The General & The Knight 22.

Winter. Northwest Farque.

Hamblin the teenage recruit creeps forward through the forest, and soon comes across his fellow recruit Dammis.
Who is crouching behind a tree, looking forward through the fog shrouded forest this morning.
Without speaking, Dammis with his hands, signals towards a nearby stream that they know about.
It's run off from the water course on the nearby grounds. As they're in an area of the forest further to the west of the town of Gildin Dale.
Hamblin, who is from the farming village of Polsten, nods his head in agreement, as the stream or at least near it, is the most likely place.
Then the teenage recruit who is the son of farmers, who will likely be a runner, then a scout, and after that, probably a ranger when he joins one of their lord's armies.
Moves quietly and deliberately to take off his pack, in which he's brought a number of things along with him this morning.
After getting their orders this morning back in town. Hamblin quickly ran back to the house the first group live in.
And packed a handful of brands, or torches. Which he now takes out of his pack, and hands one to Dammis.
And another to Maselle, who has quietly moved up behind him.
Taking one for himself, Hamblin nods to his fellow group members. And gives them by hand signals, the direction he wants them to go.
They both nod in understanding, then slowly move off through the fog.
The tall, lean recruit from the farming village of Polsten slowly moves away too.
Taking from his belt pouch, his flint and striker, which he holds in one hand, and the torch in the other.
Hamblin knows that Dammis and Maselle are doing likewise, as they make their way through the forest, heading towards the nearby stream.
The thirteen year old, dark haired recruit from Polsten, who usually leads the way for the first group.
Looks away to his right, and spots movement through the fog.
He stops, and soon makes out Jinsa moving slowly and deliberately forward with her bow in hand.
When she sees him, Hamblin signals for her to take a more circular route to the nearby stream.
Jinsa nods in understanding, and moves off towards the right.
Hamblin knows that Jinsa has wrapped cloth around the broadheads of some of her arrows.
And that she too has her flint and striker ready to use. As their group moves forward through the area of the forest, a few miles to the west and south of the town of Gildin Dale.
Here in the northwest of the lands Farque, where they've been based this winter. As they undergo training to join their lord's armies.
As he moves, Hamblin looks down, to place his feet carefully. As to not step on anything, that will make any unnecessary noise.
As a boot on a fallen branch or the like, will give him away. As it will his fellow group members if they did the same.
Hamblin's just glad that it's especially foggy this morning here in this area of northwestern Farque, and that it has yet to burn off.
The fog is helping to muffle the sounds in the forest. Though the young recruit form the farming village of Polsten knows that it isn't that much of an advantage to him and the rest of the first group.
It really doesn't even put them on even terms against what they're facing this morning.
Though he knows every little thing counts. Considering the group of ten of them, are out matched this morning.
Hamblin peers ahead, and spots a narrow trail less than five yards away. It's a game trail by the looks of it.
And if goes along it to the left, it will lead him more or less to the nearby stream.
The recruit from the farming village of Polsten that lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the town of Gildin Dale.
Moves quickly and quietly onto the trail, that he figures game use to get to the stream to drink.
Avoiding any low branches, and bushes so he doesn't make any unnecessary noise.
Hamblin moves along the game trail, looking through the fog and trees, towards the direction of the stream that he knows is close.
He then sees a glow of light up ahead, quickly followed by another.
And knows that Dammis and Maselle have lit their torches.
And he can now see the burning brands swinging back and forth, apparently low over the ground.
But he knows infact, that his fellow group members are swinging their torches low over the stream that he's approaching.
Ready to light his own torch, Hamblin hops over a puddle in the middle of the game trail.
He takes another step, then strikes his flint, putting it to the cloth doused with pitch, wrapped around one end of the brand.
Spinning around as he does so, as he knows there hasn't been any rain lately. So there shouldn't be a puddle on the game trail, a dozen yards from the nearby stream.
With a the burning torch in hand, Hamblin grimaces as a quiet voice says to him "Got you".
As there's a figure, taller than him, standing in the middle of the trail, basically human in shape. But made entirely of water.
The teenage recruit from the farming village of Polsten looks through the figure of water.
Then slightly smiles and quietly says "You did" Hamblin briefly pauses before adding "But".
As also on the trail, about ten yards back, stands Jinsa with her recurve bow drawn, that has a flame lit arrow to it.
The human shaped figure of water grunts, then there's a shimmer along it's entire surface.
Then the next moment, Alisian the water elemental stands there in his human form, and quietly says with a slight grin upon his face "And you lot got me" he briefly pauses before he adds "Though i did take out seven of you".
