News from the Hunters

[Eclecticon]

The look that Arbogast shares with Morirúsë is pregnant with meaning.  This was a beast of great size, he seems to say, but there is nothing to say for certain that it is the quarry we sought.

His mind turns toward dark suspicions of the Fellowship's hosts.  If the Elves sought to separate us from my kinsmen, and to lead us away from Woodmen-Town, there could be few distractions more effective than such news as Orophal has brought us - especially when coupled with a pelt to allay any suspicions and wine to dull our wits and enleaden already-weary feet...

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë sipped his wine and marked the look that the Woodman passed to him.

"Orophal, tell us the tale of the hunting and slaying of this beast. I have not for an age or more heard of a living werewolf that roamed the earth. In the Eldar days they were dread beasts possessed of a fell spirit of malice and hate that drove them to great violence and torment of others."

The Noldo elf looked about him at the twisted wood, "they were the creatures of Gorthaur the Cruel, and they were a great terror when the March of Maedhros failed. Now I have heard that their master has returned and taken again the name he possessed of old in Arda. Sauron, by this name even the Second born know this foe."

[tomcat]

"Gladly," smiled Orophal as he drank deeply from his cup. The Elf had assumed the speech of Men after the dell, so as to include the other companions of Morirúsë.

"It was nigh one moon ago that the werewolf came into the Bower - a forested region within Thranduil's realm beloved of our folk. Some of my people were slain and the creature came to the very gates themselves, clawing and scratching. Great power was put forth by the werewolf, but it could not overcome the keen make of the doors to our realm - Dwarf-wrought stone wound round with Elven spells!

"The creature soon departed and thus was I summoned before Thranduil. Seek this monster to its lair, if you can, and kill it. Such was the wrath of my king that no other option did he allow us. I organized my hunting party and we pursued the wolf south, into the Mountains of Mirkwood and the Wild Wood where tall pines dominate the upland region.

"Long we searched and many hardships we endured. Wolves and wargs creep about the northern slopes, and bats fill the air at night. Vampires, we fear, fly among these creatures but we were not harried by such a foe. At long last, we came upon a hole...a cave entrance. The smell of death was strong and fear pervaded the place. We knew that we had found its lair.

"Girding ourselves with steel, we entered the cave and found it empty. This greatly disappointed us for we did not want to return to our king empty-handed. We sought out rumours of the werewolf and followed them south, through the dark mountains and to the western eaves. Something seemed to be drawing the werewolf here."

"After establishing a small camp to work from, we continued to follow the traces of the werewolf, looking for any pattern to its hunt.  And we were pleased to soon find one!" Orophal refilled his cup and drank again. "We set an ambush and waited to spring our trap. You see, legends speak that Light causes great harm to the werewolf. And so we hung lamps to draw it and confuse the monster. Even as they were lit, we heard its fast approach. The werewolf, enraged by our lamps, jumped into our trap and my archers winged many arrows. Me and a few others of my entourage raced in with steel and attacked the wolf directly.

"It was a long fight and one which I will always remember, for the werewolf ravaged me, even as my companions stabbed deeply into its body." Orophal lifted his tunic and displayed a wound that had not yet healed. Arbogast was sure if it had been a man, the wound would have killed. "And thus, the hame is now our trophy!"

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast is openly impressed.  "Great must your battle have been!  And a mighty warrior must you be, to be travelling with such a wound, for when I was so wounded not more than a year past, I was bed-ridden for many days afterward." 


Like hell this is on the up and up.  I'm going to make a Healing roll to see if Arbogast can notice anything amiss about the wound - whether it looks like something a wolf would inflict (living where he does, I think it's fair to assume he's seen wolf-inflicted injuries before), whether it's healing properly etc.  No idea what the TN for doing this in the dark without a close examination would be, but it's probably fairly high.  Still, let's see what we can see...

1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 3d6 : 1, 3, 2, total 6

[Eclecticon]

Looks like the answer is 'nothing much'. 

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë too was not so sure, but he wished he had more information to go on about the beasts. He was more used to dealing with Orcs and Spiders, and these beasts were to rare to make much study off. He had a growing sense of unease has he heard about the Mountains of Mirkwood. He knew long ago, like Dol Guldur, Elves had lived there. What had remained and what had been twisted to serve the dark enemy was an open mystery. Orophal's talk of vampires was most troubling in this regard, for it meant that the deep recess remained, and things lived there. 

The Noldo elf ignored that pelt and instead bent his attention towards the Wood Elves themselves. Filling his goblet he sat down at the board taking his ease.

"So Orophal, I take it seldom you travel this far from the Woodland Realm. This mission surely was the exception, but I am surprised, though thankful that you came so far south to our aid and were willing to send some of your folk even further afield to the Dusky River."

Sitting at the board the Elf removed a piece of birch bark from among his gear and began to sketch the stretched fell of the beast and the likeness of Orophal beside it. His hand moved quickly and deftly across the bark with charcoal, and the skill of the Elf was self evident.

