Arrival at Gnoll Pass - A Letter to Grand-Wizard Orilostis

By Fippy

Hail to thee my Master, it is I, your faithful Journeyman Wyst. I hope this manuscript finds you in better health than the last word I heard of you during my stay in Rivervale. The numerous scrolls within the mail pouch you hold in your hands speak much of the adventures and discoveries I have made during my two-moon journey across the Karanas. I wished to bring this particular manuscript to your immediate attention, since within it, I chronicle my discovery of a new hamlet that does not appear on your charts or atlases of Antonica.

Within this place I spoke to a student of Baleos, a name I have not heard you mention for many a year now. I hope it is a name that still brings you a smile and fond memories. She – the student that is – wondered, even as you do, of the present whereabouts of that mighty and personable Mage that you once adventured with. Perhaps you can solicit her for further information.

But I am getting ahead of myself in my tale. I recall well, My Master, how fond you are of a logical and even progression of events. Let me start at the beginning of my tale.

The storm caught me on the road that winds through the Western plains of Karana. Fearsome it was, sweeping in from the mountains and drenching the lands in a cloudburst, followed by sheets of lightning. Within moments, the writhing black clouds and deluging rain reduced my visibility to nothing. I paused under a large oak long enough to cast my Shielding spell, to protect me from the rain. When I stepped out into the open, I at least remained dry as the rain boiled away to nothing, inches from my cloak and cloth belongings. If only it protected me from the chill wind also!

Knowing full well I was deep in bandit territory, I was concerned about pressing on as best I could, to friendlier lands closer to Qeynos. Even in the artificial darkness, the road was plain to see and my sense of direction has never failed me yet. To either side I caught glimpses of bears and wild cats skulking beneath trees, eager to catch an unwary and exhausted traveler. Indeed, it seemed that whichever direction I faced, the wind tore into my face without mercy, and walking was a slow and arduous process.

The road bent a hard left, and a nearby bolt of lightning formed a silhouette of a farmhouse to my right. A second struck a tree, with a deafening crack, blasting torso-thick branches and setting the trunk alight. The flames danced and crackled in the rain. And then came the rumble of thunder across the clouds over my head.

I exhaled heavily and considered my options. Along the road to the left lay the outer guard tower, but if I cut across country to my right I knew I would come to the small hamlet that lay beyond the bandit farmhouse. There I would find shelter. I looked around. I was alone in the numbing, chill wind, and the downpour was a constant nuisance even as my magic kept it from my person.

The lightning blasted another tree along the road, sending foliage flying in all directions. As if a sign, I decided to head overland for the cottages, and steered a course off the road to the right. I began to regret the move almost immediately, as my boots sunk into the quagmire pretending to be grass. My Master, your wisdom is evident when you describe me as stubborn, for I did not turn back to the road, nay, I continued my course, eyes fixed on my feet as they sought firmer ground.

Once out of sight of all landmarks bar the black outlines of trees, I first heard the voices. First one shout, and then another, ahead and to the right. I hurried forward, eager for company. I have yet to meet a bandit that spoke Erudian, so I was firm in my belief that they were in the same predicament as myself. I saw a bobbing light ahead, winking in and out as I imagined the lantern passing behind trees. Then the earth began to shake!

This did not feel like any earthquake described within your tomes, My Master. Instead, it was a rhythmic shudder, almost like some monstrous heartbeat. To make my analogy more accurate, a deep, rumbling thud soon accompanied it.

There came a scream and more shouts, and I watched the light dance erratically. "Giant a-coming!" The cry was easy to make out even above the rain, the thunder and the approaching footsteps. I stopped dead. The lantern did likewise. "There!" came a cry, and then the calling of what I assumed to be someone's name. The lantern took off to my left. Then I saw it!

For the sake of advancing my tale, My Master, I will bow to your knowledge of Hill Giants, and let you furnish the imagery that my words will not convey. Suffice to say that he was a great deal larger than I would ever have imagined. Not a single tree came even as high as his shoulders. I swear it could have trampled a house without breaking sweat.

I hid behind a tree, hoping that his vision in the dim light was worse than my own. I felt the tree shudder with each gargantuan step that the giant took, as it gave chase after the other poor souls. It didn't take much calculation to realise that with a gait of ten feet it would overtake them in moments. I dropped my pack to the ground and took a deep breath. I am glad now, My Master, that you drilled me so thoroughly on the chants of our spells. Fire Bolt is easy to me now. My chanting complete, I cast my glowing fingers towards the huge shape to my left and the bolt of flame leaped after it, turning a perfect arc around the trees and illuminating the ground for quite some distance.

