The Lost Ones.

Summer. Maldin Hill Country. Western Southlands.

About forty miles inland from the coast of the Southlands, on a dirt road in the sun brown, and dusty Maldin Hills on another cloudless and hot summers day.
Tamric Drubine the field commander looks back, then says "We'll find somewhere to stop for a bit".
Next to him, Lisell Maera the messenger nods her head in agreement as she looks ahead for anywhere that offers some shade.
Even sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who doesn't complain as he tramps about in his full suit of plate armour, is glad for a bit of respite from the heat.
The heavily armoured knight has taken off his full helm, and after wiping his brow with a linen cloth, he dampens it with some of the water in his water bottle, then places it on his head.
While next to the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Girdane. Shur Kee the monk, whose light clothing, and odd conical shaped hat he wears.
Is truly the best thing to wear in the summer weather they're experiencing at the moment. Fans himself with a paper fan he brought in one of the villages they stopped at a couple of days ago.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well. Looks back down the dirt road behind them.
Where the fifth member of their group is trudging up the hill behind everyone else.
The young field commander in the armies of Farque can't help but feel sorry for Dorc da Orc who is struggling in this heat.
Then the nobleborn teenager who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Girdane, calls back down the road "Dorc we'll stop when we find some shade!".
Not even a grunt comes back from the large ork as he continues up the dirt road.
While next to field commander Drubine, Lisell Maera the messenger dryly says in the elven language "That's if we even find some shade".
Tam slightly nods in agreement, then he and the other three get underway, with the ork warleader still slowly following them, about eighty yards further back.
As they continue along the dusty road, that goes across the west side of the Maldin Hills, a long hill range that runs north to south. Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by those who know her well.
Again wishes that there was at least a bit of humidity here, like there is in her homeland, the city-state of Brattonbury.
But no such luck, as here, further south near the coast. About seventy miles southeast of the bustling port town of Gilsom, the summers are hot and dry.
As are these hills, which are naturally dry for most of the year. As there isn't a lot of rainfall in the Maldin Hills.
The attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, who is now a runner or messenger in the armies of Farque.
Looks away to her left as they head north, and in the sky in the distance towards the coast, she spots something.
"What's that there?" asks Lis in the common language as she points away to the west.
The three others look that way, and sir Percavelle Lé Dic muses "Hmmm an airship perhaps" the normally boisterous nobleborn knight, who has been subdued by the hot weather, then adds "Though it be a very small vessel if it was".
Tamric Drubine, 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.
Is just about to take his eyepiece out from his pack, when instead he turns and calls out "Dorc!" followed by "What's that over there!" as he points away to the west.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who is a general in the armies of Farque.
Who is walking with his head down, looks up, and looks to where Tam is pointing away to the west.
Dorc da Orc grunts, then calls back "A fucken wyvern!" the large ork whose voice is croaky and parched dry, then adds "Big cunt too!".
"A rider?" asks the young field commander, who by virtue of his rank in the armies of Farque, is in command of their small group of five, here in the Maldin Hill country.
"Yeah cunt" is the reply of Dorkindle as he continues trudging up the dry and dusty, dirt road behind the others.
"Think the rider spotted us?" quietly asks Lisell Maera "Who knows" replies Tamric Drubine, who follows that with "Well, whoever it is, they're going north, probably to Gilsom".
"No doubt" says the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury as they watch the wyvern in the distance to the west, flying away to the north.
They continue on for a little while longer, and in the early afternoon, in the hottest part of the day. They find some shelter from the sun that's beating down upon the Maldin Hills.
Some trees are overhanging the road, they don't particularly offer any shade. As like a lot of trees across the Maldin Hills, they're basically bare, and dry looking, with hardly any leaves on them at all, that's if they even have leaves to begin with.
But what does offer them shade, is the boulders that the trees are nestled amongst as they overhang the dry and dusty road.
They take refuge in the shade from the overhanging boulders, as they sit out the hottest part of the day.
The ork weaponsmith who is panting as he sits there, broaches the last barrel of sweet wine he purchased in one of the villages they've stopped at.
You know the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks is hot when he doesn't even chug down the wine in the small barrel, but sips at it instead.
As he does, Tamric Drubine looks at the map he has of this part of the Maldin Hills. The map is rudimentary at best. And though the features, roads and hills are basically correct. The distances are spotty to say the least. Some are off by a couple of miles. While others are completely wrong, and give incorrect distances by quite some way.
