To War 35.

Summer. Southern Melaurn.

"Why the fuck we back here?" loudly mutters Dorc da Orc.
"I don't know boss, i mean general" says Teabagger the Goblin Cunt.
"Me not talkin' to you cunt" growls the large ork with a glare down at the goblin commander.
The ork warleader goes back to muttering to himself. This time in his native language.
While next to him, the bright green goblin who commands the battalion of goblins in the armies of Farque.
Takes it in his stride, not upset that his general growls and glares at him as they make their way through the city of Pirtgott.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is more than a little put out that they're back here in Pirtgott.
Firstly, because it's much hotter here in the city than outside of it. It's why the large ork is trying to keep on the shady side of the streets as they follow one of the runners in the first army of Farque.
And second, because they thought they were in the hunt for whoever it is that's causing all the chaos up in the province of Moleau.
Posing as members of the first army of Farque, and attacking various villages and farmhouses throughout southern Moleau.
The ork general grunts as he realises where the young Farqian messenger who he recognises as Furnid is leading them.
They're going to the inn, that the commanders and senior officers in the first army of Farque have taken over, whilst here in the city of Pirtgott.
The only city that's in both the provinces of Corlinda, and it's neighbour to the east, the province of Karricaw.
The ork weaponsmith glances across the street to their left, where he spots a trio of hordes barbarians from the southern tundra.
You occasionally see some of them here in the kingdom of Melaurn. Where they trade their leather goods, and other things they make out on the vast tundra that lies to the east of the kingdom.
The trio of bow legged hordesmen in their riding leathers instantly recognise him for what he is.
And though many on the streets of the city, stop and stare at the large ork, wondering if he's a troll or not.
The three hordesmen definitely know he's an ork. And are more than a little on the alert as he walks by on the otherside of the street from them.
They only relax when he and Teabagger follow the messenger Furnid around the corner onto another street.
While the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world, who as usual was sniffing repeatedly to figure out what's around him.
Is a little disappointed those three barbarian hordesmen didn't have any of that fermented yak milk they make out on the southern tundra.
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name. Wouldn't even take it from them, and actually pay good coin for some of that.
As he's rather fond of the sour tasting liquor, that more often than not, curdles and goes thick in the warmer weather of summer.
The warleader of the ork race scowls and loudly mutters "By Krom, that's a fucken cunt".
As they have to cross the street they're on, and he's hit full in the face by the midmorning sunshine, on what's another warm summer day here in the city of Pirtgott.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, breathes a sigh of relief when they round a corner, and find themselves in a square in this part of the city. Along one side, it's all in shade at this time of the day.
As they walk through the shade, the general in the armies of Farque says "Wonder what them cunts want?".
"Er?" says Teabagger the Goblin Cunt, who then adds "You talking to me boss, er general?".
"Fucken course cunt" says the large ork, who snorts as he adds "You see any other fucken peoples around for me to fucken speaks to?".
The small, bright, one would say lurid green goblin, who hails from the kingdom of Melaurn, doesn't answer that.
For the simple reason his general speaks to a lot of people, all the time. Just that those people aren't there. And from what Teabagger can work out, are in the mind of the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Instead, the commander of the goblin battalion in the armies of Farque answers the large ork's first question, and says "I'm not sure general" followed by "Maybe they've found out something more to do with what's happening up in the province of Moleau".
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grunts in agreement with the small, bright green goblin, as he thinks the same.
Then the two of them, following the young teenage messenger in the scouts and rangers division of the first army of Farque.
Turn onto the street, where the inn they're making their way towards, is at the end of.
They enter the inn, and go through the common room, that's been used as the command station for the first army of Farque whilst here in the kingdom of Melaurn.
The ork general and the goblin commander follow young Furnid down a hallway, to a guarded door.
Which is opened for the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world, and the small, bright green goblin who hails from the province of Sorros, in the north of the kingdom.
Dorkindle grunts in thanks to the young messenger who has brought them here.
Then he ducks down to go through the doorway, and is followed by Teabagger.
The door is closed behind them, and as the large ork stands upright, he looks around and sees that basically the entire group are here in the main room, of one of the suites here in the inn.
To the right of the door, with her back to the wall, is the scout Lisell Maera, who nods in greeting to the ork general and the goblin commander.
While sitting on bench along one of the walls, are Tamric Drubine the field commander, and his lover, Saanea the witch.
On the opposite wall, sitting on another bench, next to the double doors that open up into the inner courtyard of the inn.
Sits Beldane the cleric, and Tovis the war engineer, who are quietly discussing something.
While standing against the wall next to them, is Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy.
Dorc da Orc looks at those sitting at the large table, the four members of lord Farque's personal council who are here with the first army of Farque. There's Mira Reinholt the mage, and Helbe the elven thief.
The ork warleader curls his upper lip in disgust as he can smell Narladene the ground pixie, though he can't see her, on the right shoulder of the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel.
With the two spellcasters at the table, is Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks chuckles as he looks at the halfling, who he'll always think of as being pretendy Zubu.
With the three of them at the table, is the honorary member of lord Farque's personal council, Shur Kee the monk.
Who sits there is silence, as the other three council members quietly discuss something.
Then the ork general glares at the last person in the room. Sitting on a heavy chair in a corner.
It's his bitter rival sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who arrived here this morning on the same airship as Dorc da Orc and Teabagger the Goblin Cunt.
As the former paladin, much to the disgust of the warleader of the ork race.
Has been with him and the goblin battalion up in the province of Moleau.
As they've searched for whoever it is, that's been responsible for attacking villages and farmhouses in the south of that province.
The door to the bedroom opens up, and into the main room of the suite walks lord Farque.
