Words of the Raven - Northward

[Eclecticon]

As Hathcyn finishes his speech, there is silence in the hall.  Viglund lets the silence linger a little longer than is entirely comfortable, as the fire pops and hisses and the wind blows overhead.  The goblin that bore the cups into the hall breaks wind with a thin, reedy note which sets Viglar to giggling that grows in volume until Viglund shoots him a furious look.  "I am no trader of trinkets," he says, "to haggle over tolls and taxes.  The road that you speak of is miles from our lands, and would seem to benefit a family who have been no friends of mine." 

He looks Grimbeorn in the eyes, and the son of Beorn can almost behold the calculations going on behind them.  "Still, if the wealth of the Mountain is as great as I am told, and their memory is as long, then perhaps they may pay in gold, to the worth of five cows each year until the sum is met.  You yourself may act as their guarantor, for it is your lands that the Dwarf-king's treasure-bearers will pass through when first they leave the forest." 

He sits back, apparently pleased with his decision.  "Your kinsmen I will keep here as hostages.  Should the Dwarves make their first payment by mid-spring, and swear to continue bearing gold to me until the full ransom is paid, I will release them, and your long-bearded friend.  Until then, they will continue to partake of the hospitality of Fystenheorth." 

"What say you, bear cub?"

[Eclecticon]

Other options include paying the ransom for the captured Beornings (Beorn's household can absorb the cost of doing so - young warriors of low rank don't cost much).

[Telcontar]

  matt, i leveraged what advatages I could gleen the rest is on you.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn returns the gaze of Viglund, feeling all other eyes on him as well.  "Do you take whatever has transpired as a slight against your honor, Viglund?  If so, taking hostages and seeking ransom is a poor way to show it. If you wish respect of me and mine, then come to me with your grievance to be settled in a way more befitting men of rank and position than as a thief in the night."

"I will not speak for the Dwarves of The Mountain just as they wouldn't speak for me in matters like this.  What I will do though is take my friend here and my people off your hands for they will cost you dearly in food and lodging come the winter as their care would certainly need to be much more hospitable than I see at the moment.  We can then barter over the recompense of your lost lumber in manner that could benefit all our peoples - yours, mine, and the Dwarves.  Or we can meet in a match of champions, with terms to be discussed, to decide Fate here today."

"What say you Viglund?  Be reasonable."

[Eclecticon]

Or there's always trial by combat!  Nice move. 

[Eclecticon]

"Respect?"  Viglund's outrage is palpable.  "Do you think I desire your good opinion, boy, or that of your father?  I am a son of the wolf and the owl!  That which I take, I keep!" 

He grips the arm-rest of his throne and leans forward.  "I tire of this bickering.  My warriors affright the very shades and wraiths of the wood!  If you would test yourself against them to settle your account this very day, then I accept your offer."  Amid a deep-throated murmur of approval from the crowd, Viglar stands, cracking his knuckles and grinning lopsidedly.  Then his father stands, and calls out above the noise "Thunar will be my champion."  Several heads quickly turn to look at the warrior of the golden tusk, and Viglar has time to exclaim "wha-?" before Viglund thunders "OUT!  SET THE FIELD!  BUILD THE FIRE!" 

As the court of Viglund hastens to obey, Hathcyn sees the goblin cup-bearer lean in to whisper in the ear of Viglar, who stands flabbergasted before his father's empty seat.  At the same time, the maiden who served the ale catches his eye as she moves with the crowd toward the door. 


So, while Grimbeorn gets himself limbered up, Hathcyn has a choice – he can follow the maiden or try to eavesdrop on the conversation between Viglar and the goblin. 

[Telcontar]

  oh man...... follow the hot girl or listen to Goblins scheme for a friend....cruel fates of Arda!

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn was physically revolted by the presence of the goblin in converse with the scion of Viglund. The mere thought that they would engage in converse was abhorrent. Luckily for Grimbeorn, and himself, no one in the hall expected a trail by combat so they were reasonably certain that they hadn't yet been poisoned. Hathcyn assumed the two were plotting some revenge against them, or perhaps even some internal subterfuge against the Master of the Hall. Who knew what twisted thoughts would spring from two such corrupted minds? Hathcyn half stepped in their direction.

