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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: 2198114" data-attributes="member: 7033"><p><strong>07-01 Meetings, Greetings, A Dumb Bear, and the Graying of Truth Begins</strong></p><p></p><p>The giant crocodile wheeled around and jumped and bucked like a fierce wild animal, but the elves on its back hung on and laughed. They steered it around for a few minutes before settling down and giving it a rest. This wasn’t the fierce beast the Maisseners has thought, but something more akin to a giant pet.</p><p></p><p>Bessie was grinning widely. “So what are we waiting on?” She brushed some dust of her tunic and began to ride down to the crowd. </p><p></p><p>Aneirin and Ren looked at each other. “Well,” Ren said, “I guess they’ll see us coming and send someone to meet us halfway.”</p><p></p><p>Ren was proved right. As the trio casually rode down the slope they soon saw some figures jogging up their way. Humans. </p><p></p><p>“Amazing,” one of them called out. “Just amazing. We never thought we’d see any of the other questers outside Maissen.” He re-introduced himself as Morten, and the other three as Cane, Janos, and Anteros. “Those are some fine horses!” Cane said. “Wasn’t there another woman in your group?” asked Anteros. He eyed Aneirin. “And you weren’t with them, were you? I seem to remember a shorter man.”</p><p></p><p>“This is Aneirin,” Ren said. “We sort of found him along the way.”</p><p></p><p>“How did you all come to be with the elves?” Bessie asked. There was more than a little tinge of eagerness in her voice. </p><p></p><p>The Heroes from Kern laughed. “We were decidedly un-heroic,” Morten said. We headed in a sort of westerly direction from that fort, fought a few chakta, and nearly got killed. We happened to come across these elves here on their travels, they’re nomads you see, and they’ve let us stay with them since.”</p><p></p><p>“We decided we can stick with them for another few weeks, then go on back to Maissen and retire as famous heroes,” Cane said. </p><p></p><p>“And still be alive,” Janos added. “It’s pretty dangerous out here.”</p><p></p><p>“We know,” Ren said. “We just lost two of our party the other day.” He sighed. “Is there a mayor or something like it here? We’d like to talk to someone in charge that might know some things.”</p><p></p><p>“Sure,” Morten said. “These are a clan kind of folk, and we can introduce you to some of the clan chiefs, but later. Right now you’ll want to see what’s about to go down in the Challenge Ground. One warning – the elves don’t mind visitors, but keep your weapons sheathed. Act like you’re going to draw one, and you’ll be peppered with more arrows than you can count faster than you’d believe.”</p><p></p><p>The Heroes of Kern led those from Vaunth-on-the-Lake to the edge of the crowd gathered around the large clearing in the middle of the camp. As he did he explained that each clan has an animal avatar – not a symbol, but an actual avatar. All the gigantic animals about the area were the protectors of the clans. They aren’t immortal, they age and can be killed. Every so often, there is a change in avatars, with a younger, healthier one challenging the current one. That’s what was about to happen. The bear clan’s current avatar was being challenged for the position. </p><p></p><p>“And there’s betting,” Janos said. “The smart money’s on the challenger – the big one there.” He pointed to a monstrous bear striding toward the challenge grounds. Approaching the grounds from the opposite side was an oversized elf with an equally oversized flail. </p><p></p><p>A horn sounded and the two began to slowly move toward each other. Ren turned to Aneirin. “It’s not hard to guess why the money’s on the challenger,” he said. By the time he turned back, the contest was over. The elf was on his back and the giant bear was howling in triumph. </p><p></p><p>“No, not hard at all,” Aneirin said. “Well that was interesting. Now, about talking with the clan chiefs.” </p><p></p><p>Morten led them through the camp to a large tent. Inside, amid the shadows and haze of smoke, were three figures sitting and passing a pipe between them. Morten bid the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake to wait as he quietly stepped up and whispered something to them. They nodded and Morten waved the others over.