The General & The Knight 51.

Spring. The Northern Border.

Markell the teenage army recruit blocks and deflects the raider's sword with one of his shortswords.
Then whips the other one upwards, taking the raider beneath the chin.
Shattering the man's jaw, and the blade goes up into his mouth, and face.
Markell kicks the dead raider backwards, kicking him into the path of another of the raiders.
Who goes to leap the body, only to end up with Marshay the teenage army recruit's sword whacking into his legs, breaking one, and slashing open the other.
Marshay who dived to do that, rolls forward, and pops up onto her feet. Blocking the overhead swing of a sword from another of the raiders.
Who screams in pain as one of Markell's shortswords, stabs him in the back.
His scream comes to an abrupt end when the Farqian teen's other shortsword slams into the back of his head, smashing open his skull.
As that raider falls to the ground dead, both of the teenage recruits from the northwest of the lands Farque.
Who spent the majority of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before they and the rest of the first group of recruits made their way out to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard.
Who are lower down the hillside than the rest of the group of teenage army recruits.
Look up at the twin masted airship that's in the sky further above the hill.
A hill, that's right on the border that the lands Farque has with the unruled lands to the north.
There's a momentary pause from both of the thirteen year olds, then Markell the teenage army recruit says "Huh".
While next to him, Marshay blinks in surprise at what the two of them see.
If the twin masted airship was a sailing vessel upon the ocean. It would be described as being dead in the water.
But alas, it's an airship, and the converted cargo vessel used by raiders from the unruled lands.
Has come to a stop about forty feet above this side of the hill, about thirty yards down from the brow of the hilltop.
Markell and Marshay share a look, before looking back up at the airship, that they're to aft of.
As the twin masted airship is definitely starting to list to starboard.
Not quickly, but definitely slowly to starboard.
The two teenage army recruits from northwestern Farque. Who have dealt to the group of raiders who came at them.
Who were more than a little surprised, that two young teens. Two of the smallest in the group. And one a girl.
Put up such a fight, with only Markell, receiving a wound. As his leather armour wasn't good enough to protect him from a slash along the upper part of his right arm.
As he prefers to get in close to any opponent as he fights with a shortsword in each hand.
Watch as one of the raiders comes flying over the stern rail of the twin masted airship, that's slowly listing to the starboard side.
"You big stinking idiot" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic in a disparaging tone of voice after he grabs a dazed raider, and flings him off the stern of the converted cargo vessel.
"Look what you've done you foul smelling retarded oaf" continues the former paladin, who then adds a muttered "Wot".
"Dorc not a retard" mutters Dorc da Orc as he rolls off the shattered ship's wheel, and the plinth it was on.
"Ah fuck up you lot" adds the large ork in his native language when more than a few of the voices in his head, the loudest of which is his 'mother'. Tells him that indeed he is a retard. And what he just did, clearly proves it.
The ork warleader staggers to his feet, kicking away the remnants of the ship's wheel he's just destroyed.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world shakes his head, then says "Why the world so fucken wonky?".
As he finds himself leaning to one side to get himself steady and upright.
"Because it is wonky" says the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic in a tone of disgust.
"The ship is tilting to starboard" adds the heavily armoured knight as he shakes his head, and looks at his bitter rival, the warleader of the ork race.
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name. Not his full given name, as that's far too long to describe. Which often changes depending what the large ork has done recently, or how he's feeling.
Steps back, and grabs a hold of the stern rail to keep himself steady as the twin masted airship has come to a stop above the hill, and it's definitely starting to list or tilt to one side.
Both the ork general in the armies of Farque, and the nobleborn knight. Know that an airship will drop out of the sky, if it's magical keel is damaged or destroyed.
They also know, that if an airship tilts far enough to one side, it will flip over.
Which may or may not see it fall out of the sky and hit the ground.
Though when an airship does flip over like a sailing ship on the water, capsizing.
Those onboard, particular those on deck. Tend to fall, and drop off, and out of an upside down airship.
"Way to go you blundering idiot" sourly says sir Percavellé Lé Dic or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
With a scowl upon his broad, green, brutish looking face, the ork weaponsmith says to his bitter rival "Stop ya moaning bitch" followed by "At least these cunts not gonna use this fucken ship again".
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in the east of the kingdom of Druvic, sourly smiles.
As the two of them, bitter rivals. Who have disliked one another for about fifteen years.
Who spent a good part of the first dozen of those years trying to kill one another whenever they encountered one another on a battlefield or elsewhere.
Looks forward along the deck at the raiders. Who couldn't care less about the two of them at the moment.
As they are more worried about how they're going to get off their airship alive.
As they're still about forty or so feet above the hill, a bit down from the brow on the hilltop.
"Hmmmmm" murmurs Dorkindle, while next to him on the stern, also holding onto the rail, Percy murmurs "Wot".
As they wonder how they too can get out of the predicament they find themselves in.
Unable to think of anything quickly that will get them out of the situation they're in, which is no surprise really.
Dorc da Orc who does briefly thinks about back handing his bitter rival over the stern of the twin masted airship.
But he gives up on that idea, when he looks back and down. And spots two of the teenage recruits from the group. Down on the hillside, looking up at the raider's vessel.
The ork warleader who is glad to see a number of dead and dying raiders on the ground near those Farqian teenagers.
Who he thinks might be Marshay and Markell. He's not too sure, as a lot of the group look the same to him.
And he's never been particularly good at remembering people's names.
Grunts as he looks ahead, and unable to think of what to do. He does what he knows he's able to do, no matter what. And that's violence.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks takes a spear from across his back, and throws it as he continues to hold onto the stern rail.
The spear slams into the back of one of the raiders, picks him up, and knocks him forward at least ten feet, before slamming him into the main mast, and pinning him to it.
With a sideways look at his bitter rival the ork warleader, who is chuckling at what he just did.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic sourly smiles. And goes back to looking at what some of the raiders and the crew are up to.
True some have scattered, and others hurry below deck after Dorkindle just killed one with a spear. By pinning the man to the main mast of the converted cargo vessel.
Others further along the deck, are tying ropes to the starboard rail, which Percy figures they'll use to climb down to the ground as the twin masted airship continues to slowly tilt to the starboard side.
Lifting up the faceplate of his full helm, the nobleborn knight nods along the deck, and says to his bitter rival "There beast" followed by "That lot forward of a midships, by the forecastle".
The large ork looks forward along the deck, then grunts when he sees what the former paladin has spotted.
"Dorc too fucken fat, me mean too big and muscley for that" says the son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
"Me will break the fucken rail" adds the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world.
The former earl of Lé Dic grunts in agreement. As for once his bitter rival is actually telling the truth.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che. Will admit that climbing down a rope tied to one of the rather worn looking rails might not be the best for himself too.
As he weighs well in excess of two hundred pounds, and well over two hundred and fifty, closer to two hundred and seventy five pounds with all his armour, and weapons.
Percy after glancing at his bitter rival, who is now scowling at the deck, silently willing it to stop tilting, and return to level.
Looks up at the main mast of the airship, where a couple of the crew are hurrying down the lines and sheets as their airship continues to slowly tip over to one side.
Then the nobleborn knight comes up with an idea. Deep down he doesn't know if it's a good idea.
But Percy, who is ever an optimist. Who always looks on the positive side of things. At least where it concerns him in any way.
Says to his bitter rival Dorc da Orc "I, the great sir Percavellé has come up with an ingenious idea, wot".
Before the ork general in the armies of Farque can tell the former paladin to stick his idea up his ass.
The warleader of the ork race, grunts when the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic asks him "You putrid smelling demon, i have a question for you, wot" followed by "Doth thou think'st you can knock down that mast, wot".
"Er?" says Dorkindle, who have after a pause adds "Fucken maybe" in a rather dubious tone of voice as he looks at the main mast of the raider's airship.
The large ork who has knocked over trees, doors, walls and many other things over the years.
Has never knocked down the mast on an airship. At least not one this size.
The ork who was named warleader of his race by lord Farque a number of years ago, looks at his bitter rival, and asks the former paladin "Why you wants me to do fucken that?".
So you can crack open that fat head of yours, and have what little brains inside of it, spill out of it, wot, is what the nobleborn knight thinks.
But what he actually says is "So we can climb down the sails and the lines, as it lies across the side of the ship".
The heavily armoured knight continues on with "Or we might actually be able to climb down it, depending how it falls, and how far this ship tips over on it's side, wot".
Dorc da Orc has to think about it for a moment or two, then he grunts as he realises what his bitter rival has suggested, actually makes some sense.
"Hmmmmm maybe me can" murmurs the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Who left his homeland, The Ork Range. When he was sent into exile for killing the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe, his mother.
Which was only fair, considering she was doing her best to kill him at the time.
To say ork relationships, especially amongst family members. Is a bit acrimonious at the best of times. Is an understatement in the extreme.
Looking at his bitter rival the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic, the ork weaponsmith tells him "Yeah cunt, me will try and bring that fucker down".
Then not bothering to wait at all, the large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque.
Takes off at a run along the deck towards the main mast of the raider's vessel.
The ork warleader runs with arms outstretched to his sides. Trying to keep his balance as the twin masted airship continues to lean to starboard.
Dorkindle drops his head as he runs towards the main mast of the converted cargo ship.
While on the aft deck, still holding onto the stern rail. Sir Percavellé Lé Dive slightly winces as he watches his bitter rival the ork general.
Wondering how the large ork will fare when he hits the mast head on.
If he'll be able to at least get some movement on the main mast if he smashes into it, head first.
That's exactly what the warleader of the ork race does.
Running head first into the main mast, just to the side of the dead raider pinned to it by one of the large ork's spears.
The entire mast shakes, and the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world. Staggers to one side, before falling down onto his rump.
The ork weaponsmith sits there on the deck shaking his head to clear it.
While on the aft deck, his bitter rival sir Percavellé Lé Dic calls out to him to do it again.
"Er?" says Maselle the teenage army recruit as she quickly looks down at the twin masted airship.
"What?" asks Lamis the teenage army recruit after he kicks one of the raiders in the head, who is trying to crawl away.
The teenage girl nods down to the stationary vessel, and says "On the deck" followed by "The general".
Lamis looks out through the trees on the brow of the hill where they are. Where they can see down onto the deck of the twin masted airship. A ship that's just not stationary, but also slowly listing to one side.
The teenage boy from the northwest of the lands Farque, easily spots the ork general, Dorc da Orc. After all, he's not exactly hard to miss.
The large ork is heading aft, staggering as he does so, arms out wide as he tries to keep his balance.
To Lamis, the ork warleader looks like a drunk man as he weaves his way back to the stern of the vessel, where his fellow instructor, sir Percavellé Lé Dic is.
"What's he doing?" asks the teenage boy who whips his shortsword to one side, to clear the blood off the blade.
"Watch" replies Maselle, who continues on with "I think he's going to do it again".
Then the two of them watch the ork general in their lord's armies. Lower his head, and take off in a staggering run, heading forward along the deck of the converted cargo vessel.
