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Bandy's ceramic pot arched over the head of Grimbeorn and hit solid upon the barrow-wight's iron helm. It shattered releasing its contents all over the shadow, which immediately lit on fire with a woosh!

Grimbeorn staggered backward to distance himself from the wight, for it had become a stumbling pyre. Heat filled the chamber from the two burning, desiccated bodies and flames danced about. Esgalwen could barely see Ceawin, as the man lay atop the sarcophagus, but fire was in between. She watched as the remaining barrow-wight bolted to the north, past Rorin, and the burrowed passage that was there. Unfortunately, the dwarf was only just getting his strength back to move.

The Dúnadan woman wondered if it wise to give chase, but the plight of the company was the greater urgency. "We must get out of this tomb before we burn. Come Grimbeorn, aid me in getting Ceawin from his pyre. Bandy, you aid Arbogast as best you can. Once we have them away from the fire, we can get Rorin."

To her call, Esgalwen heard the rough voice of Rorin boom, "Fear not for me...my strength returns. Help the men." Clumsily, the dwarf set about collecting his personal effects.

Esgalwen nodded and with Grimbeorn, maneuvered through the swath of flames to where Ceawin lay. He was choking on the smoke, but both could see the searing heat had brought him back to his senses. He rolled off the sarcophagus towards Grimbeorn and fell into the giant man's arms. Esgalwen came around to help, but the Beorning shouted, "Get Arbogast with the Halfling!" The woman nodded and turned to help her other two companions.

Grimbeorn began to lead Ceawin out but the man stopped him. "Wait..." he coughed, and then bent down to grab the Helm of Peace that lay on the floor. "My treas..." Ceawin did not cry out in pain, but the Beorning could see it upon his face. The helm had been close to the fire and the heated metal burned the flesh of his hand. Still, the Master of Sunstead clutched it and would not let it go. "Okay...now," he whispered, and took Grimbeorn's offered shoulder.

The companions turned to the sound of another call, Idunn stood atop the mound, over the hole above. She had dropped her spear down so that its length could be climbed like a pole. It was a strong spear made of great wood. "Climb my spear," she yelled and held it firm at her end, so it would not topple.

Thus, with the strength of Grimbeorn the companions were aided up through the hole and out into the early morning darkness. The air blew clean and fresh out of the west. The Beorning came last and behind him was left the burning pyre of the barrow.

On the ground, still not himself, Ceawin sat with his legs to his chest, clutching the helm. "It is done," he said... over and over.

:ooc: I have a client appointment to get to, but this might be edited a little later tonight.

Feel free to post at your leisure.

Arbogast lacks the strength to climb Idunn's spear, and his hands are, in any case, slick with his own blood.  Instead, he lets Esgalwen and Bandy lead him out the way they came in.  The Fire-watcher is grey-faced and listless, and he collapses as soon as the three are once again in the open air. 

"Come Abrogast, I will not leave you either. The way is open and now without fear."

The Halfling kept one clay pot tucked under his arm with the torch and with the other he led the woodman to the redeeming light.

"IDUNN! Here! You are needed for Abrogast has taken many wounds in the barrow."

"Check not just his wounds," mentioned Grimbeorn.  "We know all too well dark maladies come with encountering shadows such as these," he said, glancing in the direction of Esgalwen.  "I wil go in search of our mounts and any of the others who fled.  We are fortunate to be so close to Sunstead."

"Lucky too that the day is on the rise. I did not think we spent the whole night there, but sure enough the sun is in the east. This is not a wholsome place."

Rorin ripped off the rags that the wights had dressed him in and struggled to don his tunic and mail while the others tended to Caewin and Arbogast. He moved slowly with his stiff limbs resisting every time he bent down to lift another piece of gear, and he was still groggy from the unnatural sleep. Nevertheless Rorin composed himself, and exited the barrow under his own strength.

Outside the heat of the rising sun seemed to soak through the dwarfs entire body and burned away the last of the spell that had laid him low. He turned to face east and smiled as the sunlight washed over him. After taking a few moments he walked to where Idunn and Bandobras stood over the wounded Arbogast and knelt beside him. Taking his hand Rorin thanked the woodsman, "I am forever in your debt Arbogast, if not for your courage, I would now be counted among the dead. Heal well Fire-Watcher."

After giving his thanks, he turned to his small friend and clapped him on the back, "Bandy! That was a mighty toss worthy of song if I have ever seen one! Have you considered selling your bow and carrying instead pots of oil?"

It did seem odd to the companions, but the sun was rising in the east and causing the colors of fall to brilliantly flash. The time spent in the barrow did not seem that long, but yet here it was, morning of a new day. Esgalwen thought back over the events and wondered at it all - the sun had set the night prior and then a fog had come. And now it was morning?

Leaving her thoughts for another time, she quickly ran to catch up with the Beorning in pursuit of their animals - or even the men that they had sent from the barrow the night before.

Behind them, Idunn applied a poultice to Arbogast's wounds as she chanted in a strange tongue. Bandy stood nearby, but found that the only aid he could provide was to hand the healer her supplies as she needed them. The dwarf stood at guard, now, redressed in his armor and working to free himself of the shame he felt for being captured. His friends had needed him and he had walked right into the monsters' trap. A few feet from Rorin, the Master of Sunstead was also coming out of his trance-like state.

