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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
Skule howled. He gripped his wounded leg, blood spurted between
his fingers and mingled with the red stream which rolled down his arm
from the rent across his shoulder.
Harald struck again, a short blow like the chop of an axe against
a tree. The sword took the ends from Skule's fingertips and hewed the
flesh above the wounded leg.
There was a moment then when both man and giant paused. Harald
drew back his sword and Skule bunched his bleeding fingers tight into
a fist. They caught each others eyes and both began to laugh. Skule was
beyond pain, beyond rage, and Harald was the same, both saw the hand of
fate and life, the glimmer of death, all reflected in a single glance
showing in each others eyes.
The fist came down and the sword stabbed up. The point went home
below the giant's chest, it skimmed off the spine, beneath the ribs,
piercing a lung and lancing up into the giant's heart. Skule sagged, his
fist landed like a slap, but the falling body sank to the ground burying
the ranger beneath the now lifeless flesh.
Still laughing Harald used his feet to push himself from the
entrapping bulk of the slain giant. He had to worry his blade free, sawing
back and forth, he drew it slowly out in a flow of blood and gore.
The ranger was soaked, dunked into the stream and bathed in red
from the giant's wounds. With a final yank he freed his sword and held the
bloodsmeared blade above his head, then sang out a defiant wordless
roar of victory.
Standing at the boulders edge Telenstil stretched out his hand and
pointed at the giant, Skule's companion, who held tight to a thick tree
halfway up the slope. With a gesture and a word, five darting pulses
of glowing blue went streaking forth. They burnt the air and left a trail
that could still be seen behind closed eyes.
All flew unerringly, a magicked course, they struck like burning
ice, a sharp gouging pain then gone. Two struck the giant's shoulder,
one cut him from chin to scalp, the last two hit the wrist and back
of the huge hand.
No sooner had the spell been cast then Telenstil intoned the
words and made the arcane gesture to release a second spell. More
magic darts of energy shot from the mages hand. The giant already weak
from the lightning bolts, wounded again from the first five magic darts,
released his failing grip from around the tree as the next five burned
into his flesh.
The giant fell and bounced down the slope like a barrel or a
limbless trunk of tree. He rolled a small fir down, recoiled from a larger
bole, the crack of bone on wood was loud and clear, and took a final
speeding flight off the bank and out into the stream. He landed with
a wet thud against a boulder half his size, arms twisted, his torso
dangling at a boneless angle, half on the rock, half off.
Harald walked over, his feet splashing in the water like a
child through a puddle when it rains. He reached out and grabbed a
handful of the giant's hair and lifted up the dangling head. The
head turned round on a broken neck till the glassy eyes stared
down its twisted back.
* * *
(To Be Continued)