Last Meal at Homebound: Conclusion

The orc reached for her throat with his left hand. Again she wriggled away from him, her diminutive stature making it easier for her to duck the exhausted, wounded monster. She stepped toward her foe, ducking under his outstretched arm and kicked the orc squarely under the skirting of his hide. She felt the point of her boot make soft, squishy contact and knew she had scored a hit to the orc's massive berries. She hoped this sort of blow would affect orcs as it did her barbarian counterparts. It was a tactic she rarely used, but admittedly wasn't ashamed to employ when the need arose, as it so often did when a frying pan was either not enough, or just out of reach. This time, both instances had reared their ugly heads.

Magda felt relief rush over her as the fiend doubled over, his wounded right arm reaching up to cover his stomach. He sprayed blood and few stray teeth into her face as the blow took the wind from his lungs. Magda hardly noticed the gore and in fact her eyes widened at the sight of the bloody bolt protruding from the orcs wounded forearm at face-level. Seizing the opportunity, Magda reached both hands for the bolt, winced in pain as her left hand reminded her of her own protruding missile when she took hold of it by the fletching. She pulled it free as a mother might pull a thorn from her child's foot and, taking a quick step back she thrust upward at the still bent-at-the-hip orc puncturing his left eye, burying the missile deep inside the orc's brain.

Magda gasped as she let go, watched as the orc twitched, listened as a final few unintelligible noises passed from his lips. His shocked expression froze upon his face as he died, slumping forward, Magda had to back away to avoid his falling body.

Knowing there to be another orc still in the room perhaps less than a dozen feet away, Magda chanced a look at Feargal, her trusty, if a little thick-headed table-boy hoping to see any sign of life. When none came, she slowly turned at the far right edge of her bar table and faced the uninjured crossbow-armed orc who was still at the opposite end, his weapon trained on her as before. Though now his hold was less steady as it had been. Magda believed that she detected a slight, almost non-existent trembling in his hands that radiated to the end of his crossbow. However, shaky herself from the battle-rush she experienced and her womanly instinct to burst into tears over the loss of her friend she couldn't be sure if it was real.

Exhausted and unmoving, Magda wondered after a few seconds why the orc hadn't fired.

He stared at her, down the crossbow's shaft and over it's makeshift sight with one eye the other squinted tight as he aimed. The human female looked insane to him, feral. Like a wild, untrained worg. Her braided hair stood out, one blood-spattered twist in front of her, the other behind her back over her shoulder. Head to toe she was covered in blood, most it not her own. Most of it fresh, orc-blood. Blood of his tribe-mates, blood of his superiors. Bits of bone, likely broken teeth, clung to the blood and sweat upon her cheeks, some it in her hair. The expression on her face was wild, appeared inhuman, even to an orc. He thought that perhaps this woman's destiny may not be at an end, believed that somehow, in this pathetic inn, Gruumsh had no sight here. No influence. He looked around for a moment, taking his eye away from the wild woman-beast with the braided hair to look at his comrades, all four of them dead or dying. His leader, the one they all called BuggRust, the first to die. The crossbow bolt that killed him still protruding absurdly from his forehead. An orc who traveled with the invincible Tonguescum for years as his closest bodyguard and most trusted confidant. She dispatched him with a deliberate ease that he thought at first was just luck, an unfortunate (at least for BuggRust) twist of fate. But the way she finished the others, especially the one she'd just killed, gave him cause to believe that he had little chance to survive this encounter. No matter what actions he took. Believed that, if he loosed his bolt, the hand of whatever god that watched over her would guide it away from her, or into the frying pan she wielded like the one before. Unlike her weakling slave, she had the light of the gods upon her, and Gruumsh's single eye was blinded by their brilliance.

Believing that the orc may never fire his crossbow, Magda bent forward and picked up her iron skillet. She returned to her previous stance and resumed staring at her would-be killer. Her chest heaved in and out as her rapid breathing began to slow. She spat upon the ground, would remain defiant to the end. Surprisingly, she heard the orc speak.

"No." The orc said.

Spouting one of the few words he knew and understood of the common tongue, the orc, keeping his aim on Magda the entire time, backed quickly away from the bar. Within seconds, he was gone through the shattered front door, stepping lightly with reverence over his dead leader's body. From Homebound he began to head south, knowing that this cowardly act would make him a pariah in his community, and more likely a victim, falling to the weight of one of Tonguescum's massive scimitars. He would not trade one death for another, so he chose exile.

Resisting the urge to burst into tears Magda's breath hitched for a moment. When she regained control she said a quick prayer of thanks to all the gods that she believed had assisted her. Whoever they might be.

She deliberately moved toward the narrow space of her kitchen. Threw the iron skillet onto her stove as she'd done a thousand times before. It clanged hard upon the cold, open burners making an unfamiliar sound. She figured it was due to the hit it took from the crossbow bolt. Like everything around her, it would likely never be the same.

Her senses became less attuned to her immediate surroundings and suddenly she was once again aware of the death all around Snoam-Schlabach. The sounds of screaming women could be heard. Their crying children could be heard as well. Sadly, the sounds of resistance had faded and Magda imagined that by now it was likely that all those who could fight off the invaders were either dead or near death. Hope for Homebound, and Snoam-Schlabach, was lost.

