Mercenary Tales 31.

The City Of Vexil. 

It's well before dawn, and in the north of the city of Vexil. There's a bunch of goblins making their way through the streets of the city's northern neighbourhoods. 

Here in this part of the capital city, it's one of the wealthier areas of the city. And the goblins all work for a number of the residences in this part of the city of Vexil. 

They're all off to the morning markets, and the goblins who can navigate the dark city streets thanks to the naturally enhanced eyesight they have. 

So they being sent off to go shopping before dawn is the logical thing to do. Though them returning to their places of work with everything they purchase intact is another thing altogether entirely different. 

As goblins as a general rule tend to be accident prone with the tasks they've been set. Something they and their employers, who ever they are, seem to accept as a part of life. 

The goblins who as they're prone to do when they congregate. Look a motley bunch, and are shoving and pushing one another. 

Trying to determine who is king of the walk to the morning markets. Being the king, of just about anything. Is very important to all goblins. And is the leading cause to so many of their accidents. 

It's also why goblins tend to have relatively short lives. Their natural lifespan isn't particularly good to begin with. It's a miracle if they reach their lifespan of about forty years. 

Most of them are dead by their mid twenties. Due to the leading cause of death to goblins. Accidents, mostly self inflicted. Though accidents caused by other goblins is the second leading cause of death for their kind. 

And as the group they head off through the streets in the north of the city, where it's a cold night before dawn. 

The motley group come to a sudden stop, causing a lot of them to trip over their own feet, as well as each other. 

When a voice to their left, in a lane they're passing says in perfect goblinese "You lot stop there, I need to ask you something". 

Those who didn't fall over, look into the lane. And blink in surprise when they see a large, heavily armoured figure standing there. Obviously human, and not a goblin. 

The others who eventually get up, after a bit of shoving, and a lot of muttering. Also blink in surprise when they see who spoke to them from the mouth of the lane. 

"Which of you lot work for the mage Fendal?" asks the large human, in the full suit of dark plate armour. 

It takes a few moments for an answer, for the simple reason that none of the goblins are accustomed to bring addressed in their own language, by someone who isn't a goblin. 

Eventually one of the goblins raises a hand, and says in his races language "Me boss" he gestures at two more of the goblins, standing beside him, then adds "We do boss". 

Nodding his full helmed head, Lord Farque says in the goblin language "The rest of you carry on your way". 

A chorus of "Yes boss" come from the other goblins, who are only too eager to get going again. For the simple fact it's a hell of lot colder in the mouth of the lane, than on the street itself. 

But more importantly, the large human in the full suit of heavy plate armour. Might speak their language fluently. 

It can't hide the fact that he's a rather ominous looking individual, being so large, standing there in the freezing cold before even predawn. In a suit of dark blue, black plate armour. 

After the ten or so other goblins hurry away, miraculously not tripping over as they rush away in the direction of the morning markets. 

The trio of goblins who remain, and who are more than a little nervous. In fact they're petrified as the large human says to them in their own language "Right, there's some things I need to know". 

Lord Farque briefly pauses as he can tell he's scaring the three goblins to death, figuratively not literally, quietly says to them in the language of the goblin race "There's nothing to worry about, I just want some answers to some questions about your employer the mage Fendal". 

The undead warlord briefly pauses again, before he continues on with "It'll be worth your while too, as I'll pay you". 

The three goblins are suddenly a lot less nervous, when the large heavily armoured deathlord shows them a coin pouch, which he opens and they see contains gold and silver coins. More wealth than they've ever seen before. 

The lord and ruler of the Lands Farque then starts asking them questions, which the trio of goblins who are employed by the mage Fendal are only too pleased to answer. 

Beldane the cleric glances out of the alleyway he's in, and looks around the corner to the right, down to the end of the lane in that direction.There he can see Lord Farque chatting with a trio of goblins in their own language. 

The fighting cleric in the church of Glaine supposes he can read the minds of the goblins. But he forgoes that, and instead waits for the lord of the death realm to return and tell him what he's found out. 

Then the powerful practitioner of magic who hails from the kingdom of Nastell, screws up his face as a rather pungent odour suddenly comes from behind him. 

