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The companions informed the king of their purpose and Thranduil was pleased. To them, he offered supplies for their travels and gave them information as to where they would find the Roaring Falls. Each member gathered his, or her, own personal items and made themselves ready to travel. The day was still young and so they decided to make use of every bit of daylight they could.

Once ready, Neldir came to them, "I was told that my assistance was needed. I understand that you would like me to show you the way to the Elf-path, or to put you on the path north along the Forest River."

Esgalwen nodded, "Only Grimbeorn has ventured this far north into the forest and thus a guide would be helpful." To which the Elf smiled, "I will help you along your way, Esgalwen, but this path and this task is for your folk."

The  Dúnadan woman nodded her head with a smile of her own, "We thank you for your aid."

And that is what Neldir did.

He led them west from the Woodland Realm's hidden fortress along the Elven path. It was easily identifiable by the carved stones that were neatly laid into the earth. "Beware this path, as it is known to wander and there are places where the wood has taken back its own."

"It is our intent only to take the path until the Forest River separates from it north," said Grimbeorn.

"Well that will not be long," answered Neldir. "You will need my services, then, for only a short time."

And with the midday sun approaching its zenith, the Sindarin minstrel took his leave of the Company. Under a large elm tree, Neldir said his goodbyes, "I wish you a safe travel. May the light of Elbereth guide you and keep you, and it is every Elf's hope that you are able to find Ruithel and bring her home once more."

The companions each said a goodbye of their own and they were once more alone and on a journey. Grimbeorn took up the lead and pressed them on north with the Forest River at their right. Above, Rorin was pleased to see Magrac drifting down towards them. The raven had heard his call and come. The Dwarf gave him quick instructions and Magrac took once more to the air to scout their path from above.

The Forest River's course was flanked by birch, alder and poplar trees.

The Company could feel the land begin to rise as they marched north - subtle at first but then more as the miles passed behind them. Grimbeorn knew, as did Rorin, that the centre of Northern Mirkwood was a long low spur of hills, falling away on the west to the Vales of Anduin and dropping sharply in the east to the Forest River valley - along which they now marched. At times, the river was at their side and next it was far below cascading over stones and boulders, as it cut through the rolling terrain. The hills were chalky and perilous, with many unexpected ravines and cliffs. The companions biggest fear was the caves in the upper hills that they would suddenly come upon - fear that these might be home to bears or wolves.

But thus far, no threats revealed themselves.

With the sun approaching it's mid-afternoon position of their first day of travel, the companions followed their self-made path downwards once more. The land fell to meet the banks of the river and it immediately softened into a thick muddy bog. Midge flies and black flies buzzed in thick clouds under the trees, and the earth tugged at their feet. Weariness began to set in quickly and Bandy found he needed to be lifted and carried by the tall Beorning, so as not to slow the pace too much. Other creatures became a threat - poisonous vipers lay hidden in knots of tree roots; snapping turtles with cruel, hooked beaks bit aggressively at the heels of any who misstepped. It was during this arduous leg of their march that the mists began to rise around them.

Grimbeorn cursed at the vapors that drifted before him. It was hard enough to judge their course, but the fog made it worse. How could they manage the crossing of Mirkwood with the forest, its denizens, and now the weather challenging them? Surely the Elf-maiden would be lost!

---

:ooc: I need awareness rolls from everyone
TN 14 awareness by PC

:ooc: Arbogast and Grimbeorn had successes (extraordinary for the Beorning)  :csu:

---

(https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/52987685/mirkwood_trail.jpg)
Their legs ached with weariness and they stopped to rest upon a large stone that rose out of the bog. Arbogast looked to the sky. The leaves were thick above, but still the Fire-watcher could see sunlight filtering through. They had been marching for what seemed hours, but surely the sun still rode the afternoon sky. He looked around at the other companions and each of them dozed where they sat - all save Grimbeorn. The young man had a strange look upon his face.

"What is it?" asked Arbogast.

Grimbeorn turned his eyes to the Woodman and there was a slight look of panic contained. "There is a voice within the fog!" hissed the Beorning. "It sings."

His brow furrowed with concern, Arbogast holds a hand up for silence.  He listens, past the faint rustles of hidden animals in the leaves and litter, past the faint gurgling of the river...  There is nothing there yet, but perhaps soon.  In the meantime, there are Grimbeorn's concerns to allay. 