Hamblin winces when he hears that as puts out the burning brand by dropping it on the ground and standing on it.
He sighs as he realises out of the group, only Dammis, Maselle and Jinsa survived.
While he and the six others were taken out by the water elemental spouter.
Still, that's better than a couple of days ago. When they first went against Alisian. Who took out the entire group that morning.
"Would it hurt?" asks Jinsa as she walks up, then puts out her burning arrow, by shoving the broadhead into the damp ground of the game trail.
"More of annoyance really" says the water elemental who is a gangly youth of fourteen.
"A burning torch will hurt a bit more" adds Alisian who continues on with "Though not that much" he follows that with "I can take a lot more fire damage than other water elementals".
Both Hamblin and Jinsa nod, as they know spouters are the most powerful, and most destructive of all the water elementals.
"Usually only a fire spell that will cause me any harm or kill me" states Alisian after Hamblin yells out to the rest of the group to join them on the game trail.
"Good thing you're not training with Sarill today" says the teenage recruit from the farming village of Polsten.
Hamblin pauses for a moment or two, before he dryly adds "Good thing we're not training with her too".
Both Jinsa and Alisian nod in agreement, as they've trained with and against Sarill over the last five days since she and Alisian arrived in Gildin Dale.
And to say that being around the young mage in training is more than a little adventurous, and more than slightly dangerous. Is an understatement to the extreme.
On the grounds to the west of the town of Gildin Dale. Tamric Drubine the field commander shrugs his shoulders, then says "Just don't kill them".
When Sarill glances back at him with a questioning look upon her face, as she stands with the recruits of the fourth group.
The nobleborn teenager who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, continues with "Remember don't use a mind spell upon the general" followed by "You'll regret it for the rest of your life if you do".
Next to the young field commander, his lover, Saanea the witch nods in agreement to what he just said.
"And the fact it will take you out, and render you useless" says the senior officer in the armies of Farque.
Sarill nods in understanding, as she knows that warning from field commander Drubine is absolutely valid.
Besides, she had read in a book that practitioners of magic should not cast a mind spell of any kind upon an ork.
No matter how powerful they are, or their ability at casting.
The consequences can be unpleasant from what Sarill has read. And she has absolutely no interest in finding out what those unpleasant consequences are.
The young mage, who is quite small for a thirteen year old, nods her head when behind her, Tamric Drubine the field commander tells her "No mage globes".
Then the son, and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which can be found in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Says to the practitioner of magic who is from The Winter Palace "You can hit them a lot harder than you think" followed by "Especially the general".
The senior officer in the armies of Farque, who is in charge of the training of the army recruits here in the town of Gildin Dale, then says to all the recruits "You may begin" followed by "Stop them from crossing over to here".
The them Tamric Drubine is referring to, is Dorc da Orc and sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
The large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque, and the heavily armoured knight, who isn't actually in the armies of Farque at all.
Are over on the second course, near the field that's next to the grounds.
And their objective is to get across to this side of the first course.
Where field commander Drubine, and Saanea the witch are standing on the path just to the side of the first course, on the grounds, just west of the town of Gildin Dale.
And the recruits of the fourth group, along with the mage Sarill, who is training with them today.
Are to stop the general and the knight from crossing over to here.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. And the nobleman originally from the kingdom of Druvic.
Who are at the edge of the trees next to the second course. A good twenty feet apart, as they actually can't stand one another.
Are looking this way, then they start moving, after they see Tamric Drubine, or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Lift up his right hand, high above his head, and drop it down, signalling them to move out.
The ork warleader and the former paladin move quickly, running from the trees so that the recruits have to try and deal to them as quickly as possible.
The teenage recruit who usually leads group four, defers to Sarill this morning after he quickly tells them to spread out.
When they spot general Dorc and sir Percavellé Lé Dic heading this way across the grounds.
How they're actually going to stop the two of them, is up to the young mage.
Who is slight, and fairly short. Quite small for a thirteen year old girl.
Though without doubt, is the most destructive individual here in Gildin Dale with the exception of sir Morcin the undead avenger and Axe the undead dog.
With a look of disdain directed at his bitter rival Dorc da Orc. Sir Percavellé Lé Dic moves away from the large ork as he runs from the trees.
Likewise for the ork warleader as he heads out across the second course. He looks with disgust at the former earl of Lé Dic.
As they head across the grounds, to where the fourth group of recruits are this morning with the young mage, Sarill.
The ork weaponsmith who made sure to where his armoured breastplate this morning. Which is actually a plate of armour from a dead dragon.