</p><p></p><p>“These are the chiefs of the Crow, Brown Bear, and Python clan,” he said. “They’ll be happy to talk with you. If you’ll excuse me though, I have to see to some winnings.”</p><p></p><p>Bessie made the introductions, and the three were invited to sit. “You saw the challenge just now, I suppose?” the Crow chief asked.</p><p></p><p>“Indeed,” Bessie said. “We didn’t know quite what to make of it though.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah, it’s an ancient way,” the Brown Bear clan chief said. “The avatars are guardians and they’ve kept us safe for more generations than we remember. The loser will have to leave of course, ostracized and unnamed now, but the clan will be healthier for it.”</p><p></p><p>Ren held his tongue. Bessie mercifully changed the subject. “So where have you traveled? Morten said you were nomads.”</p><p></p><p>The chiefs nodded. “That we are,” the Crow chief said. “We have a regular way that we travel, going as the land calls us in its own time and way.” He took a draw on the pipe and offered it to Aneirin. “Where have you been?”</p><p></p><p>“We just came from the dwarves,” Bessie said. “And recently were ambushed at the rope bridge not far from here.” </p><p></p><p>The clan chiefs nodded. They obviously knew the bridge. </p><p></p><p>“I’m afraid the bridge has been ruined,” Bessie said. “And we lost two of our party in the battle there. We were wondering if you might know something of the villain we fought – a witch woman whose body was a shell hosting a swarm of insects.”</p><p></p><p>The clan chiefs perked up at this and began speaking in their own language. From the shadows a new figure stepped forward from the tent’s shadows. “Tell me about this ‘witch woman’!” he demanded, anger thick in his voice. </p><p></p><p>The Maisseners took in the sight of this elf and concluded at once that he must be from a different tribe, if not a different culture altogether, than the nomads here. Where all the other elves they’d seen had been wearing leathers and feathers and seemed generally relaxed and happy, this one was hard muscled in thick leather armor and armed to the teeth. And his demeanor was far from relaxed. He looked ready to explode into violence. </p><p></p><p>“And just who are you?” Aneirin said. His hand drifted to his sword, but he kept from gripping it. </p><p></p><p>“Call me Kane,” the elf said. He waited a moment. “Well, tell me of this ‘villain,” he repeated. </p><p></p><p>Bessie told the tale of the ambush, of the goblins and the witch woman, how the bridge was cut, and how the last arrow broke the woman’s skin apart and let loose the swarm of insects. When she was done, Kane’s shoulder’s slumped. </p><p></p><p>“That was my sister,” he said. “She was taken by a lich and transformed. I had hoped to find and save her. Now….”</p><p></p><p>The Crow clan leader said something the Kane in elvish, and the warrior stepped over and pulled a scroll from a case. “We’d like you to see something,” the clan chief said to the Maisseners. Kane unfurled the scroll to reveal an intricately detailed picture of a horror. It was a figure of human shape, but taller and with body parts segmented as if patched together. Blood oozed from where the pieces met. The entire figure had a withered, dry appearance to it. </p><p></p><p>Aneirin, Bessie, and Ren gasped at the portrait. This wasn’t the insect witch woman, but it was someone they’d seen. This was the demon that appeared out of smoke during our last meeting with the redbreasts. </p><p></p><p>“We’ve seen him,” Ren said. </p><p></p><p>The eyes on the elves grew wide. They briefly exchanged some words in their own tongue and then the Crow chief faced the Maisseners. “You’ve seen this one?” he asked. “When, where?”</p><p></p><p>Ren recounted the party’s encounter with the redbreasts at the plateau village at Ghost Dragon Mountain, and how the figure appeared just as they were leaving. </p><p></p><p>“You were very lucky,” the chief said. “Few who are not his servants lay eyes on him and live.”</p><p></p><p>“Who is this demon then?” Anierin asked.</p><p></p><p>“That is no demon,” the Python Chief answered. “That is the lich that captured Kane’s sister by force and turned her into the monstrosity you battled. He is the master she spoke of. A ruthless demagogue that, every fifteen years or so, makes another push for additional power. And this is that time.”