Unwelcome aid

[Eclecticon]

Though she knows of the task before then, Luindîs cannot, at first, bring herself to break the spell that clearly lies over the enraptured Beorning thegn, and so gleefully watches the passionate kids betwixt Man and river-spirit.  Here is beginning a tale that will live in song for a thousand years!  But will it end in joy and dancing, or in tears?

Gwaithlim, concerned less with the gathering of tales, waits a goodly while before tapping the hand of Sunshadow where it lies upon his companion's shoulder and forcefully clearing his throat.  "If you would, lady, have you any news of our Gondorian friend?"

Breaking her embrace with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, the River-maiden shifts her gaze at last to the lordly Elf.  "Naught do I know of Gondorians, Firstborn, but already this day I have seen another boat abroad on my river.  Heavily laden it was with Men, and ill-mannered ones!" 

Looking once again at Hathcyn, she adds "No favour such as yours did they spare for me!"

"Oh no, no more of that!" Luindîs splashes a handful of water on the already-damp Longspear.  "Did they make landfall? Or are we to pursue them to the sea itself?"

Sunshadow, harrumphing almost below hearing, crosses her arms over her bosom.  "Well yes, if you must know, they did.  For a promise to return when you are less... pressed, I shall show you where."

[Telcontar]

The boat continued to float downriver, but the Beorning did not mark its passage. His hand idly caressed the surface of the water absently in tender touch.

The Longspear drank in her beauty like a traveler long bereft of water finally finding a source to slack their thirst.

"They shall pay due deference to the lady of the water. Who's tresses match the highlights of the coming dawn, who's rippling hair matches the currents of this noble water, who's affections would melt the hardest of hearts, who's eyes match the myriad colors of the moon rising over rippling water, and who's kiss would be held the highest treasure for the most arduous of labors."

"Who has mistreated you lady and where are they? I shall teach them better manners who dare strike the surface of your waters with rude and ill-mannered strokes. They shall find your honor guarded with steel."

[GandalfOfBorg]

With a good rap of the boat's pole atop the Beorning's head, Gwaithlim then turned his attention to steadying the boat.  "Wake up, we haven't time for this.  The moon doth dazzle the eyes while the stark presence of the sun's reality is about us."

[Eclecticon]

At the Beorning's abrupt change of expression, Sunshadow laughs, a sound like the peal of a waterfall.  "Oh, poor man, so busy with your work of war and feud!  I will show you where the rude ones left my river, and perhaps you and I shall find a later time to renew our dalliance."

With that, she vanishes into the dark green water and is gone, but the little boat is at once seized by a strong current that bears it surely and swiftly some miles downstream, to where the flow of the river has carved a hollow in the western bank.  There, another boat sits empty upon the shore, footprints marking the mud about it.


We're back!  Sorry as usual for letting the game lag. Doug, my plan to have all this happen while you were away lies in tatters, so please feel free to play Luindîs for the duration.

Let me know what you want to do from here.  The obvious thing is to follow the tracks into the woods (which will need someone to pass A Hunting roll).  But you might also like to look at the prints here (Riddle to learn anything) or something else I haven't thought of. 

[Telcontar]

  sounds like Hathcyn has a faerie date.

I'm rubbish at Riddle, but the Hunting I can swing.

Thoughts from the others?

[Eclecticon]

It doesn't look like anyone else is going to weigh in, so let's go with some Hunting rolls:

Gwaithlim
This dice roll has been tampered with!
00 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 2d6 : 4, 3, total 7

Hathcyn
This dice roll has been tampered with!
00 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 5, 5, total 12

Luindîs
This dice roll has been tampered with!
00 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 5, total 10

[Eclecticon]

Though their quarry has taken pains to conceal their passage, the branches and molder of Mirkwood nonetheless have a tale to tell for those with the eyes to read it.  Working together, the three companions follow the trail westward from the river little by little, finding a broken twig here, mud from a footfall on a root there. 

Before they even catch sight of the small woodland steading to which the trail leads, they smell the smoke and the faint scent of bacon.  Then, rounding a rooty ridge, they see it.  Here, the trees are thinner and the sun shines in under the boughs from where trees have been felled to open cropland.  A hut has been built of stones filled in with earth, dug into a small ridge, and smoke rises from a hole in the thatch.  Clearly, someone is at home.

[Telcontar]

"I'm in more of a rush in and stab everyone mood. Would either of you prefer a less direct approach, or would care to see what may be spied out?"

[GandalfOfBorg]

"Stay here and regain your wits.  The river daughter's hold on you remains.  Luindis, look after him, I will return shortly."  Gwaithlim slips away into the shadows and shades of green of the wood to find out more of this place and its inhabitants.

 

Stealth - 1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 3d6 : 1, 3, 4, total 8

[GandalfOfBorg]

  Use Hope if necessary

[Telcontar]

Ooc: Doug, feel free to jump in as Lundis while we await our esteemed Loremaster.

"We'll teach these ruffians to ill treat the lady of the river. Their war gear shall be offered to her. Their arms shall sink to the mud of the bottom and there rest as toll to her whom they have insulted."

"Did you see her Lundis? I have never beheld such a beauty in the woods. Ever in the wood have I been assailed. By yrch, by spider, by fell wight, each in their time have tried to slay me. Never though have I beheld such a creature. Her hair like the breaking of the dawn and the setting of the sun, her eyes deeper than any pool of water. Her laugh sounded like the running of water over stones at the birth of Arda. Not even the fathers of the fathers of elves have heard the sound so pure."

The elf looked at the man, clearly still influenced by the encounter.

"Hathcyn Fish-kisser."

He looked at her, "you are an elf, your wisdom and knowledge far surpass my rude understanding. Who is Ulmo? And who would he be that he would have such daughters as Dusk Shadow? There are no tales or songs of men that describe her kiss. If there are I do not know them. Shall we return to the river?  For if it is a dream I would slumber year upon year, though the lives of men are short." 

[Eclecticon]

As Luindîs rolls her eyes (fighting down a grin as she does so) Gwaithilm works his way around the edge of the clearing slipping from cover to cover, now behind the trunk of a great tree, now hidden in the shadow of a stone, now peering through the leaves of a thick bush.  Ever his eyes are on the farmhouse, where two Men, both clearly armed and bearing the red circle of Mogdred's hearth-men, loiter.  In the distance, he spies a sunlit field in which half a dozen men and women pull at weeds, none seeming to bear any arms beyond the knives that, it seems to him, all Men carry with them at all times. 

Perhaps it is this attention to distant things that explains his shock when a misplaced footstep startles a clutch of pheasants from their roosting spot.  The birds burst forth from the underbrush with a great whirring of wings and a chorus of kok-kok-kok! calls, and Gwaithlim's heart leaps into his mouth.  He flattens himself against the forest floor, its loamy scent filling his nostrils as he fights the sudden desire to burrow like a worm into the leaf litter.  The eyes of the guards, however, are drawn to the birds as they find new roosts in the lower boughs, one laughing at some unheard jest of the other and neither one rising from their seat by the farmhouse door.  Long days of boredom, it seems, has made them heedless of the perils that might befall them even in this safer part of Mirkwood. 

After many long seconds, the Elf's heart begins to beat slower and he is able to slowly rise. 


So, you have two inattentive threats identified.  Let me know what you want to do next. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

Gwaithlim returns with all haste he can muster while retaining any modicum of stealth.  "There are folk in the distance afield, tending to it, while men of Mogdred secure a home.  Away to the field to protect those folk is my thought.  Quickly we must go.."

[Telcontar]

"The red moon..."
Hathcyn ponders.

"Men do not guard a farm house, nor would they over watch folk in the field from a door. No, Dusk-shadow has told us Esgalwen was with them. Further more we are outside the bounds of the moot and hospitality nor the rules of an emissary prevail here. They have taken my friend and they have extorted my people and if Mogdred himself has done such a foolish thing and come in person I shall be avenged."

The Beorning was on his feet quickly and had seemingly returned to more of his normal senses at least enough as fey and wroth mood came upon him.

"Bend your bows, each at a target and I shall rush the house. Come let us move quickly."

[Eclecticon]

Luindîs' mouth breaks in to a feral grin and she stalks on feet that tread noiselessly, circling about the clearing to the left, following the path taken earlier by Gwaithlim. 


She's going to try to do this Stealthily...

1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 5, 5, total 13