The young field commander who has stood up beneath one of the overhanging boulders, looks away to his left, to where Dorc da Orc is sitting. As the warleader of the ork race says "Me fucken know this place".
"You do?" asks the nobleborn teenager who hails from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The ork general grunts, then with a groan of effort, the big, burly ork who is from the frozen bottom of the world, gets up and walks out onto the road.
Field commander Drubine follows him, and the two of them stop on the edge of the road, and look down the steep hillside.
They're quite high up, and the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks points down, and Tam spots another road a couple hundred feet further down the hills they've been traversing.
"Fucken mines that way" says Dorkindle pointing southwards along the road that's lower down the hillside.
"Village that fucken way" adds the large ork who then points away to the north.
"You remember from when you were here nearly twenty years ago with lord Farque?" asks the nobleborn teen, who has recently turned nineteen years of age.
"Yeah cunt" says the ork warleader, who chuckles then adds "Stole a shitfuck lot of gold from here".
The general in the armies of Farque then scowls and says "Then some fucken sky pirate cunts catch Dorc, and fly me away" the ork weaponsmith follows that with "You know what the worst fucken bit was?".
"What?" asks Tam "Them sky pirate fuckheads had a bunch of fucken dwarf cunts they had nicked from some fucken place with them" says the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who continues in a disgusted tone of voice with "Worst fucken flying ship Dorc ever been on".
The large ork hurries back across the road to get back beneath the overhanging boulders, so he can get out of the sun, and get back to sipping the rich, sweet red wine that the hillmen like to make.
Field commander Drubine looks down at the road that's further down the hillside. Then he looks at the map he's holding.
The nobleborn teenager who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin slightly nods his head as he notices something.
Then he makes his way back across the dusty road, and joins the others in the shade of the overhanging boulders.
As he sits there in the shade, Tam looks over at the ork warleader, and slightly shakes his head. As he can never get over the fact that Dorkindle can remember somethings from nearly twenty years ago. And at other times he can hardly remember what happened yesterday or the day before.
"What is it?" quietly asks Lisell Maera the messenger in the elven language, a language that only she and the young field commander understand in their little group.
"Oh just something about Dorc" replies Tam in the same language, who then tells Lis about how the large ork can easily forget about things from a couple of days ago, but clearly remember things from years ago.
"Probably why he's so crazy" says the messenger in the armies of Farque, who continues with "All orks for that matter" she follows that with "Guess it's something to do with all their mad thoughts and ideas, not enough room for recent memories, but plenty enough for things that happened ages ago".
"Good a reason as any" says the young field commander, who is technically Dorkindle's junior, as the large ork is a higher rank of general in the armies of Farque.
But no one bothers to tell the ork warleader that. As none of them what him leading them, and making decisions that could very well get them all killed.
They were all told a number of years ago that the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world is fine enough to take charge during a battle.
But at any other time. Like now as they make their way north through the Maldin Hills. It's a disaster waiting to happen.
Switching to the common language so that the others know what's happening, the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the very north of the kingdom of Sarcrin, which lies nearly four thousand miles to the east of where they are at the moment, says "There's a mine road further down the hillside".
The nobleborn teenager who is a senior officer in the mercenary armies of the lands Farque, continues on with "It'll take us to the next village".
The youngest of the group of five, briefly pauses before he adds "Hopefully we can find a track of some kind that leads down there".
Then in a dry tone of voice, he says "Because i don't fancy climbing down there i tell you".
Lisell Maera, Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic all nod in agreement. While Dorc da Orc continues to sip the sweet red wine in the small barrel he's cradling.
"And pray tell, at the next village?" asks the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
"Hopefully we can find something out" is the reply from Tam, which is the same answer to that question he always gives. Hopefully they can find something out.
Though they've been unsuccessful in all the villages they've been to, as they've made their way north through the Maldin Hills over the last couple of weeks during this hot, dry summer in this part of the Southlands. In unruled lands in what's known as Maldin Hill country.
A hill range that goes roughly north to south. About two hundred miles in length, about fifty miles inland from the coast. Until it gets to it's northern end, where it starts to turn further inland, curving away to the east.
After resting for most of the afternoon, staying out of the direct sunlight in the heat of the day. They get underway again in the late afternoon.
And continue on the dry and dusty road they've been on for the last few days as they travel north through the Maldin Hills.
They do find a trail that goes downhill, and connects to the other road that's a couple hundred feet down.
