Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
Beale Knight
First Post
03 - 03 Hilltopple House pt3: Solution
03 03
Ren, Bessie, Madge, and Aneirin sped into Armis’ house. The halfling had fallen asleep in his overstuffed chair and barely stirred as they tromped past him and upstairs. There they found Killian sitting on the floor amidst several piles of books.
“Right here, this is it,” he said as the others entered. “Najeff.”
“Bless you,” Ren said.
“No – a curse,” the sorcerer answered. “a wronged, tormented soul that transforms into a demon spirit demanding vengeance. So we must satisfy the widow’s demands.”
His explanation met with four blank stares, Killian continued. “The widow was wronged, perhaps she really was with child, perhaps there was some other reason, but she was earnestly wronged enough to empower her to become this demon. The people sacrificed to her have placated her enough to leave each night, but she won’t free this place until she gets her proper justice. We must offer up the ones she holds responsible.”
“Armis?” Bessie asked.
Madge shook her head. “No – he objected to burning her, remember? The demon spirit wants Belze and the archer.”
“Do you think she’d care that we already killed them?” Ren asked.
“Not a bit,” Killian said. “Not a single bit. I’m thinking we simply display the corpsesand she ought be satisfied.”
“This sounds too easy,” Ren said.
Killian waved his hand over the piles of books he’d scattered around. “Easy? Take a look at what it took to learn this, and that with help! ‘Easy’!” he huffed.
“What help?” Madge asked, “surely not Armis.”
The sorcerer thumbed his chin. “Pfft. No. He’s worthless.” A smile formed on his face. “But his father, the elder Hilltopple, now there was a wizard. And a properly organized one. Watch.” He cleared his throat, pointed to three of the four piles of books and said, “Chandelier, these books are ready to be replaced.”
There was the sound of thin chains rattling, and then a hollow, metallic voice said, “As you say.” Suddenly the chandelier lowered itself from the ceiling and began to move its multiple arms. The ends wrapped themselves around individual books, and the entire chandelier slowly floated to the far end of the room like a spider in total control of its web strand. The books were replaced on the shelves, and then the chandelier returned for another set. In this way, the piles of books were quickly put away.
“It’s a wonderful device,” Killian said. “Knows every book in the room and what’s in it. Just asking it for where information might be is enough to send it after the proper book.” He picked up two that the chandelier had not replaced and headed downstairs. “These I have a use for. Tell Armis what we’re planning while I take another look at that first courtyard.”
Armis was still fast asleep in the chair, but jumped awake when Bessie put her hand on his shoulder. “What?! What are you doing in here!” he said, his voice rising to a high pitched whine. “I said only the sorcerer! Just the sorcerer!”
Madge slammed her hands on the halfling’s shoulders, forcing him to keep still. “Listen to me you whining little coward,” she hissed. “We have solved your problem for you. Killian learned what exactly is going on and how to stop, and we’ve finished half the work already. I should think a little bit of gratitude should be shown – don’t you?”
Armis’ eyes widened, partly in fear, partly in disbelief. “You – you can stop this? Really?”
“Really,” Madge said.
“Of course, we might need a thing or two,” Ren said.
Armis smiled and began sobbing in joy. “Yes, yes, anything you need. Anything you want. Free me and it’s yours.” He paused. “Anything but what’s in the house.”
Aneirin snorted. “Let’s get started,” he said, turning his back on the halfling.
Moving the bodies from the third to first courtyard was simple enough. First they were stripped down to shirts and breeches. Then at Killian’s direction they were placed just beyond the blast perimeter, face up. Then it was just a matter of waiting for nightfall.
The hours between were spend in a shameless exploiting of Armis’ permission to take anything wanted. Scores of arrows and spears were removed from the armory, as was a book Killian believed explained how to create golems. The two other horses were befriended, and the four food-making statuettes in the guests houses were claimed and distributed. Then at last the sun began to set in that little bit of pretend sky that shown over Hilltopple House. The four heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake and the out of time warrior took shelter in the closer of the guest houses and watched through the glass window.
As the sky darkened, there was a sudden spark of light in the middle of the debris pile. This erupted into a full blown fire that lit the entire courtyard without burning a thing. Then in the middle of the fire grey smoke took form, coalescing into the form of a short woman. Her hair was fire itself and so were her eyes. When her gaze fell on the two lifeless bodies a fiery smile formed. The najeff waved her hand and the bodies began to float toward her, and they began to twitch as a semblance of life was returned to them. Their eyes opened and both let out the haunted screams of the damned. The najeff began to laugh, a crackling sound that chilled the observers to the bone.
There was a sudden implosion of smoke and fire, and then all three were gone. The five observers felt a sudden sickness in their stomachs, but it passed in an instant, and soon they forgot it.
Ren stepped out and looked up. His eyes watered as he smile and said, “The sky is back.”
[stroy continues on post 54]
03 03
Ren, Bessie, Madge, and Aneirin sped into Armis’ house. The halfling had fallen asleep in his overstuffed chair and barely stirred as they tromped past him and upstairs. There they found Killian sitting on the floor amidst several piles of books.
“Right here, this is it,” he said as the others entered. “Najeff.”
“Bless you,” Ren said.
“No – a curse,” the sorcerer answered. “a wronged, tormented soul that transforms into a demon spirit demanding vengeance. So we must satisfy the widow’s demands.”
His explanation met with four blank stares, Killian continued. “The widow was wronged, perhaps she really was with child, perhaps there was some other reason, but she was earnestly wronged enough to empower her to become this demon. The people sacrificed to her have placated her enough to leave each night, but she won’t free this place until she gets her proper justice. We must offer up the ones she holds responsible.”
“Armis?” Bessie asked.
Madge shook her head. “No – he objected to burning her, remember? The demon spirit wants Belze and the archer.”
“Do you think she’d care that we already killed them?” Ren asked.
“Not a bit,” Killian said. “Not a single bit. I’m thinking we simply display the corpsesand she ought be satisfied.”
“This sounds too easy,” Ren said.
Killian waved his hand over the piles of books he’d scattered around. “Easy? Take a look at what it took to learn this, and that with help! ‘Easy’!” he huffed.
“What help?” Madge asked, “surely not Armis.”
The sorcerer thumbed his chin. “Pfft. No. He’s worthless.” A smile formed on his face. “But his father, the elder Hilltopple, now there was a wizard. And a properly organized one. Watch.” He cleared his throat, pointed to three of the four piles of books and said, “Chandelier, these books are ready to be replaced.”
There was the sound of thin chains rattling, and then a hollow, metallic voice said, “As you say.” Suddenly the chandelier lowered itself from the ceiling and began to move its multiple arms. The ends wrapped themselves around individual books, and the entire chandelier slowly floated to the far end of the room like a spider in total control of its web strand. The books were replaced on the shelves, and then the chandelier returned for another set. In this way, the piles of books were quickly put away.
“It’s a wonderful device,” Killian said. “Knows every book in the room and what’s in it. Just asking it for where information might be is enough to send it after the proper book.” He picked up two that the chandelier had not replaced and headed downstairs. “These I have a use for. Tell Armis what we’re planning while I take another look at that first courtyard.”
Armis was still fast asleep in the chair, but jumped awake when Bessie put her hand on his shoulder. “What?! What are you doing in here!” he said, his voice rising to a high pitched whine. “I said only the sorcerer! Just the sorcerer!”
Madge slammed her hands on the halfling’s shoulders, forcing him to keep still. “Listen to me you whining little coward,” she hissed. “We have solved your problem for you. Killian learned what exactly is going on and how to stop, and we’ve finished half the work already. I should think a little bit of gratitude should be shown – don’t you?”
Armis’ eyes widened, partly in fear, partly in disbelief. “You – you can stop this? Really?”
“Really,” Madge said.
“Of course, we might need a thing or two,” Ren said.
Armis smiled and began sobbing in joy. “Yes, yes, anything you need. Anything you want. Free me and it’s yours.” He paused. “Anything but what’s in the house.”
Aneirin snorted. “Let’s get started,” he said, turning his back on the halfling.
Moving the bodies from the third to first courtyard was simple enough. First they were stripped down to shirts and breeches. Then at Killian’s direction they were placed just beyond the blast perimeter, face up. Then it was just a matter of waiting for nightfall.
The hours between were spend in a shameless exploiting of Armis’ permission to take anything wanted. Scores of arrows and spears were removed from the armory, as was a book Killian believed explained how to create golems. The two other horses were befriended, and the four food-making statuettes in the guests houses were claimed and distributed. Then at last the sun began to set in that little bit of pretend sky that shown over Hilltopple House. The four heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake and the out of time warrior took shelter in the closer of the guest houses and watched through the glass window.