"Huh" says Lamis after the ork weaponsmith runs into the main mast of the raider's ship again.
The main mast, which they clearly see sway back and forth after the large ork ran into it head first.
"Well, i guess he's trying to bring down that mast" says the teenage boy who then looks quickly down the hill to see if anymore of the raiders are heading up their way.
"That's fairly obvious" dryly says Maselle who uses a piece of cloth to dab at the shallow cut along the side of her neck.
"But why's he doing that?" adds the teenage girl from the northwest of the lands Farque.
"Who the hell knows why those two do anything" mutters Lamis as they see general Dorc struggling to his feet again.
Maselle nods her head in agreement with that muttered comment from her fellow army recruit.
As they watch the warleader of the ork race start making his way back to the aft deck of the raider's vessel.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, is moving from side to side, as much as he is forwards.
Then Maselle looks down the hill, when Lamis quietly tells her "Two more of them are coming up the hill".
As the teenage boy retrieves one of his daggers from one of the nearby dead raiders.
Maselle continues to watch what's going on onboard the stationary twin masted airship, that's listing to starboard.
As she sees Dorc da Orc reach the stern, where his bitter rival sir Percavellé Lé Dic says something to him, while gesturing to the main mast. Lamis says to her "They've spotted us".
The two teens from the first group of young army recruits from across northwestern Farque.
Who spent most of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before they and the rest of their group, along with two of their instructors. Made their way out to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard, to complete their training.
Watch as another pair of raiders from the unruled lands to the north of the border.
Hurry up the hill to the trees on the brow, where Maselle and Lamis are waiting. On this, the very first day of spring on the northern border of their lord's lands . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 50.

Spring. A Hill.

None of the raiders want to get too close to him. After all he's killed every single one he's got a hold of.
Dorc da Orc throws away what's left of the body he's been using as a club.
Then he kicks a raider crawling across the deck, who is missing his left arm.
The man's ribs explode from the kick that takes him in the side. Shattering apart, and ripping out of, and into his body from the impact of the powerful kick that instantly kills him, and sends his body across the deck to thump into the port rail.
Looking to aft, Dorc da Orc mutters "Use-a-less fucken prick" as he looks at his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Who is on the aft deck, fighting the raiders there. Keeping them from getting to the ship's wheel.
The large ork then hisses in pain, as a spear hits him in the hand. In the back of it, just between the forefinger and thumb, before being yanked out of his hand.
The ork warleader grabs the spear, and the raider holding it. Lifts them both up, and with a roar of anger, throws the two of them overboard.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Shakes his bleeding right hand, as that spear thrust actually hurt.
The ork general in the armies of Farque looks to aft again, to yell at his bitter rival, the former paladin.
To get him to keep pulling back on the ship's wheel, so that the twin masted vessel keeps rising up, and away from the hill below.
When he sees the heavily armoured knight is doing exactly that. All the while fighting off the raiders on the aft deck.
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name. Grunts as he realises they're still not moving that quickly.
The ork weaponsmith looks up, and though he kind of knows the rudimentary basics of flying.
He isn't exactly sure why the raiders airship, is still only about forty feet above the hillside.
But he suspects it has something to do with the sails up the masts, and their settings.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, makes his way over to the starboard side of the deck.
Roaring at one of the raiders who contemplates running at him.
The man backs away quickly, and hurries down the nearest ladder.
As he suddenly decides he doesn't want to face the warleader of the ork race.
Dorkindle biffs the throwing axe he's holding in is his left hand. Barely missing that raider. And instead hitting another here in a midships.
That raider flies backwards before hitting the deck, with the large ork's throwing axe imbedded in his body.
Infact the axe blade goes through the raider, and halfway out his back, as he hits the deck hard.
The big, burly ork grunts, then murmurs "Hmmmmm" as he gets to the starboard rail, and looks overboard.
While out of the corner of his right eye, he sees one of the raiders with a sword drawn.
Working up the courage to confront the ork who was named warleader of his race a number of years ago by lord Farque.
Meanwhile down on the north facing side of the hill. A hill that's right on the northern border of the lands Farque.
Hamblin the teenage army recruit runs one of the raiders through.
Who definitely didn't expect the young Farqian teenager to slap away his blade with ease.
Before shoving his sword into the man's chest quicker than he was expecting.
Hamblin, who is the unofficial leader of the first group of teenage recruits. Who have been living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale for most of the winter.
Before they made their way to the coast of the lands Farque, and the bordertown of Halmard to complete their training.
Quickly looks away to his right at his fellow teenage army recruit Golmard. Blocks one of the raiders sword, with his own broadsword.
It's a two handed block, with his left hand on the hilt, and the right on the blade, about a quarter of the way from the tip of the blade.
Golmard then slams the pommel and hilt up into the face of that raider.
Sending teeth flying, blood spraying everywhere, and shattering the man's nose. As he drops to the ground in a heap.
"A few of them" quietly says Hamblin the teenage recruit in the elven language.
"That's for sure" says Golmard the teenage recruit in the same language, as they keep the fallen tree between them and more of the raiders who rush them.
One of whom suddenly slams face first into the ground, with a sword all the way through him, which pins him to the ground
Hamblin, who is from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the town of Gildin Dale.
Quickly looks up at the raider's twin masted airship. And sees one of the raiders falling overboard, to hit the hillside with a thud.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage army recruits. Briefly sees the ork general Dorc da Orc, look down in his direction.
And the large ork nods, before he moves away from the starboard rail, and goes from view.
Hamblin, who in all likelihood will be in the scouts and rangers division of one of his lord's armies, that's if he lives beyond this battle, Shouts out with "Our lord wills it!".
In response to Maselle the teenage army recruit shouting "Our lord wills it!" before she leaps, and kicks one of the raiders in the back, attempting to get at Hamblin and Golmard.
Maselle then vaults over the fallen tree, and joins them after Golmard slams his sword across the back of that raider's head, as he lies there dazed across the large tree.
Up on the deck of the raider's twin masted airship, Dorc da Orc grunts as he hears down on the hillside, some of the teenage army recruits shouting something in elven.
The large ork isn't sure what it is, but it's familiar, and he's been told it has something to do with lord Farque.
The ork warleader who has just pulled out an arrow from his face, and grimaces as he tosses it away.
As it was in his broad, green, feral looking face. Just below the right eye, which hurt a bit.
He hates getting shot there, as it always stings when he has to pull it out. Whether it be an arrow, or a bolt.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world. Who like all of his race, has the ability to self heal at an amazing rate.
Even now his hand is starting to mend itself where he was hit by a spear.
While the blood from the small wound in his face. Has stopped running, and the wound itself is closing already.
Dorkindle looks aft, then mutters "Fucken dickface cunt" as he sees his bitter rival fighting off the raiders on the aft deck.
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks who is in a midships.
Starts heading to the stern, bound for the aft deck, and the ship's wheel, along with his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Though they didn't discuss what they would actually do, once they got here onboard the twin masted airship of the raiders from the unruled lands.
They did have the same idea in common. And that's to get the converted cargo ship moving again, and away from the hill on the northern border of the lands Farque.
But more importantly, to get the raiders, well as many as possible. Away from the teenage army recruits down on the north face of the hill.
As there's only nine in the first group of teenage army recruits at the moment, as the tenth member.
The teenager Claradene left them a couple of days ago, for the bordertown of Halmard.
To inform the garrison commander there, what they've discovered and encountered up in the unruled lands while on patrol.
Over to port from the slowly rising twin masted airship.
Furnid the teenage army recruit hurls his last dagger, taking one of the raiders in the gut.
As the man staggers to a halt, and drops to his knees, clutching his stomach, as he wonder if he should pull the dagger out.
He doesn't have to, as he ends up with the right boot of Dammis the teenage army recruit kicked into his face.
Knocking him out instantly as Dammis runs by, who then dives forward. And rolls into the legs of another of the raiders. Knocking that man down too.
Dammis, who is small and light, not to mention he's very quick. Is up to his feet in an instant.
Where he slashes one of his long daggers. Taking the raider he just took to the ground, with a dive at the legs, across the face and neck, then throat.
Dammis backs away as that raider sprays blood from his wound, which he clutches as he falls to his side, not realising this is the last moments of his life.
Furnid the teenage army recruit quickly looks up at the twin masted vessel from the unruled lands.
The teenager like the rest of the group, is from the northwest of the lands Farque.
Sees towards the stern, on the aft deck, at the port side rail.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who is in a struggle with some of the raiders.
Until the former paladin from the kingdom of Druvic, picks up one of his attackers.
Between the legs, and by the head. And tips the raider over the port side rail, and overboard.
Where he hits the ground with a loud thud, which cuts off his scream.
The heavily armoured knight slams his left elbow back into the face of another of the raiders.
And as that man stumbles along the port side rail, the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic.
Grabs that man by the back of the neck, pushes him across the rail.
And when that raider is off balanced. The nobleborn knight, tips him over the port rail too.
Sending him to the hillside below, which he hits with a thud. To lie dead beside the bodies of the raiders already thrown off the twin masted airship.
And those nearby that the teenagers Furnid and Dammis have seen to as well.
"Damn inconvenience this, wot" states sir Percavellé Lé Dic as he finds himself fighting off the raiders, when all he wants to do, is pull back on the ship's wheel, to get the vessel higher into the air, and away from the hill.
The former paladin turns, and is whacked in the left arm with a sword.
That blade clangs off the heavily armoured knight.
Who takes his pick, and drives it into the side of the head of the raider who just hit him.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic rips the pick out, and that raider drops to the deck with the side of his head caved in.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che then throws his pick at one of the crew, who has taken the wheel.
And is pushing it forward, trying to get the twin masted airship back down onto the hill.
That crewman staggers away howling in pain, trying to reach around to his back, where the nobleborn knight's pick is well and truly stuck in him.
As the foreign knight, who has no official position in the armies of Farque.
Who like his bitter rival, the ork warleader, Dorc da Orc. Has spent the winter as one of the instructors of the teenage army recruits from across the northwest of the lands of Farque.
He's hit in the side of the head with a spar swung by one of the crew of the raider's vessel.
And though it does no actual physical damage to the former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic.
It does send the nobleborn knight staggering away to one side, and sees him seeing stars for a moment or two.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Has always been amazed at people's stupidity when attacking him, or anyone else for that matter who wears a full suit of heavy plate armour.
Most want to hit you with the edge of a sword, which is about the dumbest thing anyone can do.
Others are little smarter and use weapons like maces, hammers, and other bludgeoning weapons.
But few go for the head, which is protected by a full helm, that's the heaviest and strongest part of any full suit of plate armour.
For if you hit it hard enough, and often enough. You'll quickly disorient a heavily armoured knight.
Daze the knight, effectively taking the knight out of the battle they're in.
Unfortunately for the crewman who just hit Percy in the side of the full headed helm.
He doesn't follow up and hit him there again with the spar he's wielding.
