Captives of the Enemy

[GandalfOfBorg]

Though the way laborious and miserable, the great Beorning still weathers the trek, better than most.  The only thing that Grimbeorn feels he can possibly do is to show dissention among the captors, grumbling that the path they are taking isn't the fastest, easiest route or other things to role the goblins and orcs.

Riddle - 1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 1d6 : 3, total 3

Use of Hope to boost any success.

[tomcat]

Esgalwen will spend the point to keep on the hunt.
The evening's rest had brought with it a new blanket of snow. Esgalwen woke to see the land now a bright white with little trace of what lay before them. As her riders readied themselves, the Dúnadan searched for the path that they had been following, but freezing water and the new snow had made it all but disappear.

Esgalwen began to despair and once more she questioned herself - the inner idleness that came with such despair and clouded her decision-making was a new trait she did not like in herself, but as of yet had not been able to throw off. She heard Euric calling from the clearing in which they camped, even as she became frantic in her search. The Dale-men were far from home and she was leading them further - and Euric was beginning to question her  decision. After all, they were chasing after a silver fox that had not been seen since!

"Lady, the mounts are ready! Where are you?" The man waited for a reply, but was wanting to give the woman her privacy, as he assumed she was tending to her personal needs.

Esgalwen stood from her crouch, her shoulders hanging. "I am here," she answered.

As she turned to head back to the clearing she saw it - even buried in the new snow - impressions of heavy boots that had passed before. Quickly moving to the clues, she studied the trail and now could see it clearly moving off through the fens.

Her voice more confident, "I am here! Prepare to mount!" No longer worrying her choice, the Ranger strode into the camp and swung herself into her saddle. "The trail continues this way. We ride!"

There was a flurry as horse and men followed behind her.

[Telcontar]

OOC: Of course all the skills that are useful I have next to no dice in. I'm going to try it anyway. Maybe even if I fail I can succeed in  slowing us down but with a complication....

The goblins had constructed crude but effective three staff packs and then tied and mounted all of the gear on to them. The technique was also known among men and Hathcyn was familiar with it from his time on the forest road.

As he passed by the woodman Arbogast he elbowed him with the frame to unsettle the load.

"Watch where you are going woodman! I would have thought a tree kisser would know his way with sticks and loads."

His friend looked at him oddly.

He trudged on and again hooked him with the lower end of the frame. He spoke louder this time.

"I said mind your step mongrel."

A few of the goblins took notice and pointed at the two. This attracted one of the larger Uruks.

A third time he rocked the harness into the Woodman.

"I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOUR INSOLENCE!"

The Beorning put his head down and knocked his friend to the ground. Simulating a fight he did all he could to knock the loads of both packs as free as possible. Attempting to spill as much of the contents as possible. While he growled loudly he whispered. "Dump as much of your gear as you can, they'll have to repack it."

Elbows, poles, and baggage began to spill about the two men.

 
This may earn Hathcyn a whipping but hopefully it will cause a delay.
Riddle? Or Athletics if your feeling generous.

Riddle Roll:

Rolled 1d12 : 2, total 2

Rolled 1d6 : 4, total 4

Or Athletics

Rolled 1d12 : 6, total 6

Rolled 2d6 : 6, 1, total 7

[Eclecticon]

Hope spends put both Esgalwen and Grimbeorn's rolls over the threshold.  The two successful rolls mean that
a) Esgalwen's party will catch up to the goblins and other PCs sometime late on day 2 of the pursuit, and
b) the goblins' morale will be sapped a bit by the uncertainty Grimbeorn has sowed. 

If Hathcyn and Arbogast can pull off their little stunt (Riddle roll from Arbogast to follow) it will mean that c) the delay will cause the two groups to meet somewhere other than the place that the goblins thought they'd reach at the end of that night's travel. 

I'm thinking that I will reduce the goblins' Hate scores a bit and lower the threshold of Esgalwen's Battle roll for the upcoming skirmish to reflect the fact that the goblins aren't picking the battleground. 

