The Thick Of It 21.

Winter.

"Save ten to a dozen of them" quietly says Tamric Drubine the field commander in the elven language, who then adds "Kill the rest".
"Yes field commander" says the captain in the scouts and rangers division as he looks over at enemy survivors of the battle at dawn.
There's about forty of them sitting dejected on the snow covered ground. Guarded by a number of black clad Farqian soldiers.
"Any mercs with this force?" asks the young noble from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who is now a senior officer in the armies of Farque.
"Not a single one" is the reply of the captain in the scouts and rangers division.
"Interesting" murmurs field commander Drubine, who then says "Have those you're going to spare brought into the woods".
The captain nods that he will, and goes and speaks to a couple of his officers who are standing nearby, waiting for orders.
While the senior officer, turns and heads to the woods. At the edge of which, stands his lover, Saanea the witch who is waiting for him.
"Find out anything useful?" quietly asks Saanea the witch as they make their way between the trees.
"A little" replies Tamric Drubine, or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
The field commander who is glad it's a little bit warmer here in the woods. As it's a bitterly cold morning here in this part of the northeast of the city-state of Kuradum.
Then tells his lover the spellcaster from the Maldin Hills "Not a single mercenary with that lot".
"That is a little odd" murmurs the pretty looking witch with the short, dark hair.
As the enemy, those in the forces of the rebellious councilman, Hirrye. Tend to have integrated forces. Where the army loyal to him, serve alongside mercenaries, usually companies. Mostly from outside the city-state of Kuradum.
The lovers, spot a handful of Farqian soldiers up ahead in the woods. They're at the edge of the clearing where the rest of the group are. Along with the trio of enemy officers who were captured during the battle at dawn.
Lord Farque turns and asks "Well?" as Tamric Drubine and Saanea the witch enter the small clearing.
"Having ten or so brought in here" replies the field commander who like the undead warlord is speaking elven.
The large, heavily armoured deathlord then raises an eyebrow when the senior officer in his armies tells him "Did find out something useful though" followed by "That lot didn't have a single mercenary with them".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque turns and looks at Helbe the elven thief, who is sitting on a fallen log.
Next to where the trio of bound prisoners are sitting on the snow covered ground.
The elven magic user looks sharply at the trio of enemy prisoners, then after a moment he slowly nods his hooded head.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel gets up and walks across the clearing to where the deathlord of Farque is standing with field commander Drubine.
"Well, well, well" quietly says Helbe the elven thief.
"What did you miss?" asks the undead being who has the name of Draugadrottin that the people of his lands also know him by.
The elven masterthief sourly smiles at that, then he quietly says "Seems the councilman doesn't entirely trust the mercs he's being hiring".
The highly talented elven magic user follows that with "He's got a number of companies within his force that's local soldiers from the army only".
The member of the royal family that rules the island principality of Laerel then says "This lot we attacked this morning is one of them".
"This why they're all the way up here, away from everyone else, and the action going on elsewhere?" asks the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Whose third army has been hired by the ruling council of Kuradum in their fight against the rebel councilman, Hirrye.
"It is" says the elven master assassin, who then goes onto explain what those specific companies in the army of the so called duke of Kuradum are up to.
Both lord Farque and Tamric Drubine, as well Mira Reinholt the mage and Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit who have walked over.
Listen in silence to what the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel has to say.
After the elven masterthief explains things, the undead warlord turns as he's sensed who has been approaching the clearing.
"Have them stand there in a line" orders the large, heavily armoured deathlord.
"Yes my lord" says the captain of the scouts and rangers company, who has the dozen prisoners line up on one side of the clearing.
With an equal amount of black clad Farqian soldiers standing behind each of them.
"Does it matter which one we take back?" quietly asks Tamric Drubine the field commander.
"Not really" replies the lord of the death realm, next to him, the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel says "They'll be satisfied with anyone of the three to be publicly executed".
Draugadrottin nods his full helmed head, then gives a number of orders to the Farqian soldiers who were already waiting just back amongst the trees.
Two of them come forward, and take hold of two of the bound prisoners sitting on the ground next to the fallen log.
Of the two enemy officers, the junior most one is taken over to the dozen enemy soldiers who are lined up.
While the other, is taken over to stand next to Tovis the war engineer and Zam the ex mercenary.
Both of whom take a hold of him from the black clad Farqian ranger.
"Dorc make an example of him" says lord Farque in the common language, as he nods his full helmed head to where the remaining enemy officer is still sitting on the ground.
The large ork, who is sitting against the base of a nearby tree, grunts then gets up.
"Fucken how?" asks Dorc da Orc also in the common language, that's spoken right around the world of Volunell.
The undead being who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to, The Destroyer.
Says something in orkish to the general in his armies, which causes the ork warleader to chuckle, and say "Get some" in common.
Wincing, Lisell Maera the scout quietly says to Saanea the witch "You probably don't want to watch this".
She turns, and walks back amongst the trees. Following Shur Kee the monk who has a fair idea at what's about to happen.
One glance at the gleeful look upon the broad, green, feral looking face of Dorc da Orc.
Is enough for Saanea the witch to turn, and walk from the clearing, and go back amongst the trees.