As the sky darkened, there was a sudden spark of light in the middle of the debris pile. This erupted into a full blown fire that lit the entire courtyard without burning a thing. Then in the middle of the fire grey smoke took form, coalescing into the form of a short woman. Her hair was fire itself and so were her eyes. When her gaze fell on the two lifeless bodies a fiery smile formed. The najeff waved her hand and the bodies began to float toward her, and they began to twitch as a semblance of life was returned to them. Their eyes opened and both let out the haunted screams of the damned. The najeff began to laugh, a crackling sound that chilled the observers to the bone.
There was a sudden implosion of smoke and fire, and then all three were gone. The five observers felt a sudden sickness in their stomachs, but it passed in an instant, and soon they forgot it.
Ren stepped out and looked up. His eyes watered as he smile and said, “The sky is back.”
[stroy continues on post 54]
Last edited:
Beale Knight
First Post
03-04 Back to the wild
03 04
The others came out and gazed up at the sky with Ren. The flash from the departing najef had been so powerful, it took a moment for any of them to notice how the sky had suddenly changed.
“The sun’s up,” Aneirin said.
Madge blinked. “You’re right.” She furrowed her brow as she glanced over to the sun and then down to the shadows it cast. “It can’t be more than three hours past noon.”
Ren shivered. “Praise to every single god out and above that we’re out of that place.” He paused. “We ARE out aren’t we?” Without waiting for an answer he sprinted to the main gate, shoved the locking bar to one side, and gingerly pulled. The gates swung open as if they’d been oiled yesterday. Beyond was the forest they stood in the day before. From close by was the bleating of a goat. “Jimmy!” Ren shouted. He ran out of the courtyard and found the group’s goat and wagon, both where they’d been secured the night before.
From the debris field came a different noise. The high-pitched crying of baby. When the others walked to the ruins of the pyre where Lady Hilltopple had been wrongly burned to death, they saw him. An infant halfling, no larger than a two month old kitten and with almost as much hair.
“She wasn’t lying,” Bessie whispered as she bent to pick the child up.
Killian smiled. “Of course not. If she hadn’t been with child she would have been so wronged to return.”
From the second courtyard there were happy shouts. “You did it! You really did it! The curse is lifted! Happy day! You - - - -“ Armis came to an abrupt halt as he saw Bessie, Madge, and Killian gathered together. They turned to face him, and his eyes fell on the bundle in the druid’s arms. “What - - “
“Armis,” Bessie said, “meet your brother.” She handed him over to Armis, who carefully cradled his brother in his arms.
“My brother,” he whispered. He turned and slowly began to walk back to his house, followed by Bessie, Madge, and Killian.
Aneirin stepped outside to join Ren. “You’re not going with them?”
Ren collapsed onto the dirt with a happy smile. “No, those three can handle this. I want to just enjoy being where I’m supposed to be – in the real world.”
Aneirin crossed his arms and stared into the distance. “The real world,” he said. “But not *my* real world.”
Ren propped himself on his arms. His face and voice full of sympathy, he said, “I’m sorry, Aneirin. You got taken on a ride that you didn’t want, and ended up where you can’t go back.”
The warrior from the past didn’t say anything for a long minute. Then he pointed south. “Is the thin valley still there?”
“Yes, most of a day’s walk,” Ren said.
“I’m not going to walk,” Aneirin said. He whistled a pattern of notes and turned to the hunter. “I’ll be back.”
Ren nodded. “I hear you. Go. We can wait.”
Avarshan trotted up beside her rider and Aneirin climbed on. He patted his mount and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Let’s ride.” And then they were off, sending a spray of dirt and grass behind them.
“HE LEFT?!” Killian shouted.
“He’ll be back,” Ren said.
“We’ve got to get moving.”
“We still have to load up the cart. He’ll be back before we’re ready to actually go.”
“But…”
Bessie put a hand on his shoulder. “We can wait. He just needs to clear his head.”
“And come to terms with the stark truth of his situation,” Madge said. “Everything he knew is antiquated and everyone he knew is dead. He’s an orphan in the worst way. We can spare him the time to settle this within his soul.”
“If he’s not back by the time we’re ready to go, we’ll go looking,” Ren said. “Or I can go now and you all can load the cart.”
“You’re not getting out of that task,” Bessie said with a grin.
Aneirin returned just as the last of the new supplies was being tied down. “Where do you go from here?”
“North,” Ren replied. “We have a mission that takes us to the dwarves of the mountains. After that, we’re not sure.”
“You’re welcome to come with us,” Bessie said.
“Thank you,” the warrior said. “I will. The time will help me get used to the fact of my circumstances, and I surely do not care to return alone to a strange home.”
With that, the four Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake, became five Heroes of Maissen. Soon they were on their way, leaving Armis with his infant half-brother. They freed the elleefant, and the big beast stayed close to them for a while before wandering his own way. The rest of the day wore on peacefully, and by the time they settled for the night they were able to confirm one important fact.
The night sky had barely changed. Whatever magic made the days pass slower in Hilltopple house had not affected them. They had spent no more than most of a day there. They were still ten days outside Maissen.
The eleventh day of their adventure was refreshingly uneventful. Their journey had brought them into ancient, virgin forest, heavy with low fog and rabbits that watched their every step, but no adversaries. The next day the fog grew thicker, as did the rabbits. It seemed a legion of the animals was keeping track of the Heroes progress through the forest. The conditions were odd, but hardly worrisome.
Then they came to what may have been the tallest, oldest tree in the forest. It stood in the midst of a wide clearing, which is what led Ren to notice the what was strange about it. He’d looked up to the sky exposed by the clearing, happy to see it was properly blue and clear, and noticed the top of the tree.
It was unnaturally flat, as if a giant knife had cleanly sliced off the top quarter. That was strange enough, but Ren’s hunter’s eyes noticed a gleam of metal up there. It was a speartip! And it was moving back and forth.
“Someone’s marching guard duty,” he muttered to himself.
“What was that?” Madge asked.
Ren turned to her and, in a voice just loud enough for the others to hear, said, “We’ve come upon a civilization.”
[Tale continues on Post 57]
03 04
The others came out and gazed up at the sky with Ren. The flash from the departing najef had been so powerful, it took a moment for any of them to notice how the sky had suddenly changed.
“The sun’s up,” Aneirin said.
Madge blinked. “You’re right.” She furrowed her brow as she glanced over to the sun and then down to the shadows it cast. “It can’t be more than three hours past noon.”
Ren shivered. “Praise to every single god out and above that we’re out of that place.” He paused. “We ARE out aren’t we?” Without waiting for an answer he sprinted to the main gate, shoved the locking bar to one side, and gingerly pulled. The gates swung open as if they’d been oiled yesterday. Beyond was the forest they stood in the day before. From close by was the bleating of a goat. “Jimmy!” Ren shouted. He ran out of the courtyard and found the group’s goat and wagon, both where they’d been secured the night before.
From the debris field came a different noise. The high-pitched crying of baby. When the others walked to the ruins of the pyre where Lady Hilltopple had been wrongly burned to death, they saw him. An infant halfling, no larger than a two month old kitten and with almost as much hair.
“She wasn’t lying,” Bessie whispered as she bent to pick the child up.
Killian smiled. “Of course not. If she hadn’t been with child she would have been so wronged to return.”
From the second courtyard there were happy shouts. “You did it! You really did it! The curse is lifted! Happy day! You - - - -“ Armis came to an abrupt halt as he saw Bessie, Madge, and Killian gathered together. They turned to face him, and his eyes fell on the bundle in the druid’s arms. “What - - “
“Armis,” Bessie said, “meet your brother.” She handed him over to Armis, who carefully cradled his brother in his arms.
“My brother,” he whispered. He turned and slowly began to walk back to his house, followed by Bessie, Madge, and Killian.
Aneirin stepped outside to join Ren. “You’re not going with them?”
Ren collapsed onto the dirt with a happy smile. “No, those three can handle this. I want to just enjoy being where I’m supposed to be – in the real world.”
Aneirin crossed his arms and stared into the distance. “The real world,” he said. “But not *my* real world.”
Ren propped himself on his arms. His face and voice full of sympathy, he said, “I’m sorry, Aneirin. You got taken on a ride that you didn’t want, and ended up where you can’t go back.”
The warrior from the past didn’t say anything for a long minute. Then he pointed south. “Is the thin valley still there?”
“Yes, most of a day’s walk,” Ren said.
“I’m not going to walk,” Aneirin said. He whistled a pattern of notes and turned to the hunter. “I’ll be back.”
Ren nodded. “I hear you. Go. We can wait.”
Avarshan trotted up beside her rider and Aneirin climbed on. He patted his mount and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Let’s ride.” And then they were off, sending a spray of dirt and grass behind them.
“HE LEFT?!” Killian shouted.
“He’ll be back,” Ren said.
“We’ve got to get moving.”
