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The companions breathed fast as their bodies began to relax from the combat. Esgalwen wiped her blade across Slurg's filthy tunic, leaving more of his blood to stain the cloth. Rorin stepped over the dead, eyeing each as he did with his hammer at the ready.

The forest gave a vibe that each could feel that seemed to beat with their hearts and breath. As they calmed and the bloodlust left them, the stink that had emanated from the forest morass ebbed, too. Arbogast perked an ear up when the sound of large group of fluttering wings took to the air from some tree where they had perched.

Radagast quickly made rounds to each of the companions to check them for any wounds - orc poison was notorious and even the most minor of cuts could kill a man. Once done, he took a seat himself. The others could see he was spent from his engagement with whatever foe had been present.

Esgalwen walked to where the dead form of Kor lay and saw near him a longsword in its scabbard. The work was meticulous and she immediately recognized the maker's mark. It was Ardil's blade - the one given him by his father before he had left Gondor those many months before.

The faint, raspy voice of Radagast was heard breaking the new silence. "We are close now," he breathed. 'Within the next few days we will be at the foundations of the sorcerer's hill." All of the companions could see that even the brown wizard was being impacted by the terrible corruption that was southern Mirkwood. "We must decide...do we make for the Fenbridge or risk the swamps that surround the hill?"

The weight of the decision and the task still at hand fell on all of them, and each companion took a moment to rest. Before them was the tangled weave of Mirkwood that they would need to pass through until at last they came to the foulness that was Dol Guldur.

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

---

:ooc: I need two more corruption tests TN 16 from all PC's - this will be the last tests I need for corruption until you actually enter Dol Guldur - and will constitute the needs for days 9 and 10.

Orophin Corruption TN 16
TN 16 Wisdom ♦♦

Arbogast weighs the matter for a moment, considering the choice, then answers.  "I am for the swamps.  I know nothing of the Fenbridge, but though the Necroma- Sauron! may have left his fortress, the Shadow clearly has not.  Any useful stronghold will doubtless have been claimed by orcs or yet fouler things, and will be watched."


:ooc: Corruption rolls, TN16:

 :ooc: Do we have any Advantage dice that carry over? Or do they?
TN 16 Corruption
:00:

 :ooc: Also, can you spend Hope to stave off the effects of rolling  :~~: ?
TN 16 Corruption
 :00:

 :ooc: Crazy... utter complete failure and total success *shakes head*

After ensuring that each of the fallen orcs would never trouble them again, Rorin sat on a log to allow his blood to cool for a time. It had been some years since he had engaged orcs in full combat and he did not relish the thought that there was more to come.

"Tell us of this Fenbridge wizard, I'd gladly give anything but my beard to leave this forest and have hard ground under my feet again."

 :ooc: Corruption tests:


 :00:


 :00:

 :ooc: I'll use a success die or hope point to pass the first test if I can, but I'll leave the second one.

"I don't like the idea of mucking around in swamps and passing by a fortress that, yes, could have enemy, but also could be a safe haven for us," said Grimbeorn.  "Even if it is held, we should at least attempt to gauge its strength.  We came for information and we should gather all we can."

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Sep 30, 2015, 03:53 AM:ooc: Do we have any Advantage dice that carry over? Or do they?

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Sep 30, 2015, 03:56 AM:ooc: Also, can you spend Hope to stave off the effects of rolling  :~~: ?

:ooc: Hey Matt, advantage dice might be left over but they would be either for Travel or Combat, and would need to be used in said actions. They do not affect Corruption rolls.

Yes, you can use Hope when you roll the  :~~: . Understand, for the most part, the  :~~: just means that the die roll resulted in a 0. It is only when something has special effects or ramifications when the  :~~: is rolled that it means more. If you use hope against Corruption, it is based on Heart.

Arbogast gains 2 temporary shadow  :csu:
Orophin gains 2 temporary shadow  :csu:
Grimbeorn gains 1 temporary shadow  :csu:
Rorin uses a Hope and gains 1 temporary shadow  :csu:

"Foul marshes surround Dol Guldur on three sides," replied Radagast. "The easiest way to cross these swamps is via the Fenbridge, a snaking line of orc-built crossings that run from hillock to hillock, and the only way onto the Fenbridge is through Fenbridge Castle. Though it sounds odd, but the Fenbridge would be an easier route to the sorcerer's hill then to trudge the swamps."

"But orcs hold the Fenbridge, yes?" asked Orophin.

"We do not know," answered Radagast.

"But we do know, wizard. The man we found in the woods, nigh on two years ago, the one that Mogdred's people came to slay...he reported that orcs did indeed hold the way."

"That was two years past," argued Radagast.

"What are you saying, Radagast? That the news this man brought is no longer valid due to time?" Orophin was not haughty towards the wizard, in fact he enjoyed the strange man's ways, but neither was he willing to throw his life on a hunch. "If it is held, can we cross the swamps? If it is held will it provide the information we seek?"

"Yes," said Radagast, becoming frustrated. The companions could see that the dismal wood was beginning to effect even the Brown Wizard. "We could cross the fens, but I fear more danger and time lost using that route. Like Grimbeorn said, better to know. As for the information we seek - no, we must make our way into the black fortress."

