The Lost Ones 3.

Summer. Maldin Hill Country.

"How many do you think?" asks Tamric Drubine the field commander as they stand beneath some fruit trees in the orchard.
"At least a dozen" replies Lisell Maera the messenger, who along with Shur Kee the monk, returned just a short time ago.
"And we saw signs of others as we rode back" adds the attractive young woman who is originally form the city-state of Brattonbury.
"Hell" mutters the nobleborn teenager who hails from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
The young field commander who did not think they'd be getting themselves into some kind of fight.
Looks over at the nearby hillmen, who have stopped work on their waterway early this afternoon. And are watching them as they figure something is amiss from the way that Lisell Maera and Shur Kee came riding quickly into the village.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others, who is speaking in elven with the messenger, quietly says to her "They maybe outsiders, but whoever they are, they're not well off since they're not on horseback".
Making your way on foot through the hill country is fine enough. But if you want to travel quickly along the dry and dusty roads, going on horseback is definitely the way to go.
"We thought they might be miners fallen on hard times" quietly says Lisell Maera, who more commonly is called Lis by those who know her well.
Field commander Drubine slightly nods his head, then says "Could be" followed by "Whoever they are, we'll have to do something if they turn up here".
The messenger in the armies of Farque nods her head in agreement. As the two of them look over at the nearby villagers.
The hillmen aren't known for their prowess in battle. Many of them are fine bowmen. But since they don't fight all that often amongst themselves. Battles aren't exactly common, and weapons aren't in abundance throughout the hill country.
Though in the past, when outsiders have pushed into areas of the Maldin Hills to try and set up a nation of some kind.
The hillmen have banded together to push them out. It helps that they know the difficult terrain so well.
And the fact that fighting a campaign in the summertime here is arduous to say the least. As the heat here can be unbearable at times.
And in the wintertime, the conditions are just as bad. Though in the opposite direction. As it can get extremely cold. It's similar to a high mountain range here in the Maldin Hills. Where it also gets high winds during the colder months of the year.
"What should we do?" asks Lis who glances over to where Shur Kee the monk is standing with sir Percavelle Lé Dic beneath some more of the fruit trees. While Dorc da Orc sits nearby, under the shade of a wide citrus tree, as he drinks from a small barrel of dark red, sweet wine.
"Help them out i guess" says Tam, who then tells the messenger "I want you to take Dorc" he then explains to the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, what they'll do.
After explaining to Lis what they'll do, the young field commander in the armies of Farque switches to the common language, and says "Dorc go with Lis".
In no mood to do anything in the heat of the afternoon, Dorc da Orc with a scowl upon his broad, green, brutish looking face, says "Get fucked".
"There's going to be a fight" quietly says Tamric Drubine as he walks over to the large ork, knowing the mention of a fight is about the only thing that will get the ork warleader's attention.
Dorkindle's eyes light up, and he says "With fucken who?" as he looks around, wondering who wants to fight.
"Go with Lis and you'll find out" says the nobleborn teenager who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world thinks about it for a moment, then he grunts and gets up off the ground, and makes his way over to Lisell Maera.
As the messenger and the ork general walk away. Field commander Drubine beckons Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic over, and says to them "This is what we'll do".
The senior officer in the armies of Farque explains to them what they'll do, and after he does. Tam goes over to the nearby hillmen, and explains to them what's happening.
As they walk northwards through the orchard and vineyard, Lisell Maera sourly smiles as out of the corner of her eye, she spots one of the young men of the village approach them from between the row of vines.
"Lis" says Franck who is enamoured with the attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury. A young man about eighteen years old, who always tries to get the attention of the messenger.
As Franck hurries over, he stops in mid stride, and backs away, when he spots Dorc da Orc following behind Lis. The large ork growls at the hillman, who turns and hurries away between two rows of grapevines.
"Thanks" says the messenger to the following ork warleader, who just grunts in reply. The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks is in an irritable mood to say the least. Going about in the afternoon heat is something he definitely doesn't like.
And only the prospect of a fight has got him up and about.
As they make their way from the orchard and vineyard as they head north away from the village.
Lisell Maera asks the ork weaponsmith "What do you smell Dorc?".
"Fucken dirt" replies the ork general, who then adds "And fucken dust" followed by "And fucken rocks".
