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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 had not been idle while the others fought. She bent down
on her knees and prayed. The iron staff felt cool against her face,
she spoke softly, implored the Saint for strength, and more than
strength.
Evil flowed from the snake, it coursed through its veins
instead of blood, filled the venom sacks behind its fangs with a
wickedness incarnate. This was no mere Oerthly beast, no creature formed
of magic, it was a denizen of Hell. Some vile serpent summoned to
this plane by dark ritual and sacrifice.
"Power!" Gytha asked from the Saint. She stood and raised her head.
Telenstil took a fearsome blow, the sight made her gasp, but the hissing
serpent fanged an empty shell. Another image of the mage blurred into
a haze and disappeared.
Ghibelline gave the snake a glancing wound, his sword did little
but the nimbus of gold ate into the transparent flesh like acid
and left an oozing, smoking trail across the serpent's scales. The snake
caught his arm, its fangs passing through his flesh harmlessly but
the venom scored him deep. The elf cried out, his sword fell from a numbed
grip and he collapsed.
"No!" Gytha yelled. "Go back to Hell!" she screamed at the snake
and swung the iron staff, a giants kitchen skewer, but now a blessed
weapon of her patron Saint. The metal pulsed. It struck the snake dead on
and crushed its skull like a bug beneath a heel.
There was an explosion of red, Telenstil flung an arm before his
eyes, a fireball he thought, but there was no heat. The mage could see the
bones clearly through an arm whose flesh was redly lit, then a flash of
white that made him blink. There was a crack like old wood snapping
beneath the sun, then a whoosh, a sudden gust of air tugged at him,
he threw down his arm.
A hole had opened in the world, a rent no bigger than a robin's
egg. It sucked in the broken remnants of the snake, stretching it long
and thin, pulling in a stream of air that stirred the leaves like a
hurricane. Debris danced and twisted around this hole till even the
severed bit of tail was gone and then it closed with a plop like the
bursting of a bubble on a pool of mud.
* * *
"Little Rat! What's the matter with you!" yelled Harold.
The young orc staggered to his feet. He spat out the severed half
of one of the small furry beasts and coughed. "It bite. I bite back,
taste pretty bad." he said and spit out a clump of skin and fur. "I feel
sick," he put both hands to his head. "Room not stand still." he leaned
against the wall then slid down.
"Whats the matter, whats the matter..." Harold said nervously and
bent beside the orc.
Ivo knelt there too and put his hand to the orcs head, it came
away soaked with blood. "We had better get him bandaged quick, he is
bleeding bad, too much maybe."
"We'd better get Gytha..." Harold insisted.
Ivo pulled out a length of cloth and handed it to the thief.
"Bandage first, he is hurt very bad, here," the gnome pulled out a jar
from his pack and opened up a metal lid, the threads grinding against the
glass. "Put some of this on him. Take two fingers worth, I want some for
Harald as well."
"Magic salve?" asked the thief.
"It will help him heal." Ivo replied. "Two fingers, come now, the
ranger looks unsteady too."
Harold glanced over at his friend and saw him sway, then put a
hand against the wall to keep himself upright. The halfling put his
fingers in the jar and scooped up two fingers worth of the healing goo,
it felt cool and tingling on his hand, then smeared it across the young
orcs face and chest. Little Rat sighed and his eyes opened.
Ivo snatched the jar away and picked a careful trail across the
carpet of furry beasts. The creature were harmless in the light, so he did
not fear attack, but he cared not if the perished now, beneath his feet,
or later.
"Hold still I'm going to put some healing salve on your arm."
Ivo tugged at the ranger tattered sleeve.
"What?" asked Harald groggily.
"Sit down, you are too tall."
The ranger sunk down much as the orc had, letting his back scrape
against the wall. Ivo used a portion of the salve just on the ranger's
face and neck. His ears were notched like the tattered ends of a ragcloth
book. The salve mingled with the drying blood and went to work.
Harald gave a groan from deep within his chest then shook his head
to clear it. The gnome emptied the jar rubbing salve into both of the
ranger's arms. There were many wounds and the jar was small, some cuts
healed and some deeper wounds as well, but many more remained.
"Gibberlings." said Harald. He held a tiny body in his hand.
The creature was dead, it hung limply like a childs doll.
"Yes, as I thought, though I've never seen their young before."
Ivo said with keen interest in the tiny beast.
* * *
(To Be Continued)