To War 2.

Summer. Melaurn.

Mira Reinholt the mage looks up from the book he's reading, and looks down the road again.
He looks south along the road for a while, before he goes back to reading the book in his lap.
It's a book written by a wizard three centuries ago. Detailing the effects on spells concerning time.
The book, a copy of a copy of the original. Is more concerned about theories than actually anything practical.
Something of a misnomer concerning mages. As their brand of magic is all about practicalities, and very little to do with theory.
Nevertheless, the subject of the book is more than interesting to the mage, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
Until he was stripped of most of his powers when he went offworld after going through a rift/void spell he accidentally cast.
The mage Reinholt pauses from reading the book, as the serving woman comes out, and refills his mug of ale.
And though the ale is cool on this warm summer day. The spellcaster originally from the city-state of Vexil touches the mug, and with a thought makes the ale cold.
He takes a satisfying sip of the cold ale, looks down the road to the south for a bit, before he goes back to reading the leather bound book in his lap.
The mage, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster. Who is a member of the personal council of lord Farque.
Is on the covered front porch of a small tavern in a town in the province of Moleau, in the kingdom of Melaurn.
Just down the road to the south of town, is the province of Corlinda.
One of two provinces in the south of the kingdom, that's preparing for war.
The spellcaster who was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil.
Until he was kicked off it, and sent into exile when he betrayed his homeland in a time of war.
Has been here in town for the last few days, after traveling south down through Melaurn from the lands Farque.
The once powerful mage who is enamoured with the book he's brought along with him.
One of a few books he's actually brought along with him.
Is waiting for something as he goes to the codex in the book. To check on one of the subjects in the book.
He quickly does, then turns to amother page in the leather bound book.
"The consequences of time upon spellcraft" murmurs Mira Reinholt the mage as he briefly reads a passage outloud in the book.
The exiled Vexilian mage who is alone on the front porch of the tavern continues reading in silence.
Slightly frowning as he reads a theory he instinctively disagrees with.
How certain spells, even basic, not very difficult ones can create ripples in time, that can effect everything around them.
The highly skilled swordmaster as he sits there at a table wearing his light weight black, summer cloak with the hood up.
Jerks his head back in surprise at what pops up out of the pages of the book as he puts it down on the table infront of him.
"Do you mind?" mutters the mage Reinholt in the elven language.
"Not in the least" replies Narladene the ground pixie as she sits upon the page the once powerful mage is reading.
Mira Reinholt refrains from sighing, and dryly says in elven "It was".
In response to the tiny winged creature asking him "Interesting read?".
The member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, closes the book on the ground pixie.
Which of course, doesn't effect the naturally magical creature at all. As it just passes through her, and she ends up sitting on top of it.
"Well?" asks the spellcaster who is a member of one of the most powerful, and wealthy trading families.
Not just in his homeland of Vexil where they're based, but right across the Southlands.
Follows that with "Where is he?" as he looks down the dirt road to the south, that goes into the next province that way, the province of Corlinda.
"He's on his way" replies the tiny winged creature who is originally from the Sunreach Mountains.
The naturally magical creature pauses for a few moments, then she looks up at the human spellcaster, and quietly tells him "A delegation is with him".
One of the eyebrows of the mage Reinholt shoots up in surprise when he hears that. As he definitely wasn't expecting that.
"They want to go up north?" asks the Vexilian mage in exile.
Referring to up north out of the kingdom of Melaurn, and into the lands Farque.
"They do" is the reply from Narladene, who gets up and stretches as she looks around.
"Hopefully they make it out of the kingdom" dryly says the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
The ground pixie makes a face at that, but she does nod her tiny head in agreement with the human practitioner of magic.
As delegations representing the nobles of both Corlinda and Karricaw have gone north through the summer so far.
Traveling to the lands Farque, and though a few have made it. Just as many haven't, as they've been attacked as they've tried to go through the provinces to the north of Karricaw and Corlinda.
By the otherside of their conflict of course. As they try to outbid one another as they attempt to hire one of the armies of Farque for their immanent war.
"This lot will go a different way" says Narladene, who continues on with "They'll cut through the bottom of this province, and the one to the east of here".
"Mofosild" says the mage Reinholt naming the province to the east of Moleau.
The tiny winged creature nods, then says "Then out onto the tundra, then up into Farque's lands" followed by "Probably safer that way instead of going all the way up through the kingdom to the border".
"Probably" says the highly skilled swordmaster in agreement.
As the barbarian hordes out on the tundra tend to ignore travelers from the kingdom of Melaurn.
They'd rather be fighting one another, than anyone else. As the various hordes don't particularly get along with one another when they cross each others territories.
"Quicker out on the tundra too" says the naturally magical creature that hails from the Sunreach Mountains.
Looking down the road that leads to the next province to the south, the Vexilian mage in exile spots a group of riders coming up the road from the neighbouring province of Corlinda which is just six miles or so away to the south of town.
As the riders get closer, the once powerful mage spots his fellow council member, Helbe the elven thief amongst them.
"Does he know how much they want to pay now?" quietly asks Mira Reinholt.
"Of course" says the ground pixie who is attached to the elven masterthief.
"How much?" asks the once powerful mage, whose eyebrows shoot up when Narladene tells him how much the delegation from the province of Corlinda are willing to pay for the hire of one of the armies of Farque.
"That's definitely way more than their last offer" quietly says the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil.
"And more than the last offer from that lot over in Karricaw" adds the mage who is now in his latter thirties, nearly forty years old.
"Think he'll accept it?" quietly asks the tiny winged creature referring to lord Farque.
"I think so" replies the practitioner of magic who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster.
"Especially considering that last offer from that lot in Karricaw is more than what they can actually pay" adds councillor Reinholt, who then asks Narladene "Can they pay it?" as he nods his hooded head towards the approaching riders.
"They can" answers the naturally magical creature, who after pausing adds "Just".
The mage Reinholt nods, then quietly says "Well i guess we'll be fighting for the province of Corlinda sometime later this summer".
"Looks like it" says the ground pixie as they continue to watch the riders come up the road to town.
They stop in town, conveniently at the tavern where Mira Reinholt has been waiting this morning.
The exiled Vexilian mage joins his fellow councillor the elven magic user as the delegation get something to drink and eat before they continue on their way.
"How were the negotiations this time?" asks the swordmaster Reinholt, who then adds "Difficult?".
"Not too bad" replies Helbe the elven thief as they stand to the side of the tavern's front porch, quietly talking in the elven language.
"Seems they found out the amount that last offer from Karricaw was" says the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel.
Which lies across the Kuyriers Straits from the coast of the kingdom of Melaurn and the lands Farque.
"They offered just a bit more than that" continues the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel.
"I refused, until they offered something more" adds the highly talented elven spellcaster.
The once powerful mage nods his hooded head, and looks at some of the delegation who have come out onto the covered front porch of the tavern.
Then he quietly asks his fellow councillor "The baron isn't with them i see". Referring to the noble who is the chief protagonist on the Corlinda side in their conflict with the province of Karricaw.
"No he didn't come along" says prince Helbenthril Raendril, who continues on with "The one with the short blond hair, wearing the chainmail is his son".
The Vexilian mage in exile nods as he sees the noble described by the elven master assassin, who tells him "He's younger than all the others, but he's the most important one out of the lot".
The elven masterthief follows that with "We definitely have to keep him alive" he continues on with "Not just up to Farque, but also back down here into the kingdom".
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, nods his hooded head, then quietly says "Then that's what we'll do".
They set off again before midday, with the mage Reinholt joining them.
They continue traveling north until the middle of afternoon, when they take a road that goes east, towards the province of Mofosild.
The delegation from Corlinda is nearly thirty strong, with a handful of the nobility from that province. Some of their retainers, and the rest guards from the various noble households.
The two most important in the delegation is a sir Jinpel. Not a particularly prominent nobleman. Except he's one of the commanders of their combined forces.
And the other is baron Wilmot's son, Krissner. The son of the chief protagonist in the conflict between the provinces of Corlinda and Karricaw.
A conflict that's over the most obvious of things. The shared border between two neighbouring provinces in the south of the kingdom.
Mira Reinholt finds himself riding alongside the teenager Krissner, and sir Jinpel.
His fellow council member Helbe the elven thief has disappeared, and gone ahead to scout the way.
For though they're in a neutral province. That doesn't mean there isn't any danger for the delegation.
For their enemies in the province of Karricaw could be here in Moleau.
Waiting for the opportunity to attack anyone from the province of Corlinda.
"Actually i haven't, even though I've been here in Melaurn a number of times" says Mira Reinholt in response to the young noble Krissner, asking him if he's ever fought in any conflict here in the kingdom of Melaurn in the past.
"The envoy has" says the once powerful mage referring to Helbe the elven thief.
"In that war between two lords up in the province of Sorros one winter, about fifteen years ago" adds the swordmaster Reinholt.
Sir Jinpel winces when he hears that, then he says "Bad business that was by all accounts".
The nobleman, a lean looking fellow just a few years older than the mage Reinholt continues with "Stirred up things so much, that the only dragon in the kingdom that was living up there, got involved in all of it".
Nodding his head, young Krissner says "It was killed during that, wasn't it?". "So i believe" says sir Jinpel.
The Vexilian mage in exile nods his hooded head in agreement. Not mentioning that the elven envoy they've been negotiating with. Is the one who brought down that dragon, and ultimately killed it during that winter war in the province of Sorros fifteen years ago.
A time when Mira Reinholt the mage wasn't even on the world of Volunell.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster. Who still can't remember much of his time offworld on the otherside of the void he accidentally created.
Does know that he lost most of his vast amounts of magical power at that time.
When his fellow councillor, prince Helbenthril Raendril. And others in the group. Well, the group as it was at the time.
Were in the middle of war between two local lords in the province of Sorros, here in the kingdom of Melaurn.
The three of them continue chatting as they ride predominantly through farmland here in the south of the province of Moleau.
"I can't quite place your accent Mira" says baron Wilmot's son Krissner.
"I'm from Vexil" says the spellcaster who was once more powerful than any other mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
"It's in the central region of the Southlands" says the mage Reinholt when the two nobles from Corlinda ask where that exactly is. They've both heard of it, but don't know where it is.
"It's a city-state about four thousand miles north of here" says the highly skilled swordmaster.
Who doesn't mention that the people of Vexil, and pretty much everyone else in the lands in the central regions of the Southlands, and further north.
Don't even know that the kingdom of Melaurn even exists. Nor the lands Farque, and pretty much every other ruled land or nation in the southern region of the Southlands exists.
As they chat, mainly about the various lands, nations, principalities, and kingdoms throughout the Southlands, that the Vexilian mage in exile has visited.
The highly skilled swordmaster spots his fellow spellcaster in the distance.
Seems the young elven noble is only visible to him, as the two nobles from the province of Corlinda don't see him on the side of a hill next to the road.
Then the mage Reinholt feels the elven princeling get in contact with him by a mindspeech spell.
Trouble, says Helbe the elven thief by way of mindspeech to his fellow councillor Mira Reinholt . . . . . .