“We still have to load up the cart. He’ll be back before we’re ready to actually go.”
“But…”
Bessie put a hand on his shoulder. “We can wait. He just needs to clear his head.”
“And come to terms with the stark truth of his situation,” Madge said. “Everything he knew is antiquated and everyone he knew is dead. He’s an orphan in the worst way. We can spare him the time to settle this within his soul.”
“If he’s not back by the time we’re ready to go, we’ll go looking,” Ren said. “Or I can go now and you all can load the cart.”
“You’re not getting out of that task,” Bessie said with a grin.
Aneirin returned just as the last of the new supplies was being tied down. “Where do you go from here?”
“North,” Ren replied. “We have a mission that takes us to the dwarves of the mountains. After that, we’re not sure.”
“You’re welcome to come with us,” Bessie said.
“Thank you,” the warrior said. “I will. The time will help me get used to the fact of my circumstances, and I surely do not care to return alone to a strange home.”
With that, the four Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake, became five Heroes of Maissen. Soon they were on their way, leaving Armis with his infant half-brother. They freed the elleefant, and the big beast stayed close to them for a while before wandering his own way. The rest of the day wore on peacefully, and by the time they settled for the night they were able to confirm one important fact.
The night sky had barely changed. Whatever magic made the days pass slower in Hilltopple house had not affected them. They had spent no more than most of a day there. They were still ten days outside Maissen.
The eleventh day of their adventure was refreshingly uneventful. Their journey had brought them into ancient, virgin forest, heavy with low fog and rabbits that watched their every step, but no adversaries. The next day the fog grew thicker, as did the rabbits. It seemed a legion of the animals was keeping track of the Heroes progress through the forest. The conditions were odd, but hardly worrisome.
Then they came to what may have been the tallest, oldest tree in the forest. It stood in the midst of a wide clearing, which is what led Ren to notice the what was strange about it. He’d looked up to the sky exposed by the clearing, happy to see it was properly blue and clear, and noticed the top of the tree.
It was unnaturally flat, as if a giant knife had cleanly sliced off the top quarter. That was strange enough, but Ren’s hunter’s eyes noticed a gleam of metal up there. It was a speartip! And it was moving back and forth.
“Someone’s marching guard duty,” he muttered to himself.
“What was that?” Madge asked.
Ren turned to her and, in a voice just loud enough for the others to hear, said, “We’ve come upon a civilization.”
[Tale continues on Post 57]
Last edited:
Beale Knight
First Post
Greylock said:
Well sure we know that NOW!
Beale Knight
First Post
03-05 Talks with Gnomes
“A civilization?” Aneirin asked
Ren pointed at the spear tip, still moving back and forth along the top of the truncated tree. Everyone stopped and took a long look.
“Who do you think?” Bessie asked.
Ren shook his head. “One way to find out,” he said as he started walking closer to the clearing. He’d just taken one step out of the cover of the last trees when the spear tip stopped moving. A head popped up over the edge of the tall tree’s top and stared for a moment. Ren stared back. This was no human head – it was close, just smaller in size. At the same time it was far bigger than Armis’. So it was no human and no halfling. That left one option.
“Dwarves,” Ren said to the others.
The dwarf standing guard shook his spear at Ren. “Further yugo, leaf” he said. Then he paused and shook his head. “Leafs you father knot can.” Ren looked back at the others in his party and then back at the dwarf in the tree.
“What?” he called, spreading his arms to show his confusion.
The dwarf frowned. “Leaf knot farther go yew,” he said after a moment.
First Killian then the other stepped up beside Ren. The dwarf started to looked worried and he shook his spear again. “Father knot yugo leaf, father knot yugo leaf!”
“Does he want us to tie up his father with leaves?” Bessie asked.
“Are y’ sure that’s even a dwarf?” Killian said.
Madge shook her head. “No, but it’s too small for a man and too big for a halfling.”
“Well this is stupid,” Ren said. “He’s not trying to kill us outright, and we’ll lose our voices shouting back and forth. We’ve got to let him know we don’t mean any harm.”
He sat down and spread his hands open. The others looked back and forth between themselves and followed suit.
This seemed to greatly confuse the dwarf. He blinked at the sight of the five humans sitting on the ground before his guard post, then disappeared under the fortifications. After a few moments he returned with another guard. The entire round of various versions of “leaf knot father yugo,” repeated itself, with the Maisseners simply remaining seated.
Finally both heads disappeared and the clearing went quiet. “How long should we wait?” Bessie asked.
“They’ve gone to get a superior,” Aneirin said.
The warrior’s observation soon proved true. After some ten minutes of waiting, the Maisseners saw a short form walking calmly toward them out of the fog. Only about four feet high, he had the wise face of an elder and the grace of a confident leader. Behind his kind smile was an aura of power that far outclassed the assembled Heroes he approached.
“Good day,” he said in perfect Maissen. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Balfour, leader of the gnomes of this forest.”
“I told you they were n’ dwarves,” Killian said.
Balfour smiled wider. “Indeed we are not.” He looked over the humans before him. “You are plainly Maisseners. I would know your business in this forest.”
The Maisseners looked at each other, silently voting on how much to tell this stranger. It only took a few hearbeats to decide that deception would simply not work.
“We are making our way to the dwarves; our council’s given us something to deliver to them,” Ren said. “It took us directly through these woods. We meant no harm, and have killed no more than we’ve needed.”
“Ah, to the dwarves,” Balfour said with a nod. “Has the time come around again for one of the Hero Quests?”
Madge cocked a scarred eyebrow at him. “You know of these?”
“Oh yes,” the gnome said with a chuckle. “Every few cycles we see teams of Maisseners passing through our area. Usually they don’t make it this deep into the forest, but sometimes…..” he spread his hands.
“We have a message for you,” Bessie said.
“For myself?” Balfour asked.
The druid shook her head. “Well, no. We were charged with delivering a message to any gnomes we might come across – though they honestly didn’t seem to think we would come across any.”
Balfour nodded. “We do keep ourselves - - shall we say, inconspicuous.” He smiled. “Well then. If you have a message for the gnomes, you should come to the gnomes to give it.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful of rings. Selecting five and replacing the others, Balfour said, “You understand we must keep our home and the way to it secret.” The Maisseners nodded and the gnome continued. “These will fog your mind just enough to make remembering the way from here to our home impossible.”
“Is that all they do?” Madge asked.
“You have my word,” Balfour said as he extended his hand. One by one the Maisseners took the rings and put them on. “Now, follow me.” The gnome led them deeper into the woods, and to the Maisseners it seemed they were walking through a dream fog and forest at the same time. Before they knew it they came to another clearing, one crowded with gnomes.
The gnome village was a wonder, constructed out of felled trees in perfect position and with homes carved inside. The homes were splayed out in a wheel pattern with a common area at the hub. At the fire there, Balfour introduced the Maisseners to three gnomes that also spoke their language, a wizard, a druid, and a warrior. They bid the humans welcome and invited them to sit. Drink and fruit were brought to the group as more and more gnomes gathered around the fringes of the common area.
“Now then,” Balfour said. “What is this message?”
Bessie cleared her throat. “Kerros, a member of the ruling council, has extended the invitation to any gnome to come and live in the safety of Maissen,” she announced.
Balfour and other gnomes that knew the language chuckled. The wizard among them translated for the rest of the gnomes, and they all began to chuckle and laugh gently.
“Kerros made us that very same offer thirty years ago,” Balfour explained. “It’s a kind thing that he offers, but we gnomes are not so in need of the safety of Maissen as he supposes.”
“Thirty years ago?” Ren exclaimed. “They never spoke of gnomes – ever, until we were in that room with the council, and now we find out they’ve known about you for thirty years!”
Balfour frowned. “I’m afraid there’s probably a great deal more your rulers haven’t told the general population.” He hesitated, then nodded and continued. “Let me make clear first the Kerros is an honorable man. Do not doubt that. But sometimes honorable men ruling over a people keep secrets to keep peace, and keep the face they need to rule.” He let that sink in before continuing. “You have been taught what happened to the halflings?”
Except for Aneirin, the Maisseners nodded. “They’re all dead, eaten by Idien.” Ren said.
“They are all dead,” Balfour said, “so far as we know. But they were not all eaten by Idien. Indeed a great many were slaughtered by Maissen.”
Bessie covered her mouth and whispered, “no”; Ren shook his head and frowned; Madge steepled her fingers and brought the tip to her chin; Aneirin scowled at the gnome. Only Killian seemed nonplused at Balfour’s pronouncement.
The gnome continued. “The halfling natives of this land considered themselves friendly to Maissen when your countrymen first arrived on these shores. Friendly, but independent. Though Maissen outlawed wizardly magic, the halflings felt no compulsion to obey what they considered a foreign law. They studied magic freely. When they would not swear fealty to Maissen, the ruling council began to see them as a threat – their magic could be used against Maissen all too easily. With Idien rattling his saber to the south, the council would not abide the threat of the halflings.”