Instead he whacks the wooden spar across the back of the nobleborn from the kingdom of Druvic.
Shattering apart the spar in his hands when it hits the backplate of the former paladin's armour.
"Take that!" shouts sir Percavellé Lé Dic whilst spinning around, and swinging the hand axe he's holding.
Which smashes into the head of the crewman who briefly dazed him.
As that raider's head shatters apart in bits of broken bone, blood and brain matter.
Another raider runs at the former earl of Lé Dic, who ducks down as the raider essentially goes to tackle him.
Percy stands back up as the raider goes above him, lifting the man up, and sending him sailing over the port rail.
The sound of that raider screaming in fright is cut off short when he ploughs head first into the side of the hill.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che looks forward along the deck, and murmurs "Hmmmmm".
When he hears his bitter rival Dorc da Orc roaring like only the large ork can roar.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic scowls as he sees the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is heading aft from a midships.
And as the ork who is a general in the armies of Farque picks up speed, and starts bowling over any of the raiders and crew who are too slow to get out of his way.
The scowl on the face of sir Percavellé Lé Dic changes to a frown as he watches his bitter rival.
For the briefest of moments, the nobleborn knight thinks the ork weaponsmith is running directly at him.
Then Percy mutters "Why that stupid, smelly, giant buffoon". As he realises what it is the ork warleader is actually running straight towards.
"Get some ya cunt!" shouts Dorc da Orc in his native language, who repeats it in common after shouldering away one of the raiders too slow to get out of his way.
The aft deck of the converted cargo vessel, is up a few steps from a midships.
And the large ork leaps up them in one go, and is quickly on the aft deck.
He stiff arms one of the raiders who turns to face him, snapping the man's neck in an instant.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name. Knocks down another raider, and tramples the man as he heads to the stern.
He sees his bitter rival sir Percavellé Lé Dic bash one of the crew in the face with a gauntleted fist. Then grab the man, and throw him overboard.
Then the ork warleader hears the former paladin who is his bitter rival shout "No you silly beast, don't!".
Which of course  Dorkindle ignores, for why should ever listen to what what the nobleborn knight tells him to do. He's never done so in the past, and he's not going to start doing so now.
The ork warleader does what he intends. As that's to do a running dive at the ship's wheel.
Which in the deepest, darkest recesses of the large ork's mind, where you can find whatever passes for his logic.
Hitting the wheel, will definitely push it backwards. Which will send the airship rising up into the air. No matter what the set of the sails are.
Unfortunately for Dorkindle, as he tends to do. He sometimes forgets how large and heavy he is. And how strong he is.
The ork general smashes into the ship's wheel, and though by some minor miracle it doesn't shatter apart when he hits it with a dive tackle.
It and plinth it's attached to, are ripped out of the decking when the large ork dives into it.
Then it shatters apart when he lands on top of it, just infront of the stern rail.
Behind the faceplate of his full helm, sir Percavellé Lé Dic winces, then sourly smiles, and rolls his eyes.
As his bitter rival Dorc da Orc lies there amongst the ruins of the ship's wheel, and says "Oops".
As the twin masted airship which has come to a sudden stop, starts to slowly list to one side above the hill, that's right on the northern border of the lands Farque, on what's a fine and sunny first day of spring . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 49.

Spring. The Northern Border.

"Hell" mutters Hamblin the teenage army recruit, who then calls out in the elven language "You see this?".
Jinsa the teenage army recruit looks down his way, and quickly nods yes.
Before she stands out from the outcrop she's behind, and shoots off two arrows in quick succession from her recurve bow.
Two of the raiders who have jumped off their airship, are dropped by the arrows shot from the best archer in the group of teenage army recruits.
"Hell" Hamblin mutters again as he watches the twin masted airship of the raiders slowly rising up into the air.
Which the ork general, Dorc da Orc. And the foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic, are on.
The thirteen year old who is the unofficial leader of the first group of teenage recruits.
Who for most of the winter, have been living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before they came out to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard, to complete their training.
Is on one knee behind a fallen tree, where he draws back on his longbow.
Who thinks about shooting at one of the raiders on the airship again. One of those attacking either the ork warleader, or the former paladin.
He decides against it, for the simple reason there's far too many of the raiders on the ground now.
As a lot of them, jumped overboard after Dorc da Orc ran up onto the deck from within the twin masted airship.
The teenage army recruit from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of Gildin Dale.
Takes aim at one of the raiders keeping low, heading this way.
Quite a few have hurt themselves jumping off the converted cargo ship.
But not the one Hamblin draws a bead on.
The young army recruit from northwestern Farque lets go of the string, and sends the arrow flying.
The shaft hits the raider he was aiming at in the chest, instantly knocking down the man from the unruled lands.
The teenage army recruit takes another cloth yard shaft from his quiver.
Slightly wincing as he does so, as he sees that he's only got a few more arrows left.
Hamblin puts the arrow to the plate on the belly of his bow. His longbow has a horn belly, which he finds is easier on the longer arrow of his weapon. Than a brass, bone, or ivory plate.
The unofficial leader of the first of four groups of teenagers from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
Who have undertaken the basic army training this winter.
Looks at the raiders, who have landed their airship on a hill, that's right on the northern border of his lord's lands.
Looking at those of them on the ground, and slightly shakes his head as he watches them.
Hamblin thinks they would be better to charge as a group at one of the teenagers with a bow or crossbow.
So that they can overwhelm one of the young Farqians with a ranged weapon.
But they're not doing that. Those that are capable, are moving by themselves, or in pairs, very occasionally, as a trio.
As they move across the hill towards the teenage army recruits.
Making them easy targets for those young teens with ranged weapons.
Like Hamblin and Jinsa, who are off to starboard of the twin masted airship, that's slowly rising up into the air.
Moving up off the hill, that's right on the northern border of the lands Farque. About fifteen miles inland from the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard.
Hamblin picks a target, after all there's plenty of them. Draws his bow back, and lets the arrow to it fly when he releases the string.
The shaft thuds into the right thigh of another of the raiders, who drops to the grassy ground, screaming in pain.
And as Hamblin quickly takes another arrow from his quiver. Another of the raiders from the unruled lands, who is fairly close.
Rushes the teenage Farqian's position. Running at the fallen tree, that Hamblin is behind.
The man gets about fifteen feet away, where he stumbles forward, clutching at his throat, that a dagger is suddenly in.
As that raider hits the ground face first, Hamblin quietly says in the elven language "Thanks". As he takes a quick look back behind him.
Golmard the teenage army recruit nods, then moves forward, and hunkers down behind the same fallen tree.
"Those two mad idiots are still onboard i see" quietly says Golmard the teenage army recruit in elven.
Hamblin nods in agreement as he takes one of the last arrows from his quiver.
Then the teenager from a family of farmers, who come from the village of Polsten in northwestern Farque, says "I'm almost out of arrows" followed by "Only one more left after this one".
Golmard, the largest of teenage army recruits, not just in the first group. But in all four of the groups from across the northwest of their lord's lands.
Who have lived and trained throughout most of the winter, in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before they came out to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard, to complete their training.
Looks at Hamblin, then at the raiders still on the ground, on this side of the hill.
Golmard who has thrown three of his four daggers, just nods. Then both he and Hamblin slightly wince, when they hear Jinsa call down to them in the elven language "I've only got a few arrows left".
There's a few moments of silence from the pair of teenage boys, then Golmard says to the unofficial leader of their group "Well, we know what we have to do".
Hamblin nods in agreement as he draws back on his bow, and draws a bead upon another of the raiders, then says "Our lord wills it".
"Our lord wills it" replies Golmard who then watches as his fellow teenage recruit drops another of the raiders, this time with a shot to the face. Shattering apart the front of that raider's skull.
With his last dagger in his right hand, Golmard draws his sword with his left hand, saying "I'll take the one on the left".
Hamblin nods his head, as he puts his last arrow to his longbow, as he watches a pair of raiders run towards the fallen tree they're behind.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten waits until they get pretty close, then shoots off his last arrow.
As the shaft slams into the chest of the man on the right, knocking the raider over backwards.
He draws his own sword, while next to him, Golmard biffs his last dagger at the other raider.
Taking that man from the unruled lands in the face. Who drops to ground screaming in pain, as he clutches at his bloody face, that has a dagger sticking through his mouth and right cheek.
The two teenage boys from northwestern Farque share a look as a few more of the raiders who have jumped off their airship, run in their direction.
While further up the hill from them, Jinsa has shot off her last three arrows in fairly quick succession.
The best archer in the first group of teenage army recruits doesn't even bother to see the third shaft slam into the guts of one of the raiders as she shoulders her recurve bow, and draws her sword.
Jinsa dashes out from behind the outcrop she's been behind, and heads downhill to where Hamblin and Golmard are.
She doesn't even wince when she hears the flight of arrow pass behind her by a few feet.
She knew it was going to miss it's intended target, her.
The fletching sounded rough, or off. Not smooth in a finished way, as it should be.
It was bound to miss what it was shot at from one of the raider's bow.
Jinsa heads down to the fallen trees where her fellow recruits are. Who she sees are still behind the fallen tree Hamblin has been shooting his longbow from behind.
She nods to herself in understanding, as she knows they'll keep that fallen tree between them and the raiders coming at them.
Making it far more difficult for the men from the unruled lands to get at them.
Jinsa figures the raiders rushing towards her fellow teenage recruits are going to be in for a hell of a surprise.
Golmard, who is as tall as the tallest of the raiders, and almost as large as the largest of them.
Is an expert with the broadsword he wields. While Hamblin, the unofficial leader of their group, is almost as good with his sword.
As Golmard shouts "Farque!" and Hamblin is silent as they prepare to be attacked. And Jinsa runs down towards them.
Up towards the brow of the hill, near the few trees that are actually standing on this hill.
That's right on the northern border of the nation of Farque.
Maselle the teenage recruit shoots off one of her last arrows from her bow.
Hitting one of the raiders in the lower abdomen, as he looks up the hill, trying to spot where Maselle is.
As the man drops to the ground screaming in agony. Above him, the twin masted airship is slowly rising up from the north face of the hill.
"I'm almost out" says Maselle the teenage army recruit in the elven language as she takes one of the last arrows from her quiver.
She brought three dozen shafts with her on patrol, she didn't shoot any off all patrol while north of the border of the nation of Farque, in the unruled lands.
But since the raiders twin masted airship put down upon the hill, that's on the northern border of her lord's lands.
She's shot off all of her arrows except for two. One of which she has put to the brass plate on the belly of her bow, and notched it to the string.
"What can you do?" says Lamis the teenage army recruit in the same language, as he shrugs his shoulders in a nonchalant manner.
The teenage army recruit, who holds his shortsword in his gloved right hand, then adds "Our lord wills".
"Our lord wills it" replies Maselle, who then lets the arrow to her bow fly. Taking another of the raiders who has jumped off their twin masted airship.
This one drops to his knees, then topples over onto his side, howling in agony with an arrow in his groin.
