Beale Knight
First Post
Glad you don't mind the change. I'll be able to get onto twice-weekly updates for a while now.
Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
Beale Knight
First Post
Session 11: Wayden the Gobber, Mawgs, and Balloong the Trollkin
We left the city of wizards elated at our new acquisitions, but still with a slightly bad taste in our mouths. At least they had confirmed what Angri had told us about the trail of stone, so that way we went. We managed to make it back into forest before nightfall, set up our camp and hoped to not be attacked by any giants that night.
It was the dead middle of the night when we were awakened by Barbrack’s screams. We scrambled to our feet and saw sails falling on us from below the tree canopy. Great sheet of white moving with a will of their own. Our natural reaction was to shoot at these things that were swooping down on us. The arrows and bolts we sent into these things had little effect. Scores of them continued to float violently down at us.
By then we had cleared the sleep fog from our heads and realized what these were. Moths. Huge moths, but still moths. The first one, whose wings had been pierced by bolt and arrow, ignored us and flew straight into our campfire. It caught fire, flopped out onto the ground, spreading dangerous sparks with its death throes.
Another moth then did exactly the same thing.
Barback worked at kicking the fire out and the rest of us either put the burnt and dying giant moths out of their misery (Dumb Bear excelled at this), or kept watch at the perimeter in case all this attracted the attention of something that WOULD be inclined to attack us.
No such attack came though. With the fire out the remaining giant moths moved on. We scooted about half a dozen charred corpses off into the woods and went back to sleep.
Day Thirty Seven greeted us with a spectacular sight. When we reached a clearing we saw the fog over the westernmost mountain peak taking the form of wings. It was a grand sight made all the more wondrous by the fact we had seen it before – from the other side.
The first half of the day was simple and peaceful travel south to the mountains. Just about noon the trail opened up to an almost perfectly round clearing. It was about 60’ across and in the exact center was a tall pole. From the top of the pole, about 30’ up, dangled a cord. Our trail led out the far side of this clearing so we took a few minutes to investigate.
Large, nearly giant-sized boot prints were all around the area. The pole and ground around it were riddled with deep scratch marks. The cord itself had been neatly cut. The picture this painted wasn’t pretty, but there was no one or thing around any longer. We carried on.
A few hours further south Dumb Bear heard some whimpering off in the woods, some distance from the trail. We followed the sounds and soon came to edge of another clearing. It was just like we had seen before, except this one had a living creature tied to the end of the pole’s cord.
It was a fascinatingly ugly creature, though to its own kind it might have been the epitome of beauty. It was short as a halfling with skin that looked like blotched, sickly green leather. His fingers were as oddly long as his feet were oddly wide. With narrow, pointed ears that extended far out from his head, a jutted haw, and oversized eyes he looked like a nightmare version of a halfling.
We watched for a few moments as the creature nervously twitched and whimpered and chewed at its fingers. Ren rode around the clearing just to be sure this wasn’t some elaborate trap for unwary travelers – as unlikely as that was. When Sandy crashed loudly through some bushes, the bound creature almost leapt out of its ruddy skin.
Satisfied there was no ambush waiting, we entered the clearing. The creature shouted in fear. When Bessie said hello (thanks to her amulet, we were easily able to talk to the creature) it screamed again. We finally got him to calm down and then slowly learned what he was and why he was here – in between his nervous stammers, fearful glances, lip tremblings, and overall fright.
He was bait for the mawgs, which we eventually learned to be a sort of land piranha. A few of the therrick had tied him here to attract the creatures. They were attracted by fear, which this creature had plenty of. When the mawgs arrived, he was to blow a whistle and try to get out of their way by climbing the pole. The therrick would arrive to slaughter the mawgs. They harvested a gland from these little monsters that made them stronger and tougher. Although to hear him tell it, the therrick were already plenty big and strong, and when enraged they got even bigger and stronger.
For himself, he was a gobber named Wayden, and like all gobbers he was a slave. The last clearing we had seen had been where his brother Reloy had been staked up as bait – but he hadn’t been rescued.
It was altogether horrible, but then we learned more. It seems that Wayden, and his brother, had not been forced to do this. They had been hired. Though slaves, they took on this job as bait in order to get extra luxuries and privileges. If they died, their families received the benefits.
So it wasn’t quite as horrible as we initially thought. This left us with a dilemma. Though he asked us to consider freeing him (“I’m good at cleaning, and digging holes,” he said) Wayden said that if we did that the therrick would probably be very angry and follow us. If we stayed to see the mawgs first hand, our mounts would be in terrible danger – the only way to avoid them is to climb something. If we just left, the little gobber would probably be killed.
We dithered for almost twenty minutes until finally Bessie took action. She rode up, cut Wayden free, put him on the back of her horse, and rode off. That settled it, and so the rest of us followed.
There was no immediate hoard of therrick following us. We made it back to the trail and continued south without hearing so much as a foot fall behind us. The day wore on and we still seemed unpursued. Wayden seemed grateful for the rescue, and not worried about what would happen to his kin. Perhaps he believed the therrick would just assume he’d been ambushed and eaten before there was a chance to blow the whistle.
As the shadows of afternoon began to lengthen, we heard a wail from up on the trail. Listening closer we could discern the wail was made up of several, perhaps scores, of creatures. Wayden knew what it was; he shivered and whimpered as he whispered, “Mawgs.” Amid the mog wails were cries of pain and anger. This we expected to be therrick, so we approached with the greatest of caution.
We rounded a bend and saw a small hoard of what had to be mawgs, catlike creatures with extended claws and mouths that were virtually half of their body. The mawgs were converging on a huge man. He wasn’t human but for his general shape, being as large as an ogre but standing upright and with skin like granite. The weapon he swung at the mawgs was a strange combination of glaive and axe, and he used it with a brilliant precision – far from the clumsy swings of the ogre we’d killed. We initially thought he must be a therrick, but Wayden said otherwise. The gobber gazed at the huge man and whispered, “Trollkin.” And now he wasn’t shivering in fear.
We had no more idea what a trollkin was, or if they compared well or ill to therrick, but one thing was clear. This trollkin was being mawled by the mawgs, and there were more coming. So we did what had grown to come naturally.
We attacked.
Aneirin charged into the closet clot of mawgs. Dumb Bear went into his rage and joined him on foot. Ren and Barback began shooting, Barback targeting those furthest away from anyone (the better to not accidentally hit a comrade), and Bessie cast an entangle spell as the trollkin killed two of the mawgs.
The entangle captured most of the mawgs, but a few near the trollkin and near Aneirin escaped the vines. Unfortunately, both Aneirin, already dismounted, and Dumb Bear were caught as well. The next few minutes were a chaotic series of bow and crossbow shots, escapes, attacks, recaptures of those in the spell range, and mawgs nipping away at anyone they could with even more of them popping up from underground.
Aneirin would break free of entangling vines only to be grabbed again almost at once. Dumb Bear smashed several of the trapped mawgs, Bessie, Barbrack, and Rens’ missile fire took out some that were entangled and some that were not. We mostly concentrated on those closest to our entangled comrades, which prompted the trollkin to shout, “thank you SO much for hitting the ones that are trapped!” Even though he was killing as many as we, he was also getting bitten far more. When Ren moved about and put an arrow in one that was at his feet, the trollkin’s attitude changed a bit (“Give THAT man a Cyggarian gold piece”), but by then the tide had turned. When the trollkin worked his way out of Bessie’s entangle spell he called out, “Fire or Meat!?”
At our question he answered that those were the two way to beat them. He did not, however, wait for us to choose. Instead, he knelt to the edge of the entangling vines and launched fire from his hands. The vines caught, the mawgs burnt, and in an another moment there was nothing to do but make sure those mawgs still on the surface were all the way dead.
With the fight over, we introduced ourselves. The trollkin was named Baloong and these were, as he put it, “his woods”. We stood alongside the forest path talking for several minutes and noticed Baloong's speech and mannerisms belied his bestial giant appearance. He articulately explained that the mawgs were “burrow-mawgs”, prized by the therrick hunters for that gland at the back of the neck. He also warned us to not anger the therrick, as they swell to twice their size when enraged.
Baloong gave us some simple instructions regarding the trail ahead. We’d eventually come to a rock wall and the path would fork. Going west would take us straight to the giants’ City on the Lake. Going east would lead us to the Path of Stone, where we could safely resume our westward travel. We were just about to part ways when he remembered something. Baloong dug through a pouch and flipped Ren a piece of gold almost the size of his palm.
