Post by Grub Kelp on Mar 15, 2007 23:23:18 GMT -5
Nah, it's not that great, LOL! I've had fun writing it though.
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Chapter 7 - The Darkest Hour
Howler’s Peak - Ground Zero
Foaly had heard the news over his communications lines back in the Ops Booth and had rushed to ground zero as fast as he could. He cantered up to the group clustered around the tunnel Mulch had dug out.
“We found them?” he asked, breathless.
“That’s what Mulch says,” answered Holly, “We’re waiting for him to finish clearing the way down.”
“Are they...?”
“He said he heard one voice,” Root replied, “Not sure which brother it was. Apparently there’s about 10 feet of rubble left to tunnel through.”
“So we know at least one of them is still alive.”
Root nodded solemnly, doubtful that both could have survived. No such luck, he thought to himself, but didn’t speak these thoughts to the others. He suddenly felt someone at his back--and it wasn’t a friend.
“You need to clear out of here,” Ark Sool’s voice cut through Root’s thoughts, “We need to run the multimixer over this area and level everything.”
“But we’ve found at least one of our officers,” Holly couldn’t keep the growl out of her voice. She was beginning to despise this know-it-all gnome’s interference.
“Dead, no doubt,” Sool scoffed.
“Alive,” Root snarled, rising to his full height and looking Sool square in the eye, “Back off now or I’ll cripple your other leg, Igor.”
“Now, see here, Commander--”
“Back off!” the elf bellowed, advancing on Sool and forcing him to retreat, “You’re interfering with a search and rescue and if you keep it up, I’ll take it all before the council and see you demoted.”
Ark Sool stood back, faced off by a wall formed by two elves, a centaur, two humans--one small and one bigger than should be legal--and now a certain sprite had alighted among them.
“You bunch of loose cannons,” the gnome muttered, retreating, “You have no sense of direction or what’s good for the People. It’ll all catch up with you one day.”
“Bah, go cry to your mommy,” Foaly snickered as he watched Ark Sool hobble off in defeat. He then turned to the commander. “What do you want me to do in this mission, sir?”
“Call in the medical professionals,” Root instructed, “Whether one or both of them is still alive, we’re going to need immediate care on the scene, so be quick about it, Donkey-boy.”
Foaly ignored the donkey comment and cantered off to send for help. Part of him would rather be on the scene to help get the Kelps out, but he knew he would be of more use in the communications department.
Shortly after Foaly had left, Mulch poked his hairy head out of the tunnel. “I’ve got a clear shot straight down to where they are.”
“They? You mean both of them are down there?” asked Holly.
“Yep.”
“Alive?”
“Trouble seems well enough,” Mulch replied, picking a clod of dirt out of his ear and sticking it in his mouth--much to Artemis’s disgust. “But the other one is in pretty bad shape--barely hanging on, I think. Long story made short, he doesn’t have much time left.”
“Then what are we standing around here yakking for?” Root demanded, grabbing some rope and turning on the high beams on his helmet, “Let’s get in there and save them, for Heaven’s sake.”
Mulch stepped out of the way to allow Julius to go through first, followed by Holly. The tunnel was nearly straight down with a slight slope so traveling down it was tricky and not very secure footing, which was the very reason Root had left Butler holding one end of the rope while he and Holly let themselves down it.
* * *
Below, Trouble could see a bit more than he had before thanks to Mulch’s tunnel from the surface letting in a shaft of light. It illuminated just enough of the small tomb he was trapped in so that he could actually see his brother’s position. Grub was terribly pale and a streak of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. His face was contorted in pain and covered in ash. His hair was matted with sweat, blood, and concrete dust. His hands were clenched in white-knuckled fists, cut and bloody from the initial collapse of the prison. It broke Trouble’s heart to see him this way.
“Grub,” he shook his brother gently and was relieved to see him open one eye, the other swollen shut, “Grub, help is coming. They found us. We’re going to get out of here.”
Unable to find the strength to respond, Grub closed his eyes again, his breath coming in short, labored gasps. Panic seizing him, Trouble shook Grub again--hard.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he growled, “Don’t you die on me now, Corporal. We’re too close to getting out of here and you’re not going to quit now, do you hear me?”
Grub opened his uninjured eye again and met his brother’s gaze, his haunted stare pleading silently, begging Trouble to understand. He desperately wanted to make it out alive, but his strength was ebbing and, try as he might, he wasn’t sure he could obey his commanding officer’s orders.
“Grub, please,” Trouble pleaded, abandoning his stern military style and adopting the concern of a big brother, “Not when we’re this close. Talk to me. Uh...remind me again how you stood up to Butler--anything.”
His brother managed a hint of a feeble smile. He knew Trouble was sick to death of that story and how it was exaggerated a little more each time it was told. He must really care if he was asking Grub to tell it.
“I won’t ask you to put up with that now, Trub,” he wheezed, “You’ve been through enough already.”
