Gary Gygax - Artifact of Evil

It was one matter to get close to this malign servant of evil. Now the problem was to separate Obmi from his prized possession, the Second Key of the Artifact of All Evil, and to bring him to justice in the process. Gord knew that the former was lar more important than the latter, but he could not dismiss the desire to bring a fitting end to the dwarfs career of murder and worse.

Eventually the sun sank, and Obmi called the party to a halt for the night.

The quiet of the night was shattered by the sound of an advancing army. That it moved heedless of any opposition bespoke its size and the power of those who commanded the host. It went through the heart of Vesve Forest, southward. It was a Host of Iuz, a horde of bandits, the vilest of mercenary humans, and every sort of humanoid imaginable. Loathsome trolls shambled with the army, and great ogres tramped in its ranks. The force marched on heedless of any danger, and at its head rode the archmage called Ormuz and a high priest of Iuz known as Patch. They went forth to bring wrack and ruin to all who opposed them, and to bring a dwarf named Obmi to stand before their master.

Gord heard the welling sound of their approach before any of the others did. He knew what was occurring, but he was powerless to do anything about it. Keak himself was alertly on watch, and the young thief knew that he would never be able to slay the elf without the magic-user alerting the others. Gord would have no chance against Obmi and the elf and the two humans who served them. To attempt anything would be to throw his life away, so Gord did what he thought best.

"Lord Keak, I hear the sounds of a vast company approaching!" he called softly, sitting erect as he did so. "Shall I alert the others to arm themselves and escape southward?"

"Stand fast!" Keak ordered, and he cocked his large, pointed ear toward the north, straining visibly to hear the faint sounds. After a time he turned and gazed at the man who had so recently joined the service of the dwarf. "You have keen ears, too, do you? I'd say you are altogether too keen, and too ready to turn southward toward the enemy!" The skinny elf cackled at what he had just said, then went near to where Obmi slept under a thick quilt. "Lord, I hear the sounds of an approaching force," he said softly.

"What's that? What force? From where does it come? Witless elf, tell me quickly! I hear nothing at all!"

"It is, I believe, a reception party for your Great Person, Lord, for it approaches boldly down the road from the north — from Our Lord's own lands, from Iuz!"

"Shit and slobbering slimes!" Obmi cursed under his breath as he sprang from his resting place. "Don't just stand there stupidly, you doddering fool! Help me prepare myself for this group that comes! Everything must be just so, or I'll never forgive you!"

Such fussiness nearly made Gord snicker. Were this not the conjunction of the most vile and malicious creatures imaginable, the circumstances of the meeting would indeed be ludicrously funny. A journey of hundreds of leagues, with the fate of the entire Oerth — and more — at stake, and the instrument of it all worries about minor appearances in the middle of a howling wilderness! Gord shook his head in wonder at the whimsical fate that allowed all of this to transpire, for he too was but a pawn in a game whose scope he could not comprehend. "What meaning," he wondered, "and what true understanding, would I have were I of the stature of Iuz, Graz'zt, or any of the even greater figures in this struggle?" Unable and unwilling to consider the whole implication of this, Gord did what he could.

"With your permission, Lord Obmi," he said, "I will ride ahead and bring the approaching Host of Iuz to you, announcing you to those who come to receive you properly."

The dwarf thought about this proposal for only a moment. "Yes. That is mete. You have my permission to go forth as herald."

In a minute Gord had his horse saddled, and he swung up onto its back without a glance back at the frantic activity of Obmi and Keak. As he rode, the young thief wondered what he should do. It would be simple enough to just melt into the forest and be safe. This was not what he wished, though. If there was any chance for him to foil the plans of Iuz, Gord would take the risk and pay the ultimate price if need be. Was there such a chance? He had to try. Shoulders squared, back straight, Gord rode on up the path to play the role of herald of "Lord Obmi" for the oncoming horde of despicable creatures commanded by who knew what sort of disgusting servants of the demon bastard Iuz.

The sounds of the marching army were now clearly audible to the deafest ear. Gord halted his horse and called as loudly as he could, his tone filled with confidence that he did not feel. "Hail the advance! The Herald of Lord Obmi demands immediate audience with the commander of this force!"

The words were hardly out of his mouth before he was surrounded by a pack of humanoid outrunners. This scum conveyed him rapidly northward past the advance guard of the horde. Somewhere along the route the lowly xvarts and gnolls were replaced by trolls and human servants who cried out, "Make way for the Herald of Lord Obmi!" and the throng of mongrels and hateful humanoids parted as if by magic for Gord to ride through unmolested.

"Your name, Herald?" an authoritarian voice demanded in bass tone.

"Stoat, Herald of the dreaded dwarf Lord Obmi, the faithful servant of the Lord of Ancient Evil, Iuz!" Gord replied in his best formal manner.

"Hail, Herald of the dwarf Obmi. You are come to the Host of Iuz. I am its general, Ormuz, and you may report all to me. Where is Obmi? And does he carry the object which Our Master desires?"

"I am your servant to command, General Ormuz of the Host of Iuz," Gord intoned formally in reply, trusting that no absolute ritual was prescribed for such a meeting. "The Lord Obmi is but a short way south of here, awaiting the meeting with you. He is carrying… the object, I believe."

"Believe? You are Obmi's own herald, and you do not know with certainty if the object of all… this is borne with your lord?"

"My post is new, Lord General Ormuz, and my Lord Obmi is most careful. Details are better left to such ones as you and he."

"This is well said, Herald Stoat — I think I concur with Obmi's selection of you for the role, even though it be but a recent appointment. After this whole affair is concluded, come to me and we will discuss possibilities of service." So saying, the hooded and cloaked Ormuz dismissed Gord and rode past.

Ignored, Gord simply turned his horse and rode with the procession of underlings that followed the leader of the host. He was surprised when the procession he was now part of turned to the west, veering away from Obmi's camp a mile or two to the southeast. A dark woman in rusty-red clerical robes riding beside him spoke to Gord.

"No wonder Lord Ormuz was so pleased with your unexpected arrival," she said. "We are near the Gathering Place, and now Obmi can report to us while Lord Ormuz sits in proper state!"

Gord simply murmured a noncommittal reply and rode on. Perhaps a few hundred advance guards and scouts preceded, the head of the horde. They not only made certain that no enemy was lurking nearby, but cleared the way and now fired great torches to light the path. Flankers likewise chopped at brush and kept the column in some semblance of order. The whole of the force must stretch for miles northward. The forest pathway was narrow. Three horsemen or possibly four could ride abreast along its narrowest parts.. Gord could not calculate how long the tail of this army must be, but it made his head reel to think of it. Their way had been overgrown with scrub, but the advance had cleared it easily enough. The trail was wider here, and it was growing broader all the while. They had entered the neck of a funnel and were now moving toward its mouth, he analogized. The flaring torches illuminated a large area of grassland ahead.