Bandobras strode over to where Esgalwen sat on a fallen tree, holding a longsword over her knees. He determined the debate on which way to go was best left for wiser minds. The Hobbit noticed first the etching that ran the length of the blade that was traced in thin gold. The craftsmanship of the weapon was clearly that of a master-smith and he asked, "You know this weapon?"

Esgalwen looked up at the Hobbit. She had not heard his approach and she was suddenly embarrassed, as she wiped at her eyes. She nodded and proceeded to tell the young Bandy the story of Ardil, son of Hardin.

"He was a handsome, young Dúnadan - not but thirty years of age. I know that may seem normal for a man, but the lives of the Dúnedain are longer than most, and so he was just entering service to the ranks of Gondor. His father, Hardin, was lame after a wound he had taken during the Fell Winter of 2911 and Ardil was  not yet born.

"When his son came to age and put forth his desire to join the Rangers of Ithilien to safeguard the eastern fences of Gondor, those that met with the boundaries of Mordor, Hardin could not have been more proud. He bestowed unto him this blade. Ardil took to naming it Celegurth, the swift death, though I believe it had a name much older. Ardil's father is of direct Númenórean descent and it is said that this family heirloom came across the sea with the Faithful, having been forged in the Land of the Gift." Her eyes were far away as she spoke.

Whatever its history, the young hobbit could see that this weapon was of certain great value.

 :ooc: Here are Esgalwen's two corruption tests:

Test #1 (TN = 16):





Test #2 (TN = 16):

:ooc: Hey Ayrn, good to see you getting on the boards. I hope things are working out.

Is this Cultural Blessing a House Creation when you designed your Ranger? It is fine if so, just wanted to make sure. I saw Blood of Númenór, but I didn't know what it did.

I guess I should've PM'ed you with the stuff on Ardil so that you could have given narrative and dialogue for this scene. Sorry, man!

Arbogast gains 2 temporary shadow  :csu:
Orophin gains 2 temporary shadow  :csu:
Grimbeorn gains 1 temporary shadow  :csu:
Rorin uses a Hope and gains 1 temporary shadow  :csu:
Esgalwen is successful on both tests  :csu:

 :ooc: Looks like she passes the tests  ;D

Esgalwen smiled at the hobbit with soft eyes. "You are very kind, Master Bandy. And courageous. I am glad to share these adventures with you."

Tying her own sword to her pack, she fixed Ardil's blade to her belt. She would, of course, look to return the blade to Ardil's family. For now, though, she wished the blade to be allowed to avenge the death of her kin. She had little doubt the opportunity would come soon enough.

Turning her attention to the others and the conversation regarding how they should approach the Necromancer's tower, the ranger agreed with the many of her companions. "A dark spell seems to remain on these woods. Did you see how the land eagerly looks to lap up the blood spilt upon it? And who can say what dark pets of the Necromancer lay under the surface of those fetid waters?

"Orcs I know. I would say we look to stay on the path, straying only in great need."

Orophin having heard the Brown Wizard's knowledge of their goal, and then Esgalwen's argument of why they should take the Fenbridge, came to his own conclusion. "No path is wise in this part of the forest, nor is our task, but still it must be done and to do so is to confront the enemy you know. I am with Grimbeorn and Esgalwen, let us take the bridge."

---

:ooc: Rorin and Bandy are the only ones who need to chime in with their choices to get the consensus of the company.

"The bridge it is then! I'd rather face orcs than this rotten land."

Arbogast glanced at Bandy, but the hobbit merely shrugged. 

"It would seem I am the odd man out.  Very well, then - the bridge, and let us see what we shall see," the young Woodman said.

The road will be perilous but no more so than the fens. I would rather face orcs than whatever Radagast held off during the fight. If there are orcs at Fenbridge then I shall stand with Esgalwen as she wields Ardil's sword and avenges its fallen owner.

 :ooc: And the Corruption Rolls with Wsidom of 3

Blech

As the companions marched south the morning was slow in revealing itself. Slight mists had been rising from the forest floor to burn off, but now as they plunged further into the heart of the vileness of Mirkwood the mists did not wholly burn off. The fog of the early morning was thick and it was almost midmorning before any sunlight began to even make an appreciable difference on the haze. Furthermore, it was not a natural fog. The cloud wrapped its way into everything, the very air that the companions breathed, had a foul taint to it. A taste that was both bitter and metallic at the same time that no amount of drinking or spitting could remove from the mouth.

The terrain also seemed to change as well. Those who had spent great times in the wild could tell that the elevation was changing. A small rise of hills were beginning to run through the forest from west to east. Any hope that this would elevate the journeying companions out of the mire was soon dashed. All the hills seemed to do were to create valleys were the muck and the ooze could collect, some places creating actual streams of filth.

Only by the full light of day, when the sun was at its brightest could the companions see to any distance. Whether it was through the patterns of winds, the subtle working of the Brown Wizard, or just plain luck it was during one such period that they were able to see Fenbridge Castle.
The castle was on the downward slope of the rise the companions stood on. An odd place for a fortification, until one realized that the castle stood upon a raised earthwork surrounded as far as they could see by swamps and fens. From these swamps and fens the reek was worse than even in the forest, and in the distance upon a larger hill stood the arching domes and pillared arcades of another structure. This one rose to a greater height and the soft lines and worked stone of the principle structure was made more horrible for its beauty than if it had matched the orcish structures that piled around it and was possessed of a sick green glow.

