A Cold Welcome

[Eclecticon]

The gate-warden cowers in Esgalwen's grip, his words a babble. 

"Let him go," Grimbeorn croaks.  "Let him go, and be away yourselves, for I'm not glad to see you here!  Some evil doom is laid on this place, and I think any who tarry too long..."  But his next words are lost in the great wailing that arises from the huddled mass of Men about the hearth, only some of which resolves into witful words. 

"NO!" 

"Keep it barred!"

"You must not!" 

"Don't open the gate!" 

Beyond the hall in the steadily easing rain, Hathcyn hears the great confusion of noise from within.  The sound also carries easily to the ears of Gwaithlim, at the door, and it would seem also to Luindîs, who he hears approaching between the still-rippling puddles.  "Such a din!" she says to him with a smirk.  It this typical when your companions meet each other?"

[tomcat]

Hearing the rancor within, Esgalwen returns her gaze to Grimbeorn - friend... brother... and she... pauses. Looking down at the threshold to the hall, she wonders if passing through will draw all to the same fate. Her eyes look back up and tears now mix with the rain, "How do I undo this, little man? How do I free them from this wicked place? You will tell me or your blood will run with the pouring rain."

Still holding the gatekeep, Esgalwen is not gentle. She jerks at his neck and forces him to look within the room beyond and her sword slides free of its scabbard.

"TELL ME NOW!"
I am giving Esgalwen 1 Shadow point for a violent threats Misdeed. If you want me to change that, Paul, whether she gets more or none at all, let me know.

But again her anger is real and I am going to now make another to see if this dude will talk. I don't think it is Persuade - I still think she is trying to Awe (intimidate) the man. I am also going to roll a Lore check (or Riddle - they are both the same skill level) to see if she can understand what is going on here.
TN -- awe 3d

1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 4, 5, total 11

TN -- riddle -or- lore 2d

1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 2d6 : 4, 5, total 9

[tomcat]

Oooo an on the Awe roll! That seems narratively correct.    Still, if it will be worth it to spend a on that, I will do it as it would be a 17 success.

The Lore/Riddle roll is a 16 success, if there is anything to gain from that one.

My character sheet is updated in Dropbox

[Telcontar]

  since this was a roll invoking a shadow point is it a bout of Madness with the  roll?

[tomcat]

since this was a roll invoking a shadow point is it a bout of Madness with the  roll?

No, unless Paul wants to do it as Loremaster. A PC needs to be in a Miserable state to have a Bout of Madness on an roll. Esgalwen is not close to being Miserable - but she is pissed and willing to force answers if needed.

Also the roll did not invoke the Shadow point - how I am playing her actions did. There is a list of actions that are called Misdeeds on page 224.

[Telcontar]

Sure looks like madness 

[Telcontar]

I'm letting the scene at the door play out before I wade in.

[Eclecticon]

The men nearest the door, and closest to Esgalwen's harsh cries, slink back from her as much as they are able, further tightening the already dense crush of men about the fire.  The gate-warder falls to his knees, eyes tightly shut, nearly limp in her grip as he wordlessly whimpers.  Even Grimbeorn's voice barely carries above the moaning of his men as he half-heartedly calls "Leave him... leave him..." 

Instead, it is Luindîs who first intervenes, placing a hand lightly on the Ranger's shoulder and saying "My friend, from the tales I heard I did not think this to be your way." 

Esgalwen releases the wretched man who crawls across the dimly-lit floor to take up a spot on the edge of the packed mass of men, his place marked only by the continuing chattering of his teeth.

[tomcat]

The ranger's shoulders slumped in resignation and Nimronyn slid the short length back into its scabbard. Esgalwen looked at Luindis, "Then what is to be done?" She pointed into the hall, "They are wretched and broken. There is something at work here greater than the spirit of these men. Is it the dim hall and village that is cursed? Is it a dweomer of some unknown foe that has ensnared them? Mayhaps an illusion to beguile us?"

She searched the Elf's face - a folk known to understand such things - to see if there was an answer or understanding in her eyes. No matter, Esgalwen moved into the hall, "I will not leave my friend in this state."

[Telcontar]

The murmur went through the camp and soon reached the ears of Hathcyn Foresthelm that Grimbeorn was here in the camp, but something was amiss. When the first relief came out he heared the tale of the foulmood in the longhouse and the dreadful state of affairs. Here was a new problem he did not expect to meet.

Marching to the longhouse he stopped at the door and from his baggage, and with the utmost care, retrieved the banner of the bear. Having no other staff at hand he quickly tied its thongs to the staff of his great spear. Then from the outside he thundered upon the door with loud blows and commanded the door to be thrown open. When it slowly and reluctantly began to swing upon the hinge he yanked it open with all his might and strode into the hall holding the banner aloft.

He addressed the hall as he did so.

"Grimbeorn Wolfslayer! I have come though you did not call me. As is my charge I have brung the banner of the Carrock. But what is this huddle before the fire? Niall Chipped-blade I see you there. Nori Dourhand I see you as well. Many of the men whose names I know here, yet I see not the courage you are known for. The banner of the Bear has gone to war with the Wolfslayer. Arise from your troubles, or speak the meaning of this despair!"

Inspire

Rolled 1d12 : 12, total 12

Rolled 3d6 : 5, 3, 2, total 10

[Telcontar]

  take that emo Grimbeorn and friends! 

[Telcontar]

Though the light of the fire was dim and pale, the wife open door cast more light into the room though the rain outside continued to fall. The slender rays enough to frame the banner man in the door and sparkle upon the silver thread of the great banner of the bear.

[GandalfOfBorg]

After awhile the elf comes up with nothing to his mind of what is going on or what to do.  This is a strange malady of despair and sloth and reckons not in his deep memory.  The only thing that he can think of to do is set throat to song the song he's started.  Warming up his voice, there is almost an oppression to this most minor act of merriment and goodness.

A beast so fair
The bruin so strong
Soot and coal the hair,
  countenance without compare.

Toil and trudge
Steps be great and long
His will dare not budge
  and honor without smudge.

All he doth confound
Warrior, a singer of song
Beorn, great lord the stories abound
  within memory's halls shall they resound!


Gwaithlim goes silent.  Not his best work as it is still in progress and translating from Sindarin into the Mannish tongue complicates both rhyme and meter. He hopes that there is some power in song and memory to spur these desperate folk.


Let's see if there is some magic to be gained in the light of the dwindling spirit.
  This dice roll has been tampered with!
Song -  1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 2, total 7

I'll use a Hope if helpful and its favored.

[GandalfOfBorg]

  LOL posting at the same time

[Eclecticon]

The words of Man and Elf, the presence of proven friends and the sight of the bear banner all combine to stir the mighty heart of Grimbeorn.  Shakily at first, like a man made weak by the burden of his years, he rises from his seat and staggers forth.  Close-packed as they are, his warriors make what little room they can for his tread as he passes above and between them, and by the time he is past the hearth his stride is once again wide and bold, his eyes gleaming as the banked fire behind them begins once again to pour forth. 

He meets Hathcyn with a crushing embrace upon the threshold of the hall.  "My loyal kinsman!  How could I have thought that you would forsake me, even at my own command!  And Esgalwen, turn your wrath upon me, for it's to my shame, not theirs, that we're trapped here like sheep in a fold!  Come," he continues, stepping forth into the wan light, "let's speak out here.  Winter's too long away for us to squat and stew in the fug of so many men.  You're here, and I'm glad of it." 

As he passes by them, Luindîs and Gwaithlim meet each others eyes and it is clear to the younger Elf that the elder has realised something...


I'm back, I'm back!  It's been altogether too long, I know, and I apologise, but I'm here now and hopefully you're all still checking the forum for updates.  Now, let's find out just how much Gwaithlim's realised with a Lore role:

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