I'll look up what that means when I'm back home.

What's the result on my travel roll for return to Carrock. i wasnt sure what the TN was.

Right, sorry.  The TN is just the basic 14, so Hathcyn gets to drop two Shadow points. 

Esgalwen's Fellowship Phase

Weal and Woe roll first:

Rolled 1d12 : 12, total 12

AP and XP
• she will spend 8 of her 11 AP and increase Riddle to 2d, and then bank the remaining 3 AP
• she will bank her 15 XP

Undertakings
1) Heal Corruption (in Rhosgobel Sanctuary - allowed two rolls)
TN 14 song/craft 2d

craft roll 1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 2d6 : 2, 6, total 8

song roll 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 2d6 : 2, 2, total 4

2) Visit the Kingstone (in Rhosgobel Sanctuary - gains back 3 Hope)

Well there is a pretty good set of rolls for Esgalwen's time of rest in Rhosgobel!

Weal & Woe result is Good Fortune! Paul, I turn it over to you to let me know what Esgalwen's boon is to be.

She loses 4 points from her Heal Corruption success.

She gains back 3 for visiting the Kingstone.

She spends 3 Treasure to maintain her standing in the region. I know that it is only if you do not go HOME, but as a foreigner, it seems like a necessary service to keep her place among the people.

Narrative to follow...

 
Grimbeorn's W&W is  so I'll account that as his ascendency to chieftain and general well-being of his people such as beating back Viglunding raiders from the Old Ford, outside of the issues of the Forest Road.

As for his Heal Corruption, he got an  +18 (with 1 6) to make it a Great Success if the  is counted as 1, potentially reducing his Temp Shadow to 1.

Otherwise, my narrative will come with Grimbeorn returning to the Carrock, ascendency, local issues, and transfer to Gwaithlim.

Word spread quickly of the Fellowships deeds, and the black and ugly scar Hathcyn bore was witness. Many of the folk who lived near the woods had seen the terrible wounds of a spider, but few had seen one so large and so deep. The scar he bore became proof of the fellowship's deeds in the wood. If any other proof were asked for people simply pointed south, "Look to the Tarn". The lake became more wholesome and provided again for its people. The fishing and the blessings of the lake seemed to return greater than any had seen in living memory.

The tale of the Fellowship was told again and again in  the Fox's Tale . If Hathcyn had not been the owner, then he would have drunk the place dry in the drinks that were offered to him. Many folk had lost friends or kin to the spiders over the years and many felt a measure of vengeance had been served by the Fellowship. Hathcyn was always quick to point out that they he knew not if the great spider was dead but known seemed to care. They felt that in some way the Fellowship had struck a wound that those who suffered never thought possible. A measure of justice had been served and taken as a collective point of pride.

There was much to do when he returned home and for a while the Beorning begged off many tasks and needs. The story of the journey was told many times in many nights. Though Hathcyn was able to take a break from ordinary cares. The wound he suffered was excuse enough and he felt no guilt and none was laid upon him. So he wandered the hills and forests of the lands about the green stone, and at night he ran as a fox gaining more insight into the land and a measure of peace. The time was not wasted, for it lessened the burden on his heart and the terrible sights he witnessed faded in his mind. The lessons were still there but the horror and shock of the spider layer and the vile servants of the spiders were less sharp in his mind. He no longer imagined that he smelled the rot of Mirkwood in his nose and the green fields and clean land did much to soothe his soul.

Also, Grimbeorn's words in the wood had not been in jest. Word spread far and wide that Hathcyn Foresthelm was named Thane of the Green Stone Land. He now had greater responsibilities as a leader among the Beornings. When he spoke or gave directions it was readily obeyed as a command and not a suggestion. His authority grew as did the requirements on his time. His first order of bussiness was to see to the woods and the road. He had been quietly working and making the inn a hiring point for trusted caravan guards and escorts through the wood. Now he also made calls for Spider hunters. Those who did not want to sign on to a long journey in the wood now found good money in the hunting of spiders. Hathcyn had spoken to the other holders in the area and together they placed a bounty on spiders. To entice the wayward but the skilled to direct their talents in positive ways. Soon as word spread the Fox's Tale became the gathering point of the Spider Hunters. Woodmen and Beornings who ventured into the woods and returned to tell tales of spider fights and to collect bounties. Hathcyn was true to his word and offered greater than his share to encourage the hunting of spiders and his promise not to let them rest or draw near again to their people rang true.

