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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
"Talberth, what are you doing?" asked Telenstil.
"I'm tying this chain onto the rope." Talberth said. He laced the
end of the line through several metal links making a large bundle of the
black iron chain.
"You should go up next, they may need you up there." Telenstil
told him.
"Do you want to go next?" Talberth asked him. "I don't want to
leave this chain behind, I think we may need it."
"We may, send it up." said Telenstil. "We can gather the packs and
send them up next, we still need to get Henri up as well."
Talberth gave a noncommittal grunt, if the pholtite stayed behind
it would be a small loss to him. He gave the line two tugs and was happy
to see the chain rising in the air.
"Who is it?" asked Harold.
"Can't...tell...stop...ask..ing." the ranger answered.
"Harold, why don't you take up watch at that corner," Ivo said
pointing to the south, "and I will watch the other. We can be of little
help here."
Harold nodded to the old gnome. "Sounds like a good idea, but if
something comes I won't be able to do much more than shout."
"Just giving us the warning will be enough." said Gytha. "Master
Ivo, is there anything that I can do?"
"Keep an eye on Harold, I have some magic I can use, but our thief
has already done much more in regards to fighting than I had expected from
him."
"I will, may the Saint watch over us as well." Gytha prayed.
* * *
"Elf, I will free you." Derue said. "But you must make me a
promise first."
The cell was dark and damp, the walls bled a slow clear liquid
that stained them white and formed a crusty layer like tears dried
on the face of a crying child. Against this was chained the body of an
elf, fair but thin, filthy like all else within the cell. His body was a
mass of scars, deep bruises that went from deep black to brown yellow at
their ends, long cuts, some thick and white old scars, others fresh,
sealed with clogs of drying blood. The elf's hair, once long, was
cut short in ragged clumps, the ends of his ears had been sliced away.
"Who are you..." came a gravely voice, his once light tones
changed by strangling chains and ropes that had wrapped his neck.
"I am the brother of one you must swear to protect." said Derue.
"But should I bother, do you have the strength to lift a sword?"
"Free me, I will swear...I have the strength." the elf told him.
He strained against his chains and with maniacal strength made them creak
and a dust fall from the bolts set deep into the wall.
"I am Derue, my brother is Edouard. He lies gravely wounded in the
next cell. " said Derue. " I free you. Swear to me that you will die
before bringing my brother harm or leaving his side."
"I am Ghibelline, I swear by Corellon Larethian, father of my
kind, I will not harm your brother or leave his side until my debt to you
is paid." the elf growled out.
Derue noticed the codicil that the elf attached to the oath and
laughed. "Good, you show that your spirit and your mind are still intact
and strong. I accept your pledge." Derue unlocked the chains and stood
back as the elf fell from them to his knees. He turned and left him on the
floor. "Be standing by my brothers side when I return. I will find you a
weapon."
* * *
(To Be Continued)