</p><p></p><p>Anierin sighed. “Yes, but who is he?”</p><p></p><p>“Idien.” </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Next: More Gray, a “Blessing and a Burden”, and Miriam the Still [POST 109]</p><p>Soon: Desert Battles</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Beale Knight, post: 2198114, member: 7033"] [b]07-01 Meetings, Greetings, A Dumb Bear, and the Graying of Truth Begins[/b] The giant crocodile wheeled around and jumped and bucked like a fierce wild animal, but the elves on its back hung on and laughed. They steered it around for a few minutes before settling down and giving it a rest. This wasn’t the fierce beast the Maisseners has thought, but something more akin to a giant pet. Bessie was grinning widely. “So what are we waiting on?” She brushed some dust of her tunic and began to ride down to the crowd. Aneirin and Ren looked at each other. “Well,” Ren said, “I guess they’ll see us coming and send someone to meet us halfway.” Ren was proved right. As the trio casually rode down the slope they soon saw some figures jogging up their way. Humans. “Amazing,” one of them called out. “Just amazing. We never thought we’d see any of the other questers outside Maissen.” He re-introduced himself as Morten, and the other three as Cane, Janos, and Anteros. “Those are some fine horses!” Cane said. “Wasn’t there another woman in your group?” asked Anteros. He eyed Aneirin. “And you weren’t with them, were you? I seem to remember a shorter man.” “This is Aneirin,” Ren said. “We sort of found him along the way.” “How did you all come to be with the elves?” Bessie asked. There was more than a little tinge of eagerness in her voice. The Heroes from Kern laughed. “We were decidedly un-heroic,” Morten said. We headed in a sort of westerly direction from that fort, fought a few chakta, and nearly got killed. We happened to come across these elves here on their travels, they’re nomads you see, and they’ve let us stay with them since.” “We decided we can stick with them for another few weeks, then go on back to Maissen and retire as famous heroes,” Cane said. “And still be alive,” Janos added. “It’s pretty dangerous out here.” “We know,” Ren said. “We just lost two of our party the other day.” He sighed. “Is there a mayor or something like it here? We’d like to talk to someone in charge that might know some things.” “Sure,” Morten said. “These are a clan kind of folk, and we can introduce you to some of the clan chiefs, but later. Right now you’ll want to see what’s about to go down in the Challenge Ground. One warning – the elves don’t mind visitors, but keep your weapons sheathed. Act like you’re going to draw one, and you’ll be peppered with more arrows than you can count faster than you’d believe.” The Heroes of Kern led those from Vaunth-on-the-Lake to the edge of the crowd gathered around the large clearing in the middle of the camp. As he did he explained that each clan has an animal avatar – not a symbol, but an actual avatar. All the gigantic animals about the area were the protectors of the clans. They aren’t immortal, they age and can be killed. Every so often, there is a change in avatars, with a younger, healthier one challenging the current one. That’s what was about to happen. The bear clan’s current avatar was being challenged for the position. “And there’s betting,” Janos said. “The smart money’s on the challenger – the big one there.” He pointed to a monstrous bear striding toward the challenge grounds. Approaching the grounds from the opposite side was an oversized elf with an equally oversized flail. A horn sounded and the two began to slowly move toward each other. Ren turned to Aneirin. “It’s not hard to guess why the money’s on the challenger,” he said. By the time he turned back, the contest was over. The elf was on his back and the giant bear was howling in triumph. “No, not hard at all,” Aneirin said. “Well that was interesting. Now, about talking with the clan chiefs.” Morten led them through the camp to a large tent. Inside, amid the shadows and haze of smoke, were three figures sitting and passing a pipe between them. Morten bid the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake to wait as he quietly stepped up and