The Hire 95.

Northern Nastell. The City Of Almaic...

"Hmmmm" murmurs Dorc da Orc as he pops his head up over broken bits of fortification, and looks at the north wall of the city of Almaic.
The large ork looks to where he knows a magetube is somewhere on the ground, just out from the wall.
The ork warleader can't see it at the moment, as the enemy still have too many battlelines between him and it.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grins as he contemplates getting his hands upon the magical weapon that was blasted from the top of the wall during an earlier explosion.
Then Dorkindle grunts, and looks away to the right, as next to him, Teabagger the goblin Cunt says "Boss, er general, we've got to hold up" followed by "We're getting a bit too far ahead".
The ork weaponsmith scowls, then remembering why they're taking a measured approach through the enemy battlelines. And remembering that he helped come up with the idea. He grunts in a positive manner to the goblin commander.
"We fucken stops here for a bit" declares Dorc da Orc, Teabagger nods then starts calling out orders in goblin for the battalion to halt their progress towards the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm, here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
The large ork, who is the son of the former matriarch of his tribe, the wolf tribe. Glares up at sun in the clear morning sky, on what's turning out to be another warm summer's day here in the duchy of Phelm.
Then he sits down on the ground, with his back against the dirt and wood fortification that the enemy were using. It offers a little bit of shade for the big burly ork.
Who though has been out of his home range in the southern polar region of the world for over twenty years now. He's still hasn't acclimated to the warmer climes here in the Southlands.
And never truly will, as his body physiology isn't really acquitted to dealing with the warmer temperatures found north of the southern polar region.
The ork who was named warleader of his race, over a decade ago by lord Farque. Looks away to the west. Where on that flank is the company led by captain Weldin.
The captain and his soldiers, all of whom are in the Farqian mercenary army like the goblin battalion that has Dorc da Orc as it's general.
Are still making their way forward through the enemy battlelines, not yet up to where the ork warleader and the goblin battalion are.
It's the same on the east flank, another company in the Farqian army are making their way through the enemy battlelines too.
Those two companies, along with the goblin battalion. Are all part of the forward elements in the army led by the young field commander Tamric Drubine.
The bulk of which is still further to the north, and have yet to engage with the enemy and take part in the battle.
As it is with the army led by field commander Leivyn. Which is also here to the north of the city of Almaic. Though positioned further to the west than commander Drubine's army.
As an energyball from their own lines passes overhead, and a bit to the right of them as it makes it's way towards the north wall of Almaic.
Teabagger the goblin Cunt says "We're making good progress general". The small, bright, lurid green goblin who commands the battalion of goblins in the mercenary army from the lands Farque.
Has to constantly remind his general not to rush too far ahead. As the big, burly ork who hails from the very bottom of the world. Is always eager to get into the very thick of the fighting in a battle.
So far the ork warleader, for the most part. Has done so, much to the delight of the goblin commander. Who knows exactly how hard it is to get the large ork to do what you want him to do. Or at least something fairly close to what you want him to do.
"Still early, not even midmorning yet general" says Teabagger who continues with "And we're almost halfway to the city walls".
Dorc da Orc grunts as he wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his big, meaty right forearm.
"Yeah cunt, good progress" says that ork weaponsmith, who pronounces the word progress as po-guess. Which isn't particularly unusual, as he has difficulty saying any word in the common language that has more than one syllable.
The ork warleader who is of the opinion that the only language in the world is the ork language. And every other language is just you flapping your mouth, and making noises that come out.
Grunts as the small, bright green goblin sitting near him quietly says in the common language "We might get to the wall sometime this morning general".
The large ork grunts once more as he hopes so. As there's a bit more shade at the base of the wall in comparison to out here in the open ground, within the battlelines of duke Hargen's army, who are defending the north side of the city of Almaic.
Then the two of them pause, as they hear with their naturally enhanced hearing, the familiar sound of a catapult firing.
They get up, turn and look towards the city. And see a load from a catapult upon that top of the north wall of Almaic. Fly through the air to the east of them.
The rocks and broken bits of a masonry. For the most part fly over, and crash upon the ground behind the Farqian mercenary army company over there.
"They getting the fucken range" mutters Dorkindle, Teabagger nods then quietly says "They'll have to be careful doing that" the goblin commander continues with "They don't want to go short and hit their own men".
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks grunts to that, then does so again when the small, bright green goblin quietly adds "At least they can't shoot those magetubes at us".
As the angle doesn't allow it, since they're closer to the north wall of the city.
Just then one, then another of the magetubes up on the top of the north wall of Almaic fire shots. One of which goes off towards the bulk of the army led by field commander Leivyn.
While the other, a ball of dark red, pure magical energy, about twelve feet in width.
Passes not to far away to the east of the badly damaged fortification that the ork general and a number of the goblin battalion are behind. As it makes it's way towards the army that's led by field commander Drubine.
"Me gonna fucken gets that one on the ground" murmurs the large ork is his total incomprehensible native language, as he sits back down in the shade.
Next to him, the goblin commander sits down too. Though not to close to the big, burly ork, who stinks more than usual as he refuses to take off the rain poncho some of the battalion made for him out off the side of a tent.
