Gary Gygax - Artifact of Evil

Giggling merrily, Keak ran his gaze from the enchanted hammer to the magic girdle the dwarf wore around his thick middle. The elf wondered just how great a power these two things conveyed to this one he had to call his liege lord. No matter — if the time ever came, it would be when he had neither nearby to aid him… Keak gave a series of cackling sounds as he considered the prospects of such a time and then went back to watching the surrounding forest for possible enemies. It wouldn't do at all to be taken by surprise.

Obmi, in the meantime, having a fair idea as to the mind of his long-known associate, made a mental vow never to be in a position where the elf would have the advantage over him.

They had come a full two days away from the useless accumulation of weaklings they had abandoned. Keak had used a simple spell to make Obmi appear to be the half-orc cleric, while the dupe of a priest had been changed to look as if he were Obmi himself. The dwarf had to admit that the alteration was certainly much to the mongrel's physical enhancement, while Obmi could hardly wait to be sufficiently clear of the encampment to have Keak remove the dweomer that had made his marvelous features ugly. The dwarf wondered idly what would become of the fools behind. No good, he knew. The question was how long it would take for the priest to blunder or for some other event to bring the whole group into disaster. Well, no matter. Let even fat old Iuz rant and rave about his precious subjects, losels and the rest be damned. He, Obmi the Great, was responsible for the location and safe delivery of the mighty Second Key of the Artifact of All Evil.

"Let us hope we are not interfered with before we reach our ultimate destination!" Obmi muttered without realizing it.

"What?" the elven mage asked in a startled tone. "Do you sense some danger?"

Obmi, dismayed by his own blunder, shook his iron-gray locks and sent a steady glare at his companion. " No, forget it, I merely referred to having some others sent by Lord Iuz intercept us before we personally brought our prize to the Master."

"What matter a welcoming party to see us safely to Dorakaa?"

"Fonkin! Would you share our glory with undeserving nobodies who only come at the last?"

Keak cackled but said nothing further, knowing he'd get precious little credit for his major role in the whole affair and wishing all the glory could go to him alone.

Behind them came an agent who would interfere, and this one had no thought of stealing glory from either. He sought only their death. He raced through the forest, tail streaming, tongue lolling like a dog. The keches spied him, but the leader saw that this leopard was as large as a lion and unnaturally muscled. The panther stopped to glare at the green-hided things. It spat out the spear it carried in its teeth in order to issue a roaring challenge at them. This cry, so filled with hate for foulness and evil as it was, almost brought the keches into battle, but the old female who led them made the others ignore it. Why fight this dark champion of good? It radiated a power that was different, but just as fell, as that which came from those riders they had so feared. Since it was alone, they might triumph — but at what cost? Besides, cat meat was pungent and bad-tasting.

The keches swung on toward the tempting odor that came from the west, and the great leopard picked up its strange burden and was off through the upper highway again.

Gord was angry at himself for die challenge he had given to the fiendish-looking things he had just encountered. He allowed his antipathy for their obvious evil to be voiced in a roaring cough of pure feline hatred. He must watch it more carefully in the future, this allowing the admixture of man and panther to form an integral mind that was neither human nor animal. It was so natural a melding, though, that he knew he would have to exercise continual control to avoid, or Gord and leopard would be inextricably bound into a new, single entity.

A brief time later his ears detected the drumming sound of a fair number of horses trotting ahead. The noise told him that the animals moved along the path. Gord increased his pace, which he had slackened after meeting the keches, back to a run once more. He hated the feeling of his tongue dangling from the side of his mouth, but it being there cooled and refreshed his tired body, and it was the best he could manage while bearing the magical spear in his teeth. He had tried to make it a part of him, as his other weapons were, but for some reason the transformation from man to cat would not accept the captured spear. This alone made Gord all the more determined to bear it with him when he pursued the hated Obmi.

He stayed well away from the party that rode below, for Gord felt that they would be unnaturally aware of a presence such as his, but he kept them in sight and could pick up occasional snatches of the conversation between the malign dwarf and the unbalanced elf who served him.

Upon hearing the mention of unwanted intrusion, Gord had a flash of inspiration. Slowing his pace, he moved perpendicular to the trail for a few dozen bounds, then paralleled it for a much longer time, nearly exhausting himself in the race to get as far ahead of the six riders as possible. Eventually he had to slow down. Moving at a fast walk, Gord allowed his cat lungs to draw great gasps of air, and his tired muscles to un-knot themselves. As he allowed his feline form to slow and cool itself, he mentally reviewed his plan. After a quarter of an hour of pacing thus, he dashed ahead again, then leaped down onto the track in a series of incredible bounds.

A minute later, Gord stepped from behind an ash tree. He went on two legs now, and the feeling was as strange as other changes in his senses that came with man form. Shapeshifting would take much getting used to — not the form differences, for that part was only a matter of understanding how the mind must mesh with the feline instincts of the new body. But the abrupt changes in locomotion and senses were a bitch for sure! No time for useless reflection now, though. Gord began striding purposefully down the pathway, carrying the spear jauntily as he headed south.

In a minute he heard the sound of distant hoofbeats. Gord stopped and whistled a mournful air he'd once heard in a dive near the river in Stoink, the bandit city. He stood stock still, continuing the tune as the sound of the party approaching grew nearer. Suddenly the leading horsemen spurred their mounts toward him at a gallop, lances leveled for the kill. At the very last moment before their points struck, Gord used the spear he held to vault over their heads. The stupid half-breeds thundered on down the trail, wondering what had just occurred, while Gord flipped upright and bowed to the two figures who now stared at him with suspicion and malign intent.

"Lord Obmi! Lord Keak!" the young thief said with formal dignity and humble demeanor. "I greet you in the name of Iuz, Ancient and Exalted Lord of Evil!"

The wicked-eyed dwarf spoke first. "Just who, pray tell, are you to greet me thus?"

"A humble servant of our Master, Lord Obmi," Gord said with a self-effacing tone. "I am a negligible person altogether, called Stoat."

"Tell me before I kill you then, Stoat. What madness made you dare to stand before me?"

"It is not by my own whim that I come to you thus, Lord Obmi. I am sent by… He who sired Lord Iuz," Gord said with pride, hiding the fact that he hadn't the slightest idea what demon had fathered the foul Iuz and left his spawn to blight the world.

"You serve Graz'zt?" Keak interjected. "For what reason does that One send you to us?"

"Silence, fool!" the dwarf said, his face blackened by anger at the elf s interruption. Now he would not be able to test this cocky fellow who stood before him with the question he had planned. Obmi watched silently for a few heartbeats as the two half-orc guards came racing back to point their lances at the fellow's exposed back. The man was brave enough, he'd give him that. The dark-haired fellow never moved a muscle or gave so much as a glance as the riders thundered toward his naked back. Obmi spoke then, as the guards looked at him for direction.