He took a deep breath. “And so they killed everyone of them within their borders. Some are said to have escaped, some are said to have been too far beyond Maissen’s reach, some fled to another doom in the realm of Idien. But within Maissen proper, the pogrom was a complete success. There were no more halflings and there have been none ever since.”
The Maisseners had gone pale at Balfour’s words. “So,” Ren finally said, “generations ago our home engaged in genocide in the name of security?” Balfour nodded and Ren continued. “And it didn’t even work – it didn’t keep war from coming. How many times has Idien struck since?”
“Speaking of that,” Balfour said, “are there rumors in Maissen that he is on the rise again?”
The Maisseners looked at one another, seeking answers in each others’ faces. “No,” Bessie said at last.
Balfour furrowed his brow. “Curious, I thought that might have something to do with your council sending you to the dwarves.”
Killian stood. “I don’ think they’d mind our showing you,” he said as he walked to the goat cart. He returned with the sword case and placed it at Balfour’s feet, then opened it to show him the rune covered weapon.
Balfour leaned forward and took a look. He nodded and said, “Ah – this does clear it up. ‘War is coming. It is time for mutual aid.’”
“That’s what it says?” Ren asked.
Balfour nodded. “Distilled, yes. The dwarves have allied with Maissen before against the Chokta and Idien.”
“And the council feels it’s about to happen again,” Madge said.
“They’re securing an alliance before the fact,” Aneirin added with a nod.
Ren snorted. “And they’re keeping all Maissen in the dark about it. Most of the common folk don’t even believe in dwarves, and now we learn that our ‘leaders’ have allied and fought with them in the past, and have plans of calling each other to do it again?!”
“I told you that leaders keep secrets,” Balfour said.
“Secrets I can understand,” Ren said. “I keep secrets about my hunting, and I know that there’s things that the council has to keep secret – but that’s things like how many soldiers are stationed here and there, what kind of secret weapons we have and where they’re hidden. I can even ‘understand’ why they’d want to keep their slaughter of the halflings a secret – who wants to admit to having a hand in the death of a race? But keeping a whole civilization a secret? A friendly one? Why?” He was starting to turn red, but rolled on. “We were all raised thinking that beyond the borders there’s nothing but hostile chokta, wild monsters, and Idien. You’d think we might all be a little happier knowing that at least there’s some friendly little people out there. Even if they’re far away, just knowing the whole world isn’t set on our destruction would ease our minds, slack that fear fed worry we all live with everyday. All of us that the council doesn’t deem worthy of knowing the truth anyway.” He shook his head and took a deep breath.
Silence hung over the group for several long minutes. At last Madge spoke up. “Reprehensible as these revelations are, I would still rather Maissen not fall to Idien. Balfour, can you tell us what we can expect between here and Ghost Dragon Mountain?”
The gnome nodded. “We will lead you near the edge of the forest as we led you here. From there you’ll wish to go north-northwest. Once beyond our forest you’ll enter a wide plain. Within two days you’ll reach the swamp of the farunk. Know that the farunk are a primitive people and proud hunters and one of them is a match for two humans.” He glanced at Aneirin and then to Madge. “Well, most humans.” He smiled and continued. “You can avoid the swamp to the east or west, but it will add more than a day either way, and you’ll have a river to negotiate regardless. West of the swamp is the Valley of Drayne, which you may have heard tales of.” When the Maisseners nodded, Balfour resumed, telling them of the forest beyond the swamp, the foot hills, that there might be ogres or giants in that are, and then which paths to take to the dwarves – there were more than one.
“Thank you,” Madge said when he was finished. “This will do much to help us.”
“Excuse me, Balfour,” Ren said. He was a world calmer than when he last spoke. “If you don’t mind sharing more of what you know, could you tell us more of the world beyond Maissen’s borders?”
The gnome nodded. “Indeed. There is much I know, but I can not say I know everything.” He paused to think and then said, “probably what would most interest you would be the existence of another settlement of humans.”
All the Maisseners began to talk at once, expressing amazement and disbelief in various exclamations. When they quieted Balfour continued. “Beyond the desert at the east end of the Seven Peaks Mountains – the chain that Ghost Dragon mountain is a part of, by about two weeks march.” He bent down and, using a stick, sketched out a rough map. “This is our forest, here is the swamp of the farunk, this long chain is the mountains, the dwarves are about here and here, this is desert, and the humans are up – about – here.” He leaned back and sketch some more. “Maissen lies this way. You’ve traveled across the curble valley here, and then up to our forest.”
Bessie pointed to the a spot in the dirt. “So Hilltopple House would be about here then.”
Balfour’s eyes went wide, as did those of the three gnomes nearby that could also understand Bessie. “You know about Hilltopple House?”
Ren shuddered. Madge nodded. “We were there”
“That’s where we met Aneirin,” Bessie said.
Balfour stared at the tall warrior. “You were IN Hilltopple House?”
Aneirin nodded slowly, a scowl on his face. “I was. I was there invited with others of my nation. We were betrayed and captured by servants of Armis, and used as fodder for the demon whose thirst for vengeance shunted the grounds beyond the world.”
At Balfour’s urging, the Maisseners related their experience in Hilltopple House. He listened closely, asked only a few pointed questions, and was very clearly amazed at the tale. When the Maisseners were finished, he shook his head. “I knew Armis. A pathetic little wizard but not really a bad man. Just caught up in circumstances beyond his power to control. I am glad he is at peace and free now.” He paused. “The circumstances make me wonder of his new half-brother,” he said quietly, more to himself than the humans. Then his eyes focused and he asked, “What became of the elder Hilltopple’s spell books, do you know?”
Killian began to laugh. “As a matter of fact I do. They’re sitting right over there on the cart.”
Madge looked to him. “Those were the two books you carried out as Armis slept!”
The sorcerer looked back to her and smiled. “And that’s not all. I also packed that book we found in the forge, next to the metal man frame.”
“Metal man frame?” Balfour repeated. “Could I see this book please. Could I in fact see all of them.”
There was a tone in his voice the implied this was less a request than a polite command, and Killian didn’t put him off. He went to the cart and returned with all three books. Balfour looked them each over for a few moments. “These are - - very powerful books,” he said. “This one,” holding up the one pulled from the forge, “explains how to create golems of metal. These other two contain some of the most powerful spells a wizard can cast.” He looked Killian and then the others straight in the eye as he continued. “It would not do for these books to fall into the wrong hands. It will not be safe to cart them through the wild countryside.”
“You’d like for us to leave them with you,” Bessie said.
Balfour nodded. “I believe that would be best. Here they will be safe from evil hands.” He held up a hand of his own as Killian started a protest. “I understand that you worked hard in what you did to gain these, and you deserve compensation. On this we can talk.”
“Your hospitality is a fine payment,” Aneirin said. Madge nodded agreement.
“You are welcome to them,” Ren said. “I’m no longer so sure evil hands don’t include Maissen’s own council.”
“Well they’d be against the law there anyway,” Killian said with a sigh. “But they’d be the only ones around.”
Balfour chuckled. At the questioning looks from his guests he said, “You are so sure wizardry is removed from Maissen?”
“It’s outlawed,” Madge said.
The gnome smiled indulgently. “As is thievery I’m sure. Has that law stopped thefts?” He paused. “Nor has the law stopped wizardry. There is in fact a circle of wizards operating in Maissen, and as one of them is the high priest of the southernmost city I expect the Council is fully aware.”
“Southernmost city?” Bessie repeated. “That’s Vaunth-on-the-Lake.”
“Petris,” Ren hissed.
“It can only be,” Madge said. “We will have much to say to him when we return.”
The Maisseners all slumped. The weight of truth was growing heavier. Balfour looked them over with sympathy in his eyes. “Take rest,” he said. “You are welcome and safe here.”
Next – Farunk! POST #60
Coming Soon – Betrayers and the Big Bad Evil Guy
“A civilization?” Aneirin asked
Ren pointed at the spear tip, still moving back and forth along the top of the truncated tree. Everyone stopped and took a long look.
“Who do you think?” Bessie asked.
Ren shook his head. “One way to find out,” he said as he started walking closer to the clearing. He’d just taken one step out of the cover of the last trees when the spear tip stopped moving. A head popped up over the edge of the tall tree’s top and stared for a moment. Ren stared back. This was no human head – it was close, just smaller in size. At the same time it was far bigger than Armis’. So it was no human and no halfling. That left one option.
“Dwarves,” Ren said to the others.
The dwarf standing guard shook his spear at Ren. “Further yugo, leaf” he said. Then he paused and shook his head. “Leafs you father knot can.” Ren looked back at the others in his party and then back at the dwarf in the tree.
