The Hire 144.

Almaic. Phelm. Nastell...

"Why you fucken hate Dorc so much?" demands Dorc da Orc as he glares at both Mira Reinholt the mage and Darid Parsen the cavalry commander.
"What the fuck did Dorc ever do you cunts?" adds the large ork, which illicits a raised eyebrow from both the mage Reinholt and the cavalry officer.
The ork warleader looks over at the field commanders Drubine and Leivyn. Who after a glance his way, and sharing a look with one another. They move away to rejoin their senior staff.
The big, burly ork sourly smiles then grunts as he watches the departing field commanders. Who don't want anything to do with him, and the plans they and councillors Reinholt and Parsen have come up for him.
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is what his mother used to call him, and what lord Farque occasionally calls him.
Looks around in the fading light of dusk as night is about to fall. And finds that only the once powerful mage and the cavalry officer. Are the only ones close to him.
With the exception of Teabagger the goblin Cunt. Who as usual, is standing just off to one side of his general.
The big, burly ork who hails from the southern polar region of the world, looks at the members of lord Farque's personal council. Well, he glares at them really, and he says "Well?". "Well, what?" replies Mira Reinholt the mage.
"You know fucken what" says the ork warleader in a growling tone, who would like nothing better than to wipe the smug look off the face of the Vexilian mage in exile, preferably with an axe.
After rolling his eyes, the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster says "Are you going to do it, or are you going continue to be a little bitch and complain about it some more?".
The ork weaponsmith growls in a threatening tone, and takes a step towards the two councillors. Who stand absolutely still as the watch the large ork.
While Teabagger the goblin cunt, is fidgety as he moves from foot to foot, as he nervously looks from his general, to the pair of council members.
"Seems to me you're being a bit of a pussy about it all" says the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
The mage who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil, gestures towards the city of Almaic, as he says "Do you want to take the city, or hang back and let others try to take it?".
The swordmaster Reinholt, who comes from one of the wealthiest trading families in all the Southlands, momentarily pauses, before he continues with "If you're going to be fucking chicken about it, we'll let someone else try".
Dorkindle ominously growls as he steps towards the two councillors, then the big, burly ork who is originally from the frozen bottom of the world, pauses as he looks at Mira Reinholt.
"Ha!" says the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks "Good one cunt" adds the large ork, who chuckles as he continues with "You being all smarts and tricksy Killer". Killer, being the ork warleader's nickname for the once powerful mage.
"You nearly gots Dorc there" says the warleader of the ork race, who then adds "Gets more angries so me will go and fucken do it".
"Thought it would work" quietly says Mira Reinholt in the elven language to his fellow council member, who nods in agreement with swordmaster who is originally from the city-state of Vexil.
"Have to try something else" quietly says Darid Parsen the cavalry commander in the same language, the once powerful mage nods his hooded head in agreement with his fellow member of lord Farque's personal council.
"Good one Dorc, you got us there" says the mage Reinholt in the common language, who after a brief pause, continues with "Almost got you angry enough to go and do it".
The ork general chortles at his perceived cleverness, while off to one side, Teabagger who is the commander of the goblin battalion in the Farqian mercenary army, nervously smiles.
Both the exiled Vexilian mage and the cavalry officer, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra, by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to find himself inhibiting the body of Darid Parsen, smile as well.
Then the swordmaster Reinholt says "Well since you won't do it, i guess we'll just have to tell you know who that you'll refuse to do it".
"Who?" asks Dorc da Orc with a perplexed look upon his broad, green, brutish looking face.
"You know who" says commander Parsen, once more the ork warleader frowns as he tries to work out who they mean.
Then after the exiled Vexilian mage, gestures around them, and says in a slightly dry tone of voice "We're in his army Dorc".
The ork who is the son of the former matriarch of wolf tribe of orks, grimaces as he realises who they're referring to, then he looks quickly around, sniffing repeatedly and deeply as he does.
After grunting, Dorkindle says "He not here" followed by "Stop trying to fucken scare Dorc like that ya cunts".
"Still, we'll tell him the first chance we get" says the once powerful mage, who continues with "He won't exactly be pleased with you, who he named warleader of your race".
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster gestures at Teabagger, as he tells the large ork "And he gave you a battalion of your own" Mira Reinholt then adds "Yep, won't be pleased at all" he continues with "All because you refuse to do one small thing, that could give us victory here at Almaic".
Dorc da Orc sourly smiles, then he turns and looks to the east, and scowls as he remembers what the two council members want him to do.
"Dorc might get wet" loudly mutters the ork weaponsmith "Well, good thing you're wearing that poncho then, that'll stop you from getting wet" says the exiled Vexilian mage who like his fellow councilor Darid Parsen, refrains from grinning.
"Smart cunt" grumbles the large ork with a glare directed at the swordmaster Reinholt.
"Well, are you going to?" asks the once powerful mage after a few moments of silence as the warleader of the ork race looks away to the east.
"It'll be fine Dorc, you and your battalion have got this" adds councilor Reinholt.
After a little bit more silence, the big, burly ork who is from the southern polar region of the world, grunts. A grunt that sounds definitely more positive than it does negative.
"So you'll do it?" asks the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
"Yeah cunt" is the reluctant sounding answer from the ork weaponsmith, who sighs, then loudly mutters "What if me get fucken wet?".
"Well don't fall in" says the mage Reinholt "Swim" murmurs Darid aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman.
Dorkindle sourly smiles as he looks down at the two councillors standing infront of him, then after another grunt, he says "Me have to fucken go and get me army".
