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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
"Hells, we've lost the wizard." Harold cursed. "Come on you,"
he said to Little Rat, "We'd best go find Telenstil and quick."
The young orc did not reply. He'd been screened from the
blinding pulse by Harold but he'd seen the mage Talberth thrown through
the air and disappear into the solid seeming door. Little Rat's
mouth hung open shocked by the display of power, frozen in place
till the halfling tugged his arm and the two ran back the way they'd
come.
* * *
The passages beneath the steading rang with the sound of hammer
upon stone. Metal sparked and rocks flew into splinters as the Keeper
smashed open the entrance to the cave which housed the rebellious orcs.
Beyond the entrance there ran long rough corridors, natural
tunnels widened by the orcs. Each boom echoed down these hallways with a
painful jarring noise that made the orcs cringe and start. They hid, these
few survivors of the mages lightning and the mad scout Edouard's attacks,
they cowered behind boulders or wedged themselves into dark corners of
the caverns walls.
There were adjoining caves that lead deeper into the Oerth beneath
the giants hill, but these were home to creatures fiercer than the orcs.
Nearby lived a group of troglodytes, beyond them were huge lizards
that had never seen the light of sun or moons, and further still
there was a vast chamber split by a fast running subterranean stream.
Along the banks crawled insectoid scavengers that feasted on refuse
seeping from the giants latrines and on the mire which was washed onto
the muddy banks.
The orcs could flee but the troglodytes would not welcome
them and the lizards and insects offered them a simple fate, the same that
the booming of the giants hammer foretold. The fiercest of their number
had died, these had been the last to join the fray, the first to run. The
hammering beat upon their spirits as the metal cracked against the stone,
sending shivers down their spines. One orc whimpered and dropped the
rusted blade he carried then turned and ran for passage which lead to the
troglodyte cave. He brushed past another standing near, that one ran as
well. One shrieked, others saw them run and then all the orcs were
fleeing.
A smile raised the Keepers lips, one corner lopsided by an orcish
rune cut into the giant's cheek and running across his mouth and down
his chin. He could feel the terror of the orcs, their presence drawing
back, the giant knew they had no escape or place to hide.
The hammer struck again, the Keeper put a joyful force behind the
blow. A boulder half the giant's size tore loose and bounced down the
corridor, but the ceiling groaned. Stones began to fall, they rained down
and knocked the giant from his feet, bruised his lifeless flesh and buried
him beneath a ton of rock and dirt.
Small patters of loose oerth made the only noise, they stopped.
The dark passage became still, the entrance neck deep to an orc in fallen
stone. The rocks began to move, gravel shifted then the debris exploded
out in all directions.
The Keeper flew to his feet, his head bounced from a boulder
trapped between the upper walls when the ceiling dropped. He reached up
and placed his hands along his head and snapped the column of his spine
back into place. Loose dirt sprayed out, he shook his head like a wet
dog shaking the water from its coat, and then he laughed. Ugly shrieks,
high pitched and skittering like fingernails down a chalk board came
from him.
It was good to be alive, even as a living corpse, he thought
to himself. He'd be more careful with his hammer. The Keeper crawled on
his belly like a snake and wiggled his way down the uneven corridor.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)