Not wanting to be around when it hit, I took off at the best run I could achieve over the sodden ground; heading behind the giant and toward the distant guard tower. A roar that drowned the thunder uttered forth from the giant and I made the mistake of turning to look. Barely forty feet from the fleeing Erudites, it had stopped and was looking my way. It had seen me – so much for Hill Giants having poor eyesight.

I thought fast. The road must lie perhaps a half-mile behind me, and the tower the same again. I pulled from my mana to send another fiery bolt into the rain. The giant made a feeble attempt to dodge it, but it impacted on his chest and set his clothing ablaze. All of Karana must have heard his cries.

"RUN!" I shouted to the others, and then once more in Erudian. The little lantern took off towards the outer guard tower. Meanwhile, the giant had put out the flames and was seething with rage. The ground quaked as he came after me. I watched the Erudites disappear into the rain, and readied my next spell, standing my ground as the giant came right at me. I finished the chant and eerie, green fingers of energy danced across to envelop the giant. When they hit him, they arced down to the earth and stuck there. He came to within fifty feet of me before the Root took hold and he became stuck fast.

I had no idea how long it would hold him, but even as I pondered that fact, I ran for my life, ignoring his curses and shouts. I stumbled on to the road and headed along it, making better pace. My Shield spell dropped and the chill rain began to soak me, but I didn't care. I ran and I never stopped running all the way to the tower entrance, flanked by two ever-burning and very welcoming torches.

Again, My Master, I shall hurry along in my tale by simply noting that the garrison in the tower was only too eager to venture into the rain to hunt down the Hill Giant. I wonder to this day whether it was still rooted when they came across it, or even if they found it at all. I hope sometime to hear the fate of those Erudites too. It was at the tower, however, that I asked the remaining guards about a place to stay until the weather blew over.

And that is how I came upon this new hamlet of which I spoke earlier. They directed me west on the road to where the road passes through the valley to the Hills of Qeynos. There they bade me turn right onto a barely visible path that led off along the foot of the mountains. Just as they instructed me, the path wound through the trees for just over a mile and there was the tiny hamlet of Gnoll's Pass.

The rain had worsened when I arrived at the four buildings that made up the hamlet. Somewhere behind the churning storm clouds, the sun had set and I was using a spell of Light to see my way on the path. Once again, my Shield kept me dry. Lights flickered behind the closed shutters of three of the four buildings. I could hear music and laugher coming from the second, a building much larger than the rest. I hurried towards its main door.

A torch flickered and spat in its cresset above the door, as the rain tried in vain to extinguish its guiding light. Above the door hung a faded, wooden sign, blowing back and forth in the wind. I could not make out the logo upon it. To the left side of the building stood covered stables, surprisingly large for such a small place, and horses nickered and moved about to the sounds of the thunder. My bones were numbed by the chill wind and the laughter from within was very enticing. I pushed open the heavy, oak door and stepped up into a small outer room. I took off my cloth hat and hung it atop another man's cloak, dripping dry on one of the numerous coat hooks. With a silent gesture in front of my body, I cancelled my Shielding spell. Some folks don't take too kindly to magic in their homes, you were correct about that, My Master.

Hefting my pack on one arm, I opened the inner door and stepped into the brightly-lit, smoky interior of the inn, warm and inviting after my long day's trek. . Over a dozen pairs of eyes turned to stare at me, as every person in the room stopped their drinking, stopped their conversations, stopped their singing, stopped their craps games. It was an eerie feeling. As naturally as I could, I smiled at everyone in the room, and ended my scan on what I assumed to be the innkeep, a tall, huge-set man, long hair, reddish-greying beard and a stern, no-nonsense face.

"This looks a fine place for a cold, weary traveler to pause for some hot stew and a strong ale." I commented, in my best orator's voice. (Another lesson I learned well from you, My Master.)

The innkeep harrumphed. "Want ye Crow's beer, Blackburrow Stout, or a tankard of the house special."

I could feel everyone's stare on me, but directed my attention solely at the burly innkeep. "Burrow stout is the finest I have tasted in the Qeynos lands, but I'll warrant your special will taste sweeter to a man who has walked the breadth of the Karanas only to be rudely assaulted by a Hill Giant."