"Stay close by, and keep your eyes on the others," he indicates the other members of the company.  "There are yet wilder things living here than the elves, and I have heard tales of Men being lured from their path by strange sounds - even of sleepers walking away without waking, never to be seen again." 



:ooc: Point to note: Arbogast's Natural Watchfulness upgrades any successful Awareness rolls.  Does having a great success make any difference to what he hears? 

Also, with Shadow Lore and Mirkwood Lore, does he have any idea what our singer could be? 

:ooc: Yes. Both of you (Grimbeorn rolled an extraordinary success) can hear that the singing is a female voice and it is Elven language, though nothing either of you have ever heard.

Your traits do not offer an auto-success, but I will allow you them to reduce the challenge level of the Lore test you can make by one rank - from TN 20 to TN 18. I will also allow Bandy's Rhymes of Lore and Grimbeorn's Anduin Lore to do the same.

Only Grimbeorn and Arbogast can make a Lore test -unless- you post a narrative/dialogue discussion with the other PC's who then may add their own test to the mix.

Bandy bent to rub his shins but couldnt quite reach where he wanted to. He unslung one shoulder strap and then the next letting his pack rest on the rock. His hands began to rub at his feet and brush out the drying mud he found there.

"This must be why Hobbits dont travel, takes us longer to get there and being closer to the ground we oft fall deeper into it."

The cloak too was soon loose around the Hobbits neck.

"Rorin, why these manfolk ignore the benfiets of a short rest have you got anything other than water to drink? I seem to have a thirst that neither water or wine will put to rest."

His finger traced a vein of quartz in the rock. 
"Do your folk really talk to the stone Rorin? Do you use the language you only use when no one is around and your slam your hand at the forge? If you do the rocks must only respond to a language as equally as hard as them." The Hobbit laughed.

"But I wonder what story or tale this rock would tell, who else sat here I wonder...or does the rock not care and sees me only as a bit of warm snow that will soon be gone."

The Hobbit finds his dreamlike reverie suddenly interrupted by Arbogast's urgent questioning.  "Bandy, you have travelled far and learned much, and have spent time deep in conversation with the loremasters among the elves.  Have you any inkling of what may dwell in these woods, hiding in the mist and singing in the Elvish tongue?" 



:ooc: I'll make a Lore roll, but obviously don't expect it to amount to much!  I really must get around to sticking some AP in Lore, given that Arbogast's horizons have been broadening of late. 

:ooc: Ayup. 

Bandy listened to his friend and arched an eyebrow.

"Why many things live in the woods here, it's much like the wood you call home. Were we in the south I would be much more likely to ask you that question. What makes you think the lore of the wise would help you? What has caused you to ask?"

"Were we in the southern woods, I would be much more likely to know the answer myself," the Fire-watcher answers.  "But we are far from my home, and the woods here are less than familiar.  There is something here in the mist that sings as I have said.  Grimbeorn hears it, too.  Were we in the elves' realm, I would count it one of their... games.  But we are beyond their borders, and I fear that what sings to us is something altogether less wholesome." 

"Sings?"

Bandy arched an eyebrow and looked more serious. "The mists have risen too."

His voice dropped to a whisper, "there were mists and voices on the barrow..."

"I spoke with Ormal the Sinda long..."

"But I have no knowledge about what this might be."

The Hobbit undid a length or rope from along side of his pack.

"We should tie ourselves together so as not the be seperated, and move quickly. Rorin, your friend would be helpful in making sure we head in the right direction and our wits are still with us."

The Hobbit started humming to himslef to drowned out any other music and placed his pack on quickly.

 :ooc:   :00:

 :ooc: With Anduin Lore I believe that's a success.   :>

:ooc: Nice work.  Glad someone here has a clue what's going on. 

As usual, the Hobbit's suggestion is a good one.  Arbogast ties one end of the rope around his waist, then wakes Esgalwen and, as briefly as he can, explains the situation to her. 

Bandy sees the puzzled look on her face.

"The Men of Mountain hall do this when the weather turns bad. It will help us as much in this fog. And to prevent our scattering as it occured that night in Sunstead."

The Hobbit now had his pack on and a bight in the rope affixed to himself. He had one hand free and the other gripped the gem of the Millfort. The many facets of it giving off an inner light of its own.

