Beale Knight
First Post
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Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
- Thread starter Beale Knight
- Start date
Well...
Beale Knight
First Post
7-03 The tunnel, the reading, and the desert battle
The three humans and two elves stepped out of the cave and back onto the mountain trail.
“So what now then?” Kane asked.
Bessie spoke up. “We’ve been over the bridge that gave way to valley fair, or valley of fair, whichever it was. But it had the green and tall pines and sodden wet air,” she said, paraphrasing the dwarven poem. “We’ve gone from there to the steppes that rise this way and that, and are going toward the top. So at some point we’ll come to a way to follow the bats.”
“We’re taking travel directions from dwarves,” Kane said with a sneer. Dumb Bear looked at the other elf quizzically and Kane repeated his comment in elven. The bigger elf just shrugged.
“It’s worked very well for us so far,” Aneirin said. “Accurate if flowery.”
“I think this is it,” Ren said. He pointed to a cluster of bats hanging on an outcropping near what he’d thought was the back of the cave. “The cave turns here, but keeps going. And if I remember it right, the trail led right here and doesn’t carry on past the cave.”
Kane double checked the trail and confirmed Ren’s suspicion. With that settled, the party brought their torches out to where they’d be handy, lit two, and began making their way down the cave.
“All that dickering about it last week and here we are traveling underground anyway,” Bessie muttered.
Aneirin nodded and smiled. “It seems to be straightforward enough though. And we’re too high in the mountains to get lost beneath them.”
Ren had one of two torches in hand as he scouted a little ways ahead of the others. The tunnel was mostly flat and only featured moderate twists. There were no inhabitants but for scores and scores of bats that, at most, gave the party passing glances that said – put out that light! After most of an hour he stopped and took a closer look at a glint of light. “There,” he said as the other caught up to him.
“A side passage,” Kane said. “With just a hint of sunlight at the far end.”
“It’s big enough for us and horses, but only for single file,” Bessie said. “I think we’re better off carrying on the straightaway.”
The others nodded and the party carried on forward. It was almost another full hour later when Ren stepped in something sticky. He inwardly groaned and made to pull up his foot. He couldn’t. It was stuck fast to the floor. “What could this….” he muttered.
His question was cut off by a screech. From above a blur jumped down at Ren. He swung his torch wildly and ducked, then had a heartbeat’s time to take in the sight before him. It was a horror just about man-sized, with a bloated mid-section on spindly legs and long, gangly arms that ended in claws. Its jutted spider face hissed at Ren as it took another swipe at him. The hunter yelled for the others and thrust the torch at the monster, driving it back a step. In the torchlight, he now saw that the floor, from his trapped foot forward several yards, was covered in some kind of sticky, web-like substance.
By then Bessie was there. Through druid magic Ren’d never seen her use before, fire shot from her fists into the monster. Then Ren felt a powerful arm wrap around him and tug. A moment later his trapped foot was free and Dumb Bear was setting him down on the cavern floor. Aneirin was then right there, his sword shining in the torchlight at he cut the monster open.
That was when the second monster stuck its foul head out from a shelf up on the wall. Web shot from its mouth, striking Aneirin and sticking him fast in place. Dumb Bear jumped beside the warrior and the druid and pounded the closer monster with his flail. The spiked ball smashed into its head and barely slowed down as blood, bone, and brain flew from the other side. The monster stood for a half beat more, then fell dead onto its own webs.
Ren launched his spear at the second web monster. The weapon flew true and impaled the thing. It didn’t die, but retreated back into the cave it’d come out from. Bessie worked to help Aneirin get free from the webbing as Dumb Bear scaled the wall to chase down the wounded monster. It only took him a moment to get to it, dodge another spat web, and smash the thing to death as he had the other. By the time Ren managed to work his way around the webs and up the cave wall, it was all over. Dumb Bear stood in the low cave over the bloodied monster corpse with a grin as broad as any Ren’d ever seen.
The hunter smiled back and retrieved his spear, then began to nose around. The high alcove these two monsters had used as a lair was shallow and after only a minute Ren found twenty gold coins and three rubies hidden amid the bones and leaves. He jumped down to find Dumb Bear had freed Aneirin. Kane was coming up with the horses he had gathered and guarded through the fight.
Ren handed one of the rubies to the big elf. To Kane he said, “let him know it’s for a job really well done.” Kane translated and Dumb Bear smiled his big smile again. Ren announced what else he’d found and gave the loot over to Bessie, who had the most room for it. After that, the party put fire to the webs and moved on.
It wasn’t long afterward that they emerged to daylight. Before them was a grand vista. A wide valley stretching as for scores of miles and filled with herds of wild horses. The rough, spiked rock wasteland bookended the valley, and far ahead of them they could see the coloration change from green to yellow.
The descent from the cave tunnel to the valley floor was a difficult challenge. The switchback trail was narrow and steeper than the trail they’d taken up from the elven valley. With due care they finally touched bottom to realize they were much lower than they’d been on the other side. Exhausted, they decided to make camp then and there, though the sun was still well above the horizon.
“What can we expect tomorrow,” Kane asked, “according to the dwarves?”
“'Past them is sunlight and downward again. To desertland, walking north three days in',” Bessie answered. “So I’m going to make sure I’ve prepared spells to create water and keep our directions straight. I suggest the rest of you break out anything that can be used as a water skin and fill it up now.”
The waterskins were filled and camp was then set. The night passed without incident and then, true to her word, Miriam and her squire flew down from the sky the following morning. “Thank you ever so for your tip of the dragonne,” were the first words from her lips. “We had a fine hunt and now a new trophy.”
“Glad to help,” Ren muttered. Bessie stepped forward and nodded. “Well and good,” she said. “Now then – about what you….”
Miriam waved her off. “Yes, yes. I’ve prepared the magic. Gather here and we’ll get started.” She sat on the grass and directed the three humans to do the same. The Maissen leader then began her spell. Sparkles of light danced around her finger tips as she chanted and then touched her forehead. Miriam pressed a fingertip then to Bessie’s forehead, and the druid felt as if she were watching a dream of the past twenty days. After a few moments Miriam withdrew her finger and frowned. Wordlessly she pressed her fingertip to Ren’s forehead. As the next moments passed her frown turned into a scowl. She moved her fingertip to Aneirin next, and held it there for far longer than she had with Bessie or Ren. Her face alternated between wide-eyed fascination and slit-eyed fury over those long moments. When at last she withdrew her finger, Miriam quickly stood.
