Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
Beale Knight
First Post
alsih2o said:And now we have stepped into the actual plot.
So THAT's what's been stuck to the bottom of my boot all this time!
Greylock
First Post
Beale Knight said:
I was rereading this, and started to chuckle when I thought about how often we've done this. I'm suprised the party isn't trailed by a flock of buzzards.
Looking forward to the next installment, BK. Things start getting good soon (after a little misguided spelunking.)
Beale Knight
First Post
05 01 Dwarves, a Headcold, and a Revalation
Morning came all too soon. Though everyone was tired from the fight, no one cared to linger amid the blood and bones that remained in their campsite. Breakfast was put off until a suitable distance could be covered. With bellies full, the group decided to head toward the plume of smoke they’d spotted the day before.
The mountain trail met up with another and soon the Maisseners came across a campsite. The ground had been cleared recently and there was a well defined fire pit, but it was cold. Whoever had camped here had moved on, but probably only hours earlier. The trail continued easterly, and after a few miles it widened considerably.
There it was suddenly blocked. A massive iron wall stretched across the entire trail. The wall was some twenty feet high, smooth but for rivets, and showed no way through or around.
“This is nothing I expected to see out in the wild,” Ren said. This was followed by a loud sneeze.
“The engineering behind this is outstanding,” Aneirin said.
Madge scanned the top of the wall. “Dwarf work; it must be.”
Suddenly a head came into view at the top of the wall. Helmeted and sporting a large beard, the man leaned partly over the wall to peer down at the five people below. “Who are you and what is your business here?”
The Maisseners looked at one another for a moment, and then Bessie stepped forward. “We are travelers from Maissen and we bring a gift for your leader.”
“Maisseners, are you?” The man rubbed his bearded chin.
Killian then stepped up beside Bessie. In a loud voice he said something that none of the other Maisseners could understand. As they stared at their fellow traveler in wonderment, the man atop the wall started to chuckle. “I wondered if it was,” he said. “You wait right there.”
Not so much as a minute later there was a series of loud clangs from the other side of the wall. Then the entire middle third of the wall began to pivot in a remarkable way, as if the entire section of wall was a single huge door. From the other side walked a short man in robes. He was taller than the gnomes the Heroes had met earlier, but not by very much. His long white beard was testimony to his age, but his eyes were still clear and sharp. He strode to Killian and the two shook hands. The old dwarf did the same to the other Maisseners, leaving the mark of a small black circle on each hand. “Now, come with me,” he said at last.
The old dwarf led the group into a small building attached to the far side of the door. A troop of some thirty armed dwarves were crowded into that large room. All of them were watching the procession of strangers, but many seemed focused on Killian. At the old dwarf’s command, a door on the far side of the building opened. “You’ll go on. They’ll certainly want to talk to you, they will.”
Bessie couldn’t stand it any longer. “If I may ask, what is this place?”
The old dwarf chuckled. “Just an outpost. The point of first watch. Head on down the trail another,” he paused, twitching his mouth in thought, “two miles. Yes, that’s the conversion – two miles and a little.” He escorted the Maisseners out onto the open trail beyond and waved them on their way.
When the door closed behind them, the Heroes walked a ways in silence. Finally though, Ren spoke up. “Alright Killian. I hoped that y’ might just tell us, but nope. So out with it.”
“Out with what?” Killian said.
“You know,” Madge said. “That was dwarf you spoke back there wasn’t it? How did you come to learn the language?”
“And what was that about the first guard wondering if it was you?” Bessie added. “Do they know you somehow?”
“I’d say they must,” Aneirin said. “Judging by the gazes he received from most of the guards at the fort.”
Killian took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Well there is something of a story here.”
Madge nodded. “Well how about you tell it to us so we don’t get caught by surprise at this next gate?”
“There won’t be any bad surprises,” Killian said. “I promise. And that’s all I can tell y’ now, and that’s the truth. If ye’ve trusted me any at all since setting off with me, trust me for one more mile.”
Silence fell at that. Only when the next few miles were behind them and another great steel wall came into view, blocking the trail, did Madge speak up. “Killian, we’re almost there. It’s time.”
The sorcerer sighed and nodded. “This is my home, the city of the hill dwarves.”
