Poison's grip

[tomcat]

  Hey All, just to let you know. Due to Tom's current schedule, he will only be taking over the NPC's in our story - leaving the GM'ing to me. At some point, we will co-GM and see how that stuff works.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that he is the one you guys will ply your wiles against! Have fun!!

[Posterboy]

Looking around the encampment, the Gondorian woman noted that no flags flew the southern country's colours. Esgalwen tried not to dispair, though she felt nearly certain that, had any of her companions lasted that fateful night four weeks ago, they would have surely arrived before her. She marvelled for a moment on how she still lived, while those with far greater experience and wisdom had perished.

When Freda finished speaking to the camp and Esgalwen realized that it might be days yet before the folk-moot began in earnest, the southern ranger thought perhaps this woodsman's daughter may have heard news of her companions. If not, perhaps Frida might direct her to those she might press for knowledge for her lord.

  Esgalwen is looking to asked Frida about her companions and who she might speak to gain news from the north, specifically of the movement of the Shadow.

[Telcontar]

Frida stopped when she was hailed by the southron woman. She nodded when she approached and listened to the tale of the companions.
" I have heard no news of your folk lady. Though the wood is a strange place and not even the Brown Wizard can guess all its ways. You are free to join theparties that range from the camp in order to find a sign of your companions and I will pass the word to the others who come and go on the camps bussiness. As for your other question, I will not answer that question now, for greater knowledge will be gained from the voices of many and no doubt the council will speak with greater knowledge than I could. Your story and the reason for your coming should be heard at the council as well, all who have come in peace should be heard."

The woman paused to see if the Gondorian had any other questions and then set about other bussiness to keep the growing throng organized and fed until the council time.

[tomcat]

Awesome! Keep up the character interactions. I am going to give this one more day and then move the story on.

Tom, I sent you a PM.

[Bandobras]

Rorin, your tale fills me with sorrow. Even so great a deed as the retaking of Erebor cannot compensate you for the loss of your father. Fight we must when called upon, but folly it is to romanticize war and ennoble the warrior. May you find peace wherever this road takes you. I predict that like Bilbo and Thorin we will share that road at least for a while. Bloody Muzzle's attack, Esgalwen's strange appearance and unhappy story and now your own sad tale seem inexplicably connected and that we all have been drawn to this place for some purpose I cannot divine. Such speculation is best left to wizards.

Although my leaving the Shire has doubtless scandalized a number of hobbits, you will find my reasons altogether prosaic. You see I am a historian and I want to learn about hobbits out in the wider world. It is said we have not always inhabited the Shire but arrived there from the east, and I hope to discover some evidence from our wandering years. I am also interested in gathering some eyewitness accounts of Mr. Baggins exploits, you know to expand upon and round his story. A good historian does not rely on only one source. So here I am, but I must confess that so much has happened to me since my arrival I have not thought to ask a single question about hobbits in general or Mr. Baggins in particular. Perhaps I will go with you to Erebor one day to speak with the surviving members of the original company.

[Posterboy]

Esgalwen gave Frida a courteous nod. "Thank you, m'lady. I shall do as you have suggested and would be most grateful if you would pass word along of my companions. One more question, if I may trouble you a moment longer... How long before the folk-moot begins, may I ask?"

  Esgalwen will range out with the parties as Frida has suggested, though her preference will be with the other PCs

[disench4nted]

Should our roads lie together for some time Mr. Bandobras  I would be pleased to hear the tales of the Shire from one as learned as yourself.

[Bandobras]

And I am eager to learn more about Erebor and what has happened there since Dain became king under the mountain. I should look for my companions. Do you care to join me?

[disench4nted]

Aye, it would be my pleasure, especially if we can keep hunting such savory food.

[tomcat]

I am ready to move us on, but Stefan's PC sought out Radagast - and he is on vacation this week. So, I am going to RP his character based on his last post.

Stefan, when you get back, if you had another intent, feel free to let me know and we can redo this scene.

"Your eyes are keen, Master Radagast - as is your mana, for surely it is power indeed to misguide the feet of a Silvan Elf, folk who have walked these woods since the First Age. We knew every trail and stream. But as you say, time is pressing and Men and others do not count the days same as an Elf.

