Winter. Northwestern Farque. The Southlands.
Here on the edge of Gildin Dale, on the west side of town.
Shur Kee the monk stands off to one side beneath a tree at the break of dawn.
Watching a group of the recruits based in town, make their way through the early morning light, towards the grounds.
The grounds is what they call it. And along with the forest trails that surround Gildin Dale.
Is the reason why this small town is used as the base for training new recruits, here in the northwest of the lands Farque.
There's a light fog across the grounds, and through the town. As is typical for a lot of the winter here in this part of northwestern Farque.
Following behind the group of ten recruits is a yawning sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Who isn't exactly enamoured with being up this early.
While a scowling Dorc da Orc sits not that far from the tree that Shur Kee is standing beneath.
The short, statured monk who is from the kingdom of Wah Lee, which is all the way on the otherside of the continent.
Figures, correctly as it turns out. That the ork warleader didn't sleep last night. And has been hanging around this part of town since yesterday evening.
As he was told to be here at dawn. To help with the group who are to train on the grounds this morning.
Not that he particularly wants to. But ever since field commander Tamric Drubine spoke to him the other day. About the responsibility of being a general in the armies of Farque.
The large ork has been a lot more attentive when it comes to him helping to train the recruits.
Well, that's what the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who like to portray.
But in reality he hates it, and would rather be doing something else. Like drinking and eating.
But he doesn't, and he's here instead. Though a lot of that has to do with who is lying behind the tree that Shur Kee is standing beneath.
It's the massive figure of the undead wardog Axe. Who lies there, with an eyelid half open as he watches the ork weaponsmith who is sitting nearby.
As the ten young teens line up, sir Percavellé Lé Dic walks up to Shur Kee claps his hands, and says in his boisterous voice "Capital" followed by "A fine day for the training of these youngsters, wot".
The fighting monk, who is an acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li, holds up a finger to his lips for silence from the nobleborn knight who hails from the kingdom of Druvic.
"Oh right" says the former paladin in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
"Must keep in down, wot" adds the nobleman who is a former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic.
Shur Kee rolls his eyes as the heavily armoured knight didn't say that quietly at all.
But the former paladin does fall silent. Which the short, statured monk finds a blessing.
As the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic can be awfully loud in the morning at times.
Much to the detriment to all of those around him, who are subjected to his loud voice, and daily diatribe of whatever it is that's caught his attention.
Seeing that the former earl of Lé Dic has fallen silent, the short, statured monk who is a physical adept.
Takes the opportunity to speak with the group of ten teenagers. Who are part of the army recruits from here in northwestern Farque, who are based here in the town of Gildin Dale.
"Stretch first" says Shur Kee the monk, who then follows that with "Then you will do the first course this morning" he continues with "Since it is not a race, you should finish the course at roughly the same time".
The short statured monk then adds "Remember the object of this exercise is teamwork".
Although the teenage recruits wanted to groan when they were to do the first course. As it's extremely difficult.
It's better than the second course, which is even harder, though shorter.
And the third course is near impossible. Which this group of ten has yet to attempt.
Glancing at who is standing next to him, and who is also sitting nearby.
Shur Kee the monk says "The knight sir Percavellé shall join you on the course this morning".
"What?!" exclaims the former paladin in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
"And so shall general Dorc" adds the physical adept.
The large ork's laughter is cut off when he hears that, and instead he splutters and mutters something in his native language.
As he glares at the short, statured monk. As well as the former earl of Lé Dic, who he was laughing at as the nobleborn knight has just been told to do the course along with the recruits.
"The fuck no" says Dorc da Orc in the common language.
The ork warleader pauses as there's a loud growl that comes from behind the tree that Shur Kee is standing beneath.
"Er?" says the ork weaponsmith who quickly adds "Yeah, ah Dorc will do it".
With a backwards glance at the undead wardog Axe, sir Percavellé Lé Dic finds the massive canine is now staring at him.
The heavily armoured knight grimaces, then mutters "Narille".
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic then realises he can get one up on his bitter rival here.
Has a quick change of mind, and says "Verily" followed by "I, the great sir Percavellé shall undertake this endeavour" and with pointed look at the ork general, adds "And complete it, unlike some others who shall remain nameless, but we all know is nothing but a smelly, festering pile of overgrown green dung, that walks upon two legs, and yabbers on like a deranged, retarded talking monkey".
"Fucken blowhard" mutters Dorc da Orc, whose given name is Dorkindle, who then frowns, as he wonders what his bitter rival just said about him. He figures it's an insult of some kind, he just doesn't know exactly what.
"Remember you are all a team with this exercise, and must complete it together" says the fighting monk, who is the living incarnation of the Jade Warrior, Bru Li.
This time the recruits do groan when they hear that, as they look at the general and the knight who will join them this morning on the course.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic maybe able to keep up with the group of thirteen and fourteen year olds.
But teamwork isn't exactly the nobleborn knight's strong point.
As for Dorc da Orc, there's no way the large ork will be able to keep pace with them.
He's too fat and too slow in the opinion of all the recruits who are taking part in the winter training here in the town of Gildin Dale.
Which is a pretty fair assessment. As the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is built for power and endurance. Not speed and agility.
The recruits share glances as they realise this is going to be a long morning for them on the course.
