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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
There was a gabble of rough voices below, then they heard a
human shout, Derue yelling for quiet. Gytha helped Telenstil down
the last step, they had paused to listen before entering the huge
room itself.
Beyond the vaulting arch they could see a crowd of orcs
sprawled out in groups about a cavernous room. Derue was surrounded
by one group and faced another. Both groups looked ill treated and
half starved, but there was a demeanor to the orcs facing Derue that those
behind him lacked, an air of resignation but also pride. They were a
quieter lot, the orcs around Derue were boisterous and loud, these that
parlayed with him were silent, only their leader spoke.
Telenstil counted several dozen of the beasts and perhaps twice as
many in the other group. He walked slowly into the room with Gytha by his
side, Derue caught sight of them and waved, he started toward them when
they did not increase their pace.
"Hurry, this way." Derue shouted and lead them across the room
to a large iron bound wooden door. He banged loudly on its panel and
shouted to those inside. Something gave a clang from within, then a
half-dozen orcs pulled the door open using an iron chain.
A man stepped out, but Derue pushed him back and turned once more
to signal franticly for Gytha to quicken her pace. "Will you hurry, we
have wasted enough time already." he shouted.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she replied, clearly annoyed with the
mercenaries complaints. "Where is Edouard?"
"He's here." Derue pointed. He stood within a long hall lined with
cells, a man stood beside him, swarthy and old, but calm, seeming to have
mastered whatever fears or concerns he felt. Derue practically danced with
nervous energy, his eyes darted from Gytha to the cell, back and forth
till the cleric stepped inside.
Edouard lay unconscious, his eyes closed, his breathing faint
and labored. Gytha knelt beside him and put her head on his chest. She
heard the gurgle of liquid when he breathed, and put her hand lightly
across his ribs. The bones were broken, she could feel the jagged ends
where they had been snapped off and driven into his lungs. His face was
badly bruised as well, but she suspected most of his injuries were inside.
"Heal him." Derue demanded.
Gytha paid him no mind, she would do what she could do.
"Dear Saint," she began. "I have asked your help much today, but
the need is great. This is a dark time and a dark place, please lend me
the strength to heal one who has fallen to this dark, who fights the
evil you have fought with merely mortal strength. Please dear Saint,
aid this fallen warrior who is near death."
She placed one hand upon Edouard's head and the other on his
chest. A deep green glow began but as that sank in it was replaced by
gold, a shining gold that surrounded Edouard, his body lifted from the
ground, his arms fell to his sides, suspended as well. His body shook
and an angry line of red curved back and forth like a snake through the
haze of gold.
Gytha felt a great pain, her hands were on fire, it blazed
at her, but she called upon the Saint and the golden glow increased.
The red lashed out, it sprang from the cocoon of golden light and sought
for Gytha's throat, but as it left Edouard, it paled and faded into a
dark steaming cloud, then blew away, up and up toward the high ceiling
and disappeared.
* * *
(To Be Continued)