“What!” “How?” “That’s a sort….” “Why didn’t…”
Killian held up his hand to silence them. They had reached the wall. The sorcerer shouted out something in the dwarf language to the iron the loomed over them. After a few moments one dwarven head after another began to look over the side.
“Call you names and that of your fathers’.” One of them said in the language of Maissen.
One by one the group complied. First Killian, in dwarven, then the others, one by one.
“I am Aneirin Allin, first born of Rasheirin called Mahavir, warrior of Paras in service to Maissen.”
“Madge Hannibal, child of the wild, unluckily fathered by the crazed Rowan.”
“Bessie Fisherman, daughter of the elder Fisherman.”
“Ren d’Hayson, one of the many sons of….pa.”
With that, there was a deafening screech from the wall as it pivoted to allow the five entry. Killian led the way without hesitation, though worry was etched on his face. On the other side of the great wall was a cavernous room, roofed in metal. A block of armed dwarves, they could only be such, shorter and wider than men, but taller than gnomes, stood on either side of the Maisseners. And Killian.
For the sorcerer was no native of Maissen. He was in fact not even of the same race. The moment Killian crossed the plane of the steel gate, he was revealed as a dwarf.
The amazement of the others at this revelation trumped the scene around them. They stared at the man they had traveled with for so many weeks. Only now did the vague evasions he gave of his earlier years make sense. As did his habit of stroking his chin when in thought – for now that chin was no longer clean shaven. It was host to a beard as long and full as any elder of Maissen.
“KILLIAN!” came a shout from one side of the great room. The walls of this place had tall ladders leading to caves bored into the mountain itself. Along one was a gilded balcony, upon which an old dwarf in robes that suggested a wizard stood. “You had been ordered to leave,” he said, “and told when to return. You have ignored the wisdom of your elders and have violated our law. What have you to say for yourself?”
“I have been doing as bid,” Killian said. “I have studied the humans of Maissen without revealing myself as anything other than one of their own. I have traveled with these humans and seen adventure. We have defeated chakta and spiders, slain kerbal, and found ourselves swept into the plane of fire that held Hilltopple House in curse. There we removed the curse and punished those that deserved it. We have met well with the gnomes and battled farunk. I have learned much and come with news. I do not break the elders’ laws lightly.”
The elder dwarf stared down at Killian for several long moments. Then he nodded at the guards around the Maisseners, who led the way down a long hall with scant lighting.
“Killian, what’s this all about?” Bessie asked. “Are you really a dwarf or under some spell or…
The sorcerer shook his head. “I truly am a dwarf. I was born in these halls. When I was younger I….well…there was an accident and the beer hall burned to ashes. For that I was exiled to the humans lands, made to live there in human form.”
Ren couldn’t help but smile, despite the fact he felt the onset of a bad cold. “Like an accidental big bonfire?”
Before Killian could answer the group entered a large and well lit room. There were no means of entry visible, but as soon as they came to a stop dwarves began entering the room by simply walking through the walls. After a few moments the room was crowded with dwarves: sixteen that seemed to be officials of some sort, three times that many attendants, and the escorts that had led the Maisseners this far.
One of the dwarves in the more elegant attire stepped forward. “I know Killian; who are the rest of you all?” Names and histories were given again, and then Killian presented this leader with the rune encrusted sword hand to the Heroes by Kerros. As he pulled it free of the case, the sword began to glow with magic.
A long time passed as the leader dwarves studied the sword in turn. At length the wizard that had confronted Killian when he entered the first hall came into the room to examine it. He whispered an incantation over the sword and the runes began to glow and swirl and change. The wizard then handed the sword back to Killian. His features softer now, the wizard asked, “How is Popa, I worry for him.”
“He is well but fearful the Maissen council seeks to make him irrelevant.”
“Tell him our hearts are with him.” He looked over the four humans. “Now – how do you care to return?”
The Maisseners looked at each other for a few moments. None of them had given the matter any thought. “Can we let you know?”
“Indeed,” the wizard dwarf said. “You are welcome to stay a short time here, as long as realize something very important. Those marks, the circles on your palms, they indicate that you are Killian’s responsibility, and he yours.” He then reached into a pouch and handed a crystal to Killian. “Present this to Kerros when you return. For now, stick to the three wall and you will find your rooms.”
At that the dwarves began to depart. When at last the five Heroes were alone Killian had to explain what the wizard had meant and lead the way to a set of rooms. There he read the runes to the others. “Allies once, allies always. Name your place and time.”
“So they will help in the coming war,” Madge said.
“Without doubt,” Killian answered.
“It is good to know these folk have honor,” Aneirin said. “But what do we do now?”
“I know that I need to rest,” Ren said. “That fall in the river I thinks gotten me a little sick.”
“Well now that we’re here, there IS something I’d like to see to,” Killian said. “It might take a few days, but that’ll let Ren here get over his cold.”
Next: Spelunking
Soon: Not Spelunking and Follow the Poem
Morning came all too soon. Though everyone was tired from the fight, no one cared to linger amid the blood and bones that remained in their campsite. Breakfast was put off until a suitable distance could be covered. With bellies full, the group decided to head toward the plume of smoke they’d spotted the day before.
The mountain trail met up with another and soon the Maisseners came across a campsite. The ground had been cleared recently and there was a well defined fire pit, but it was cold. Whoever had camped here had moved on, but probably only hours earlier. The trail continued easterly, and after a few miles it widened considerably.
There it was suddenly blocked. A massive iron wall stretched across the entire trail. The wall was some twenty feet high, smooth but for rivets, and showed no way through or around.
“This is nothing I expected to see out in the wild,” Ren said. This was followed by a loud sneeze.
“The engineering behind this is outstanding,” Aneirin said.
Madge scanned the top of the wall. “Dwarf work; it must be.”
Suddenly a head came into view at the top of the wall. Helmeted and sporting a large beard, the man leaned partly over the wall to peer down at the five people below. “Who are you and what is your business here?”
The Maisseners looked at one another for a moment, and then Bessie stepped forward. “We are travelers from Maissen and we bring a gift for your leader.”
“Maisseners, are you?” The man rubbed his bearded chin.
Killian then stepped up beside Bessie. In a loud voice he said something that none of the other Maisseners could understand. As they stared at their fellow traveler in wonderment, the man atop the wall started to chuckle. “I wondered if it was,” he said. “You wait right there.”
Not so much as a minute later there was a series of loud clangs from the other side of the wall. Then the entire middle third of the wall began to pivot in a remarkable way, as if the entire section of wall was a single huge door. From the other side walked a short man in robes. He was taller than the gnomes the Heroes had met earlier, but not by very much. His long white beard was testimony to his age, but his eyes were still clear and sharp. He strode to Killian and the two shook hands. The old dwarf did the same to the other Maisseners, leaving the mark of a small black circle on each hand. “Now, come with me,” he said at last.
The old dwarf led the group into a small building attached to the far side of the door. A troop of some thirty armed dwarves were crowded into that large room. All of them were watching the procession of strangers, but many seemed focused on Killian. At the old dwarf’s command, a door on the far side of the building opened. “You’ll go on. They’ll certainly want to talk to you, they will.”
Bessie couldn’t stand it any longer. “If I may ask, what is this place?”
The old dwarf chuckled. “Just an outpost. The point of first watch. Head on down the trail another,” he paused, twitching his mouth in thought, “two miles. Yes, that’s the conversion – two miles and a little.” He escorted the Maisseners out onto the open trail beyond and waved them on their way.
When the door closed behind them, the Heroes walked a ways in silence. Finally though, Ren spoke up. “Alright Killian. I hoped that y’ might just tell us, but nope. So out with it.”
“Out with what?” Killian said.
“You know,” Madge said. “That was dwarf you spoke back there wasn’t it? How did you come to learn the language?”
“And what was that about the first guard wondering if it was you?” Bessie added. “Do they know you somehow?”
“I’d say they must,” Aneirin said. “Judging by the gazes he received from most of the guards at the fort.”
Killian took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Well there is something of a story here.”
Madge nodded. “Well how about you tell it to us so we don’t get caught by surprise at this next gate?”
“There won’t be any bad surprises,” Killian said. “I promise. And that’s all I can tell y’ now, and that’s the truth. If ye’ve trusted me any at all since setting off with me, trust me for one more mile.”
