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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: 2073868" data-attributes="member: 7033"><p><strong>05 02 Underland</strong></p><p></p><p>Bells rang, echoing throughout the caves and startling the Maisseners. </p><p></p><p>“What was that?” Bessie asked.</p><p></p><p>“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. </p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>“This is tiresome,” Madge said. “Is there something we can DO, someplace we might go to get away from these bells?”</p><p></p><p>“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.”</p><p></p><p>“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?”</p><p></p><p>“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.”</p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>“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. </p><p></p><p>The Maisseners scratched their heads. “I mean no disrespect,” Madge said, “but I don’t understand your map at all.”</p><p></p><p>The old dwarf chuckled. “Of course not, dear. You haven’t the training.”</p><p></p><p>“Do you know the valley of Drayne?” Bessie asked. “Could you show us a route there?”</p><p></p><p>“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.”</p><p></p><p>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.”</p><p></p><p>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.”</p><p></p><p>The Maissners all looked at one another with trepidation. “This can’t be a good thing,” Killian said. “How many?” he asked the warrior</p><p></p><p>“All of them I think,” the other dwarf answered. “They wait outside the inner gate.”</p><p></p><p>“Well they’ll be no match for the Defenders there. We should see them then.”</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>“What,” the four said in unison. </p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>“There must be hundreds,” Madge whispered.</p><p></p><p>Aneirin nodded. “It will be a real fight if that’s what they’ve come for.”</p><p></p><p>Their appearance on the balcony prompted the farunk to begin squealing. “Do you know what they’re saying?” Bessie asked the gatekeeper.</p><p></p><p>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?”</p><p></p><p>There was a roar of approval. Bessie smiled widely. “This is a wonderful necklace,” she said to the dwarven gatekeeper. </p><p></p><p>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.”</p><p></p><p>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.”</p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>Someone suggested a daytrip – “just to have something to do.” </p><p></p><p>Tale continues on Post 82</p><p>Next - spelunking (I promise)</p><p>Soon - follow the poem</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Beale Knight, post: 2073868, member: 7033"] [b]05 02 Underland[/b] 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 [/QUOTE]
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