Radagast stood on the rise and looked at the scene below the companions, "there is our objective friends. There is the Hill of Sorcery, once home to an enemy I will not name so near to the place of his haunting."

A change in the wind or a cloud passing over the sun dimmed the view before the companions. Only the sick green glow marked where their objective stood, and below them the castle of Fenbridge.

In time the group picked their way carefully to the level of the fens from the ridge that they had stood upon. Each one of them wrapped as tightly as they could against the chill and the slimy feel of the fog against bare skin. Each of them haunted in their own way by the place in which they found themselves.

Arbogast kept a keen eye out on the gatehouse as they descended and while he was predatorily alert his mind began to wander. As the muck began to rise higher than the tops of his boots and his feet filled with the ichor of the land he thought of those back in Woodman Town. 'Would any of them come this far south?' He thought. 'Certainly not any of his kin folk, they were happy enough to hide behind a hedge and call their worn timber hall a home. If any there knew what he was undertaking they would call him a fool. However, the Black Tarn was different. There was someplace new, someplace where he could be a leader...'

Bandy's thoughts were turned towards the Shire as he made his way into the fens. As often was the case he occupied his mind with bits of song and thoughts of the Shire to keep his heart uplifted during a long journey. 'What fools they all were at home. Life was easy and boring if all one had to do was plow and plant the same piece of earth that their father had done the same to. How surprised they all would be to see him when he returned home. Bandy the knowledgeable, Bandy the story teller, anyone could sneak into the lair of a dragon. The act took courage yes, but sneaking was easy for Hobbits. Here however was Bandobras Bracegirdle the one who plunged headlong into Fenbridge and snuck past the door of the enemy himself in order to find his secrets.'

Esgalwen's mind was troubled as they made their way deeper into the heart of Southern Mirkwood. 'Her companions took little notice that one of her friends had been trussed up in a tree like a play thing. Someone close to her that she had known far longer than any of these others. In fact, she knew Mogdred perhaps better than she did the people she found herself among now. Right now she was finding Grimbeorn greatly annoying. The man kept stopping and looking at her in an expression that said hurry up. What was the rush? She could take her time, make sure her footing was solid. The straps of her pack needed adjusting, the new blade at her side felt awkward and the position of the carry was not quite right yet...'  
Grimbeorn's axe felt good in his hands. The attack against the orcs was just a taste of the retribution he would inflict upon the enemies of his folk. 'How many of the slime are in this hole' thought the Beorning. 'The others stood back in the fight, or clumsily charged ahead. There was no merit in that way of fighting. Only getting in close, when the axe cut and the blood sprayed would there be the satisfaction of a job well done. These folk were slow, why were they holding him back from the Castle.' Arbogast slipped on a stone and Grimbeorn could have caught him, but instead he let the man's hand stop his fall and sink up to his elbow in muck. 'that's for speaking on behalf of the folk of Tyrant's Hill..."thought Grimbeorn.

Rorin marched down the hill. The others it could be said picked their way, but the dwarf marched. He meticulously kept the grime and the filth from his armor and it gleamed as much as it could in the light and fog of the fens. He saw that Grimbeorn too was determined to get to the castle and he matched his pace if not his stride. 'Who does this late comer think he is? I am a son of Durin and this castle has housed the enemy of my folk since the first age. Perhaps even this castle holds the orc who killed my father, or that orc's close kin. If they even have kin.' The dwarf barked at his companions, "we must hurry."

Arbogast slipping into the water interupted Bandy's thoughts about stupid, fat Hobbits. Going to help his friend, he hears Rorin issuing orders. Pulling down the muffler he had wrapped around his mouth and nose to keep out the noxious fog, he hisses "quiet Rorin. Don't be in a hurry to die. We shall meet the orcs soon enough. Unlike my friend here, I am small and inobtrusive. What if I go ahead and scout the castle to make sure there are no nasty surprises?"

Rorin was taken aback at the Hobbit's rebuke and began to lash out, "Do you do not underst- !" the dwarf paused and let out a deep breath. He reached down to help Bandy lift Arbogast from the muck, "Forgive me Bandy, you are right of course. Just like a hobbit to keep a cool head in the putrid land. I think it would be unwise for any of us to go off alone this near to the enemy, and I also fear that any delay out here could be the end of us as we are growing weaker every minute...we must press on."

Rorin, my dear friend, forgive my sharp tongue. This sour land is having an ill effect on me. Dark thoughts crowd my mind. How shall it be when we pass the gates of that dread place?

"I do not know what awaits us, but fear not! We have a wizard! What could possibly go wrong?"

Rorin slapped Bandy on the back, perhaps just a bit too hard, hoisted what remained of his pack, and stepped into double time to catch up with Grimbeorn who hadn't stopped walking.

