The General & The Knight 32.

Winter. In The Northwest Of The Lands Farque.

The next morning and the day has dawned cloudy, without fog. Though light flurries of snow have started to fall.
Hamblin the teenage recruit who had a good look at his maps before they set off this morning.
Is kind of dreading what he's expecting somewhere up ahead.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten, which is about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest village of Gildin Dale.
Looks back as he leads the group through the trees, that are thinning out even more. And sees Dorc da Orc at the rear.
The large ork who is dragging the decomposing bear carcass behind him.
Has a look that's both inquisitive, and angry upon his broad, green brutish looking face.
No doubt the ork warleader has caught wind of what's ahead.
As Hamblin knows the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world can smell everything around him for miles.
Looking to his right, Hamblin nods his head, as next to him Maselle the teenage recruit quietly says in the elven language "This could be a problem up ahead".
The teenage girl who also looked at the maps this morning that Hamblin carries with him, continues with "You know how he gets when that's involved".
"I know" says Hamblin the teenage recruit in the same language, who follows that with "Maybe we'll get lucky and find a narrow section".
"Even if we do" says Maselle, who continues with "That's still not going to stop him from moaning and bitching about it".
Hamblin slightly winces as he knows Maselle is right.
Then the recruit who is the son of farmers, looks behind him and Maselle.
As sir Percavellé Lé Dic who is following right behind them, has just said "Pray tell, what are thou discussing?" followed with a mutter of "In that ungodly tongue, wot".
"Just the weather sir" says Hamblin in the common language, the teenager who is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits based in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter, then adds "Wondering if this snow will stop anytime soon".
The nobleborn knight grunts, then nods. And thankfully for the two teenage recruits he's following. He falls silent.
Hamblin, along with the rest of the first group of recruits. Infact all four groups who have been living and training in Gildin Dale this winter.
Has learnt to just mention the weather, or something else mundane. When speaking with the former paladin.
As that will usually shut him up. As he prefers to talk about himself more than anything else.
Apart from that. It's his rivalry with Dorc da Orc he likes to talk about more than anything else.
Already this morning, Hamblin and Maselle has heard him loudly muttering about the filthy, disgusting ork warleader.
Which is quite apt this morning. Considering the large ork stinks more than usual today.
As the gnawed upon bear he caught yesterday morning. Absolutely reeks as he drags it behind him.
You would think the cold weather would help mask the smell of the rotting carcass.
That has it's guts hanging out of it at the moment. As the ork weaponsmith wanted some of the good belly meat for dinner last night, and again for breakfast this morning.
But the cold weather and the fresh snow hasn't masked the smell of the dead brown bear at all.
It's only highlighted at how disgusting it smells. As the dead bear, whose fur was thick with grease due to it hibernating during the winter.
Absolutely pongs as it's dragged along the ground by the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world.
It's not yet midmorning, and the group of young teenage army recruits, along with their instructors, make their way out of the forest.
And even though there's trees still ahead of them, and there's an occasional wood here and there.
They've essentially made their way out of the forest that covers a large area in the northwest region of the lands Farque.
When they briefly stop, and look back in the direction they've come from.
They see where they've basically come uphill. And see the massive tree covered basin behind them. That goes as far as the eye can see.
Not even general Dorc with his naturally enhanced eyesight. Can see the otherside of the basin.
Which is a vast crater, which was caused by a catastrophic explosion, many thousands of years ago. When something from space crashed in this region of the lands Farque*.
After the brief stop, the teenage recruits who are from the northwest region of the lands Farque.
Continue on their way, as they head west to the coast, and eventually the town of Halmard. Which is near the border with the unruled lands to the north.
As they head across more open countryside. They only go about a quarter of a mile or so.
When Hamblin and Maselle, who are out infront. Share a look as they spot what's up ahead in the distance. Just a hundred yards or so away.
At the rear of the line of march. Where he's about twenty yards behind Garmon who is the last of the recruits.
Dorc da Orc, who has been smelling what's up ahead for most of the morning. Even with the rotting bear carcass he's been dragging behind him.
Who was kind of hoping they were going to avoid what's up ahead, comes to a sudden stop.
"Fuck no!" says Dorc da Orc in a loud voice, that all ten of the teenage recruits, along with his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic hear.
"Fuck that shit!" adds the large ork in a loud voice as he stands there scowling, as he looks ahead at what's not all that far away.