So we offered to share our camp with him. We hadn’t made it yet, but as we had come across a powerful and honorable warrior mage, it seemed advantageous to keep him with us through the night. Polite also.
Baloong took us up on our offer and did it one better by inviting us to stay with him. With the grace and ease of a deer, he led us off the trail and through his woods to a field of stone spires. One of these, thirty feet at its base, he walked up to and put his hands on. With a wink he pushed his way though the rock. Ren jumped off Sandy and followed suit, followed by the rest of the party.
Next: Of the region, around the bend POST 175
We left the city of wizards elated at our new acquisitions, but still with a slightly bad taste in our mouths. At least they had confirmed what Angri had told us about the trail of stone, so that way we went. We managed to make it back into forest before nightfall, set up our camp and hoped to not be attacked by any giants that night.
It was the dead middle of the night when we were awakened by Barbrack’s screams. We scrambled to our feet and saw sails falling on us from below the tree canopy. Great sheet of white moving with a will of their own. Our natural reaction was to shoot at these things that were swooping down on us. The arrows and bolts we sent into these things had little effect. Scores of them continued to float violently down at us.
By then we had cleared the sleep fog from our heads and realized what these were. Moths. Huge moths, but still moths. The first one, whose wings had been pierced by bolt and arrow, ignored us and flew straight into our campfire. It caught fire, flopped out onto the ground, spreading dangerous sparks with its death throes.
Another moth then did exactly the same thing.
Barback worked at kicking the fire out and the rest of us either put the burnt and dying giant moths out of their misery (Dumb Bear excelled at this), or kept watch at the perimeter in case all this attracted the attention of something that WOULD be inclined to attack us.
No such attack came though. With the fire out the remaining giant moths moved on. We scooted about half a dozen charred corpses off into the woods and went back to sleep.
Day Thirty Seven greeted us with a spectacular sight. When we reached a clearing we saw the fog over the westernmost mountain peak taking the form of wings. It was a grand sight made all the more wondrous by the fact we had seen it before – from the other side.
The first half of the day was simple and peaceful travel south to the mountains. Just about noon the trail opened up to an almost perfectly round clearing. It was about 60’ across and in the exact center was a tall pole. From the top of the pole, about 30’ up, dangled a cord. Our trail led out the far side of this clearing so we took a few minutes to investigate.
Large, nearly giant-sized boot prints were all around the area. The pole and ground around it were riddled with deep scratch marks. The cord itself had been neatly cut. The picture this painted wasn’t pretty, but there was no one or thing around any longer. We carried on.
A few hours further south Dumb Bear heard some whimpering off in the woods, some distance from the trail. We followed the sounds and soon came to edge of another clearing. It was just like we had seen before, except this one had a living creature tied to the end of the pole’s cord.
It was a fascinatingly ugly creature, though to its own kind it might have been the epitome of beauty. It was short as a halfling with skin that looked like blotched, sickly green leather. His fingers were as oddly long as his feet were oddly wide. With narrow, pointed ears that extended far out from his head, a jutted haw, and oversized eyes he looked like a nightmare version of a halfling.
We watched for a few moments as the creature nervously twitched and whimpered and chewed at its fingers. Ren rode around the clearing just to be sure this wasn’t some elaborate trap for unwary travelers – as unlikely as that was. When Sandy crashed loudly through some bushes, the bound creature almost leapt out of its ruddy skin.
Satisfied there was no ambush waiting, we entered the clearing. The creature shouted in fear. When Bessie said hello (thanks to her amulet, we were easily able to talk to the creature) it screamed again. We finally got him to calm down and then slowly learned what he was and why he was here – in between his nervous stammers, fearful glances, lip tremblings, and overall fright.
He was bait for the mawgs, which we eventually learned to be a sort of land piranha. A few of the therrick had tied him here to attract the creatures. They were attracted by fear, which this creature had plenty of. When the mawgs arrived, he was to blow a whistle and try to get out of their way by climbing the pole. The therrick would arrive to slaughter the mawgs. They harvested a gland from these little monsters that made them stronger and tougher. Although to hear him tell it, the therrick were already plenty big and strong, and when enraged they got even bigger and stronger.
For himself, he was a gobber named Wayden, and like all gobbers he was a slave. The last clearing we had seen had been where his brother Reloy had been staked up as bait – but he hadn’t been rescued.
It was altogether horrible, but then we learned more. It seems that Wayden, and his brother, had not been forced to do this. They had been hired. Though slaves, they took on this job as bait in order to get extra luxuries and privileges. If they died, their families received the benefits.
So it wasn’t quite as horrible as we initially thought. This left us with a dilemma. Though he asked us to consider freeing him (“I’m good at cleaning, and digging holes,” he said) Wayden said that if we did that the therrick would probably be very angry and follow us. If we stayed to see the mawgs first hand, our mounts would be in terrible danger – the only way to avoid them is to climb something. If we just left, the little gobber would probably be killed.
We dithered for almost twenty minutes until finally Bessie took action. She rode up, cut Wayden free, put him on the back of her horse, and rode off. That settled it, and so the rest of us followed.
There was no immediate hoard of therrick following us. We made it back to the trail and continued south without hearing so much as a foot fall behind us. The day wore on and we still seemed unpursued. Wayden seemed grateful for the rescue, and not worried about what would happen to his kin. Perhaps he believed the therrick would just assume he’d been ambushed and eaten before there was a chance to blow the whistle.
As the shadows of afternoon began to lengthen, we heard a wail from up on the trail. Listening closer we could discern the wail was made up of several, perhaps scores, of creatures. Wayden knew what it was; he shivered and whimpered as he whispered, “Mawgs.” Amid the mog wails were cries of pain and anger. This we expected to be therrick, so we approached with the greatest of caution.
We rounded a bend and saw a small hoard of what had to be mawgs, catlike creatures with extended claws and mouths that were virtually half of their body. The mawgs were converging on a huge man. He wasn’t human but for his general shape, being as large as an ogre but standing upright and with skin like granite. The weapon he swung at the mawgs was a strange combination of glaive and axe, and he used it with a brilliant precision – far from the clumsy swings of the ogre we’d killed. We initially thought he must be a therrick, but Wayden said otherwise. The gobber gazed at the huge man and whispered, “Trollkin.” And now he wasn’t shivering in fear.
We had no more idea what a trollkin was, or if they compared well or ill to therrick, but one thing was clear. This trollkin was being mawled by the mawgs, and there were more coming. So we did what had grown to come naturally.
We attacked.
Aneirin charged into the closet clot of mawgs. Dumb Bear went into his rage and joined him on foot. Ren and Barback began shooting, Barback targeting those furthest away from anyone (the better to not accidentally hit a comrade), and Bessie cast an entangle spell as the trollkin killed two of the mawgs.
The entangle captured most of the mawgs, but a few near the trollkin and near Aneirin escaped the vines. Unfortunately, both Aneirin, already dismounted, and Dumb Bear were caught as well. The next few minutes were a chaotic series of bow and crossbow shots, escapes, attacks, recaptures of those in the spell range, and mawgs nipping away at anyone they could with even more of them popping up from underground.
Aneirin would break free of entangling vines only to be grabbed again almost at once. Dumb Bear smashed several of the trapped mawgs, Bessie, Barbrack, and Rens’ missile fire took out some that were entangled and some that were not. We mostly concentrated on those closest to our entangled comrades, which prompted the trollkin to shout, “thank you SO much for hitting the ones that are trapped!” Even though he was killing as many as we, he was also getting bitten far more. When Ren moved about and put an arrow in one that was at his feet, the trollkin’s attitude changed a bit (“Give THAT man a Cyggarian gold piece”), but by then the tide had turned. When the trollkin worked his way out of Bessie’s entangle spell he called out, “Fire or Meat!?”
At our question he answered that those were the two way to beat them. He did not, however, wait for us to choose. Instead, he knelt to the edge of the entangling vines and launched fire from his hands. The vines caught, the mawgs burnt, and in an another moment there was nothing to do but make sure those mawgs still on the surface were all the way dead.
With the fight over, we introduced ourselves. The trollkin was named Baloong and these were, as he put it, “his woods”. We stood alongside the forest path talking for several minutes and noticed Baloong's speech and mannerisms belied his bestial giant appearance. He articulately explained that the mawgs were “burrow-mawgs”, prized by the therrick hunters for that gland at the back of the neck. He also warned us to not anger the therrick, as they swell to twice their size when enraged.
Baloong gave us some simple instructions regarding the trail ahead. We’d eventually come to a rock wall and the path would fork. Going west would take us straight to the giants’ City on the Lake. Going east would lead us to the Path of Stone, where we could safely resume our westward travel. We were just about to part ways when he remembered something. Baloong dug through a pouch and flipped Ren a piece of gold almost the size of his palm.
So we offered to share our camp with him. We hadn’t made it yet, but as we had come across a powerful and honorable warrior mage, it seemed advantageous to keep him with us through the night. Polite also.
Baloong took us up on our offer and did it one better by inviting us to stay with him. With the grace and ease of a deer, he led us off the trail and through his woods to a field of stone spires. One of these, thirty feet at its base, he walked up to and put his hands on. With a wink he pushed his way though the rock. Ren jumped off Sandy and followed suit, followed by the rest of the party.
Next: Of the region, around the bend POST 175
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Baron Opal
First Post
Interesting cultural development. Makes me wonder what Maissen, et.al., were running from.
Beale Knight
First Post
Session 11 cnt: Of the Region, Around the Bend
Inside was a luxury cabin. Bookshelves lined the walls, a meal was cooking in a large pot, there were chairs and couches and tables scattered around, sleeping furs and blankets were plentiful, and the place was accented with exotic birds in large, fancy cages. It was amazing. Baloong showed a safe place for Barbrack to secure our mounts and then jumped into the role of generous host.
One of the things he mentioned he liked, but could rarely get was beer, and so we pulled out the last of what we’d received from the people of Town and proceeded to talk late into the night.
Baloong was part of an extended family of forest guardians. His task, for the past one hundred thirteen years, was to keep an eye on the giants to the west. They had a massive city on the lake just beyond the edge of the mountains and, being giants, were known to make trouble from time to time. Judging from what we had seen him do with our own eyes, skilled fighting, casting fire, and even healing our wounds once we got into his home, we were sure he and the related trollkin could handle giants (of course except for the ogre, our own eyes hadn’t actually seen any giants).
We learned a little more of the therrick from Baloong. They were shape-shifters, akin to werewolves, and generally savage. Our host also told us that the dwarven gates on this side of the mountain hadn’t been used in ages. Long ago there was a great deal of gold trade between the dwarves and the giants, but no more. Baloong knew the chakta had ventured to this side of the mountain; they’d been in these parts for months now but he didn’t know why.
He warned us about Bran the Ogre, who had been acting independently from the ogres loyal to the giants. Our host also warned us to not shoot the Big Elk, and to avoid the mating grounds of the Rowin. Neither would be hard to distinguish. The former was an unmistakable creature should we be so lucky as to even see it. The latter would be marked by immense piles of dung.
That image largely spoiled any further conversation, and so we all called it a night. The night in Baloong’s secret cabin had been the most pleasant evening and the most restful sleep we had experienced since our time with the gnomes the month before. Baloong apparently felt the same way. Before we left the next day he let us know we were invited to return any time.
Day Thirty Eight began with a fine breakfast and reiteration of directions to the trail of stone: “Go east to head west.” So we did, passing the great oak tree by mid-morning and reaching the tall granite wall about noon. The east bound trail switched back west and that afternoon we were once again on the trail of the stone, high in the mountains and beyond the border of the giant lands.
The day’s travel was largely uneventful but for one brief stop. Not long before we needed to start looking for a good place to camp for the night we came across another set of dwarven ruins. We knew now that these marked a gate into the mountains, and Ren couldn’t resist trying something. He followed the ruins to the nearby gate and knocked, expecting nothing.
He got more than that, but just a little. As soon as he knocked a rivet popped forward and a hole opened. The cloud of dust that this stirred suggested this hadn’t happened in an extremely long time. We could see a dwarf’s face looking out and a brief conversation began.
“Yes?” asked the dwarf.
“We bring peaceful greetings from Maissen.”
“And?”
“That’s all,” Ren said with a smile.
“Okay then,” the dwarf responded. He withdrew and the rivet went back into place.
We all looked at each other and shrugged. There was probably nothing we could learn from the dwarf about this region that Balloong hadn’t already told us, and we had no interest in heading underground. Short of just making this dwarf’s day unnecessarily more complicated there was no reason for us to linger, so we moved on. Whether word of our greetings will make it back to the hill dwarves before we do is an interesting question.
It was only a little later when the trail began to turn southward. South! We had traveled the length of the mountains! The trail here was atop a high cliff and overlooked a huge lake. Water extended westward as far as we could see, but there was no sign of either city or giant. There was a brilliant sunset though, and while this wasn’t even close to an ideal camp site it would have to do. We spent a cautious night without a fire and with every effort to avoid rolling over the cliff. A three hundred foot drop into a lake would be just about the most unpleasant way to wake up there could be.
Sunrise of Day Thirty Nine was gorgeous. There were no mountains to block the view, and the sun’s first rays reflected off the lake in a cascade of red and orange. That we were rounding the far side of the mountains and venturing close to territory we had traveled buoyed all of our spirits. Even Wayden the gobber was less nervous than usual. For his part, Barbrack was pleased to have traveled several days without injury.
Not long after we got moving, we laid eyes on the magnificent city of the giants. The expectedly huge buildings stood on an island constructed of wood far out onto the lake. A series of massive planks led from the city to first one small island and then another and another before reaching dry land. Evil and violent the giants might be, from what we’d been told, but their city was a marvel of engineering.
By this time the trail of stone had begun to slope down. As the day wore on the trail continued to get lower and lower, eventually getting to only twenty feet above the water level. Just before nightfall we reach a three way fork. We could now head south, up into the heights of the mountains, or carry on around. It was late and this was a fine spot to camp, so we chose to sleep on it.
Really though, we’d made our decision days ago. When Day Forty began we took the path that continued around the mountains. It wasn’t long before we noticed the trail had subtly turned fully east.
We were heading east! We had rounded the mountains! What had seemed an insurmountable barrier when we first saw it as a blur on the horizon had been traveled! With a sense of deep satisfaction, we broke to eat and consider our options.
Our initial plan had been to head straight for the hill dwarves once we rounded the mountains. However, now that we stood here we realized how close we must be to the Valley of Drayne. By the combined reckoning of the druid, elf barbarian, and hunter, we determined that by heading south-south-east we should reach the valley somewhere on the far side of where we stood before it weeks earlier. Since we HAD to get to the valley at some point we were going to half to backtrack a little ways regardless of whether we went there or to the dwarves first. So to get the last side task completed, we decided to head for the Valley of Drayne.
Next: Farunk, Ogres, Go Avarashan Go, Dropping into the Valley of Drayne. POST 180
BACKGROUND post 177
MAP post 178
Inside was a luxury cabin. Bookshelves lined the walls, a meal was cooking in a large pot, there were chairs and couches and tables scattered around, sleeping furs and blankets were plentiful, and the place was accented with exotic birds in large, fancy cages. It was amazing. Baloong showed a safe place for Barbrack to secure our mounts and then jumped into the role of generous host.
One of the things he mentioned he liked, but could rarely get was beer, and so we pulled out the last of what we’d received from the people of Town and proceeded to talk late into the night.
Baloong was part of an extended family of forest guardians. His task, for the past one hundred thirteen years, was to keep an eye on the giants to the west. They had a massive city on the lake just beyond the edge of the mountains and, being giants, were known to make trouble from time to time. Judging from what we had seen him do with our own eyes, skilled fighting, casting fire, and even healing our wounds once we got into his home, we were sure he and the related trollkin could handle giants (of course except for the ogre, our own eyes hadn’t actually seen any giants).
We learned a little more of the therrick from Baloong. They were shape-shifters, akin to werewolves, and generally savage. Our host also told us that the dwarven gates on this side of the mountain hadn’t been used in ages. Long ago there was a great deal of gold trade between the dwarves and the giants, but no more. Baloong knew the chakta had ventured to this side of the mountain; they’d been in these parts for months now but he didn’t know why.
He warned us about Bran the Ogre, who had been acting independently from the ogres loyal to the giants. Our host also warned us to not shoot the Big Elk, and to avoid the mating grounds of the Rowin. Neither would be hard to distinguish. The former was an unmistakable creature should we be so lucky as to even see it. The latter would be marked by immense piles of dung.
That image largely spoiled any further conversation, and so we all called it a night. The night in Baloong’s secret cabin had been the most pleasant evening and the most restful sleep we had experienced since our time with the gnomes the month before. Baloong apparently felt the same way. Before we left the next day he let us know we were invited to return any time.
Day Thirty Eight began with a fine breakfast and reiteration of directions to the trail of stone: “Go east to head west.” So we did, passing the great oak tree by mid-morning and reaching the tall granite wall about noon. The east bound trail switched back west and that afternoon we were once again on the trail of the stone, high in the mountains and beyond the border of the giant lands.
The day’s travel was largely uneventful but for one brief stop. Not long before we needed to start looking for a good place to camp for the night we came across another set of dwarven ruins. We knew now that these marked a gate into the mountains, and Ren couldn’t resist trying something. He followed the ruins to the nearby gate and knocked, expecting nothing.
He got more than that, but just a little. As soon as he knocked a rivet popped forward and a hole opened. The cloud of dust that this stirred suggested this hadn’t happened in an extremely long time. We could see a dwarf’s face looking out and a brief conversation began.
“Yes?” asked the dwarf.
“We bring peaceful greetings from Maissen.”
“And?”
“That’s all,” Ren said with a smile.
“Okay then,” the dwarf responded. He withdrew and the rivet went back into place.
We all looked at each other and shrugged. There was probably nothing we could learn from the dwarf about this region that Balloong hadn’t already told us, and we had no interest in heading underground. Short of just making this dwarf’s day unnecessarily more complicated there was no reason for us to linger, so we moved on. Whether word of our greetings will make it back to the hill dwarves before we do is an interesting question.
It was only a little later when the trail began to turn southward. South! We had traveled the length of the mountains! The trail here was atop a high cliff and overlooked a huge lake. Water extended westward as far as we could see, but there was no sign of either city or giant. There was a brilliant sunset though, and while this wasn’t even close to an ideal camp site it would have to do. We spent a cautious night without a fire and with every effort to avoid rolling over the cliff. A three hundred foot drop into a lake would be just about the most unpleasant way to wake up there could be.
Sunrise of Day Thirty Nine was gorgeous. There were no mountains to block the view, and the sun’s first rays reflected off the lake in a cascade of red and orange. That we were rounding the far side of the mountains and venturing close to territory we had traveled buoyed all of our spirits. Even Wayden the gobber was less nervous than usual. For his part, Barbrack was pleased to have traveled several days without injury.
Not long after we got moving, we laid eyes on the magnificent city of the giants. The expectedly huge buildings stood on an island constructed of wood far out onto the lake. A series of massive planks led from the city to first one small island and then another and another before reaching dry land. Evil and violent the giants might be, from what we’d been told, but their city was a marvel of engineering.
By this time the trail of stone had begun to slope down. As the day wore on the trail continued to get lower and lower, eventually getting to only twenty feet above the water level. Just before nightfall we reach a three way fork. We could now head south, up into the heights of the mountains, or carry on around. It was late and this was a fine spot to camp, so we chose to sleep on it.
Really though, we’d made our decision days ago. When Day Forty began we took the path that continued around the mountains. It wasn’t long before we noticed the trail had subtly turned fully east.
We were heading east! We had rounded the mountains! What had seemed an insurmountable barrier when we first saw it as a blur on the horizon had been traveled! With a sense of deep satisfaction, we broke to eat and consider our options.
Our initial plan had been to head straight for the hill dwarves once we rounded the mountains. However, now that we stood here we realized how close we must be to the Valley of Drayne. By the combined reckoning of the druid, elf barbarian, and hunter, we determined that by heading south-south-east we should reach the valley somewhere on the far side of where we stood before it weeks earlier. Since we HAD to get to the valley at some point we were going to half to backtrack a little ways regardless of whether we went there or to the dwarves first. So to get the last side task completed, we decided to head for the Valley of Drayne.
Next: Farunk, Ogres, Go Avarashan Go, Dropping into the Valley of Drayne. POST 180
BACKGROUND post 177
MAP post 178
Last edited:
Baron Opal
First Post
If you ever get the time, a rough map with where the party traveled would be awesome.
Beale Knight
First Post
The Official story
This is the doc we players were given before generating our characters. You may notice how some spellings have obviously changed in the intervening years (at least that's my story to explain the differences in how spellings changed from this doc to the SH you're read, and I'm sticking to it!
) :
On a glorious spring morning 253 years ago the 3 learned sons of Paraskus the merciful set out on a quest to obtain gifts to obtain gifts to impress their father. Idein the mage, Lastel the hunter and Maissen the Moongazer each set forth down the Motherriver with a fast ship and a large and loyal crew. 6 smaller ships sailed in support of the young princes, each laden with the provisions and protections that the princes would need for the journey.
On the 7th week of this journey the vessels and their princely cargos made to the open sea, rounded the western horn and made for lands unknown. They ushered bravely past the last permanent settlement of the great kingdom and set for the southern islands determined to conquer and collect in the name of their father and homeland. Following the wisdom of the ages, they knew to never leave the sight of the shore gulls, for the broad expanse of the waters held terrible horrors that had swallowed every ship that wondered beyond the terns eyes.
All passed well for the princes under the guidance of Felspa and Kalin, the sister moons until the passing of Felspa into darkness in the 2nd quarter of the year. At this point, when the artist Felspa was hidden from men’s sight, they each had a dream. In the dream their father, Paraskus, stood in the mother-river as it turned to blood. His brow was heavy, and as he opened his mouth to speak his teeth fell into his hands as maggots and crawled away. His eyes turned, his flesh swelled and as he fell on the river his hair loosed and spread towards them in a great wind. The princes, startled awake, found their ships captured by this wind, forced in a rage to the open sea. The great wind tossed the waters violently and pushed the ships at unmatched speed thru day and night for nearly a week. Many on the ships claimed visions of terrible, dark lands belonging to the horizons, but none could steer the ships for the lands, or find them on any map.
On the 7th day, as Balcla, younger brother of the moons, rose in the northern sky all of the ships but 1 found themselves in a quiet bay. Setting foot on the new earth the expedition found strange new plants, odd animals never before encountered and eyes peering towards their tenuous foot on the delta.
Founding : Idien is put in charge of the vessels as Maissen and Lastel lead an expeditionary crew. The crew stays to shore for 3 weeks, and finding no evidence of hostility and beast and fruits aplenty decides to set camp on the eastern shore of the delta of the great river of the bay. In that first month, the 3 princes argue greatly over the meaning of their vision and attempt to determine the best course. As Maissen sets the site for an appropriate place of worship, it is decided than an expedition to find home must be mounted.
Two methods are decided upon for the expedition towards home. Tawgor, the brave captain, will set to the sea with a crew to find a water route home, and Lastel will search for an over land route with a smaller crew. Maissen and Idien will remain with the mass of peoples and attempt to explore the local country and contact the natives.
Three months pass while Maissen and Idien erect a camp at the great rivers mouth and attempt to “civilize” the natives. Idien dubs these people “churkey” meaning ‘swamp people’. An uneasy peace is made with these Churkey while Maissen supervises construction of a small fort from the local timber and a tower in honor of the two sister moons.
At the end of 3 months time Lastel returns with only 1 surviving member of his formerly proud hunting band. He tells a tale of a great and evil snake with a demons head that destroyed nearly the entire party, and of a vast desert to the south that swallows men. Tawgor and his crew are never heard from again.
The sixth month passes without word from Tawgor, and hope begins to fade of a quick rescue. Maissen decides that the best course of action is to claim all the land in the name of his father and gather the natives into the fold. Idien argues that they are worthless as people, and should be treated as slaves, and nothing better. The three brothers can only agree on one goal, the founding of Paras, a city celebrating the glory of their father.
As preparations begin for the spring festival, which would mark the one year anniversary of the beginning of their quest the subjects approach the brothers seeking permission to “mix” with the native women. Idien sees this as an abomination, but Maissen convinces Lastel to side with him and it is decided that if no sign of rescue is apparent by the anniversary of their landing, wives can be made of the locals with the understanding that rescue will break all oaths made to the women should the man wish.
F+1: Maissen conscripts many of the locals to help in construction of his tower and begins a church in honor of all the heavenly bodies. Idien and Lastel begin to grow further and further apart over arguments about the best use of men and resources, Lastel favoring all of Maissens plans, and Idien growing more and more jealous of his younger brothers status with both the natives and the fellow castaways.
F+2: Marriages begin between the unwed citizens and the locals, Maissens tower is completed and Lastel begins conscription of the natives into a sound military and expeditionary force.
