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Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
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<blockquote data-quote="Beale Knight" data-source="post: 1974280" data-attributes="member: 7033"><p><strong>04-01 The Swamp and the Farunk</strong></p><p></p><p>The night in the gnome village was the most relaxing for the Heroes since they’d left Castle Maissen. Well fed and without the worry of a night attack, they all slept as if stones. Morning came all too early but brought with it another fine meal by the gnomes. The breakfast conversation brought no more uncomfortable revelations about Maissen. Balfour seemed to purposefully keep the topics smaller and more personal; he spoke at length about his huge collection of moths and butterflies. </p><p></p><p>When at last the Heroes began to consider their next move, they decided that delivering the sword to the dwarves was the highest priority. If war was coming, the more advance the notice of it the better. That decided, the next thing was the direction to take. </p><p></p><p>“Through the swamp would be fastest,” Madge said.</p><p></p><p>Ren nodded. “Won’t be able to take Jimmy and the cart through that place, no way.”</p><p></p><p>Bessie turned to Balfour, “Could we impose on you to take charge of our goat and cart until we return?” </p><p></p><p>The gnome smiled and nodded. “It will be our pleasure. But I would reiterate – do not take the farunk lightly. They know their swamp and they know how to hunt.”</p><p></p><p>Duly warned, the Heroes once again put on the magic rings that clouded their minds and were then led by the gnomes to the edge of the forest. Balfour wished them the best of luck, and then he and his warren kin retreated into the woods. </p><p></p><p>“So then,” Killian said. “Here we are at the edge of another blasted open plain.”</p><p></p><p>“Better for the riding,” Aneirin said.</p><p></p><p>“’sides,” Ren added, “it isn’t near as wide and open and that first one. Look, if you squint your eyes just right you can see a smudge on the horizons. That’s got to be our first glimpse at the Ghost Dragon Mountains.”</p><p></p><p>The sorcerer shielded his eyes with the flat of his hand and squinted. “Ah! Who kin’ tell from here?”</p><p></p><p>“Well then let’s stop looking and get closer,” Madge said. Without waiting for the others she started making her way north.</p><p></p><p>The blur of mountains slowly grew more distinct as the Heroes hiked north. Soon a closer smudge came into view. Lower and darker than mountains, it grew until it stretched fully across the horizon. By then the smell had reached the Heroes. They were upon the swamp. There was no discussion about going in or around, just a reshuffling of their order. Ren made his way a few score feet in front of the others, Aneirin mounted Avarshan and kept close to Killian and Bessie, and Madge stuck to the rear, keeping a watch behind them. </p><p></p><p>The swamp was thick with trees and the sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves cast strange shadows, distorting shapes and throwing off any estimations of distance. The sounds of frogs and birds and other swamp life echoed strangely, as did the sounds of the Heroes own steps through the water. However, these soon grew into a symphony of sounds, not quite predictable, but close enough that Ren, Bessie, and Madge all noticed when something about it changed. </p><p></p><p>“Something’s here,” Bessie said.</p><p></p><p>“We’re in a swamp,” Killian said, “There’s lots a’ things here.”</p><p></p><p>“”No. New things,” Ren said as he nocked an arrow. “And a bunch”</p><p></p><p>“Farunk?” Aneiren asked as he drew his bastard sword.</p><p></p><p>Madge shook her head. “Too small. Hold still; they may move on.”</p><p></p><p>A silence fell as Madge said that. Thick and heavy, it lasted only a moment. Then came the chittering and light splashes. First ahead of them, then on both sides and behind. Ren turned to the closest source and saw a rat, a rat the size of a small dog, twenty feet from him. He let loose his arrow, nicking the giant vermin across his side. “Rats,” Ren said as his target skittered to him. “Big rats.”</p><p></p><p>“See them,” Madge said as she shot one. Like Ren’s, hers only nicked the creature. </p><p></p><p>They were coming from all sides, and there were no less than a dozen, perhaps more. With his spear, Ren jabbed at a giant rat that was closing on him. He missed and the rat launched himself at the hunter, sinking his teeth deep into his calf. Ren made a desperate jab at the thing, nicking its side and driving it off of him. His vision blurred for a moment and he felt his stomach turn. “Posion,” he muttered as Aneirin stepped up and cut the rat in half. </p><p></p><p>Across the way, Ren saw a flash of fire spring from Killian’s outstretched fingers and incinerate a rat. However, the sorcerer didn’t see the rat move in from behind him. Ren cried out a warning too late, the rat bit Killian moments before Bessie came up and drove it off with her scimitar. Killian was soon looking as green as Ren felt. </p><p></p><p>Madge drove two away, injuring them with her sword but not killing them, before she was bitten as well. The