A search long over...

[tomcat]

From a previous thread...

The rider was weary from the road. It had been many weeks now that he had been riding, following a trail that was as vague as the passing of a breeze. Fortunately, those he sought had made impressions enough, in the different locations that they had passed through, as to give him a road to follow.

His name was Gloraglil and he was on an urgent mission for his king in the far-off realm of Arthedain. Word needed to be gotten to the young noble who had embarked on a journey with a knight of the realm... word of his father's passing.

[tomcat]

Gloraglil had noticed a change in the lands as he moved north and east. There was a tension in the air and the hospitality of the folk of the plains, already cautious to strangers, had become outright cold. If not for his apparent Dúnadan heritage, and the close proximity of Gondor, he may have found the lands of the cheiftain, Thuidmar, completely un-welcoming.

But there it was before him... Thergas. The keep that he had been directed to by a homesteader. The place where it had been heard that there was a great gathering of warriors of the Éothraim, under the banner of Thuidmar, along with some strangers out of the west.

The homesteader had heard of these travelers weeks prior. The rumors and tales had spread quickly amongst the plains-folk of one of their own, traveling with two tall dark-haired men, and most amazingly... an Elf!

[calavingian]

The rider brushed the back of a muddy sleeve the length of his forehead, the hand coming away dripping with the sweat of a long and thankless ride. With whispered words of encouragement, he patted the neck of his horse with some affection before dismounting from the back of the tired beast.

"Easy now, lad. These horse-folk are as likely to tend and welcome you before they welcome me."

Taking the bridle with him, lest his proud mount begin cropping the abundant grass of these highlands before resting - and thus risking illlness- the leather-clad figure moved to his saddlebags. There, within, lay the trappings of his office: a single  black tabard bearing the star of Elendil with its seven companions and, carefully folded, the Banner of his homeland.

Trusting that this would be the last time he would have to do so before beginning the long road home -for had he not now reached the home of the Eothraim, Fengel?- he carefully donned the well-protected garment and tied the flag to the headless spear-shaft strapped to the length of his mount.

A Herald of the still-mighty realm of Arthedain, he would not come before the lords and chieftains of this land a mere beggar. But in all the glory and majesty of the blood of Numenor!

Satisfied at last, the lone-rider resumed his weary seat and steered his faithful mount towards the hospitality and heat of the horse-lords stable. Yet his heart was not merry, for a terrible doom lay upon the message he bore; and in it`s delivery he would take no pleasure or satisfaction.

[tomcat]

[OOC:] That was a great starting post there, man! Welcome to the game!



Gloraglil approached the keep with his colors flying. It was apparant to the Dúnadan that tensions were very high, as he was closely watched from the battlements above. Blonde-haired men, and even women, stood looking down at him, bows at the ready. Yet to the messengers surprise, the main gates of Thergas were still open. Still, he was denied access when a voice rang out in the afternoon sun - Gloraglil sighed relief when the language was in the common Westron.

"HOLD! KNOW YE THAT YOU ARE NEAR YOUR DEATH, DEPENDING ON YOUR PURPOSE. WHY DO YOU COME TO THERGAS, IN THE LANDS OF KING THUIDMAR, FLYING BANNERS? DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT WE ARE AT WAR, AND TAKE NOT EASILY TO STRANGERS?"

[calavingian]

Gloraglil heard these words and was not dismayed. For had he not heard as much on the road (and had less friendly receptions to boot)? He threw his head back and, though he did not seem to shout, his voice carried to the battlements well enough for the first speaker and all around to hear.

"Horse-lords, know that not lightly do I fly the banners of Arthedain in these times of strife. I am Gloraglil, Herald of Arthedain and oath-sworn to our great king. For many leagues I have travelled to bring word from my King to the ears of a band of Heroes, and though this word bring news of fell doom to one who has deserved a better hand than fate dealt them, I would discharge my duty this day if I may."

He stopped to draw breath, before speaking again.

