RPG.avioc.org

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

The farmers slashed at the air where once the large wargs had stood, but the animals dodged and loped past the attacks. The companions, too, attempted to bring down the animals but they had created a greater distance which now required pursuit. The forest loomed to the east, not far away, yet close enough for the pursuit to become dangerous. Bandy fired a parting shot at the trailing warg and then they were gone behind the curve of the hills.

Grimbeorn panted while leaning on the haft of his axe and holding his hip where the flesh had been rent open. Beside him, Esgalwen returned to the ground and applied a bandage to her leg where her own blood flowed. The farmer named Argil looked at them and then to the others that were now present - a Dwarf and a child? But the little one seemed more mature and capable than his stature allowed. Perhaps this was one of the little folk that legend spoke of who lived along the shores of the southern Anduin?

He came to a conclusion, though his axe remained firmly in his grip. "Come, you will need the help of my wife. She knows the songs of staunching and can boil wine so as the poisons of the bite will not kill you later."

"But father?"

"Mind me, lad. These folk are hurt and have aided us in staving off a worse situation. The least we can do is feed them and see to their wounds. Run ahead now and tell your mother to put wine to boil." The younger man nodded with urgency and then turned and ran towards the farm. "My woman is good with poultices and healing. She stitches, too, with as little pain that I've ever felt." He pointed to Arbogast, Rorin and Bandy, "Come...help your friends."

With no other word, the Viglunding farmer led his people back in the direction his son had just raced. One farmer stayed to aid the Fire-watcher with Grimbeorn, and Rorin and Bandy assisted Esgalwen.

The companions soon found themselves in a large home made of wood and earth. It smelled of roots and dirt, as well as pork fat that boiled over the fire. It was warm and somewhat uncomfortable from the humidity of the rain that passed overhead. Argil's wife had long reddish-blonde hair that was tied up atop her head, though many loose strands hung down about her face. She was a portly woman and her cheeks were flushed. They noticed that the pattern of cloth was the same in her dress that was worn by her husband.

She had the stopcock of a keg open and a thin wine flowed into a pot. The woman looked to Rorin as he helped Esgalwen into their main room - a look of surprise at seeing both a Dwarf and a woman. She pointed, "Sit her down over there." She then directed Arbogast and Grimbeorn to another place upon the rush covered floor.

The farmer and his son both hung their axes on hooks that were on a support beam. He looked to Arbogast, "This is my wife, Fern. I am Argil - let us step out so that she might help your friends...we shall talk outside, at the fire, and you can tell me who you really are and why you are here."

"I will join you when I may," Arbogast replies, "but I myself have no small familiarity with the tending of wounds, and the faster my friends are seen to, the better." 

He nods towards Bandy.  "In the meantime, Bandobras here is a wise and well spoken as any among us, and can explain our business here at least as well as I."



:ooc: I'm going to make a Healing roll for Esgalwen.  These guys still don't know who Grimbeorn is, so there's no reason for them to hold a grudge. 

The Beorning ancestral axe slipped from his grip due to the blood of his wounds.  Grimbeorn almost fell to the ground with it but to be caught by attendants.  With their help he stumbled to the Viglunding hut and he groaned upon his bulk being dumped unceremoniously on the family table.  In the midst of ministrations, his eyes fluttered and he gave a wan smile to the lady of the house and daughter as they did their work.  Songs floated through his mind bringing pleasant memories back to yester days of his childhood, being with his mother and grandmother.

"Oh come now," said Fern, when she saw Arbogast fumbling at Esgalwen's wounds. "You may have the healer's knowledge but there is much to be learned about the healer's touch."

The farmer's wife walked towards the companions, along with her daughter. She had a steaming iron pot with her, the handle wrapped by a swath of linen. Fern came to stand between the two wounded friends and she talked soft and soothingly, "You have been bitten by a warg," her accent was heavy with that of the upper vales, "and it is said that some of these bites are unclean. A man can heal, but then die weeks later when the poison reaches his heart. We must wash the toxins away. I can tell you that this will hurt, but I promise you it is for your own good."

