Beale Knight
First Post
alsih2o said:So, right when the story is about to really pick up- our author gets called for jury duty. :\
Seems a good story hour would be a valid excuse, yes?
(No, I don't really mean that)
It's called cliffhanger!
Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
It's called cliffhanger!
Beale Knight
First Post
Greylock said:Since when does jury duty preclude writing and posting updates anyways, hmmmm? Excuses, excuses. First Halloween, then your "job", now this... I'm so very disappointed in you.
Since it's Grand Jury and there's less dead time to wait and write!
But now, at last comes more! Within two updates comes what you're looking for.
Beale Knight
First Post
02-03 Into the Rift
Ren crawled on his belly for what seemed like miles. Twice he came to a dead stop, sure that he heard someone approaching. Both were false alarms, causing him to quietly curse innocent animals before moving carefully on. Finally a small midden of bison dung told him he was at the edge of the camp.
Slowly he lifted his head. He suppressed a gasp. What he saw was no small camp of chakta. This was nothing short of a full size town. Ren couldn’t see all the yurts the chakta had erected, and there was no hope of counting the chakta themselves. As silently as he could, Ren lowered himself back to the ground and eased away.
“That way’s no good,” he said when he caught up to the others. “We need to really hurry along this route.”
As the day wore on, Ren explained to the others what he’d seen. “I’d heard they were a mobile people,” he said, “but that’s a lot to mobile.”
“They’re gathering,” Madge said. “And it can not be good that they do so.”
The night and next day passed peacefully as the group made their way northwest through the valley. Only their coming across a sudden five foot drop made a mark on the day. There was a small creek, enough to refill their water skins after the considerable task of lowering a goat and wagon down a five foot drop was accomplished.
Day four of the adventure was only marked by the group making their way to the fringes of the plain. A copse of low trees here and there and clumps bushes became more and more prevalent. It held the promise of an exit from the endless plains.
However, the stress was beginning to wear on some of the group. Killian especially seemed to be suffering from poor sleep. By day five he confessed he hadn’t been able to get enough rest to properly focus on spell casting. Madge and Bessie reported similar trouble, but not to the extent of the group’s sorcerer.
What was frightening was the dreams they described. More accurately, the dream they all described. For it was the same one - a woman about to be burned at the stake by the hands of fanatics directed by a wild eyed halfling. The victim cried out to save her baby, but to no avail, and she seemed to stare at the dreaming Heroes, begging them for help.
To offset the damage of insufficient sleep, the group decided to simply camp and rest a full day under the thickening trees. There was shade and there was water, and Bessie soon found there was something more.
“Bees,” she said. “Bees the size of pigs.”
No one suffered the nightmare that night, and on day six of the adventure the group was on the move again. The giant bees suggested most strongly that the rift valley was close, and that one of the side missions could be accomplished.
===============================================================
“That is one long drop for sure,” Ren said as he gazed down the rift valley.
“Two hundred forty feet,” Madge said, “just as Shayder described.” She gazed north to focus on the far side. “And about two mile across.”
The rift valley had been easy to find. In truth it would have been harder to miss. Not only was it huge and rright in their path, but giant bees were regularly flying in and out of it. The valley ran east to west out of sight, and simply by following alongside it the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake had found the red stone steps leading down into it.
“That’s too much for tonight, even with those steps,” Killian said. “I say we camp up top tonight and take it on in th’ morning.”
The others nodded. It was already dark down below, and getting that way where they stood. “No fun looking for a camp site in the dead dark,” Ren said.
Just then an inhuman howling sounded from somewhere in the valley. It echoed off the rift walls, and was joined by more. Everyone glanced at each other with wide eyes. Ren shook his head. “Nope, no fun at all,” he said.
When the morning came the wisdom of their choice became clear. They freed Jimmy from the wagon, and Bessie led the goat easily down the steps. The wagon was a far greater challenge. Madge took the brunt of the weight as Ren and Killian stabilized the wagon from the higher end, keeping it from tilting over or sliding off the steps.
The redstone staircase switched back halfway down, leaving a wide landing at the midway point. It was perfect for a rest. The four tied Jimmy to the wagon, and put blocks at the wheels. Secure as possible, they sat to eat.
Suddenly something brown splattered beside Ren.
“What in the – “ he shouted as he jumped to his feet. The others stood as more brown pellets and patties fell around them. One wide patty hit Bessie square on the head.
From above, there was laughter. Leaning over the edge of the rift were the redbreasts. One threw a bag down at the group and shouted, “Good luck! Most don’t return from down there.”
“At least we ain’t shoveling dung with our hands,” Ren shouted back at them. The redbreasts pulled back from the edge, still laughing.
“We’ll see them again,” Madge said, scowling. She kicked the bag, which fell apart to reveal three chakta heads. “They’ve seen some chakta too.”
“Too bad they weren’t on the wrong end of the ambush,” Bessie said. She was doing her best to clean off herself. Most of the dung was old and in pellets. What struck her was fresh from this morning.
Killian cast a spell that cleaned the druid up completely, and the group continued down.
It was still early afternoon when they reached bottom. They double checked their gear and then headed toward the interior. Giant bees were all around them, buzzing to and fro without giving the adventurers so much as a glance.
“There,” Ren said, pointing off into the trees. “That tall one, on the branch off right.”
The others followed his point to see the largest bee hive any had ever laid eyes on.
“It’s the size of a house,” Bessie said. “How that’s all hanging from the one thread I can’t imagine.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Killian said. “All we need to worry about is getting to it.” He pointed to the ground around the tree.
Primitive walls were there where he pointed. Rude stacks of roughly cut tree trunks, thrown together with less planning than an ant hill, surrounded the tree. Each was some twelve feet high.
Ren went ahead to take a better look. Climbing a nearby tree he could easily see within the primitive fort, and he wasn’t happy at what he saw.
“Three kerbals,” he reported to the others. “Two big ones and one that’s really big. The good news is they’re sleeping.”
“Three,” Madge repeated. “And Shayder’s paladin friend was killed taking down one.”
Killian nodded. “And they’re on the other side of those walls.”
“They must be nocturnal,” Bessie said. “Last night’s howl was probably them waking and stirring. That gives us an advantage if we do this before sunset.”
Ren smiled. “We have another advantage too, something that’ll for sure make a difference in this hunt.”
They moved up to one corner of the walls and secured Jimmy and the cart to a tree. As a group, they walked around the rude little fort and noted choice trees, the ones easiest to climb and with limbs extending toward the giant bee hive. When four were chosen, two on opposite sides, they had only one more bit of preparation to make. Ren gathered up some arrows from his stash and Madge’s, and two of Bessie’s bolts. He then carefully opened up the sack containing the bladder of giant spider venom and even more carefully coated as many missiles as he could with the supply.
“Don’t nick yourselves,” he said as he handed the now poisoned projectiles back. “This was good timing,” he added. “I don’t see that that poison would’ve stayed good more than another day or so.”
Madge nodded as she took her arrows. “You know that split like we’ll be, one side or the other’s going to be out of the fight quickly.”
“The crossfire at the start’ll be worth it,” Ren said. “Hopefully we’ll get ‘em confused for a few moments and they won’t have much fight left by the time they pick a target to go for.” He looked the others over. “Everyone ready?”
They split up then. Killian and Ren went to the fort’s south side and climbed trees close to each other. About twenty feet up they scooted out on branches as far out as they could. Across the fort, Bessie and Madge did the same. The two teams were out of sight of each other, but birdcalls sent between Ren and Bessie confirmed everyone was in place.