Is closer to the muddy field next to the grounds. While the heavily armoured knight who is running with his large footman's shield out infront of him. Is further away to the right of the large ork, who is a general in the armies of Farque.
The two rivals, one a big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. And the other, a nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic.
Know that they're going to get attacked with magic this morning. And they've both prepared for it.
And while the former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic. Is weaving from side to side as he runs across the second course.
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name. Doesn't bother doing that. He just runs as straight as possible, as he heads across the grounds.
Which, along with his size. Makes him an easier target for Sarill the mage.
The warleader of the ork race grunts as he's hit dead in the chest by something.
And he's slammed backwards onto the muddy field he's been running along the side of.
The ork general groans, then mutters something in the incomprehensible language of the orks as he gasps for breath.
Before he rolls over, then with a groan of effort, pushes himself up, then staggers to his feet.
Meanwhile, sir Percavellé Lé Dic or Percy which he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Chortles when out of the corner of his eye, he sees his bitter rival Dorkindle knocked down, by a spell most like.
Peeks over the top of his shield, to where the fourth group of recruits, along with the young mage Sarill, are on the otherside of the grounds.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che. Who is heading in their direction, though at an angle.
Grins behind the faceplate of his full helm, as he hopes the young mage attacks him in the same way she just did the ork weaponsmith.
For if she does, she'll be in for a surprise that she will instantly regret.
For her part, the small teenage girl who comes from The Winter Palace.
Looks closely at the shield sir Percavellé Lé Dic carries as he runs this way.
She knows it's magical. Infact she senses it's an extremely powerful magical item. She just doesn't know what it exactly does.
Sarill who like all mages. Studies more destructive spells than anything else. After all, it's in their nature. Hasn't totally neglected other types of spellcraft.
The practitioner of magic from further south in the lands Farque. Who was thinking about hitting sir Percavellé Lé Dic with the same force spell she knocked down Dorc da Orc with.
Instead casts an identify spell upon the large heavily armoured knight's magical shield.
And though it takes her a few moments to actually cast it. As it's spell she's only recently learnt.
She soon identifies the magical shield that the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic carries out infront of him.
And as the unofficial leader of the fourth group of recruits, quietly and clamly informs the young mage that general Dorc is back on his feet, and once again heading this way.
Sarill casts a spell at the nobleborn knight who is rushing across the grounds towards them.
Percy as he runs, is in mid stride. When he yelps as his legs go out from under him.
The large, heavily armoured knight grimaces as he hits the ground on his side.
With the faceplate of his full helm swinging open as he does so.
The former paladin who realises that he was attacked below the knees, because his shield wasn't covering them.
Goes to quickly close the visor of his full helm, as he looks across the grounds at the recruits and the teenage mage.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic sourly smiles just before a young teen's voice in his mind, tells him to just sit there, and to not do anything.
Dorc da Orc looks away to his right, and chuckles as he sees his bitter rival the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic. Just sitting on the ground, doing absolutely nothing.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world. Who kind of hopes Sarill the mage casts the same spell she just used to take care of sir Percavellé, on him as well.
Isn't all that far from the recruits and the young mage now.
The ork general who has just run around one of the obstacles on the second course.
And is now running across the path that runs alongside the course.
And is less than fifty yards from where the ten recruits and the young mage are on the side of the first course.
When all of a sudden there's a large explosion right infront of the warleader of the ork race.
The ground erupts upwards, sending dirt flying up through the air on what's a foggy morning, here in this area of northwestern Farque.
Dorkindle growls as he's pelted by flying dirt and ground as he runs forward.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks takes another stride as he runs.
And finds that his right foot comes down on nothing, and he falls forward into a large hole in the ground.
Deep enough that he yelps when he hits the bottom of the hole. He grumbles as he looks up, and sees he can reach the top, and haul himself up and out, as the hole is about twelve feet deep.
As he goes to do that, he's suddenly hit by water. A lot of it, and all at once too. Enough to fill up the deep hole in the ground.
Over on the edge of the first course, as Dorc da Orc bursts up through the surface of the water in the hole in the ground.
Screaming and yelling in the ork language, as he drags himself out of the water. Then just lies there next to the water filled hole in the ground. Utterly soaked, and breathing heavily. Not caring what's happening around him.
Sarill the mage turns and says to field commander Drubine "I think that pretty much took care of them".
"I'd say so" says Tamric Drubine as he looks at sir Percavellé Lé Dic and Dorc da Orc who have just been bested by a thirteen year old girl . . . . . .