“You have been truthful,” she said. “And I must tell the council what you have experienced.” Miriam made to mount her horse and Ren stopped her. He’d been hastily scribbling as the Loremaster had been reading Aneirin.
“I wonder if you would carry this back to Maissen,” he said. “Just a letter to my family, letting them know that I’m still out here alive and mostly whole.”
Miriam took the note and nodded. “I promise. And you keep to your quest.” With that, she spurred her mount into the air and in a few moments she and her squire had vanished on the other side of the mountains.
“Well that should stir things up a bit,” Bessie said.
The party was soon on their way as well. They cleared the valley before noon and soon after the grassy land turned to scrub. By afternoon that had become sand and they were soon in a full fledged desert. Before the hot and boring day of travel was over, there was nothing but sand as far as the eye could see.
With their number bolstered to five, the group indulged in doubled-up watches. The elves took the longer one at the front of the night, and Ren and Aneirin the shorter second watch. It was while they were awake and the stars the brightest that they heard a sickening CRACK from where they’d cobbled the horses.
Ren and Aneirin turned to the sound to see one of the horses flailing about and neighing in pain. Its back had been broken, smashed at the middle. The two looked up from the crippled horse to see a gigantic arm of sand reaching out from a nearby dune. It rose from the body of the horse and vanished into the dune. Shouting, Ren went to loose the other horses, better they flee into the night to be recaptured later than die like the broken one would. Aneirin likewise went around prodding the others awake, sword in hand as he sought a sign of the sand arm.
It reappeared just then to strike at another horse, but Aneirin’s swipes disrupted it, driving it back into the sands. Awake now, the entire group made ready for another attack. One didn’t immediately come, so Bessie and Kane double checked the condition of the other horses and healed the one the second attack had grazed. They continued to wait for most of an hour before deciding the attack was over. Bessie and the elves settled back down to rest.
Just as they did, the sand monster reappeared. Still wide awake and ready, Aneirin and Ren attacked it. As their weapons tore through the sandy form it suddenly fell apart, becoming just a long pile of sand, slightly discolored from the natural sands of the desert. Ren gathered a bit of it into a vial that had held a healing potion as Bessie took a closer look at what was left of the monster.
“Earth elemental,” the druid said after a moment. “That’s what I thought it sounded like.”
“We sure enough then picked a dungpile of a place to camp then,” Ren said.
“I don’t think so,” Kane said. “There’s no lore of these things in this desert; my folk have traveled through this area enough to be sure of that. This was a deliberate attack on us.”
Aneirin’s hand fell to his sword hilt. “So there’s someone nearby directing it then. We need to find them before they make another attack.”
Kane shook his head. “I don’t believe the culprit is anywhere near here,” he said. “I believe we’re being scryed.”
Next: Seaside Fight, Coming to Lastell. POST 114
Soon: “We’ve been expecting you.”
The three humans and two elves stepped out of the cave and back onto the mountain trail.
“So what now then?” Kane asked.
Bessie spoke up. “We’ve been over the bridge that gave way to valley fair, or valley of fair, whichever it was. But it had the green and tall pines and sodden wet air,” she said, paraphrasing the dwarven poem. “We’ve gone from there to the steppes that rise this way and that, and are going toward the top. So at some point we’ll come to a way to follow the bats.”
“We’re taking travel directions from dwarves,” Kane said with a sneer. Dumb Bear looked at the other elf quizzically and Kane repeated his comment in elven. The bigger elf just shrugged.
“It’s worked very well for us so far,” Aneirin said. “Accurate if flowery.”
“I think this is it,” Ren said. He pointed to a cluster of bats hanging on an outcropping near what he’d thought was the back of the cave. “The cave turns here, but keeps going. And if I remember it right, the trail led right here and doesn’t carry on past the cave.”
Kane double checked the trail and confirmed Ren’s suspicion. With that settled, the party brought their torches out to where they’d be handy, lit two, and began making their way down the cave.
“All that dickering about it last week and here we are traveling underground anyway,” Bessie muttered.
Aneirin nodded and smiled. “It seems to be straightforward enough though. And we’re too high in the mountains to get lost beneath them.”
Ren had one of two torches in hand as he scouted a little ways ahead of the others. The tunnel was mostly flat and only featured moderate twists. There were no inhabitants but for scores and scores of bats that, at most, gave the party passing glances that said – put out that light! After most of an hour he stopped and took a closer look at a glint of light. “There,” he said as the other caught up to him.
“A side passage,” Kane said. “With just a hint of sunlight at the far end.”
“It’s big enough for us and horses, but only for single file,” Bessie said. “I think we’re better off carrying on the straightaway.”
The others nodded and the party carried on forward. It was almost another full hour later when Ren stepped in something sticky. He inwardly groaned and made to pull up his foot. He couldn’t. It was stuck fast to the floor. “What could this….” he muttered.
His question was cut off by a screech. From above a blur jumped down at Ren. He swung his torch wildly and ducked, then had a heartbeat’s time to take in the sight before him. It was a horror just about man-sized, with a bloated mid-section on spindly legs and long, gangly arms that ended in claws. Its jutted spider face hissed at Ren as it took another swipe at him. The hunter yelled for the others and thrust the torch at the monster, driving it back a step. In the torchlight, he now saw that the floor, from his trapped foot forward several yards, was covered in some kind of sticky, web-like substance.
By then Bessie was there. Through druid magic Ren’d never seen her use before, fire shot from her fists into the monster. Then Ren felt a powerful arm wrap around him and tug. A moment later his trapped foot was free and Dumb Bear was setting him down on the cavern floor. Aneirin was then right there, his sword shining in the torchlight at he cut the monster open.
That was when the second monster stuck its foul head out from a shelf up on the wall. Web shot from its mouth, striking Aneirin and sticking him fast in place. Dumb Bear jumped beside the warrior and the druid and pounded the closer monster with his flail. The spiked ball smashed into its head and barely slowed down as blood, bone, and brain flew from the other side. The monster stood for a half beat more, then fell dead onto its own webs.