To War.

Summer.

"This place isn't too different than southern Farque" says Beldane the cleric as they head north along the road that leads out of the city of Calinar.
"Well, what I've seen of southern Farque from here" dryly adds the powerful spellcaster.
Walking next to the cleric in the church of Glaine, the halfling Jarjin Littlefoot grins, then says "A lot different across the border".
The hobbit, who isn't exactly all that he appears to be, continues with "Hell of a lot more stable in Farque" he briefly pauses before continuing with "Which i like".
Jarjin, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra, by the name of Zubutai Timaginson.
Who just happens to find himself inhabiting the body of the hobbit from the far east coast of the continent. Then says in a sour tone of voice "I died here in Melaurn".
The fighting cleric from the kingdom of Nastell glances down at the hobbit, and quietly asks him "Here in Calinar?".
"In the province of Sorros, to the east" is the reply from the halfling, who continues in a sour tone with "That sucked".
Beldane can only nod to that. He knows that Jarjin is really someone else.
A barbarian hordesman, who died nearly fifteen years ago here in the kingdom of Melaurn.
And who ever since, has inhabited body after body. Going to another, whenever the one he's in, dies or is killed.
"So will others most like" quietly says the powerful spellcaster as the two of them converse in the elven language.
Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman nods in agreement with the member of the church of Glaine.
They're in the kingdom of Melaurn. The southern most kingdom in the Southlands.
Lying south of the lands Farque, and to the west of the southern tundra.
They're in the province of Calinar, where the capital city, also called Calinar, is located.
They've just left the coastal city, and are on the little used road north of the city.
Heading for the nearby border with the lands of Farque.
The two of them, one a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The other, who has never, even set foot in the nation of Farque. With good reason, he's a cleric.
"If we get the hire from one side or the other, things could escalate, and the next thing you know, bang it's a civil war here in the kingdom" quietly says Beldane, a fairly large man, who wears halfplate armour.
Who has a magical mace on his belt around his waist.
Thankfully for the cleric, a mace that no longer has a mind of it's own.
For on occasion in the past. The mace would cast on it's own. All with the intent of keeping Beldane safe.
But sometimes sending him who knows where, to get him out of harm's way.
"That could happen" says Jarjin, a halfling who is a former air sailor.
"But it's a risk either side is willing to take" adds the hobbit, who isn't what he appears to be.
As they near the border, which is only a handful of miles away from the city of Calinar.
Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman quietly says "I'll inform the others of what you lot have found out".
The fighting cleric from the kingdom of Nastell, nods then quietly says "Hopefully they both won't want to hire" followed in a dry tone of voice from Beldane, with "That would be a bit complicated if it did happen".
"That's for sure" dryly and quietly says Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit as they near the border.
The road ends near a rocky, mountain like tor, an escarpment really.
Within which, those living here in Melaurn just across the border, wouldn't believe could exist at all.
The road which is a dirt road, ends about fifty yards from the rocky tor.
At the end of the road stands a lone figure. A large man in a full suit of armour.
Who has been the sentinel here on the border crossing for centuries.
"Hopefully we'll find out if they'll decide anything" quietly says Beldane as they walk to the end of the road.
"Hopefully" says Jarjin Littlefoot, who along with the fighting cleric, come to a stop about ten yards from the lone figure.
"Stay safe" says councillor Littlefoot, who then shakes hands with the spellcaster from the kingdom of Nastell, then tells him "I'll come back across as soon as i can".
Beldane nods, and watches Jarjin continue onwards.
"Draugadrottin" quietly says the hobbit from the otherside of the continent to the sentinel.
Who just slightly nods his full helm head, to give the former air sailor the go ahead. To step forward across the border.
Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson turns, and waves to the watching fighting cleric.
The member of the church of Glaine waves in return, and after nodding to the undead figure next to the halfling.
Beldane the cleric turns, and heads back to the city of Calinar to rejoin Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy.
On what's a warm, sunny summer's day, here in the border region.
Meanwhile Jarjin Littlefoot, a member of lord Farque's personal council.
Continues on his way to the rocky escarpment. Basically a stone mountain, within which is housed one of the largest garrisons in the lands Farque.
As well as hundreds of magetubes, most of which are directed at the city of Calinar. Which lies less than three and a half miles away.
Jarjin aka Zubutai the son of Timagin, will give his report of how things fare in the kingdom of Melaurn.
Especially in the provinces of Corlinda and Karricaw. In the south of the kingdom.
Where the ruling nobles of those two provinces are at war with one another.
Well, a war that's actually yet to get underway. As the ruling nobles of the provinces of Corlinda and Karricaw.
Are in the midst of another war already. A bidding war for one of the armies of Farque.
Whoever ends up hiring one of the mercenary armies of the lands Farque.
Is basically guaranteed a win in their war against their rival.
Though actually hiring one of the armies of Farque, will come with some problems of their own.
The chief of which, is getting it to either the provinces of Corlinda or Karricaw in southern Melaurn.
For if an entire army crosses the border, that could be tantamount to an invasion of the kingdom.
By the time Jarjin Littlefoot has made it into, the vast complex that's inside the rocky mountain.
Beldane the cleric has made his way back to the city of Calinar. Teleporting most of the way, and walking the rest.
The fighting cleric heads towards the port once he's inside the city.
There he hopes to find Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy. Who over the last couple of days here in the coastal city. Has been searching for some specific information about something.
That could be vital, when the war between the ruling nobles of Corlinda and Karricaw gets underway.
For the war is inevitable between the two neighbouring provinces in southern Melaurn.
Crouched down upon a rooftop near the docks, the elven spy Dalinvardèl Tanith watches the loading of a ship that's in dock.
The vessel, a local trading ship. Is bound for down the coast of Melaurn, around the southwest tip of the kingdom.
To along the south coast, to the southern port of Ramaee in the province of Selvah Na.
A port that closes for most of the wintertime down there. As the harbour usually ices over. But now in the middle of summer, it's open.
A lot of what's sent to the south of the kingdom goes by sea instead of overland during the summer.
As going by ship is far quicker than traveling by land at this time of year.
Especially when you want to move something quickly to one of the southern provinces in the kingdom.
Dalinvardèl Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Watch as wooden crates are hoisted up onto the ship he's observing. Or carried onboard by the crew.
The spy, who is from the elven principality of Alínlae, and is now an officer in the scouts and rangers division of the armies of Farque.
Already knows what's in the wooden crates being loaded onto the ship he's observing. His naturally enhanced hearing confirms it.
As he hears a number of the crates clank when the crew bring them onboard, and put them down onto the deck.
The spy Tanith continues to watch the twin masted sailing ship bound for the southern port city of Ramaee.
Loaded with weapons and armour. Which will then either go onto the province of Corlinda or Karricaw.
As those two provinces continue to build up their war effort, in the inevitable conflict between the two of them.
Dalin glances down to the street to his right, the elven spy moves to the back of the roof.
Grabs the edge of the roof, where he hangs there or a moment or two, before he lets go. And drops ten feet to the ground.
The elf in the gray hooded cloak walks around the building he's just been on top of.
At the front corner of the building, Dalin glances around to the street.
Then he steps out onto the street as a man in halfplate armour walks by the front of the building.
"Another one's heading south to Ramaee" quietly says Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy in his native tongue.
"Corlinda or Karricaw?" asks Beldane the cleric as they walk through the streets near the docks, here in the city of Calinar, the capital city of the kingdom of Melaurn.
"This one will end up Karricaw" is the reply of the elven spy, who previously served in one of the more prominent noble houses of his homeland, the principality of Alínlae.
"That's quite a few this week" quietly says the powerful cleric as they head to the inn they're staying at here in the city of Calinar this summer.
"How many is that?" asks the spellcaster from the kingdom of Nastell.
"Ten" is the reply of the spy Tanith, who continues on with "The cargo of six of them will end up Karricaw, and the other four will go to Corlinda".
"They are definitely ramping things up" quietly adds Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy.
The cleric in the halfplate armour walking beside him, nods in agreement.
As the inevitable war between the two provinces is getting closer and closer.
And no doubt, will get underway sometime this summer.
Whenever one or the other province wins the bidding war for the hire of one of the armies of Farque.
Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit looks out one of the window like openings in the rocky escarpment.
Here on the southern border of the lands Farque, right on the coast.
The member of lord Farque's personal council turns away from the sight of the city of Calinar in the distance to the south.
"I heard" says Tovis the war engineer, who continues with "Shipping off a lot of weapons and armour".
"That they are" says Jarjin Littlefoot, who then shakes his head, and adds "No idea as of yet".
In response to the young engineer from the kingdom of Druvic asking him "The negotiations?".
The war engineer, who once served in the army of a baron Harkonin in eastern Druvic. And who is now a captain in the engineer's corp in the armies of Farque.
Nods his head, then says "We'll find out soon enough i guess".
Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman nods, then says "I guess".
The two of them looks out the window like opening once more, before making their way out of the gallery.
In the corridor outside, the halfling from the far east coast of the continent, says to a waiting runner "Your name runner?".
"Councillor" says the young teenage runner with a nod of his head, who then adds "It's Markell".
"Well runner Markell, have the garrison commander meet us in the map room" says Jarjin Littlefoot, who then adds "And politely ask the commander if he would join us too".
The young runner in the first army of Farque, nods his head in understanding.
For though the garrison here on the border has an actual commander. Who gives the orders, and runs things around here.
There is also a commander residing here at the moment. One of the five undead commanders who died in battle the day the lord and ruler of the lands Farque died, four and half centuries ago.
As the young runner heads quickly away down the corridor. A runner that Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson, noticed had a shortsword on either hip.
The halfling who is a former air sailor glances up at the young engineer beside him, and quietly tells him "If negotiations are successful for either of them".
As they walk to the nearby map room, the hobbit who is a council member adds "It's been decided that the first will ship out immediately to either Karricaw or Corlinda".
Tovis the war engineer nods, then slightly winces when Jarjin Littlefoot quietly tells him "Which could turn into a giant shitshow if the rest of the kingdom thinks it's an invasion".
"We won't want that" quietly says the young engineer who hails from the east of the kingdom of Druvic. 
"That's putting it mildly" dryly says councillor Littlefoot as they enter the map room.
Then wait for those Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson has sent for. As they continue to plan for a war between the provinces of Corlinda and Karricaw in the south of the neighbouring kingdom of Melaurn . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 56.

