The Field is Set

[tomcat]

Even as the southerners began to organize their space on the field, a few of the new arrivals broke from the group and steered their horses to the throng of onlookers. At the lead was a large man whose auburn hair was tied back into a long braid. His beard and mustache were full but it was easy to see for those that knew him that this was Mogdred, leader of the Men of Tyrant Hill and son of Ingomer.

Mogdred rode his horse up until he stood just a few feet from where the council leaders had gathered at the fore. "I am glad to see that the games have not yet commenced. It would be a shame if you had forgotten that we should be included among the Men of the Vale." It was easy to hear his bitterness.

Ingomer spoke, "Ingold..."

"Do not call me that! My name now is Mogdred, father."

Ingomer cleared his throat, "Very well... Mogdred, we did not expect to see you here and long has it been since men of the Toft included themselves in any activities of our folk."

"Well, things have changed for the Toft. After Vidugalum's ambitious attempt to make himself a king failed at our Beorning cousins' hands, the people of the Toft accepted me as their new leader. It has been a few years that we have been creating a mutual alliance between my folk of the Hill and their own, and it was a common consent between both that I should rule.

"And so, being a Woodman," again his words rang of resentment, "I saw it fitting that my people should join yours of the Vale and partake in these friendly games. After all, it is how we strengthen our oaths and alliances."

Ingomer nodded silently.
I do not know how much more you guys would like to delve into this encounter, but I would love it if you each would take up a part of a leader of the Woodmen along with your own PC's. I have them listed below and have included the suggested player to take the roles.

The leaders present are:
Ingomer of Woodland Hall - chief counselor [Tom]
Amaleoda of Black Tarn - chief counselor [Paul]
Theodwin of Mountain Hall - representative for Hartfast, leader of Mountain Hall [Paul]
Waldric, son of Walcaud of the Carrock - thegn of Beorn [Matt]
Grimbeorn [Matt]
Freda, daughter of Fridwald of Woodmen-town - counselor [Tom]

Speak for them and make arguments or sue for peace and I will reply as Mogdred. This will make it so it is not LM scripted. You may make rolls for skills and use traits at need, but I am not going to run this as a standard encounter. No matter how it goes, the Toft-men are here to play. 

[Telcontar]

Freda looked at Ingomer, the senior member of the council, but it appeared as though he was not yet ready to respond.

"Truly a woodman you were born, and a woodman you were raised. For by whatever name you choose you are the son of Ingomer, an honourable man. You speak of oaths and alliances, an interesting topic, but one to be addressed later perhaps, in a more formal council however, this raises a question. You speak of the Toftmen as having chosen you as their leader. Have they chosen you in all matters or as their war leader? While it is not unheard of for multiple settlements to be represented by one man this is usually only done when the Woodmen go to war. In times of peace it is the usual custom for each to represent themselves by one of their own. At least among the Woodmen."

[tomcat]

Mogdred eyed Freda with a sardonic look, "Do you fear that we come armed for war, Lady?

"Nay, we have come to put our best against your own to see whose champions claim the field - that is all. As to your wondering, yes, they have named me their chief in all things. But fear not! I still keep the tower on Tyrant's Hill fully manned to keep watch on the evil fortress of sorcery further south. We men of Tyrant's Hill work diligently to keep your lands safe to the north."

[Eclecticon]

Amaleoda spits as she hears Mogdred's words.  "You keep warriors at Tyrant's Hill that they may steal our swine and harass our hunters," she shouts.  "Or are we to believe that the Man-crafted arrows that were shot into Hathus' farmstead were loosed by thieving forest-goblins?" 

She steps toward the mounted man and continues her accusations.  "Long and hungry has the winter been, and the worse for the appetites of your ever-so-vigilant followers!" 

Arbogast looks with concern at his chieftain, for few among the assembled crowd bear arms or shields and a fight would be a bloody and one-sided affair, but he continues to hold his tongue.  Much could be gleaned from Mogdred's answer, he thinks. 