Ceawin stood and looked around him like the world was new, "What has happened?" The man looked to his right hand, where he held the Helm of Peace. It was marred by fire, but still quite beautiful. He also was taking a keen note of the pain that wracked his hand from the burn that he had taken when he grabbed the helm. He looked to Rorin, "The shades did not take the helm? Then they did not accept my pact?"

Rorin looked confused himself, as he had not been there for any of Ceawin's foolish quest.

The Master of Sunstead continued, "It feels... cleaner here now, especially with this wonderful sunrise."

Suddenly a voice shouted out, "MY LORD! You are safe!"

Ceawin turned to see his guardsmen returning with Grimbeorn and Esgalwen - behind them all followed the horses that had bolted in the night. "Aye, I am well, but one of these men is gravely injured. He will need your aid in getting him back to Sunstead. Quickly, gather wood to build a travois, so he can be more comfortable in the transit. He is a hero of our realm and I will not have anything happen to him."

"Yes, m'lord," came the response from the two men. Still, one approached, "Master Ceawin...I see you still hold the Helm of Peace. So the bargain did not work?"

Ceawin looked at the helm and then the man, only to give a shrug, "I do not know, but I believe the spell here has been broken. It feels as if the dead have released their hold on this place. Does it not? So, we were either successful and the dead will haunt us no more, or these fine warriors have driven them from these holes. In either case, I will consider that a success."

The warrior nodded and turned to fetch wood. Behind him, his master continued to himself, "Yes, a success! And this beautiful treasure will be a token of my house."

It was not long before the litter was constructed and Arbogast laid atop it. Idunn made him as comfortable as she could and then the entourage was away. They entered Sunstead a little over an hour later and the people rushed out to offer aid and nourishment to the returning heroes.

As they traveled Bandy whispered to his dwarven companion.

"Rorin, the barrows were connected by tunnels, while several were corrupt and ruined there was one that was unspoiled by corruption.... It had a great store of treasure. Once Abrogast is seen to we should hurry back before the folk of Sunstead muster the courage to see for themslves. Such wealth would do much for the Black Tarn and the Woodmen and with it perhaps some of the stone wrights of the mountain would spend some time with us. Coins and goblets I saw and a great sword as well."

Grimbeorn was unsure about this attitude that's come over the leader of Sunstead and even moreso regarding what he believed to be a fell trinket, the crown.  He keeps his eye on both during the road back.

Idunn was led to a house of healing with Arbogast in tow.

The man was mumbling to himself and Idunn had become worried about his wound. In the short time since they had left the barrow, Arbogast had broken out into a fever and a foul smell emanated from the gash in his torso. The healer had administered her drugs and sang her song of staunching but maybe the Beorning had been right, perhaps there were some dark maladies pervading her patient.

The healers of Sunstead did their best to assume the care of Arbogast, but Idunn would have none of it - she was friend to Lindwine and this was the man to whom she had given her heart, and so Idunn was certain she would see him home. After the brief argument regarding whether her skills would suffice, Idunn had him moved to a comfortable pallet and aided in getting his armor off. The master healer of the house joined her and the two women began once more to administer to the man's needs.

The remaining companions found themselves excluded from entering the healing house and so made their way to the rooms that Ceawin had provided. The conversation went back and forth regarding the health of their friend, the treasures that remained within the barrows, and whether Ceawin now bore a token of the Shadow.

(https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/52987685/fellowship.jpg)

---

:ooc: I have more to post regarding some mechanics, but I have to go to my son's parent-teacher open house first...so there will be more here in a bit.

 :ooc: I sneak off with Rorin, we take the gold and buy an inn/forge and mail order brides from Dowinion.

 :ooc:  (-D

 :ooc: you could call the place "Brandy's Flail", colloquially known as "The Old Ball and Chain"

:ooc: I fear we may be losing track of the gravity of the moment.

 :ooc: "On the contrary, Spock, gravity is foremost in my mind."

:ooc: Idunn makes a healing test TN 18

The difficulty has been increased from the standard healing test due to the source of the wound.

TN 18 healing 3d

The evening passed and Idunn spent most of it over Arbogast's wound, staunching the blood and knitting closed the flesh. While she worked hard at making sure the man would not bleed to death, the other healers worked at cooling his brow for he burned with fever. Medicines were provided and cool, damp clothes were applied to his body - behind his neck, across his brow, and even under his arms.

Arbogast moaned and fell into a deep haze of pain and nausea. There were times when he spoke to no one in the room - far off things that made the healing women shiver with fear.

---

:ooc: Paul - leaving this here for you to fill in some things that you said you would like to do.

The healing test was a success - but not a great one or better - and due to this I am going to require Arbogast to make a series of tests over the next five nights, as he drifts between nightmares.

He must make a Valour test each night, TN 14. Each success counts as 1, Great as 2, and Extraordinary as 3. A failure counts as a -1. If at the end of the five rolls (five nights) Arbogast cumulative result is negative, he dies from unknown causes. His wound has been treated, yes, but the sickness that plagues him now is from the Shadow.

