The Hire 106.

The Battle Of Almaic...

Less than a few hundred feet from the north wall of the city of Almaic. The goblin Fuckhead the Sixth trips up, which saves him from getting skewered by an enemy arrow as he and the others in his battalion rush forward to the final enemy battleline between them, and the city that's under attack.
He scrambles to his feet, and hears the roar of his general somewhere away to the left, followed by a shout in the ork language that no one understands.
Fuckhead the Sixth no matter how much he likes his general. He doesn't particularly want to be around him in the middle of a battle.
The fact that the large ork stinks beyond belief as he refuses to take off the rain poncho he's still wearing, on what's another hot and sunny day here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
It's that he's so big, that without doubt he's the biggest target on the battlefield by far. With enemy arrows and bolts flying in his direction all the time.
Some of the goblins like Teabagger the goblin Cunt who commands the battalion might think it's safe to run behind their general, and use him as a moving shield.
Fuckhead the Sixth on the other hand thinks that's tantamount to suicide. And that you're bound to eventually get shot if you're so close to the ork warleader all the time.
Fuckhead the Sixth, runs side to side, in a zigzag pattern as he heads towards the last of the enemy battlelines. Which is one long trench, dotted with a number of fortifications, that are made from packed dirt, upon which are the wooden walls and platforms.
He isn't particularly tall for a goblin, just a little over five foot in height. And he's a fairly normal shade of green for one of his kind. Neither a dark, black green or a bright, almost yellow green like commander Teabagger is.
As he zigzags forward, he almost trips up again, a rather common occurrence, after all he is a goblin, and they're rather accident prone. Something that they know, and accept. Knowing that they can't change their nature.
But for all that, and their rather short lifespans. You'll never find a goblin over the age of forty years. For the simple reason an accident of some kind would of killed them by then. Even though they've probably got an actual lifespan similar to humans.
They are hard workers. Who never complain even though most of the work they do is basic labour and drudgery.
And as it turns out. They also make fairly decent shock troops. Going into battle first, taking on the enemy, who are always surprised that they're fighting against goblins.
As historically goblins have never been soldiers. For when you normally do find them in armies, not just here in the Southlands, but right across the world of Volunell.
They're always with the auxiliaries and camp followers where they're doing menial tasks.
Even wild goblins who live in primitive tribe like societies. Though they're not actually tribes as such. It's more you live here with a bunch of other goblins, so you're might as well be a tribe.
Their battles between one another. Usually over who is going to be the king of where the tribes live. Are rather chaotic affairs. Where hardly anyone actually gets killed by another combatant on purpose.
Most of the deaths that occur in such battles are by accident, usually self inflicted.
But not this battalion of goblins, who originally came from the kingdom of Melaurn in the very south of the Southlands. Infact it's the southern most kingdom in the region of the world known as the Southlands.
With only the southern tundra, where the hordes barbarians dwell being further south. And the only thing further south of that is the giant mountain range, beyond which is the southern polar region where the orks of the world live.
A battalion of goblins who formed over a decade ago. Though very few of the original goblins are left. Who are now in the armies of Farque. Where they're members of the advanced forces. Who often go into battle first. Primarily for their shock value as the enemy are always surprised that they're up against goblins.
And because they're led by their general. A totally unhinged ork, like all ork kind. Who is basically an army onto himself.
Who whenever he's with them. Has led them to victory after victory. Or at least accomplishing whatever their task in a particular battle is.
And in this case, here to the north of the city of Almaic. They're to smash through the enemy battlelines. And get to the final one, which is less than a couple of hundred feet from the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
A duchy in the north of the kingdom of Nastell that the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains to the north of the kingdom. Have banded together to wage a campaign of war against.
Hiring one of the mercenary armies from the lands Farque to help them accomplish it.
Fuckhead the Sixth jumps over one of his fellow battalion members who has tripped over his own feet, and fallen flat on his face.
The average sized goblin, who is an average shade of green. Is pleasantly surprised he doesn't trip over too. After jumping over his downed comrade.
Fuckhead the Sixth, who was previously called Digger. As he use to dig holes for fence posts on a farm in the kingdom of Girdane before he joined the goblin battalion.
Is like all goblins no matter what they do. Knows that they're inherently accident prone, and that they can't really do anything about it, or do anything to stop an accident from happening.