Spring. The Coastal Town Of Halmard. The Northern Border. The Nation Of Farque.

Tamric Drubine the field commander looks at his lover Saanea the witch who asks him "Any idea where they'll send you?".
"No idea" says Tamric Drubine the field commander as they stand upon the front porch of the house here in the bordertown of Halmard they're staying.
It's early morning, and the two of them are looking out at the beach and the ocean.
They see Shur Kee the monk walking along the beach, no doubt coming back up this way after meditating as he does before dawn.
There's a handful of the teenage recruits in the water enjoying an early morning swim.
On what's their last day here in Halmard, before they ship off tomorrow to their placements within the armies of Farque.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Looks to the right of the porch, where a snoring Dorc da Orc lies fast asleep.
The nobleborn teenager who originally hails from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
Wonders if the undead wardog Axe will come by this morning.
For if he does, Axe may very well grab the large ork, and carry him into the water for the fun of it.
He's done it already in the last few days here in the bordertown of Halmard. So there'll be no surprise if Axe does it again.
The young field commander looks to the left, and sees a yawning sir Percavellé Lé Dic walk out onto the porch of the next house down. Here, on the western side of town.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic greets the two lovers Tam and Saanea.
Then the former paladin sourly smiles as he spots the legs, and big boots of his bitter rival, Dorc da Orc.
Next to the porch on the back of the house that the nobleborn teenager and the pretty looking hillwoman are staying in, while here in Halmard.
The member of the order of The Knights of Saint Mar-che. Does hope that the undead wardog Axe comes along, and drags the ork warleader down the beach and into the ocean.
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic.
Chuckles at the thought of his bitter rival, the warleader of the ork race. Ending up in the water again this morning.
As they watch Shur Kee the monk head to the house that he shares with sir Percavellé Lé Dic here in Halmard.
Field commander Drubine quietly says to the spellcaster who is his lover "No doubt I'll join up with one of the armies" followed by "Which one, I'm not too sure".
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin knows that he was given the winter training assignment here in the northwest of the lands Farque.
More to do with keeping him occupied more than anything else.
Not to mention, to keep both the ork general, Dorc da Orc. And the foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Out of trouble throughout the winter. Which for the most part, they did.
Tam knows that as a field commander, he will be given another senior position in one of the armies of Farque soon enough. He just doesn't know where and when.
But when it does happen, no doubt those in the group with him.
Dorc da Orc, Shur Kee the monk, sir Percavellé Lé Dic, along with Saanea the witch will come along with him.
The son of a previous knight of castle Drubine, a castle and it's lands, that can be found in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Then says to the hillwoman who he met last summer, and by the autumn they were lovers "Though I'll likely be assigned again to one of the armies".
He continues on with "I doubt we'll be seeing any action elsewhere in the Southlands".
The witch from the Maldin Hills nods in understanding.
Her young lover Tam has told her about the armies of Farque.
And how they're hired out into conflict and warzones throughout the Southlands.
But with lord Farque, and the rest of the group missing. And no one knows where they are.
There's no one actively looking for one of the armies to be hired into a particular war somewhere in the Southlands.
"Though the defense of the nation is just as important" says the young field commander.
Later in the morning, Tamric Drubine is with sir Morcin the avenger. And the garrison commander here in the bordertown of Halmard, commander Kolmic.
The three of them are behind the main garrison building, discussing the recruit's placements they decided on yesterday.
Tam nods when commander Kolmic says that sending the young recruit Hamblin to The Citadel is the correct thing to do.
From the few weeks training he had here in Halmard at the end of winter, and the subsequent patrol across into the unruled lands.
And the decision making the young army recruit from the farming village of Polsten, made during that patrol.
It was a no brainer that Hamblin be sent to undertake senior officer training at The Citadel, the capital of the lands Farque.
One of the two people who put in a good word for young Hamblin. Comes walking by, to sit down in the shade on this side of the main building of the garrison.
Dorc da Orc just grunts at them, and as he sits he's just glad that there's a breeze blowing off the ocean this morning.
They other person who put in a good word for young Hamblin, when the instructors discussed the placements of the teenage army recruits who undertook the winter training here in the northwest of the lands Farque.
Walks by on the beach, scowling when he spots the large ork sitting in the shade of the main building of the garrison.
His bitter rival, the ork general scowls when he spots sir Percavellé Lé Dic walking by on the beach.
The scowl on the broad, green, brutish looking face of the ork warleader.
Gets deeper, and angrier when the former paladin suddenly grins, and puts a hand on the hilt of the sword of knockdown that's at his hip.
Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name. Sits there in the shade, muttering to himself in his native language as he watches the nobleborn knight.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world then broaches the barrel of beer he has with him.
A barrel that he had. Well begged really. Saanea the witch to have cover with a thin layer of ice.
The large ork takes a gulp, letting out a satisfying sigh. Then he paces himself, and starts to slowly sip. As he wants the cold beer to last as long as possible.
Not even his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic, walking away down the beach can distract him from enjoying the barrel of cold beer.
Nearby, at the corner of the main building of the garrison, Tamric Drubine looks down the beach, then slightly frowns as he notices something.
The young field commander continues to slightly frown as he watches the undead wardog Axe.
Commander Kolmic notices the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin staring away down the beach, whilst frowning.
"What is it?" asks the garrison commander Kolmic.
By then, Axe starts barking. And both commander Kolmic and sir Morcin the undead avenger look south along the beach to where the massive animal has just got out of the water.
The undead wardog who is standing there on the beach, looking away to the south and barking.
Starts going around in circles as if he's chasing his tail, which is waging furiously.
The massive canine jumps from side to side. All the while barking.
He does the same, when he drops down to his belly.
His tail is waging from side to side so much, that his entire body is shaking from side to side.
Then Axe gets up, and lets out a howl. Something that he hardly ever does.
"What's wrong with that fucken doggy?" loudly mutters Dorc da Orc from where he's sitting.
Both field commander Drubine and the Halmard garrison commander, Kolmic look at sir Morcin for an explanation.
The undead avenger whose nation of birth no longer exists, is slightly frowning himself as he watches Axe.
Then suddenly the former knight looks away to the south along the coast, the direction Axe is looking.
After closing his eyes for a few moments, sir Morcin opens them, and suddenly smiles.
The undead avenger then looks at the local commander and the field commander, and tells them what's happening.
A little while later, and the entire town of Halmard are just outside the bordertown.
Near the small airdock that's on the southside of town.
The inhabitants are to the east side of the coast road, standing.
While on the west side of the road, are the local garrison, along with the teenage recruits.
They're all on their knees, while standing to one side is sir Morcin, Tamric Drubine, Saanea the witch, and Shur Kee the monk. As well as the general and the knight, Dorc da Orc and sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
There's no sign of the undead wardog Axe. Who took off a little earlier, heading south.
From where, there's now an airship approaching the bordertown of Halmard.
It's a krean scoutship, easily identifiable as it has no masts.
The vessel approaches Halmard fairly quickly, only slowing when it gets within a hundred yards of Halmard.
As it comes into land at the small, and quite low dock on the south side of town.
The undead wardog Axe can be seen on the deck of the mastless airship.
Another figure comes into view upon the deck of the strikeship.
And the inhabitants of Halmard bow, as do all of the garrison and recruits, who bow their heads to the ground.
Most of them have never seen the figure standing upon the deck next to Axe. But they all know who it is.
As the krean strikeship sets down in the small circular dock, Axe as well as the one with him jump overboard.
As Axe takes off to the beach, sir Morcin steps forward, and bows. The soldiers and recruits behind him kneeling, bow once more.
"My lord" says sir Morcin the undead avenger.
"Morcin" says lord Farque in reply, who then clasps his right forearm with the undead avenger's in greeting.
The former knight, steps away, and his lord looks at the soldiers of the Halmard garrison, and the teenage army recruits and says "Rise".
As they all stand, the undead warlord looks over at those of the group who are here in the bordertown of Halmard.
Noticing the young witch standing next to Tamric Drubine the field commander.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque nods his full helmed head in greeting, then says in the ork language "Hey cunt".
In response to Dorc da Orc saying in greeting in the same language "Hey Farque".
The ork warleader who remembered not to call lord Farque cunt.
Glances sideways at his bitter rival, the foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who says to him "Look yonder you smelly beast, there's the rest of the chaps, wot".
Then as the undead warlord waves field commander Drubine forward to have a quick chat with him and sir Morcin.
Dorc da Orc notices those who are disembarking from the krean strikeship.
The large ork grunts, as they're all familiar to him, who have been missing since spring last year.
All except one, who isn't familiar at all, until he catches the scent of that person.
The ork warleader suddenly bursts out laughing, hard and loud, so much so he's quickly in tears as he points.
"Look!" says Dorc da Orc who follows that with "It's a hobbitch!" he then adds "Look at it, a fucken hobbitch!".
He can't continue on, as he's laughing so hard. The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is bent in two as he points and laughs.
While next to him, his bitter rival sir Percavellé Lé Dic wonders why the ork general is laughing so hard.
"I told you this was going to be a fucking nightmare" sourly says Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit to Mira Reinholt the mage as they make their way down off the low airdock.

