Beneath Black Boughs

[tomcat]

I keep an Esgalwen sheet resident on my PC - and I have her at 13 fatigue right now.

I will update the Dropbox sheet as needed.

[Eclecticon]

The miles multiply before and behind the company, and as the malice of the trees presses ever inward the light of the Brown Wizard has grown dimmer, and dimmer again.  Their stores of waybread and smoked meat are just as noticeably lighter, and what is left is tough and hard, with little water remaining to soften it.  Stomachs moan and growl, and each step becomes ever so slightly harder to take than the one before. 

Then, from the gloom ahead comes the unmistakable sound of battle, though not that of the Free Peoples.  "Goblins," the Longspear hisses, "and spiders besides." 

Arbogast, his eyes heavy beneath his helm, nods slight agreement.  "Each is food for the other, when the opportunity arises." 

Esgalwen, gives a sidelong glance toward Radagast who continues his incessant mumbling, barely acknowledging that the companions have halted.  He looks, if anything, more dishevelled than usual, his robe torn and his long brown beard a mass of twigs and tangles.  "Can we venture around them?" she asks, misliking the thought of battle this deep in the wood. 

"The spiders range far," Grimbeorn answers, shaking his head.  "If we are to avoid them completely, we will need to go miles from our path.  I need not tell you of the days that may add to our journey." 

"Then either we creep unnoticed beneath their very noses..." the Ranger begins. 

"Or we fight our way through," the Son of Beorn finishes for her, his knuckles tightening around the edge of his shield. 


I've updated all the online character sheets with the additional Fatigue from the last event (yes, Doug, I've noted your own record-keeping, but as long as I'm doing it for everyone already...).  This one's a little more complicated, though, so I'll save that until after it's resolved. 

[tomcat]

A thought grew in the Ranger's mind, "Or perhaps we aid the spiders?"

It came out as a whisper, but still apparent to all based on the looks they gave her. Esgalwen shrugged, "If we go to make an appeal to the parliament of spiders, would it not aid our task by helping them?"

Her face showed a disgust of its own at the thought, but she shrugged again at her own question and wondered at the others' minds.

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn scowled, but said nothing.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn won't weigh in on this, keeping his dour countenance.  "They are best at killing each other off with no mind to us," he thinks.

[tomcat]

Esgalwen heard no response to her inquiry and let the matter be. She drew tighter to the tree behind which she hid, and watched as goblin and spider battled.

She shook her head and whispered once more, "With enemies such as these, our task is made easier by their efforts. Let them destroy each other."

The woman had no idea that she mirrored her Beorning friend's own thoughts.

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn sat in silence crouched in the mirk. He heard the sound of battle and wondered again at the wisdom of asking the spiders for aid. This was the strangest of tasks they had yet been on.

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast, ever willing to wait   nods approvingly, and thus the matter is decided.  As silently as possible, the companions settle to rest and wait.  It does not seem long thereafter when the clangour of spiders and goblins falls silent, and the only sound is that of many legs busily enfolding what were once creeping, stalking goblins in silken shrouds. 

Without warning, Radagast stands, his radiance shrinking almost to naught as he does so.  He ceases his muttering long enough to say "The line of an elf-built wall of elder days goes not far from here, and though the wall is long fallen, the trees have not grown over it, for there are those among them still that recall the glory of the Firstborn."  The Fire-watcher stands too, ready to be first along the trail.  As the surviving spiders prepare to feast upon their new prey (and perhaps upon their own fallen) the Fellowship begins its passage past them, the need for silence and concealment too obvious to need speaking. 


The TN for the Stealth roll is only 14 – the spiders are preoccupied with their meals – but any failure will need some compensatory strategy (and a roll) to reassure them enough that they don't investigate a strange noise...

Arbogast

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

Esgalwen

1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 5, 5, total 15

Grimbeorn

1d12 : 5, total 5

Hathcyn

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

[Eclecticon]

That's a success for Esgalwen, and Arbogast will drop a Hope point to make his successful as well.  ()  We have two failed rolls, though, and Hope isn't going to cut it for either of you.  Tom and Matt, you each have an opportunity to make some other sort of roll to encourage the spiders not to investigate.  Otherwise, this will turn nasty. 

[Eclecticon]

The Brown Wizard passes through the depths of the forest like a waft of vapour, even his light seeming to be a natural thing, no more to be commented on than the shifting, dappled illumination in the fairer portions of the wood.  Esgalwen, her habits and reflexes sharpened by years of experience on patrol in Ithilien, follows scarcely more noticeably.  Arbogast, his mouth a rictus of intense fixation, follows in her footsteps. 

The tread of Grimbeorn and his standard-bearer, though, is heavy and the sound of their passing through the thick mulch can scarce be mistaken.  The sounds of activity from the spiders cease, and the dark, silent world beneath the boughs is suddenly suffused with an unbearable tension as all present strain to mark the slightest stirring.   

[Telcontar]

  Looking at my character sheet... is my current fatigue over my weary threshold?

Also looking at skills I can reasonably use here. My stat sucks but riddle seems the best one to conceal intention.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn, knowing his foe well, does what he can to pick his way through the wood in effort to mask his movement or not draw attention to the nearby eight-legged wretches.

 
He has Enemy-lore (Spiders) and uses Athletics to finesse his way through the forest to minimize drawing attention via their senses.

Athletics - 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 3, 6, total 13

[Telcontar]

Good idea. Can I tap my distinctive feature wary to get through it?

[Eclecticon]

I'm fine with that. 

[Eclecticon]

Well-knowing that the attercops' first instinct will be to climb the trees and seek to ambush prey from above, leaps high enough to grasp a branch, deeply gnarled and slick with ancient moss.  Though the bough be heavy, Grimbeorn's size is enough to set it aquiver, and the trees of Mirkwood are so tangled with each other in this place that its stirring sets many others to shaking as well.  As he lands, a hissing comes from the spiders, amidst which the Wolfslayer will later swear was speech like that of Men: "One of the greeeaaat onesssss!  Hide!  Be ssssscarcccce!" 

As the surviving spiders scuttle into hidden holes and crevices, Grimbeorn, fleet of foot, uses their distraction to cover the sound of his running for cover.  Hathcyn follows behind, easily keeping pace while keeping a wary ear out for pursuit. 

If any foe seeks to follow them, though, they are more skillful than he, for no sign nor sound of eight-legged enemies does he mark for the remainder of the day.  So it is that the endless march through the shrouded miles continues.