“Come on, Grub, don’t pick now to be merciful,” Trouble rolled his eyes, “Tell your famous war story; whine at me; complain. I don’t care, just stay with me!”
“Complain? I’m going to complain all right. If I get out of here alive, the first thing I’m going to do is lodge a complaint on Howler’s Peak. It should have been constructed of fire retardant, goblin-proof materials.”
Exhausted from speaking what little he had already, Grub’s eyes drifted closed again. Trouble decided to let him be. At least he had found the energy to do a little complaining, which was a good sign. He could hear someone coming down the tunnel above and he crawled over to see who it was. Squinting up into the shaft of light, he saw Commander Root descending along the wall.
“Commander?”
“That’s right, Captain,” Root grunted as he dropped into the small space with Trouble, followed by Captain Short, “You ready to blow this joint?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Are you, uh...alone?”
“No, sir,” Trouble ducked down and scrambled over to his brother. Root followed him and recoiled when his high beams fell on the corporal.
“He doesn’t look good,” the commander spoke the obvious as Holly crawled past him.
“His breathing is shallow and his pulse is dangerously weak, sir,” she reported, “We have to get him out of here in the next hour or he’s a goner.”
Root nodded grimly. He didn’t hold out much hope for Grub, but he would do his best to try and get him out before it was too late.
“What injuries have you sustained, Captain?” he asked Trouble, trying to divert the worried brother’s attention elsewhere.
“Just a crushed leg, sir,” Trouble reported, “Nothing too serious.”
“That’s going to leave a mark,” Holly remarked, examining a deep, long gash across Trouble’s forehead.
“Captain Kelp, I want you to get to the surface,” Root instructed, “You need to get yourself taken care of.”
“But my brother, sir.”
“You don’t worry about him. We’ll get him out. I give you my word. Just go. Holly and I will take care of Grub.”
Trouble nodded, but brushed past the commander to speak to his brother one more time. “Grub, can you hear me?” he asked, squeezing Grub’s hand. He nodded when his brother squeezed back. “Grub, the commander is here. He’s ordered me to leave now. He and Captain Short are going to take care of you and get you out. You just be strong and do as they say. I love you, brother.”
Another hand squeeze. Grub had heard him. Trouble let go and reluctantly backed away and, with Holly’s help, he began pulling himself up the rope. Artemis was waiting at the top with Mulch and Butler. Together, they pulled Trouble out and laid him on the gurney supplied by the emergency shuttle parked nearby.
Holly squeezed Trouble’s shoulder gently and looked him square in the eye. “We’ll get your brother out, Captain. You can count on it.”
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Chapter 7 - The Darkest Hour
Howler’s Peak - Ground Zero
Foaly had heard the news over his communications lines back in the Ops Booth and had rushed to ground zero as fast as he could. He cantered up to the group clustered around the tunnel Mulch had dug out.
“We found them?” he asked, breathless.
“That’s what Mulch says,” answered Holly, “We’re waiting for him to finish clearing the way down.”
“Are they...?”
“He said he heard one voice,” Root replied, “Not sure which brother it was. Apparently there’s about 10 feet of rubble left to tunnel through.”
“So we know at least one of them is still alive.”
Root nodded solemnly, doubtful that both could have survived. No such luck, he thought to himself, but didn’t speak these thoughts to the others. He suddenly felt someone at his back--and it wasn’t a friend.
“You need to clear out of here,” Ark Sool’s voice cut through Root’s thoughts, “We need to run the multimixer over this area and level everything.”
“But we’ve found at least one of our officers,” Holly couldn’t keep the growl out of her voice. She was beginning to despise this know-it-all gnome’s interference.
“Dead, no doubt,” Sool scoffed.
“Alive,” Root snarled, rising to his full height and looking Sool square in the eye, “Back off now or I’ll cripple your other leg, Igor.”
“Now, see here, Commander--”
“Back off!” the elf bellowed, advancing on Sool and forcing him to retreat, “You’re interfering with a search and rescue and if you keep it up, I’ll take it all before the council and see you demoted.”
Ark Sool stood back, faced off by a wall formed by two elves, a centaur, two humans--one small and one bigger than should be legal--and now a certain sprite had alighted among them.
“You bunch of loose cannons,” the gnome muttered, retreating, “You have no sense of direction or what’s good for the People. It’ll all catch up with you one day.”
“Bah, go cry to your mommy,” Foaly snickered as he watched Ark Sool hobble off in defeat. He then turned to the commander. “What do you want me to do in this mission, sir?”
“Call in the medical professionals,” Root instructed, “Whether one or both of them is still alive, we’re going to need immediate care on the scene, so be quick about it, Donkey-boy.”
Foaly ignored the donkey comment and cantered off to send for help. Part of him would rather be on the scene to help get the Kelps out, but he knew he would be of more use in the communications department.
Shortly after Foaly had left, Mulch poked his hairy head out of the tunnel. “I’ve got a clear shot straight down to where they are.”