Ren launched his spear at the second web monster. The weapon flew true and impaled the thing. It didn’t die, but retreated back into the cave it’d come out from. Bessie worked to help Aneirin get free from the webbing as Dumb Bear scaled the wall to chase down the wounded monster. It only took him a moment to get to it, dodge another spat web, and smash the thing to death as he had the other. By the time Ren managed to work his way around the webs and up the cave wall, it was all over. Dumb Bear stood in the low cave over the bloodied monster corpse with a grin as broad as any Ren’d ever seen.
The hunter smiled back and retrieved his spear, then began to nose around. The high alcove these two monsters had used as a lair was shallow and after only a minute Ren found twenty gold coins and three rubies hidden amid the bones and leaves. He jumped down to find Dumb Bear had freed Aneirin. Kane was coming up with the horses he had gathered and guarded through the fight.
Ren handed one of the rubies to the big elf. To Kane he said, “let him know it’s for a job really well done.” Kane translated and Dumb Bear smiled his big smile again. Ren announced what else he’d found and gave the loot over to Bessie, who had the most room for it. After that, the party put fire to the webs and moved on.
It wasn’t long afterward that they emerged to daylight. Before them was a grand vista. A wide valley stretching as for scores of miles and filled with herds of wild horses. The rough, spiked rock wasteland bookended the valley, and far ahead of them they could see the coloration change from green to yellow.
The descent from the cave tunnel to the valley floor was a difficult challenge. The switchback trail was narrow and steeper than the trail they’d taken up from the elven valley. With due care they finally touched bottom to realize they were much lower than they’d been on the other side. Exhausted, they decided to make camp then and there, though the sun was still well above the horizon.
“What can we expect tomorrow,” Kane asked, “according to the dwarves?”
“'Past them is sunlight and downward again. To desertland, walking north three days in',” Bessie answered. “So I’m going to make sure I’ve prepared spells to create water and keep our directions straight. I suggest the rest of you break out anything that can be used as a water skin and fill it up now.”
The waterskins were filled and camp was then set. The night passed without incident and then, true to her word, Miriam and her squire flew down from the sky the following morning. “Thank you ever so for your tip of the dragonne,” were the first words from her lips. “We had a fine hunt and now a new trophy.”
“Glad to help,” Ren muttered. Bessie stepped forward and nodded. “Well and good,” she said. “Now then – about what you….”
Miriam waved her off. “Yes, yes. I’ve prepared the magic. Gather here and we’ll get started.” She sat on the grass and directed the three humans to do the same. The Maissen leader then began her spell. Sparkles of light danced around her finger tips as she chanted and then touched her forehead. Miriam pressed a fingertip then to Bessie’s forehead, and the druid felt as if she were watching a dream of the past twenty days. After a few moments Miriam withdrew her finger and frowned. Wordlessly she pressed her fingertip to Ren’s forehead. As the next moments passed her frown turned into a scowl. She moved her fingertip to Aneirin next, and held it there for far longer than she had with Bessie or Ren. Her face alternated between wide-eyed fascination and slit-eyed fury over those long moments. When at last she withdrew her finger, Miriam quickly stood.
“You have been truthful,” she said. “And I must tell the council what you have experienced.” Miriam made to mount her horse and Ren stopped her. He’d been hastily scribbling as the Loremaster had been reading Aneirin.
“I wonder if you would carry this back to Maissen,” he said. “Just a letter to my family, letting them know that I’m still out here alive and mostly whole.”
Miriam took the note and nodded. “I promise. And you keep to your quest.” With that, she spurred her mount into the air and in a few moments she and her squire had vanished on the other side of the mountains.
“Well that should stir things up a bit,” Bessie said.
The party was soon on their way as well. They cleared the valley before noon and soon after the grassy land turned to scrub. By afternoon that had become sand and they were soon in a full fledged desert. Before the hot and boring day of travel was over, there was nothing but sand as far as the eye could see.
With their number bolstered to five, the group indulged in doubled-up watches. The elves took the longer one at the front of the night, and Ren and Aneirin the shorter second watch. It was while they were awake and the stars the brightest that they heard a sickening CRACK from where they’d cobbled the horses.
Ren and Aneirin turned to the sound to see one of the horses flailing about and neighing in pain. Its back had been broken, smashed at the middle. The two looked up from the crippled horse to see a gigantic arm of sand reaching out from a nearby dune. It rose from the body of the horse and vanished into the dune. Shouting, Ren went to loose the other horses, better they flee into the night to be recaptured later than die like the broken one would. Aneirin likewise went around prodding the others awake, sword in hand as he sought a sign of the sand arm.
It reappeared just then to strike at another horse, but Aneirin’s swipes disrupted it, driving it back into the sands. Awake now, the entire group made ready for another attack. One didn’t immediately come, so Bessie and Kane double checked the condition of the other horses and healed the one the second attack had grazed. They continued to wait for most of an hour before deciding the attack was over. Bessie and the elves settled back down to rest.
Just as they did, the sand monster reappeared. Still wide awake and ready, Aneirin and Ren attacked it. As their weapons tore through the sandy form it suddenly fell apart, becoming just a long pile of sand, slightly discolored from the natural sands of the desert. Ren gathered a bit of it into a vial that had held a healing potion as Bessie took a closer look at what was left of the monster.
“Earth elemental,” the druid said after a moment. “That’s what I thought it sounded like.”
“We sure enough then picked a dungpile of a place to camp then,” Ren said.
“I don’t think so,” Kane said. “There’s no lore of these things in this desert; my folk have traveled through this area enough to be sure of that. This was a deliberate attack on us.”
Aneirin’s hand fell to his sword hilt. “So there’s someone nearby directing it then. We need to find them before they make another attack.”
Kane shook his head. “I don’t believe the culprit is anywhere near here,” he said. “I believe we’re being scryed.”
Next: Seaside Fight, Coming to Lastell. POST 114
Soon: “We’ve been expecting you.”
