The Journey 30.

Autumn. The Southlands.

"Why does he do that?" asks Saanea the witch "Howl like that?" adds the pretty looking hillwoman, who continues with "Like a wolf".
"It's his god" replies Lisell Maera the messenger, who after briefly pausing adds "No that's right, that's Krom".
"I thought he was swearing whenever he said Krom" murmurs the spellcaster who is from the Maldin Hills.
"He is" dryly says the attractive young woman who is a messenger, or runner in the scouts and rangers division in the armies of Farque.
They pause as another howl comes from away to their right in the night, then Lisell Maera, or Lis as she's more commonly called by those who know her well, says "It's his spirit animal i think".
She looks across the fire, to where the field commander, Tamric Drubine is sitting, and asks "That's it, isn't it?".
"Spirit guide i think" says Tamric Drubine the field commander, who continues with "Something like that".
The young field commander in the armies of Farque looks to his left, as Shur Kee the monk walks into the light of their fire, and sits down near the nobleborn teenager who hails from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
"Is that it Shur Kee?" asks Tamric Drubine, or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others in the group.
"I believe it is his tribe's totem animal" explains Shur Kee the monk "And yes a spirit guide, who he and his tribe believe is a link to their god Krom" adds the acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li.
The short, statured fighting monk, who is originally from the far eastern coast of the continent, where his homeland, the kingdom of Wah Lee is located, then says "Friend Dorc is quite devout".
Tamric Drubine nods his head in agreement with the physical adept, then he faintly smiles as he hears Saanea the witch on the otherside of the fire wryly say "You wouldn't think so, considering how else he behaves".
The four of them around the camp fire pause again, as they hear another howl in the night, away to their right.
And the next moment, a sour looking sir Percavellé Lé Dic walks into the light of the fire, and sits on the otherside of Shur Kee the monk.
"I see the filthy beast is carrying on again" sourly says sir Percavellé Lé Dic "If anyone is out there this night, they'll definitely know where we are, with that smelly ingrate callowing like a fat cat stuck in a hole" sourly adds the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic.
"Good thing we're in the middle of no where" wryly states field commander Drubine.
The former paladin in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che snorts, then says "Tis true young Tam, tis true".
After finding Saanea the witch in the Maldin Hills, which isn't all that far from the coast of the Southlands, back in the summer.
And what happened just after that in the hill country, which led them to the coast, and the lowlands between the coast and the Maldin Hills, as they encountered, and wiped out a band of mercenaries, who tried to create their own nation in the Maldin Hills.
Tamric Drubine, or Tam as the others more often than not, refer to him as. Decided they should probably move on. And in move on, that means heading south to the lands Farque. A long journey at the best of times. One that which they've been on since the middle of summer, now it's nearly a month into autumn. And they've still yet to reach the lands of Farque. For the simple reason they've traveling mostly on foot. As they've been unable to catch an airship going this far south. Nor can they travel on horseback. As Dorc da Orc is far to large for a horse. Which he'd prefer to fuck to death anyway.
And since they still don't know where lord Farque and the rest of the group are. The nobleborn teenager who hails from the kingdom of Sarcrin, who is in command. Thought it be best they return to the lands Farque. Now that they've found Saanea the witch, who was the latest person for the group to find. After she was revealed to Helbe the elven thief via his powers of foresight back in the spring.
The journey south hasn't been without it's dangers. As they've journeyed predominantly through unruled lands for the most part.
As they are now, some fifty or so miles north of the lands Farque is field commander Drubine's best guess from the maps he's got.
They caught a lucky break a few weeks ago, and got passage upon a riverboat, which took them a good four hundred miles south down a river. Which cut at least two to three weeks off their journey south towards the lands Farque.
Now that they've come further south, and that autumn has well and truly taken hold in this part of the Southlands. The days, and especially the nights have got colder as it gets closer and closer to winter.
The only one enjoying it, is off somewhere to the right of their camp. Howling this night, as two of the moons of Volunell are up in the night sky at the moment.