 :ooc: Wow, I'm a d-bag LOL

The Beorning grumbled at his companions and their inattention.  "Quiet!" he hissed.  "Do you want to bring the hills down upon us?  Moving faster is warranted being that we are now without provisions and still need to accomplish our task at hand."

 :ooc: Yea, Tom - don't forget to bring into account that the Company has been without food for three days. BUT - Matt did make a successful Hunting roll, so they did get some kind of food.

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Oct 01, 2015, 12:52 PM:ooc: Wow, I'm a d-bag LOL

The Beorning grumbled at his companions and their inattention.  "Quiet!" he hissed.  "Do you want to bring the hills down upon us?  Moving faster is warranted being that we are now without provisions and still need to accomplish our task at hand."

OOC: hey yeah...a little X-men Wolverine characterization. I tried to tap into everyone's shadow weakness from their character sheets on that one.

I'll post the next segment tonight.

There was only one clear path to the gatehouse of Fenbridge. The companions had tried to stay to the sides of the road in an attempt to remain out of sight from the battlements. That choice however proved difficult going and their progress was incredibly slow, more from constantly trying o avoid falling in the water than from an attempt at secrecy. When even the clear eyed searching of Orophin detected nothing along the battlements the party without a formal decision one by one decided to walk instead along the road that was once the main thoroughfare for the armies of the Necromancer.

Now that the companions drew closer to the castle they realized that it was not one giant hulking structure set to block the road. There was the gatehouse sure enough but all the other structures seemed to be later additions, none of them done with an eye towards aesthetics. Each one another canker added to the previous one, forming a large mass, but not a singular one. Closer now they also noticed that fires burned somewhere and smoke came from some of the towers and chimneys, howling of unknown origins could be heard. One thing was certain, the castle was not abandoned, but with luck they also would not have to fight a garrison united in a single purpose either.

The anxiety of the companions grew to an almost fevered pitch, the fact that they saw or were challenged by nothing was almost more disconcerting than if a sortie of mounted wraiths had descended upon them while they made their approach. In time before them stood only the gate, and its doors were open.

Even Grimbeorn, the largest among the companions, felt small as he passed through the gates of Fenbridge. Many of the companions, save Esgalwen and Rorin, had never been in a city of any size or seen any great works of architecture. Past the iron bound doors the road passed into a corridor. The way was dark, save for what passed for sunlight on the other side. Several smaller doors and rooms seemed to open onto the corridor, but nothing seemed to stir at their final approach. The great iron wrought portcullis was up and the sharp teeth of its rungs hung over them as they passed quickly underneath. It was then that they heard the voice.

"Menzis, and dwarzis....Welcome." The voice was deep, not loud in its own right, but clearly heard.

"Tolls. Tolls for all who would pass on my road."

From one of the side rooms a shape began to emerge. In the thin light it was difficult for the companions to make out much detail. The large mass looked like a misshapen twisted cast off of clay, but as it shifted it had an almost mannish quality to it. Rorin knew what it was at once, a Stone Troll.

"What wills you give me to pass the gate? Master is gone, yet I remain. So the tolls belong to me and Menzis will pay better than Orcs."

The large corridor of the road was now filled with the creature. A stoneware jug in one hand, a giant club in the other, and a hodgepodge of trinkets clothing and mismatched apparel hung from his person, passing in some obscene way for clothing and decorations.   

"TOLLS to pass, or perhaps the two dwarzis?"

Bandy gulps and reaches for his belt. "Um...this should cover our toll." He holds out a purse of silver coins.

Bandy hopes either that the troll will accept the money and let them pass or that his comrades can use the diversion to prepare their attack.

:ooc: Bandy is prosperous, so I assume he has a few coins.

Arbogast moves in front of Bandobras, to block his offering to the Troll.  While his hand never moves to brandish his axe, nor does it stray far away, for trolls such as this are the terror of Men from the time they are old enough to understand the tales their elders tell.  Still, it seems willing to talk rather than fight, if only for the moment.  If it will talk, he thinks, then it can reason.  And if it can reason...

"Not a hair on their head shall you touch, brute thing!  For they are bound for the high Hall of your Master by the will of one greater and more terrible than you, and their business there must not be delayed by petty graft at His gate!"  



:ooc: Yeesh, let's hope this works.  I'm going to roll Persuade, based on the way I've phrased it: (http://rpg.avioc.org/boards/Themes/default/images/dice_warn.gif) This dice roll has been tampered with!
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 5, 5, total 15
Rolled 1d12 : 4, total 4.  

You may take the view that it should be Awe instead.  In that case, I'll invoke Arbogast's emerging Shadow-Lore trait for an auto-success.  

:ooc: Huh.  Bandobras posted before I could get mine in, and the automatic 'review your post' function seems to trip the tampering notification. 

 :ooc:  yea, Paul, it does that. Wish I knew how to fix it. Happened to me a while a back and the best dice roll I've ever seen was rolled. I thought, of course it has to say it was tampered with!

The troll nodded and set his flagon down. Half turning he took a couple of steps to the side and his hand grasped a thick chain. It then turned to look back at Arbogast.

"All the menz think Door Nob is foolish. The Master beyond has gone and Nob doesnt care where. Nob doesnt care who comes or goes, as long as they pay Nob. Nob is the Master of the Gate. There is one who would be Captain, should I call him and his boyz? Or will the little dwars leave the pouch of monies?"

