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

The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga Part CXLVIII


        Harald ran down the trail as the two giants ran up. He held his
claymore at his side, level with his waist, and raised it above his
shoulder as he ran.
        A staff big as a scaling pole swept out, Harald ducked aside but
the iron ferrule on the end caught him soundly and knocked him off
his feet. He did not lose his grip or drop his sword, he rolled with the
blow and ended kneeling, bringing the blade around and cutting the
giant on arm.
        The giant knocked Harald down again with a backhand blow, a second
staff wielded by the other giant stabbed at him. He squirmed aside, the
staff's end impaling only the oerth, sinking in deep as a fence post.
        Using his sword like a spear, Harald stabbed the giant in
the leg, thunking into the huge shin but doing little damage except
to cause the giant pain.

        Telenstil did what he could. He cast a simple spell and sent five
magic bolts of gleaming blue that were sure to fly where he commanded. They
struck but the giant shrugged the pain away. The monster took a second jab
at Harald striking him a glancing blow that slid across his mail and over
his shoulder. Harald stabbed up as the giant struck and this time opened
up a deep and bloody cut across the creatures thigh.
        "Harald!" Telenstil yelled to him. "Get away! Get away!"
        Two staves clacked hard against each other missing the ranger, the
giants fouled each others attacks while Harald dragged his sword across
the giant's leg like a surgeon cutting flesh. The wounded giant howled and
pulled back its staff holding it in both hands up against its chest. The
ranger threw himself to one side while the other giant brought its staff
down as if it were an axe ready to split a block of firewood.
        There was a dull thud, the blow numbed the giant's hands, the
knuckles white with strain and clawed in a frightful grip. The giant
flexed them for a moment and the blood flowed in like a hundred needles
sticking in its fingers and its joints.
        More bolts flew from Telenstil but against such a monster as the
giant they did little good. Ivo's power was of more effect, he'd run down
the hill as the ranger fought, still yards away he cast his spell. His
words were gibberish to any but the wise, the magic speech of the gnomish
kind. He motioned with his hands as he spoke, slow graceful gestures that
seemed to leave a trail of wavering space behind. Like the shimmering
waves of heat above a fire these waves of magic power flowed around the
giants form. The staff fell from its hands, the pins and needles ran up
its arms, across its chest, down through its stomach to its toes. The
giant fell like a tree when the final axe blow has been struck, slow at
first, then with crashing speed.
        The wounded giant took another blow from Harald's sword, the
blade cut open rough hide trousers and the skin beneath. Blood poured
down the giant's front and back, its arm and chest were burnt where magic
bolts had struck, and red puss-filled burns were spread across its face.
The last below sent the giant into a frothing rage, it spun so quickly
and shook like a dog with a soaking coat that blood sprayed like rain
from its open wounds.
        The giant broke the staff in two with the strength of its
shoulders and its arms, then threw the splintered pieces at the gnome.
Ivo brought up his hands to protect his face, the spell he had begun
wasted, the magic potential dissipating like a cloud of smoke.

        *                       *                       *

(To Be Continued)

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