Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
- Thread starter Beale Knight
- Start date
Beale Knight
First Post
04-02 More Farunk and surprises
“There’s no way we can make it across here!” Madge shouted. The roar of the waterfall into the Valley of Drayne made shouting a necessity. “It’s too wide, too fast, and probably too deep.”
“What about magic?” Ren asked. “Bessie, can your spells do anything to get us across?”
“Nothing,” the druid answered. “Maybe Killian.”
The sorcerer was kneeling at the edge of the waterfall, gazing into the valley below. All four of the others had to shout to get his attention.
“I can see the stones Petris wants,” he said as he trotted over. “We’re definitely in the right place.”
“We’ll have to get them on the way back,” Madge said. “Do you know any spells that can get us across the river here?”
Killian laughed. “Nothing even close.”
“We’ll have to head up-river then,” Madge said “find a point to ford.”
The Heroes headed east, checking the river every hundred yards or so. They found no place that afforded a safe place to even think about crossing, and soon they were getting dangerously close to the swamp. With no other choice, they readied their weapons and headed right for it. They were a good quarter hour into the swamp proper before the river finally became shallow and slow enough to ford. They went one at a time, keeping a careful lookout for farunk every second.
To their relief, they not only crossed the river without incident, they also made their way fully outside the swamp without so much as hearing a suspicious sound. When the swamp was miles behind them, the Heroes stopped to take stock of their position. It wasn’t long after noon, and in the distance they could see the foothills of Ghost Dragon mountain. Madge, Bessie, and Ren held a quick conference and decided it was quite possible to get well into the hills before nightfall, and so they continued north.
The hills didn’t flow smoothly with gentle rises and slopes; they looked as if they had been scooped out of the mud with a ladle and dumped in place. There was little vegetation, a few scrub bushes and some low trees were just about all. Even so, next to the mountains that dominated the landscape, the hills themselves seemed positively crowded. Soon there were signs that people were also crowding in the hills.
“That’s smoke over there,” Ren said as the Heroes topped a hill.
“No, that’s trail dust,” Madge said.
They looked at each other and realized they’d been looking in different directions. Both were right. Off to the northeast was smoke as from a campfire, and to the northwest was a billow of trail dust, suggesting a small troop of people.
“Which to do go toward?” Bessie asked.
“And do we really want to go toward either one?” Aneirin asked. “After our encounter with the farunk, it might be prudent to avoid contact with others unless we can scout them out first.”
“The marchers then,” Killian said. “They’re probably dwarves, and we’ll likely be able to check before getting too close.”
“Dwarves don’t make campfires?” Ren asked.
“They live under the ground, where fresh air is at a premium,” Killian answered. “Even with a quality ventilation it’s stupid to foul up the inside of a tunnels with smoke.”
“How do they cook?” asked Aneirin.
“Coals and briquettes, of course,” the sorcerer answered. “From, um, what I’ve been given to understand.”
“That’s good enough reasoning to me,” Madge said. “We have to pick a way and that’s as good enough reason as any other.”
They all agreed and headed off to what they presumed was a troop of people – hopefully dwarves – on the march. As they crested the next hill though, there was loud, low squeal from behind. Turning, they saw a lone farunk standing atop the hill they’d just left. When he saw them turn, the farunk squealed again, waving his arms from the Heroes to himself.
“Well I am impressed he found us this far from the swamp,” Ren said. “They are some good trackers, yep.”
Aneirin scowled. “He’s taunting us.”
“Let it go,” Madge said. “We have higher priorities than him.”
“Don’t want him coming up on us at night though,” Ren said.
The farunk gave another loud squeal and grunt, then tuned and bent over and slapped his buttocks.
“That’s it!” Aneirin said. “This time he’s not facing wounded men.” With that he spurred Avarshan and galloped to the offending pig-man.
“Devor kin del!” Killian shouted; he ran full speed behind Aneirin.
“Wait! Oh stars damn it,” Madge said.
“So….” Ren started. “Should we go along?”
“No,” Madge said. “He’s being stupid and deserves what he gets.”
“It is only one,” Bessie said. “And you said there was only one last night.”
