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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
"Maybe we'd better go back to the others." said Harold. He did not
like the look of the figures and their green glow.
"Imagine, a thousand years and the magic still lives." Talberth
spoke reverently. "All of these..." he waved his hand at the surrounding
pillars, "all have some enchantment within them, but these two... look...
the magic still burns bright."
"I can see," Harold edged away from the carvings, "and I don't
like it."
"Nonsense." the young mage shook his head. "We just need to act
with care. Better that we know of this enchantment, just be careful."
"Let's go get the others," Harold insisted, "I want to get Ivo and
Telenstil."
"I wonder what activates them... I wonder what they do." Talberth
said to himself, lost in thought and not listening to the thief.
* * *
"The evil is gone, Derue will sleep." Gytha said. She swayed on
her feet, her many calls upon the Saint had exhausted her.
"You need sleep." said Telenstil.
"I do, but I will meditate first." she told him. Gytha knelt
beside the small fire they'd built, she bent her head and offered
prayers of thanks for the aid her patron had bestowed.
Telenstil watched her for a moment, he was proud to have her
with them, but his heart felt heavy. She was a strong servant of her
faith, grown in piety and power among the wildlands of her home, but
this quest for vengeance against the giants might prove too much for
her, and for the rest of them as well.
Henri and Edouard were gone. Could he trust Derue, he asked
himself. Orcs for allies, slaying a herd of cows, and now gibberlings.
Telenstil's thoughts wandered from point to point. He did not sleep
but drowsed in the way of elves.
* * *
Ivo breathed in the fresh air, he looked toward the ruined woods
where the gibberlings had passed and waited for the ranger to return.
Behind him the ravine showed only the illusion of fallen rock, he'd added
loose debris and scattered stones up to the edge where the woods began. If
any came this way they'd find tumbled stones underfoot, they'd be more
receptive to the magic that Ivo had put in place to hide the entrance
to the passage below.
There was a small sound, just the scrape of wood on wood, he
wouldn't have noticed but for the stillness of the forest. The gibberlings
had slain everything in their path and frightened off all the nearby game.
Harald grimaced as he stepped from the brush. His arms were laden with
a huge pile of dead wood, the hilt of his sword, the claymore he'd taken
from Nosnra's hall, stuck up above his shoulder, Ivo was surprised at
how silently the ranger moved.
"You heard me." Harald said, he knew the answer.
"You make less noise than our thief," said Ivo, "but look
at the load you carry, small wonder you make a little noise."
"I hope I have been better at obscuring our trail." Harald
replied. "A noise like that when I am trying to be quiet...it only
takes one mistake to get you killed."
"I have known those who did everything right and still
died," said Ivo, "I have seen a warrior trip and fall flat on his face
only to have the blow meant for him strike down the gnome behind."
Harald grunted. "I've seen the same, had as much happen to me,
but I've seen what such mistakes can cost. Past a certain age we
should be beyond such things."
"That would be nice." Ivo agreed. "Life should be fair like that,
but it isn't. We are both old enough to know it."
"I know it well enough," said Harald, "but I don't like it
and never will."
* * *
(To Be Continued...)