FELLOWSHIP PHASE - 'Neath the Upraised Stone

[Eclecticon]

Yep, everything's in there.

[Telcontar]

Ok. So I have 5 hope. I have 2 from the fellowship pool, I gain 1 for my fellowship focus, Grimbeorn not being wounded, There and Back Again lets me add 1/3 my total so 4.3333. Soooo I have 11 Hope?

I think I have neglected Hope management this entire game. Anyway.

I think I am also going to take Search 2 and bank everything else.

[Eclecticon]

Tom, I make it 12 Hope by counting on my fingers.  Bear in mind that There And Back Again also gives you a permanent point of Shadow. 

Arbogast regains a point of Hope from his Fellowship Focus, and will take another from the Fellowship pool, bringing him back up to 11.   That leaves two Fellowship for Grimbeorn, plus another if he has a Fellowship Focus (it's not noted on his sheet). 

Doug, I believe Esgalwen regains a point of Hope for her Focus, as well. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

No I didn't but will next time, it would be Arbogast.  Hope is updated on the sheet.

[Telcontar]

Narrative inbound on my fellowship phase. Need to work it out

[Eclecticon]

If we're not opening any sanctuaries this time around, Arbogast will spend his Fellowship Phase guarding the Millfort (mechanically the same as guarding the Old Ford, but closer to the Fox's Tale).  Roll for the outcome of this (see Heart of the Wild, p 41) follows:

1d12 : 1, total 1

[Eclecticon]

Well that's appropriate.    His efforts generate absolutely fuck all of any use. 

[Telcontar]

Well that's appropriate.    His efforts generate absolutely fuck all of any use. 

You must have used the player roller instead of the LM roller.

[Eclecticon]

The days go by at the Fox's Tale, each one after the last, but Radaghast does not appear, and nor does any word reach the Fellowship from beast, bird or Man of when he might appear.  Arbogast, seeking to be of use and knowing that his skills are scarce in need amid the bustle and noise of the ever-expanding inn, finally removes himself to the Millfort along the Forest Road, lending his shield to the small garrison that guards the waystation and secures the road from incursions from the darker parts of Mirkwood. 

There, he keeps silent, watching and listening.  Were I the Enemy,, he thinks over and again, I would seek to know who ventured along this way that violates one of the great dark places of the world.  And so this way, surely, is watched.  But who among those who abide here, or those who make their way back and forth with wains and laden ponies, skulks forth in the dead of night to hold parley with the thralls of the Shadow? 

It is a question that he cannot answer, despite the wisdom that he has gained since his youth to read the signs upon Men's faces and the weight and tremor in their words.  He returns to the Fox's Tale with his troubles unresolved, and his heart uneasy. 

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn had returned from the north with a purpose and on the journey back, he was always in the fore hastening to return home. The battle with the nameless horror underground had inadvertently forced him into action. He desired no longer to tarry in making Aestid his wife. The battle in the deep had shown him the fragility of his life and that the passing of time was a thing that once lost did not return. Back at the Beorn's Hall he made his intentions known and she readily assented.

There was little time to plan, but as if the event were long expected and secretly planned for things began to happen quickly. Hathcyn was suspicious that perhaps his bride to be had not been as idle and disinterested as she feigned about their marriage. A rider that very day sped to the north and the hall of Viglund to invite him to the wedding of his only daughter. No response was expected, but Hathcyn insisted an overture to the northern lord should be sent. Any fear that Hathcyn had that the clan or honor of his
bride would be neglected was soon dispelled. The former slaves of the north that continued to dwell in the lands of Beorn rallied to Aestid as a
surrogate family. The free women took great pride in claiming her as their principle daughter and saw that the rituals and preparations were undertaken with all the care that a chieftain's daughter could have expected. The outpouring of affection shown by these people and the attachment that they had for Aestid was a marvel to witness and showed how respected she was. All viewed here as a more worthy daughter of a troubled and despised lord.

The Longspear rushed off to his own home, now the Fox's Tale, for his own preparations.  Men from the forest road heard the news and soon began work on the marriage platform. Before the standing stone, a small deck was quickly fashioned with rough-cut planks. Staves of wood protruded from the base allowing it to be carried or lifted and the platform decorated as if by trees to resemble the forest road the men had hacked through Mirkwood. Other men gathered food and drink from all over the area for the wedding feast. 

The day of the wedding arrived as fine as the season could expect. The crowd too was larger than the Longspear had expected. The Great Bear himself had come and so did some of the thanes including many that had been at the battle of Stonyford. Aestid appeared dressed in the decorations of custom and her totem of the mouse. She came to the stone with her head covered in a dark shawl blazoned in mice of silver thread in her hands she held an axe. The shaft of which was carved and decorated in mice and foxes, with the head painted in stripes of red and grey. The husband gift, a tool used to provide for and defend the family. She mounted the platform and stood by the side of Hathcyn before the green standing stone. The warrior wore a small shawl of fox fur over his shoulders with red and silver ribbons and bore in his hands a short sword. The pommel was wrapped in wire and the sheath was decorated in pressed zoomorphic images of foxes and nesting pups. This was a hearth sword, a wedding gift to his wife as final guardian of the home.

