The Thick Of It 15.

Winter.

Lisell Maera the scout looks up and watches the falling snow for a few moments.
Two of the moons of Volunell are up at the moment, giving off a bit of moonlight to see by on this cold winters night, here in the south of the city-state of Kuradum.
Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others in the group.
Then goes back to watching the enemy, and their camp they have less than two hundred yards from her position.
It's the frontlines of councilman Hirrye's army. Well, the southern end of it at least.
And in the distance, just over three, quarters of a mile away to the west. Lies the frontlines of the army still loyal to the ruling council of Kuradum, in this part of the city-state.
The attractive young woman originally from the city-state of Brattonbury.
Who is now in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque.
Sourly smiles, then rolls her eyes as she hears someone approaching from behind.
Lis does so again, when she hears someone else. Who like the first, she immediately recognises.
The scout Maera slightly sighs in relief when she hears lord Farque mutter "Would you two be a bit more fucking quiet" followed by "If not, I'll make you fucking quiet forever".
The attractive young woman who grew up in the poorer districts of the city of Brattonbury.
Hears a grunt from Dorc da Orc, and a quiet clearing of the throat from sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
The two of them are definitely more quiet as they along with lord Farque approach the position where Lisell Maera waits.
"They'll be coming around shortly" quietly says the undead warlord in the elven language when he crouches down next to where the scout is kneeling next to a tree.
Lis looks away to the left at the road that comes around the woods from the south.
And she slightly nods when she hears in the distance, someone on the road.
They wait as it continues to snow in the night, then coming into view are a column of soldiers and mercenaries, on their way to the nearby enemy camp this cold, winter's night in this part of the city-state of Kuradum.
"Go" quietly says the large, heavily armoured deathlord in the elven language.
Then as the two of them get up, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque quietly says in the common language "You two, let's go".
Lisell Maera and lord Farque walk out from the trees, they're followed by Dorc da Orc and sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
Further along, others in the group, walk out from the trees.
They too, head towards the road that the column of soldiers and mercenaries are on.
At the front of the column, commander Tracklen along with his adjunctant Morris.
Ignore those they spot away to the right, walk from the woods, and head towards the road.
Where they join the back of the column, where the mercenaries are.
The commander in the army still loyal to the ruling council of Kuradum, shares a look with his adjunctant.
"It's going to work" quietly says commander Tracklen of the loyalist army.
"I sure hope it does sir" is the quiet reply in an unconvincing tone of voice from the adjunctant Morris.
The two of them share a look again as they walk at the front of the column through the falling snow towards the camp that's on either side of the road they're on.
When commander Tracklen and his adjunctant Morris were told of the plan earlier.
They both thought it was completely nuts, and not worth doing. And if Tracklen was still in overall command of the loyalist's campaign.
He'd never give the go ahead for such a plan as the one they're doing this night.
Though as they get closer and closer to the camp, here at the very southern end of the battlelines of the forces of councilman Hirrye.
The local army commander and his adjunctant are thinking that there might be a true bit of genius in what they're attempting.
The senior most officer in the army still loyal to the ruling council of Kuradum, slightly nods when a disembodied voice to the right of him, quietly says "Nothing to worry about" followed by "They'll think you are, who they're expecting".
With a glance at his adjunctant Morris walking beside him, commander Tracklen quietly says "Here we go then".
The junior of the two loyalist officers just nods his head as they approach the sentry guards that are waiting for them on the road.
The army commander, not a religious man at all. Gives a silent prayer to the gods that this works.
Then he gives the order to slow, then halt to the column of soldiers and mercenaries following.
"We were expecting you lot yesterday" says a bored sounding soldier on guard duty on the road.
"Not in the middle of the bloody night" adds the soldier, who definitely sounds like he'd rather be inside his squads tent, and not on guard duty, this cold winters night in this part of the city-state of Kuradum.
"We got stuck in the damn snow away to the south" says commander Tracklen in a conversational tone of voice.
"The wagons got stuck on that damn useless road so many times we left them to catch up" adds the commander in the army still loyal to the ruling council of Kuradum.
"They should be here in the morning is my guess" continues commander Tracklen, who grunts as his adjunctant Morris sourly says "Maybe".
The soldier on guard duty grunts in sympathy, then he nods and gives the responding word in reply to commander Tracklen saying "Oh" followed by the code phrase to signify they're the relief column to join the usurpers army, at the southern end of the frontlines.
"An area has been cleared out for you lot to set up" says the soldier on guard duty this night.
Who calls over another sentry, and tells him "Show them where they're to set up their tents".
