The General & The Knight 6.

Winter. Northwest Farque.

Sir Percavellé Lé Dic slightly winces as another of the recruits hits the floor.
And though the floor is covered with matting. It's not exactly forgiving.
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic definitely knows he doesn't want to face the same fate as the recruits.
"Ah that's okay old chap" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who quickly follows that with "I shall pass on that this time".
In response to Shur Kee the monk asking him "Friend Percy, would you like to try next?".
The heavily armoured knight who is standing in one corner of the large room, clears his throat and picks up his helm from a nearby chair.
Which like the rest of the furniture, has been pushed back against the walls. To make way for the matting that was put down.
"Carry on old chap" says the former paladin in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
"I must be out and about to see how the others are faring, wot" quickly adds the nobleman, who is the former earl of Lé Dic.
Which is his family's fief in the east of the kingdom of Druvic.
Sir Percavellé or Percy as more often than not he's called by those who know him well.
Shoots a look at the ten recruits sitting along the wall free of any furniture.
Glad that it's them being thrown around by Shur Kee the monk, instead of him.
The nobleborn knight hastily exits the room, which is the front room of the largest of the four houses that are essentially the barracks of recruits who are based here in the town of Gildin Dale.
"What a lovely day" says Percy as he steps outside into the falling snow.
He'd rather be out here, than inside being thrown about by the short, statured monk who is teaching a group of the recruits unarmed combat.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic may be a bit of an idiot, and extremely foolhardy at times. Who is often oblivious to things around him. Things that he chooses to ignore.
But he knows for a fact that he's no match for the physical adept from the far eastern coast of the continent, when it comes to unarmed combat.
Pretty much no one is, especially here in the town of Gildin Dale. With the exception of sir Morcin the avenger, suspects Percy.
The former paladin sees one of the townswomen hurrying into another of the four houses. Carrying a covered tray of foodstuffs.
The former earl of Lé Dic wonders what's being prepared for lunch today.
As he would freely admit, the recruits along with those who train them. Who includes sir Percavellé himself, are well fed here in Gildin Dale.
The nobleborn knight wanders over to that house as it continues to snow, he gets about halfway across the square in the middle of all four houses.
When he hears a heavy thud like sound coming from his right.
He looks that way, and grimaces behind the visor of his full helm that he's put on.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic stops, and instead of saying what he wants to say, which is, "Begone hell hound!". He says "Ah yes, is there something you want my fine furry fellow?".
As he looks at the massive wardog called Axe, who at the shoulder, stands well over the nobleborn knight who is a couple inches over six foot tall himself.
The massive canine stares at the heavily armoured knight for a few moments, then he softly barks a few times.
Percy slightly frowns as he assumes the Farqian wardog is trying to tell him something.
The former earl of Lé Dic grunts, then says "Ah i see" followed by "Doth you want i, the great sir Percavellé to follow you, wot?".
If there was ever a wry look to appear on the face of any dog. It's the one that appears on the face of Axe at that moment as he looks at the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic. Then the undead dog barks, just the once though.
"Hmmmmm i think that's a yes" murmurs the former paladin who recalls that one bark from one of the wardogs means yes, while two means no.
"Lead on then good fellow" says the nobleborn knight, who can't quite believe he's standing here in the middle of the falling snow, having a conversation with a dog.
True, the dog which is massive and towers over Percy. Not to mention the look in it's eyes looks far more intelligent than they ought to be, in the opinion of the member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
Nevertheless it's still a dog, and having a conversation with it, is absolutely ridiculous, sir Percavellé Lé Dic thinks to himself.
Though he won't admit that outloud, especially infront of Axe, who turns and wanders away. Stopping briefly to make sure the heavily armoured knight follows him.
Which of course, the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic does.
Percy follows the undead wardog that turned up a few days ago with the krean scoutship, The Skeedaemon.
And though the sleek looking, mastless airship left later that day.
