The Bells

Couldn't find who did this etching, let me know if you can!

The usability of this table is a bit more abstract than some of my earlier ones. I plan to use it in a game along with my handmaidens table: the encounter die will include the tolling of a bell as an option, and each roll on the Bell table will alter the environment and the behavior of its inhabitants. Certain handmaidens might perform different actions when different bells ring, or be found in different places (look, I haven't gotten it all worked out yet and you'll know when I do). Feel free to do something similar with this table, or simply use it for a bit of evocative set dressing or inspiration.  If you do find it useful, let me know! It's a weird one, so I'm curious what others might do with it. 

d10 Bells: What Do They Sound Like? 

1	The bite of an axe into a frosted pine. A hammer driving a nail through blue mountains and violet valleys. The ring of a prospector's pick against a heavy piece of ore. Industry and agency shattering the stillness.
2	Sacrificial cattle lowing, fat and afraid. The bellow of a town crier on the cusp of announcing war. Running through it, the high pitched wailing of a child. The gathering of men to violence, the plight of those they will slay.
3	Coins rattling in tin cups. The wind whistling through gaps in shingled roofs. The whistles of those without teeth, and the chattering of those with. The high shrill of poverty.
4	The low roar of heat shimmer. Sheets fluttering limply in damp wind. Coins passed from one sweating palm to another. Low, thick whispers. Conspiracy born in idleness, burning with intent.
5	A brick shattering stained glass. A gunshot fired at the sky. A wrench turned against the machine its wielder built. The screech of gears without oil. A single violent note.
6	The clamor of children released from school. A new edge to the wind as it races through the trees. The rattle of tools being put away. The low long whistle of concern at the coming stormfront. Work ending in the face of impending cold.
7	A buzzing fly throwing itself against glass. The keen of a cicada without a mate. A cricket in a box. Termites chewing endlessly at the foundation. Prayer. The unending futility of the very small.
8	An unseen rooster’s cry across the desert. Gunshots from a distant mountain. Whir of wheels from around the corner. Creak of an abandoned windmill. Life carries on without you.
9	The bell at a front desk with no attendant, muted footsteps from upstairs. Clink of champagne glasses in carpeted rooms. Tinkling laughter swallowed by patterned wallpaper. Delicacy smothered by wealth.
10	Crack and groan of a thawing glacier. Scrape of stone sliding out of a wall. Grumble of crumbling brick. Sodden sloughing of plaster buckling. Sabotage with no saboteur.