He will recover END each day at the normal rest rate of 2, but it only shows itself after the five nights and a positive result. Make sense?

You can make all the rolls now and RP the next five nights of turmoil as you see fit. Remember, he is Weary the first night, so he will be plagued by that on his first Valour roll. After the first night's sleep, though, the weariness will be abated.

Questions, let me know...

 :ooc: we had +2d awarded to the encounter for fear and corruption tests. Can Paul use those for first weary night as part of the encounter?

Finally having some downtime, Esgalwen toured the town of Sunstead.

She found many of their cultural practices familiar, for the people of Dorwinion and Rhovanion had often times visited the grand markets of Minas Tirith. She remembered hearing songs, tasting strange foods and liqueurs, and seeing strange dances from these far away entertainers and artisans. But that was many years past, and now she walked among them within their own town.

Esgalwen found the people very hospitable and gracious, and it was not just once that she and her other companions were invited to a strangers home to break bread. The Master of Sunstead was also a gracious host, but he had other businesses to attend to and thus the companions found themselves often at their own pleasures. They visited the Healing House each day to check on the well-being of Arbogast and sometimes spent the afternoon by his side applying cool clothes to his fever-ridden body. Many questions were asked as to why he still suffered, for clearly the wound had been mended and already showed signs that it was healing, but the medicine-women could not guess as to the reason.

Bandy persisted that the troupe should return to the barrows to collect the treasures that were scattered there - especially before some other, more unseemly folk went and robbed the wealth. To this the Dúnadan woman had to say, "Is this what we have become, Bandy? Grave robbers and ghouls? The treasures in the barrows belong to those that placed them there, not us. These were no troll-holes filled with items that had been taken by ill-deeds. These are the treasures laid with the dead in honor of who they were and what they did in their life. It seems to me that such actions would be tainted - and we need no more influence of the Shadow within our ranks."

Quote from: Telcontar on Aug 31, 2016, 12:16 PM:ooc: we had +2d awarded to the encounter for fear and corruption tests. Can Paul use those for first weary night as part of the encounter?

:ooc: No - those points were awarded for use within the barrow encounter. They do not carryover to the post-situation.

The Hobbit took affront to the words of the ranger. "What good to the dead is hoarded wealth? I would be content if the dead but ignored us, but no. So far they have done nothing to aid us, hinder and plague us only. You yourself took up a blade that belonged to a dead friend. Did you put it in a hole and cast ash and dirt over it? No, you used it to fight. I have money enough in my own pocket at home as such things are reckoned in the shire, but the folk of Rhosgobel, of Black Tarn, of the Mountain Hall do not. What's more is this gold isn't buried and secured in the tomb of an honored king. It lies open to the world and joined to the very barrow that may have killed our friend. The Dead have reason enough already to haunt us, we might as well take what money they have and spend it on something good. Not sitting idle to sate long dead greed, we even offered them the helm but that was not enough. The scattered wealth we glimpsed would do much to ease the suffering of the folk of Black Tarn, put food in their stomachs and a wall around their homes. We could buy weapons from the folk in the Mountain, the dragons hoard did much to change the fate of the people of Dale. Or perhaps instead they can continue to rely on the good graces of your friends at Tyrant's Hill? How lordly and gracious you were when coming from the south laden with gear of war, which you then passed on to those peoples of dubious allegiance.When the wolves howl and hunger bites, little good will buried gold do then."

"I'll not be mistaken for a thief in the night, that's one vote for yea and one for nay; Rorin, Grimbeorn, Idunn what say you?"

"The sword of my companion, Ardil, was returned by me to his father, Hardin, in Minas Tirith." Esgalwen's voice took on an edge of its own. "And yes, the supplies that came from my Steward were given to Tyrant's Hill upon my request - for like the Men of Gondor, those men know what it is to stand on the borders of the Shadow.

"You have my answer, Bandy." With that, Esgalwen strode from the room.

---

:ooc: I am liking this!  ;D

I had posted this earlier on my phone and the typing and language sucked, so I tweaked it.

:ooc: Yes, it's interesting seeing a less idealistic side of Bandy! 

I'll post in a little while - I'm still dealing with work from yesterday. 

In the house of healing, Idunn carefully watches her charge.  He is weak - barely able to stir - but his moaning is dire, and broken only by snatches of barely coherent speech.  Beneath the herbs brought in to sweeten the air and purge foul humours, the scent of corrupted flesh lingers, and the young healer fears it will grow. 

"...his house is empty, but we are watched... why do you take that message?  ...the dark trees, they want... flies everywhere... fight me, damn you... it's all burning!  Where is she?  Oh, my child... don't give it to them, fool... don't go in the water!  Thieves in the forest... Father?  Mother?  The lamp..."

The mention of lamps seems to trigger some change in the man.  His eyes close, and his breathing settles.  Beneath his blankets, his form seems smaller, almost childlike.  In her own exhaustion, Idunn finds herself remembering others she has nursed through injury and illness.  Her thoughts drift like an unmoored boat for a time. 

