A Brief Stop before the Barrows...

[tomcat]

Sunstead.

The companions finally saw the town of Ceawin the Generous. It rose along the foot of a small hill that sat in the midst of the Bight, weaving up its sides as it did to the top where sat the hall of the lord. Like most Wood-men settlements, the defenses were limited to dikes and palisades, and so terrain was turned to for added safety. The setting was peaceful and the companions were pleased at once. Sunstead would make for a good place to rest and heal.

The most striking difference that the Company saw was the vibrant colors. Being on the east side of Mirkwood and having access to the many merchant trains that now ran north to south, from Erebor and Dale to Dowinion and even far off Rhûn, the town saw a great deal of riches from many cultures. Silks of bright colors fluttered in the wind, covering merchantmen as they made trade. Herbs and incenses burned fragrantly along with the smell of spiced meats cooking on spits and sweet desserts baking in ovens. The companions saw the diversity of people, too, far beyond that of the Anduin Vale. Men and women of Dorwinion, wearing the sheer silks and speaking in strange tongues, along with wainsmen known as the Sagath - harsher people with a swarthy appearance.



In many ways, the place reminded Esgalwen of Gondor and the small settlements that sat in the protective shadow of Minas Tirith. She smiled to herself as they rode into the town, for this place felt a bit like home. She had been concerned over the last few days about her small companion - Bandy, had spoken little since the battle. Esgalwen was not listed among the wise, but she had a pretty good head for things and knew that it was more than the wound that had the Hobbit in such a state. When they finally were settled, she would buy Bandy a mug of ale and sit and listen, if it was what he needed.

The Dúnadan's attention was drawn back with the raucous sound of folks welcoming the caravan home. People rushed from their daily chores and work and ran to wave and see who was returning after almost a year. Some expectant faces took on concern and even grief when they learned of a loss, while others laughed and smiled at the sight of loved ones. Many marveled at the new companions that rode along with the Lord of Sunstead, all the while chanting him praises. Some called out for news from afar and how fared the Lady Verwyne.

It was a grand event, all told. Musicians came from wherever they might have been to play pleasant songs and people laughed and danced. The scene created an emptiness in most of the companions, who themselves had not had a chance to be back among their own. These feelings were passing, though, as the people of Sunstead drew them all into greetings and new conversations. The reverie lasted until the sun began to set over the forest and then folk went back to their duties and to finish the day.

Days passed for the companions, who did not see Master Ceawin again, after he had left for his hall. Accommodations were made for the company, but the Lord of Sunstead had apparently urgent business with which to attend. And so they were left to explore for themselves, which they all took great advantage. Rorin was pleased to meet others of his kin out of Erebor, who spoke of great happenings to the north. The wealth of the Dwarves was being reflected in Dale and spread out from there. The gold that Smaug had hoarded now seemed to run the length of the River Running.



The companions began to forget about the purpose of their travel - the Helm of Peace. Instead they enjoyed quiet times talking amongst themselves, eating new foods, and drinking wonderfully rich wines from the east. It was during this quiet time that Esgalwen approached Bandy, "You have not been yourself for many days, Master Bracegirdle. You dwell on something that haunts you. I hope you do not blame yourself for the ambush? I know you had ridden as scout, alongside the other men, but it was nothing that you could have known would happen. The spiders of the wood are demons!"

As she spoke to Bandy, Idunn and Arbogast sat nearby along with Grimbeorn and Rorin. They listened as Esgalwen spoke, but their attention was drawn away by a newcomer. A woman of odd appearance stood before them all, her hair a strewn mess and unclean, while her body was painted in many odd shapes and pictures. Her eyes seemed wide with a touch of madness. "You're all going to die in there," was all she said before the tavern-keep quickly came to her and grasping her arm pulled her towards the door.



"Come now," he said, "I won't have you disturbing my customers with your strange ways."
I will add more shortly, but I do want to give you guys some time to do the cool stuff you do when you add to the story. Feel free to fill in what has happened over the last four days that you guys are in Sunstead. Add people you might have met, foods, drinks, music, whatever! Middle-earth is ours, sometimes, to develop into what we see.

Bandy can answer Esgalwen and we can RP that conversation, Tom.

No matter what, end your post at the point where the woman is being ushered away and how your PC reacts to her words.

[tomcat]

just a bump to let you all know I updated the above post.

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast spends the first day of their stay by Bandy's side, making sure that the hard travel since the battle with the spiders has not undone the Hobbit's efforts to heal, and waiting to see whether he will speak of the misery that has him in its grip.  It becomes obvious, however, that his usual approach will avail neither him nor his friend.  And so he makes his leave as politely as he may and goes forth in search of something that may bring cheer to a gloom-filled mind.  For such will he need, I fear, ere our business is done here. 

