Winter.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic hops down into a trench, following behind lord Farque. The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic is just glad his bitter rival Dorc da Orc is infront of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Not them you dumb cunt" says lord Farque from infront of the large, heavily armoured knight.
"They're on our fucking side" dryly adds the undead warlo rd.
Which causes the large ork to grunt in disappointment. And the former paladin in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che to chuckle.
"Stupid beast" loudly mutters sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who then scowls as infront of him, lord Farque without looking back at him, says "Shut up Percy".
The large, heavily armoured deathlord then adds "And don't deny you were thinking the exact same thing, and attacking those loyalist soldiers".
The nobleman from the southeast of the kingdom of Druvic, who was the former earl of his family's fief.
Scowls even more, for he was thinking exactly that when he saw the soldiers up ahead in the trench.
Who are soldiers in the army loyal to the ruling council of the city-state of Kuradum. Who have broken through the enemy lines, and have taken this position.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by the others in the group much to his chagrin.
Looks back at some of the others in the group who are following him.
Right behind him is Tamric Drubine the field commander, followed by Tovis the war engineer.
Then there's the councilors, Mira Reinholt the mage and Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit.
Behind them is Saanea the witch, and the newest member of the group, Zam the ex mercenary.
While at the rear, is the most enigmatic member of the group. And the person the nobleborn knight likes to keep his distance from, Shur Kee the monk.
Meanwhile Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy, and Lisell Maera the scout, have gone ahead.
Infact Percy spots them up and out of the trench, running to the next one along, which has been taken by the forces loyal to the ruling council of the city-state of Kuradum.
As for Helbe the elven thief and Beldane the cleric. The former earl of Lé Dic hasn't seen them since they were on the warship that brought them here.
That's fine with large, heavily armoured knight. For in his opinion, the less spellcasters he's around the better.
Being around Mira Reinholt the mage and Saanea the witch is bad enough. Not to mention whatever ungodly powers Shur Kee the monk possess.
The member of the order of Saint Mar-che just wishes one of them, or even better. All three of them were elsewhere this cold winter's morning.
As the battle along the southern end of the frontlines in the east of the city-state of Kuradum continues.
Loyalist soldiers are quick to get out of the way when they have a seven and a half foot tall, more than seven hundred pound ork bearing down on them as the group make their way through the trench.
They get to the end of the trench, and Dorc da Orc grunts, and ducks and moves to one side, when lord Farque tells him "Move that fat fucking head of yours out of the way Dorc".
Percy sniggers hearing that, and grins when the lord and ruler of the lands doesn't admonish him for doing so.
Looking ahead to where he sees Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy pointing to, from the next trench along.
The lord of the death realm mutters something in a language the former paladin doesn't understand.
Then Draugadrottin as he's also known by to the people of his lands, looks back and says "Mira over there, hit it".
But before the once powerful mage can even do anything, the large, heavily armoured deathlord says "Never mind, Beldane is dealing to it".
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic looks to where lord Farque pointed. Just as he does, that area, where the enemy are rushing the trenches.
Erupts in a bright while white light that has shot down from out of the clear blue morning sky.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic can't help but wince as he watches the silent explosion.
The former paladin can feel the power of the explosion through the ground, and the air.
Which is more than a little odd as he can't hear the explosion that has sent bodies and debris, and snow covered ground flying in all directions.
"That is more than a little uncanny, wot" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic with a disapproving shake of his full helmed head.
The former earl of Lé Dic is glad that Beldane is a churchman of some repute.
Though he's not particularly fond that Beldane is a spellcasting cleric. Who in his opinion, is in the wrong church, and worships the wrong god.
Percy is of the opinion that only the god Narille should be worshiped. The god worshiped in his knightly order, the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
Those of the enemy who miraculously survived the silent explosion. Or who were just outside it's blast radius.
Flee back in the direction they came from. As they take fire from loyalist archers and crossbowmen.
"Dorc, next trench" orders the undead warlord, the ork warleader grunts and basically steps up and out of the end of the trench.
One by one the rest of the group follow him, they dash across the snow covered ground to the next trench that has been taken by the forces loyal to the ruling council of the city-state of Kuradum.
They stop in a clear space in the next trench along, where Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy and Lisell Maera the scout are waiting for them.
"Think they'll make a concentrated effort to counterattack?" asks Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy.
"Or will they keep making small pushes like that last one?" adds the spy who hails from the elven principality of Alínlae.
"Not entirely sure" answers Tamric Drubine the field commander.
"Think they'll just keep making those small pushes, and not a full on counterattack" adds the young noble who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
"I agree" says lord Farque, who glances to one side, then asks "What say you Dorc?".
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic sneers in derision as he looks over at his bitter rival, the ork warleader who is a general in the armies of Farque.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grunts as he looks across the open ground to the positions the enemy have fallen back to.