The messenger in the armies of Farque rolls her eyes. Though that was a fairly apt description from the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world. As that's pretty much want the Maldin Hills is. Dirt, dust and rocks. As there isn't much in the much of vegetation and tree life. And where you do find them away from the villages. They're parched looking, mostly bleached white in colour. As are a lot of the rocks that are scattered across the hillsides.
It's the larger boulders that tend to be straw, or yellow in colour.
"I meant in the way of people" says Lis who points away to the north, as they head up a trail that goes up and away from the village and it's orchards.
Dorkindle, whose only solace in the hot weather here in the hill country, is that it isn't humid.
Grunts as he looks further north, repeatedly sniffing as he does so.
The warleader of the ork race scowls as he concentrates, then he mutters something totally incomprehensible in the ork language, which thankfully Lis doesn't understand.
Then he says in his heavily accented common "Fucken peoples". Lisell Maera stops and looks back at the large ork, who tells her "Got swords and armour too".
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands then asks "How far away are they".
"Couple miles Dorc guess" is the reply of the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks.
"Shit" mutters Lis in the elven language, who then asks in common "How many?" followed by "More than a dozen?".
After thinking about it for a few moments, and after sniffing a few more times, Dorkindle grunts "Yeah cunt" followed by "More than Dorc got fingers and toesies" the large ork briefly pauses then gestures at his groin as he adds "And little Dorc".
The messenger rolls her eyes as the ork general chuckles. Then she sets off again, followed by the large ork, knowing that at least twenty one people, armed and armoured are heading this way.
The two of them stop at the top of the hill, where a pile of boulders are. Next to which are a few sparse looking trees. While the trail they were on. Continues northwards along the top of the hill, to the next ridge along.
Dorc da Orc sits down in the shade along one side of the boulders, glad that there's actually shade up here at this time of the day.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, sips from the small barrel of dark red, sweet wine he's brought with him.
The general in the armies of Farque actually prefers the hard liquor the hillmen make from mashed root vegetables. But that's harder to find, as they don't make a lot of it. So he's predominantly been drinking the sweet red wine they make in abundance. As the climate here in the hill country is conducive for that type of wine. There's a sharp tasting white wine they make too. But Dorkindle prefers the darker sweet red wine instead.
He's disappointed that ales and beers aren't prevalent here in the Maldin Hills. And when you do find them, they've been brought from elsewhere. Mostly down in the flat lands between the hill country and the coast of the Southlands.
Lisell Maera who has walked around the pile of boulders and looked away to the north, and not seen anyone coming from that direction.
Walks around to the south facing side of the boulders where Dorc da Orc is sitting in the shade.
The messenger in the armies of Farque crouches down, though not too close to the large ork. Who absolutely reeks, as he hasn't got wet in a long time.
Lis looks over at Dorkindle who says to her "Look it's your fucken boyfriend" as he points down to the orchards and vineyards that lie just to the north of the village.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury ignores the chuckling ork warleader, and she looks down to the orchard.
Where she spots the hillman Franck at the edge of the trees and rows of vines. He's with a few of the other hillmen, all with their hunting bows. They're paying attention to Tamric Drubine who is explaining something to them.
"He is annoying that's for sure" dryly says Lis who momentarily pauses before continuing with "Though not as annoying as some of the others".
Dorc da Orc grunts, then says "Let him fuck you" he loudly chuckles as the messenger scowls at him.
"Or kill him" adds the ork weaponsmith who follows that with "Fucken either one, he no more annoy you after that".
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands sourly smiles at getting advice from someone who Tam has told not to fuck the villagers herds, as they hillmen tend to have herds of sheep, that they graze on the straw coloured, shrub like bushes found across the hills.
Though the warleader of the ork race has wandered off at nighttime to try catch some of the wild goats that can be found throughout the Maldin Hills.
He's yet to catch any. Luckily for the wild goats, who the large ork will fuck to death if he gets a hold of any.
"I'll remember that in future" dryly says Lisell Maera with a shake of her head as the ork general continues to chuckle, before he goes back to sipping the sweet red wine in the small barrel he's holding.
A short while later, and Dorkindle slurps the last of the wine in the small barrel, loudly burps, then tells the messenger "They almost here".
