Somewhere in the Wold

[Nashan]

Second subgroup ; Gárulf, Raghnall


EARLY SPRING 2954 T.A.

Winters are never easy in the Wold, even less when you're an outlaw used to live from the merchants or the occasional cattle stolen from an isolated herder. During the harsh months, the herders gather to form small temporary hamlets, and although they make quite easy targets for well-trained men, forks have a tendency to easily pierce through armors. And as for merchants, few are foolish enough to cross the wide plains of Rohan when the snow makes the landscape even more featureless.

During winter, your gang of outlaws shrinks to half its usual size. Many men go back to their wives and children, those who remain have nothing to care about and nothing to loose. In winter, the gang is the closest thing they have to a family.
Spring is coming now. Soon the herds will spread again, and trade roads will reopen. Business will start again...

[Telcontar]

Raghnall was happy. Raghnall was always happy about something. He had a nack for finding a siler linning in every cloud. In fact, among the bandits he sometimes foudn the item of the greatest worth seemingly on accident. He did wonders for a stew as well. On this day, as he looked around the camp he felt the urge to move on come upon him. He wasn much of a brigand himself anyway. He usualy stayed in the camp and didnt ask any questions. But as the need to move on and see new things came upon him he started to get stir crazy.

"Say Garulf, your from the green fields of the south. I have never been there. Fancy a walk about to see what may be found?"

[tomcat]

I will be adding my intro post here later, guys! Crazy day at the office.

I might have a new home for the RPG Profiler, too! WOOT!!

[tomcat]

Gárulf sat upon a log in front of the small campfire that was sheltered from the wind. In his hand was a crust of hard bread that he picked at trying to find any of the softer center that remained. It tasted smokey, as it was baked in one of their makeshift ovens that they dug into the ground. The rock base would get hot, but not all of the fire's smoke would escape and so their food always had a hint of the taste.

He cracked the crust and brought it to his mouth. Gárulf munched on the bland food and stared at the coals, his mind wandered back to a day not long ago when he stood staring over the ruins of her body. The food in his mouth became as the ash in the fire and it repulsed him, and so he tossed away the remaining husk.

It was almost through but the winter winds over the fields still bit at his exposed flesh. Gárulf stood and stretched and then took a few paces away from the fire ring. Somewhere behind him, Eogar spoke to one of their other comrades.

"We'll be needing supplies soon."

"There's a livestock farmer not a league away. We should be able to get some meat there."

"Yea...hunting's been sparse."

"Old Kern was the best of us and with him now gone...well, we are better off if we just go take a sheep or two."

"We'll need other foods, too. What I'd give to have an apple!"

"Or a potato!"

"Yes...boiled potatoes in stew."

The band of outlaws now only numbered six - four of their troupe departing for whatever homes they might have had. But Gárulf had no home anymore - his people had cast him out and he only knew this life.

Raghnall the Northman came over to stand by the Eorlingas and spoke, breaking Gárulf's inner thoughts and making him have to turn to understand what was being asked. The other men around the fire continued their daydreams of warm pies, while the Bree-man and Gárulf had quiet words.

"I know most of the lands between here and the Entwash...beyond my knowledge is less, but Edoras is there."

The king's hall.

There was a new king now, the outlaws had heard. It was said he was raised in Gondor and he was unlike his father before him. Perhaps Fengel's decree marking Gárulf outlaw was no longer in force? Perhaps he could cross these lands a free man?

He nodded his head as a gust of cold air took their breath. "Yea, I could see these southern fields."

[Nashan]

  Make a Lore check. TN 14.

You know the area well enough. Should you choose to take the straightest road, it will require a one week travel by horse.
You can also choose to go down the Entwash by boat then follow the Snowbourn till Edoras. This is obviously the easiest way, but you will be spotted very early.

[tomcat]

I will invoke my Rohan-lore trait for this test.

I am not sure if it is an auto- success or if you will give a bonus die, but here is a Lore roll just in case.

TN 14 Lore 1d

1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 1d6 : 4, total 4

[tomcat]

My very first roll for this game is an

LOL! This doesn't bode well.

With a 4 result, I hope the Rohan-lore trait will supersede the need for the dice roll.

[Nashan]

  that's an automatic success, although I ask a roll nonetheless in case you get a greater/exceptional success.

You get an extra dice to spend on any travel roll, representing a well prepared journey.

Which way do you choose ? Horse or boat ?

[tomcat]

we shall travel by horse, of course! 

[Nashan]

  Telcontar, anything to say before we carry on ? 

[Telcontar]

There was no large amount of time needed to gather their belonings, for they had so few. The two made quick farewells to the others and were soon ready to depart.

[Nashan]

  Telcontar, please make your Lore roll before embarking for the journey

[Telcontar]

Lore

Rolled 1d12 : 3, total 3

Rolled 1d6 : 6, total 6

[Nashan]

For some reason, you're not as well prepared as you expect to be. Perhaps you didn't expect that journey on horseback would be that uncomfortable, perhaps your brother in thievery took you through unused pathways and shortcuts,... in any case you don't get bonus dice. Fortunately the journey shouldn't be long.

[Nashan]

You expected to travel for days without seeing any living souls. Instead, at the end of your first day of ride, as you were about to leave the Wold and enter the plains of Rohan, you come across a most unexpected sight. At least three scores of chariots and carts half-piled with brown bags and small crates, and thrice as many men, women and children, gathered in four circular camps. In the middle of one such chariot circle, a flock of famished sheeps is grazing whatever it can get from the cold ground.
The people are a poor sight. Most wear ragged clothes, ill fitted for travel, even less in the cold of early spring. You spot some of them displaying leather armors and swords, but most are weaponless. Those are clearly no travellers or traders or even Rohirrim, they are exiles, trying to survive in an environment they obviously don't know. They didn't see you so far.

  Please make a Lore or Insight (whichever is higher) check TN 16.