Poison's grip

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn was startled to see the man fall out of the woods -- only out of sheer will did he stay his hand at the surprise.  He listened to the words of the note and rage began to well in his chest.  "Orc scum!" he bellowed.  "If we are to move at best speed, I will carry him.  Rorin, we will need your axe at the ready in case further surprises befall us."

[disench4nted]

Rorin, whose nerves were already worn thin from trekking through the seemingly endless forest, had raised his hammer to attack the instant Beran had fallen out of the brush. But as it became clear that this poor man was no threat he turned his eyes outward and began to look for any more violent surprises.

As he heard Orophin read the note, the forest seemed to close in around the group and shadows of threats could be seen behind every tree and under every bush. Arbogast began barking orders and Rorin exchanged a knowing glance with Grimbeorn. "Aye, we must make haste. Pray that we are not beset upon, but if we are, my hammer is ready."

Rorin noticed Bandy standing completely still and staring at the Woodsman's wounds and put a hand on his shoulder. "Come good Bandy, it is best not to dwell on such things. The elf and the woodsmen will be busy tending to our new friend here, we will need your keen eyes to warn us of any new dangers. Take a moment now to gather your strength, the trek back to the Tent Town will not be easy." He broke a loaf of bread and handed half of it to the hobbit then filled his own canteen and quickly ate.

[Bandobras]

Uh ... what? Bandy, still dazed by the surprise and sudden horror, could barley take his eyes from the man who lay unconscious before him. The feel of Rorin's hand on his shoulder and the sound of his reassuring voice broke the spell and he turned and took the bread. "Thank you my friend." Then, after a pause, "Rorin, look at those wounds. Whatever made them it was no sword or spear. The punctures are nearly perfect and made in pairs. I do not think orcs are responsible for this, or if they were, they were in league with something darker and more foul. These woods are tainted by shadow. Let us make haste to Rhosgobel.  I will gladly carry the equipment of any who must support Beren.

[tomcat]

Hey Paul, no need for a Hope Point. Your Healing test was sufficient to allow Beran to mark his wounds as Treated. He will need to recover, of course, but for the moment he is stabilized.
Orophin looked to Bandy and then back at the body of Beran, "He's right! These are not punctures from some kind of blade or arrow, but those of a beast. These are some sort of bites." The Elf then grabbed at Beran's tunic only to then look at his own. He pulled at silken fibers that clung to the man's arms and clothes. "Webs?"

The strands were tacky, like that of any spider's weave, but they were thicker and hardier than any Orophin had ever seen before. "Cursed creatures!" he spat. "We have had many troubles with dealing with spiders. It seems that our friend here was unfortunate enough to run into some while'st alone. It is a wonder he survived." The Silvan Elf marveled again at the resilience of Men. Though short of life, they were certainly made of sturdy stuff.

Hearing his companions' thoughts on the type of wounds and smelling the dreadful odor with each, Arbogast knew that if it were poison, it must be leeched from the man's body. He looked about for anything that might aid, and he remembered the old wives around his home telling of poultices and wraps for various wounds from snake bites to axe cuts. Moss, he remembered excitedly. Arbogast pointed to the side of the river where the stuff grew in abundance and his friends quickly gathered what they could. The Woodman was skilled in some healing and even carried his own small pouch of healing agents - alone in the woods, you always needed to be prepared. As he pulled the pouch from his pack, he told Orophin to pack the wounds with the spongy plants. He hoped that they would serve to draw the poison from the wounds.

Grimbeorn and Rorin took up a stance of defense around their friends.

They administered to Beran for more than an hour of the sun's passing and at last the Woodman smiled for his efforts. Beran's brow broke its sweat and the tremors that shook him ceased. His breathing was still ragged, but the older man opened his eyes. Panic was the first reaction and he flailed and kicked out at those he did not recognize.

[GandalfOfBorg]

The Beorning youth spat and cursed at the mention of spiders.  "I have met and dealt with too many of that kind than I care to count.  Let me know if you need any assistance as I, too, have some expertise in ministering wounds of this nature."

"'Tis indeed a wonder he survived... The creatures play at sport trapping their prey in cunning traps that are nearly impossible to escape.

----

"Calm our new friend lest he bring further ruin our way," grumbled Grimbeorn.

[tomcat]

The man was calmed with a simple explanation - where he was, what happened, and who they were.

Once done, a crude litter was constructed and the company got on their way. They needed to get back to Rhosgobel as quickly as they could but there were many miles to cover, and the day was half through. Grimbeorn and Rorin took up the burden first of carrying Beran, while the rest of the companions scouted out the trail home. They were not far from the Black Tarn when a group of six armed warriors emerged from the forest, accompanied by as many huge snarling wolfhounds.

The companions quickly became defensive as the large number of people and hounds appeared. Grimbeorn and Rorin quickly set the limp form of Beran down and hoisted weapons.

