The Hire 107.

In And Around The City Of Almaic...

As it nears midday, smoke drifts down the river Mareb from the numerous barges and rafts that have been put into the water.
They've well and truly gone by the bend in the wide river, and are getting closer and closer to the east side of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
While to the west side of the city that's under attack. The bombardment continues upon the streets and buildings. That over the years have been built up outside of where a wall would've normally been built.
Both trebuchets and catapults are flinging their loads at the duke's soldiers and mercenaries who are defending that side of Almaic.
Meanwhile, to the north of the city. The battle has progressed the furthest. As the last battleline, just a hundred and fifty feet, or about fifty yards from the city. Has been taken by those who are attacking the city that's the provincial capital.
The long trench, and the fortifications that were built along it. Was penetrated first by a battalion of goblins, and their ork general. Followed by others in the advanced forces attacking this side of the city.
Now those upon the top of the north wall of Almaic. Are targeting that battleline as more and more of the advanced forces attacking the city, are entering it, and jumping into the trench.
As he walks behind his general through the long trench, Teabagger the goblin Cunt looks down and sees one of the battalion lying dead at the bottom of the trench.
One of the other goblins rolls him over, and they see it's Fuckhead the Sixth. The goblin commander rolls his eyes as he sees it's pretty obvious Fuckhead accidentally killed himself by falling on his own sword.
"Silly fucker" mutters Teabagger the goblin Cunt with a shake of his head as others pick up the dead goblin, and carry him away.
The commander of the goblin battalion in the mercenary army from the lands Farque continues after his general. Who is walking hunched over, making himself less of a target for the enemy up on top of the north wall of Almaic. Which isn't all that far away now.
"Boss, er general" says Teabagger as be catches up to the large ork "What are we looking for?" adds the small, bright green goblin who is one of the original members of the battalion. Who formed in the southern kingdom of Melaurn. When their general took them under his wing, so to speak. During a war between neighbouring nobles over a decade ago.
"Fucken somethin' cunt" is the reply of Dorc da Orc as he continues his way through the long trench.
The big, burly ork who hails from the southern polar region of the world, pauses and looks back. As do the goblins following him. When one of the humans in the trench. Someone from captain Weldin's company calls out "Energyball coming in!".
Dorkindle looks towards the north wall of the city, and spots the energyball heading this way. And when he sees it's heading for one of the fortifications further back along the trench. The ork warleader continues on his way.
"Them cunts better get the fuck out of there" says the ork weaponsmith referring to those in the fortification targeted by the enemy energyball.
The large ork doesn't even look back as there's an explosion a few moments later when the energyball strikes the already damaged fortification.
After about another twenty five yards through that long trench, the ork general comes to a stop, and stands upright and looks out at the open ground, between this battleline, which is the last of them. And the north wall of Almaic, which is only a hundred and fifty feet away.
"There's the fucker" murmurs the warleader of the ork race, who has a grin upon his broad, green, feral looking face as he looks across what's now essentially the main killing ground between here and the city wall.
Teabagger stands upon a wooden bench that's fallen from one of the archers platforms. And looks out of the trench, trying to see what's got his general's attention.
The goblin commander spots it, and mutters "Oh hell" in the goblin language as he realises what the big, burly ork is intending to do.
"Boss, i mean general" says the small, bright green goblin in the common language "We're supposed to hold, and stay here" adds Teabagger, who continues with "Not actually go to the wall" as he looks at a magetube that's lying on the ground, less than fifty feet from the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
"Me know that cunt" says Dorkindle, who continues on with "Me fucken come up with most of that fucken plan 'member".
The big, burly ork who is originally from the very bottom of the world, where the frozen climate even during summer. Is inhospitable to anyone who isn't an ork, adds "Besides, that not actually at the fucken wall, it's fucken infront of it" as he nods at the magetube that was blasted off the top of the wall during an explosion at the start of the battle, when a mageglobe created by Mira Reinholt came to the end of it's existence.
As arrows and bolts shot from the top of the wall come flying their way, because they've both popped up and are looking out of the long trench.
Dorc da Orc who is the general of the goblin battalion, which he refers to as his own army, says to the goblin commander who leads the battalion in his absence "Don't worry cunt, it'll be a piece of piss".
"I rather fucking doubt that" mutters Teabagger in the goblin language as he quickly ducks down, as arrows and bolts slam and skim across the ground right infront of the trench.
The small, bright green goblin who is originally from the kingdom of Melaurn, who is his mid to late twenties now, as he was a teenager when his general turned him and others into a fighting force that quickly became their battalion.
Looks up at his general who is growling in anger. Teabagger winces as he sees the large ork pull an arrow out of his face. Followed by a crossbow bolt out of the side of his neck.
The wounds are already starting to heal just a few moments after the arrow and bolt have been pulled free. As the rapid healing ability that the ork general, and for that matter all orks have. Takes quick effect.
After growling again, Dorc da Orc nods towards the magetube lying about fifty feet out from the north wall of Almaic, and says to Teabagger "Me just go and get that boom boom cunt, and bring it back here".
The goblin commander sourly smiles at the prospect of that. Oh not necessarily because his general will go out into the open by himself, and get peppered by the enemy.
But because he'll have a magetube at his disposal. Which more than likely knowing the large ork. Will be just as dangerous to their own side, as it is to the enemy.
"By the gods" mutters Teabagger in the goblin language, who like all goblin kind, isn't specifically religious or a believer. For the simple reason that they don't have a god, goddess or gods of their own to worship. As none of them wanted the goblin race as their followers.
But all the same, he believes in their existence. And occasionally says a prayer to them. Usually when his general is about to so something totally idiotic, which is often, like he's about to do now.
"Boss, i mean general, i don't think it's a" is what Teabagger gets out before he falls silent as his general looks down at him and scowls.
The small, bright green goblin sourly smiles, and is resigned to the fact the ork warleader is about to do something totally stupid. Which without doubt, will lead to even more stupidity.
The goblin commander then rolls his eyes as his general chortles then says "Get some" as he goes to climb up out of the trench.
Teabagger, who has absolutely no intention of following the large ork out onto the open ground just infront of the north wall of Almaic. Hears a familiar thud come from somewhere on top of the nearby wall.
The small, bright green goblin then blinks in surprise as his general is suddenly flung backwards with force. Smacking back first into the other wall of the trench. Before sliding down to his rather ample rump, and slumping over to one side.
"The fuck?" says Teabagger after a stunned moment of silence, as he and some others of the battalion close by, stare at their general.
Then the small, bright green goblin looks to one side, and sees a heavy longspear, a missile from a ballista, which he heard firing. Sticking out of the top of the back of the trench.
The goblin commander hurries to his general, as do a number of others in the battalion. Well at least those who don't trip over themselves or each other.
"Boss, boss" says Teabagger in a tone of panic as the large ork isn't moving. He along with a few other goblins, give their general a shake. And after actually moving him a bit. The big, burly ork from the very bottom of the world, groans then opens his eyes.
Dorc da Orc takes in a breath, and wheezes as he finds he's winded.
The ork warleader can't even get out a decent sounding growl, and instead he gasps "Cunt" as he tries to get his breath back.
Then with the help of Teabagger and a number of the other goblins, he's able to sit upright, with his back against the trench wall.
"That fucken smarts" mutters the large ork when he eventually gets some of his breath back.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then taps his chest with the knuckles of his right hand, and then he grins.
Teabagger the goblin Cunt nods in understanding, as he knows his general wears a large piece of black armour that covers his chest, and most of his ample stomach, beneath the rain poncho that he's wearing.
The goblin commander knows that it can stop basically anything, including magical spells.
The small, bright green goblin who hails from the southern kingdom of Melaurn. Doesn't know what exactly that piece of armour is. But in the past, when his general has been badly hit like what's just happened to him now. He's heard the ork warleader call it his goods dragony armour.
"What the fuck was that?" asks the ork weaponsmith who winces as he tries to get up, he decides to give it a bit of time, so that he feels a bit better, before he tries to stand up.
"That" says the commander of the goblin battalion who points to the nearby missile that was shot from an enemy ballista up on the top of the north wall of Almaic.
Dorkindle turns his head, and grunts when he sees the heavy longspear that struck him down.
The warleader of that ork race then says to the goblins "Get that fucken spear for me". Then as a few of them pull the missile out of the ground, others help their general to get up.
Even though he's a little unsteady on his feet, the large ork stands there, glaring up at the top wall of the city of Almaic.
"Here general" says a goblin named Assfacedick who along with four others in the battalion, hands the heavy longspear to the big, burly ork who is a member of the wolf tribe, who dwell at the very southern tip of the southern polar region.
Dorc da Orc takes the missile, and grunts as he feels how heavy it is. The ork weaponsmith immediately knows it has a iron rod down through the entire length of it. And now knows why it hit him so hard, so much so it briefly knocked him out, which isn't exactly an easy thing to do.
"That one there boss" says Teabagger the goblin Cunt who hastily adds "General" as he points up to the top of the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
The small, bright lurid green goblin has just pointed up at one of the ballistas on top of the north wall of Almaic. It's just been reloaded, and it's crew are looking at another target to shoot at, never thinking the last one they just shot at and hit, would survive.
"Fucken cunts" growls Dorkindle, who hefts the missile to get it's weight and balance. Then the big, burly ork who is battered and bruised from getting smashed down by the ballista shot. Winces as he throws the ten foot long heavy longspear with force up at the top of the north wall of Almaic.
He throws it almost as hard as it was shot at him. And though the spearhead is bent back almost in two after it struck him. It flies straight and true to the top of the wall, that's nearly fifty up, and about a hundred and fifty feet from the long trench the ork general and his goblin battalion are in.
The missile slams into the ballista it was originally shot from. Shattering both the heavy longspear, and the heavy weapon to pieces.
Some of the crew, along with nearby soldiers and mercenaries. Are pelted by flying debris. Injuring some, and badly wounding others. While one of the crew is killed instantly. As a shattered piece of the missile, goes through his throat and neck, decapitating him.
"Them cunts won't be using that fucker again" says the ork warleader in satisfaction, while many of the battalion cheer and clap after seeing what their general just did.
Dorc da Orc who grimaces as he rolls his massive shoulders, and stretches his back muscles. Who is definitely feeling sore after being struck by a missile shot from an enemy ballista.
Then looks to where the magetube is lying out in the open, on the ground, just fifty feet out from the north wall of the city that's the provincial capital.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, wipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his right hand, as he looks at the magetube, then up to the top of the north wall of Almaic, then back down to the where the heavy magical weapon is lying out on no man's land.
"Hmmmm" murmurs the large ork as he contemplates what to do. While next to him, Teabagger the goblin Cunt glances sideways at him, and is glad his general is now showing a bit of caution. Something he rarely, if ever does.
The goblin commander hopes it will last for quite some time. But knowing his general as well as he does. He figures this feeling of caution from him probably won't be for very long at all . . . . . .