Last edited:
Beale Knight
First Post
7 04 To the Sea, Beach Battle, Coming to Lastelle
“Scryed?” Ren repeated. He’d heard the word before but was unsure what exactly it meant.
Bessie was nodding. “That makes sense. And Idiein is almost certainly the one behind it. The only question is,” she said, looking at Kane. “Is he scrying us or you?”
“You laid eyes on him,” Kane said. “And your countrymen could well have told him who you were and what you represented.”
“True enough, but he also must know you’re seeking him out for vengeance,” Bessie countered.
Aneirin held up his hands. “Who’s being scryed doesn’t matter if we’re together. What matters is that we’re prepared for more attacks. If Idiein can see us to target us, he can also see that his efforts have thus far been useless. We still live, and though we’ve lost a mount that will do little to hinder our progress.”
“That’s why he attacked the mounts,” Kane said. “Trapping us on foot in this desert is a death sentence.”
“The horses are fine,” Bessie said. “I was able to use my magic to heal them, even the first one the elemental smashed. Here on though we’ll have to night them some distance from each other. We’ve got most of three days to go yet. We can take nothing for granted except the worst.”
Aneirin turned to look at the mounts. Indeed they were all standing, almost asleep again already as if nothing had happened. The warrior felt his shoulder, where the elemental arm had landed a powerful blow. “If you’ve any more of that magic I could stand to partake.”
Bessie complied and in moments Aneirin’s wound had healed. “How does that put you, Bessie?” Ren asked.
“That almost depletes me completely,” the druid answered.
“With the fight there’s no way any of us are going to get any good sleeping done tonight,” Ren said. “What if we just keep in place through the day and start out again at sundown? We could all get the rest we need, and it’d be better on us traveling at night through here anyway.”
After a little discussion, everyone agreed. The next day was a long boring stretch of making shade to sleep under and keeping watch over the endless sands. That night, with waterskins filled and direction determined by way of Bessie's magic, the troop set out again. Traveling under the starlight was far more pleasant and the group made fine progress, much better than that of the first day’s travel. However, the unspoken question in everyone’s mind was just how large the desert truly was. The dwarven poem clearly indicated three days, but there was no way to know if that accounted for mounts or a human pace. Though useful to gauge relative positions of major geographic features, the scale of the hastily drawn dwarven map was laughable and useless for determining real distance. Without Bessie and her spells, the party’s chances of making it through the desert would be dangerously thin.
At dawn they made their camp and prepared for another long, boring day under a relentless sun. They weren’t disappointed; that was exactly what they got. Though boring, it was much better than another battle. Once the sun dropped to the horizon, they set on their way again.
Late that night the sand began to be peppered with more and more dirt. By dawn’s first light they found a dry riverbed, east to west. The dwarf poem was still holding true. This was “the river that’s never quite there;” found after three days in the desert. Though the landmark was cause for relief, the party of Heroes was still in a desert, even if a less extreme part of it. They made camp at the riverbed and once again spent day as night. When the sun set again, they began traveling west along the north side of the riverbed.
After about two hours they noticed a trickle of water in the riverbed. An hour later there was more – it was a real stream! A little later the bed broke north and there was even more water in it.
Not long afterward, Ren brought his war-lizard mount to a halt and cupped his ear. “Listen,” he said with a smile on his face. “Can you hear it?”
The others gathered beside him. “A low roar,” Kane said. He translated for Dumb Bear, who nodded.
“It sounds like that waterfall at Drayne,” Aneirin said.
“But not quite exactly,” Ren said. “Hear the light splashes going on with it?”
Bessie took a deep breath through her nose and smiled. “And the salt is thick in the air even here.”
They resumed moving and in minutes the light of the moon confirmed what they’d already deduced. Before them was water. Endless water, stretching out of sight to the east and to the west. The end of land. The Maisseners looked at each other. They had now touched two coasts.
“Follow the river that's never quite there It leads to the ocean, a beach white and rare.” Bessie said quietly.
“Which way now then?” asked Kane.
“West,” Ren said with a point. “The gnomes’ dirt drawings put the settlement off that way from the desert.”
The rest of the night was simple and pleasant travel along the beach. The cool air was a welcome change from the unbridled heat of the desert, and the rhythmic lapping of the waves on the beach was soothing. When dawn began the spread its light, the Heroes noticed the desert was fully behind them. A pine forest was now to their left.
“How long do we travel today?” Ren asked once the sun was full in the sky.
“It’s a good time to switch day and night back to their usual roles,” Kane said. “If you humans can stand a short rest for once.”
Ren and Aneirin looked to Bessie. “I’ve not cast any spells through the night, so I don’t need for a full ‘night’s’ sleep,” she said. “If we just take some time to eat and rest that will suit me well enough.”
“There’s a shady spot right ahead then,” Ren said. “Let’s break off a few hours and get on the way before noon then, you think?”
That was just what they did. A few hours spent enjoying the luxurious shade of a grove and getting some food in them was enough to inspire them to move on. As the were gearing up for the next leg – the last stanza of the dwarven poem – Aneirin pointed out to sea.
“Take a look,” he said. “A three master.”
The others took a look and saw a ship far out in the ocean. As the warrior had said, it featured three masts.
“I’ven’t seen one like that before,” Kane said.
Bessie shook her head. “No, the ones at home have just one, or sometimes two.”
“We have seen one like it before, Bessie,” Ren said. “So have you I’d guess, Aneirin.”
Bessie looked at him a little confused, but Aneirin gave him a look like the hunter had said he’d guessed the warrior had seen a sword before. “Of course I have. The ships that brought us over had three masts.”
Now Bessie’s face lit up. “And there’s one displayed in Castle Maissen,” she said.
Ren nodded. He watched the ship for a moment as it plowed east through the waters. “Which says that someone off that way knows how to sail in the ocean. More than we can do.”
“How do you forget how to make ships like that?” Aneirin asked.
“Couple hundred years of worrying about just surviving, I guess,” Ren said.
The ship moved on out of sight and the Heroes continued west. The last lines in the dwarven poem called for them to follow the ocean’s breaking surf and look for the land that would break in a hollow. The last hours of morning were spent in simple travel, keeping one eye peeled for another ambush from servants of Idiein and the other alert for a hollow in the land.