Dorc da Orc who is pretty sure he's caught the scent of a pack of wolves somewhere away to the east. Howls again to get their attention.
The large ork, who has kicked over a small tree, and piled rocks on it and around it as a shrine to his god Krom.
And is prancing around it, like a rabbit on hot ground. As he waits for a return howl from the wolves away to the east.
Starts punching and whacking himself in the head, and across his shoulders as he builds himself into a frenzy as an act of devotion to the war god of the ork race.
And when he finally hears a howl in the distance from a wolf in reply to him.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world lets out a shout of joy, that sounds like a shout of anger, to the others back at the camp site about half a mile away.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, then repeatedly howls as he hears more wolves away to the east, howling this night.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, starts jumping up and down on the spot infront of his makeshift shrine as he continues to thump himself in the head, the shoulders, and now the chest.
The warleader of the ork race, who is a general in the armies of Farque. Lets rip with the loudest howl so far. And is answered by a chorus of wolf howls away to the east.
Then Dorc da Orc, who of course is totally naked, after all wearing anything would just get in the way of an act of devotion to his god Krom.
Leaps over his shrine of a broken tree, and a pile of rocks. And takes off running into the night. Heading east, in the direction of the wolf howls.
The large ork, who like all of his race, is totally insane. Is for a brief time this night, completely sane, and clear headed. Without the myriad of voices usually in his head.
He's worked himself up into such a frenzy, that his normally deranged mind. Is completely free of all thoughts. Apart from running into the night, heading to where he can hear the totem animal of his tribe, the wolf.
Tamric Drubine wakes early in the morning, and pulls down his blanket from across his face. And finds Shur Kee the monk is gone from the bedroll beside him.
The young field commander in the armies of Farque lifts his head up, and sees Saanea the witch still asleep on the otherside of the smouldering fire, next to Lisell Maera the messenger.
The nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, where he was the son and heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine.
Looks to his right, then rolls his eyes, and sourly smiles as he spots in the early dawn, who is lying naked on the ground about fifty yards away from the camp fire.
Field commander Drubine shakes his head as he looks at Dorc da Orc who is fast asleep, and snoring so loudly, that Tam can clearly hear him from fifty yards away.
"Hell" mutters Tamric Drubine as he sees a large lump lying beside the sleeping ork warleader, it's bigger than the large ork himself.
Some poor dumb animal killed by Dorc, the young field commander thinks to himself as he sits up and stretches.
The nobleborn teen gets a stick, and pokes at the embers of their fire, then puts another bit of wood on it. He looks around, and spots Shur Kee the monk walking back to the camp site, after doing his early morning exercises and meditation.
"Friend Dorc has returned" quietly says Shur Kee the monk as he squats down beside the young field commander in the armies of Farque.
"So i see" wryly says Tam as he looks over at the sleeping ork weaponsmith again, as the others start to wake up, and prepare to continue their journey southwards to the lands Farque.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic who is the last to wake, well the last out of those who slept around the camp fire that is.
And when he spots Dorkindle asleep about fifty yards away, a look of disgust crosses the face of the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic as he looks at his bitter rival, the ork general.
"That filthy degenerate, he could of at least put on those disgusting rags he calls clothes" loudly mutters the former paladin, who with the help of Shur Kee the monk, dons his armour.
After they've eaten a warm breakfast, and they've packed up all their equipment and packs.
Lisell Maera looks away to where the large ork is fast asleep, and says "Bags I'm not waking him up".
Next to the tall, athletic, and attractive looking messenger originally from the city-state of Brattonbury. The witch from the Maldin Hills, nods in agreement with Lis.
The pretty looking hillwoman who is the latest member of the group, has no intention of seeing the ork warleader, naked again.
She's seen him naked far too often in her opinion since she's joined the group. And it's been disturbing each time.
The fact that the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world has no shame about going around naked, makes it even more difficult to be around him when he's stark naked.