“I only SAW one,” Ren said. “It doesn’t seem right that a lone pig-man would go after a group. I just can’t see it.”
“We should help then,” Bessie said. “At least be ready to come in as support.”
“You’ll have to hurry,” Madge said. Her arms were crossed, but she nodded in the direction of the farunk.
The pig-man ducked behind the crest of the hill as Aneirin closed on his position. A moment later horse and rider were out of sight on the far side of the hill. Killian continued to speed across the valley between hills, and just as Bessie and Ren were about to follow, Aneirin came riding back over the hill top.
He had three arrows sticking out of his body and was galloping hard for the rest of the party. Aneirin passed Killian, who only took a second to look at the five farunk coming over the hill top before turning around himself.
“Well good. The ambush didn’t kill him,” Madge said. “Let’s get ready to lay one of our own in case they’re just as stupid as he was.” The ranger walked part way down the hill and got readied her bow. Ren and Bessie joined her, Ren dropping prone at the top of the hill to keep an eye on Killian.
There was a chorus of piggish grunts and squeals as Aneirin reached the others. Ren then turned to the party and said, “Never mind, they’re leaving and Killian is just about here.”
“I had to give it a try,” Aneirin said. “And I hurt them.”
“Of course you did,” Madge said with a scowl. “Now let’s see how much hurt they gave you.”
The warrior’s wounds looked worse than they actually were. Within a quarter hour he was patched up, healed with druidic magics, and everyone was on their way again. However, the delay had cost them catching up with the marchers. The dust cloud had dissipated well before they drew close, but they did find something heartening.
“It’s a road,” Bessie said. “A real road. Add some paving and it would be fit for a civilization.”
“No paving stones doesn’t mean it isn’t fit for a civilization,” Killian said.
“Still, it’s not just a track in the wild,” Ren said. “This was laid out and stomped down on purpose, so it’s a good sign.”
Madge knelt by the tracks left by the marchers. “Not a sign of dwarves, though. The foot prints are too large – unless dwarves really aren’t little people.”
Killian looked over her shoulder. “I’d say human for sure from the size.”
“Could they be from that other settlement Balfour told us about?” Ren asked.
“Maybe,” said Madge, “only one way to really find out.”
They followed the path into the mountains proper, noting with some trepidation that it was beginning to get late in the day. In due course the path took a dramatic turn and the Heroes were looking at a stunning vista. The path cut through picturesque mountains on either side, but far ahead was a single tall mountain, dramatically decorated with a huge white cross. Whether crafted by intelligent design or the whim of nature, the cross was certainly the size of a city block, if not larger. The vista demanded attention to the point of distraction. With every step one's eyes naturally turned to the immense cross in the distance.
Suddenly there was a loud SPLASH, followed by Ren letting out a string of curses.
“Are you alright?” Madge asked.
“Yes, stars damn me,” Ren said. “Kept watching the mountain ‘stead of where my feet were going. Should know better, especially when crossing a creek.” He stood and stepped out of the water, onto the far side of a narrow creek the road forded.
“What’s that you stepped in?” Aneirin asked.
Ren bent down, taking a closer look at the wooden contraption his foot had crashed into. He blinked and looked again, then reached and pulled it out. “It’s a fish trap,” he said, turning the thing around in his hands and studying it closely. “Strange though – it’s the same make as what we use in Vaunth-on-the-Lake.”
“Fish traps are fish traps,” Killian said.
“Well that may be true enough,” Ren said, “but it kinda makes you wonder how whoever made THIS fish trap out here so far from Maissn knew the same way we make them there.”
“Interesting,” Madge said, “but it’s getting too dark to put too much thought into that just now.”
The path twisted as mountain paths do, and led the Heroes toward a plateau, sheltered by an overhang, along the side of the closest mountain. On that plateau was a small village of sorts. The buildings were carved out of the rock and had ladders propped up against them – apparently the only ways in were above ground level. Eager to make contact, and find shelter for the rapidly approaching night, the party approached.