The Hire 106.

The Battle Of Almaic...

Less than a few hundred feet from the north wall of the city of Almaic. The goblin Fuckhead the Sixth trips up, which saves him from getting skewered by an enemy arrow as he and the others in his battalion rush forward to the final enemy battleline between them, and the city that's under attack.
He scrambles to his feet, and hears the roar of his general somewhere away to the left, followed by a shout in the ork language that no one understands.
Fuckhead the Sixth no matter how much he likes his general. He doesn't particularly want to be around him in the middle of a battle.
The fact that the large ork stinks beyond belief as he refuses to take off the rain poncho he's still wearing, on what's another hot and sunny day here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
It's that he's so big, that without doubt he's the biggest target on the battlefield by far. With enemy arrows and bolts flying in his direction all the time.
Some of the goblins like Teabagger the goblin Cunt who commands the battalion might think it's safe to run behind their general, and use him as a moving shield.
Fuckhead the Sixth on the other hand thinks that's tantamount to suicide. And that you're bound to eventually get shot if you're so close to the ork warleader all the time.
Fuckhead the Sixth, runs side to side, in a zigzag pattern as he heads towards the last of the enemy battlelines. Which is one long trench, dotted with a number of fortifications, that are made from packed dirt, upon which are the wooden walls and platforms.
He isn't particularly tall for a goblin, just a little over five foot in height. And he's a fairly normal shade of green for one of his kind. Neither a dark, black green or a bright, almost yellow green like commander Teabagger is.
As he zigzags forward, he almost trips up again, a rather common occurrence, after all he is a goblin, and they're rather accident prone. Something that they know, and accept. Knowing that they can't change their nature.
But for all that, and their rather short lifespans. You'll never find a goblin over the age of forty years. For the simple reason an accident of some kind would of killed them by then. Even though they've probably got an actual lifespan similar to humans.
They are hard workers. Who never complain even though most of the work they do is basic labour and drudgery.
And as it turns out. They also make fairly decent shock troops. Going into battle first, taking on the enemy, who are always surprised that they're fighting against goblins.
As historically goblins have never been soldiers. For when you normally do find them in armies, not just here in the Southlands, but right across the world of Volunell.
They're always with the auxiliaries and camp followers where they're doing menial tasks.
Even wild goblins who live in primitive tribe like societies. Though they're not actually tribes as such. It's more you live here with a bunch of other goblins, so you're might as well be a tribe.
Their battles between one another. Usually over who is going to be the king of where the tribes live. Are rather chaotic affairs. Where hardly anyone actually gets killed by another combatant on purpose.
Most of the deaths that occur in such battles are by accident, usually self inflicted.
But not this battalion of goblins, who originally came from the kingdom of Melaurn in the very south of the Southlands. Infact it's the southern most kingdom in the region of the world known as the Southlands.
With only the southern tundra, where the hordes barbarians dwell being further south. And the only thing further south of that is the giant mountain range, beyond which is the southern polar region where the orks of the world live.
A battalion of goblins who formed over a decade ago. Though very few of the original goblins are left. Who are now in the armies of Farque. Where they're members of the advanced forces. Who often go into battle first. Primarily for their shock value as the enemy are always surprised that they're up against goblins.
And because they're led by their general. A totally unhinged ork, like all ork kind. Who is basically an army onto himself.
Who whenever he's with them. Has led them to victory after victory. Or at least accomplishing whatever their task in a particular battle is.
And in this case, here to the north of the city of Almaic. They're to smash through the enemy battlelines. And get to the final one, which is less than a couple of hundred feet from the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
A duchy in the north of the kingdom of Nastell that the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains to the north of the kingdom. Have banded together to wage a campaign of war against.
Hiring one of the mercenary armies from the lands Farque to help them accomplish it.
Fuckhead the Sixth jumps over one of his fellow battalion members who has tripped over his own feet, and fallen flat on his face.
The average sized goblin, who is an average shade of green. Is pleasantly surprised he doesn't trip over too. After jumping over his downed comrade.
Fuckhead the Sixth, who was previously called Digger. As he use to dig holes for fence posts on a farm in the kingdom of Girdane before he joined the goblin battalion.
Is like all goblins no matter what they do. Knows that they're inherently accident prone, and that they can't really do anything about it, or do anything to stop an accident from happening.
So like all goblins, they go about their tasks not worrying about an accident, which invariably will happen. They just get on with things. It's what makes them such hard workers. And as it's turned out, fairly exceptional shock troops.
Fuckhead the Sixth, who'd never swear in the common language when he was a hole digger on the farm he used to live on.
Does so now as he charges the last of the enemy battlelines here to the north of the city of Almaic.
It's definitely the influence of his ork general has had on him and the others of the battalion. That's brought about that change.
"Fuck you cunts!" yells out Fuckhead the Sixth just thirty feet from the long trench which he and others in his battalion are charging.
Hurrying through the long trench that's the last battleline before the north wall of Almaic. Is Taren Bovis, an archer in the army of duke Hargen of Phelm.
The young archer, who has just recently turned eighteen. Is a fairly nondescript looking fellow. Standing about five foot ten inches tall. Of average build. He's in leather huntsman armour, with a tabbard of the duke over it.
Taren who is originally from the very south of Phelm. On the estates of the Yarrim family. Moved north to the countryside just south of Almaic, to live with relatives.
When his father decided it would be best for his safety to do so. As you see, the young Taren has always been a talent with a bow.
Who would hunt all the time if he was given a chance. And for the most part he would do so legally.
Going over the border to the next duchy south to hunt. On unclaimed land that wasn't governed by a nobleborn family.
But as he got older, he would frequently hunt on the estates of his birth. Which is fine if you were given permission to do so.
But not so fine if you weren't. That's poaching. And invariably Taren wouldn't get permission. As he couldn't be bothered asking for it from sir Yarrim's gameskeeper.
So his father decided to send him north to near Almaic to live with relatives before the local lord's guards caught him, and hanged him for poaching.
That was a little over two years ago. And now Taren is one of the better archers in the duke's army, who are from the region around the city of Almaic.
His uncle who he was sent to live with. Signed him up to the duke's army just a couple of months of living in the area.
He thought it would be safer for young Taren to be in the army. Than to be caught poaching on the lands that come under the direct control of duke Hargen. Which is around the capital. Though not to the east of the city, across the river Mareb.
Taren who thought he'd dislike being in the army. Was surprised to find that he actually liked it just a few days after joining.