Author's Note - Here ends "The General & The Knight". The main storyline will continue in "To War".

The General & The Knight 55.

Spring. The Lands Farque.

Now that's it spring, their basic army training has come to an end.
The first group are joined in the bordertown of Halmard by the three other groups of teenage recruits they spent most of the winter, living and training alongside of, in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Before they too came out to the coast of the lands Farque to complete their training at the end of winter.
The second, third and fourth groups, along with the rest of their instructors from Gildin Dale are now in Halmard.
After coming up from the coastal towns and villages they spent the last weeks of winter, living and training in.
All four groups from across the northwest of the lands Farque were always going to gather again when their basic training was completed.
Though originally not here in the bordertown of Halmard.
They've only got together here in the bordertown when word spread of the attack upon the first group of teenage recruits on the northern border, about twenty or so miles inland from Halmard.
By raiders from the unruled lands just to the north of the lands Farque.
Where the first group of teenage recruits went out on patrol with two of their instructors. For their last training exercise of the winter.
Now that they've got a bit of free time before they're given their assignments.
Most, if not all of the teenage army recruits spend their days on the beach here in Halmard.
They know they'll be given their assignments, or placements fairly soon.
As the avenger sir Morcin has returned to Halmard with a patrol from the bordertown's garrison.
Who went out over the border to the unruled lands to the north. Along with the undead wardog Axe, and two of the instructors, who helped train the teenage army recruits. The ork general, Dorc da Orc. And the foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
It's no secret what they were all doing up in the unruled lands.
Taking care of the remainder of the raiders who are just to the north of the border.
Those who abandoned and fled their downed airship. And the others who didn't come south in pursuit of the first group of teenage army recruits.
After having another morning swim, the unofficial leader of the first group. Hamblin the teenage army recruit, sits down upon the white sands of the curving beach.
He looks behind to the garrison, on the west side of Halmard. And in the shade of one of the garrison buildings.
He spots the ork general, Dorc da Orc. Who has just made his way outside, sitting down in the shade.
No doubt the large ork is scowling in disgust. As the day, even though it's early spring. Is warm and sunny. As it often is along this part of the coast of the lands Farque at this time of the year.
Hamblin spots the ork warleader's bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic walk out of the same building.
Even from where he's sitting on the beach, the teenage army recruit from the farming village of Polsten. Which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Can see the scowl upon the face of the former paladin, as he walks by the ork warleader.
Then the nobleborn knight grins, and pats his hip. Where he has the magical sword of knockdown.
Hamblin sees the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic chuckling as he walks away.
Ignoring whatever it is that his bitter rival, the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world says to him.
The son of farmers from the village of Polsten, who in a couple of weeks time. At the end of the first month of spring, will turn fourteen.
Looks forward, and to his right when he hears a loud splash in the water.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage army recruits 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 here to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard at the end of winter, to complete their training.
Sees the undead wardog Axe paddling alongside the dock.
A long stone breakwater, that sticks out into the ocean for at least a hundred yards.
Those teenage army recruits near the dock where Axe is. Give the undead wardog as much room as possible.
Though the massive canine, doesn't really allow them.
As he swims quickly up to them, creating a wake, and swamping them. Before he paddles away.
Hamblin grins, as he and the rest of the recruits in the first group.
Have learnt to keep out of the ocean entirely when Axe is in it.
The massive animal takes great pleasure in splashing and swamping anyone in the water with him.
The three other groups of teenage army recruits haven't learnt that yet, only arriving in Halmard yesterday morning.
Halmard looks to his left, and spots his fellow recruit in the first group, Maselle walking up the beach to where he's sitting by himself.
When she gets to where he's sitting, Maselle the teenage army recruit sits beside him, and quietly asks "Thought about what placement you might get?".
"Of course" says Hamblin the teenage army recruit, who suspects every single one of them in the four groups of young army recruits from across northwestern Farque are thinking about the same thing at the moment.
"Well?" asks Maselle after her fellow recruit falls silent, and doesn't elaborate about what placement he may or may not get.
With a shrug of his shoulders, the teenager from the farming village of Polsten, says "No idea really".
"The scouts and rangers division" dryly says the teenage girl.
"Well of course" says Hamblin in a similar tone of voice, who continues on with "All of us in our group will".
He pauses for a moment or two, before he adds "Except for Golmard".
Maselle nods in agreement, as it's obvious the largest of the recruits in not just their group, but all four groups from across northwestern Farque.
Who in all likelihood, will be a swordmaster or blademaster one day.
Will be a foot soldier one day. In an infantry unit in one of the armies of Farque.
"I think a few of the others might have further specialised training" quietly says Hamblin, who pauses for a moment or two, before continuing with "Jinsa definitely will".
"Ranger training?" asks Maselle, her fellow recruit replies with a nod of his head.
As their group member Jinsa, a daughter of a master archer. Who is the best in their group with a bow.
Is destined to be a full ranger one day.
The two of them are silent for a bit, as they watch those still out in the water, on what's a warm and sunny spring morning, here in the coastal bordertown of Halmard.
Then Maselle breaks the silence between the two of them, and says "And us?".
"Not too sure" answers Hamblin honestly, the teenage army recruit from the farming village of Polsten, follows that with "But like you said, definitely one of the scouts and rangers divisions".
Maselle nods in agreement, and after a sideways look at her fellow recruit, who like her, is just wearing briefs.
She turns her head and looks back into town, at the garrison on this side of Hamblin.
And wonders when those who hold their futures in their hands. Will give them their orders. Giving them their placements, now that their basic recruit training has come to an end.
Then she looks back out on the water, and spots Axe heading to shore.
The undead wardog is making a beeline for the two of them.
Both Hamblin and Maselle slightly wince, as they know what the massive canine tends to do when he gets out of the water, and he's close to someone.
The two teenagers know it's too late. Besides they could never avoid it if they wanted to.
So they just sit there, side by side, on the white sandy beach, as Axe runs through the water, up onto the shore, towards them.
"A good day to you Axe" says Hamblin as the undead wardog stops, and softly barks and growls at the two of them.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage army recruits. Figures the massive animal is greeting him and Maselle.
And his response was adequate, as the Farqian wardog's tail suddenly starts wagging from side to side.
Axe then softly barks a few more times, then wanders away towards the town.
Much to the relief of both of the young army recruits. Who were certain the undead wardog was going to shake while next to them.
Which he always does, to anyone on the beach whenever he gets out of the water.
Both Hamblin and Maselle look back towards town, and watch Axe. They both realise where, or to be exact, to who. The undead wardog is making his way towards.
The teenager from the farming village of Polsten grins. While next to him, his fellow recruit in the first group, refrains from laughing, which she almost does.
As they watch Axe head towards the garrison building, that the ork general, Dorc da Orc is sitting in the shade of.
The large ork can probably smell and hear the undead wardog approaching.
But the ork warleader is too busy looking the other way. The direction his bitter rival, the foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic went.
The scowling ork weaponsmith finally notices Axe when the massive animal stops right next to him.
And before Dorc da Orc, or Dorkindle which is his given name, realises what's happening
The undead wardog shakes, spraying droplets of water everywhere from his short haired coat.
Predominantly over the the ork general sitting in the shade of one of the garrison buildings.
Both Hamblin and Maselle can't help it. And quietly chuckle as they watch the warleader of the ork race. Getting hit by the water shaken off Axe.
As the son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. Splutters, and swears as Axs keep shaking his body right next to the large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque.
Hamblin as he watches the annoyed looking ork weaponsmith on this warm and sunny spring day, here on the coast, in the bordertown of Halmard.
Wonders again about what placement he will be given now that training is over. And where else the rest of the first group of teenage army recruits will be placed throughout the armies of their homeland.
Hamblin finds out soon enough, as a messenger from the garrison, comes out. And informs the teenage army recruits on the beach.
That they're to be on the marshalling yard infront of the garrison just after the midday meal today.
It's early afternoon, and the four groups of ten teenage army recruits have made their way out of the refractory.
And are lined up on the marshalling yard infront of the barracks here on the west side of town.
Out of the main garrison building walks their instructors. With the exception of general Dorc. Who is dozing in the shade to the side of the main building.
With a piece of parchment in hand, field commander Tamric Drubine steps forward and says "First group forward".
The first group of teenage army recruits step forward. In a line, with their unofficial leader Hamblin to the left.
And the teenage army recruit Claradene at the other end of the line.
Looking at the ten young army recruits of the first group, field commander Drubine "These are your placements".
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin looks down at the parchment he's holding, and begins.
"Recruit Claradene" says the senior officer in the armies of Farque.
Claradene takes a step forward, and the young field commander says "Second army, scouts and rangers division".
The young recruit from northwestern Farque nods, then steps back into line.
"Recruit Furnid" says Tamric Drubine, or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
The next army recruit inline steps forward, and the young field commander tells him "Second army, scouts and rangers division".
Furnid nods, then steps back into line. Then the teenage army recruit Markell steps forward when commander Drubine calls out his name.
"First army, scouts and rangers division" says the senior officer in the armies of Farque.
Markell steps back, then Marshay who is next inline, steps forward when Tamric Drubine calls out her name.
She too has a placement in the scouts and rangers division of the first army of their lord.
"Recruit Jinsa" says the son of a previous knight of castle Drubine, a castle found in the forested north of the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
"The Krean Protectorate, ranger training" says the young field commander to the teenage army recruit, who nods, then steps back into line. As expected, she will have advanced training.
The young recruit, Dammis steps forward next when his name is called out.
"The first army, scouts and rangers division" says field commander Drubine to Dammis, who nods and steps back into line.
"Recruit Lamis" says the nobleborn teenager who is only a handful of years older than the young recruits from here in the northwest of the lands Farque.
"The Summer Palace, apprentice to a blademaster" says field commander Drubine.
Lamis nods and steps back into line. Surprised at that unexpected placement.
His fellow recruits in the first group, are just as surprised as he is.
Next inline is the teenage recruit Golmard, the largest of the young teens in the first group.
He steps forward when his name is called out, and the senior officer in command of their training over the winter tells him "The Winter Palace, heavy foot division, apprentice to a swordmaster".
That's not unexpected, and Golmard nods and steps back into line with his fellow recruits of the first group.
"Recruit Maselle" says Tamric Drubine the field commander.
The young teenage girl steps forward, and the senior officer in the armies of Farque tells her "First army, scouts and rangers division, scout training".
Maselle nods and steps back into line. Knowing that while the others placed in the scouts and rangers divisions will start off as runners. She will be given advanced scout training.
"Recruit Hamblin" says field commander Drubine to the last recruit inline.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage army recruits steps forward to hear his placement.
"The Citadel" says Tamric Drubine to the young teenage army recruit from the farming village of Polsten.
Hamblin stands there and blinks in surprise. While his fellow recruits, not just in the first group. But in all four groups, look at him.
Hamblin remembers to nod, then step back into line with the rest of the recruits of the first group.
As the other groups step forward to receive their placements from field commander Drubine.
Hamblin the teenage army recruit stands there stunned at the turn of events.
Out of the forty teenagers of the four groups. He's the only one given the placement of The Citadel, the capital of the lands Farque.
The Citadel, where senior officer training takes place for those deemed worthy enough to undertake it . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 54.