"Twice blessed you are now stone, once by the Dwarves and now once by the Sindar. Serve this poor Hobbit in times of darkness and trouble, light of earth and stars."

Rorin called out for his raven friend who came down and perched on a limb in front of him. "We cannot see through this accursed fog and there are strange voices coming from the wood. Would you be our eyes and keep us moving in the right direction my friend?"

Magrac cawed and fluttered his wings, "Yes! I can do this thing. Follow Magrac's calls, yes?"

Rorin nodded and took his place on the rope behind Bandy. Once they were on the way again he said to the Hobbit, "About the stone Bandy, 'tis true that some of our folk know how to use ancient Dwarven words to shape and give purpose to the stone. I too, can speak to bare rock...But only as you have heard, to curse it when I hurt myself!"

The dwarf laughs to himself but sees the somber expressions of those who have heard the voices around them. The silence weighs heavily on him and so he keeps talking.

"I myself have never learned this skill, nor seen it be used. But many of the renowned Stonewrights of our past were able to wield their words as well as the sharpest chisel. The halls of Erebor are full of designs created using such techniques. As for these rocks around us, they do have a story to tell. You and I may not be able to hear what they would say, but make no mistake master Hobbit the rocks will speak to those who have the time to listen. The stone all around us has a long memory and many stories to tell of creatures such as yourself. There are not grand legends about mountains or rocks coming to life as there are about the forests, but maybe someday I can show you the heart of Erebor and while you may not hear the mountain's words, you will certainly feel his presence."

:ooc: I sent Matt a personal message this morning about his Anduin lore success roll, so I am waiting on him to add his input before I move the game on.

 :ooc: sorry about that, didn't even notice the PM was there.

Tales of horns and hooves come to Grimbeorn upon the voices he hears in the mists and he remembers the yarns of old that come from his mother's people.  The look on his face is one of listless memory and it is a short time before he speaks.  "Mayhaps we live in legend or walk through it at least.  Gather your strength my friends, take a bite of the elf-bread, and perhaps a small draught of the cordial if you must.  We must keep moving ere our prey gains too much on us.  Fear not this mist for if I'm right, it aids us and hinders those who might espy us."

He almost looks around, over his shoulder even, and gives a private smile to himself and possibly to the one guiding their way.  "To whomever this favor comes, thank you," he thinks.

As they continue their journey, the young Beorning recalls, when pressed about his notions, the stories as he knows them about a great host of horse-lords from the northern vales of the Anduin and their journey to aid the south against barbarians of the East.  Esgalwen picks up the story from what she knows from her land of Gondar, telling of Eorl the Young, the great battle, and their sworn brothers and allies, the Rohirrim.

As was his wont, Grimbeorn was vague in his telling but urgent in his message. They had to keep moving.

And so they did.

The Beorning led them forward and they continued for the rest of that day through muck and mire until the sun set at last, its feeble light casting down through leaf and branch. Arbogast was perplexed at the pace which the sun was moving - and also that he was not exhausted. Yes, his limbs ached from the long walk but vigor remained. He knew he would need but only a few hours rest and he could move on again.

The companions hungry for more information - especially the Hobbit who asked at every opportunity - turned to Esgalwen. The Ranger knew much of the old lore and Grimbeorn's recount brought the memories to her mind. As they camped the first night, she finally acquiesced to Bandy's urging.

"Grimbeorn spoke of the past days of the Éothéod who once lived in the northern reaches of the Anduin vale. These horsemen answered a call from Gondor and the Ruling Steward, Cirion, to aid against the Balchoth - savage wain-riders out of the East. Eorl led most of his warrior-folk out, even though it would be weeks for them to arrive and maybe too late.

"The tale tells that they covered the length of the vale, but when they came to the southern part of the wood a great mist arose and moved along with them. It covered them from the spying eyes of Dol Guldur. It also seemed to make the miles pass with great swiftness and no weariness to man or beast. The Éothéod made their journey in time to aid the Steward of Gondor and drive back the enemy."

She smiled, "For this they were awarded the lands now called Rohan and so all their folk left the norther vale."

Esgalwen then looked around her in the gloom of the night, "Legends say that the mists were conjured by magic and moved the Eorlingas at a great speed. Some say the magic was created by the Lady of the Wood. If the tales are true and if Grimbeorn is right, we may be under same said spell."