He likes the free housing and food whilst on duty. And the clothing and equipment you're given. Especially the bow he was given after it was discovered he was a fairly decent bow hunter.
Best of all was that he no longer had to fletch his own arrows. Something that he never particularly liked. Now he can have all the arrows that he wants.
Which now during battle, is a lot. As he's dropped quite a lot of the enemy as he's been further forward in the battlelines.
But he and others have had to steadily retreat throughout the morning as the enemy have advanced through the battlelines. Making their way towards the north wall of the city of Almaic, the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Taren Bovis who has been further to the west amongst the battlelines, is now moving east through the longest trench that has been dug to the north of the city of Almaic, which is less than a couple hundred feet away.
As a magetube shot from the top of the north wall of Almaic passes a good fifty feet overhead. Taren and another archer hurry behind one of the fortifications. As they've been called to the eastern end of the trench. As the enemy are now charging towards that end.
"What the hell?" mutters Taren Bovis as he hears other soldiers in the trench in the direction he's heading, shouting out that enemy goblins are advancing upon them.
The young archer glances at his fellow archer, who just shrugs his shoulders, then quietly says "Surely they're mistaken" as the two of them hurry eastwards through the trench.
Taren pops his head up, and looks further east, on to the open ground between this battleline, and the one further north that's recently fallen to the enemy.
The young archer originally from the estates of sir Yarrim along the southern border region of the duchy, almost trips up when he sees who it is that's charging the trench in that direction.
"Fuck me it's a bunch of goblins" exclaims Taren in surprise. His fellow archer has popped his head up too, and he's equally shocked to see goblins in black armour, tabbards and cloaks rushing towards this battleline, the last battleline before the north wall of the city of Almaic.
After the two of them briefly pause in surprise, they continue onwards through the trench. Hurrying behind their fellow soldiers in the duke's army, as well as mercenaries the duke has hired.
"Next one" says the young archer "Next one" says the other archer in agreement, as they go by another of the fortifications dotted along the last battleline before the north wall of Almaic.
Taren Bovis frowns as he hears a loud roar, followed by a shout in a deep, growling, guttural voice in a language he's never heard before.
As he wonders what that is, he sees other archers and crossbowmen on the platforms of the next fortification shooting at the enemy charging at them.
Taren along with the older archer he's with, get to that fortification. Where they scamper up a wooden ladder to a platform that has just a single archer already on it.
The young archer originally from the very south of the duchy, is barely on the platform, when he takes an arrow from his quiver, and puts it to the belly of his bow. He draws it back as he takes a couple of steps forward.
Then after momentarily pausing as he sees a bunch of goblins rushing towards this particular fortification, he draws a bead on one, and lets the arrow fly.
"Fuck" mutters Taren as his arrow misses because the goblin he targeted tripped over as the shaft was in flight.
Not used to missing, the young archer takes another arrow from his quiver, puts it to his bow, draws it back, targets another of the goblins, then lets the arrow fly. As his fellow archers do likewise.
"That's better" Taren Bovis murmurs to himself as he gets a hit, it's not a killing shot, well at least he doesn't think so, as it got the target in the shoulder. Nevertheless it dropped the goblin to the ground which is good enough in the opinion of the young archer in duke Hargen's army.
After shooting at another goblin, killing this one, as he gets it in the gut. While the archer right beside him, hits the same goblin just below the throat as it's falling.
Taren looks away to the right, as some of the archers on the next platform are yelling and shouting about something.
"What the hell are that lot going on about?" says the archer next to Taren, the two of them look further to the right, to where the archers on the next platform are pointing. And they see what, or more specifically who they're going on about.
"What the fucking hell is that thing?" says the young archer in surprise, while next to him, the other archer says "Is that a goblin?" followed by "If it is, it's the biggest damn goblin I've ever seen".
"I don't think it's a goblin" murmurs a surprised Taren, who like most of the other archers on the platforms to either side of the one he's on, draws back his bow, and takes aim at the large, green creature which must easily stand seven and half foot tall, and weigh an awful lot. Who is wearing what looks like a rain poncho of all things. And shoots at it.
Taren Bovis blinks in surprise, as he's sure he got his target in the head, in the forehead to be precise. He's also pretty sure the shaft just bounced off it's forehead as it runs.
A roar comes from it, and it turns slightly, heading more or less straight to the fortification, to be exact right at the part of the wall between the platform Taren is on, and the next one to the right,
The young archer takes another shot at it, so do the two archers with him. All three of them hit it, but it doesn't stop it at all, it doesn't even slow it. Infact it picks up it's pace as it runs this way.
It roars something, then shouts out in the common language, it sounds like it shouts out "Get some!" as it runs straight at the wooden wall of the fortification.
A wooden wall on top of the packed dirt, that it smashes into, and goes right through. Fairly easily too.
"Fucking hell" murmurs Taren Bovis in astonishment, who then yelps as one of the wooden posts holding up the platform is smashed into by the large green creature that's just entered the fortification.
As it careens away, and stumbles away in the direction of the archers platform to the right, growling and muttering away to itself.
The one that Taren and the two archers with him are on, collapses on one side, and the three of them fall, and tumble down off it into the trench.
The young archer groans after landing on his back, he takes a deep breath and realises he's only winded and not injured in anyway.
He struggles to take another breath, by the third attempt he gets some air into his lungs. And he lifts his head up, and sees goblins pouring into the fortification through the large hole in the wooden wall.
Seeing an extremely bright green goblin and a few others go in the other direction through the trench, heading after the large green creature that's now loudly roaring,
Taren who finds that he's holding his bow in his hands, and that it's perfectly fine. And he even has an arrow to it.
Leans sideways, and props himself up, and draws the bow partially back, and lets the arrow fly at a goblin that's turned this way, and is hurrying towards him with a determined look on it's face, and a sword in it's hands. It's only a couple of yards from Taren when he shots at it.
"Damn it" mutters Fuckhead the Sixth as he trips over, and falls on top of the enemy who has just shot at him, the arrow narrowly missed him as he was falling. Otherwise it would of hit him in the chest,
The goblin rolls off the enemy, and grunts as he pulls his sword out of the chest of the young archer who has a surprised look upon his face as he quickly dies.
Fuckhead goes to get up, but in true goblin fashion, he's knocked down from behind by one of his fellow goblins, who is rushing to get at the enemy in the trench.
Fuckhead falls flat on his face, landing beside the dead enemy archer. And landing on his own sword that he's holding lengthwise. The blade slams into the throat of Fuckhead the Sixth killing him instantly. Killing him accidentally as most goblins are killed in life . . . . . .

