The Hire 119.

Almaic. The Capital Of The Duchy Of Phelm...

"How many they fucken got?" asks Dorc da Orc "Not that many boss, er general" replies Teabagger the goblin Cunt, who continues with "About half a dozen or so".
"Fuckballs" mutters the large ork, who briefly pauses as he thinks of something, then he asks the small, bright green goblin "How many is that?".
"Six" is the answer from the goblin commander who keeps a straight face as his general works that out.
The ork warleader grunts as he understands that, then says "Tell 'em to fucken keep thems" the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world nods in the direction of the north wall of the city, and adds "Probably not gonna fucken work against that magicky shit they got".
As on cue, and to prove his point. A fireball cast by one of the spellcasters in their army. Hits the top of the north wall of Almaic. Where it splatters against the wards the enemy have got up.
"See" says Dorkindle, who then loudly mutters "The magicky fucken cuntheads".
Teabagger nods in agreement, and turns to one of his officers, and in the goblin language, tells him to spread the word down the trench, not to use the remaining mage canisters they've got, when they finally advance upon the north wall of Almaic.
Which will be soon, as a messenger from field commander Drubine arrived recently. And said the order to attack the north wall of the city will come soon. Especially now that they know the advance upon the east side of Almaic has been curtailed. If not failed completely.
Dorc da Orc who has gone back to looking at the magetube that's lying on the ground just a hundred feet away, about fifty feet out the from the city wall.
Knows that the soldiers and mercenaries in their army should be able to pass through most of the wards the enemy have got up. As he's been told most of them are to defend against spells.
So those going up the scaling ladders should have a fairly decent chance of getting to the top of the wall. Apart from getting shot at, or something falling on them. Or an enemy spellcaster burning them, or some other horrible way in which to kill them.
The ork weaponsmith also knows that he won't be going up a scaling ladder, for the simple reason he's far too heavy.
And unless there's an extremely large and heavy ladder that can hold his weight in their army that he hasn't seen yet. He'll have to find another way to get into the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
As a heavy longspear shot from an enemy ballista up on the top of the wall, passes over the long trench the ork general and the battalion of goblins are in. On it's way towards others in their army, advancing forward behind them.
The large ork, who is a member of the wolf tribe of orks. Who is still the largest member of his tribe. And one of the largest members of all twenty ork tribes. Who on average have about a thousand members in each tribe. With Dorkindle being the only one of his race outside of the southern polar region at this time.
Glares upwards at the sun in the afternoon sky, on what's been, and still is, a clear, hot summer's day here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
Before he looks away to the right, where in the distance he can see the gates in the north wall of the city, where the road from further north leads.
The road that's been laid with traps. And which the armies of both field commanders Drubine and Leivyn have avoided. Apart from earlier when Dorc and his battalion of goblins forced some of the enemy on to it. Where they fell to, and into their own traps.
"Hmmmm" murmurs the warleader of the ork race "What is it general?" asks Teabagger, who can barely see over the top of the trench they're in. While next to him, his general is sitting down, looking out of the trench.
"What are you thinking?" asks the small, bright green goblin who is one of the small number of original members of the battalion of goblins, who were formed in the southern kingdom of Melaurn. Where their general took them under his command during a conflict between two warring nobles in that kingdom.
"How we gonna gets in that fucken city" is the rumbling reply from the ork weaponsmith from the very bottom of the world. Where the winters are long, harsh and brutal. Where only ork kind, and the various animals that have adapted to live in those polar conditions, are able to survive and thrive.
The goblin commander nods, as he knows where their general goes, they go. And since the big, burly ork won't be going up a scaling ladder anytime soon. They won't be going up them too.
Which is probably a good thing in the opinion of Teabagger the goblin Cunt.
Who knows that if the battalion tried to go up the scaling ladders to top the north wall of Almaic. They'll more than likely accidentally kill themselves, and each other. More so than whatever the enemy might do to them.