Spring. The Northern Border. The Lands Of Farque.

He leaps over a stream as he runs eastwards. He looks up and spots in the distance an airship.
It's over the north face of a hill here on the northern border.
It's a twin masted vessel, with the main mast down as it just hovers there above the hill.
He runs between some trees, and even at the distance he is. He can see what's happening on the hill.
As he runs out of the trees, he sees those who are familiar to him. Who he saw throughout the winter in the forest town of Gildin Dale.
Then out on the coast of the lands Farque, in the bordertown of Halmard.
He runs up, then down a smaller hill to the west of the one the crippled airship is hovering over.
He leaps across a track, creating a thud when he lands. As he continues on his way to the hilltop to the east.
Any creatures or animals that are out and about on this warm, sunny, first day of spring.
Keep well clear of him as he runs through their range and territories.
They know instinctively to keep out of his path as he runs through the terrain. Here along the northern border of the nation of Farque. About twenty to twenty five miles inland from the coast.
He just runs through some scrub that gets in his way. As he's running in a straight line to the hill the dead in the air, twin masted vessel is floating above.
He gets to the western base of the hill in question. And runs up it.
He's not running anywhere as fast as he could be.
But nevertheless, he's running fast enough, that at least one person on the side of the hill. Hears him, and sees him approaching.
He sees who it is. And recognises the young teenage recruit from the village of Polsten.
He can't help himself. And wags his tail in a show of happiness. As he likes that particular young recruit. Who he instinctively knows will make a fine soldier one day in his master's armies.
Hamblin the teenage army recruit ducks down after standing up. As the undead wardog Axe runs up the hillside, straight at him.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage army recruits who lived and trained in the forest town of Gildin Dale throughout most of the winter.
Who then went out to the coast of their lord's lands, and the bordertown of Halmard to complete their training.
Didn't have to duck, as the massive animal leaps clear over him. And smashes into one of the raiders climbing over the fallen tree.
As that man from the unruled lands just over the border to the north.
Goes flying backwards forty feet to slam into a pair of his fellow raiders heading this way.
Axe who has come to a dead stop, whips his head to his right. And bites a stunned looking raider in two. As he stands there over a dazed looking Golmard the teenage recruit.
Another raider who has squared off against Jinsa the teenage recruit.
Backs away when he sees what's just happened to his fellow raiders.
He only backs away a few steps, and doesn't even see the massive undead canine move.
The next instant, that raider's head is between the jaws of Axe, who bites down, popping the man's head apart.
The undead Farqian wardog looks at the trio of teenage army recruits from the northwest of the lands Farque.
Barks and growls at them a few times. They know he's talking to them. But they've got no idea what he's saying.
Then the undead wardog, who they know died the same day as their lord. Infact he died just moments before the lord and ruler of the lands Farque died.
Wags his stubby tail rapidly. Then takes off running. Smashing apart the large fallen tree they've been behind. Taking cover from the raiders who have come their way.
They watch as Axe runs across the hillside, bowling and smashing over any of the raiders who get in his way.
He's also biting many of them who he gets close to.
And when he bites. Arms, legs, and heads are bitten off. Infact he just bites a lot of the raiders completely in two.
Picking them up by the torso, and chomping down on them.
The massive animal is moving so fast. That a lot of the raiders from the unruled lands to the north. Who have made it off their crippled airship.
Have no idea what it is that's now amongst them. Tearing and ripping them apart.
Axe runs over one of the crew, who hits the ground so hard, that his head shatters apart from the impact.
The undead wardog then leaps up at the damaged airship that's just dead in the air above the hill on the border.
Here on the very first day of spring for the year.
The fact that the that the raider's vessel, a former cargo ship. Is forty to forty five feet above the hillside.
Doesn't even come into the mind of Axe. Who sees it, and the raiders who have brought it here. As a threat to his master's lands and people.
"I say, what is going on down there?" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic, who adds "Wot".
As he hears screaming and shouting, obviously in panic, coming from the raiders down on the ground below him.
The former paladin who is holding onto a rope. Which he's glad is still holding his weight.
Is along the starboard hull of the twin masted airship.
He looks straight down, and sees a few of the raiders down on the ground running for dear life.
The heavily armoured knight frowns behind the faceplate of his full helm.
Then suddenly the entire airship violently moves to one side, as something crashes into it, just to the right of the nobleborn knight.
"Narille" mutters the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic as he swings from side to side, bouncing along the hull, trying not to lose his grip on the rope he's holding onto.
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che looks to his right as he continues to swing from side to side.
And he blinks in surprise as he sees that there's quite a large hole in the hull of the raider's airship, just ten feet away to his right.
"By jingo what did that?" murmurs sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as more often than not, he's called by those who know him well.
The foreign knight kicks off from the side of the airship, and swings away to his right, and grabs a hold of the edge of the hole in the starboard side of the twin masted airship.
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic peers through the hole in hull.
And blinks in surprise at what, or to be exact. Who he sees inside the hold of the converted cargo ship.
"Why good dog, what are you up to?" asks the nobleborn knight, who after a moments pause as he's surprised to find the massive animal here, then adds "Wot".
The former paladin really wants to call Axe a mangy mutt for eating his magical sword of knockdown during the winter.
But the heavily armoured knight frowns instead, as he watches the massive canine inside the hold of the airship, sniffing at the decking of the hold.
Percy is just wondering what the massive canine is up to. When Axe looks his way, and barks a few times.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic isn't entirely sure, but it does look like to him. That the massive wardog has a grin on his maw. Especially as he stands there with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. And his stubby tail wagging furiously from side to side.
Then sir Percavellé Lé Dic blinks in understanding as he realises where exactly Axe is standing.
"By Saint Mar-che" mutters the former paladin, who then adds "Hell".
Who quickly resumes climbing down the swinging rope. As Axe, lifts up his head, and smashes it down into the decking. That's directly over the magical keel of the crippled airship.
As he climbs down the rope that's swinging more and more the further he goes down it.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic silently prays to Saint Mar-che, and the god Narille. That he gets down onto the ground, and away before Axe brings down the raider's airship.
"The fuck is that?" mutters Dorc da Orc when the twin masted airship violently shakes for a moment.
The large ork swings from side to side as he holds onto a couple of sails, a bunch of lines and sheets.
Draped over the port side rail of the converted cargo vessel used by the raiders from the unruled lands to the north.