The title of thane brought new and different challenges as well. While he had sat in many councils and was always quick to offer advice now, he was the one that needed to decide. Now he was the one that was called to act the responsibility and the consequences were his to carry. His first challenge was Athala.

The women had come out of the south and the lands of the Leofrings. Hathcyn was surprised to see here, but also happy to see that she had made it from the north alive and with her charges. She confirmed what Hathcyn had said about the people of the vales and this indicated to him that she had traveled some and somewhere had left the prince and his nurse. The Beorning didn't pry and perhaps this was a matter best left in secret. She did however, come seeking vengeance. And to do so she called upon the Thane of the Greenstone Land.

In her travels she had gone south and encountered the men of the Toft and Tyrant's Hill and she had crossed paths with their lord, Mogred. This man was known to Hathcyn and in all their dealing he was never truly sure where the man's loyalty lay or what his relationship with the ranger of Gondor had been. Athala had come to lay a charge at his feet. She claimed vehemently that it was Mogdred who had sold her into slavery and she asked for revenge and justice. She claimed that unsavory and distrustful people and creatures had been gathering. She had encountered them as they headed south. Where they were going she could not tell, but there was no dearth of troublesome men and villains in the lands around Tyrant's Hill. She petitioned and then pleaded with him to convince Grimbeorn and his father to go to war against these terrible men.

"War? We have had war enough and peace has only rested lightly on this land. Another war is a bold move to undertake. We have slavers to the north with a more pressing claim for our vengeance then these men in the south."

"Peace. I see your blood rising. I do not doubt your claim and I do not doubt that the past of such men is unpleasant and their future likely to be as well. I can not abide slavery and the keeping of people as chattel. Here you will find folk that were once slaves. Redeemed in the north and then decided to stay among us. I will not suffer a slave here, and I will shelter and aid any that come here. You have my word on that. War is another matter. I will not tell you I think the men of the south to be good men, there are good men among them, but I will not say that virtue is stronger than their vices. But as long as they raise their swords against the orcs and foul creatures of the south and they keep to their own lands I could not council war with them. I also will not tell you to set aside your revenge if it is well aimed, that is for you to decide. If however, you find that he has taken council with orcs or servants of the dark tower then this I would be keen to know and you would find me a more vocal ally."

They spoke for a time and Athala stayed several days. She did not agree with the Foresthelm, but she also understood his concerns. He had also not given her a flat no. The offer of aid was real but did little as a balm for revenge. But he had also given her an opportunity. Proof that the men of the south were in league with the orcs and not fighting them. This was something she could discover with her own skills.

This was not the last or the least trouble that the Thane of the Greenstone had to face. When winter was well on two men came to the tavern. They came with the sunset and spoke little to anyone and avoided questions. They sought only for the master of the house, but the Beornings gave them a cool reception and the Woodmen smelling trouble gave them a wide birth. One man at least was known to Hathcyn when he finally met them in the hall. Their dress and custom were from the North and not a few knew them as Viglundings, but love of Aestid and respect for Hathcyn stayed their hands from open conflict.

"KInslayer."

Hathcyn let the name pass without comment or emotion.

"I am Drughin, of the burnt hall folk."

His companion chimed in, "and apparently you left your manners there."

"Longspear, I am Thugan Chippedblade. You spared me in the woods, kinsmen to your wife you called us."
"I remember, and a keg of beer I promised with the hand of friendship from a wife's husband to her father."
"Your deeds, your words, and the admiration for Aestid are known among some of us. Even this lout, which is why we have come."

The two men then told their tale. One which confirmed part of the story of Athala. Men and others had gathered in the south. They said a longing to travel had taken hold of Viglund, but he dare not leave on such a trip instead he sent his son. And by slow and careful path they had gone. South councils were had and troubling meetings occurred in the fetid marsh of the southern forest.

"It was an ill trip Longspear and ill omened. There are some among us who keep Lady Aestid dear in our hearts, and some few who grudgingly respect you for your words and deeds. We have come to warn you, and to tell you that not all in the north are happy with the company our lord keeps."