"I come to you regarding our find on the hunting trail. The Woodmen speak of legends and shadows of terror, but we know whence the true Shadow came and its taint on the Greenwood. Yestereve, the Hobbit, Bandobras, was fortunate as his arrow struck the right eye and bore deep into a great wild pig. Had he failed, I am not sure if our young friend would still be among us, for the beast's intent was upon him.

"The animal was of no natural kind. It was large and powerful, and full of a malice that stems from something beyond a need to hunt and eat. This beast was first tracking a new arrival, Esgalwen, a Ranger out of Ithilien. It must have been the scent of our own kill that drew the boar's attention to us, but as I say, it was not the intent of the creature to make off with our deer. It came to kill on its own.

"The Ranger also spoke of orc raiders that slayed her companions. I fear that, though the Necromancer has been driven from the forest, that his will and malice still bear down upon us and his machinations are still in place to forestall, if not destroy, our efforts to form an alliance of the Folk of Mirkwood and its surrounds. Do you feel this within the wood? Should we warn Ingomer and Ceawin of this potential threat? What should happen if all of the great leaders of the clans are gathered here within your realm, and their own homes are attacked? What if we are set upon and leave the Woodmen with no leadership?" Orophin sighed, "I know this is much to assume from naught more than an encounter with a great beast of the wood, but I would be remiss if I did not speak it and seek your council."

[Telcontar]

The wizard pondered the elf's words and tone and his own demeanor softened.

"Yes, you speak truly the enemy is at work in all things. The great council of the wise has often thought to strike the enemy where he has assembled armies, and where he has worked dark magic. This foe however is but the servant of a greater enemy. I will not name him, but you know of whom I speak. This foe has done much more than unleash his foul war bands upon Elves, Men, and Dwarves. In the very making of the world he sowed discord into the very earth. Even the beasts and the plants have their foes due to his malice and hate. Some work alone, some work at the hand and the bidding of our current enemy, some others do his will but do not know it. I am unable to say for certain into which category we should place the boar. Perhaps, more information on what transpired with the woman from the south would give us greater insight into whether the beast came by chance or by design.

As for the moot, I did not summon it, though I am sure none will give me a moment's peace if I do not appear and look contemplative. The shadow is abroad in Greenwood master elf, we are seeing but the new growing shoots of its malice but the roots are still hidden. The folk of the woods have a chance to work together and grow stronger before the storm comes again. As for attacks, not the snail, the bird, or the tree are immune to predators. Each must look to themselves and to those who are willing to aid them. All who are friends should meet and exchange news and burdens so that common ground can be found, that's as good a reason as any to assemble. I suppose I should tell the Clan heads I am ready for their meeting."

[Telcontar]

Frida looked at the sky and the tress at the woman's question. "I do not know, but soon I should expect. I shall inquire with the other's as to your companions. Greenwood can be tricky, even those who know its paths may be separated from kith and kin, such things are not certain to end in tragedy for those who keep their wits. Should I have the scouts look for any marking or sign that your company may use? Was their gear and bearing the same as yours?"

[tomcat]

Frida was wrong with her statement regarding the companions' deer - it did not feed the camp for the week. It was used up mostly that night due to her father's decree of a feast in the honor of the group that had gone out to hunt. The evening celebration had been blissful, if not a squander of the small, impermanent tent town's supplies, but it brought a feeling of camaraderie to the people and boosted morale. Many songs had been sung, contests of strength and wits, and other festivities.

Esgalwen had enjoyed the simpler pleasures of the woodland-folk - log-splitting and tree climb races - wishing for such a time to return to the city of Minas Tirith. A time when the threat of Minas Morgul, or worse, Mordor was not pressing on its people and their spirits. But wasn't this the purpose of this gathering? Hadn't a great shadow been removed from southern Mirkwood not long ago, and a dragon slain in the north? Surely this gave reason for these people to gather and celebrate, and to see what kind of alliances could now be formed. The Ranger thought of the shadow that was purported to be driven out and now the rumblings of the Great Shadow returning to Mordor - for Mount Doom had erupted - a harbinger of His return. Was this the same shadow, she wondered?