The woodman saw the twinkle in the beasts eye, his bluff didnt work, but he could see that this creautre who had probably been here for time uncounted was focused solely on greed though his club also looked well used.

Stepping out from behind Arbogast, Bandy holds out his purse, jingling the coins inside as he does. "Master Nob, the menz underestimate you don't they. You have stood steadfastly to your duties all this time and now you shall be rewarded. Please take this purse for our toll, and we shall be sure to have another purse, even larger than this, when we return this way. Keep up the good work."

 :ooc: Not sure if I need a Roll for this but just in case I'll use courtesy 

:ooc: Damn, thought I was on to something there.

 :ooc: Well, we're not past the troll yet.

Grimbeorn would never bandy words with such a creature for they are simply the twisted work of the true Enemy of all Free Peoples, no different than the orcs, but his companions seemed intent on doing so.  The young man gripped his axe all the tighter, keeping an eye on the environs for an ambush or some other surprise and minding the denizen's words.

 :ooc:
 :00:
 :00:

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Oct 03, 2015, 02:52 AMGrimbeorn would never bandy words with such a creature

Ha! Good one.

The troll's eyes sparkled as he released the chain and reached for the bag of coins. The beast gave a jerk of his head to indicate that the party might pass and he set about to count the coins he just received without a further thought towards the companions.

Moving quickly the group was able to pass by the troll. As they did so the distinctive smell of Dorwinion wine came from the goblet of the troll. They saw that the corridor had several guard rooms off of the main passage and what looked like two main doors on each side halfway down. These two larger doors apparently led deeper into the keep that stood on each side. The doors were decorated in a way that could only be described as tribal graffiti. At least two different groups of beast were here in the castle. In addition the companions noticed the dead rotting remains of orcs and goblins, swept into the corners and dark places of the passage like dust balls and cast off debris from previous engagements, all in various stages of rot.

The companions were quickly through the gate and out to the far side. All the expectations of a bridge were gone in moments. While the green glow was still before them the rotten timbers and planks that passed for the bridge wove hither and yon through the fog where they could still see it. Each span anchored on a hummock of grass or solid earth. Their path would not be a straight one.

The path was not of a uniform width as they passed. In places they could see where at one time it was wider and would have supported four or five men marching abreast and enough room for at least one wagon. Those days seemed to be long gone as the current bridge was rotted and collapsed in many parts. The sure footing seemed to be more to the center than on the outside, and the companions could tell that while not used frequently someone or something passed along the bridge from time to time.

Radagast rushed the companions along the fen bridges until the castle receded into the mists and the only things they could see was the bridge before them, behind them, and the marsh to either side. At first the companions tried to gauge the green glow of the hill to keep their bearings, but this soon turned futile. In places they knew that they were still going forward but the green glow seemed to move behind them, or on looking up certain that it would be in one place would find it in another.

In places the hummocks were quite large and seemed to have been flatten or paved on the tops, some so large that they took up the entire space that was visible. Not all of them were that large but they seemed to occur wherever a piece of solid ground would provide for one. In some there were the remains of fires, in others the rotted out remains of wagons. Clearly these were rest stops or traffic points to allow wagons and folk to pass each other on the otherwise narrow passage way through the fens.

"How far is it Radagast?" mumbled one of the members of the party in the gloom.

"Over six leagues, by this path" was his response.

This distance seemed to weigh more heavily on the companions when they realized how much farther they would have to go on empty bellies.

The walking in the mist became excruciating to the companions. Each moment they knew only the twisting broken path before them, the clinging foul mists, and the plodding of feet on rotten timbers. After what must have been the passing of a season to those outside of the mists Radagast stopped.

"We should stop here."

The companions found themselves in a mist shrouded island. Another one of the spots with a discarded old fire pit.

"We have walked far into the night and it would be best not to disturb the creatures of the night any further by our trespass."

Each one of the travelers thought that the wizard was mad to stop here in this place. When the wizard dropped his blanket to the ground the others realized how tense they were, tired, and hungry. Silently they prepared to make camp.

The Brown wizard drifted off into the fog and returned a few moment later. His brown hat was in his hand and it was filled with the largest slugs that the party had ever seen, some as large as Bandy's fist.

"This my friends is probably the only wholesome thing here in the fens. There numbers have grown since the dark magician has left. And while they feed on the unwholesome things in the mire I think they are an agent of change and renewal. They also taste good with butter." The Brown Wizard smiled and handed out what he found to each of the companions. Hunger gnawed at them and the first bite was the worst. Bandy and Rorin shared the same thought, that in fact they would have been good with butter, pan fried and they had a deep earthy taste like fine mushrooms.

An unknown amount of time passed in the fens of Dol Guldur.

(Everyone needs to make another Fatigue (TN 14) and Corruption Roll (TN16) for their time here in the Fens. )

Leaving Rorin and the others to build a fire, Arbogast spends some time in the mire, looking for herbs to add to the meal of fried slug.  Even in this dismal place, he finds marshmallow and lemon balm - for sweet, fragrant life may find the strength to grow even in the heartland of the Shadow.  It is a slight comfort to the fellowship as the sounds of strange insects and the lolloping calls of unseen birds begin to fill the darkness around them. 