The Hire 105.

The City Of Almaic. The Duchy Of Phelm...

"We should probably go forward a bit and see what's happening" says Tovis the war engineer "Sounds like a plan" says Larris the sorcerer, who is the young engineer's second in command.
The war engineer glances back at Shur Kee the monk, who nods his head in agreement.
And the three of them set off, making their way forward. Followed by the scout, subaltern Jaxs. Who along with Shur Kee. Has been the young engineer's shadow ever since the battle began.
They've just moved two of the larger trebuchets forward, and closer together. Those two war machines are bombarding a section of the enemy battlelines. Where the city of Almaic, has spilled out beyond where a wall would be, here on the western side of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Those two large trebuchets are targeting a number of enemy war machines that are amongst the buildings, and streets that are outside of the city proper.
As they make their way through the ranks of those who have still yet to advance. Tovis asks his second in command "What time do you reckon it is?" as he glances up at the clear blue sky, on what's another hot summer's day here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
"Hmmm" murmurs the sorcerer in the mercenary army from the lands Farque, who continues with "I'd say it's closer to midday than it is midmorning now".
"I agree friend Larris" quietly says Shur Kee the monk from behind the younger men, as he walks beside subaltern Jaxs. Who though is a scout officer in the Farqian mercenary army. She is also an assassin, who has trained under Helbe the elven thief.
Tovis nods, then quietly says "The field commander will order the big push soon".
The young engineer who hails from the kingdom of Druvic, where he was the war engineer to a baron Harkonin, continues with "The bulk of the army will head forward to help the front ranks and the forward elements who have already engaged with the enemy".
The sorcerer Larris, who is one of the more powerful spellcasters in the mercenary army from the lands Farque. An army that's in command of the forces of the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains. Who have banded together to wage war upon duke Hargen of Phelm.
Says to the others "Don't worry, it'll pass well overheard" as they see a fireball that's been cast by an enemy spellcaster, heading more or less this way, on it's way to the war machines back, behind them.
The Farqian sorcerer, who like the war engineer is in his early twenties. Cast a barrier spell, about thirty feet above the ground. Which the incoming fireball, skips off. Sending it higher into the air, which will make it fly clear over the war machine it's targeting.
After glancing back at the fireball, that has careened upwards, and will miss his war machines. Tovis says "Over there" as he gestures away to their right "There's someone I've got to check on" adds the young engineer who is originally from the kingdom of Druvic.
They make their way over to a wagon that's been brought forward from the rear elements and auxiliaries, where the camp followers have the supply wagons.
It isn't one of the ballista mounted wagons. But a normal covered wagon, which is guarded by black garbed Farqian soldiers. Who keep any of the robber barons soldiers and mercenaries away from it.
"Could you bring him out for a moment" says Tovis the war engineer to one of the Farqian soldiers. Who after glancing at subaltern Jaxs, who slightly nods her head yes. Says to the young engineer "Yes of course captain".
The young engineer, who holds the rank of captain in the Farqian mercenary army, nods and steps back. And two of the other Farqian soldiers, hop up into the back of the wagon.
A few moments later they help a bound at the wrists figure, down out of the back of the wagon.
They unbound his wrists, and after rubbing them. And after looking at the young engineer. He turns and looks at the city of Almaic.
"I'd never thought I'd see the capital Almaic under attack" quietly says the enemy guard captain Gallene.
"It could be worse" quietly says Tovis, who with the captain of the palace and city guard in the city of Savariss, has moved away a little bit from the wagon and the others.
"It could be the capital of your kingdom that's actually under attack" adds the war engineer who is now in the armies of Farque, when previously he was in the army of one baron Harkonin in eastern Druvic.
"Well, when you put it like that" dryly says the prisoner who was captured during the battle for the city in the north of the duchy of Phelm, the city of Savariss.
Tovis faintly smiles, then quietly asks the captain of the city guard in Savariss "You think they'll hold us out?".
"Of course" is the confident reply of captain Gallene, who after a slight pause, dryly continues with "Though if they can, is entirely a whole other matter".
The young engineer nods in agreement with that assessment from the prisoner, who is looking ahead. To where the forward elements and the front ranks of the army led by the Farqian field commander, Talbot. Have engaged with those defending this side of Almaic.
"Looks like you lot are preparing to advance en masse" quietly says captain Gallene, who happens to be a swordmaster like his older brother, Berric. Who is the commander of duke Hargen's personal guard
Who at this time in moment, is inside the city of Almaic. Not knowing that his younger brother is being held captive just outside of the city that's the provincial capital.
"We are" quietly says Tovis who has spoken quite often to the prisoner ever since he was captured during the battle for Savariss.
Captain Gallene looks around, then back, behind them. And after a while, he slightly frowns. The swordmaster, whose father was a swordmaster, who taught him and his older brother Berric.
Has seen how large the overall force is that the robber barons of the southern reaches in the Colevar Mountains, have brought with them in their campaign against duke Hargen and the duchy of Phelm.
And from what he can see, it's not even a quarter of them here on the western side of Almaic.
Where frankly, he'd have most of them, since this side of the city doesn't have a wall as such.
"You think the duke and his commanders will reinforce this side of the city, from elsewhere after we fully attack here to the west of Almaic?" asks the war engineer who is previously from the kingdom of Druvic, who now serves in the armies of Farque.
Still frowning, the local swordmaster quietly says "I'm not sure" he momentarily pauses, before adding "Why?".
"Because that's what we want them to do" is the quiet reply from Tovis, who then silently adds, especially from the east side of the city, along the riverfront.
The young engineer who has no qualms of telling the prisoner part of what's going on. For the simple reason the guard captain can only tell his fellow prisoners. And that he has no chance of ever escaping.
Slightly waves his hand about in the direction of the battlelines where both sides are engaged. And where shots from both sets of war machines, are passing over as the battle on this side of the city intensifies.
"We want to draw as many of the duke's forces in the city over to this side" quietly says Tovis, Gallene the guard captain slightly nods in understanding, then he says "They might" the captain of the Savariss city guard continues with "Especially if it looks like you lot will actually get into the city".
Gallene momentarily pauses before he adds "From the north side of the city i guess".
"Some" says the war engineer, who after glancing around, he quietly tells the prisoner "Though mostly from the east side of the city".
Captain Gallene blinks in surprise when he hears that, and he looks away from the battle, and looks at the young man standing beside him,
""Eh?" says the guard captain from the city of Savariss, the young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic just slightly smiles in response to that, and doesn't elaborate.
While the swordmaster Gallene wonders why the hell would they want to attack from the east side of the city, across the river Mareb.
The captain of the guard doesn't know much about the duke's army commanders here in the city of Almaic. All of whom are from the south of the duchy. As are most of the nobility who are helping to defend the capital city of Phelm. The northern, not to mention the largest duchy in the kingdom of Nastell.
But he knows they would of concentrated most of their efforts of defending Almaic, on it's northern side, and here on the western side of the provincial capital.
For the simple reason it's not viable to attack Almaic from across the river Mareb, which basically acts as a giant moat along the east side of the city that's the capital of the duchy.
True, war machines along with archers can shoot across the river. But you can't send foot soldier across as there's no bridges. And they'd be sitting ducks if they were to use any kind of rivercraft to cross over to the city.
"So you want to draw the duke's men from the east side of the city, over to this side" quietly says the guard captain from the city of Savariss, who then adds "Now why would you do that?".
Once again, the young engineer doesn't elaborate, and instead says "Best we get you back" as he gestures at the nearby wagon.
Tovis then adds "Like I've told you previously, you'll probably be freed after the robber barons take control of Phelm" he continues with "Even though you hold an important position".
"You mean i used to" dryly says captain Gallene, the war engineer nods to that, then says "You are a commoner, and they hold no grudge against you" he briefly pauses before continuing with "If you were a nobleman it would be a different matter".
"That's for sure" murmurs the swordmaster from the north of Phelm. Who knows he's a fairly lucky position as a prisoner at the moment. Unlike some of his fellow prisoners with him in the wagon. Who are nobleborn, whose fates are already sealed if and when the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains, to the north of the kingdom, take over the northern duchy of Phelm.
Tovis returns the enemy guard captain from the city of Savariss back to the wagon, where his wrists are bound again, and he's helped back up into the covered wagon.
Then the war engineer, along with his second in command Larris, Shur Kee the monk, and subaltern Jaxs, continue on their way, heading forward through the ranks of the army that's mostly comprised of the robber baron Markell's army, and is led by the Farqian field commander, Talbot.
As they head forward, Tovis briefly stops and asks an officer in the Farqian mercenary army where the field commander and the rest of his senior staff are at the moment.
Once they find out, the war engineer, who is actually part of the field commander's senior staff as well, heads more to the right as they continue forward.
"Up there" says the sorcerer Larris as be points at an enemy fortification that's been taken over as they advance through the battlelines that have been taken by the Farqian mercenary army, who make up the forward elements, and front ranks of the army that's attacking this side of the city of Almaic.
They enter the fortification, which is still fairly intact. Unlike the one further ahead, and over more to the right. Which is smouldering after being burnt down a little while ago.
Tovis finds the field commander, and a number of his senior staff up on the archers platforms, observing the battle along this side of the city.
The war engineer and his second in command join them. While Shur Kee the monk, who is an honorary member of the personal council of lord Farque. And the subaltern Jaxs, who is an assassin as well as being an officer in the scouts division of the Farqian mercenary army. Remain down below, just beneath the platform that the other two have climbed up onto.
After greeting the field commander, then looking around and not spotting the robber baron Markell, or his second and any his other officers.
The war engineer asks the heavily armoured field commander "Where is he?".
"Back with his men" says field commander Talbot who knows exactly who the young engineer is referring to.
"Told him it would be best if he was back there since I'm going to command them forward fairly soon" adds the large, heavily armoured man who commands the heavy infantry in the Farqian mercenary army that's come north from their homeland, as they've been hired by the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains, to help take over the duchy of Phelm for them.
Tovis nods when he hears that as he watches the battle along this side of Almaic continue to progress.
The war engineer then quietly asks the field commander "You think we'll get into those streets soon?".
Talbot, who isn't even sweating in his heavy armour, even though the day is hot, says "We will" he briefly pauses before continuing with "As for getting into the city proper, that might take a little longer than we anticipated".
"Oh?" says the young engineer in a tone of surprise, the field commander slightly nods, then quietly says "Some of the scouts have got in there, and they've reported that there's a shitload of them hiding out in those buildings there" as he points to where the city has spilled out beyond where a wall would normally be in comparison to the rest of Almaic.
"Seems they guessed right, and knew we would attack this side of the city in force" says the large, heavily armoured field commander who then adds in a slightly dry tone of voice "Which really isn't that much of a surprise, considering they've got no fucking wall on this side of the city".
Tovis faintly smiles at that, then the young engineer who originally hails from the kingdom of Druvic, tells the field commander about his conversation with the prisoner, captain Gallene.
After listening to what the war engineer has to say, the heavily armoured field commander says "So, he doesn't think we'll cross the river to attack the city".
He nods towards the city and continues with "I bet that lot don't think we will either" commander Talbot then adds "They're in for a surprise when we do".
The field commander in the Farqian mercenary army looks at the young engineer and tells him "Which is all the more reason we've got to draw as many of them away from that side of the city, over to this side".
Commander Talbot looks over at his second in command, who is on the next platform to the right, and tells him "Give the command" followed by "I want the bulk of Markell's army to advance".
"Yes field commander" says the second in command of this particular army, one of four that's attacking the city of Almaic. This one on the west side, two to the north of the city. As well as one to the east of Almaic, across the Mareb river.
The order is given, and a little while later, the army of the robber baron Markell, starts to march forward across the ground the forward elements and front ranks, who are from the Farqian mercenary army. Have already taken from the enemy.
Tovis the war engineer looks back, and sees that some of his catapults are moving forward now. And will soon be within range of the enemy. As the larger trebuchets already are. As they continue their bombardment upon the duke Hargen's forces on this side of the city, that's the provincial capital.
"I'm off to keep an eye on my crews and their machines" says Tovis the war engineer to the field commander, who nods at him before he leaves, and says "Don't get yourself too far forward captain".
"I won't" replies the young engineer, who along with his second in command Larris, climbs down off the archers platform, and rejoins Shur Kee the monk and subaltern Jaxs.
The four of them head back, to rejoin the rest of the engineering corp and the war machine crews as the bulk of the army starts advancing, as the battle for the city of Almaic continues to rage on . . . . . .