The goblin commander knows the shortfalls, so to speak. Of his race. So finding an alternative way into the city of Almaic is probably for the best.
The small, bright, green goblin originally from the kingdom of Melaurn, figures whatever they end up doing. It will involve the magetube that's lying out in no man's land, just fifty feet from the north wall of the city.
"Right" says Dorkindle, who then adds "Listen up cunt, this what we gonna do".
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks nods towards the magetube lying out in the open, and says "We gonna gets that big boom boom".
Why am i not surprised, Teabagger dryly thinks to himself, who nods as his general tells him "We gets the magicky fucker when the army charges the fucken wall".
The large ork maybe stupid, and totally idiotic. But he is cunning, especially when it comes to warfare. And though he's not especially knowledgeable about a lot of things. He knows an awful lot when it comes to battles and war.
"Are we going to blast a hole in the wall?" asks the goblin commander "Nah cunt" says the ork general, who sees the battalion of goblins as his own army.
"We aren't?" asks a slightly surprised Teabagger, who thought that would be the first thing the big, burly ork would do when he got a hold of the enemy magetube lying out in no man's land.
"Nah, we gonna blow them fucken gates to bits" says Dorc da Orc with a nod of his large head in the direction of the main gates in the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
The goblin commander's eye ridges go up in surprise when he hears that. As the gates have been more or less left alone by the armies led by field commanders Drubine and Leivyn.
With good reason. As the road leading up to it, has been heavily trapped.
"We was over by that fucken road earlier, me could smell they had fuck all cunts behind them gates" explains the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who continues with "And me bets all the fucken gold coins you got ya little green cunt, that there's not no fucken trap rights infront of the gates".
Dorkindle shrugs then says "Cause you know why?". The goblin commander shakes his head no, and the big, burly ork tells him "Just incase the fuckers have to do a fucken counter attacks, and come out em" he continues with "They gots to have a fucken clear bit to come out".
Teabagger the goblin Cunt slowly nods, as he's a little dubious of his general's plan. Seeing this, the large ork chuckles, then says "Trust me cunt".
The warleader of the ork race then points to the wall, and tells the small, bright lurid green goblin "When we gets the boom boom, we gonna go along the base of the fucken wall to the gates" the large ork then asks the goblin commander "You got that cunt?".
"Yes general" replies Teabagger "Good" grunts Dorc da Orc who then tells the commander of the goblin battalion in the Farqian mercenary army "Now tell the rest of the little fuckers what we gonna fucken do when the order to charge the wall comes".
The small, bright green goblin from the kingdom of Melaurn nods, then turns to the goblins nearest to them, and repeats the ork warleader's plan in the goblin language. And tells them to spread the word down the long trench that the battalion, along with captain Weldin's company are in. Waiting for the order to advance across the last bit of open ground before the north wall of the city of Almaic.
Dorkindle looks back, and sees that the army led by Tamric Drubine has moved up. And that more and more of them, are between the battleline he and his battalion are in. And the next one to the north.
Catapults are now in range of the north wall of the city. And are firing upon it.
And like the longer range trebuchets. The ork weaponsmith watches where those catapult loads actually hit the wall, and the top of it. And where they don't, as they've been stopped by the barrier spells the enemy have up amongst their wards.
The big, burly ork doesn't know a lot about magic. Just that he hates it. Unless he can use it somehow. And use it to his advantage.
What he does know about it. Is that it's far harder to maintain barrier spells compared to protection spells. For the simple reason those particular wards, the more often they're hit, the more depleted they become. Even if they're fixed wards. Like what the enemy have up infront of the north wall of the city that's the provincial capital.
Dorkindle sees where a boulder actually hits the wall with a thud. He looks at the spot, to get it into his memory. And though the ork weaponsmith forgets a lot of things. He tends to remember an awful lot during a battle.
The ork general grunts as he sees where some burning barrels of pitch hit the wards the enemy have up. Bounce off them, and fall to the ground where they shatter spreading flames across a section of the open ground infront of the north wall of Almaic.