She reached out with her hand to Arbogast and gave to him two straps of hard leather. "Have them grip this between their teeth...I have seen even the strongest of men bite off his tongue in pain." Arbogast nodded, knowing what was to be done. Grimbeorn and Esgalwen were also aware, though neither was ready to continue. Fern knelt down by Esgalwen and smiled with a mother's look, while her daughter moved to hold the ranger by her shoulders and clasped her hand. Fern whispered, "Bite hard and do not try to hold onto your wits. If they leave you, let your body fall into the comfort of sleep. Do you understand?"

Apprehensively, Esgalwen nodded. She was trembling and the farmer's daughter did her best to soothe her, stroking her hair and softly humming a song.

And then there was pain. Raging, screaming, horrible burning. Esgalwen felt the pain of her wound tear through her body and she screamed over the leather strap...and then darkness. Fern watched as the boiling wine rinsed the wound, blowing on it as she did to try add comfort as best she could, but the ranger was already limp. She took the opportunity to rinse once more and then gestured to her daughter, "The poultice. Apply it now. Have him help you." Fern gestured to Arbogast.

Done with Esgalwen, the farmer's wife turned to Grimbeorn. "I am sorry, dear sir, but this will probably hurt you more due to where the wolf has bitten you." Grimbeorn looked at his hip and lower stomach - had the wolf not been unbalanced, he may have been eviscerated.

The Beorning took the strap and bit hard. He nodded to the woman and then there was fire and pain, and then blackness.

Bandy had followed the farmer out to the fire pit. Argil strode next to him, looking down with wonder and questions. How could such a little fellow be allowed to speak for such tall, strong folk?

The Hobbit was cordial as always, but concern was knitted across his brow. The farmer gave a wry smile, "Fear not...I promise you they are in good hands. T'is my wife that most folk come to when they are harmed. She will take care of your people."

Argil offered a seat to Bandy - a large, worn log - and then one to Rorin who had joined them. The man sat down next to his son, while others from the village gathered round. "So...your two friends - the men. They did not speak of your presence here. Why were you hiding upon the hill? Are you really travelers, or brigands seeking to claim some of our goods?"

A muffled scream from a woman came to them from the house and Bandy quickly stood, fear on his face. A large hand was placed on his shoulder, "I promise you, they are in good hands. Fear not. Unfortunately the only way to purge the poison of a warg bite is to wash it clean with boiling wine. It is a terrible remedy to be sure, but one that must be done. Sit...speak with me, while my wife tends your companions."

Bandy nodded and did as he was told, only to jolt up once more when he heard Grimbeorn's own cry. He turned back towards Argil and sat once more.

The Hobbit was a bit surprised when Arbogast nominated him to speak for the part and was happy when he heard the heavy tred of Rorin's boots follow him out. Though quietly as he passed he reminded his woodman friend, "Remember the cordial that the grey wizard gave us, this may be the time to use it."

********
Bandy sat back down.

"As you know we are strangers in these lands, my friend here comes from the Lonely Mountain, a kingdom that was lost and now has been found. Myself, I come from far to the west over both the great river and the great spine of the world the Misty Mountains. Here in the lands of men it is best to let other men do the speaking. For your ways are both strange to us and for me at least my presence often invokes superstition in the folks of the vales."

"I assure you we are not brigands and in our own lands we are each accorded great respect for the deeds we have done and have the oath of many kith and kin to stand by our word at the council. Many days under the stars and the sun have reduced us to the appearance that you see before you, for travel not destitution have led us to appear so before you. And as you know, the wood is not a kind place."

Bandy wrapped his small Hobbit hand around the brooch of his pin and showed it to Argil. "We are the Fellowship of the Helm a company of travelers that bring hope when things were thought hopeless or dire. For it is in such a quest that you find us here today."

