Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
Beale Knight
First Post
05 03 Have Fun Storming the Underworld!
The dwarf looked up from his work to stare at the Maisseners before him. “You want a guide to WHERE exactly?”
“The underworld,” Killian said. “S’ long as I’m here I thought I’d let ‘em see the kind of place I was raised.”
“And you want a clan Bonton guide,” the other dwarf continued, “just so you can go look around?”
“I see the light of understanding beginning to glow in your eyes,” Killian said.
The sage dwarf rolled those eyes. “Fifty gold for one guide for one day.”
Killian related this information to his fellows, who nodded. Aneirin was getting the gold together when the sage said something more.
“Quite dark down there, you know.”
Killian again translated for the others and they chatted in Maissen for a few moments. As they spoke, the sage reached behind him, fumbled through a cabinet, and set a wand on the table before him.
“Do you happen to know…”Killian began. The sage pointed to the wand and Killian stopped, rubbed his beard, and said. “And for this….”
“ A bagful of kresvilhur,” the other dwarf interrupted. “I have a bag right here.”
“What exactly is ‘kresvilhur’?” Madge asked as they left the sage’s chambers.
“A kind of fungus that emits a glow,” Killian answered. “Very useful for a lot of things.”
“Like seeing below ground,” Aneirin added.
“In color anyway,” the dwarf answered.
“So what’s a ‘gruell’?” Bessie asked, remembering what the sage had mentioned as they left his chamber. “And what about its beak and tentacles is so valuable.”
“A beast of some kind, that’s all I know,” Killian answered. “If we see anything with a beak and tentacles I suppose we’ll have a better idea. Now, is there any other equipment we need?”
Everyone double checked their gear and shook their heads. They each had food, water, weapons, and pouches of miscellaneous gear. Ren was still convalescing, so the others headed to the Low Intersection, the place where the tunnel to the underground met the community's primary tunnel. There they met with Grolsh, the Bonton clan guide and the wiriest dwarf any of them had every seen. They exchanged brief pleasantries, but Grolsh was eager to get started. “A long walk to the seven doors. Then another long walk before there’s anything to see.”
The guide’s description couldn’t have been more apt. The three humans and two dwarves marched down the tunnel from the Low Intersection for hours, occasionally passing off-shooting tunnels and less occasionally a dwarf or two marching the other direction before finally reaching a huge chamber. There twenty one heavily armed and armored dwarves stood in a phalanx. There was a brief exchange in dwarven, which Killian translated as, “Orders to advance and be recognized, and a proper reply. A formality, since they saw our light ages ago.”
Seven door of varying sizes lined the walls of this last chamber. Grolsh explained that this was the end reach of dwarven civilization. Beyond those doors were the fully threatening wilds. He pointed to one in particular and said, “This is the one that leads to the kresvilhur patch. It won’t be an easy way.”
The Maisseners nodded and the dwarves shifted position to make themselves ready for any threat that launched itself from beyond that door once opened. Grolsh opened the door and let the light shine into the inky black on the other side. There was no waiting threat and he waved for the others to come, giving Killian the honor of first in the group to cross into the wilds.
For all the dramatic build up, the next several hours counted among the dullest the Maisseners had experienced since beginning the journey. The tunnel here was natural, which made it a novelty compared to the neatly cut and smooth walls of the civilized tunnels. But that newness quickly faded as the group continued marching deeper and deeper into the bowels of the world. Finally they came to a chamber larger than that of the seven doors. The light from the borrowed wand did not reach a ceiling or even other walls.
“Which way?” Bessie asked, tilting her head at the echoes.
“One is as good as the other at this point,” Grolsh said. “We can find kresvilhur in either direction.”
“Right then,” Madge said.
The group followed the cavern wall to the right until they came across another tunnel. They traveled down this one for more than a mile and then it opened up into a chamber. The smell of moisture greeted them as they entered.
“This way,” Grolsh said. He pointed across the chamber to a pool of water. Without hesitation he walked right up to it, and then right into it. The others waited, expecting him to turn around at any moment, but he never did. In moments he was out of sight below the water.
One by one the Maisseners followed. Feeling their way along, they were able to swim through a short tunnel and reach air after just a minute or so. Where they surfaced however, presented them with a different challenge. The water was at the bottom of a vertical shaft that Grolsh was already climbing. Madge had the rope and the best chance, so she followed first. It was a struggle to get everyone going, but eventually they were making their way up the shaft.
So far no one had remarked on the beauty of natural wonders, expressed amazement at being so far from anything they’d ever known, or garnered much insight into dwarven culture. There was, however, a great deal of grunts and curses as they slowly made their way up the shaft.
Up top they were greeted with a horrible stench, like eggs gone bad in spoiled milk. The chamber the shaft led to was wide enough for them to stand beside each other, and Grolsh pointed to a tunnel leading out one side. Before he could take a step toward it, they all were stopped by the sounds of something shuffling just beyond their light.
Suddenly three green scaled people ran toward them out of the darkness. They resembled lizards with spears, and attacked ferociously. Aneirin and Madge’s swords flashed and the battle was on. Killian let loose fire from his fingertips, and Bessie slashed at another with her scimitar. Then there were two more of the monsters behind them. Aneirin and Madge charged the first group of three, while Killian and Bessie, with Grolsh, fought the newcomers. There was blood spilt on both sides, but the lizardish people lost more. Soon three were dead on the cave floor and the other two retreated down the shaft.
