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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
"Ahh!" Little Rat said with pleasure. "Nice here."
Harold shook his head. The bottom of the shaft was dank, there was
an animal smell, and must, and a faint scent of something burnt. A torch
had been lit, the ranger, Harold had no doubt.
There was a scrabbling sound from above, a few pebbles mixed
with dust fell on their heads and pinged against the floor. The pair
backed away and soon the old gnome stood beside them.
"You're getting sloppy Ivo or did you knock that dust down
on purpose." said Harold lightly.
"Wasn't me," Ivo brushed at his own shoulders and hair, "Telenstil
is sending Derue down next on a rope."
"He has a lot of faith that everything is safe down here." Harold
told him.
"I think he is just eager to get out of sight." said Ivo. "Any
sign of Harald?"
"I smell a torch freshly lit." said Harold
Ivo sniffed the air and nodded in agreement. "Yes, I can smell the
burning pitch." the old gnome inhaled deeply and walked a few steps
forward. He bent and put his finger to the ground then went to a wall and
examined the fragments of murals now fallen almost all to dust. "Human,
work, old...very old. These claw marks are fresh."
Harold glanced down at the tiles and shuddered. "Well we know what
made those marks don't we."
Behind them another fall of dust and rock showered down as Derue,
still bound, was lowered down the shaft, but far ahead they heard a
bellow, a loud curse then a wild roar.
"I know that sound!" cried Harold. "That's our ranger! Come on
I think he needs our help!"
The halfling pelted down the hall, he drew his long knife as he
ran.
"Wait!" yelled Little Rat. "Wait for me!" the held a rusty knife
of his own and pulled another from his belt before chasing after the
little thief.
Ivo said nothing but fished in his vest and belt for the
components of a spell. He pulled a metal sphere from his pack then
quickly, but much slower than the younger pair, ran toward the roaring
voice and the clangs of steel on stone that echoed down the hall.
* * *
The line went slack, the orcs let it drop and without a word
began to climb down the shaft.
"Telenstil," asked Talberth, "They've lowered Derue, do you
want them to go next?"
"That work is finished, yes let them proceed." nodded Telenstil.
"You go after, Gytha and I will follow."
"Waiting for Ghibelline?" Talberth looked at Gytha who stared out
into the woods. "Don't wait too long, we may need you down there."
"Do not worry," said Telenstil, "we will not delay. We will find
Harald, then we will find Ghibelline."
* * *
The rustling of the snake faded behind him, it could not match the
pace of a running elf. Ahead the trail curved slightly following a
depression along the hill, the melting winter ice had carved it out
over many springs. Ghibelline flitted over the shredded leaves and
brambles, he barely left a trail. His feet seemed to skim across the
ground touching the oerth only lightly as he raced along.
Only a few minutes at his furious pace brought him to the ravine.
A wave of relief washed over him, he looked to Gytha first, but was almost
as happy to see Telenstil standing just behind.
* * *
(To Be Continued)