SCENE 1: Mirkwood

[tomcat]

Once the travails of the flood plain were overcome, the Company at last came to the road that would take them through the great forest of Mirkwood. The leafless boughs of the large trees on either side of the road hung over the entry making it look like a cavern entrance of grabbing, gnarled fingers. It was no cave that the Dwarves felt comfortable in entering. They all looked to the Elf to see his expression, but were unable to perceive any thoughts. Looking back, they all lay hope in the fact that the Silvan was from this realm and would know its interworkings in times of need.

Kori slapped the reins down with a "Giddup!" and the wagon began to roll into Mirkwood. It was the latter half of day three since they left Lake-town - two more days would pass before their adventure would truly start.

The Company rode the rutted road for another two days. In that time, the rain and snow had stopped and the sun crossed the sky above, shinging down through the bare tree limbs and better lighting the woods. The heat of the sun stirred the winds and they whistled through knuckles and gnarls of branches and dead dried leaves rattled and skittered. Other than that, the forest was quiet.

[OOC:] To my new players, the next paragraph is a cutaway scene that I will often add to my stories to enrich the flavor. Understand that it is nothing that the PC's can react to in any way until the subject of the cutaway scenes converge with your paths.

It was the smell of the ponies that had attracted old Gar. He hadn't caught sniff of the delicacy since late last fall and here it was near spring and travelers were once more trying to cross his road. Well that made his stomach rumble even more, the old troll having grown tired of gnawing on dried meats and nuts.

Gar lived in a cave that opened at the base of a great tree whose roots framed the entrance, having broken and dug into the soft earth and knitting tightly to the very stone itself. The troll was old. He had seen many seasons of Men and even Dwarves, and with this age came wisdom. Gar had a bit more intelligence than many of his brethren and it had helped him survive.

He looked out from the hole he lived in and up to the slowly darkening sky. It would not be long. The travelers would stop as they were always wont to do. Then he would come and take the most juciest of treats that he could.

His stomach grumbled once more.

Kori drew back on the reins and brought the wagon to a halt. Dusk was settling and they needed to set camp before they lost all light. Besides, they had covered a good swath of the road these last two days. The Dwarf was quite pleased.

"Let's set camp!" he said with a tired, yet satisfied voice.



[OOC:] Okay... I need everyone to give me their travel test for Day 5 only... don't worry about previous days (you do not need to give me your Sleeping in the Rough test at this time). I will also take a Perception test from everyone... I will determine results based on the rolls. One last test that you can give me is an Observer (Spot) test TN 18.

KORI - Day 2's travel tests

Starting at TN 20... -2 for pace, +2 for terrain, -5 for riding in the wagon; so TN 15 for Kori.

Kori, Day 5 travel Weariness test:
TN 15 Stamina +2, Hardness of Body +2, Animal Aversion -2
-------------------------
Roll(2d6)+2: 3,4,+2 Total:9 COMPLETE FAILURE [Tired -2]

Kori, Day 5 Survival test to set camp, start a fire and cook:
TN 10 Survival +2, Firestarting +2, Tired -2
-------------------------
Roll(2d6)+2: 5,4,+2 Total:11 SUCCESS [This eliminates the climate and food sleeping penalties for everyone]

Kori, Perception test:
TN tbd Perception +0, Tired -2
-------------------------
Roll(2d6)-2: 6,4,-2 Total:8

Kori, Observe (Spot) test:
TN 18 Observe +3, Specialty +2, Tired -2
-------------------------
Roll(2d6)+3: 5,5,+3 Total:13

[donimator]

Weariness tests for Turumarth: Day 5

Travel Test: TN 20 (-2 for pace, +2 for terrain) = 20
TN 20 Stamina +1
Roll: Roll(2d6)+1: 6,4,+1 Total:11- Complete Failure - Tired (-2)

Survival - passed by Kori

Perception Test:
TN tbd Perception +2, Tired -2
Roll: Roll(2d6)+2: 5,4,+2-2 Total:9

Observe(Spot) Test:
TN 18 Observe +5, Specialty +2, Tired -2
Roll: Roll(2d6)+2: 4,4,+7-2 Total:13

[Telcontar]

Weariness tests for Gumbo: Day 5

Travel Test: TN 20 (-2 for pace, +2 for terrain) = 20
TN 20 Stamina +1,+4
Roll: Roll(2d6)+5: 5,6+5 Total:16- Failure - Tired (-1)


Perception Test:
TN tbd Perception +1, winded -1
Roll: Roll(2d6)+0: 3,4, Total:7

Observe(Spot) Test:
TN 18 Observe +5, winded -1
Roll: Roll(2d6)+4: 4,3+4 Total:11

[GandalfOfBorg]

TN 20 Weariness from travel -2 pace +2 terrain = 20
Stamina - (6+6+6+1)+2=21  COMPLETE SUCCESS! 

