The General & The Knight 45.

Spring. On The Border.

They're on the border. In the lands Farque. On the brow of the hill. They're flat on the ground. Looking away to the north at the approaching airship.
Dorc da Orc, a general in the armies of Farque glances away to the east. And he licks his lips as he spots a few miles away. In some open ground.
A small herd of giant land tortoises. Ambling across the open terrain, cropping away at the grass.
The massive creatures, some of which are over fifteen feet in length. Are totally oblivious to what's happening a few miles away to the west of them.
The large ork looks to the north again, and grunts as he watches the oncoming twin masted vessel.
The ork warleader then takes one of the sacks that hold his possessions, from his weapon harness. And rummages through it until he finds what he wants.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grunts in satisfaction as he takes it from the sack.
Lying nearby, the bitter rival of general Dorc. The foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Has the exact same idea as the ork weaponsmith.
The former paladin, who brought with him a very small pack for supplies.
Also brought along a large leather satchel fold with him. Similar to a bag of some kind. That opens up when laid out on the ground.
The teenage army recruits of the first group who have gone out on patrol to the north of the border.
Wondered what's inside of it. And wondered why the heavily armoured knight even brought it along with him.
Since he didn't bring much with him on patrol in his pack in the way of food and other necessary supplies.
The leather fold is opened up on the ground. And as he lies there next to it.
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic nods in satisfaction as he takes something from it.
Before he goes back to looking away to the north at the airship approaching the border from that direction.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage army recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
Who have spent the majority of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before heading out west to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard to complete their training.
The recruit Hamblin looks away to his left, when his fellow recruit Maselle nudges him, and nods in that direction.
"Hell" mutters Hamblin the teenage recruit in the elven language as he looks at the ork general Dorc da Orc, and the foreign knight sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
The young army recruit from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Quickly looks away to the north at the oncoming twin masted airship that's approaching the border. Then shares a look with Maselle, who has arched an eyebrow in question. Hamblin just winces in reply to her look.
Then the thirteen year old who is the unofficial leader of the first of four groups of teenagers from across northwestern Farque.
Who have undertaken their basic army training throughout the winter.
Looks to his right, where his fellow recruit Golmard is lying next to him. Who has just muttered in elven "Those two are completely mad". As he too has also glanced to where the ork warleader and the former paladin are. And more importantly what they're holding.
Hamblin who has his bow in his right hand, which he has strung, nods in agreement with Golmard, then quietly says in elven "I can't very well tell them not to".
As he figures when it comes to combat, or battle. The two instructors who have come on patrol with them. Will do whatever the hell they want.
Then Hamblin, along with the rest of the group of teenage army recruits. Look at the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world who is now speaking to them.
"You cunts with bows and shit, shoot as many of them fuckheads as you can" says Dorc da Orc who is taking a long spear from across his back as he lies there on the ground.
The large ork, then starts tying what he took from his sack to the spear, as he continues with "The general will bring that fucker down" as he nods at the approaching airship.
"Speak for yourself you filthy beast" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic as he interrupts his bitter rival the ork warleader.
The nobleborn knight who hails from the kingdom of Druvic, who has no actual rank in the armies of Farque, continues on with "It is i, the great sir Percavellé who shall bring down this vessel full of villainous raiders, wot".
"Shut your yap fuckface" sourly mutters Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name.
The ork weaponsmith makes sure what he's tied to his spear is tight.
Then he gets up to a knee as the airship to the north gets closer to the hill they're on.
Not far from the warleader of the ork race, his bitter rival, the former earl of Lé Dic. Which is his family's fief in the east of his homeland, the kingdom of Druvic. Gets to a knee as well, as he holds what he took from his leather fold in his right hand.
The former paladin as he takes a couple of other things from the leather fold with his left gauntleted hand, and puts them on his belt.
Says to the nine teenage recruits of the first group, who went on patrol north of the border for the final exercise of their training "These ruffians on yonder ship are no match for you".
The heavily armoured knight, who like his bitter rival the ork warleader, doesn't exactly lack confidence in whatever he does, continues with "Remember your training, and you shall do fine, wot".
Dorkindle, who usually couldn't care less what the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic says, grunts in agreement with the member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
Then the son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, tells the teenage army recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque "Kill as many of these fucken cunts as you can".
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world follows that with "General Dorc will kills the rest of 'em dead".
"Pfffttt" says the nobleborn knight in derision, sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, adds "I, the great sir Percavellé shall kill the rest of these so called raiders, wot".
Then the ork general, and the foreign knight as the twin masted airship comes close into the hill.
Get up from where they and the teenage army recruits are on the brow of the hill.
The large ork grunts as he hefts his spear, checking it's weight with what he's tied to it.
While the former paladin glances at what he's holding in his right gauntleted hand.
Then looks at the approaching airship. And guesses at the speed it's coming at towards the north side of the hill.
They don't even realise it, but the bitter rivals glance at one another to see what they're doing.
Then the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. And the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic. Run over the brow of the hill, and head down the north facing side.
Roaring in the case of Dorkindle, and from Percy shouting "Saint Mar-che!".
As they pound down from the top of the hill, the former paladin shouts at his bitter rival "At the bow beast!".
"Me knows cunt!" yells back the ork warleader.
Who roars as arrows and crossbow bolts come flying their way from some of those onboard the twin masted airship.
The large ork pulls his longspear back, then throws it forward and out of his right hand, yelling "Fucken get some!" as he does so.
The ten foot longspear slams into the bow of the former cargo ship, on the forward starboard quarter.
The spear, with the powerful throw from the ork general, smashes through the hull with ease.
And goes into the vessel, where it slams into one of the upright beams below deck, where it goes through it, and is stuck fast.
Trailing out of the hole in the bow section of the hull, is the heavy rope that Dorc da Orc has tied to his longspear. Which it's still tied to, as the spearhead has gone through the internal beam below deck.
And as the airship comes down low towards the north face of the hill. The large ork roars as an arrow bounces off his forehead. And runs down to the length of heavy rope that's almost trailing down to the ground now.
Meanwhile, the ork general's bitter rival. The foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Is swinging what he's got in his right hand.
The heavily armoured knight, has to wait for the raider's vessel to get closer.
As he doesn't have the range, nor the strength of his bitter rival, the warleader of the ork race.
"Narille" mutters Percy as a crossbow bolt clangs off the side of his full helm.
Then as the twin masted airship full of raiders from the unruled lands gets closer to the north face of the hill, that's right on the border of the lands Farque.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic lets fly what he's swinging away in a giant arc with his right gauntleted hand. It's a long chain. On the end of which is a heavy grappling hook.
His bitter rival, Dorc da Orc. Knows both the chain and grappling hook well.
For well over a dozen years ago. The two rivals. Down in the kingdom of Melaurn. Were both hanging onto the chain. Trying to kill one another. As it, and them. Was wrapped around the head of a very irate dragon at the time. Who was trying to kill the both of them at the same time.
"Huzzah!" shouts the former paladin shouts in triumph as the grappling hook goes up and over the side of the twin masted airship.
The hook which has gone up and over the port rail. Has wrapped around the rail, and dug into it.
And by the sounds of things, the three pronged hook has pinned one of the raiders up against the rail as well.
As screams of pain can be heard from upon the deck of the vessel along the port side rail.
Up on the brow of the hill, which is exactly on the border of the lands Farque.
The nine teens of the first group of recruits lie there in total silence at what they're watching down the face of the hill.
Eventually the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits, breaks the silence.
"Huh well fuck me" says Hamblin the teenage recruit who is just as stunned as the other teenage recruits on the brow of the hill.
After a pause of a few moments, the thirteen year old Farqian army recruit continues with "Would you look at that".
As they all look down at what's happening below them along the north face of the hill.
More than a few of the of young teens blink in surprise at what they're watching. Not quite believing what's happening.
They see the ork general, Dorc da Orc. Holding onto the rope that's sticking out of the hull of the airship.
The large ork, who is still on the ground, is jumping up and down as holds onto the rope.
Yelling and hollering in the totally incomprehensible language of the orks, when he's not roaring.
Trying to haul the twin masted airship downwards as he does so.
The ork warleader looks like a giant green demented monkey as he starts swinging from side to side below the airship.
Running along the ground for a bit, then jumping up as he continues to pull down on the rope that's sticking out of the hull on the forward, starboard quarter.
Meanwhile over on the port side of what's definitely a former cargo ship that's been converted by the raiders who are based in the unruled lands to the north of the lands Farque.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic is a quarter of the way up the chain attached to the grappling hook he threw up over the port rail.
