The General & The Knight 48.

Spring. The Border.

Roaring as he runs up onto the deck, Dorc da Orc then shouts "Fucken get some!".
As he grabs one of the raiders, and throws him back the way he came from.
The man goes flying nearly twenty feet backwards, and slams into the foremast with a thud, clearly snapping his spine.
The raiders who have rushed the ork warleader suddenly back away, as they see what they're actually up against now that he's up on the deck.
The large ork, and he is large. Is a sight to behold since he's seven and a half foot tall, and weighs around seven hundred and fifty pounds.
The ork warleader who is bristling with weapons. Has a look in his eyes, that can be described in many ways.
Demented, crazed, unhinged to name just a few.
But, just plain fucking crazy is the best way to describe what one sees in the eyes of the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Who is hell bent on killing anyone dumb enough to get in his way.
One of the raiders on the deck of the twin masted airship is dumb enough.
As he runs at the ork weaponsmith from the side, swinging a spar at the large ork.
The length of wood slams into the right arm of the ork general. Wood shatters everywhere when it does.
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name. Barely felt that, and he grunts as he looks down at the raider who just hit him.
The ork weaponsmith really isn't fast, but he is deceptively quick for someone his size. Who one would expect to move much slower than he actually can.
The warleader of the ork race quickly and easily grabs the raider in the sudden lull of activity on the deck, on the forward half of the raider's vessel.
Dorkindle doesn't kill the man, nor does he actually maim him in anyway, yet.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world instead just tips the man upside down.
Taking a hold of him by the right leg, as he screams for help, while trying to swing punches at the large ork who holds him upside down.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grins as he looks around at the raiders on the forward half of the deck.
Who have backed away, and are watching him. Most if not all of whom, don't exactly know what he is.
Dorc da Orc holds the screaming raider up high, so that the man's face is level with the broad, green, feral looking face of the ork warleader.
Then as he looks at some the raiders directly infront of him. And with the grin still upon his face.
Dorkindle bites the raider he's holding upside down. Bites his face, easily tearing off half of his face, along the left cheek bone, nose, and a fair bit of his jaw.
The raider is still alive, and his screams prove it. Though it's a bloody, whistling sounding scream.
While the ork general in the armies of Farque stands there on the bow of the twin masted airship.
Chewing away on what's in his mouth, all the while still grinning as he continues to look at those raiders opposite him.
There's a momentary pause, a silence from those on the bow, and the forward half of the deck after seeing what's just happened.
Then Dorc da Orc bursts into howling laughter after he swallows the face meat he's just bitten off.
The silence along the front half of the deck is shattered by that howling laughter.
And it's a sign, a call to action if you like. That sets the raiders on this half of the airship into motion again.
A lot of them jump overboard, over both the port and starboard side rails.
Not caring how far it is to the ground, the further back from the bow you get.
They just know they don't want to face the large green, demented looking creature that's just bitten off half the face of a fellow raider, then eaten it.
Others shout and yell at others, to move and to get out of the way.
So that those with bows and crossbows can shoot the large ork.
Who still has an arrow sticking up out of his right shoulder, that he hasn't yet bothered to pull out.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks doesn't even feel it his thick muscular shoulder.
Dorkindle just roars, then starts swinging the raider he's still holding by the leg.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Swings the raider he's holding, round and round, above his head.
As he rushes forward towards those raiders directly infront of him.
Many of whom, are backing away. Trying to make room for those with bows and crossbows.
"Fucken get some!" shouts Dorc da Orc as he rushes forward.
The large ork sees the head of archer drawing a bead on him to the right, shatter apart when an arrow hits the back of the skull.
While out of the corner of his eye, he sees a raider with a crossbow, stagger away, then fall backwards over the starboard rail, clutching at his throat and neck, that has an arrow through it.
As he moves forward, swinging the raider with half a face, around and around above his head.
The ork general in the armies knows that the teenage recruits in the first group 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 heading out to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard, to complete their training.
Are still fighting, as they're on the ground around the twin masted airship.
That's stopped, and put down upon a hill, right on the northern border of the lands Farque.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the converted cargo ship from the unruled lands to the north of the nation of Farque.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic who has run up onto the aft deck from below.