Perception - (6+5)+2=13

TN 18 Observe (Spot) - (3+1)+5+2=11 COMPLETE FAILURE 

[Cut]

Weariness tests for Caranmîr: Day 5

Travel Test: TN 20 (-2 for pace, +2 for terrain) = 20
TN 20 applying Stamina +2

Roll(2d6)+2:
6,5,+2
Total:13 --> Failure: Caranmîr is tired (-2)

Survival Test was passed by Kori

Perception Test
TN Perception +1, Tired -2

Roll(2d6)+1:
5,5,+1
Roll Total:11 - 2 Tired = 9

Observe (Spot) Test:
TN 18 Observe +6, Tired -2
Roll(2d6)+6:
4,6,+6
Roll Total:16 - 2 Tired --> 14 (Roll failed.)

[Elrohir]

Weariness Test
Tn=20=2(terrain)-2(pace)=20
Roll(2d6)+3:
6,5,+3
Total:14=Complete Faliure-Beren is tired(-2)

Preception Test
Tn=tbd
Roll(2d6)+0:
3,6,+0
Total:9

Observation Test
Tn=18+2(tired)=20
Roll(2d6)+4:
2,5,+4
Total:11

[tomcat]

[OOC:] Hey guys... sorry for the delay! I came down with a chest and head cold last week and it is really knocking the wind out of my sails. The meds make me all balloon-headed and I can't seem to generate any creative juices at the moment. I am gonna try for the new post tomorrow... keep a look out.

[tomcat]

The Company brought the wagon off of the main road and into a dell. There was a large tree with a deep, hollowed bole and it was in there that Kori set the fire. The crackle and warmth was a welcome relief for the weary travelers, but the flicker of the flames caused the trees to cast some nightmarish shadows.

Beren had successfully caught a large fat rabbit, and now it hung spitted over the fire. The sound of the meat searing and hissing eased the tensions that any had within the group. Gumbo broke out his pipe, and puffed silently as he lay in a knot of exposed roots. Kori sat down next to him, tapping out his own clay pipe, "Have you any of that fine Shire weed to offer?"

Caranmîr sat not far away, his eyes closed and dreaming Elf dreams. He would take the bulk of the evening's watch, and so he slept first for he needed the least.

None in the group realized that they were being watched... by more than one set of eyes.



[OOC:] Feel free to make idle chat between the PC's. You guys have been on the road now for five days and so there is a little comraderie beginning to show itself.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Nori still shuns for the most part contact with the others with the exception of Vari (OOC: though I don't think we've heard from him in awhile).  They talk of their wanderings, misfortunes, and their home within the hills of iron.

[Telcontar]

Gumbo nodded as the smoke swirled out of the corner of his mouth around the stem of the pipe. "I do indeed, I have several variations and flavours, some more dear than others. Try this one, I find the bowls of clay pipes to smoke good but often hot. This is perique, its grown only in the south farthing from the flood waters and mud of the San Ford. Few outside the shire have tried it. My brother is one of the few that grows it due to the need for specific soil and season. It smokes very dry, which is good for clay, with very little bite to the tongue. Unlike other leaf this is actually fermented by pressing unlike being hung to dry." Gumbo reached into his coat and unbuttoned an inner pocket to prodice a tightly sealed pouch carefully wrapped. Presenting it to the elder dwarf he also removed from his waist pocket a small silver tamp in which the dwarf could press it down.  Gumbo immediately emptied his own pipe and drew forth a long stemmed pipe carefully wrapped from seemingly out of no where in his waist. With a smile to the elder dwarf, "Anything worth doing is worth doing right." Soon from the hollow of the tree the smell of rabbit was quickly overtaken. The smell seemed different to those who smelled it and if they were to compare notes none would agree other than it smelled like the fondest memories at home when all was right with the world.