Teabagger, hears some of the others in the battalion say something in the goblin language.
The commander of the battalion of goblins in the Farqian mercenary army looks away to the west behind them. And spots a runner coming their way from company led by captain Weldin.
"General" quietly says the small, bright green goblin who then adds "A messenger".
Dorc da Orc grunts as he looks to where the battalion commander points, and he sees the runner coming their way.
Avoiding arrows shot at him by the enemy in the battlelines further ahead, closer to the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
The messenger comes sliding in next to the ork general and the goblin commander.
Breathing heavily, the runner who is part of the scouts and rangers division in the mercenary army from the lands Farque, says "Warleader" and "Commander" to the two of them. Dorkindle grunts, then says to the young man "What is it cunt?".
Then the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Along with the small, bright green goblin who is originally from the southern kingdom of Melaurn.
Listen in silence as the runner tells his message to them. The ork weaponsmith frowns as he listens.
Then he grunts and says "Yeah cunt" after the runner has delivered his message, then asked him "Understood warleader?".
The messenger nods, and after Teabagger wishes him luck. He gets up and takes off running towards the company to the east of the goblin battalion. To give them the message, which comes from field commander Drubine.
"What do you think boss?" asks the goblin commander, who hastily adds "Er general".
The large ork, who is looking back at their army who have yet to advance, grunts, then tells the small, bright green goblin "Fucken s'pose".
Teabagger nods to that, then takes his water bottle from his belt and takes a drink from it, as they sit their in the shade offered by the near destroyed enemy fortification, and wait.
As they look back north towards the army that's made up predominantly of robber barons Almard and Larimer's armies, which is led by commander Drubine.
And as Dorkindle scratches his dreadlocked topknot, Teabagger quietly says "Looks like they're about to move general".
The warleader of the ork race sees this, then tells the battalion commander "Tell the cunts to get ready to go again".
The small goblin, who is a bright, lurid green colour. Calls out an order in the goblin language. And the battalion prepare to advance on the order from their general, and their commander.
Dorc da Orc and Teabagger stand up, and as the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks looks ahead towards the enemy battlelines ahead of them, then the city of Almaic itself.
The battalion commander keeps an eye on the army to the north led by the young field commander, Tamric Drubine.
"Front ranks are readying" says Teabagger as he continues to look back at their army.
The large ork nods as he looks towards the top of the north wall of the city. Where he sees the enemy, has also seen that the army led by the young field commander Tamric Drubine, is about to advance.
As soldiers and mercenaries in duke Hargen's army scurrying about. As more of them move to the east side of the parapet. As commander Leivyn's army further to the west. Is staying put for the meantime.
"They're moving boss, er general" says the small, bright green goblin who fails to keep the excitement out of his voice.
Dorkindle nods as he quickly looks back at their army, and sees the front ranks advancing. The reaction from the top of the wall is as predicted. Magetubes start shooting at the army of the robber barons Almard and Larimer. Which is commanded by the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin, Tamric Drubine.
"Give the order cunt" says the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks as he looks towards the enemy battlelines infront of them, as well as the city of Almaic.
"Advance!" shouts out Teabagger in the goblin language. And that's what the battalion of goblins, and their ork general do. They continue their advance upon the enemy battlelines.
As Teabagger hurries around the destroyed fortification. Dorc da Orc just hauls himself up onto the wreckage of wood and dirt. And rolls down the otherside.
The big, burly ork from the bottom of the world mutters to himself in his native language as he rolls, then once down, he gets to his feet.
And runs forward, as do the goblins who have run around the destroyed fortification. They charge towards the next of the enemy lines.
Arrows and bolts come flying their way from the fortifications ahead. And catapults fire away from the top of the north wall of Almaic. As do magetubes.
The catapults shots will miss, and pass overhead. As will the magetube shots. Which are bound for the army led by the field commander Drubine, which is now advancing.
But there's no avoiding the arrows and bolts coming their way. Especially Dorc da Orc, who at seven and half foot in height. And weighing in excess of seven hundred and fifty pounds. He's the single largest target on the battlefield by far.
The ork warleader doesn't particularly care. As arrows and bolts are more of a nuisance to him, than anything else.
Hardly ever doing any damage to him. Unless they hit him in a sensitive spot. Usually in the face. Or an earlobe. Which he hates getting shot in.
Most of the battalion keep clear of the general when he's out in the open like this. Since he's such an easy target.
Not so Teabagger, who runs right behind the large ork. Who might be the biggest target by far on the battlefield. He's also effectively the best shield one could have.
The small, bright green goblin knows he's pretty safe right behind the ork warleader. Apart from his sense of smell, which is assaulted by the stench coming off the big, burly ork he's so close to.
Dorc da Orc isn't in the open for very long, he's soon at the next of the enemy battlelines.
And he shouts "Get some!" as he runs head first into a wall of dirt and wood of one of the palisades that makes up the next temporary fortification that's been built just outside the north wall of the city of Almaic, the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
As the battle continues to rage on, this warm summer's morning here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell . . . . . .