The elf ponders a moment at her words and actions begin to form in his mind.  "I would be remiss to give my leave of you before you were seen to where you sleep, lady.  Please, where might I lead you?"

No reply comes to Mother Leyla from among the shadows under the boughs of Mirkwood but the cry of a far-off owl.  Not long does Gwaithlim have to wait before the woman asks once more, her voice barely above a whisper "Is there no-one?" 

When he strikes up his song, it is equally softly, the Sindarin words blending with the night like cricket-chirps, calming as the flow of a river over stones.  The crone does not start, as he feared that she might, but looks in his direction as he approaches.  In the starlight, he sees her eyes lulled by the song and fixed on matters far away in time and distance from where they now stand. 

"Oh, my lord of Elf-song," Leyla says, remembering perhaps his recounting of the lay of the Noldor's days of greatness, "I think myself perhaps in a dream, for I know not the meaning of your sweet music.  It speaks, I think, of a joy I have felt not in long years.  Sing for me a little longer, if you would." 

Seeing no reason not to, Gwaithlim does as he is asked until the song reaches its end (though not the end of the longer and sadder tale of which it forms but a small part).  Mother Leyla's eyes slowly close and she sways with the tune as much as old bones will allow.  When she speaks again, it is in the tone of one who speaks in their sleep.  "Your song is one of a wonderful meeting, I fancy, for in its hearing I feel as I felt dozens of summers ago when first I met proud and beautiful Beoræd who was my first husband.  For him, I bore Ida my daughter, and she became the mother of Beofuld for whom I now wait in foolish hope that he might yet live, and huddle close to the light of his folk.  For I am told that outlawed men gather together on this side of the forest for to make such lives for themselves as they can." 

Barely seeming to open her eyes, she begins to turn away from the gloom beneath the trees.  "Oh, fortunate are you who have no lords to suffer who are not good and deep-minded!" 

"Do you speak of Caewin, I wonder?" Gwaithlim asks as Leyla, unsteady on old and tired legs, shuffles slowly away.  She stops so suddenly that he fears she might fall and break even upon the forgiving soil close to the river. 

"Not where he might hear me.  But you know, I think, what I speak of.  If you would know the fullness of it, seek those he has banished and who owe him nothing any more.  I've had sorrows enough for one evening." 

Quote from: Eclecticon on May 22, 2024, 02:34 PMThat sounds awesome - I hope it lives up to expectations!

It does every year. 

That sounds awesome - I hope it lives up to expectations! 

It looks like I'll soon be running some 5e games at one of our FLGS-es for a bunch of tweens I don't know.  That could be great fun or a total disaster and there's no way to tell which before we get started.  I'm also putting together an Eclipse Phase one-shot for a convention later in the year, which will be set on a swarm of three large vessels and some shuttles, with up to six players and ([number of players]-2) bodies for them to share. 

AIRY CON 2024!

Hey guys, just to let you all know - I will be away next week for what we call Airy Con. Me and my five buddies (Matt knows a couple, but we all live in different states now), who I used to RPG with back in the 90's, all gather in Mt Airy and spend the week drinking some whiskey, rolling dice, and roleplaying every game we can. No wives. No kids. Just a week of game play and hanging!

This years lineup:

SATURDAY - Star Wars: Clone Wars
SUNDAY - D&D 5e (some campaign... not sure yet what my friend is giving us)
MONDAY - Call of Cthulhu
TUESDAY - The One Ring
WEDNESDAY - ALIEN RPG
THURSDAY - Shadowrun
FRIDAY - Twilight 2000

It's going to be a blast!

Anyway, I might not be able to keep up with story or get a post in, so move the game on if you do not hear from me or get a relatively rapid post reply.

  Invokes "Skill of the Eldar" with the  rolled ... +1 success

Gwaithlim remarks her for a moment, taking the sight of her but also wary of another in the darkness.  If the the old woman calls out again with no answer or event, he will approach treading in the delicate elven fashion while singing softly an elvish tune about maidens fair walking about in the moonlight in the early shade of the world.

  The elf's approach isn't meant to be stealthy or surprising yet, he doesn't blunder about like the Second born.  He will use Fair to describe his speech and manner.

 

Song -  1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 4, 1, total 10

As the night draws on, the darkness deepens around Woodland Hall, closing in around family hearths, the campfires of visitors and the braziers outside the door of Wuduseld itself.  Through the darkness slips Gwaithlim, footsetps feather-soft as he listens for the words Men say to each other when they think none but friends are there to hear.  For the most part, the talk is guarded, or of matters unconcerned with law and leaders.  Here and there, though, carelessly-uttered words betray the leanings of one elder or another.  The Elf, finding the cracking voices and deeply-lined faces of the elders of Men (though they would barely be counted beyond the years of childhood among his own people) easy enough to allot each to a name, takes careful note of who favours which candidate. 

As he makes his way at last to the campsite outside the gates (the late-night watchman feeling a strange urge to bow as he opens the gate enough to let the Elf pass) his attention is captured by the sound of another voice, the tones of which speak of a wisdom and sadness greatly familiar to him from the lay-singers and tale-tellers who gather in the Hall of Fire, far away across the Misty Mountains.  Creeping closer to hear the words clearly, he sees a figure familiar from days of journeying: the stooped, frail form of the one that even the other elders of the Sunstead call Mother Leyla.  Beyond the edge of the firelight she stands, facing into the dark forest as her croaking voice calls once again "Are you there, Beofuld?  Is there anyone?  Shall nobody hear the plea of the grandmother of an outlawed man?" 


Nice rolling, Matt.  You've picked up some information that I've set out in the attached document.  Another two successes by someone watching the proceedings of the doom-ring tomorrow will fill out the rest. 

Doug, I'll have something for you when Matt's finished here. 

'Tomorrow morning' is a fungible sort of time, right guys?  It can totally mean 'up to two days later'. 

EDIT: It's now going to be three, because goddammit, work.

  we posted at the same time.