Silence fell at that. Only when the next few miles were behind them and another great steel wall came into view, blocking the trail, did Madge speak up. “Killian, we’re almost there. It’s time.”
The sorcerer sighed and nodded. “This is my home, the city of the hill dwarves.”
“What!” “How?” “That’s a sort….” “Why didn’t…”
Killian held up his hand to silence them. They had reached the wall. The sorcerer shouted out something in the dwarf language to the iron the loomed over them. After a few moments one dwarven head after another began to look over the side.
“Call you names and that of your fathers’.” One of them said in the language of Maissen.
One by one the group complied. First Killian, in dwarven, then the others, one by one.
“I am Aneirin Allin, first born of Rasheirin called Mahavir, warrior of Paras in service to Maissen.”
“Madge Hannibal, child of the wild, unluckily fathered by the crazed Rowan.”
“Bessie Fisherman, daughter of the elder Fisherman.”
“Ren d’Hayson, one of the many sons of….pa.”
With that, there was a deafening screech from the wall as it pivoted to allow the five entry. Killian led the way without hesitation, though worry was etched on his face. On the other side of the great wall was a cavernous room, roofed in metal. A block of armed dwarves, they could only be such, shorter and wider than men, but taller than gnomes, stood on either side of the Maisseners. And Killian.
For the sorcerer was no native of Maissen. He was in fact not even of the same race. The moment Killian crossed the plane of the steel gate, he was revealed as a dwarf.
The amazement of the others at this revelation trumped the scene around them. They stared at the man they had traveled with for so many weeks. Only now did the vague evasions he gave of his earlier years make sense. As did his habit of stroking his chin when in thought – for now that chin was no longer clean shaven. It was host to a beard as long and full as any elder of Maissen.
“KILLIAN!” came a shout from one side of the great room. The walls of this place had tall ladders leading to caves bored into the mountain itself. Along one was a gilded balcony, upon which an old dwarf in robes that suggested a wizard stood. “You had been ordered to leave,” he said, “and told when to return. You have ignored the wisdom of your elders and have violated our law. What have you to say for yourself?”
“I have been doing as bid,” Killian said. “I have studied the humans of Maissen without revealing myself as anything other than one of their own. I have traveled with these humans and seen adventure. We have defeated chakta and spiders, slain kerbal, and found ourselves swept into the plane of fire that held Hilltopple House in curse. There we removed the curse and punished those that deserved it. We have met well with the gnomes and battled farunk. I have learned much and come with news. I do not break the elders’ laws lightly.”
The elder dwarf stared down at Killian for several long moments. Then he nodded at the guards around the Maisseners, who led the way down a long hall with scant lighting.
“Killian, what’s this all about?” Bessie asked. “Are you really a dwarf or under some spell or…
The sorcerer shook his head. “I truly am a dwarf. I was born in these halls. When I was younger I….well…there was an accident and the beer hall burned to ashes. For that I was exiled to the humans lands, made to live there in human form.”
Ren couldn’t help but smile, despite the fact he felt the onset of a bad cold. “Like an accidental big bonfire?”
Before Killian could answer the group entered a large and well lit room. There were no means of entry visible, but as soon as they came to a stop dwarves began entering the room by simply walking through the walls. After a few moments the room was crowded with dwarves: sixteen that seemed to be officials of some sort, three times that many attendants, and the escorts that had led the Maisseners this far.
One of the dwarves in the more elegant attire stepped forward. “I know Killian; who are the rest of you all?” Names and histories were given again, and then Killian presented this leader with the rune encrusted sword hand to the Heroes by Kerros. As he pulled it free of the case, the sword began to glow with magic.
A long time passed as the leader dwarves studied the sword in turn. At length the wizard that had confronted Killian when he entered the first hall came into the room to examine it. He whispered an incantation over the sword and the runes began to glow and swirl and change. The wizard then handed the sword back to Killian. His features softer now, the wizard asked, “How is Popa, I worry for him.”
“He is well but fearful the Maissen council seeks to make him irrelevant.”
“Tell him our hearts are with him.” He looked over the four humans. “Now – how do you care to return?”
The Maisseners looked at each other for a few moments. None of them had given the matter any thought. “Can we let you know?”