whispered something to them. They nodded and Morten waved the others over. “These are the chiefs of the Crow, Brown Bear, and Python clan,” he said. “They’ll be happy to talk with you. If you’ll excuse me though, I have to see to some winnings.” Bessie made the introductions, and the three were invited to sit. “You saw the challenge just now, I suppose?” the Crow chief asked. “Indeed,” Bessie said. “We didn’t know quite what to make of it though.” “Ah, it’s an ancient way,” the Brown Bear clan chief said. “The avatars are guardians and they’ve kept us safe for more generations than we remember. The loser will have to leave of course, ostracized and unnamed now, but the clan will be healthier for it.” Ren held his tongue. Bessie mercifully changed the subject. “So where have you traveled? Morten said you were nomads.” The chiefs nodded. “That we are,” the Crow chief said. “We have a regular way that we travel, going as the land calls us in its own time and way.” He took a draw on the pipe and offered it to Aneirin. “Where have you been?” “We just came from the dwarves,” Bessie said. “And recently were ambushed at the rope bridge not far from here.” The clan chiefs nodded. They obviously knew the bridge. “I’m afraid the bridge has been ruined,” Bessie said. “And we lost two of our party in the battle there. We were wondering if you might know something of the villain we fought – a witch woman whose body was a shell hosting a swarm of insects.” The clan chiefs perked up at this and began speaking in their own language. From the shadows a new figure stepped forward from the tent’s shadows. “Tell me about this ‘witch woman’!” he demanded, anger thick in his voice. The Maisseners took in the sight of this elf and concluded at once that he must be from a different tribe, if not a different culture altogether, than the nomads here. Where all the other elves they’d seen had been wearing leathers and feathers and seemed generally relaxed and happy, this one was hard muscled in thick leather armor and armed to the teeth. And his demeanor was far from relaxed. He looked ready to explode into violence. “And just who are you?” Aneirin said. His hand drifted to his sword, but he kept from gripping it. “Call me Kane,” the elf said. He waited a moment. “Well, tell me of this ‘villain,” he repeated. Bessie told the tale of the ambush, of the goblins and the witch woman, how the bridge was cut, and how the last arrow broke the woman’s skin apart and let loose the swarm of insects. When she was done, Kane’s shoulder’s slumped. “That was my sister,” he said. “She was taken by a lich and transformed. I had hoped to find and save her. Now….” The Crow clan leader said something the Kane in elvish, and the warrior stepped over and pulled a scroll from a case. “We’d like you to see something,” the clan chief said to the Maisseners. Kane unfurled the scroll to reveal an intricately detailed picture of a horror. It was a figure of human shape, but taller and with body parts segmented as if patched together. Blood oozed from where the pieces met. The entire figure had a withered, dry appearance to it. Aneirin, Bessie, and Ren gasped at the portrait. This wasn’t the insect witch woman, but it was someone they’d seen. This was the demon that appeared out of smoke during our last meeting with the redbreasts. “We’ve seen him,” Ren said. The eyes on the elves grew wide. They briefly exchanged some words in their own tongue and then the Crow chief faced the Maisseners. “You’ve seen this one?” he asked. “When, where?” Ren recounted the party’s encounter with the redbreasts at the plateau village at Ghost Dragon Mountain, and how the figure appeared just as they were leaving. “You were very lucky,” the chief said. “Few who are not his servants lay eyes on him and live.” “Who is this demon then?” Anierin asked. “That is no demon,” the Python Chief answered. “That is the lich that captured Kane’s sister by force and turned her into the monstrosity you battled. He is the master she spoke of. A ruthless demagogue that, every fifteen years or so, makes another push for additional power. And this is that time.” Anierin sighed. “Yes, but who is he?” “Idien.” Next: More Gray, a “Blessing and a Burden”, and Miriam the Still [POST 109] Soon: Desert Battles [/QUOTE]
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