So like all goblins, they go about their tasks not worrying about an accident, which invariably will happen. They just get on with things. It's what makes them such hard workers. And as it's turned out, fairly exceptional shock troops.
Fuckhead the Sixth, who'd never swear in the common language when he was a hole digger on the farm he used to live on.
Does so now as he charges the last of the enemy battlelines here to the north of the city of Almaic.
It's definitely the influence of his ork general has had on him and the others of the battalion. That's brought about that change.
"Fuck you cunts!" yells out Fuckhead the Sixth just thirty feet from the long trench which he and others in his battalion are charging.
Hurrying through the long trench that's the last battleline before the north wall of Almaic. Is Taren Bovis, an archer in the army of duke Hargen of Phelm.
The young archer, who has just recently turned eighteen. Is a fairly nondescript looking fellow. Standing about five foot ten inches tall. Of average build. He's in leather huntsman armour, with a tabbard of the duke over it.
Taren who is originally from the very south of Phelm. On the estates of the Yarrim family. Moved north to the countryside just south of Almaic, to live with relatives.
When his father decided it would be best for his safety to do so. As you see, the young Taren has always been a talent with a bow.
Who would hunt all the time if he was given a chance. And for the most part he would do so legally.
Going over the border to the next duchy south to hunt. On unclaimed land that wasn't governed by a nobleborn family.
But as he got older, he would frequently hunt on the estates of his birth. Which is fine if you were given permission to do so.
But not so fine if you weren't. That's poaching. And invariably Taren wouldn't get permission. As he couldn't be bothered asking for it from sir Yarrim's gameskeeper.
So his father decided to send him north to near Almaic to live with relatives before the local lord's guards caught him, and hanged him for poaching.
That was a little over two years ago. And now Taren is one of the better archers in the duke's army, who are from the region around the city of Almaic.
His uncle who he was sent to live with. Signed him up to the duke's army just a couple of months of living in the area.
He thought it would be safer for young Taren to be in the army. Than to be caught poaching on the lands that come under the direct control of duke Hargen. Which is around the capital. Though not to the east of the city, across the river Mareb.
Taren who thought he'd dislike being in the army. Was surprised to find that he actually liked it just a few days after joining.
He likes the free housing and food whilst on duty. And the clothing and equipment you're given. Especially the bow he was given after it was discovered he was a fairly decent bow hunter.
Best of all was that he no longer had to fletch his own arrows. Something that he never particularly liked. Now he can have all the arrows that he wants.
Which now during battle, is a lot. As he's dropped quite a lot of the enemy as he's been further forward in the battlelines.
But he and others have had to steadily retreat throughout the morning as the enemy have advanced through the battlelines. Making their way towards the north wall of the city of Almaic, the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Taren Bovis who has been further to the west amongst the battlelines, is now moving east through the longest trench that has been dug to the north of the city of Almaic, which is less than a couple hundred feet away.
As a magetube shot from the top of the north wall of Almaic passes a good fifty feet overhead. Taren and another archer hurry behind one of the fortifications. As they've been called to the eastern end of the trench. As the enemy are now charging towards that end.
"What the hell?" mutters Taren Bovis as he hears other soldiers in the trench in the direction he's heading, shouting out that enemy goblins are advancing upon them.
The young archer glances at his fellow archer, who just shrugs his shoulders, then quietly says "Surely they're mistaken" as the two of them hurry eastwards through the trench.
Taren pops his head up, and looks further east, on to the open ground between this battleline, and the one further north that's recently fallen to the enemy.
The young archer originally from the estates of sir Yarrim along the southern border region of the duchy, almost trips up when he sees who it is that's charging the trench in that direction.
"Fuck me it's a bunch of goblins" exclaims Taren in surprise. His fellow archer has popped his head up too, and he's equally shocked to see goblins in black armour, tabbards and cloaks rushing towards this battleline, the last battleline before the north wall of the city of Almaic.
After the two of them briefly pause in surprise, they continue onwards through the trench. Hurrying behind their fellow soldiers in the duke's army, as well as mercenaries the duke has hired.
"Next one" says the young archer "Next one" says the other archer in agreement, as they go by another of the fortifications dotted along the last battleline before the north wall of Almaic.
Taren Bovis frowns as he hears a loud roar, followed by a shout in a deep, growling, guttural voice in a language he's never heard before.
As he wonders what that is, he sees other archers and crossbowmen on the platforms of the next fortification shooting at the enemy charging at them.