"Not long past a company of Orcs came from the wood. We were tracking them, but have lost the trail now that we have left the wood. With them is a maiden, much admired among her kin. We are to redeem her from her captivity, and bring hope again to her kin where there is none. We seek to claim no goods from you or your kin, in fact your aid and healing to my injured friends will be paid for in coin honestly gained and given in peaceful friendship for services rendered."

The Hobbit took out two silver coins and held them in the palm of his hand in offering to Argil.

"If not for the slaying of the beast, of which I am sure you will be glad to be free of, then to return hope to those who have lost it do you know where these orcs have come from the wood or whither they have gone?"   

 :ooc: I hate trusting to the dice roller instead of my own skill, but here goes. Courtesy roll Doug if you require it.
[roll][/1d12roll]
[roll][/3d6roll]

 >:p

:ooc: looks pretty good to me!  ;D

---

The farmer listened to the Hobbit with wonder in his eyes. The words that came from Bandy were sophisticated and rife with wisdom, and Argil was taken aback. He was a simple man with a simple life. He loved his family and kin. He had never taken the time to venture beyond his borders, but he was finding the world had nary a problem venturing through his own.

But here was a small person - Holbytlyn - as they were called in legend, speaking to him with solid counsel and courtesy. Argil felt his world expanding just a little bit more.

It had primarily been the toughs out of Holmgrar - the primary settlement of the Viglundings, where Viglund himself resided. These men were sent north and throughout the lands of the East Upper Vales in search of tribute. Argil was man of the north - a Viglunding - but he did not always agree with his lord's decrees. Thus he was isolated, along with his people, and sometimes treated as a foe. The toughs would come and take food, supplies, and they would even take the youth from his houses. There was bitterness, but there was also fear.

The other travelers most seen were the orcs and goblins that would traverse between the forest, the narrows, and the Vales of Gundabad. They, too, scavenged from him, but not to the extent of his own people. Viglund had made minor agreements with the orcs - it was said that the Northman lord had even taken some of the goblins as slaves. The terms allowed them passage across the northern frontier. The agreement was of mutual respect - do not bother us and we will not bother you. But orcs were dark of heart and they obey the rules only so far.

Argil breathed in deep and then let it out slowly, "It was less than six days past. A ragged band of orcs came out of the wood at sundown. They pushed through my land, but not before stopping and demanding water from my well. We gave it to them for fear of their number, though it seemed they were in disarray. There was great turmoil between the two that led. I do not think that either was the true leader...perhaps he was dead. They had someone within their number, whom they did not reveal nor allow to speak. Mayhaps this is the person you seek?"

 :ooc: i think that's a check on courtesy.


Bandy scratched at his chin.

"Yes, that would match what we had heard for their party did not go unmolested."

" I wish to cause you and your family no lasting hardship from these ill folk so we will not tarry here. If you may do so without causing troubles of your own set us again upon their path, or failing that direct us on such a way that we may find it we would be much appreciated."

"You'll not be causing us anymore hardship than we already know. The orcs follow the Gundabad trail that lies to the north - at least, that is what we call it. It is an evident path that cuts across the northern vales and into the triangle of their territory. Know this...it is a dangerous route you seek. Not only do the orcs march its length, but also wicked and evil Hill-men.

"They say these folk once served the fastness of Angmar and made terrible pacts with the powers that ruled that land, but were scattered when the Witch-king abandoned his realm. Then, when the Éothéod ruled the vale, they were driven back north and west over the mountain into lands far away." The farmer poked a stick into the fire to stir the coals, "I do not envy you your journey."

As they talked, Fern came out of the house and approached the fire. She wiped her hands on a linen and Bandy and Rorin could see blood. Arbogast was behind her, but he gave a nod of reassurance. The farmer's wife spoke, "They are sleeping now, but the wounds have been closed. The next day will be the tell - if the dark, bruised flesh appears, then the warg bite will have fouled their blood and it will slowly spread to their death. If not...then they will heal. You are hungry? Will you break bread with us?"

Song roll

Bandy nodded to them and shuddered. The name of Angmar had seeped into the ancient past of the Hobbits too, and nothing good was said of it. In fact with it was associated the end of the Kings in the north.