Lis gets up, and looks around the side of the boulders they've been waiting behind. The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, frowns, then quietly says "Where?".
Dorc da Orc who has stood up, who can actually look over the boulder they've been behind, sourly mutters "Blind cunt" with a sideways look down at the messenger.
Lisell Maera who is accustomed to the large ork's disgust at the inadequacies of the human senses, nods when he quietly tells her in his deep, growling voice "Fucken there" as he points.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury spots the movement of people making their way along the ridge line in the distance, heading in this direction.
The messenger in the armies of Farque after watching them for a while, figures there's over thirty of them. Close to forty from what she can see.
"Do you think they've seen us?" quietly asks Lisell Maera who moves back so that she's just peeking around the side of the boulders.
Dorkindle snorts in a dismissive manner as to what he thinks about that.
"I guess that's a no then?" dryly says the messenger, who gets a grunt in a positive manner from the large ork in reply.
"What do you think they'll do?" quietly asks Lis, who knows the ork warleader can see numerous tactics and manoeuvres in battles in his mind before they happen.
A unique skill that he possesses, which is why he was named the warleader of his race. And why he's a general in the armies of Farque.
Which is all the remarkable considering how mentally deranged he is.
"If them cunts got any brains, they should fucken head downhill now" quietly says the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, he continues on with "Can see this fucken trail from the village and trees down there". As he gestures down to the orchard and vineyard down further below them.
Lis sees that the ork warleader is right about that. And she turns, takes a few steps out from the shade of the boulders and looks down to the orchard, and gives a number of hand signals to field commander Drubine who she knows is looking up here.
She spots Tam, who gives a couple of hand signals in return. She replies with another one. Then nods and steps back into the shade of the boulders.
While the young field commander steps back amongst the rows of vines, and trees. And almost disappears from sight as he waits with the others down there.
"We're to" says the messenger, who is interrupted by the ork general who tells her "Dorc know what to fucken do".
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world continues with "If the fucken cunts come this way, we to drive them down to Tam and the other cunts down there".
The ork warleader who has sat down again, takes one of his spears and closely inspects the spearhead, as Lis stands there with raised eyebrows, as the large ork basically said what field commander Drubine signaled. Even though the ork weaponsmith didn't watch the messenger and Tam signal one another.
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands has taken her crossbow from across her back and loaded it.
And she glances around the side of the boulders when Dorc da Orc quietly says to her "Some of the fuckheads got brains and are going downhill now".
Lis spots those in question, about fifteen or so. Who are making their way downhill after going off the trail. While the remainder are heading along the trail, that leads straight to the pile of boulders that she and the ork warleader are behind.
The messenger sees that they're for the most part, roughly armoured. And don't particularly have the best quality weapons. And though a lot of them have shortswords. She sees others with picks and sledges. Giving credence to her theory that they might be miners.
Though she does see a few here and there, whose weapons and armour look well maintained, and of better quality. She figures they're mercenaries, and are the ones to watch out for.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, whose mother was a street prostitute and whose father, who she never knew or met, was a sailor.
Ducks back behind the boulders, and waits with the ork weaponsmith, who she quietly tells "They're getting closer".
The large ork just grunts. He's in no hurry. And the closer these potential raiders upon the village get. The better in the opinion of the ork warleader, who doesn't particularly want to run around after those he's going to kill. Considering how hot it is here, this summers day in the Maldin Hills.
Lis looks quickly at Dorkindle, as now she can actually hear the raiders on the trail approaching the pile of boulders she and the ork general are waiting behind.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grins at her. Then he takes a throwing axe from the front of his weapon harness, and stands up with that in one hand, and one of his spears in the other.
Dorc da Orc steps to the left, to the side of the boulders and roars as only an ork can roar, then he shouts "Get some!".
The large ork, who like all of his race is ambidextrous, biffs the throwing axe at those, who aren't all that far from the boulders, as they approach along the trail.
And he throws the spear at those who have gone off the trail, and are making their way down the steep hillside.
As he does, Lisell Maera the messenger steps to the other side of the boulders, and shoots the bolt in her crossbow at those approaching along the trail. As they hope to attack the village by surprise.
But unfortunately they've been found out, and have been surprised attacked themselves . . . . . .