Then the familiar voice of Dorc da Orc, who is leaning over him, and also looking away to the right, to the end of the lane, mutters to him "Fucken gob-a-lins". 

The powerful cleric just nods in reply to that, then he hears the ork warleader grunt, then step back, and sit back down in the alley. 

Where he takes an unopened bottle from one of his sacks, pops the cork and starts drinking from it. The self satisfying smack of the lips comes from the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who Beldane hears murmur in delight "Ooohhhh sugar booze". 

The fighting cleric nods his head, as he figures it's a molasses alcohol that the ork general is drinking, which he knows is one of the ork weaponsmith's favourite kind of booze. 

Then Beldane the cleric looks back at the ork warleader and quietly says to him "Don't you have an army of goblins of your own?". 

The powerful spellcaster who hails from the north of the kingdom of Nastell, hasn't seen the army in question, as they're part of the Armies of Farque, and based in the Lands Farque. A nation Beldane has never set foot in, as clerics are banned there, with good reason. 

But since joining the group, he's heard often enough that ork general has an army of goblins, a large company to be exact, at his disposal.

In the gloom before predawn, the cleric in the church of Glaine faintly smiles when he sees the large ork scowl at him. 

"Them cunts are Dorc's fucken gob-a-lins" growls Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name "They fucken diff-a-rant than other silly fucken gob-a-lins" adds the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks who has always had difficulty saying words in the common language that have three syllables. 

In fact it's a miracle he speaks common at all, as pretty much all orks can't speak the common language of the world. 

Indeed most orks have difficulty speaking their own language, let alone a completely different one.

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grins as he thinks of his army of goblins. True, most of the original troop of goblins he gathered in the southern kingdom of Melaurn in a war between two fueding nobles are dead. 

Gathered being an optimistic word to describe how he came across them, he basically took them from one of the warring nobles, as he had no force of his own at the time. 

Over the years the goblin army has grown, and are now an official company in the Armies of Farque. A goblin company who are extremely loyal to their ork general. 

"If you say so Dorc" says Beldane with a grin upon his face, as has heard from some of the others in the group that the ork warleader's goblin army, though tend to be accident prone like all goblins are. 

It doesn't stop them being effective soldiers. For the simple fact they're all pretty much crazed berserkers in battle as they take after the large ork who is their general. 

"Dorc fucken say so alright" says the warleader of the ork race, who then chuckles as he continues to think about his army of goblin soldiers. 

Beldane the cleric turns, and looks back out into the lane, and to the right, and he sees lord Farque hand the trio of goblins he's been speaking to a small bag of coins. 

After the trio of goblins hurry away, in the opposite direction they were originally heading. The undead warlord looks back down the lane to the mouth of the alleyway where Beldane is, and nods his full helmed head to join him. 

"Come on Dorc, they've gone" quietly says the fighting cleric to the large ork, who grunts as he gets up off the ground, and follows the powerful practitioner of magic out of the alley and into the lane. Which they head down to join the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque who waits for them. 

"Find out anything?" quietly asks Beldane the cleric as the lord of the death realm leads them out of the lane, and turns right onto the quiet street. 

Lord Farque or Draugodrottin as he is also known by to the people of his lands, nods his full helmed head in reply to the fighting cleric. "I did" quietly says the deathlord of Farque, who then adds "I'll tell you on the way there". 

Then the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to The Destroyer, faintly smiles behind the faceplate of his full helm, and quietly says "That mage Fendal is going to be pissed off he's not getting any fresh fruit and vegetables this morning". 

While Dorkindle makes a face of disgust at the mention of fruits and vegetables, the undead warlord quietly continues with "And that he's lost three of his goblin servants". 

As Draugodrottin convinced rather easily as it turns out. The trio of goblins he spoke with, to leave the employment of the mage Fendal, and find new jobs. 

"It seems he's the most likely one" quietly says the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque, who continues with "Calmond was right, seems this Fendal likes taking bribes if what those goblins told me turns out to be true". "Hell" murmurs the powerful cleric who originally hails from the kingdom of Nastell. 

Lord Farque nods his full helmed head, as they continue through the streets of the neighbourhoods in the north of the city. 

Before dawn, on what's been a cold winter's night in the capitol of the city-state of Vexil . . . . . .