There was no way to avoid being seen as they got close to the plateau, the path was fully exposed with cliff to the left and sheer mountainside to the right. As the others waited at the last vestige of shelter, Ren went ahead to scout the situation. When he got within twenty yards of the plateau he got a rude surprise.
A ballista sat atop one of the buildings. From out of another came two farunk. Stepping into view next were several humans. All but one of them in outfits of scarlet.
The redbreasts hadn’t died in the swamp after all.
continues in post 69
Next: Betrayers and the BBEG (I promise this time for sure) and MORE farunk
Soon: Dwarves and a headcold.
“There’s no way we can make it across here!” Madge shouted. The roar of the waterfall into the Valley of Drayne made shouting a necessity. “It’s too wide, too fast, and probably too deep.”
“What about magic?” Ren asked. “Bessie, can your spells do anything to get us across?”
“Nothing,” the druid answered. “Maybe Killian.”
The sorcerer was kneeling at the edge of the waterfall, gazing into the valley below. All four of the others had to shout to get his attention.
“I can see the stones Petris wants,” he said as he trotted over. “We’re definitely in the right place.”
“We’ll have to get them on the way back,” Madge said. “Do you know any spells that can get us across the river here?”
Killian laughed. “Nothing even close.”
“We’ll have to head up-river then,” Madge said “find a point to ford.”
The Heroes headed east, checking the river every hundred yards or so. They found no place that afforded a safe place to even think about crossing, and soon they were getting dangerously close to the swamp. With no other choice, they readied their weapons and headed right for it. They were a good quarter hour into the swamp proper before the river finally became shallow and slow enough to ford. They went one at a time, keeping a careful lookout for farunk every second.
To their relief, they not only crossed the river without incident, they also made their way fully outside the swamp without so much as hearing a suspicious sound. When the swamp was miles behind them, the Heroes stopped to take stock of their position. It wasn’t long after noon, and in the distance they could see the foothills of Ghost Dragon mountain. Madge, Bessie, and Ren held a quick conference and decided it was quite possible to get well into the hills before nightfall, and so they continued north.
The hills didn’t flow smoothly with gentle rises and slopes; they looked as if they had been scooped out of the mud with a ladle and dumped in place. There was little vegetation, a few scrub bushes and some low trees were just about all. Even so, next to the mountains that dominated the landscape, the hills themselves seemed positively crowded. Soon there were signs that people were also crowding in the hills.
“That’s smoke over there,” Ren said as the Heroes topped a hill.
“No, that’s trail dust,” Madge said.
They looked at each other and realized they’d been looking in different directions. Both were right. Off to the northeast was smoke as from a campfire, and to the northwest was a billow of trail dust, suggesting a small troop of people.
“Which to do go toward?” Bessie asked.
“And do we really want to go toward either one?” Aneirin asked. “After our encounter with the farunk, it might be prudent to avoid contact with others unless we can scout them out first.”
“The marchers then,” Killian said. “They’re probably dwarves, and we’ll likely be able to check before getting too close.”
“Dwarves don’t make campfires?” Ren asked.
“They live under the ground, where fresh air is at a premium,” Killian answered. “Even with a quality ventilation it’s stupid to foul up the inside of a tunnels with smoke.”
“How do they cook?” asked Aneirin.
“Coals and briquettes, of course,” the sorcerer answered. “From, um, what I’ve been given to understand.”
“That’s good enough reasoning to me,” Madge said. “We have to pick a way and that’s as good enough reason as any other.”
They all agreed and headed off to what they presumed was a troop of people – hopefully dwarves – on the march. As they crested the next hill though, there was loud, low squeal from behind. Turning, they saw a lone farunk standing atop the hill they’d just left. When he saw them turn, the farunk squealed again, waving his arms from the Heroes to himself.
“Well I am impressed he found us this far from the swamp,” Ren said. “They are some good trackers, yep.”
Aneirin scowled. “He’s taunting us.”
“Let it go,” Madge said. “We have higher priorities than him.”
“Don’t want him coming up on us at night though,” Ren said.
The farunk gave another loud squeal and grunt, then tuned and bent over and slapped his buttocks.
“That’s it!” Aneirin said. “This time he’s not facing wounded men.” With that he spurred Avarshan and galloped to the offending pig-man.