The years since he was last on this side of the forest have not diminished the grandeur of the Sunstead's market - it remains the largest and most diverse centre of trade that the young Woodman has ever seen, for all that richly-dressed Dwarves, and the Men of Dale, Dorwinion and Esgaroth appear distinctly underwhelmed.  He wishes he had coin to spend, or had thought to carry goods to trade, for the goods on offer would make fine gifts for his friends and kin. 

Though he returns periodically to Bandy and the rest of the Fellowship, he finds himself spending more and more time among the folk of the East Bight, marvelling at the richness of their land and the comparative ease of their lives.  I wonder why Caewin saw fit to seek to be counted among the Woodmen, he wonders, and not the folk of Dale? 

The answer becomes obvious to him, though, over time.  For, though the speech of the Men of the East Bight is somewhat strange to his ears, with different sounds among familiar words and phrases referring more to sun and rivers, and less to trees, still it is recognisable as the tongue of the Vales of Anduin.  The words of the Bardings, when they speak amongst themselves, are foreign to his ear, and he can understand them only when they deign to speak in the Westron tongue.  Though friends, they are a folk apart from his own. 

For all of this, he continues his hunt.  If he can afford nothing physical, then at least he may be able to bring news of the one thing he knows that his friend desires above all else - news of his own kinfolk.  He raises the matter with many traders.  Most know nothing of Hobbits, and those that do have merely heard of the coming of one to Wilderland about the time of the slaying of the Dragon and the Battle of the Five Armies, but can tell him nothing more. 

It is while considering his options on the fourth day of their stay that he first sees the boards spread out on a travel-stained blanket.  Mostly carved of well-stained wood, though some are cunningly-wrought stone, they bear pieces carved of bone and dark wood.  Behind them, ignored for the most part by the bustling crowd, sits a Dwarf, methodically cleaning a long clay pipe. 

"I beg your pardon, master Dwarf," Arbogast says. 

"There's no pardon needed," comes the reply. 

"I am the Fire-watcher, of Black Tarn Hall."

"And I am Yngli, son of Vidi." 

As the merchant at last finishes his cleaning and looks up, he sees Arbogast lost in contemplation of a dark piece, carved into the all-too-realistic likeness of a goblin. 

"My brother's work." 

"And fine work it is, too.  Pray, what are they?"

"Ah!  You don't know of fist-table?  Take a seat.  Let me show you the game."

Arbogast joins Yngli at a board, and soon forgets all other thoughts as he becomes lost in the flow of move and counter-move.  The game is clearly an old stratagem of Yngli's, for he sells two boards in the time it takes to complete it. 

"You play well, for a beginner!" he offers after the game is complete. 

"Why, thank you.  It is not so different from how a warrior must think in battle."

"Such is the point.  It is very popular among the warriors of Dale, and among my kin under the Mountain." 

The mention of kin brings thoughts of Bandobras back to Arbogast's mind. "Perhaps I might beg a favour of you?  Your pipe reminds me much of one carried by a friend of mine - a Hobbit from far to the west.  Have you perhaps had dealings with his folk?  Do you know whether any might be found about these lands?" 

Yngli raises his bushy eyebrows.  His hand reaches, almost automatically, to cradle the bowl of his pipe.  "Ah, you mean the halfling's inn?  For that is where I came by this, and the weed to fill it.  I stayed there for a time, now some seasons ago, in the company of that mad 'un, Bofri." 

"Can you tell me where I might find it?" 

"Well, it's beyond the great forest, if you must know.  On the edge of the Beorning's lands."  He gives directions from certain landmarks unknown to the Fire-watcher, who is nonetheless grateful for any information, no matter how obscure. 

"I should hurry to find it, were I in your shoes.  The place was poorly guarded from the dangers of the wood, and in recent days I've heard rumours of strife brewing between Beorn's folk and their neighbours to the north.  It may be that one threat or another has already claimed it, and those who called it home." 

Thanking Yngli, Arbogast stands and goes in search of the Fellowship.  Though he knows the Beornings' lands but little, he has a friend who calls them home. 

He finds them in the well-timbered house of a local alewife.  Esgalwen is already in conversation with Bandy, and Arbogast does not seek to interrupt them.  Instead, he sits with Idunn, Grimbeorn and Rorin.  "Do you recall..." he begins, but is cut off by the painted woman.  Startled, he regards her keenly. 