hearty ranger quickly scraped the giant rat off her leg and stabbed it before the poison could do her harm. Ren, Bessie, and Killian made a few more feeble attempts to kill giants rats, but ended up only harming them a bit. Only Aneirin managed to slaughter a fair share of rats. </p><p></p><p>Ren was about to say how embarrassing this all was when a whistle pierced the swamp. At the sound the rats broke off their attack, scurrying back into the shadows. From ahead of the group, deeper into the swamp, came the rhythmic splashes of someone not bothering to even try and sneak. The group drew close together and readied their weapons. Ren and Killian did their level best to not fall over. </p><p></p><p>A shadowy form, vaguely human, began to come into focus. As it approached it was soon obvious this was just what Balfour had warned the Heroes of. Shorter than a man but far wider at the shoulder, the creature’s head had an extended snout that featured thick tusks and short, bristled hair. Farunk. The boar men of the swamp. One of them anyway. </p><p></p><p>What stood out was the farunk’s clothing. From Balfour’s description, Ren had expected primitive dress, loincloths or simple robes. He realized he had done just what the gnome had warned against – he had underestimated the farunk. This one was dressed in an elegant tunic, embroidered with strange but intricate symbols. He wore jewelry on his head, around his neck and waist, and about his tunic. </p><p></p><p>The farunk’s demeanor suggested no hostility, so none of the Heroes shot at him as he approached. At last the farunk stopped, about twenty yards away. A thick fingered hand reached behind him and pulled forth an hourglass, not elegant, but an hourglass nonetheless. He dramatically placed it on a knoll and looked at the assembled Maisseners. </p><p></p><p>“One hour,” he croaked, holding up a single finger to emphasize his statement. Then the farunk began to back away, keeping the humans in his sight. After his first few steps there was more splashing from either side of the retreating farunk. In the distant shadows could be seen six or so more of his kind. His insurance had the Heroes chosen to pepper him with arrows. One of those others in particular stood out.</p><p></p><p>He wore the armor of a redbreast. It had been altered to fit his frame, but there was no doubting the deep crimson color of the leather armor. Nor was there any doubting the farunk’s message. </p><p></p><p>“Status,” Aneirin said.</p><p></p><p>“I’m wounded but not overmuch,” Madge said. </p><p></p><p>Bessie was cradling one arm. “Two bad bites, but the bleedings stopping. I don’t know that I can stand up to much more.”</p><p></p><p>Killian was taking fast, shallow breaths. “I feel horrible. I think th’ rat poisoned me.” He wheezed. “That an’ I’ve jest about exhausted me magic out.”</p><p></p><p>“The poison’s got to me to,” Ren said, weaving on his feet. “I got bit a few times too. Not to mentioned how my morale’s sunk pretty deep from getting beat up this bad from a few damn rats.”</p><p></p><p>“We’re in no shape to take on the farunk then,” Madge said. “From everything Balfour said we’re facing a tribe of hunters in a swamp of unknown size that they doubtlessly know like the back of their furry paws.”</p><p></p><p>‘Retreat then,” Aneirin said matter-of-factly. “We’ll make our way through the plain. If they follow, they lose the advantage of their home swamp. If they don’t, we have time to rest, heal, and regroup. Let’s go.”</p><p></p><p>The Heroes made their way out of the swamp with less caution than they’d shown on the way in. As the trees thinned and the ground grew firm the paused long enough to take bearings. ‘That way,” Ren said. “If we head southwest we’ll get a good distance between us and the swamp, and still get kind of closer to a way around.”</p><p></p><p>It was barely past noon, so the Maisseners were able to get miles and miles from the swamp. As night fell they made a cold camp. Bessie resolved to prepare healing spells for the next day, and she and Killian were given the full night to sleep. Madge, Ren, and Anierin would trade watch shifts. </p><p></p><p>There were no clouds that night, and though the moon wasn’t quite full it cast a good light. In the openness of the plains, Ren could see quite a ways. He lay low during his watch, rising as high as his knees only when something caught his attention. It was deep in the night when something did. It was a shuffling sound, like a rodent digging a burrow. </p><p></p><p>Supported on his elbows, but otherwise prone, Ren focused in that direction. For several long minutes nothing moved and all was quiet. Then he heard the sound again, and with it some of the tall grass shook. Ren glanced over at his bow and arrows. They hadn’t moved in the five minutes since he last checked on them. Looking back into the open plain he finally saw what he feared he would see. A rounded shadow about the size of a farunk’s head. It was moving – slowly – toward the camp. Ren smiled. The farunk was approaching Ren's position just like so many game animals had before Ren brought them down.