Then, with an entirely unexpected swiftness, the Fire-watcher seizes her wrist with a movement so violent that a nearby woman screams.  His head lolls drunkenly, eyes all un-seeing, as he says to all and to nobody

The wine will be slain by the winter
The white lord will trouble the eye
The dishonoured will beg for his kinfolk
The princeling will bleed in the rye.

The Queen of the darkling mountains
Will awaken and take to the sky
The wolf will lie down by the hearth-fire
And the light of the lamp will die. 



:ooc: First fever roll:

:ooc: 19, and a great success.  So far, so good...

:ooc: ...and a failure.  Down to 1. 

This is what I get for being a spotlight-hog, isn't it?

:ooc: Another great success takes Arbogast back up to 3. 

:ooc: ...and another failure knocks him back down to 2.  Still, at least I can't die from a single roll (he said, holding a brand new sparkly fate-toy out and saying 'you want this, don't you?  Don't you?'). 

:ooc: And a final failure leaves him at 1.  So, not skin-of-his-teeth survival, but certainly not easy. 

Doug, does he gain any more Shadow points?  Not pushing for it, mind. 

 :ooc: that's gonna leave a mark.

:ooc: Though wounded and weary, Arbogast never achieved a Miserable status and so he does not attain anymore Shadow points.

Nice rolls for the fever - that was kind of close!  ;D I updated his PC sheet for the END recovery.  :csu:

Arbogast will suffer the fever for five nights due to his rolls - he could have chased it off earlier, but the dice didn't fall that way. I am going to give the other PC's an option to RP (or at least give narrative) as to how their PC spent the time.

Quote from: Eclecticon on Aug 31, 2016, 03:17 PM:ooc: Yes, it's interesting seeing a less idealistic side of Bandy!

Yea - it's cool! I think of it as the Shadow wedging itself into the fabric of the company. Even if the treasure is fairly yours, the fractures it is creating could be signs of the invasive corrupting influence.

Grimbeorn is more scowly than usual due to the friction between his comrades. He understood both sides of the argument but it wasn't one that he cared much for.  The shield he found in the troll cave was recovered in a different situation and glad for it.  Reclaiming things from the mound was different somehow.  "I have no desire to desecrate the mound but it also has been tainted by the Shadow's evil.  I do not seek to despoil it but those whose ancestors resided there have more of a claim on what to do with anything recovered from those mounds.  This is a matter of the master of Sunstead to resolve not us."

"Yes, a Lord well known for his wisdom. Very well then, the sooner we leave Sunstead the better."

:ooc: Can we assume, for the sake of narrative momentum, that Rorin's response is equivocal? 

Likewise, Arbogast has opinions on the subject but is in no shape to express them.

"Well is there any more to our stay here?  If not, we should leave," offered the Beorning.

:ooc: The date is September 25th, 2951 T.A, when Arbogast awakes from his nightmarish fever. It will be another five days before he is himself and able to be up and active again - so game date as of this post is September 30th, 2951 T.A.

---

The days passed for the companions, as Arbogast returned to health. It had been close, but the Fire-watcher was a strong man and had hopes upon which he clung. Yet, neither Idunn nor the women within the House of Healing forgot his strange words that foretold of a greater doom.

With September closing, the company was at last able to travel once more. They were far from home and that path was dark, but the choice needed to be made. The folk of Sunstead were busy with their harvesting, wanting to make sure the fields and crops were secured before the coming of winter. Thus, the Company found little interest from the town when they spoke of gathering a group to cross back over the Narrows.

Ceawin was grateful and lauded them with praise and gifts, but he made no offer to assist the companions in their trip home. When Grimbeorn and Esgalwen went to his hall to ask for aid in the journey, he answered. "It is the harvest and all hands are needed," said the Master of Sunstead. "But certainly, with the Spring, you will find folk that will make the journey. Perhaps you could stay with us until then?"

Esgalwen spoke up, "Master Ceawin, surely you can afford us a few extra swords to make our way back across the forest? It was we who offered our services to you, and by so doing, you have less fear along your southern borders where the old barrows lie."

The man looked back at Esgalwen and his face darkened with rage, "Did you not hear me, woman?! It is not a good time for me to send any of my people away. Winter will be upon us soon and all my folk will remain safe within the walls of our town. I offer you that safety, too! Pray I do not rescind my courtesies."

"Master Ceawin, I speak for my Lord Ecthelion of Gondor, as ambassador to the people of Mirkwood. Gracious are the offerings made, but forget not that these folk that came to help you also have families to which they would return. I ask you to please reconsider, as such things strengthen the bonds between people."

In a haughty tone, Ceawin looked at Esgalwen, "Then perhaps, lady, you might seek the patronage of the Lord of Gondor. Here Ceawin is master, and his word is final." Beside the man, upon a wooden stand that had been ornately sculpted and painted, sitting upon a pillow, the Helm of Peace gleamed with a fire of its own. The Master of Sunstead's hand came to rest atop it where his fingers softly drummed.

The Dúnadan looked to Grimbeorn and words unspoken passed between them. They left the hall and wandered off to find her friends, but even in the company there was contention. Were they all cursed by their entry into the shadowed hills?