The nobleman from the kingdom of the Druvic who is climbing hand over hand up the length of the chain.
Makes an impressive sight as he swings from side to side. In his shining plate armour. With his white cape billowing out behind him.
And like his bitter rival the ork general, Dorc da Orc. The former paladin is also shouting at those onboard the twin masted vessel.
But unlike the warleader of the ork race. The former earl of Lé Dic can be understood.
As he's yelling up at those onboard the vessel to surrender. Or he will have to be forced to kill them all, followed by a "Wot".
Hamblin, after another moment or two as he watches the sheer idiocy from the bitter rivals. Or utter genius from the two. He hasn't figured out which one yet.
Is the first of the teenage recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque to act.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Springs up to his left knee, lifting up his bow as he does so.
Hamblin takes an arrow from his quiver, puts it to the belly of the bow, with the feathered butt, up against the string, which he draws back.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage Farqian army recruits.
Takes a deep breath, then exhales. As he lets out the last of  his breath. Hamblin lets the arrow fly.
The young army recruit from a family of farmers in the village of Polsten in northwestern Farque.
Can recall killing the Aellothos, a type of harpy. That attacked the first group on one of their forest runs during training in the dead of winter.
And how he felt nothing as he killed some of the creatures, primarily with his bow.
He thought it would be different killing a person. But he's surprised there's no difference at all.
As the arrow he just shot off. Slams into the chest of one of the raiders on the bow. With a crossbow, who is trying to take a shot down at general Dorc.
The raider tumbles forward over the rail, and drops to the ground. Hitting not all that far from where the ork warleader is swinging back and forth on his heavy rope that's sticking out of the hull of the twin masted airship.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Bursts out laughing when the raider smashes into the ground not all that far from him.
"Move!" calls out Hamblin in the elven language to his fellow army recruits.
"Spread out!" adds the unofficial leader of the first of four groups of teenagers from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
Who spent most of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before coming out to the coast, to the bordertown of Halmard. To complete their training.
The teenage army recruits get up, and scatter along the brow of the hill.
Those with ranged weapons. Hamblin, along with Jinsa, Maselle and Furnid. Who all have bows. While Marshay has a crossbow.
Start shooting at those onboard the airship. Who are more occupied with the two who are trying to board the twin masted vessel.
Especially considering sir Percavellé Lé Dic is more than halfway up the length of the chain he's climbing.
And he's up against the port side hull of the converted cargo ship. Which is slowing to stop so that it doesn't crash into the hill.
After Hamblin shoots of another arrow, then dashes away to his left. As he sees some of the raiders onboard with ranged weapons.
Are now shooting at the teenage army recruits scattered across the brow of the hill.
Drops to the ground for a moment. And watches what's happening. He can't see the former paladin, sir Percavellé Lé Dic at the moment.
As the raider's airship is coming to a stop and is almost scrapping along the north face of the hill.
And the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic is over on the port side of the twin masted airship.
But he can see ork general, Dorc da Orc on this side, the starboard side of the converted cargo ship.
The large ork is climbing the rope he's holding onto, and because he hasn't got far to go.
The ork warleader is already up to the hole in the forward section of the airship. That his longspear created, and which the rope is sticking out of.
The general in the armies of Farque is attacking the damaged hull with his head and elbows. Making the hole larger so he can get through it.
All the while some of the raiders up at the starboard rail on the bow. Are attacking the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
One of the raiders attacking general Dorc falls back with an arrow through the throat shot from Jinsa's bow.
While Hamblin who gets to a knee, draws back his own bow that he's put an arrow to.
And lets it fly, and hits another raider in the chest. Who is leaning over the rail with a spear. Trying to stab down at the ork warleader.
Hamblin the teenage recruit is up and moving. Not quite believing what's happening at the moment.
If you would of told him at the start of winter when he began his training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
That on the very first day of spring. That he would be running across the top of a hill on the northern border of his lord's lands.
In the midst of a battle with some of his fellow recruits, and two of their instructors against an airship full of raiders from the unruled lands to north of the nation of Farque.
He would think you're totally delusional, and that you're out of your mind.
But here he is, doing exactly that. On the very first day of spring after spending the winter undergoing the basic training for the armies of Farque . . . . . .