Bessie poked at one of the dead monsters with her scimitar. “No beak, no tentacles. I suppose these weren’t gruell.”
“Troglodyte,” Grolsh said. “Primitives. Only a threat in great numbers.”
“Not so primitive they don’t know wealth,” Madge said. She held up a small nugget of gold. “This one had four of these.”
Eight more were quickly found. Then, their spirits raised, the group carried on. The tunnel Grolsh led them through made a turn and suddenly they could all see a green glow ahead. “Kresvilhur,” their guide said as they walked closer.
“The wall is completely covered,” Madge remarked. “It must be forty feet high!”
“It’s enough to get some for us too,” Killian said, pulling out the sage’s bag and then one of his own. He walked up to the wall, drew his dagger, and cut some of the fungi off.
The wall screamed. It screamed like a hurt child, wailing in agony loud enough to be heard in Maissen.
“Just get enough for the sage,” Madge said. “That’s going to draw every predator for miles.”
Killian nodded and quickly filled the sage’s bag. The group then quickly made their way back to the last chamber, but were stopped short.
Another half-dozen troglodytes were waiting for them there.
The battle was almost too quick. Anierin and Madge again fought almost as one, drawing blood and forcing the monsters back to the shaft. The troglodytes leapt in without hesitation, hissing and making a sound that felt like laughter to the Heroes that still had to get passed them.
“We’re fools,” Aneirin said. “We let them make our fight a great deal harder just now.”
Grolsh was shaking his head. “There’s no other way to go, and they know it.”
“Nothing for it,” Madge said. “We’ll have to go down there.”
Aneirin went first, ready to take on any troglodyte he saw. They didn’t attack as he came down the shaft. They didn’t attack as the others made it down to the watery landing. With faint hope that the monsters had fled, the Heroes readied for an ambush underwater.
And they got it. Struggling to speed through the water filled tunnel, the Heroes felt the stabs of troglodyte spears. Desperately trying to find their feet, hold their breath, and fight all at the same time, the Maisseners thrashed and stabbed at anything that moved. The light flickered, throwing off weirdly bent beams and strange shadows that were as much hindrance as help. Blood began to mix with the water and no one could tell whose it was.
One by one the Heroes came up out of the water and fell gasping on the tunnel floor beyond. All were bloodied, but Aneirin’s wounds made them all gasp. His armor was ripped open and a hand sized gash at his hip was bleeding down his leg. Bessie used her magic to stop the bleeding and close the wound, but the fighter was still exhausted. They all were. The battlefield had been their enemy as much or more than the troglodytes. They got to their feet without seeing anymore of the monsters, but before they could step out of the chamber there was another hiss from before them.
They saw nothing, but there were countless places to hide from light in the chamber. Another series of hisses and clicks came from the darkness followed by something in dwarf that Killian translated. “They say to ‘give our gold’.”
“Tell them it would be better for them to just let us go unhindered,” Aneirin said. Killian complied. He was answered immediately. With a downtrodden look, the dwarf simply quoted, “’We are many.’”
“Status, everyone,” Madge barked. The replies were bleak. Everyone was wounded and exhausted. “And we do have a long way to travel,” Grolsh added.
Hearts heavy, the Maisseners decided to drop the gold they’d taken from the things they’d killed. For that, the return trip seemed to take even longer. Hours later, they said goodbye to Grolsh, returned the wand and bag of fungi to the sage and headed to their chambers. It had been a long day with little to show for it. They entered their chamber wanting nothing more than a long sleep.
Ren looked up as they dragged themselves in. “So – what’d you bring me?”
Next: Make ready and follow the poem. POST 87
Soon: The Bridge
The dwarf looked up from his work to stare at the Maisseners before him. “You want a guide to WHERE exactly?”
“The underworld,” Killian said. “S’ long as I’m here I thought I’d let ‘em see the kind of place I was raised.”
“And you want a clan Bonton guide,” the other dwarf continued, “just so you can go look around?”
“I see the light of understanding beginning to glow in your eyes,” Killian said.
The sage dwarf rolled those eyes. “Fifty gold for one guide for one day.”
Killian related this information to his fellows, who nodded. Aneirin was getting the gold together when the sage said something more.
“Quite dark down there, you know.”
Killian again translated for the others and they chatted in Maissen for a few moments. As they spoke, the sage reached behind him, fumbled through a cabinet, and set a wand on the table before him.
“Do you happen to know…”Killian began. The sage pointed to the wand and Killian stopped, rubbed his beard, and said. “And for this….”
“ A bagful of kresvilhur,” the other dwarf interrupted. “I have a bag right here.”
“What exactly is ‘kresvilhur’?” Madge asked as they left the sage’s chambers.
“A kind of fungus that emits a glow,” Killian answered. “Very useful for a lot of things.”
“Like seeing below ground,” Aneirin added.
“In color anyway,” the dwarf answered.
“So what’s a ‘gruell’?” Bessie asked, remembering what the sage had mentioned as they left his chamber. “And what about its beak and tentacles is so valuable.”
“A beast of some kind, that’s all I know,” Killian answered. “If we see anything with a beak and tentacles I suppose we’ll have a better idea. Now, is there any other equipment we need?”