The Hire 104.

The Duchy Of Phelm...

Onboard the krean strikeship Flídiablo. The undead wardog Axe makes his way below deck.
The massive undead canine is in the firing hold. Nosing around the magetubes, and the below deck crew members who operate them.
The crew members are careful not to accidentally touch the massive animal as he sniffs at everything that takes his fancy.
Which is sometimes the crew themselves. Who all stand completely still if the undead wardog stops by them, and snuffles the tops of their heads.
It seems Axe likes the scent of some of the dragon like krean who are part of the crew.
One of whom is the below deck officer on duty. One of the navigators, or krean spellcasters onboard.
Who stands completely still as Axe, the laziest of the two undead wardogs onboard. Sniffs at his head and along his wings for a few moments.
Before he trots over to one of the magetubes which is out of it's cradle like swing arm at the moment.
The officer just hopes the massive animal doesn't play with the magetube, and gnaw at it. As it's done already to a couple of the heavy magical weapons since it's been living on the strikeship with it's master, ever since they left the Krean Protectorate in northern Farque.
The navigator, the youngest one onboard. Lets out a sigh of relief as the undead wardog just lies down and sniffs the out of action magetube. Which needs to be refilled with power.
Then Axe lifts his head, looks back, and looks directly at the young officer. The navigator always finds that uncanny. As a couple of moments later he gets a message from the wheelhouse above deck, by way of a mindspeech spell from one of the other navigators.
The young officer clears his throat, then says "Ah Axe, you are wanted up in the wheelhouse".
The massive canine is already up and moving before the navigator adds "There is something up there you need to look at".
The undead wardog softly barks, then makes his way between the rows of magetubes, and the crew members who operates each of the magical weapons.
Each of the magetubes in the firing hold is on a swing arm cradle that's affixed to the bulkhead above, and the hull below.
Which is operated by a lone crew member. The swing arm device is such a genius design. That a single krean can operate even the heaviest of the magetubes. Which weighs in excess of fifteen hundred pounds.
Or roughly the same weight as Axe, who wanders through the firing hold to the nearest ladder.
Once there, the undead wardog makes his way up the steps, and out of the firing hold. Much to the relief of the young navigator, and the others in the crew who have duty below deck today. Which is another fine, and warm, sunny day here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
Even here, a few thousand feet above the duchy of Phelm. The day is relatively warm as it gets closer and closer to midday.
Axe pops up onto the flat, and mastless deck of the Flídiablo. He's just forward of a midships. And the massive animal, whose breed is the rarest of all the canine breeds on the world of Volunell.
Looks aft, to the wheelhouse. Where he sees his brother Anvil. Who is nearly as lazy as he is. Sitting on the deck, looking into the wheelhouse through one of the front portals.
Axe makes his way aft along the flat deck of the strikeship. That's not flying  particularly quickly. Only traveling at about dozen knots. And flying level too. Which isn't it's normal way of flying. Which is usually far more dynamic, to say the least.
As he wanders to aft, Axe looks around, spotting high flying birds in the distance to the west. He briefly wonders if the airship will head that way. But alas it doesn't. Much to the disappointment of Axe. Who would like nothing better to do, than to bark at some birds as they're in flight.
The massive undead wardog, who along with his brothers Anvil and Hammer. Are the largest of all the wardogs of Farque. Either living or dead. Or undead in their case.
Reaches the wheelhouse of the Flídiablo. Where his litter mate Anvil. Glances his way, before sticking his head back in through one of the open portals. To watch what's going on inside the wheelhouse of the krean strikeship.
The fastest, not to mention the most manoeuvrable airship ever designed and built on the world of Volunell.
Axe could look through one of the open portals along the front of the wheelhouse himself. But he doesn't bother with that.
Instead, the massive animal that stands six and a half foot tall at the shoulders. Who easily tops seven foot in overall height. Who weighs in excess of fifteen hundred pounds.
Squeezes in through one of the doors that allow access into the wheelhouse from the side.
The undead wardog softly barks in greeting to those in the wheelhouse. Before he walks through the large illusion spell that's in the middle of the wheelhouse. An illusion spell that Axe promptly sits in the middle of. Lies down, and rolls onto his back. The massive animal who died about four hundred and fifty years ago, lies there on his back. Wiggling about as he scratches his back on the decking here in the wheelhouse of the Flídiablo.
Rolling his eyes, the undead wardog handler Jessup says in the ancient language of command "Move Axe". As the undead wardog lies across the city of Almaic. To be precise, through the north wall of the city, with his hindquarters, and tail out on the open ground amongst the battlelines to north of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Jessup rolls his eyes again as of course Axe doesn't listen to him. And continues to roll about through the city of Almaic as he scratches his back.
"Sorry about this" murmurs the undead wardog handler in the krean language to the others here in the wheelhouse with him.
"Come on boy, out of the way" says Jessup, this time in the common language, for he only has a basic understanding of the language that commands the undead wardogs from his homeland.
Amazingly Axe actually listens, and after stopping in mid scratch, the massive canine rolls to one side. Though he's still across part of the east side of the city of Almaic, as well as the river Mareb. And the countryside to the east of the river that runs along that side of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
"Good enough i suppose" mutters Jessup, as Axe lies there on his side looking at the intricate illusion spell, with his stubby tail wagging furiously.
The undead wardog handler glances over at captain Kalrissian and shrugs his shoulders. They both then look at the chief navigator who is the main one casting. As the three other navigators here in the wheelhouse are assisting him with the intricate illusion. Which shows them the city of Almaic, and it's surrounds. Right at this exact moment. Where a battle is taking place.
"There's the warleader" says the chief navigator, who then adds "He's rather easy to find" as he points to where the large ork, Dorc da Orc. Is fighting the enemy within one of their fortifications, less than a hundred yards from the north wall of the city.
"What the hell is that fat ork wearing?" mutters Jessup as he watches the ork warleader and his goblin battalion for a few moments.
"As for spellcasters, especially those who are hiding themselves, that's a bit more difficult" says the chief navigator "For you and me both" dryly says Jessup, who can't sense through the spell to locate certain spellcasters. He has to rely upon his enhanced sight and hearing as he looks at the illusion. Which is so good. You can actually hear the battle, and sees it up close when the navigators concentrate on a specific area.
"The field commanders armies to the north of the city are definitely advancing now" says captain Kalrissian, the senior wardog handler nods in agreement with the captain of the Flídiablo.
Then after a few moments as he watches the army on the eastern flank to the north of the city. Jessup says "There's the mage Reinholt" he continues in a slightly dry tone with "He's the only one who'd wear a black hooded cloak on such a warm day like today".
Looking over at Axe who is still on his side watching the illusion spell as his tail continues to furiously wag.
Jessup says to the massive animal who died the exact same day as he did "Axe, where's the envoy?" followed by "Prince Helbenthril".
After a few moments of lying there, the undead wardog suddenly sits up, and looks down at the illusion spell, that's about two and half foot tall, and at least fifteen feet wide across the center of the wheelhouse.
Jessup knows the undead wardogs have far more senses at their disposal than he or any other undead human. And though they too can sense the living and dead. As well as magical creatures and practitioners of magic.
They have other abilities that other undead beings like Jessup doesn't have. The main one of which, is that they're totally immune to all clerical powers as well as holy ground.
For the simple reason they don't understand the concept of a higher being like a god. Hence they're immune to it unlike other undead.
But they also have the ability to sense through a spell, something that Jessup or any other undead being cannot do.
Though there is a sole exception to that last one. But even then he needs assistance from someone else, who only he communicates with.
Bending his head down, so that his nose almost touches the roof of a building in the eastern part of the city. Axe softly barks, and wags his tail as he sits across the Mareb river, and the countryside to the east of it.
"Freeze it" says the undead wardog handler, and the navigators casting the illusion spell in unison, which also happens to be a viewing spell of the city of Almaic which is thirty five miles to the southeast of where they are at the moment. Goes completely still at the command of the chief navigator.
Looking carefully at the roof indicated by Axe, Jessup points at it. And the image of it grows in size as the chief navigator manipulates the spell.
After a few moments, the senior wardog handler slightly nods, then says "There's a slight bending in the light there".
The chief navigator nods his head in understanding, then says "The blur spell his highness likes to cast".
"That's the one" murmurs Jessup, who then looks over at the undead wardog "Axe, where's the prince going?".
The senior wardog handler doesn't even have to tell the chief navigator to unfreeze the spell. The illusion spell resumes all movement.
And Axe, after softly barking. Scoots back on his butt through the Mareb river, then sticks his snout down at the boulevard and river docks along the east side of Almaic.
The massive undead animal softly growls, as does his brother Anvil, who is watching through one of the portals in the front of the wheelhouse.
"What is it boy?" asks Jessup, who got Axe to help him out. As the laziest of the undead wardogs, who also happens to be the most lethal and destructive of them all. Is also along with his sister Spear. The smartest of the undead wardogs.
While Anvil, though smarter than any other animal. And a fair number of people too. Who is almost as destructive as his brother Axe. Would rather eat bright coloured flowers and roll around in horse dung. Than try to work out something a bit more complex like tracking individuals through a powerful illusion spell.
Anvil wasn't exactly the smartest one of the litter that makes up the seven undead wardogs of Farque.
"He's looking at those near that tower there" quietly says the captain of the strikeship, the senior wardog handler nods in agreement. And the chief navigator enlarges that spot along the riverfront that Axe has indicated.
Jessup immediately spots the elven spy Dalinvardél Tanith off to one side of the enlarged section of the illusion showing the battle for the city of Almaic. The elven spy is with a small squad that has a couple of dwarven mercenaries in it.
They seem to be looking at a group closer to the tower. And that's where Jessup concentrates on.
"That's a nobleman for certain" says the undead wardog handler, who continues with "That fellow in the red armour".
Jessup glances at Axe who does a soft growling bark. Which causes the senior wardog handler to lift an eyebrow in surprise. As that's the bark for a spellcaster.
"He's a spellcaster" quietly says Jessup, both Axe and Anvil bark once for yes. While the krean navigators are surprised to hear that.
"Axe is his highness following that fellow in the red?" asks the senior wardog handler, once again Axe barks once for yes.
"Can you focus on what they're saying?" asks Jessup as he glances over at the chief navigator. Who nods his head, and a few moments later they're able to listen to what the enemy noble in the red armour is talking about to those with him.
He's a local noble by the name of sir Yarrim. And most of those soldiers along this part of the riverfront are from his household. He's telling their squad leader about the progress of the battle so far to the north of the city.
And also warns the squad leader to keep a lookout for anything or anyone out of the usual. Who might be using the nearby rooftops.
Does he know about the royal thief? Jessup thinks to himself, as they continue to watch and listen to the local noble. Until he and two of the soldiers with him disappear as he teleports away.
As the chief navigator returns that part of the illusion back to the same size as the rest of the spell.
The senior wardog handler asks Axe "Where's that spellcaster going boy?". The massive animal stands up, takes a step forward through the city of Almaic, and brings a paw down onto the palace of the duke. Which though is roughly in the center of the city. It's more in the southern quarter of Almaic.
"And his highness is still following after him?" asks the senior wardog handler, the undead wardog barks once for yes again as he moves back, and sits in the Mareb river, and the countryside to the east of it.
Then both Axe and his brother Anvil, followed by a moment later by Jessup. Glance towards the ladder that comes up into the wheelhouse.
A few moments later, and up the steps walks the large, heavily armoured figure of lord Farque. And everyone in the wheelhouse quietly says "My lord".
"Report" says lord Farque as he stands beside Jessup and captain Kalrissian.
The undead warlord then dryly adds "Axe you big lump, move" the heavily armoured deathlord continues with "We can't see general Halvane's army with you sitting there like that".
The massive animal growls, a growl that definitely sounds like a mutter more than anything else. Then he gets up, and moves away, and finally sits outside of the large illusion spell.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin by his people. Or Des'tier by elven kind. Nods his full helmed head for Jessup to tell him of the progress of the battle for the city of Almaic.
The senior wardog handler, along with captain Kalrissian as well as the chief navigator of the krean strikeship Flídiablo. Explain to their lord and ruler the progress of the battle so far. And what they expect their forces to do as the battle continues.
Lord Farque listens in silence as he watches the illusion spell that shows the battle for the city of Almaic as it's actually happening right now . . . . . .

The Hire 103.

Almaic...

