Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
Greylock
First Post
alsih2o said:
The next time I happened upon Will in some shop somewhere, I literally jumped. Honest-to-gawd, the sight of him startled me. And when I saw him sitting on the sofa for the next game, my heart sank. Then I found out he was gonna be a PC.
His devilish brain was going to be working for US, HUZZAH!
Beale Knight
First Post
brellin said:
Glad to hear you're enjoying it! The next post is in place and I hope you like it just as much.
Beale Knight
First Post
06-03: Aftermath, Elves and Maisseners
There was little time for ceremony. The mortal remains of Madge and Killian were hastened into graves Ren knew weren’t properly deep and then he and Bessie recited prayers of blessing. By then Aneirin was coming back to consciousness. Bessie volunteered to fill the warrior in on the tragedy as Ren packed the collective gear together.
“What now then?” Aneirin asked as Ren walked up.
“First we climb back up to the island,” the hunter answered, “and hope we still have horses waiting for us up there.”
They did. Safe on the towering island of rock, the horses had the sense to stay there, and no one had come along to bother them. The shorter bridge from the island was intact, so the surviving Heroes retraced their steps to solid ground. The sun was sinking then, and so they made a camp to discuss their plans.
“So really we just have the one choice to make,” Ren said. “Are we gonna say enough and head on back to Maissen, or carry on as best we can with going northeast.”
“I honestly don’t think we’ve enough to show for ourselves,” Bessie said. “Especially with Madge and Killian dead. All we’ve got are a few trinkets that can hardly be held up as ‘Heroic Trophies’.”
“I say we carry on,” Aneirin said. “I know the witch that did this is dead, or as close to it as we might know, but she said something about a master. He’s the one responsible. He’s the one we must make pay for the lives of our friends. I say we make our way around this chasm and keep to our plans until we learn more of this master. Once we do – I say we have the duty to deliver justice on him.”
Bessie and Ren could feel the warrior’s passion from across the campfire. “So long as we do that smart, I agree with you, Aneirin,” Ren said. “So we’re all together then. We’ll keep on northeast and try to find that settlement of wayward humans the gnomes told us about. That I think’ll be a fine kind of heroic trophy – first contact with others of our kind outside Maissen.”
With the morning the surviving Heroes set out again, backtracking west around the chasm. It wasn’t as long as they’d feared. Not long after noon they’d found and rounded the western tip. It was only a little while later that Ren noticed something else. He signaled the others to halt, and jumped from his horse.
“What is it?” Bessie asked.
Ren looked up and pointed at the tracks on the ground. “Footprints. Three sets going the same way we are. And they’re just a few hours old.”
Aneirin peered down from Avarshan’s back to take a look. “Rather small,” he said.
Ren nodded as he mounted up. “Yep.”
Bessie took a look for herself and then the three exchanged looks for a moment, mouths firmly shut. They were all thinking that these footprints suggested only one thing, but none of them wanted to say it out loud. Not yet.
It was late afternoon when the three found themselves back at the ruined roped bridge. Without anyone saying to, they all stopped and dismounted. Travel had lessened the weight of yesterday’s tragedy, but standing back at the chasm brought it all back. The trio stood in heavy silence for several minutes.
Then Bessie chuckled. Aneirin and Ren started as if someone had ignited a fireball nearby. “What?” Ren asked.
Bessie chuckled again. “I couldn’t help it. I was looking down at the bridge and thinking how much effort it must have taken to build it. It would take a few ellyfants a few days to haul all that up. And now it’s ruined and even though it took Madge and Killian, all I can imagine is that whoever built this is going to be so mad to find it ruined. My mind just threw up a picture of some laborer walking up here and saying, ‘aw man.’”
Now Aneirin chuckled. “’Not again. This is the fifth bridge this year.’”
“’Villains’,” Ren said with a smile. “’Why do they always have to ambush people at THIS bridge? We’re going to have to put up a sign’.” Then he snapped his fingers. “A sign.”
He reached in his dwarf-made spelunker kit and pulled out a piece of chalk, then walked over to the stones on the far side of the trail. Looking around for a minute he found a flat one just about the size of a shield. He wrote on it for another minute, then wedged it into place between some other rocks in a place slightly sheltered from the weather. “What do you think?” he asked.
“’This bridge destroyed on the 19th day of the month of the Twins by a villainous witch woman, despite the effort of Maissiner Heroes – two of which paid for their efforts with their lives – that finally slew the one responsible’,” Bessie read.
“A fine sentiment, Ren. And a fine effort,” Aneirin said. He stroked his chin. “But when we get to civilization I insist you seek the tutorage of a proper poet.”
The warrior was smiling so Ren took his words in the spirit intended. He blushed anyway.
The three then continued east. As the next few hours wore on the land changed from the brown dirt hills to a lusher landscape. Soon they saw blackberry bushes growing in a line and other plants showing signs of cultivation. Crops.