With a laugh, sir Percavellé Lé Dic who has also spotted what's up ahead, in their path, says in a triumphant tone "Oh glorious".
He looks back to where his longtime rival the ork warleader has stopped, and laughs at the scowling ork weaponsmith.
"Told you" dryly says Maselle in the elven language to Hamblin.
The teenage boy who is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits, sighs then mutters "Hell".
Then heads back to speak with general Dorc, before the large ork gets it into his mind, to turn around, and head back the way they've come from, and go all the way back to the forest town of Gildin Dale.
While a chuckling sir Percavellé heads off, making his way forward to what has caused the ork warleader to stop in his tracks.
"General, I'm sure there's a narrow section where you might be able to jump across" says Hamblin to the ork weaponsmith "It doesn't look to be too wide from here" continues the teenage recruit, who then silently adds, i hope.
"Fucken better be" says a highly disgruntled sounding Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, looks down at the young recruit and asks him "Any fucken way around it?".
"I'm afraid not general" says Hamblin, who knows from the maps he's got, there's no way around what's up ahead.
"Krom" mutters the warleader of the ork race, who lets out a sigh, followed by a grunt.
And follows after Hamblin who leads him forward to join the others who have gone ahead.
"There's a ford just up there" says Maselle when Hamblin rejoins her "Even with the snow melt, it's not that deep" adds the teenage girl who continues on with "Barely knee high at it's deepest".
"Cross there" says Hamblin, who then winces as behind them he hears Dorc da Orc say "Fuck that shit in the ear" followed by "It can go fuck itself dead".
What it, the large ork is referring to, is a river. Infact, a tributary of a river, that flows south, from one of many lakes across the north of the lands Farque.
One such lake is the source of the river that runs by the forest town of Gildin Dale.
The river infront of them, isn't particularly wide nor is it particularly deep.
But it's too wide for the ork warleader, and definitely too deep for him. For the simple fact it's a river. And it's got water in it.
As Maselle leads the rest of the group to the nearby ford. Including sir Percavellé Lé Dic who is flapping his arms like a chicken, and saying "Bawk, bawk, bawk" to his bitter rival Dorc da Orc.
Hamblin goes and stands with the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world.
Simply to make sure he doesn't throw anything, like an axe, at the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic.
To distract the ork weaponsmith who is looking bloody murder at the former paladin, who is now calling Dorkindle a chicken, who doesn't want to get his toesy wosies wet.
Hamblin points off to the north and says to the large ork "Up there general" followed by "At the bend in the river".
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks looks that way. And spots one of a number of trees along the riverbank.
The ork weaponsmith grunts, then says "Hmmmmm" followed by "Even me might not jump across if me climb to the top of that cunt tree" looking down at the teenage recruit, Dorkindle tells him "General Dorc is not getting fucken wet".
The ork, who was named warleader of the ork race by lord Farque a number of years ago, blinks in surprise when Hamblin says "I was thinking you could knock it down, and make yourself a bridge to cross".
The large ork is silent for a few moments, then says in a completely clam and rational voice. Something that Hamblin has never heard from general Dorc before "That's a good idea".
Then in his regular, deep, rumbling and growling, not to mention heavily accented voice, the ork weaponsmith says "You smart shit" followed by "Keep comin' up with shit like that, them cunts might make you officer in the army one day".
It's Hamblin's turn to look surprised this time. For though he's the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits. He's never contemplated being an officer in his lord's armies. As all he's ever wanted to be is a ranger. Which he knows he's got a good chance of being one day.
"Er yes sir" says the son of farmers from the village of Polsten.
Who along with the ork general make their way northwards along this side of the river.
While the rest of the recruits in the group. Along with sir Percavellé Lé Dic, ford across the river.
The light snow flurries have stopped, and the cloudy sky is starting to clear away.
And at a bend in the river, which even here is fairly shallow, just four feet at the deepest.
The teenage recruit Hamblin, along with Dorc da Orc. Stand there looking at the tree that's right on the river bank.
Looking up at the tree, then across the river to the otherside, the tall, lean, dark haired thirteen year old from the farming village of Polsten says "I think it will go across to the otherside".
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks grunts, and to him too, it looks like the tree will make it across to the other riverbank.
Then Hamblin backs away, as Dorc da Orc spins around a few times, and flings the rotting bear carcass across the river, to land on the otherside.
The teenage boy, who is from a farming family. Who was kind of hoping that partly eaten brown bear ended up in the river. Because it smells absolutely disgusting.