Just after the sun peaked, they saw a pair of figures far down the beach. They were walking slowly east, as if they hadn’t noticed or didn’t care about the mounted figures coming their way.
“What do you think?” Aneirin asked.
Ren shrugged. “We’re pretty sure we’re getting close on to some civilization, so I guess seeing folk isn’t much of a surprise.”
“It certainly doesn’t look like they're threatening,” Bessie added.
Aneirin nodded. “We can’t be so sure anymore though. We’ll be careful and keep a close eye on them.”
Over the next few minutes the pair continued to walk toward the Heroes. Their walk was clumsy, stiff even, as if their legs weren’t working quite properly. As they drew closer, their odd posture was evident; one in particular – the shorter – seemed to weave and wobble with every sluggish step.
Suddenly Dumb Bear sat up rod straight on his horse. Kane followed suit almost immediately. “What is it?” Aneirin asked.
Kane drew his sword. “They’re not human. They’re not even alive. Idien is striking again, but his power must be waning. These should be no great challenge.”
“Beware of secret abilities, elf,” Anierin said. “We’ve been surprised by ‘easy’ foes before.”
The Heroes made ready for battle as the undead continued their march toward them. Soon the distance was almost perfect for the charge Aneirin was hoping for. Then suddenly, the three humans were brought up short. They could make out features on the undead things.
“Blessed stars, no,” Bessie whispered, a hand to her mouth.
Aneirin clenched his fist in mounting fury. “You devil, to make us do this,” he hissed.
Ren tore at his hair. “This is just too wrong. Just too wrong.”
Kane and Dumb Bear stared at them. “What is it?” Kane asked, impatient confusion in his voice. He waved at the approaching pair. “Undead. Zombies. Destroy. How is it you have a problem with this?”
“We recognize them,” Bessie whispered.
“He desecrated Madge and Killian’s remains to use them against us,” Aneirin said through a clenched jaw.
Ren looked to Kane. “He did to them what he did to your sister.”
The elf warrior’s eyes narrowed and he translated the exchange for Dumb Bear. The bigger elf said a few words back and Kane nodded. Before he could tell the others that there was no sense in waiting, they had moved.
Aneirin charged and the others followed – weapons drawn and ready. One thought ran through the minds of the three from Maissen. “How dare he abuse the corpses we had put to rest! Filling their bodies with whatever unnatural magics that made them mock sacred life!” Their revulsion and outrage had turned to fury. Kane’s anger was now theirs.
Having led the charge, Aneirin reached the monstrosities first. From horseback he sliced them without mercy, ignoring their clumsy attacks – driving Avarshan to nimbly avoid those few blows that would have struck the mount of a lesser rider. Here Aneirin was in his element as never before. Fighting like that from horseback, he and his mount seemed as one. A single, focused, force.
The others engaged the undead. Ren’s war-lizard showed her talent with claw and teeth, not the least bit bothered by the chaos of melee. Bessie summoned a water elemental that slammed the zombies from behind. Kane and Dumbear surrounded the zombies and beat and sliced them with a passion equal to the three that knew the souls that had been in these bodies.
It was a furious and short battle. The undead bodies were sliced to bits and still in moments, and delivered virtually no damage to their living foes. But the Maisseners were exhausted from it. Less from the combat than the spiritual strain of seeing their friends’ bodies so abused, and from having to battle the faces they had come to love.
When it was all over there was nothing for it but to insure it couldn’t happen again. Through tears, the Heroes built a pyre and burnt the remains to ashes, hoping that Idiein was scrying his latest failure.
The rest of the day was spent quietly riding. None of them had very much to say. Toward evening the beach ahead began to curve south. The ocean was opening into a bay. A huge bay, larger than a city. At its southern end a stream headed inland, and around that a village stood.
“The bay is the hollow,” Bessie said. “We’ve made it.”
Next: The Tonk POST 119
Soon: Lastelle Town, "We've Been Expecting You"
“Scryed?” Ren repeated. He’d heard the word before but was unsure what exactly it meant.
Bessie was nodding. “That makes sense. And Idiein is almost certainly the one behind it. The only question is,” she said, looking at Kane. “Is he scrying us or you?”
“You laid eyes on him,” Kane said. “And your countrymen could well have told him who you were and what you represented.”
“True enough, but he also must know you’re seeking him out for vengeance,” Bessie countered.
Aneirin held up his hands. “Who’s being scryed doesn’t matter if we’re together. What matters is that we’re prepared for more attacks. If Idiein can see us to target us, he can also see that his efforts have thus far been useless. We still live, and though we’ve lost a mount that will do little to hinder our progress.”
“That’s why he attacked the mounts,” Kane said. “Trapping us on foot in this desert is a death sentence.”
“The horses are fine,” Bessie said. “I was able to use my magic to heal them, even the first one the elemental smashed. Here on though we’ll have to night them some distance from each other. We’ve got most of three days to go yet. We can take nothing for granted except the worst.”
Aneirin turned to look at the mounts. Indeed they were all standing, almost asleep again already as if nothing had happened. The warrior felt his shoulder, where the elemental arm had landed a powerful blow. “If you’ve any more of that magic I could stand to partake.”
Bessie complied and in moments Aneirin’s wound had healed. “How does that put you, Bessie?” Ren asked.
“That almost depletes me completely,” the druid answered.
“With the fight there’s no way any of us are going to get any good sleeping done tonight,” Ren said. “What if we just keep in place through the day and start out again at sundown? We could all get the rest we need, and it’d be better on us traveling at night through here anyway.”
After a little discussion, everyone agreed. The next day was a long boring stretch of making shade to sleep under and keeping watch over the endless sands. That night, with waterskins filled and direction determined by way of Bessie's magic, the troop set out again. Traveling under the starlight was far more pleasant and the group made fine progress, much better than that of the first day’s travel. However, the unspoken question in everyone’s mind was just how large the desert truly was. The dwarven poem clearly indicated three days, but there was no way to know if that accounted for mounts or a human pace. Though useful to gauge relative positions of major geographic features, the scale of the hastily drawn dwarven map was laughable and useless for determining real distance. Without Bessie and her spells, the party’s chances of making it through the desert would be dangerously thin.