They crested a low hill and found themselves looking over a large valley. A large, and inhabited, valley. All through the wide valley were cone and dome shaped structures organized in a crescent surrounding a long house of wooden planks. Flags with animal motifs dotted the area, and in the center was a circle with a huge goat on one side, a ten foot high constrictor snake on the other, and a person in the middle of it all. As the three Maisseners watched, the person in the middle changed his shape. He turned into smoke, then into a murder of crows, and then back as an audience of people watched.
From their vantage point, the three Heroes weren’t able to make out details of the people they were watching, but over those few minutes they watched they were able to conclude one most important fact.
They weren’t human. These people were too short. They looked as if they’d fit the footprints Ren had spotted earlier.
“We’ve found the elves,” Bessie said.
“They’re wondrous,” Aneirin said. “Amazing.”
Ren smiled. “Now THIS will be something we can……” he broke off and leaned forward to stare at something down in the valley. Then he slumped in the saddle. “No, no, NO!”
“What?” Bessie and Aneirin said as one.
Ren pointed. “There. By the group of elves off by that red….tent....thing.”
The others followed his pointing and felt their elation ebb. There were four taller people amid the shorter. The Heroes representing Vaunth-on-the-Lake had found the elves, certainly, but so had their rivals. These weren’t the redbreasts, but the other group with more ragged gear. They were milling about with the elves, clearly having been accepted as friends.
“Just like at the mountain, we’ve been beaten here,” Bessie said.
Ren was shaking. “Balcla's firey ballsac! More wildlands than Vanpo could use for a sandbox and we keep running into folk from home! Where on Simus' tablet do we have to go to get somewhere that our rivals haven't beaten us to!” He shouted. “If I live to be asked advice by later Heroes of Maissem mine will be to not stop for a full day anywhere unless absolutely necessary. Because if you do, then your rivals will beat you to where you want to go.”
Bessie was about to say something to answer that, but just then a gargantuan crocodile with nine people riding it burst through the woods to the southwest of the valley.
Next: Meetings, Greetings, A Dumb Bear, and the Graying of Truth Begins POST 103
Soon: Miriam the Still
There was little time for ceremony. The mortal remains of Madge and Killian were hastened into graves Ren knew weren’t properly deep and then he and Bessie recited prayers of blessing. By then Aneirin was coming back to consciousness. Bessie volunteered to fill the warrior in on the tragedy as Ren packed the collective gear together.
“What now then?” Aneirin asked as Ren walked up.
“First we climb back up to the island,” the hunter answered, “and hope we still have horses waiting for us up there.”
They did. Safe on the towering island of rock, the horses had the sense to stay there, and no one had come along to bother them. The shorter bridge from the island was intact, so the surviving Heroes retraced their steps to solid ground. The sun was sinking then, and so they made a camp to discuss their plans.
“So really we just have the one choice to make,” Ren said. “Are we gonna say enough and head on back to Maissen, or carry on as best we can with going northeast.”
“I honestly don’t think we’ve enough to show for ourselves,” Bessie said. “Especially with Madge and Killian dead. All we’ve got are a few trinkets that can hardly be held up as ‘Heroic Trophies’.”
“I say we carry on,” Aneirin said. “I know the witch that did this is dead, or as close to it as we might know, but she said something about a master. He’s the one responsible. He’s the one we must make pay for the lives of our friends. I say we make our way around this chasm and keep to our plans until we learn more of this master. Once we do – I say we have the duty to deliver justice on him.”
Bessie and Ren could feel the warrior’s passion from across the campfire. “So long as we do that smart, I agree with you, Aneirin,” Ren said. “So we’re all together then. We’ll keep on northeast and try to find that settlement of wayward humans the gnomes told us about. That I think’ll be a fine kind of heroic trophy – first contact with others of our kind outside Maissen.”
With the morning the surviving Heroes set out again, backtracking west around the chasm. It wasn’t as long as they’d feared. Not long after noon they’d found and rounded the western tip. It was only a little while later that Ren noticed something else. He signaled the others to halt, and jumped from his horse.
“What is it?” Bessie asked.
Ren looked up and pointed at the tracks on the ground. “Footprints. Three sets going the same way we are. And they’re just a few hours old.”
Aneirin peered down from Avarshan’s back to take a look. “Rather small,” he said.
Ren nodded as he mounted up. “Yep.”
Bessie took a look for herself and then the three exchanged looks for a moment, mouths firmly shut. They were all thinking that these footprints suggested only one thing, but none of them wanted to say it out loud. Not yet.
It was late afternoon when the three found themselves back at the ruined roped bridge. Without anyone saying to, they all stopped and dismounted. Travel had lessened the weight of yesterday’s tragedy, but standing back at the chasm brought it all back. The trio stood in heavy silence for several minutes.
Then Bessie chuckled. Aneirin and Ren started as if someone had ignited a fireball nearby. “What?” Ren asked.