"This is grave news and you took no small risk in coming here. I have not had the chance to feast with any of wife's folk. So you shall eat with us, and I will make good my offer of hospitality and the wifegeld of the barrel of beer."
The title was a double edged blade, a dangerous thing Hathcyn began to realize. He now had to carry a portion of his lord's burdens and he began to realize the great weight that Beorn and soon Grimbeorn would have to carry. His burdens grew as did his responsibility. Under his roof and by the care of Aestid, his wife, he grew strong again and despite the troubles and burdens knew great happiness.

  Not my best narrative but I need to get this posted before I get overcome by life events.

Very good, Tom!  Things are, as ever, afoot in the Vales. 

Quote from: tomcat on Jul 25, 2022, 12:26 PM Well there is a pretty good set of rolls for Esgalwen's time of rest in Rhosgobel!

Weal & Woe result is Good Fortune! Paul, I turn it over to you to let me know what Esgalwen's boon is to be.

The ongoing theme for Esgalwen at the moment is a lack of a niche.  She's tried fitting in a number of places, none of which have worked out in the long term, and the fact that she hasn't put down roots anywhere seems to be nagging at her more and more.  It's time we fixed that, because she has distant kin right over there, who she's never met. 

But word has reached them a couple of times that one of their blood has come north from Gondor and has been kicking around Wilderland for more than a decade now.  They've tried previously to make contact, but the Rangers of the North rarely cross the Misty Mountains, and basically never go east of Mirkwood - they don't have that many people to send hither and yon, and their attention is focused on Eriador.  Plus, Esgalwen moves around a lot, so by the time they get word that she's been found somewhere, she's inevitably moved on. 

Now, though, one of the High Elves has gone eastward, and suggests that he will probably meet her in the lands of the Beornings.  I suggest that when Gwaithlim next meets Esgalwen, he will present her with a written invitation from Elrond Half-Elven to visit his house and there be formally presented to Damrod and received by her kin. 

Quote from: tomcat on Jul 25, 2022, 12:26 PMShe gains back 3 for visiting the Kingstone.

They should go together!  I'm happy to write up a scene, if you don't have time.

I will have time tomorrow but if you have some content to start the narrative, I welcome it.

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Jul 25, 2022, 02:02 PM
Grimbeorn's W&W is  so I'll account that as his ascendency to chieftain and general well-being of his people...
 <SNIP>  Otherwise, my narrative will come with Grimbeorn returning to the Carrock, ascendency, local issues, and transfer to Gwaithlim.

A worthy fate for a worthy character.  For Grimbeorn's retirement without succumbing to the Shadow, Gwaithlim gets an extra 10 build points to spend using the table on page 76 of the core book.  Perhaps some social skills are in order, to balance him out a little?

  Do we have any gaping holes in the groups skill sets?

It is a quiet afternoon, but for the soft wind through summer grasses, as Esgalwen and Arbogast approach the Kingstone.  Standing as it has done since it was raised by the Men of Rhovanion centuries ago, the high stone bears upon it the bleached skull of some great beast of elder days. 

"My companions out of Gondor and I spied this from afar as we came northward," the Ranger says, marking the first words since their idle chit-chat fell into comfortable silence that morning.  "I'm glad to finally have a chance to see it up close."

"Yes," agrees the Fire-watcher.  "I have not set eyes upon it before, though Bandy heard of it, I know not where, and we spoke at times of visiting it."  After a short pause, he adds "I think he would have liked this place." 

Esgalwen nods, thinking of the Hobbit's steading set likewise upon a hill, and wondering at how it might measure against a country neither of them has seen, save but in imaginings drawn forth by their old friend's tales.  "It is easier now, to speak of him," she says after a while. 

"It is." 

Arbogast had not the time, in those days after the lifting of the siege at Sweartmereseld, for more grief, though he had watched the small, shroud-wrapped form be lowered into the soil and had sung the mourning songs of the Beornings who were his friend's adopted folk.  Now, as each day seems to bring sweeter water and larger schools of fat fish to the Black Tarn, and the well-seasoned timbers of a new palisade are set strong in place, and his kinfolk drive the foundation pilings of a new redoubt into the mud of the lake-floor, it seems at last that there is time to set himself aside.  And so he has, of an evening, removed himself to a fireside on a quiet bank and spent time merely with his thoughts.  Staring out as the shadows lengthen over the waters, or watching the dawn over the wood in the east, it seems to him that there are far worse places that the bones of Wilone might lie, and fouler places where his friend might have fallen. 