Ren shot first, sending a poisoned arrow into the biggest of the kerbal. Madge followed at once with one going into a smaller one, and Killian sent a glowing bolt of magical pain into the one Ren shot. Bessie’s shot never came. Ren heard a crash and a curse from across the fort, but before he could say anything there came a howl from within the fort.
The kerbals were fully awake and very angry.
Ren and Madge sent a pair of arrows into the biggest one. She, as they could now tell, staggered in pain and howled again. The other two joined her howls and looked around the fort for an enemy. The biggest one pointed up and over, toward Ren and Killian.
The sorcerer sent another bolt of magic into her and she fell to her knees, weaved, then fell forward. Ren shot one of the pair that were now climbing the bee hive tree and he shouted, “They’re climbing this way!” To Killian, he shouted, “Let’s us knock out that healthy one first!”
He was answered by a fan of flames from Killian’s fingertips. The rays of fire struck both kerbals as they scurried onto a large branch toward their attackers. “That’s good enough too,” the hunter whispered, readying another arrow.
If the kerbals noticed or cared that their apparent leader was dead neither showed it. Ren put an arrow into the lead kerbal, the one he thought healthier, and another one struck it from below. Braving a glimpse down, Ren saw Madge – readying another of her arrows.
Killian sent another bolt of magic into that lead kerbal and it finally fell from the tree branch. Madge, for good measure, shot it once it hit ground.
Ren put another arrow into the last kerbal, but it was getting dangerously close. It jumped from its branch onto one ten feet below Killian. The sorcerer sent another bolt into it, but both Ren and Madge’s arrows hit tree bark. The kerbal made a quick climb up and stretched a clawed paw out to strike Killian.
A bolt suddenly appeared in its belly. The kerbal howled and took a desperate swipe at the sorcerer above him, but it was no good. He lost his grip and fell from the tree. When he hit the ground he didn’t even twitch.
Ren looked down to see Bessie. She was breathing hard and favored her right leg when she walked, but she was whole. “Looks like giving me this crossbow was the right thing for the Circle to do,” she said between huffs.
With things calmed down, Bessie explained that she had shifted her weight wrong as she took aim. Her foot slipped, her crossbow fired prematurely, and she fell through the branches and landed hard on the ground. It took a moment for her head to clear and for her to cast a healing spell on herself, but she was determined to not be kept out of the fight.
The rest of the afternoon was much less demanding. They managed to get Jimmy and the wagon in the fort and set up a camp. Gathering the honey didn’t take long once Ren was able to make it up the tree. Most of the lowest branches had long been broken off, the kerbal didn’t need them, which made the first part of the climb a challenge. Finally though the group had a pot filled with the honey of giant bees, and managed it without disturbing its makers. Furthermore, they now had two kerbal skins to present as trophies when they returned to Maissen. The third had been too badly shot up to be of worthwhile value, but even so that left them with twice what Shayder’s paladin friend had managed to obtain.
Flush with success, the Heroes decided to spend day eight of their adventure relaxing in the kerbal made fort. They swam in the nearby lake, took advantage of the bountiful fruit trees, and slept extra hours. It was to prove a wise choice.
They all had the dream. Some on the first night, some on the second, but by the time the embarked on day nine out of Maissen, they all had seen the woman being burned at the stake. Before the day was over, they would know all about what that dream meant.
Ren crawled on his belly for what seemed like miles. Twice he came to a dead stop, sure that he heard someone approaching. Both were false alarms, causing him to quietly curse innocent animals before moving carefully on. Finally a small midden of bison dung told him he was at the edge of the camp.
Slowly he lifted his head. He suppressed a gasp. What he saw was no small camp of chakta. This was nothing short of a full size town. Ren couldn’t see all the yurts the chakta had erected, and there was no hope of counting the chakta themselves. As silently as he could, Ren lowered himself back to the ground and eased away.
“That way’s no good,” he said when he caught up to the others. “We need to really hurry along this route.”
As the day wore on, Ren explained to the others what he’d seen. “I’d heard they were a mobile people,” he said, “but that’s a lot to mobile.”
“They’re gathering,” Madge said. “And it can not be good that they do so.”
The night and next day passed peacefully as the group made their way northwest through the valley. Only their coming across a sudden five foot drop made a mark on the day. There was a small creek, enough to refill their water skins after the considerable task of lowering a goat and wagon down a five foot drop was accomplished.
Day four of the adventure was only marked by the group making their way to the fringes of the plain. A copse of low trees here and there and clumps bushes became more and more prevalent. It held the promise of an exit from the endless plains.
However, the stress was beginning to wear on some of the group. Killian especially seemed to be suffering from poor sleep. By day five he confessed he hadn’t been able to get enough rest to properly focus on spell casting. Madge and Bessie reported similar trouble, but not to the extent of the group’s sorcerer.
What was frightening was the dreams they described. More accurately, the dream they all described. For it was the same one - a woman about to be burned at the stake by the hands of fanatics directed by a wild eyed halfling. The victim cried out to save her baby, but to no avail, and she seemed to stare at the dreaming Heroes, begging them for help.
To offset the damage of insufficient sleep, the group decided to simply camp and rest a full day under the thickening trees. There was shade and there was water, and Bessie soon found there was something more.
“Bees,” she said. “Bees the size of pigs.”
No one suffered the nightmare that night, and on day six of the adventure the group was on the move again. The giant bees suggested most strongly that the rift valley was close, and that one of the side missions could be accomplished.
===============================================================
“That is one long drop for sure,” Ren said as he gazed down the rift valley.
“Two hundred forty feet,” Madge said, “just as Shayder described.” She gazed north to focus on the far side. “And about two mile across.”
The rift valley had been easy to find. In truth it would have been harder to miss. Not only was it huge and rright in their path, but giant bees were regularly flying in and out of it. The valley ran east to west out of sight, and simply by following alongside it the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake had found the red stone steps leading down into it.
“That’s too much for tonight, even with those steps,” Killian said. “I say we camp up top tonight and take it on in th’ morning.”
The others nodded. It was already dark down below, and getting that way where they stood. “No fun looking for a camp site in the dead dark,” Ren said.
Just then an inhuman howling sounded from somewhere in the valley. It echoed off the rift walls, and was joined by more. Everyone glanced at each other with wide eyes. Ren shook his head. “Nope, no fun at all,” he said.
When the morning came the wisdom of their choice became clear. They freed Jimmy from the wagon, and Bessie led the goat easily down the steps. The wagon was a far greater challenge. Madge took the brunt of the weight as Ren and Killian stabilized the wagon from the higher end, keeping it from tilting over or sliding off the steps.
The redstone staircase switched back halfway down, leaving a wide landing at the midway point. It was perfect for a rest. The four tied Jimmy to the wagon, and put blocks at the wheels. Secure as possible, they sat to eat.
Suddenly something brown splattered beside Ren.
“What in the – “ he shouted as he jumped to his feet. The others stood as more brown pellets and patties fell around them. One wide patty hit Bessie square on the head.
From above, there was laughter. Leaning over the edge of the rift were the redbreasts. One threw a bag down at the group and shouted, “Good luck! Most don’t return from down there.”
“At least we ain’t shoveling dung with our hands,” Ren shouted back at them. The redbreasts pulled back from the edge, still laughing.
“We’ll see them again,” Madge said, scowling. She kicked the bag, which fell apart to reveal three chakta heads. “They’ve seen some chakta too.”
“Too bad they weren’t on the wrong end of the ambush,” Bessie said. She was doing her best to clean off herself. Most of the dung was old and in pellets. What struck her was fresh from this morning.