After the attack this morning by the forces loyal to ruling council of Kuradum.
Here at the southern end of the frontlines in the east of the city-state that's at war with itself.
"Nah yeah" says Dorc da Orc, who continues with "Them cunts not gonna fucken attack back big time".
The large ork as he looks out over the top of the trench, points as he adds "They not even er, orgy-nise".
The ork weaponsmith chuckles at that, while lord Farque shakes his full helmed head, then dryly says "Organized".
While sir Percavelle Lé Dic looks at his bitter rival in disgust. Wanting nothing more than to punch the warleader of the ork race in the mouth.
"Yeah that" says the ork who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
Who he killed during a brutal fight between the two of them. Which was only fair as she was doing her best to kill him.
They look to where the enemy have retreated at this end of the battlelines.
About a quarter mile from the abandoned village that's now behind the forces loyal to the ruling council of the city-state of Kuradum.
After looking at the enemy position for a few moments, lord Farque looks around then says "Where's that Tracklen?".
"Bit further to our right" replies Lisell Maera the scout, who continues with "In the next trench along".
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head, then waves over a couple of loyalist soldiers who are close by.
"Orders for commander Tracklen" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"I want him to have your forces to attack there, there, and there" adds Draugadrottin who continues with "In unison".
The large, heavily armoured deathlord tells the pair of loyalist soldiers to repeat that, and to point out where he wanted the loyalist forces to attack the enemy.
Once they do, and he sends them on their way to the next trench along where commander Tracklen is with his adjunctant Morris, and about fifty other soldiers under their command.
As word spreads of the orders given for the next attack upon the rebel positions.
Mira Reinholt the mage asks the lord of the death realm "Where's the royal thief?".
Nodding his full helmed head in the direction of the enemy, the undead warlord says "Over there".
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic who was just wondering where the elven masterthief was.
Is glad the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel is over there amongst the enemy, and not here with them.
"He and his wicked ways can stay over there" loudly mutters the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic.
Who then slightly winces in embarrassment as he wasn't meant to say that out loud.
Something he does quite often without knowing he's doing so. Something he's been trying to curtail for years. But absolutely failing at.
The large, heavily armoured knight clears his throat as lord Farque glances down at him.
Then the deathlord of Farque says "We are". In reply to Tamric Drubine the field commander asking him "We going to attack?".
"Fucken where?" asks Dorc da Orc who is suddenly now more interested in what they're doing.
"There" replies the lord and ruler of the lands Farque as he points across to the enemy.
"Between that trench and that small stand of trees" adds the undead being who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer.
While Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit mutters "Where the fuck is that?" followed by "I can't see shit".
And the mage Reinholt saying to his fellow council member "You want me to lift you up, so that you can see?".
And the halfling who hails from the Sultanate of Dreese, which lies on the far east coast of the continent telling him "Get stuffed".
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic, who is the former earl of Lé Dic in that particular nation.
Looks to where the large, heavily armoured deathlord has pointed out where they're going to attack.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic or Percy as the others tend to call him. With the exception of Dorc da Orc, who calls him every vile name imaginable, and often.
Nods his full helmed head in understanding in the tactics from the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
True, Percy often has a narrow vision of life that's going on around him. Especially during battle, as he often doesn't care about the actual situation around him.
But sometimes, like now. Where he has the time to look around. And work out what's happening.
Especially the tactics and plans put into place by someone like lord Farque.
The former paladin in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che, can actually work out what's happening.
The large, heavily armoured knight who isn't particularly enamoured with the idea of running across nearly a hundred yards of open ground to attack the enemy.
Looks away to their right, when Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy says "Looks like commander Tracklen is going to give the order to attack".
"When they all go, we go" says lord Farque, who then looks at sir Percavelle Lé Dic, then Dorc da Orc, and tells them "You two stay close to me".
Then from the next trench over to their right, the voice of commander Tracklen can be heard shouting "Attack!".
From the trenches along this end of the battlelines, those loyalist soldiers who arrived here by Farqian warship this morning. And who have so far survived this morning's battle.
Get up and out of the front of the trenches, and start rushing towards the enemy positions.
"Go!" orders lord Farque, and they make their way up and out of the front of the trench they're in, and start heading across the snow covered open ground towards the enemy.
Though the undead warlord carries Jarjin Littlefoot up and out of the trench, before putting the hobbit former air sailor back on the ground.
As he starts running towards the enemy position, sir Percavelle Lé Dic says to himself "Come on Percy lad, let's get these foul villains". The nobleborn knight continues with "Let's get some".
Not realising he's saying exactly the same thing as his bitter rival Dorc da Orc who is running on the otherside of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
As the warleader of the ork race, who is a general in the armies of Farque, has just shouted out "Fucken get some" . . . . . .
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