At dawn they made their camp and prepared for another long, boring day under a relentless sun. They weren’t disappointed; that was exactly what they got. Though boring, it was much better than another battle. Once the sun dropped to the horizon, they set on their way again.
Late that night the sand began to be peppered with more and more dirt. By dawn’s first light they found a dry riverbed, east to west. The dwarf poem was still holding true. This was “the river that’s never quite there;” found after three days in the desert. Though the landmark was cause for relief, the party of Heroes was still in a desert, even if a less extreme part of it. They made camp at the riverbed and once again spent day as night. When the sun set again, they began traveling west along the north side of the riverbed.
After about two hours they noticed a trickle of water in the riverbed. An hour later there was more – it was a real stream! A little later the bed broke north and there was even more water in it.
Not long afterward, Ren brought his war-lizard mount to a halt and cupped his ear. “Listen,” he said with a smile on his face. “Can you hear it?”
The others gathered beside him. “A low roar,” Kane said. He translated for Dumb Bear, who nodded.
“It sounds like that waterfall at Drayne,” Aneirin said.
“But not quite exactly,” Ren said. “Hear the light splashes going on with it?”
Bessie took a deep breath through her nose and smiled. “And the salt is thick in the air even here.”
They resumed moving and in minutes the light of the moon confirmed what they’d already deduced. Before them was water. Endless water, stretching out of sight to the east and to the west. The end of land. The Maisseners looked at each other. They had now touched two coasts.
“Follow the river that's never quite there It leads to the ocean, a beach white and rare.” Bessie said quietly.
“Which way now then?” asked Kane.
“West,” Ren said with a point. “The gnomes’ dirt drawings put the settlement off that way from the desert.”
The rest of the night was simple and pleasant travel along the beach. The cool air was a welcome change from the unbridled heat of the desert, and the rhythmic lapping of the waves on the beach was soothing. When dawn began the spread its light, the Heroes noticed the desert was fully behind them. A pine forest was now to their left.
“How long do we travel today?” Ren asked once the sun was full in the sky.
“It’s a good time to switch day and night back to their usual roles,” Kane said. “If you humans can stand a short rest for once.”
Ren and Aneirin looked to Bessie. “I’ve not cast any spells through the night, so I don’t need for a full ‘night’s’ sleep,” she said. “If we just take some time to eat and rest that will suit me well enough.”
“There’s a shady spot right ahead then,” Ren said. “Let’s break off a few hours and get on the way before noon then, you think?”
That was just what they did. A few hours spent enjoying the luxurious shade of a grove and getting some food in them was enough to inspire them to move on. As the were gearing up for the next leg – the last stanza of the dwarven poem – Aneirin pointed out to sea.
“Take a look,” he said. “A three master.”
The others took a look and saw a ship far out in the ocean. As the warrior had said, it featured three masts.
“I’ven’t seen one like that before,” Kane said.
Bessie shook her head. “No, the ones at home have just one, or sometimes two.”
“We have seen one like it before, Bessie,” Ren said. “So have you I’d guess, Aneirin.”
Bessie looked at him a little confused, but Aneirin gave him a look like the hunter had said he’d guessed the warrior had seen a sword before. “Of course I have. The ships that brought us over had three masts.”
Now Bessie’s face lit up. “And there’s one displayed in Castle Maissen,” she said.
Ren nodded. He watched the ship for a moment as it plowed east through the waters. “Which says that someone off that way knows how to sail in the ocean. More than we can do.”
“How do you forget how to make ships like that?” Aneirin asked.
“Couple hundred years of worrying about just surviving, I guess,” Ren said.
The ship moved on out of sight and the Heroes continued west. The last lines in the dwarven poem called for them to follow the ocean’s breaking surf and look for the land that would break in a hollow. The last hours of morning were spent in simple travel, keeping one eye peeled for another ambush from servants of Idiein and the other alert for a hollow in the land.
Just after the sun peaked, they saw a pair of figures far down the beach. They were walking slowly east, as if they hadn’t noticed or didn’t care about the mounted figures coming their way.
“What do you think?” Aneirin asked.
Ren shrugged. “We’re pretty sure we’re getting close on to some civilization, so I guess seeing folk isn’t much of a surprise.”
“It certainly doesn’t look like they're threatening,” Bessie added.
Aneirin nodded. “We can’t be so sure anymore though. We’ll be careful and keep a close eye on them.”
Over the next few minutes the pair continued to walk toward the Heroes. Their walk was clumsy, stiff even, as if their legs weren’t working quite properly. As they drew closer, their odd posture was evident; one in particular – the shorter – seemed to weave and wobble with every sluggish step.
Suddenly Dumb Bear sat up rod straight on his horse. Kane followed suit almost immediately. “What is it?” Aneirin asked.
Kane drew his sword. “They’re not human. They’re not even alive. Idien is striking again, but his power must be waning. These should be no great challenge.”
“Beware of secret abilities, elf,” Anierin said. “We’ve been surprised by ‘easy’ foes before.”
The Heroes made ready for battle as the undead continued their march toward them. Soon the distance was almost perfect for the charge Aneirin was hoping for. Then suddenly, the three humans were brought up short. They could make out features on the undead things.
“Blessed stars, no,” Bessie whispered, a hand to her mouth.
Aneirin clenched his fist in mounting fury. “You devil, to make us do this,” he hissed.
Ren tore at his hair. “This is just too wrong. Just too wrong.”
Kane and Dumb Bear stared at them. “What is it?” Kane asked, impatient confusion in his voice. He waved at the approaching pair. “Undead. Zombies. Destroy. How is it you have a problem with this?”
“We recognize them,” Bessie whispered.
“He desecrated Madge and Killian’s remains to use them against us,” Aneirin said through a clenched jaw.
Ren looked to Kane. “He did to them what he did to your sister.”
The elf warrior’s eyes narrowed and he translated the exchange for Dumb Bear. The bigger elf said a few words back and Kane nodded. Before he could tell the others that there was no sense in waiting, they had moved.
Aneirin charged and the others followed – weapons drawn and ready. One thought ran through the minds of the three from Maissen. “How dare he abuse the corpses we had put to rest! Filling their bodies with whatever unnatural magics that made them mock sacred life!” Their revulsion and outrage had turned to fury. Kane’s anger was now theirs.
