RPG.avioc.org

The wrath of the Dwarf was something to behold. His hammer arched left and then right, sweeping into one and then the other orc that remained in the fight. Arbogast watched as his attacker suddenly stiffened and then fell dead, leaving only the heavy-breathing Rorin in front of him, his weapon covered in black blood.

And it was done.

Only four men from the raiders were left and they knew death was nigh, and so as a group quickly dropped their arms. These men were far from home and their only chance now was to plead for a life that was surely forfeit.

Geirbald and his folk stood about and looked to the companions. What would they do now with captives?

Even from a distance the Hobbit could tell that the fight had gone out of the raiders and that the battle was over. He drew his blade and motioning to the other archers started to move forward. He was not planning on being caught flat footed if one of the raiders still lived or was hidden in the winter grass so his blade was out and glinted in the raising winter sun.
Moving swiftly he made his way to the party.

"Rorin, how do you fair?"

Stepping over the dead he eyed the living captives.

After felling the two remaining orcs Rorin turned to face the remaining raiders, grasping his hammer and all but daring them to make a move. But after a few moments the rush of battle had left him and he began to feel the throbbing pain in his chest.

"Thank you Bandy, I will be fine, though I am glad your arrows flew true once more...I had not the strength to fight for too much longer."

The Dwarf sat down heavily on a nearby rock and tried to breath a deep sigh of relief but instead winced as he was stopped short by a piercing pain in his ribs. Luckily, his armor looked no worse for the wear and he had avoided any real injury, but Rorin knew he would be feeling the consequences of this fight for the next several days on the road.

Bandy stood by his friend pointing his sword at the men.

"What are your names, and why should we spare men who keep the company of Yrchs?"

For emphasis the blade slipped into the body of a dead orc making sure that the creature was truly dead and as emphasis to his questions.

Arbogast moves to Rorin's side as the Dwarf sits heavily.  He feels his friend's side, satisfying himself that there is no pain that will not soon heal.  

As he does so, he listens to Bandy questioning the captives.  Our life has been hard, to change a gentle Hobbit so, he thinks.

:ooc: Nota bene, since nobody's Wounded, we all recover Endurance points equal to our Heart ratings.  :csu:

OOC:

Quote from: Eclecticon on Nov 04, 2016, 04:20 PMAs he does so, he listens to Bandy questioning the captives.  Our life has been hard, to change a gentle Hobbit so, he thinks.

Yeah, things are getting a little less Baggins and a little more Brandybuck. The Northfarthing doesnt screw around like those potato farmers in Hobbiton.

Bandy stared at the two men, certain that they understood him, but uncertain if it was his appearance or the end of the battle that shocked them.

He pointed his bright blade at one of them, the left.
 
"We know you come from the south, for folk there are known to traffic and keep the company of Orcs. Let me start with an easy question for you before my great friend here tears your limbs apart as is the custom of the Bear folk, what is your name?"

 :ooc: Sure I'll play along...
 :00:

It is with beyond a doubt that Grimbeorn looks not only able to remove limbs from their sockets, but willing as well, as can be seen in just his eyes still burning with fire of battle.

His ministrations to Rorin proving unnecessary, Arbogast joins Bandy and Grimbeorn.  He says nothing, but crouches near the captives and fixes them with an unyielding stare.  

(http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m51/eclecticon/Arbogast%203.png)

With a clicking sound, due to the drying of his mouth, one of the raiders speaks. "I am Kendel." Pointing to the only other hail man in his company, "He is Perth. The two wounded are Angh and Trent."

If there was any defiance left in their eyes, it quickly diminished when Grimbeorn took up a place by the small Hobbit.

"Well now, that's a start. The woodfolk and their friends are none to fond of highwaymen and robbers, especially those we find with orcs. Where do you come from and why are you here?"

The men's silence is broken by Arbogast, who says "they are from the Toft, or thereabouts.  And they are here because their chieftain would be king of us all, and has sent them to test our defences." 

His gaze never leaves the captives.  "Is this not so?"

The one named Kendel, who looked older than his companions and was seemingly braver, stood resolute. "We serve our King, Vidugalum, Lord of the Toft! He is the true master of of the vale and Rhovanion. Many times he has dispatched folk to collect tribute and many times has his people been sent away empty-handed. No more! The clansmen of the vale must conform under his law, as he is the true king. He carries the blood of Númenor and it is his birthright. We are the Blood Moon and we heed his command. If tribute will not be paid, than we are the answer."

---

:ooc: I'd like all PC's to give me a Lore test TN 16 to know anything about the Toft and Vidugalum. I am sure we all have access to the Heart of the Wild, but to keep things from being too Meta-gamey, let's roll. Any PC that is not from the Vale must make the test at TN 18.

Don't get me wrong, I love your writing and hearing Bandy spout words from the Elves of the First Age, but I also want to maintain some logic that he is a Hobbit from the Shire. Granted, he is a Loremaster, but let's put somethings in perspective as to the Lore he knows. If we look at ancient history, or even semi-current history, people didn't travel much further than maybe a couple dozen miles from their homes and generations were born and died in the same place. So, although the Toft might be a settlement that is known to Arbogast, or Grimbeorn, its people and politics might not be.

