Interlude - Ork Times 4.

Summer. The Southern Polar Region Of The World.

They make their way through the main village here in the lands of the wolf tribe of orks.
At first the orks scattered, as this is the first time that anyone has ever disembarked from one of the airships that come here most summers, over the last fifteen years or so.
Now some of the orks are following, at a distance though. As the strangers walk down through the village with their blacksmith, shaman and matriarch.
Kreece Van Der Linden the mage keeps an eye on his daughter Saralynn who is walking alongside the ork blacksmith No Legs Munga.
The small child, bundled up in her furs, has jumped on the back of Munga's low wheeled cart a couple of times, and got a ride with him.
She's had to jump off after a short distance, as the ork weapons maker, being an ork, absolutely stinks. And is a bit arduous to be that close to him.
The seneschal or premier of the lands Farque looks at his wife walking to his left, she glances at him, and nods away to the left.
"You don't want to go that way" murmurs Kreece Van Der Linden the mage in the air elemental language.
Sephiryn the elemental lifts an arched eyebrow, and her husband quietly says to her "The poo pond is that way".
The elemental swordmaster grimaces at the mention of that. She has heard about it from her husband Kreece, who has travelled here a couple of times in the past.
And before that, Dorc da Orc has described to her, in detail about the poo pond in the middle of the village.
The communal shit hole, where the orks take a shit. Which they also bathe in, especially during the dark winter months.
Then Sephiryn Van Der Linden nee Vaitrelle looks ahead, to where her son is walking infront with the ork shaman Onka Donka.
And though the extremely powerful ork shaman is stumbling, and drinking every so often from a barrel of some kind of ork concoction.
The purple robe wearing ork shaman, and the child mage are deep in conversation.
As she looks ahead, Brang the wolf tribe matriarch slightly shakes her head as she sees Onka Donka chatting away with the humanling in a foreign language.
She then glances away to the right, as one of the strange, not to mention large four legged creatures comes into view again. Where it walks alongside the group.
"That's the biggest fucken wolf I've ever seen" quietly says Brang the matriarch, who briefly pauses before adding "And the fucken strangest looking one too".
"Not a wolf" says No Legs Munga the blacksmith, who then adds "It's called a fucken dog".
The ork weapons maker pauses for a moment or two as he tries to remember what it's actually called, then No Legs grunts and says "A fucken wardog".
The matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grunts, as that seems an appropriate name for the creature.
There's two of them, the larger one is up ahead, keeping pace with Onka Donka and the humanling.
While the smaller one is away to Brang's right, keeping pace with her, No Legs Munga and the other humanling.
The matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks eyes the wardog walking to her right.
For it doesn't smell like any creature she has ever smelled before. It and the other one up ahead, smell cold.
Not the cold of a crisp winter's morning here in the southern polar region of the world.
But a different cold, an unknown cold. Something different, foreign to the sense of smell of the ork matriarch.
The two wardogs aren't the only ones who smell like that.
There's a human at the rear of the group who smells exactly the same to the wardogs.
The fact he's wearing just a leather armoured vest, a full helm, and seems to be unaffected by the freezing temperatures. Is also completely foreign to Brang.
Considering both Onka and No Legs told her that their human friend Kreece, has cast spells on himself and his family so that they're comfortable in the below freezing climes here, near the southern coast of the Ork Range.
Thinking about the human called Kreece. Brang briefly glances back at him as he follows her, Munga and the smaller of the two humanlings. Who again has jumped onto the back of the blacksmith's low wheeled cart.
The matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks isn't exactly pleased that a spellcaster is walking so close to her.
She's been reassured by No Legs that other practitioners of magic aren't like their shamans. Who are truly insane, and are absolutely volatile at times.
All the same, for someone who has grown up and been around someone who tends to blow things up whenever he's in a mood.
Being so close to another spellcaster, is still a little nerve wracking for Brang the matriarch.
She quickly glances at the mate of Kreece. For though she looks human, she definitely doesn't smell like one to Brang.
She smells like a mix of the ground below the ice, and a strong breeze on a clear day.
The blacksmith No Legs quickly mentioned to the matriarch that Kreece's mate is an elemental. Whatever the hell that is, as Brang doesn't have any idea what a elemental is.
They eventually get to Munga's house and smithy, where they go into the smithy, as it's without doubt, the best constructed building in the village. Unlike Munga's house, which at best can be described as ramshackle. And at worst a dump, that looks like it could fall over at any time.
Inside the smithy, No Legs Munga and Onka Donka speak with Kreece and Sephiryn Van Der Linden.
At first Brang the matriarch can't understand them, as she like virtually nearly all orks, doesn't speak the common language.
Unlike the blacksmith, who knew a little of it before he left the southern polar region of the world one summer. And the shaman, who didn't know it at all.
The two of them came back from their sojourn up into the Southlands, speaking fluent common. Which the two of them often speak in at times.
And as Brang tries to follow the conversation, she suddenly understands what's being said.
She quickly glances over at Onka Donka, who grunts at her after making her suddenly able to understand, and speak the common language.
"No we haven't seen him since last year" the mage Van Der Linden is saying to his two ork friends Onka and Munga.
The premier of the lands Farque, who also happens to be a blademaster, who is glad to be speaking common and not orkish. Which he instantly learnt one day, when the shaman Onka Donka cast a spell on him.
When the two of them, along with No Legs Munga traveled throughout the Southlands a number of years ago.
"He briefly returned with our lord and the others" adds the powerful human spellcaster, who glances over at the new matriarch of the wolf tribe.
Brang, who he recalls was Dorc da Orc's sweetheart when the two of them were younger.