The large ork from the southern polar region of the world watches the bombardment upon the north wall of the city. And the retaliation from the enemy upon the top of the wall for a little while longer.
And after some large rocks shot from an enemy catapult slam down in and around the long trench the goblin battalion and their general are in. Killing two of the goblins, and injuring two others. Who are carried back through their lines to be healed by either spellcasters or camp surgeons.
And an energyball from an enemy spellcaster hits the other end of the long trench. Where some of captain Weldin's company is located.
Dorc da Orc looks back and sniffs, trying to locate where commander Drubine and his senior staff are.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks locates Mira Reinholt the mage first. Who is with Tamric Drubine and his command staff.
They're in one of the enemy fortifications in a battleline further to the west and north of where the ork warleader and his battalion are. About two hundred yards away, or nearly six hundred feet.
The large ork sees that most of the army led by young Tam is now infront of where the field commander and his senior staff are located.
"Cunt what's the fucken signal colours again?" asks Dorkindle "Green for go, and red for halt" replies Teabagger the goblin Cunt.
The ork general grins as they're his two favourite colours. Green, because well, he's green. And red because it's the colour of blood.
Then the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks tells the small, bright lurid green goblin beside him "Keep a fucken look out for the signal to charge" as he gestures back to where commander Drubine and his senior staff, along with the mage Reinholt are located.
"Yes boss, er general" says the goblin commander, who looks back in that direction.
While the big, burly ork, who is still wearing the rain poncho members of his battalion made for him. Goes back to keeping an eye on the magetube lying out in no man's land, and the continued bombardment upon the north wall of the city that's the provincial capital.
The ork warleader who is just watching lightning streak along the wards the enemy have up infront of the north wall of Almaic.
Looks at Teabagger who says "Boss the signal" as he looks back at their army behind them.
Dorkindle looks back as well, and sees a bright green light, the size of a large melon. Trailing green smoke behind it. Rising up into the clear, sunny afternoon sky from the fortification where commander Drubine and his senior staff are located.
The large ork grunts, as the army that's mostly composed of the armies of the robber barons Almard and Larimer. And led by the young field commander in the Farqian mercenary army, Tamric Drubine.
Charges forward towards the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
The goblin battalion led by the ork weaponsmith stays put. They'll only charge from an order by their general.
Captain Weldin's company at the other end of the long trench haven't advanced forward yet either. The captain in the forward elements of the mercenary army from the lands Farque is waiting for the ork warleader too.
Dorc da Orc who knows he can wait for a few moments as they're the closest to the city walls. Glances back, then grunts as he sees those behind them, are almost to the long trench he and his battalion of goblins are in.
"Right, time to fucken get some" says the large ork who chortles, then yells out in his loud voice "Charge!".
He grabs Teabagger in one hand, and the goblin on his other side with his other hand. And biffs them up and out of the long trench.
The big, burly ork from the very bottom of the world climbs out of the long trench simply by standing up, and stepping up and out of it.
While the rest of the goblin battalion scramble up out of the long trench. And at the other end, captain Weldin's company are getting out of the long trench too.
Dorc da Orc mutters "Get up you silly little fucker" and grabs Teabagger, and stands him up as the small, bright green goblin tries to get to his feet.
Then the battalion of goblins, some of whom have already tripped over themselves, rush forward across no man's land with their general the ork warleader.
Who has got his eyes on one thing, and one thing only as the army led by field commander Drubine. As well as the army further to the west led by field commander Leivyn make the final push towards the north wall of the city of Almaic.
Dorc da Orc is grinning as he runs beside Teabagger the goblin Cunt and others in the battalion he is the general of. The large ork is grinning as he looks at the enemy magetube lying out in the open, which he's getting closer and closer to, and will soon be in his hands.
"Fucken boom booms" murmurs Dorkindle as he runs, who then shouts "Get some!" as arrows and bolts fly all around him as he and his battalion of goblins charge towards the north wall of the city of Almaic . . . . . .