The companions then remembered, each in his own moment, the gifts of Lothlórien given to them by Gandalf and his words to keep moving! Fear not the path, just keep moving!

No one fell into a deep sleep that night, as each lay in their bedroll and listened to the whispered song in the mist.

The new morning came and the companions all awoke feeling refreshed and spry. They ate a quick breakfast and then were ready to move again.

Once more, the day passed slowly but quick was their passage through fen and over tangle. By mid-afternoon, much to the Company's joy, the land began to rise once more. The wet bogs were left behind and the hills rolled in a steady progression towards the north and the Grey Mountains. The Forest River was now deep within a steep-walled chasm that they could only climb down with great care. But there was little need to make the perilous climb, only to keep the river on their right - and so they marched.

When the sun fell on the second full day out of Thranduil's Hall, the sound of a roaring fall could be heard to the north. Bandy puzzled over his memory of the maps that he had studied and it defied his logic. If the falls they heard were the Roaring Falls mentioned by the king, then the Company had marched near 140 miles in two and a half days!

On the fifth day of travel, when the sun was at its zenith, the fog began to quickly dissipate.

This far north, the forest was now made up of mostly large fir trees that blanketed the region in a deep hush. The wind whooshed through the upper branches causing them to sway lazily back and forth. Bandy found the forest here rather pleasant.

When they had come to the falls, they searched the old Elven ruin there and found a trail that had led them west. Now, with the fog departing, the companions looked out through the many trunks of trees at the lush, green plains of the East Upper Vales. This was the land of the Viglundings.

This was where their search would begin in earnest.

Grimbeorn vaguely recognized the area where the trail came out at for he had only been here a couple of times in his distant youth.  Realizing the lands were of the Viglundings, he was both wary and yet not surprised at the exit from what rumors had come to them.  He held close to the edge of the wood, not wishing to be spotted in the open lest being spotted by these ill-mannered and hostile people.  From there here tried to ascertain which way the trail continued, if be it to the south towards the hold of Viglund or north towards the mountains.  Time was of the essence even with the great gift of speed through the dark wood.

 :00:

The fellowship has not long to wait before Grimbeorn grunts to himself, in recognition of some sign of passage. 

"Had I a valuable captive in hand," Arbogast muses, "I would make haste for a stronghold to keep them in.  Tell me, my friend, does the trail you have found lead on towards the hall of Viglund?"

Rorin produces a small piece of jerkey and calls Magrac down and gives it to him.

"Thank you, friend, for the guidance. Have you seen a fortress to either the north or south? We cannot afford the time to begin down the wrong path."

Grimbeorn studied the earth not hearing Arbogast's question. It was Esgalwen that answered, "Ruithel's captors are orcs. Would they make for a Man of the Vale's house? Does Viglund and his people truly consort with the Orcs, as has been said?"

She quickly dismissed her own observation as foolish - for she knew that answer all too well. The Men of the south - Haradrim, Umbar, and Khand - if they did not directly associate with the foul folk of Sauron, they certainly did not raise arms to stop them. Grimbeorn's grunt of impatience told Esgalwen what she had already determined. The east upper vale's inhabitants were no friends of the Woodmen of the south.

"Here," came the simple answer to Arbogast. The Beorning was low to the ground and with keen perception he picked out the trail of heavy-shod boots that had crushed over needle and fern. The Company followed it to the very eaves of the western edge of Mirkwood and the tracks led out onto the green field only to merge with a logger's path. The path ran west to a distant village of four houses. Smoke floated lazily from each of the farms chimneys.

Overhead, the sky was graying from a large mass of thunderclouds that were rolling off the Misty Mountains, west to northeast. They would pass well west of the Company's position, but rain would still fall.

And it did.

Large drops fell moments later and landed cold on head and shoulder.

Saradag was a killer. Where most beasts took down their prey for sustenance of themselves, or their pack, Saradag took life for pleasure. He especially loved to slay those that walked on two feet and even more so their children. The Men-folk of the upper east vales knew of the monster and feared him, but had never found him to slay him.

The warg was larger than all the others within the pack. Two other wargs served him along with four wolves. Saradag lay under a pine tree and sniffed at the air. Around him, two of his pack snapped at each other in a fight for dominance and the right to a haunch of meat that remained from a large buck that was killed. The wargs had all eaten and now the wolves fought over the remains.

