On To Sweartmereseld! (Re-redux)

[Eclecticon]

Neither drums nor horns accompany the final passage of the company through the wending forest paths to Black Tarn Hall, only the rasping of breath, the thumping of rapid footfalls and the clinking of iron as the few Men able to break free from the goblin ambush race to the relief of their kinfolk and companions.  Nor are time or breath spared in discussion of what might be done when they arrive.  The Enemy surely knows now of their coming, and all that might be done is to arrive soon enough that deeds of arms might still sway the day. 

The ground now slopes easily toward the basin of the Black Tarn, easing their passage and speeding Men and hounds along, though knots of roots continue to prove an occasional obstacle.  Hathcyn, leading the Fellowship, vaults easily over one such with the aid of his spear and finds himself atop a rise that he knows passing well, for he has trod this path before in the form both of Man and fox.  It looks over the cleared meadow that lies before the palisade, and as his companions at arms catch up, he has time to marvel at the changes visible even through the mist that hangs, clutching and cloying, thick in the air. 

Though the heavy gate remains shut and barred, great gaps have been rent in the wall itself, the timbers hewn from their places and shivered upon the blood-soaked ground.  Dead forms, he knows not whether of Men or orcs, lie here and there, rent and broken.  Within the wooden wall, devastation has engulfed the village such that the Longspear can barely recognise the charred timbers and churned earth that are the last remains of houses he once knew and gardens he has seen in splendid bloom. 

Though he cannot see them, the guttural voices of orcs carry though the mist.  Hathcyn knows the speech for that of the tribes of the Misty Mountains, and is about to say as much when Grimbeorn heaves himself up on to the rise beside him.  No desire, however, has the Wolfslayer to tarry here, so close and yet so far from the fray.  He jogs past his heorthgeneat with barely a grunt of acknowledgement. 

As Esgalwen appears behind him, the bullish roar of a troll sounds, echoed by another.  The pair exchange a wordless look, but what else is there to be done?  As Hathcyn starts down the side of the rise in pursuit of his lord, the Ranger turns to the Men who follow.  "Dangerous foes, we know not how many, lie before us!  We three shall try to fight the deadliest.  Watch our flanks, and if you see a chance to get to a doorway and make our presence known, take it!" 

She follows the two Beornings, catching them as, weapons at the ready, they arrive at the nearest gap in the palisade.  Stepping over the jagged stump of what was once a split beech trunk, Grimbeorn strikes Bear Claw against his elven shield.  "Know, crawlers in the dark, that the Men of the Vales are come!" 

His bold words are greeted by the snarls of orcs as they turn toward them with blood on their minds.

[Eclecticon]

Battle rolls for the upcoming fight (at TN 16 because the mist is obscuring a lot of details):

Esgalwen

1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 2d6 : 6, 3, total 9

Grimbeorn

1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 2, 1, total 9

Hathcyn

1d12 : 1, total 1
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 2, 6, total 14

[Eclecticon]

That's a great success for Grimbeorn (and worth a third AP if you can tie it to a Trait) and nearly great success for Esgalwen and an Extraordinary one for Hathcyn!  Either one of you want to drop a Hope point on it?

[Eclecticon]

The orcs approach slowly, a score or more looming out of the mist like terrible apparitions in mongrel mail.  As the Woodmen fan out to meet them, Grimbeorn positions himself where the foes are thickest.  Great is his bravery in doing so, for these are the tallest and hardiest among the orcs, save perhaps the black-skinned creatures that guarded the severed-head standard, bearing broad shields and heavy iron spears, and the will of the Eye works upon them, filling their hearts with a reckless hatred of all Men.


Esgalwen's has triggered a revelation episode (which I was wondering if we'd see this adventure!) granting an extra ability to the orcs for the coming fight. 

[Telcontar]

  damn. I need to pass on the Hope or I will be miserable.....

Do we still have a fellowship pool of Hope? We never really use that mechanic.

[Eclecticon]

We don't, except as a pool to regenerate Hope scores once the hard work is done.  I'm open to you using Fellowship points, though.  I'll mark you down as having used one (and snagged your third Vocation AP) ans can reverse it later tonight if you change your mind.

[GandalfOfBorg]

  If this is what you're looking for.. Hardened (being a dire and bitter foe to those whom oppose him, especially those he considers family) or Hardy (this is but the start of battle but there was much travel beforehand as well) or even Curse of Vengeance (given the siege and utter destruction made upon these folk of the Tarn)

[tomcat]

Of course I roll an

Esgalwen will pass on the spending of as it will not change the verdict. Her Heart score is only 4 and Battle is not favoured to gain her a 7.

So, unfortunately she enters the battle seeing no advantages to aid her in combat. Instead, I am going to say she fills with rage at the sight of Arbogast's home and the pain and suffering of its people.
She looked around her at the gloom and death of what had once been a beautiful home for so many Woodmen. Nimronyn was in her hand - the blade gleaming with the bane magic given it by the Elves of Rivendell. The sword's weight seemed to vanish as the anger brewed up within her breast and she raised it on high, so that her enemy could behold the weapon.

"LET THIS BE A DEATH DAY! LET SHIELDS BE RIVEN, SWORDS BE SUNDERED! LET THE SHADOW KNOW WE HAVE COME! FOR THE BLACK TARN! FOR THE VALE! FOR GONDOR!" she could not help herself the last salute, as the fires of her homeland and her people's struggle were part of her rage. "NIMRONYN!"

The Dúnadan woman raced forward into the throng of large orcs.

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn scanned the wreckage. He had seen too many steading and homes destroyed, each of them another stain upon his compassion and his even temper. These scenes no longer conquered up fear, but instead stoked the fires of his hate. A dangerous hate that burned cool and long, one that changed a person when lit too often.

"The Wolfslayer calls! We are here!"

Unable to help himself now that the final decision was at hand he blew again the ram horn of the mountains.

"CARROCK CARROCK!" Some of the goblins knew that call from the vengeance of the wedding feast, many more would learn anew that it meant death. 

[Eclecticon]

Stirring stuff, guys! 

If this is what you're looking for.. Hardened (being a dire and bitter foe to those whom oppose him, especially those he considers family) or Hardy (this is but the start of battle but there was much travel beforehand as well) or even Curse of Vengeance (given the siege and utter destruction made upon these folk of the Tarn)

I'll give it to you for Hardened or Hardy - it's not hard to make a case for either.  It's a no on Curse of Vengeance, though, 'cause Grimbeorn hasn't taken any permanent Shadow points or gained any traits from it.  Had he, you might have been able to tag one of those (though they're really meant to be detrimental). 

for both Beornings' sheets.