The Hobbit was happy for food that wasnt cooked on the trail and he spoke freely and happily as he ate. When the food was mostly done the Hobbit began to tell a tale, in payment for his supper.Bandy stood upon his bench and wove a story of the river and the great wood, and of snatches of story he had learned about Scytha and his slaying by Fram.

 The story was well told, but did not cross the cultural divide that separated the other men of the Vales and these folk. Instead of heartening these folks his tales of the great deeds of men, they saw these heroes as being the people of their sometimes enemies and the great detail of the story awoke the superstitions of the folk about the wee folk. They began to fear that maybe he was a great wizard in disguise working magic, or a fell creature of the wood that they had just barely managed to escape the ire of, but they had acccidently invited into their home none the less.

This was a folk that was wary of strangers, and more so of creatures that were not even of thier race.

All marveled again when they witnessed the small creature blowing smoke rings in the yard after eating enough food for two men. They were happy these strangers would soon be gone again, and happier still that there were not young babies in the house to become the revenge of this creature should he grow angry with them before leaving.


 :ooc: figured my advancement checks usually come from social rolls so i wanted to get a song roll in and then narrate the outcome. I thought that this was more suitable to the roll then that the story was boring.

 :ooc: I like it, Tom.

I wanted to say, too, that you all have never heard of warg bites being poisonous. Maybe they are, maybe they aren't, but it's nothing you've ever seen or dealt with as characters.

Maybe it's a superstition of the north folk who can't explain normal infections. Either way, I didn't want you all wondering what the hell I was writing about and from what source.

Then again, they may be poisonous.  >:D

The rest of the day passed with Arbogast, Rorin and Bandy left to themselves. The farmer's returned to their tasks and only spoke to the strangers at need.

Fern would not allow the wounded to be moved and so Argil begrudgingly gave permission for the companions to stay the night, but he said, "You'll need be on your way with the morning light." To which his wife replied, "I will be a'telling them when they can get off."

The night passed with the trio sleeping in a barn on a layer of hay, though each took turns watching for any dangers.

In the morning, the farmer's son came to collect them. They found both Grimbeorn and Esgalwen awake and eating from wooden bowls what looked to be oatmeal. Both nodded to their fellows when they entered, and Fern handed them each their own bowl.

"I have looked at both wounds and there appears to be no corruption of the flesh, save the normal redness. If they are up for it, they can move - though I would be staying a'bed for at least another day or two."

"Well that canna happen, Fern," answered Argil. "They have already eaten their fill of two days of our food and we can't afford more. Besides, we don't need strangers here if collectors come."

"I know, Pa! You tell me and I hear...but trouble could come to them if they find no comfort on their road."

"Where they plan on headin', there'll be no comfort anyway."

Fern sighed and shook her head. She handed Esgalwen a cup, "Drink this, pretty. It's bitter but it will stave off any pain you might feel while walking."

"Thank, ma'am," said the ranger, graciously accepting the cup. She then looked to Bandy and the others, "What have you found out?"

:ooc: Healing...

The two wounded characters are considered Treated.

• Esgalwen and Grimbeorn gets back 2 END points each for the night's rest, and will continue this as long as they get good rest. If the sleep is interrupted, or not thorough (i.e. they are sleeping in the rain with no appropriate cover, or cold, or hard surface, etc.), they will not recover END for that period.  :csu:

• Rorin immediately recovers 4 END after the battle and then 6 more for a night's rest and thus has his 10 END restored.  :csu:

"Some six days ago, our quarry came by here.  They left in the direction of Mount Gundabad, of which I have heard tales but know little.  There may be others of their kind, or Men from Gundabad's foothills, abroad on the trail.  Our hosts do not expect ours to be a pleasant journey." 

"It already be unpleasant," said Grimbeorn, wincing as his side protests at his movement.  "The gifts we've acquired will have to see us through.  Our pace is slackened from our hurts and we must be on our way lest further innocent life impedes progress from that which we seek."

