Greyhawk - Greyhawk Classics 02 - White Plume Mountain by Greyhawk

Author:Greyhawk
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Greyhawk
Published: 2012-03-22T21:43:02+00:00

After long days of travel, the party was leaving the last vestiges of safety behind. They had slept at one of the northern settlements and had been on the move before dawn. Now at long last they had entered enemy terrain, and the Justicar could forge ahead to the work at hand.

Enemy country was no laughing matter. Walking up the steep northern bank of the Artonsamay River, the Justicar slowly sank down amidst the weeds until he disappeared from view. Slithering forward in utter silence, he stared through the grasses into an alien land.

Years before, these plains had belonged to the Bandit Kingdoms. Petty warlords had lived here as brigands, raiding and reaving into the neighboring lands. Border patrols had fought bitter campaigns to keep the river lines clear, turning the region into a perpetual battlefield. With the coming of the Greyhawk Wars, however, all had changed. The Bandit Kingdoms had disintegrated under the onslaught of Iuz, and what few remained were no more than a sham, slave pits to Iuz and a refuge for the damned.

Wilderness had reclaimed the sparse few settlements. Where villages had stood, now only broken and burned skeletons of the once-proud halls lay stark against the sky. Where wagons had brought merchants and migrants, now there was only skittish wildlife and the occasional desperate bandit.

Near the river where the party waited, there was only the hollow buzz of flies and skeletal black bees.

This near the realm of Iuz, caution and skill divided the living from the dead. Taking no chances, the Justicar lay perfectly still, sensing the shift and stir of a hostile world. Before him, the undulating ground was covered knee deep in autumn grass, which looked gray and withered as if somehow drained of life. The gray stalks washed back and forth like an ocean in the breeze, sending ripples chasing far out toward the hills. Any trees on the land were restricted to scattered copses, but the nearest of these were over a mile away.

The sight would have been beautiful had it not been so dangerous. The motion of the grass could hide scouts and ambushers. The ranger stared toward the north where a distant volcano lifted plumes of thin white steam toward the clouds.

Cinders scanned the terrain with a nose sensitive to magic and eyes sensitive to heat. Tall canine ears lifted, and his tail slowly waved. After five long minutes, the hell hound finally seemed satisfied. His voice drifted ever-cheerful into Jus’ mind.

Bones stood here. Gone now.

“How long ago?”

One sleep old.

The Justicar shifted position, moving almost without disturbing the grass. Soil had been disturbed on the crest of the riverbank beside him, and the footprints had been hazed over with a film of morning dew. Thin foot bones had left their shape across the grass, marking the tread of skeletal feet.

With a pop, Escalla appeared at his side. The little faerie lay flat and quiet in the grass, whispering cautiously into the breeze. “How’s it going?”

“It looks clear.” The Justicar could see nothing, yet it seemed unlikely that the border would be left unguarded for long.

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