Up on the north wall of the city of Almaic. The sorcerer sir Yarrim is just contemplating about going back to the palace of the duke. When he decides to sense out again at the enemy to the north of the city.
The powerful sorcerer who is in a relationship with lady Elaine, the younger sister of duke Hargen.
Senses a number of spellcasters within the ranks of the enemy army. Well two armies to be exact, that are north of Almaic.
The nobleman from the southern border region of the duchy of Phelm. Isn't too surprised about any of them. Or anything for that matter. Until he decides to sense downwards through the ground. Why? He's not too sure. Just that he feels like doing so.
Sir Yarrim, whose guards are quietly chatting to one another behind him. Blinks in surprise as he suddenly senses something unusual beneath the ground to the north of Almaic, heading more or less this way.
The sorcerer, one of the more influential nobles at the duke's court takes a couple of moments to realise what it is.
Sir Yarrim looks sharply away to his right, and is about to call out a warning to the court wizard Melbar. But at the last moment, he decides not to.
And instead he goes back to sensing what's beneath the ground, heading to the north wall of the city. It approaches the wall, and passes far beneath it and the wards that now go underground.
The shielded sorcerer is just able to sense it continue on beneath the city for a couple hundred feet, then it starts heading upwards.
Sir Yarrim looks quickly back in the direction it came from. Going back in a straight line from when he first sensed it.
The nobleborn spellcaster in the red armour, who has a longsword on his left hip. Is just about to cast a line of searing fire back in the direction he first sensed it from. When all of sudden he gets an untrustworthy feeling.
The sorcerer from the very south of the duchy of Phelm has had the same feeling a number of times in the past.
And they've all ended up being a warning of some kind of danger. Usually towards him.
Sir Yarrim assumes it is again, and instead of casting what he was originally intending to do. The powerful sorcerer teleports himself and his two guards away after quickly telling the wizard Mareb by way of mindspeech that a mageglobe has got under the wards, and is in the city, and is now heading back towards the north wall of Almaic.
"Hmmm" murmurs Helbe the elven thief who was just about to move in on the enemy sorcerer when Narladene the ground pixie informs him that sir Yarrim is teleporting instead of what he was originally intending to do. Which was to cast a spell back to where he thinks the mageglobe created by Mira Reinholt the mage originated from.
After the shielded sorcerer and his two guards vanish from the top of the wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
The young elven noble who hails from the island principality of Laerel glances at the naturally magical creatures standing on his right shoulder, and lifts a questioning eyebrow.
"Wonder why he suddenly did that?" murmurs Narladene the ground pixie, who then adds "It's not as though he can sense you".
The blurred and shielded elven magic user nods his hooded head to that, then does so again, when the tiny winged creature tells him "Better get away, Mira's mageglobe is heading back this way".
The highly talented elven spellcaster shifts away, as the mageglobe created by his fellow councilor Mira Reinholt, shoots back towards the north wall of Almaic.
The elven masterthief is well and truly gone by the time the living piece of magic, the size of a small apple, slams into the back of the north wall of the city, just six feet from the very top. Just below one of the catapults that's about to launch another load at the armies advancing upon the city that's the provincial capital.
The mageglobe comes to the end of it's brief life, and explodes upwards. Tearing up a section of the north wall of the city, and shattering apart the catapult and it's crew, on that section of the wall.
As stone work, timber, and body parts are flung into the air in a shower of red sparks.
The explosion could of been so much worse, had there not been a barrier spell that was hastily shoved up to one side of that section of the top of the wall, by the court wizard Melbar.
Who sensed the mageglobe just thirty feet from the wall after the sorcerer Yarrim warned him of it approaching.
"Hmmm, thought that would of been a bit bigger" murmurs Mira Reinholt the mage after he sees the explosion upon the top of the north wall of the city of Almaic created by his mageglobe.
Marching infront of the once powerful mage, the young field commander Tamric Drubine turns around, and asks the spellcaster who is a member of the personal council of lord Farque "What was that?".
"Nothing" replies the mage who is in exile from his homeland, the city-state of Vexil.
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin who leads this army advancing towards the city of Almaic nods, then looks ahead again, as he walks forward along with members of his senior staff.
While behind the mage Reinholt, the robber barons Almard and Larimer, along with their seconds, and their senior officers.
Walk here, at the rear of the vanguard of the advancing army. Which is marching through the ground already taken by the forward elements of the army led by field commander Drubine.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, slightly jumps in surprise. While behind him the robber barons, their seconds, and senior officers. Either mutter obscenities, or exclaim in surprise.
As the hooded and cloaked figure of Helbe the elven thief suddenly appears walking beside his fellow council member, Mira Reinholt.
"Might have a bit of a problem with one of their spellcasters" says the young elven noble who casts a ball of silence around himself and the mage Reinholt so no one can hear what they're saying.
"Then deal with it" says the once powerful mage in a slightly sour tone, who is slightly annoyed that the elven spellcaster made him jump in surprise, as he often does when he suddenly appears out of nowhere right beside him.
Flashing a tight grin, prince Helbenthril Raendril says "I will" followed in the royal elven language which his fellow spellcaster doesn't understand "Well, i hope i can".
Then switching back to the regular elven language that he and his fellow councilor are conserving in, the elven masterthief tells him what just happened before the mage's living piece of magic exploded at the top of the north wall of Almaic.
"He sensed it?" asks the once powerful mage in slight tone of surprise "So Narladene says" replies the young elven noble who is the youngest grandchild of the ruling prince of Laerel.
The swordmaster Reinholt nods his hooded head as he sees the ground pixie appear to him as she stands upon the right shoulder of the elven master assassin who like the Vexilian mage in exile is a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"How powerful is this sorcerer?" asks the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
"Pretty powerful" replies Helbe the elven thief, who then adds "By far the most powerful spellcaster here in the battle".
Mira Reinholt slightly winces, and does so again, when the elven magic user tells him "Who happens to be shielded too".
"You might have a bit of a problem alright" mutters the mage who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
The elven princeling from Laerel nods in agreement, then says to his fellow council member "Be careful with your mageglobes" the elven master archer continues with "Probably best to send them off in another direction altogether before having them come back towards the city".
The highly talented elven spellcaster then adds "If not, he might get lucky and trace one of them straight back to you since he knows what to look out for now".
The Vexilian mage in exile nods his hooded head to that, then quietly says "Get rid of him" the once powerful mage silently adds, then i won't have to worry about the bastard.
"I intend to" says the young elven noble who is the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel, who then nods towards the young field commander Tamric Drubine infront of them, and says  "Make sure to keep a close watch on Tam".
"I will" says the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, the elven masterthief nods his hooded head, then he disappears as he blurs himself and shifts away.
Standing upon a rooftop of a building just behind the north wall of the city of Almaic, though near where it meets the eastern side of the city.
The sorcerer Yarrim looks back along the north wall, while his guards stand behind him, wondering why they're all the way over here now, instead of being on top of the north wall as they were just a short time ago.
As he senses, sir Yarrim the sorcerer glances back at his guards, and asks the two of them "Did either one of you notice anyone on the rooftops near the part of the wall we were just on?".
Though neither of them were actively looking for such, they both answer in the negative to the nobleman's question. For when they did glance around at the rooftops near to the section of the wall they were on previously, they didn't see anyone.
The nobleborn sorcerer from the very south of the duchy of Phelm slightly nods, then tells the two of them "Keep an eye on rooftops wherever we go" followed by "Tell me immediately if you see anyone, i don't care who it is, just tell me about them".
"Yes sir" the two members of his personal household guard say in unison as the powerful sorcerer looks back to the west along the top of the north wall of Almaic.
So, someone's about are they? Yarrim the sorcerer thinks to himself, he comes to the conclusion that the warning feeling he got, had to do with another spellcaster.
He wonders if has anything to do with this mysterious mage who is amongst the enemy armies advancing upon Almaic. Or if it's another spellcaster entirely different.
Knowing the way things are going at the moment, it's probably someone else and not this mage, sir Yarrim thinks to himself, who after looking along the top of the north wall. Then at the enemy steadily marching forward across the ground their advanced elements have already taken to the north of Almaic.
He looks away to the east and northeast, looking along the Mareb river, where in the distance to the northeast. Smoke can clearly be seen on the river. Smoke that's heading this way.
So, you're going to try to hide something, the nobleborn spellcaster thinks to himself referring to the enemy in general, the powerful sorcerer then silently adds, just exactly what though?
The nobleman from the southern border region of Phelm then looks directly to the east as he walks that way along the rooftop, followed by his two guards.
The sorcerer, who is the noble behind the duke, who most definitely doesn't want the robber barons of the unruled lands in the southern reaches of the Colevar Mountains, to take the city of Almaic.
For the simple reason he's never been so close to the ducal seal as he is now. Considering his ladylove, the lady Elaine, who is the younger sister of duke Hargen. Is now the heir to her older brother and the duchy of Phelm.
Watches the enemy army across the Mareb river, to the east of the city that's the provincial capital.
And though there's a number of enemy war machines across on the otherside of the river. They're all catapults, and there's no trebuchets.
And the catapults are doing very little damage to the forces along the boulevard and docks that run along the east side of Almaic.
When they are successful, they're only hitting and destroying the piers that stick out some distance into the water on this side of the river.
And why don't they have any trebuchets over here? the nobleborn sorcerer thinks to himself, who has heard the reports that the enemy have plenty of them on the west side of Almaic. And he's seen a number of them with their forces to the north of the city. But he sees none of them to the east of the capital of the duchy of Phelm, across on the otherside of the Mareb river.
If they did, they'd definitely do a fair bit of a damage to our forces here, sir Yarrim thinks to himself, who has quite a few of his own household guards with those defending along the eastern side of the city.
The shielded sorcerer from the very south of the duchy, briefly looks to the north again and wonders where that mysterious mage is. And the other unknown spellcaster might be.
Then he looks down at the long boulevard that runs along the east side of Almaic, he nods down to there and says to his guards "We're going down there for a bit to check on our own men, and others defending that side of the city".
Sir Yarrim briefly pauses, before continuing with "Remember, keep an eye on all the rooftops close by" he then adds "And also keep an eye out for anyone or anything out of the ordinary".
The two guards who are members of his personal household guards, nod that they will. Then the nobleborn sorcerer in the red armour with a longsword on his left hip. Teleports the three of them down to the long boulevard that runs along the east side of the city of Almaic.
On a roof, near the one he was standing on before he went and talked with Mira Reinholt the mage. The blurred and shielded, Helbe the elven thief as he looks along the north wall of the city, glances at Narladene the ground pixie and asks her "Where is he now?".
The tiny magical creature, who can sense any spellcaster, no matter what they do to hide themselves from other practitioners of magic, looks away to the east, and after sensing, says "He's over on the east side of the city now".
"He gets around a fair bit doesn't he" murmurs the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, the highly talented elven magic user as he looks along the north wall of the city.
Takes note of all the enemy spellcasters on the top of the wall. And elsewhere in this part of the city.
Prince Helbenthril Raendril who is a member of the personal council of of lord Farque. Who has been the envoy for the Farqian mercenary army, in it's dealings with the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains, who have banded together to wage war upon duke Hargen and the duchy of Phelm, here in the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
Sees that there's very few of the enemy spellcaster to be concerned about. He sees that it's only the court wizard, a man by the name of Melbar. Along with a cleric, who with the armour and vestments he wears. Seems to be a member of the church of Glaine. As well as another sorcerer.
Seem to be the only ones for the armies led by the field commanders Drubine and Leivyn to worry about on this side of the city.
The elven masterthief briefly thinks about dealing to them to himself. But he knows he's got someone else far more important to worry about, and deal to. And that's the sorcerer, sir Yarrim. Who is now somewhere on the east side of the city, that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
"Right then" quietly says the young elven noble who is the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel "Let's go and find this sorcerer" adds the elven master assassin, the blurred and shielded elven magic user then tells Narladene "Lead me to him".
A few moments later, and Helbe the elven thief shifts away, heading east across the city of Almaic, in search for the enemy sorcerer, sir Yarrim . . . . . .

The Hire 102.

The Kingdom Of Nastell. The Duchy Of Phelm. The City Of Almaic...