Also, since the journey will end here one way or another, I'll do Travel rolls for everyone:

Travel rolls for everyone (TN 18):
Laeral

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

Hathcyn

1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 2, 5, total 13

Grimbeorn

1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 4d6 : 2, 4, 1, 6, total 13

Esgalwen

1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 3d6 : 1, 6, 2, total 9

Beal

1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 2d6 : 6, 3, total 9

Arbogast

1d12 : 5, total 5
Rolled 3d6 : 1, 6, 5, total 12

And finally, a Riddle roll for Arbogast as promised:

1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 6, 5, total 16

[Eclecticon]

Grimbeorn succeeds - he's fine with the hard slog, it seems.  Hathcyn, Esgalwen, Beal and Arbogast can all succeed with a Hope spend, otherwise it'll be an additional 3 Fatigue (or a loss of up to 3 Hope, at your discretion...).  I'll make the spend for Arbogast. 

Laeral, unfortunately, doesn't get that option.  Aly, let me know how many Fatigue levels you'd like her to gain, and how many Hope points you'd prefer to lose (hint: spending Hope will hit you harder in the long term, but may keep you alive better in the short).  Also, let me know if you'd like to spend a Hope point to let Laeral gather another two doses' worth of water-lillies.  If she can get that lot into the goblins' stew-pot, it will mean that d) the lookouts and sentries may well be fast asleep when Esgalwen's people arrive. 

[Telcontar]

  I'll spend the hope point.

[GandalfOfBorg]

 
Ah, I'll take it.  Something needs to go our way.

Grimbeorn will stick close to Laeral though and provide her with support seeing as she's had an extra hard time with her wounds, the orcs, and the pace compounding it.

[tomcat]

As is a very valuable commodity to a Dúnadan, I think I will have Esgalwen suffer the fatigue. I am not too worried about weariness at the moment - there is a pretty big spread between and right now.

She can sleep off the weariness, but she can't restore her hope very easily. 

[Eclecticon]

On the basis of word received informally from Aly, Laeral is spending Hope to succeed in the Search roll.  Now for quick Stealth roll to see how the rest of that goes:

1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 4, 2, total 12

Tom, I have updated Hathcyn's sheet to reflect the Hope spend and fix up his Endurance.  I've noticed that neither you nor Matt had any AP marked on your sheets - have you been keeping track on local copies?  I have been able to go back through the threads and add 5 AP to Grimbeorn's sheet on the basis of successful rolls so far, but I haven't had time to do Hathcyn's yet.  I'll generally add any AP stemming from rolls I made on your behalf, but otherwise I'll rely on you guys to mark them off as they come up. 

[Eclecticon]

An easy success for Laeral, who has since become weary.  Aly, in keeping with my policy stated above, I've marked off the final AP in her Movement track. 

[Telcontar]

Ooc: no I have been terrible at keeping track of APs after the sheets went to dropbox

[Eclecticon]

As the goblins look on, some already beginning to shout encouragement in high, rasping voices, Hathcyn and Arbogast lock together in what appears to all others to be a furious grapple.  The two Men rage and shake each other as bags of spice and bolts of cloth, jugs of wine and silver plate alike topple from their packs to splash into the muck and mire. 

As the uruks step in, wielding whips of coarse leather against exposed arms and legs, Laeral sees a chance that has thus far eluded her, and casts a quick gaze across the nearby pools, though the cloudy sky allows prescious little light to fall on the marshes.  In the darkness, the water could be concealing anything from water lillies to marsh hags to a lost city of an elder age of the world.  Suddenly, though, the clouds part and the last light of Eärendil, hanging low in the sky above the Mountains of Mirkwood, shines through on a tiny patch of water whose half-frozen surface conceals a broad lilly-leaf. 

Her nearest goblin captor espies her looking out over the empty water.  Poking his crudely-fashioned spear at her, he leers "Go on and try it!  I'll prick you and bleed you and leave your pretty pale body for the water worms!" 

As he tries to menace her, however, great eyes appear in the sky on silent wings as an owl swoops on him.  The goblin instinctively flinches back, stumbling into the back of Grimbeorn, his dire form made the more mountainous by the load piled upon his back.  As the goblin starts and cries out, Laeral moves, swift and sure as a pouncing cat, to snatch the plant from the water and stow the prescious roots about her person. 