"I'll wake him up then" sourly says Tamric Drubine, who it often falls to, to wake up the large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque.
"So shall i" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who suddenly sees the chance for a bit of revenge upon his bitter rival the ork weaponsmith.
As the young field commander usually resorts to hitting Dorc da Orc to wake him up, usually with a hammer, or the butt end of an axe to the head.
Which sir Percavellé or Percy as he's more commonly called by the others in the group. Is more than willing to partake in.
The heavily armoured knight and the young field commander make their way over to the sleeping ork.
"Some kind of buffalo i guess" says Tamric Drubine as he looks at the dead animal lying next to the ork weaponsmith.
"Looks like it" says Percy who takes one of his claw hammers from his belt, and says "Shall i?".
"The blunt side" dryly says the nobleborn teenager who is originally from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The former paladin in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che grunts in disappointment.
Then with the visor of his full helm up, so that Tam can see him grinning from ear to ear, sir Percavellé Lé Dic smashes the hammer, blunt side, down onto the head of the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
"Harder" says field commander Drubine, who continues with "And not on the forehead again, you're just wasting your time doing that".
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic, where he was once the earl of Lé Dic in that kingdom, grunts in agreement.
Then he slams his hammer down onto the face of the snoring ork warleader.
It takes a handful of times hitting the large ork with the hammer, but eventually the ork general starts to wake up.
As he does, Percy walks quickly away, to rejoin the others next to their campsite.
Dorkindle's eyelids flicker, and he opens them to find Tamric Drubine standing over him, who says "We're going Dorc, you better get your stuff".
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks grunts, then sits up and looks around.
"How Dorc get naked" muses Dorc da Orc as he wonders where his pants and boots are. Not to mention his weapon harness and all his weapons, as well as his sacks.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world sees the dead buffalo looking creature beside him, then chuckles as he recalls some of what happened last night.
What he does remember, is the pack of wolves running down the wooly buffalo. But allowing him to kill it, and take it for himself. Which he duly did, though after he fucked it.
The warleader of the ork race chuckles, then grunts as Tamric Drubine says to him "Your stuff is probably that way" as he waves off to the east, in the direction Dorkindle was howling last night.
That's exactly where the large ork finds his things a little bit later, lying next to the makeshift shrine he made in honour of his god Krom.
The seven and half foot tall, seven hundred and fifty pound ork, to this day, still the largest member of the wolf tribe of orks, eventually catches up to the others, who set off before him.
Saanea the witch is glad to see the ork general has got his grubby knee length pants on now, something he forgets to do at times when he wakes up naked.
The ork weaponsmith who is carrying the wooly buffalo over his shoulders, as he intends to eat it.
Starts whistling, badly out of tune, as he joins the back of the line of march, following behind Tamric Drubine and Saanea the witch.
While infront of them is Shur Kee the monk, while sir Percavellé Lé Dic is further infront of the physical adept.
The messenger, or runner, Lisell Maera is out infront of them all by some distance, as she scouts the way forward as they head south towards the lands Farque.
Dorkindle who after glancing at the beast he's carrying over his shoulders, wondering how he's going to eat it, as he doesn't fancy chewing on the thick fluffy, wool like covering the buffalo has.
And thinking the best way will be to burn it off, says to the young field commander walking next to the witch from the Maldin Hills, about thirty feet infront of him "Hey Tam cunt, we there yet?".
Tamric Drubine refrains from sighing, though he does roll his eyes, as that question from Dorkindle has come from the large ork, all the time, and everyday, ever since the young field commander decided they should head south to the lands Farque.
"No Dorc, we're not there yet" says Tam who continues with "Like I've told you everyday for the last few months, I'll tell you when we get there". Which will be in a couple of days, is the best guess from the nobleborn teenager who hails from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
Dorc grunts, as they continue their journey southwards to the lands Farque, where among a number of things, they hope to find the whereabouts of the rest of the group . . . . . .