:ooc: Travel:

Corruption:

As the slugs are ready, he hands them out to his starving companions - first to Radaghast, with considerable deference, then Bandobras, Grimbeorn, Orophin and Rorin.  But he holds a final slug away from Esgalwen's hands.  "Not you," he says.  "Not a single morsel shall you have from me, friend of Mogdred.  For a year passed while none heard from you - a year in which the Men of Tyrant's Hill robbed and raided my folk.  With my own eyes have I seen you receive instructions from his men, you who searched for your kin for so long yet find but one, and that only after his recent death!  Mogdred prepares for war, that much is clear to me, how can it be otherwise to you?  If you are to have meat tonight, I would have you tell me where his first blow will fall.  On my home at Black Tarn Hall, perhaps?  And while I moulder here, lost in this thrice-cursed bog!" 


:ooc: Gotta love the slow accumulation of Shadow points... 

Esgalwen trudged along with her companions. She had been surprised how easily they had gotten past the troll. The thought of leaving the foul creature at their flank left the ranger more than a bit on edge. Add to that the unending fog, the dank smell of the fens, and the weighty gloom of this land, even the pure-hearted maiden was feeling weary.

Still she trudged on. She could see that the cold shadow was beginning to take root in her companions... she feared the dark thoughts brooding inside them might undo them before they could see the mission through.  

:ooc: Fatigue roll (TN 14)




Corruption roll (TN16)





See what the dice say before Esgalwen responds to Arbogast

 :ooc: I'll look to respond later tonight.

 :ooc: Fatigue Roll (TN14)




Corruption (TN16)



I'll post again after seeing my rolls.

 :ooc: Fatigue Roll (TN 14)



Corruption Roll

Bandy broods over his ill fortune as he carefully places a fat slug between his teeth, trying not to let his tongue come in contact with the squishy, warm blob. Radagast the Brown, more like Radagast the Cracked for leading us into this forsaken place. And who is Arbogast to stand between that troll and I. I am no child who needs a nanny, he thinks crossly. I was right after all. Closing his eyes in preparing to bite down, Arbogast's angry voice draws Bandy attention. He turns to see the Woodman dangling a slug before the ranger as he accuses her of disloyalty.

"Arbogast!" the Hobbit hisses. "What right have you to accuse Esgalwen of treachery when she seeks lost companions? Would you forsake us so quickly if we disappeared? Look where we are, he says pointing vaguely at the dismal swamp. Look where we are going. He lifts head toward the eerie glow emanating from Sorcery Hill. You sow division when our very lives depend upon the fellowship we have created."

The long day of traveling had taken it's toll on Rorin, though he would never allow his companions to see such weakness in him. His boots were soggy and caked with some corruption that he could not clean off and blisters were forming on his feet. But despite this, Rorin continued his steady marching pace that had been drilled into him since he was a recruit in Dain's army. When crossing a particularly rotted part of the Fenbridge, a board snapped under his foot and he fell partway through the bridge, much to the amusement of some in the group. Rorin heard the quiet laughter of his friends and resented it. For the rest of the day Rorin steeled himself and walked in the front of the group without speaking a word to anyone.

Quote from: Eclecticon on Oct 05, 2015, 07:34 PMAs the slugs are ready, he hands them out to his starving companions - first to Radaghast, with considerable deference, then Bandobras, Grimbeorn, Orophin and Rorin.  But he holds a final slug away from Esgalwen's hands.  "Not you," he says.  "Not a single morsel shall you have from me, friend of Mogdred.  For a year passed while none heard from you - a year in which the Men of Tyrant's Hill robbed and raided my folk.  With my own eyes have I seen you receive instructions from his men, you who searched for your kin for so long yet find but one, and that only after his recent death!  Mogdred prepares for war, that much is clear to me, how can it be otherwise to you?  If you are to have meat tonight, I would have you tell me where his first blow will fall.  On my home at Black Tarn Hall, perhaps?  And while I moulder here, lost in this thrice-cursed bog!" 

Esgalwen felt her cheeks flush, as if the Woodman had slapped her hard across the face. How dare you, she thought as anger rose to usurp her feelings of surprise. For a moment, the Ranger thought of drawing Ardil's sword and cleaving Arbogast's hand from his wrist before driving the blade through the man's gut.

Quote from: Bandobras on Oct 06, 2015, 11:23 AM"Arbogast!" the Hobbit hisses. "What right have you to accuse Esgalwen of treachery when she seeks lost companions? Would you forsake us so quickly if we disappeared? Look where we are, he says pointing vaguely at the dismal swamp. Look where we are going. He lifts head toward the eerie glow emanating from Sorcery Hill. You sow division when our very lives depend upon the fellowship we have created."

Bandy's interruption gave her a moment longer. And she took it, allowing herself to breath, close her eyes and take a step back from the Woodman. When she looked at the Woodman again, she nearly wept. Listening to the Hobbit's words, she knew the answers to his questions in her heart. The taint of this land was already clouding Arbogast's judgment. And the Shadow is already searching for a home in your heart, she chided herself.