“Indeed,” the wizard dwarf said. “You are welcome to stay a short time here, as long as realize something very important. Those marks, the circles on your palms, they indicate that you are Killian’s responsibility, and he yours.” He then reached into a pouch and handed a crystal to Killian. “Present this to Kerros when you return. For now, stick to the three wall and you will find your rooms.”
At that the dwarves began to depart. When at last the five Heroes were alone Killian had to explain what the wizard had meant and lead the way to a set of rooms. There he read the runes to the others. “Allies once, allies always. Name your place and time.”
“So they will help in the coming war,” Madge said.
“Without doubt,” Killian answered.
“It is good to know these folk have honor,” Aneirin said. “But what do we do now?”
“I know that I need to rest,” Ren said. “That fall in the river I thinks gotten me a little sick.”
“Well now that we’re here, there IS something I’d like to see to,” Killian said. “It might take a few days, but that’ll let Ren here get over his cold.”
Next: Spelunking
Soon: Not Spelunking and Follow the Poem
Beale Knight
First Post
05 02 Underland
Bells rang, echoing throughout the caves and startling the Maisseners.
“What was that?” Bessie asked.
“Dinner,” Killian answered. “Prepare to hear bells quite a bit here. It’s the common way of announcements.” He led them down a tunnel to a great room filled with tables and hungry dwarves. There he announced that he wanted to investigate getting a wand crafted. “Something that’ll help us all, Mage Armor.” When he returned to the Maisseners’ chambers later he said it would be four days, and that he had traded one of the food preparing statuettes for it.
That left the Heroes with time to kill. Killian showed them around some of the common areas of the underland community, but meals, and the cacophonous bells announcing them, interrupted their tour several times.
“This is tiresome,” Madge said. “Is there something we can DO, someplace we might go to get away from these bells?”
“What are the plans?” Aneirin asked. “All that you all had decided was to come here and deliver that sword message. Now that that’s been done, what do you WANT to do next? It seems we have time to think about it.”
“We had talked about trying to get to that other community of humans the gnomes mentioned,” Bessie said. “And there were supposed to be some elves that way too, weren’t there?”
“We should see the Keeper of Maps,” Killian said. “If there’s communities out there, he’ll know of them, and probably know a way to get there.”
The Keeper of Maps was old even by dwarf standards. With a bone white head of hair and beard to match, his face held as many wrinkles as his many maps had lines. After a short wait, the Maisseners gained an audience, and asked of nearby above land settlements. The Keeper shuffled toward a collection of tiles, and laid them out to form a regional map.
“Humans have a town here,” he said, pointing at a dot next to a long squiggle. “There are elves in the area, but they wander. Usually along this sort of circuit.” He pointed at a stray triangle and traced his finger over an oval, another set of triangles, around curled crosses, and back around another set of triangles to the first one again.
The Maisseners scratched their heads. “I mean no disrespect,” Madge said, “but I don’t understand your map at all.”
The old dwarf chuckled. “Of course not, dear. You haven’t the training.”
“Do you know the valley of Drayne?” Bessie asked. “Could you show us a route there?”
“Certainly.” The Keeper of Maps set out some more tiles and pointed. “It’s here,” he said pointing to a collection of circles. Then, tracing his fingers over a line that jagged in several spots, said, “You can travel this route to it, but I suggest you take a guide that’s traveled the way. Clan Bonton would be your best choice.”
Just then there was another series of bells sounding, but in a different pattern than those announcing meals or gatherings. The Keeper of Maps looked up from his tiles and clucked his tongue. “Hm, strangers.”
He continued to point out features on his map tiles for a few minutes when he was interrupted by a dwarven warrior. “There you are,” he said in the tongue of Maissen. “There are farunk here for you.”
The Maissners all looked at one another with trepidation. “This can’t be a good thing,” Killian said. “How many?” he asked the warrior
“All of them I think,” the other dwarf answered. “They wait outside the inner gate.”
“Well they’ll be no match for the Defenders there. We should see them then.”
The Heroes were escorted back through the tunnels to the cavernous room at the inner gate. They climbed up to the balcony overlooking the trail and there the gatekeeper dwarf said, “They say you are members of their clan.
