A Grand Design 24.

Winter. The Kingdom Of Girdane.

They've travelled northeast. Just the three of them. Teleporting most of the time. And when they haven't. They've walked. Making their way north through the duchy of Isanor. Which is the furthest north in the kingdom of Girdane you can go. Until you hit the Kaldel Plains.
With a strong wind coming off the Kaldel Plains. They appear again after teleporting once more.
Beldane the cleric does up his cloak, as the wind hitting the bare hill they're on is cold.
Not so for the other two with him. As they couldn't care less about the wind.
Because one is an ork. Who finds this cold winter weather here in the very north of the kingdom of Girdane.
As absolutely balmy, comparable to a warm midsummer's day in the southern polar region of the world, where he's originally from.
While the other is dead. Or more precisely undead. Who doesn't feel the weather at all.
"The plains" says Beldane the cleric who nods to where the Kaldel Plains are less than a half a mile away now.
Lord Farque nods his full helmed head as they look at the nearby plains. While Dorc da Orc wanders away to the right, to take a piss.
As the large ork sprays his foul smelling, alarmingly green coloured pee into the wind.
Lord Farque asks the member of the church of Glaine "Is the distance fine?".
"It is my lord" says the powerful spellcaster, who then asks the heavily armoured deathlord "Where?".
Pointing further to the east out on the plains, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque says "There".
The fighting cleric who is originally from the kingdom of Nastell, nods his head then says "I'll need to do it two or three times" he continues with "I can't do it indefinitely to allow them all through".
"I understand" says the lord of the death realm, and as the ork warleader walks back to where they're standing. Draugadrottin as he's also known by to the people of his lands, says to cleric who is part of his army "You might as well get started". The powerful cleric nods and says "Yes my lord".
Then as Beldane casts a gateway, lord Farque sets off towards the Kaldel Plains, saying in the ork language "Come on cunt, we're going".
Dorc da Orc who is looking around, wondering what they're going to be doing. Grunts as he follows after the heavily armoured deathlord.
As the two of them walk down the hill towards the Kaldel Plains.
The gateway that the fighting cleric has cast, finally forms. Beldane steps through it. And a couple of moments later, it disappears.
More than likely, they've crossed the northern border of the kingdom of Girdane.
They definitely know they have when they walk out onto the Kaldel Plains. Getting hit by the strong wind that's streaking down across the plains, and hitting the north of Girdane.
Des'tier as he's known by to an older generation of elven kind, who might know who he is.
And Dorkindle, a name only really used by his mother. Whose skull is tied to his large waist belt.
Walk eastwards across the Kaldel Plains. Not caring about anyone or anything at the moment.
The two of them just walk, knowing that a fairly substantial part of lord Farque's army will soon be here on the plains. Just across the border from the kingdom of Girdane.
A kingdom that's been hit by what's essentially a civil war. As the rulers of the three most western duchies in Girdane, the dukes of Dalmar, Girnath and Falosen. Have rebelled against the crown, and the king.
The two of them walk in silence, which is only occasionally interrupted by Dorc da Orc grunting when he spots something, or if he kicks at the ground as they walk.
The two of them veer to the southeast as they continue across the plains as it goes along the northern border of the kingdom of Girdane.
A little while later, and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque senses a gateway forming somewhere behind them.
A few moments later and it forms, and out of it runs scouts in the army of Farque. Who lead the way. For nearly a third of their army, who have left the main force. And have come this way, to avoid the forces of the king of Girdane.
Beldane the cleric has to create a gateway another two times during the afternoon. But eventually, he gets all three thousand soldiers and officers up onto the Kaldel Plains.
Which they head eastwards along, skirting along the northern border of the kingdom of Girdane. Which eventually they'll re-enter.
They march throughout the rest of the day, and then into the night. Only stopping late in the night, having gone somewhat further south than east. So that they're basically along the border between Girdane and the Kaldel Plains.
The force of just over three thousand have packed fairly light. And only brought tents that hold two. Which they pitch, after which they have a cold meal before bedding down for the night.
Lord Farque after asking Dorc da Orc if he's going to sleep, and the large ork replies with "Nah slept the other fucken day" speaks with one of his subcommanders.
