The Cold Wells

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë stood silently, as if carved from stone or frozen in some ancient spell. He heard nothing from below and waited only for the drama to play its course.

[Eclecticon]

Hearing no answer from above, Arbogast begins to think desperately.  He certainly has no rope to hand, and there is nothing about the dungeon that might suffice.  But then he recalls the tapestries and banners that adorned the hall above.  Old and mildewed as they are, they may yet be strong enough to bear the weight of the fallen woman. 

He goes to climb the stairs but stops, turns back and uses the Warden's Axe to wedge the trap door open, making sure that the bearded head is secure on the lip of the pit, and that it is well beyond the reach of any in the cells. 

Emerging once more from the darkness below, he looks to Grimbeorn and Morirúsë.  "Our captive has attempted to betray us, and Esgalwen is in urgent need of aid.  Come, please, and help me.  I would spare you both the sight of what abides beneath our feet, but this I cannot do alone." 

[Telcontar]

The elf looked at the face of the man as he returned to the courtyard, and simply nodded when he spoke. Internally the ancient elf girded himself to be confronted with more horrors, not new, for there was little that would be new, but more he expected to be burdened with.

[GandalfOfBorg]

By the scruff of what could only be called a neck due it being between head and shoulders, Grimbeorn grabs the pitiful creature and drags it not so kindly with at full pace into the blackness whence went and came his companion.

[Eclecticon]

With Morirúsë's help, Arbogast sets about cutting down the sturdiest looking wall hangings and fashioning them into a sling long enough to reach the bottom of the pit, and large enough to contain a Man - or a woman. 

"You and Grimbeorn are each mightier than I," he says.  "When we go below, you two will need to lower me into the pit so that I can place Esgalwen in the sling." 



Please, please please don't make either of us roll Craft for this.   

[tomcat]

The makeshift sling complete, the trio - along with their captive - moved to the dark archway and started down. Morirúsë led the way with his lamp, allowing Arbogast to carry the heavy tapestry-made sling.

Grimbeorn felt the same disgust at the sights and smells that came from the gated pens, which only made him handle Fyndylsnitch with a little less care. The Woodman hurried down to where his axe still held open the pivoting floor trap and he went to his knees to begin to lower his fashioned rope. The Elf came quickly behind and beamed his light into the hole, and both stopped short - Esgalwen was not present below.

Only Nimronyn reflected the cold light from the lamp, but the base of the hole was empty of the woman.

Around them, the giggles and moans made the cold wells even more frigid.

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast briefly considers asking to be lowered down into the pit, but the light, even from the elven lamp, is poor for searching.  Instead, he turns to Fyndylsnitch.  "Alas," he cries, loud enough to briefly silence the tittering from the cells.  "We are undone!  Your cunning has defeated the lordly emissary of Gondor!"

Dropping his face into his hands in a gesture of despair only half-feigned, he continues.  "Will you tell us what fate has befallen her, that we may bear the tale back to her noble kin in the lands to the south?"

[Eclecticon]

  I'll give you a Persuade roll, but can the difficulty be lowered to reflect Arbogast's Cunning trait?

1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 6, 6, total 16

[Eclecticon]

Or possibly not.  Y'know.  Only if you think he needs it.   

[Telcontar]

Morirúsë was silent in his work and silent in their descent into the pit of the tower. When they reached the hinged door trap the base nature of the Noldo elf was gaining control and the wisdom and patience he had attempted to maintain for those who would inherit this land slipped in the face of the horrors of the place.

The light of the lamp blazed, giving perhaps the first wholesome light the place had seen in years, but when the eyes of the elf fell upon the pit that the Lady of Gondor had fallen into the embers of his wrath were stoked. His skin was wane and pale, his features took on the look of sharp angles and deep shadows. He grew fey and wrathful while his eyes seemed to blaze and the his blade to flicker. In this moment any who knew his name, knew why he bore it.

He stood barely restrained from killing the creature and then doing the same to the wretches in the cell. His wrath and vengeance was held back by only a thread of restraint, that the creature would speak and spare him the task of ripping the place apart stone by malice filled stone.

[tomcat]

Arbogast fed off the wrath of both of his companions and his plea came out in a hissed demand that hinted of repercussions. Fyndylsnitch jerked backward as the Woodman aimed his anger upon him, and pulled free from the Beorning's strong grip. Finally loose, he crab-walked backwards only to push himself up against the iron bars. From inside, thin, bony fingers grabbed and tore at his throat, while broken teeth tried to bite at his ear that was now against the cell door.

"AI!! Help me! Please, help me! I will tell you all if you aid me." The old man reached back to fend off the wretched creature within the cell, only to have his fingers grabbed and bitten.

The Elf and Men could see that the thing that had once been a man had torn flesh and drawn blood.

"TELL US NOW!" boomed Grimbeorn as he grabbed the old man and hoisted him into the air. The affect caused the tomb to become silent - the sad prisoners reeling back of their own volition in terror. They now, all three, cowed back in the darkness of their cells.

"Below," hissed Fyndylsnitch, his throat closed by the Beorning's grip. "They took her. They live below. They have lived here long before I came...and they are always ravenous. You must go now...you must hurry." The gnarled old hand was raised and pointed at the pit in the floor. "They will consume her."

[Eclecticon]

Ah, shitbiscuits.

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast's gaze meets that of Grimbeorn.  "Lower him into the pit, if you would.  Perhaps he knows yet more than he has spoken.  Perhaps he can show us the way to these things he fears." 

[Telcontar]

"No."

The elf spoke.

"Slay him or release him, but do not take him with us. The only aid he can offer will be to summon more of his undead and I will not fight along side them and we have not the ability to watch him, he will only betray us. Smash the pivot so it will not close upon us and let us descend into the darkness and horror. May the price of wisdom not be too high to reclaim our friend."

The elf took two steps towards the Necromancer and his ghouls, sword raised...

[tomcat]

Awesome...

I do need a Corruption test from Grimbeorn and Morirúsë, as they are now down in this blighted place.

I will roll it in a minute.