“What,” the four said in unison.
The gatekeeper led them out a door and, despite what the guard had said, the Heroes were shocked at the number of farunk gathered outside.
“There must be hundreds,” Madge whispered.
Aneirin nodded. “It will be a real fight if that’s what they’ve come for.”
Their appearance on the balcony prompted the farunk to begin squealing. “Do you know what they’re saying?” Bessie asked the gatekeeper.
By way of answer, the gatekeeper handed her a necklace and indicated she should wear it. As soon as she did, the squealing and grunts of the farunk became words in her ears. “New of Clan, New of Clan,” chanted the assembled farunk. Bessie held up her arms and said, “hello?”
There was a roar of approval. Bessie smiled widely. “This is a wonderful necklace,” she said to the dwarven gatekeeper.
One of the faunk then stepped forward. He let out a series of accented squeals and grunts that Bessie translated for the others. “He says that since we killed their sons in a fair fight we have become one of them. He also wants us to come down there so he can present us with something.”
The Heroes made their way down the ladders and the gatekeeper ushered them outside. There the farunk gave Bessie some teeth and a necklace. She and the farunk had a lengthy exchange after that, and finally Bessie went “Oooh,” and nodded. She grunted something to the farunk and turned to her companions. “These are items from the farunk we killed, given to us as a present. Their tradition calls for a gift from us in return. That will seal our entrance into the clan.”
After a little bit of scrambling for gifts, Killian gave the farunk a mace, Aneirin one of the swords taken from Hilltopple house, and Bessie several sheets of paper, something the farunk considered wondrous. The farunk all squealed and grunted loudly when the exchange was complete, and welcomed the Heroes of Maissen into their swamp at any time they wished to visit. Bessie took the opportunity to ask them about the redbreasts. The farunk said that those men had come into the swamp asking for seven bottles in trade. There was nothing special about the bottles except that one had a piece of paper in it. They also made a separate trade for some farunk slaves. After that, the farunk left for their swamp home and the Maisseners returned to their chambers underground.
There were still almost four full days to wait until Killian’s wand would be ready. Ren was still ill and contently resting, but the others were getting restless.
Someone suggested a daytrip – “just to have something to do.”
Tale continues on Post 82
Next - spelunking (I promise)
Soon - follow the poem
Bells rang, echoing throughout the caves and startling the Maisseners.
“What was that?” Bessie asked.
“Dinner,” Killian answered. “Prepare to hear bells quite a bit here. It’s the common way of announcements.” He led them down a tunnel to a great room filled with tables and hungry dwarves. There he announced that he wanted to investigate getting a wand crafted. “Something that’ll help us all, Mage Armor.” When he returned to the Maisseners’ chambers later he said it would be four days, and that he had traded one of the food preparing statuettes for it.
That left the Heroes with time to kill. Killian showed them around some of the common areas of the underland community, but meals, and the cacophonous bells announcing them, interrupted their tour several times.
“This is tiresome,” Madge said. “Is there something we can DO, someplace we might go to get away from these bells?”
“What are the plans?” Aneirin asked. “All that you all had decided was to come here and deliver that sword message. Now that that’s been done, what do you WANT to do next? It seems we have time to think about it.”
“We had talked about trying to get to that other community of humans the gnomes mentioned,” Bessie said. “And there were supposed to be some elves that way too, weren’t there?”
“We should see the Keeper of Maps,” Killian said. “If there’s communities out there, he’ll know of them, and probably know a way to get there.”
The Keeper of Maps was old even by dwarf standards. With a bone white head of hair and beard to match, his face held as many wrinkles as his many maps had lines. After a short wait, the Maisseners gained an audience, and asked of nearby above land settlements. The Keeper shuffled toward a collection of tiles, and laid them out to form a regional map.
“Humans have a town here,” he said, pointing at a dot next to a long squiggle. “There are elves in the area, but they wander. Usually along this sort of circuit.” He pointed at a stray triangle and traced his finger over an oval, another set of triangles, around curled crosses, and back around another set of triangles to the first one again.
The Maisseners scratched their heads. “I mean no disrespect,” Madge said, “but I don’t understand your map at all.”
The old dwarf chuckled. “Of course not, dear. You haven’t the training.”
