Travellers' Tales

[Eclecticon]

A pause for breath and to bind the still-bleeding arm of Wulfdan becomes, for the sake of the boy and crone, a pause for a midday meal and to recover somewhat from the exhaustion of a long and hard pursuit.  As broth boils to soften salted meat and stale bread, the tall stranger tells the tale of her unlikely trio. 

"Athala am I, Hanno's daughter, born to the folk of Leof in the dark years when the Necromancer ruled the Vales.  For to be a rider and a herder of horses was I raised until the day, nineteen summers ago, when orcs and Men from the great forest fell fast upon our clan.  Many they slew, my mother and father among them, and those who fell not before them they took in thralldom and traded us for coin to the Easterlings." 

At this word, the crone says something in an eastern tongue, and a brief three-way discussion ensues that ends only when the boy, his head now swollen and clearly paining him, speaks five sharp words and motions toward Athala, clearly indicating that she should continue. 

"There, in the lands beyond the Sea of Rhûn, I dwelled for many years in bondage.  My masters were cruel, but well they taught me to be a guardian.  When Prince Sanjar," she says, indicating the boy "was born, I was sworn to his protection, and to give my life for his.  Faithfully have I served him, and for this he has rewarded me with my freedom." 

Darkness clouds her face, furrowing her brows, and she frowns beneath her false beard.  "But a change has come to the east.  Servants of a new god whose sign is the lidless eye have seized power, and Sanjar's family has been slain as mine was long ago.  It was all I could do to spirit him and Nazhin, his nurse, from the palace and bring them westwards.  I had hoped to find my own people once more, for we have heard from fellow travellers that the Necromancer has been driven from his fastness in the forest and kinder folk now make their homes in the Vales." 

She glances sidelong at Wulfdan.  "Such folk we have not yet found." 


Sorry for the wait, guys.  Normal story service will now resume.

[Eclecticon]

Also, some Insight rolls are called for:

Arbogast

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

Esgalwen

1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 2d6 : 2, 6, total 8

Grimbeorn

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

Hathcyn

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

[Eclecticon]

Whoa - looks like everyone's oblivious unless Arbogast or Grimbeorn want to drop some Hope on the roll.  I'm happy to do so, but someone else might like to take the opportunity (and not have more of the GM talking to himself).

[tomcat]

Esgalwen is plagued with shit rolls and 's whenever she can get AP's.

Esgalwen sat in silence as the woman spoke, finding some kinship as a woman but also staving off bitter thoughts at the mention of Easterlings. Were these the people that invaded Gondor a millennia ago? Were they kin to the Balchoth? Either way, the ire within Esgalwen burned bright.

[Telcontar]

"There are people who are true, but much like everywhere else there are those that are less so. No place is wholly good or ill. Up and down the vale you may find folk who have taken to slavery and consorting with Goblins. These Leofrings you speak of I do not know what folk they are or those they have become. If you would journey less far the folk of the Wolfslayer are not so far, but this one here..."

He nodded towards Wulfdan.

"Would be a problem. There are also the Woodmen, though I dont believe they are accepting of thralldom usually. Further south I have not gone, but that grows closer to the Dark Tower of the wood and evil stirs there once again." 

[GandalfOfBorg]

  I'll drop a Hope here, let's learn more.

"The lands are not called Wilderland for naught.  For what my people, the Beornings know of the area, is that you have passed the safest realms of men, elves, and dwarves this side of the Misty Mountains in Dale, Mirkwood, and Erebor.  In these parts of the north still dwells the influence of goblin and orc and evil Men from the area of Gundabad, Mirkwood, and the mountains of mist.  The rest is true as Hatchcyn spoke.  Of Leofrings, I only know word and rumor of their league with those of the Shadow here in the north. My counsel would be, if you seek refuge and peace from the coming darkness, head south to my lands and take the Old Road over the mountains into Eriador.  Otherwise, anywhere else you find are eager for those both skilled in the blade or tilling."