Taren along with the older archer he's with, get to that fortification. Where they scamper up a wooden ladder to a platform that has just a single archer already on it.
The young archer originally from the very south of the duchy, is barely on the platform, when he takes an arrow from his quiver, and puts it to the belly of his bow. He draws it back as he takes a couple of steps forward.
Then after momentarily pausing as he sees a bunch of goblins rushing towards this particular fortification, he draws a bead on one, and lets the arrow fly.
"Fuck" mutters Taren as his arrow misses because the goblin he targeted tripped over as the shaft was in flight.
Not used to missing, the young archer takes another arrow from his quiver, puts it to his bow, draws it back, targets another of the goblins, then lets the arrow fly. As his fellow archers do likewise.
"That's better" Taren Bovis murmurs to himself as he gets a hit, it's not a killing shot, well at least he doesn't think so, as it got the target in the shoulder. Nevertheless it dropped the goblin to the ground which is good enough in the opinion of the young archer in duke Hargen's army.
After shooting at another goblin, killing this one, as he gets it in the gut. While the archer right beside him, hits the same goblin just below the throat as it's falling.
Taren looks away to the right, as some of the archers on the next platform are yelling and shouting about something.
"What the hell are that lot going on about?" says the archer next to Taren, the two of them look further to the right, to where the archers on the next platform are pointing. And they see what, or more specifically who they're going on about.
"What the fucking hell is that thing?" says the young archer in surprise, while next to him, the other archer says "Is that a goblin?" followed by "If it is, it's the biggest damn goblin I've ever seen".
"I don't think it's a goblin" murmurs a surprised Taren, who like most of the other archers on the platforms to either side of the one he's on, draws back his bow, and takes aim at the large, green creature which must easily stand seven and half foot tall, and weigh an awful lot. Who is wearing what looks like a rain poncho of all things. And shoots at it.
Taren Bovis blinks in surprise, as he's sure he got his target in the head, in the forehead to be precise. He's also pretty sure the shaft just bounced off it's forehead as it runs.
A roar comes from it, and it turns slightly, heading more or less straight to the fortification, to be exact right at the part of the wall between the platform Taren is on, and the next one to the right,
The young archer takes another shot at it, so do the two archers with him. All three of them hit it, but it doesn't stop it at all, it doesn't even slow it. Infact it picks up it's pace as it runs this way.
It roars something, then shouts out in the common language, it sounds like it shouts out "Get some!" as it runs straight at the wooden wall of the fortification.
A wooden wall on top of the packed dirt, that it smashes into, and goes right through. Fairly easily too.
"Fucking hell" murmurs Taren Bovis in astonishment, who then yelps as one of the wooden posts holding up the platform is smashed into by the large green creature that's just entered the fortification.
As it careens away, and stumbles away in the direction of the archers platform to the right, growling and muttering away to itself.
The one that Taren and the two archers with him are on, collapses on one side, and the three of them fall, and tumble down off it into the trench.
The young archer groans after landing on his back, he takes a deep breath and realises he's only winded and not injured in anyway.
He struggles to take another breath, by the third attempt he gets some air into his lungs. And he lifts his head up, and sees goblins pouring into the fortification through the large hole in the wooden wall.
Seeing an extremely bright green goblin and a few others go in the other direction through the trench, heading after the large green creature that's now loudly roaring,
Taren who finds that he's holding his bow in his hands, and that it's perfectly fine. And he even has an arrow to it.
Leans sideways, and props himself up, and draws the bow partially back, and lets the arrow fly at a goblin that's turned this way, and is hurrying towards him with a determined look on it's face, and a sword in it's hands. It's only a couple of yards from Taren when he shots at it.
"Damn it" mutters Fuckhead the Sixth as he trips over, and falls on top of the enemy who has just shot at him, the arrow narrowly missed him as he was falling. Otherwise it would of hit him in the chest,
The goblin rolls off the enemy, and grunts as he pulls his sword out of the chest of the young archer who has a surprised look upon his face as he quickly dies.
Fuckhead goes to get up, but in true goblin fashion, he's knocked down from behind by one of his fellow goblins, who is rushing to get at the enemy in the trench.
Fuckhead falls flat on his face, landing beside the dead enemy archer. And landing on his own sword that he's holding lengthwise. The blade slams into the throat of Fuckhead the Sixth killing him instantly. Killing him accidentally as most goblins are killed in life . . . . . .