Everyone double checked their gear and shook their heads. They each had food, water, weapons, and pouches of miscellaneous gear. Ren was still convalescing, so the others headed to the Low Intersection, the place where the tunnel to the underground met the community's primary tunnel. There they met with Grolsh, the Bonton clan guide and the wiriest dwarf any of them had every seen. They exchanged brief pleasantries, but Grolsh was eager to get started. “A long walk to the seven doors. Then another long walk before there’s anything to see.”
The guide’s description couldn’t have been more apt. The three humans and two dwarves marched down the tunnel from the Low Intersection for hours, occasionally passing off-shooting tunnels and less occasionally a dwarf or two marching the other direction before finally reaching a huge chamber. There twenty one heavily armed and armored dwarves stood in a phalanx. There was a brief exchange in dwarven, which Killian translated as, “Orders to advance and be recognized, and a proper reply. A formality, since they saw our light ages ago.”
Seven door of varying sizes lined the walls of this last chamber. Grolsh explained that this was the end reach of dwarven civilization. Beyond those doors were the fully threatening wilds. He pointed to one in particular and said, “This is the one that leads to the kresvilhur patch. It won’t be an easy way.”
The Maisseners nodded and the dwarves shifted position to make themselves ready for any threat that launched itself from beyond that door once opened. Grolsh opened the door and let the light shine into the inky black on the other side. There was no waiting threat and he waved for the others to come, giving Killian the honor of first in the group to cross into the wilds.
For all the dramatic build up, the next several hours counted among the dullest the Maisseners had experienced since beginning the journey. The tunnel here was natural, which made it a novelty compared to the neatly cut and smooth walls of the civilized tunnels. But that newness quickly faded as the group continued marching deeper and deeper into the bowels of the world. Finally they came to a chamber larger than that of the seven doors. The light from the borrowed wand did not reach a ceiling or even other walls.
“Which way?” Bessie asked, tilting her head at the echoes.
“One is as good as the other at this point,” Grolsh said. “We can find kresvilhur in either direction.”
“Right then,” Madge said.
The group followed the cavern wall to the right until they came across another tunnel. They traveled down this one for more than a mile and then it opened up into a chamber. The smell of moisture greeted them as they entered.
“This way,” Grolsh said. He pointed across the chamber to a pool of water. Without hesitation he walked right up to it, and then right into it. The others waited, expecting him to turn around at any moment, but he never did. In moments he was out of sight below the water.
One by one the Maisseners followed. Feeling their way along, they were able to swim through a short tunnel and reach air after just a minute or so. Where they surfaced however, presented them with a different challenge. The water was at the bottom of a vertical shaft that Grolsh was already climbing. Madge had the rope and the best chance, so she followed first. It was a struggle to get everyone going, but eventually they were making their way up the shaft.
So far no one had remarked on the beauty of natural wonders, expressed amazement at being so far from anything they’d ever known, or garnered much insight into dwarven culture. There was, however, a great deal of grunts and curses as they slowly made their way up the shaft.
Up top they were greeted with a horrible stench, like eggs gone bad in spoiled milk. The chamber the shaft led to was wide enough for them to stand beside each other, and Grolsh pointed to a tunnel leading out one side. Before he could take a step toward it, they all were stopped by the sounds of something shuffling just beyond their light.
Suddenly three green scaled people ran toward them out of the darkness. They resembled lizards with spears, and attacked ferociously. Aneirin and Madge’s swords flashed and the battle was on. Killian let loose fire from his fingertips, and Bessie slashed at another with her scimitar. Then there were two more of the monsters behind them. Aneirin and Madge charged the first group of three, while Killian and Bessie, with Grolsh, fought the newcomers. There was blood spilt on both sides, but the lizardish people lost more. Soon three were dead on the cave floor and the other two retreated down the shaft.
Bessie poked at one of the dead monsters with her scimitar. “No beak, no tentacles. I suppose these weren’t gruell.”
“Troglodyte,” Grolsh said. “Primitives. Only a threat in great numbers.”
“Not so primitive they don’t know wealth,” Madge said. She held up a small nugget of gold. “This one had four of these.”
Eight more were quickly found. Then, their spirits raised, the group carried on. The tunnel Grolsh led them through made a turn and suddenly they could all see a green glow ahead. “Kresvilhur,” their guide said as they walked closer.
“The wall is completely covered,” Madge remarked. “It must be forty feet high!”
“It’s enough to get some for us too,” Killian said, pulling out the sage’s bag and then one of his own. He walked up to the wall, drew his dagger, and cut some of the fungi off.
The wall screamed. It screamed like a hurt child, wailing in agony loud enough to be heard in Maissen.
“Just get enough for the sage,” Madge said. “That’s going to draw every predator for miles.”
Killian nodded and quickly filled the sage’s bag. The group then quickly made their way back to the last chamber, but were stopped short.
Another half-dozen troglodytes were waiting for them there.
The battle was almost too quick. Anierin and Madge again fought almost as one, drawing blood and forcing the monsters back to the shaft. The troglodytes leapt in without hesitation, hissing and making a sound that felt like laughter to the Heroes that still had to get passed them.
“We’re fools,” Aneirin said. “We let them make our fight a great deal harder just now.”
Grolsh was shaking his head. “There’s no other way to go, and they know it.”
“Nothing for it,” Madge said. “We’ll have to go down there.”
Aneirin went first, ready to take on any troglodyte he saw. They didn’t attack as he came down the shaft. They didn’t attack as the others made it down to the watery landing. With faint hope that the monsters had fled, the Heroes readied for an ambush underwater.