I know we're not doing regular encounter rules here, but I'd like to attempt an Insight or Riddle roll (possibly modified by his Cunning attribute?) for Arbogast to read between the lines of whatever Mogdred says in response.  Use whichever is more appropriate (assuming he's right, and that there's anything at all to be learned beyond the face value of the words he uses). 

Insight:

1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 2d6 : 3, 3, total 6

Riddle:

1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 2, 5, total 9

[Telcontar]

Ingomer looked as if he would object to the line of questioning here in the open and not in council, but his hesitation betrayed either curiosity in the answer or indecision. 

[Telcontar]

Freyda waxed sardonically, "I question only why the Toft folk do not speak for themselves. In times of peace there is no need for the many to be represented by one."

Her words seemed to be more for the assembled woodmen than for Mogdred, "It is not our way for a community to not speak with it's own voice, unless war has come to all the Woodmen and our need as a people is most pressing. We have no Kings among the wood folk, we require no Kings who demand more than they give. Dominion is instead granted in the home instead of the keep."

[Eclecticon]

"So say you," comes the deep voice of Hartfast of Mountain Hall, "but I say instead that those of the folk who live far afield, and who must travel long and hard miles to address the gathered elders at Wuduseld or Woodmen-Town, find it easiest to have it be known that one voice speaks for all, as I do for the folk at Mountain Hall, and as Caewin and Amaleoda do for their folk." 

[tomcat]

Mogdred smiled, finding pleasure in the contention that the two chieftains revealed with their words.

"So it would seem that among the clans there are different view points on how we govern." Then he turned to the leader of the Black Tarn. "Men must eat and tough times can drive them to ill choices...but no, I cannot say whether the arrow fired was feathered by orc or man, as I did not see it. What I will say is that the sacrifices made by my people - unbeknownst to you all - gives them liberty to make feast of the occasional piglet. Perhaps if you knew the efforts we make to keep your lands free, then maybe you would offer such things as gjald.

"But as spoken, we do not come girded for battle but for games! Let us speak of this and let me offer you the names of those that will compete and the games which they will participate."

Mogdred handed his father a rolled parchment upon which contained the names of fifteen Toft-men and their desired games.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Waldric opened his mouth to add his voice to the .. conversation(?) but Grimbeorn caught his eye with a look of disapproval.  He wasnt a man typically cowed by a mere look of another but he knew his lord brooked no wasted words or interference in the matters of others.  His mouth shut presently.

This wasn't their fight to weigh in on but Grimbeorn is resolved to keep his eye and ear upon this beknighted wolf's head, turning his harsh gaze upon the mounted man.  There is no love lost nor trust but mutual respect is there, tenuous at best.

[Telcontar]

Ingomer took the rolled parchment from his son and addressed the group.

"This discussion is better to be had in council. The differences spoken here are ones of degree. Our traditions have been unchanged. Each community sends its representative to the council so that the many voices and concerns may be tempered by leadership and community. Mogdred, you are by birth and by rearing a Woodman, regardless of by what name you choose to go by you are still my son.  The folk of the Toft have been estranged from us, but we welcome them back to the Field of Heroes. May their coming be a sign of strength and unity among cousins too long separated from us." 

"You have spoken of oaths and allegiances, these too shall be discussed, but in their proper time and place. Everything shall come in its time, now is the time of welcome and the pitching of tents. Perhaps even the folk of Sunstead will come, who can know. When all are assembled and take joy in the games of our people, then we may speak of such things with lighter hearts."

[Eclecticon]

After Ingomer's words ring out in the still air, silence falls and the assembled crowd begins to disperse.  Some go nonchalantly, as if having witnessed nothing more than an interesting piece of theatre.  Others go with greater unease, still uncertain of the motives of the southerners. 