The gaze of the tall warrior was then turned, by fate or by something else more base who could say. His eye was caught perhaps by the only fair thing in this hall of oppression and insecurity and with it his attention was captured. Hathcyn turned his gaze to the woman of the hall who had served them ale. She was passing with the throng from the hall to see the combat that was soon to unfold between the champions. The schemes of twisted minds was brushed aside and the curiosity of the man was piqued. Who was this woman, what is her roll in this, thought the Longspear. The cunning nature of the fox also awoke in him, those two would not willingly reveal anything of worth, and overhearing them in the tumult would be hard for surely he was watched. 'The willing hand toils best' thought Hathcyn...

With long strides weaving his way among the others Hathcyn made his way towards the woman and positioned himself to enter into converse by her side.

"Any chance of the hospitality of this hall to be extended to another glass of ale? This should prove to be as interesting as it was unexpected."

The bearded face of the warrior was split with a wide friendly grin. "I am Hathcyn Longspear, unfortunately there were no introductions earlier. And if I were to stretch the bounds of hospitality twice may I also inquire as to the name of the most fair thing I have beheld in this hall, what is put to shame for having to share a name with you Lady?"

[Eclecticon]

The maiden casts her eyes downward, her hair momentarily hiding her face.  When she raises it again, her jaw is set.  "I am Aestid, and time is short.  I know not whether my father will honour his word if your lord wins this coming duel, but it may not matter.  The thralls will have been shut in fo the night, save for one to warm my father's bed, and that... creature that serves my brother." 

As the pair move into the courtyard with the last few members of the crowd, she hisses "As the duel ends, I will set them free.  Take your friends and fly!  Few of my father's men are armed, and those that are will be sore pressed trying to recapture the rest of my father's captives." 

Outside the hall, the sun has set but a bonfire is being prepared to beat back the gathering night.  Into the packed earth before it have been driven a sword, a spear, an axe and a long knife.  Within the square that they mark, the warrior Thunar waits, sword sheathed and shield in hand.  The goblin that was whispering in Viglar's ear and another struggling thrall bear Viglund's throne out and set it down on one side of the square. 

As his father takes his seat, Viglar leaps up on an nearby rock.  Above the hubub, he calls "ALRIGHT!  LISTEN UP!  There are foreigners in our midst, so I'll remind you all of the rules!  The fight ends when a man has two shields broken or is twice disarmed, or if a man sets foot outside the bounds!  If a man is disarmed, he may take one of the boundary markers, but may not take one from an onlooker!  If a man's shield is broken, his friends may give him another, but no man is bound to do so!" 

As Grimbeorn is pressed forward into the square, Aestid whispers "be ready!"  Then she is gone into the crowd.  One of Viglar's lackeys hands him a wineskin, from which he takes a long draght.  He belches, raises the skin as if it were a mighty weapon and bellows "NOW DRAW YOUR ARMS AND FIGHT!" 


Got all that, Matt?  You'll basically be looking for called shots to win this one, or trying to force Thunar backwards out of the square. 

I'll get a combat thread going when I can - expect it fairly soon.  For now, have a Battle roll:

1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 2d6 : 6, 4, total 10

[Eclecticon]

for that - Grimbeorn will have two bonus dice to use. 

[Telcontar]

  where is Rorin? he is the piece de resistance.

Mechanics question. Will taking the prisoners and running be a shadow deed.

[Eclecticon]

Rorin is near Viglund and a pair of warriors, but isn't chained up or anything.  From where Hathcyn is at the moment, he could push his way over there in two rounds without attracting too much attention. 

I wouldn't consider freeing slaves from their bondage to be a Misdeed, even if it's not strictly honourable to do it while everyone else is distracted by a trial by combat over the issue.  It's an edge case, but of such things are great philosophical debates made.  Of course, if you think it's a bad idea on practical grounds you can try to stop Aestid.  I leave that up to you. 

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn made his way to Grimbeorn's side and began to check his gear for him. He dropped his voice to a low whispere, knowing he had but a moment.

"The daughter of Viglund is preparing to release the slaves during this combat. She believes we may escape with our folk during the tumult as they will be more concerned with the slaves than their captives.  Shall we make a go of it?"

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn gave a look and a nod of understanding and agreement. "I will stall as long as I can."

  How do called shots work again ?  Don't have access to book right now.

[tomcat]

You declare a called shot on your attack and then you need to roll a as well at the TN for success with that attack. If no is revealed by the dice, even if you score the TN or higher, it is a failed attack.

The results of the called shot are based on weapon type - or Loremaster, which is in my opinion the arbiter of all things in the game.