The big burly ork from the southern polar region of the world bounces along the port side hull.
While twirling about, getting wrapped up in some of the sails and lines he's holding onto as he climbs down towards the ground.
The ork warleader shakes his head, so he can see what's going on around him.
The ork weaponsmith grunts as he catches a glimpse down to the ground.
And he sees some of the raiders and crew down on the ground, running down the hill, away from where their crippled airship that is dead in the air.
The ork general in the armies of Farque who heard screaming and yelling a few moments ago coming from along the hillside, to starboard of the raider's vessel, mutters "What the fuck are those cuntheads doing?".
As the sails he's holding onto continue to twist about, the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks sniffs deeply through his nostrils.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, frowns as he smells something.
That's familiar, but frankly a surprise that he can smell it here.
The warleader of the ork race who has been one of the instructors of the teenage army recruits from across the northwest of the lands Farque over the winter.
Bumps up against the port side hull, he puts his left ear to it, and listens. All the while sniffing as he does so.
Dorkindle blinks in surprise, then mutters "The fuck that doggy cunt doin' here?".
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world scowls.
Then he hears a cracking sound from within the twin masted airship.
Then a shudder passes down the entire length of the raider's vessel.
"Er?" murmurs Dorkindle who pauses for a moment, then he starts climbing down the sails again. Even though they're swinging about, and twisting around him.
The large ork hears something smash through the port side hull, not far from where he just was.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks. Who knows exactly who did that. He can smell them down on the ground now, mutters "Fucken cuntdicks".
As he hears a couple of the teenage army recruits down on the ground somewhere, yelling at him to hurry up.
Dorc da Orc figures he's more than halfway down to the ground, when he feels the twin masted airship shudder again.
"Uh oh" murmurs the ork warleader, the next moment, the crippled airship drops out of the sky.
Over on the starboard side of the raider's vessel, sir Percavellé Lé Dic who is closer to the ground.
Quickly looks up when the damaged airship shudders again.
"Fuck" mutters the former paladin, who lets go of the rope, falls about twelve feet to the ground, which he hits with a clang, and a clatter.
The heavily armoured knight is up and moving, just as the twin masted airship drops down out of the sky.
Hamblin the teenage army recruit, along with Golmard and Jinsa. See sir Percavellé Lé Dic running this way as the raider's airship drops, and crashes on the hillside.
Over on the otherside of the north face of the hill. The teenage army recruits Furnid and Dammis see the ork general Dorc da Orc. Fall about twenty feet, and land in a heap of twisted sails and lines.
Just before the raider's twin masted airship crashes down upon the hillside.
The converted cargo vessel is pretty much intact, with very little of it breaking apart when it hit the ground after the undead wardog Axe bit out a large chunk of it's magical keel.
With the wind knocked out of him when he landed on his back, entangled in sails and lines.
Dorc da Orc's eyes go wide when he hears and feels the raider's airship crash straight down onto the hillside, just yards from where he's lying.
The large ork as he tries to get out of the entanglement he's in. Sourly smiles when he starts moving. As the sails, lines, and sheets he's wrapped up in, is dragged across the hillside.
The ork warleader continues to sourly smile when he comes to a stop, and hears barking nearby.
"Yeah cunts, get the general out!" calls out Dorc da Orc after he gets his breath back, and hears a couple of the young army recruits call out if he needs help to get free.
As the teenage army recruits Furnid and Dammis start cutting the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world free.
The undead wardog Axe wanders away. The massive canine, bites one of the raiders crawling across the ground. Snapping the man's spine in two.
Then the Farqian wardog makes his way around the bow end of the airship he's just brought down.
He bites a couple more of the raiders too slow to flee. Like what's left of most of those who have survived what's happened. Are doing as they run down the hill, heading back north across the border.
Out of the corner of his eye, Axe spots two more of the teenage recruits at the top of the hill. Walk out from amongst the trees up there.
The undead wardog who was in the bordertown of Halmard twenty five miles away to the west, when the teenage army recruit Claradene arrived late yesterday. To inform the garrison commander in the bordertown. What had happened on patrol for the first group, and two of their instructors in the unruled lands to the north of the border.
The Farqian wardog waited in Halmard until earlier today when he sensed the teenage recruits and their two instructors cross the border.
He set off from Halmard not long after that, when he sensed the airship and those onboard chasing the patrol, cross the border too.
It didn't take the undead wardog long to cover the twenty or so miles to get here. To the hill on the northern border, where the nine teenage army recruits, and two of their instructors decided to make a stand.
Breathing heavily, as he ran across the hillside to avoid the airship that dropped to the ground.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic stands there with a hand on his knee, and says "You there youngsters alright?" followed by "Wot".
"Yes sir Percavellé" replies Hamblin the teenage army recruit who along with his fellow recruits Golmard and Jinsa, is injured.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage recruits looks downhill, and spots the young army recruits Marshay and Markell heading up this way.
Markell who has a cloth bandage wrapped around his right leg, is limping, and has an arm over Marshay's shoulder, as she is helping him to walk.
Hamblin looks up the hill, and spots the teenage recruits Maselle and Lamis walking out from the trees on the brow of the hill.
The two of them head downhill, making their way down to where the others are.
As the undead wardog Axe comes  over and sits down next to them and sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Hamblin is just wondering where his fellow recruits Furnid and Dammis are. Along with general Dorc.
When he first hears them. Well, he hears the ork warleader, that's for sure. Then he sees them walk around the crashed airship that's just sitting there on the hillside.
Furnid is wounded, an injury to his left arm by the looks of it. And Dammis is helping to keep him steady, as he looks a little pale, most likely from blood loss.
As Dorc da Orc scowls at both his bitter rival the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic. And the undead wardog Axe.
Hamblin looks at Axe, who ducks his head down towards the ground near sir Percavellé's boots, and coughs.
Well it kind of sounds like a cough, it's more of a rumbling growl than an actual cough.
Looking down with a frown on his face, the former paladin then blinks in surprise at what he see.
"Why would you look at that" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic in a tone of wonder,.
His bitter rival Dorc da Orc looks down too, then says in a tone of surprise, and annoyance "The fuck?".
As a beaming Percy picks up the magical sword of knockdown that Axe has just spat out.
After taking it from the ork warleader in the middle of winter and eating it.
"Mine again, wot" says the grinning foreign knight sir Percavellé Lé Dic in a tone of glee, as a scowling ork general Dorc da Orc looks on . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 53.

Spring. The Border Region.