He sipped again the wine and spoke instead in the Sindarian tongue. "What news from my northern kin and the Halls of Thranduil? Long has it been since any of my folk twice over the mountains have heard of the tidings of the north. We have of course heard of the death of the dragon, and the now the rumor of the return of the Shadow seems to be true as well."

[tomcat]

Esgalwen interrupted and her tone was somewhat scornful, as she addressed both the Elves in Sindarin, "We have been invited to this table and we are all at risk, and thus it would seem that both host and guest alike should speak in tongues all can understand." She then continued in the common speech, "We have nothing to keep from one another...not here in the middle of this forest."

Orophal looked to Esgalwen and then to Morirúsë, and gave a laugh in his mirthful, Elven-spirited way. He addressed the Dúnadan in common, "No offense, my Lady. We do not speak in Elvish to hide our..."

"Of course you do not, Master Orophal," interrupted Esgalwen with a smile of her own, "and that is why using a common tongue suits our needs better. Do you agree?"

The Sivan Elf gave a slight bow, "I do, Lady Esgalwen." He looked back to Morirúsë, "Days darken within the forest..."

And Orophal began to make a recounting of the events within the Woodland Realm. Some of the things discussed were known to the companions, as they were a part of them, but other items were news. There were tales of the Wayward Elves and the darkening of Mirkwood, the troubles with the Barding foresters and gossip from Thranduil's court.

A few of the younger Elves at a feast in the Bower decided to punish the Bardings for their trespassing. When a group of foresters next entered the woods, the Elves harassed and ensorcelled them, weaving spells around the mortals. It was said the foresters lost their way and wandered into the depths of the forest. Thranduil was greatly angered by this - the Wayward Elves were becoming harder to keep in control, as they strove to return to the 'old ways'. The king sent out scouts in search of the Men, but only three were found and guided back to the Elf-path. The fourth was said to succumb to madness and died within the wood.

Orophal was visibly shamed by the recounting and he spoke no more of it.

The tales then turns to the orc attacks within the northern reaches of the Realm and the capturing of Ruithel. Never were their numbers great, but the small skirmishes were numerous. The Silvan Elf spoke gleefully of the coming of the Eagles, the presence of Gandalf the Gray and his young ward, along with the Company of the Helm.

"I was not present when the orcs attacked our sacred place at the Roaring Fall, but many of our folk were at a disadvantage thinking themselves safe within our own realm. It frightens me that these incursions by agents of the Shadow are becoming more frequent. With the Lord of Mordor reclaiming his seat of power in the south, his reach seems to have grown. We thought the death of Smaug would ring in many peaceful years, but it is as if it was nothing more than a signal for the world to change...to something dark once more."

[GandalfOfBorg]

"It is more like He probes his enemies' weaknesses.  The Enemy is ancient beyond our reckon and, as I understand it, he plays a longer game than we likely suspect," remarks Grimbeorn.  His cup remains in its place, full.  "Time in hiding has not truly weakened him for I daresay that his dark land has been not been o'erwatched in many years and without the eye of true Men, the wicked will gather and multiply."

[Eclecticon]

"It is true that shadows gather about the Free Peoples.  Hence it it all the more important to stoke the fires in their hearts, that they may shine the brighter.  The news of the Werewolf's passing should be brought to the folk of Woodmen-Town, that their fears may be allayed." 

[tomcat]

Even as Arbogast spoke of optimism, a sudden rustling was heard within the trees and scrub from without. Orophal stood and looked into the darkness of the woods and something stared back at him. The Silvan Elf pointed beyond the edge of the clearing in horror.

"Those eyes!" The companions saw a pair of huge glowing-red eyes. Beneath them, the firelight glinted off a row of wickedly sharp teeth. "It cannot be!" cried Orophal. "I killed you already".

He fumbled for his sword, but he was too slow – the huge shape leapt out of the darkness and bounded across the feasting table. The companions were amazed at its size - near that of a horse in height, and a bull in build. It crashed into Orophal, sinking its teeth into his sword-arm, and then flung him far across the clearing to smash into the bole of a beech tree. The Elf did not move again.

The Werewolf had returned!

For an instant, as the beast stood beneath the skin hanging from the tree overhead, the companions clearly saw that both creatures were identical. Orophal did kill the Werewolf, but somehow it didn't stay dead!

The Elves of Orophal's company scattered. The monster had taken them with surprise and weapons were not easily at hand. They moved to obtain anything to defend themselves, but the beast interjected itself before they could be reached. Arbogast watched as an Elf had his grasping hand removed in a terrible snap of the werewolf's jaws. Only the companions were still girded with their weapons to face the beast. They watched in sudden surprise as it furiously turned to smash the lamps hanging from the trees.

Darkness was quickly spreading with each light that went out.