“Devor kin del!” Killian shouted; he ran full speed behind Aneirin.
“Wait! Oh stars damn it,” Madge said.
“So….” Ren started. “Should we go along?”
“No,” Madge said. “He’s being stupid and deserves what he gets.”
“It is only one,” Bessie said. “And you said there was only one last night.”
“I only SAW one,” Ren said. “It doesn’t seem right that a lone pig-man would go after a group. I just can’t see it.”
“We should help then,” Bessie said. “At least be ready to come in as support.”
“You’ll have to hurry,” Madge said. Her arms were crossed, but she nodded in the direction of the farunk.
The pig-man ducked behind the crest of the hill as Aneirin closed on his position. A moment later horse and rider were out of sight on the far side of the hill. Killian continued to speed across the valley between hills, and just as Bessie and Ren were about to follow, Aneirin came riding back over the hill top.
He had three arrows sticking out of his body and was galloping hard for the rest of the party. Aneirin passed Killian, who only took a second to look at the five farunk coming over the hill top before turning around himself.
“Well good. The ambush didn’t kill him,” Madge said. “Let’s get ready to lay one of our own in case they’re just as stupid as he was.” The ranger walked part way down the hill and got readied her bow. Ren and Bessie joined her, Ren dropping prone at the top of the hill to keep an eye on Killian.
There was a chorus of piggish grunts and squeals as Aneirin reached the others. Ren then turned to the party and said, “Never mind, they’re leaving and Killian is just about here.”
“I had to give it a try,” Aneirin said. “And I hurt them.”
“Of course you did,” Madge said with a scowl. “Now let’s see how much hurt they gave you.”
The warrior’s wounds looked worse than they actually were. Within a quarter hour he was patched up, healed with druidic magics, and everyone was on their way again. However, the delay had cost them catching up with the marchers. The dust cloud had dissipated well before they drew close, but they did find something heartening.
“It’s a road,” Bessie said. “A real road. Add some paving and it would be fit for a civilization.”
“No paving stones doesn’t mean it isn’t fit for a civilization,” Killian said.
“Still, it’s not just a track in the wild,” Ren said. “This was laid out and stomped down on purpose, so it’s a good sign.”
Madge knelt by the tracks left by the marchers. “Not a sign of dwarves, though. The foot prints are too large – unless dwarves really aren’t little people.”
Killian looked over her shoulder. “I’d say human for sure from the size.”
“Could they be from that other settlement Balfour told us about?” Ren asked.
“Maybe,” said Madge, “only one way to really find out.”
They followed the path into the mountains proper, noting with some trepidation that it was beginning to get late in the day. In due course the path took a dramatic turn and the Heroes were looking at a stunning vista. The path cut through picturesque mountains on either side, but far ahead was a single tall mountain, dramatically decorated with a huge white cross. Whether crafted by intelligent design or the whim of nature, the cross was certainly the size of a city block, if not larger. The vista demanded attention to the point of distraction. With every step one's eyes naturally turned to the immense cross in the distance.
Suddenly there was a loud SPLASH, followed by Ren letting out a string of curses.
“Are you alright?” Madge asked.
“Yes, stars damn me,” Ren said. “Kept watching the mountain ‘stead of where my feet were going. Should know better, especially when crossing a creek.” He stood and stepped out of the water, onto the far side of a narrow creek the road forded.
“What’s that you stepped in?” Aneirin asked.
Ren bent down, taking a closer look at the wooden contraption his foot had crashed into. He blinked and looked again, then reached and pulled it out. “It’s a fish trap,” he said, turning the thing around in his hands and studying it closely. “Strange though – it’s the same make as what we use in Vaunth-on-the-Lake.”
“Fish traps are fish traps,” Killian said.
“Well that may be true enough,” Ren said, “but it kinda makes you wonder how whoever made THIS fish trap out here so far from Maissn knew the same way we make them there.”
“Interesting,” Madge said, “but it’s getting too dark to put too much thought into that just now.”
