Lair of the Weaver: Hathcyn

[Eclecticon]

Even in the barely-there light of a Mirkwood sunset, the entrance to Tylquin's lair seems to shimmer, its edges ghost-like.  As the Fellowship comes near, they see that the surrounding stones are covered in the most delicate, intricate webs they have ever seen, spun with the same black spider-thread that they followed to find this place, yet barely so near akin to them as gossamer is to rope.  Within the threshold, the webs converge and spread in macabre traceries and beautifully grotesque frets that call to mind nothing so much as the tapestries that hang in the Elvenking's hall beneath the hills, if ever the elves tried their hand at something so dreary and cheerless. 

Cautiously, the companions follow the russet light of Radagast, who leads them along a rough natural passage that curves sharply to the left.  Taking heed of the Wizard's caution and care, they go slowly, minding each overhang and outcropping lest some trick of the Weaver lie in wait for them.  Greatest is Tylquin among the sorcerors of the spiders, however, and subtle beyond the ken of Men her works.  Hathcyn barely feels the thread that brushes against his arm... 

... And he is elsewhere, in the hall of Fystenheorth, his spear a shaft of pure and bright flame as he leaps from one rafter to the next, setting fire to the thatch of the roof.  Behind him, Aestid clings to the roof-timbers, eyes wide, grin broad with love and lust, dark hair already seeming to vanish into the smoke about her.  Beneath him, Men bellow in frustration as they cast their spears high and strong at him, but he is fleet and agile as ever a fox was or will be, and scornful is his laugh.  Aestid joins him, whooping with savage joy as he seizes a spear and casts it back down towards the angry throng.  Not by them, or by any hand of Man, will he be struck down! 

"Burn them!" calls the Longspear's wife.  "Burn them and your line and mine shall spring anew from the ashes!" 

[Telcontar]

The smoke was like perfume and the wailing of the people a fitting music to their righteous punishment. Ruin and death at the hands of an avenging god and his handmaiden for crimes against his folk and the world of men. The message was clear, those who side with orcs against men would pay the price of axe and spear.

Hathcyn cried out to the heavens and laughed. With great skill he caught the missiles they threw at him and sent them back upon them dealing death at will. Fire brands were at his command with the other and he hurled at will flaming missiles that turned end over end to catch the buildings on fire.

He felt the warm body of Aestid pressed against him, ecstatic in the retribution. "Slay them Hathcyn King, slay them all." She whispered into his ear and he felt her breath against the sensitive skin of his neck by his ears. Her voice like a caress of its own.

"There is another one mighty king, slay him!"

Hathcyn turned and saw the drunken Aetheling of the Viglundings and he had him
In his sight, his arm cocked.

Hathcyn closed his eyes and murmured.
"This is a feeble trick spider. I gave my oath not to slay this man. You think to ensnare me in such a feeble web!?"

Hathcyn saw his companions around him again and drawing his blade he cut the strands of web that hung like ribbons from his back and neck and collar.

He saw the ranger similarly bound and struggling and when he looked at her she too seemed to come to her senses. Her lithe form struggled and burst the bonds of the web.

She lunged forward and fell into his arms. Her eyes looked up at him and she kissed him. He heard her warm breath upon his neck. "This place is so terrible, and I have watched you long and in all our time you never kissed me. Let us leave this place."

"No Gwen. Beware the spider and the webs, your head will clear and I will guide you." He took her by the hand and looked for the others. Where had they gone? They were right here a moment ago.

Hathcyn stumbled leading the Ranger of Gondor by the hand who seemed to be lost in a dream. While he scanned the area for the other two she followed where he lead.

He found Arbogast first sitting on a decayed and ancient stump.

"What is this? Abrogast, where is your axe, why are you sitting here?"

"I am finished. I have no wish to go on and am tired of the devilry of these spiders. The Tarn is not worth this fight."

"Firewatcher, your wife and daughters..."

"They can find another more suitable husband and father. I have not the will to go on. Grimbeorn left me here, you should too."

He reached and grabbed the other hand of the Ranger of Gondor and pulled her beside him.

"We will remain here, you are stronger and the spider will have us if we press on. Grimbeorn is before you, hurry to his aid in this state we are both more danger to you."

