Send a spelling or grammar correction to: Tracy Johnson
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
Heat. The claws burnt and passed a great heat into Kassar's body.
The glow from his sword, golden and living, surrounded him. The totem
pouch on his belt opened like the arms of a lover and embraced him. The
change came upon him and transformed the old nomad.
The pain that Kassar wore everyday in his human form, vanished
like smoke in the wind. He was free, and the spirit-beast within him was
released.
Moroedd neighed. The stallion's voice almost a shriek. The mares
answered him with screams.
Claws and teeth. A black wolf met the tiger-man in mid air. They
were of a size, and as they crashed together, they spun, neither was
knocked aside. The wolf landed first, slammed to the ground with a bone
crunching impact.
Kassar's fingertips ended in claws, curved hooks with points like
needles. He dug them through the wolf's heavy fur and deep into the flesh
beneath. The growl that came from Kassar was suddenly muffled as he buried
his teeth in the wolf's shoulder. Then his back legs came up to rip across
the side and belly.
The black wolf thrashed. It snapped its own jaws at the
tiger-man's arm, but Kassar yanked his hand aside before the fangs could
pierce his skin. Clamping his jaws shut, he tore off part of the wolf's
shoulder. Blood poured from the wound in a gush.
A hurtling body knocked him from the wounded wolf. Fangs sunk in,
grating across his skull and up into his lower jaw. The weight pulled at
his neck, dragging him backward. Tiger-man and wolf sprang apart as they
rolled down the incline of the road.
Quicker than the wolf, Kassar threw himself at the beast, his arms
spread wide. He hit it solidly, his shoulder taking the wolf in the ribs,
his arms wrapping around it. They began to roll again, and the silver wolf
began her call.
* * *
The soldiers stopped to eat and drink and rest. The sun was high
and the scouts had reported no enemies to be found. Half a day more to
Hochoch and the land, this side of the river, was empty.
Kyle and Waddard sat together by the stump of a tree, using the
circle of wood as a rough table.
"This was a grove." said Sturve. The captain sat with his back to
the stump. "A real druid's grove."
"I thought you were from the March, captain." said Kyle.
"I am. But I knew Hochoch and this land well." he answered. "This
is the border country, and Hochoch was a trade town. I was a border
guard. Escorted traders into the city. I knew it well."
"I've never seen it before." said Kyle. "And I was born in Geoff."
"It was like no other city in Geoff," Sturve smiled at the
memory, "not even Gorna. The road through the Dim Forest changed it.
The new capital they were calling it back them."
"I would like to have seen it." said Kyle.
"From what the scouts have said, you will be glad that you
didn't." Sturve said grimly. "Hochoch was full of life. It was a growing
place. My brother moved their, his wife, their children. Thank Pelor
they made it out, but it pains me to think of their home, and that
city, infested by giants and their servants."
"We will take it back." said Kyle.
Sturve barked out a laugh. "I believe you. But I think it will
be the torch that will have the final claim on Hochoch."
"It will be cleansed," said Kyle, "one way or another."
* * *
(To Be Continued...)