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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
"Gytha!" Ghibelline called out. He ran to the cleric and held her
by her arm, she returned the clasp and they stood for a moment till she
smiled.
Ghibelline frowned and looked over her shoulder at Telenstil. He
broke his grip, he had his sword drawn in his free hand and turned to
face the way he'd come and spoke. "Some kind of snake, but my sword could
not hurt it. It will be here soon."
"What did this snake look like?" asked Telenstil, coming up and
standing near to the edge of the wood.
"I couldn't see it at first," said Ghibelline a little wildly,
"I could see the leaves being moved, but not what moved them. Then when it
was directly across from where I was waiting I could just make it out.
Telenstil, my sword passed through, it was like fighting air!"
"An illusion perhaps." Telenstil thought aloud.
Ghibelline held up his sword arm and showed the red welts where
the snake had bitten him. "Do these look like illusions!"
"I have seen men bleed from the touch of an image," Telenstil
said kindly, "it is possible."
"The thing was real, I saw the tracks and the steel did cut it!"
the young elf exclaimed. "The cuts seemed to burn but they closed
instantly and there was nothing there to stop my sword, I ran."
"Good, you warned us, if it comes we will see how my magic
fares against it." said Telenstil.
"Something comes, Telenstil, I feel something evil!" Gytha cried.
* * *
Teeth and needle claws, Harald felt at least a dozen stabs and
bites, but they barely pricked his skin. He could hear the tearing of his
clothes, small bodies jumped upon his back, climbed his legs, attacked his
booted feet. A horde of rats he thought, Harald stamped and crushed one
underfoot, he ran his sword across the floor, sweeping the edge back and
forth, but he could not see them, and if he killed one, two more seemed
to take its place.
Something slashed him across his face, bit a small chunk from
one ear, dug claws into the back of his neck. He felt another climb atop
his head. With one hand he began to pull them from his body, Harald
stumbled forward, nearly falling as each step crunched down, they carpeted
the floor.
All the while he screamed and cursed the little beasts, they were
killing him by inches, scratching and clawing at his skin. His pants were
being shredded, they climbed over his mail shirt and sought out his head
and face, one cut him lightly across the throat, he grabbed the handful
of fur, teeth and bones and squeezed out its life with one hand.
The thief sprinted down the long passageway, the rangers voice was
just ahead, loud screams and roars and a steady stream of curses. Harold
saw his friend, the ranger bounced from wall to wall, his clothes seemed
to move by themselves, he looked like he was wearing a heavy coat of fur
and plucked at it with one hand.
"Rats!" Harold yelled. "He's covered with rats!"
"Tasty!" Little Rat called back, the young orc scraped one
knife blade against another and licked his lips.
Harold closed on the ranger, the big man had dropped his sword
and pressed one arm across his eyes, the thief could see small bodies
hanging along it from elbow to back of hand. His knife slashed across the
rangers chest, two of the small beasts were cut in twain, the edge
rang against the links of mail. He cut again and again slashing back and
forth, the small orc joined him but fought the rushing tide of bodies
which replaced the fallen.
"Get em off me!" the ranger cried out desperately. He used both
hands to brush them from his head and chest, then grabbed others, smashed
them into the wall or dashed them to the ground.
* * *
(To Be Continued)