He growled as the rain began to fall, but the warg chieftain knew it was perfect weather to hunt. The patter would stifle any sound from their movement.

There it was again, thought Saradag. The smell of men...and dwarf. Plus something new...something the warg had never smelled before. Not man... what was it? Where was it and how did it enter his territory without he, or his pack, noticing prior?

The warg lifted his great head and drew in great, deep, breaths through his nose. The smell was a certainty. Man-flesh was moving through his pack's range. Orcs had come through, too, just two night cycles passed. Saradag did not have a direct alliance with the orcs and goblins that ranged out of the mountains, but neither did he see them as prey. Not that a small orc or goblin would not do in a pinch - flesh was flesh.

The warg chieftain stood up and growled out a command. The wolves around him barked and yipped, but heeded his call. The other two wargs slinked out from other pine boughs that hung close to the ground and took up a position on Saradag's left and right. Guttural growls contained commands for his pack and they all followed as their leader loped forward to find the group of men-folk that wandered into his territory.

Tear. Gnash. Rip. Eat.

These were the thoughts of the beasts as they began to hunt the Company.

---

:ooc: pronounced Sar-RA-dag

Arbogast nods toward the hamlet as he tugs his hood over his head.  "Though these folk be enemies of yours, I'll wager they know you not to look upon you.  If we hold our tongues well, we could learn of comings and goings, and the lay of the land ahead." 

Bandy gazed about him and frowned at the rain. He pulled his cloak tigher about him.

"Men may pass unnoticed in the lands of men, but I am afraid that Rorin and I will not pass unheeded quite so easily. Myself most of all will leave stories in my wake and our whereabouts will spread. Esgalwen too in her own way is out of place here.  If that is the plan then I suggest we remain hidden while you two parley with the big folk."

Grimbeorn smelled the rain the air before it even fell.  These were lands he was familiar which, too, included its weather.  As the air turned from musty dust to something pungently pine and wet grass, he contemplated the situation.  He did not relish the idea of splitting up but the words were wise for this weather itself will hinder their following the orcs, muddying or even erasing sign of their passage.  "We must find a place for you to hide and defend if need be while Arbogast and I away," was all he said.  When that was done, the Beorning covered himself and anything that might distinguish who and what he is.

"If we come upon a homestead we can but wait awhile as you go forward for news."

They made their way from the trees and out onto the green field that stretched towards the mountains, which were plain in the distance, and to the north where they met white, chalky hills. Patches of scrub and small thickets of trees were scattered over the vale and so there were plenty of places where the companions could shelter while Arbogast and Grimbeorn made their way to the small village. The land itself had gentle rolls that went steadily downward towards the river for which the vale was named.

The two men were quite sodden from the light rain when they came to the logger's trail that ran to the village. They followed it moving cautiously, but also with a purpose as if they belonged. If they acted like spies entering a land, they would be received as such. Behind them, the remaining three companions waited a time before they would move out. The day was only half over, and though rainy, visibility was good.

Arbogast saw the first Viglunding - as these people were known by the lord that ruled this land - working his plow that was being pulled by two oxen. The young man appeared to be in his late teens or early tweens, about the same number of summers of Grimbeorn. They continued their approach but not wanting to startle the farmer, hailed him with a kind call. Though intentions were good, the young man did look up with a start and stared at the oncoming two. Not knowing who they were, but seeing they came up the logger's trail, the farmer boy ran towards his home, crying out as he did.

"PA! PA! Strangers approach from the wood!"

Grimbeorn and Arbogast looked at each other with a mutual grim look and wondered as to what they should now do. They needed news and both were certain that no one would recognize them as anything other than settlers of the region, and so they shrugged and kept their pace towards the house.

It didn't take long for the cry to be answered and they were there - five strong men of varied ages. Beards grew thick and their clothes were that common to most Woodmen. Axes were in their hands, but none were poised to fight. The apparent leader, and most likely father of the settlement stepped forward towards the two companions.

"Who are you?!" He yelled out to them in challenge. "And where you be coming from? There is naught in that direction save the darkness of Mirkwood."