He falls backwards, narrowly avoiding a hit to the head by one of the raider's swords.
On the ground he kicks out, connecting with the raider's shin. Causing the man from the unruled lands to mutter a swear word, and stumble forward.
Where he ends up skewered on Hamblin the teenage recruit's sword, which he shoves up at him as the young Farqian lies on the ground.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage army recruits.
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.
Rolls to one side, as the raider falls to one side, grabbing at the sword that's through his guts, and out his back.
Hamblin looks to his right, and sees his fellow recruit Golmard grappling with another of the raider's.
The largest of the teenage recruits in the first group. Is taller than the man who has got a hold of him. And he's got the raider in a bear hug.
Golmard head butts the shorter man in the face. And the two of them, still holding onto one another, drop to the ground.
Halmard looks beyond the pair rolling on the ground, trying to punch one another.
And sees another of his fellow recruits from the northwest of the lands Farque.
Jinsa, who stumbles backwards after getting hit in the face by a raider throwing a punch.
The teenage girl, who is already bleeding from the corner of her mouth. And has a bruise that's showing along one side of her face.
Whips her shortsword up from down low. Slicing open the right leg of raider who just punched her.
With his right leg above the knee cut open at least a good six inches.
The raider takes a step, and grunts doing so. Then he yells in pain, and drops to the ground when Jinsa kicks his badly injured leg.
Another of the raider's from the unruled lands to the north of the lands Farque.
Jumps over the fallen tree, to try and get at the teenage girl from the northwest of the lands Farque.
Hamblin as the unofficial leader of the first group of teenage recruits, would like to help both Jinsa and Golmard. But he's got his own problems to deal with at the moment.
The thirteen year old from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of the two of Gildin Dale.
Gets up off the ground to confront another of the raiders. This man, one of the crew. Who has just climbed over the fallen tree.
While two more of them, are running around the end of the long, fallen tree. To try and get at the trio of teenage army recruits from the northwest of the lands Farque.
Up on the brow of the hill, amongst the clump of trees there.
Maselle the teenage army recruit drives her sword into the guts of a raider who has just wildly swung an axe at her.
Then Lamis the teenage army recruit comes up beside him, and whacks his shortsword into the side of the raider's neck, killing him instantly.
Maselle, who pulls her shortsword out of the dead man's stomach.
And Lamis who picks up that raider's hand axe.
Haven't been as hard pressed as the rest of the group of teenage army recruits.
They're up on the brow of the hill, amongst the smattering of trees. And not that many of the raiders are making their way up here.
They're too busy attacking the other members of the first group of young Farqian army recruits.
Who hail from all across the northwest of their lord's lands.
So the two teenagers, Maselle and Lamis. Start yelling and calling out to the raiders further down the north facing side of the hill.
To get them to head up to the brow of the hill, to attack the two of them.
Some of the raiders do. But most of them head off to where the other recruits from the first group are scattered across the north side of the hill.
A hill that's right on the border that the lands Farque has with the unruled lands to the north.
Furnid the teenage army recruit grimaces as he snaps the arrow through his left bicep in two.
He takes just behind the arrowhead, where it's come out through the inner part of his arm. And pulls what's left of the broken shaft through his arm.
As blood squirts from the wound. He figures the arrow barely missed the bone.
For if it did hit it, he knows he probably would of fainted due to the pain.
The pain is bad enough as it is. But at least he's still conscious, and still standing.
He wraps a cloth from his pack around his left bicep to try and stop the bleeding.
Dammis the teenage army recruit steps back behind the large boulder, and hands him a quiver.
And without a word, does up the cloth even tighter around the left bicep of his fellow teenage army recruit from the northwest of the nation of Farque.
Then Dammis, who is one of the smaller teenage boys in the first group of recruits.
Who spent most of winter in the forest town of Gildin Dale, where they lived and trained.
Before they made their way out to the coast, and the bordertown of Halmard to complete their training.
Steps back around the large boulder, holding his two long daggers. As more of the raiders head in their direction.
Furnid picks up his bow, which he hasn't used for a little while, since he ran out of arrows earlier.
Then takes out one of the arrows from the quiver Dammis got for him. When he killed the raider who shot Furnid.
The teenage Farqian army recruit puts the arrow to the plate of his bow.
Then glances around the side of the large boulder. Picks a target, and there's plenty of them.
Steps to the side of the large boulder, and grimaces in pain from his injured left arm as he draws back his bow.
Furnid then lets go off the string, letting the shaft fly.
Which barely passes over the head of Dammis on it's way to slam into the chest of one of the raiders running at the small teenage boy, who is the quickest of the recruits in the first group.
Who doesn't even pause as that raider drops to the ground, and five more continue running towards him, as he moves towards them.
Further down the north face of the hill, the last two of the teenage recruits in the group share a look.
Markell the teenage army recruit just shrugs his shoulders. While his fellow army recruit, Marshay shakes her head.
As more of the raiders who are on the ground, start heading down to where they are.
Markell flips one of his shortswords, catching it by the blade. He flips it again, and catches it by the hilt.
Next to him, Marshay picks up a bailing hook that one of the dead raiders nearby was using.
She looks at it, and wonders if she should throw it. She decides not to, and uses it with her off hand.
While Markell next to her, is like Dammis in their group. They're truly ambidextrous. Able to use a weapon in both hands. Just as good in both hands too.
Flipping the shortsword in his right hand again, this time higher.
Markell quickly takes from his belt, one of his throwing daggers he's retrieved from one of the dead raiders lying nearby.
And biffs it, then catches the shortsword before it hits the ground.
Then faintly smile as next to him, his fellow young army recruit Marshy, calls him a show off.
When the dagger takes one of the advancing raiders right in the throat.
Dropping the man to the ground, as blood sprays from the ghastly wound as he rips the dagger out of his throat.
Markell steps forward and to the right. Marshay who ran out of bolts for her crossbow some time ago.
Steps back and the left, giving her fellow recruit as much room as possible.
And though Golmard the teenage army recruit will in all likelihood be a blademaster or swordmaster one day. As he's that good with the broadsword he uses.
Markell with his shortswords isn't too far behind him in his ability with blades.
Marshay again lets Markell take on the raiders who rush down the hill to attack them, first.
She will move in, to help him out whenever she can. As she knows, that even outnumbered. They still have the ability and skills to hold off, and kill the raiders they come up against.
Raiders who have made their way down off their badly damaged airship. That's stationary above the north facing side of the hill.
A hill, that's along the northern border of the lands Farque.
Onboard the raider's vessel from the unruled lands, a converted cargo ship.
Dorc the Orc and his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic. Have decided to get off the raider's airship.
Separately of course, as they hardly ever decide on anything together.
The ork general and the foreign born knight. Head forward along the deck, that's no longer tilting to one side. As the airship is once again relatively level, as it's no longer listing to starboard.
And though they've decided to somehow make their way overboard. For the simple reason so many of the raiders and the crew have gone over the side. Raiders and crew members that the teenage army recruits down on the hillside will have to deal with.
The large ork and the former paladin will go about getting off the stricken airship in their own way.
After all, either one of them doesn't want to do what the other one will do.
As they head forward, the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world heads port side.
While his bitter rival, the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic, makes his way to starboard.
The ork warleader heads forward to where the sails, and some of the sheets on the main mast which he's knocked down.
Are either bunched up, or partially hanging over the port side rail.
While the nobleborn knight, heads to one of the ropes the raiders have tied to the starboard rail, which they've used to climb down off their badly damaged airship.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name. Stops, and picks a raider with a leg wound, who is crawling across the deck.
The ork weaponsmith throws the raider overboard, calling out to him to enjoy the flight.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Chuckles as he hears the raider's scream come to an abrupt halt as he hits the ground.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks continues on his way along the deck of the converted cargo vessel.
On the otherside of the raider's airship, sir Percavellé Lé Dic or Percy as he's called by those who know him well.
Sourly smiles and shakes his full helmed as he looks across to the port side of the ship, and sees what his bitter rival has just done.
The heavily armoured knight continues on his way, picking up a dropped wooden mallet as he does so.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic, who is a member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
Throws the mallet, which hits the side of the head of a raider on the starboard rail about to climb overboard. The man falls off the rail, screaming as he does so.
The nobleborn knight gets to the rope tied to the rail the raider was about to climb down.
Percy looks overboard and down, and sees two other raiders on the rope, climbing down to the ground below.
One of whom is looking up, wondering what just happened.
The former paladin steps back, taking his hand axe from his belt, which he uses to whack the heavy rope tied to the rail.
The rope breaks, and with a grin upon his face behind the visor of his full helm.
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in the east of the kingdom of Druvic.
Returns his hand axe to his belt, and continues along the starboard side of the converted cargo vessel until he gets to the next rope tied to the rail.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic looks overboard, and grunts in satisfaction. He takes a hold of the rope tied to the rail and yanks on it a couple of times, wondering if it will hold his weight, hoping that it does so.
The nobleborn knight shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders.
Quickly looks across to the port side of the stationary airship, and shakes his head when he sees what his bitter rival, Dorc da Orc is doing.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic then as he holds on tight to the rope, climbs over the starboard side rail, and starts climbing down the rope to the hill below.
On the otherside of the raider's airship, the ork general Dorc da Orc who has just stomped on the head of wounded crewman who got caught under some of the main mast when it toppled forward along the decking.
Is gathering up the sails, lines and sheets still attached to the downed main mast.
The warleader of the ork race as he does so, looks over the port rail and down, scowling and muttering away to himself in his native language as he does so.
Then the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world looks to starboard, and scowls even more when he sees his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic climbing overboard.
Grunting to himself, the large ork throws the sails, ropes and sheets over the port side of the raider's vessel.
Making sure they're still attached to the main mast of the stationary airship.
When he sees that they are, the ork weaponsmith grabs a hold of some of them, bunching them up tight as he does so.
Dorkindle scowls after he lightly tugs on the sails and the like he's holding, then he gingerly climbs over the port side rail.
He grimaces as a rope amongst the lot he's holding snaps as he has his face amongst a sail as he starts climbing down to the ground below.
On the hillside, to starboard of the raiders airship that's stationary in the air.
The teenage army recruit Hamblin falls over after cutting down one raider, and another one without a weapon, tackles him.
The unofficial leader of the first group of the recruits grimaces as the man on top of him, throws a short punch that hits him in the side of the head.
Hamblin whacks him in the side of his face with hilt of his sword. The raider on top of him, one of the crew, is dazed.
Then he passes out when the young teenager from the farming village of Polsten in northwestern Farque slams the hilt of his sword into the side of the raider's head again.
Hamblin grunts as he rolls the unconscious raider off him.
Then as he lies there on the ground, breathing heavily as he gets his breath back.
And away to his right he hears his fellow recruit Golmard yell out their lord's name.
Hamblin frowns as he hears something in the distance.
The teenage army recruit rolls over onto his stomach, lifts his head up, and looks away to the west.
As he lies there, Hamblin who is certain he hears something thud in the distance.
Suddenly blinks in surprise as he spots something down off the hill to the west.
The unofficial leader of the first group of recruits shakes his head, and as he gets up off the ground, he faintly smiles to himself as he sees what it is that's away to the west quickly approaching the hill . . . . . .

The General & The Knight 52.

Spring. Along The Border.