Grimbeorn 'the Wolfslayer' lifted her upon the platform and the two stood side by side and then turned to face the gathered people. The Speaker said the sacred words before the couple and the crowd. They exchanged the weapons they carried for each other. Then the shawl taken from Aestid's head revealed her brushed and unbound hair while the garment was folded and placed in her belt. Next, the ribbons were untied from Hathcyn's fur and worked into her long dark hair as it was braided into the braids of a married woman. Finally, the fox pelt placed upon her shoulders, the symbol of her adoption into the Clan of the Fox. Stout men appeared, the Firewatcher and Harhold among them, and they lifted the platform by the
poles. Once, twice, three times they lifted the couple to the cheers of the people. The last time with greater exuberance than the second causing a yelp from Aestid as she fell laughing against Hathcyn and she looked at him smiling for the first time as his wife. Hope sparked in the heart of the warrior; he had gone there and back again.

[GandalfOfBorg]

[Grimbeorn's narrative to come]

[tomcat]

Esgalwen watched the marriage of Hathcyn and Aestid with hidden discomfort, but a feigned smile broad across her face.

She was happy for Hathcyn and his new bride. There was no denying that fact, but once more a companion of hers had taken the next step in life. A formal courting, a proposal, and a marriage. So would Hathcyn begin a family and they would soon be blessed, fates willing, with young children. They would continue on the blood lines of their clans and by doing so, make them stronger.

The married couple smiled at each other in their celebration and it was wonderful to behold, but Esgalwen only participated so much in the customs. These, too, were not hers and though she had spent many days with these folk, it was their ways. She looked to Grimbeorn - even he would be settling soon, as was the wont and need of his position. As the future leader of the Carrock, it would be on him to settle and rule.

Where did all of this leave her? Yes, the blood that ran in her veins promised her a long lifespan - greater than those of the common men around her, but she was far from home. And yes, she could step out of the customs of her people and maybe seek a relationship here, among the folk of the Vale, but how did that extend the blood of the Dunédain? It did not - and it was upon her to see that the blood of her people be continued. Long was it that Númenor sank beneath the sea and the lines of the Men of the West were shortening.

The ache in her ribs became present in her thoughts and she mentally counted the scars that now traced her body. It was not often the place of a woman to be the warrior - and she wondered how much more her body could take before there could be no future for her family.

Suddenly Esgalwen's gloom was interrupted, as a series of young wedding guests - both men and women - grabbed at her wrists and drew her into a circular dance that was common among the clans. It went one direction and then the other, with a clap of hands and a stomp of feet, before changing again. Everyone was laughing and enjoying the ceremony and the Dúnadan woman could not help but to be caught up in the reverie. She was glad for it and so left the gloom in her heart behind - at least for now.

Days passed after the wedding and each of her companions went in their own respective directions. Arbogast, whom she believed would head back to the Tarn, surprised her with word that he would be going to the Millfort for a time. "The road does not defend itself," he had added with a smile, as he began his march alongside ten other able men.

Hathcyn was busy with his new bride and Grimbeorn was gone - back to his father's house. Esgalwen wondered at how much longer the young atheling would journey beyond his own territory. And so, with the summer just waxing, the Ranger took to her horse and went west to journey down the Anduin River for a while. It was the river that ran through the heart of her country and it soothed her - it made her feel more at home. Along the river grew many of the rare plants and rich herbs that were needed for medicines and other poultices that might aid them in their many journeys. It was not a critical chore, as many of the folk living near the river collected these things, but it gave her something to do.

She did not spend just a day along the river, nor a week, but tarried there for a while. Camping under the stars that wheeled across the sky, disappearing behind the Misty Mountains further west. She sat beside the river, listening to the frogs and insects, and watched as the fauna of this region made its way to the water to drink and bathe.

After her time spent and herbs collected, Esgalwen waited a bit longer until a herd of wild pigs that frequented the banks made its way there once more. With her bow, she made a few clean shots into one of the larger boars, piercing it quickly and causing the others to scatter. The animal ran a while, trying to save itself, but the arrows had done their job. It soon fell from exhaustion and blood loss, and the Ranger then prepped it for travel.

She had been gone a few weeks and her mind and soul had found some peace, but she was certain she would be welcomed back with more heart with the large boar across the hind end of her horse!

[tomcat]

Hey Paul, I am using the Collect Marsh Herbs from the Laketown book (page 12). It says you just roll on the table to see what you find, but I thought I would add a little bit to this by making an Explore Roll and then if successful, I get to roll on the herb table for the undertaking, plus an additional roll for a or two additional rolls on a success.

This kind of seems more in line with her narrative and spending the weeks exploring along the river. If you do not agree, feel free to change it as you please.

Here is my Explore roll...
TN 14 explore 3d

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

[tomcat]

And instead - the boar gores her and she bleeds out along the river's edge!

Freaking another !

Paul, feel free to adjust my narrative based on the roll, or call the roll a failure which limits me to just ONE roll on the herb table, or whatever you like. I will wait to see.

[Eclecticon]

Hey, Doug.  I think a better way of reading it is that, in the absence of anyone else prompting her to rise and venture forth, she spends long days just idling by the river and letting her thoughts turn over as they will.  It's pleasant, but it does limit her to a single roll on the table.