I'm going to use Insight to try to get a read of her - is she as mad as she sounds, or is it a ruse?  That sort of thing. 

Rolled 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 2d6 : 1, 6, total 7

[tomcat]

Awesome roll! Mark your AP.

Arbogast sees a touch of madness in her eyes, but also an old knowledge and wisdom.

[Eclecticon]

His thoughts once again overtaken by events, Arbogast places a hand on the man's arm and gives a quick shake of his head.  Standing, he offers the painted woman his seat. 


I can bust one out sometimes - just not reliably.   

[tomcat]

The innkeep looked at Arbogast, "Well, sir, you know your business better than I, but I wouldn't offer this woman your kindness - she'll take more than you want." The comment brought a snarl to the painted woman's face, "Stop it now!" said the innkeep, "You're lucky I don't toss you out on your ear."

The companions were now drawn in and Arbogast raised a calming hand, "It will be fine."

With a shrug, the bartender moved off to other customers and tasks. The old woman looked at Arbogast with a suspicious eye, as he offered her a seat. They all could see her body was tense, like a coiled serpent ready to strike. Her eyes darted to each of them and in that moment she calmed and her stance relaxed. She circled around the chair and took the seat.

The Fire-watcher could not help noticing her smell, as did other patrons around them who picked up their mugs and moved to a place further away. It was acrid and quite evident that she had not bathed in some time. The scent of body and that of smoke made from burning herbs and spices filled the area. The woman's hair was filthy and knotted in many places and the rags she called clothes were revealing if only due to their threadbare state. Grimbeorn looked at the ink that covered her arms and legs, chest and face, and some were familiar to the Beorning. She was a shaman, or some other sort of witch.

"What is your name?" asked Esgalwen.

The painted woman cleared her throat and spoke, "Some call me Mother Leyna...those that wish to speak to me at all, that is, and concern themselves with such things."

The teeth she had were stained brownish-red, which some knew to be caused by blackroot - a bitter root that could be chewed. With no offer, the woman took up Arbogast's mug and drew a long pull. Once done, she panted heavily and wiped the foam from her mouth. She pointed at Grimbeorn, "I see the beast within your eyes."

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn was taken in by the town's sites with all the hustle and bustle.  The only place that comes close to it that he's been to is the outpost near the Anduin ford and Radagast's conclave some time ago.  He didn't participate in the goings-on but watched from a distance usually with pint in hand, sharing a table outside the local inn with his companions.  He soon realized that this wasn't a place for him as the itch to return to the road and forests came back upon him.  He missed the simple life he lived in his father's lands.

---

Grimbeorn wasn't taken aback by the look and manner of the old woman for a few of these type were known to him, counting his late mother.  These women knew of giving birth and healing, of telling the future and the secret thoughts behind stone-cold eyes.  Seeing this woman brought back memories and smells of poultices and bubbling draughts.  Yet the Beorning was startled from his revery by her pointed comment.  His eyes softened somewhat for the woman, but tries to remain circumspect about her keen sight.  "Yes, I have one inside me like all Men do -- it is the animal that helps us to hunt and to survive.  Now what vision brings you to tell us of our doom?"

[Telcontar]

The Halfling was surprised by what he saw at Sunstead, unlike the other villages west of the wood he could see that here there was a blending of cultures and peoples. The bright colors and the rich market place stirred him, but the thought of their task yet undone again dragged him back into melancholy. Instead of the Halfling kept to the lodgings that were prepared for them and spent his time pouring over his notes looking for insights into the restless spirits that troubled the land.

His physical wound was mostly healed in a short time, but he found that he missed the hills and paths of home and that hurt ran deeper. All of his companions had by now either returned home, or had been able to spend time with their own kin. The Hobbit however, could not say this about himself.

The Gondorian women sat down near him and pulled up a chair. Upon his lap were piled his notes on his knees, and his blade by his side propped up on the chair. Before she even spoke he knew the direction the conversation was going to go and he mentally prepared himself for it.

"Those things happen, in the wild I suppose. None in the company bear the fault of it, except of course maybe the master of this town that brought us here."

"Well, do you wish to remain here while we go on?" Asked the Ranger.

Rorin piped up from the corner, "He's not hurt. He's homesick, been mumbling about the North Farthing for days now."

The Halfling turned an ugly eye on the dwarf. "So what if I am. Grimbeorn and Arbogast are home, Esgalwen too has seen here home since I have been here. Even you Rorin at least have some of your own folk to see and talk to. I have not had such luxuries."

"So, we are to tally up our misfortunes against the chance and fortune of others huh? Soon you'll be more a dwarf than I am Master Bracegirdle"

"Well its not to be helped Bandy by sulking," said the Ranger, "you should see the market here."