:ooc: I need to ask you guys if you will decide to stay in Sunstead until the Spring. If so, then we will do a Fellowship Phase.

If not, we will roll for another journey.

I updated Arbogast's PC sheet for the additional rest and END recovery.  :csu:

Grimbeorn cannot contain his anger anymore when he and Esgalwen return to their comrades.  "Ceawin is a fool!  He keeps that crown as if it were a prize he won or precious bauble he can't bear to part with... bah!  And his 'offer' to keep us here -- as if we were courtiers hanging off his every word and were to do his bidding.  Do I look like a simpering, sniveling rat content with the scraps that fall from his generous table?!  Let us shake the dust of this place off our boots and return to our homes, where we belong."

Bandy responded with a hearty, "Here, here!" After Grimbeorn had spoken.

"I have spent some time now in Sunstead and think that I have finally placed my finger on what it is that bothers me about this place. Well the Lord not withstanding anyway. The town is vibrant and colorful, with many people coming and going and lots of items for sale or trade. However, like a fair that comes to your town the color and pageantry are not permanent. Sunstead has a temporary feel to it that I have not felt in the towns of the Woodmen. Perhaps I have spent too much time among them and the feel of the woods is growing comfortable, but I do not have the same sense of enduring here that I did west of the wood. The barrows belong here, evil or neutral, they are part of this place, but the town of Sunstead? No, that feels temporary to me. Like a phantom image haunting the waving heat trails of a hilltop in high summer."

The Hobbit tapped the small barrel of ale that the companions kept in the common space of their rooms and began to pour pints for the group. He poured them out, set them aside for the heads to settle, and then passed them under the tap again to fill them with just the right amount of head.

"I have been outspoken about my views and my opinions about Sunstead and it's lord since we left Rhosgobel and though I will not rehash or begrudge us coming here as the deed needed to be done, but I dont see any value in us remaining here over the winter. Abrogast I am sure would like to return to the Black Tarn and if the group is to decide that way then I will gladly go. However, instead of passing through the forest again, though the journey maybe longer it may be safer if we were to head north. I much desire to see the Elves of Mirkwood and see what wisdom they can impart about the ghostly troubles we have seen here in the south. I do not know how far the journey is, but outside of the woods it may be safer, I will leave the decision to the group saying only that I do not wish to remain here any longer then the recovery of Abrogast requires."

Arbogast nods thoughtfully.  "I understand your desire to seek the elves' counsel, my friend, but I fear it must wait until another time.  The weather has already turned towards winter.  And though Idunn's song is miraculous in its effect, my injury was grievous and it may be some time before my strength returns in full." 

"I have suffered and bled for this errand, as have each of us.  It has been long and hard, and now it is over.  Let us go home." 

Shortly after the companions hold their conclave, Arbogast presents himself before Caewin at the Great Hall. 

"Caewin, Lord of the Sunstead, I come on behalf of the Fellowship of the Helm to give thanks to you for your hospitality these past weeks, and to beg your leave to depart for our homes.  However, before we take our leave, I would advise you.  My friends and I doubted the wisdom of your self-imposed task, yet we kept these doubts to ourselves to avoid giving offence.  We did not see it as our place to question one in your position.  I have since come to realise that silently suborning our judgement to yours was a betrayal, not a service." 

"But by our blood in the darkness, I believe we have bought the right to speak freely, on this matter at least.  My counsel, if you would hear it, is this: the Helm of Peace that you prize is a rare and beautiful thing, created with the best of intentions by a worthy craftsman of his people.  It has not laid long in the hands of the Enemy, and no curse attaches itself to it.  Yet I have seen the light in your eye when you look upon it.  The Shadow works its way into each of our hearts, in time.  The Helm, I believe, is its way into yours."

"Trust to the hearts of our people over bright treasures, for the friendship you sought these years ago has been freely given, but we both have seen the contempt in which the Enemy's servants hold the works of Men.  Give the Helm away.  Melt it down for its metals.  Cast it into the River Running and let the swift waters carry it far from here, but do not keep it.  My Lord, do not keep it." 



:ooc: Now, let's see how this works out.  I don't know what the TN for this is, though it's likely to be pretty high. 

Persuade roll:

Rorin could see the Lord of Sunstead tense and begin to tremble with suppressed rage as Arbogast spoke of abandoning the Helm. When the woodsman had finished, Rorin stepped forward and spoke.

"Lord Caewin, my companion speaks true. Long have Dwarves mined the riches of the earth and crafted fine works of silver and gold, and long have Dwarves fallen to the gold-lust. Our long history is filled with stories of great kings and leaders succumbing to this sickness, it is our weakness and I would not wish it upon anyone. Hear me when I tell you that you are falling under the influence of the Shadow even as we speak, the rage and fear that you are feeling will be your undoing as it has been the undoing of my kind since the dawn of time.

This helm that I have crafted was never meant to be the focus of your greed, it is meant to help bring peace and prosperity to the people of Mirkwood. As it's creator I must insist that you heed the advice of Arbogast, he is wise beyond his years and will not lead you astray. I will gladly return my commission for the Helm if you would hand it back over to me, but failing that, I would ask that you melt it down and donate the gold to a worthy cause. But my Lord, do not keep this thing."

