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King's Rest Inn - UPDATED

Started by tomcat, Nov 30, 2005, 10:58 PM

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tomcat

The Company rode through the next two days with their new comrade; Seriand offered news of the east and the goings on beyond the Misty Mountains. Fengel was most interested in his tales as they were the first news he had heard of his homeland in over two years.

Seriand reported that the lands of Rhovanion and Gondor also suffered from the plague that had seemed to sweep out of the east from the quiet lands of Mordor. He also told of Greenwood the Great which was now called Mirkwood and the darkness that seemed to have grown in the south of the forest and from there spread its influence. The Elves of Lórien and those of Thranduil's realm were both quite interested in the power that had arisen and both watched with great concern, though the men of the region seemed to carry on as if naught were wrong. Seriand talked as if this were typical of these people.

Yet, the ride was pleasant and though there was still evidence that the plague was affecting the lands, the trip to Bree was much easier than most of the Company remembered from their first journey. At dusk of the third day out of Fornost, the six riders came upon the gates of the small town. With a rap of the hilt of his dagger, Fengel drew attention of the gate ward. A young lad drew back the slide of the gate to peer out at the Company, his mouth full of the buttered bread that was evident in his hand.

"Where ya be headin' at this hour?" he asked with a muffled voice.

"Our destination this eve is the King's Rest Inn if it still be taking guests," answered Edrahil, his voice soft but authoritative.

The young boy's eyes grew a bit wider when he finally saw the content of the band before him. Dirnhael spoke, "Fear not boy, we are no messengers of the Enemy, only weary travelers that seek shelter for a night or two."

The gate swung back and the Company proceeded into the commons of Bree; Tudor style structures rose on either side of them and stretched down the cobbled road towards a large hill. Candle lit windows peppered the hillside as the sun slowly fell into dusk and the companions dismounted to stroll beside their mounts - an opportunity to stretch their limbs. As they continued, they looked about as small shops and merchants closed their businesses for another day and each thought it pleasant that the world seemed to be returning to some semblance of normalcy. It was then that Dirnhael for the first time looked upon a Hobbit - the diminutive folk were smaller than Dwarves! He stared and craned his neck as they passed. He had heard rumors that the wee-folk had taken up residence to the north in a land that they called the Shire, but he had never seen any until this night. The small Hobbit waved to Dirnhael as he went about his activities, unconcerned that the man thought him a strange sight.

Nain also took interest in the town's inhabitants, or guests, as he passed a small wagon of hooded travelers, their long beards hanging low but clasped within their belts. With a courteous nod, he strode on by the obvious merchants, wondering from what Dwarf home they came.

It did not take long until the cobbled way deposited the travelers at the stoop of the King's Rest Inn. The establishment glowed with candle and firelight and it invited them all to enter. The bell chimed as they pushed in the main door and a man, wide of girth, came into the hall to greet them. He wiped flour covered hands on his apron and bid them all enter into the common as he took care of business in providing two rooms for his new guests and to have their horses stabled. Soon after, the six companions entered the common again after settling in their chambers, but now to sup and to quench their thirsts with a fresh drawn ale.

OOC: I want to give you guys some current info [potential lore tests, if necessary] of the times and the realms circa 1637 T.A., although your characters may not be privy to it all or any.


  • Dol Guldor is occupied by Sauron and Khamul the Nazgul and perhaps the Mouth of Sauron, though he is not announced in any way. In fact, the only thing that is said of the dead volcano is that a shadow has fallen over it and the forest lands that surround are become evil and fell things wander its pathes.

  • Elven Realm of Mirkwood is ruled by Thranduil and it is possible his young (at least young for an Elf) son, Legolas, may be active in securing the realm and its borders.

  • Rhovanion is filled with the semi-nomadic tribes of Middle-men including the folk of Fengel. Along with the Eothraim, there is the Men of Dale (an ancient settlement) that do consistant business with the Elves of Mirkwood as well as the other Men of the region. Esgaroth exists but it is only a small trading post where merchants gather for trade. The Eothraim are made up of six tribes which are themsleves broken into clans. These people inhabit the lands from the eastern side of Mirkwood, north to the Celduin River which stems off of Long Lake, east towards the Sea of Rhun and as far south as the Dagorlad and the Emyn Muil. The southern Eothraim tribes are allied with and do a lot of trade with the men of Gondor. To the east are the folk of Dorwinion, and beyond them are the vaunted enemy of the Eothraim, the Wain-riders - the Asdriag, Logoth and Sagath tribes.