The night of celebration passed and with it came the need for more hunting and gathering. The spring was moving into summer and so the forest was a'bloom with many berries and fruits that the woodland-folk needed. The companions were tasked with these missions, as was mandated with their first success. They would go out with basket and bow - or spear - to garner anything they could find from the forest's bounty. But, as the tent-town grew with more folk, so too did the distance of their ranging.

And so the weeks passed.

The companions were now six in number, for the Dwarf, Rorin, had developed a good relationship with the diminutive Hobbit. It seemed that being far from home was a commonality that they both could cling to and grow a friendship - along with food and spirits. It had been a challenge, though, for the Men and Elf to finally talk the Dwarf into unlimbering his armor when they would go out to hunt, as the clink of his mail was loud along with his heavy booted feet. It was most times that the companions would just ask Rorin to wait at camp, and hold the fort. A task that even the Dwarf found himself better suited.

Today, though, the group were all together as they strode west into the forest deep. Each carried a basket, along with their weapons, for the purpose of gathering anything that could be used. Arbogast had led them further west and south then he had ever done in the past, and the forest weighed heavy on them all. The heat of summer hung thick under the canopy of leaves, where the breeze seldom blew, and bugs buzzed in their faces creating a greater nuisance. They quietly grumbled to themselves about the task, about the forest, and even about each other, when suddenly the trees opened on a gurgling, brown-blue river. They all walked to where the bank was thick with bramble bushes, and other plant-life that clung to its sides. Looking south, the companions saw the river run out into a great expanse of water - the Black Tarn. A lake that was said to be enchanted. Bandy remembered that one of the clans had come from this area lead by Armaleoda, the Shield-maiden.

The group breathed in the fresh air and enjoyed the breeze that now blew across the water. Still, large flies and dragonflies danced about the air. Orophin knelt to put his hand in the water. It was cool and pleasant and the Elf thought of his own northern home, and the river that ran through the King's Hall. The Silvan Elf suddenly jumped with a start, as a man erupted from the foliage. The thorns and prickers dragged at his clothes and had torn at his flesh. He stumbled towards them, his face pale as a ghost and yellow-flecked spit welling up from the corners of his mouth. Orophin barely had the time to balance on his own two feet when the man collapsed into his arms, bearing them both to the ground.

Arbogast immediately recognized the man, even as the Elf rolled him off of himself and tried and make him comfortable. His name was Beran the Watchful; he was a Woodman, and was known as one of Radagast's watchmen. Orophin feels a parchment crumpled into his hand and then Beran fell into unconsciousness. His form limp, the companions could now see where more than four nasty looking wounds were spread about the Woodman's torso and legs. The stabs were grouped closely in two's and were each the size of a small coin - clean and deep. A dreadful smell came from each of the punctures.

[tomcat]

The Elf hands the parchment to Arbogast who saw a scrawl of words upon it. The Woodman read the words allowed...

These words of mine, Beran of Rhosgobel, must reach Master Radagast!

Orcs in Fenbridge Castle! One of the outlying fortifications of Dol Guldur that The Enemy abandoned after the White Council drove the Necromancer away, but now the Orcs have returned!

At the bottom of the page was a crudely drawn map that showed the castle's location near the Narrows.


  Beran didn't draw a distance bar. It is on there for player reference only.

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast glances at the parchment long enough to understand its meaning, then thrusts it quickly back to Orophin.  "Show the others," he says, matter-of-factly. 

His attention is already turning to Beran's wounds.  That they are orc-work is beyond doubt, and the state of them clearly indicates poison, but there may yet be something the younger man can do for the elder.  Without looking up from the man on the ground, he calls out "Esgalwen, bring fresh water, quickly!  Rorin, Grimbeorn, be ready to help me move him.  This man is my kinsman, and I shall do what I can to help him, but I do not doubt that his survival will depend on us returning him to Rhosgobel and to Radaghast!" 

  I'd been wondering when the titular poison was going to make itself apparent!  Arbogast will attempt a healing roll.  After all, you never know when first aid will make all the difference! 

DC unknown, probably high Healing 3

1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 1, 5, total 10

If a Hope point will make the difference between success and failure here, consider it spent.