Killian cast a spell that cleaned the druid up completely, and the group continued down.
It was still early afternoon when they reached bottom. They double checked their gear and then headed toward the interior. Giant bees were all around them, buzzing to and fro without giving the adventurers so much as a glance.
“There,” Ren said, pointing off into the trees. “That tall one, on the branch off right.”
The others followed his point to see the largest bee hive any had ever laid eyes on.
“It’s the size of a house,” Bessie said. “How that’s all hanging from the one thread I can’t imagine.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Killian said. “All we need to worry about is getting to it.” He pointed to the ground around the tree.
Primitive walls were there where he pointed. Rude stacks of roughly cut tree trunks, thrown together with less planning than an ant hill, surrounded the tree. Each was some twelve feet high.
Ren went ahead to take a better look. Climbing a nearby tree he could easily see within the primitive fort, and he wasn’t happy at what he saw.
“Three kerbals,” he reported to the others. “Two big ones and one that’s really big. The good news is they’re sleeping.”
“Three,” Madge repeated. “And Shayder’s paladin friend was killed taking down one.”
Killian nodded. “And they’re on the other side of those walls.”
“They must be nocturnal,” Bessie said. “Last night’s howl was probably them waking and stirring. That gives us an advantage if we do this before sunset.”
Ren smiled. “We have another advantage too, something that’ll for sure make a difference in this hunt.”
They moved up to one corner of the walls and secured Jimmy and the cart to a tree. As a group, they walked around the rude little fort and noted choice trees, the ones easiest to climb and with limbs extending toward the giant bee hive. When four were chosen, two on opposite sides, they had only one more bit of preparation to make. Ren gathered up some arrows from his stash and Madge’s, and two of Bessie’s bolts. He then carefully opened up the sack containing the bladder of giant spider venom and even more carefully coated as many missiles as he could with the supply.
“Don’t nick yourselves,” he said as he handed the now poisoned projectiles back. “This was good timing,” he added. “I don’t see that that poison would’ve stayed good more than another day or so.”
Madge nodded as she took her arrows. “You know that split like we’ll be, one side or the other’s going to be out of the fight quickly.”
“The crossfire at the start’ll be worth it,” Ren said. “Hopefully we’ll get ‘em confused for a few moments and they won’t have much fight left by the time they pick a target to go for.” He looked the others over. “Everyone ready?”
They split up then. Killian and Ren went to the fort’s south side and climbed trees close to each other. About twenty feet up they scooted out on branches as far out as they could. Across the fort, Bessie and Madge did the same. The two teams were out of sight of each other, but birdcalls sent between Ren and Bessie confirmed everyone was in place.
Ren shot first, sending a poisoned arrow into the biggest of the kerbal. Madge followed at once with one going into a smaller one, and Killian sent a glowing bolt of magical pain into the one Ren shot. Bessie’s shot never came. Ren heard a crash and a curse from across the fort, but before he could say anything there came a howl from within the fort.
The kerbals were fully awake and very angry.
Ren and Madge sent a pair of arrows into the biggest one. She, as they could now tell, staggered in pain and howled again. The other two joined her howls and looked around the fort for an enemy. The biggest one pointed up and over, toward Ren and Killian.
The sorcerer sent another bolt of magic into her and she fell to her knees, weaved, then fell forward. Ren shot one of the pair that were now climbing the bee hive tree and he shouted, “They’re climbing this way!” To Killian, he shouted, “Let’s us knock out that healthy one first!”
He was answered by a fan of flames from Killian’s fingertips. The rays of fire struck both kerbals as they scurried onto a large branch toward their attackers. “That’s good enough too,” the hunter whispered, readying another arrow.
If the kerbals noticed or cared that their apparent leader was dead neither showed it. Ren put an arrow into the lead kerbal, the one he thought healthier, and another one struck it from below. Braving a glimpse down, Ren saw Madge – readying another of her arrows.
Killian sent another bolt of magic into that lead kerbal and it finally fell from the tree branch. Madge, for good measure, shot it once it hit ground.
Ren put another arrow into the last kerbal, but it was getting dangerously close. It jumped from its branch onto one ten feet below Killian. The sorcerer sent another bolt into it, but both Ren and Madge’s arrows hit tree bark. The kerbal made a quick climb up and stretched a clawed paw out to strike Killian.
A bolt suddenly appeared in its belly. The kerbal howled and took a desperate swipe at the sorcerer above him, but it was no good. He lost his grip and fell from the tree. When he hit the ground he didn’t even twitch.
Ren looked down to see Bessie. She was breathing hard and favored her right leg when she walked, but she was whole. “Looks like giving me this crossbow was the right thing for the Circle to do,” she said between huffs.
With things calmed down, Bessie explained that she had shifted her weight wrong as she took aim. Her foot slipped, her crossbow fired prematurely, and she fell through the branches and landed hard on the ground. It took a moment for her head to clear and for her to cast a healing spell on herself, but she was determined to not be kept out of the fight.
The rest of the afternoon was much less demanding. They managed to get Jimmy and the wagon in the fort and set up a camp. Gathering the honey didn’t take long once Ren was able to make it up the tree. Most of the lowest branches had long been broken off, the kerbal didn’t need them, which made the first part of the climb a challenge. Finally though the group had a pot filled with the honey of giant bees, and managed it without disturbing its makers. Furthermore, they now had two kerbal skins to present as trophies when they returned to Maissen. The third had been too badly shot up to be of worthwhile value, but even so that left them with twice what Shayder’s paladin friend had managed to obtain.
Flush with success, the Heroes decided to spend day eight of their adventure relaxing in the kerbal made fort. They swam in the nearby lake, took advantage of the bountiful fruit trees, and slept extra hours. It was to prove a wise choice.
They all had the dream. Some on the first night, some on the second, but by the time the embarked on day nine out of Maissen, they all had seen the woman being burned at the stake. Before the day was over, they would know all about what that dream meant.
Beale Knight
First Post
02-04 & 03-01: Hilltopple House pt 1: Island in a Sea of Fire
2-02
The dream was the topic of conversation as the group made their way across the valley floor that morning. It made the arduous task of getting the cart up the red stone stairs on the far side go that much faster. Only when faced with the forest on the rift valley’s north side did their thoughts focus back on the task at hand.
Traveling through the forest took up a full day. Gradually the land began to rise. It was subtle, but noticeable to the three Heroes familiar with the ways of outdoors. Somewhere on the other side of the forest would be the foothills of Ghost Dragon Mountain.
Everyone had the dream again that night. The bonfire, the woman tied to a post in the midst of it, the halfling leading the burning, holding aloft a silver spoon like a conductor’s baton, and a set great golden gates – all of it as vivid as life. So vivid it awoke them all.
There was a light that didn’t come from the sun. Before the four Heroes was a golden gates, the same featured so prominently in their common dream. For a long time, all they could do is stare.
“It’s real,” Bessie finally managed to say.
Madge nodded.
Ren shook his head. “It can’t be real, this is somebody playing magic with our heads.”
“Magic – aye,” Killian said. “but it’s also real.” He frowned. “And right in our way.”
“Let’s see,” Ren said. The gate stretched about twenty feet in each direction, so Ren trotted off to the right. As he made to move around the gates’ far side, it moved. The gates turned to face him. His face ashen, Ren walked back to the others. “Did you see….it won’t let us…there’s no way…”
Just then the gates opened. Only a reddish orange light could be seen beyond, but there was a very clear voice.
“Save my babies!”