“What?” he called, spreading his arms to show his confusion.
The dwarf frowned. “Leaf knot farther go yew,” he said after a moment.
First Killian then the other stepped up beside Ren. The dwarf started to looked worried and he shook his spear again. “Father knot yugo leaf, father knot yugo leaf!”
“Does he want us to tie up his father with leaves?” Bessie asked.
“Are y’ sure that’s even a dwarf?” Killian said.
Madge shook her head. “No, but it’s too small for a man and too big for a halfling.”
“Well this is stupid,” Ren said. “He’s not trying to kill us outright, and we’ll lose our voices shouting back and forth. We’ve got to let him know we don’t mean any harm.”
He sat down and spread his hands open. The others looked back and forth between themselves and followed suit.
This seemed to greatly confuse the dwarf. He blinked at the sight of the five humans sitting on the ground before his guard post, then disappeared under the fortifications. After a few moments he returned with another guard. The entire round of various versions of “leaf knot father yugo,” repeated itself, with the Maisseners simply remaining seated.
Finally both heads disappeared and the clearing went quiet. “How long should we wait?” Bessie asked.
“They’ve gone to get a superior,” Aneirin said.
The warrior’s observation soon proved true. After some ten minutes of waiting, the Maisseners saw a short form walking calmly toward them out of the fog. Only about four feet high, he had the wise face of an elder and the grace of a confident leader. Behind his kind smile was an aura of power that far outclassed the assembled Heroes he approached.
“Good day,” he said in perfect Maissen. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Balfour, leader of the gnomes of this forest.”
“I told you they were n’ dwarves,” Killian said.
Balfour smiled wider. “Indeed we are not.” He looked over the humans before him. “You are plainly Maisseners. I would know your business in this forest.”
The Maisseners looked at each other, silently voting on how much to tell this stranger. It only took a few hearbeats to decide that deception would simply not work.
“We are making our way to the dwarves; our council’s given us something to deliver to them,” Ren said. “It took us directly through these woods. We meant no harm, and have killed no more than we’ve needed.”
“Ah, to the dwarves,” Balfour said with a nod. “Has the time come around again for one of the Hero Quests?”
Madge cocked a scarred eyebrow at him. “You know of these?”
“Oh yes,” the gnome said with a chuckle. “Every few cycles we see teams of Maisseners passing through our area. Usually they don’t make it this deep into the forest, but sometimes…..” he spread his hands.
“We have a message for you,” Bessie said.
“For myself?” Balfour asked.
The druid shook her head. “Well, no. We were charged with delivering a message to any gnomes we might come across – though they honestly didn’t seem to think we would come across any.”
Balfour nodded. “We do keep ourselves - - shall we say, inconspicuous.” He smiled. “Well then. If you have a message for the gnomes, you should come to the gnomes to give it.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful of rings. Selecting five and replacing the others, Balfour said, “You understand we must keep our home and the way to it secret.” The Maisseners nodded and the gnome continued. “These will fog your mind just enough to make remembering the way from here to our home impossible.”
“Is that all they do?” Madge asked.
“You have my word,” Balfour said as he extended his hand. One by one the Maisseners took the rings and put them on. “Now, follow me.” The gnome led them deeper into the woods, and to the Maisseners it seemed they were walking through a dream fog and forest at the same time. Before they knew it they came to another clearing, one crowded with gnomes.
The gnome village was a wonder, constructed out of felled trees in perfect position and with homes carved inside. The homes were splayed out in a wheel pattern with a common area at the hub. At the fire there, Balfour introduced the Maisseners to three gnomes that also spoke their language, a wizard, a druid, and a warrior. They bid the humans welcome and invited them to sit. Drink and fruit were brought to the group as more and more gnomes gathered around the fringes of the common area.
“Now then,” Balfour said. “What is this message?”
Bessie cleared her throat. “Kerros, a member of the ruling council, has extended the invitation to any gnome to come and live in the safety of Maissen,” she announced.
Balfour and other gnomes that knew the language chuckled. The wizard among them translated for the rest of the gnomes, and they all began to chuckle and laugh gently.
“Kerros made us that very same offer thirty years ago,” Balfour explained. “It’s a kind thing that he offers, but we gnomes are not so in need of the safety of Maissen as he supposes.”
“Thirty years ago?” Ren exclaimed. “They never spoke of gnomes – ever, until we were in that room with the council, and now we find out they’ve known about you for thirty years!”
Balfour frowned. “I’m afraid there’s probably a great deal more your rulers haven’t told the general population.” He hesitated, then nodded and continued. “Let me make clear first the Kerros is an honorable man. Do not doubt that. But sometimes honorable men ruling over a people keep secrets to keep peace, and keep the face they need to rule.” He let that sink in before continuing. “You have been taught what happened to the halflings?”
Except for Aneirin, the Maisseners nodded. “They’re all dead, eaten by Idien.” Ren said.
“They are all dead,” Balfour said, “so far as we know. But they were not all eaten by Idien. Indeed a great many were slaughtered by Maissen.”
Bessie covered her mouth and whispered, “no”; Ren shook his head and frowned; Madge steepled her fingers and brought the tip to her chin; Aneirin scowled at the gnome. Only Killian seemed nonplused at Balfour’s pronouncement.
The gnome continued. “The halfling natives of this land considered themselves friendly to Maissen when your countrymen first arrived on these shores. Friendly, but independent. Though Maissen outlawed wizardly magic, the halflings felt no compulsion to obey what they considered a foreign law. They studied magic freely. When they would not swear fealty to Maissen, the ruling council began to see them as a threat – their magic could be used against Maissen all too easily. With Idien rattling his saber to the south, the council would not abide the threat of the halflings.”
He took a deep breath. “And so they killed everyone of them within their borders. Some are said to have escaped, some are said to have been too far beyond Maissen’s reach, some fled to another doom in the realm of Idien. But within Maissen proper, the pogrom was a complete success. There were no more halflings and there have been none ever since.”
The Maisseners had gone pale at Balfour’s words. “So,” Ren finally said, “generations ago our home engaged in genocide in the name of security?” Balfour nodded and Ren continued. “And it didn’t even work – it didn’t keep war from coming. How many times has Idien struck since?”
“Speaking of that,” Balfour said, “are there rumors in Maissen that he is on the rise again?”
The Maisseners looked at one another, seeking answers in each others’ faces. “No,” Bessie said at last.
Balfour furrowed his brow. “Curious, I thought that might have something to do with your council sending you to the dwarves.”
Killian stood. “I don’ think they’d mind our showing you,” he said as he walked to the goat cart. He returned with the sword case and placed it at Balfour’s feet, then opened it to show him the rune covered weapon.
Balfour leaned forward and took a look. He nodded and said, “Ah – this does clear it up. ‘War is coming. It is time for mutual aid.’”
“That’s what it says?” Ren asked.
Balfour nodded. “Distilled, yes. The dwarves have allied with Maissen before against the Chokta and Idien.”
“And the council feels it’s about to happen again,” Madge said.
“They’re securing an alliance before the fact,” Aneirin added with a nod.
Ren snorted. “And they’re keeping all Maissen in the dark about it. Most of the common folk don’t even believe in dwarves, and now we learn that our ‘leaders’ have allied and fought with them in the past, and have plans of calling each other to do it again?!”
“I told you that leaders keep secrets,” Balfour said.
“Secrets I can understand,” Ren said. “I keep secrets about my hunting, and I know that there’s things that the council has to keep secret – but that’s things like how many soldiers are stationed here and there, what kind of secret weapons we have and where they’re hidden. I can even ‘understand’ why they’d want to keep their slaughter of the halflings a secret – who wants to admit to having a hand in the death of a race? But keeping a whole civilization a secret? A friendly one? Why?” He was starting to turn red, but rolled on. “We were all raised thinking that beyond the borders there’s nothing but hostile chokta, wild monsters, and Idien. You’d think we might all be a little happier knowing that at least there’s some friendly little people out there. Even if they’re far away, just knowing the whole world isn’t set on our destruction would ease our minds, slack that fear fed worry we all live with everyday. All of us that the council doesn’t deem worthy of knowing the truth anyway.” He shook his head and took a deep breath.
Silence hung over the group for several long minutes. At last Madge spoke up. “Reprehensible as these revelations are, I would still rather Maissen not fall to Idien. Balfour, can you tell us what we can expect between here and Ghost Dragon Mountain?”
The gnome nodded. “We will lead you near the edge of the forest as we led you here. From there you’ll wish to go north-northwest. Once beyond our forest you’ll enter a wide plain. Within two days you’ll reach the swamp of the farunk. Know that the farunk are a primitive people and proud hunters and one of them is a match for two humans.” He glanced at Aneirin and then to Madge. “Well, most humans.” He smiled and continued. “You can avoid the swamp to the east or west, but it will add more than a day either way, and you’ll have a river to negotiate regardless. West of the swamp is the Valley of Drayne, which you may have heard tales of.” When the Maisseners nodded, Balfour resumed, telling them of the forest beyond the swamp, the foot hills, that there might be ogres or giants in that are, and then which paths to take to the dwarves – there were more than one.