Magda stood for several moments in her narrow kitchen corridor, trying to regain strength and ponder her next action. Staying here was no option, that was certain as more would be coming here when this orc death-squad did not return. She could not run out and fight to save those who still had breath as that would be foolish, suicide even.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a sound that made her stomach jump. It was a sort of scraping sound, the kind one would make when rising from a prone position. She felt the rush of emotion well up in her again. It presented itself as a flush of red upon her pale face and again she had to force back the tingling, burn in her nose that always preceded tears. With eager anticipation, she turned to face her standing table-boy.

"Feargal..." Standing before her, on the opposite side of her bar table was not Feargal, but the fifth orc Magda had gutshot what seemed like hours before. He leaned upon the bar with one arm slung upon it, struggling to support his weight. The other also rested upon the bar, steadying the crossbow he held trained upon Magda's stout figure.

"Disappointed?" He spoke in near-perfect common. His voice was hushed, breathy. His arms were covered in blood from his elbows to his fingertips from trying to stunt the flow of blood from his abdomen. An inordinate amount dribbled from his lips as well. Magda cursed her poor aim.

Magda didn't answer, the sudden shift in emotions coupled with her terror made her legs give out. She caught herself upon the stove before falling. She raised herself back up to her feet, looked away from the orc to the door she'd blocked with a grain barrel only a few minutes ago. It was only a few feet away, but those feet may as well have been miles.

"Go ahead." The orc growled. "Go ahead... and try."

Magda didn't move, instead she stood still, closed her eyes tightly for several moments. Frozen, she tried to will herself to move.

"Or, you could beg..." The orc coughed, spat a bloody mass upon Magda's bar table, continued. "...for your life." He coughed again, spat again. "If you're too scared to die, I may be merciful." He croaked laughter.

Magda looked back to the orc.

"You are scared, aren't you?" The wounded and clearly near-dead orc asked with delirious arrogance. Several moments of silence passed between them.

At last Magda spoke.

"Magda Dervish..." she began.

"Who?" The orc interrupted quizzically.

"... is a'feared of no orc!" She turned, finally able to will herself into action and moved for the door. She outstretched both arms for her trusty filler barrel, hoping she had the strength and speed to both fling the barrel aside and dart outside her back door before the orc had a chance to take aim.

Magda Dervish never had a chance.

The orc, shocked as he was, triggered his crossbow and loosed the bolt instinctively. It struck Magda in the middle of her back, severing her spine just below her shoulder blades. Instantly paralyzed, she fell forward, her fingers making contact with, and gripping the lip of her grain barrel's lid. She held tight as she fell forward, pulling the grain barrel down with her. Both woman and barrel hit the ground simultaneously, filler spilled out from the open lid, spreading outward in a "V" shape, most of it settling around her face and shoulders. Blood pooled around her, this time it was her own. It mixed with the dry grain and was soaked up like a sponge. In that moment, Magda wished she'd thought of using it before now, after bar-brawls in her beloved establishment.

She felt no pain in her back after the impact but could not will her body to move below her waist. No longer could she feel her own legs or wiggle her toes. It was as if her body had forgotten about them, lost the memory of her lower extremities.

Her arms still obeyed her commands however and for a moment she tried to drag herself toward and upon the grain barrel, hoping to bypass it and still have a chance to...

To what, freeze to death in the snow? No, Magda knew it was now done, over. For many, agonizingly terrifying moments, Magda felt her life slip. Though not fast enough as she heard the click of the orc's reloaded crossbow. Heard him slowly shuffle his feet as he, like Magda, was likely never to leave this inn alive, lacking the strength to approach faster.

Eventually, he made his way round the bar table, into her narrow kitchen to stand, feet spread apart on either side of her torso, above Magda. His loaded crossbow trained at the back of her neck. She could smell the leather of his boots. Both of them heard small footsteps in the parlour, cracking through pieces of broken chairs and other debris, both of them knew that other orcs had finally found this inn like his own squad had so many minutes before.

Magda hoped he would pull the trigger before a higher ranking officer among them thought it better to ravage her while she still breathed. She couldn't imagine dying as mistress to this filth. The thought made a single tear roll down her cheek.

But the orc didn't want that either, knowing he would likely be dead soon he relished the chance at this final kill and so he pulled the trigger before he could be overruled. The bolt struck Magda at the base of her neck killing her instantly.

No longer having use for it the orc tossed his crossbow away once Magda's body relaxed upon death. Smiling he backed away. Before he was able to turn he felt something sharp at his back, felt it pierce his armor and flesh. Then he saw the tip as it exited out above his sternum.

He then turned, whatever had thrusted the shortsword into him had let go of it. It remained inside of him and he resembled a colossal piece of meat upon a skewer that was much too small. After a few seconds he turned completely around and faced his killer.

"Impossible." He spat black blood from his lips with every breath."I... watched...." He fought against it, but weakness and impending death brought the orc to one knee. "...you... die." The orc said. Dying himself, he fell forward just behind Magda's bar, at his killer's feet.