Watches as the ork warleader tightens up the cargo netting that holds his remaining barrels of wine and ale.
The large ork, who is definitely not throwing that across the river. Puts it down on the ground. Then takes an axe from his weapon harness.
It's a plain looking axe, fairly utilitarian. Definitely not made to be a weapon. But can be used as one if necessary.
Dorkindle chops at the base of the tree a few times, on the outer side, away from the river.
Then after returning the axe to his weapon harness, the ork general grunts "Out the way cunt" to Hamblin.
The teenage army recruit backs out of the way even further. And watches Dorc da Orc back up a few paces himself.
As the rest of the group of recruits, along with sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Have crossed the ford, and are now on the otherside of the river, and are heading up the opposite bank in this direction.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Takes a few quick steps forward, running head first into the tree.
Not hitting it as hard as he could of after closely sniffing it a few times.
The large ork pushes his head against the tree trunk, which he then leans his entire, and rather ample body against the tree. Pushing firmly against it, until there's a loud cracking and splitting sound that comes from the base of the tree, where the ork weaponsmith hacked at it a few times with one of his axes.
The tree continues to creak, and the ork warleader grunts with effort as he shoves.
Dorkindle who knows he could easily knock the tree down with a long run at it, then smacking into it head first.
Has decided to be a bit more circumspect. For he knows he could of damaged it too much. Causing it to break apart.
So he continues to shove at it. Then the large ork hops back out of the way as the tree finally falls forward. Going across the river, to the other bank.
And though some of the branches are beneath the water. The tree trunk itself is barely wet. As it crosses to the otherside, which is about thirty five feet away in this narrow bend in the river.
"I'll cross it first if you like general" says Hamblin the teenage recruit, who continues with "To make sure it's stable".
The young army recruit who is from the farming village of Polsten then adds "I can hack away some of those branches sticking up if you want me too?".
Dorc da Orc grunts that is indeed a good idea. And he waves Hamblin forward onto the downed tree across the river.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks sourly smiles as he sees how nimbly Hamblin goes across the fallen tree.
And even stands there about three quarters of the way across, taking his hatchet from his pack.
Which he uses to chop away some of the branches sticking up on the dry side of the tree trunk.
Only leaving the really thick ones still sticking up. As it will take him a while to chop them off with his small hand axe.
Once on the otherside of the river. Hamblin in the elven language, tells Maselle to keep a watch on sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Too make sure the nobleborn knight doesn't throw anything at his bitter rival when the ork warleader crosses over the river.
The former paladin is already calling out insults to the large ork who is still standing there.
Looking a little dubiously at the tree he's just knocked down. And looking angrily at the river beneath it.
Hamblin minus his heavy pack, crosses back over the tree. And rejoins the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks.
"See sir, fairly easy" says the teenager who is the unofficial leader of the first of the four groups of recruits who have been living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter.
"For fucken you it is" mutters Dorkindle in the ork language, who then grunts when the young recruit tells him "I'm sure it will hold you general".
"Help the general tights this fucker up" says the large ork who has tied the cargo netting with his remaining barrels of wine and ale to the back of his weapon harness.
Hamblin does so, making sure each strap of the harness is secured to the cargo netting that's cinched tight around the barrels.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world grunts when he's satisfied with things. Then Hamblin crosses over the river again. Almost running across the downed tree.
Dorc da Orc not so much. As he gets down onto his hands and knees. And crawls across the tree he knocked down.
All the while muttering to himself in the ork language. Whist ignoring the taunts from sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Who is making it fairly clear he wants the large ork to fall in the river.
Which the ork general almost does, as he crawls around the base of a thick branch. And almost ends up in the water.
The ork weaponsmith angrily hisses at the river beneath him, like he's a giant, green, seven hundred and fifty pound cat.
Before he continues on his way. And gets across his makeshift bridge. And makes it to the otherside. Much to his relief. And much to Percy's disappointment.
After Dorc da Orc, who is breathing rather heavily, gets to his feet, and gathers up the nearby bear carcass he biffed over to this side.
Hamblin the teenage recruit says to them all "Come on" followed by "We've still got a bit of a way to the coast road".
The group of ten young army recruits and two of their instructors continue on their way westwards, heading to the coast, and eventually the town of Halmard . . . . . .

* Author's Note - The crash landing and destruction of the ISS Kalvel 3. The InterStella Ship that brought those who would become the gods. As well as their captain, the original Farque. To the world of Volunell.