Murmurs sprang up around the room. The innkeep continued to glare at me until finally his face dissolved into a huge grin and then a short, gritty laugh. "I'll buy ye one meself just to hear that tale, friend. Welcome!"

He turned to the row of barrels behind him. The room magically returned to its former self – the bard in the corner continued playing, the dice went rolling and laughter and chatter filled the room. Relieved, I took my place at the bar, leaning with one elbow on its gnarled, scratched surface. The innkeep joined me, and handed me a tankard filled with a dark, foamy drink. He watched, as I tasted, an evil glint in his eye. It was very strong and definitely bitter; but all the tastier for it, and I said so. He nodded approval and held out a huge maw of a hand.

"Kadrak McGibert" he said proudly as he gave my hand a single vigorous shake. "Welcome to The Gnoll's Paw"

"Wyst." I replied. "That's the name of your inn or the village?

"Me Inn. Wyst's a funny name. That an alias or something?"

"Nay," I replied, pausing to drink some more. It certainly warmed my insides. "Just Wyst. Wyst Of Qeynos, I suppose." I grinned. "Why 'Gnolls Paw'?" I looked around the large room, expecting to see trophy gnoll heads or gnoll-hide rugs or some other clue. It was actually sparsely decorated and the only objects that could be considered decorative were clearly of Halas origin. The rugs were polar bear furs.

He gave another gritty laugh. "If ye be as educated as ye speak, ye can surely fathom that'n out." He walked off down the bar, chuckling. I noticed the very dangerous looking mace that hung from his belt. Woe betides the fool who messed with Kadrak McGibert.

I surveyed the room as I drank my beer, which tasted strongly of oatmeal and nutmeg. A Half-Elven bard strummed tunefully against the back wall, with no particular audience. He didn't seem to mind this at all. To his right stood the huge double hearth, a roaring fire in each alcove. In one, pots and cauldrons of various sizes hung over metal racks. The other had no such arrangement, but I could see brick bread ovens to either side. Most of the patrons sat around the tables nearest to the fires, amongst them an Erudite and another Half-Elf. Others played craps in a home-built table along the wall. A solid staircase led up from near the main door.

The rain beat harder against the shutters, making me glad for a comfortable place to spend the night. I wondered how many of the people around me were local to this tiny cluster of buildings, and how many were travelers like myself. If the laughter and loud conversation gave any pointer, I may have been the only stranger there.

"'Nother?" I turned back to the huge-set innkeep. He gestured at my tankard, nearly empty. It had been a long, tiring day. I felt that I would be better company after some sleep, and said so. "If it be a bed yer wanting, I have a couple." He said. I took him up on his offer, and finished the last of my drink. His weathered hands, each almost as large as my head, whisked away the tankard.

'Shaz!" he shouted off to a side-room. "Guest Room!"

A young woman appeared at my side, emerging from a door between the bar and the staircase. Though clothed as a barmaid, she carried herself with confidence and grace. Strands of dark brown hair peeped out from under a cloth hairpiece, the same colour as her eyes. She raised an eyebrow at my stare and her thin lips moved almost imperceptibly into a smile.

"If you'd care to come with me, sir." Her voice was a softer version of the distinctive Qeynos dialect. She led the way up the staircase, lifting her skirts to avoid slipping, and I guiltily eyed her young, fit figure whilst her back was turned. The second floor had a low ceiling, such that I had to duck the occasional beam. She passed two doors and stopped at the third, pushing it open. "Will you be wanting supper at all?" she asked, and I found myself hanging on her every, wonderfully annunciated, word.

"That would indeed be most welcome," I replied. "Shaz?"

She gave a full smile. "Short for Shazerenne." Before I could pass a compliment, she turned away from the room. "I will be back presently, sir, with a nice warm stew."

I watched her for a few moments, chuckling to myself at my infatuation, and strode into the room. It was small, but clean and functional. The bed was well stuffed and the table bore a washbowl and jug. Rain battered against the shutters and the roof, but I could see no leaks, and the shutters were surprisingly draught-proof. This would serve me well I decided, and headed for the bowl to wash my hands before supper.

Here I pause, My Master, to continue this journal on the morrow.

Your faithful Journeyman, Wyst.

Back to Fiction

This site is Copyright ©, 1999-2008, Graeme Ing.   

Please do not reproduce any content, text or images, without permission. Thank you. Email me!
Site hosted by pair.com using PHP 5.2.6 and MySQL. Developed on a Mac.