The path twisted as mountain paths do, and led the Heroes toward a plateau, sheltered by an overhang, along the side of the closest mountain. On that plateau was a small village of sorts. The buildings were carved out of the rock and had ladders propped up against them – apparently the only ways in were above ground level. Eager to make contact, and find shelter for the rapidly approaching night, the party approached.
There was no way to avoid being seen as they got close to the plateau, the path was fully exposed with cliff to the left and sheer mountainside to the right. As the others waited at the last vestige of shelter, Ren went ahead to scout the situation. When he got within twenty yards of the plateau he got a rude surprise.
A ballista sat atop one of the buildings. From out of another came two farunk. Stepping into view next were several humans. All but one of them in outfits of scarlet.
The redbreasts hadn’t died in the swamp after all.
continues in post 69
Next: Betrayers and the BBEG (I promise this time for sure) and MORE farunk
Soon: Dwarves and a headcold.
Last edited:
Beale Knight
First Post
04-03 Betrayers and Fighting Farunk
One of the redbreasts, a thin man with dried mud still splattered on his leather armor, stepped forward and wagged a finger at Ren. “Oh no you don’t,” he said. “You get on back. This is our fortress; we’re the ones that found it first.”
Ren waved the others from Vaunth-on-the-Lake forward. “Relax,” he said to the redbreast. “Just a little surprised to see you still alive, is all.”
“Huh! We’re doing fine, mate.” He waved his hand to show off the “fortress”. “We’ve got this place, and we’ve got a lot more to. A lot more than you do.”
“What’s so great about all this?” Ren asked, determined to not seem impressed. “A bunch of old stone buildings in the middle of nowhere.”
The redbreast laughed. “Nowhere? Shows what you know. We’re going to win this contest, mate. We’ve got the goods.”
“I see you havin’ two farunk, a ballista, and some crumbly old buildings.”
“See – that’s cause you don’t look at what’s really there. The farunk’ll count as prizes when we get home, and all it cost us was some armor. But that’s just the small beans. We got the greatest prize set up, mate – trading partners. What’ve you got that’s even close?”
Ren decided tipping their hand about they did have was probably not a good idea. Instead he nodded sagely. “Oh well, trading partners, I see now, yeh. Well that for sure beats all our stuff. Yeh you right.”
From behind him, Bessie said, “We’ve done alright for ourselves. We came through the valley alive and well. Despite getting goat dung dropped on us.”
All of the redbreasts except one in red robes began to chortle. “Oh that. Well, c’mon. That was only a spot of fun, y’know?” When none of the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake moved to agree he just shook his head. “Ah well, uptight tarts and all.”
Behind Ren, Madge and Aneirin were whispering. He couldn’t make out all of what they said, but the snatches of it suggested they were weighing whether to start a fight and the best way to do it. The redbreast noticed the whispering as well, and for the first time his eyes fell on Aneirin. “Hey! Who’s that! He’s not a quester! You folk are breaking the rules hooking up with someone that ain’t supposed to be outside Maissen.”
Ren smiled. “Oh he’s supposed to be outside Maissen. He’s got all kinds of permission like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I don’t believe it you cheaters,” the redbreast threw back. “The council’s going to hear about this, they are. You get going out of here.”
Ren looked over his shoulder at Madge and Aneirin. The ranger was looking over from the ballista to the farunk and frowning. The warrior beside her held his chin in the cup of one hand and shook his head slightly.
“Alright, we’re out,” Ren said, spreading his hands. He started backing away, and heard the shuffle of the others doing the same behind him.
At that moment there was a great flash of light between a set of buildings. Smoke billowed out from nowhere and a sickening smell of rotted flesh wafted over the area. Everyone’s eyes turned to the source – a immensely tall and gaunt figure, well over eight feet high with deep, bleeding cuts across his flesh. Wings folded behind his back, and horns from his forehead caught the last fleeting bit of sunlight.
The redbreasts turned and bowed.
Ren, Bessie, Aneirin, Killian, and Madge hastened their departure. They didn’t turn their backs on the redbreasts and their demonic visitor until passing a bend in the trail, but at that point they doubled their pace.
“Consorting with demons, a fine ‘trading partner’ they’ve found,” Killian said.
