Send a spelling or grammar correction to: Tracy Johnson
This site sponsored by Agenda Games LLC
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
"What now?" asked Harold.
"I should have brought a sage along." said Telenstil. "Perhaps
it would have been a good idea at that. We keep moving." he said to
Harold and the others.
"Then we move." said Ghibelline firmly. He looked from one to the
other of his companions till he had met each of their eyes, even that of
the small orc who kept himself behind the halfling. "I tell you I cannot
feel anything but hope about our actions. I was in a place equal to
that of the very hells. Death would have released me but not before much
pain. Torture was my fate at the hands of those monsters, you freed
me as you freed Jalal."
"I regret that he did not enjoy his freedom long." Telenstil
said sadly.
"I wish that he had lived..." said Ghibelline.
"We all do." Gytha touched his arm.
Ghibelline smiled. "I can speak for him, escaping was enough, just
one breath of freedom was enough. I never thought I'd see the sky or be
among the trees again. Whatever happens I have had my freedom. All you
have yours, before I was captured I didn't know, not till we stepped
from Nosnra's hall, not till then..."
"We had better go." Telenstil told them. "But Ghibelline.
Everyone. Ghibelline speaks true. We are here by our choice, free
to go if that is how our fate takes us."
Harald shook his head but did not speak.
The old ranger lead them from the giants camp, taking them along
the eastern edge of the slope where a path had been cut through the
boulders and the trees. Stones had simply been tossed aside or split and
the fragments rolled down the hill. The giants had carved their trail long
ago and kept it in use, no plants had taken root. During the spring the
path ran like a city sewer, dark silt and mud pouring down, cutting deeper
into the oerth till there was only bedrock paving the way.
This was a stark land, the hills turned quickly into mountains
and the mountains seemed to go on forever, rising higher and higher as
they climbed toward the west. The lower slopes were thick with green,
and valleys were plentiful between serrated peaks. As the mountains
grew taller, snow sat upon their shoulders like great white shawls, the
tops rising above, too high for the frozen carpet, some so tall
that they disappeared in the clouds.
The view offered to the party as they stepped upon the giants
trail was breathtaking. It forced a smile to the ranger's lips. The
grandeur of Oerth, its vastness and beauty struck a chord at the
center of his being. He felt comforted by the sight.
"This is the Oerth Mother's true temple." he said.
"The trees are pleasant, though it is a little sad to see them
penned by those mountains." said Ghibelline.
"They are a might high." mused Ivo. "The stones up among the
peaks, they're old, its said they make the howls that you hear on
the wind. They cry out as time wears them down and the cold splits them.
That's why mountain dwarves are grim, living up among the ancient stones."
"We are truly in the middle of nowhere." complained Harald, but
quietly.
They all stood for a moment, looking out from the ledge toward the
north and west. The sound of the stones calling out seemed to be on the
wind. It made the halfling shiver and brought the ranger back from his
revery.
"Wolves!" he cursed. "Look down there." he pointed to the valley
floor to their east. Half a dozen grey shapes moved along the bare path
far below. They howled and their voices were not that of ancient rock
or wind.
"They're above us too." warned Ghibelline. The first call had
come down to them from the mountaintop and the wolves below them cried out
an answer to that call.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)