"Did I tell you," he says, "that the folk of Woodland Hall have carven a statue of him?  Amaleoda asked me whether I thought it fit for it to stand on the roof of the lake-tower, when it is done, to hold his stone like a beacon." 

Esgalwen pictures this.  "What did you say?"

"Well, it is not a very good likeness of him, but I think he would nonetheless like the idea." 

Later, when a traveller's repast is finished and the pair lie full and content in the afternoon sun, the subject, to this point spoken around, is broached at last.  "Did you feel the same call?" Arbogast asks. 

"To come to the southern wood?" answers the lady of Gondor, her face darkening.  "I did."  The sensation is not one easily forgotten, by turns nagging, demanding and tugging, drawing her gaze ever southward to a dark place far beyond the brown hedge of Rhosgobel.  It called upon her to turn vagabond, leaving the constraints of a home, however temporary, for the freedoms of the wild. 

"What did you do?" 

She gives a half-shrug, not rising from the soft grass.  "Hathcyn sent a barrel of his mead as a yuletide gift, so I drank instead, and sang until I could hear the call no more."  She smiles at the memory.  "Radagast matched me drink for drink, and song for song, though I think we both lost the tune fairly quickly."  Looking over, she adds "what did you do?"

"I told Lindwine, of course.  She asked 'and will you answer this call?'  I said that I would not, for all the wine of Dorwinion or the gold of the Lonely Mountain.  So together we spat upon the call and went north instead, to abide for a while with my kin in Woodmen-Town.  My daughters had not before seen the Lamp of Balthi, and Lindwine had not met my mother." 

Esgalwen arches an eyebrow.  "Ah yes?  And how fared the two of them?" 

"Well, I am told that she makes for a wilful daughter-in-law, but it seems that the presence of granddaughters is sufficient gild for the offence." 

"And did you learn what you hoped?  For as I recall you spoke of questioning the elders of your folk." 

"Your memory is keen," he answers, and for a while says no more.  Esgalwen waits, well-accustomed to his silences, and eventually he speaks again.  "The blind crones and greybeards of the Hall of Balthi recalled a version of the story of that worthy hero wherein he and the Grey Wizard are confronted in the depths of Dol Guldur's dungeon by an evil spectre.  The wizard calls it a jailer, and it laments that, since the Necromancer has forsaken his erstwhile fortress, it has nothing more to torment.  Then it plays with them like a cat with a mouse as they search for the lamp.  Fortunately, they are able to drive it back with flame conjured from the wizard's staff, the waters of an underground stream, and finally by the light of the lamp itself.  It flees in the end, cursing both them and its former master." 

"And do you think this tale to be true?" 

"I think most of the old tales have a grain of truth within them.  Perhaps the Elves would know more, but then, perhaps not."  He stands, brushing the remains of the food from what was his lap, and looks at the skull upon the stone.  "I have heard that this is the skull of a great fire-drake, and that it will sound its roar once again when the rightful king of Rhovanion places his hand upon it." 

Esgalwen, standing also, folds her arms.  "And have you come here to press your claim to that title?" 

Arbogast grins and shakes his head.  "Leave riches and rulership to the lords east of the wood, or to Mogdred and his ilk.  I am king of no man, nor will I be." 

"Well," she answers, "perhaps there shall come a queen?"  And with that, she places her palm upon the ancient bone.  But no sound comes forth but the soft wind through summer grasses, and the two companions turn away and begin the walk home. 

Doug, Matt, if you'd find it easier (i.e. less pressure to be creative when all manner of Life Stuff is happening) I can start the next adventuring phase and you can put some narrative in this thread as and when it suits you.

Yes, Paul - feel free to start. I will be posting tonight (most definitely before weekend's end), but my narrative should have only a slight bit of bearing on our new chapter based on your request.

  I plan to write up my stuff tonight, work has been kicking my butt and I'm trying to prepare for GenCon next week too (I'll be incommunicado Wed-Sun next week).