Mira Reinholt the mage walks behind the group that includes the young field commander Tamric Drubine and his senior staff.
They're well behind the front ranks, towards the rear of the vanguard as the army marches towards the city of Almaic.
The once powerful mage from the city-state of Vexil, who is now a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Won't allow the young field commander to march at the front of the van. Though even back here, they're not exactly immune to the dangers posed by the enemy upon the top of the north wall of Almaic.
As a magetube shot proves as it careens off a barrier spell one of the spellcasters has put up. And lands amongst the soldiers and mercenaries forty yards to the right of them, and explodes.
The mage Reinholt faintly winces as he smells the charred bodies of the soldiers and mercenaries away to the right. Who as the further back you go, are more and more from the armies of the robber barons Almard and Larimer.
Both of whom, along with their seconds, and a number of their senior officers. Are walking directly behind the Vexilian mage in exile.
"Hell" loudly mutters the robber baron Larimer as the stench of burnt bodies continues to waft their way until they've gone ahead a further fifty yards.
The march forward has been fairly easy, as the enemy battlelines have been taken, and cleared. Allowing them easy access to get nearer to the city of Almaic.
Then as the two robber barons Larimer and Almard. The two most troublesome of the five robber barons from the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains to the north of the kingdom of Nastell. Who have banded together to wage war upon duke Hargen and the duchy of Phelm, here in northern Nastell.
Discuss how the army away to their right, or west. Are moving forward too. Though only their front ranks, which are made up of soldiers in the mercenary army from the lands Farque.
The once powerful mage who hails from the city-state of Vexil, which he's in exile from. Due to committing treason during the battle of Vexil over a decade and half ago. A battle that's the largest in the Southlands in the last four hundred and fifty years since the invasion of the region by the Holy Norstran Empire.
Looks away to the left, to the east where he can clearly see the Mareb river, that runs down the east side of the city of Almaic.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster then looks further away to the northeast, the direction the river comes from. And he can clearly see the smoke in the distance.
The spellcaster, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands. Nods his hooded head, as he figures the rivercraft that general Halvane's army have put into the Mareb.
Will well and truly be alongside the city of Almaic by midday at least. Where the smoke from them, will obscure what the general's army will be doing.
The mage Reinholt then glances behind him, as the robber baron Almard has just asked him "Councilor, are we stopping up here or something?".
As up ahead, those in the vanguard just infront of the group consisting of field commander Drubine and his senior staff, have stopped at an enemy fortification, that's been partially destroyed by the forward elements. Who are the ones actually doing the fighting against the enemy.
As the rest of the army, will be used to storm the actual city when they eventually get to it.
"Looks like it" is the response from Mira Reinholt the mage, who as they go down a bit of a rise at the moment. Gets a good view of the entire area leading up to the north wall of Almaic. Which is only just over half a mile away now.
The swordmaster Reinholt sees that the forward elements that are closest to the city at the moment, are only a hundred yards or so from it.
He assumes, correctly as it turns out. That it's the goblin battalion led by the ork warleader Dorc da Orc who is in it that particular enemy fortification.
They look to be attacking the enemy from one side, pushing them back to the other side. Going from east to west by the looks of it.
The once powerful mage nods in understanding, as he sees how that long battleline, is fairly close, at it's western end to the road that leads to the north gates of the city, that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Dorc da Orc and his battalion of goblins seem to be pushing the enemy there towards the road. A road that's been set with traps by the enemy. A road that the forward elements have avoided as they've fought their way towards the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
The exiled Vexilian mage, along with the robber barons behind them. Enter the remnants of the enemy fortification that commander Drubine and his senior staff have gone into.
The swordmaster Reinholt looks around, and spots Tamric Drubine on an archers platform, looking towards the city.
The member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, makes his way over there.
As he does, subcommander Waiamin and another officer in the Farqian mercenary army come from the other direction, through the trench.
"You don't want to keep going that way councilor" says the other officer in the elven language, a subaltern, who continues with "Warleader Dorc and his battalion of goblins took this battleline".
The subaltern, then adds "The warleader, ah relieved himself on a few of the dead enemy back that way".
"They weren't dead when he took a shit on them" dryly says Mira Reinholt in the same language, who then adds in the same dry tone "Dorc taking a crap on them is what finally killed them".
The subaltern, a young man in his late teens winces, while subcommander Waiamin mutters "Hell". "It definitely was for them, that's for sure" says the highly skilled swordmaster, who then turns and says in the common language "If you could wait here" to the following robber barons and their seconds.
The mage Reinholt, along with the subcommander, climb up the ladder and join the young field commander up on the archers platform. As around the enemy fortification they're in, the army continues it's march forward towards the city of Almaic.
Up on the archers platform, the Vexilian mage in exile looks around, and down in the trench below. He spots the assassin, one of those trained by Helbe the elven thief. A soldier in the Farqian mercenary army. Who is also keeping an eye on field commander Drubine.
He spots the mage Reinholt looking down at him, and slightly nods to the councilor. And seeing that the mage Reinholt is right next to the young field commander at the moment.
He wanders away for a bit, though not too far. As he goes and stands by the robber barons and their seconds.
The swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil faintly smiles when he sees that. As the assassin has placed himself close to the nearest threat to Tamric Drubine, who aren't the enemy.
"Looks like Dorc and his battalion are about a hundred and twenty yards from the wall" says the field commander Tamric Drubine in the elven language, as he's looking through a brass, cylindrical eyepiece "The way they're going, they might reach the wall by just before midday" adds the nobleborn teenager who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
The once powerful mage who has taken out his own leather wrapped, brass cylindrical eyepiece, and is looking through it, says in elven "He'll get there alright".
After a brief pause, the spellcaster who is permanently shielded because of an amulet he wears on a chain around his neck, quietly adds "Let's just hope he doesn't get it into that thick skull of his to attack the wall by himself".
"There is that" says Tamric Drubine, who almost winces whenever the mage Reinholt speaks in elven. For though the highly skilled swordmaster has spoken the language for well over a decade now. And is fluent in it. His accent and cadence in the language isn't particularly good. Infact it's atrocious.
The young field commander, as he looks at where the forward elements of his army are, and what they're doing, quietly says to the councilor and his subcommander "This is more or less going to plan" he briefly pauses before adding "But it won't last, when we get to the wall".
As a couple of the enemy magetubes up on the north wall of the city fire upon this army, and the army to the west led by field commander Leivyn.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, asks the Vexilian mage in exile "Why aren't those magetubes firing more often?".
"Once they're depleted it takes a lot of power to get them full again" explains the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
"It's why warships have anywhere from three to more than six spellcasters in the crew" continues the mage Reinholt, who then adds "Constantly refilling the amount of magetubes onboard takes a lot out of you".
The young field commander and his subcommander nod in understanding, then the councilor tells them "And the fact the crews up on the wall seem to be in the duke's army, so they won't be as experienced as airship crews in using them" Mira Reinholt then adds "Takes a lot of coordination and effort, not to mention brute strength to roll them forward again after firing, and that's even with them in their wheeled cradles" he continues with "Those things are fucking heavy, even the smaller ones".
"No wonder they're so expensive to make" quietly says Tam, who has heard how expensive it is to outfit an airship with magetubes. Even if he hadn't of been told how much, he thought someone would of been lying if they had brought that figure up.
"Exactly" says the spellcaster, who originally comes from the land, that being the city-state of Vexil. Where more magetubes are produced than anywhere else in the Southlands. The region of the world where magetubes are more abundant than anywhere else in the world of Volunell.
As he watches through his eyepiece, an enemy catapult up on the top of the north wall of Almaic, fling a load out and away from the city.
The mage Reinholt quietly says "Even with things going more or less to plan, things can go bad rather quickly if we're not careful" the Vexilian mage in exile then adds "On any side of the city".
Tamric Drubine, along with his fellow field commanders, Leivyn and Talbot. And a number of others, predominantly Dorc da Orc. Planned the attack upon the city of Almaic.
Nods his head in agreement with the council member, then quietly says "Especially considering the attack on the west side of the city is a full on distraction" Tam momentarily pauses, before adding "And our along with Leivyn's army are basically doing the same thing here to the north of the city".
The highly skilled swordmaster nods to that. For the attack upon the west side of Almaic, led by field commander Talbot is a full on diversion.
While here on the north side of Almaic, the armies led by the field commanders Drubine and Leivyn. Are acting as a diversion, as much as they are in actually taking the north wall of the city that's the provincial capital.
All to draw the duke's forces away from other parts of the city. Specifically the east side of Almaic. Where later on during the day, the main thrust of the attack upon the city will come from the army led by general Halvane.
For the simple reason the duke and his military commanders will never think someone will commit a full on attack against Almaic from across the Mareb river.
"They seem a bit more pleased about things" quietly says the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin with a nod down at the nearby robber barons and their seconds.
"That'll change quickly once they're in the thick of the fighting to take the north wall of the city" dryly says subcommander Waiamin "This is true" quietly says Tam, while the once powerful mage who is grinning, nods his hooded head in agreement with that assessment from the subcommander of this particular army.
The young field commander after one last look through his brass, cylindrical eyepiece at the progress of the battle, here to the north of the city of Almaic.
Returns the eyepiece to his pack, and says to his subcommander and the councilor "Time to get going again".
Both the swordmaster Reinholt and subcommander Waiamin nod to that, then the subcommander calls out an order to those in the partially destroyed fortification, to resume the march with the rest of the army.
After they make their way out of the enemy fortification, and continue on towards the city of Almaic.
Mira Reinholt who once again is following right behind field commander Drubine and his senior staff. Between them and the robber barons and their seconds, and senior officers.
Creates a mageglobe in his gloved right hand, and quickly bends down and pushes it into the ground.
Beneath the ground, the living piece of magic makes it's way towards the north wall of the city of Almaic.
Where not only it will cause a fair bit of destruction, but also act as a distraction to the enemy spellcasters. Who will wonder how and why a mageglobe has got through their wards. When they sense no mage amongst the forces attacking the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Let's see what happens this time, the mage Reinholt thinks to himself as he walks towards the north wall of Almaic, looking at where his mageglobe will eventually end up, and come to the conclusion of it's short existence . . . . . .

The Hire 101.

The City Of Almaic...

