Last Meal at Homebound: Part I

For several days now Magda Dervish had allowed her tavern, Homebound, the only one of it's kind for miles, to be used as a sort of makeshift triage. She did this willingly, volunteering the service to Piter MacBrady herself, wanting to do her part, however small (in her own eyes) to do whatever she could to help the town in which she'd made her home.

The Chieftain had accepted gladly, having no other place large enough, save perhaps Fengis' warehouse, to accommodate all of Snoam-Schlabach's wounded during her two-day bloodbath with the scheming bastards of Schudlichton. Magda had expected this, regardless of the knowledge that Piter had a reluctance to lean on women in matters of war. Or matters of any kind for that matter, as it was not the barbarian way. Magda was fine with that until now, embracing (as best as she could) her subservient role in the community. She'd long ago forged papers proving ownership of the tavern lay in the hands of an out-of-town male partner, a man who'd never been seen or heard from the entire time Magda had been in town. Magda did this in order to skirt barbarian laws that no women should own property or be in a role of leadership over men. Though Piter always suspected, Magda herself had mostly given up the facade long ago. Nobody ever said anything, but she wasn't fooling anyone anymore, she figured.

She'd been reflecting on these and earlier days, with the dead and dying littered amongst her pub's tables and the floor, the blood of too many to count crusted upon her once white cooking apron when the drums started. She knew the sound immediately for what it was. A sound she'd heard too many times before Fengis and Piter managed to create a standing, if fragile, treaty with their longtime enemies: Tonguescum's orcs.

The sound was close, closer than usual when the orcs invaded in the past. She sighed as she suddenly understood all the events leading up to this. Knew the entire "war" with Schudlichton was a trumped up ruse, a play on the vainglorious leaders of two barbarian communities who held the invisible ghost of "honor" above all other things, even and especially that of human life, in order to allow an easy invasion and subsequent domination of her beloved hometown. Schudlichton too for all she knew.

Seconds after the terrifyingly deep sound of the drums had reverberated through the building, shaking the windows of Magda's tavern as well as her bowels, Magda heard the sound of barbarian horns trumpet their response. It gave her a brief feeling of hope, but a quick glance at her surroundings brought her back to reality, as many of the towns bravest and most able warriors lay here, either dead or too wounded to fight. Though she feared many of them would have to before the day was done regardless.

Magda moved deftly among the dead and wounded scattered about in order to chance a look from the alley behind her establishment. The door at the rear of her kitchen met two paths, one leading to her modest storage shed, the other to a thoroughfare to the north, and the rest of the town. She took the latter path and peeked around a corner, with one hand she muffled her own gasp as she witnessed the burning of the MacBrady home. After that she saw the fighting in the streets, barbarian warriors and common folk fighting with weapons of sword and hammer, spear and pitchfork. Young and old rushed out from their homes to meet the bloodthirsty orcs head-on, but each wave was beaten back. More buildings were burning now as the orc horde moved ever closer. They tossed incendiary devices into windows as they cut down screaming women and fleeing children. None were given quarter, all in their path fell to the orcen plague. All fell.

Magda knew staying behind would prove fatal, but she would not flee. That much she understood of honor. But if she had any chance at all, she would have to get back to Homebound quickly, do what she could to fortify the place in order to save herself, to save the wounded.

Magda ran as quickly as her short legs would carry her, she always cursed her parents for gifting her with her dwarf-like stature but never so much as in this moment. She turned the corner and burst in through the open alley door slamming it behind her as she entered. Quickly in the narrow space of her kitchen she snatched a barrel of filler, sliding it into place in front of the rear door. It wouldn't stop an orc advance, but it would slow one and give her time to react. On the stove she eyed an iron skillet. She took it up into her right hand, flipped it up as she would if it were filled fried potatoes, in order to check it's balancing. Satisfied she stepped out to her bartable and set it down where she could easily reach it when needed.

Suddenly the front door opened. "By the Gods, I'm too late!" she thought out loud before realizing the person entering was in fact, her table-boy whom she'd sent away days ago to keep his young eyes from the horrid sights she knew were soon to come.

He quickly closed the door behind him before his shaken, exasperated voice, barely audible among the din of drums said "They're c-coming. Th-they're n-nearly here." He spoke as he absentmindedly rested with his back against the door he'd just come through.

Magda didn't waste time with greetings. "Move that table in front of the door." She motioned toward the intended table with her left hand as she started toward the boy. He hesitated for a split second. "Move the table you simple bastard!" Magda yelled.

The boy started toward the table, hesitated again at the site of the barbarian upon it. "Magda, there's a dead man on it..."

"Move him too." she said. The boy would become a man and die in the same day she thought.

Without thinking the boy used strength betraying his obvious physical deficiencies and rolled the carcass off of the table, it hit the ground with a sickening, moist thud that the boy tried hard not to think about. With all the force he could muster he reached under the table, lifted it off two legs and pulled it as close to the door as he could. When he had no more space to work with he went to the other side and pushed the table the rest of the way in against the closed door.

Magda began doing the same at the four windows in the parlour area. Stacking tables on their sides in order to give them what little protection they could provide. Even though Homebound's windows were relatively low to the ground (in order for Magda to be able to see out of them with little trouble) the tables only covered half their opening. It would do, would have to.

Mimicking her the boy did the same with the table he'd just moved. He also slid a chair under the doorknob, bracing the legs against the floor. He'd seen Magda do this once or twice before during brawls outside, in order to keep the violence from spilling within. It worked then, he thought perhaps now...

A slap across the back of his head brought him out of his fantasy as he realized Magda had reached him. "Ow!" he said, shaking the pain from his skull.
"I told you to stay at home until I summoned you!" Magda spat angrily. "Why did you come back? I can manage without ye." The tone of her voice was betrayed by the softness of her expression. She was clearly glad to see the boy.

The boy looked hurt worse by Magda's words than by her slap a moment ago, "Me father sent me." he said. "Told me I'm no good to fight. Said he'd defend our home without me." His voice hitched at the last word. "I think he's dead."
"Aye, likely yer right." Magda said, as comfortingly as her words words would allow. "But yer here now, and alive. Least fer the now, anyhow." She tried a wan smile. "Do as I tell ye and ye may live longer still."

"Yes Magda."

She held the boy against her for a moment, a thing she had never before done, felt him tremble against her bosom. She feared not for her own life and would gladly lay it down in defense of her home, but she needed to see the boy through this. Magda Dervish, childless her entire life, had to live long enough to give the boy a chance.