Seeing some of the raiders start running up the hill, towards the sparse covering of trees towards the brow of it.
Maselle takes her last arrow, and puts it to her bow, quickly drawing it back, and letting the shaft fly.
"I'm out" quietly says the teenage girl after her last arrow takes another of the raiders, this one in the throat.
Maselle shoulders her bow, and draws her sword, then shares a look with Lamis.
Who wryly smiles as they wait for the closest of the raiders to come up at them.
"Here we go" quietly says Maselle, Lamis nods in agreement as he goes into a slight crouch and waits.
While next to him, his fellow recruit Maselle shouts "Farque!" in a defiant tone of voice as they're about to be attacked.
As they wait for the raiders to come up to them, Lamis who is the quickest of the teenage army recruits, quietly and calmly says to his fellow recruit "Let them swing their swords at us".
He follows on from that with "They'll be winded, and off balanced when they do".
Jinsa nods in understanding, as the thirty yards up to where they are in the small scattering of trees on the brow of the hill.
Is quite steep from where the raider's airship put down, and a lot of the men jumped off the twin masted vessel.
The two young army recruits from the northwestern Farque watch as a handful of the raiders run up to where they are.
They can clearly hear the men breathing heavily, as they try to keep their footing. One of them has already dropped his sword, which he has to pick up as he follows the others.
Jinsa and Lamis share a quick look before the raiders from the unruled lands make their way up to the trees where they are.
"Our lord wills it" says Furnid the teenage army recruit, it's echoed by Dammis beside him.
Then Furnid steps out from the side of the large boulder they're behind, quickly draws his bow back, and shoots off the arrow he has notched to the string.
The shaft slams into the side of one of the raiders, who is looking up at the airship that's slowly rising up from the north face of the hill.
As that raider falls over, clutching at the arrow in his side, and screaming out for help.
Furnid steps back behind the large boulder, and quietly says "That was my last one".
"It was bound to happen" says Dammis the teenage army recruit, who then adds in a slightly wry tone "What with there being so many of the bastards".
Furnid nods in agreement as he shoulders his bow, and draws his sword.
He had thirty arrows he shot of, and is pretty sure he hit at least twenty one or twenty two of the raiders.
He's no where near as good with a bow as his fellow recruits Jinsa or Hamblin.
But he reckons that was pretty good shooting. Considering a lot of his targets were moving.
Dammis with two long daggers in hand, glances around the side of the large boulder, that's off to the port side of the twin masted airship that's slowly rising up into the air.
He nods and says "They sure are" in response to Furnid asking him "Are the general and the knight still onboard?".
"And that too" adds Dammis after his fellow recruit from the northwest of the lands Farque also asks him "Any of them coming our way?".
"Running right at us" says Dammis, who though the smallest of the teenage army recruits in the first group.
Is an absolute terror in close quarter combat with his long daggers. And even better at unarmed combat.
"Well, here we go then" says Furnid who takes a throwing dagger from his belt, he has a trio of them, and he intends to use them judiciously.
"Yep" says Dammis as he continues to look around the large boulder and watch some of the raiders from the unruled lands run to where they are.
Markell pops up from the dip he's in, and throws a dagger. Which takes a raider in the leg.
The man stumbles, but keeps his footing. And though he grits his teeth from the pain, he continues on towards where the teenage army recruit is.
Until his head basically explodes into pieces, and drops to the ground dead, when a crossbow bolt slams into the side of his forehead, and goes out the otherside of what's left of his head.
"Almost out" says Marshay the teenage army recruit in the elven language as she drops down back into the dip she's in, and reloads her crossbow.
"It happens" says Markell the teenage army recruit in the same language, who then dryly adds "Unfortunately".
"Didn't think I'd be shooting off thirty bloody bolts when we left Halmard" Marshay mutters to herself as she lies in a dip, or a fold in the ground, about fifteen feet from the one her fellow recruit Markell is in.
She pops her head up, and looks up, and sees that they're now behind the stern of the twin masted airship.
As the bow has turned to starboard a bit as it slowly rises up into the air.
She briefly saw sir Percavellé Lé Dic on the aft deck of the raider's vessel a short time ago.
And figures he's the one who has got the converted cargo ship moving again, after it came to a stop on the hill.
Marshay who also heard the ork general Dorc da Orc onboard the twin masted airship.
Spots a number of the raiders on the ground, looking around in this direction, trying to locate her and Markell.
She also sees some of them running away towards the large boulder further up the hill, and away to the left. That her fellow army recruits Furnid and Dammis have been taking cover behind.
Then Marshay who has slotted the last bolt in her hip quiver onto the spine of her crossbow.
Looks to her right, and sees a bunch of the raiders basically form a line, and head downhill in this direction.
"They're coming this way" says Marshay, who like all the other Farqian teenage army recruits of the first group, is speaking in elven during combat.
"And I've only got one bolt left" adds the only teenage army recruit in the group with a crossbow.
"Hit the one on the far left" says Markell, who continues with "The one holding the hilt of his sword, he knows what he's doing" followed by "He told the others to spread out like that".
Marshay nods in understanding as she watches the group of raiders heading this way, she waits for them to get closer.
While in the dip close by, Markell has laid back down on his back.
And has one of his shortswords lying across his chest and stomach.
While the other is beside him, next to his left hand.
While on the ground to his right, is his pair of throwing daggers.
The teenage army recruit from the northwest of the lands Farque calmly  says as he waits "As our lord wills it".
And smiles as he hears Marshay reply in the more traditional form with "As my lord Farque wills it".
As they wait to get attacked on the side of a hill, along the northern border of their lord's lands.
As the raiders twin masted airship continues to slowly lift up from the hill.
On a day, the very first day of spring, which is clear and sunny here on the border . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 48.

Spring. The Border.

Roaring as he runs up onto the deck, Dorc da Orc then shouts "Fucken get some!".
As he grabs one of the raiders, and throws him back the way he came from.
The man goes flying nearly twenty feet backwards, and slams into the foremast with a thud, clearly snapping his spine.
The raiders who have rushed the ork warleader suddenly back away, as they see what they're actually up against now that he's up on the deck.
The large ork, and he is large. Is a sight to behold since he's seven and a half foot tall, and weighs around seven hundred and fifty pounds.
The ork warleader who is bristling with weapons. Has a look in his eyes, that can be described in many ways.
Demented, crazed, unhinged to name just a few.
But, just plain fucking crazy is the best way to describe what one sees in the eyes of the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Who is hell bent on killing anyone dumb enough to get in his way.
One of the raiders on the deck of the twin masted airship is dumb enough.
As he runs at the ork weaponsmith from the side, swinging a spar at the large ork.
The length of wood slams into the right arm of the ork general. Wood shatters everywhere when it does.
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name. Barely felt that, and he grunts as he looks down at the raider who just hit him.
The ork weaponsmith really isn't fast, but he is deceptively quick for someone his size. Who one would expect to move much slower than he actually can.
The warleader of the ork race quickly and easily grabs the raider in the sudden lull of activity on the deck, on the forward half of the raider's vessel.
Dorkindle doesn't kill the man, nor does he actually maim him in anyway, yet.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world instead just tips the man upside down.
Taking a hold of him by the right leg, as he screams for help, while trying to swing punches at the large ork who holds him upside down.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grins as he looks around at the raiders on the forward half of the deck.
Who have backed away, and are watching him. Most if not all of whom, don't exactly know what he is.
Dorc da Orc holds the screaming raider up high, so that the man's face is level with the broad, green, feral looking face of the ork warleader.
Then as he looks at some the raiders directly infront of him. And with the grin still upon his face.
Dorkindle bites the raider he's holding upside down. Bites his face, easily tearing off half of his face, along the left cheek bone, nose, and a fair bit of his jaw.
The raider is still alive, and his screams prove it. Though it's a bloody, whistling sounding scream.
While the ork general in the armies of Farque stands there on the bow of the twin masted airship.
Chewing away on what's in his mouth, all the while still grinning as he continues to look at those raiders opposite him.
There's a momentary pause, a silence from those on the bow, and the forward half of the deck after seeing what's just happened.
Then Dorc da Orc bursts into howling laughter after he swallows the face meat he's just bitten off.
The silence along the front half of the deck is shattered by that howling laughter.
And it's a sign, a call to action if you like. That sets the raiders on this half of the airship into motion again.
A lot of them jump overboard, over both the port and starboard side rails.
Not caring how far it is to the ground, the further back from the bow you get.
They just know they don't want to face the large green, demented looking creature that's just bitten off half the face of a fellow raider, then eaten it.
Others shout and yell at others, to move and to get out of the way.
So that those with bows and crossbows can shoot the large ork.
Who still has an arrow sticking up out of his right shoulder, that he hasn't yet bothered to pull out.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks doesn't even feel it his thick muscular shoulder.
Dorkindle just roars, then starts swinging the raider he's still holding by the leg.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Swings the raider he's holding, round and round, above his head.
As he rushes forward towards those raiders directly infront of him.
Many of whom, are backing away. Trying to make room for those with bows and crossbows.
"Fucken get some!" shouts Dorc da Orc as he rushes forward.
The large ork sees the head of archer drawing a bead on him to the right, shatter apart when an arrow hits the back of the skull.
While out of the corner of his eye, he sees a raider with a crossbow, stagger away, then fall backwards over the starboard rail, clutching at his throat and neck, that has an arrow through it.
As he moves forward, swinging the raider with half a face, around and around above his head.
The ork general in the armies knows that the teenage recruits in the first group from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
Who spent most of the winter, living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before heading out to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard, to complete their training.
Are still fighting, as they're on the ground around the twin masted airship.
That's stopped, and put down upon a hill, right on the northern border of the lands Farque.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the converted cargo ship from the unruled lands to the north of the nation of Farque.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic who has run up onto the aft deck from below.
Dodges to one side, and shoves his pick into the face of one of the raiders who have rushed him.
And slams his hand axe, which is in his right gauntleted hand down onto the top of the head.
Of another of the raiders, who the heavily armoured knight has just dropped with a kick to the groin.
No ordinary kick, as the former paladin wears steel boots. That have a long pointed end.
Behind the faceplate of his full helm, there's a sour looking smile upon the face of sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who says in a tone to match his smile "By Narille and Saint Mar-che himself, one of you do us all a favour, and silence that big, green, filthy beast" followed by a "Wot".
As he can hear his bitter rival, the ork warleader Dorc da Orc.
Somewhere further forward along the deck of the twin masted airship, near the bow by the sounds of it, roaring, and shouting something.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic quickly looks in that direction.
And the member of the order of The Knights of Saint Mar-che rolls his eyes at what he catches sight of.
His bitter rival forward of the foremast, swinging one of the raiders like a club amongst some of the others who are too slow to get out of his way.
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic. Looks away from that. As he's got a lot to deal with himself.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Turns and heads aft, and makes a beeline for the ship's wheel, here on the aft deck of the raiders vessel, which is a converted cargo ship.