“Thank you,” Madge said when he was finished. “This will do much to help us.”
“Excuse me, Balfour,” Ren said. He was a world calmer than when he last spoke. “If you don’t mind sharing more of what you know, could you tell us more of the world beyond Maissen’s borders?”
The gnome nodded. “Indeed. There is much I know, but I can not say I know everything.” He paused to think and then said, “probably what would most interest you would be the existence of another settlement of humans.”
All the Maisseners began to talk at once, expressing amazement and disbelief in various exclamations. When they quieted Balfour continued. “Beyond the desert at the east end of the Seven Peaks Mountains – the chain that Ghost Dragon mountain is a part of, by about two weeks march.” He bent down and, using a stick, sketched out a rough map. “This is our forest, here is the swamp of the farunk, this long chain is the mountains, the dwarves are about here and here, this is desert, and the humans are up – about – here.” He leaned back and sketch some more. “Maissen lies this way. You’ve traveled across the curble valley here, and then up to our forest.”
Bessie pointed to the a spot in the dirt. “So Hilltopple House would be about here then.”
Balfour’s eyes went wide, as did those of the three gnomes nearby that could also understand Bessie. “You know about Hilltopple House?”
Ren shuddered. Madge nodded. “We were there”
“That’s where we met Aneirin,” Bessie said.
Balfour stared at the tall warrior. “You were IN Hilltopple House?”
Aneirin nodded slowly, a scowl on his face. “I was. I was there invited with others of my nation. We were betrayed and captured by servants of Armis, and used as fodder for the demon whose thirst for vengeance shunted the grounds beyond the world.”
At Balfour’s urging, the Maisseners related their experience in Hilltopple House. He listened closely, asked only a few pointed questions, and was very clearly amazed at the tale. When the Maisseners were finished, he shook his head. “I knew Armis. A pathetic little wizard but not really a bad man. Just caught up in circumstances beyond his power to control. I am glad he is at peace and free now.” He paused. “The circumstances make me wonder of his new half-brother,” he said quietly, more to himself than the humans. Then his eyes focused and he asked, “What became of the elder Hilltopple’s spell books, do you know?”
Killian began to laugh. “As a matter of fact I do. They’re sitting right over there on the cart.”
Madge looked to him. “Those were the two books you carried out as Armis slept!”
The sorcerer looked back to her and smiled. “And that’s not all. I also packed that book we found in the forge, next to the metal man frame.”
“Metal man frame?” Balfour repeated. “Could I see this book please. Could I in fact see all of them.”
There was a tone in his voice the implied this was less a request than a polite command, and Killian didn’t put him off. He went to the cart and returned with all three books. Balfour looked them each over for a few moments. “These are - - very powerful books,” he said. “This one,” holding up the one pulled from the forge, “explains how to create golems of metal. These other two contain some of the most powerful spells a wizard can cast.” He looked Killian and then the others straight in the eye as he continued. “It would not do for these books to fall into the wrong hands. It will not be safe to cart them through the wild countryside.”
“You’d like for us to leave them with you,” Bessie said.
Balfour nodded. “I believe that would be best. Here they will be safe from evil hands.” He held up a hand of his own as Killian started a protest. “I understand that you worked hard in what you did to gain these, and you deserve compensation. On this we can talk.”
“Your hospitality is a fine payment,” Aneirin said. Madge nodded agreement.
“You are welcome to them,” Ren said. “I’m no longer so sure evil hands don’t include Maissen’s own council.”
“Well they’d be against the law there anyway,” Killian said with a sigh. “But they’d be the only ones around.”
Balfour chuckled. At the questioning looks from his guests he said, “You are so sure wizardry is removed from Maissen?”
“It’s outlawed,” Madge said.
The gnome smiled indulgently. “As is thievery I’m sure. Has that law stopped thefts?” He paused. “Nor has the law stopped wizardry. There is in fact a circle of wizards operating in Maissen, and as one of them is the high priest of the southernmost city I expect the Council is fully aware.”
“Southernmost city?” Bessie repeated. “That’s Vaunth-on-the-Lake.”
“Petris,” Ren hissed.
“It can only be,” Madge said. “We will have much to say to him when we return.”
The Maisseners all slumped. The weight of truth was growing heavier. Balfour looked them over with sympathy in his eyes. “Take rest,” he said. “You are welcome and safe here.”
Next – Farunk! POST #60
Coming Soon – Betrayers and the Big Bad Evil Guy
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Beale Knight
First Post
04-01 The Swamp and the Farunk
The night in the gnome village was the most relaxing for the Heroes since they’d left Castle Maissen. Well fed and without the worry of a night attack, they all slept as if stones. Morning came all too early but brought with it another fine meal by the gnomes. The breakfast conversation brought no more uncomfortable revelations about Maissen. Balfour seemed to purposefully keep the topics smaller and more personal; he spoke at length about his huge collection of moths and butterflies.
When at last the Heroes began to consider their next move, they decided that delivering the sword to the dwarves was the highest priority. If war was coming, the more advance the notice of it the better. That decided, the next thing was the direction to take.
“Through the swamp would be fastest,” Madge said.
Ren nodded. “Won’t be able to take Jimmy and the cart through that place, no way.”
Bessie turned to Balfour, “Could we impose on you to take charge of our goat and cart until we return?”
The gnome smiled and nodded. “It will be our pleasure. But I would reiterate – do not take the farunk lightly. They know their swamp and they know how to hunt.”
Duly warned, the Heroes once again put on the magic rings that clouded their minds and were then led by the gnomes to the edge of the forest. Balfour wished them the best of luck, and then he and his warren kin retreated into the woods.
“So then,” Killian said. “Here we are at the edge of another blasted open plain.”
“Better for the riding,” Aneirin said.
“’sides,” Ren added, “it isn’t near as wide and open and that first one. Look, if you squint your eyes just right you can see a smudge on the horizons. That’s got to be our first glimpse at the Ghost Dragon Mountains.”
The sorcerer shielded his eyes with the flat of his hand and squinted. “Ah! Who kin’ tell from here?”
“Well then let’s stop looking and get closer,” Madge said. Without waiting for the others she started making her way north.
The blur of mountains slowly grew more distinct as the Heroes hiked north. Soon a closer smudge came into view. Lower and darker than mountains, it grew until it stretched fully across the horizon. By then the smell had reached the Heroes. They were upon the swamp. There was no discussion about going in or around, just a reshuffling of their order. Ren made his way a few score feet in front of the others, Aneirin mounted Avarshan and kept close to Killian and Bessie, and Madge stuck to the rear, keeping a watch behind them.
The swamp was thick with trees and the sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves cast strange shadows, distorting shapes and throwing off any estimations of distance. The sounds of frogs and birds and other swamp life echoed strangely, as did the sounds of the Heroes own steps through the water. However, these soon grew into a symphony of sounds, not quite predictable, but close enough that Ren, Bessie, and Madge all noticed when something about it changed.
“Something’s here,” Bessie said.
“We’re in a swamp,” Killian said, “There’s lots a’ things here.”
“”No. New things,” Ren said as he nocked an arrow. “And a bunch”
“Farunk?” Aneiren asked as he drew his bastard sword.
Madge shook her head. “Too small. Hold still; they may move on.”
A silence fell as Madge said that. Thick and heavy, it lasted only a moment. Then came the chittering and light splashes. First ahead of them, then on both sides and behind. Ren turned to the closest source and saw a rat, a rat the size of a small dog, twenty feet from him. He let loose his arrow, nicking the giant vermin across his side. “Rats,” Ren said as his target skittered to him. “Big rats.”
“See them,” Madge said as she shot one. Like Ren’s, hers only nicked the creature.
They were coming from all sides, and there were no less than a dozen, perhaps more. With his spear, Ren jabbed at a giant rat that was closing on him. He missed and the rat launched himself at the hunter, sinking his teeth deep into his calf. Ren made a desperate jab at the thing, nicking its side and driving it off of him. His vision blurred for a moment and he felt his stomach turn. “Posion,” he muttered as Aneirin stepped up and cut the rat in half.
Across the way, Ren saw a flash of fire spring from Killian’s outstretched fingers and incinerate a rat. However, the sorcerer didn’t see the rat move in from behind him. Ren cried out a warning too late, the rat bit Killian moments before Bessie came up and drove it off with her scimitar. Killian was soon looking as green as Ren felt.