"You're in command" says the lord of the death realm, who follows that with "The warleader and i are continuing on".
"Yes my lord" says the subcommander, the undead warlord gestures away to the right and says "Captain Tovis will be your acting second, followed by the cleric Beldane".
The war engineer, where he stands infront of the small tent he's sharing with Larris the sorcerer nods his head when he hears that.
"You know which way to go" continues the heavily armoured deathlord who is speaking in elven "It'll be easy too, all you'll have to do is follow our tracks" adds Draugadrottin, who gestures at the nearby ork weaponsmith as he says "The scouts will easily find where the warleader has been". The subcommander nods and says "We will my lord".
Then the lord and ruler of the lands Farque walks away, followed by Dorc da Orc.
The undead being doesn't get far, and stops where a grumbling sir Percavelle Lé Dic has finally put up his tent this night, after refusing any help from the nearby soldiers.
"Percy stay close to Tovis" says Des'tier, who as the former paladin turns, he adds "Keep him out of trouble".
"Will do, wot" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who then sourly smiles as he catches sight, and smell, of the large ork a bit further behind the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Pray tell, where are you off to lord Farque?" asks the nobleborn knight who is originally from the kingdom of Druvic, where he was a former earl of Lé Dic.
"Ahead" is the reply of the heavily armoured deathlord "Is that smelly beast going ahead too, wot?" asks the nobleman who is a member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
Who flashes a grin when the lord of the death realm replies with "He is".
Leaving a grinning sir Percavelle Lé Dic behind them, the undead warlord and the ork warleader make their way through the camp.
And continue to the east along the border region between the kingdom of Girdane and the Kaldel Plains.
The two of them walk for quite sometime in relative silence, which is occasionally disrupted by a grunt from Dorc da Orc. Or when he whistles for a bit. Badly and out of tune, as he's tone deaf like all orks.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque eventually stops, and after looking around, he takes out one of the maps he's got. And after studying it for a little while. He continues on his way, followed by the large presence of the ork weaponsmith.
They continue eastwards for another half a mile or so. And after another brief stop where he quickly looks at one of the maps he's got.
The deathlord of Farque turns south, and continues back into the kingdom of Girdane.
Nodding his full helmed head in the direction they're going, lord Farque says in the ork language "Pretty sure that's the fucking duchy of Wostin" followed by "One of the central fucking duchies".
The big, burly ork who hails from the southern polar region of the world, just grunts in reply.
Draugadrottin rolls his eyes, then says "We're now behind the bulk of their fucken army" the lord and the ruler of the lands Farque then adds in dry tone "This is your fucking plan remember?".
The large ork who is a member of the wolf tribe of orks, grunts again, this time in understanding.
"We'll just keep going south" says the undead warlord, who is interrupted by a muttered "Not north" from the warleader of the ork race.
"And we should run into their lines of supply" continues the lord of the death realm, who follows that with "And any more of their fucking troops they're sending out west".
"Not north" Dorkindle mutters, before he grunts then says "Fuck yeah" followed by "That's a good fucken plan me come up with".
A grin splits the broad, green, feral looking face of the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks as he thinks of change in plans and strategy.
That he helped come with, for the dukes of Dalmar, Girnath and Falosen in their rebellious campaign against the king and crown of the kingdom of Girdane.
It's well after midnight, infact it's probably halfway between the middle of the night and dawn, when lord Farque suddenly stops.
The tall, heavily armoured deathlord who has been continually sensing since they left their army behind them.
Has sensed something of interest away to the south somewhere.
The undead warlord puts up a gauntleted hand for silence, when the large ork opens his mouth to say something.
The warleader of the ork race is busting to ask Draugadrottin what's happening, but he remains silent.
And eventually he's rewarded with "Hurry up cunt" from the lord of the death realm, who starts running.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. A tribe that's yet to replace Dorkindle's mother. Even though he killed her well over twenty years ago. Which was only fair, as she was doing her best to kill him at the time.
Grunts, then sighs as he sets off after the lord and ruler of the lands Farque. Who is slowly increasing pace as he runs southwards.
