FELLOWSHIP PHASE: Part 2 - Surprises at home

[GandalfOfBorg]

I would request Grimbeorn be allowed to use 3 points in that he used them to protect the party members.

[tomcat]

Esgalwen cannot take any - she is not allowed to refresh Hope via the Fellowship pool, so the points are for the four of you guys.

Here is how you all stand on Hope (current / max):

Arbogast 10/16
Bandy 15/18
Grimbeorn 6/12
Rorin 8/10

Looks like Arbogast and Grimbeorn should get favour this turn around. Did you guys refresh your Hope from last Fellowship Phase? I don't recall you doing that, so if I am correct and you haven't, I will award an additional 4 points to the 8 for a total of 12 to draw from.

[GandalfOfBorg]

  Advancement - Lore +1 (4 Adv, 6 remaining)
Experience - Wisdom +1, Virtue: Twice-baked Honeycakes (16 XP, 2 remaining)
Grimbeorn sheet updated  

The Son of Beorn allowed himself to be happy for his boon friend and comrade in his days of wedded bliss.  The darkness of their travels was briefly left behind as the fall leaves, flowers, and feast filled the village.  It was here that he parted with his comrades, staying a short time longer than the others as they headed to Rhosgobel and beyond.  Grimbeorrn remained to help with the odd job and roamed the lands a bit with the hunters and outbounders.  On the day before he was to leave, he brought in a deer for the new couple and they feasted that evening with venison and good drink.  This break before his return to lands of his home reminded him briefly of his family before the loss of his mother, which gave him a thought.  Early in the morning, Grimbeorn sneaked off to avoid further imposition.  Once he reached the bounds of Arbogast's home, he turned back towards it, raised his hands and gave a silent blessing upon the home, one like his mother would bestow.

Back to his father's hall after his absence, Grimbeorn breathed in the memories.  One of them is most potent, coming in the form of baked honey and oats.  He felt practically a child entering the kitchen and was welcomed with rows of his father's honeycakes and a sight that none who met his father would ever guess: the elder Beorn coated in flour dust and bits of dough in his beard.  "Ahh, I heard you've returned, my son, and you have changed much I see but only few months have passed.  Word has come my way by way of traders at the Ford of your actions with the Woodmen in the south protecting those villages.  Well done!  Grab a couple of cakes and I'll get the mead and you can tell me of your travels at the hearth."

The nights of winter rolled on and turned shorter as the days of spring.  During this time Grimbeorn was apprentice again to his father in the kitchens spicing meats, prepping jars of harvest fruits and vegetables, and baking up a storm.  When he wasn't in the kitchen, he was roaming the lands of his youth again and dealing with further troubles from the east from the denizens of Mirkwood and the goblins of the north and west.  Soon enough spring spouted and the rains have come.

[Telcontar]

No we didnt. But it appears we need to determine what a session is.

[tomcat]

Yea, I know.

I am thinking that a we will do TWO Fellowship Pool draws for each chapter - meaning, I will announce a Fellowship Pool draw when we are in the middle of a chapter, and then we will do one at the end of each chapter during the Fellowship Phase.

As for the Fellowship Focus: a Hope point is earned immediately when you spend a Hope to help or favour the Focus; and a PC gains a free Hope point at the end of each chapter, during the Fellowship Phase if the Focus was not harmed during that chapter (Hope can never be increased above your max).

Shadow points will be earned by PC's at the time the PC's focus is ever harmed during a chapter (3 if the Focus is slain).

How does that sound?

If everyone is cool with this as our PbP house rule, then you guys may draw from the Fellowship pool x 2  (or 14 points) this time, since I did not put a draw in play midway through last chapter.

[Telcontar]

Works for me

[Eclecticon]

Yeah, that works.  It saves time waiting for people to approve Fellowship spends in the middle of the action. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

Im good too.. Id request more hope back than the 3 i asked for before upon this group humble agreement.

[Telcontar]

I think that that should get us all back up to max. So I'm ok with everyone taking what they need.

[Telcontar]

I think this is going to make hope and shadow more meaningful in the game. They have been kind of hand waved, at least I havent really been paying attention to when it is spent or lost. Good call Doug I think this is going to work out in the spirit of the game.

[tomcat]

I think that that should get us all back up to max. So I'm ok with everyone taking what they need.

The Party is down by 17 - you all have 14 to disburse, so I need to know who is getting what.

BTW - I also rebuilt Esgalwen. I kept everything the same, but deconstructed her and then wrote out the New Culture for our RESOURCES page. I also tied her more closely to the Rangers of the North in Rivendell (i.e. attributes, starting skills, etc.)

[Eclecticon]

Though the ice that lay upon the Black Tarn has thawed, winter has been slow to leave the forest, and Arbogast's breath steams in the air as he waits by the shore - feeling out of place without a fire to watch.  The night is dark.  The hearth of Sweartmereseld is long banked and clouds lie low and heavy in the sky. 

There is plenty to concern a man on such a night - poor fishing from the tarn, and few beasts in the traps, that have given little meat for the table and left the fish-broth thin.  Few furs have been taken for trade, though he has wrapped the winter coat of a black rabbit about his hands.  The faces of the folk of Black Tarn Hall have grown thinner over the winter, his own included. 