The heavily armoured knight, who along with his bitter rival, the ork general, Dorc da Orc.
Who have been two of the instructors of the teenage army recruits from across northwestern Farque.
Who spent most of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before heading out to the coast at the end of the winter, to the bordertown of Halmard with the first group of Farqian teenagers.
Throws his hand axe, which takes another of the raiders infront of the wheel, directly in the face.
The former paladin takes another hand axe from his belt, while shoving his pick into the leg of another of the raiders.
Percy elbows that man away, then after a sword clangs off his heavy armour.
The member of the order of The Knights of Saint Mar-che, spins to his left.
And rams his hand axe into the face of the raider with the sword who just hit him.
"Take that you treacherous villain" as he splits the man's head in two.
"And you as well, you dastardly coward" adds the heavily armoured knight as he swings the pick up, so it slams up under the chin of another of the raiders.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic staggers forward when he gets hit in the back by something.
Not that he could actually feel it, considering he has the shield of Saint Mar-che strapped to his back.
The former earl of Lé Dic, swings the hand axe behind him, and clips the side of the head of the raider who just hit him with a club.
As that raider drops to the deck with the side of his skull caved in. The nobleborn knight rushes the raiders who are around the wheel.
"Narille!" shouts sir Percavellé Lé Dic as he runs into the raiders, who are the crew on the aft deck, including the captain of the twin masted airship.
Back on the foredeck of the converted cargo vessel. Dorc da Orc continues to swing the raider he's still holding.
The man's head has disappeared, turned to pulp, then gone, after the large ork uses him repeatedly like a club to bludgeon the other raiders.
As a raider rushing up behind the ork warleader, drops to his knees, screaming with an arrow in the small of his back.
Dorkindle swings the headless body, knocking a pair of the raiders overboard, who are trying to scramble over the starboard side rail.
An arrow thuds into the left arm of the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
Who yanks it out with barely a grunt as he looks around. As he continues to hold the headless raider by a leg.
The ork general in the armies of Farque, who is ambidextrous like all orks, takes a throwing hammer from the front of his weapon harness. And biffs it towards a midships.
The throwing hammer of an ork. Is the size of a heavy warhammer used by anyone else.
It slams into a pair of raiders, one of whom is reloading a crossbow.
Those two men smash into the deck. As the warleader of the ork race moves ahead. Going around the foremast, and into a midships.
Behind him, just where he was standing. A raider slams down onto the deck after falling from the top of the mast with an arrow through his side.
Another arrow hits the large ork, who throws the headless body away to his right. Hitting the archer who just shot him.
That raider, along with the headless body, go flying over the port rail. While the ork weaponsmith looks to aft along the deck of the twin masted airship.
"Hmmmmm" murmurs Dorc da Orc as he takes a throwing axe, and a throwing hammer from the front of his weapon harness.
A crossbow bolt bounces off the black plate of natural dragon armour the large ork wears over his chest, and rather ample stomach.
A spear falls to the deck right infront of Dorkindle after it hits him in the forehead, causing him to frown as it briefly breaks his concentration as he looks to aft.
Then the ork from the wolf tribe, who was named warleader of his race a number of years ago by lord Farque.
After he sees out of the corner of his right eye. One of the raiders deciding to jump off the port side rail.
Tumble off the port rail with a crossbow bolt in the middle of his chest.
Sees what's happening on the aft deck of the twin masted vessel, then yells out "Up!" followed by "Up ya stupid fucken knight cunt!".
"I'm trying you big, stinking oaf" mutters sir Percavellé Lé Dic when he hears his bitter rival Dorc da Orc yell at him from somewhere forward along the deck.
The heavily armoured knight ducks his head to one side as one of the raiders stabs a sword towards his faceplate.
The former paladin, who is both a landed and a ordered knight, who hails from the kingdom of Druvic.
Kicks out with his right boot, taking the raider with the sword in the guts.
As the man doubles over in pain after taking a kick from a steel pointed boot to the stomach.
The nobleborn knight slams his pick into the top of that raider's head.
Percy, who quickly assessed that most of these so called raiders don't actually know how to fight.
Especially the crew of the twin masted vessel, that's a converted cargo vessel.
Stomps on the outstretched hand of the ship's captain, who is on the deck just to his right, reaching out for either the former earl of Lé Dic, or the ship's wheel.
Which is what the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic takes a hold of.
He instantly lets it go, as his head snaps back, when an arrow hits him flush in his helm.
The shaft doesn't penetrate the full headed helm. Which is the thickest and heaviest of the steel plate of Percy's suit of armour.
But it's enough to rattle the former paladin, and make him shake his head to clear it.
"By jingo's" mutters the nobleborn knight, who follows that with "That's not very sporting, wot".
As he looks along the deck, and sees a raider with a bow, putting another arrow to his weapon. And drawing it back, to shoot at the heavily armoured knight again.
That raider before he gets to let that arrow fly. Drops his bow, and drops to his knees.
Clutching at the side of his neck, that has an arrow in it.
As that raider topples over onto his side, with blood flowing from his mouth, sir Percavellé Lé Dic shouts "That's what you get fella, for playing with such a silly thing!".
The former earl of Lé Dic is a knight to the core, and disdains ranged weapons like bows, crossbows and spears.
That doesn't mean he doesn't know how to use them. Infact he's more than quite capable with such weapons.
But in his opinion, and the opinion of most knights, especially ordered knights, those who belong to an order.
If you want to attack someone at a distance, you throw something at them.
Which is exactly what the former paladin does. Who biffs the hand axe he's holding, at one of the raiders who rushes back this way.
That man drops to the deck with the hand axe in his chest.
Then the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic grabs the ship's wheel, and pulls back on it.
The heavily armoured knight doesn't know a lot about flying airships.
But what he does know, is that if you push forward on the wheel, it will go downwards.
And if you pull back on it, an airship will go upwards.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic continues to pull back on the ship's wheel on it's plinth.
And though the twin masted vessel hasn't got the correct sail and line setting for lifting off.
And one of the land anchors was thrown overboard, when it came to a stop on the hill, that's right on the northern border of the lands Farque.
The former cargo vessel starts to creak and groan, then slowly move, as it begins to float upwards.
Dorc da Orc chuckles as he feels the airship starting to move, the large ork then says "The fucken fop did it".
The ork warleader has no idea what fop means. But he's heard some of the others in the group describe sir Percavellé Lé Dic with that word. And it hasn't been in a complimentary manner. So he assumes it's a swear word in the common language.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world who is in a midships.
Looks to aft, and sees his bitter rival, the foreign knight, on the aft deck, fighting some of the crew and raiders.
Who are trying to take back control of the ship's wheel.
The ork general backhands a raider out of the way, snapping the man's neck, and smashing in the side of the raider's skull.
And grunts as heads back along the deck of the raider's twin masted airship.
Heading to the aft deck, and the wheel. Where Dorc da Orc's bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic is.
There's a wide, not to mention bloody grin on the broad, green, brutish looking face of the large ork as he heads aft.
As the airship starts to slowly rise up off the ground, on what's the very first day of spring, here on the northern border of the nation of Farque . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 47.

Spring. On A Hill. On The Border.

Jinsa the teenage army recruit drops down behind a small outcrop on the hill.
She glances away to her left, where a bit further down the north facing side of the hill.
She sees her fellow army recruit, and the unofficial leader of their group. Hamblin, who is behind a fallen tree.
Jinsa then looks back at the twin masted airship that isn't all that far away.
The best archer in the first group of teenage army recruits, who spent most of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before they came out to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard to complete their training.
Sees a couple of the raiders jump off the bow of the vessel that's come to a stop.
One lands badly, and falls groaning in pain as he clutches an ankle.
The other is fine, and is looking around to see who is attacking the twin masted airship.
He takes a step, before he falls backwards with an arrow in his gut. Shot from Maselle the teenage recruit's bow.
As that raider lies there on the ground, screaming in pain, clutching at his belly.
Jinsa looks at those on the forward half of the deck. Searching for an ideal target.
The daughter of a master archer in the armies of Farque, who has been shooting at those raiders with bows and crossbows.
Spots a better target, a raider who is obviously an officer, or the equivalent of one.
He's just forward of a midships, here on the starboard side. Calling out orders to the other raiders and the crew.
Jinsa who has an arrow to the belly of her recurve bow. Waits a few moments, and when the raider who is an officer.
Takes a couple of steps towards the starboard rail, shouting at the others to put another cargo net over the side.
After the first one was ripped away by the ork general, Dorc da Orc. Who is now onboard the airship, somewhere below deck.
Jinsa draws back her bow, and steps to the side of the outcrop, and lets the shaft fly, all in one motion.
She ducks back behind the outcrop, not even bothering to see her arrow hit.
She knows it did, as it takes the raider calling out orders near the starboard rail, right in the throat.
He staggers back, and falls on the deck gasping as blood spews from his mouth.
Golmard the teenage army recruit, is one of those in the group without a ranged weapon.
The largest of the teenagers in the first group of recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
Is an adequate enough archer with a bow. But he finds carrying one a hindrance.
And though he's a fine hand with any weapon he's trained with. He's exceptional with his sword. And he prefers to fight with that.
The large teenager who at fourteen, is already a couple inches over six foot in height. And is close to two hundred pounds in weight.
Is flat on the ground, just down from the brow of the hilltop.
Golmard rolls to one side, so he ends up behind some grass and moss covered boulders.
He gets up into a crouch, and looks around the boulders.
He looks down the hill to his left, and spots his fellow recruit Jinsa behind an outcrop.
And further down from her, Golmard sees Hamblin, the unofficial leader of their group.
Crouching down behind a fallen tree, near a clump of trees. On what's an otherwise pretty barren hill when it comes to tree cover.
After he sees Hamblin shoot off an arrow at a target onboard the twin masted airship.
Golmard dashes from behind the boulders he's crouching behind.
The large fourteen year old, who in all likelihood, will be a sword or blademaster when he's older.
Heads down further to the left, so he can get behind where Jinsa is taking cover behind an outcrop.
Golmard knows that both Jinsa and Hamblin will need to be protected as more and more of the raiders disembark from their vessel.
Maselle the teenage army recruit is an above average archer. She knows she's no where near as good with a bow as Jinsa. Or for that matter, Hamblin.
But she is good enough to hit any target she aims at. With a very slim chance, if any, at missing.
Maselle draws back her bow, and lets the arrow to it, fly.
She doesn't use the shorter recurve bow like Jinsa. Nor the longbow that Hamblin favours.
She uses an in between bow. Which she doesn't have to use as much strength, as one would use to draw a powerful recurve bow, or a longbow.
Besides, Maselle doesn't have the reach, height, and strength for a longbow.
Though she might change to one, when she's older. And put on bit more weight and strength, and grown at least a few inches taller.
Nevertheless, the arrow she just shot from what's essentially a hunting bow, with a horn and brass belly over the ashe limbs.
