Light and Darkness

[tomcat]

Bandy heard no reply from Ruithel. It took a moment for him to comprehend that all sound had stopped - the goblins cacophony was now gone.

The head of Shûkrag had sailed through a perfect arc. Arbogast had aimed for the area between the two groups of goblins and it landed with a thump, only to roll a meter or so and end upright with the dead orc's mouth hanging open.

Both groups of goblins saw the head land, along with the Elf, and they all now stared in silence. The lone orc in the group scanned the hillsides in wonder as to where it had come from and then the noise started again - but greater. The goblins skittered and chittered about, making quick arguments as to what to do.

"Ack! They slayed him! There must be many warriors about! Maybe it is Dwarves!"

"It's an army of Dwarves out of their holds in the Grey mountains!" another cried.

"Garn! There are no maggot Dwarves in the narrows!"

"Stay if you'd like but I am not going to be dying on any Shakutarbik axe!"

And then they were scattering towards the north and the darkness that lay outside the light from the fire. The lone orc bellowed at them and lashed out his thonged whip, but the smaller yrks did not heed his orders. They cried and cursed, but they ran.

Ruithel felt her hands suddenly free and blood rushed back into them. She next felt her legs freed of the post and she turned to see the small Hobbit, and Bandy saw her smile. In all of the horror that was this land, Ruithel bestowed upon him the most pleasant of smiles.

"Oh my friend!" she said. "You have come! I knew that my words would make it to someone." Suddenly her face changed. The Elf stood back up, tall and slender like an unbent reed. She looked back down to Bandy and her face was grim. Beyond her, coming back south out of the darkness, but not heeding anyone or thing in the camp came the pack of goblins. All of them ran at full speed back south, to whatever shadows that might be there.

Ruithel continued, "I know not your name, but you may wish to run. Something dark approaches and it is beyond you, my dear savior! Perhaps it is beyond even me!"

[tomcat]

Darkness lay over the Vales of Gundabad, but the shadow that trotted down the Orc-road was darker still.

He had forgotten his name. He was once Ren the Fire-king and he had ruled all of Chey. That was before the interest of Sauron had been stirred. Now he was a Nazgûl in service to his masters and he answered to no names, though some still called him Ren the Unclean.

The wraith was on an errand of his lieutenant, the Witch-king, and he had spent many years now hidden within the bowels of Carn Dûm readying and rebuilding that fortress of old. It was Ren that had ordered the taking of slaves - as many as possible - to help in the quarries and forges of his master's former kingdom. At times, the Ring-wraith surveyed his domain, riding far abroad to make sure that the servants of the Dark Lord were doing his bidding and not entertaining their own goals.

So it was this fateful night, as Bandy freed the Elf Ranger, that Ren the Unclean came into the now abandoned Orc encampment. Only the slaves within the northern pen were left, along with Ruithel and the Hobbit. Above them, atop the hill, the other companions felt horror grip their hearts as the Nazgûl appeared.

Like a wave of terror, the Ring-wraith gave out a shrill cry of challenge and Bandy fell to his knees. He did not know, but his companions were also affected so.

Only Ruithel stood before the darkness, unbent.

[Eclecticon]

The unearthly shriek rings out, echoing in the darkness as if possessed of its own twisted life.  Upon the hill, Arbogast feels his heart race and his palms grow slick with sweat.  He falls to his knees, barely registering the tears that begin to cut channels in the grime that encrusts his face.  Dimly, he sees Bandy do the same, and at this, a memory stirs of vulture-like heads graven blasphemously into dark stone and set about the gate of Dol Guldur. 

All at once, the Fire-watcher feels a moment of stark clarity, and in the space between panicked heartbeats is certain that the fear which besets him is a deceit of the Enemy, and not the reaction of his own heart.  Every instinct tells him to drop his axe and shield and run heedless into the gloom that lies about the Vales of Gundabad, but he does not - cannot! - abandon his friends in such a shameful fashion. 

His breath rasping in his lungs, he forces himself to his feet, and thence down the slope towards foe, fear and fire. 


This may call for a Valor roll, in which case:

1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 4d6 : 1, 3, 2, 5, total 11

[Eclecticon]

I'll spend a Hope if necessary.  Unlike before, this calls for it. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

Thoughts and memories unbidden came to Grimbeorn's mind as the shadow and darkness took form below.  A fear that he hadn't known before or since the task at Dol Guldur (stupid autocorrect) clawed at his heart and mind, yet he resisted as best he could for this was no time to allow darkness to swallow him.  In the dimness though, a small bright light shone and he was awed by it.  "It must be her," he thought.

  A Valor test for Grimbeorn as well....
  This dice roll has been tampered with!
Valor -  1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 4d6 : 2, 1, 5, 1, total 9
Hope if necessary.

[Telcontar]

The Hobbit first thought that the elf meant the goblins. They were a threat, but a small matter. Perhaps she thought him small and weak, but he had stood in the shield wall at the Mountain-Hall and done good service.