"Thanks" says commander Tracklen, who gives a lazy salute back to the enemy soldier who did all the talking.
Who salutes him, before hurrying off the road, to a nearby burning brazier that a couple of other guards are standing around, trying to keep warm on this cold winters night in this part of the city-state of Kuradum.
Commander Tracklen gives the order to the column behind him to resume. And with the sentry guard leading the way. The army commander and his adjunctant, along with two hundred soldiers in the loyalist army. As well as a similar number from the third army of Farque, who are posing as mercenaries.
Enter the camp of councilman Hirrye's forces at the southern end of their lines.
With the snow still falling, commander Tracklen after yawning says "Sure was".
In response to the sentry leading the way, saying "Must of been rough going in this weather".
As he engages in a little bit of small talk with the enemy sentry guard. The commander of the army loyal to the ruling council of Kuradum, wonders how things are faring further back in the column following behind him.
Lisell Maera the scout slightly winces as infront of her, she sees lord Farque grab the left arm of Dorc da Orc, and quietly say to him "Don't cunt".
Followed by something in the guttural, and incomprehensible language of the ork race.
As the large ork who was growling, was about to move out of the column and attack one of the sentry guards they just went by. Who pointed at the ork warleader, and asked if he was a troll.
Lis winces again as she sees the undead warlord squeeze the left arm of the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Who hisses in pain, before muttering something in his native language. It's only then that the large, heavily armoured deathlord let's go of the ork general's arm.
The scout Maera shares a look with Tovis the war engineer who is walking beside her. Who also saw what was happening right infront of them.
The young engineer who hails from the kingdom of Druvic, and is now a captain in the armies of Farque.
Wryly smiles, and just shakes his head as they and rest of the column make their way along the road through the enemy camp.
On this cold winters night in this part of the city-state of Kuradum.
Back at the front of the column, as the adjunctant Morris is talking to the enemy sentry guard, who is leading the way along the road.
And asking him how things have been of late at this end of the frontlines of the war between the two factions fighting over who is to rule the city-state of Kuradum.
Commander Tracklen is just wondering when things are going to kick off.
As he knows when it does, it'll come from further back in the column following him.
The commander of the army still loyal to the ruling council of Kuradum doesn't have to wait too much longer.
For as the sentry guard points up ahead, away to the right. Where there's open ground for them to pitch their tents.
Commander Tracklen hears it from further back in the column. It's easily identifiable, because it's a loud roar that shatters the relative quiet of this cold, snowy winters night in this part of Kuradum.
After hearing lord Farque murmur in the ork language "Now cunt".
Dorc da Orc loudly roars, and with an axe he's carrying in his right hand.
He hurls it at an enemy soldier, who is up late. Standing out the front of his squads tent. Watching who he thinks are new arrivals in the army of councilman Hirrye in the war against the ruling council of Kuradum.
The ork throwing axe, the size of a large battleaxe if a human was wielding it.
Slams into the enemy soldier, who goes flying backwards into the tent he shares with his squad. A tent that basically collapses from the impact.
There's a momentary pause in the night, then all hell breaks loose in this camp at the southern end of the frontlines.
At the front of the column, commander Tracklen rips his sword out of the back of the enemy sentry guard who was leading the way, then he shouts out "Go!".
The soldiers in the army loyal to the ruling council of the city-state of Kuradum.
Run off the sides of the road, into the enemy camp, and enter the tents where they start butchering the sleeping enemy.
Commander Tracklen and his adjunctant Morris both had reservations of basically murdering the enemy soldiers as this plan entails.
But the both of them, along with the two hundred soldiers from their army they've brought along with them this night, have no qualms of doing what's needed to be done.
And while most of the loyalist run into the east side of the enemy camp to wreck havoc.
The two hundred or so following Farqian soldiers of that nation's third army.
Head into the otherside of the enemy camp, the west side of the camp.
And while some start slaughtering the sleeping enemy, and those waking up, wondering what's going on this night.
The majority of the black clad soldier from the lands Farque fighting on the side of the loyalist army.
Head straight for the enemy frontlines, which here at the very southern end of the lines.
Are a series of trenches that the enemy have dug, where even at night they keep manned.
Though on such a cold winters night like tonight, where it's snowing. And visibility is poor. And the chances of attack from the loyalist battlelines, three quarters of a mile away to the west, is slight at best.
There isn't too many soldiers in councilman Hirrye's forces in the trenches this night.
And as they're wondering what's going on in their camp behind them.
A wave of black clad soldiers sweeps into the trenches before they know what's happening, on this cold winters night in this part of the city-state of Kuradum . . . . . .