F+3: Idien comes to Lastel in the night and urges him into the swamp to see a “new beast, never seen before, and the delight of any who hunt”. once deep into the swamp, Idien enchants Lastel, urging him on a westward course. Lastel is never seen again.
When Maissen finds out what Idien has done, he fends off the citizenry’s calls for his immediate execution, opting to banish Idien into the vast waste to south. Seventy citizens choose to follow Idien, believing that his magic is likely to keep them safe and restore them to their home.
F+10: Maissen decrees the “martyrdom of motherhood” and declares that all women who bear 6 or more children will be promised a place in the heavens, to light the steps of their children thru the darkest of nights.
Maissen also declares a religious council will preside over all affairs of law. In an attempt to further draw in the natives, a position will be granted to a representative of any church that is good and seeks to further the causes of the citizenry. The council is named “the shield” and is given say over most of everyday life, pending approval of its head.
F+11: The first meeting of the shield.
F+15: official treaty of cooperation signed between the “uncivilized” churkey and the citizens.
Maissens first son is born, he is blessed in the name of the luminaries and is called Sirus, in honor of the great northern star.
F+18: A plague of locusts come, many claim to have seen Idiens face in the cloud of insects. An official investigation into the cause is started. An elite group of 7 is sent with a militia of natives to find the cause, they head south, searching for Idien and his followers.
F+19: The party of 7 returns, warning of a great city to the south, built of stone and protected by a hideous lizard. They claim to have barely escaped the wrath of it’s residents. They also claim that Idien’s rune was carved large on the city gates. Idien is declared an outlaw, and all travel out of sight of the great river is declared to be by permission only.
F+25: Maissen falls ill. The natives say he has river sickness, and none have ever survived it. Maissen spends every night under the stars, praying to the Kalin, the academic, for a cure, after seven days and nights of constant prayer he recovers. The natives declare it a miracle, and pledge eternal loyalty to “Maissen the undying”.
F+28 The northern nomads, called Shokta by the churkeys swarm down the river. Maissen meets them and issues a wish for peace The shokta warn that the citizens have 1 year to collect tribute enough to appease, or they will fall, the churkeys beg Maissen to give in to their demands. Maissen refuses, issuing instead an order to build fortifications along the river and to the west of the town, which he now dubs “Belsdark” , meaning ‘unfailing’.
F+29: Maissen stands guard over the city’s defenses, and sends forth a contingent of churkey to warn of his might and preparation. The churkey messengers float back to Belsdark with their hands and feet bound and heads removed.
The citizens of Belsdark are each commissioned to stand to the last man should an attack come. When the Shokta arrive, they are riding bison painted in the color of night and calling for the blood of the citizens who they consider invaders. The siege of Belsdark begins.
Maissen calls the shield together and 3 are chosen from it’s rank as champions. Kolor, the war priest, Hestus, the natural mage, and Gurdus the warrior step forward and issue a challenge to the best of the shokta, who vainly accept. Hestus and Kolor boldly strike down their opponents, but Gurdus is killed in the fray In a fit of rage over the defeat of his champions the shokta chieftain hurls his black stone axe at Hestus, who is killed by the blow. Kolor manages to escape to the safety of the ramparts with the axe and Hestus and Kolor are declared the first “heroes of Maissen”. The siege continues for 45 days, and on the rising of the sun in the south the army of the shokta is gone. Maissen declares it a miracle provided by the luminaries, but is soon refuted by a messenger who arrives saying he was sent by Idien. The messenger says that Idien has formed powerful alliances with a desert spirit who was called in to destroy the army and that it is the last act of brotherhood that Maissen can ever expect to see unless Idien is forgiven of all his crimes and placed at his brothers side as a head of the new state. Maissen refuses.
F+35: Maissen dies. Many mourn what they see to be their ultimate doom before Sirus steps forward and claims that the city shall be named Maissen in his honor, and he will now head the shield, for the betterment of all.
F+38: Sirus declares that 2 more cities should be built, and proclaims that a new temple shall be erected in the name of his father. Contingents are chosen and sent forth to the river bend and the north bay to build.
F+40: Sirus declares that the spirit of his father shall be honored by the best and brightest competing for a great prize. Games are held with admission to any who wish. Contests of magic and might dominate and the winners are “rewarded” by being sent forth with the supplies they wish to find home. The winners wish for construction of what will be the largest boat ever seen and begin preparations for its construction and armament.
F+42: The boat is ready and armed, and its crew selected to aid the heroes. On the selected day, the boat leaves its shelter in the bay to much acclaim. Before it can break the horizon it is destroyed by a huge turtle and the survivors are slain by a the denizens of a swift ship who appear from seemingly nowhere. The population is crushed and blames Sirus. Sirus declares the crew all “heroes of Maissen” and promises that new stars will appear soon in the sky in their honor. The next night two new stars burst into the sky, providing so much light at to even be seen on the daytime. The citizenry is in awe of Sirus for his prediction and even when the light fades and the stars shrink to a normal size there is a palpable sense of dedication to Sirus and the new society he heads. Many begin to believe that all has been for a good reason, and Sirus will show them the path to the future.
F+45: Sirus declares new a new quest. Rather than games he decides that every five years the elders and members of the shield from each town shall choose at least 4 who are capable of a quest. These adventurers shall issue forth on the land and make peace, strike trade, and gather rewards in the name of his father. The greatest of these shall be equipped by the church to go forth overland and attempt to find a way to the homeland. The response is overwhelming, with many youths from the many villages and towns clamoring for a position on a “team”. Political maneuvering in some places spoils many groups, but most are prepared with the greater good of all in mind. The groups meet in Maissen for a great feast before being sent off for 3 months into the wilderness. All are given a stirring speech by Sirus in which he notes that it is their duty to “spread law, make peace, strike down the war-mongering heathens of the wild and bring pride to the realm”
F+50 Few have returned from Sirus’ new quest. Those who did were granted lands and title. Many of these set forth on the Holiest Quest, the search for home. Sirus grants the right to join the luminaries to any who further the cause.
F+60 The elders of most towns begin to see the questing as too great a strain on the economy and population and petition Sirus to continue with his plans, but at a slowed pace that preserves some of the young and talented for the here and now. Sirus, being fair and just, hears their needs and declares that each chartered town shall produce not less than four capable of the quest each time a member of their elder board is replaced. The shield officially recognizes the elder boards of Vaunth-on-the-Lake and Seaborn.
F+63 Sirus dies without a direct heir. In a surprise announcement on the 3rd day of his funeral an announcement is read stating that Maissen will no longer be ruled by royalty, but by order of the Sheild.
F+72 A questing group known as Biddles Six returns from the wilds, they bring with them 12 Shokta and request acknowledgement of the small batch of natives as citizens. The Shield refuses and Biddles Six declares the shield in violation of natural law refuse their status as citizens of Maissen.
Biddles Six move north with over 50 followers, swearing to build a better state. Rumors soon spread of the group being assimilated into a woodland culture.
F+81 Dorn, a druid of the swamps, arrives in Seaborn preaching about the status of the natives and trying to convince people that they are the equals of the founders. He is declared a heretic and an outlaw. Dorn disappears into the northern swamp with a band of runaway natives freed from slavery with the help of mixed breeds. The natives begin to worship Dorn as their redeemer and secret sects spring up amongst natives who worship his image.
Controversy surrounds the swamps and their inhabitants as the population tries to decide whether Dorn is a visionary or a rebel bandit.
Baron Opal said:
This is the doc we players were given before generating our characters. You may notice how some spellings have obviously changed in the intervening years (at least that's my story to explain the differences in how spellings changed from this doc to the SH you're read, and I'm sticking to it!
) :On a glorious spring morning 253 years ago the 3 learned sons of Paraskus the merciful set out on a quest to obtain gifts to obtain gifts to impress their father. Idein the mage, Lastel the hunter and Maissen the Moongazer each set forth down the Motherriver with a fast ship and a large and loyal crew. 6 smaller ships sailed in support of the young princes, each laden with the provisions and protections that the princes would need for the journey.
On the 7th week of this journey the vessels and their princely cargos made to the open sea, rounded the western horn and made for lands unknown. They ushered bravely past the last permanent settlement of the great kingdom and set for the southern islands determined to conquer and collect in the name of their father and homeland. Following the wisdom of the ages, they knew to never leave the sight of the shore gulls, for the broad expanse of the waters held terrible horrors that had swallowed every ship that wondered beyond the terns eyes.