</p><p></p><p>Without so much as a glance away from the farunk, Ren reached for his bow and an arrow. By feel alone he nocked the arrow loosely. The farunk moved again; he seemed to be on all fours, taking a step, then raising his head to take a look, and then repeating the whole cycle. Ren watched him and took a judgment of the distance with his eyes as he studied the breeze on his skin. When the farunk moved the next time, Ren was ready. He raised himself to his knees, pulled the arrow back, and let it fly all in a single move. In the back of his mind he wished someone had been awake to see the smooth flow of his attack. </p><p></p><p>The arrow flew to the farunk as if it had eyes and its own will to strike. It struck the farunk somewhere in the upper torso. It didn’t kill, but it convinced. The farunk jumped to his feet and ran. Ren shot another two arrows before the farunk was too far gone. </p><p></p><p>Ren glanced over at the spellcasters. Bessie and Killian were sound asleep, as were Madge and Aneirin. Ren smiled. Whether the last arrows had hit or not he didn’t know, but they had all done their job. Satisfied, he settled back down to his original position and waited for another attack. </p><p></p><p>There were no more that night. Dawn came and Bessie and Killian felt worlds better. The druid cast her magic on Ren and the sorcerer, healing their wounds and driving out the last lingering effects of the poison. Within a half hour of rising, the Heroes of Maissen were on the move again. Ren reported the overnight incident with the one farunk, and they all wondered about the redbreast armor that the other was wearing. On the surface it seemed like palatable news. The redbreasts had obviously been into the farunk swamp, and it appeared as if they came out the worse for it. </p><p></p><p>After a few hours without any sign of farunk pursuit, the Maisseners began to relax a bit. They took turns trying to ride the two horses they acquired from Hilltopple House (Aneirin advised that Avarshan was unlikely to welcome other riders, especially novices). By noon they could hear a low roar from the northwest. Soon they saw how the sky to the west was far darker than the rest of the sky around it. </p><p></p><p>“Rain up that way,” Aneirin said. </p><p></p><p>“That’s no ordinary rain,” Bessie said. “Though I didn’t expect we’d reach here quite as soon as we have.”</p><p></p><p>The warrior raised an eyebrow. Bessie smiled. “From what Popa Thorson and Petris…”</p><p></p><p>“The illegal wizard posing as a holy man,” Ren interrupted. </p><p></p><p>Bessie cleared her throat. “What we’re looking at is the permanent storm that marks the Valley of Drayne.”</p><p></p><p>“Drain?” Aneirin asked.</p><p></p><p>“Drane,” Madge said. </p><p></p><p>“Yeah you right, that has to be Drein,” Ren said. He looked north. “And that’s the river that feeds it. Now we just got to figure out how we’re going get ‘cross it.” </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Next: Post 64 – MORE Farunk. Plus betrayers and the big bad evil guy.</p><p></p><p></p><p>Later – Even MORE Farunk, and Someone Else’s Civilization.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Beale Knight, post: 1974280, member: 7033"] [b]04-01 The Swamp and the Farunk[/b] The night in the gnome village was the most relaxing for the Heroes since they’d left Castle Maissen. Well fed and without the worry of a night attack, they all slept as if stones. Morning came all too early but brought with it another fine meal by the gnomes. The breakfast conversation brought no more uncomfortable revelations about Maissen. Balfour seemed to purposefully keep the topics smaller and more personal; he spoke at length about his huge collection of moths and butterflies. When at last the Heroes began to consider their next move, they decided that delivering the sword to the dwarves was the highest priority. If war was coming, the more advance the notice of it the better. That decided, the next thing was the direction to take. “Through the swamp would be fastest,” Madge said. Ren nodded. “Won’t be able to take Jimmy and the cart through that place, no way.” Bessie turned to Balfour, “Could we impose on you to take charge of our goat and cart until we return?” The gnome smiled and nodded. “It will be our pleasure. But I would reiterate – do not take the farunk lightly. They know their swamp and they know how to hunt.” Duly warned, the Heroes once again put on the magic rings that clouded their minds and were then led by the gnomes to the edge of the forest. Balfour wished them the best of luck, and then he and his warren kin retreated into the woods. “So then,” Killian said. “Here we are at the edge of another blasted open plain.” “Better for the riding,” Aneirin said. “’sides,” Ren added, “it isn’t near as wide and open and that first one. Look, if you squint your eyes just right you can see a smudge on the horizons. That’s got to be our first glimpse at the Ghost Dragon Mountains.” The sorcerer shielded his eyes with the flat of his hand and squinted. “Ah! Who kin’ tell from here?” “Well then let’s stop looking and get closer,” Madge said. Without waiting for the others she started making her way north. The blur of mountains slowly grew more distinct as the Heroes hiked north. Soon a closer smudge came into view. Lower and darker than