Arbogast takes his leave of his family and joins the newcomers, thinking perhaps to help raise tents and settle travellers weary of the road.  Everywhere he looks, he sees the red circle that, until recently, was the mark of a foe to be feared.  If nothing else, perhaps in doing this I might learn their precise numbers, and how well-provisioned they are for such a journey, he thinks, but does not say. 

"You are welcome, kinsmen," he says, but does not feel. 

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn was by the side of the Firewatcher. He had, as always, seemed to produce a small barrel out of nowhere. He was quick to offer a drink to all and sundry and had a ready welcome on his lips. Those who knew him well understood the natural friendliness of the man, but also a nee wariness that was just below the surface.

His hand was more ready and more honest in willing to help, and perhaps as such he would hear and know more.   

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn remains where he is for a brief time.  The group breaks up and life returns mostly to normal in the area of the games.  Whispers and rumors among tents abound regarding the new arrivals.  The mighty son of Beorn doesn't paryake of the idle gossip but remains in the outskirts of things with an ever watchful eye on Mogdred and the people he appears to lead.

[tomcat]

I know we're not doing regular encounter rules here, but I'd like to attempt an Insight or Riddle roll (possibly modified by his Cunning attribute?) for Arbogast to read between the lines of whatever Mogdred says in response.  Use whichever is more appropriate (assuming he's right, and that there's anything at all to be learned beyond the face value of the words he uses). 

Insight:
This dice roll has been tampered with!
1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 2d6 : 3, 3, total 6

I forgot to give you a response on this, Paul. Arbogast is seeing Mogdred like he had come before - a bit arrogant, challenging, and haughty. Maybe some of those words are synonyms of the others so forgive the redundancy.

Still, to Arbogast it seems a veneer. Mogdred seems to imply he has a tight rule over the lands he rules, but he looks tired. He looks stressed and his face has aged a bit since you last saw him at the Moot. Back then he looked haggard, too, after his captivity but now he seems like he has too many ropes blowing in the wind that he is trying to pull together.

Arbogast sees danger in whichever direction it could go:

- if pushed, Mogdred could snap and bring a pretty formidable might against at least one of the clans of the vale.
- if left alone, he might be consumed either by the power he is holding or by those he thinks he controls.

[tomcat]

Friendly words were spoken between the Vale-men and those of the Toft, but smiles did not seem to meet the eyes. Thanks were given but conversations were short and no offer of sharing table or wine was given. And so, the Toft-men situated themselves upon the Field of Heroes.

Ingomer reset the celebration announcement for the games to commence a day later than planned, so as to allow Mogdred and his people to ready themselves. No new gathering was made to celebrate the start and there was an awkward feeling in the air when the day of games finally began and the contestants marched onto the field. The Toft-men had an evident resentment towards the others, for no wine cup was raised to honor their place here save among themselves.

The field was a rich green save where it had been changed for the purpose of a given game such as the Tree-climb and the lists where the few horse riders would attempt to hook rings or melee. There was also bright splashes of color of the many tents and banners.

Arbogast and Lindwine smiled to each other at the wide-eyed stares of their excited children. Around them, other folk gathered to watch as the contestants were announced from the grand stand. Under the canopied shade, Ingomer stood from his seat and called the games and competitors to order. Banner-men stood at the near to allow everyone to know which clansman was still playing and which would be removed due to loss. It helped the spectators who knew the clans' sigil better than their athletes' name.

Cyffa ran around in a circle as her outstretched hand held a stick that had a streamer fluttering behind. It was the color of rose and was creatively embroidered with soft threads in the shapes of flowers and dancers. She had begged her father the night prior, as they walked through Merchant's Row, for him to buy it for her and Arbogast could not resist. Lafwyne chased behind her sister with a gaggle of other children that joined in the merriment.

The Fire-watcher felt content for the first time since winter. He felt at peace. Beside him sat Lindwine, who chatted with another woman, along with Hathcyn and Grimbeorn. The scion of Beorn had the right to take his seat upon the grandstand, but preferred to sit under the sun beside his friends.