Captives of the Enemy

[Eclecticon]

Worry waxing in her belly, Esgalwen seeks out her second-in-command, a grizzled warrior named Euric.  "We are victorious, I think.  What are our losses?" 

"Two.  Fridigar is slain and the boy Sjerk.  But yes, my lady, victory is ours." 

"Then leave Fridigar and Sjerk to the remaining villagers to bury, for we must mount and ride on." 

Euric gives her a quizzical look.  "Are you certain?  Darkness has already fallen and the men are tired from battle." 

"They will recover, and every hour and mile we can steal this night is one closer to our goal." 

"And what is this goal you suddenly speak of?  Does the marshal now give his orders to you in secret?" 

"Nay," she replies, trying to conceal the excitement that rises within her to eclipse her initial fear.  "But new tidings are come to me.  Nearby, a company of great heroes is beset by dark forces.  It shall be greatly to our honour if we can free them." 

Then the woman, once warrior of Gondor and now of Dale, takes the reins of her mount in hand and swings herself into the saddle.  "To me, servants of Bard!  Onward we ride!" 


Boring mechanical stuff to follow.

[Eclecticon]

Away to the south and west, the sounds of raucous feasting reach the ears of the captives as they murmur to each other in the semi-darkness.  It carries on for some time, as the tales of Beal, and of the Fellowship's disastrous raid, are told.  Then all at once there is a great commotion of goblins, and the sounds change to those of rushing feet and the gathering of their noisome treasures.  Faintly, the companions hear the rumbling voice of Kurgak as the great orc bellows "load 'em up, lads!  They can carry the booty 'til we reach the Boss' seige!" 

And so, without standing on ceremony, the companions find the door to their cell flung open and leering goblins yanking them to their feet, for to use them as beasts of burden along the way to Dol Guldur.  Soon each, from dire Grimbeorn to lanky Arbogast, is bent double under a load of ill-gotten goods and stumbling along in the freezing moonlight.  Hemmed in left and right, ahead and behind by goblins, the war party and its captives strives toward the hard ground where the Long Marshes meet the easternmost eaves of Mirkwood. 

"What about the others," one of the large uruks grunts to Kurgak. 

"Never mind 'em," comes the reply.  "If they can't follow our tracks, they'll find their way to the same place in time." 

As the companions shuffle on, marching over mud that crackles and crunches beneath their feet and squelching their way through meres and pools half-frozen, Laeral looks all around.  Somewhere, she thinks, I will see a familar set of silent wings.  Somewhere, there will be water-lilly root close enough to gather an that our captors notice...

Thus does the long chase begin. 


This is going to be interesting.  Esgalwen's party is mounted, so they can move far quicker than the orcs, but they're slowed down by the need to follow tracks.  The orcs are moving at night, while the Dale-Men will be pursuing during the day.  I'm going to play it out like this: every day, Esgalwen has to make a Hunting roll to move at full speed in pursuit, otherwise her party will be able to follow (they're pursuing a LOT of goblins, and you can't miss every sign of their passage) but only at the same speed they would be capable of un-mounted. 

Every day that the company is in the Long Marshes, Laeral may make a Search roll to find water-lilly roots nearby.  If she finds some, she can make a Stealth roll to grab them without being noticed.  Success gets her one dose, great success two, extraordinary success three.  She will need at least three lots of roots to have enough to dose all the goblins (plus a plan to get the roots into their food or drink). 

It's late November, and the marshes are hard going, so both parties will need to make a Travel roll every three days (or part thereof) at a TN of 18.  Each failed Travel roll incurs a loss of three Endurance (or Hope).  Note that you're all now carrying goblin loot sufficient to give you 10 fatigue points. 

I'll post the rolls day by day and anyone who wants to add to the story can chime in after each one.  Clear?

[Eclecticon]

Day 1:

Hunting roll for Esgalwen

1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 6, total 11

Search roll for Laeral

1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 2d6 : 6, 5, total 11

[Eclecticon]

Doug, unless you want to spend a Hope point, Esgalwen's party will lose some time trying to follow the path of the raiders they defeated back toward their lair, and only proceed a few miles. 

Laeral finds two doses worth of water-lilly root.  Can she gather them surreptitiously enough?

Stealth roll for Laeral

1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 3, 3, total 10

[Eclecticon]

Looks like she can!  Aly, I have marked off the Advancement Points that Laeral has earned.  You'll see that she has earned her first one for the Perception track.  She already has two in the Movement track, and she didn't roll any special kind of success, so she doesn't get another one for her successful Stealth roll. 

On the other hand, her owl will have made its way back to her, and will be hanging about.  If you like, you can add some narrative about that, and about how she gathers and hides the lilly root.

I'll put another post up about lunchtime (my time) tomorrow, unless you guys are deep in an RP conversation or something. 

[tomcat]

I will spend the for a success. 

