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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
"Quiet." hissed Harold.
"Sorry." Little Rat apologized. The young orc put a hand to his
brow. He'd been making a groaning sound, the sun overhead made him
feel sick. The dungeon had been dark and cool, glad though he was to
be free from the giants he did not like the hot day or the burning light.
They weaved their way through the broken underbrush trying to
leave no tracks that could be detected among the gouged and trampled
oerth. Harold kept them moving over felled trees or rocks, over anything
that that would show no sign of their passing. They found a hard strip of
clay, baked solid by the sun, that lay along the edge of the trees just
clear of the wreck and havoc left behind by the gibberlings. It was like
running across the rooftops back in Greyhawk, Harold felt nostalgic at
the feel beneath his toes.
The destruction came to a sudden end, the pair found themselves
at the edge of a ravine, a dark narrow crack in the oerth. The ranger must
have come this way, Harold cursed.
"You ninny!" he said aloud.
"What I do?" asked Little Rat.
"What?...Oh nothing, you didn't do anything." Harold peered into
the dark, he could see a little beyond the small area lit by the waning
sun, he thanked his mothers kin for the nighteyes he possessed. "That
cursed ranger has gone down there no doubt."
"We go too?" Little Rat sounded pleased. The cool dark called to
him.
Harold thought for a moment. He should go back and tell the others
what he found, but the ranger should have come back first before going on.
"Two wrongs." he said to himself. "Come on let's get out of this sun."
he said to Little Rat.
The young orc practically ran down the steep trail into the dark of
the ravine.
* * *
Ghibelline had a hard time hiding the trail the others left. The
orcs carrying the scout bound on a wooden pole walked heedlessly, some
left deep prints where they stepped into still damp oerth or pushed the
brush aside, the broken ends shifted round like arrows pointing back the
way the gibberlings had come. He ran ahead and talked with Telenstil, the
wizard had his underling, the human Talberth, command the orcs to follow
where he stepped, and Talberth walked where Telenstil directed.
Their pace was slow, Ghibelline knew that they lagged behind
the scouts. The ranger would be quietly upset, the huge man would scowl
to see them take such time. There were hours of daylight left but who
could tell how far this trail would run.
The pace did not improve but the orcs trail began to lighten and
even disappear. They wanted to march along in a straight line, but it was
safest to shift and dodge their way around patches of loose debris or
muddy ground. Ghibelline went ahead till he was near the last orc in
line, then when they passed a thicket of brush he stepped into the woods
and hid. A feeling had crept into his bones that something followed
close behind but always just out of sight.
Ivo called for them to stop. The old gnome had found himself at
the head of the march. The cleric Gytha was beside him but Telenstil
was busy leading Talberth who led the orcs. A strange scene it created,
an elf followed by a human, trailed by a quartet of orcs, all in single
file walking down a path wide enough for a pair of wagons to ride abreast.
* * *
(To Be Continued)