Bandy nodded, "as it is those grievously wounded that are speaking of haste I can not but agree with them. Time and a dangerous road have always been our companions."

Bandy took a piece of briar from out of his pocket. He had found it in the barn and had set to whittling it to keep himself awake during his watch. He crafted a small gnarly box but had worked it into the shape of a knot of flowers. Inside he had placed two more silver coins for the lady of the house.

"Lady, a gift for you for your skilled hands saved my friends much pain and ourselves much hardship. Thank you."

The Hobbit set down his bowl and agreed, it was time to be off.

:ooc: Arbogast is getting sick of lugging both his axes around, and this looks like as good a place as any to hide Wyrtácléofa.  I don't want to make a big thing of it, so is it alright if I just use his Cunning feature to find somewhere out of the weather and unlikely to be noticed for a good while? 

As the fellowship prepares to set off once more, Arbogast spends an early morning scouting the nearby length of the Gundabad trail.  After seven days, much will be unnoticeable, but there may yet be sign of orcs' passage sufficient to gauge their number. 



:ooc: I'm making a Hunting roll to see what I can turn up.  Likely nothing, but who knows? 

:ooc: Didn't think so.  Maybe Grimbeorn could take a look as we go?

Amid preparations, Grimbeorn goes out to stretch himself with Arbogast in effort to discern their direction.

 :ooc:
 :00:
I'll toss in a Hope if that helps...

:ooc: See, now that's what happens when you get a professional in...

:ooc: So, to keep things bopping along, shall we do Lore and Travel rolls for the upcoming journey?  I don't know how far we're going, but at least the first leg will be through the East Nether Vales, for which the Travel TN 14 is a known quantity. 

So, Lore for Arbogast:


And Travel:

 :ooc:
 :00:
 :00:

:ooc: Show me up, why don't you...  In fact, unless Doug reappears and countermands it, I think I've rolled our first hazard in a while. 

Also, to forestall any potential pedantry, we're wandering across the East Upper Vales, not the nether ones.  Whoops. 

 :ooc:
Lol apparently the fresh air does wonders for the Beorning's ability to travel even after grievous injury.

I'll jump on this travel train

Travel



Lore

:ooc: First things first...

Results of rolls:

• Arbogast rolls a 12 Hunting roll - fail

• Grimbeorn rolls a 19 Hunting roll - great success  :csu:

• Arbogast rolls a 4 Lore test - fail

• Arbogast rolls a 7 Travel test - fail plus  :~~:  hazard

• Grimbeorn rolls a 7 Lore test - fail

• Grimbeorn rolls a 24 Travel test - success plus  :g:  :csu:

• Bandy rolls a 12 Lore test - fail

• Bandy rolls a 17 Travel test - great success  :csu:

Grimbeorn and Arbogast returned from their scouting of the northern trail and the large man was happy with his success. There was a definitive trail that continued north, due to the heavy foot of the orcs. The Beorning believed that it would fade over time, but there was definitely enough to give chase, but time was against them.

Fern smiled at the small Hobbit's craft and was surprised to see the two silver coins within. "You honor our home, Master Bandobras," she said and clutched the gift to her chest. The scholar studied the woman and was impressed with what he saw - a simple woman, living in a hard land but who possessed knowledge that kept her and her folk well. It was a apparent to Bandy that though they lived under an iron will, not all of the folk of this land were bitter. Cautious maybe, but not bitter or evil... they would need remember that.

Argil was ready for them to move on, though. It was apparent by his anxiousness and how he and his fellow farmers would stand off from the companions, but watch them closely. It was not that trust was a challenge, more so that the companions were a threat from outside. As if their presence put Argil and his people in danger. The Company wanted to remove this threat and so quickly gathered their things.

Fern had given her medicines and advice for care, along with a mother's tone for them to rest one more day, but Argil would have none of that. When all was ready, the clan of Viglundings gathered at the northern edge of their lands and watched the hunters moving out. The grim farmer approached them and he looked Grimbeorn in the eyes, "Your aid here is not forgotten. We burnt the warg's body last night and spread its ash to the corners of our town as a ward to any new rogue beasts. If you come this way again, we will do what we can for ye, but know that these are hard lands and all must be careful."