All of those in the clearing, and at the edge of it. Watch the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, cross the clearing in just a handful of steps to where the enemy officer is sitting on the snow covered ground.
The officer, who happens to be the commander of the company that was defeated in battle this morning.
Tries to scoot back and away. But he's got no chance when the ork general takes a hold of him with a single hand.
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name. Shoves the enemy officer over, rolling him onto his stomach.
The large ork puts a boot on the middle of his back, not standing on him at all really, as that would instantly break his back and kill him.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks stands on him enough so that he's pinned there, and can't move around.
Taking a weapon from his belt, a wicked looking curved dagger. The ork warleader looks over at Mira Reinholt the mage as he holds up the dagger and says "Hey killer, 'member this?".
Followed by a laugh, that sounds like a deep, rumbling cackle more than anything else.
Rolling his eyes, Mira Reinholt the mage loudly mutters in elven "Hell, it's been twenty years, you'd think he'd let it drop by now".
"Well you shouldn't of did what you fucking did" quietly says lord Farque in a cold tone of voice.
Which causes the once powerful mage to grimace, and fall silent.
While both Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit and Tamric Drubine the field commander to glance sideways at the mage in the black hooded cloak.
They, like most of the group, know what Mira Reinholt did over two decades ago when he betrayed lord Farque and Dorc da Orc during the battle of Vexil.
The city-state in the central region of the Southlands, that is the mage Reinholt's homeland.
And though Dorc da Orc often brings it up. Usually to make fun of the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
And how the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world, and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque exacted their revenge upon the Vexilian mage in exile.
Lord Farque on the other hand, hardly ever mentions it. Probably only handful of times in the more than two decades since it happened.
Just now, is one of the few times the undead warlord has even mentioned it.
The sudden drop in the air temperature on this side of the clearing is testament of what the deathlord of Farque still thinks about it over twenty years later.
They go back to watching what Dorc da Orc is doing on the otherside of the small clearing in the woods.
The warleader of the ork race has stripped the cloak off the prisoner. And is now cutting the cloak up. Making strips out of it.
"Ah shit" mutters Tamric Drubine, who like Mira Reinholt the mage, Helbe the elven thief, and Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit. Has figured out what the large ork is about to do.
So have the Farqian soldiers. Some of whom have been around the ork weaponsmith a number of times, to know what he's capable of.
The ork general's bitter rival, sir Percavelle Lé Dic figures out what the large ork is about to do as well.
When he sees what the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is doing now.
As the large ork starts tying the first of the strips of cloth. This one around the left arm of the prisoner, above the elbow.
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic turns and walks away, loudly muttering about the filthy green demon who is his arch nemesis.
"You might not want to watch this" quietly says Tovis the war engineer to Zam the ex mercenary.
Next to them, Beldane the cleric nods his head in agreement as they watch Dorkindle tie the strips of cloth around the limbs of the prisoner sitting on the ground.
Meanwhile the enemy officer standing in between Tovis and Zam, who at first had confused look on his face as to what's happening to his comrade.
Now has a look of fear on his face as he realises what's about to happen.
"Make them watch" quietly orders lord Farque in the elven language as he looks over at the line of a dozen enemy soldiers, with the other officer who was taken prisoner during the battle.
Some of them have figured out what's about to happen. And they're looking down at the snow covered ground infront of them.
Or up at the clear blue sky, on what's a bitterly cold winters morning in this part of the northeast of the city-state of Kuradum.
The Farqian soldiers behind them grab the back of their necks, and heads, forcing them to watch what's happening on the far side of the clearing.
As Dorc da Orc, who has tied the strips of cloth tightly above the elbows and knees of the prisoner on the ground, who he's propped up into a sitting position.
Then with one clean cut, uses the wicked looking curved dagger to cut off the left arm of the prisoner below the elbow. A cut so clean it goes through both flesh and bone with ease.
Lord Farque quietly says to field commander Drubine "After that fucking psycho finishes up, have the captain send that lot on their way".
The undead warlord who has just nodded his full helmed head at the dozen enemy soldiers, and the junior officer standing with them, then adds "Send them on their way to the town to the southeast of here".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque follows that with "The sooner word spreads of what's happened here, and what we do to those we take prisoner, the better".
As the ork warleader, who is pinching the left shoulder of the prisoner he's cutting apart.
Keeping the man conscious, as the large ork chuckles and holds up the half an arm he's already cut off, which he starts chewing on infront of the prisoner sitting on the ground.
The large, heavily armoured deathlord continues with "We'll take the other one to the capital so the council can publicly hang him".
Tamric Drubine, along with the others nod their heads at that.
As across the clearing, Dorkindle who knows exactly how to stop the blood flow from a human. Well, slow it down enough so they don't bleed out and die on him as he cuts them apart.
Has a thoughtful look upon his broad, green brutish looking face as gnaws upon the prisoners arm. Who is screaming in pain and fear behind the cloth stuffed into his mouth.
The ork general is wondering what he should cut off next. The other arm below the elbow. Or maybe one of the legs, below the knee.
As he quickly chews on the arm he's already cut off. Dorc da Orc grins as he decides on cutting off the prisoner's other arm before he cuts off the man's legs . . . . . .