[donimator]

Turumarth stretches his legs where he sits close to the fire. The toil of travel slowly seeping away at the thought of a night's rest. Listening to the conversations around him, he waited for a pause before interjecting a tale.

With a glance over to Nori he begins..."In learning the history of the Iron Hills dwarves, their determination sets them above their kin. Some might call it stubbornness, but it has allowed them to survive and thrive when pressed. The daring and courage of their leaders are without question, and it seems to be a quality they carry from birth. Dain the Second proved his mettle at Nanduhirion as many marvelled at his achievements and skills at such a young age. But it was a little known adventure years prior that, if widely known, would have foretold his future grit.

Dain was only thirteen and allowed some freedom to explore. His adventures took him far afield, much further than his father or guardians would have liked. Usually, he spent much time around the River Redwater, casting rocks and sticks into its fast-moving waters and looking at the curious fish that gathered in the small pools. One day he saw something pulled up on the shore and creeping closer saw it to be a small boat of intricate design. He waited patiently for some time, but nobody returned. Feeling braver, he moved to inspect the boat, which contained only a wooden paddle with a leaf-shaped blade and a blanket and waterskin.

Touching the boat, he was amazed at its lightness and the ease at which he could slide it on the shore. One more nervous scan of the brush along the river revealed no watching eyes so without thought he put a foot in the boat and cast himself out into the current. The boat spun in the water before pointing itself downstream and Dain's terrified grip of the gunnels relaxed and he settled onto the seat and took up the paddle. A quick-learner, he was able to guide the boat with the oar as a rudder as it cut easily back and forth across the river.

The thrill of the ride was soon overtaken by the realization that he was being carried further and further from home and light was starting to wane. He dug in the paddle to turn, but found the act of moving against the current more difficult as his stature did not allow him the power to work the oar properly even over the low sides of the slight craft. His efforts to turn the boat were in vain as he would just about get the boat moving upstream when the current would catch the bow and spin him down once more.

He reached a deep narrowing in the river, abutted by high, shear walls and the course of the stream ran swiftly around exposed rocks. Dropping the oar, he held the sides of the boat tight in an effort to stay upright as it plied its own course. Foam and darkening night obscured his view which left him unprepared for the jolt of the boat meeting a large, rounded boulder. He grasped desperately for the boat as he found himself in the water and being carried swiftly downstream bobbing like a cork in the blackness.

He awoke on a pebbly beach, his legs still in the water. Turning over brought pain as he realized his leg dragged limp and did not answer to his will to move. He closed his eyes and lie back, his eyes focusing on the canopy of stars overhead. Weariness overtook him and he closed his eyes once more.

The sun was high when he awoke and the day warm. He pulled himself from the water and took stock of his situation. The land was unfamiliar and his leg throbbed mercilessly. With effort he pulled himself to rise with the aid of a stout branch he found on the shore. He smiled as he recognized etchings and carvings in the wood - ones he had made weeks before when he had cast that very stick into the river and watched it disappear downstream. He left the rocky shore and found himself in an overgrown woods. Keeping the sounds of the river close, he made his way slowly through the trees and back upstream."

Meanwhile, back in the Hills, Dain had organized a frantic search that had been ongoing for hours. Our travel companions may remember the day? The son of the king missing for the night? However I am told that the truth of his discovery by the king himself and his closest guards has been a well-kept secret. An oath sworn to tell no one, yet even the tale I have told to this point is probably new to your ears....?

{OOC}minor edit to add some colour to separate tale from talking

[tomcat]

Kori was perplexed by this man. With his teeth clenching his pipe, he asked, "How is it that you know so much of our kin? You know things that only a Dwarf is trusted with."

[donimator]

Turumarth sets his lips in a thin smile as he stares into the flickering flame of the fire. His tale interrupted, he pauses a moment before answering Kori,

"Master Kori, my childhood as a merchant led me on many roads from Dorwinion to Mirkwood to the Iron Hills. I know much of the dwarves, much of the elves and much of the men of the eastern wilds. A keen ear and the will to listen to others brought much information. But, it was dedicated study of the lore both written and spoken from many of your and Caranmîr's people that I have collected and it is much more than the sum of its parts. Knowledge is our greatest defence against the Shadow. Knowing the hearts of your enemies...and your allies shows how and when to use that knowledge...If my tale offends I will stop."