Then again, maybe they are and that will come from the results of your rolls. It will be an escalation of knowledge, too:

On a Success: The Toft is known. It is one of the largest towns in Wilderland. It is ruled by a learned man named Vidugalum. It is enclosed within earthen ramparts and wooden walls. Some say it is an evil place, while others know of it as a good place to stop for supplies and rest while traveling.

On a Great Success: The Toft is known. It is one of the largest towns in Wilderland. Several hundred souls live within its earthen ramparts and wooden walls. Most of the buildings in the Toft are wooden, though a few are old stonework built by men of Gondor. Just outside the town is a large market field that is little used, for traders from the south no longer come here in great numbers. Merchants from Rhovanion and Lake-Town sometimes make the trek around the southern edge of Mirkwood to visit here, and a few ill-favoured Woodmen bring carved goods and furs to market here in summer.

The folk of the Toft are of Northman stock, although they are mixed with Easterling blood. They are a sedentary people, living in their village and farming the land. The shadow of Dol Guldur lay over them for many generations, and they were inevitably changed by it.

There is an Inn here, the Ram's Head. It is ruled by a learned man named Vidugalum.  His men, who bear the symbol of a red moon on their shields, patrol the roads around the Toft. Some say it is an evil place, while others know of it as a good place to stop for supplies and rest while traveling.

On an Extraordinary Success: The Toft is known. It is one of the largest towns in Wilderland. Several hundred souls live within its earthen ramparts and wooden walls. Most of the buildings in the Toft are wooden, though a few are old stonework built by men of Gondor. Just outside the town is a large market field that is little used, for traders from the south no longer come here in great numbers. Merchants from Rhovanion and Lake-Town sometimes make the trek around the southern edge of Mirkwood to visit here, and a few ill-favoured Woodmen bring carved goods and furs to market here in summer. There is an Inn here, the Ram's Head. It is ruled by a learned man named Vidugalum.  His men, who bear the symbol of a red moon on their shields, patrol the roads around the Toft.

The folk of the Toft are of Northman stock, although they are mixed with Easterling blood. They are a sedentary people, living in their village and farming the land. The shadow of Dol Guldur lay over them for many generations, and they were inevitably changed by it. Those closest to Dol Guldur were wholly committed to the service of the Necromancer. They sent their sons and daughters to serve him as slaves, they freely gave tribute to him, and they worshipped him with vile and terrible ceremonies in the dead of night. Others gave tribute only grudgingly. They
tried to forget Dol Guldur as they went about their lives. For them, tribute was a necessary evil, and life in the Necromancer's realm was like living beside a snow-laden mountain. One day, the mountain must inevitably stir and the avalanche would then kill them all.

Some say it is an evil place, while others know of it as a good place to stop for supplies and rest while traveling. Those that speak evil say that in years past, certain people in this town worshiped the Necromancer of Dol Guldur, and offered him slaves and sacrifices as gifts to curry favour. Travellers claim that children went missing in the Toft with alarming frequency, and that there are secret tunnels and cellars beneath the rough wooden houses. The defeat of the Necromancer put an end to these practises, but they may begin again should the Shadow return to Dol Guldur.

Vidugalum commands the loyalty of dozens of men (as well as a brigade of Orcs that fled Dol Guldur) and has a wealthy and well-defended fort in the heart of the region. He considers questions of
'good' and 'evil' to be the mewlings of cowards and weak men who let their consciences cow them into inaction. Heroes, in Vidugalum's eyes, are those brave enough to overcome their doubts and fears. He uses his Orcs to strike at his enemies not because he is a tyrant, but because it is necessary for progress and civilisation.

:ooc: Esgalwen
TN 18 lore 1d

Esgalwen listened with interest as the men spoke. She knew of such men - those that took up with Orcs. They had invaded her lands many times in Gondor's great history.

Grimbeorn cared not for his words or for whomever he represents; taking up with orcs is beyond contempt.

 :ooc:  :00:

All that Arbogast knows of the Men of the Toft comes from the tales of travellers such as Degath and Deylith.  His accusations have been pure educated guesswork. 


:ooc: ... so I expect nothing from this roll. 

 :ooc: sounds good to me

 :ooc: We know nothing therefore we hateses these mens, yes precious, we hateses them forever!

 :ooc: Grimbeorn and Arbogast can rely on their Anduin and Mirkwood lore, respectively, to provide them with a Success.

Grimbeorn shook his head and chuckled at the man's grandiose response.  "King? of Rhovanion?  That is a laughable claim.  There is no king here. These men of free villages and towns about the Anduin Vales and that's how they wish to remain," he said pointing to the men that had come with the companions.  "And Vidugalum... lording over a city of mud and sticks? Is that a castle fit for a king?  Bah!  Why are we bandying words with men who'd consort with orcs?"

Bandy recalls that on Esgalwen's map there was a place called the Toft. As far as he knew it was away southwest of the woodmen, maybe near the KingStone he had heard about before.

"I know of no true king that ever had orcs as allies."

"Arbogast, Geirbald. These are your lands, what passes for fair justice among the Woodfolk? As evidence against them and before you all assembled I swear by my oath. They were caught in the company of Orcs, and by their own mouths admit to raiding the lands of the Woodfolk. If given a moment and justice demands it, may also show their ill gotten spoils from raiding if we search. There being no elders here, I accept your judgment in this matter."

Bandy had never been idle in all his time in the Wild and he learned much of the customs and folk of other as it concerned their lore.

"It seems to me," says Arbogast at length, "that these men have strayed far from the laws to which all Men of the North hold fast."  At Perth's aghast expression, he adds "though they will surely claim that they are carrying out the orders of the King of Rhovanion, the fact is that they, and their king, consort with creatures who are the enemy of all Men.  Theirs are not acts of war, but plain and simple banditry." 

Accepting a rag from Bandy, he wipes his face, clearing away the blood that has begun to drip into his eyes.  "Such things are usually a matter for weregild paid to those they have harmed, or to the families of the slain.  But I see no way for that to suffice here, for we have no way of knowing who has been wounded, who was slain, and whose property was taken.  Nor have they aught with which to make recompense but goods belonging by right to others." 

"In such circumstances, it might be said," he says, with a meaningful glance toward Grimbeorn, "that their rightful fate is death."  He then allows himself to subside somewhat, as if a building fury has been quenched.  "But such a is a grave pronouncement, and such a deed ought only be carried out by the kin of one falsely slain.  I see none such here, for the only one thus taken from me was one not yet born." 

He looks meaningfully at Geirbald.  "What is left to us is similarly grave, for they must be cast out from the protection of the law that they have spurned, and be at the mercy of any who might meet them in the Wild.  It may be that, should they be lucky enough, they may live to once more reach the safety of the Toft, tell the tale of their defeat to Vidugalum and receive what fate would then await them.  Or they may swear great and solemn oaths to these Men and live as they do, and thus make daily recompense for their crimes with the strength of their arms and the blood of Northmen in their veins." 


:ooc: I'll roll Persuade for the thinly-veiled recommendation. 


Arbogast isn't particularly trying to persuade Geirbald to take them on - that's a matter for his own sense of justice and what he thinks his followers will bear. 

"Aye, death seems a fair fate to me." Rorin mumbled not quite under his breath. Had these been Dwarves found bearing arms shoulder to shoulder the orc, Rorin would not hesitate in the matter. But these were Woodsmen, and as much as their betrayal caused his blood to boil, it was not his place to act as judge.

Geirbald listened quietly to the words of those around him - and good words, he thought, they were. Arbogast made a great impression upon the man and he spoke, "I am called an outlaw among our folk, along with the band of men and women around me. In my youth, while on a hunt for the Werewolf that haunts our forest, t'was one of my stray arrows shot at the beast that instead took the life of my sister. Thus, I became a kinslayer. I fled into the woods and imposed self-exile for the crime I committed. Soon, my folk gathered round my banner for reasons of their own, but not for the purpose to commit crimes against the woodland-folk. More so to protect our realm and find salvation in said charge.

"These men, too, are outlaws but of a kind most distasteful, for they openly make war upon the folk of the Vale to serve their own needs, and that of their unjust master. That is a punishable crime and death would be ordered by any elder of any clan of Woodmen, were they here. I will take up such responsibility, so as to leave you free from any guilt or unease. We shall disarm them, lead them back north where they will be judged by their actions and then served a quick clean death." Geirbald looked to Arbogast and Grimbeorn, "You are free to take up your road once more and leave this deed to us."

Upon finishing, two of the remaining Toft-men began to cry out for mercy while the other two stood in dead, angered silence. They had also heard Arbogast persuasive words of freedom to return south and deliver message that the north would not accede to Vidugalum's demands of rulership.

"NO! Free us and we shall deliver your words!" said one man as he held his bleeding wound.

"Mercy!" cried the other, prostrating himself to the gathered group around him.

A third Toft warrior only hissed through clenched teeth, "So be it! Do this thing and prove you are the uncivilized barbarians that you have been through the ages."

---

:ooc: If you guys turn the captives over to Geirbald, then I will advance our game to the next scene. If you wish to protest their upcoming executions, then please continue to RP.  ;D

The face of the Hobbit was hard as the meeting with the Toftmen progressed. He has spoken his peace and knew that the Hobbits at home had no method of dealing with such issues, they had never been called upon to do so. There were none, who in living memory, could recall Orcs in the shire. Different lands had different needs and different customs.

"This is just, we have errands of our own and I am ready to be about them."

Grimbeorn shakes his head and turns his back on the group of men.  They were lucky to left alive this long he thinks.

Rorin forced himself to his feet and winced at the pain in his side briefly before gathering himself and following Grimbeorn's lead to return to the horses that they may be on their way once more.