 :ooc:

I'd like to roll an Inspire here instead of a persuade. My thinking is that Caewin is currently fighting an inner battle against the forces that are instilling fear and anger in him and Rorin is trying to inspire the real Caewin to fight back against this temptation as opposed to persuading someone who is of sound mind, what do you think?

:ooc: Steve, your Inspire idea is a good one and I apologize that I did not reply in kind sooner, so that you could roll and we'd have a result to work with. So, what I am going to do is roll it for you at this time and then do my narrative based on how the dice fall.

Rorin Inspire check 2d


Lastly, guys - I am going to take a solid look, over the next two days, at the rules that I was wondering how to work into PbP and come up with some ideas to bounce off of you all (i.e. fellowship, fellowship focus, etc.). Send me a PM for any rule mechanic that we have not used that should be, and I will work on those, too.

:ooc: Yikes! A freaking :~~:

---

The companions followed behind, as Arbogast and Rorin entered the hall of Ceawin. They stood on the periphery of the crowd, watching to see if their friends could make any impact in the thane's mindset.

Arbogast started, speaking passionately about the strength of men and the bonds that should be held tighter upon than any treasure of gold. Ceawin was courteous as he listened and the Fire-watcher was almost certain that he saw a pleading look cross the man's face, as if to say help me. But then the look disappeared. The master of the hall never rose in anger, in the manner he had done when Esgalwen had come to speak to him. He quietly listened to Arbogast's attempts to persuade him to let the helmet go.

When he had finished, Rorin followed picking up on the same thread. The dwarf's tactic was different though and he spoke inspirationally of his kin's great works, but also how these same works had lain some dwarves low. Even as he spoke, Rorin could see his words were falling on deaf ears. The courtesy that Ceawin had shown Arbogast was gone and the master of the house exhibited now only patience - patience to allow the dwarf to finish his words.

"Yes, well..." said Ceawin after Rorin was done. "Certainly the success and wealth of your folk, Master Dwarf, is proof alone that sometimes treasures are just that...treasures. No, keep your commission and I will keep my helm. It is, as I have stated, to be a token of my house for as long as it stands. When the last of my kin are at last laid to rest, let them be placed within our family tomb with the helm proudly adorned.

"Fear not, Master Arbogast, the Helm is not a foul token to despoil me or my house. I believe it to be the very marker of our breaking of the Shadow and forcing it from our lands. Of course you all have my leave to make your road, but I would advise against it. The weather is fast turning against us, and though we may have yet a few more good days, I would hate to see it foul your course.

"Come forth... all of you," he said, gesturing for the rest of the companions to approach his dais. "As Arbogast has noted, it was by blood that you all have earned the right to speak, but also the benefits of my house. Thus I decree to you all, a parcel of land for each of you to own. Stay with us here and make Sunstead your home. Let this be your holding and mayhaps where you settle to start a business or farm. What say you all?" A genuine smile was on the man's face.

"Lord, as you know from our last speaking, I have been given the honoured duty to carry the message of my Lord Ecthelion to these lands. Thus I cannot make any location within Mirkwood a permanent home, but it would be greatly appreciated to have your patronage whenever I return to your lands."

Ceawin nodded, "It is given, but I cannot let you leave empty-handed, Lady Esgalwen of Ithilien. I redress the harsh words that were exchanged in our previous counsel and I give unto you this sack of coin. May it aid you in your journeys." The man then looked to the rest, "What say you all? Is Sunstead a worthwhile option to make your home? If not, then I bestow upon you all my patronage and this treasure."

---

:ooc: Let me know if you guys decide to take the land option -or- the treasure reward.

Arbogast's heart falls as the master of the Sunstead speaks of his hard-won heirloom, but he holds his tongue and tries not to let his mind show. 

"Your offer is generous, as befits one of your House.  I would that I could accept it, for I have seen your fair country, and the good folk who call it their home.  But my own folk have wanted too long already for my labour, and I would do poor service for them were I to settle here.  Rather, bestow your land on those who know better how to bring forth its bounty," he glances, not un-meaningfully, at Bandy, "and let me bring tokens of your goodwill back to the Black Tarn." 

Rorin too felt a sadness as Caewin re-affirmed is fixation on the Helm, "Would that I have never crafted it." he thought.

To the lord he said, "Your land is rich and beautiful and I am certain that I would be content to call Sunstead my home, but I have a forge to tend across the forest. Your favor is reward enough, but this dwarf will not turn down treasure that is offered."

When their audience finally ended and the company turned to leave, Rorin felt that they would one day return to this Hall....but under what circumstances? He hoped against hope that Lord Caewin would not fall prey to the Shadow.

Bandy bowed low before the lord of Sunstead.
"Lord, your offer is gracious and the rolling hills of your realm remind me of those of my home. But as you have sought to be numbered among the Woodmen we too must return there. Take it not as slighting your offer, but as advocates for your rule. We too desire to see the folk of Wilderland prosper and the best place for us to do that is east of the wood where the Councils Elders and the Brown Wizard reside. May the darkness of the woods and the mists of the hills stay clear of the doors of your hall."

Grimbeorn listens to the fellowship as they respond to Ceawin's offer.  Like the others, he is disappointed in the lord's intransigence regarding that bit of gold and jewel, but he isn't surprised.  He's seen firsthand the lure of shiny things have on the hearts of Men, Elves, and Dwarves, though he was quite young at the time of the Battle of Five Armies.  Resigned to the fact that a man is alone the master of his fate, the Beorning steps forward.  "Lord, I appreciate your offer of reward but as you know I am bound to another, to take up a mantle like yours.  I will gladly accept your gift and will seek to use it to better our two peoples.  If I may grant in return the use of my name as reference and good will for if your people come to the landing to do business.  It may mean nothing more than a kinder disposition in dealings but for my people even that is generous."

And so it was that with September's end, the companions readied themselves once more to make the crossing of the Narrows. Each harbored a hidden fear, for the previous experience had been dark and treacherous, and now their number was less.

They took another three days to finalize their travel plans and to gather their things. The Company was pleased to learn that the horse-master who maintained the paddocks of Sunstead would not accept the return of the four horses and two ponies that they companions had ridden since leaving Rhosgobel in the spring of this year. The time seemed much longer than only a few months since they had delivered Verwyne to her betrothed, and then visited Mountain Hall, but they had accomplished much.

Saddlebags were filled with travel rations - dried meats, waybread, dried fruits and vegetables, and finally feed for the horses. Each companion had filled two waterskins for themselves and lashed them to their saddles along with a blanket with which to hopefully find comfort.

They were ready.

The sun rose bright on the morning of October 4th, though a chill wind blew out of the east. The companions wrapped themselves snuggly in warmer clothes and mounted. Ceawin and the folk of Sunstead came forth to see them off. The streets were filled with people with gracious words and kind gifts. Esgalwen smiled when she was handed a warm meat-pie, "We will enjoy this treat very much, for after all we will have to look forward to will be trail rations." The woman who had given it as a gift gave a smile, "Bless you, Lady! Thank you for your aid to Sunstead."

And so it was for each of the companions, though the gifts varied by whom bestowed them. It came to a point where the items were too much a burden and thus needed to be declined. Fortunately, this did not cause any apparent ill-feelings, as those that offered smiled and nodded in understanding - some folk seemed relieved.

At last, the company made it to the gates and were now free of the throng of people. They looked back and waved and then turned their horses west. With the sun rising behind them, they rode toward the dull gray-green shadow of Mirkwood that rose in front. The goal of the companions was to be back in their respective homes before the first snows of November.

The road for the better part of an hour, crossing the fields of the East Bight - the barrow hills rising to the south. The forest was just under a mile in distance when they saw her. A lone figure stood atop a green mound that puckered up out of the plain like a bubble. The company knew her, though she was some ways away - it was the medicine woman, the one named Leyna. The old crone watched as they passed, neither signaling nor moving.

"Should we see what she wants?" asked Esgalwen, feeling a slight discomfort from the stare of the woman.

---

:ooc: All PC's received 4 points in treasure (24 total split by 6) :csu:

You also permanently own your horse/pony. Feel free to write up the horse in regards to colorings, gender, attitude, or however much depth you wish to give (make your own Bill) :csu:

Lastly, feel free to write down three things that were given to you by the grateful folk of Sunstead. Nothing major - but something that your PC might want or need. A wooden flute, or a good weave of rope; a fine shirt, or nice boots; a basket of muffins, or a meat-pie. The items can be permanent or consumable, but nothing of great wealth, just a three tokens that you might see your character taking. Cool?

:ooc: I am rolling journey rolls now for everyone to expedite the return:

Crossing the Narrows
Total 110 miles but will be modified by x3 due to Severe terrain; horses normally not able to be ridden, so I am only giving a mounted travel rate of 30 (instead of 40 miles per day); so, total travel time will be 11 days minus any unforeseen events.

• Lore test to gain success dice at TN 14
• 3 Fatigue tests (Travel) required at TN 18

• Arbogast will call on his Mirkwood Lore (since he had no Lore skill), and gain an auto-success
• Idunn will call on his Mirkwood Lore (since he had no Lore skill), and gain an auto-success

Lore tests
TN 14 by PC

:ooc: So, Journey bonus success dice go to:

Arbogast 1d
Idunn 1d
Bandy 2d
Esgalwen 1d

Travel rolls (3x each)
TN 18 Travel by PC

:ooc: Very nice! No :~~: 's and so, no Hazards.

Which means, that the company crosses the Narrows - maybe a little weary from fatigue, but only the flies give them hell.

:ooc: By the way, I left this thread open still to RP with Esgalwen's question. Don't feel that it is over just because I did the journey rolls and prepped the Fellowship phase thread.

"She has given valuable counsel in the past," says the Fire-water. Though not precisely correct on the matter of our deaths.

"I would hear her once again, if she has more to tell us."

"It would be a fitting end to our joirney here. We could not be safetly gone without some cryptic words of the seer to trouble us over the winter."

Bandy jerked the reins of his pony in the direction of the woman.

"Perhaps she will explain here early words or give us what we need most, insight."

The rest of the companions followed Bandy, reining their horses in the direction of the old woman. It did not take long to cover the distance and as they approached, they saw Mother Leyna wrapped in her old shawl. The fabric was threadbare and offered little comfort from the chilled air that blew across top of the hillock. Her body was still unclean and her hair was a mess of tangles and knots, but the painted symbols that covered her seemed fresh.

"Hello, old woman," said Esgalwen, "you have come to see us off?"

Mother Leyna's eyes came up slowly, as if her concentration was broken and she was far off in another place within her mind.

"Aye," said the crone, "I would see you safely from our lands and I would ask you to return that which was given."

"Given?" asked Grimbeorn.

"Yes...the token that I bestowed upon that one," she pointed to Idunn, "before you made your fateful journey to the barrows."

:ooc: As far as gifts go, Arbogast receives a new homespun shirt to replace the one that was destroyed in the barrow, a horn of ale which he washes down on the spot with a smile, and a piece of beaten copper with a ribbon to tie it into a braid.  The latter has writing on it in an unfamiliar alphabet.  His pony is the breed common to the lands of the River Running: nut brown with a long, shaggy mane and tail.  They're docile animals, and easy enough to train, but patient to the point of apathy.  Getting them moving can be a struggle, but once they start, they'll happily plod along all day with barely a stop for rest. 

Apparently the tale of the slaying of Bloody Muzzle was well known in Sunstead. It never occured to the Hobbit that he may have told the story 100 times in the time he was there. For when he departed among the wealth the lord of Sunstead gave him was a leather belt, a buckle shaped like a doubled headed boar of worked gold, and an end piece of the same as a part of his treasure. The other gifts he recieved from the folk, though more mundane, pleased him as well. A blowing horn made from some beasts of the plains that was carved and inked in the image of a dragon, a leather scabbard for his blade pressed with zoomorphic boars, and most prized of all a map that he was told would take him to the inn of his folk.

Grimbeorn marveled at the generosity and kindness of the people of Sunstead ere their departure.  They lavished him and his companions with wonderful gifts, some of the best made by their artisans and makers.  Of the things offered, he found a small, hand-carved bear -- simple and well-loved, as if made by a child.  When he sought out the maker, his intuition was right for the carver was a young boy who just began apprenticing with the town's master.  He visited briefly with the boy and when he left, he quietly, anonymously left a bit of the gold to the master to sponsor the child.  He did this with the makers of the other two gifts he discovered: a leather sheath for his family's axe and a small beaten bronze disc with the symbol of the town afixed with a flaxen braid.  The bronze token he kept hidden away in pocket within the breast of his tunic.

 :ooc: Grimbeorn gives away half of his treasure of gold

---

Meeting the old woman's gaze for a moment, the Beorning reached behind his neck for the cord that held the pouch, removed it, and handed it over to the old woman.  "If this was to protect the bearer from harm, it worked."

Mother Leyna took the offered token and tucked it into a pouch on her belt. To Grimbeorn's surprise, she then quickly approached the man and reached up to grasp his face and beard with both hands. The Beorning flinched, not sure if the old woman truly was mad and meant to attack him, but then he saw her stare deep into his eyes. Her hands smelled of earth and herbs and there was a pungent smell of body odor, yet Grimbeorn allowed her to finish, though he knew not why.

The old woman let go, "Aye, it protected you...there is no shadow in your eyes."

She proceeded to do the same with each of the other companions, though only Rorin maintained her greatest attention. As she stared into the dwarf's eyes, she began to murmur, or cant. Rorin began to feel claustrophobic, as if he were once more immersed in the earth - not like in the underground dwarven halls, which he loved, but as if he were buried. He pulled back from the woman, even as she stopped her words, "You, too, are safe, though you were present before the dark magic. It was not turned on you."

Mother Leyna stepped back from the group and sighed. "What is it you fear, old woman?" asked Esgalwen. "The only harm that was received within the tombs was wounds of the flesh. Arbogast was cut by the undead creature's old blades, but he has since recovered." There were scars that remained, but the Dúnadan was mostly correct - the nightmares would remain.

The old woman nodded, "No, knife wounds were not the only dangers that were encountered. Dark magics were cast and now I fear that what was once a terror within the barrows, now walks among us. Did you not heed the words? Did you not present the talisman? The incantation I gave you was to provide a defense, but also to break the spells that might be cast."

The companions looked around at one another. They had said the words - Bandy had shouted them loudly throughout the crypt - but Idunn and Grimbeorn had not presented the token. The wraiths  made their incantation - Rorin had heard the terrible words.

Leyna spoke again, "I fear the shadow is released from the crypts, but not banished...instead resting within the fool that sought this adventure." She lifted the old shawl up so that it covered her head, "Safe journey...may Arnú bless your path."

 :ooc: Hey respawn point -- XP bank!

"There's always one more thing, isn't there?" grumbled Grimbeorn.  "I have a feeling you know how to find us if we are needed again.  Til we meet again, old woman."  If there is no more talk, Grimbeorn silently spurs his steed forward towards the familiar side of the great wood.