  • The land of Rohan is still called Calenhardon and is very scarcely populated, though Gondor still mans both strongholds - Harnost (what will one day be called Helm's Deep) and Angrenost (Isengard).

  • Lorien is ruled by the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel.

  • In Khazad-dum, the Dwarves still reign though they have become far more xenophobic since the destruction of Eregion and the Last Alliance of Men and Elves.
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦♦○]     :<3: 10/12       :+~: 8       :<>: 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

sdrotar

The hobbit that Dirnhael had seen earlier still stayed in Dirnhael's mind. Nain was small, as all his kin, but possessed a ferocity matched by few in Middle-Earth. The hobbit; he gave but a friendly wave, and he was even smaller. He knew nothing of hobbits, but great deeds certainly seemed beyond them. His own party was remarkable in it's diversity, but he found it hard to picture any time in the future when hobbits might share in adventures such as his own...

Around the hearth, Dirnhael enjoyed the company of his friends - including Seriand, their newest companion. He was certainly woodsy and experienced, and could be of distinct help to the party, but he hoped the Elf would come around regarding the mere mortals with whom he now traveled. The Elf had seemed a bit... haughty earlier. While such behavior was not unheard of - perhaps even common when dealing with the Fair Folk, Dirnhael had seen Edharil soften over the long months and Dirnhael thought the change suited him.

Regardless, Seriand was here, and he was traveling with them - and Edrahil would undoubtedly share his experiences with his kin over time. Such was good enough for Dirnhael, who had come to realize that he appreciated the journey far more than the destination...
LOTR Characters:Dirnhael, Vári
ST Characters:Stonn, Ramos
SW Character: Caden Whitesun

Wiseman

Suprisingly enough the journey thus far with the mortals had been less than painful, far less.  Never-the-less his guard was up and his stride purposeful as they walked through the town of Bree.  Finding a table with his new travelling companions Seriand tried to strike up a conversation with Edrahil.  "Where does your journey take you friend?"

GandalfOfBorg

Durgil pays little heed to the conversation between his comrades.  Frankly its nice to be back in the company of others -- spending long periods in the wild can wear on a person.  Grabbing an ale, he sits with his back to the table, drinking in both the contents of his mug and the local atmosphere.
Gwaithlim Weapons
Great Bow  Atk: 2d -- Dmg (0h): 7/13/19 -- Edge: 10 -- Injury: 16
Swords       Atk: 2d -- Dmg (1h): 5/11/17 -- Edge: 10 -- Injury: 16
                                    Dmg (2h): 7/13/19 -- Edge: 10 -- Injury: 16

tomcat

Edrahil looked to Seriand and replied, "We journey first to Rivendell and then from there either over the Misty Mountains or we go south to Moria. Tribute must be paid to the people of a fallen comrade. Once we have done this, we will follow Fengel to his home in Rhovanion."

Edrahil fell silent for a moment, "I have never been to the lands beyond the Misty Mountains. Long I have travelled these roads, but alwas within the confines of Eriador. I rejoice at the thought to see the wondrous woods of Lothlorien and to perhaps meet the lady of the Wood, but I will only do this if the path of the Company takes me there, or if our road separates."
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦♦○]     :<3: 10/12       :+~: 8       :<>: 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

Palandil

The warmth of the fire matched the warmth in Fengel's heart at the anticipation of going home.  He was glad that his path led him to these good friends, and he did feel sad that they may never see each other again after his parting.  But for now he would enjoy their company to the full. "Join me in a round my brothers!", Fengel bellows as he jestures for the bar maid.

Stefan

Trouble, that's what Elves brought.  The one that was in the party already was more than plenty in Nain's mind.  This new elf could only mean evil tidings.  The thoughts that went through his mind were grim as he combed the dirt of the road out of Jethro's coat in the small stable.  To think that his own people would turn him and his companions away.  A snort escaped Nain and Jethro turned to look, chewing on the oats that stable boy had brough him, the look said volumes and yet nothing escaped the lips of the beast, his thoughts were his own. 

"Say what you will, but I don't trust him."

And with that Nain hangs the comb back on the wall having finished his work and heads into the Inn for a warm cup of stout and an even warmer fire.