Dodges to one side, and shoves his pick into the face of one of the raiders who have rushed him.
And slams his hand axe, which is in his right gauntleted hand down onto the top of the head.
Of another of the raiders, who the heavily armoured knight has just dropped with a kick to the groin.
No ordinary kick, as the former paladin wears steel boots. That have a long pointed end.
Behind the faceplate of his full helm, there's a sour looking smile upon the face of sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who says in a tone to match his smile "By Narille and Saint Mar-che himself, one of you do us all a favour, and silence that big, green, filthy beast" followed by a "Wot".
As he can hear his bitter rival, the ork warleader Dorc da Orc.
Somewhere further forward along the deck of the twin masted airship, near the bow by the sounds of it, roaring, and shouting something.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic quickly looks in that direction.
And the member of the order of The Knights of Saint Mar-che rolls his eyes at what he catches sight of.
His bitter rival forward of the foremast, swinging one of the raiders like a club amongst some of the others who are too slow to get out of his way.
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic. Looks away from that. As he's got a lot to deal with himself.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Turns and heads aft, and makes a beeline for the ship's wheel, here on the aft deck of the raiders vessel, which is a converted cargo ship.
The heavily armoured knight, who along with his bitter rival, the ork general, Dorc da Orc.
Who have been two of the instructors of the teenage army recruits from across northwestern Farque.
Who spent most of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before heading out to the coast at the end of the winter, to the bordertown of Halmard with the first group of Farqian teenagers.
Throws his hand axe, which takes another of the raiders infront of the wheel, directly in the face.
The former paladin takes another hand axe from his belt, while shoving his pick into the leg of another of the raiders.
Percy elbows that man away, then after a sword clangs off his heavy armour.
The member of the order of The Knights of Saint Mar-che, spins to his left.
And rams his hand axe into the face of the raider with the sword who just hit him.
"Take that you treacherous villain" as he splits the man's head in two.
"And you as well, you dastardly coward" adds the heavily armoured knight as he swings the pick up, so it slams up under the chin of another of the raiders.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic staggers forward when he gets hit in the back by something.
Not that he could actually feel it, considering he has the shield of Saint Mar-che strapped to his back.
The former earl of Lé Dic, swings the hand axe behind him, and clips the side of the head of the raider who just hit him with a club.
As that raider drops to the deck with the side of his skull caved in. The nobleborn knight rushes the raiders who are around the wheel.
"Narille!" shouts sir Percavellé Lé Dic as he runs into the raiders, who are the crew on the aft deck, including the captain of the twin masted airship.
Back on the foredeck of the converted cargo vessel. Dorc da Orc continues to swing the raider he's still holding.
The man's head has disappeared, turned to pulp, then gone, after the large ork uses him repeatedly like a club to bludgeon the other raiders.
As a raider rushing up behind the ork warleader, drops to his knees, screaming with an arrow in the small of his back.
Dorkindle swings the headless body, knocking a pair of the raiders overboard, who are trying to scramble over the starboard side rail.
An arrow thuds into the left arm of the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Who yanks it out with barely a grunt as he looks around. As he continues to hold the headless raider by a leg.
The ork general in the armies of Farque, who is ambidextrous like all orks, takes a throwing hammer from the front of his weapon harness. And biffs it towards a midships.
The throwing hammer of an ork. Is the size of a heavy warhammer used by anyone else.
It slams into a pair of raiders, one of whom is reloading a crossbow.
Those two men smash into the deck. As the warleader of the ork race moves ahead. Going around the foremast, and into a midships.
Behind him, just where he was standing. A raider slams down onto the deck after falling from the top of the mast with an arrow through his side.
Another arrow hits the large ork, who throws the headless body away to his right. Hitting the archer who just shot him.
That raider, along with the headless body, go flying over the port rail. While the ork weaponsmith looks to aft along the deck of the twin masted airship.
"Hmmmmm" murmurs Dorc da Orc as he takes a throwing axe, and a throwing hammer from the front of his weapon harness.
A crossbow bolt bounces off the black plate of natural dragon armour the large ork wears over his chest, and rather ample stomach.
A spear falls to the deck right infront of Dorkindle after it hits him in the forehead, causing him to frown as it briefly breaks his concentration as he looks to aft.
