Mercenary Tales 67.

Vexil. 

They left the town of Galsom Crossing and entered the city of Vexil well before dawn on what turns out to be another cold winter's morning. 

Not that either one of them cares about how cold it is. As one doesn't feel how hot or cold it ever is. 

And to the other, this winter here in the city of Vexil, is warmer than the summers where he's originally from. 

The two of them after entering the city, made their way up through the quiet streets in the southern quarter of the capital of the city-state. 

More or less heading westwards, taking their time as they do so. As they're not in a rush at all. Even though they hope to execute a plan of theirs later on during the day. 

They even stop off at a bakery, as most of the city's bakeries start the day well before dawn too. One of them was extremely pleased that they stopped, as this particular bakery is known for it's pies. Both the savoury kind, and the sweet. 

After he purchased a rather large box of pies, they continued on their way. Always heading northwest through the streets of the city of Vexil. 

It's after dawn, and in the early morning they come to another stop. This time in an empty lane in a predominantly residential part of the city. 

And one of them glances upwards, before grabbing the other by the arm. Then leaping up to the roof of four storey building to their right .

A leap that would be unbelievable to the eyes of someone if they had been seen. 

Watch it cunt, me pies! Dorc da Orc almost growls before he realizes who he's with. The large ork glances sideways at Lord Farque, who has already let him go once they're on the rooftop of a four storey building, here in the west of the city of Vexil. 

The ork warleader quickly glances at his pies, and grunts in satisfaction that none fell out of the large box. Not that there's many left, since he's been scoffing them ever since they left the bakery they stopped at a little earlier. 

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of world takes a pie from the box, and sniffs it. He definitely smells fruit encased in the pastry. 

And though Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, wouldn't ordinarily eat fruit of any kind. 

But since the pie is sweet, and warm. He shoves it whole into his mouth, and chews and chomps it with delight. As he like all of ork kind, has a sweet tooth to say the least. Even though they normally abhor fruit of any kind, and that goes for vegetables too. 

Leaving the ork general in his armies to the remainder of the pies he purchased a little earlier from a bakery they stopped at. 

Lord Farque looks away to the east, here in the city of Vexil. The large heavily armoured deathlord looks more or less to the city center, though on this side, the west side of the middle of the city, that though isn't the largest city in the Southlands. That honour belongs to the city of Brattonbury. 

It's pretty much the second largest city found in the Southlands, and it also has the largest population of any city in the Southlands. 

The undead warlord slightly nods his full helmed head as he senses eastwards, and finds those he's been looking for. 

"Looks like they're getting an early start" Lord Farque murmurs to himself in the ancient language of command. 

A language that only he and the sword strapped across his back, understands. Out of all the beings, here in the city of Vexil at this time. 

The lord and ruler of the Lands Farque glances to his right when Dorc da Orc steps forward to stand beside him, and the large ork asks him "What we fucken looking at?". 

"There cunt" replies the lord of the death realm, who like Dorkindle speaks orkish, as they tend to do when they're alone. 

"There, there and there" adds the undead warlord, who has the name of Draugodrottin that the people of his lands also know him by. 

The ork who was named warleader of his race by Lord Farque a number of years ago. Grunts as he looks at the large structures in the distance. 

Some of the largest, possibly the largest buildings and structures to be found in the city of Vexil. They're some of the main churches and temples here in the capital of the city-state of Vexil. Only parts of the Mage College has any structures that are larger, with the exception of the city's main airdocks and the Mage Tower in the city center. 

The weaponsmith, who hails from the wolf tribe of orks grunts again a few moments later, when he remembers what they're actually doing here in the city of Vexil on this cold winter's morning. 

"He fucken there?" asks the large ork who is a general in the Armies of Farque, the lord and ruler of that particular nation, nods his full helmed yes, then says "He is". 

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grunts again, then he sits down as the two of them wait. 

A little later in the morning, as Draugodrottin or Des'tier which is his elven name, which translates as The Destroyer. 

Looks eastwards towards the city center, nods his full helmed head once again, then murmurs "Finally". 

Then the undead warlord with his right boot, nudges Dorc da Orc in the side. The large ork who is lying on the roof, snoring. Grunts and wakes up when he feels the steel boot of the deathlord of Farque in his side. 

"Huh?" says the ork warleader, who follows that with "What?" as he rolls over, squashing the empty box that was next to him. 

"Me pies!" blurts out the big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world in a tone of panic. 

Which earns a roll of the eyes from the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque, who then says in a dry tone of voice "You ate them all you fat fuck". 

