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The Travels of Biturian Varosh

Night Attack

I sought Rune magic, recalled a weird dance by baboons, and cast for Summon Ancestor. It materialized between the troll and me. Its ancient eyes burned feral-yellow, and he yawned hungrily. I knew what he wanted, and cast my magic power to him instead of making defensive spells. The troll roared and chopped. I rolled out of the way as the axe bit the ground. The spirit whispered her name, Soraran, then wrapped itself around the troll and appeared to be gnawing on its neck. The troll ignored it and chopped again at me! I kept dodging and cast Orlanth's Shield on myself. The troll dropped his weapon and began clawing at the spirit as it engaged in spirit combat at last. I rose and ran to cover on a rock overlooking the ruined camp.

The campfire was embers, but the clear sky was bright with stars. To my far right I saw four people in melee against four berserk dark trolls, while to my right a single great troll chased a single person who was rolling and dodging as I had been. Already two men lay dead, I saw mules opposite me struggle against their tethers as a slobbering great troll with a broken two-handed sword chopped at them. Then I saw one troll, obviously not berserk as he rifled my baggage with precision and care. He was stealing my goods!

With my Shield spell still up I was brave enough. I ran forward and snatched a bow and arrow. A mule screamed its death throes as I leveled and aimed the bow. But behind me I heard a child yell out. It was Morak! I cast a generous Speedart on the missile.

Morak screamed again, and I heard the bite of an axe into wood. A tree cracked. I turned, and saw Morak bleeding and trying to push himself backward through a tangle of broken wood. The troll cut again, and Morak's hand flew through the air. I loosed the arrow. It went through the troll's arm and he dropped the poleax. I fired again without the magic. It bounced of his chest. He pulled out a one-hand axe after my third arrow bounced off him. Morak was motionless. As the troll charged me two more arrows bounced off him and one stuck in his chest.

A light burst overhead, blinding me. I threw myself aside in a desperate dodge as a warcry ripped the air. I head a grunt of pain and as I blinked I saw a golden warrior chopping down the stumbling great troll. The warrior turned and dashed off behind me when he was done. I found Morak's hand and, as the sound of fighting rose behind me, I chanted a healing spell and sealed sinew, bone, and skin.

When Norayeep joined us, Morak was already awake. We all hugged and kissed each other, glad to be alive, for five of our party were dead.

Our savior was familiar to me, and I realized that it was Ruric, the Light Son from the Sun Dome Temple. By the glaze in his eyes I knew he was on a heroquest. He was quite disappointed to learn I no longer owned the golden armor which I had gotten at his temple, but he was satisfied to receive a trio of Firesticks as a prize instead.

Ruric and Chokar retraced the approach of the berserkers and found a camp guarded by a couple of trollkin. They brought back the pickings of the goods there: jewels and stones and some odd items which might have been magic but were not.

None of the booty was mine, nor could I find the track of the thief who had rifled my trade goods. Just as well, I thought, since there were no longer mules to carry it.

At dawn we buried the tails of the mules and burned the bodies of the guards. Chokar recited the Orlanth prayer, and Ruric chanted part of the Rising Sun Prayer to the Lightbringers as the sun rose. Then we burned the heads of the berserkers so they would not become zombies, buried what we could not carry, and placed a Lock on it. Then we packed off with many ill thoughts of the Zorak Zoran practice of blood vengeance.

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