Madge looked at each of the others in turn, and then without a word dashed through the gate.
Killian followed, and then Bessie. Ren shook his head, double checked that Jimmy was still safely tied in place, and then followed the others.
The four Heroes were in a courtyard - four walls, a gate to the right, and the one behind them closed. A few buildings and a tower dotted the grounds, otherwise empty but for signs of a recent bonfire in the center of it all.
In a low voice that betrayed his amazement, Killian said, “This is where the dream happened.”
Madge nodded and pointed to the walls. “See the murals. The halfling leading a parade of followers? That’s the same man from the dream, right down to the spoon he’s holding up.”
Killian walked closer toward the center of the courtyard. There he knelt and ran his finger through the soot. “This was no bonfire,” he said after a moment. Standing, he pointed out the blackened area. “See how this is an exact circle, and by far too big for a common fire, even one built to burn someone to death. This was done by mage, a fireball, or something like it.”
“I’m going to take a look into those buildings,” Madge said. “They may yield some clues about this place.”
She went to the first of two small shacks toward one corner, and well out of what Killian called the “blast area.” Only a moment later she left that for the next one, where she lingered for several minutes. At last she entered the edge of the blast area and ascended the tower that sat on the fringe there, only to come down a moment later.
“Well?” Bessie asked when the ranger returned.
“The first are guest houses,” Madge said. “A halfling in the first abruptly told me I needed to go next door - - - to the women’s house.” She snorted in disgust. “The halfling woman there offered me soup and fowl, but had nothing – nothing – useful to say except to tell me we’re in Hilltopple House, for whatever that’s to mean.”
“Real halflings?” Bessie asked. “Was one of them the one who called for help?”
Madge shook her head. “They didn’t know anything about someone calling for help, but they looked and sounded real to me.”
Biting his lip, Ren asked, “Is that really good enough when we’re someplace that isn’t where we should be? Who really knows if any of this is real or not or what?”
“It’s going to have to do,” Madge answered. “Let’s see what else is here.”
The scarred ranger led the way to the gate off to the right. It wasn’t as huge as the golden set, but still required the full effort of all four Heroes to push it open. Another courtyard awaited on the other side. As the first, this one had mural covered walls and a gate on one wall – the left. There were only two buildings, a stable and what seemed to be a blacksmith’s shop surrounded by an empty moat. Nowhere were there any signs of life.
“Okay,” Ren said. “There’s no babies here to save, there’s no one to tell us what’s going on, and I don’t want to get caught up in an endless series of gates and courtyards. How about we go back and try the gate that got us in here in the first place? See if it opens up to where we woke up?”
Killian nodded, “Not a bad idea. I don’ like the idea of someone leading us on an’ toying with us.”
“I suppose,” Madge said. “But I still want to investigate this place. If the first gate does open back to camp, let’s spike it open and return. That way we know we’ll have a means out.”
Killian and Bessie nodded. Ren bit his lip and said nothing. They returned to the first courtyard and collectively pulled on the golden gate. After some struggle, it opened – to a nightmare.
First the wave of heat hit them. Then they saw the flames, endless flames where the forest should have been. They were trapped, trapped on an island in a sea of fire. The four Heroes looked at one another and without a word, closed the gate.
“The way is closed,” Killian whispered.
“That leaves the only the obvious,” Madge said.
Bessie nodded. “Through the other gates.”
Ren took a deep breath. “Then let’s get to it and get out of the place.”
They headed straight for the third gate and pushed it open without much resistance. As soon as they did, they heard a pitiful cry from inside.
“Help me.” Crumpled at the base of a statue in the middle of the courtyard was an old woman in rags.
“I’ll get her,” Madge said.
“We’ll see to the next gate,” Ren said. He, Bessie, and Killian made their way through what looked like an army training yard toward the gate to the left.
Madge came up to the woman and kneeled beside her. “Come, we’ll help you get out.”
“You will be of some help!” the woman replied in a changed voice. Not pitiful this one, but cruel and proud. She stood and was suddenly no longer a woman at all. In her place was a man, a tall and strong warrior, armed and in armor. Madge staggered back in surprise and the warrior struck her with the pommel of his sword, sending the ranger to the ground – unconscious.
Then the chaos of earnest combat really began. Ren shot at the warrior and Killian sent his magic bolts of pain into him, but the warrior shrugged both of the attacks off as if they were nothing. Bessie began summoning some help as the warrior charged toward us. Then from the gate they’d just crossed came more trouble. A woman with a prickled bow sprinted in and shot Bessie.
The warrior swung his huge sword at Killian, cutting him open across the gut and sending him to the ground. Bessie’s summoned wolf appeared behind the archer, distracting her long enough for Bessie to shoot her crossbow at her. Ren made a desperate attack against the warrior with his sickle, which barely cut through his foe’s armor.
Then the other gate opened. Standing in the threshold was another warrior. Bereft of armor and weapons, his stance was nonetheless unmistakable. He fearlessly surveyed the battle before him as his hands worked the only weapon he’d been able to find. A mere garden hoe, the stranger seemed ready to turn it into a lethal weapon.
The shape changing warrior glared at him. “You!” he shouted. “You were to stay where we PUT you!” With that he charged, and his foe followed suit. The two closed and engaged – sword versus hoe, armored warrior versus an angry one.
An arrow pierced Bessie and forced her and Ren’s attention back on the archer. As Bessie made a wild crossbow shot, Ren decided on a desperate plan. He made a show of feeling about in his quiver before pulling an arrow out. It was nocked and ready before the archer woman made her next arrow ready, and Ren had time to aim his short bow at her and shout out.
“This one’s a slaying arrow, lady,” he shouted. “You’ve seen me hit; I won’t miss from this short distance. Go back or suffer it.”
It was all a complete bluff, but the woman hesitated nonetheless. She let her bow drop, but as Ren and Bessie glanced at the warriors off to the side, the archer dropped to her knees and drew her dagger. She held it to Killian’s neck and spoke for the first time. “Let us speak terms.”
At that moment there was a loud shout from where the two warriors were fighting. The newcomer was bloodied in several spots, but his foe’s armor showed he had suffered hard blows from the hoe. That warrior shouted as he swung with all his might at the newcomer, who wheeled just out of range and followed through with a blow of his own. The hoe struck at just the right angle and with great force at the shape-changing warrior’s neck, cutting through the neck completely in a bloody mess that sent the head flying from the body.
It bounced once and landed near the archer. In the moment she gaped, Bessie and her wolf lunged. The druid’s scimitar tore through the archer’s light armor, and her wolf tore open the archer’s throat. All at once that battle was over.
Bessie leaned over to tend to the still bleeding Killian as Ren approached the strange warrior.
“Thank you for your help,” he said. “I think we’d pretty sure be dead except for you coming in.”
“He betrayed me,” the stranger said. “He killed my fellows and took all that I had. Weapons, armor, badges, and,” his eyes flashed red in anger, “my horse.” The stranger looked past Ren, glaring at the headless corpse at his feet.
Ren looked down at the corpse and back up. “Well I’d say you did a fine job of getting him back,” he said. The stranger nodded but didn’t say anything. Ren waited, then continued. “Look then. You helped us considerably, we’ll help see about finding what he took.” He paused and looked at the sky. It was as blue as a bright spring day should be, with no sign of the sea of fire that lay beyond the walls. “I’m willing to bet they’re all in the place somewhere. We’ll help you get them all back.”
The stranger again just nodded. Ren glanced over to Bessie, who had just gotten Killian back to consciousness. Turning back to the stranger, he said, “That’s Bessie Fisherman over there, tending to Killian the sorcerer. And my name’s Ren d’Hayson.” He paused.
“Ren,” the stranger said. “I will indeed take your offer with thanks.”
“Wonderful,” Ren said, desperate to keep him talking. “So….what’s your name?”
The stranger finally looked up from his vanquished foe. He stared up into the sky for a moment, and then set the hoe to the ground as if it were the grandest of standards. Coming to a stiff attention, he said in the clearest of proud voices, “I am Aneirin Allin, son of Mahavir, Lieutenant Guard of Paras in the Service of Lord Maissen.”
Bessie and Ren both looked at him with widened eyes. “Lord Maissen?”
[The Tale continues on post #49]
2-02
The dream was the topic of conversation as the group made their way across the valley floor that morning. It made the arduous task of getting the cart up the red stone stairs on the far side go that much faster. Only when faced with the forest on the rift valley’s north side did their thoughts focus back on the task at hand.
Traveling through the forest took up a full day. Gradually the land began to rise. It was subtle, but noticeable to the three Heroes familiar with the ways of outdoors. Somewhere on the other side of the forest would be the foothills of Ghost Dragon Mountain.
Everyone had the dream again that night. The bonfire, the woman tied to a post in the midst of it, the halfling leading the burning, holding aloft a silver spoon like a conductor’s baton, and a set great golden gates – all of it as vivid as life. So vivid it awoke them all.
There was a light that didn’t come from the sun. Before the four Heroes was a golden gates, the same featured so prominently in their common dream. For a long time, all they could do is stare.
“It’s real,” Bessie finally managed to say.
Madge nodded.
Ren shook his head. “It can’t be real, this is somebody playing magic with our heads.”
“Magic – aye,” Killian said. “but it’s also real.” He frowned. “And right in our way.”
“Let’s see,” Ren said. The gate stretched about twenty feet in each direction, so Ren trotted off to the right. As he made to move around the gates’ far side, it moved. The gates turned to face him. His face ashen, Ren walked back to the others. “Did you see….it won’t let us…there’s no way…”
Just then the gates opened. Only a reddish orange light could be seen beyond, but there was a very clear voice.
“Save my babies!”
Madge looked at each of the others in turn, and then without a word dashed through the gate.
Killian followed, and then Bessie. Ren shook his head, double checked that Jimmy was still safely tied in place, and then followed the others.
The four Heroes were in a courtyard - four walls, a gate to the right, and the one behind them closed. A few buildings and a tower dotted the grounds, otherwise empty but for signs of a recent bonfire in the center of it all.
In a low voice that betrayed his amazement, Killian said, “This is where the dream happened.”
Madge nodded and pointed to the walls. “See the murals. The halfling leading a parade of followers? That’s the same man from the dream, right down to the spoon he’s holding up.”
Killian walked closer toward the center of the courtyard. There he knelt and ran his finger through the soot. “This was no bonfire,” he said after a moment. Standing, he pointed out the blackened area. “See how this is an exact circle, and by far too big for a common fire, even one built to burn someone to death. This was done by mage, a fireball, or something like it.”
“I’m going to take a look into those buildings,” Madge said. “They may yield some clues about this place.”
She went to the first of two small shacks toward one corner, and well out of what Killian called the “blast area.” Only a moment later she left that for the next one, where she lingered for several minutes. At last she entered the edge of the blast area and ascended the tower that sat on the fringe there, only to come down a moment later.
“Well?” Bessie asked when the ranger returned.
“The first are guest houses,” Madge said. “A halfling in the first abruptly told me I needed to go next door - - - to the women’s house.” She snorted in disgust. “The halfling woman there offered me soup and fowl, but had nothing – nothing – useful to say except to tell me we’re in Hilltopple House, for whatever that’s to mean.”
“Real halflings?” Bessie asked. “Was one of them the one who called for help?”
Madge shook her head. “They didn’t know anything about someone calling for help, but they looked and sounded real to me.”
Biting his lip, Ren asked, “Is that really good enough when we’re someplace that isn’t where we should be? Who really knows if any of this is real or not or what?”
“It’s going to have to do,” Madge answered. “Let’s see what else is here.”
The scarred ranger led the way to the gate off to the right. It wasn’t as huge as the golden set, but still required the full effort of all four Heroes to push it open. Another courtyard awaited on the other side. As the first, this one had mural covered walls and a gate on one wall – the left. There were only two buildings, a stable and what seemed to be a blacksmith’s shop surrounded by an empty moat. Nowhere were there any signs of life.
“Okay,” Ren said. “There’s no babies here to save, there’s no one to tell us what’s going on, and I don’t want to get caught up in an endless series of gates and courtyards. How about we go back and try the gate that got us in here in the first place? See if it opens up to where we woke up?”
Killian nodded, “Not a bad idea. I don’ like the idea of someone leading us on an’ toying with us.”
“I suppose,” Madge said. “But I still want to investigate this place. If the first gate does open back to camp, let’s spike it open and return. That way we know we’ll have a means out.”
Killian and Bessie nodded. Ren bit his lip and said nothing. They returned to the first courtyard and collectively pulled on the golden gate. After some struggle, it opened – to a nightmare.
First the wave of heat hit them. Then they saw the flames, endless flames where the forest should have been. They were trapped, trapped on an island in a sea of fire. The four Heroes looked at one another and without a word, closed the gate.
“The way is closed,” Killian whispered.
“That leaves the only the obvious,” Madge said.
Bessie nodded. “Through the other gates.”
Ren took a deep breath. “Then let’s get to it and get out of the place.”
They headed straight for the third gate and pushed it open without much resistance. As soon as they did, they heard a pitiful cry from inside.
“Help me.” Crumpled at the base of a statue in the middle of the courtyard was an old woman in rags.
“I’ll get her,” Madge said.
“We’ll see to the next gate,” Ren said. He, Bessie, and Killian made their way through what looked like an army training yard toward the gate to the left.
Madge came up to the woman and kneeled beside her. “Come, we’ll help you get out.”
“You will be of some help!” the woman replied in a changed voice. Not pitiful this one, but cruel and proud. She stood and was suddenly no longer a woman at all. In her place was a man, a tall and strong warrior, armed and in armor. Madge staggered back in surprise and the warrior struck her with the pommel of his sword, sending the ranger to the ground – unconscious.
Then the chaos of earnest combat really began. Ren shot at the warrior and Killian sent his magic bolts of pain into him, but the warrior shrugged both of the attacks off as if they were nothing. Bessie began summoning some help as the warrior charged toward us. Then from the gate they’d just crossed came more trouble. A woman with a prickled bow sprinted in and shot Bessie.
The warrior swung his huge sword at Killian, cutting him open across the gut and sending him to the ground. Bessie’s summoned wolf appeared behind the archer, distracting her long enough for Bessie to shoot her crossbow at her. Ren made a desperate attack against the warrior with his sickle, which barely cut through his foe’s armor.
Then the other gate opened. Standing in the threshold was another warrior. Bereft of armor and weapons, his stance was nonetheless unmistakable. He fearlessly surveyed the battle before him as his hands worked the only weapon he’d been able to find. A mere garden hoe, the stranger seemed ready to turn it into a lethal weapon.
The shape changing warrior glared at him. “You!” he shouted. “You were to stay where we PUT you!” With that he charged, and his foe followed suit. The two closed and engaged – sword versus hoe, armored warrior versus an angry one.
An arrow pierced Bessie and forced her and Ren’s attention back on the archer. As Bessie made a wild crossbow shot, Ren decided on a desperate plan. He made a show of feeling about in his quiver before pulling an arrow out. It was nocked and ready before the archer woman made her next arrow ready, and Ren had time to aim his short bow at her and shout out.
“This one’s a slaying arrow, lady,” he shouted. “You’ve seen me hit; I won’t miss from this short distance. Go back or suffer it.”
It was all a complete bluff, but the woman hesitated nonetheless. She let her bow drop, but as Ren and Bessie glanced at the warriors off to the side, the archer dropped to her knees and drew her dagger. She held it to Killian’s neck and spoke for the first time. “Let us speak terms.”
At that moment there was a loud shout from where the two warriors were fighting. The newcomer was bloodied in several spots, but his foe’s armor showed he had suffered hard blows from the hoe. That warrior shouted as he swung with all his might at the newcomer, who wheeled just out of range and followed through with a blow of his own. The hoe struck at just the right angle and with great force at the shape-changing warrior’s neck, cutting through the neck completely in a bloody mess that sent the head flying from the body.
It bounced once and landed near the archer. In the moment she gaped, Bessie and her wolf lunged. The druid’s scimitar tore through the archer’s light armor, and her wolf tore open the archer’s throat. All at once that battle was over.
Bessie leaned over to tend to the still bleeding Killian as Ren approached the strange warrior.
“Thank you for your help,” he said. “I think we’d pretty sure be dead except for you coming in.”
“He betrayed me,” the stranger said. “He killed my fellows and took all that I had. Weapons, armor, badges, and,” his eyes flashed red in anger, “my horse.” The stranger looked past Ren, glaring at the headless corpse at his feet.
Ren looked down at the corpse and back up. “Well I’d say you did a fine job of getting him back,” he said. The stranger nodded but didn’t say anything. Ren waited, then continued. “Look then. You helped us considerably, we’ll help see about finding what he took.” He paused and looked at the sky. It was as blue as a bright spring day should be, with no sign of the sea of fire that lay beyond the walls. “I’m willing to bet they’re all in the place somewhere. We’ll help you get them all back.”
The stranger again just nodded. Ren glanced over to Bessie, who had just gotten Killian back to consciousness. Turning back to the stranger, he said, “That’s Bessie Fisherman over there, tending to Killian the sorcerer. And my name’s Ren d’Hayson.” He paused.
“Ren,” the stranger said. “I will indeed take your offer with thanks.”
“Wonderful,” Ren said, desperate to keep him talking. “So….what’s your name?”
The stranger finally looked up from his vanquished foe. He stared up into the sky for a moment, and then set the hoe to the ground as if it were the grandest of standards. Coming to a stiff attention, he said in the clearest of proud voices, “I am Aneirin Allin, son of Mahavir, Lieutenant Guard of Paras in the Service of Lord Maissen.”
Bessie and Ren both looked at him with widened eyes. “Lord Maissen?”
[The Tale continues on post #49]
Last edited:
Greylock
First Post
And don't forget, he was first level in that encounter ;p. I remember the look of suprise when you realised that, and promptly hustled me out of the room to level him up.
That was my second PnP session after a loonngg absense frrom the game [I missed 2ed entirely], and you made it a great experience. It certainly helped it for me that the group had already gotten through the char meet'n-greet phase, and that Wes had already introduced me to you all in his one game shot.
And kudo's to Wes for writing away my n00bishness as stoical attitude .
That was my second PnP session after a loonngg absense frrom the game [I missed 2ed entirely], and you made it a great experience. It certainly helped it for me that the group had already gotten through the char meet'n-greet phase, and that Wes had already introduced me to you all in his one game shot.
And kudo's to Wes for writing away my n00bishness as stoical attitude
.
Beale Knight
First Post
03 - 02 Hilltopple House pt2: Stories Fantastic and Twisted
Bessie and Ren looked at each other and then back at the strange warrior. “Lord Maissen?” they said in unplanned unison.
Aneirin furrowed his brow and frowned at them. “Indeed. Why do you seem surprised that I would be in his service?”
Bessie wringed her hands. “Um – just how long have you been here, Aneirin?”
The warrior took a breath and looked into space. “Five days now,” he said at last. “Five days since my party was betrayed and chained.”
“Your party?” Bessie asked.
At her question Aneirin began telling a fantastic tale. That he had been one of Lord Maissen’s soldiers, part of a team that had been sent out mere days ago to meet with the halfling that lived in this compound. He told of how a pleasant first day turned into betrayal by the halfing, who had his guests drugged, stripped of their gear, and chained at the back of the house. Almost every day since, the warrior he’d just slain would come and take away one of the prisoners. None had been seen since. Aneirin was the last survivor, the one who finally managed to free himself after days of work.
“And with him dead,” Aneirin said, “I want my sword and armor back, and Avarshan returned.”
“Who’s Avarshan?” Ren asked. “I thought all your companions had been taken.”
“My horse.”
“You have a horse?!” Ren and Bessie said as one.
Aneirin looked surprised at their reaction. “Of course,” he said.
Before the others could say anything, there was a loud scrape from behind them. They turned to see the archer pulling her bow to her. She’d apparently been conscious for several minutes, quietly trying to gather her weapons. The cobblestone path had betrayed her.
Bessie and Ren went for their weapons, and Aneirin took a step toward the woman, but in that moment a dagger flew into the archer’s neck. From his place by the still unconscious Madge, Killian was slowly getting to his feet. “Next time,” he said, “check ‘em t’ be SURE they’re dead.”
Aneirin led the others through the forth gate. It opened into a another square courtyard, one that featured a short two story house, a reflecting pool, and the strangest beast the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake had ever seen. Almost as tall as the house itself, the animal was simply massive. Four thick, stump-like legs supported its gigantic gray body, with a thin tail on one end offset by a head larger than Ren would be curled up in a ball. Strangest of all was the animal’s face; between two long tusks a hung long snake-like appendage that seemed to be prehensile! The beast didn’t seem threatening. He – an intimidating he – simply wandered the courtyard using his facial appendage to take leaves from the uppermost tree branches to eat.
Everyone but Aneirin came to a dead halt to stare at this bizarre animal. The warrior nudged them on. “The ellefant won’t bother you if you leave him alone. Now come – I want to get in that house. He must have my gear within.”
At that moment there came a shout from the house. “GO away! This is Mine. MINE!” From a brass slot in the door the tip of a wand protruded. The wand shook and the voice on the other end of it repeated his demand.
“I want my sword, Armis,” Aneirin shouted. “Return it and no harm will come to you.”
“It’s Not MY FAULT!” Armis cried from the other side of the door. “Now go away. There’s nothing I can DO about it.”
“Who’s Armis?” Bessie asked.
“The halfling lord of this House,” the warrior answered.
Ren looked around the courtyard and suddenly his heart sank. “He’s the lord of this place?” he asked.
“Yess,” Aneirin repeated as he pounded on the door. A bolt of light shot out from the wand, striking him and making Aneirin step back in pain. “Armis – you will let us in!”
“We have to get in there and deal with this Armis man,” Ren whispered to Bessie and Killian. He waved his arm around to direct their gaze around the walls of the courtyard. “There’s no gate. If we want to get back to the real world we’re going to have to deal with this Armis and get him to get us back.”
“We’ll break the door in then,” Killian said. “It looks delicate enough.” He went up to join Aneirin.
Bessie took a step that way and suddenly stopped. “I wonder,” she muttered to herself. Then she wheeled and walked to the ellefant.
“Well maybe she can, she’s the druid,” Ren said to himself. He was thinking of a quieter way in. As Killian and Aneirin began pounding on the door and Bessie worked to convince the ellefant it should become a battering ram, Ren ran around the corner of the house. On the long side he noticed a row of upper story windows – real glass ones – and that there was plenty of little hand and foot holds on the rough stone walls. A few seconds later he was breaking open the foremost window.
He stumbled on a bed unexpectedly shoved all the way against the wall under the window, and remarked on its small size. It would fit a child of eight comfortably, but never an adult. Ren felt a twinge of excitement hit him. In moments he would likely be laying eyes on a real, living halfling! He opened the bedroom’s door, a sliding one, and found him self in a long room that ran the length of the house – and which was filled with bookshelves!
From below, the pounding on the door continue. Armis’ whiny voice was clearer now.
“It wasn’t my fault, none of it!” Armis shouted. “I didn’t want her killed! I didn’t want ANY of this!”
Suddenly there was a loud CRASH from downstairs. “NO!” Armis shouted. “GET OUT! THIS HOUSE IS MINE! MINE!!” There was another whoosh sound of a magical bolt followed by sound of something breaking. Then another one, slightly different in tone.
Another exchange of demands from Aneirin and protests by Armis followed that, but upstairs Ren was ignoring it. He look around the room and saw an expensive looking box displayed on a table. Without hesitating he walked over and took it, then began walking to the stairs on the far side of the room. En route he pulled a random book from the shelves.
By now Armis had back his way to the bottom of the stairs Ren was at the top of. When the former stopped his delirious tirade to take a breath, the latter loudly cleared his throat.
Eyes wide, the halfling turned up to see Ren holding the book in one hand and his sickle in the other. “NO!” Armis shouted. “THAT’S MINE! GET OUT! IT’S MY HOUSE! MINE”
Ren shook his head. He could hear Aneirin and Killian rushing across the lower floor. “We’re going to destroy this house of yours and all in it if this keeps up,” Ren said. “What about if you calm down and we all actually have a sit down kind of talk.”
Armis looked from Ren at the top of the stairs to Aneiring and Killian – now just a few feet from him – and back again. He blinked a thousand times in five seconds, trying to decide what to do, confronted on both ends. Stuck, he finally relented – a little bit.
“Him,” he said, pointing to Killian. “The sorcerer can stay. I’ll talk with him. The rest of you – out. OUT!”
Ren, Killian, and Aneirin exchanged glances, and finally nodded. Aneirin wasn’t happy, but satisfied for the moment that he was closer to getting what he wanted he left the house. Ren retreated from sight, dropped the book loudly atop a shelf, and then waited just out of sight, ready to eavesdrop on the conversation between the sorcerer and the halfling.
What he and Killian (and Bessie and Aneirin, who were listening just outside the broken remains of the house’s front door) was a twisted tale of ancient tradition, desperate survival, and general cowardliness. This was indeed a halfling, despite the fact Maissen history reported them all long dead, and his name was Armis. His father had died just days ago, by his reckoning, and per tradition his wife was to be placed on the funeral pyre. She made a dubious claim of pregnancy, which would have spared her from the flames, but the human warrior, Belzle, and archer - hirelings of the late lord - didn’t believe her. They staked her to the pyre and set it alight, over Armis’ objections (as he emphasized again and again and again). This scene was the truth behind the vision the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake had all repeatedly seen in our nightmares over the past several days.
The pyre exploded, killing all the witnesses except the three we had met and some guests, including Aneirin, that were in the house at the time. The widowed halfling had become some sort of demon that returned every night, apparently demanding live sacrifice to keep her placated. To Belzle and the archer, the human guests at Hilltopple House were perfect for that purpose, as were the people who came through the front gate every night.
The villains that drugged and imprisoned Aneirin and his comrades had discovered there was no getting out of Hilltopple house, but so long as they could offer victims to the demon spirit, they would live. To their delight, fresh victims entered the compound almost every night – apparently driven to do so by the same nightmares that haunted the four Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake. Armis had discovered that he was safe so long as he stayed in his house, and had simply refused to come out ever since.
When the tale was told, Armis collapsed in his overstuffed chair. Killian left to confer with the others.
“So it will return tonight?” Bessie asked.
Killian nodded. “I haf’ta presume there’s no reason it won’t.
“And you don’t know what it might be?” asked Aneirin.
The sorcerer shook his head.
“He’s got a pretty grand library upstairs,” Ren said, “do you think that might help?”
Killian stroked his beardless chin, and then nodded. “Couldn’t hurt. Probably take awhile.”
“We can’t go anywhere anyway,” Bessie said.
While Killian went to conduct his research, the others investigated the courtyards that made up Hilltopple House. They discovered the outermost courtyard, where the widow had been burned to death and returned every night, was a sort of guest house for servants. The two little buildings were much like little inns, and the halflings that had addressed Madge were not people at all. They were manifestations of magic based off statuettes that sat on the mantle – manifestations that would prepare meals of soup or fowl several times a day.
The second courtyard was where Aneirin was reunited with his horse. Avarshan and two other horses were well kept in the stables there, which were also home to a mother dogs and her two pups. Those animals had the curious ability to be someplace other than where they appeared. The other building in that courtyard was some sort of blacksmith shop, wherein a man of iron was being constructed! A stockpile of weapons was discovered here, as was Aneirin’s weapons and armor. From the books recovered in that place, it was learned that the trench around the building held monsters that rusted and ate metal.
The third courtyard was simply a drilling area, equipped with an archery range, tilting targets for ride-by attacks, and cleared spaces for fighter practice.
The group was making their way back to Armis’ house when Killian shouted from the top window.
”I have it! But we’ve got t’ hurry!”
[story continues on post #52]
Bessie and Ren looked at each other and then back at the strange warrior. “Lord Maissen?” they said in unplanned unison.
Aneirin furrowed his brow and frowned at them. “Indeed. Why do you seem surprised that I would be in his service?”
Bessie wringed her hands. “Um – just how long have you been here, Aneirin?”
The warrior took a breath and looked into space. “Five days now,” he said at last. “Five days since my party was betrayed and chained.”
“Your party?” Bessie asked.
At her question Aneirin began telling a fantastic tale. That he had been one of Lord Maissen’s soldiers, part of a team that had been sent out mere days ago to meet with the halfling that lived in this compound. He told of how a pleasant first day turned into betrayal by the halfing, who had his guests drugged, stripped of their gear, and chained at the back of the house. Almost every day since, the warrior he’d just slain would come and take away one of the prisoners. None had been seen since. Aneirin was the last survivor, the one who finally managed to free himself after days of work.
“And with him dead,” Aneirin said, “I want my sword and armor back, and Avarshan returned.”
“Who’s Avarshan?” Ren asked. “I thought all your companions had been taken.”
“My horse.”
“You have a horse?!” Ren and Bessie said as one.
Aneirin looked surprised at their reaction. “Of course,” he said.
Before the others could say anything, there was a loud scrape from behind them. They turned to see the archer pulling her bow to her. She’d apparently been conscious for several minutes, quietly trying to gather her weapons. The cobblestone path had betrayed her.
Bessie and Ren went for their weapons, and Aneirin took a step toward the woman, but in that moment a dagger flew into the archer’s neck. From his place by the still unconscious Madge, Killian was slowly getting to his feet. “Next time,” he said, “check ‘em t’ be SURE they’re dead.”