Thuds into the chest of one of the raiders who was attempting to climb down one of the lines on the foremast.
He falls off the line, and crashes down upon a few of the other raiders who are about to climb overboard and jump to the ground.
Maselle, who is behind one of the few trees towards the brow of the hill. Who is almost directly in line with the bow of the twin masted airship.
About thirty yards up from where it's come to a stop on the north facing side of the hill.
Has got a good vantage point to look down onto the deck of the raider's vessel, which is a converted cargo ship.
Maselle who knows that her fellow teenage army recruit, Lamis who doesn't have a ranged weapon. Is somewhere right behind her, keeping an eye on her.
Sees over on the port side of the vessel, ropes are being tied to the rail so that raiders can climb down them to the ground.
As it's only really safe to jump from the actual bow to the ground without any mishap.
Though she does see one of the raiders hold onto the port side rail. Admittedly close to the bow, then let go of it, and fall about a dozen feet to the ground. Where he lands fairly safely, only staggering back a step or two.
Until he arches his back, and screams in pain and drops to the ground, with a bolt shot from Marshay's crossbow in the middle of his back.
Furnid the teenage army recruit looks away to his right, and sees Marshay run for cover after shooting off her crossbow again.
Furnid who is behind the largest bit of cover off the port side of the twin masted vessel.
A large boulder, that's sticking out of the hill. Steps to his right, and lets the arrow to his bow fly.
Taking one of the raiders on deck with a bow, who is drawing and taking a bead on the running Marshay.
The arrow from Furnid's bow slams into the face of the bowman on the deck near the port rail, forward of a midships.
Absolutely shattering apart the raider's face, and the front of his skull.
That was a better outcome than expected from Furnid. Who was actually aiming at the raider's chest.
Furnid takes another arrow from his quiver, and looks at Dammis who is also behind the large boulder.
The smaller teenage boy, who is flipping one of his long daggers from one hand to the other.
Shares a look with Furnid after he glances around the boulder to look at the twin masted airship, that's come to a stop. Not all that far from the two of them.
They've both seen that more of the raiders are making their way overboard, and are on the ground.
Dammis stops flipping his long dagger, and takes another one out from it's sheath.
He nods at Furnid, who slightly nods in return. Before he draws back on his bow, steps out to the side of the large boulder.
And shoots off another shaft, which takes one of the raiders, who has just climbed down a rope tied to the port rail, in the throat.
Furnid steps back behind the large boulder, wryly smiling to himself, as that was another shot that went high. As he was actually aiming for a gut shot on that raider.
He takes another arrow from his quiver, as he glances around the side of the large boulder, looking for another target.
There's plenty of them, as there must of been more than a hundred and fifty raiders and crew on the twin masted airship when it came to a stop on the north facing side of the hill.
A hill that's right on the northern border of the lands Farque. Just under fifteen miles from the coast.
Marshay lies in a dip along the face of the hill. The teenage army recruit from the northwest of the lands Farque. Pulls back on her crossbow, not needing to wind it back with the winch to load it.
As she lies there, the teenage Farqian takes a bolt from her hip quiver. And loads her weapon, putting the bolt in the grooved channel along the top, or spine of the weapon.
Marshay who is in line with the aft half of the airship on the port side, towards the stern.
Pops her head up, and looks a bit further down the north facing side of the hill.
And she spots Markell lying in similar looking dip or fold in the hillside.
The teenage boy who doesn't have a ranged weapon. Looks back up at Marshay, and gives her a quick hand signal.
She rolls onto her side, and shoots off her crossbow. Taking one of the raiders who has made his way off the airship and onto the ground. Right in the face as he runs towards the dip Marshay is in. After spotting her dive into it.
The teenage girl, the only one of the young army recruits in the first group to use a crossbow.
Quickly pulls back on it again, as she sees that more than a few of the raiders have made their way off the port side of the airship. And are now on the ground.
Marshay shares a quick look with Markell, who wryly smiles in return as he slips his sword from it's scabbard. And takes a brace of throwing knives from the front of the baldric he has across the black surcoat over his leather armoured vest.
The two of them wait for more of the raiders who are on the ground, on this side of the twin masted vessel, to head their way.
Over on the otherside of the raiders vessel, away off the starboard side.
Hamblin the teenage army recruit is wishing he found better cover than he did.
The fallen tree he's behind doesn't particularly give him all that much cover.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest town of Gildin Dale.
The town, that the teenage army recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque. Spent most of the winter living and training.
Before they came out to the coast of the lands Farque, and the bordertown of Halmard to complete their training.
Pops his head up, and sourly smiles as he sees a crossbow bolt stuck just infront of him in the fallen tree.
The unofficial leader of the first of four groups of teenage recruits.
Looks towards the nearby airship, and slightly winces as he sees the amount of raiders trying to make their way off the vessel.
Hamblin who has an arrow to his bow, gets to a knee, draws back on the longbow.
Then lets the arrow fly, which takes one of the raiders climbing over the starboard rail in the side.
The man screams in pain, and falls overboard. Where he crashes into another of the raiders, who has just climbed down a rope, to get on the ground.
Hamblin drops back down behind the fallen tree, and slightly smiles to himself. As that's two more of the raiders he and the rest of the group don't have to worry about.
The son of farmers from the village of Polsten in northwestern Farque. Who has spotted Golmard making his way downhill behind Jinsa and himself.
Is more than a little worried that he and the rest of the teenagers of the first group of recruits.
Still have to deal to so many more of the raiders, whose airship has landed on a hill, that's right on the northern border of the lands Farque.
Though Hamblin is rather glad he isn't actually onboard the twin masted airship.
Which apparently the two instructors who came along on patrol with the group, are on at the moment.
If the yelling and shouting of some of those on deck is anything to go by.
The yelling which has suddenly intensified. Sounds like they're calling for some of the raiders to head below deck.
Hamblin is not the only recruit to hear that. All of them see quite a lot of the raiders on the deck of the vessel.
Go running to the nearest ladder to get below deck.
Infact more of them do that, than make their way off the twin masted airship, and onto the ground.
Here on the north facing side of a hill, that's marked on the maps Hamblin has in his pack. As being directly upon the northern border of the lands Farque.
Dorc da Orc grabs one of the raiders who has jumped down the ladder the large ork has found.
The ork warleader has the man by the throat, and with one hand. The ork weaponsmith breaks the raider's neck.
Then throws him back up the ladder at two more raiders who rush down the steps to get at the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
The ork general in the armies of Farque lets out a loud roar as he heads up the ladder.
As more of the raiders rush down the steps from above deck, to attack the large ork who is onboard their vessel.
Also onboard the twin masted airship. Though towards the stern, while the ork weaponsmith is closer to the bow.
Is Dorc da Orc's bitter rival, the foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
The heavily armoured knight slams his head into the face of a raider who rushes him.
The man's face shatters apart, and blood and bone goes flying when the heavy steel helm slams into his face.
The former paladin shoves that raider backwards, into the path of another raider who rushes through the passageway at the nobleborn knight.
That particular raider leaps over his downed comrade. Only to leap into the path of sir Percavellé Lé Dic swinging hand axe.
Which takes him in the side of the head, taking off most of his skull. And his body goes slamming sideways into the bulkhead on the left.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic, hurries forward to the ladder he's found that will take him up onto the deck.
The member of the order of The Knights of Saint Mar-che looks up and sees a number of the raiders rushing down the steps to confront him.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Grins behind the faceplate of his full helm, at the prospect of fighting more of these raiders from the unruled lands to the north of the nation of Farque.
Then as he starts heading up the ladder, the grin behind the visor of his full helm.
Turns into a sour looking smile as he hears the all too familiar roar of his bitter rival, Dorc da Orc, come from somewhere forward onboard the twin masted airship.
To say that Percy is more than a little disappointed to find that the ork general is onboard the raiders vessel as well. Would be an understatement to the extreme.
The nobleborn knight who hails from the kingdom of Druvic is utterly annoyed that the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Has also made his way onto the twin masted airship.
On what is a fine and sunny, not to mention relatively mild day, that's the very start of spring.
Here on a hill that's right on the northern border of the lands Farque . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 46.

Spring. A Hill On The Border.

Dorc da Orc growls as he slams his head into the side of the hull again. Making the hole larger, so that he can fit through it.
The large ork looks inside, to below deck. And sees one of the crew has run into view.
Carrying an axe, which he swings at the heavy rope that the ork warleader is holding onto.
"Bads man!" shouts Dorc da Orc as the crewman swings his axe again at the heavy rope "Stop doin' that!" adds the ork general in the armies of Farque.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world sticks his head in through the hole near the bow of the airship.
And gets whacked in the face from a wooden club swung at him by another crewman below deck.
Growling and muttering "Fuckhead bitchface". The large ork reaches in, and grabs the raider who just whacked him in the face.
The ork weaponsmith might be too large to fit through the hole in the starboard side of the airship at the moment. Not so the crewman who he's just grabbed.
And as the raider yells and screams in fright, the ork warleader yanks him out through the hole in the bow.
Though the crewman barely fits, and his clothes are torn to shreds. And his skin is torn apart as he's hauled out through the hole in the side of the hull.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, flings the screaming crewman away.
Who hits the ground with a thud, head first. Snapping his neck with an audible crack.
"That will fucken learns you for hitting Dorc in his pretty face" mutters the large ork, who then looks back through the hole he's trying to make bigger, so that he can get inside the twin masted airship.
The general in the armies of Farque, who has spent most of the winter training the groups of teenage recruits based in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Then coming out to the coast, to the bordertown of Halmard. To help complete the training of the first group of recruits.
Growls as he sees the crewman with the axe, is now attacking the longspear that's stuck through one of the upright beams, below deck.
That's a better proposition than the thick rope, which is thicker than a man's arm. And almost impossible to cut, unless you're immensely strong.
Dorkindle grabs onto the edge of the hole in the starboard side, near the bow of the raider's airship.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks hisses in anger after the crewman with the axe, with a few hefty blows of his weapon.
Snaps the longspear that the ork warleader threw through the hull of the airship.
The broken half of the spear, and the rope attached to it. Is whipped out through the hole in the side of the twin masted vessel.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world lets go of the rope. Which along with the broken part of the spear it's still tied to, falls out through the hole in the starboard side of the former cargo ship.
The warleader of the ork race tries to hold onto the edge of the hole with one hand.
But his grip quickly gives away, and with a muttered "Fucknuts". The large ork falls backwards to the ground.
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks doesn't fall far. Not even ten feet, before he finds himself lying flat on his back on the ground.
The ork general blinks in surprise, then he grunts as he realises the twim masted airship has stopped.
And the front, at least along the first thirty feet from the bow backwards, is on the ground too.
Dorkindle quickly gets up, and though an arrow shot from an archer up on deck.
Slams down into his right shoulder, which he barely even feels as it sticks up out of his shoulder.
And a crossbow bolt fired by a raider looking down over the starboard rail. Hits the top of the large ork's head, which he definitely doesn't feel as it bounces away.
