The Lost Ones 43.

Summer. Gilsom. The Southlands.

"I don't know" says Harfstak in response to his wife Taikne asking him "What is it dear?".
After a moment, Harfstak adds "Looks like it might be a fire over in the shipyards" he briefly pauses then says "Aye, I'm pretty sure that's it".
"Hope it don't spread" says Taikne from inside of their house, she continues with "It would be a disaster if it does".
Harfstak from where he stands just outside of his house, nods in agreement. Then he looks over at his neighbour Philip's house, and finds the human up on the roof of his house, looking away to the north across the township.
"Hey Harfstak" says Philip who works inside the small mountain, where the town of Gilsom itself is located.
"Looks like an airship on the farside of the yards is on fire" adds Philip who continues on with "Fair bit of commotion going on up there" followed by "And on that side of the township".
"Better not spread into the docks" says Harfstak in the common language, who then adds in the same language "There'll be hell to pay if there is".
"That's for sure" says Philip, who works for one of the shipping agents in the town of Gilsom itself.
Harfstak watches the fire lit night sky away to the north for a little bit longer. Before he wishes Philip a goodnight, and makes his way back into his house after his wife Taikne says in their own language "Come back inside dear, there's nothing we can do about it".
They moved here to Gilsom a little over fifteen years ago. When the township on the inland side of the small mountain on the coast was starting to develop then expand.
Having lived all their lives further north in The Cascades. They along with others of their kind, found it a little ironic they moved to Gilsom. Which their ancestors had built well over a millennia ago, then abandoned centuries later.
And though over the years, their kind has always lived in the large port town. It's only within the last twenty years that more and more of them have returned to Gilsom. As trade was opened up across the Great Western Ocean to the nation of Nors.
Now there's well over a hundred of their kind in the large port town. True that's not all that much considering their's nearly fifteen thousand people living and working in all parts of Gilsom.
But in the last two centuries prior, there was less than fifty of them living here in Gilsom. So more than doubling their population in less than twenty years, is quite an achievement.
For though Gilsom, and the small mountain it's in, and now outside of, is part of the coastal hill range known as The Cascades.
Their kind, has always seen the lone mountain as separate to the rest of the range. And not exactly the ideal place for them to live.
Harfstak like many others of his kind over the centuries. Has always wondered why their ancestors built into the small mountain.
True their was gold once in it. But not that much compared to elsewhere in The Cascades.
The only thing truly of value it has, is the crescent shaped natural harbour on the coastal side of the small mountain.
And they being hill dwarves, they weren't, and still aren't exactly known for their skills in sailing. Especially not on the vast expanse of the Great Western Ocean.
Harfstak shakes his head at why his ancestors built here. He figures whoever it was, wasn't from his clan. It must of been some other clan, that lived on the coastal side of the hill range. As his is from the inland side, further to the north in the hill country that runs up the coast for nearly fifty miles.
"Bad is it?" asks Taikne the dwarf "I can't tell" says Harfstak the dwarf, who works in the airdocks as a load supervisor for the largest hauling company in Gilsom.
"It's up on the north side of the shipyards" continues Harfstak, who like his wife is over a hundred years old. Still relatively young for a hill dwarf, who could live to be two hundred and fifty years old.
"Seems to be a bit of commotion on the north side of the township too" adds the hill dwarf, who lives here on the southside of the township of Gilsom.
And though he and his wife Taikne would like to live inside of the small mountain, in the town of Gilsom proper.
They know that's probably not going to happen anytime soon. As only people who have been in Gilsom for generations live in the long, wide tunnel, and the warren of other tunnels within the small mountain.
Including the dwarves who have lived here in Gilsom for decades upon decades. Not the new arrivals who have only been here in the last twenty years.
"The town guards are out" says Harfstak the load supervisor who continues with "I saw some of them, so they must be getting it under control".
Taikne nods her head, and the female dwarf, who is barely four foot tall. Even short for a dwarf, if she was shorter you'd think she was a hobbit.