And though it's rather steep, and a bit rough. They make their way down it in the late afternoon sunshine, as it nears dusk.
The sun starts to set once they're down on the dry road, that comes from some gold mines to the south, and heads north to another village, here on the western side of the Maldin Hills.
And in the early evening when it's much cooler than it was during the day, they get to that village, which lies about four miles north of where they joined the old mine road.
As always when they enter one of the villages here in the Maldin Hills, they cause a bit of a stir. For the simple fact they have a large, and extremely dangerous ork with them. Who is more irritable than normal due to the hot summer that the Maldin Hills is experiencing at the moment. And who most of the locals don't actually know is an ork.
But in this particular village. They cause even more a stir than normal. Because quite a few of the hillmen know what Dorkindle is, and more importantly who he is.
As some of them were the wagon drivers from nearly twenty years ago. When the large ork and lord Farque stole from the mines to the south of here. And paid the wagon drivers to take the gold to the city-state of Vexil nearly two and half thousand miles to the east. From there it was flown south to the lands Farque.
Those locals who remember the ork warleader don't know to be happy or frightened at the appearance of Dorc da Orc.
For the last time he was here in the Maldin Hills, he threatened to kill them and their families, eat their bodies and fuck all their livestock. And not necessarily in that order. If they didn't do what they were told.
Then again, in all their lives. They'd never earned as much as when they took those wagons of gold east nearly twenty years ago. Paid in gold bars, which a couple of the hillmen still have a few of.
As usual once the commotion dies down, and field commander Drubine decides to stay here for a while. They spend the rest of the evening going around asking the villagers a number of questions.
Once they regather in an empty house that the hillmen let them stay in, they discuss what they've found out.
"They know nothing of her" says Shur Kee the monk as he lights a lamp and some candles he's been able to borrow from the family next door.
"Same" says Lisell Maera who has just swept the floor with a ragged broom that was in a corner.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic grunts in agreement after checking out the rest of the empty house. Which is devoid of window shutters, and a back door, which allows the cooling night breeze inside.
"I'm not surprised at that" says Tamric Drubine who has picked up a couple of chairs that were lying on the floor.
And after he puts them at the table, and sits upon one, the young field commander asks "And the other thing?".
The other three shake their heads no, as Lis puts on the table some of the food she purchased from the villagers.
As they do, Dorc da Orc enters through the open front door, carrying four small barrels of the dark red, sweet wine that the hillmen prefer to produce.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, also has a haunch of roast goat with him.
Much to the disgust of the myriad of voices in his head, loudest of all being the voice of his mother.
All of whom he ignores, as he's too hot, and hungry and not to mention too thirsty to argue with them this night.
"Dorc did you find anything out?" asks field commander Drubine as the ork weaponsmith sits down on the floor with a grunt, right infront of the back door where the evening breeze is coming in.
"They got fucken plenty of booze and foods" says Dorkindle as he tears off the top of one of the small barrels, then starts drinking from it.
"No i mean, why we're here" says the nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, as he sits there at the table taking things out of his pack.
"Oh, are we fucken here for something?" asks the large ork who blinks owlishly in the candle and lamp light as he looks at Tam wondering what he's going on about.
"Never mind" dryly says the young field commander with a roll of his eyes.
"We'll never find her at this rate" says Lisell Maera in the elven language as she sits on the other chair, while Shur Kee the monk helps sir Percavelle Lé Dic or Percy as he's more commonly called by the others, to take off his armour.
The son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, located in the kingdom of Sarcrin slightly nods his head, then quietly says in elven "We still have to try" followed by "We know she's somewhere here in this hill country".
Tamric Drubine pauses for a moment or two, then he continues on with "I was thinking about basing ourselves here for a while, buying some horses and going out to the other villages and communities here in this part of the hills to see if we can find her".
After a moments contemplation, Lis says "Sounds a good enough plan i guess" followed by "Hopefully someone knows of her whereabouts".
Then after a slight pause, the attractive young woman who is originally from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, asks the nobleborn teenager "And the other thing?" she continues with "Those who are lost?".
Looking from Dorc da Orc sitting by the backdoor, drinking from a barrel of sweet red wine, while he chews on a haunch of roast goat.
Then looking over at Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who have finally got the last of the nobleborn knight's armour off.
Then looking at Lisell Maera sitting at the table with him, Tamric Drubine quietly says to her "Are they lost?" followed by "Or are we the lost ones?". Lis just nods, as she has no answer for that . . . . . .