With sadness, Esgalwen backed away further, "It is okay, Bandy. I will answer Arbogast's accusations." She removed and laid aside her pack, and took the time to remove her sword belt and carefully set down Ardil's blade, fearful of what she might do should the weapon be close at hand.

Rising again, she faced Arbogast. Her voice -- through frayed by grief, anger, and hunger -- was controlled. "Arbogast, you have charged me with being a friend of Mogdred. You have spoken truthfully, for I am indeed his friend. I spend much of the last year, when not wandering the Woods in search of my kin, in the company of the Lord of Tyrant's Hill's. He has shown me unmerited kindness, providing me, a stranger in the land, shelter and food from his table and good council in my search for my companions, though I have nothing to offer in return.

"And you have spoken truthfully when you say the Mogdred and his men have raided and robbed your folk. What you say is true, I have seen the spoils of his looting with my own eyes. And, as I have eaten from his table, I am guilty of living off his ill-gotten gain... as are you, my friend, when you found refuge under Mogdred's lodge.

"You have charged me with receiving instruction from Mogdred's men. Here, Firewatcher, your eyes and ears have not discerned clearly. I have received no instructions and Mogdred's will is his own and he keeps his own council... as do I. Had you listened carefully, you would have noted how the chamberlain guarded his tongue on Mogdred's whereabouts, and how he kept watch in the shadows to ensure we would not stir up trouble in his master's house. He took a risk allowing us to pass through his master's lands with so few questions and no escort. Why do you think that is, Arbogast?

"It is because, though Tyrant's Hill follows Lord Mogdred, not all within her gates fully believe their lord's raids against the Woodmen are noble and good. Had you listened well, Arbogast, you would have heard him mention that his master thinks more clearly and kindly when in my company. Why? Because I argued with Mogdred many a long nights to turn away from his raids on your people and keep his focus on the true threat in these accursed Woods -- these orcs, spiders and worse filth.

"Here me well, Firewatcher. I believe Mogdred to be a just lord. I agree with Mogdred that much of the prosperity that your people experience has been at the cost of Tyrant Hill's men. I know well the price Mogdred's men have paid. I have seen the wounds caused from orcs' blades and spiders' bites. Where have the men of the Woods and Mountains been while Tyrant Hill kept the shadow at bay? Were they not building their lodges and raising their crops and drinking in their feast halls these last good days? Should not your kin share in these blessings? No, the will of the Mountains and Woods was to cast Mogdred and his people aside... twice abandon he and his people were. Though I can understand the Necromancer's treachery, and do not understand how their kin could abondon them. You once believed that too, Arbogast, when you spoke clearly at the Folk-moot. You laid claim to your own friendship to Tyrant's Hill when you sought refuge under their lodge.

"But know this, friend: Though I believe Mogdred's cause just, I do not believe it noble or good. Though your people ruled against Mogdred, I still have hope that the clans might be reconciled and strong together again to face these troubles. I still believe Mogdred has some good still left in him. While you were building lodges, I stayed up fighting for your people... for you, Arbogast, never knowing if it would be the night that Mogdred would grow tired of my council and send me away or worse. For you and your people, Arbogast, I did this.

"You have eyes and ears, Firewatcher, but you have not discerned the truth, friend. Though it is of no business of yours, Aldwyn is a friend of mine who was passing on information I had asked of him in my search for my own kin..." Esgalwen paused for a moment to stoop down and fish out the scroll case containing the map she received. She tossed it gently to Arbogast. "Here, friend. May your eyes see more clearly. It is a map of the surrounding land so that I may find my way. I did not think that it would concern you so, friend, or I would have shown you sooner."

Hesitantly, Arbogast takes the map from Esgalwen's hand.  His own begins to shake as he regards Aldwyn's careful work, and he sits down heavily without finding the strength to reply. 

When his voice does come, it is quiet and despairing.  "That I should have so wronged one who has come so far from home, and who has ventured into this dark place, at risk to life and soul, only to ensure the safety of her friends!  Esgalwen, my shame is great.  In my folly I have come to see enemies about me when the true foe lies without the fire-light.  In my heart, I believe as you do - that the folk of Tyrant's Hill are yet my kin, and that there must be peace and good will between us.  For the darkness that gnaws at Mogdred's heart, as it does at mine, would have us divided, and would batten itself upon kin-shed blood." 

Wearily, he meets the Ranger's eyes.  "You have lifted a darkness from my eyes that I allowed to settle.  If you have done as much for Mogdred, then I am greatly in your debt." 

He avoids the gaze of his fellow-travellers, preferring the dance of the flames, and speaks that night not another word. 




:ooc: That was cool.  If this were a Hillfolk game, it'd be raining drama tokens at this point. 

Bandy sits beside his friend and silently watches the fire. Taking his pipe from its sack, he slowly, ritualistically fills the bowl and with a hot ember lights the fragrant weed. Puffing slowing, he wonders whether the fellowship can survive the journey to that dark place he will not name aloud.

Esgalwen returned Arbogast's gaze, allowing the man to speak. She replied with simply a nod, not patronizing or dismissive, but rather a nod of acknowledgement and grace. Wisdom told her there were no more words that needed to be spoken to the Woodman. Gathering her things, the Ranger found a space near the fire to lay down.