All passed well for the princes under the guidance of Felspa and Kalin, the sister moons until the passing of Felspa into darkness in the 2nd quarter of the year. At this point, when the artist Felspa was hidden from men’s sight, they each had a dream. In the dream their father, Paraskus, stood in the mother-river as it turned to blood. His brow was heavy, and as he opened his mouth to speak his teeth fell into his hands as maggots and crawled away. His eyes turned, his flesh swelled and as he fell on the river his hair loosed and spread towards them in a great wind. The princes, startled awake, found their ships captured by this wind, forced in a rage to the open sea. The great wind tossed the waters violently and pushed the ships at unmatched speed thru day and night for nearly a week. Many on the ships claimed visions of terrible, dark lands belonging to the horizons, but none could steer the ships for the lands, or find them on any map.
On the 7th day, as Balcla, younger brother of the moons, rose in the northern sky all of the ships but 1 found themselves in a quiet bay. Setting foot on the new earth the expedition found strange new plants, odd animals never before encountered and eyes peering towards their tenuous foot on the delta.
Founding : Idien is put in charge of the vessels as Maissen and Lastel lead an expeditionary crew. The crew stays to shore for 3 weeks, and finding no evidence of hostility and beast and fruits aplenty decides to set camp on the eastern shore of the delta of the great river of the bay. In that first month, the 3 princes argue greatly over the meaning of their vision and attempt to determine the best course. As Maissen sets the site for an appropriate place of worship, it is decided than an expedition to find home must be mounted.
Two methods are decided upon for the expedition towards home. Tawgor, the brave captain, will set to the sea with a crew to find a water route home, and Lastel will search for an over land route with a smaller crew. Maissen and Idien will remain with the mass of peoples and attempt to explore the local country and contact the natives.
Three months pass while Maissen and Idien erect a camp at the great rivers mouth and attempt to “civilize” the natives. Idien dubs these people “churkey” meaning ‘swamp people’. An uneasy peace is made with these Churkey while Maissen supervises construction of a small fort from the local timber and a tower in honor of the two sister moons.
At the end of 3 months time Lastel returns with only 1 surviving member of his formerly proud hunting band. He tells a tale of a great and evil snake with a demons head that destroyed nearly the entire party, and of a vast desert to the south that swallows men. Tawgor and his crew are never heard from again.
The sixth month passes without word from Tawgor, and hope begins to fade of a quick rescue. Maissen decides that the best course of action is to claim all the land in the name of his father and gather the natives into the fold. Idien argues that they are worthless as people, and should be treated as slaves, and nothing better. The three brothers can only agree on one goal, the founding of Paras, a city celebrating the glory of their father.
As preparations begin for the spring festival, which would mark the one year anniversary of the beginning of their quest the subjects approach the brothers seeking permission to “mix” with the native women. Idien sees this as an abomination, but Maissen convinces Lastel to side with him and it is decided that if no sign of rescue is apparent by the anniversary of their landing, wives can be made of the locals with the understanding that rescue will break all oaths made to the women should the man wish.
F+1: Maissen conscripts many of the locals to help in construction of his tower and begins a church in honor of all the heavenly bodies. Idien and Lastel begin to grow further and further apart over arguments about the best use of men and resources, Lastel favoring all of Maissens plans, and Idien growing more and more jealous of his younger brothers status with both the natives and the fellow castaways.
F+2: Marriages begin between the unwed citizens and the locals, Maissens tower is completed and Lastel begins conscription of the natives into a sound military and expeditionary force.
F+3: Idien comes to Lastel in the night and urges him into the swamp to see a “new beast, never seen before, and the delight of any who hunt”. once deep into the swamp, Idien enchants Lastel, urging him on a westward course. Lastel is never seen again.
When Maissen finds out what Idien has done, he fends off the citizenry’s calls for his immediate execution, opting to banish Idien into the vast waste to south. Seventy citizens choose to follow Idien, believing that his magic is likely to keep them safe and restore them to their home.
F+10: Maissen decrees the “martyrdom of motherhood” and declares that all women who bear 6 or more children will be promised a place in the heavens, to light the steps of their children thru the darkest of nights.
Maissen also declares a religious council will preside over all affairs of law. In an attempt to further draw in the natives, a position will be granted to a representative of any church that is good and seeks to further the causes of the citizenry. The council is named “the shield” and is given say over most of everyday life, pending approval of its head.
F+11: The first meeting of the shield.
F+15: official treaty of cooperation signed between the “uncivilized” churkey and the citizens.
Maissens first son is born, he is blessed in the name of the luminaries and is called Sirus, in honor of the great northern star.
F+18: A plague of locusts come, many claim to have seen Idiens face in the cloud of insects. An official investigation into the cause is started. An elite group of 7 is sent with a militia of natives to find the cause, they head south, searching for Idien and his followers.
F+19: The party of 7 returns, warning of a great city to the south, built of stone and protected by a hideous lizard. They claim to have barely escaped the wrath of it’s residents. They also claim that Idien’s rune was carved large on the city gates. Idien is declared an outlaw, and all travel out of sight of the great river is declared to be by permission only.
F+25: Maissen falls ill. The natives say he has river sickness, and none have ever survived it. Maissen spends every night under the stars, praying to the Kalin, the academic, for a cure, after seven days and nights of constant prayer he recovers. The natives declare it a miracle, and pledge eternal loyalty to “Maissen the undying”.
F+28 The northern nomads, called Shokta by the churkeys swarm down the river. Maissen meets them and issues a wish for peace The shokta warn that the citizens have 1 year to collect tribute enough to appease, or they will fall, the churkeys beg Maissen to give in to their demands. Maissen refuses, issuing instead an order to build fortifications along the river and to the west of the town, which he now dubs “Belsdark” , meaning ‘unfailing’.
F+29: Maissen stands guard over the city’s defenses, and sends forth a contingent of churkey to warn of his might and preparation. The churkey messengers float back to Belsdark with their hands and feet bound and heads removed.
The citizens of Belsdark are each commissioned to stand to the last man should an attack come. When the Shokta arrive, they are riding bison painted in the color of night and calling for the blood of the citizens who they consider invaders. The siege of Belsdark begins.
Maissen calls the shield together and 3 are chosen from it’s rank as champions. Kolor, the war priest, Hestus, the natural mage, and Gurdus the warrior step forward and issue a challenge to the best of the shokta, who vainly accept. Hestus and Kolor boldly strike down their opponents, but Gurdus is killed in the fray In a fit of rage over the defeat of his champions the shokta chieftain hurls his black stone axe at Hestus, who is killed by the blow. Kolor manages to escape to the safety of the ramparts with the axe and Hestus and Kolor are declared the first “heroes of Maissen”. The siege continues for 45 days, and on the rising of the sun in the south the army of the shokta is gone. Maissen declares it a miracle provided by the luminaries, but is soon refuted by a messenger who arrives saying he was sent by Idien. The messenger says that Idien has formed powerful alliances with a desert spirit who was called in to destroy the army and that it is the last act of brotherhood that Maissen can ever expect to see unless Idien is forgiven of all his crimes and placed at his brothers side as a head of the new state. Maissen refuses.
F+35: Maissen dies. Many mourn what they see to be their ultimate doom before Sirus steps forward and claims that the city shall be named Maissen in his honor, and he will now head the shield, for the betterment of all.
F+38: Sirus declares that 2 more cities should be built, and proclaims that a new temple shall be erected in the name of his father. Contingents are chosen and sent forth to the river bend and the north bay to build.
F+40: Sirus declares that the spirit of his father shall be honored by the best and brightest competing for a great prize. Games are held with admission to any who wish. Contests of magic and might dominate and the winners are “rewarded” by being sent forth with the supplies they wish to find home. The winners wish for construction of what will be the largest boat ever seen and begin preparations for its construction and armament.
F+42: The boat is ready and armed, and its crew selected to aid the heroes. On the selected day, the boat leaves its shelter in the bay to much acclaim. Before it can break the horizon it is destroyed by a huge turtle and the survivors are slain by a the denizens of a swift ship who appear from seemingly nowhere. The population is crushed and blames Sirus. Sirus declares the crew all “heroes of Maissen” and promises that new stars will appear soon in the sky in their honor. The next night two new stars burst into the sky, providing so much light at to even be seen on the daytime. The citizenry is in awe of Sirus for his prediction and even when the light fades and the stars shrink to a normal size there is a palpable sense of dedication to Sirus and the new society he heads. Many begin to believe that all has been for a good reason, and Sirus will show them the path to the future.