Dorkindle mutters "Dorc not fat" before he gets to his feet and looks around, before looking eastwards, the direction the large heavily armoured deathlord is looking. 

"He's moving" says the  deathlord of Farque who follows that with "They're with him" he continues with "There's a trio of clerics with them too". 

The lord of the death realm explains what's happening. And the ork weaponsmith, who normally forgets a lot of  what's told to him. He retains most of the information Draugodrottin tells him. 

"There's groups of them moving out" says the deathlord of Farque, who continues on from that with "He and that lot with him are heading that way". 

The large ork looks to the south where the undead warlord has pointed, hoping to see those they have plans for. 

But for now, he can't see them. And just grunts when Lord Farque tells him "Guess they'll be searching in that part of the city for me at first". 

Des'tier then tells the ork who is a general in his armies "Others are coming this way". The large heavily armoured deathlord points to a building about three hundred yards away to the east of them. 

And as an airship passes over that part of the city heading for the nearest airdocks, a half dozen people suddenly appear on the roof of the building the undead warlord just pointed to. They're a mix of priests, priestesses and clerics. 

"He'll eventually lead that lot with him our way" says the lord and ruler of the Lands Farque, who then adds "But first we'll deal with that lot heading this way". Des'tier then tells the ork warleader "Come on cunt". 

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grunts and follows after the deathlord of Farque who nods for him to follow..

"Remember, you're dead" says Draugodrottin, who continues with "Well they think you are". Which garners a chuckle from the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks. 

"Get in" says the undead warlord who points to a hole in the roof he smashed in when the large ork was taking a nap. 

"And stay out of fucking sight" adds the lord of the death realm after the ork general hops down through the hole, and ends up in an empty room of the large residential building. 

Des'tier who figures he'll be sensed sooner or later, probably sooner. As he knows one of the two clerics in the group who are nearby. Is powerful enough to sense him. 

Tells the large ork who is the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks "Kill any of them who drop or fall down in there with you". 

Dorc da Orc chuckles at the prospect of that, then he steps back and away from the hole in the roof above him. 

The warleader of the ork race then waits, he doesn't have to wait long. As he hears with his naturally enhanced hearing, Lord Farque say in a normal conversational tone of voice "Here comes that first fucking lot" followed by "They've spotted me". 

Dorkindle grunts as he remembers something, then he says "Hey Farque". "What?" is the reply from the undead warlord up on the roof. 

"When he brings that fucken bunch who caughts Dorc" says the large ork, who continues on with "Save that one cunt for me" followed by "You know, the fucken one me told you about" the ork weaponsmith then silently adds, that cuntbag who chopped Dorc's arm off. 

"Fine" is the reply from Draugodrottin up on the roof, who after a brief pause adds "Now fuck up" quickly followed by "This lot are teleporting here". 

The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grunts, then he waits. He doesn't have to wait long, as he soon smells and hears others up on the roof with Lord Farque. 

As shouts and screams come from those who have just appeared on the top of the four storey building, Dorc da Orc chuckles then murmurs "They dead". 

The ork general steps back as suddenly someone comes flying backwards down through the hole in the roof, and hits the floor with a thud, followed by a groan. 

Dorkindle see's it's a priestess by the looks of things, from what church, he has no idea, but the ork weaponsmith sees that she's still alive. 

The warleader of the ork race steps forward when the priestess rolls over when she suddenly smells something rather pungent to say the least. 

She spots the large ork, and blinks in surprise, before saying "What? The ork?" followed by "You're dead". 

"Nah cunt" says Dorc da Orc, who then adds "You dead". Before he stomps on the head of the prone priestess, smashing her skull apart into a bloody pulp, instantly killing her. Much to the delight of the ork who is a general in the Armies of Farque. 

The large ork grunts, then looks up at Lord Farque who is looking down through the hole in the rooftop. 

"She's dead I take it?" dryly asks the large heavily armoured deathlord of Farque, which earns a chuckle from Dorkindle, who between chuckling, says "Yep". 

"No doubt some others will head this way"'says Des'tier who follows that with "Might be a while before he shows up with that lot with him". 

The ork warleader just grunts to that, and while Lord Farque wanders from view up on the roof. 

Both he and Dorc da Orc wait. They wait for Beldane the cleric to eventually find them. The fighting cleric in the church of Glaine who has with him, the remainder of the group that the three of them have been chasing throughout northern Vexil, as well as down here in the city of Vexil itself . . . . . .