The newcomers were clad not unlike the Woodmen of Mirkwood, but did not bear the marks of any known clan. They wore shirts of mail, and carried helms and shields on their back, but it was evident that they were not looking for a fight. The leader of the group stepped forward: she was a lean, broad shouldered, Northman woman, with dark hair streaked with white. She announced herself as Dagmar, servant of the Tyrant's Hill. Pointing at the poisoned man, she spoke, "This man stole something from me." There was an arrogance about her and she demanded that he should be handed over to them.


 All right, Tom - I leave it to you to have some fun RP'ing with the players. I will update the story once I see a point where you guys have come to some resolve, or battle, or whatever.

I will also chime in with any answers to questions that might need assisted on.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn gripped his axe tightly as he stepped between the injured man and the group.  "This seems a large party to hunt alone man for 'something'.  What would this object be that you so earnestly seek?"

 
Grimbeorn seeks to intimidate the newcomers.

 

Rolled 1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 1d6 : 6, total 6
Rolled 1d6 : 5, total 5
Rolled 1d6 : 1, total 1

[Bandobras]

With bow drawn but pointing downwards, Bandy, grim-faced and determined, steps forward to stand beside Grimbeorn. His eyes flash with indignation. His desire to protect the injured man, Abrogast's kin, from what he takes to be bandits or worse has emboldened the hobbit. "Have you no mercy! Business you may have with this man, but I say to you Dagmar that you shall not have him while he is wounded and ill. I have experienced much that is evil and deceitful since entering these woods, and I fear that no justice can be obtained here."

[Eclecticon]

With his heart hammering in his chest, Arbogast steps back next to Grimbeorn and Bandobras, ready to form a miniature shield wall, should such be required.  He does not yet brandish his axe, though.  Rather, he holds up his empty hand in the 'parley' gesture recognised among all civilised folk. 

"I pray you, take no offence, but we shall not hand over this man to those known but little to us!  I greet you, Dagmar of Tyrant's Hill.  I am the Fire-Watcher of Woodmen-town.  This man is kin to me, as he is to all the Woodmen of Mirkwood.  You can plainly see that he has run afoul of some fell creature of the forest - spiders most likely.  My companions and I are bringing him to Rhosgobel, for to be ministered to by his kin, and by the wizard Radaghast. 

"Perhaps this meeting will prove opportune.  Though we are near neighbours, my folk know little of the Men of Tyrant's Hill - less, certainly, than we ought.  Yet this can be easily rectified.  A folk-moot is gathered - the first since the death of the Dragon - and you would be welcome to join.  Many matters will be discussed at the moot, and your claim that this man has stolen from you could easily be among them.  We are a free folk, and we hold fast to our laws.  If he has truly offended against you, then you shall see that he is appropriately punished. 

"But now is not the time.  Instead of bickering in the wild, come with us.  Help us return this man to safety for today, and let his fate be determined tomorrow." 



Interesting development! 

Are we now in an Encounter, for rules purposes?  If so, Arbogast is rolling Riddle to introduce himself, and Persuade to get his point across. 

DC 14 Riddle 1

1d12 : 1, total 1
Rolled 1d6 : 6, total 6

DC 14(?) Persuade 3

1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 1, 1, total 4

Also, for the record, I'm tagging Arbogast's Herb Lore trait, along with his successful Healing roll, for a second improvement point in the Survival track. 

[Eclecticon]

Blast and double-blast.  I'm spending a Hope point to add 9 to the Persuade roll, which should be enough to turn it into a success.  Nothing much I can do about the Riddle - looks like he failed to satisfy Dagmar as to his identity. 

[disench4nted]

  I'll be out of contact until Monday. Rorin has no desire to hand this man over and will help defend him should it come to that.

[GandalfOfBorg]

  Well that was a resounding failure.

[Telcontar]

Dagmar tossed her head back and the pride in her bearing was an almost physical thing.

"I see you Fire Watcher, I will not explain our laws or our ways to a Beorning and a child. This is a private matter and the man you have owes me a debt of service. He could not pay his debt in coin so he will pay it in sweat. Now, he attempts to rob me even of his labor. I would tell your friends to mind their business and their manners. For our ways are not their ways, we do not suffer insult lightly, and we are also mounted and outnumber you. Beran seems capable of movement, I would convey him back to where his debt must be paid."

[tomcat]

  Great posts, guys! Tom I have to correct one thing - Dagmar's hunting party is not mounted - everyone here is on foot.

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast refuses to be goaded by Dagmar's words.  "It seems that we are at an impasse, then, and one that serves neither of us well.  For while his wounds have been seen to, his condition may yet worsen if they do not receive better attention than is possible here.  Yet we need not resort to steel and bloodshed to resolve this.  Come!  Sit with me by his side, that we may discuss this further.  I suggest also that we post a watch - some of your companions, some of mine - that we might not be taken by surprise by what we all know yet lurks in the deep woods." 

As he speaks, he studies Dagmar and her followers closely, attempting to puzzle out their motives.  Do they truly want to see justice done for some unknown wrong, or are they simply using the wounded Woodman as an excuse for a battle? 


  Arbogast is patient.  He'll keep the conversation going as long as he can.  In the meantime, an Insight roll is called for. 

DC 14 Insight 1

1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 1d6 : 2, total 2