Madge drove two away, injuring them with her sword but not killing them, before she was bitten as well. The hearty ranger quickly scraped the giant rat off her leg and stabbed it before the poison could do her harm. Ren, Bessie, and Killian made a few more feeble attempts to kill giants rats, but ended up only harming them a bit. Only Aneirin managed to slaughter a fair share of rats.
Ren was about to say how embarrassing this all was when a whistle pierced the swamp. At the sound the rats broke off their attack, scurrying back into the shadows. From ahead of the group, deeper into the swamp, came the rhythmic splashes of someone not bothering to even try and sneak. The group drew close together and readied their weapons. Ren and Killian did their level best to not fall over.
A shadowy form, vaguely human, began to come into focus. As it approached it was soon obvious this was just what Balfour had warned the Heroes of. Shorter than a man but far wider at the shoulder, the creature’s head had an extended snout that featured thick tusks and short, bristled hair. Farunk. The boar men of the swamp. One of them anyway.
What stood out was the farunk’s clothing. From Balfour’s description, Ren had expected primitive dress, loincloths or simple robes. He realized he had done just what the gnome had warned against – he had underestimated the farunk. This one was dressed in an elegant tunic, embroidered with strange but intricate symbols. He wore jewelry on his head, around his neck and waist, and about his tunic.
The farunk’s demeanor suggested no hostility, so none of the Heroes shot at him as he approached. At last the farunk stopped, about twenty yards away. A thick fingered hand reached behind him and pulled forth an hourglass, not elegant, but an hourglass nonetheless. He dramatically placed it on a knoll and looked at the assembled Maisseners.
“One hour,” he croaked, holding up a single finger to emphasize his statement. Then the farunk began to back away, keeping the humans in his sight. After his first few steps there was more splashing from either side of the retreating farunk. In the distant shadows could be seen six or so more of his kind. His insurance had the Heroes chosen to pepper him with arrows. One of those others in particular stood out.
He wore the armor of a redbreast. It had been altered to fit his frame, but there was no doubting the deep crimson color of the leather armor. Nor was there any doubting the farunk’s message.
“Status,” Aneirin said.
“I’m wounded but not overmuch,” Madge said.
Bessie was cradling one arm. “Two bad bites, but the bleedings stopping. I don’t know that I can stand up to much more.”
Killian was taking fast, shallow breaths. “I feel horrible. I think th’ rat poisoned me.” He wheezed. “That an’ I’ve jest about exhausted me magic out.”
“The poison’s got to me to,” Ren said, weaving on his feet. “I got bit a few times too. Not to mentioned how my morale’s sunk pretty deep from getting beat up this bad from a few damn rats.”
“We’re in no shape to take on the farunk then,” Madge said. “From everything Balfour said we’re facing a tribe of hunters in a swamp of unknown size that they doubtlessly know like the back of their furry paws.”
‘Retreat then,” Aneirin said matter-of-factly. “We’ll make our way through the plain. If they follow, they lose the advantage of their home swamp. If they don’t, we have time to rest, heal, and regroup. Let’s go.”
The Heroes made their way out of the swamp with less caution than they’d shown on the way in. As the trees thinned and the ground grew firm the paused long enough to take bearings. ‘That way,” Ren said. “If we head southwest we’ll get a good distance between us and the swamp, and still get kind of closer to a way around.”
It was barely past noon, so the Maisseners were able to get miles and miles from the swamp. As night fell they made a cold camp. Bessie resolved to prepare healing spells for the next day, and she and Killian were given the full night to sleep. Madge, Ren, and Anierin would trade watch shifts.
There were no clouds that night, and though the moon wasn’t quite full it cast a good light. In the openness of the plains, Ren could see quite a ways. He lay low during his watch, rising as high as his knees only when something caught his attention. It was deep in the night when something did. It was a shuffling sound, like a rodent digging a burrow.
Supported on his elbows, but otherwise prone, Ren focused in that direction. For several long minutes nothing moved and all was quiet. Then he heard the sound again, and with it some of the tall grass shook. Ren glanced over at his bow and arrows. They hadn’t moved in the five minutes since he last checked on them. Looking back into the open plain he finally saw what he feared he would see. A rounded shadow about the size of a farunk’s head. It was moving – slowly – toward the camp. Ren smiled. The farunk was approaching Ren's position just like so many game animals had before Ren brought them down.
Without so much as a glance away from the farunk, Ren reached for his bow and an arrow. By feel alone he nocked the arrow loosely. The farunk moved again; he seemed to be on all fours, taking a step, then raising his head to take a look, and then repeating the whole cycle. Ren watched him and took a judgment of the distance with his eyes as he studied the breeze on his skin. When the farunk moved the next time, Ren was ready. He raised himself to his knees, pulled the arrow back, and let it fly all in a single move. In the back of his mind he wished someone had been awake to see the smooth flow of his attack.
The arrow flew to the farunk as if it had eyes and its own will to strike. It struck the farunk somewhere in the upper torso. It didn’t kill, but it convinced. The farunk jumped to his feet and ran. Ren shot another two arrows before the farunk was too far gone.
Ren glanced over at the spellcasters. Bessie and Killian were sound asleep, as were Madge and Aneirin. Ren smiled. Whether the last arrows had hit or not he didn’t know, but they had all done their job. Satisfied, he settled back down to his original position and waited for another attack.
There were no more that night. Dawn came and Bessie and Killian felt worlds better. The druid cast her magic on Ren and the sorcerer, healing their wounds and driving out the last lingering effects of the poison. Within a half hour of rising, the Heroes of Maissen were on the move again. Ren reported the overnight incident with the one farunk, and they all wondered about the redbreast armor that the other was wearing. On the surface it seemed like palatable news. The redbreasts had obviously been into the farunk swamp, and it appeared as if they came out the worse for it.
After a few hours without any sign of farunk pursuit, the Maisseners began to relax a bit. They took turns trying to ride the two horses they acquired from Hilltopple House (Aneirin advised that Avarshan was unlikely to welcome other riders, especially novices). By noon they could hear a low roar from the northwest. Soon they saw how the sky to the west was far darker than the rest of the sky around it.
“Rain up that way,” Aneirin said.
“That’s no ordinary rain,” Bessie said. “Though I didn’t expect we’d reach here quite as soon as we have.”
The warrior raised an eyebrow. Bessie smiled. “From what Popa Thorson and Petris…”
“The illegal wizard posing as a holy man,” Ren interrupted.
Bessie cleared her throat. “What we’re looking at is the permanent storm that marks the Valley of Drayne.”
“Drain?” Aneirin asked.
“Drane,” Madge said.
“Yeah you right, that has to be Drein,” Ren said. He looked north. “And that’s the river that feeds it. Now we just got to figure out how we’re going get ‘cross it.”
Next: Post 64 – MORE Farunk. Plus betrayers and the big bad evil guy.
Later – Even MORE Farunk, and Someone Else’s Civilization.
The night in the gnome village was the most relaxing for the Heroes since they’d left Castle Maissen. Well fed and without the worry of a night attack, they all slept as if stones. Morning came all too early but brought with it another fine meal by the gnomes. The breakfast conversation brought no more uncomfortable revelations about Maissen. Balfour seemed to purposefully keep the topics smaller and more personal; he spoke at length about his huge collection of moths and butterflies.
When at last the Heroes began to consider their next move, they decided that delivering the sword to the dwarves was the highest priority. If war was coming, the more advance the notice of it the better. That decided, the next thing was the direction to take.
“Through the swamp would be fastest,” Madge said.
Ren nodded. “Won’t be able to take Jimmy and the cart through that place, no way.”
Bessie turned to Balfour, “Could we impose on you to take charge of our goat and cart until we return?”
The gnome smiled and nodded. “It will be our pleasure. But I would reiterate – do not take the farunk lightly. They know their swamp and they know how to hunt.”
Duly warned, the Heroes once again put on the magic rings that clouded their minds and were then led by the gnomes to the edge of the forest. Balfour wished them the best of luck, and then he and his warren kin retreated into the woods.
“So then,” Killian said. “Here we are at the edge of another blasted open plain.”
“Better for the riding,” Aneirin said.
“’sides,” Ren added, “it isn’t near as wide and open and that first one. Look, if you squint your eyes just right you can see a smudge on the horizons. That’s got to be our first glimpse at the Ghost Dragon Mountains.”
The sorcerer shielded his eyes with the flat of his hand and squinted. “Ah! Who kin’ tell from here?”
“Well then let’s stop looking and get closer,” Madge said. Without waiting for the others she started making her way north.
The blur of mountains slowly grew more distinct as the Heroes hiked north. Soon a closer smudge came into view. Lower and darker than mountains, it grew until it stretched fully across the horizon. By then the smell had reached the Heroes. They were upon the swamp. There was no discussion about going in or around, just a reshuffling of their order. Ren made his way a few score feet in front of the others, Aneirin mounted Avarshan and kept close to Killian and Bessie, and Madge stuck to the rear, keeping a watch behind them.