“They? You mean both of them are down there?” asked Holly.
“Yep.”
“Alive?”
“Trouble seems well enough,” Mulch replied, picking a clod of dirt out of his ear and sticking it in his mouth--much to Artemis’s disgust. “But the other one is in pretty bad shape--barely hanging on, I think. Long story made short, he doesn’t have much time left.”
“Then what are we standing around here yakking for?” Root demanded, grabbing some rope and turning on the high beams on his helmet, “Let’s get in there and save them, for Heaven’s sake.”
Mulch stepped out of the way to allow Julius to go through first, followed by Holly. The tunnel was nearly straight down with a slight slope so traveling down it was tricky and not very secure footing, which was the very reason Root had left Butler holding one end of the rope while he and Holly let themselves down it.
* * *
Below, Trouble could see a bit more than he had before thanks to Mulch’s tunnel from the surface letting in a shaft of light. It illuminated just enough of the small tomb he was trapped in so that he could actually see his brother’s position. Grub was terribly pale and a streak of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. His face was contorted in pain and covered in ash. His hair was matted with sweat, blood, and concrete dust. His hands were clenched in white-knuckled fists, cut and bloody from the initial collapse of the prison. It broke Trouble’s heart to see him this way.
“Grub,” he shook his brother gently and was relieved to see him open one eye, the other swollen shut, “Grub, help is coming. They found us. We’re going to get out of here.”
Unable to find the strength to respond, Grub closed his eyes again, his breath coming in short, labored gasps. Panic seizing him, Trouble shook Grub again--hard.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he growled, “Don’t you die on me now, Corporal. We’re too close to getting out of here and you’re not going to quit now, do you hear me?”
Grub opened his uninjured eye again and met his brother’s gaze, his haunted stare pleading silently, begging Trouble to understand. He desperately wanted to make it out alive, but his strength was ebbing and, try as he might, he wasn’t sure he could obey his commanding officer’s orders.
“Grub, please,” Trouble pleaded, abandoning his stern military style and adopting the concern of a big brother, “Not when we’re this close. Talk to me. Uh...remind me again how you stood up to Butler--anything.”
His brother managed a hint of a feeble smile. He knew Trouble was sick to death of that story and how it was exaggerated a little more each time it was told. He must really care if he was asking Grub to tell it.
“I won’t ask you to put up with that now, Trub,” he wheezed, “You’ve been through enough already.”
“Come on, Grub, don’t pick now to be merciful,” Trouble rolled his eyes, “Tell your famous war story; whine at me; complain. I don’t care, just stay with me!”
“Complain? I’m going to complain all right. If I get out of here alive, the first thing I’m going to do is lodge a complaint on Howler’s Peak. It should have been constructed of fire retardant, goblin-proof materials.”
Exhausted from speaking what little he had already, Grub’s eyes drifted closed again. Trouble decided to let him be. At least he had found the energy to do a little complaining, which was a good sign. He could hear someone coming down the tunnel above and he crawled over to see who it was. Squinting up into the shaft of light, he saw Commander Root descending along the wall.
“Commander?”
“That’s right, Captain,” Root grunted as he dropped into the small space with Trouble, followed by Captain Short, “You ready to blow this joint?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Are you, uh...alone?”
“No, sir,” Trouble ducked down and scrambled over to his brother. Root followed him and recoiled when his high beams fell on the corporal.
“He doesn’t look good,” the commander spoke the obvious as Holly crawled past him.
“His breathing is shallow and his pulse is dangerously weak, sir,” she reported, “We have to get him out of here in the next hour or he’s a goner.”
Root nodded grimly. He didn’t hold out much hope for Grub, but he would do his best to try and get him out before it was too late.
“What injuries have you sustained, Captain?” he asked Trouble, trying to divert the worried brother’s attention elsewhere.
“Just a crushed leg, sir,” Trouble reported, “Nothing too serious.”
“That’s going to leave a mark,” Holly remarked, examining a deep, long gash across Trouble’s forehead.
“Captain Kelp, I want you to get to the surface,” Root instructed, “You need to get yourself taken care of.”
“But my brother, sir.”
“You don’t worry about him. We’ll get him out. I give you my word. Just go. Holly and I will take care of Grub.”
Trouble nodded, but brushed past the commander to speak to his brother one more time. “Grub, can you hear me?” he asked, squeezing Grub’s hand. He nodded when his brother squeezed back. “Grub, the commander is here. He’s ordered me to leave now. He and Captain Short are going to take care of you and get you out. You just be strong and do as they say. I love you, brother.”
Another hand squeeze. Grub had heard him. Trouble let go and reluctantly backed away and, with Holly’s help, he began pulling himself up the rope. Artemis was waiting at the top with Mulch and Butler. Together, they pulled Trouble out and laid him on the gurney supplied by the emergency shuttle parked nearby.
Holly squeezed Trouble’s shoulder gently and looked him square in the eye. “We’ll get your brother out, Captain. You can count on it.”