Yet he and his folk are no strangers to frugality, and it is not these things that occupy his thoughts.  Rather, he turns over in his mind the things that he has learned these past months in conversation with the elders of the House - and Radaghast, on the wizard's infrequent visits.  His mind is a jumble of tales of elder days - of the kings of Rhovanion and the great plague that laid their realm waste, of the adventure of Balthi and the founding of the halls of the Woodmen, and of the Shadow that has crept over Mirkwood by imperceptible degrees.  He wonders at what tales might have been told about the Men who became the wights in the barrow hills of the East Bight, were any left to remember the battles they fought.  He wonders whether they were stalwart enemies of the Shadow, or its willing allies, or something in-between. 

Unnoticed for some time, the lapping of the waters on the shore slowly resolves itself into a pattern, and he stirs from his reverie.  It may be that his fatigue-oppressed eyes play tricks on him, but he thinks he sees, spread out on the dark water like a web among branches, strands of wet hair.  He thinks he sees a hand beckoning to him, and a pair of eyes, just above the surface of the water, flash with a light that comes from nowhere in Middle-Earth. 

Nothing does he hear, however, beyond the end of the moaning he has harkened to since before nightfall.  The silence lasts mere seconds before being broken by the sharp, urgent cries of the newly-born, and the soft, low tones of the Staunching Song.  From out of the doorway of a tiny hut, a sudden light spills, and the surface of the lake is only widening ripples.  Idunn, exhausted but beaming, reaches him in several sure strides. 

"Rejoice, my friend, for you are twice a father tonight!" 

Nodding his thanks, he walks as quickly as he may to the hut.  Inside, Lindwine awaits.  The hard winter has not spared her, and the deprivations of pregnancy have cost her a pair of teeth.  Yet in her repose, wrapped in sheepskin and still attended by the old midwives, she is beautiful and triumphant beyond the measure of any man.  In her arms lie a pair of babes, bright pink and already seeking to suckle. 

He casts her a quick look, and she replies, understanding.  "We have two daughters." 

Awe-struck, he wraps the rabbit-fur about one of the girls.  She is tiny, almost weightless in his hands, but she fixes him with a steady, solemn gaze. 

"We should call her Arboéagen," he says. 

"I thought Lafwyne." 

He smiles.  "Much better." 

The other child has found her mother's breast, and is drinking with the focus and urgency with which drowning men gasp for air. 

"Cyffa," he pronounces, drawing a beatific smile from Lindwine. 

"Perfect," she says. 

"Yes.  Yes, they are." 


*****


Beyond the warmth, beyond the light, Duskwater continues to watch, awash with resentment and sorrow. 



I'm going to spend four AP on a point of Awe.  Arbogast has learned a lot recently, but he's still pretty sketchy on anything further than a day or so from Mirkwood.  For my undertaking this phase, I'm going to change his Herb-Lore speciality to Old Lore. 

As for Hope, I think it makes more sense for him to still be down a couple of points, given recent events and a tough winter.  I'd like to take another 4 points (for a total draw of 5), but I'm happy to take fewer if other people need them. 

[Telcontar]

I am fine with all of that, Bandy can hold with what he has so if you guys want to divide the remainder gonfor it. 

[disench4nted]

 

TN 8 Holding Roll

1d12 : 5, total 5

[disench4nted]

After spending several days celebrating the marriage of Arbogast at the Black Tarn, Rorin rode with Bandy back to Rhosgobel to tend to his forge. He was content to begin filling the mundane orders that the good people of Rhosgobel brought him, it was a pleasant distraction from the disaster that had come from his last creation. He was keen to hear any word of trouble in Sunstead and so regularly questioned any travelers that came through the town. The Helm of Peace bore Rorin's Mark and he was did not want his creation that was meant to be a unifying symbol for all the enemies of the Shadow to be the centerpiece of a tragedy in Sunstead, and so he listened.

Shortly after his return, Rorin noticed a large demand for work with weapons as opposed to the tools and building materials of the last year. Sharpening and repairing old blades, spear and arrow tips, and even a few orders for newly forged blades. The orders for new blades in particular intrigued him as most of these were not for the axes and shortswords that were common among the woodsmen, but were instead asking for the longer swords with a prominent hilt styled in the manner of Gondor. When he asked his clients about these curious orders he found that word of Esgalwen's heroic stand at the battle for the Mountain Hall had become a thing of legend. According to one of his customers, "If a blade like this can slay two dozen goblins in the hand of a lady, then a warrior so equipped will be nigh unstoppable!" Rorin laughed and explained that the Ranger from Gondor was no mere 'lady' and that a sword like this would require a new style of fighting, it would not win the wielder's battles for them. He noted this conversation and reminded himself that he simply had to share this with Esgalwen when next they met.

With this influx of weapons into Rhosgobel, and seeing Bandy begin to instruct some woodsmen in the use of the bow, Rorin thought that he too may be of some service. He started to spend some of his time when he was not at the forge to train the people of Rhosgobel in a more martial and disciplined form of fighting. The woodsmen had strength, spirit, and a strong shield wall but he found that they often lacked the discipline to effectively fight in a larger pitched battle.

And thus Rorin passed the time until the coming spring.

 

I don't have my books with me at the moment so I can't do my undertaking or advancement. I'll make a post tomorrow with my character advancement.