The swamp was thick with trees and the sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves cast strange shadows, distorting shapes and throwing off any estimations of distance. The sounds of frogs and birds and other swamp life echoed strangely, as did the sounds of the Heroes own steps through the water. However, these soon grew into a symphony of sounds, not quite predictable, but close enough that Ren, Bessie, and Madge all noticed when something about it changed.
“Something’s here,” Bessie said.
“We’re in a swamp,” Killian said, “There’s lots a’ things here.”
“”No. New things,” Ren said as he nocked an arrow. “And a bunch”
“Farunk?” Aneiren asked as he drew his bastard sword.
Madge shook her head. “Too small. Hold still; they may move on.”
A silence fell as Madge said that. Thick and heavy, it lasted only a moment. Then came the chittering and light splashes. First ahead of them, then on both sides and behind. Ren turned to the closest source and saw a rat, a rat the size of a small dog, twenty feet from him. He let loose his arrow, nicking the giant vermin across his side. “Rats,” Ren said as his target skittered to him. “Big rats.”
“See them,” Madge said as she shot one. Like Ren’s, hers only nicked the creature.
They were coming from all sides, and there were no less than a dozen, perhaps more. With his spear, Ren jabbed at a giant rat that was closing on him. He missed and the rat launched himself at the hunter, sinking his teeth deep into his calf. Ren made a desperate jab at the thing, nicking its side and driving it off of him. His vision blurred for a moment and he felt his stomach turn. “Posion,” he muttered as Aneirin stepped up and cut the rat in half.
Across the way, Ren saw a flash of fire spring from Killian’s outstretched fingers and incinerate a rat. However, the sorcerer didn’t see the rat move in from behind him. Ren cried out a warning too late, the rat bit Killian moments before Bessie came up and drove it off with her scimitar. Killian was soon looking as green as Ren felt.
Madge drove two away, injuring them with her sword but not killing them, before she was bitten as well. The hearty ranger quickly scraped the giant rat off her leg and stabbed it before the poison could do her harm. Ren, Bessie, and Killian made a few more feeble attempts to kill giants rats, but ended up only harming them a bit. Only Aneirin managed to slaughter a fair share of rats.
Ren was about to say how embarrassing this all was when a whistle pierced the swamp. At the sound the rats broke off their attack, scurrying back into the shadows. From ahead of the group, deeper into the swamp, came the rhythmic splashes of someone not bothering to even try and sneak. The group drew close together and readied their weapons. Ren and Killian did their level best to not fall over.
A shadowy form, vaguely human, began to come into focus. As it approached it was soon obvious this was just what Balfour had warned the Heroes of. Shorter than a man but far wider at the shoulder, the creature’s head had an extended snout that featured thick tusks and short, bristled hair. Farunk. The boar men of the swamp. One of them anyway.
What stood out was the farunk’s clothing. From Balfour’s description, Ren had expected primitive dress, loincloths or simple robes. He realized he had done just what the gnome had warned against – he had underestimated the farunk. This one was dressed in an elegant tunic, embroidered with strange but intricate symbols. He wore jewelry on his head, around his neck and waist, and about his tunic.
The farunk’s demeanor suggested no hostility, so none of the Heroes shot at him as he approached. At last the farunk stopped, about twenty yards away. A thick fingered hand reached behind him and pulled forth an hourglass, not elegant, but an hourglass nonetheless. He dramatically placed it on a knoll and looked at the assembled Maisseners.
“One hour,” he croaked, holding up a single finger to emphasize his statement. Then the farunk began to back away, keeping the humans in his sight. After his first few steps there was more splashing from either side of the retreating farunk. In the distant shadows could be seen six or so more of his kind. His insurance had the Heroes chosen to pepper him with arrows. One of those others in particular stood out.
He wore the armor of a redbreast. It had been altered to fit his frame, but there was no doubting the deep crimson color of the leather armor. Nor was there any doubting the farunk’s message.
“Status,” Aneirin said.
“I’m wounded but not overmuch,” Madge said.
Bessie was cradling one arm. “Two bad bites, but the bleedings stopping. I don’t know that I can stand up to much more.”
Killian was taking fast, shallow breaths. “I feel horrible. I think th’ rat poisoned me.” He wheezed. “That an’ I’ve jest about exhausted me magic out.”
“The poison’s got to me to,” Ren said, weaving on his feet. “I got bit a few times too. Not to mentioned how my morale’s sunk pretty deep from getting beat up this bad from a few damn rats.”
“We’re in no shape to take on the farunk then,” Madge said. “From everything Balfour said we’re facing a tribe of hunters in a swamp of unknown size that they doubtlessly know like the back of their furry paws.”
‘Retreat then,” Aneirin said matter-of-factly. “We’ll make our way through the plain. If they follow, they lose the advantage of their home swamp. If they don’t, we have time to rest, heal, and regroup. Let’s go.”
The Heroes made their way out of the swamp with less caution than they’d shown on the way in. As the trees thinned and the ground grew firm the paused long enough to take bearings. ‘That way,” Ren said. “If we head southwest we’ll get a good distance between us and the swamp, and still get kind of closer to a way around.”
It was barely past noon, so the Maisseners were able to get miles and miles from the swamp. As night fell they made a cold camp. Bessie resolved to prepare healing spells for the next day, and she and Killian were given the full night to sleep. Madge, Ren, and Anierin would trade watch shifts.
There were no clouds that night, and though the moon wasn’t quite full it cast a good light. In the openness of the plains, Ren could see quite a ways. He lay low during his watch, rising as high as his knees only when something caught his attention. It was deep in the night when something did. It was a shuffling sound, like a rodent digging a burrow.
Supported on his elbows, but otherwise prone, Ren focused in that direction. For several long minutes nothing moved and all was quiet. Then he heard the sound again, and with it some of the tall grass shook. Ren glanced over at his bow and arrows. They hadn’t moved in the five minutes since he last checked on them. Looking back into the open plain he finally saw what he feared he would see. A rounded shadow about the size of a farunk’s head. It was moving – slowly – toward the camp. Ren smiled. The farunk was approaching Ren's position just like so many game animals had before Ren brought them down.
Without so much as a glance away from the farunk, Ren reached for his bow and an arrow. By feel alone he nocked the arrow loosely. The farunk moved again; he seemed to be on all fours, taking a step, then raising his head to take a look, and then repeating the whole cycle. Ren watched him and took a judgment of the distance with his eyes as he studied the breeze on his skin. When the farunk moved the next time, Ren was ready. He raised himself to his knees, pulled the arrow back, and let it fly all in a single move. In the back of his mind he wished someone had been awake to see the smooth flow of his attack.
The arrow flew to the farunk as if it had eyes and its own will to strike. It struck the farunk somewhere in the upper torso. It didn’t kill, but it convinced. The farunk jumped to his feet and ran. Ren shot another two arrows before the farunk was too far gone.
Ren glanced over at the spellcasters. Bessie and Killian were sound asleep, as were Madge and Aneirin. Ren smiled. Whether the last arrows had hit or not he didn’t know, but they had all done their job. Satisfied, he settled back down to his original position and waited for another attack.
There were no more that night. Dawn came and Bessie and Killian felt worlds better. The druid cast her magic on Ren and the sorcerer, healing their wounds and driving out the last lingering effects of the poison. Within a half hour of rising, the Heroes of Maissen were on the move again. Ren reported the overnight incident with the one farunk, and they all wondered about the redbreast armor that the other was wearing. On the surface it seemed like palatable news. The redbreasts had obviously been into the farunk swamp, and it appeared as if they came out the worse for it.
After a few hours without any sign of farunk pursuit, the Maisseners began to relax a bit. They took turns trying to ride the two horses they acquired from Hilltopple House (Aneirin advised that Avarshan was unlikely to welcome other riders, especially novices). By noon they could hear a low roar from the northwest. Soon they saw how the sky to the west was far darker than the rest of the sky around it.
“Rain up that way,” Aneirin said.
“That’s no ordinary rain,” Bessie said. “Though I didn’t expect we’d reach here quite as soon as we have.”
The warrior raised an eyebrow. Bessie smiled. “From what Popa Thorson and Petris…”
“The illegal wizard posing as a holy man,” Ren interrupted.
Bessie cleared her throat. “What we’re looking at is the permanent storm that marks the Valley of Drayne.”
“Drain?” Aneirin asked.
“Drane,” Madge said.
“Yeah you right, that has to be Drein,” Ren said. He looked north. “And that’s the river that feeds it. Now we just got to figure out how we’re going get ‘cross it.”
Next: Post 64 – MORE Farunk. Plus betrayers and the big bad evil guy.
Later – Even MORE Farunk, and Someone Else’s Civilization.
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