Hathcyn saw the work of the spider upon them, but the words spoke truth. They would be little help in a fight. The task was left to the Beornings. The Firewatcher reached up and touched him. His warm hand rested against the side of his neck.
"You must be the champion of the free folk Hathcyn, go with the blessing of the woodmen."

The spider was picking off his companions one by one, but he knew his will was stronger than theirs. The dream of his wife and fire was so pathetic an attempt he wondered at how weak his friends had been and what dreams had beguiled them.

The Firewatcher was right in one thing. The Beornings would see it through.

Pressing on he found the Wolfslayer. Before him was a bloated fat spider and they parlayed with each other.

"Hathcyn, you are slow in coming, but it is decided."

"What Lord, what is this? We must slay the beast."

"No, I dont trust deals with spiders, but she knows the Wolfslayer would lay her low. She has agreed to release the river daughter."

Hathcyn gripped his spear and leveled it.

"I said enough. This beast and its simple tricks have no power over us, we who are one with the beasts. This ancient beast sees the folly of a struggle and out might purchases the lives of our friends and the river daughter."

The Wolfslayer strode before Hathcyn. "My eyes are clear Hathcyn, but your ears are blocked."

He leaned in and he felt his warm breath against his skin. "You will obey me."

[Eclecticon]

Brilliant stuff.  Go ahead and roll Insight. 

[Telcontar]

The blow from Grimbeorn forced his bannerman to take a step back.

"I said we were finished."

Hathcyn felt himself struggling. Then the smallest of feelings grew into knowledge. Something was not right here as well.

Hathcyn's body shook and then as if harnessing his will he closed his eyes.

When he opened them he felt webs around him and Grimbeorn was shaking him.

"Come Hathcyn, the battle is joined."

Coming to his senses and now free he saw that battle was truly joined. The axes and sword of his friends was biting into th le bloated body of the beast. The ichor and blood flowed.

The Longspear leveled his spear and went to work.

The battle was long, but soon the spider lay dead. Though the companions bore many wounds.

The return journey was tedious and the progress was slow. The wounds they suffered had delayed them considerably.

In time home and then Aestid were in sight. And they were together again.

The morning sun hung high in the sky, but Hathcyn still lay in bed. Wrapped in his wife he felt the desire to ever leave again fly from him. He desired with all his heart that this moment would never pass and he would remain here.

He felt her warm breath against his neck, "stay here with me love, concern yourself no more with spiders. Remain here in my embrace forever."

[Telcontar]

  I was trying to go with a layered Inception like approach to this. A layering of deceptions each more believable then the last until the hook was set and the prey confident they had escaped.

Insight

Rolled 3d6 : 5, 3, 3, total 11

Rolled 1d12 : 12, total 12

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn took a large intake of breath in order to sigh and melt into his wife beside him. He paused before he left the air out.

Where was the Wizard, he thought. He had no memory of him.

He had no memory of the return journey either. As a child his father had taught him about dreams.

"Hathcyn, the night has no power." His father said once upon a time. "If the night tries to fool you ask a simple question. Do you remember how you got here? If you cant recall, it is but a dream and has no power."

He couldnt remember the return, or the Wizard. He felt his wife grow restless beside him.

"Think not of tomorrow love."

"I'd stay here forever with you, since all three of us have returned safe and sound. No further adventure do I seek."

His wife calmed beside him. "Sleep love, stay with me."

Except four had walked into the wood, not three. He tried to recall one moment of the return. One tree or branch, one instance in which the Firewatcher had burned the food, or one time Esgalwen had taken on more than her share, her compulsion to out do the men she traveled with.

He could recall nothing.

He knew now that the Spider had attempted to entrap him and knowing the trap he could now escape.

He had learned something by the trap. Something the Spider had not known and could perhaps aid the companions. The Spider could not see the Wizard. He walked in her webs as a blind spot unseen and unnoticed, through magic or his nature he passed invisible to her snares. 

He was back in the real world, his companions around him in the mirk and treading among the webs.

He whispered to his companions. "She is blind to the wizard. In her slumber she knows we are here, but Radagast you walk unseen by her."