“Do you know the valley of Drayne?” Bessie asked. “Could you show us a route there?”
“Certainly.” The Keeper of Maps set out some more tiles and pointed. “It’s here,” he said pointing to a collection of circles. Then, tracing his fingers over a line that jagged in several spots, said, “You can travel this route to it, but I suggest you take a guide that’s traveled the way. Clan Bonton would be your best choice.”
Just then there was another series of bells sounding, but in a different pattern than those announcing meals or gatherings. The Keeper of Maps looked up from his tiles and clucked his tongue. “Hm, strangers.”
He continued to point out features on his map tiles for a few minutes when he was interrupted by a dwarven warrior. “There you are,” he said in the tongue of Maissen. “There are farunk here for you.”
The Maissners all looked at one another with trepidation. “This can’t be a good thing,” Killian said. “How many?” he asked the warrior
“All of them I think,” the other dwarf answered. “They wait outside the inner gate.”
“Well they’ll be no match for the Defenders there. We should see them then.”
The Heroes were escorted back through the tunnels to the cavernous room at the inner gate. They climbed up to the balcony overlooking the trail and there the gatekeeper dwarf said, “They say you are members of their clan.
“What,” the four said in unison.
The gatekeeper led them out a door and, despite what the guard had said, the Heroes were shocked at the number of farunk gathered outside.
“There must be hundreds,” Madge whispered.
Aneirin nodded. “It will be a real fight if that’s what they’ve come for.”
Their appearance on the balcony prompted the farunk to begin squealing. “Do you know what they’re saying?” Bessie asked the gatekeeper.
By way of answer, the gatekeeper handed her a necklace and indicated she should wear it. As soon as she did, the squealing and grunts of the farunk became words in her ears. “New of Clan, New of Clan,” chanted the assembled farunk. Bessie held up her arms and said, “hello?”
There was a roar of approval. Bessie smiled widely. “This is a wonderful necklace,” she said to the dwarven gatekeeper.
One of the faunk then stepped forward. He let out a series of accented squeals and grunts that Bessie translated for the others. “He says that since we killed their sons in a fair fight we have become one of them. He also wants us to come down there so he can present us with something.”
The Heroes made their way down the ladders and the gatekeeper ushered them outside. There the farunk gave Bessie some teeth and a necklace. She and the farunk had a lengthy exchange after that, and finally Bessie went “Oooh,” and nodded. She grunted something to the farunk and turned to her companions. “These are items from the farunk we killed, given to us as a present. Their tradition calls for a gift from us in return. That will seal our entrance into the clan.”
After a little bit of scrambling for gifts, Killian gave the farunk a mace, Aneirin one of the swords taken from Hilltopple house, and Bessie several sheets of paper, something the farunk considered wondrous. The farunk all squealed and grunted loudly when the exchange was complete, and welcomed the Heroes of Maissen into their swamp at any time they wished to visit. Bessie took the opportunity to ask them about the redbreasts. The farunk said that those men had come into the swamp asking for seven bottles in trade. There was nothing special about the bottles except that one had a piece of paper in it. They also made a separate trade for some farunk slaves. After that, the farunk left for their swamp home and the Maisseners returned to their chambers underground.
There were still almost four full days to wait until Killian’s wand would be ready. Ren was still ill and contently resting, but the others were getting restless.
Someone suggested a daytrip – “just to have something to do.”
Tale continues on Post 82
Next - spelunking (I promise)
Soon - follow the poem
Last edited:
Greylock
First Post
"How many?" asked the warrior. "All of them."
Forgot that bit. ;p And how Bessie was really jazzed about meeting elves.
Minor correction: Aneirin gave up his old sword that came with him in time, not a sword from the Hilltopple stash, as the Farunk were looking for presents that had special meaning to their owner.
Forgot that bit. ;p And how Bessie was really jazzed about meeting elves.
Minor correction: Aneirin gave up his old sword that came with him in time, not a sword from the Hilltopple stash, as the Farunk were looking for presents that had special meaning to their owner.
Last edited:
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Beale Knight
First Post
Greylock said:
No you didn't. I totally ripped it off from T2.
Greylock said:
Just the sort of detail I miss when I'm not there!
Similar Threads