And they got it. Struggling to speed through the water filled tunnel, the Heroes felt the stabs of troglodyte spears. Desperately trying to find their feet, hold their breath, and fight all at the same time, the Maisseners thrashed and stabbed at anything that moved. The light flickered, throwing off weirdly bent beams and strange shadows that were as much hindrance as help. Blood began to mix with the water and no one could tell whose it was.
One by one the Heroes came up out of the water and fell gasping on the tunnel floor beyond. All were bloodied, but Aneirin’s wounds made them all gasp. His armor was ripped open and a hand sized gash at his hip was bleeding down his leg. Bessie used her magic to stop the bleeding and close the wound, but the fighter was still exhausted. They all were. The battlefield had been their enemy as much or more than the troglodytes. They got to their feet without seeing anymore of the monsters, but before they could step out of the chamber there was another hiss from before them.
They saw nothing, but there were countless places to hide from light in the chamber. Another series of hisses and clicks came from the darkness followed by something in dwarf that Killian translated. “They say to ‘give our gold’.”
“Tell them it would be better for them to just let us go unhindered,” Aneirin said. Killian complied. He was answered immediately. With a downtrodden look, the dwarf simply quoted, “’We are many.’”
“Status, everyone,” Madge barked. The replies were bleak. Everyone was wounded and exhausted. “And we do have a long way to travel,” Grolsh added.
Hearts heavy, the Maisseners decided to drop the gold they’d taken from the things they’d killed. For that, the return trip seemed to take even longer. Hours later, they said goodbye to Grolsh, returned the wand and bag of fungi to the sage and headed to their chambers. It had been a long day with little to show for it. They entered their chamber wanting nothing more than a long sleep.
Ren looked up as they dragged themselves in. “So – what’d you bring me?”
Next: Make ready and follow the poem. POST 87
Soon: The Bridge
Last edited:
Beale Knight
First Post
edge3343 said:Dern Ren and his sickly self.
Well you guys just HAD to play on a Sunday afternoon when I had plans already!
Beale Knight
First Post
06 01 Sunlight, Stars, and following a poem
Deep in the home of the dwarves, the Heroes of Vaunth-on-the-Lake began to prepare for a descent into the depths of the world as they waited for Killian’s wand to be crafted. Word of their plans to cross under the Ghost Dragon mountains had spread and they were approached by an entrepreneur dwarf selling Ultimate Spelunker Kits. It was a well packaged set of equipment, with chalk and waterskins, seeds that would grow instant caltrops from rocks, oil and whistles and ropes and special hooks, but the group was low on the hard coin the dwarf wanted. After some discussion, they decided to take another dwarf up on his offer to buy a magic box acquired from Hilltopple House – a box that anyone could reach into and pullout a silk shirt of perfect fit. With the funds from that and the sale of another of the Hilltopple servant figurines, there was enough to buy five of the kits.
The days were also spent casting about for a guide through the underworld. After some efforts word came back to them of a family that often served as professional guides, and that they had a guide available, but with severe conditions. Firstly the price – it was simply out of the party’s reach. The family was willing to work a deal, but it involved a two day detour to collect more special underground fungi. Though there was plenty of time left on the Heroes’ deadline, any delay was a potential disaster. Furthermore, a second condition was that, should the guide die before returning, the party would owe his family a year of service – if they themselves survived. The conditions demanded the party give the deal long consideration.
The point of meeting death in the wild depths beyond the dwarven influence was getting brought up more and more by almost everyone the party spoke with. No one seemed to think the group would survive the trek through such dangerous territory, deep below ground and into the realm of monsters. Doubt began to creep into the minds of some of the Heroes.
“This is nothing different than what we heard before leaving Maissen,” Madge said.
Ren shook his head. “There’s one real important difference, Madge. The most dangerous wild lands we’ll ever see are more familiar to us than anyplace underground.”
“We also have space to move above ground,” Aneirin added. “We can move, go around a threat or obstacle if need be. Underground is a labyrinth. We might travel for days only to hit a dead end, or run into a flooded chamber.”
“That’s what the guide is for,” countered Killian. “So we don’t haf’ta worry about such things.”
“For so long as he stays alive, Killian,” Ren said. “Which is something a whole lot of your kin, and his, don’t seem to think is going to be all that long. Without a guide, it’d be real easy for us to get lost for the rest of our lives.”
“Exaggeration is only going to make you worry more,” Madge said.
“I don’t think he’s exaggerating, Madge,” Aneirin answered. “Just from that day trip we took we saw how many twists and turns these cave tunnels take, and how many options we might face at once. Above ground direction is simple to determine. Not here; there’s no clues even to hint if we’re going the right direction or not. A wrong turn and our journey north could turn into a endless western trek under the breadth of the mountains. We’d never know until it was too late.”
Killian shook his head. “There’s plenty of clues if you know what to look for,” he said. “And I do. We can do this, I say we go underground.”
“I’m with him,” Madge said.
Aneirin shook his head. “I think it’s a bad idea and too much of a risk. We’d also have to see to the stabling of our horses, spreading our limited wealth even thinner.”
“That makes us split so far then,” Ren said, “because I’m with Aneirin.
