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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
As if he had pulled upon a dangling thread of an intricate and
delicate tapestry, Ghibelline's action unraveled the complex enchantment
that Ivo had cast upon the camp. The spell dissipated like morning mist in
the light of the rising sun. It took only a moment and then it was gone,
lost from memory like a dream upon waking.
The wolves and giants came to a halt, staring at the small group
of the little people who had appeared in their midst. Ivo's hands moved as
he tried to catch the broken thread of his illusion, but the stuff of
magic was gone and he found that he grasped only air.
"What...?" he stuttered, his mind still forming pictures of
how he wanted the camp to appear to the senses of the giants and the
wolves.
"Oh Hells!" cursed Harold. The little thief's eyes went wide.
Ghibelline could not stop the swing of his sword. His blade
slashed down and opened a long and wicked cut along the flank of one wolf.
The beast yowled in pain and tried to leap away. Its cry broke the
silence of the camp. Suddenly there was a yammer and howl of voices. The
wounded wolf was struck again. Steel cut open its hind leg and removed its
tail. Rolling, it sprayed out blood and its mouth frothed with bile and
rage.
"Ghibelline!" yelled Gytha. She sprang toward him and shouted out
a prayer that was also a cry of defiance. "Cuthbert! Your blessing upon
us! Let your strength banish the strength of our foes!"
Behind her the ranger raised his sword. The claymore glowed with a
silver light, perhaps a reflection from the sun off the burnished steel,
but more likely a surge of power from the enchantments laid upon the
blade.
"Wait!" Telenstil yelled beside him and grabbed the ranger's arm.
"Kas-Va!" the mage said and tossed a handful or red dust at the surprised
warrior.
Harald grew, as did his clothes and gear, but his sword
remained the same, the blade impervious to minor magics. Standing twice as
tall as he had been only a moment before, the ranger was still smaller
than the giants, though no longer did they tower high above him.
"Hah!" grunted Harald in surprise, but he was pleased. He threw
himself into the battle.
While Telenstil cast his spell and Gytha prayed, Talberth had drawn
out his wand and sent a bolt of lightning into a crowd of giants. It burnt
them and killed a black-coated wolf who charged unknowingly into the path
of the deadly magic bolt. The giants were not greatly hurt, and now doubly
enraged, they ran toward their hated foes.
Derue moved like a cat. He pounced and drove both hands, knuckles
striking like spears, into the stomach of a wolf. He struck only moments
after Ghibelline's first blow and the third blow of his hands came as the
elf cut his wolf the second time. The edge of Derue's hand whipped down on
the prostrate wolf and with a crunch, crushed the monster's throat. He
left it dying on the stones.
"Stay behind me." Harald said to Little Rat. The young orc had
a knife in either hand. Harald glanced back and saw him licking the
edge of the blades. "Stop that, it makes me nervous." he told him.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)