The Cold Wells

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn snarls at the creature in his grasp.  "Agreed," is all he says in response.  With his free hand, he opens the nearest cell and tosses Fyndylsnitch into it.  Slamming the door shut, he picks up a gnawed, broken bone and jams it into the lock and breaks it off to permanently disable it.  "Let's get Esgalwen and purge this place."

[tomcat]

Corruption tests

TN 18 Wisdom by PC

Grimbeorn 5d 1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 5d6 : 1, 3, 2, 6, 3, total 15

Morirúsë 2d 1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 2d6 : 3, 1, total 4

[tomcat]

• Grimeborn succeeds with a 24 great success

• Morirúsë fails with a 13 and gains 1 Shadow 

[tomcat]

Finding a large metal bar that lay rusting in a corner, Grimbeorn wedged it into the crack between the pivot and stone wall, and then put his entire body into pulling. The old bar began to bend, but not before there came a cracking pop. The pivot was cracked and the trap door now leaned at an odd angle, wedged by its own weight in the chute down.

The passage was open and it would not close behind them.

Morirúsë stared at the creature that was called Fyndylsnitch, as he lay bleeding in the darkness of the cell. Anger filled the Noldo's heart and all he wanted was to deliver this man to whatever Ilúvatar had in store for Men, beyond the bounds of life. It left an impression on his soul.

Arbogast secured the knotted tapestries to one of the strong iron bars and let them drop down into the darkness below. Hitching his shield onto his back, and securing the Warden's Axe, he began his descent. The torch that he had carried was dropped to him once he was on the ground below, and he held it aloft to see. The chute exited in a passage that looked like the one above. Arbogast could now see the engineering that had once been here - this was no secret trap set by the old wretch that had lived here, it was some kind of supply chute for box or barrel. The old gears and pulley system could be seen rotting and rusting on the walls. The Dwarves had probably cold stored in these old cells, and moved the empty - or perhaps full - containers from one level to the next. In its long disuse, the chute door in  the floor above had become an effective trap for the unwary.

The Woodman picked up Nimronyn and slid it into his belt, while Grimbeorn and then Morirúsë made their way down the makeshift rope.  With both lamp and torch, the hallway was now well lit and they could see footprints in the old dust and the evidence that Esgalwen had been dragged away.

[Eclecticon]

As his companions climb down the line of tapestries, Arbogast examines the footprints by the light of the torch he holds aloft.  Despite the flickering shadows, it may be that there is some tale they may tell, even if it is only how many creatures bore Esgalwen from this place. 


Rolling Riddle:

1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 4, 3, total 10

[tomcat]

Arbogast was not the hunter Grimbeorn was, but he still was able to read tracks.

Whatever had drawn Esgalwen down the passage walked on two legs and there was at least five of the creatures, whatever they may be.

He hoped they were naught but Orcs, or goblins, or maybe even the legendary Men of Mirkwood - evil Men under the Necromancer's sway.

[GandalfOfBorg]

The stench in the pit was worse than that above, owing to the meager air flow from the entrance.  Down below, though, the putridness was ghastly.  "I doubt even fire or the light of day could fully cleanse this place," said the Beorning.  "We shall find out nonetheless if I am correct.  Come."  Without further word, he proceeded down the corridor in search of their friend amongst the madness and gripping the haft of the axe ever tighter.  He listened and sniffed the air as he could bear to find any sign of Esgalwen's location.

 

Awareness -  1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 1, 1, total 4

Result +3 if the darkness/torchlight about would count as darkness at night

[tomcat]

Grimbeorn walked past the cold wells that had once been used for food and material storage, but now it looked like they were nests. Straw and other odd items littered the floor of each, the original contents stolen or rotted away. He noted no sound or smells as he passed, but noises came from before him, as if a whisper was on the wind.