Dorkindle who has watched the groups of recruits take turns on the course.
Has quickly worked out how he can do the course with them, and fairly quickly to.
After a scowl directed at his bitter enemy, the former earl of Lé Dic.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks says to the recruits "Stretchin' is for pussies" followed by "Get fucken going ya lil' cunts".
Guessing what the large ork might do, after all, he's known him for well over fifteen years.
Shur Kee the monk says to the ork warleader "Friend Dorc, do not smash through the obstacles" followed by "You are to complete them like everyone else".
"Oh get fucked" says the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, who was planning to do exactly that, smash down, and run through the obstacles he's going to have trouble with.
The big, burly ork scowls as Axe gets up, and makes his way around the tree to stand beside the short, statured monk.
"Fucken shitballs" mutters Dorkindle as the massive canine just stares at him.
Then as a group, the recruits take off, and make their way onto the first course.
They're followed by sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who runs by the ork general, saying to his bitter rival "Keep up you smelly green fatty" followed by a chuckle.
The warleader of the ork race scowls at the former earl of Lé Dic.
Then Dorkindle, with a look back, where he finds the massive canine Axe just standing staring directly at him.
Looks forward again, lets out a breath, that definitely sounds like a sigh.
Then with a muttered "Krom" from the large ork, he follows the nobleborn knight, and the ten recruits who are making their way down onto the grounds.
The grounds, well at least a lot of the first and second course, is down a slight berm. On a large patch of ground on the west side of the town of Gildin Dale.
It has a series of obstacles, both manmade and natural, that make up each of the course.
The first of which are a number of walls, some of which are built from wood, and others stone, and brick.
Well even more are natural forming walls, usually of rock, stone and boulders.
That have been cleared slightly, to create a wall that the recruits, who have been training here in Gildin Dale for centuries.
Have to make their way over as they do one of the courses on the grounds.
Up on the raised section slightly above the grounds, Shur Kee the monk watches the ten recruits go over the first wall, quickly followed by sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
The acolyte in the order of Bru Li watches Dorc da Orc get to the first wall, and climb over it too.
The first wall isn't particularly high, infact the seven and half foot tall ork general stands taller than it, and can see over it quite easily.
The large ork who with ease could actually smash through the first wall at a run, climbs over it.
Then heads to the next one on the course, which the recruits have already got over. And sir Percavellé Lé Dic is going over at the moment.
Even from where he's standing slightly above the grounds, which is nearly half a mile from north to south, and even longer as it goes out to the west from Gildin Dale.
Shur Kee can hear Dorkindle loudly muttering to himself as he jogs to the next wall.
On top of which, sits the former earl of Lé Dic, looking back at the ork warleader, who he calls out to with "Hurry up there fatso!" followed by laugh before he makes his way down off the wall.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world scowls as he jogs to the next wall. Which is also wooden and just under his height, and which he could easily just run through.
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks looks back, then scowls even more as he sees Shur Kee the monk making his way down onto the grounds.
Walking beside the short, statured monk who hails from the kingdom of Wah Lee, which is far beyond the Southlands, and is located on the far east coast of the continent.
Is the undead wardog Axe. Who like the physical adept, will be following those on grounds, who are doing the first of the three courses.
The ork general growls under his breath, then gets to the next wall. Which he grabs the top of, and hauls himself up and over to the otherside, grunting as he does so.
Dorkindle looks ahead, and sees his bitter rival sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who is approaching the third wall of the first course, which is even taller, and which the last couple of recruits have just climbed over.
The large ork grins as he sees the heavily armoured knight will have trouble climbing the next wall by himself.
"Fuckface" mutters Dorc da Orc after the former paladin takes a running leap at the third wall, and grab the top of it, and pull himself up and over it.
The ork general who will have an advantage for the first of the walls, which increase in heights.
Will start having problems with them once they get to more than fifteen feet in height.
As he'll find it difficult to jump up and grab the top of a wall higher than that, and haul himself up without the help of others.
The warleader of the ork race wonders if the recruits, and his bitter rival will help him over the higher walls.
The ork weaponsmith sighs even thinking about it. And that's not even thinking about the other obstacles on this course.
As he makes his way to the next wall, the large ork is just glad the first course doesn't have any water obstacles like the second and third ones have. Because like fuck he would do those courses on the grounds.
Dorc da Orc looks back and sees Shur Kee and the wardog Axe walking along the dirt path next to the first course, keeping an eye on him, the former paladin and the ten recruits.
Well, the short, statured monk is watching all of them, while the undead wardog is focused upon the large ork.
"Krom" mutters Dorkindle, who gets to the next wall, sighs then reaches up, and grabs the top of the wall, and with a grunt of effort, pulls himself up onto, then over the top of the wall.
After he drops down the otherside, the ork general takes a few deep breaths, and looks ahead.
Where he sees a couple of the recruits on top of the next wall, have leaned down, and helped sir Percavellé grab the top of the wall, so he can haul himself up onto it.
Dorc da Orc wonders if they'll do the same for him on the even higher walls further along on the course.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of world as he jogs to the next wall, rather doubts it.
And wonders how he'll complete the course on this slightly foggy winter's morning, here in this part of the northwestern region of the lands Farque . . . . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment