Death and the Maiden

[tomcat]

Weariness and discomfort made anger rise in Esgalwen, "Dare not threaten me, Fire-watcher, as you will find an opponent in kind! Was this your purpose? Was this why we struggled so many days in the dreary depths of Mirkwood? Your vengeance? You strike friends and threaten one whom we saved, who most likely was sundered by darkness herself! Was it Duskwater's will to take your daughter, or was there some greater Shadow that has always set us against one another? That strives to keep us separated and weak. Men distrust Men! Men distrust Elves, as Elves do in kind. Dwarves close themselves deep within their stone houses and care not of the folk that dwell above, interested only in their gold and jewels..."

It was then that Hathcyn began to sing. It started as a low hum under his breath, and grew into one of the many ballads of Men. Meant to inspire and bring folks together, Esgalwen could not do anything but look from Arbogast to her other companion and the wrath within her bled away.
You were fine, Paul. I liked it.

The above narrative is actually based on her failure - instead of being warm and helpful, the woman's hand has gone to hilt and her words bite.

[Telcontar]

  matt or Doug, either of you want to make another attempt? I dont want to hog the scene here.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Grimbeorn intercedes slowly between the others and Arbogast, approaching his friend with no weapon in hand.  He produces a trinket that his friend's children had given him sometime ago during the festival for they treated him more of a big brother than an adult.  He held it out to show.

"Brother, look at this... take it if you need, and remember!" he commands.  "Of all the tragedies that have befallen us, your loss is of the most tragic.  Though we are not kin in blood, we are in heart, and feel the pain keenly even if less than you.  But this undertaking was your plan and we followed your lead such that you could heal not just yourself but your lands and your people as well.  Let us complete your quest and in it may you find a bit of peace and justice helping to cleanse the Shadow from the creature's spirit."

 

Awe -  1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 5d6 : 2, 5, 6, 1, 3, total 17

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast looks at the trinket, tiny in his friend's broad palm.  Peculiar it is, formed of feathers, wax and grass, the detritus of a summer field and the boundless enthusiasm of a small child.  Confronted with all that which he has sought to defend, and all those whom he came so close to betraying, he axe falls from his hand as the tears overcome him completely.  In the mud of the lakeshore he kneels, lost to wracking sobs, a man undone. 

Hathcyn, ever watchful for peril, discreetly takes the Warden's Axe as Grimbeorn, with a gentleness that would surprise those who do not know him well, takes the Fire-watcher's hand and presses the trinket into it.  Esgalwen, meanwhile, once again attends to Radagast, her fingers finding blood on the back of his head but, beside an already-swelling bump, little lasting damage beneath the Wizard's thick hair.  The Brown Wizard stirs with a groan, sitting up slowly at first but starting in panic when he discovers his hands to be empty.  Reminded of Duskwater and her ball, he and the Ranger look about them only to find that both are gone.  Heedless of the cold water soaking into his robe, Radagast throws himself full-length upon the lakeshore, his hand splashing in the shallows.  All watch, breath caught in their teeth, as he shuts his eyes. 

Then, as his eyes open once more, he breaks into a broad and exhausted smile.  "My friends," he begins, but anything further he might have said is drowned out by a great whooping cheer from Hathcyn and a bellow of triumph from Grimbeorn, for his meaning is plain.  The Fellowship of the Helm has dared the realm of darkness that is the fastness of the great spiders and has survived, and through these impossible efforts has Duskwater been made whole once more.