All eyes turned to Bessie, who had been silent through the entire exchange. The druid felt the weight of their stares and sighed. “Both have their merits and drawbacks. If all goes well, underground will be much faster than going around. But if anything goes wrong, I believe I’d rather it go wrong above ground.”
Madge and Killian nodded. “Above it is then,” the dwarf said. “I have a bad feeling about it, but would rather we keep together.”
Decision made, there remained the problem of getting around the mountain above ground. The party only knew that there was a settlement of humans somewhere to the northeast. How to get there was still a mystery. It took another day to learn of a loremaster that was willing to present the old directions for a price. The directions were in the form of poetry (which translated perfectly into Maissen’s tongue), and the group paid to hear it plenty of times. Writing it down, at least in the loremaster’s presence, was against his conditions.
What he recited was:
Begin at the breeches, stout, iron and true,
Through brushland and hill to the rope bridges two.
The bridge gives way to a valley of fair,
With green and tall pines and sodden wet air.
From there to the steppes, rising this way and that,
Come up towards the top and follow the bats.
Past them is sunlight and downward again.
To desertland, walking north three days in.
Follow the river that's never quite there
It leads to the ocean, a beach white and rare.
The ocean has surf that breaks and you follow
to look for the land that breaks in a hollow.
With the directions memorized, the group said their goodbyes to the dwarves they’d met, and made a final stop to pick up Killian’s newly crafted wand. Then it was a long march up to outside. After five days underground the sun felt like a lover’s kiss. Seventeen days since leaving Maissen, and the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake were on the move again. They now had four horses. Killian, whose appearance returned to the familiar human once the Heroes were above ground, rode with Bessie.
That first day out of the dwarven underground was a joy. The weather was sunny and pleasant, and even having to walk their mounts through the mountainous terrain they made fine progress. They made their way alongside the mountain’s south side, and by afternoon were riding through a temperate forest.
“Breeches, stout, iron and true,” Bessie quoted. Her memory of the poem was the finest of the five, and it soon served them well again. As the sun began to wane, the group found themselves at a three way fork in the path. The druid looked over the ground in each direction and determined the leftmost led to brush land. They followed that a little ways before finding a place to camp.
The night under the stars was quiet. It seemed as though the sky was as happy to see the Heroes as they were to be out under it. The morning of day eighteen out of Maissen was cool and refreshing as the Heroes set out on their way. The forest began to thin and the hills grow as they made their way north, and the sun was at its zenith when they came to a great chasm spanned by a rope bridge.
“Through brushland and hill to the rope bridges two,” Bessie said. And as the poem indicated, there were actually two bridges. Each was made of three primary ropes and secured planks to walk on. The first section ran about sixty feet to a rock island that grew like a tower from the valley below. The second span ran from the island about one hundred forty feet to the chasm’s far side.
“How far is it down?” Killian asked.
Ren lay flat at the chasm’s edge and stuck his head over. “About eighty feet I’d say. A lot further than I’d want to fall.”
“One at a time then,” Madge said. “Let’s see how sturdy this thing is first. Then each after the first leads a horse.”
“I’m willing to go first,” Aneirin said, “but I’m going to go ahead and bring Avarshan with me.”
And so Aneirin stepped out first onto the bridge. It swayed with his weight, but didn’t give. He and Avarshan made it about halfway when Ren stepped on it, leading a second horse. Though everyone’s face was etched with worry at the beginning, when the bridge didn’t fall apart under the weight of two people and two horses, everyone began to relax. Soon Aneirin and Avarshan were at the island, and then Bessie stepped onto the bridge with a horse behind her. When Ren was on the island with his horse, Madge and Killian stepped onto the bridge with the last one.
“We have a problem,” Ren called out to Madge. “We won’t all fit here on the island with the horses.”
“You and Aneirin go on then. We’ll keep the horses on the island until you’re safely across.”
Aneirin frowned. “Let’s keep to the same pattern we’ve just used. We may need mounts right away on the far side.”
Madge shook her head. “They’d be too vulnerable if you did. Let the Avarshan go with Bessie. We’ll bring the rest.”
Aneirin frowned again, but nodded. He patted Avarshan and stepped onto the longer length of bridge. Once he was a ways out on it, Ren followed. When the hunter was well out there, Bessie stepped onto the bridge with Avarshan.
That was when a malevolent figure stepped out from behind a tall rock on the far side.
Next: The Bridge - Post 89
Soon: Elves and Maisseners
Deep in the home of the dwarves, the Heroes of Vaunth-on-the-Lake began to prepare for a descent into the depths of the world as they waited for Killian’s wand to be crafted. Word of their plans to cross under the Ghost Dragon mountains had spread and they were approached by an entrepreneur dwarf selling Ultimate Spelunker Kits. It was a well packaged set of equipment, with chalk and waterskins, seeds that would grow instant caltrops from rocks, oil and whistles and ropes and special hooks, but the group was low on the hard coin the dwarf wanted. After some discussion, they decided to take another dwarf up on his offer to buy a magic box acquired from Hilltopple House – a box that anyone could reach into and pullout a silk shirt of perfect fit. With the funds from that and the sale of another of the Hilltopple servant figurines, there was enough to buy five of the kits.
The days were also spent casting about for a guide through the underworld. After some efforts word came back to them of a family that often served as professional guides, and that they had a guide available, but with severe conditions. Firstly the price – it was simply out of the party’s reach. The family was willing to work a deal, but it involved a two day detour to collect more special underground fungi. Though there was plenty of time left on the Heroes’ deadline, any delay was a potential disaster. Furthermore, a second condition was that, should the guide die before returning, the party would owe his family a year of service – if they themselves survived. The conditions demanded the party give the deal long consideration.