[Eclecticon]

At the mention of a road into Eriador, Athala's gaze drops to her hands, her eyes suddenly distant.  Grimbeorn and Arbogast meet each other's gaze, making plain their mutual marking of further words left unspoken, and a desire on Athala's part not to cross the Misty Mountains. 

"If there is other business that would lead you to tarry here," the Son of Beorn adds, "then certainly those you find in the vales south of her will assist you as they may, an you speak my name and tell that you bear my favour." 

There is silence for a while, save only for the dancing of the rye stalks in the wind, before the wide-wandering Leofring woman answers.  "And how shall I satisfy myself that these folk may be trusted?  For many were the servants of the Necromancer years ago, and I am sure that not all of them were slain or driven from these lands.  He who slew my parents and took me as chattel to be sold was a Northman, just as you are.  How shall I know his kin from yours?" 

"Of his name and kindred," speaks Arbogast, "we know naught.  But this I tell you: never were those who swear by the light of the lamp, or by the moon over the Carrock, aught but foes to the Shadow, no matter that the darkness grew deep and the wolf prowled by the door." 

Athala's face remains dark, but the foreign words of Sanjar interrupt the harrowing of long-buried memories and another conversation ensues that the Companions cannot comprehend.  Finally, the Northwoman and Easterlings stand, and Sanjar and Nazhin bow most politely.  "We will go southward," Athala says, as if pronouncing a grave judgement, "and I will find a safe refuge for these two.  Thereafter, it may be that other business shall make demands of me, but my first and foremost duty will be discharged." 

She takes up spear and pack once again as her charges turn their footsore way to the path south.  "I thank you once again for the pains you have taken on our behalf, who are no kin to you and have no claim on your allegiance." 

[Telcontar]

"Follow the river south. When you come to the Carrock there is a garrison there that charges tolls. Speak the name of Grimbeorn Wolfslayer there and you will find doors opened to you. The men there are true and valiant and it is by there efforts to road is kept open. Farther south on the river the folk become less known to me. Should you pass to the woods again the people from the road south to the Black Tarn river are valiant and true.

If you seek safety dwell among the Beornings. If you seek obscurity the woodmen, if you seek to make a place in the world that is closer to danger but with an opportunity to make a new life then among the people of the Tarn you will find a ready and helpful people seeking settlers."

[Telcontar]

"And Wulfdan, if ever you are a free man again or I see you underarms your a dead man. I'll not forget or forgive your betrayal on the lake."

[tomcat]

Esgalwen watched in silence as the Northwoman led her charges away. A bitter taste still poisoned her palette.

"I fear you release serpents among your folk," she said softly.

"Eh?" grunted Grimbeorn, "Why say you this?"

The Ranger shook her head slowly, replying, "They are Easterlings. They speak the tongue of the Balchoth - raiders of Gondor and Wilderland, alike. You give them freedom and trust, but for me... that be a trust lost, and to be regained hard won."

"It is but a boy and an old woman," answered Hathcyn.

"Aye, that is what they are, but the boy is a prince - and strange to me is their presence here in the Vale." Esgalwen shook away her gloom, "What do we do with him?"

She pointed to where Wulfdan lay wounded.
Paul - I understand that you probably have some other background reasoning for the two Easterlings and the Northwoman, but I am just playing to what I believe would be Esgalwen's prejudices and resentments. If anything, my post is just fill... unless, of course, I have secretly tapped into your motives.  If so, then we will see if she was right! 

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Eh, maybe so. If there be treachery there, then I will be wrong and it is on me for that.  I weary of constant mistrust and the like of all we meet and I would rather work with a little faith in others.  If I am not wrong, we may have added a new ally.  As you know those in the East may have been in the sway of the Dark Lord, but not everyone."

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn reflected for a moment. He had never heard or known Esgalwen to speak in such a manner. Always she was foremost in offering aid, but here for the first time were a people whom her folk had history with.

Hathcyn said nothing on the matter at present but decided to keep a closer eye on his friend moving forward and mark better her mood. She had been in the wild and wandering for many years now and she spoke of leaving Dale as facts but with little emotion about it.

"Let us take these two with us north a ways to separate them by some miles and then release them back to their lands. Hopefully wiser for the effort."