A little way away, Hathcyn and Arbogast lead each other in a violent, swaying dance until each loses his balance and both, still clutching at each other and bellowing imprecations, fall into the chill mud, spilling what remains of their loads.  Though the beating that follows stings and bruises, which helps each to hide a grin as the heavy tread of Kurgak approaches from the head of the goblins' pack.  "WHAT IS THIS?" he cries, seeing the shambles of the two Men's baggage.  Then he lays about him with the backs of his thick hands.  "Get 'em on their feet! Load 'em back up!  And the next time this happens, I swear by brimstone and darkness I'll take one of your skins and wear it to keep my neck warm!" 

Grumbling and cursing, the uruks haul the two Men, muddy and cold, upright and the lesser goblins re-pack their baggage.  But the plan has worked, and such moonlight as penetrates the cloud has moved higher in the sky before the goblins are able to move once more.  Kurgak drives them on at a merciless pace until lungs burn and legs ache, and only goblin whips drive the exhausted companions further.  When at last the light of dawn rises in the east, even the towering uruks are spent, and of the companions only Grimbeorn can keep from falling to their knees when their loads are lifted from them. 

Hathcyn, still with strength enough to lift his head, looks about him.  The goblins have not come to a place as suited to their kind as last time.  Rather than a single rise, they have come to a place barely more than a sandbar in the mere, with two small islets separated by a brackish channel perhaps twenty paces wide.  The islets are so small that the goblins are already squabbling over which will sleep on the one, closer to the cooking fire, and which on the lower with the prisoners.  Nor does the fire fare well, the only fuel being damp thornbushes and the fire producing much more smoke than heat or light. 

Laeral, following his gaze, knows that her best chance of seeing her plan through is nearly upon her.  But with barely the strength to stand, she can only think 'how will I ever manage to do this?'

[GandalfOfBorg]

In a hushed voice, "How are you? Do you need anything?" Grimbeorn asks his friends and new elven companion.

[tomcat]

Tears wet the dried mud on Beal's face. Never in all his life had he felt such weariness and pain. His shoulders were afire from the heavy load he had been forced to bear. His feet felt like stones, frozen within their boots but fortunately the ache was dulled by the numbness of his legs. He slumped on the ground and prayed that there would be no more lashes and kicks through the day.

"I do not know where you find the strength," he replied to Grimbeorn's question. "Where do you muster the hope?"

Even the light of the new day had little affect in kindling his spirits - so weary was his body and mind.
Although his pool is full and he is not mechanically weary, because this is a cruel and driving scene - something Beal has never experienced thus far in his young life, he is having a hard time with it. I am narrating him as hopeless, but when things begin to happen, he will obviously be able to "muster the strength" he did not know he had (as he is not mechanically hindered).

I hope that makes sense.

[tomcat]

The eastern sky began to glow with an orange hue, stretching the length of the horizon. Her gaze averted at the sound of a horse nickering to its companion within their makeshift corral. Esgalwen had taken the last watch of the evening alongside another of her company, a man named Dreng. She could see him pacing his long circuit around the encampment as he had been prone to do.

"If I sit I sleep," he had said countless times. She believed his incessant repeat of the words was his another method of keeping himself awake.

It was going to be another clear day. Only thin, feathery clouds crossed the sky over the plains of Rhovanion. Esgalwen unfurled her heavy, wool blanket from around her and stood to stretch. Her sword lay on the ground next to where she had sat, but her bow was still in hand - a loose arrow in the other. Twisting and rubbing out all the kinks in her muscles, she bent and gathered her items - stowing the arrow as she did. Her hands now free, she picked up a handful of the icy snow and bit it, rubbing her fingers over her teeth in an attempt freshen her mouth and clear any remaining weariness from her mind.

"Wake the others, Dreng," she ordered and the man nodded in reply. As the Dale-man woke his companions, Esgalwen moved to where their path had been. No new snow. Still, she drew upon all her skills to mark their path for the day.
Hunting roll to find the trail once more...

TN ?? hunting 2d

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