mountains, it grew until it stretched fully across the horizon. By then the smell had reached the Heroes. They were upon the swamp. There was no discussion about going in or around, just a reshuffling of their order. Ren made his way a few score feet in front of the others, Aneirin mounted Avarshan and kept close to Killian and Bessie, and Madge stuck to the rear, keeping a watch behind them. The swamp was thick with trees and the sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves cast strange shadows, distorting shapes and throwing off any estimations of distance. The sounds of frogs and birds and other swamp life echoed strangely, as did the sounds of the Heroes own steps through the water. However, these soon grew into a symphony of sounds, not quite predictable, but close enough that Ren, Bessie, and Madge all noticed when something about it changed. “Something’s here,” Bessie said. “We’re in a swamp,” Killian said, “There’s lots a’ things here.” “”No. New things,” Ren said as he nocked an arrow. “And a bunch” “Farunk?” Aneiren asked as he drew his bastard sword. Madge shook her head. “Too small. Hold still; they may move on.” A silence fell as Madge said that. Thick and heavy, it lasted only a moment. Then came the chittering and light splashes. First ahead of them, then on both sides and behind. Ren turned to the closest source and saw a rat, a rat the size of a small dog, twenty feet from him. He let loose his arrow, nicking the giant vermin across his side. “Rats,” Ren said as his target skittered to him. “Big rats.” “See them,” Madge said as she shot one. Like Ren’s, hers only nicked the creature. They were coming from all sides, and there were no less than a dozen, perhaps more. With his spear, Ren jabbed at a giant rat that was closing on him. He missed and the rat launched himself at the hunter, sinking his teeth deep into his calf. Ren made a desperate jab at the thing, nicking its side and driving it off of him. His vision blurred for a moment and he felt his stomach turn. “Posion,” he muttered as Aneirin stepped up and cut the rat in half. Across the way, Ren saw a flash of fire spring from Killian’s outstretched fingers and incinerate a rat. However, the sorcerer didn’t see the rat move in from behind him. Ren cried out a warning too late, the rat bit Killian moments before Bessie came up and drove it off with her scimitar. Killian was soon looking as green as Ren felt. Madge drove two away, injuring them with her sword but not killing them, before she was bitten as well. The hearty ranger quickly scraped the giant rat off her leg and stabbed it before the poison could do her harm. Ren, Bessie, and Killian made a few more feeble attempts to kill giants rats, but ended up only harming them a bit. Only Aneirin managed to slaughter a fair share of rats. Ren was about to say how embarrassing this all was when a whistle pierced the swamp. At the sound the rats broke off their attack, scurrying back into the shadows. From ahead of the group, deeper into the swamp, came the rhythmic splashes of someone not bothering to even try and sneak. The group drew close together and readied their weapons. Ren and Killian did their level best to not fall over. A shadowy form, vaguely human, began to come into focus. As it approached it was soon obvious this was just what Balfour had warned the Heroes of. Shorter than a man but far wider at the shoulder, the creature’s head had an extended snout that featured thick tusks and short, bristled hair. Farunk. The boar men of the swamp. One of them anyway. What stood out was the farunk’s clothing. From Balfour’s description, Ren had expected primitive dress, loincloths or simple robes. He realized he had done just what the gnome had warned against – he had underestimated the farunk. This one was dressed in an elegant tunic, embroidered with strange but intricate symbols. He wore jewelry on his head, around his neck and waist, and about his tunic. The farunk’s demeanor suggested no hostility, so none of the Heroes shot at him as he approached. At last the farunk stopped, about twenty yards away. A thick fingered hand reached behind him and pulled forth an hourglass, not elegant, but an hourglass nonetheless. He dramatically placed it on a knoll and looked at the assembled Maisseners. “One hour,” he croaked, holding up a single finger to emphasize his statement. Then the farunk began to back away, keeping the humans in his sight. After his first few steps there was more splashing from either side of the retreating farunk. In the distant shadows could be seen six or so more of his kind. His insurance had the Heroes chosen to pepper him with arrows. One of those others in particular stood out. He wore the armor of a redbreast. It had been altered to fit his frame, but there was no doubting the deep crimson color of the leather armor. Nor was there any doubting the farunk’s message. “Status,” Aneirin said. “I’m wounded but not overmuch,” Madge said. Bessie was cradling one arm. “Two bad bites, but the bleedings stopping. I don’t know that I can stand up to much more.” Killian was taking fast, shallow breaths. “I feel horrible. I think th’ rat poisoned me.” He wheezed. “That an’ I’ve jest about exhausted me magic out.” “The