“That’s something the council’s *really* going to need to hear about,” Bessie added.
“Less talk, more distance,” Ren said. “It’s dark and we really, really need to find us a place to camp down for the night.”
It was a mile or so down the trail where the Heroes found what amounted to a wide spot in the road. With a steep hillside overgrown with grasses on one side and a steep cliff on the other, it was far from ideal, but it would let them stretch out and sleep. There was no fire that night, and watches were doubled up. That turned out to be a wise decision.
Late in the night Ren and Killian were on watch duty when the heard the sounds of people approaching. Light, subtle steps on the trail to the south – not from the redbreasts’ fortress. In the scant moon light Ren made out a handful of short, wide figures coming up the trail.
“Farunk!” he hissed to Killian. The two of them scurried to wake Aneirin, Bessie, and Madge, getting them on their feet as the farunk roared and charged the camp.
The battle was chaos in the dark. Killian launched fire at charging farunk, throwing a little bit of light up for a moment – enough for Aneirin, cursing that he hadn’t time to don armor, to thrust his sword through the boar-man. Light flashed off Bessie scimitar as she cut into another farunk, aided by Madge and her sword. Ren threw one spear and then another at a farunk charging his way. The first just nicked the monster; the second missed completely. Ren backed into the overgrowth and made a desperate slice with his sickle, cutting the farunk enough to throw off his attack slightly; Ren was severely bruised by the farunk’s crude mace instead of having his head smashed open.
Aneirin engaged the largest of the farunk, the one that had lured him into ambush earlier, and the two exchanged blows and blood for a few desperate moments before Aneirin opened the farunk’s gut. He turned and crossed the campsite to run through the farunk that had just bloodied Madge. The ranger finished that one as Anierin took another few steps to down the farunk attacking Ren. A moment later the last of the farunk fell dead, killed by the combined blades of Madge and Bessie, and the fire magic of Killian.
Bessie and Madge took stock of everyone and, despite the blood splayed everywhere, found no one too greatly injured. The druid’s healing magic wasn’t enough to heal anyone’s wounds completely, and went mostly to Ren and Anierin. Still, the battle might have gone much worse. The dead were unceremoniously shoved down the cliff, and the Maisseners got what more sleep they could before dawn.
Continues on post 74 with: Dwarves and a headcold
Soon: Sidetrip and Follow the Poem
One of the redbreasts, a thin man with dried mud still splattered on his leather armor, stepped forward and wagged a finger at Ren. “Oh no you don’t,” he said. “You get on back. This is our fortress; we’re the ones that found it first.”
Ren waved the others from Vaunth-on-the-Lake forward. “Relax,” he said to the redbreast. “Just a little surprised to see you still alive, is all.”
“Huh! We’re doing fine, mate.” He waved his hand to show off the “fortress”. “We’ve got this place, and we’ve got a lot more to. A lot more than you do.”
“What’s so great about all this?” Ren asked, determined to not seem impressed. “A bunch of old stone buildings in the middle of nowhere.”
The redbreast laughed. “Nowhere? Shows what you know. We’re going to win this contest, mate. We’ve got the goods.”
“I see you havin’ two farunk, a ballista, and some crumbly old buildings.”
“See – that’s cause you don’t look at what’s really there. The farunk’ll count as prizes when we get home, and all it cost us was some armor. But that’s just the small beans. We got the greatest prize set up, mate – trading partners. What’ve you got that’s even close?”
Ren decided tipping their hand about they did have was probably not a good idea. Instead he nodded sagely. “Oh well, trading partners, I see now, yeh. Well that for sure beats all our stuff. Yeh you right.”
From behind him, Bessie said, “We’ve done alright for ourselves. We came through the valley alive and well. Despite getting goat dung dropped on us.”
All of the redbreasts except one in red robes began to chortle. “Oh that. Well, c’mon. That was only a spot of fun, y’know?” When none of the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake moved to agree he just shook his head. “Ah well, uptight tarts and all.”