Having led the charge, Aneirin reached the monstrosities first. From horseback he sliced them without mercy, ignoring their clumsy attacks – driving Avarshan to nimbly avoid those few blows that would have struck the mount of a lesser rider. Here Aneirin was in his element as never before. Fighting like that from horseback, he and his mount seemed as one. A single, focused, force.
The others engaged the undead. Ren’s war-lizard showed her talent with claw and teeth, not the least bit bothered by the chaos of melee. Bessie summoned a water elemental that slammed the zombies from behind. Kane and Dumbear surrounded the zombies and beat and sliced them with a passion equal to the three that knew the souls that had been in these bodies.
It was a furious and short battle. The undead bodies were sliced to bits and still in moments, and delivered virtually no damage to their living foes. But the Maisseners were exhausted from it. Less from the combat than the spiritual strain of seeing their friends’ bodies so abused, and from having to battle the faces they had come to love.
When it was all over there was nothing for it but to insure it couldn’t happen again. Through tears, the Heroes built a pyre and burnt the remains to ashes, hoping that Idiein was scrying his latest failure.
The rest of the day was spent quietly riding. None of them had very much to say. Toward evening the beach ahead began to curve south. The ocean was opening into a bay. A huge bay, larger than a city. At its southern end a stream headed inland, and around that a village stood.
“The bay is the hollow,” Bessie said. “We’ve made it.”
Next: The Tonk POST 119
Soon: Lastelle Town, "We've Been Expecting You"
Last edited:
Beale Knight
First Post
Greylock said:Well, it's Sunday AND it's been a slow weekend. I'm pretty sure BK is willing to oblige. If he was thinking of slacking off, maybe this will coerce him into obliging you.
Indeed. A new post comes later this a-m. I've gotten into a pretty solid routine of Monday updates, I think, so that's the day to check in.
Beale Knight
First Post
The Tonk
“Just about in time too,” Ren added. “Starting on getting pretty dark.”
Indeed it was all but completely dark by the time the Heroes reached the distant village’s first outlying building, a small, 10’ by 20’ shack without even a proper door. The curtain hanging over the threshold did little to contain the bawdy singing within. Bessie and Ren grinned. “We’ve found the tonk,” Ren said.
“The ‘tonk’?” Aneirin asked.
“The wild tavern on the outskirts of town,” Bessie said. “I don’t know about this one, but the tonks in Maissen aren’t usually completely legal.”
Ren smiled again. “Which is part of what makes them whole lots more fun.”
“We should see what they know of where we are then,” said Kane.
Bessie shook her head. “They’re not going to know anything useful,” she said. “Rather, if they do, they’ll have a hard time telling it.”
Aneirin rubbed his chin. “We won’t take long then,” he said, urging Avarshan toward the shack.
“Bessie’s right,” Ren said. “We’re better off just pushing on to the town.”
The warrior ignored them and dismounted. “They must know something. I don’t care to walk into a situation without foreknowledge if I can help it.”
“Didn’t he charge madly against a ‘lone’ farunk?” Ren whispered to Bessie, who snickered quietly.
Kane dismounted as well, and Dumb Bear followed suit. With Aneirin they walked to the curtained entrance of the shack. The bawdy singing continued full strength as the revelers within sung the chorus about a woman, her sisters, and what they did with fish. Then Aneirin moved the curtain aside and stuck his head in.
Silence fell like a tumbling wall. Aneirin looked the single room over, noting several kegs and about two dozen men, all humans and all but one awake with a drink in his hand. Wearing the simple clothes of fishermen, they all stared at the armored, sword bearing man standing in their doorway. “Excuse me,” Aneirin said politely. “I was wondering if you could tell me just where I’ve found myself.”
The men inside looked back and forth at each other, their wide eyed eyes and slack jaws testimony to their utter confusion. After a moment a few of them managed to stammer out some syllables and unintelligible babble. Finally someone managed to get out, “who are you?”
Aneirin reached to the recesses of his memory to recall what his father and lords and tried to teach him about diplomacy. With a smile he spread his hands away from his weapons and said, “just a traveler, and I’m afraid I’ve gotten a bit turned around.”
Standing just out of sight, Kane translated the exchange for Dumb Bear, and they both chuckled at the humans’ confusion.
“A what?!” Many of the men said this, some to Aneirin some to each other. Several others took long drinks from their mugs. Kane chose that moment to squeeze in past Aneirin. A gasp traveled through the room as the men stared at the fierce, but small, man with the pointed ears and piercing eyes. Kane returned the stare and for an eternity of seconds no one moved or uttered a sound.
“Boo!” Kane shouted suddenly. Every man in the shack jumped back. Mugs hit the sandy floor across the length of the shack. Aneirin fixed the elf with a hard stare, but Kane only grinned and stepped back outside.
Bessie and Ren, still on their mounts, shook their heads. “This is going nowhere,” Ren said as he slid from Sandy’s* back. He trotted over to the curtain where Aneirin was waiting for the drinkers to collect themselves – or where he was trying to figure out just how to get something useful from them. Ren wasn’t sure, but he had been in enough tonks to have an idea how to talk to the people in this one. He stepped into the shack and found someone close at hand that looked less drunk than the others. “You,” he said with a point, “Who’s in charge of that town down the bay?”
The man he pointed to looked to his left and right as if hoping Ren had actually been pointing to someone else. When no one stepped up to help him, he stammered out, “uh – Lastelle.”
“Thanks,” Ren said, ducking back outside. He tugged Aneirin’s sleeve as he exited, prompting the warrior to come along as well. “That’s an interesting answer.”
“How so?” asked Kane.
“Lastelle was a brother to Maissen,” Aneirin answered as he climb atop Avarshan. “I don’t imagine they could mean him.”
“It could be descendents of him,” Bessie said. “In the histories, Lastelle left with some followers in quest to find a way back to the old homeland. This could be as far as he got.”
“The answers for sure don’t lay back there though,” Ren said. From Sandy, he pointed west. “Let’s see if we can get all the way there tonight and start finding them from whoever this particular Lastelle is.”