It left behind Axe, who decided to stay here in the town of Gildin Dale.
Following the short haired, black coloured wardog, sir Percavellé Lé Dic wonders where they're heading.
They don't go far, just around the corner, to the back of another of the four houses the recruits are staying in, as they train here in the town of Gildin Dale, and the surrounding countryside.
The nobleborn knight scowls as he sees a sleeping Dorc da Orc on the back portico of the house.
Then Percy, who tries to ignore everything to do with his bitter rival, the ork warleader.
Slightly frowns as he vaguely recalls the ork general in the armies of Farque, was supposed to be taking one of the groups of ten recruits for training this morning.
"Weren't they going out on the east trail this morning?" murmurs the former earl of Lé Dic.
Next to Percy, Axe who is sitting down, barks the once in agreement with the heavily armoured knight.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che slightly frowns, then a sour look crosses his face. For the river close to the town. Has to be crossed, to get over to the east trail.
And though there's a bridge just a hundred yards south of town.
Field commander Tamric Drubine has ordered all of the recruits, as well as those who are training them that day. Are to find other methods of crossing the river to get to the trail that heads east, away from Gildin Dale.
"Lazy green sot" says the former paladin in disgust as he looks at the snoring ork weaponsmith.
"Asleep on the job, and lax in his duties as usual, wot" says the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic with a shake of his head.
The knight, who has no actual rank in the armies of Farque, decides to wake up the sleeping ork general. Just to annoy him more than anything else. As that will give Percy great pleasure in doing so.
The nobleborn knight who is both a landed and an ordered knight, does frown as he knows how notoriously difficult it is to wake the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic knows from experience. As he's tried to wake Dorc da Orc numerous times. Usually with a warhammer. And been unable to, as the large ork can sleep through just about anything.
"Hmmmmm" murmurs the member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che as he looks sideways at Axe as he contemplates waking the general in the armies of Farque.
The former earl of Lé Dic, who is the uncle of the current lady of his family's fief, says to the undead wardog beside him "I say my fine four legged fellow, could you do old Percy a favour and".
The heavily armoured knight doesn't get to finish, because Axe is already moving.
The massive canine just leans over the steps to the portico, and clamps his jaws down onto the large ork's jaws, and slightly squeezes as be softly growls.
The ork warleader's eyes snap open, and though he tries to gulp as he sees who has got a hold of him by the throat.
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, grimaces as Axe the wardog growls.
"Nice doggy" murmurs Dorc da Orc, who then sourly smiles as he smells and hears who is standing nearby.
"Get up you stinking degenerate" demands sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who continues with "You're supposed to be watching the group on the east trail you filthy fiend".
"Not north" mutters the ork weaponsmith, who rolls his eyes, when he hears his bitter rival tell him "You lazy beast" followed by "You're just afraid to cross the river, wot".
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name. Breathes a sigh of relief when Axe lets him go, and steps back.
The large ork sits up, rubbing his throat and neck, checking for any puncture marks. Then he scowls at his bitter rival, who stands there looking at him in a disapproving manner.
"Well, cunt" growls the ork general, who continues on with "They fucken fine".
In response to the former paladin asking him "Well, are you going to check on them or not?" followed by a belated "Wot".
Rolling his eyes, and shaking his head, the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic then says "Get you going you insufferable reprobate".
"Get fucked ya" says the large ork, who is interrupted by his bitter rival saying to him "I say my fine furry four legged fellow, why don't you bring the smelly creature along".
The ork general's eyes go wide, and he quickly gets to his feet, and in a hurry says "Me comin' along ya cunt".
As he sees Axe eyeing him up, looking perfectly fine with the idea of grabbing Dorkindle by an arm, or a leg, or his head, and bringing him along.
Keeping a wary eye upon the massive canine who looks him straight in the eye, and easily weighs twice as he does.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world, makes his way off the portico of the house he was sleeping behind.
And with a rather sour looking expression upon his broad, green, brutish looking face.