Behind Ren, Madge and Aneirin were whispering. He couldn’t make out all of what they said, but the snatches of it suggested they were weighing whether to start a fight and the best way to do it. The redbreast noticed the whispering as well, and for the first time his eyes fell on Aneirin. “Hey! Who’s that! He’s not a quester! You folk are breaking the rules hooking up with someone that ain’t supposed to be outside Maissen.”
Ren smiled. “Oh he’s supposed to be outside Maissen. He’s got all kinds of permission like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I don’t believe it you cheaters,” the redbreast threw back. “The council’s going to hear about this, they are. You get going out of here.”
Ren looked over his shoulder at Madge and Aneirin. The ranger was looking over from the ballista to the farunk and frowning. The warrior beside her held his chin in the cup of one hand and shook his head slightly.
“Alright, we’re out,” Ren said, spreading his hands. He started backing away, and heard the shuffle of the others doing the same behind him.
At that moment there was a great flash of light between a set of buildings. Smoke billowed out from nowhere and a sickening smell of rotted flesh wafted over the area. Everyone’s eyes turned to the source – a immensely tall and gaunt figure, well over eight feet high with deep, bleeding cuts across his flesh. Wings folded behind his back, and horns from his forehead caught the last fleeting bit of sunlight.
The redbreasts turned and bowed.
Ren, Bessie, Aneirin, Killian, and Madge hastened their departure. They didn’t turn their backs on the redbreasts and their demonic visitor until passing a bend in the trail, but at that point they doubled their pace.
“Consorting with demons, a fine ‘trading partner’ they’ve found,” Killian said.
“That’s something the council’s *really* going to need to hear about,” Bessie added.
“Less talk, more distance,” Ren said. “It’s dark and we really, really need to find us a place to camp down for the night.”
It was a mile or so down the trail where the Heroes found what amounted to a wide spot in the road. With a steep hillside overgrown with grasses on one side and a steep cliff on the other, it was far from ideal, but it would let them stretch out and sleep. There was no fire that night, and watches were doubled up. That turned out to be a wise decision.
Late in the night Ren and Killian were on watch duty when the heard the sounds of people approaching. Light, subtle steps on the trail to the south – not from the redbreasts’ fortress. In the scant moon light Ren made out a handful of short, wide figures coming up the trail.
“Farunk!” he hissed to Killian. The two of them scurried to wake Aneirin, Bessie, and Madge, getting them on their feet as the farunk roared and charged the camp.
The battle was chaos in the dark. Killian launched fire at charging farunk, throwing a little bit of light up for a moment – enough for Aneirin, cursing that he hadn’t time to don armor, to thrust his sword through the boar-man. Light flashed off Bessie scimitar as she cut into another farunk, aided by Madge and her sword. Ren threw one spear and then another at a farunk charging his way. The first just nicked the monster; the second missed completely. Ren backed into the overgrowth and made a desperate slice with his sickle, cutting the farunk enough to throw off his attack slightly; Ren was severely bruised by the farunk’s crude mace instead of having his head smashed open.
Aneirin engaged the largest of the farunk, the one that had lured him into ambush earlier, and the two exchanged blows and blood for a few desperate moments before Aneirin opened the farunk’s gut. He turned and crossed the campsite to run through the farunk that had just bloodied Madge. The ranger finished that one as Anierin took another few steps to down the farunk attacking Ren. A moment later the last of the farunk fell dead, killed by the combined blades of Madge and Bessie, and the fire magic of Killian.
Bessie and Madge took stock of everyone and, despite the blood splayed everywhere, found no one too greatly injured. The druid’s healing magic wasn’t enough to heal anyone’s wounds completely, and went mostly to Ren and Anierin. Still, the battle might have gone much worse. The dead were unceremoniously shoved down the cliff, and the Maisseners got what more sleep they could before dawn.
Continues on post 74 with: Dwarves and a headcold
Soon: Sidetrip and Follow the Poem
Last edited:
Similar Threads
AD6_gamerati_skyscraper
Upcoming Releases
-
April 16 2024 -
May 31 2024 -
June 3 2024 -
June 4 2024 -
June 18 2024 -
July 16 2024 -
September 17 2024 -
October 1 2024 -
November 12 2024 -
February 18 2025