Bessie chuckled again. “I couldn’t help it. I was looking down at the bridge and thinking how much effort it must have taken to build it. It would take a few ellyfants a few days to haul all that up. And now it’s ruined and even though it took Madge and Killian, all I can imagine is that whoever built this is going to be so mad to find it ruined. My mind just threw up a picture of some laborer walking up here and saying, ‘aw man.’”
Now Aneirin chuckled. “’Not again. This is the fifth bridge this year.’”
“’Villains’,” Ren said with a smile. “’Why do they always have to ambush people at THIS bridge? We’re going to have to put up a sign’.” Then he snapped his fingers. “A sign.”
He reached in his dwarf-made spelunker kit and pulled out a piece of chalk, then walked over to the stones on the far side of the trail. Looking around for a minute he found a flat one just about the size of a shield. He wrote on it for another minute, then wedged it into place between some other rocks in a place slightly sheltered from the weather. “What do you think?” he asked.
“’This bridge destroyed on the 19th day of the month of the Twins by a villainous witch woman, despite the effort of Maissiner Heroes – two of which paid for their efforts with their lives – that finally slew the one responsible’,” Bessie read.
“A fine sentiment, Ren. And a fine effort,” Aneirin said. He stroked his chin. “But when we get to civilization I insist you seek the tutorage of a proper poet.”
The warrior was smiling so Ren took his words in the spirit intended. He blushed anyway.
The three then continued east. As the next few hours wore on the land changed from the brown dirt hills to a lusher landscape. Soon they saw blackberry bushes growing in a line and other plants showing signs of cultivation. Crops.
They crested a low hill and found themselves looking over a large valley. A large, and inhabited, valley. All through the wide valley were cone and dome shaped structures organized in a crescent surrounding a long house of wooden planks. Flags with animal motifs dotted the area, and in the center was a circle with a huge goat on one side, a ten foot high constrictor snake on the other, and a person in the middle of it all. As the three Maisseners watched, the person in the middle changed his shape. He turned into smoke, then into a murder of crows, and then back as an audience of people watched.
From their vantage point, the three Heroes weren’t able to make out details of the people they were watching, but over those few minutes they watched they were able to conclude one most important fact.
They weren’t human. These people were too short. They looked as if they’d fit the footprints Ren had spotted earlier.
“We’ve found the elves,” Bessie said.
“They’re wondrous,” Aneirin said. “Amazing.”
Ren smiled. “Now THIS will be something we can……” he broke off and leaned forward to stare at something down in the valley. Then he slumped in the saddle. “No, no, NO!”
“What?” Bessie and Aneirin said as one.
Ren pointed. “There. By the group of elves off by that red….tent....thing.”
The others followed his pointing and felt their elation ebb. There were four taller people amid the shorter. The Heroes representing Vaunth-on-the-Lake had found the elves, certainly, but so had their rivals. These weren’t the redbreasts, but the other group with more ragged gear. They were milling about with the elves, clearly having been accepted as friends.
“Just like at the mountain, we’ve been beaten here,” Bessie said.
Ren was shaking. “Balcla's firey ballsac! More wildlands than Vanpo could use for a sandbox and we keep running into folk from home! Where on Simus' tablet do we have to go to get somewhere that our rivals haven't beaten us to!” He shouted. “If I live to be asked advice by later Heroes of Maissem mine will be to not stop for a full day anywhere unless absolutely necessary. Because if you do, then your rivals will beat you to where you want to go.”
Bessie was about to say something to answer that, but just then a gargantuan crocodile with nine people riding it burst through the woods to the southwest of the valley.
Next: Meetings, Greetings, A Dumb Bear, and the Graying of Truth Begins POST 103
Soon: Miriam the Still
Last edited:
Beale Knight
First Post
brellin said:very nice but I have a question (?) what subrace of elves are they or do you plane on putting that in the next post?
All we knew in character at the time was that they were elves. Our PCs had never seen elves, and the general population of Maissen always considered them to be legends - like dwarves. Our PCs never more thought to ask what sub-race the elves were than they would have thought to ask about the calibre of a pistol (were they to see one). They were just - - elves.
Greylock
First Post
I think it's funny you've attributed this line to my char...
The session prior to us heading to the elves I thought Johanna (Bessie) was OOC thrilled about seeing them finally. This was Johanna's first serious long-lasting experience with DnD, and sometimes she gets bubbly. You're right though, none of us even believed the elves existed (IC).
But BK, the story just gets better and better. You write my guy better than I play him sometimes.
Aneirin said:
The session prior to us heading to the elves I thought Johanna (Bessie) was OOC thrilled about seeing them finally. This was Johanna's first serious long-lasting experience with DnD, and sometimes she gets bubbly.
You're right though, none of us even believed the elves existed (IC).But BK, the story just gets better and better. You write my guy better than I play him sometimes.
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