poison’s got to me to,” Ren said, weaving on his feet. “I got bit a few times too. Not to mentioned how my morale’s sunk pretty deep from getting beat up this bad from a few damn rats.” “We’re in no shape to take on the farunk then,” Madge said. “From everything Balfour said we’re facing a tribe of hunters in a swamp of unknown size that they doubtlessly know like the back of their furry paws.” ‘Retreat then,” Aneirin said matter-of-factly. “We’ll make our way through the plain. If they follow, they lose the advantage of their home swamp. If they don’t, we have time to rest, heal, and regroup. Let’s go.” The Heroes made their way out of the swamp with less caution than they’d shown on the way in. As the trees thinned and the ground grew firm the paused long enough to take bearings. ‘That way,” Ren said. “If we head southwest we’ll get a good distance between us and the swamp, and still get kind of closer to a way around.” It was barely past noon, so the Maisseners were able to get miles and miles from the swamp. As night fell they made a cold camp. Bessie resolved to prepare healing spells for the next day, and she and Killian were given the full night to sleep. Madge, Ren, and Anierin would trade watch shifts. There were no clouds that night, and though the moon wasn’t quite full it cast a good light. In the openness of the plains, Ren could see quite a ways. He lay low during his watch, rising as high as his knees only when something caught his attention. It was deep in the night when something did. It was a shuffling sound, like a rodent digging a burrow. Supported on his elbows, but otherwise prone, Ren focused in that direction. For several long minutes nothing moved and all was quiet. Then he heard the sound again, and with it some of the tall grass shook. Ren glanced over at his bow and arrows. They hadn’t moved in the five minutes since he last checked on them. Looking back into the open plain he finally saw what he feared he would see. A rounded shadow about the size of a farunk’s head. It was moving – slowly – toward the camp. Ren smiled. The farunk was approaching Ren's position just like so many game animals had before Ren brought them down. Without so much as a glance away from the farunk, Ren reached for his bow and an arrow. By feel alone he nocked the arrow loosely. The farunk moved again; he seemed to be on all fours, taking a step, then raising his head to take a look, and then repeating the whole cycle. Ren watched him and took a judgment of the distance with his eyes as he studied the breeze on his skin. When the farunk moved the next time, Ren was ready. He raised himself to his knees, pulled the arrow back, and let it fly all in a single move. In the back of his mind he wished someone had been awake to see the smooth flow of his attack. The arrow flew to the farunk as if it had eyes and its own will to strike. It struck the farunk somewhere in the upper torso. It didn’t kill, but it convinced. The farunk jumped to his feet and ran. Ren shot another two arrows before the farunk was too far gone. Ren glanced over at the spellcasters. Bessie and Killian were sound asleep, as were Madge and Aneirin. Ren smiled. Whether the last arrows had hit or not he didn’t know, but they had all done their job. Satisfied, he settled back down to his original position and waited for another attack. There were no more that night. Dawn came and Bessie and Killian felt worlds better. The druid cast her magic on Ren and the sorcerer, healing their wounds and driving out the last lingering effects of the poison. Within a half hour of rising, the Heroes of Maissen were on the move again. Ren reported the overnight incident with the one farunk, and they all wondered about the redbreast armor that the other was wearing. On the surface it seemed like palatable news. The redbreasts had obviously been into the farunk swamp, and it appeared as if they came out the worse for it. After a few hours without any sign of farunk pursuit, the Maisseners began to relax a bit. They took turns trying to ride the two horses they acquired from Hilltopple House (Aneirin advised that Avarshan was unlikely to welcome other riders, especially novices). By noon they could hear a low roar from the northwest. Soon they saw how the sky to the west was far darker than the rest of the sky around it. “Rain up that way,” Aneirin said. “That’s no ordinary rain,” Bessie said. “Though I didn’t expect we’d reach here quite as soon as we have.” The warrior raised an eyebrow. Bessie smiled. “From what Popa Thorson and Petris…” “The illegal wizard posing as a holy man,” Ren interrupted. Bessie cleared her throat. “What we’re looking at is the permanent storm that marks the Valley of Drayne.” “Drain?” Aneirin asked. “Drane,” Madge said. “Yeah you right, that has to be Drein,” Ren said. He looked north. “And that’s the river that feeds it. Now we just got to figure out how we’re going get ‘cross it.” Next: Post 64 – MORE Farunk. Plus betrayers and the big bad evil guy. Later – Even MORE Farunk, and Someone Else’s Civilization. [/QUOTE]
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Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
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