Stomping down upon the head of a wounded enemy soldier crawling through the trench, and shattering the man's skull apart. Dorc da Orc grunts, then says "Me smell smoke" as he sniffs at the air.
"Well, there's the burning pitch from the" is what Teabagger the goblin Cunt gets out before the large ork interrupts him with "Nah not that cunt" followed by "Me mean fucken smoke, smoke".
As the small, bright green goblin rolls his eyes, the ork warleader pops his head up out of the deep trench, and looks eastwards, the direction he can smell the smoke coming from.
Dorkindle grunts, then after getting shot in the side of the head by an enemy arrow, which harmlessly bounces off him. The ork weaponsmith says "Smoke on that fucken river".
The big, burly ork who hails from the southern polar region of the world takes a couple of moments to realise what that means. He grunts when he remembers what it signifies.
"That general" says the ork weaponsmith, who momentarily pauses before he continues on with "What's his fucken name?".
"Halvane" says a helpful Teabagger "Yeah that cunt" says Dorkindle, who then waves a big, meaty, skillet sized hand to the east, before adding "He must be gonna attack from fucken thataway".
The ork general, along with the goblin commander. Whose battalion has got the furthest ahead out of any of the forward elements attacking the enemy battlelines just north of the city of Almaic.
Look towards the top of the north wall of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
There one of the enemy catapults has just flung off a load of rocks and rubble.
Towards the forward elements of the army led by field commander Tamric Drubine. To be exact, towards where the ork general, and most of his battalion are in a trench amongst the enemy battlelines.
"Shit" mutters Dorc da Orc, who pushes Teabagger down, and yells out "Take cover you fucken gob-a-lin cunts!" as rocks and bits of broken masonry comes flying their way through the morning sky.
The warleader of the ork race pops down beneath the level of the trench, and shoves the face of another of the goblins in the dirt, to keep him down.
Rocks and bits of rubble hit in and around the trench. Missing most of the battalion. Apart from one who was too slow to get into the trench. Who is hit in the right leg by a rock, breaking the leg.
While another, one of the taller of the goblins, stuck his head out of the top of the trench to see what was happening.
He lost his head when a large piece of broken masonry slammed into his face and neck. Taking his head off.
"Fucken gob-a-lin" mutters Dorc da Orc as he looks away to the right at the headless goblin about twenty yards away, whose body is sitting down, propped up against the back of the trench.
Then the big, burly ork who hails from the very bottom of the world, hauls Teabagger and the other goblin he was holding down, up to their feet. And calls out "Get that fucken cunt back to the healers!". As the goblin with the shattered leg is screaming in pain.
He's carried away by two others in the battalion. Who head back with him to the army led by field commander Tamric Drubine. An army that's now on the march. As they follow after their advanced elements. Who are fighting their way through the enemy battlelines towards the city of Almaic, the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Dorkindle who is pretty sure they don't have to worry about the enemy magetubes up on the north wall of the city anymore.
Knows that if he and his battalion of goblins keep moving forward at this pace through the enemy battlelines.
They'll soon be out of the firing line of the catapults upon the top of the wall too.
As the war machines will be unable to strike them, as the goblin battalion and their ork general, in the armies of Farque. Will be too close to the north wall for the catapults up on the top of the wall to hit them.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks looks ahead and to the left, sniffing as he does so. The ork warleader grins as he catches the scent of the enemy magetube that's down on the ground, just out from the base of the wall.
The ork general can't see it at the moment, as there's an enemy fortification in his line of sight.
But the large ork knows it's still there, and that the enemy has yet to remove it.
"Me gonna gets that big fucken boom boom" murmurs Dorkindle in the incomprehensible language of his race.
Then the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grunts when Teabagger says "Boss, er general" followed by "That road is just away to the right a bit".
The big, burly ork who is wearing a rain poncho made out of a side of a tent, on what's a hot summer's day, with no chance of rain whatsoever.
A poncho that he's sweating profusely beneath too.
Looks away to the area that the goblin commander has indicated.
The warleader of the ork race, a title that was given to him well over a decade ago by lord Farque.
Nods his big head as he recognises what Teabagger has pointed out.
"Hmmmm" murmurs the ork weaponsmith as he sees captain Weldin's company on the otherside of the road, a road that goes straight to the north gates of Almaic.
Dorkindle sees that the captain and his battalion, are near the road that leads to the city. But they're not on it whatsoever.
They keep at least five to ten yards from the road at all times. As it's believed that the road has been dug out with pit traps at various points, closer to the city of Almaic.
And that's from a reliable source. Being Narladene the ground pixie who checked out the ground surrounding the city before the attack got underway.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, then looks towards the next of the enemy battlelines infront of their position.
Another fortification, from the top of which, enemy archers and crossbowmen are shooting at the goblin battalion who are in a trench.
Dorkindle drops down, and explains to Teabagger what they'll do.
The small, bright green goblin who is the commander of the battalion listens carefully. And though there's an awful lot of swearing involved. The goblin commander gets the gist of what the ork warleader wants done.
"You think many of them will flee that way boss, er general?" asks Teabagger, who continues with "They'll know for certain what will happen if they run down it".
The big, burly ork who hails from extremely cold environs of the southern polar region at the bottom of the world, grunts then says "Some fucken will" he follows that with "Cunts get all mixed up in a fucken battle and forget shit" Dorc da Orc silently adds, me know me fucken do.
The goblin commander who is originally from the kingdom of Melaurn in the very south of the Southlands, nods then says "Let's hope so".
The ork weaponsmith grunts then says "Gots to fucken 'member to attacks from that side to fucken push 'em that way". The large ork who points to where, then adds "It might fucken break some more of 'em closer to the fucken wall".
Teabagger the goblin Cunt nods to the logic of that, then he turns to the goblin to his right, and quickly says in their own language what the ork general wants done.
Word quickly spreads through the trench what the warleader of the ork race wants done. And the battalion of goblins in the Farqian mercenary army wait for the order to advance again.
As an enemy catapult shot of barrels of burning pitch goes sailing over the trench the goblin battalion are in, Dorc da Orc roars "Charge!".
The goblins scramble up and out of the enemy trench they've taken over. The ork general picks up Teabagger, and another small goblin, and biffs them out of the trench. Then he climbs up out of it behind them.
They take off running, to the left more than anything, like the rest of the battalion are doing. As they're shot at by enemy archers and crossbowmen in the fortification they're more or less heading towards.
They're running towards the eastern end of the enemy battleline infront of them. Dorkindle who leaps over one of the goblins who has tripped over. A rather common occurrence as at least some of the battalion always trip over themselves whenever they charge the enemy. Or for that matter, whenever they just run.
Takes a spear from his weapon harness, across his back. And throws it at the enemy fortification. The heavy spear slams into the wooden front of the fortification. Shattering apart planks of wood. And goes through an enemy crossbowmen, who knocks off the soldier next to him, from the archers platform they're standing on.
"Keep running!" calls out Teabagger in the goblin language, who is running more to one side of the large ork, as they run at an angle towards the eastern end of the enemy battleline they're charging.
The small, bright, lurid green goblin who is using his general as a giant moving shield, winces as arrows and bolts go zipping by through the air.
The goblin commander hears the warleader of the ork race grunt whenever he gets hit by an arrow or bolt. And he hisses once, and growls something unintelligible in the ork language when he's struck in the side of the face by an enemy arrow.
Which he rips out as they continue to run towards the eastern end of the enemy battleline, which is primarily a temporary fortification, at least eighty yards in length. There must be at least three to four hundred enemy soldiers and mercenaries in, and behind it.
And a battalion of less than a hundred and fifty goblins are rushing towards one end of it. But the smaller goblins, have one advantage. Their general.
"Fucken get some" murmurs Dorc da Orc as he runs, the large ork might not be the quickest person around. But his long stride, and steady pace. Quickly gets him amongst those in the front of the charging goblin battalion.
The ork weaponsmith roars, and those goblins infront of him, part ways. Allowing him to run forward. Even Teabagger, who usually uses the large ork as a moving shield. Hangs back a bit as the big, burly ork pushes to the front.
With arms and legs pumping, and looking more than slightly ridiculous in the rain poncho he's wearing this clear, sunny warm summer's day.
Dorkindle drops his head, as he runs directly at the eastern end of the enemy fortification.
The wooden fortification is raised up off the ground, primarily on packed dirt. Though not that high in comparison to a seven and half foot tall, seven hundred and fifty pound ork.
Who is struck by at least a dozen arrows and bolts in the front. Most of which bounce off the breastplate made of natural dragon armour he wears beneath his poncho.
As he runs head first into this end of the enemy fortification, using himself as a moving battering ram. And with good effect too.
As wood goes shattering in all directions. The large ork who can easily knock down trees by running into them head first.
Smashes through the wooden front of the fortification. It helps that the dirt packed beneath it, is at an angle, giving the ork warleader pretty good footing as he goes hurtling forward through the wooden planking.
"Get some!" shouts Dorc da Orc as he goes smashing through the enemy fortification. The big, burly ork from the bottom of the world goes sprawling. Landing upon an enemy soldier, squashing the man to death. And crashing into the legs of another, shattering his legs if the howl of pain that it illicits is anything to go by.
A enemy hammer comes crashing down upon the head of the ork general. Who chortles as the enemy soldier yelps as his weapon is jarred out of his hands after it strikes the solid head of the large ork.
Dorkindle swings out with his arms as he lies there on his gut upon a dead enemy soldier, and slams into the legs of those closest to him. Dropping them as they scream in pain as their legs break.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, chuckles as he gets to his feet. While behind him, the first of the goblins are scrambling up into the breach in the enemy fortification created by their general, the ork warleader.
One of the first of the goblins to climb up into the enemy fortification. Infact he's pushed up by others behind him. Is Teabagger the goblin Cunt.
Who kicks an enemy soldier in the face who is lying there screaming in pain with a shattered left leg.
The small, bright green goblin who commands the battalion of goblins in the mercenary army from the lands Farque. Looks to the right, the direction they want to go. Back to the west, in the direction of the nearby road.
There he sees his general, Dorc da Orc. Making his way along the wooden fortification. Swinging a headless enemy soldier like cudgel. Smashing the body into any of the enemy who actually stand and fight against him.
For as usual when the large ork gets amongst the enemy. One of three things happen to the enemy.
They either cower in fear. Or the extremely brave, or extremely stupid depending on your point of view. Stand against the ork warleader, and try to fight him. Which usually ends up bad for them. Resulting in either a horrific injury or death. It's the lucky ones who actually end up dead.
While the third, and most common thing to happen when the big, burly ork gets amongst the enemy. Is that they flee.
Which is happening now, as a fair few of the enemy soldiers and mercenaries in this temporary fortification. Hurry away from the ork warleader who is swinging around a dead body like a club.
Teabagger and a couple of other of the goblins, hurry after their general who is clearing the way. While a few others use axes to widen the breach in the planking along the front of the fortification.
As the small, bright green goblin commander from the kingdom of Melaurn hurries after his general. He looks away to the left, up at the north wall of the city of Almaic.
The goblin commander grins as he knows the enemy up there won't attack them at this time. As the battalion of goblins and their ork general are mingled up with their own as they fight the enemy within the fortification.
Teabagger who sees an enemy catapult up on the top of the north wall of the city, fling a load in this direction. Knows that it's going to fly well over their heads. And is destined for others who are further behind his battalion.
The small, bright green goblin then mutters "Fuck me sideways" as he trips over a dead body, and lands flat on his face.
The goblin commander is helped to his feet by two others in the battalion. Both small like him. Though not a lurid bright green colour like him. As he's a bit of a rarity amongst the goblin race.
Then they continue on, following after their general Dorc da Orc. Who is clearing a path through the enemy fortification.
And those of the enemy he doesn't kill or maim, either those who stand and fight. Or cower in fear until he hits them. They're fleeing.
And though some are doing the right thing. Which is jumping off the back of the fortification. And rushing across the open ground to the next battleline that's even closer to the city of Almaic.
Many of those fleeing, are going back and away from the large ork who is rampaging through their fortification. They're fleeing westwards through the fortification, in the direction of the nearby road.
As Dorkindle, who has biffed away the dead body he was using as a club. And is now wielding a hammer in one hand, and a throwing axe in the other. Wades through the enemy willing to stand against him as he heads back towards the nearby road.
"Fucken get some!" shouts Dorc da Orc as he slams his hammer down into the head of an enemy soldier who attempted to stab him with a sword.
As the enemy soldier's head vanishes in a pulpy red mist of brain matter and bone. And his body slams into the ground. The ork warleader advances, followed closely by Teabagger the goblin Cunt and others in the battalion he's the general of. As the battle for the city of Almaic continues to rage on this warm, summer's day in the duchy of Phelm in northern Nastell . . . . . .