The point of meeting death in the wild depths beyond the dwarven influence was getting brought up more and more by almost everyone the party spoke with. No one seemed to think the group would survive the trek through such dangerous territory, deep below ground and into the realm of monsters. Doubt began to creep into the minds of some of the Heroes.
“This is nothing different than what we heard before leaving Maissen,” Madge said.
Ren shook his head. “There’s one real important difference, Madge. The most dangerous wild lands we’ll ever see are more familiar to us than anyplace underground.”
“We also have space to move above ground,” Aneirin added. “We can move, go around a threat or obstacle if need be. Underground is a labyrinth. We might travel for days only to hit a dead end, or run into a flooded chamber.”
“That’s what the guide is for,” countered Killian. “So we don’t haf’ta worry about such things.”
“For so long as he stays alive, Killian,” Ren said. “Which is something a whole lot of your kin, and his, don’t seem to think is going to be all that long. Without a guide, it’d be real easy for us to get lost for the rest of our lives.”
“Exaggeration is only going to make you worry more,” Madge said.
“I don’t think he’s exaggerating, Madge,” Aneirin answered. “Just from that day trip we took we saw how many twists and turns these cave tunnels take, and how many options we might face at once. Above ground direction is simple to determine. Not here; there’s no clues even to hint if we’re going the right direction or not. A wrong turn and our journey north could turn into a endless western trek under the breadth of the mountains. We’d never know until it was too late.”
Killian shook his head. “There’s plenty of clues if you know what to look for,” he said. “And I do. We can do this, I say we go underground.”
“I’m with him,” Madge said.
Aneirin shook his head. “I think it’s a bad idea and too much of a risk. We’d also have to see to the stabling of our horses, spreading our limited wealth even thinner.”
“That makes us split so far then,” Ren said, “because I’m with Aneirin.
All eyes turned to Bessie, who had been silent through the entire exchange. The druid felt the weight of their stares and sighed. “Both have their merits and drawbacks. If all goes well, underground will be much faster than going around. But if anything goes wrong, I believe I’d rather it go wrong above ground.”
Madge and Killian nodded. “Above it is then,” the dwarf said. “I have a bad feeling about it, but would rather we keep together.”
Decision made, there remained the problem of getting around the mountain above ground. The party only knew that there was a settlement of humans somewhere to the northeast. How to get there was still a mystery. It took another day to learn of a loremaster that was willing to present the old directions for a price. The directions were in the form of poetry (which translated perfectly into Maissen’s tongue), and the group paid to hear it plenty of times. Writing it down, at least in the loremaster’s presence, was against his conditions.
What he recited was:
Begin at the breeches, stout, iron and true,
Through brushland and hill to the rope bridges two.
The bridge gives way to a valley of fair,
With green and tall pines and sodden wet air.
From there to the steppes, rising this way and that,
Come up towards the top and follow the bats.
Past them is sunlight and downward again.
To desertland, walking north three days in.
Follow the river that's never quite there
It leads to the ocean, a beach white and rare.
The ocean has surf that breaks and you follow
to look for the land that breaks in a hollow.
With the directions memorized, the group said their goodbyes to the dwarves they’d met, and made a final stop to pick up Killian’s newly crafted wand. Then it was a long march up to outside. After five days underground the sun felt like a lover’s kiss. Seventeen days since leaving Maissen, and the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake were on the move again. They now had four horses. Killian, whose appearance returned to the familiar human once the Heroes were above ground, rode with Bessie.
That first day out of the dwarven underground was a joy. The weather was sunny and pleasant, and even having to walk their mounts through the mountainous terrain they made fine progress. They made their way alongside the mountain’s south side, and by afternoon were riding through a temperate forest.
“Breeches, stout, iron and true,” Bessie quoted. Her memory of the poem was the finest of the five, and it soon served them well again. As the sun began to wane, the group found themselves at a three way fork in the path. The druid looked over the ground in each direction and determined the leftmost led to brush land. They followed that a little ways before finding a place to camp.
The night under the stars was quiet. It seemed as though the sky was as happy to see the Heroes as they were to be out under it. The morning of day eighteen out of Maissen was cool and refreshing as the Heroes set out on their way. The forest began to thin and the hills grow as they made their way north, and the sun was at its zenith when they came to a great chasm spanned by a rope bridge.
“Through brushland and hill to the rope bridges two,” Bessie said. And as the poem indicated, there were actually two bridges. Each was made of three primary ropes and secured planks to walk on. The first section ran about sixty feet to a rock island that grew like a tower from the valley below. The second span ran from the island about one hundred forty feet to the chasm’s far side.
“How far is it down?” Killian asked.
Ren lay flat at the chasm’s edge and stuck his head over. “About eighty feet I’d say. A lot further than I’d want to fall.”
“One at a time then,” Madge said. “Let’s see how sturdy this thing is first. Then each after the first leads a horse.”
“I’m willing to go first,” Aneirin said, “but I’m going to go ahead and bring Avarshan with me.”
