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
Ghibelline stared at the face of the dwarf and muffled a cry of
shock and recognition. He'd watched the approach of the giants with
growing anger, tinged with fear and memories of pain.
Two bright lights had he found in the darkness of Nosnra's
dungeon. Two friends, Jalal, the old Baklunish sage who had survived only
long enough to breath free air again, and Ginnar, a captive dwarven
warrior-smith who had been left behind. They had been closer than kindred
to Ghibelline and it pained the elf to know that Ginnar was trapped in
darkness while he had escaped into the light of day and open sky.
This dwarf had the look of Ginnar, and at the first glance
it seemed as if it was his friend that lay upon the stones at the
giant's feet. But it was not so, and Ghibelline sighed, relieved
and ashamed at his relief.
"Is this one him?" asked the younger giant. He pulled out
another dwarf, his large fingers wound into a dark mass of hair,
and lifted a short, squat, struggling figure from a cloth sack.
"Watch..." the older giant started to say.
The dwarf was tied with thick rope. His arms wrapped tightly
to his sides, but they had only bound his legs with a cord knotted
about the dwarf's booted ankles. At some point, and through joint
tearing twists and wriggles, the dwarf had slipped this cord,
though not the rope around his arms and chest. His legs were free,
and as the giant lifted him from the sack and bent to peer down into
the dwarf's face, an iron-nailed boot-sole lashed out.
Blood splashed out from the giant's nose, now broken, smashed
like a ripe fruit falling from high onto a stone. The giant howled
and dropped the dwarf, both hands held to his wounded face as if to
protect his now ruined noise, but the damage had been done.
"Don't let him get away!" yelled the older giant, but blood
was in the other's eyes and he was blind with more than pain.
Iron nails snapped sharply against the stones. The dwarf hit
the ground and ran. Giants were after him and his short strides had not
taken him far before a hand was sweeping down to strike him aside.
Large as a barrel's lid, the giant's hand seemed like it could not
miss, but the dwarf dropped and rolled to one side. The giant stumbled
forward, and the dwarf was on his feet again.
Wolves were running loose about the camp, and a call from
several giants sent the pack leaping after the dwarf. The giants
could be avoided, the dwarf had leapt between the legs of one
that blocked his path, but the wolves would surely have him. Three
of the quick, black-haired monsters were almost upon the dwarf.
He'd nearly reached the edge of the camp, only a few strides before the
place where Ghibelline watched from the hiding place created by the power
of Ivo's spell.
Spinning round to face them, the dwarf braced himself, ready to
die kicking out at the jaws of death that pursued him. The wolves were
near, more were behind them, and the giants came on as well.
"Stop!" bellowed Fjolver. "Take him alive!" the giant ordered.
The wolves skidded to a halt and snarled. One snapped its teeth an
inch before the dwarf's large nose. The other two circled to either side.
The black-coated wolves were well trained and quick to obey.
Ghibelline was not so quick. He heard the shout and saw the
wolves obey, but he had rushed forward with his sword drawn and
could not stop himself as he broke the weave of Ivo's magic spell.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)