Says to her husband, who stands four and half foot tall, and has a long, thick, bushy red beard "All we can do is pray to the gods it doesn't spread".
"Aye, that's for sure" says Harfstak, for if the fire in the shipyards spreads down to the airdocks, then his livelihood will be threatened.
The dwarf who works in the airdocks of Gilsom makes his way over to the table, and takes the last roll from the platter there. As they had just finished their dinner when they heard all the shouting and yelling from outside.
As some in the neighbourhood spotted the fire on the north side of the shipyards, which is on the farside of the township from here in the south of it, which been built over the last twenty years or so.
As he chews on the roll of dark bread, and takes the platter to the counter. And wonders if Philip with his contacts amongst his shipping agent's office. Was able to find any of the dark ale from up the coast that dwarves are known to brew.
If not, then Harfstak will have to settle for the inferior dark beer brewed here in Gilsom.
When his wife Taikne says to him "You hear that?".
"Hear what?" asks the hill dwarf who works as a load supervisor in the airdocks of Gilsom.
"Around back" says the short female dwarf who moved here to the port town on the coast just over fifteen years ago.
Harfstak as he listens carefully with his naturally enhanced hearing, chews the bread roll he's got, then nods his head and says "Probably Philip".
As their closest neighbour, along with a couple of others living nearby are really the only ones to come to the backdoor of the house where the relatively young dwarven couple live.
"Come to tell us what he could see from up on his roof" adds Harfstak, who actually hopes Philip has come over to tell him if he's been able to locate any of that dwarven dark ale from up the coast.
Nodding to the backdoor, Harfstak says to his wife "Go on, might as well let him in".
Then as Taikne makes her way to the backdoor of the house, Harfstak switches to the common language and calls out "Philip is that you mate?".
The hill dwarf who works as load supervisor in the airdocks of Gilsom nods his head, as he hears a positive sounding grunt from outside, which Philip is want to do.
Then Taikne reaches for the door handle, takes hold of it, turns it and goes to open the backdoor.
The door explodes in a shower of wood and splinters. And along with Taikne they come flying back into the kitchen.
Harfstak with half the eaten bread roll in his mouth, stands there dumbfounded and completely at a loss as he looks at his wife Taikne lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. Covered in the debris of what was their backdoor.
The hill dwarf who is originally from further north in The Cascades. Then looks up as he hears something.
Harfstak sees a large shape duck down, and come in through where the backdoor just was.
And though the load supervisor who  works in the airdocks here on the inland side of the small mountain that's on the coast of the Southlands.
At first thinks it's a troll that's just entered his and his wife's home, as there's a handful of them here in Gilsom.
He instinctively knows that it's not a dwarf. And that it's something else entirely different.
Deep down, in the very depths of his core of being a dwarf. Harfstak knows exactly what it is that's just entered his house, and entered his life.
The hill dwarf after glancing down at his motionless wife on the kitchen floor.
Goes to scream in anger, and goes to run at the intruder that's just come into his house.
When he's suddenly picked up off the floor when something slams into his chest. He goes flying backwards, smashing into the kitchen table behind him.
Harfstak hits the floor in the main room of his house. And goes to groan in pain. But all he does is black out, to never wake again.
Dorc da Orc chuckles and murmurs "Get some" as he goes into the main room of the house.
Where he retrieves the throwing axe he threw with an underhand flick that took the dwarf in the chest.
The large ork after retrieving the axe, stomps on the head of the already dead dwarf.
"Nasty fucken red headed freak" growls the ork warleader, who naturally can't abide the existence of any dwarf.  Especially a red headed one, with a thick red haired beard, like the one he just killed.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who has to duck his head down low to even move about in this house.
Makes his way back through the kitchen, where he stomps on the head of the female dwarf lying in the middle of the floor. Who ended up there when the ork weaponsmith kicked in the backdoor of the house.
Dorkindle chuckles again as more dwarven brains and bits of skull get stuck on the bottom of his rather large, and very black, right boot.
Then the large ork, who is a general in the armies of Farque. Makes his way to the backdoor. Well, where the backdoor was stood until he kicked it in.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then glances outside. And after wiping the grin off his face, which takes a few moments to do.
