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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
His heart began to pound, Harald felt the sword tingle in his grip
as the second crash of thunder split the air. The water was splashing
around him as he began to run.
Both giants were still on their feet, Telenstil's bolts had struck
them, but neither powerful blast had laid them low. They staggered
forward, at first Harald gained on them, unseen charging from the side and
to their backs.
The lead giant, Skule, he scrabbled up the steep hill, his feet
dug gouges in the dirt, he tore a young tree from the slope, its roots
pulled out and snapping. Skule flung it like a spear, but its limbs
tangled with older trees halfway to the ledge and it rolled back down the
hill.
Behind him the other giant began to pull himself up using the
trees to help him ascend. He was the more agile of the pair, smaller by
a head than Skule, but it seemed as if the magic lightning had done him
the greater harm. His one arm was blackened from fingertips to collar
bone, he spat out bits of teeth, his jaw clenched so tight they shattered
in his mouth.
Atop the ledge Telenstil cast another spell. Harald saw the wizard
raise his hand and throw something from his fingertips above the giants
heads. A thin shimmering cloud appeared, it was first a pearly white and
then in three eyeblinks became grey then a deep black. Icy sleet came
down, cold as winter, it soaked the giants and the slope beneath the
ledge. In moments the ground was wet with slush, then congealed to
ice, a hard layer with a slick half melted surface.
Skule's hair and beard were frozen white, dragged down by icicles
pulling at the ends. He took a step, but his booted foot slid out from
under him. The giant crashed backwards, his legs shot into the air,
and he rolled back down the slope. Up and over he tumbled like a circus
clown and flew off the bank and into the shallow stream.
Harald had to jump back as Skule went by, almost crushed beneath
the rolling bulk. Before the giant could push himself to his feet Harald
brought his sword around and up behind his shoulder, then down across the
giants back. He meant to split the monsters spine, but Skule shifted and
the blade slashed against his side.
Skule howled, his shoulder had been laid open across the
bone, the knob where arm began and back ended was notched by the rangers
blade. On his knees Skule was taller than the man, but he had no length of
sharpened steel, it slashed again, Harald spun like a festival dancer
and struck the rising giant across his chest.
The thick hide shirt absorbed part of the blow, but the keen edge
opened it and the flesh beneath. Once more the giants bones saved it from
what might have been a killing stroke. The sword bounced back from ribs
like barrel staves, the edge scoured flesh, clove muscle, but the heart
and lungs beneath were safe.
Then Skule lashed out, he knocked the man aside and used the
moments grace to stand. Then Harald, who was not badly hurt, only bruised
from the giants awkward blow, struck once more. He caught the giant across
his outer leg, above the knee. The blade struck bone, sent a wash of blood
down the giants leg and stained the water red, but for a moment his blade
was trapped and Skule clubbed the ranger down.
A fist like the head of a battering ram cracked hard against
Harald's back, a wave of darkness blinded him, he almost fell, but
the grip upon his sword kept him on his feet. With a dragging yank he
pulled the claymore free, the sound of steel on bone was a grinding agony
to hear, and a thousand times worse to feel.
* * *
(To Be Continued)