Hamblin the teenage army recruit looks up at the twin masted airship. Which has tilted enough in this direction, that he can now see what's happening on deck.
The young teenager, who is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits.
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 winter, to the bordertown of Halmard to complete their training.
Blinks in surprise at what he sees up on the deck of the converted cargo vessel from the unruled lands.
He sees the ork general Dorc da Orc, running along the deck of the airship. Barely keeping his balance on the sloping deck as he runs through a midships.
Before he crashes head first into the main mast of the airship that's stationary above the north face of the hill.
Hamblin grimaces as even from down on the ground he hears the loud crack when the ork warleader runs into the main mast of the raider's vessel.
As the ork general stumbles and falls over, and disappears from sight for a bit.
The thirteen year old from the farming village of Polsten, which lies about forty five miles to the southeast of Gildin Dale.
Looks to his right at his fellow recruits Golmard and Jinsa who are standing next to him behind a fallen tree.
The two of them look at him, as they've just seen the same thing as he has.
Eventually it's Golmard the teenage army recruit who breaks the silence between them and says "Well" he pauses for a moment or two, before adding "So that's happening then".
Jinsa slowly nods, then Hamblin nods too.
Golmard clears his throat, then slightly winces as he flexes his left arm, where he's taken a cut from one of the raider's blades.
The largest of the teenage army recruits in the first group, ties the cloth around his wound tighter with the help of Jinsa.
While Hamblin looks back up at the deck of the twin masted airship, that's stationary and slowly tilting in this direction, to starboard.
He can once again see general Dorc, on wobbly legs, heading back aft, to where sir Percavellé Lé Dic is at the stern of the twin masted airship.
Even from here, down on the hillside, the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits.
Can hear the former paladin yelling at his bitter rival the ork warleader to hurry up.
Hamblin then looks down at his feet, then reaches down and plucks a dagger out of the neck of a dead raider who jumped over the fallen tree to attack them.
Holding the dagger in his right gloved hand, Hamblin the teenage army recruit says "More of them will come this way".
As he sees the crew and raiders who stayed onboard, are now abandoning ship.
They've tied ropes to the rails, mainly on this side, the starboard side. And are climbing down them.
Wanting to get off the stricken vessel, which could very well fall out of the sky if it fully tips over.
As they wait, Hamblin looks back up at the deck of the twin masted airship, which is tilting in this direction.
And he sees the ork general, Dorc da Orc. And the foreign knight, sir Percavellé Lé Dic.
Discussing something as they stand on the aft deck, holding onto the stern railing to keep themselves upright.
Dorc da Orc grunts and shakes his head to try and clear it. The large ork is more than a little fuzzy headed at the moment. Infact the ork warleader hasn't felt this disoriented in many a year.
And he grunts when next to him, his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic says to him "I think that fat unshapely head of yours is doing the trick, wot".
The nobleborn knight continues on with "There is definitely a crack up the mast for sure".
The heavily armoured knight who was hoping the ork weaponsmith had also cracked open his skull that last time he ran into the main mast of the raider's vessel.
But unfortunately for the former paladin, no such luck. As the large ork's head is stronger than rock.
And he says to his bitter rival "One more good whack from that ungainly lump that is your noggin, might bring that mast down, wot".
Dorc da Orc rapidly blinks his eyes as he peers at the main mast of the stationary airship.
Trying to get it into focus. Considering he is seeing two of them at the moment. He briefly saw three masts just after he crashed head first into it the last time.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world shakes his head again to try and clear it.
Then he grunts as he now sees the crack going up the length of the main mast of the raider's vessel.
Well he sees the identical crack going up both main masts he's looking at, as his vision is a bit blurry at the moment.
The only reason he's hit the main mast the last couple of times is because he's been smelling which mast to actually run into.
His vision might be deceiving him a bit at the moment. But his extraordinary sense of smell is still as accurate as ever.
The ork general takes an axe from his weapon harness, and biffs it with quite a bit of force.
It misses the raider on the starboard rail about to climb down off the ship he was aiming for.
But it does smash into another of the raiders about to tie a thick rope to the starboard side rail.
Both the raider and the rope he's holding go over the rail, though the raider is missing most of his head.
"Yeah cunt, wait a fucken mo" says Dorc da Orc in response to his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic telling him "Hurry up beast, get a move on".
The heavily armoured knight as he holds onto the stern rail, glances sideways at the large ork. Who is speaking with a bit of a slur.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic figures the repeated blows to the ork warleader's head as he runs into the mast over and over again.
Has addled what little brains he has within his large, thick, lump of a head.
The former paladin who is glad the raiders have all but forgotten about them.
Considering he's having a hard enough time keeping his footing whilst holding onto the stern rail.
Fighting the raiders from the unruled lands to the north at the same time, would be difficult to say the least.
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in the east of his homeland, the kingdom of Druvic.
Is about to tell the ork warleader to get a hurry on. As the twin masted airship could suddenly tip over if they're not careful.
When the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world says "Right fucken get some ya cunt".
Before he sets off at a run across the deck of the twin masted airship that's a converted cargo vessel.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who is more than a little unsteady on his feet.
Heads up the deck, to the left, or to the port side. Almost shuffling as he barely keeps his balance as the raider's airship, slowly continues to list to starboard.
"Keep still ya fucken cunt" growls the ork general in the armies of Farque with a quick glance down at the deck as he heads into a midships, as he heads towards the main mast of the airship that's stationary in the sky, about forty or so feet above a hill, here on the northern border of the lands Farque.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name. Runs with his head down, as he can't really trust his vision at the moment.
And is relying more on his sense of smell, and his naturally enhanced hearing.
The large ork is stumbling as he runs trying to keep his balance as he heads towards the main mast, that's already been damaged by the warleader of the ork race.
On the aft deck, holding tightly onto the stern rail. Sir Percavellé Lé Dic or Percy as he's more often than not, called by those who know him well.
Sourly smiles, then rolls his eyes as he watches his bitter rival the ork general.
Who as he runs through a midships, starts squealing like an oversized, enraged pig.
The ork warleader continues to squeal right up until he smashes head first into the main mast of the raider's vessel.
There's a loud audible crack when the large ork runs head first into the mast.
The ork weaponsmith staggers backwards, then falls down onto his butt.
There as he sits on the deck, Dorkindle shakes his head, then looks up at the mast.
Blinking as he sees two main masts due to the bit of double vision he's got at the moment.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world hears a loud crack from the base of the main mast, and from the decking beneath it.
The ork general in the armies of Farque scoots backwards on his rear end, barely keeping himself from rolling over, and sliding down the sloping deck to the starboard rail.
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks. Whose large skull he has tied to his wide leather waist belt.
And though he's more than a little woozy, and he's seeing double.
The ork warleader scrambles to his feet, and starts making his was aft, to where his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic is at the stern rail.
Dorc da Orc grunts as behind him there's a brief pause, and one can hear the raider's airship creaking as it floats in a stationary position in midair.
Then there's a loud tearing sound that emanates from the decking beneath the main mast of the former cargo vessel.
"Well would you look at that, wot" murmurs sir Percavellé Lé Dic as he watches the decking get ripped up, and the main mast starts to topple.
As his bitter rival, the ork general makes his way back to the aft deck.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world staggers back this way.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic watches the main mast of the stationary vessel. Rip up out of the deck, and topple forward along the length of the ship.
The former earl of Lé Dic holds on tight to the stern rail as the main mast crashes down through the spars and cross members of the smaller foremast.
It actually misses the forward mast itself, though only barely, and slams down upon the deck.
Lying lengthwise, just on the port side of the centre line of the converted cargo vessel.
The raider's airship violently dips down about ten feet in the air, then bobs back up and is stationary again.
And though the main mast crashed down upon the deck. It hasn't really crashed down through it.
True, some of the decking, and the forecastle is destroyed.
But for the most part the fallen mast lies upon the deck of the raider's airship.
Dorc da Orc gets up as he's stumbled over, then he frowns as he looks at his bitter rival the former earl of Lé Dic.
Who stands there with a sour looking smile upon his face.
The heavily armoured knight isn't looking at the large ork, he's looking forward along the deck.
The warleader of the ork race takes a step, then he stops as he notices something.
Dorkindle who is on the aft deck, says "It not so fucken wonky now".
Percy, who isn't holding onto the stern rail anymore, nods his head, then dryly says "We've righted the ship, wot".
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks turns and looks forward along the length of the ship, and sees what's happened.
The big burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world stands there, and is silent for a moment or two, then he says "Fuck".
"Indeed" says the nobleborn knight who nods in agreement with his bitter rival the ork general.
The two of them were hoping that the main mast would at least fall a bit more to either the port or starboard side than it actually has.
So that the two of them could climb down it, and get off the airship if that main mast had crashed down through either the port or starboard rail.
Now there's just part of a sail, and some of the sheets and lines, hanging over the port side.
While the converted cargo vessel that belongs to the raiders from the unruled lands.
Is no longer listing to starboard so badly, infact it's almost completely righted itself.
As it continues to stationary float about forty feet above the north face of a hill on the northern border of the lands Farque.
After watching the main mast of the raider's airship fall. And the vessel right itself.
Hamblin shares a look with his fellow teenage army recruits, Golmard and Jinsa.
And though some of the raiders and the crew who were climbing overboard and down the ropes they've tied to the ship's rails.
Have fallen to the ground, ending up either dead or injured as the vessel violently dipped then came up and righted itself.
Others are scrambling down the ropes again, which are bit more steady now that the stationary vessel is no longer listing to this side, the starboard side.
"Here they come" says Hamblin the teenage army recruit as he breaks the silence between the three of them.
Some of the raiders and the crew of the airship have spotted them behind the fallen tree.
And are now making their way along the side of the hill towards them.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage army recruits who is just glad none of them have bows or crossbows.
Though unfortunately most of them do have other weapons in hand.
Shouts "Our lord wills it!".
He's replied in kind by Jinsa, while Golmard replies with a shout of "Farque!".
Hamblin throws the dagger he took out of the neck of the dead raider at his feet.
The dagger takes one of the approaching raiders in the gut, dropping the man to the ground as he no armour at all.
Hamblin takes his sword in both hands now, as he along with his fellow teenage recruits, Golmard and Jinsa.
Fight off more of the raiders from the unruled lands. On a hill, along the northern border of their lord's lands. On what's the very first day of spring for the year . . . . . .