Send a spelling or grammar correction to: Tracy Johnson
This is a first draft of a story set in the world of Greyhawk.
It is based on a home campaign so some of the people, places and things
may be different. Any helpful comments or suggestions are very welcome.
Thanks
Jason Zavoda
Moroedd reared and brought his hooves smashing down on the
skull of a warg that came to near. The shaggy beast was quick and the
stallion's hoof only grazed its skull. The mare, Fieldmouse, whinnied
and trampled the warg as it dodged aside from Moroedd's attack. She
kept stamping till the monster was no more than a bloody rag of hair.
Past the wagon, the wargs swarmed over the small group of men
who'd rushed to the guardpost. They were like a rolling wave and the men
had sunk beneath the snarling, heaving mass.
The mercenary had dropped his halberd to pull the warg from
his arm. Metal encased fingers closed like a vise around the monster's
neck. Welf spun and tossed the beast away. It lay with its four legs
spread out, its belly on the ground, panting. The red gleam of blood-lust
was gone from its eyes.
"He-Ya!" Kassar yelled. He turned his mount and led all three
against the wolves.
Three pairs of hooves beat against the Oerth. They charged the
edge of the warg-pile, making a few of the monster's howl, but the
frenzy of the pack was undisturbed.
"Kassar!" Welf shouted.
The nomad and his horses were galloping down the east road that
ran along one side of the camp.
* * *
Dust was rising from the dry, dirt road. The morning sun had
baked away any hint of moisture left by the pre-dawn mist. Hundreds of
boots scuffed and stamped in long lines as the columns of troops
marched toward Hochoch.
The remnants of the Eighth were in the vanguard of the column.
Two broken centuries, just over seventy men in each. Less than half
were the survivors of those who took the giant's wall.
The Fifth company had been formed of green recruits. The sons and
daughters of Geoff, living in exile, but called back by the retaking of
Sterich. Now, these children grown to be adults, felt it was Geoff's turn.
Few had seen combat of any sort, fewer still had seen battle. They had
enlisted in droves.
Companies whose standards had long since been set aside were
brought to life once more. The Fifth was old. Long had the banners
moldered in disuse. The dust and cob-webs had been brushed aside, and
new badges sewn, new emblems painted. The Fifth marched to war too soon
Untried swords and untried spirits were shattered on the giant's
wall. The veterans led them on and died, and the children of Geoff fled
from the giants as they had many years ago. The monsters had not grown
smaller or less terrible now that the young had grown. Memories,
nightmares, of the flight, wolves and goblins snapping at their heels,
came back to them. Their shields were no protection, their swords
no weapons to use against monsters that could tear a man apart with
bare hands.
They fled the bridge, though their captain called to them to
stand and fight. He died, and no threat or curse would make them
face the giants again that night. The Fifth lost no more than one
in ten, but their heart was gone.
Kyle shook his head in disbelief when he heard the tale.
"They march fine." said Waddard.
The two centuries shared the road. Three men abreast on either
edge. They left a wide space down the center for horsemen to use,
galloping out or back as they went ahead to scout or return to make
their reports. Waddard and Kyle marched side by side and talked.
"They run away pretty good too." Kyle said without any humor.
"We will break them of that habit." the first sergeant said firmly.
"I hope so." said Kyle. "I don't know what to make of them."
"You've never been scared?" asked Waddard.
"I'm always scared." Kyle answered. "Its never made me want to
run."
"Then you haven't been scared." Waddard looked ahead down the road.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)