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Back to Empire on the HPe3000
... and ...
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
Outside the cells the orcs were milling about. The one who spoke
for the others, the boss, as the orc called Meatstealer referred to him,
was waiting for Derue.
"What we do now?" the orc asked.
"Those stairs over there," Derue pointed to the west. "They lead
up to the kitchens, there I have companions, and from there we can make
our way out of the steading."
"Some o'the boys, they not want to leave." said the boss.
"Then they can stay. Here give me two swords." Derue said to an
orc standing idly near the door to the cells. It looked at him and seemed
not to understand. "Stahl, swel stahl, getzt!" he ordered in a rough
orcish tongue. It jumped and offered Derue it's own blade, then grabbed
another from the hands of a nearby orc, and handed that to Derue as well.
"You speak orc?" the boss asked surprised.
"I know enough. Now, I am leaving these swords with those in the
cells, no one is to bother them, I will kill anyone who does, and I will
kill them slowly." Derue drew his sword once again and waved it back and
forth before the bosses eyes. "I command this fire, it will burn the bones
of any who disobey my command, they will burn slow, I promise."
The orc gulped and nodded his head. Derue went back into the
cells, he handed the swords to Jalal and to the elf Ghibelline, who stood
strong, if worn, like a stag, bloodied but not brought down by the
pursuing pack. Only Jalal spoke.
"Bring help soon." he said.
Derue nodded, but said no more, he just walked away and left them
standing in the half-lit cell.
* * *
"That's it, those are the last of the packs." Talberth said.
"I will go find Henri." said Telenstil.
"Don't be long, they can no doubt use our help up there." Talberth
said to the elven mage.
"Go up when the rope is dropped back to us." Telenstil told him.
"I will go when you have returned, with or without that priest."
Talberth folded his arms and gave his mentor a stern look.
Telenstil shrugged, he saw no use in arguing with his former
apprentice, Talberth could be a stubborn man.
The room was a disgusting refuse heap, but part of natures process
of decay. The smell was strong and rank, the scent of rotting flesh, the
pungent tang of fermenting rinds and husks, death becoming life once more.
Telenstil did not enjoy the sight or smell but he appreciated its
presence, the balance of a pleasant day, a sunny field, the smell of
a forest after the fall of rain. The dank he used to measure his enjoyment
of these other things, the dark that balanced light.
Light! a blinding flash that erupted from an adjacent room,
Telenstil turned the corner with care. Inside he saw a heap of empty
chests, their edges charred, and amongst the smoking ruin, amid the sharp
smell of air burnt by the pass of a lightning bolt, stood Henri, his
arms raised to the vaulting roof.
"Henri." Telenstil said firmly. "It is time to go."
The priest did not reply. Telenstil waited a moment then went back
to Talberth, Henri would come or not, but he could do no more.
* * *
(To Be Continued)