Then the ork from the wolf tribe, who was named warleader of his race a number of years ago by lord Farque.
After he sees out of the corner of his right eye. One of the raiders deciding to jump off the port side rail.
Tumble off the port rail with a crossbow bolt in the middle of his chest.
Sees what's happening on the aft deck of the twin masted vessel, then yells out "Up!" followed by "Up ya stupid fucken knight cunt!".
"I'm trying you big, stinking oaf" mutters sir Percavellé Lé Dic when he hears his bitter rival Dorc da Orc yell at him from somewhere forward along the deck.
The heavily armoured knight ducks his head to one side as one of the raiders stabs a sword towards his faceplate.
The former paladin, who is both a landed and a ordered knight, who hails from the kingdom of Druvic.
Kicks out with his right boot, taking the raider with the sword in the guts.
As the man doubles over in pain after taking a kick from a steel pointed boot to the stomach.
The nobleborn knight slams his pick into the top of that raider's head.
Percy, who quickly assessed that most of these so called raiders don't actually know how to fight.
Especially the crew of the twin masted vessel, that's a converted cargo vessel.
Stomps on the outstretched hand of the ship's captain, who is on the deck just to his right, reaching out for either the former earl of Lé Dic, or the ship's wheel.
Which is what the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic takes a hold of.
He instantly lets it go, as his head snaps back, when an arrow hits him flush in his helm.
The shaft doesn't penetrate the full headed helm. Which is the thickest and heaviest of the steel plate of Percy's suit of armour.
But it's enough to rattle the former paladin, and make him shake his head to clear it.
"By jingo's" mutters the nobleborn knight, who follows that with "That's not very sporting, wot".
As he looks along the deck, and sees a raider with a bow, putting another arrow to his weapon. And drawing it back, to shoot at the heavily armoured knight again.
That raider before he gets to let that arrow fly. Drops his bow, and drops to his knees.
Clutching at the side of his neck, that has an arrow in it.
As that raider topples over onto his side, with blood flowing from his mouth, sir Percavellé Lé Dic shouts "That's what you get fella, for playing with such a silly thing!".
The former earl of Lé Dic is a knight to the core, and disdains ranged weapons like bows, crossbows and spears.
That doesn't mean he doesn't know how to use them. Infact he's more than quite capable with such weapons.
But in his opinion, and the opinion of most knights, especially ordered knights, those who belong to an order.
If you want to attack someone at a distance, you throw something at them.
Which is exactly what the former paladin does. Who biffs the hand axe he's holding, at one of the raiders who rushes back this way.
That man drops to the deck with the hand axe in his chest.
Then the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic grabs the ship's wheel, and pulls back on it.
The heavily armoured knight doesn't know a lot about flying airships.
But what he does know, is that if you push forward on the wheel, it will go downwards.
And if you pull back on it, an airship will go upwards.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic continues to pull back on the ship's wheel on it's plinth.
And though the twin masted vessel hasn't got the correct sail and line setting for lifting off.
And one of the land anchors was thrown overboard, when it came to a stop on the hill, that's right on the northern border of the lands Farque.
The former cargo vessel starts to creak and groan, then slowly move, as it begins to float upwards.
Dorc da Orc chuckles as he feels the airship starting to move, the large ork then says "The fucken fop did it".
The ork warleader has no idea what fop means. But he's heard some of the others in the group describe sir Percavellé Lé Dic with that word. And it hasn't been in a complimentary manner. So he assumes it's a swear word in the common language.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world who is in a midships.
Looks to aft, and sees his bitter rival, the foreign knight, on the aft deck, fighting some of the crew and raiders.
Who are trying to take back control of the ship's wheel.
The ork general backhands a raider out of the way, snapping the man's neck, and smashing in the side of the raider's skull.
And grunts as heads back along the deck of the raider's twin masted airship.
Heading to the aft deck, and the wheel. Where Dorc da Orc's bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic is.
There's a wide, not to mention bloody grin on the broad, green, brutish looking face of the large ork as he heads aft.
As the airship starts to slowly rise up off the ground, on what's the very first day of spring, here on the northern border of the nation of Farque . . . . . .