[tomcat]

"Nay, I take no offense... just surprised at the depth of your knowledge. Even our small friend Gumbo, here, surprised me by his interactions with my kin - both the House of Durin and the House of Linnar. But please continue... firesides were made for good tales and stout drinks, though I wish we had the latter."

Kori chuckled a bit and all the Company turned to the wagon which held the two small kegs of ale. The craftsman had forbid any use of it for the time, so as not to slow them down... or run out too soon!

[donimator]

Turumarth nods and continues...

"The going was tough for young Dain, but he was more worried of the reaction of his father when he returned than of the pain in his leg. His direction was clear and he hoped to follow the river back north until he was in familiar territory. He welcomed the shade of the woods as the day was quickly turning hot, a mugginess that stifled sound.

Perhaps it was the heavy air, perhaps his haste, but he never heard the coming blow of the creature that hit him from behind and knocked him down as its dark shape sailed over him on the trail. Dazed for just a moment, he grasped his staff and sat upright, trying desperately to clear the fog in front of his eyes. Ten feet away stood a snarling warg. Unheard of west of the Redwater for a long time, Dain did not let his disbelief slow his action. He quickly brought his staff to guard as he slid to anchor his back against a wide tree. The warg paused a moment, searched deep into Dain's eyes and then sprung with sudden fury. Dain butted his staff against the tree and guided the other end to the beast's chest, letting its own weight pivot it past him in a roll.

Wary, the creature paced a moment as it gathered again, giving Dain time to push with his one good leg to stand against the stout trunk. A few parries with the staff kept the warg at bay and then Dain did something the creature did not expect from so young a dwarf. With a tuck, Dain rolled toward the warg and used the force to bring the staff hard across the forelegs of the creature, cracking bone with the blow. The warg slid with a yelp down the embankment, stunned and unsure what it faced. Returning to the offensive, it pressed ahead on three legs and gained even elevation with Dain. Several more of its blows were rebuked and the warg saw the injured dwarf tiring far quicker than it was.

With a powerful burst it leaped forward, but Dain was ready. He thrust staff end to throat and fell back against the ground just as a whistling shaft sped over his shoulder and lodged deep into the warg's eye. Confused, he struggled to shove the still carcass of the creature from him as he searched vainly for the looser of the arrow. Exhaustion and pain overcame him and he sat down only to see a tall, lithe form pull the beast from pinning his leg. An elf stared at him with the wry smile they can wear at times. His words seemed to soothe, yet Dain knew nothing of elf-speak. Trusting in his intentions, Dain sat back while the elf checked him over and helped aid his wounds. The elf talked nonchalantly as he worked, the rhythmic, musical tone of his language capturing his ear".

{Turumarth switches to Khuzdul at this time to relate the last part of the tale, indicating that the secret of what happened with Dain should not have been so lightly told to him, let alone spread to others outside of the dwarvish clan}

(in Khuzdul) "Finally the dwarf looked him in the eye and in halting Westron inquired how one so young was so far from home - yet Dain knew that this was the boat's owner and knew all to well of Dain's river foray. The common tongue did not yet come easy to Dain, but the two sat for awhile in struggled conversation. The sound of Nain and his guard rang harshly through the woods, breaking the calm stillness. The elf looked concerned and Dain knew he would have to disappear, such were the cool relations between the races at this time. As the scouts approached the elf put a hand on Dain's shoulder and drew a knife.

The elf took his knife and severed both ears of the dead warg. He pressed one into Dain's hand and tucked the other in his cloak. "We will never know if it was your blow or my arrow that felled this beast," the elf began, "We shall call it a shared kill and keep these tokens as a reminder of this day should our paths cross again." The elf quickly vanished away from the approaching voices and Dain lie still a few moments before calling out.

Dain was brought to his father and truthfully relayed all that had happened, save the token the elf gave him. Nain was expectedly infuriated and made all present swear an oath to never reveal what transpired that day. They returned to their stronghold with the tale of the future king who explored on his own and felled a warg, the pelt of which hangs in Dain's chambers to this day. Yet it has been never been answered why it is missing ears. And it was a long time, perhaps not even in his death, that Nain forgave his son for befriending an elf.

{Switching once more to common speech} "And with Dain safely returned, his deeds of single-handedly felling a warg were spread throughout the Iron Hills. A task that foretold his slaying of Azog and taking his place as King. The truth of young Dain's adventure, known by only a few, was sealed by oath."

Turumarth returned his gaze to the fire...his tale ended.