Aneirin led the others through the forth gate. It opened into a another square courtyard, one that featured a short two story house, a reflecting pool, and the strangest beast the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake had ever seen. Almost as tall as the house itself, the animal was simply massive. Four thick, stump-like legs supported its gigantic gray body, with a thin tail on one end offset by a head larger than Ren would be curled up in a ball. Strangest of all was the animal’s face; between two long tusks a hung long snake-like appendage that seemed to be prehensile! The beast didn’t seem threatening. He – an intimidating he – simply wandered the courtyard using his facial appendage to take leaves from the uppermost tree branches to eat.
Everyone but Aneirin came to a dead halt to stare at this bizarre animal. The warrior nudged them on. “The ellefant won’t bother you if you leave him alone. Now come – I want to get in that house. He must have my gear within.”
At that moment there came a shout from the house. “GO away! This is Mine. MINE!” From a brass slot in the door the tip of a wand protruded. The wand shook and the voice on the other end of it repeated his demand.
“I want my sword, Armis,” Aneirin shouted. “Return it and no harm will come to you.”
“It’s Not MY FAULT!” Armis cried from the other side of the door. “Now go away. There’s nothing I can DO about it.”
“Who’s Armis?” Bessie asked.
“The halfling lord of this House,” the warrior answered.
Ren looked around the courtyard and suddenly his heart sank. “He’s the lord of this place?” he asked.
“Yess,” Aneirin repeated as he pounded on the door. A bolt of light shot out from the wand, striking him and making Aneirin step back in pain. “Armis – you will let us in!”
“We have to get in there and deal with this Armis man,” Ren whispered to Bessie and Killian. He waved his arm around to direct their gaze around the walls of the courtyard. “There’s no gate. If we want to get back to the real world we’re going to have to deal with this Armis and get him to get us back.”
“We’ll break the door in then,” Killian said. “It looks delicate enough.” He went up to join Aneirin.
Bessie took a step that way and suddenly stopped. “I wonder,” she muttered to herself. Then she wheeled and walked to the ellefant.
“Well maybe she can, she’s the druid,” Ren said to himself. He was thinking of a quieter way in. As Killian and Aneirin began pounding on the door and Bessie worked to convince the ellefant it should become a battering ram, Ren ran around the corner of the house. On the long side he noticed a row of upper story windows – real glass ones – and that there was plenty of little hand and foot holds on the rough stone walls. A few seconds later he was breaking open the foremost window.
He stumbled on a bed unexpectedly shoved all the way against the wall under the window, and remarked on its small size. It would fit a child of eight comfortably, but never an adult. Ren felt a twinge of excitement hit him. In moments he would likely be laying eyes on a real, living halfling! He opened the bedroom’s door, a sliding one, and found him self in a long room that ran the length of the house – and which was filled with bookshelves!
From below, the pounding on the door continue. Armis’ whiny voice was clearer now.
“It wasn’t my fault, none of it!” Armis shouted. “I didn’t want her killed! I didn’t want ANY of this!”
Suddenly there was a loud CRASH from downstairs. “NO!” Armis shouted. “GET OUT! THIS HOUSE IS MINE! MINE!!” There was another whoosh sound of a magical bolt followed by sound of something breaking. Then another one, slightly different in tone.
Another exchange of demands from Aneirin and protests by Armis followed that, but upstairs Ren was ignoring it. He look around the room and saw an expensive looking box displayed on a table. Without hesitating he walked over and took it, then began walking to the stairs on the far side of the room. En route he pulled a random book from the shelves.
By now Armis had back his way to the bottom of the stairs Ren was at the top of. When the former stopped his delirious tirade to take a breath, the latter loudly cleared his throat.
Eyes wide, the halfling turned up to see Ren holding the book in one hand and his sickle in the other. “NO!” Armis shouted. “THAT’S MINE! GET OUT! IT’S MY HOUSE! MINE”
Ren shook his head. He could hear Aneirin and Killian rushing across the lower floor. “We’re going to destroy this house of yours and all in it if this keeps up,” Ren said. “What about if you calm down and we all actually have a sit down kind of talk.”
Armis looked from Ren at the top of the stairs to Aneiring and Killian – now just a few feet from him – and back again. He blinked a thousand times in five seconds, trying to decide what to do, confronted on both ends. Stuck, he finally relented – a little bit.
“Him,” he said, pointing to Killian. “The sorcerer can stay. I’ll talk with him. The rest of you – out. OUT!”
Ren, Killian, and Aneirin exchanged glances, and finally nodded. Aneirin wasn’t happy, but satisfied for the moment that he was closer to getting what he wanted he left the house. Ren retreated from sight, dropped the book loudly atop a shelf, and then waited just out of sight, ready to eavesdrop on the conversation between the sorcerer and the halfling.
What he and Killian (and Bessie and Aneirin, who were listening just outside the broken remains of the house’s front door) was a twisted tale of ancient tradition, desperate survival, and general cowardliness. This was indeed a halfling, despite the fact Maissen history reported them all long dead, and his name was Armis. His father had died just days ago, by his reckoning, and per tradition his wife was to be placed on the funeral pyre. She made a dubious claim of pregnancy, which would have spared her from the flames, but the human warrior, Belzle, and archer - hirelings of the late lord - didn’t believe her. They staked her to the pyre and set it alight, over Armis’ objections (as he emphasized again and again and again). This scene was the truth behind the vision the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake had all repeatedly seen in our nightmares over the past several days.
The pyre exploded, killing all the witnesses except the three we had met and some guests, including Aneirin, that were in the house at the time. The widowed halfling had become some sort of demon that returned every night, apparently demanding live sacrifice to keep her placated. To Belzle and the archer, the human guests at Hilltopple House were perfect for that purpose, as were the people who came through the front gate every night.
The villains that drugged and imprisoned Aneirin and his comrades had discovered there was no getting out of Hilltopple house, but so long as they could offer victims to the demon spirit, they would live. To their delight, fresh victims entered the compound almost every night – apparently driven to do so by the same nightmares that haunted the four Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake. Armis had discovered that he was safe so long as he stayed in his house, and had simply refused to come out ever since.
When the tale was told, Armis collapsed in his overstuffed chair. Killian left to confer with the others.
“So it will return tonight?” Bessie asked.
Killian nodded. “I haf’ta presume there’s no reason it won’t.
“And you don’t know what it might be?” asked Aneirin.
The sorcerer shook his head.
“He’s got a pretty grand library upstairs,” Ren said, “do you think that might help?”
Killian stroked his beardless chin, and then nodded. “Couldn’t hurt. Probably take awhile.”
“We can’t go anywhere anyway,” Bessie said.
While Killian went to conduct his research, the others investigated the courtyards that made up Hilltopple House. They discovered the outermost courtyard, where the widow had been burned to death and returned every night, was a sort of guest house for servants. The two little buildings were much like little inns, and the halflings that had addressed Madge were not people at all. They were manifestations of magic based off statuettes that sat on the mantle – manifestations that would prepare meals of soup or fowl several times a day.
The second courtyard was where Aneirin was reunited with his horse. Avarshan and two other horses were well kept in the stables there, which were also home to a mother dogs and her two pups. Those animals had the curious ability to be someplace other than where they appeared. The other building in that courtyard was some sort of blacksmith shop, wherein a man of iron was being constructed! A stockpile of weapons was discovered here, as was Aneirin’s weapons and armor. From the books recovered in that place, it was learned that the trench around the building held monsters that rusted and ate metal.
The third courtyard was simply a drilling area, equipped with an archery range, tilting targets for ride-by attacks, and cleared spaces for fighter practice.
The group was making their way back to Armis’ house when Killian shouted from the top window.
”I have it! But we’ve got t’ hurry!”
[story continues on post #52]
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