The dwarf shook his head and took another sip of beer, "he'll not stay here. The chance for the adventure on the downs will draw him like a moth to the flame. I saw him looking out the window too gazing upon the carts coming and going. He needs a little nudge and to stop feeling sorry for himself. You received your first great hurt in combat, now stop feeling sorry for yerself, get up and get it together. Esgalwen will hold your hand for you and string yer bow if you want."

The Hobbit scowled and almost stamped his foot, it was all the will he possessed for Grimbeorn to stop from laughing out loud at the sight. The Firewatcher couldn't restrain himself and laughed. The Halfling sputtered, and frowned.

"Very well, very well. I'll see what is in the market place. I was somewhat interested in the speech of the folk here and that of some old hobbit words."

 His papers flew everywhere with the sudden opening of the door and he stooped to gather them bumping his head on the chair. Rising, he rubbed his head and looked at the woman who entered.

"All dead, much as I figured." Bandy said nodding, but listened as the woman was invited to sit. Well, a witch has entered the story now too I suppose, thought the Hobbit.

By instinct the Hobbit reached to his waist, removed and packed his pipe, and began to smoke again.

In the corner the dwarf half smiled, there was his little companion back again from his minds wanderings. A little push at the right time with something new to see and hear was all it took for this curious Hobbit of the Shire. 

[Eclecticon]

"Now what vision brings you to tell us of our doom?"

Arbogast crouches down to better hear the woman's answer, curious what she sees that the Fellowship do not.

[tomcat]

"The beast that will rage in you is no inner spirit of Men...no, you have the blood of the changeling." The woman named Leyna looked around at them all as they  stared intently. "Bah! T'is not the reason that I am here. Neither is it the beer swill that Bregnor serves!" She shouted these last words so the room could hear.

"Again, woman," interrupted Grimbeorn, "what of this doom? And how did you come to know this portent? Some old chicken bones, or perhaps the rough of a crust of bread?"

"You may joke, Beorning, but Mother Leyna sees and many have come to her for their fortune. I know that you have come here with the master of this town, the fool, Ceawin!" There was a sting in her tone as she mentioned his name.

"Yes, Leyna, but that news is spread far across the town," said Esgalwen.

"No fool am I, woman," the old woman snipped back, "but I know what you returned with and what is to be done with it."

"Again, lady, this is not new to anyone in this town. Ceawin went forth to find a smith to make this token," replied Arbogast.

"Yes, but it is a fool's errand and his doom! Doom, too, for any that follow him. Many times have I warned Ceawin that he would be undone if he enters those deathly hollows, but he laughs at me. He thinks me the fool! But the dead kings of old do not care for trinkets of men...or dwarves," she said, looking to Rorin. "All they wish is to prey upon the living. A greater darkness has returned to the wood - three Shades - harbingers of times of darkness yet to come. One now haunts the ruins of Dol Guldur, demanding allegiance of all those who are under the sway of the Dark Lord. The other two have made the heart of the forest their home and call to them all manners of fell-creatures."

To the Company, it seemed that the firelight began to dim and that the room was becoming chill. Mother Leyna continued, "The spirits that dwell within the mounds are nothing more than dark shadows that were summoned by the Necromancer, before he was cast down. They are here to torment the living and to steal the life from any who stray to close. They feast upon the life that is within us all! Ceawin will not sway them to rest in peace with this treasure...if anything, they will use it to subdue him! If you do this thing...if you join him in this foolish pursuit, you will not come back to the light of day again! Forever shall you suffer in the chilled hollows under root, in an undeath, as these shadows slowly consume the living light within you all!"

Her last words were a loud crescendo and the company could see around them that the tavern was quiet and all were staring. The innkeep, Bregnor, shuffled close, clearing his throat as he did. Nervously he said, "Alright now, it's best time you leave old woman. Go back to your hovel, with your herbs and poultices. Do that work for Sunstead, instead of these chilling visions. Okay, Leyna?"

Bregnor demeanor had changed from his initial exchange with the old woman. The companions could see he was visibly shaken. She, too, was now less aggressive in her stance - true concern filled her old eyes. "I will leave, Bregnor, and not bother your patrons anymore. But before I go..." she pointed at Idunn, "Medicine woman...you must take this." To the shield-maiden was given a token that hung upon a leather thong. "This is blessed by the Powers! They will show you the light when it is most needed, and strength will be fortified within your heart. And to you all, remember this cant...for it may save your lives..."

