As evening closes in about the small town of Men and the land beneath the leaves and branches of Mirkwood darkens to a nigh-subterranean gloom, the merry-making carries on at a measured pace, new loaves being broken and ale-kettles brought forth to keep the feast-day alive.  At last, as those of lower station begin to drift away to their own hearths, the high and honoured guests are bade to enter Wuduseld itself to see the beginning of the solemn business of the hour. 

Inside, the figures carven upon walls and pillars dance and shift in the flickering firelight and smoky air, bringing to life tales of deeds both dark and noble.  Among them, the assembled elders of the Woodmen watch as the Great War-Horn of the Hunter, long the token of the War-Leader of the folk, is lain upon an empty seat in the place of honour.  Almost within arm's reach sits Mogdred, clad in fabric well-woven and richly-dyed, the light reflecting from a bejewelled crown set upon his brow. 
Hardly further away sits Caewin, a pleasant smile upon his face and the Helm of Peace held by a man standing behind him. 

The murmur of conversation falls silent as an old man (Artamud, Hathcyn vaguely recalls) stands to recite the words that will begin the ceremony.  "Ingomer, son of Laudomer, whom Men named for the Axebreaker, is gone from Middle-Earth, and the seat of the War-Leader stands empty.  But sore are the folk beset.  Will any man stand to lead our warriors in this time of trial?" 

Mogdred is out of his seat with great haste, besting Caewin who has also begun to rise.  "I am Mogdred, and Ingomer was my father," he begins. 

Gwaithlim, his ears already pricked and alert, hears a nearby woman whisper "He looks more like Ingomer than the old Axebreaker himself did, toward the end!"

Mogdred continues with a short recitation of his deeds.  "In the south, I have gathered the dispirate, the broken and the lost to my hall, and in doing so have brought forth a new kingdom that has proven itself in war against many enemies.  The heads of orc-kind I brought as a gift in this place thirteen years ago as proof of my wishes for your weal, but the folk moot of that day cared not to count me as one of you.  Yet know this: when I led your sons alongside my own warriors to victory at the ford of the Anduin, I did so as a Woodman, and the spoils of the victory I shared freely with those who followed me!" 

Realisation dawns upon Esgalwen, the taste of roasted beef still filling her mouth.  Of course!  The Woodmen are shepherds, not keepers of cattle.  This is Grimbeorn's ransom for the Old Ford upon our plates!  And with more still he has bought the love of the young warriors, promising them great fame and fortune in his service I have no doubt.

"Take me as your War-Leader," Mogdred says, "and my kingdom shall be your kingdom.  Together, united as one, we shall have such strength as no foe will dare to challenge." 

A round of raucous applause follows the end of his speech, many beating cups and knife-hilts upon tables to increase the din.  Before it has died out, however, Caewin is upon his feet.  "I am Caewin, Lord of the Sunstead, whom Men name for the Generous.  Well do you know the truth of that name!  Even now, your granaries burst with my gifts of good-will, and more treasures have I brought: fine cloth and wine brought from far-away lands by the merchants of Esgaroth, and Dwarf-wrought silver and gold from the forges of Erebor!  The friendship of all peoples I have cultivated, and great kings now await only my call to lend their aid in blades and warriors to wield them!" 

Abruptly, he turns and seizes his helm from the hands of its bearer.  "Here, too, is the token by which I won peace for my folk - and for all my folk! - from the depredations of fell spirits and the dark things of the wood!  For know this: though terrible things may dwell in the darkness, I have the wisdom and the lore with which to keep them at bay, and nothing more need we fear, for ourselves and our kin, were I to speak to the wood-wights and spiders with all of the Woodman clans at my back!" 

More applause greets his words as a third man stands: bald of pate, red of beard, his girth and heavy arms mark him out among a slight and rangy folk.  "Munderic is my name," he cries out in a heavy baritone, "whom Men name for the Ponderous!  And true is this name, too, for I have claimed the hero's portion at many feasts.  The greatest warrior of Wuduseld am I, and I would guess that not a single man here could best me: not out-wrestle me, nor cast further a spear nor split as many shields as I can!" 

"Nor out-drink you!" comes a cry from close to the door, to a scattering of laughter. 

"Nay, nor that neither!" Munderic replies, accepting the compliment.  "Many of you...  ah...  Many..." he pauses a moment. 

Luindîs hisses "He's forgotten his lines!  These are not his words, but someone else's taught to him by rote!" 

"You all remember that, when the news came that Black Tarn Hall was under attack, it was I who Ingomer chose to lead the army to relieve our southern cousins, he being by then too ill to do it.  Many of you fought alongside me in that battle and saw that ever I had a pile of slain goblins before me.  Give me the title, give me the horn, and this I vow: that my fell hand will never falter, nor my stout shield ever slip from its protection of you and yours." 

Some cheers erupt in reply, and there does come clapping of hands, but markedly less so than met the words of the first two speakers.  Then come a few moments of silence but for the crackling of the fire-pit.  Across the flames and the wavering air, Amaleoda rises and, with a pointed glance in the direction of the Fellowship, loudly asks "Is there any other who would stand?" 

