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
The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga Part XCV
He was more than just a whirling madman, Edouard's fists and feet
lashed out at the orcs, hard as steel, deadly as any weapon they used
against him.
A sword jabbed toward him, he stepped aside and grabbed the out
stretched arm then pivoted, adding his force to that of the orc's. The
blade stabbed into an orc rushing Edouard from behind and with a twist
the scout sent the orc he'd grabbed flying atop the one just stabbed.
For a time Edouard's training took hold and proved stronger than
the overwhelming need he felt to posses his sword once again. The voice
which called to him, Kalfashow, was just a dim whisper at the back of his
mind. There were a score of weapons set against him and three score
fists ready to fight him barehanded, he had no chance, but he had been
born and raised to fight, even when that fight would surely be his last.
They came at him, so many at once that they blocked each other
out. Each wanted to use a weapon to fight the man, but if they had simply
rushed in they could have borne him to the ground by their sheer weight
and number.
A morningstar whizzed by his head, but Edouard leaned back, supple
as a willow bending beneath the wind. It passed just inches from his face
and pulled the orc half around as it went by. Edouard used his foot, his
torso still bent back, to strike beneath the armpit of the orc. The spiked
ball flew free, smacking into the crowd, the orcs arm popped up and out of
joint, the orc flew back and yowled in pain.
Edouard bent back even more, his torso horizontal to the ground
and kicked up even higher. A second orc rushed forward to take its
companions place and as it did Edouard drew back his leg, both at the hip
and at the knee, then lashed out again, hard as a mule, directly into the
orc's throat. The sound was like a melon in a canvas bag being dropped
against the ground, the orc collapsed, falling backwards, knocking down
several who sought to close with the man but were bowled over into a
writhing heap.
Two clubs and a rusty blade sought Edouard's blood and life, the
sword skimmed close, a club drummed against his side, but its force was
spent when the wielder collided with another orc, and the last was stopped
by Edouard's upthrust hand. He caught the orc forearm to forearm, then
hooked his other arm up behind the elbow. A quick merciless pull of
his hooked arm driving the elbow forward and a push out of his forearm
against that of the orcs and its bone snapped, the elbow came out of joint
and the club hit only the ground as it fell from the useless fingers
of the orc's broken arm.
Edouard dropped into a crouch and spun with one leg extended, it
caught the swordwielder behind the knees and sent the orc heels over head
smacking hard against the floor. Then with a dancers grace Edouard spun up
rising from his crouch and with his gathered strength kicked with his
right leg straight into the chest of another orc. Its breastbone cracked
like lead shot against a stone wall, the crossbow it carried went off and
left a gash which scored the outside of Edouard's leg leaving a bleeding
trail.
He shifted tactics then and brought the fight into the midst of
the orcs crowded in the room. Edouard flung himself bodily into the mass,
jumping high and crashing lengthwise against three orcs, knocking them
down and creating a rolling, biting, clawing, havoc, as he fought
through. He gouged eyes, broke fingers, smashed throats and noses flat
with his forearm and edge of hand, cracked temples with vicious jabs of
elbow, fell hard upon chest or spine or stomach with his knees.
Close in the orcs weapons were more of a hindrance than a help,
they could claw and bite, punch or grab desperatly at the spinning fury
which slashed at them, but Edouard was lightning fast, as dangerous
with quick thrusts of fingers, or gripping hand as he was with the kicks
and throws he used against them in the open.
They would have overborn him in the end but he fought his way
through the thinnest portion of the crowd. An orc reeled back, its thumb
pulled from its joint as it tried to grab the man and an elbow driven
deep into its back where its kidneys lay, a blow struck as he passed
by. Edouard spun as he cleared the room and kicked the reeling orc from
behind, propelling it into the others, giving him a moments lead, he ran
down the dark corridor, he knew not where.
* * *
(To Be Continued)