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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
Everyone had run off. Halfknife could hear shouting from
further up the passage but could not see where they others had gone.
Someone was climbing down the wall, the human with the magic stick,
Halfknife shuddered. The giants he understood, big ones always ruled
while the smaller ones obeyed, but magic, the stuff the old shamans had
used alway frightened him. It frightened the Boss as well, they
could all see it.
The orc gave the human baggage a kick while he had the chance.
"No sword now," Halfknife gave a barking laugh, "you stew-meat waiting
for the pot."
Brokenhand laughed as well and drew back his foot, but Boss
gave him a slap, then glared at Halfknife.
"Save it." he told them. "Where did the little ones go?"
"They ran up there." Meatstealer pointed up the hall.
Boss took a few steps walking slowly perhaps to follow, but
the shouting made him pause, then the screams began.
* * *
A thousand sparks of red and blue shot from the snake. They burned
like the spray from a blacksmiths anvil as white hot metal was hammered
into form. Telenstil felt the power of his spell disappear, the snake had
overcome the magic force that would have held it frozen for a time.
"It's mad now." said Ghibelline.
Telenstil grimaced and held out his hand, "Noituus Istaa" he
said and sent out five magic bolts. The flew toward the snake and struck
it, leaving blotches of red where the scales were burnt and broken.
"Magic can hurt it." Ghibelline said relieved.
"Az-Trappa!" Telenstil replied. He took a step and pushed
Ghibelline to one side then threw a small crystal toward the snake.
The magic lightning boomed, the flash left an afterglow on
their eyes, but the bolt passed through the snake, it bathed it for a
moment, but to no effect. A tree, scarred deeply by the gibberlings,
stripped of bark from roots to five or more feet high, it received the
fury of the unnatural electric bolt and split, the bole smoking, half
the tree falling with a crash to the ground.
"Cast another spell!" urged Ghibelline. "If I had my tome..."
he cursed. The giants had taken his weapons, his pack and all he
possessed. He had been skilled more with magic than with the sword,
but without his book to study or even the components for his spells
his skills as a warrior were all that he could use.
The snake skimmed across the ground, the magic bolts had stung it,
the lightning had healed its hurt. The touch of steel had been no more
than an inconvenience, but now it was refreshed. It had not been badly
hurt by the magic darts, the lightning would have healed a much more
grievous wound, it brimmed with the strength the spell imparted when
it struck.
"Saint give us strength," Gytha intoned, "Saint strike our
foe," she held out her iron staff, "Saint aid us now!" she struck the
staff against the ground. A wave of force rolled out from the spot
where the iron touched the ground. Like a stone hitting the still surface
of a pond the power rippled out in all directions. Telenstil and
Ghibelline felt as if an arm steadied them and gave them strength, while
the snake was rolled like a barrel loose on the deck of a ship wracked
by a storm.
* * *
(To Be Continued)