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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
Ghibelline's sword slashed through the scales and then on through
the neck as thick as the trunk of a tree. It passed with no resistance,
the only sign that it had struck the monstrous snake was a crackle of
red, a glowing line like a coal split open on a fire showing its blazing
heart.
The fanged mouth lunged, it bit at Ghibelline's arm, and as the
sword had passed through the snake's body, the teeth passed through the
elf's arm. Ghibelline felt a jolt as if lightning had struck nearby,
his arm throbbed and a burning pain made him draw in his breath with
a sudden hiss, he almost dropped his sword.
His blade was just an old longsword used by the bugbears of the
steading, taken from some human warrior or bought from a merchant years
ago. It had seen hard use, but had been kept sharp and oiled, no
rusted orcish blade. Ghibelline stabbed the snake, drove the point down
into its head and buried a good foot of steel in the oerth. There
was another crackle of red, but no feel of flesh or bone, the sword did
not bite, only move like an arrow through a cloud of smoke.
The snake pulled back its head drifting through the steel like
it wasn't there, but a line of red showed where the edge had cut. For
a moment the skull split in two, flapping open wide, then it pulled
together in a flare.
Ghibelline drew his blade from the oerth and dove into a roll.
A pair of fangs snapped at the air where his face had been and Ghibelline
swung, the sword passed through its head again. There was another flash of
red but it did not slow the beast. The elf rolled clear and sprang
to his feet. There was no stopping the monster Ghibelline decided, not
with ordinary steel. He ran to warn the others and from a fight he knew
that he could not win.
Behind him he heard a hiss like white hot iron quenched in
water and the crunch of branches but he did not look back.
* * *
The skittering was all around him, left and right, front and
back. The ranger moved forward waving his torch before him but as he
fought back the dark the noise retreated as well. As the light was carried
away the black filled in the space and the sound of claws on stone joined
in with the dark.
Harald moved away from the center of the hall, at first he went
toward the sound, but when he neared the source it disappeared and began
again to his side, joined by another behind him. He swirled around
expecting to catch whatever made the noise as it clawed for his back,
but there was nothing, no attack, just the noise.
Soon he was surrounded by the sound of scratching claws, the
noise was just beyond the edge of light cast by his small torch. A wave
of anger came over him, Harald swept his sword through the air, swung
it in a circle around him, but neither the light nor his blade caught
what made the sound.
Harald paused, he leaned on his sword letting the tip settle
within a crack of the tile beneath his feet, and he laughed.
"Come then!" he yelled, his voice echoed in the ancient hall.
"Can you do nothing but make that noise! Bah! I have wasted enough time."
The hall went silent, the sound of claws, the scratching on the
stones came to a sudden halt. Harald began to march across the floor,
he had a sense of direction that would put a dwarf or elf to shame,
and made for the passage leading out.
And then his torch went out and the skittering noise erupted
once again.
"Hells!" Harald cursed.
* * *
(To Be Continued)