[tomcat]

His hands ached from exposure. His toes were numb in his boots, which were sodden from the snow and meres through which they were marched. Ever did the Orcs drive them forward and Beal wondered at what was the end of the journey and would he be alive.

Beside him, the Beornings marched along with their Elven friend. They were strong and showed the defiance he had lost after so many days under the ground, but they gave him hope. He knew not what had been achieved by the strange fox that had fled the tunnels not long ago, but the tall one's grim silence held a knowledge of something to come.

It was all that kept Beal moving.

[GandalfOfBorg]

 
During their March, Grimbeorn both looks for any opening to turn the tides and give them the chance to escape but also seeks to slow the pace of the orcs by any means necessary.

What kind of tests do you think are appropriate?

[Eclecticon]

Good call, Matt.  For 'openings to turn the tides', I'd say a Battle roll - effectively, you'd be making your pre-battle rolls well in advance, so you'll be able to attempt an escape on a day when you get a good result.  'Slowing the pace ... by any means necessary' will depend a lot on your particular tactics, e.g. Craft to engineer a spill in your load, Song to keep the goblins awake during the day and tire them out, etc.  Riddle might be a good all-purpose fallback. 

Anyone else can attempt these as well!  I'll roll everyone's Battle for day one, and we can see what kind of prospects it brings...

Arbogast

Rolled 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 4d6 : 4, 6, 6, 3, total 19

Beal

Rolled 1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 1d6 : 6, total 6

Grimbeorn

Rolled 1d12 : 3, total 3
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 6, 5, total 13

Hathcyn

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

Laeral

Rolled 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 3, 4, total 11

[GandalfOfBorg]

 
Given that his imagination isn't as colorful as this others, Grimbeorn will work on engineering a malfunction in the gear.

 

Craft -  1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 5, total 10

[GandalfOfBorg]

   

[Eclecticon]

From my PMs:

I'm going to wait til I have enough of the plant to knock out everyone.

How is their food prepped? do they have a chef?

Answers to follow.  For the record, Aly, it's fine to ask this stuff in the main threads.

[Eclecticon]

The first night of the journey is a merciless slog through mire and fen.  Dark clouds sail across the freezing sky, their shadows adding further peril to an already treacherous ground.  As if the marshes take a sullen delight in shifting solid ground from beneath their feet at the last moment, goblins and Men alike find themselves stumbling into unseen pitfalls and mistaking frozen scum for flat ground.  Grimbeorn, seething at his mistreatment, seeks to sabotage the makeshift pallet in order to spill its precious contents.  Much to his chagrin, it is of sturdier make than he credited the goblins, and his efforts only succeed in dislodging a rattling bag of scrimshawed bones.  His captors delight in his discomfort as they whip him with wet ropes, driving him ever onward as the bag thumps painfully into his side with each step. 

Of all the Fellowship, only Laeral is ever sure-footed.  Although twice she falls, each time she rises clutching the roots of a water-lilly which she hides swiftly among her burden.  For she knows well the lore of things that grow from the muck of the Marshes, and she knows especially that the lillies carry in them a portion of the sleeping enchantment of the stream that crosses the elf-path and flows into the Forest River.  The Men hereabouts gather the flowers to make a sleeping draught, but yet more potency lies within the roots.  Her wonderings about how to bring the roots to the goblins' mouths are answered to a degree when the company arrives at a wooded rise high enough to be dry underfoot and the creatures set down heavy iron kettles.  With a dreadful glee they attack the trees, splitting boughs and throwing them, still green and oozing sap, on cooking fires until the whole rise is enveloped in thick smoke.  They prepare a noxious-smelling soup of swamp water and unnamed, unfortunate animals not fleet or fierce enough to escape goblins' clutching hands. 

"Their watch is poor," Arbogast whispers to his companions, casting a seasoned warrior's eye over their captors.  Nor is his mistaken, for the goblins clearly mislike being so long above ground, and much of the attention they spare from admiring the shine of their treasure is directed outward, and even upward.  For the memory of goblin-kind is not a fleeting thing, and the terror of the great eagles at the Battle of the Five Armies is not a thing swiftly forgotten.  Even Beal finds a bleak form of mirth in the Shadow-creatures' panic when they are surprised by an owl flying low and silent above their heads. 

Miles away, though not so many as these things might be reckoned by hunter and hunted, Esgalwen's party ride in pursuit.  The way is not so terrible for riders by day as for runners by night, though they are slowed by the need to find a ford across the Forest River, which runs wide and sluggish in this low land.  The signs of orc-work are unmistakeable, however, and Esgalwen has tracked their kind across many lands and years.  Euric and the rest of the men speak little, their hearts hardened and their faces grim.  All know that their quarry are not far ahead. 

[Eclecticon]

Day 2

Hunting roll for Esgalwen

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

Search roll for Laeral

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

[Eclecticon]

Right - neither roll was successful on its own, but Hope spends will put you over the top.  Doug, Aly - let me know what you would like to do. 

Tom and Matt, I'm open to any other ideas you might have to make life difficult for your captors.