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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
They'd gone far ahead and out of the way. Harold was atop a spire
of rock that jutted out to the east rising from the boulder strewn
hilltop. His view to the west was blocked by the expanse of the hill
itself, but he could look far out across the valley below him and over
to the southern hill where the remains of the steading still smouldered.
From his pack, which he had set at his feet, he took out a small
metal case and removed a feathered mask. It was a strange affair, thin
bone, the orbits and beak of some monstrous bird hollowed out, the sockets
set with two green translucent gems. He placed it on his nose, the curved
beak covering his round one, the gems set before his eyes.
The steading leapt into sharp focus, Harold could see the bark
upon the wooden wall and the color of a giant's hair as the monster
dragged a half burnt log away. There was movement all around the hill,
giants, ogres and orcs had worked through the night and those that had not
collapsed exhausted worked on.
A vast pile of splintered logs, ruined furniture and wooden scrap
had been raised to the east of the Steading. It grew even as Harold
watched. The giant tossed the log he carried, it landed amid the heap
sending up a cloud of ash and a spattering of debris. An orc followed,
it emptied out a bucket of ember fragments whose red hearts had been
smothered with oerth the night before.
In ones and twos others came, carrying loads as heavy as they
could bear, they cleared the hall of debris and ash an armload at a time.
"You cast spell, you magic fella?" asked Little Rat. The small orc
sat beside the thief and looked at the bone mask with awe showing in his
eyes.
"Yes." said Harold. He took off the mask and waved it in the young
orcs face. "If you touch my pack the mask will eat your eyes."
Little Rat backed away, scared of having the magic bird mask touch
his skin.
"Watch out there you little fool!" yelled Harold.
The orc had backed off the narrow peak of rock and with flailing
arms was teetering off balance on the edge. Harold dropped the mask and
jumped, quickhanded, he caught a thin and grimy arm and was jerked
forward, almost pulled off the peak as well. The halfling's feet scraped
across the stones then held firm against a jagged rock. The orc was thin
and small, a runt, but had a wiry strength, the halfling though fat
by the standards of man, just right by the more generous standards of
his own kind, was agile and strong, well fed and fit, he led an active
life.
Harold tried to pull the orc up from where he dangled over the
edge, a long fall down into the valley below his kicking feet. Little
Rat was frantic, he used the halfling's arm like a climbing rope, pulled
at Harold's hair, his small fist meshed into the short strands, then
caught the vest and with a heave put his knee into Harold's shoulder.
"Oww!" bellowed Harold. "Watch what your grabbing you little
beast. Hey that's my head you're stepping on!"
Little Rat rolled down the halfling's back and lay panting,
pressed face down against the stones.
"Hells!" cursed Harold, rubbing at his scalp and brushing dirt
from his clothes. "I should have let you fall." He looked down at the
terrified orc, then put out his hand. "Come on, here is a hand up, we'd
better get back to the others."
* * *
(To Be Continued)