F+45: Sirus declares new a new quest. Rather than games he decides that every five years the elders and members of the shield from each town shall choose at least 4 who are capable of a quest. These adventurers shall issue forth on the land and make peace, strike trade, and gather rewards in the name of his father. The greatest of these shall be equipped by the church to go forth overland and attempt to find a way to the homeland. The response is overwhelming, with many youths from the many villages and towns clamoring for a position on a “team”. Political maneuvering in some places spoils many groups, but most are prepared with the greater good of all in mind. The groups meet in Maissen for a great feast before being sent off for 3 months into the wilderness. All are given a stirring speech by Sirus in which he notes that it is their duty to “spread law, make peace, strike down the war-mongering heathens of the wild and bring pride to the realm”
F+50 Few have returned from Sirus’ new quest. Those who did were granted lands and title. Many of these set forth on the Holiest Quest, the search for home. Sirus grants the right to join the luminaries to any who further the cause.
F+60 The elders of most towns begin to see the questing as too great a strain on the economy and population and petition Sirus to continue with his plans, but at a slowed pace that preserves some of the young and talented for the here and now. Sirus, being fair and just, hears their needs and declares that each chartered town shall produce not less than four capable of the quest each time a member of their elder board is replaced. The shield officially recognizes the elder boards of Vaunth-on-the-Lake and Seaborn.
F+63 Sirus dies without a direct heir. In a surprise announcement on the 3rd day of his funeral an announcement is read stating that Maissen will no longer be ruled by royalty, but by order of the Sheild.
F+72 A questing group known as Biddles Six returns from the wilds, they bring with them 12 Shokta and request acknowledgement of the small batch of natives as citizens. The Shield refuses and Biddles Six declares the shield in violation of natural law refuse their status as citizens of Maissen.
Biddles Six move north with over 50 followers, swearing to build a better state. Rumors soon spread of the group being assimilated into a woodland culture.
F+81 Dorn, a druid of the swamps, arrives in Seaborn preaching about the status of the natives and trying to convince people that they are the equals of the founders. He is declared a heretic and an outlaw. Dorn disappears into the northern swamp with a band of runaway natives freed from slavery with the help of mixed breeds. The natives begin to worship Dorn as their redeemer and secret sects spring up amongst natives who worship his image.
Controversy surrounds the swamps and their inhabitants as the population tries to decide whether Dorn is a visionary or a rebel bandit.
Beale Knight
First Post
OaxacanWarrior
First Post
Great updates! I really like the way that the leaders have become mythical with a lot of religious significance. Great background info.
The map does look like it was written in the dirt.
The map does look like it was written in the dirt.
Beale Knight
First Post
Session 11 (end): Farunk, Ogres, Go Avarashan Go, Dropping into the Valley of Drayne.
We made our way out of the mountains proper and to the foothills before noon. The hills slowly became less and less noticeable until finally we were on generally flat ground marked with an abundance of rock outcroppings. We were traveling through these when we heard the sounds of fighting up ahead.
Racing forward, we saw a half dozen farunk battling a pair of ogres – and losing. It took only a glance for us to each confirm that these farunk were of the tribe that had “adopted” us, and that was all the more reason to join the battle.
Aneirin charged. Avarshan’s hooves barely touched a high outcropping of rock as Aneirin slammed his lanced into the first ogre. Ren rode Sandy the war-lizard atop another outcropping and shot at the other ogre. Dumb Bear and Babrack surged forward as Bessie began a summoning. A moment later a hippogriff answered the druid's call and attacked the arrow-struck ogre. Aneirin’s sword delivered a punishing blow to the ogre he’d charged, and a raging Dumb Bear pounded his mace into the monster to finish it off.
The summoned hippogriff suffered two deadly blows from the ogre, but that saved the nearby farunk from taking them. Ren and Babrack peppered the ogre with arrows and were soon joined by Bessie with her crossbow. The farunk continued to shoot arrows at the remaining ogre, but to little effect.
With an annoyed scowl at Dumb Bear, Aneirin charged that second ogre, who proceeded to pound him with his club. Avarshan took great offense to this monster hurting his master so, and bit him.
To death.
The rest of us stared in stunned silence for a moment before breaking out laughing and cheering the valiant war horse.
We saw to the farunk dead and sat to share bread with the survivors. Through Bessie and her translating amulet, they told us that the world was ending. “Chakta are riding north, ogres are coming down from the mountain, and all is wrong!” they lamented. These ogres, the farunk said, were followers of Bron – a blue skinned ogre. A few pieces of information fell together for us. Balloong had warned us about Bron, and Angri had warned us that blue skinned ogres were powerful magic users. Bron was apparently powerful enough to strike out on his own from the giants and be a regional power.
The farunk had been on patrol when they encountered these ogres. Patrols had become more frequent since the world began to end. Brons’s ogre followers had been coming to kill farunk every few days. They were based in a cave house, they said, and another piece of information fell into place. With some questioning we deduced that this cave house was the plateau in Ghost Dragon Mountain where we had last laid eyes on the redbreasts, and Idien. The farunk confirmed this by saying the redbreasts had returned three weeks earlier and robbed the tribe of women and gems and more.
So now we knew what the redbreasts were doing, even if we hadn’t quite figured out why. But we weren’t going to just then, so we made ready to set forth again.
Through out our talk with the Farunk, Dumb Bear had busied himself with the practical task of looting the ogre bodies. Someone had been paying them, because they carried gold bars that we loosely appraised at ten gold pieces each. It was a tidy sum, but the farunk asked if they could take their share of the booty in the person of Wayden. They could use a slave skilled at cleaning things and digging holes, they said. Wayden was more than willing to go along with this, especially after we made it clear to him we expected to run into much more fighting. That settled, we divided the gold bars by five – six for each of us, three for Barbrack, and three to Maissen (we were going to have to present the elders with SOMETHING besides some kerbal skins).
The rest of the day was simple and peaceful travel. By evening we could see the clouds of endless storm in the distance. Though it was no surprise that the storm was still going, by the time we approached the Valley of Drayne on Day Forty One, it was still amazing to realize this was the same storm we’d seen weeks earlier.
At the edge of the valley we easily found a orange rock and loaded it into the rock case Patris provided. That left us with three to get, and those were clearly not going to be so easily obtained. The valley wall was virtually sheer, and there was no sign of the rocks we needed up top. Undaunted, we headed east to hunt for them, or a good way down.
We did not find either by nightfall. What we did find was where the river from the east fell into the valley.
At that point it dawned on us. We’d been here before! We were standing just across the river, a literal stone’s throw from where we had stood once before. We had traveled fully around the Ghost Dragon Mountains and returned to familiar territory.
It was a bittersweet moment. On the one hand, we had accomplished an amazing trek that few had tried and fewer matched. On the other we had lost two of our dear companions doing so, and we weren’t nearly home yet. Despite the magnitude of the moment, there was still plenty of time and chances to die.
We also still had a task at hand. After that little bit of reflection we continued east to the swamp. We met a group of farunk and children there, and were greeted with the casual pleasantries of tribesmen. They truly had adopted us into the tribe.
It was a relation made all the easier thanks, once again, to Bessie translation amulet. She was able to relate our problem to the farunk over dinner, and seek out a solution – hiring an experienced farunk to either go into the valley and retrieve the stones or to tell us how to do it.
As it turned out, there was just such a farunk. Malkirk had gone into the valley many times and readily told us how to do it. His method was characteristic of the farunk – simple and straightforward: jump into the river, float downstream and go over the falls. That had successfully gotten him into the valley each time. Getting out was harder – that involved a lot of tough climbing up a valley wall slick with rain water.
We didn’t really care to try his method. Without enough rope to safely reach the bottom, we began to negotiate with Malkirk. After a conversation that without Bessie wonderful amulet would have probably taken two days, we settled. Malkirk would go into the valley and retrieve the stones we wanted. We would give him Aneirin’s old scale mail and the gold coin necklace we’d taken from the ogre just outside Angri’s keep. If Malkirk died in the attempt, one of us had to marry his wife and care for his children. We agreed to this, volunteering Dumb Bear to the task (since he was out of the hut and earshot at that vital moment).
With everything settled, Malkirk was ready to go at it. We went with him to the valley’s edge and watched as he jumped into the river. His massive form floated with an odd grace to the falls and then tumbled over.
We held our breath and looked over the edge into the valley. After fewer tense minutes than it felt like we saw Malkirk emerge from the lake below. He waved at us and vanished into the rain. After what seemed like hours we saw him at the base of the cliff. He put one hand on the cliff and began to climb.