The ork who was named warleader of his race by lord Farque a number of years ago.
Reaches up, and grabs a hold of the broken edges of the hole in the starboard side of the airship, near the bow.
And starts pulling himself up, as he attempts to haul himself in through the hole in the side of the twin masted vessel.
On the otherside of the raider's converted cargo vessel. On the port side of the airship.
Dorc da Orc's bitter rival. The foreign knight, Sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Who is further along the side of the airship. Closer to a midships, has almost climbed up the length of the chain, to the rail along the port side of the twin masted vessel.
The former paladin chuckles behind the faceplate of his full helm. As again he hears the tormented screams of the raider, the grappling hook has dug itself into, as it wrapped around the rail when the nobleborn knight threw it.
The heavily armoured knight quickly looks up, then swings away to his right.
When he looks up, and sees a crewman looking down at him, about to shove a staff down at him.
The former earl of Lé Dic, as he swings back. Grabs the staff with his left hand. And yanks down as hard as he can.
The raider holding the staff, yelps as he over balances. And topples over the port side rail, and falls overboard.
He barely gets out the start of the scream before he hits the ground face first.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Stops his momentum, to stop himself from swinging from side to side.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic. Goes to reach up, as he's easily close enough to grab the port side rail.
When he suddenly finds himself falling backwards towards the ground.
Apparently some of the raiders up on the deck in a midships have decided to act.
And they've taken the raider with the grappling hook in his upper right leg, and side.
Picked him up, and thrown him overboard. The part of the port rail the some of the chain is wrapped around, is ripped out.
And that, along with the raider with the grappling hook in him. As well as Percy who was trying to climb onboard. All fall to the ground.
"Narille" groans sir Percavellé Lé Dic after he hits the ground back first with a thud, after falling about twenty feet.
The former paladin groans, then rolls to one side. An arrow thuds into the ground where he was just lying.
The nobleman who hails from the kingdom of Druvic, reaches out and rips out the grappling hook still in the leg and side of the raider who was just thrown overboard.
As the barely concious raider groans as blood sprays everywhere from his fatal wounds.
The member of the order of The Knights of Saint Mar-che. Continues rolling, so that he ends up underneath the twin masted airship.
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in the east of his homeland, Druvic.
Who has spent the winter helping to train the teenage army recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
Groans as he gets to his feet, then after muttering "Narille" as he bumps his full helmed head on the underside of the ship's hull.
The heavily armoured knight drags the rest of the chain towards him. He quickly gathers it up, then looks around.
"Not going to beat me onboard" loudly mutters the nobleborn knight as he spots the legs of his bitter rival hanging down the side of the airship. Further forward, near the bow on the starboard side.
The foreign knight, who has no actual position or rank in the armies of Farque.
Shakes his head, then starts moving aft beneath the twin masted vessel.
Percy who moves with a limp, as that fall hurt him. Intends to get onboard the raiders ship before his bitter rival the ork warleader does.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic decides to get up onboard on the stern. As he suspects the raiders are too busy paying attention to what's happening infront of them.
Looking at the stopped airship, Hamblin the teenage recruit draws back his bow, and lets the arrow to it fly.
The shaft slams into one of the raiders with a crossbow halfway up the foremast.
The man falls to the deck with a sickening thud. As shouts and yells come from those onboard the twin masted vessel.
Hamblin who is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits who have trained throughout the winter, mostly based in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before they headed out to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard to complete their training.
Runs sideways to avoid getting shot by those raiders onboard the airship with ranged weapons.
The teenage army recruit from the farming village of Polsten which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the town of Gildin Dale.
Sees out of the corner of his eye, another of the raiders fall back from the starboard rail with an arrow through his throat.
Hamblin knows that he was shot by his fellow army recruit Jinsa. As she's the most accurate archer in their group.
The teenage army recruit who is just thirteen years old. Drops to the ground behind a fallen tree.
And he looks at the twin masted airship, that has well over a hundred of the raiders onboard, closer to a hundred and fifty if you count the crew.
Hamblin blinks as he sees general Dorc trying to squeeze himself in through a hole in starboard side hull, near the bow.
As the son of farmers from the village of Polsten, shakes his head, and takes another arrow from his quiver.
And tries to spot the bitter rival of Dorc da Orc, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Who he thought he saw fall to the ground over on the otherside of the airship that's a converted cargo vessel.
Spots the former paladin at the stern of the twin masted airship, full of raiders from the unruled lands to the north of the border.
The heavily armoured knight is looking up at the stern of the vessel. Swinging the chain with the three pointed grappling hook at the end of it, as he does so.
It seems to Hamblin that the two bitter rivals, who have helped to train the teenage army recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
And who have gone out on patrol, north of the border, with the first group of teenage recruits.
Are hell bent on getting into or onto the twin masted airship, that the raiders from the unruled lands have landed on a hill, that's exactly on the northern border of the lands Farque.
Behind the downed tree, Hamblin gets to a knee, draws his bow back as he takes aim, then lets the arrow fly.
The shaft takes one of the raiders in the face as he leans over the starboard rail, trying to shoot a crossbow bolt down at general Dorc.
The ork warleader grumbles and grows as he tries to pull himself in through the hole in the starboard side of the hull, just back from the bow.
The large ork, who for a brief moment. Wishes he hadn't eaten that raider they captured from their makeshift village. So that he can fit through the hole in the side of the former cargo vessel more easily.
Though only for a brief moment. For the ork warleader would never willingly forgo food. Especially food that consists of a human chopped up into bits.
Looks to his left when he hears something. The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world reaches out and grabs the cargo net that's just been draped over the side.
The ork weaponsmith yanks down hard, ripping the netting out of the hands of the crew who are tying it to the starboard rail.
The cargo net, and one of the crew, still holding onto it, fall to the ground.
The large ork grunts in satisfaction, and as another of the raiders falls overboard to his right with an arrow in his neck, barely missing him.
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks slams his head into an edge of the hole in the side of the airship.
"Ugh" mutters the large ork who is slightly dazed after that. Though wood went flying, and the hole in the starboard side hull near the bow, is much larger now.
The ork general in the armies of Farque, reaches through, and hauls himself inside the airship.
The warleader of the ork race basically slides inside the twin, masted vessel.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name. As he lies there on his rather ample belly.
Punches out with his right hand, snapping the left leg of the crewman who runs at him.
It's the crewman with the axe, who broke the ork weaponsmith's longspear.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world, gets to a knee, and grabs the man's fallen axe.
And slams it down into the face of the crewman screaming in pain from a broken leg.
"That's what you get for being a bads man ya cunt" mutters Dorkindle as he looks at the crewman whose head is chopped completely in two. One half above the mouth, the other below it.
"And for fucking up Dorc's spear" adds the large ork in a disgusted sounding mutter.
Then the ork warleader gets up, and grunts "Fuck" as he bumps his head on the bulkhead above him.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks looks around, and finds himself in what was the forward cargo hold of the twin masted airship.
Dorkindle doesn't see many of the crew down here. Infact he's killed the two who were actually in here, when the vessel came to a stop on the hill.
The large ork moves off, murmuring "Get some" to himself. As he heads to the nearest ladder that will take him up on deck.
Meanwhile, Dorc da Orc's bitter rival. The former paladin, sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Hangs there on the chain he's climbing, as he makes his way up the stern of the twin masted vessel.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic listens carefully, then quietly says to himself "They seem to be a bit preoccupied with things, wot".
As hears shouting, and the yelling of orders from up on the deck of the twin masted airship.
The heavily armored knight after looking up, pushes off the stern of the vessel, kicking out so he swings backwards.
His momentum brings him back forwards, and the nobleborn knight kicks in the window shutters of the aft cabin.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic or Percy as more often than not, he's called by those who know him well.
Falls into the captain's cabin, hitting the floor with a thud after he lets go of the chain he was climbing.
The member of the order of The Knights of Saint Mar-che, groans then rolls over, and pushes himself up, and gets to his feet.
"Getting old there Percy son" quietly says the former paladin in a rare admission of the truth.
Though only in his mid forties, a lot of the things he would of found easy to do fifteen years ago, take it out of him a bit more at the age he his now.
Even so, the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic can still move fast when he has to.
And he quickly makes his way across the cabin to the door just as it bursts open.
"Take that villain" says Percy who throws a punch that connects with the face of one of the crew.
The man's nose is shattered, and teeth go flying from his mouth after getting hit by the steel gauntleted right hand of the former earl of Lé Dic.
The landed and ordered knight from the kingdom of Druvic then rams his right knee into the face of the crewman. Who is on his knees, spitting out blood.
Percy who is essentially a walking weapon due the full suit of heavy plate armour he wears.
Lifts up the faceplate of his full helm, and listens carefully as he looks down the passageway infront of him.
The nobleborn knight grunts, then closes the faceplate of his helm. And takes a pick and a hand axe from his belt.
The former paladin heads down the passageway, in search for a ladder that will take him up on deck.
The two bitter rivals, Dorc da Orc and sir Percavellé Lé Dic, are now onboard the raiders twin masted airship.
Doing exactly the same thing. They're below deck, looking for a ladder that will take them up onto the deck of the vessel, that's landed on a hill, right on the northern border of the lands Farque . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 45.

Spring. On The Border.

They're on the border. In the lands Farque. On the brow of the hill. They're flat on the ground. Looking away to the north at the approaching airship.
Dorc da Orc, a general in the armies of Farque glances away to the east. And he licks his lips as he spots a few miles away. In some open ground.
A small herd of giant land tortoises. Ambling across the open terrain, cropping away at the grass.
The massive creatures, some of which are over fifteen feet in length. Are totally oblivious to what's happening a few miles away to the west of them.
The large ork looks to the north again, and grunts as he watches the oncoming twin masted vessel.
The ork warleader then takes one of the sacks that hold his possessions, from his weapon harness. And rummages through it until he finds what he wants.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world grunts in satisfaction as he takes it from the sack.
Lying nearby, the bitter rival of general Dorc. The foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Has the exact same idea as the ork weaponsmith.
The former paladin, who brought with him a very small pack for supplies.
Also brought along a large leather satchel fold with him. Similar to a bag of some kind. That opens up when laid out on the ground.
The teenage army recruits of the first group who have gone out on patrol to the north of the border.
Wondered what's inside of it. And wondered why the heavily armoured knight even brought it along with him.
Since he didn't bring much with him on patrol in his pack in the way of food and other necessary supplies.
The leather fold is opened up on the ground. And as he lies there next to it.
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic nods in satisfaction as he takes something from it.
Before he goes back to looking away to the north at the airship approaching the border from that direction.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage army recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
Who have spent the majority of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before heading out west to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard to complete their training.
The recruit Hamblin looks away to his left, when his fellow recruit Maselle nudges him, and nods in that direction.