The other two companions followed in kind and they came at last to the end of the short corridor. The light of the lamp and torch opened into a vast vaulted chamber, presenting six  other openings, three arched on the far wall, two on their left and right, though only the left was arched - the other looked like it had been dug out. The doorway on the left side of the far wall was larger than the others, its arch decorated with stones of many colours. The Torch flickered and guttered revealing a flow of fresh air crossing the room. A narrow vertical chimney, leading to the surface was at one end of the chamber, while a set of stairs down was at the other.

A pool of water filled the better part of the vaulted room. In its center, lay the still form of Esgalwen. Her clothes had been torn at, as well as her flesh, but she was still in one piece. But was she alive?

To the companions right, emanating from the dug out hall came the whispered words.

Her soul will be mine and whence I am finished, you may have the meat that is left behind...but you will not touch her until I command.

To the order came a chorus of low mewling, or moaning.

[GandalfOfBorg]

 

Awe -  1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 2, 2, total 6

"Quiet, creature, we are not here to bandy words with the likes of you.  I am Grimbeorn, son of Beorn of the Carrock!  Your master above has been dealt with and we shall do the same with you or any in our way.  We have come for the woman and this place will be purged of the Darkness by one manner or another."

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast, his spirits buoyed by Grimbeorn's bold words, keeps the torch high as he moves into the room.  He casts a wary eye at the pool, the bottom of which is obscured by the reflected torchlight. 


  Doug, I'm guessing that the pool is pretty shallow, and that Esgalwen is lying in what is basically a large puddle.  Is this right?

[tomcat]

  You are correct, Paul.

[tomcat]

Arbogast moved to Esgalwen and was pleased, upon close inspection, to see that she still lived. Her breathing was strong, but her brow bled where it had struck stone, as well as in other locations where her flesh had been torn.

Grimbeorn stood in defiance of the Shadow that spoke within the well, and beside him was the ancient Noldo.

From the right passage, a shape began to emerge from the darkness. It was itself a Shadow, but the blackness of its form glowed a terrible un-light.

FOOL! Hissed a whispered voice. Do you not know death when it is upon you? This is my realm and you are trapped within it, to suffer at my whim and to die at my command.

Behind the shape, other shapes shambled into the light of the torch and lamp. Where the one was a spectre of a Man, the others were corporeal, though they were not among the living. They moved like beasts, or curs, at the command of their master. Foul dwimmerlaiks! Living but not alive. Feeding of the flesh, but fulfilling only the need to corrupt.

The ghouls spread out in a semi-circle around their master. I am beholden not to any living master! The fool lives at my mercy, and makes recompense with the blood of the living.

[Eclecticon]

I was just about to ask if the voice we could hear sounded like the Spectre of Gundabad, but Doug has thoughtfully already answered that. 

What do you think, guys?  Fighting retreat back the way we came?  Or do we just try to hit these guys hard enough to put them down fast, despite the fact that two thirds of our number are ready to drop where they stand? 

[tomcat]

Just so you all know, the passage right behind the bad guys is a stairwell that leads outside. The wind is blowing into the well from here.

I will allow that Esgalwen is on the edge of consciousness. It will allow a Healing or an Awe test TN 14 to revive her. One will mean that herbs or natural minerals (smelling salts) are used, the other is to shock her awake.

The Degree of Success will determine how quickly she will be able to commence any assistance in your combat or flight.

Success - 4 rounds

Great Success - 2 rounds

Extraordinary success 1 round

[Eclecticon]

Seeing that she still breathes, Arbogast wastes no time.  As the dwimmerlaiks and their spirit overlord spread out, the Fire-watcher feels in his belt pouch for the herbs that will awaken Esgalwen's mind and give strength to her limbs.  He chews them enough to allow their taste to begin to fill his mouth and then transfers it to hers, working her jaw as firmly as he dares.  Awaken, he bids her.  Wake, and bring the fire of the Dúnedain to this place!


Rolling Healing:

1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 1, 1, 1, total 3

I'll spend Hope if necessary.