As they rode, the Heroes left a small group of drinkers crowded in the doorway watching the strangers in disbelief.
Kane glanced back at them. “What do you imagine their problem is?” he said.
“They probably don’t get very many travelers up this way,” Bessie said. “Most Maisseners don’t know there’s other human settlements beyond the borders. They’d probably be just as frightened of mysterious strangers - mysterious, heavily armed strangers – dropping in on their marginally legal tavern.”
“If there’s no where to travel to, there’s no such thing as a traveler,” Ren said.
* Ren named his war lizard after the battle along the beach. As she delivered most damage with her claws, and the battle happened on the sand, Ren combined the two and named her Sandy Claws. He did this without any sense of irony or homage, as the poor hunter from Vaunth-on-the-Lake has never even heard of Tim Burton.
Next: Lastelle Town, Evil Dragon Halflings!, "We've been expecting you" POST 126
Soon: The Old Temple in the Mountain
“Just about in time too,” Ren added. “Starting on getting pretty dark.”
Indeed it was all but completely dark by the time the Heroes reached the distant village’s first outlying building, a small, 10’ by 20’ shack without even a proper door. The curtain hanging over the threshold did little to contain the bawdy singing within. Bessie and Ren grinned. “We’ve found the tonk,” Ren said.
“The ‘tonk’?” Aneirin asked.
“The wild tavern on the outskirts of town,” Bessie said. “I don’t know about this one, but the tonks in Maissen aren’t usually completely legal.”
Ren smiled again. “Which is part of what makes them whole lots more fun.”
“We should see what they know of where we are then,” said Kane.
Bessie shook her head. “They’re not going to know anything useful,” she said. “Rather, if they do, they’ll have a hard time telling it.”
Aneirin rubbed his chin. “We won’t take long then,” he said, urging Avarshan toward the shack.
“Bessie’s right,” Ren said. “We’re better off just pushing on to the town.”
The warrior ignored them and dismounted. “They must know something. I don’t care to walk into a situation without foreknowledge if I can help it.”
“Didn’t he charge madly against a ‘lone’ farunk?” Ren whispered to Bessie, who snickered quietly.
Kane dismounted as well, and Dumb Bear followed suit. With Aneirin they walked to the curtained entrance of the shack. The bawdy singing continued full strength as the revelers within sung the chorus about a woman, her sisters, and what they did with fish. Then Aneirin moved the curtain aside and stuck his head in.
Silence fell like a tumbling wall. Aneirin looked the single room over, noting several kegs and about two dozen men, all humans and all but one awake with a drink in his hand. Wearing the simple clothes of fishermen, they all stared at the armored, sword bearing man standing in their doorway. “Excuse me,” Aneirin said politely. “I was wondering if you could tell me just where I’ve found myself.”
The men inside looked back and forth at each other, their wide eyed eyes and slack jaws testimony to their utter confusion. After a moment a few of them managed to stammer out some syllables and unintelligible babble. Finally someone managed to get out, “who are you?”
Aneirin reached to the recesses of his memory to recall what his father and lords and tried to teach him about diplomacy. With a smile he spread his hands away from his weapons and said, “just a traveler, and I’m afraid I’ve gotten a bit turned around.”
Standing just out of sight, Kane translated the exchange for Dumb Bear, and they both chuckled at the humans’ confusion.
“A what?!” Many of the men said this, some to Aneirin some to each other. Several others took long drinks from their mugs. Kane chose that moment to squeeze in past Aneirin. A gasp traveled through the room as the men stared at the fierce, but small, man with the pointed ears and piercing eyes. Kane returned the stare and for an eternity of seconds no one moved or uttered a sound.
“Boo!” Kane shouted suddenly. Every man in the shack jumped back. Mugs hit the sandy floor across the length of the shack. Aneirin fixed the elf with a hard stare, but Kane only grinned and stepped back outside.
Bessie and Ren, still on their mounts, shook their heads. “This is going nowhere,” Ren said as he slid from Sandy’s* back. He trotted over to the curtain where Aneirin was waiting for the drinkers to collect themselves – or where he was trying to figure out just how to get something useful from them. Ren wasn’t sure, but he had been in enough tonks to have an idea how to talk to the people in this one. He stepped into the shack and found someone close at hand that looked less drunk than the others. “You,” he said with a point, “Who’s in charge of that town down the bay?”
The man he pointed to looked to his left and right as if hoping Ren had actually been pointing to someone else. When no one stepped up to help him, he stammered out, “uh – Lastelle.”
“Thanks,” Ren said, ducking back outside. He tugged Aneirin’s sleeve as he exited, prompting the warrior to come along as well. “That’s an interesting answer.”
“How so?” asked Kane.
“Lastelle was a brother to Maissen,” Aneirin answered as he climb atop Avarshan. “I don’t imagine they could mean him.”
“It could be descendents of him,” Bessie said. “In the histories, Lastelle left with some followers in quest to find a way back to the old homeland. This could be as far as he got.”
“The answers for sure don’t lay back there though,” Ren said. From Sandy, he pointed west. “Let’s see if we can get all the way there tonight and start finding them from whoever this particular Lastelle is.”
As they rode, the Heroes left a small group of drinkers crowded in the doorway watching the strangers in disbelief.
Kane glanced back at them. “What do you imagine their problem is?” he said.
“They probably don’t get very many travelers up this way,” Bessie said. “Most Maisseners don’t know there’s other human settlements beyond the borders. They’d probably be just as frightened of mysterious strangers - mysterious, heavily armed strangers – dropping in on their marginally legal tavern.”
“If there’s no where to travel to, there’s no such thing as a traveler,” Ren said.
* Ren named his war lizard after the battle along the beach. As she delivered most damage with her claws, and the battle happened on the sand, Ren combined the two and named her Sandy Claws. He did this without any sense of irony or homage, as the poor hunter from Vaunth-on-the-Lake has never even heard of Tim Burton.
Next: Lastelle Town, Evil Dragon Halflings!, "We've been expecting you" POST 126
Soon: The Old Temple in the Mountain
Last edited:
Beale Knight
First Post
Sorry for the short update. Too many hands on my time this a-m. I'll see to getting another update later this week.
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