Gwaithlim casts a sidelong glance at Arbogast, for now his surely his moment to speak, but the Fire-watcher's face is that of one stricken.  He sees Hathcyn elbow him in the ribs, but perhaps even the Longspear cannot hear his friend say "Before the folk-moot I stood, years ago, but my words could not sway them.  I cannot..."   


Oh crap!  Arbogast is having an attack of the Shadow-weaknesses!  Who could have foreseen such a development! 

Quote from: tomcat on Apr 26, 2024, 09:19 AMThe lady patted her friend on the shoulder and smiled, saying softly, "Your people could have no better leader and guardian than you."

Arbogast neither nods nor smiles, but says, his voice level, "You speak perhaps too soon.  Much work is there to be done first."


Tom, I like your idea of using Rorin as a go-between.  Is there anything else that people want to do before I move the story on?

The Longspear spent many hours circulating. He shook many hands and slapped many shoulders in his circuit around the camp, but always he was watching and listening to the feel of the camp. Since he was not a woodman all factions welcomed him and he moved freely between the followers of the different contenders to the title of war chief. All those but Mogdred, he was singular in that his followers were avoided.

In his travels he sought an opportunity to speak to Rorin the dwarf again and he was not disappointed.

The Longspear spoke to him briefly. He named and described the woman he saw in the band of the Tyrant's Hill men.

"I believe her to be our friend despite her emblems. If you can find a way to subtly speak to her, and you are willing, it may be to our gain for you to relay messages between us. As token of what you say is true her real name is Athala Hannodaughter, though doubtful she is going by that name now. When you great her say, "the Longspear hopes Sanjar is well." Then if it is her she will know you have come from me truly and we may learn news of the young tyrant of the south.

  Well it doesn't have to be but the PC would likely turn NPC much in the same way that Grimbeorn did IMO.  You could also throw GB under the bus for war chief, too, for he loathes Mogdred as much as anyone here.

Quote from: Telcontar on Apr 26, 2024, 07:53 AMPaul, you are in this too! Take off your exceptional forum die roll hat and jump into the trenches with all of us. Let's have a discussion.

I feel so accepted!

Without wanting to put my thumb on the scale any heavier than I've been invited to, I think Arbogast would be an easier sell for the Woodmen than an outsider.  Also, that leaves the 'outsider' card to be played against Mogdred, and it seems that we're all agreed that the most important thing is to deny the title to that guy. 

(Parenthetically, it gladdens my blackened, GM heart to have an antagonist so strongly disliked that the players will say 'well, we could put one of our own on the throne I guess but what we really want is to spit in that fucker's eye'.)

If he gets up, Arbogast will almost certainly retire from active adventuring, but in return you'll have a second culture now partly-led by a former Fellowship member, i.e. one who's a sympathetic ear with access to resources and who understands the value of cross-cultural cooperation on a very deep level. 

An adventure to free Caewin of the helm would also be fun, and it's a good idea for a Fellowship-initiated story.  I've already got some ideas.  It's probably going to be out of scope for the current year, but you'll at least be able to get some initial leads from Radagast, if you can find him with a few free minutes. 

  why does it have to be an NPC?

 
Gwaithlim knows enough to:
1. Agree that one of the current or former Mannish members of the Fellowship is best suited to lead these Men as needed.
2. Agree that it would be best an NPC
3. Agree that Mogdred must be thwarted in any of his ambitions that further destabilize the ties that bind these Men but won't say as much aloud, not his place as emissary of the Elves across the mountains, yet he will advise towards anything that will bring the groups together in common task

Esgalwen nodded at Arbogast, "We will not speak of it here, but I will say, do not be foolish to hold yourself responsible for the outcome of our quest. The maiden spirit was freed, and Arbogast, you have tread where most men's hearts would have quailed.

"You are made of sterner stuff than perhaps even him," and she gestured towards Mogdred's tent, "for though he survived the darkness of the Shadow's vaults for years, his suffering was forced upon him. You willingly went forward into such a place for the benefit of those you care about.

"You both survived the hardships you faced, but only Mogdred uses it as a weapon against all - a barb with which to stab with each incrimination he makes. Mogdred holds his people accountable for his suffering, and now holds the Vale hostage in the guise of their guardian.

"You, on the other hand, have seen the danger to kith and kin and what it foreshadows if we let our guard slip. You want for naught else than to have a safe home for your family." The lady patted her friend on the shoulder and smiled, saying softly, "Your people could have no better leader and guardian than you."

It is not my intention to sit on the sidelines and read, and with the insertion of Esgalwen as a possible candidate - it will give her a lot to contribute.

1. I am opposed to Mogdred's victory, as well.
2. That said, with Arbogast now a candidate - Esgalwen will push him as the choice.
3. It is not that she wouldn't accept being chosen, in her heart (as I have told Paul) she believes there are better choices as she is an outsider. She definitely sees Arbogast as that option.
4. I like playing Esgalwen and I do not want to lose her, but I will 'retire' if the narrative leads to her being chosen.
5. Esgalwen REALLY wants to fuck Mogdred's ambitions, after he took the gift that she wanted for all the people of the Vale and has made it his own.

A Ceawin quest would be cool. It would be neat to go back into the barrows and fight some undead!