Even as Arbogast and Grimbeorn were confronted by the villagers, the remaining three had advanced to a small rise that was topped with scrub plants. Shrubs most of it, but Bandy learned the hard way that there was also Thistletyne within. The cruel plant had thorns the length of his fingers and his palm was pricked three times when he he pushed the other evergreen shrubbery out of his way to better his view. Immediately a burn spread across his hand as the plant's sting injected its poison. It was not deadly, but the discomfort was real.

From where they hid, the companions could see down towards the four houses and farmland that stretched about. The logger trail passed between the houses and met up with two other trails - the largest heading south. It was a crossroads of sorts. One path continued west and north while the other going south was clearly rutted by wagon wheels and hooves of burdened beasts. Arbogast and Grimbeorn stood a mere thirty yards from the first farm house, still on the logger's trail. The Viglundings stood between.

"We must be ready to close the distance rapidly if there is trouble," said Esgalwen. "But by their look, I believe these folk - though capable of defending themselves - do not wish to fight. You can tell by their stance...they are more cautious than aggressive."

Saradag loped quickly through the pine woods until he brought his pack to a halt. He lowered his head to the ground and snorted at the pine needles that poked at his muzzle. Their quarry had been here not long ago - they had stopped here. The scent was strong. He followed it towards the old man-trail that exited the woods. The warg growled low and deep, mostly to himself, but also to his followers - they must be cautious. They had lost members of the pack to the two-legs, even as the pack had brought down their young.

The scent of orc was strong, too, and Saradag slavered at the mouth. Man or orc - he did not care. They would feast on whatever they could find. What intrigued him most was the new smell. What would that taste like? he wondered.

Saradag led his pack from the shelter of the forest and followed along the lowlands where the hills rose. He would use the terrain to shield him for he knew their prey was not far.

:ooc: Warg pack --  this roll is to set future test difficulty.


TN n/a stealth 3d

Bandy absently scratched at his thorn burns. "These folk seem no different then those of the wood folk who live in the vales..."

Arbogast holds his hand up as a gesture of parley, being sure to keep it well away from his axe, and his shield on his back.  "Greetings to you!  I am the Fire-watcher.  With me is the Baker.  We are honest men in unfamiliar lands.  Have you time to speak - perhaps out of the rain?" 


:ooc: I'll roll Riddle to make introductions - no point in being more obvious than we already are. 

"Fire-watcher and Baker, you say? Strange men with strange names. Aye, we have time to talk...right here. I'd ask you again where you be coming from, though it is not my business save to say you come from the forest. Where you are off to is rightly not my business either, save when it crosses my land. Still, as strangers in our lands it serves you best to be forthcoming with your business."

Arbogast could see that the man did not change his stance and his words were spoken with the same strength, but yet the tone was softer. The Fire-watcher knew that weapons were not going to be necessary...conversation would get them through.

At the doorway to the house beyond, a woman appeared. She was of middling-age and her frame was corpulent, but strong. She looked on but said no word.

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

Saradag led the pack of wolves around the lee of the hill and saw the companions sitting low atop the next hill. They sat with their backs to the wolves' approach and the warg chieftain growled in delight.

The pack split into two groups. The five wolves surged forward up the slope to press the attack, while the three wargs continued around the base of the hill to come up on the other side and attack their flank.

There was a small man-creature atop the hill. Saradag would drag him away personally and tear out his throat. The warg loved to slay the weakest!

:ooc: Awareness tests for the party on top the hill...

TN 13 Awareness by PC




• On a success, the five wolves are seen and the company may make one opening volley

• On a great success, the five wolves are seen and the company can make two opening volleys

• On an extraordinary success, the five wolves are seen, but also the three wargs trying to flank the party; the company can make two opening volleys - one at either group of attackers, or two at one

:ooc: Results...

• Bandy is too interested in the itchy, sting that is making his palm ache to see naught but his friends talking below

• Esgalwen sees the five wolves racing up the hill

• Rorin sees the five wolves racing up the hill

The company may have one opening volley against the five wolves. I will be switching to combat very shortly - PLEASE DO NOT POST YOUR OPENING VOLLEY HERE. I will open the combat rounds after I get a bit more dialogue from Arbogast, Grimbeorn and the Viglundings.

I want to create as cinematic a scene that we can in PbP!  ;)  ;D

"Your pardon, sir, for we mean no alarm to you and your kin.  We seek a maid who was lost in the wood, but we believe may have come this way.  The forest is dark and disorienting, though, and we know not precisely where we ourselves might be.  Can you tell us where we are, or if aught else has passed this way from the wood?" 