Malkirk climbed the valley wall like a champion. It was obvious he had done this many times before, and had probably learned this section of wall was best suited to the task. The farunk made his way one quarter of the way up. Then halfway. Then two-thirds. He was three quarters of the way to the top when his hand slipped.
He fell.
His hand reached out wildly and saved him. He grabbed hold of a bit of cliff and stopped his fall, but was in a precarious spot. We threw down our rope and he free hand was finally able to get a grip on it. All of us pulling together were able to assist Malkirk the rest of the way to the top.
The farunk’s pockets were overloaded with stones of all colors. Malkirk was taking no chances to get the wrong stones, or not enough. Aneirin handed over his old scale mail and the gold coin necklace as Ren gave the farunk one of the small gems from the drake temple.
Meanwhile, Bessie put as many stones as she could into the various containers of the box.
Once the box was crammed full with the stones, Bessie closed the lid and we beheld an unexpected sight. The box glowed with a multi-colored light and began to stretch and flatten. A few heartbeats later it was no longer a box at all. It had transformed into a six foot high staff of black, brown, orange, and yellow.
We could only hope that was what Petris had intended.
Tired and satisfied, we hiked back up river with Malkirk and settled in for the night.
Next: Requiem for a Giant, Witness to War POST 183
We made our way out of the mountains proper and to the foothills before noon. The hills slowly became less and less noticeable until finally we were on generally flat ground marked with an abundance of rock outcroppings. We were traveling through these when we heard the sounds of fighting up ahead.
Racing forward, we saw a half dozen farunk battling a pair of ogres – and losing. It took only a glance for us to each confirm that these farunk were of the tribe that had “adopted” us, and that was all the more reason to join the battle.
Aneirin charged. Avarshan’s hooves barely touched a high outcropping of rock as Aneirin slammed his lanced into the first ogre. Ren rode Sandy the war-lizard atop another outcropping and shot at the other ogre. Dumb Bear and Babrack surged forward as Bessie began a summoning. A moment later a hippogriff answered the druid's call and attacked the arrow-struck ogre. Aneirin’s sword delivered a punishing blow to the ogre he’d charged, and a raging Dumb Bear pounded his mace into the monster to finish it off.
The summoned hippogriff suffered two deadly blows from the ogre, but that saved the nearby farunk from taking them. Ren and Babrack peppered the ogre with arrows and were soon joined by Bessie with her crossbow. The farunk continued to shoot arrows at the remaining ogre, but to little effect.
With an annoyed scowl at Dumb Bear, Aneirin charged that second ogre, who proceeded to pound him with his club. Avarshan took great offense to this monster hurting his master so, and bit him.
To death.
The rest of us stared in stunned silence for a moment before breaking out laughing and cheering the valiant war horse.
We saw to the farunk dead and sat to share bread with the survivors. Through Bessie and her translating amulet, they told us that the world was ending. “Chakta are riding north, ogres are coming down from the mountain, and all is wrong!” they lamented. These ogres, the farunk said, were followers of Bron – a blue skinned ogre. A few pieces of information fell together for us. Balloong had warned us about Bron, and Angri had warned us that blue skinned ogres were powerful magic users. Bron was apparently powerful enough to strike out on his own from the giants and be a regional power.
The farunk had been on patrol when they encountered these ogres. Patrols had become more frequent since the world began to end. Brons’s ogre followers had been coming to kill farunk every few days. They were based in a cave house, they said, and another piece of information fell into place. With some questioning we deduced that this cave house was the plateau in Ghost Dragon Mountain where we had last laid eyes on the redbreasts, and Idien. The farunk confirmed this by saying the redbreasts had returned three weeks earlier and robbed the tribe of women and gems and more.
So now we knew what the redbreasts were doing, even if we hadn’t quite figured out why. But we weren’t going to just then, so we made ready to set forth again.
Through out our talk with the Farunk, Dumb Bear had busied himself with the practical task of looting the ogre bodies. Someone had been paying them, because they carried gold bars that we loosely appraised at ten gold pieces each. It was a tidy sum, but the farunk asked if they could take their share of the booty in the person of Wayden. They could use a slave skilled at cleaning things and digging holes, they said. Wayden was more than willing to go along with this, especially after we made it clear to him we expected to run into much more fighting. That settled, we divided the gold bars by five – six for each of us, three for Barbrack, and three to Maissen (we were going to have to present the elders with SOMETHING besides some kerbal skins).
The rest of the day was simple and peaceful travel. By evening we could see the clouds of endless storm in the distance. Though it was no surprise that the storm was still going, by the time we approached the Valley of Drayne on Day Forty One, it was still amazing to realize this was the same storm we’d seen weeks earlier.
At the edge of the valley we easily found a orange rock and loaded it into the rock case Patris provided. That left us with three to get, and those were clearly not going to be so easily obtained. The valley wall was virtually sheer, and there was no sign of the rocks we needed up top. Undaunted, we headed east to hunt for them, or a good way down.
We did not find either by nightfall. What we did find was where the river from the east fell into the valley.
At that point it dawned on us. We’d been here before! We were standing just across the river, a literal stone’s throw from where we had stood once before. We had traveled fully around the Ghost Dragon Mountains and returned to familiar territory.
It was a bittersweet moment. On the one hand, we had accomplished an amazing trek that few had tried and fewer matched. On the other we had lost two of our dear companions doing so, and we weren’t nearly home yet. Despite the magnitude of the moment, there was still plenty of time and chances to die.
We also still had a task at hand. After that little bit of reflection we continued east to the swamp. We met a group of farunk and children there, and were greeted with the casual pleasantries of tribesmen. They truly had adopted us into the tribe.
It was a relation made all the easier thanks, once again, to Bessie translation amulet. She was able to relate our problem to the farunk over dinner, and seek out a solution – hiring an experienced farunk to either go into the valley and retrieve the stones or to tell us how to do it.
As it turned out, there was just such a farunk. Malkirk had gone into the valley many times and readily told us how to do it. His method was characteristic of the farunk – simple and straightforward: jump into the river, float downstream and go over the falls. That had successfully gotten him into the valley each time. Getting out was harder – that involved a lot of tough climbing up a valley wall slick with rain water.
We didn’t really care to try his method. Without enough rope to safely reach the bottom, we began to negotiate with Malkirk. After a conversation that without Bessie wonderful amulet would have probably taken two days, we settled. Malkirk would go into the valley and retrieve the stones we wanted. We would give him Aneirin’s old scale mail and the gold coin necklace we’d taken from the ogre just outside Angri’s keep. If Malkirk died in the attempt, one of us had to marry his wife and care for his children. We agreed to this, volunteering Dumb Bear to the task (since he was out of the hut and earshot at that vital moment).
With everything settled, Malkirk was ready to go at it. We went with him to the valley’s edge and watched as he jumped into the river. His massive form floated with an odd grace to the falls and then tumbled over.
We held our breath and looked over the edge into the valley. After fewer tense minutes than it felt like we saw Malkirk emerge from the lake below. He waved at us and vanished into the rain. After what seemed like hours we saw him at the base of the cliff. He put one hand on the cliff and began to climb.
Malkirk climbed the valley wall like a champion. It was obvious he had done this many times before, and had probably learned this section of wall was best suited to the task. The farunk made his way one quarter of the way up. Then halfway. Then two-thirds. He was three quarters of the way to the top when his hand slipped.
He fell.
His hand reached out wildly and saved him. He grabbed hold of a bit of cliff and stopped his fall, but was in a precarious spot. We threw down our rope and he free hand was finally able to get a grip on it. All of us pulling together were able to assist Malkirk the rest of the way to the top.
The farunk’s pockets were overloaded with stones of all colors. Malkirk was taking no chances to get the wrong stones, or not enough. Aneirin handed over his old scale mail and the gold coin necklace as Ren gave the farunk one of the small gems from the drake temple.
Meanwhile, Bessie put as many stones as she could into the various containers of the box.
Once the box was crammed full with the stones, Bessie closed the lid and we beheld an unexpected sight. The box glowed with a multi-colored light and began to stretch and flatten. A few heartbeats later it was no longer a box at all. It had transformed into a six foot high staff of black, brown, orange, and yellow.
We could only hope that was what Petris had intended.
Tired and satisfied, we hiked back up river with Malkirk and settled in for the night.
Next: Requiem for a Giant, Witness to War POST 183
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