And strapped upon the large, heavily armoured deathlord's back is his family's sword. The Sword of Power Ryn.
The final, and hidden member of the group that travels with the undead warlord.
"Good you're all here" says lord Farque after he enters the main room of the suite, and the others fall silent.
Draugadrottin as he's also known by to the people of his lands, nods his full helm head at Dorc da Orc, then points at the floor beside him.
The ork warleader grunts, and he and the goblin commander make their way across the room.
And sit down on the floor, near where the lord and ruler of the lands Farque is standing.
The ork general scowls as Teabagger quietly says something in the goblin language to the deathlord of Farque.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world keeps quiet as lord Farque replies to the goblin commander in the same language.
Then the son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
Who he killed in a fight during a heated argument. Which was only fair, as she was doing her best to kill him at that time.
Glances sideways, and scowls even more deeply when he catches sight of sir Percavellé Lé Dic sitting on a chair in one of the corners of the room, looking at him in disapproval.
"Fucken cunt knight" mutters Dorc da Orc in his native language.
Who then winces, and grunts when lord Farque says in the same language to him "Behave yourself cunt".
With one last glare directed at his bitter rival, the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
The ork general falls silent, and listens to what the lord and ruler of the lands Farque has to say.
"Tell them what we've found out" says lord Farque to Helbe the elven thief.
The young elven noble who is from the island principality of Laerel, and is the envoy for the armies of Farque.
Stands up from where he's sitting at the table, and tells the others what's been found out recently.
How the one most likely to be responsible for the attacks in the south of the province of Moleau.
Is a certain lord Milson of Mottman Deep. Who along with his forces have been disguised as if they belong to the first army of Farque.
And the attacks they've perpetrated in southern Moleau have been at the behest of lord Gormica of Salmah Forest.
Well, that's what apparently lord Milson wants everyone to believe.
And fortunately or unfortunately depending upon your point of view.
That's what many in the province of Moleau, and elsewhere in the kingdom of Melaurn. In particular the crown and the king in the capital Calinar, have come to believe.
After the highly talented elven magic user has spoken, he sits back down at the table, where he sits between his fellow council members, Mira Reinholt the mage, and Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit.
The undead warlord, who has the elven name of Des'tier, or The Destroyer, is silent for a moment or two, then he says "Lord Gormica has a decision to make" followed by "And fairly soon too".
The lord of the death realm momentarily pauses before he continues on with "If he stops paying us, we'll leave, and he's at the mercy of the crown who no doubt are moving on masse to this part of the kingdom".
Lord Farque follows that with "No doubt he'll be annihilated if he tries to fight against the crown with just his army".
There's nods of agreement from some of the group who have gathered for the first time since the spring, up in the lands Farque.
After another moment of silence, the heavily armoured deathlord says "His other choice is to keep paying us" after a slight pause, Draugadrottin adds "And you know what that means".
"Fucken what?" mutters Dorc da Orc in the totally incomprehensible language of his race.
"War you dumb fuck" says the undead warlord in the same language.
It takes a moment, and the large ork grunts in understanding, as he realises the lord and ruler of the lands Farque is referring to a war against the crown of Melaurn.
Essentially a civil war in the kingdom. On one side the crown and the king, with all of their forces.
And on the other, lord Gormica of Salmah Forest, and his army. Along with the mercenary army and fleet from the lands Farque he's hired.
"You think he'll want to fight against the king?" asks Mira Reinholt the mage, who looks at the deathlord of Farque, then at his fellow spellcaster, Helbe the elven thief.
"Maybe" says Draugadrottin, nodding his head in agreement, Helbe the elven thief adds "He's in two minds about it".
The highly talented elven magic user continues on with "He either faces annihilation, or he can plunge the kingdom into civil war".
"Is there no way at stopping it?" asks Shur Kee the monk, who follows on from that with "What i mean, can we find those responsible for what is happening in Moleau, and have them brought before the crown?".
"That's what we've been trying to do" says the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, after he glances at lord Farque, who nods his full helmed head for him to answer the short, statured monk's question.
"Unfortunately the crown looks like it wants to make an example of lord Gormica" says the elven masterthief, who continues with "The war between Karricaw and Corlinda was fine, just as long as it was contained within the two provinces".
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel then adds "With it expanded up into Moleau, the crown is definitely not happy about that, and will want to put a stop to it".
"Unfortunately, we along with lord Gormica have been made to look like we've expanded the war between the two provinces with the actions of this lord Milson up in Moleau" dryly says lord Farque, who slightly shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders, before he adds "So all we can do is wait for the lord of Salmah Forest to make up his mind".
"How long did you give him?" asks Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit.
It's his fellow council member, prince Helbenthril Raendril who answers with "Until midday today" followed by "So not long".
"If he doesn't make up his fucking  mind" says the undead warlord, who continues on with "Then we're leaving".
They don't have to wait long, as a short while later, there's a knock on the door to the suite.
Lisell Maera the scout opens the door, and takes a sealed envelope from one of the messengers.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, after closing the door, crosses the main room, and hands the envelope to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Dorc da Orc who was just about to doze off, sits upright, and pays attention as the large, heavily armoured deathlord opens the envelope. Takes out the missive inside, unfolds it, and reads it.
There's a few moments of silence, as many of the group all glance at one another.
Then it's the ork warleader, who has known the undead warlord the longest with the exception of The Sword of Power Ryn. Who speaks up, and asks what they're all thinking.
"Well?" asks Dorc da Orc as he looks at the large figure in the blue, black heavy plate armour.
"To war" is the reply of lord Farque as he looks at each and everyone of them in the group . . . . . .