:ooc: Doug, I'm assuming that I don't need to roll anything at this point.  If I'm assuming wrong, let me know, or go ahead and roll for me if it would keep things moving better. 

Also, how far away are Grimbeorn and Arbogast from the rest of the company?  Asking for a friend. 

 :ooc: your distance question caused me to re-think positions, so I updated a post above.

Arbogast and Grimbeorn stand at 30 yards to the house where the woman came to the door. The remaining party members are at least 150 yards (not sure if you need this stuff in meters) from where you guys are. They are a little east of you, and obviously on the crown of a hill.

I am intrigued as to whom your friend might be? A fellow player, or do you have some people reading along with our story?

I am interested to know, if you want to tell me. I think it is cool when people not in the game come to hang and read.  ;D

As to test needs - yea, I am going to treat this as an encounter - I just need to get to my office so I can suss out the mechanics. But I will work with what you give me, while you're waiting..

 :ooc: I'M THE FRIEND! BANDY IS ON THE WARG BUFFET!

Grimbeorn remains quiet during the exchange, preferring to keep an eye on the folk Arbogast is talking to and ready for action if necessary.

:ooc: You were really the inquiring friend, Tom? LOL! Why didn't you just ask me?  (-D

Quote from: tomcat on Feb 06, 2017, 08:18 AM As to test needs - yea, I am going to treat this as an encounter - I just need to get to my office so I can suss out the mechanics. But I will work with what you give me, while you're waiting..

:ooc: Okay, cool.  I'll make a Persuade roll:


Thanks for the distances.  I assumed that Grimbeorn and Arbogast would need to run back to the hill at some point and wanted an idea of how long it'd take (the 'friend' thing was just a joke, though Bandy was on my mind).  One yard is 0.9 metres, which is close enough for our purposes - I've never had too much trouble visualising them. 

 :ooc: doug. 'Asking for a friend' is a euphenism for saying i really wanna know but am fake pretending to ask for someone else. A la "someone in our class really likes you and whats your favorite candy?" So you can buy them a bunch for valentines day.
I said I wanted to know because the answer was gonna have a direct impact on my character.  Not because i was the friend.

:ooc: Yea, I understand all that - I was just under the first impression that Paul might have someone that was reading along with our game and may have been asking questions. My curiosity was piqued.

Then you said you were the friend, so I assumed you guys chat outside the game.

No big deal either way.

With two great successes, Paul, I think that Arbogast is making a good impression.

---

"The forest is disorienting, indeed," answered the large man. "You are in the lands known as the East Upper Vales...those under the rule of Viglund, son of Vartin. His house lies a ways south, down yonder trail." The farmer raised his axe to point to the southbound trail.

"We've seen no maidens pass our lands. We've seen no one p..."

"Come now, Argil. Tell them." The voice was that of the heavy set woman who had padded out of the house to walk up closer, so as to hear the conversation.

"Mind your place, woman!" yelled the large, red-bearded man.

"I won't! Not when it comes to them!"

He turned on her, "You'll do as I say!"

The woman did not cow to her husband, but she did show the obedience that he sought. Her face took on a torn look, "Not another, Argil."

He looked away from her and back to the companions. He breathed in deeply and said once more, "We've seen none pass."

To his right, the younger man who had been tilling the field wiped the rain from his brow as if to clear his sight. He pointed, "Ay! There be three large wolves mounting yonder hill! They are huge!"

Everyone, including Arbogast and Grimbeorn, turned to look at the hill that was just north and east to the fields. Up the north side loped three enormous animals.

The farmer yelled out, "IT'S SARADAG! The beast is once more on the hunt! What might they have found there? Where's your sister?!" The younger man took on a frightened look, his face whitening, as he shrugged his shoulders in ignorance.

As if in reply, a chorus of howls and barks swept down the hill as the animals engaged whomever might be atop the hill.

 :ooc: Checking to see if Grimbeorn recognizes the name...
 :00: [augmented by Lore: Anduin Vales]

 :ooc: I'm so screwed tossing these 12's now...

 :ooc: Grimbeorn knows the name and some history.

The wart has been haunting the region for years and is called the Murderer.