Soon the ork warleader starts lagging behind as they run through the night.
Des'tier who has sensed something of interest. Could run a hell of a lot faster than he is at the moment. But he keeps to a pace that he knows Dorc da Orc can more or less keep up with.
Dorkindle murmurs "Deer" as he catches wind of a small herd of deer, somewhere away to the right.
A little bit later, he murmurs "Bear" as he catches the scent of a bear not all that far away as he runs southwards, following behind lord Farque, who is over a half a mile ahead of him now, and getting further away.
"Birds" murmurs the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world who smells, then sees various birds in the branches of the trees he passes this night.
The ork warleader who is a general in the armies of Farque, breathes deeply in through his nostrils as he runs south.
Dorc da Orc like all orks, has an incredible sense of smell, who can catch the scent of something from many miles away.
Smells lord Farque nearly a mile away now infront of him, as they head south through the duchy of Wostin.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then catches the scent of something else further infront of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The ork general briefly pauses when he catches scent of it, then he takes off running again.
The large ork increases pace, but he's still some distance behind lord Farque, when his naturally enhanced hearing picks up a loud, indignant squawk like scream.
Quickly followed by what can only be described as a squawk like scream of pain, that's suddenly cut off.
Dorkindle grunts when he hears that, and murmurs "He dead" and quietly chuckles to himself as he continues to run to where he can smell where the lord and ruler of the lands Farque has stopped.
The large ork eventually runs towards a stand of trees near the base of a hill, he grins as he slows to a walk. When he sees a dead wyvern lying at the edge of the trees.
With lord Farque standing nearby, holding a man upside down by the right leg.
He's a wyvern rider in the army of the king of Girdane. Who like all wyvern riders in king Jarnard the Second's army, are the elite messengers for the crown.
"Here hold this fucker" says Draugadrottin in the ork language as the ork warleader walks up to him.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world, takes the dazed wyvern rider by the same leg.
While the heavily armoured deathlord makes his way over to the smouldering fireplace, where the wyvern rider had stopped and made camp for the night.
Des'tier kicks the tail of the wyvern he killed out of the way. And next to the bedding and blanket beside the fireplace. And the saddle and harness for the dead wyvern.
The lord of the death realm picks up a leather satchel, and opens it. Inside is parchment after parchment. Which he starts to read. As he does, Dorc da Orc wanders over with the dazed looking wyvern rider.
"What the fuck is it?" asks the general in the armies of Farque, who then adds "Plans?".
"Some of them" replies the large, heavily armoured deathlord, who as he reads continues with "He was heading to the bulk of their army in the duchy of Isanor".
The undead warlord then slightly frowns as he holds out one missive from the others and reads it. The lord and ruler of the lands Farque continues to frown after reading it.
"What?" asks Dorkindle, who nods at the piece of parchment Des'tier is holding out from the others.
"He's been told to take note of all their troop movements, along with their supply lines" quietly says the heavily armoured deathlord, who then adds "And pass that information on to someone".
"Fucken who?" asks the ork weaponsmith with a frown upon his broad, green, brutish looking face.
"It doesn't say" quietly says Draugadrottin, who after a pause adds "But there's a map of both the duchies of Isanor and Poldis, marked where that person could be".
The undead being is silent for a few moments, then he looks at the dazed wyvern rider the large ork has in his grasp.
"He's a fucking spy" quietly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, Dorc da Orc's eye ridges lift up in surprise when the lord of the death realm adds "But for who?".
The lord of the death realm nods at the wyvern rider and says "See if you can wake him".
Des'tier points to the rider's water sack lying nearby, and adds "Use that".
But the ork general will have none of that, for he's already pulling down his grubby knee length pants, to piss on the wyvern rider in the king's army.
Which he duly does, which causes the rider to gasp and splutter in disgust as he gets drenched by the foul smelling ork pee.
The wyvern rider might reek like hell, but he's no longer dazed, and is now fully awake.
"Now to see what this cunt knows" says lord Farque in the ork language, who then switches to the common language and starts asking the wyvern rider questions.
Who will answer those questions as the undead warlord and the ork warleader torture him through what's left of the night . . . . . .