"My friends, if I may, let me take the final watch."

:ooc: Assuming noone objects

Esgalwen lay her head against her pack and tried to let her body, mind, and soul find rest. She found herself drawn to a fond memory of her mother, brushing her hair and singing a lullaby of her people. Soon enough sleep overtook her.

:ooc: With Matt on his honeymoon, I am going to roll his tests:

Fatigue
TN 14 travel ♦♦♦○○○


Corruption
TN 16 wisdom ♦♦♦


And now for Orophin

Fatigue
TN 14 travel ♦♦♦○○○


Corruption
TN 16 wisdom ♦♦

:ooc: Here are the overall results of the tests that Tom just requested. Remember to update your character sheets when you make tests. You should update for the following:

• to add weariness
• mark a success for an AP
• to add shadow
• or whatever else might affect your sheet  ;)

When you do roll tests and it does affect your sheet, please include in your next post the  :csu: character sheet updated icon. Thanks!

I think I have everyone current, but I am not sure about AP's. You may want to audit all your rolls in each thread for this Adventure phase. Remember, you get an AP in each category for a standard success; a second one in each category for a Great/Extraordinary success; a third in each category can only be awarded by the loremaster.

Arbogast passed travel with Great success   :csu:
Esgalwen passed travel with Extraordinary success   :csu:
Rorin failed travel gains 2 weariness   :csu:
Bandy passed travel with Great success   :csu:
Grimbeorn passed travel with Great success   :csu:
Orophin passed travel with Great success   :csu:


Arbogast failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (5)    :csu:
Esgalwen failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (1)    :csu:
Rorin failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (3)    :csu:
Bandy passed Corruption    :csu:
Grimbeorn failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (2)    :csu:
Orophin failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (3)    :csu:

To his companions, Orophin seemed untouched by the haunted wood. Yes, he had been quiet, but he had not complained of their road or hunger. Even his clothes were mostly unsoiled as the light-footed Silvan Elf did not sink into the quags, as did the others. Wherever he could find firm earth, even if it were a muddy bog, Orophin stepped lightly over while the others sunk up to their knees. He climbed the huge gnarled roots as if they were ladders in his home. In this way was he able to keep in advance of the party's guide and help to lead from one patch of dry land to another.

Though his demeanor belied his thoughts, in truth the Elf was feeling the torture of the wood and land. Orophin was only one-hundred and seven years of age, having only seen a short span of the current Age, but his memories ran deep - as did all Elves. Long before the beginning of the First Age, the Elves of the Great Journey traveled westward through the lands of Middle-earth from whence they had awoken. Coming to the Great River Anduin and the high peaks of the Misty Mountains, some of the Elves of the clan of the Teleri fell away from the journey, and settled in the woodlands east of the Mountains. These were the original Silvan Elves, who lived on either side of the River. At this time in their history, all of this people still lived close together, with some dwelling in the land that would later be called Lórien, and the others settling around the hill of Amon Lanc in the far south of Greenwood the Great.

It must have been in the time these Elves were living closely together that the Silvan Elvish language appeared. As history passed, the Elves would move away from one another, and mingle with other Elvish peoples, so that the Silvan branch of Elvish would eventually become extinct. Nonetheless, relics of that ancient tongue survived in some well-known place-names and personal names, such as Caras Galadhon, Amroth and even Lórien itself.

The Silvan Elves dwelt in their twin woodland realms for many centuries, but in the Second Age the emerging power of Sauron began to drive them apart. Oropher was the ruler of the Elves who dwelt in the Greenwood, and he began to seek safety by moving his people northwards, away from Amon Lanc and away from the Silvan Elves who lived to the west of the Great River. Thus were the people separated and so did Greenwood began to feel the ravages of the Shadow. Soon it was renamed Mirkwood and the Silvan Elves had retreated as far north as they could.

Orophin looked at the forest and the land. The smell of decay filled his nose and lungs. No birdsong filled the air. He was not surrounded by a living forest. The Elf did all he could to maintain his hope. I cannot journey here again, he thought to himself. How did his companions suffer such a place?

But he realized that they, too, were being dragged down into the Shadow, just as the bogs wished to drag them under the earth. When they had made camp and he then watched the Woodman turn on the Gondorian, he knew that they were close to despair. It was Bandobras who brought them back! The happy-spirited Hobbit from across the mountains. What a pleasant folk, thought Orophin, the world should be filled with more of his kind and certainly it would be a better place.

With Arbogast's concession to Esgalwen, Orophin broke his silence. It was an old song of his people, but it told of the forest in its youth when the First Age was still new. It told the tale in his kin's original tongue, and though none could understand it, it painted images of happier places and happier moments within their minds.

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Song
TN 14 song ♦♦○○○○

:ooc: He is going to activate his trait Merry, which I am going to allow to reduce the TN by one step to TN 12 - thus he succeeded.

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Orophin did not sing loud, as he did not want to call down upon them any horrors that might be near. He did sing with strength and passion and his propensity to be merry shined through. His companions could not help but smile - even under the shadow of Sorcerer's Hill.