On To Sweartmereseld!

[Eclecticon]

Needing no further encouragement, the Stag-horn's host surges forward as soon as dawn begins to light the sky beyond the canopy of Mirkwood.  They make the same rapid pace as the previous day for a mile, and then another before, by unspoken agreement, the advance slows and scouts with hounds at their sides are sent out in advance.  Word of their coming will surely have spread among the goblin warbands by now, and none will risk their attack falling victim to an expertly-set ambush. 

By midday, though, there has been neither sight nor sign of the foe, and the Woodmen pause in their march for a last, silent repast.  Each warrior shares their thoughts only with themselves and the hounds, long bred and trained for the hunt, pant quietly at their feet without further announcing their presence. 

At last, the ground beneath the trees begins to slope perceptibly downwards and the path of the Woodmen is broken here and there by small streams bearing the last day's rains swift and clear into the Black Tarn.  It is along one of these that the Stag-horn directs the host, hazarding that the way will be less likely guarded than the dry paths that lead to their destination.  Onward they run, ever the Companions near the fore, and the Fýrewaeccend kinfolk seldom far behind.  The deep mist reported by both Hathcyn and the Dowel's outlaw band still lingers, it seems, for it gathers about them like a cold, damp blanket, smothering much that could be heard and shrouding much that could be seen. 

Perhaps it does the same for the noses of the hounds, for those of the forward scouts sound their warning barks only moments before a volley of arrows comes whistling from a stand of close-packed spruce, felling one man and his dog instantly and driving the rest to cover.  Quickly, the cry comes up: "We have them!  We are discovered!" 


We're not in combat rounds (yet) because you're not being targeted directly (yet).  You're near the front of the column, though, and the Men behind you will follow your lead. 

You are, at this point, perhaps one mile - maybe one and a half - from Black Tarn Hall. 

[Telcontar]

"All if this effort relies on striking the heart of the army. Forward! Forward Men of the Vales!"

Hathcyn had been anxious for this moment all the previous day and i to the night. Experience taught him outward calm, but he yearned for this moment when they would no longer be idle. For the foe to know that they were here, and for the defenders to know that hope came.

Hathcyn encouraged those around him with words the leaf shaped tip of his spear upright to the sky. His hand raised to his lips the tam horn of the mountain, a gift of the dwarves of Erebor, refined and strengthened past its natural sound to be clear and strong by the cunning work of craftsmen.

Like the thunder of the mountains on a hot summer day the cry of the horn was low and deep and echoed across the water and into the hearts of men.

  Awe seems appropriate here.

Rolled 1d12 : 8, total 8

Rolled 3d6 : 3, 3, 6, total 12

[Telcontar]

  damn I fat fingered some of that on my phone but I'll edit it later because of the dice roll.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Hathcyn's cry rouses them and the blood boils within Grimbeorn, war has come.  "Forward and unfurl your banners!  Sound your horns! Sing your songs of blood and death!  And this scourge will know we men of the Wood have come and they shall fear this day!  We come for our families!  We come for our friends!  We come for the Tarn!"  cries Grimbeorn, Bear-claw shines dark and thirsty held aloft.

Swords and spears clang against shield.  Cries of "For the Tarn!  For the Vale!  For the Hall!" echo among the ranks.  Banners of green and gold, black and red, blue and white stream about.  The pace quickens among the host with the Beorning heir at the head and his companions by his side.  Those that look upon them quail for none shall hinder their passage.

[tomcat]

Her hood drawn up to break up her form, Esgalwen quickly moved into a defensive position as the Woodmen advanced. Her great, Dúnadan bow was in her hand and an arrow was nocked. Around her was a formation of archers that prepared to volley fire into the thicket where the enemy ambushers were concealed. They just needed to buy Grimbeorn and his warriors the time to close on the goblins, and so she drew the fletching to her cheek and yelled, "FIRE!"

The bows all twanged in unison and the whistle of arrows in flight was heard as it passed over the Woodmen. Any orc or goblin that exposed themselves would be subject to the hail of shafts. Even as her first arrow took flight, Esgalwen and her archers drew again and fired.
The idea here is not necessarily to target any one particular goblin/orc, but to suppress them long enough until our warriors cross the distance. All said, Esgalwen will not let the archers burn through a quiver of arrows in this task - ammunition is too valuable to waste.

If any goblin/orc is hit, though... well that is all the better.

[Eclecticon]

The Woodmen surge forward, arrows hissing back and forth, for though the trees here are not so thickly intertwined as in the depths of Mirkwood, still the trunks, standing thick and mighty, and the spreading branches make this a poor field for archers.  All along the length of the Woodmen column, the forest erupts as knots of goblins drop from branches above, or surge from hidden holes, their scents concealed from the hounds by mounds of leaf litter. 

In the space of two heartbeats, the unstoppable surge of the Woodmen is halted, and desperate struggles break out as each warrior fights desperately for their lives. 


We're shifting to combat rounds here, but remember that your object is not necessarily to kill all the enemy, but to break through and continue your advance. 

Battle rolls:

Esgalwen

1d12 : 3, total 3
Rolled 2d6 : 3, 5, total 8

Grimbeorn

1d12 : 1, total 1
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 6, 3, total 14

Hathcyn

1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 2, 4, total 11

[Eclecticon]

That's two bonus dice for Grimbeorn (and an extra AP) and one for Hathcyn (with an AP if you can make a Trait fit). 

[Telcontar]

  what about wary and Orc-lore?

[Eclecticon]

Sounds appropriate to me.  I'll go ahead and mark an extra AP down, and upload the sheets to Dropbox.