Dorc da Orc follows behind his bitter rival, who starts heading to the nearby river, which runs to the east of Gildin Dale.
And as much as the warleader of the ork race wants to run away. He knows it's useless to do so, as the undead wardog Axe follows closely behind him as they walk through the snow that's still falling.
"See cunt, how me gonna fucken cross that?" asks the ork general when they get to the river, he gestures southwards down this riverbank, and adds "Can't use that fucken bridge down there".
As sir Percavellé Lé Dic looks up down this side of the river, the large ork, his most bitter rival tells him "Like fuck Dorc gonna swim" followed by "Even you won't get in that fucken yucky water".
The former paladin who knows he'd sink like a stone with all the armour he's wearing, says "There, yonder that way" as he points away to the left, where a small fishing dinghy, is up on the bank.
As much as Percy would like to see his bitter rival get into trouble for not doing his duties.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic knows that it's important to have someone look over the young teenage recruits as they train.
They walk to the dinghy, and the former earl of Lé Dic pushes it towards the water.
While Dorkindle looks on, looking highly suspicious of the small boat, and looking totally disgusted at the river, as it continues to snow this morning.
"By Narille" mutters the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic as he sees the dinghy doesn't have any oars, and has just the one paddle.
He checks the small locker onboard, and among the things in it, he finds a rope.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic looks carefully at the small boat, and spots a metal ring on the top of the bow.
The heavily armoured knight looks at his bitter rival, who is just thinking if he can wander away without Axe noticing.
No such luck, as the massive canine sits there watching the ork warleader.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che looks at the Farqian wardog, and murmurs "Hmmmmm".
Percy shrugs his heavily armoured shoulders, and ties one end of the rope to the metal ring sticking out of the top of the bow.
"Get onboard you ghastly pile of filth" says Percy, which earns a muttered "Fucken dickface cunthole" from the large ork.
Though Dorkindle does get into the dinghy as Axe stands up and steps closer to him.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic holds out the rope, and says to the undead wardog "I say, if you could".
He doesn't have to even finish what he wants to say, as the massive canine has already figured what the former paladin intends to do.
Axe takes a hold of the other end of the rope, then patiently looks at the heavily armoured knight.
Who quickly climbs aboard, sitting in the stern. As Dorc da Orc sits in the middle, holding onto the gunnels. With a look of disgust upon his face, as he watches the river.
Before the ork general can even ask what's about to happen. Axe runs into the water, with the end of the rope, tight in his jaws.
The small dinghy with the ork weaponsmith and the former paladin in it, is dragged into the river.
And is quickly moving across it, as the undead wardog swims with ease towards the otherside.
"Fuck" mutters Dorc da Orc as Axe picks up speed, so much so that a bow wake forms, and water splashes over the bow, and the spray hits the ork warleader.
Who sits there in absolute disgust at getting slightly damp from the spray.
While behind him, his bitter rival sir Percavellé Lé Dic, sits there grinning behind the faceplate of his full helm as he sees how uncomfortable the large ork is.
They're across the river in no time, and Axe drags the dinghy and the two in it, up the riverbank.
They both get out, one a lot happier than the other. While the other is relived, and more than a little disgruntled, as he mutters to himself in his native language.
"Why hurry along then you stinking cesspool" states sir Percavellé Lé Dic who heads to the nearby trail, that's about fifty yards away.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world sourly looks at his bitter rival, and contemplates throwing an axe an the annoying knight.
He gives up on that idea as Axe is right behind him as they walk to the trail that heads eastwards through the forest in that direction.
Once they're on the trail, Dorkindle nods to the east, and says "Fucken thataway".
Rolling his eyes, the nobleborn knight dryly says "I would never of guessed".
Then with the ork general leading the way, followed by the former paladin, then the undead wardog.
The three of them start making their way along the trail between the trees, as it continues to snow on what's a cold winter's morning here in the northwest of the lands Farque . . . . . .