Then however, he felt the chill. Not of the wind, but of that cold dark like that which he had felt in the barrows. The fingers of this cold were older and sharper. The Hobbit too thought of Dol Guldor and the darkness and calamity that had gripped them there.

Bandy was trully senseless in that moment, both fight and flight fled from him and he gripped the earth and post in his hands while tears squeezed out between closed eyes.

Valour

Rolled 1d12 : 7, total 7

Rolled 3d6 : 1, 4, 3, total 8

[Telcontar]

  i'll follow up when You let us know if the valour rolls accomplish anything.

[tomcat]

Rorin's Fear test

TN 18 valour 4d

1d12 : 1, total 1
Rolled 4d6 : 3, 4, 4, 4, total 15

Ruithel's Fear test

TN 14 valour 4d

1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 4d6 : 1, 1, 6, 1, total 9

[tomcat]

Thing of Terror results...

• Rorin rolls a 16; he spends 1 for a success (but is required to roll again each round until a Great or Extraordinary success is achieved)

• Ruithel is of Sindarin birth (not Silvan) and she is not plagued by things Unseen. That said, this is a Nazgûl and I am going to demand the roll at a lesser TN, which she succeeds with a Great Success

• Bandy rolls an 11; even with a he fails and thus is now Daunted - he may spend no more hope while the Nazgûl is present

• Grimbeorn rolls a 14; he spends 1 for a success (but is required to roll again each round until a Great or Extraordinary success is achieved)

• Arbogast rolls a 15; he spends 1 for a success (but is required to roll again each round until a Great or Extraordinary success is achieved)

ALL PC sheets

[tomcat]

The shape atop the horse spurred forward towards the small stockade, where a number of slaves were tied, and looked within. The small group of chattel swooned from pure fear, some collapsing into oblivious unconsciousness.

Arbogast could see the poor beast on which Ren the Unclean sat - it was bred in the horrible pits of the Dark Lord so as it might endure such a rider. The creature was gaunt and its eyes were wild with terror and craze. Blood dripped from its flanks where its cruel master spurred it, and its hooves were cracked and split. The Fire-watcher felt utter pity for the animal, even as he girded his heart to oppose the wraith. Arbogast was pleased to see that both Rorin and Grimbeorn were undaunted, too, and they were moving forward with him, down the hill to the valley below.

Bandy was bent low to the ground. He could not look up. The terror that was before him was greater than anything he had ever known and he begged within his mind for it to pass them by and leave them all unmolested. The Hobbit began to sob knowing that that was an impossibility.

Only Ruithel stood tall and opposing to the Nazgûl. Even after weeks of torture at the hands of the foul orcs, her spirit was unbroken and she would not allow even this creature of the Dark Lord to bring her low. She was Sindarin, of Thingol's folk long ago, and she had seen the end of the Beleriand. Like many others, she had fled to the shores of Falas when the terrible forces of Morgoth stormed into the once protected lands of Doriath. The Veil of Melian had been lost with Thingol's death and her departure, and the Elves suffered anew at the hands of their ancient Enemy.

Ruithel had remained in Middle-earth and moved west when the world was broken, at last to come to reside under the eaves of Greenwood the Great, which reminded her most of her homeland lost.

Now the Elf stood once more against the Shadow. Ren spurred forward again, leaving the slaves behind in their torment. A hissing voice spoke, "You are mine, She-Elf! Long have I awaited a prize like you! You will know suffering and pain, but will be the well-spring of many new breeds of orc!"

"I have suffered all that I will at the hands of your Master's folk, and will suffer them no more. It is you that will be gone, foul Dwimmerlaik!" Ruithel cried back in defiance. Her voice and words seemed to break through a cloud to Bandy's mind and the Hobbit felt...hope. Though he could still not muster any to help himself or his friends.

"I will have you, Elf!" hissed Ren the Unclean, and he charged.

Ruithel ran quickly to the fire and lifted a burning brand from it and held it before her. "Come forward and take me, if you can, foul thing!" She then called to Bandy, who groveled upon the ground feeling sick to his stomach, and becoming worse as the Shape came closer. "My brave Hobbit, if you can do naught else, seek the Orc's spoils from their captives. Certainly amongst those things you shall find my bow!"

Even as she said the words, Ren was upon her and his vile mount tried to run her down.

[tomcat]

I am opening a new combat thread, but feel free to complete any dialogue or narrative you would like to here.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Ruithel's words rang true to Grimbeorn and he was able to muster the resolve to sprint down the hill where he and others stood to her aid.  Seeing her run to retrieve the fiery brand, the Beorning feared he might be too late to intercede on a coming blow.

[Telcontar]

  my roll was a 15

[tomcat]

Bandy is WEARY - so only the 4 counts.

[Telcontar]

   damn, ok.