"We've already sent a messenger to have them fall back" says the mage Reinholt with a gesture away to the city of Almaic, the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grunts as he looks towards the city, and in the fading light of dusk as night starts to fall here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
The ork warleader spots his battalion of goblins in the Farqian mercenary army. Moving back from the north wall of the city.
Infact, a lot of the armies on both sides of the road here to the north of Almaic, are falling back from the city wall.
Dorc da Orc slightly frowns, then looks at the councillors, and asks them "What the fuck we doing?" as he paid no attention to the plans of what's happening tonight, with the exception of what he and his battalion of goblins will be doing.
Mira Reinholt explains the plans for the night, and how most of their forces here to the north of the city will fall back.
For the simple reason those in the armies of the robber barons Almard, Larimer, Solamard and Gergus who are with them, aren't particularly good night fighters.
Especially considering there's not a single torch or lamp lit along the top of the north wall of the city that's the provincial capital.
The warleader of the ork race grunts in understanding, and does so again, when the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil tells him "See why it's important you and your battalion make a breakthrough?".
"Yeah cunt" says Dorc da Orc, who looks around as dusk takes full effect as the sun drops down below the horizon to the west, on what's been a hot summer's day here in northern Nastell.
"How we gonna fucken do it?" asks the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks.
"Come on" says the once powerful mage, who waves for the ork general and the goblin commander to follow him, as he adds "The camp followers have started working on them" councilor Reinholt follows that with "Hopefully it won't be too long before you lot can set off".
The large ork grunts at the prospect of that. And hopes he doesn't get wet as he goes about the plans for him and his battalion of goblins tonight.
As the mage Reinholt and the big, burly ork along with the small, bright green goblin move away.
Councilor Parsen rejoins the field commanders Drubine and Leivyn, and the others next to the road.
"I gather he's going to do it?" asks Tamric Drubine "He is" says Darid aka Zubutai Timaginson "Good, hopefully he can into the city from that side"  says field commander Drubine, who then dryly adds "Unless he falls into the river".
"That might not be such a bad thing" says field commander Leivyn, the attractive looking woman who is one of three field commanders in the mercenary army from the lands Farque continues with "He could do with a good wash, he absolutely reeks at the moment".
"There is that" says the nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who is now a field commander in the armies of Farque.
As night starts to fall, the youngest of the trio of field commanders in the Farqian mercenary army looks over to where four of the five robber barons are standing with their seconds, and other senior officers.
As the withdrawal of most of their forces here to the north of the city, takes place.
"I guess, we better go and explain in detail to them what's happening" says Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
As the two field commanders head over to the robber barons as the torches and cook fires from the nearby camp start to take affect.
The cavalry commander makes his way to where his second in command Kalleb is standing with Lisell Maera and sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
Darid aka Zubutai the son of Timagin calls out for a runner, and after one promptly arrives, he gives him an order to lead the withdrawing goblin battalion to where councilor Reinholt is taking Dorc da Orc and Teabagger the goblin cunt.
"I gather he was a little, shall we say, reluctant to go ahead with it?" asks Kalleb the second in command of the cavalry company led by councilor Parsen. "That's putting it lightly" dryly says the cavalry commander.
"Pray tell, what is this?" asks sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who has been in a foul mood all afternoon as he wasn't allowed to participate in the full on attack upon the north wall of the city of Almaic.
Commander Parsen wryly smiles as he looks at the heavily armoured knight as more torches are lit in the camp behind them, as he decides if he should tell the former earl of Lé Dic.
Shrugging his shoulders, the cavalry commander decides to. And as sir Percavelle or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, listens to the explanation from the Darid aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman.
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic starts to slowly smile. And by the time commander Parsen finishes telling him.
The former paladin in the order of Saint Mar'che is grinning from ear to ear, and laughing.
"Ha! It would be hilarious if the filthy green beast took a dunking in the river yonder" chortles Percy, who chuckles as he murmurs "He will do the world a favour if he goes and gets himself drowned".
Rolling her eyes, as she looks sideways at the chuckling nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic, Lisell Maera quietly asks Darid Parsen "If he and his goblins do make it into the city over there?".
"Well, if there's anyone who will get in, and make it back to the north side of the city and get the gates open, it'll be that lot" says the cavalry commander who is from the kingdom of Druvic, where he served as a foot soldier in the army of lady Linara Lé Dic, the young niece of sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
"And if they don't?" asks the attractive young woman who is originally from the city-state of Brattonbury.
"Even if only some of them get into the city, they'll cause a hell of a lot of havoc that will definitely distract the enemy, who'll have to send some of their men from the wall and elsewhere to deal with them" explains commander Parsen, who frankly wouldn't mind if that happens if Dorc da Orc and his battalion of goblins aren't totally successful with their plans.
Darid aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman knows that an awful lot could happen with the ork warleader involved.
And even if the plans for him and his goblin battalion turn out to be a total failure. Which is highly likely considering it's Dorkindle, and what's involved.
They're bound to still stir things up with the enemy. And cause a lot of chaos and confusion amongst the enemy ranks. Which is just fine in the opinion of councilor Parsen.
Here's to them creating a mess around there, the cavalry commander thinks to himself, who then gestures to the nearby camp, and tells the other "Come on, let's get something to eat before we rejoin the company" he then adds "It's going to be a long night".
As they walk towards the camp, sir Percavelle Lé Dic is still chuckling to himself as he thinks of his rival Dorc da Orc, and what the large ork and his battalion of goblins will be doing tonight . . . . . .