And so Mother Leyna began to sing, or chant, words of power:

Cold hand, cold bone,
Spirits darkened under stone;
Ne'er seeing morning light,
Always cleaving passing life;
But Shadows' hold cannot contain,
Powered words that shall refrain;
The strength of Arnú whom ye forsake,
Will'st cause your darkened spell to break

"Forget them not, these words...they may bring you home." With that, Leyna stood and walked from the tavern. Around the company, voices rose in a cacophony and all knew that the tales would be spinning this night.
Add any RP'ing that you would wish - both narrative and dialogue. I will give it until tomorrow - unless everyone chimes in before then - and then get a new post up.

[tomcat]

Memories of the moat of Dol Guldur crept back into Esgalwen's mind like a chilling hand touching her skin. She remembered the eerie green fog that held the faces of the dead. She remembered the haunting figure of Orophin standing on the bridge, beckoning for her to return. Stories of Minas Morgul also came to her mind; tales that had been told by her peers and elders. She was a strong woman and she did not fear death, especially in the fight against the Shadow, but she did fear the unliving.

The ranger took a long pull from her cup, "I am unsettled. I feel I must tell you this, as we are all trusted companions and have come to rely on each other. It is not my way to shirk from any threat, but this woman's words have stirred up dark memories more terrible than even those of giant spiders in the woods. I fear we are no longer part of an emissary to appease the dead, but now protectors to make sure we all return home alive.

"Should we bring this information to Ceawin? Try and convince him that his errand might be futile? Do we keep this contract and follow him down under the earth?"

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn shrugged off the old woman's comments about his heritage; he knew who he was but it wasn't for the others with which to bother themselves.

Honestly, the words spoken, chilled though they were, did not come as any surprise to the Beorning.  "This is doomed, that is doomed... you're all doomed!" he said with a chuckle, brushing off any lingering darkness of the words.  Taking a long draw at his tankard, he emptied it and wiped his mouth on his sleeve as was his wont.  "I think we all knew this from the beginning of Ceawin's errand, which is why we came -- not just to protect him, but the others in this area as well.  Radagast had no faith with the lord's resolution to the problem and so here we are.  One thing is for certain, we need to find a way to defeat these shades of the Necromancer or at least drive them from here."

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast smoothly resumes his seat.  "I am with Grimbeorn.  We came here knowing Caewin's plan to be foolish and flawed, but hoping nonetheless to protect him and his people.  What I have not understood until these past days is that neither will stand without the other.  The Lord of the Sunstead is misguided, but he loves his people, and they love him in return.  He has had the wisdom to channel their wealth into the giving of gifts and drawing closer to their kinfolk, though all of Mirkwood may stand between them, rather than turning inward and falling prey to jealousy and suspicion.  His folk have shown that they would do great deeds at his request, and I have seen no other who could command such loyalty of them." 

He picks up the cup that Leyna left behind and finishes what remains in two quick swallows.  "Yet he is a proud man, and they a proud people.  He has asked too much of them to simply abandon his journey now, when its end is in plain view.  We are outsiders - even Idunn and I.  And were we to frustrate his efforts, for which his men have given their lives, their love for him, and his for them, would turn to bitterness at the memory of vain sacrifice and counsel unheeded.  The folk of the Sunstead would turn away from the Woodmen, and by and by become divided amongst themselves.  The Shadow would find its way into this place, as sure as falling night." 

Checking that his companions are still listening, he continues: "This I know: if Caewin is allowed to see his plan to its end, then his honour, and that of his followers, will be satisfied.  If - when - it fails, then it will have done so on its own merits, and should he survive, then he will be more inclined to heed our words in future." 

"What is more," he says, meeting his comrades' eyes one by one, "there are five among us who have faced the Shadow's spectres before and survived, and another who has given me no cause to doubt that she would do so.  Mayhap there are similar Men among the folk of the Sunstead, but my heart will rest uneasy knowing that I have allowed others to face such a threat when I would not." 

[Telcontar]

The Hobbit would not speak or boast in the common hall of the inn. His companions spoke true words from the heart, but so too did other patrons of the inn to greater and lesser degrees in thier cups.
He motioned his companions to be still and to gather by one table, so their words would not be heard by others.

"Truly that which was in doubt is now assured, this is a fools errand. What if we were to lean into the fate so to speak. Ceawin surely willtake is to the heart of the downs, that is usually where such things are. But what if we were to go ourselves to the outskirts and see something of the danger we will face first hand?"

[Telcontar]

  Doug, lore roll to see who Arnú from the song is.

Rolled 1d12 : 10, total 10

Rolled 3d6 : 6, 1, 2, total 9