Dorc da Orc steps outside, and makes his way to the right down the lane, behind the row of houses here in this part of the township that's on the inland side of the small mountain, within which is the town of Gilsom proper.
The warleader of the ork race walks away from the scene of the murder.
Though the ork general doesn't see it like that. As he like all orks sees that they're doing the wider world a service by killing any dwarf they come across.
As they orks, who have a natural hate for the dwarf race. Thanks to their war god Krom hating the gods of the dwarven race, the gods Thaxel and Dovarn.
A hate he installed into all of them. A hate that's even greater than their hate of the heat from the sun, and the wetness of water.
The one thing that all ork kind, who'll happily kill one another, especially if they're not from their own tribe.
All agree on. The killing of every single dwarf they have the opportunity to run across.
And though true, most orks will never actually see a dwarf in their lifetime.
As you won't find any dwarves in the southern polar region of the world. All any other people for that matter. As orks are the only people who live in the inhospitable environment at the bottom of the world.
And not many orks ever leave their homeland called the Ork Range.
But for someone like Dorc da Orc, who was sent into exile form his homeland when he was still a teenager.
And has spent more than half of his life living outside of the southern polar region of the world, predominantly here in the Southlands.
He sees it as his duty, and for the honour of his clan. To try and kill every single dwarf he comes across in his lifetime.
And the ork warleader intends to do a hell lot more dwarf killing this night. As he has caught the scent of quite a few of them here in Gilsom. Especially here in the township that lies on the inland side of the small mountain that sits right on the coast of the Southlands, about halfway along the length of the hill range called The Cascades.
Dorkindle crosses a street here on the southside of the township. And growls at a pair of goblins walking in his direction.
They turn, and hurry back the way they came from when the large ork growls at them. Tripping over one another as they do so.
"Fucken gob-a-lins" mutters the ork weaponsmith who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world enters another lane here on the southside of the township, a lane that heads straight to the small mountain itself.
Dorc da Orc who is repeatedly sniffing, slows down, and grunts in satisfaction as he walks behind the houses here in this part of the township.
Then looking ahead at one of the houses on the right, the warleader of the ork race briefly grins from ear to ear, and murmurs "Get some". As he can smell another dwarven couple, and their child up ahead in one of the houses on the right.
"That's their inn" says Lisell Maera the messenger, who continues with "They've run inside".
"To retrieve their stuff no doubt" says Tamric Drubine the field commander, who then looks at Shur Kee the monk and Saanea the witch as the four of them stand at the corner of a building, here on this side of the township, not all that far from the small mountain, within which is the town of Gilsom itself.
As people hurry by on the street, the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin looks back behind them when he hears something, and he spots sir Percavelle Lé Dic hurrying up the lane, that they've come up from the nearby airdocks and shipyards.
When the large, heavily armoured knight from the kingdom of Druvic joins them at the corner of the building, the young field commander asks him "Where's Dorc?".
"The fat smelly beast is following me" replies sir Percavelle Lé Dic, the member of the order of Knights of Saint Mar-che who couldn't care less where the large ork is, then adds "Wot".
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group looks down the lane and doesn't see the large ork anywhere.
"You sure he's following behind you?" asks field commander Drubine.
The former paladin, who admittedly hasn't looked back to see if his bitter rival was following him ever since they left the shipyards, looks down the lane, and says "Hmmmmm I'm sure the filthy creature was just behind me, wot".
"Fuck" mutters Tam Drubine in the elven language who looks down the lane for a few more moments, and still sees no sign of Dorc da Orc anywhere.
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.
Has a fair idea what the ork general is up to this night, instead of being here with the rest of the group.
"He's fine" sourly says Tam in response to Saanea the witch asking him "Do you think he's in trouble".
The young field commander in the armies of Farque then tells the pretty looking hillwoman "Have your familiar look for Dorc".
Just then, Lisell Maera the messenger quietly says "Here they are again" followed by "Coming out of the inn" . . . . . .