"It is a strange band I seek. A horse-man of this clan, Fengal by name and two of my countrymen: a great captain of men and a noble lord also. With them rode two companions: An elf lord, noble and bright of mein and a dwarf craftsman of great skill and straight tongue. I have ridden many weeks and seek to find them here at last. I pray you tell me that my search is ended, lest my long weary road  be lengthened still!"

His horse tossed its weary head beneath him, and Gloraglil too, felt the travails of the long road in his joint and muscles, but still his head he held high. It would not do for a Herald of the King to seem less than he was, though the clothes beneath his armour be blood-stained and ragged or no.

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OOC: Many thanks Tomcat Very glad to be hear. I can`t find the dice roller you guys use, but my Persuade roll is 2d6+7. Sorry to be a pain. Thanks.

[tomcat]

[OOC:] First of all, let me ask... do you see a control bar across the top of your screen, above the banner?

If you do, there should be a small dice icon to the left. Click that and it should open up the dice roller. You may need to allow pop-ups for my site. The dice roller does not log every roll and so we are on the honor system here, which I prefer. If players take advantage, the only thing they are spoiling is the excitement the game can be... and I will also begin to see that they never fail. 

Needless to say, you open the dice roller, make your roll and then copy and paste from the results window to your post. I don't care how you format it (you'll find I dress mine up a bit ), but I request that you include:

• the reason for the test
• the TN (if you know it)
• and a listing of all the modifiers effecting the roll

If you do not see the above mentioned banner, you need to use this URL to go to my website:

http://rpg.avioc.org/index.htm

[tomcat]

"Then know that your road is at its end, for you have come at last to where you may find these heroes. Though we cannot confirm at the moment if they are alive, for they rode off to battle some ten days past."

The guard looked out towards the surrounding countryside once more to re-affirm that the messenger before their doors was alone. It was a silly gesture for no one could approach Thergas without being espied, but still the Éothraim warrior took comfort in his vigilance.

He then shouted out to Gloraglil, "Very well... dismount and be ready to account for your weapons. You will be allowed access so that you may speak with our captain."

With his words came a small group of soldiers out from Thergas. They approached the Dúnadan with care and watched him as he got down from his horse. Inventory was taken of all of his weapons, though he was not relieved of them - trust? Gloraglil felt welcome for the first time since he had come into these lands.

He was ushered into the keep and brought before a tall, stern-looking man. A captain.

"I am Eorlas, and you are not the first Dúnadan to grace our keep. What has brought you so far?"

[calavingian]

The young Herald nodded a welcome, and extended his hand to offer a greeting in thr manner of this strange country. If the Dunadan was troubled by word that his quarry had chosen to become embroiled in war and battle, it did not show. He would have expected nothing less, given the reputation of those he sought.

"I am grateful for the hospitality of this house and it`s people, captain. I am Gloraglil, and I bear a message for one of my kin, Durgil by name, though it concerns his kinsman Dyrnhael also. Alas, I am sworn to the Heralds Oath, and can speak no more of my errand, for the words of my King are for the ears of this Durgil only. But I have ridden far and so, as you may gather, my words are of a certain import. Though I assure you, my message has no bearing on the safety of your realm or people, for we know not of this war in which you are engaged in my country."

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OOC: Aha, found it. Thanks.

[tomcat]

Eorlas was obviously not pleased with Gloraglil's need for secrecy, but he was honour-bound to not make such demands of his new... guest. The captain had been somewhat shamed by the westerners, along with Fengel, and so was quite glad to see this herald here to usher them back home.

He was more than willing to help in the endeavour.

"You will find that both the army of Thuidmar and your friends have ridden north towards a small city called Ilanin. I offer this house as a place for you to rest this eve, take sup, and once refreshed, be on your way in the morning. My lieutenant here," Eorlas gestured towards one of the Éothraim soldiers, "will show you maps once you are fed, and direct your path for the morrow."

[tomcat]

Gloraglil felt well rested when he awoke the next morning. The Éothraim were true to their word and though simple-folk, their generosity was genuine. The Dúnadan was fed and his horse tended. He was instructed in the layout of the land and where he would next make his way.

And so, with the sun still low in the morning sky, the messenger was once more in the saddle and riding north from Thergas. His path took him along the western foothills of the Dinvulds to the assumed location of Thuidmar's army. Eorlas and the other captains had counciled the king days past, and all had agreed that Cliffwall would be the most advantageous location to meet Harizän.

Gloraglil made the ride in relative peace, but as he closed on the location, his presence was noted by the many outrider-scouts that Thuidmar had placed around the hills. The clamour of battle and smoke rising in the sky foretold that he had come at last to what he sought.

[calavingian]

Gloraglil halted in the saddle, careful to ensure that the banner of his homeland flew clear for all to see. It would not do to be shot down by arrows from the bows of men who were his foe. And giving the outriders of the Eothraim host a chance to study him from afar would allay their suspicions better than riding close.

He raised a single hand in greeting, and lipped his lips nervously. A sudden chill in the pit of his belly reminded the rider that if outriders from one force were present, there was every possibility that a scout of the Easterling horde might come upon him also.

[tomcat]

Again Gloraglil was approached by a few men of the Éothraim and brief words were given. The horserider warrior with no other to turn to for decision-making, proceeded to take the newcomer to the only leader that was close at hand.

The Dúnadan was led down an obvious road and then off of it and into a large bank of trees. The number of soldiers, primarily archers, began to increase all around him, but Gloraglil was surprised that they just seemed to be standing and watching. Moments later the messenger broke from the bank of trees and saw that he was atop a great cliff; below was an army of riders and wagons, but in its center seemed to be a circle of men - all were observing this contest, waiting to see its results.

Suddenly Gloraglil realized there was a new man standing before him, a younger man. A Dúnadan from his appearance with a face that the King's messenger was all to familiar with. At long last, Gloraglil stood before Durgil of the royal line of Arthedain.

[tomcat]

[OOC:] Were you guys waiting until the end of the combat between the Easterling and Fengel before you were going to have dialogue here? Did you not know this was a waiting thread? Or is everyone busy?

Whatever the circumstance is fine with me, I just didn't want you guys thinking I had abandoned this thread. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

Concentrating on the battle below, Durgil has been sitting on raw nerves for some time as his friend trades blow for blow with the Easterling brute.  His revery broken as one of the sentries gets his attention, he turns to find a familiar face in front of him -- one he hasn't seen in what seems ages.  Though a son of a lesser noblewoman in the king's court, the Durgil and Gloraglil had grown up together though not always among the same crowd; his father wasn't pleased (when was he?) with the choice of acquaintances as appearances were, of course, everything to him.  A smile spread across his lips at the recognition.  "Gloraglil... brother... it has been so long!" he said, embracing his old friend.  "What brings a man of the court so far afield?"  Durgil steps back to get a better look at the man in front of him.  "A herald?" he queried with a dubious look and espies around for others in a retinue, but finding none.  "Alone as well... the news have must be urgent... and grave."

[calavingian]

OOC: I`m very sorry. Ive been having pc troubles recently. Specifically broadband troubles. My apologies for the delay)

With a hearty sigh of relief, the herald lifted his leg over the head of his horse, sliding to the ground, yet carefully keeping hold of the beast's reigns. Though elated at the end of his quest, his face showed his mixed feelings as he seperated from his friends embrace. Good, it was, truly, to see the Lord Durgil again. Yet it was a fell message from his King that had carried him hence. And fell indeed for the one who embraced him so enthuisiastically.

"Aye Herald indeed, and no companions. For the journey was thought most perilious indeed, and the odds of finding you slim enough that no others could be spared in the search. Durgil, there is much to talk of and my message is your ears alone and, perhaps, for that of Dirnhael should you wish it. But look now, this is not the time for such talk. I see you are a captain of sorts, and have a battle to win. Look you to your men and your arrows. I will record what I see here, for surely the court will wish to know of it."