"Hell" mutters Hamblin the teenage recruit in the elven language as he looks at the ork general Dorc da Orc, and the foreign knight sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
The young army recruit from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Quickly looks away to the north at the oncoming twin masted airship that's approaching the border. Then shares a look with Maselle, who has arched an eyebrow in question. Hamblin just winces in reply to her look.
Then the thirteen year old who is the unofficial leader of the first of four groups of teenagers from across northwestern Farque.
Who have undertaken their basic army training throughout the winter.
Looks to his right, where his fellow recruit Golmard is lying next to him. Who has just muttered in elven "Those two are completely mad". As he too has also glanced to where the ork warleader and the former paladin are. And more importantly what they're holding.
Hamblin who has his bow in his right hand, which he has strung, nods in agreement with Golmard, then quietly says in elven "I can't very well tell them not to".
As he figures when it comes to combat, or battle. The two instructors who have come on patrol with them. Will do whatever the hell they want.
Then Hamblin, along with the rest of the group of teenage army recruits. Look at the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world who is now speaking to them.
"You cunts with bows and shit, shoot as many of them fuckheads as you can" says Dorc da Orc who is taking a long spear from across his back as he lies there on the ground.
The large ork, then starts tying what he took from his sack to the spear, as he continues with "The general will bring that fucker down" as he nods at the approaching airship.
"Speak for yourself you filthy beast" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic as he interrupts his bitter rival the ork warleader.
The nobleborn knight who hails from the kingdom of Druvic, who has no actual rank in the armies of Farque, continues on with "It is i, the great sir Percavellé who shall bring down this vessel full of villainous raiders, wot".
"Shut your yap fuckface" sourly mutters Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name.
The ork weaponsmith makes sure what he's tied to his spear is tight.
Then he gets up to a knee as the airship to the north gets closer to the hill they're on.
Not far from the warleader of the ork race, his bitter rival, the former earl of Lé Dic. Which is his family's fief in the east of his homeland, the kingdom of Druvic. Gets to a knee as well, as he holds what he took from his leather fold in his right hand.
The former paladin as he takes a couple of other things from the leather fold with his left gauntleted hand, and puts them on his belt.
Says to the nine teenage recruits of the first group, who went on patrol north of the border for the final exercise of their training "These ruffians on yonder ship are no match for you".
The heavily armoured knight, who like his bitter rival the ork warleader, doesn't exactly lack confidence in whatever he does, continues with "Remember your training, and you shall do fine, wot".
Dorkindle, who usually couldn't care less what the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic says, grunts in agreement with the member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
Then the son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, tells the teenage army recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque "Kill as many of these fucken cunts as you can".
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world follows that with "General Dorc will kills the rest of 'em dead".
"Pfffttt" says the nobleborn knight in derision, sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, adds "I, the great sir Percavellé shall kill the rest of these so called raiders, wot".
Then the ork general, and the foreign knight as the twin masted airship comes close into the hill.
Get up from where they and the teenage army recruits are on the brow of the hill.
The large ork grunts as he hefts his spear, checking it's weight with what he's tied to it.
While the former paladin glances at what he's holding in his right gauntleted hand.
Then looks at the approaching airship. And guesses at the speed it's coming at towards the north side of the hill.
They don't even realise it, but the bitter rivals glance at one another to see what they're doing.
Then the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. And the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic. Run over the brow of the hill, and head down the north facing side.
Roaring in the case of Dorkindle, and from Percy shouting "Saint Mar-che!".
As they pound down from the top of the hill, the former paladin shouts at his bitter rival "At the bow beast!".
"Me knows cunt!" yells back the ork warleader.
Who roars as arrows and crossbow bolts come flying their way from some of those onboard the twin masted airship.
The large ork pulls his longspear back, then throws it forward and out of his right hand, yelling "Fucken get some!" as he does so.
The ten foot longspear slams into the bow of the former cargo ship, on the forward starboard quarter.
The spear, with the powerful throw from the ork general, smashes through the hull with ease.
And goes into the vessel, where it slams into one of the upright beams below deck, where it goes through it, and is stuck fast.
Trailing out of the hole in the bow section of the hull, is the heavy rope that Dorc da Orc has tied to his longspear. Which it's still tied to, as the spearhead has gone through the internal beam below deck.
And as the airship comes down low towards the north face of the hill. The large ork roars as an arrow bounces off his forehead. And runs down to the length of heavy rope that's almost trailing down to the ground now.
Meanwhile, the ork general's bitter rival. The foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Is swinging what he's got in his right hand.
The heavily armoured knight, has to wait for the raider's vessel to get closer.
As he doesn't have the range, nor the strength of his bitter rival, the warleader of the ork race.
"Narille" mutters Percy as a crossbow bolt clangs off the side of his full helm.
Then as the twin masted airship full of raiders from the unruled lands gets closer to the north face of the hill, that's right on the border of the lands Farque.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic lets fly what he's swinging away in a giant arc with his right gauntleted hand. It's a long chain. On the end of which is a heavy grappling hook.
His bitter rival, Dorc da Orc. Knows both the chain and grappling hook well.
For well over a dozen years ago. The two rivals. Down in the kingdom of Melaurn. Were both hanging onto the chain. Trying to kill one another. As it, and them. Was wrapped around the head of a very irate dragon at the time. Who was trying to kill the both of them at the same time.
"Huzzah!" shouts the former paladin shouts in triumph as the grappling hook goes up and over the side of the twin masted airship.
The hook which has gone up and over the port rail. Has wrapped around the rail, and dug into it.
And by the sounds of things, the three pronged hook has pinned one of the raiders up against the rail as well.
As screams of pain can be heard from upon the deck of the vessel along the port side rail.
Up on the brow of the hill, which is exactly on the border of the lands Farque.
The nine teens of the first group of recruits lie there in total silence at what they're watching down the face of the hill.
Eventually the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits, breaks the silence.
"Huh well fuck me" says Hamblin the teenage recruit who is just as stunned as the other teenage recruits on the brow of the hill.
After a pause of a few moments, the thirteen year old Farqian army recruit continues with "Would you look at that".
As they all look down at what's happening below them along the north face of the hill.
More than a few of the of young teens blink in surprise at what they're watching. Not quite believing what's happening.
They see the ork general, Dorc da Orc. Holding onto the rope that's sticking out of the hull of the airship.
The large ork, who is still on the ground, is jumping up and down as holds onto the rope.
Yelling and hollering in the totally incomprehensible language of the orks, when he's not roaring.
Trying to haul the twin masted airship downwards as he does so.
The ork warleader looks like a giant green demented monkey as he starts swinging from side to side below the airship.
Running along the ground for a bit, then jumping up as he continues to pull down on the rope that's sticking out of the hull on the forward, starboard quarter.
Meanwhile over on the port side of what's definitely a former cargo ship that's been converted by the raiders who are based in the unruled lands to the north of the lands Farque.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic is a quarter of the way up the chain attached to the grappling hook he threw up over the port rail.
The nobleman from the kingdom of the Druvic who is climbing hand over hand up the length of the chain.
Makes an impressive sight as he swings from side to side. In his shining plate armour. With his white cape billowing out behind him.
And like his bitter rival the ork general, Dorc da Orc. The former paladin is also shouting at those onboard the twin masted vessel.
But unlike the warleader of the ork race. The former earl of Lé Dic can be understood.
As he's yelling up at those onboard the vessel to surrender. Or he will have to be forced to kill them all, followed by a "Wot".
Hamblin, after another moment or two as he watches the sheer idiocy from the bitter rivals. Or utter genius from the two. He hasn't figured out which one yet.
Is the first of the teenage recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque to act.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Springs up to his left knee, lifting up his bow as he does so.
Hamblin takes an arrow from his quiver, puts it to the belly of the bow, with the feathered butt, up against the string, which he draws back.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage Farqian army recruits.
Takes a deep breath, then exhales. As he lets out the last of  his breath. Hamblin lets the arrow fly.
The young army recruit from a family of farmers in the village of Polsten in northwestern Farque.
Can recall killing the Aellothos, a type of harpy. That attacked the first group on one of their forest runs during training in the dead of winter.
And how he felt nothing as he killed some of the creatures, primarily with his bow.
He thought it would be different killing a person. But he's surprised there's no difference at all.
As the arrow he just shot off. Slams into the chest of one of the raiders on the bow. With a crossbow, who is trying to take a shot down at general Dorc.
The raider tumbles forward over the rail, and drops to the ground. Hitting not all that far from where the ork warleader is swinging back and forth on his heavy rope that's sticking out of the hull of the twin masted airship.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Bursts out laughing when the raider smashes into the ground not all that far from him.
"Move!" calls out Hamblin in the elven language to his fellow army recruits.
"Spread out!" adds the unofficial leader of the first of four groups of teenagers from across the northwest of the lands Farque.
Who spent most of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before coming out to the coast, to the bordertown of Halmard. To complete their training.
The teenage army recruits get up, and scatter along the brow of the hill.
Those with ranged weapons. Hamblin, along with Jinsa, Maselle and Furnid. Who all have bows. While Marshay has a crossbow.
Start shooting at those onboard the airship. Who are more occupied with the two who are trying to board the twin masted vessel.
Especially considering sir Percavellé Lé Dic is more than halfway up the length of the chain he's climbing.
And he's up against the port side hull of the converted cargo ship. Which is slowing to stop so that it doesn't crash into the hill.
After Hamblin shoots of another arrow, then dashes away to his left. As he sees some of the raiders onboard with ranged weapons.
Are now shooting at the teenage army recruits scattered across the brow of the hill.
Drops to the ground for a moment. And watches what's happening. He can't see the former paladin, sir Percavellé Lé Dic at the moment.
As the raider's airship is coming to a stop and is almost scrapping along the north face of the hill.
And the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic is over on the port side of the twin masted airship.
But he can see ork general, Dorc da Orc on this side, the starboard side of the converted cargo ship.
The large ork is climbing the rope he's holding onto, and because he hasn't got far to go.
The ork warleader is already up to the hole in the forward section of the airship. That his longspear created, and which the rope is sticking out of.
The general in the armies of Farque is attacking the damaged hull with his head and elbows. Making the hole larger so he can get through it.
All the while some of the raiders up at the starboard rail on the bow. Are attacking the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
One of the raiders attacking general Dorc falls back with an arrow through the throat shot from Jinsa's bow.
While Hamblin who gets to a knee, draws back his own bow that he's put an arrow to.
And lets it fly, and hits another raider in the chest. Who is leaning over the rail with a spear. Trying to stab down at the ork warleader.
Hamblin the teenage recruit is up and moving. Not quite believing what's happening at the moment.
If you would of told him at the start of winter when he began his training in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
That on the very first day of spring. That he would be running across the top of a hill on the northern border of his lord's lands.
In the midst of a battle with some of his fellow recruits, and two of their instructors against an airship full of raiders from the unruled lands to north of the nation of Farque.
He would think you're totally delusional, and that you're out of your mind.
But here he is, doing exactly that. On the very first day of spring after spending the winter undergoing the basic training for the armies of Farque . . . . . .