And so Aneirin stepped out first onto the bridge. It swayed with his weight, but didn’t give. He and Avarshan made it about halfway when Ren stepped on it, leading a second horse. Though everyone’s face was etched with worry at the beginning, when the bridge didn’t fall apart under the weight of two people and two horses, everyone began to relax. Soon Aneirin and Avarshan were at the island, and then Bessie stepped onto the bridge with a horse behind her. When Ren was on the island with his horse, Madge and Killian stepped onto the bridge with the last one.
“We have a problem,” Ren called out to Madge. “We won’t all fit here on the island with the horses.”
“You and Aneirin go on then. We’ll keep the horses on the island until you’re safely across.”
Aneirin frowned. “Let’s keep to the same pattern we’ve just used. We may need mounts right away on the far side.”
Madge shook her head. “They’d be too vulnerable if you did. Let the Avarshan go with Bessie. We’ll bring the rest.”
Aneirin frowned again, but nodded. He patted Avarshan and stepped onto the longer length of bridge. Once he was a ways out on it, Ren followed. When the hunter was well out there, Bessie stepped onto the bridge with Avarshan.
That was when a malevolent figure stepped out from behind a tall rock on the far side.
Next: The Bridge - Post 89
Soon: Elves and Maisseners
Last edited:
Beale Knight
First Post
06 02 The Bridge
On the far side of the chasm a short, cloaked woman stepped out. She flung back her hood to reveal a face once elegant but now twisted with evil, and shouted words lost to the wind blowing over the bridge. Only one word was plain to the ears of the Heroes of Vaunth-on-the-Lake, “Master.”
The woman waved her arms and chanted as Aneirin and Ren kept crossing the bridge. A moment later there was a red flash and from nowhere a devil of slime appeared between the two heroes. On the far side of the bridge a hoard of goblins rushed out from behind the rocks to join the summoner.
Aneirin and Ren reacted almost as one. The warrior wheeled around, slicing the slime devil through with his sword in a powerful swing as the hunter plunged an arrow into the monster. It vanished in a puff of red smoke and sulfur.
The wizard was prepared for the quick slaying of her summoned devil. As Aneirin turned to face her again she pointed at him.
He stopped. Frozen in place.
Killian and Madge had already begun to run toward the unexpected fight. Madge deftly squeezed by Bessie, who was keeping the horse behind her calmed. Killian however, had grown too used to his original dwarven stride. Rushing in human form for the first time in over a week threw him off and he landed face first on the rope bridge.
Chaos overwhelmed the scene. Goblins surged onto the bridge. Ren shot at them, killing one and then another from the middle of the bridge. Madge made her way to the paralyzed Aneirin’s side, fighting back the goblins closing in on the warrior. Killian got to his feet and stood at Ren’s side, casting fire and bolt magic at the surge of goblins. From the rear, Bessie launched crossbow bolts while keeping the horses from panic.
At last Aneirin broke free of the spell that held him still. He and Madge began to push their way through the sea of goblins to their master. The tide had turned, and the wizardess knew it. Her next move was one of escape. With a spell she brought a cloud of fog up around herself and the goblins closest to her – including those on the last yards of the bridge.
With plenty of goblins still in sight, Madge and Aneirin held their ground. The others continued to support them from down the bridge.
Then one of the bridge’s support ropes snapped. Cut. Everyone all held on, even the one horse on the bridge. Bessie promptly got him back to the island. Ren made another last shot and joined her. Aneirin, Madge, and Killian continued to fight the goblins they could see.
It was a fateful decision. The next moment the other two ropes were cut. The far end of the bridge fell, plunging the three party members to the valley below. Many of the wizard’s goblins went with them, testimony to her callous evil. Of their lives and fate, she couldn’t care less.
From the rock island, Ren and Bessie gazed in open mouth horror as their friends and comrades-in-arms disappeared into the trees below. The heavy thwap of the bridge slamming against the tower of rock shocked them back into action. Ren grabbed hold of the ropes dangling down and began to climb to the valley floor. Bessie followed right behind him. In moments they were down and gazing over a horrific scene.
The goblins had scattered as they fell. Their still and twisted bodies were all over.
Killian had landed on a large stone and was little more than red and brown ooze, splayed over a wide area. He was recognizable only by his gear, most of which had been broken into bits, even the wand that he’d only just used for the first time.
Madge was in one piece, partially covered in leaves and branches, but her limbs were bent the wrong ways and her eyes wide open but unseeing.
By the blessings of the gods, surrounded by the tree branches he had smashed through on his way down, branches that had clearly slowed his fall enough to keep it from being fatal, was Aneirin.
He still drew breath.
But so did the evil wizardress and many of her goblins. They were climbing down the vine encrusted cliff wall, determined to slay the rest of the party. It was not to be. The vines they clung to were not nearly as sturdy as the rope bridge. When they were but halfway to the valley floor the vines stretched and then snapped. Like the victims of their bridge cutting, the wizard and her goblins plunged to the valley floor.
Though her goblins died, the wizard woman lived – but only long enough to stand up. As she got to her feet, one of Ren’s arrows neatly pierced her forehead and she fell again.
When she did, her body shimmered. The wizard's clothes fell to the ground as her body became a swarm of bees and other insects. They dissipated, probably throwing curses at her slayers in voices too high pitched to hear.
Suddenly the valley was still. In the quiet, the enormity of what had just happened began to weigh on the surviving heroes. Bessie and Ren stared quietly at each other for a long moment, silently wondering what to do next. A distant growl spurred them to action.
