then says "We tend to be the opposite of that in battle". Mira Reinholt shrugs his shoulders, and continues with "We can't help it, it's in our nature".
They look towards the enemy battlelines, which they can just make out now as dawn basically approaches.
Then in the early morning light of dawn, the boom of a single magetube firing can be heard across the city of Almaic, and the surrounding countryside.
"Here we go then" says the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin who is now a field commander in the armies of Farque.
Next to Tamric Drubine, or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well. The once powerful mage from the city-state of Vexil nods his hooded head in agreement.
They watch as a single magetube shot, about twelve feet wide, and dark red in colour. Leaves the top of the north wall of the city of Almaic, and head north.
The shot of pure magical energy goes down at a slight angle, passing over the battlelines of duke Hargen's army as it goes northwards.
It flies over the very furthest of the battlelines from the city, and heads towards the frontlines of the army led by Tamric Drubine, who are now moving forward.
A few hundred feet to the right of where Tam and those with him are standing. A bit further ahead of where they are. Just twenty feet infront of the ranks there.
The magetube shot hits something invisible, and explodes. The explosion goes backwards and up, scorching the ground for a bit. But hitting no one. Only lighting up the dim light of dawn this summer's morning.
"Here we go alright" quietly says Mira Reinholt the mage after that magetube shot hit the wards the spellcasters in the army have got up.
The Vexilian mage in exile knows that lone shot was just for range. And the other magetubes up on the north wall of Almaic will soon start bombarding the armies to the north of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
And that the wards of barrier spells the various spellcasters have got up. Will not hold up for long. So he does what he can do to help.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, creates a mageglobe in his right hand.
Next to him, commander Drubine watches as the once powerful mage crouches down, and pushes the living piece of magic into the ground.
The council member stands back up, as in the light of dawn, numerous booms echo across the city and surrounding area as various magetubes on top of the north wall of Almaic fire.
"They won't expect that" quietly says the mage Reinholt as they watch eight magetube shots come streaking through the dull light of dawn, towards their army, as well as the army next to theirs, led by field commander Leivyn.
As some of the front ranks of the army under the leadership of Tamric Drubine head forward to the stretch in the enemy battlelines already under the control of their forward elements.
Mira Reinholt quietly says to Tam "Start of a long day ahead of us" as he looks towards part of the north wall of Almaic that his mageglobe is going towards . . . . . .