Who stands there wearing a leather apron like thing, only from the waist down. As the female orks go about naked from the waist up. And only wear something warmer during the darkest depths of winter, down here in the southern polar region of the world.
"What's that cunt up to?" asks No Legs Munga.
Sephiryn the elemental who notices the new matriarch suddenly get more interested in the conversation, now that she understands what's being said, says "Not sure".
The air/earth elemental originally from the Sunreach Mountains then dryly adds "Getting into trouble no doubt". Both No Legs and Onka chuckle at that, and even Brang grins.
Then the ork shaman Onka Donka says "Fucken sweet" and he makes his way out through the open door of the smithy.
A moment later and a number of things start to suddenly appear out infront of Munga's house and smithy.
They're being teleported by the krean navigators onboard the Del Diablo.
The totally insane spellcaster who is the spiritual guide of the wolf tribe of oaks. Goes quickly towards the barrels that have suddenly appeared.
He sniffs some of them, grunts in appreciation, and picks one. Which he broaches by simply punching in the top of it.
He sits down in the snow pile out infront of Munga's house, and starts drinking from the barrel of the dark molasses spirit he's broached.
The ork blacksmith No Legs Munga looks through the open door to outside, and wonders if the airship brought any chocolate this time.
The ork, who no longer has two legs, but is immensely strong, has a fondness for chocolate ever since first tasting it when he and Onka went north into the Southlands.
Where they ended up traveling with the mage Van Der Linden as they searched for, and eventually found their friend Dorc da Orc.
Then as Saralynn Van Der Linden wonders outside. Which her parents are fine with, as both the undead wardog Spear is just outside. So is the undead scout Dargarven. While the undead wardog Hammer has wandered off through the village.
No Legs Munga nods to where Yarren Van Der Linden is admiring his works in the racks, and says to the couple "Your little humanling has got fucken bigger".
The mage Van Der Linden nods, as Yarren was just a baby when No Legs and Onka first saw him in the Winter Palace in the lands Farque.
The ork weapons maker then nods to outside, where little Saralynn has sat down in the snow next to Onka Donka and is chatting to him about something.
"You got fucken two of them now" adds the ork blacksmith, who gained the first part of his name, after he got into a fight with a trio of trolls, who though they chopped off his legs, he was able to kill all three of them.
"Well, we've got four actually" says the spellcaster who is also a blademaster, who continues with "We left the other two at home".
As Brang's eyes open wide at the mention of four offspring, as most female orks only have one orkling in their lifetime, maybe two.
Sephiryn Van Der Linden nee Vaitrelle says "Twins, a boy named Mycrin and a girl, Layrah". She doesn't mention that neither of the twins are human.
"Fuck that" mutters No Legs with a shake of his head, who then adds "By Krom you peoples are fucken crazy having so many humanlings".
Brang the matriarch nods in agreement, as she's definitely of the opinion that one offspring is enough, maybe two if you push it. But four is just plain nuts.
Kreece wonders if he should ask Munga if he's got a mate nowadays. He decides not to. As he knows ork relationships are complicated to say the least. Where the chance of being killed is highly likely if one are mates.
Then there's the rare occurrence of orks being married. Though extremely uncommon, it does happen sometimes.
Such as Dorc da Orc's parents who were married. Though that didn't end so well. As Dorkindle's mother, the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. Killed her husband during a heated argument. She bashed him to death with a large skillet, which Dorc da Orc still has to this day.
The premier of the lands Farque, whose family has helped govern that nation for centuries, looks over at Brang. And as No Legs and Sephiryn quietly chat about something as they wander over to where Yarren is admiring the weapons in the racks.
The blademaster Van Der Linden says to the large, female ork "Congratulations on your new position".
The matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks frowns as she tries to figure out what that means in the common language.
The powerful human spellcaster helps her out, and repeats it in the ork language. Which is a lot more blunt, not to mention full of swear words compared to the common language.
"Ah" says Brang the matriarch, who then continues on in orkish with "Thanks cunt" she then dryly adds "It was a 'bout fucken time we had a new one".
The matriarch slightly shakes her head, then gestures all around, indicating the village, and the tribal lands beyond as she says "These cunts need a fucken leader, we all fucken shit if we not have one".
She then mutters "Them fucken other tribes think they fucken better than us, the fucken assheads".
Kreece Van Der Linden nods in understanding, as he knows the ork tribes are very proud. And that they're basically at war with one another.
Especially with their neighbouring tribes. Which in the case of the wolf tribe. Is the Seal tribe to the east along the coast, and out on the islands just off the coast.
And the Bear tribe which is to the north of the Wolf's tribal lands.
And though they're on more friendly terms with some of the other tribes, which there's twenty in total. Who have around a thousand orks in each. Totally around twenty thousand orks spread across the vast southern polar region of the world.
When it comes to the neighbouring tribes, it's full on war when you come into contact with one another.
As the mage Van Der Linden keeps an occasional eye out on his young daughter Saralynn who is outside chatting with the ork shaman Onka Donka, he continues to speak with the ork Matriarch Brang.
While further back in the well constructed, and well maintained smithy of No Legs Munga.
The ork weapons maker is chuckling as he talks with Sephiryn the elemental, as they follow the young mage Yarren Van Der Linden, who is admiring all the weapons the ork blacksmith has on the various racks.
A situation that would seem ordinary in everyday life anywhere else in the world. It's just that this is the first time in centuries, that others have come to the Ork Range, to talk with some of the orks.
Infact four and a half centuries, and one who did so back then. Is now standing outside the smithy of No Legs Munga, watching and waiting . . . . . .