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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
"...iiing!" Harold's word became a loud screech as he was knocked
over and tumbled across the floor.
Little Rat scrambled to keep on his feet, bouncing back from the
impact with the small but stout halfling that nearly sent him through the
mist again. He steadied himself, a wave of cold passed across his backside
which was partly through the smoke-filled portal. "Yiii." he shrieked,
echoing Harold's yell.
"Stop playing around!" the ranger called out. "I can't see a
thing, where is the light!"
"Ivo has the light." Harold grumbled. He had turned the tumble
into a roll and came up facing the door.
"That's good," said the ranger, "I'm the one who needs it."
"Its your own fault." Harold told him. He turned around to face
his friend and felt Little Rat grab him by the shoulder. "What?"
"Look!" the young orc pointed, his arm brushing past the
halfling's nose.
"That's Harald," said the halfling, "what's the matter with you."
"No!" Little Rat pointed harder, his arm shaking, his finger
jabbing at the space around the ranger Harald's side.
The halfling leaned toward the side and crooked his neck, Harold's
eyes widened as he caught sight of the creatures that Little Rat pointed
a shaking finger at. The room was unlit except for a soft glow coming from
the misty door but the halfling and the orc could see, their kind had
eyes meant for the seeing in the dark.
Old wooden frames that might once have been beds littered the
room, the remains of tables, chairs, a row of shelves smashed down the
center but their corners still hanging from the sides, and rising amid the
debris were bones. A skull sat on a spine without ribs or arms, but it
bent and brushed itself across a loose pile of yellow-ivory sticks. Like
iron filings jumping to a loadstone, the bones joined with the spine. It
shook like a wet dog and its ribcage clicked into place.
As Harold watched at least six skeletons formed and began to clack
toward them on their fleshless toes and heels. The ranger heard the noise
and turned his head so that one ear was directed toward the sound.
"Harald! Behind you!" Harold shouted at his friend.
"What is there!?" the ranger brought up his sword so that the long
blade waved back and forth, higher than the halfling's head. The point
thunked into a skeletal chest, but Harald had put no force behind the blow
and the point skittered over the monster breast bone and passed harmlessly
between its ribs.
"Skeletons!" Harold exclaimed. "Hit it! You just poked one with
your sword."
"Keep down." the ranger brought his claymore over his shoulder and
swung the blade like a scythe. It struck a skeleton that leapt forward,
the edge cut through its spine like a stalk of wheat, severed a boney arm
on its way out and then the blade came up high over Harald's other
shoulder. The fleshless legs and waist clattered to the ground, but the
torso pulled itself toward the ranger, one hand reaching out, the
stump of an arm scraping on the stones.
"Got one!" shouted Harold. "Only another five to go."
"I can't see them," the ranger said, "tell me when to..."
"Now!" Harold shouted as two more skeletons came within the
reach of the ranger's sword.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)