Send a spelling or grammar correction to: Tracy Johnson
This site sponsored by Agenda Games LLC
Back to Empire on the HPe3000
... and ...
A huge and blacknailed hand grabbed onto the thief and tore him
from the ogres back. Harold had time for one more stab and twisted the
blade in the wound as the ogre pulled at him, he locked his hands upon
the hilt, and it was drawn from the ogres back as he was pulled away.
The ogre held the thief in one hand before its eyes to get a look
at what had bitten at its back. "Me eat you, little dog." it said.
"Eat this!" Harold screamed, his arm lent strength by the terror
he felt, the halfling brought his blade down and struck the ogre between
its eyes. The ogre jerked its head back and to the side, the blade snapped
off at the hilt, Harold felt as if his wrist was being torn apart, he
dropped the hilt from a numbing hand.
With a stumbling backwards step the ogres legs pressed against
the edge of the garbage chute and tripped. Harold struggled to break free
from the monsters grasp, he felt the world begin to tilt as the ogre fell.
His knife was gone but from a wrist sheath he drew out a magic scaling
spike. He pressed it against the base of the ogres thumb and spoke the
word which brought the spike to life. It whirred and sunk in with a spout
of blood. The ogre did not feel the wound but its hand unclenched and
Harold fell, even as the ogre dropped backwards down the garbage chute.
Harold landed on the wooden lid and rolled off the edge. He caught
himself with his one good hand and hung from his finger tips.
The climb up had been hard, but Derue had spent all his life
at such practice so that this was little more than play. He had learned to
step back from what his body did and watch from a distance, he still
felt his hands against the rough cord and his muscles roll beneath his
skin, but any pain he put into a box within his mind and shut the lid.
The smell was the hardest thing to ignore, the reek brought up
memories he had closed off from his youth, distractions that he
suppressed. He shut them away as best he could and kept on climbing.
A small speck of light began to grow, then became a square. Derue
increased his pace, hand over hand, his legs wrapped around the rope,
he worried about his brother who had gone ahead.
"Edouard!" called Derue. "Edouard!" he heard a deep voice and a
dark shape blocked out the square of light. Then there came a howl,
a grunting roar that did not come from a human throat.
Derue began to climb with a frantic haste but paused for just a
moment to collect himself, he thought of a burning flame that ate away
his fears. With even greater speed but with calm control, Derue pulled
himself up the last few feet to the top of the shaft.
As he reached the edge a large form came hurtling past, a thick
and heavy leg went by and smacked Derue hard across his side and buffeted
him against the filthy walls.
"Helppp!" Harold screamed out. He banged his numbed hand against
the wooden lid but could not get his fingers to grip the edge.
"Hold on." Derue hissed at him. "I'll get you in a minute."
The mercenary swung with a graceful twist and landed on his feet upon the
kitchen floor. He bent and grabbed the halfling by his arms and lifted him
to the half open wooden lid of the garbage chute.
"Where is my brother?" Derue demanded.
"Where indeed!" Harold replied. "I have been having Brandobaris's
own blessing upon me here and he takes off after an orc."
* * *
(To Be Continued)