A Cold Welcome

[Eclecticon]

i'd get involved here but I am currently the rear guard.

Thus the perils of not being an active GM for a week!  I'd forgotten that I intended to have Hathcyn's Awe roll count (as a Great success, no less).  I've altered the post above accordingly. 

[Telcontar]

  ok Doug or Matt, stiffen up the sinews, conjure up the blood, disguise fair nature and get the damn door open!

On, on, you noble adventurers.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Gwaithlim, dogged and weary at the night and circumstances, makes his way to Esgalwen finally.  He overhears the what has been said and is aghast at the nonsense.  "We come not over leagues to this place as thieves or murderers in the night!  Open these doors for the hounds of the Enemy are at our heels and you bar our way to our safety and your protection.  If we are to leave then it be your hide too lost," cries the elf.

 
 

Awe -  1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 2d6 : 3, 6, total 9

[tomcat]

Esgalwen regained her composure after the Elf's clarion voice rang out in the night. Yes, the gates needed to be opened and there was little time.

"Open the gates and our numbers can join with your own and so stave off this enemy pursuit! Please, they come."

The Dúnadan resorted to persuasion over blatant demand... time was growing short.
TN 14 persuade 3d

1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 5, 5, total 12

[tomcat]

It is not pretty but that is a 21 success.

[Eclecticon]

Mighty indeed are the voices of the Eldar raised in wrath, and the words of Gwaithlim ring like the booming of a bell, sending the very raindrops scattering away.  On the very edge of visibility, and with great cries of fear and pain, the wargs and their orcish riders draw away, though how far, and for how long, no Man knows.  Esgalwen speaks after a moment of silence, and from the other side of the gate comes the sound of frantic activity as the gate-keeper fumbles with the bar.  "Oh of course, my lady!  Of course, my lord!  Oh, I pray you visit not your ire upon us!" 

A wretched creature it is who at last opens the gate, craven and ashen-faced with fear, and as soaked to the skin as those who have given battle to the enemy without.  The eyes of none, Man or Elf, does he meet as the Fellowship of the Helm and their surviving followers at last enter Ferthald's steading. 


An incredible roll from Matt (activating Gwaithlim's Skill of the Eldar for an unnatural Extraordinary success) and a solid follow-up from Doug have put you over the line. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

The proud elf curses himself and his heart softens when he sees the one who lets them in.  "Indeed I am sorry for the bellow and bluster, sir.  You take on peril of your own accord by letting us in, I know."  He heaves a great sigh.  "We are no doubt in your debt."  Gwaithlim returns to the rearward and ensures all make it in and none left out in the cold that can make it.

[Telcontar]

Once the last of the men were gathered in and all accounted for the Longspear issued orders.

"Folk of the Carrock, I have asked much of you today, but must ask more still. We must keep watch and remain ready to take arms. We are behind a wall, but not free from harm. We shall pair off and take turns watching at points about the wall. The first shall have the hardest watch so theirs shall be the shortest."

He pointed to several points about the stockade to place pairs of warriors and then assigned the first weary watchers.

"The rest of you see to your wounds and your fatigue but stay close to your arms. And see if the two riders we sent foward may be found or accounted for."


He moved then to the gatewarden.

"I am the ForestHelm Thane of the Greenstone. We shall overlook at the tine why you bared the gate against the folk of Grimbeorn in exchange for any news you have to tell."

He removed his helm and the auburn locks drenched with sweat and the rain steamed as the heat of the battle left him and he once again resembled a men of the vale and not akin to some ancient warrior.

[Eclecticon]

His voice low and sullen, the warder of the gate meets not Hathcyn's stern gaze but keeps his eyes downcast, mumbling into his beard.  "No news, sir," he says.  "The western thegns have brought their warriors, and the Young Bear arrived, and now you are here, but none have left these walls since first they came." 

While the two speak, those men chosen by the Longspear go grumbling to their posts behind the wall.  Some, heeding his further command, go in search of the two horsemen sent ahead, but no sign of them can be found.  The stables shelter one or two fine mounts, by the nearby tack and harness clearly those of proud thegns of the vales, and beyond them merely a few nags fit only for the plough. 

Beneath the gables of the hall, Elf and Ranger confer, for once again the door is barred before them.  Pounding on it with the butt of her sword, and shouting to make herself heard over the weirdly echoing drumming of rain in the nearby well, Esgalwen calls to those within.  "Open!  Open, for we come as great friends of the chieftain of Beorn's folk!  If you hear me within, open this door to those who bear the same helm-badge as he, for we are chill and soaked!  Open!" 

Perhaps having already heard the horn-blast and the commanding voice of Gwaithlim, or perhaps reckoning that any announcing themselves in the speech of Men are unlikely to be foes, the door is this time opened without further challenge, the thud of the heavy bar on a floor of stone clearly heard above the downpour. 

A smile upon her face, Esgalwen steps within.

[Eclecticon]

I'm just setting up some scene-setting music...

[Eclecticon]

At first, she is merely puzzled by what she sees, for within is not the firelight and warmth that she had though to find.  Instead, the hall of Ferthald is dark as a winter's night, the only light that of the broad hearth which burns fitfully in the damp air.  Here and there, the gleam of metal marks the presence of piles of spears, shields, helms and tools of battle piled up without order.  Between these, knots of men huddle as close to the fire as they can press themselves, such that there is barely room to tread between them.  Wrapped in cloaks and blankets they sit, each man's gaze turned to the new arrivals but not a word spoken. 

Not until she sees the form of Grimbeorn slumped upon the high seat does her puzzlement turn to a gripping, nameless dread, for here is not the boon companion who alongside her slew the Werewolf of Mirkwood and gave battle to the wraith-lord beneath Lake-Town.  Here is not the mighty son of Beorn who breached the wall at Stánford, nor he who tirelessly bore Bandobras in pursuit of the slave-takers of Gundabad.  Here is a man in the grips of despair, sunken his eyes with weariness, lank his hair, shaking his hand as he raises it in a gesture of pitiful welcome. 

"You!" he says, recognising at least a familiar face.  "I don't think you should have come!"   

[tomcat]

This is awesome! I have to spend a bit of time today to think up Esgalwen's reaction.

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn had not yet entered the hall to see the sorry state of affairs. After speaking with the gate warden he had placed his helm back upon his head and walked the circuit of the wall. He was uncertain how the men within expected the wooden wall to guard them if they did not at least keep a watch. He also knew that it was a hard thing to ask the weary and the defeated to stand watch in the rain. So he made the rounds to see his orders were carried out and to provide example to the men.

[tomcat]

Esgalwen is aghast, "WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?"

Her cry is loud in the night, even in the rain, and she turns on the warder of the gate, "What evil has befallen here? Tell me now!"

The Ranger's hand goes once more the hilt of her sword, though she does not yet draw the blade. Her other hand grabs the collar of the warder, roughly, as she commands his answer.
TN -- awe 3d

1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 3, 2, total 9

[tomcat]

Well it looks like a success, but there are no bells or whistles.

I also am assuming the gate ward accompanied us to the main hall. If I am wrong, let me know Paul and I will retcon all of this.