“No time for letting sadness stop us right now,” Ren said. “Scavengers are going to catch the scent of death and get her before too long.”
Bessie nodded. “I’ll put my magic to healing Aneirin.”
“Then see about what gear we can salvage,” Ren said. Then he sighed. “I’ll get to the graves.”
Next: Elves and Maisseners [POST 95]
Soon: Dumb Bear and the graying of truth begins
On the far side of the chasm a short, cloaked woman stepped out. She flung back her hood to reveal a face once elegant but now twisted with evil, and shouted words lost to the wind blowing over the bridge. Only one word was plain to the ears of the Heroes of Vaunth-on-the-Lake, “Master.”
The woman waved her arms and chanted as Aneirin and Ren kept crossing the bridge. A moment later there was a red flash and from nowhere a devil of slime appeared between the two heroes. On the far side of the bridge a hoard of goblins rushed out from behind the rocks to join the summoner.
Aneirin and Ren reacted almost as one. The warrior wheeled around, slicing the slime devil through with his sword in a powerful swing as the hunter plunged an arrow into the monster. It vanished in a puff of red smoke and sulfur.
The wizard was prepared for the quick slaying of her summoned devil. As Aneirin turned to face her again she pointed at him.
He stopped. Frozen in place.
Killian and Madge had already begun to run toward the unexpected fight. Madge deftly squeezed by Bessie, who was keeping the horse behind her calmed. Killian however, had grown too used to his original dwarven stride. Rushing in human form for the first time in over a week threw him off and he landed face first on the rope bridge.
Chaos overwhelmed the scene. Goblins surged onto the bridge. Ren shot at them, killing one and then another from the middle of the bridge. Madge made her way to the paralyzed Aneirin’s side, fighting back the goblins closing in on the warrior. Killian got to his feet and stood at Ren’s side, casting fire and bolt magic at the surge of goblins. From the rear, Bessie launched crossbow bolts while keeping the horses from panic.
At last Aneirin broke free of the spell that held him still. He and Madge began to push their way through the sea of goblins to their master. The tide had turned, and the wizardess knew it. Her next move was one of escape. With a spell she brought a cloud of fog up around herself and the goblins closest to her – including those on the last yards of the bridge.
With plenty of goblins still in sight, Madge and Aneirin held their ground. The others continued to support them from down the bridge.
Then one of the bridge’s support ropes snapped. Cut. Everyone all held on, even the one horse on the bridge. Bessie promptly got him back to the island. Ren made another last shot and joined her. Aneirin, Madge, and Killian continued to fight the goblins they could see.
It was a fateful decision. The next moment the other two ropes were cut. The far end of the bridge fell, plunging the three party members to the valley below. Many of the wizard’s goblins went with them, testimony to her callous evil. Of their lives and fate, she couldn’t care less.
From the rock island, Ren and Bessie gazed in open mouth horror as their friends and comrades-in-arms disappeared into the trees below. The heavy thwap of the bridge slamming against the tower of rock shocked them back into action. Ren grabbed hold of the ropes dangling down and began to climb to the valley floor. Bessie followed right behind him. In moments they were down and gazing over a horrific scene.
The goblins had scattered as they fell. Their still and twisted bodies were all over.
Killian had landed on a large stone and was little more than red and brown ooze, splayed over a wide area. He was recognizable only by his gear, most of which had been broken into bits, even the wand that he’d only just used for the first time.
Madge was in one piece, partially covered in leaves and branches, but her limbs were bent the wrong ways and her eyes wide open but unseeing.
By the blessings of the gods, surrounded by the tree branches he had smashed through on his way down, branches that had clearly slowed his fall enough to keep it from being fatal, was Aneirin.
He still drew breath.
But so did the evil wizardress and many of her goblins. They were climbing down the vine encrusted cliff wall, determined to slay the rest of the party. It was not to be. The vines they clung to were not nearly as sturdy as the rope bridge. When they were but halfway to the valley floor the vines stretched and then snapped. Like the victims of their bridge cutting, the wizard and her goblins plunged to the valley floor.
Though her goblins died, the wizard woman lived – but only long enough to stand up. As she got to her feet, one of Ren’s arrows neatly pierced her forehead and she fell again.
When she did, her body shimmered. The wizard's clothes fell to the ground as her body became a swarm of bees and other insects. They dissipated, probably throwing curses at her slayers in voices too high pitched to hear.
Suddenly the valley was still. In the quiet, the enormity of what had just happened began to weigh on the surviving heroes. Bessie and Ren stared quietly at each other for a long moment, silently wondering what to do next. A distant growl spurred them to action.
“No time for letting sadness stop us right now,” Ren said. “Scavengers are going to catch the scent of death and get her before too long.”
Bessie nodded. “I’ll put my magic to healing Aneirin.”
“Then see about what gear we can salvage,” Ren said. Then he sighed. “I’ll get to the graves.”
Next: Elves and Maisseners [POST 95]
Soon: Dumb Bear and the graying of truth begins
Last edited:
alsih2o
First Post
A friedn fo the gaming group who had not been able to game in a while dropped by and he ran the bad guys that night. I knew it looked like a vicious set-up and Will proved me right.
I made a rules error that went against the PC's, but we are a good group and it all worked out.
VERY dramatic night.
I made a rules error that went against the PC's, but we are a good group and it all worked out.
VERY dramatic night.
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