Another farmer approached and handed out three walking sticks laden atop with skin-wrapped provisions. He spoke, "T'is not much...hard bread, dried venison, and a few carrots and potatoes, but it will make your first few days traveling easier. You won't need worry for water. This season sees rains most daily and the rivers and streams are gorged. You'll find that more the hindrance."

Everyone in the Company knew the value of the gifts just given and each showed gratitude in their own way. Argil spoke once more, "Keep to the west and you'll come to the Goblin-road, but do not trust that that was their path. There are many small warrens of goblins and orcs about, along with other things... the worst to fear will be any trolls. You know of the threat of the wolves, so take care whil'st camping. I wish you well."

With that he turned from them and as one, so did the group of farmers that stood there, along with their families.

The Company looked north and west - the Misty Mountains marched north and south while the spurs for the Grey Mountains began to the north, marching east. The plains were green and small thickets of trees were sparsely spread across. It was empty land here.

Hoisting their gear, they marched off without another look back.

(https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/52987685/uppervales02.jpg)

:ooc: You guys aren't really that close to the mountains, but I liked the picture.

Give me some time to do some test builds.

I am going to try something new for this hunt - make it more than just a travel test and so forth. I am going to create a web of options that will be determined by your hunting rolls. I will use the aggregate of your rolls to determine where you go and what you find. So literally, you guys could get turned around and end up back at a place you left. I don't know, I am still putting it together in my head, so give me a day to sit on the couch now that my brains no longer cloudy.

I am printing out the area of the Upper Vales and will hand draw my search web/tree. Not sure if I am conveying my idea well, but if you have any cool ideas, I am willing to hear to add to our fun. I will incorporate them, but keep you guys doing some guessing.

I also want to require you guys to give me successful tests for survival - this will control food consumption to some extent, weariness, and healing. It will also determine how far you guys are able to move in a day. I will let you know that grid here shortly, too. Matt should remember these kind of builds that I used to do for our old Decipher LotR campaign.

Anyway, we will be going through a number of encounters from easy to hard, based on tests and where they land you on my travel web - so keep up the great narratives and dialogue, but know that we might be running through a bunch of mechanics, too.

And Paul, I will be taking into consideration for our first landing based on your :~~: roll.  ;D

I hope this post made sense - I think my brain is clear enough to speak!  ;)

:ooc: I have updated the TOR player's map under the Resources tab above. Click on the Wilderlands option.

Some time out on the trail, when the company is drawn out along the path, Arbogast falls back from his customary forward position to walk alongside Bandy.  "My friend," he murmurs, almost whispering, "I have a favour to beg of you." 

Choosing his moment carefully, he passes two handfuls of dried venison to his small companion.  "Our wounded friends have greater need of this than I, but they are each of them proud and stoic, and would refuse it were it openly offered.  Your wits are about you, and your hands are swift and sure.  Find a time to slip this into their packs." 

More loudly, he says "take care up ahead.  The mud is slick but shallow, and there are stones beneath it sharp enough to do even your tough Hobbit feet an injury." 

Knowing that the others in the group were much better suited at tracking prey across open land than himself, Rorin positioned himself in the very rear of the column. He was constantly looking to the rear and the sides for any sign of another ambush like the wargs. Up ahead Grimbeorn stood at tall as ever, though Rorin knew that he must still be in pain. Esgalwen on the other hand was moving slower than her normal pace and Rorin offered what aid he could.

"You know Esgalwen, I had meant to tell you this some time ago, but I've forgotten until just now. It seems as though word of your swordplay has spread across much of Mirkwood. Remember that time at the Mountain Hall when you charged the hill full of goblins all alone? Would you be surprised to hear that it has become something of a legend among the Woodsmen? Just last year as I worked my forge I began receiving orders for long swords of the style of Gondor. In fact, one of my wealthier customers asked that your tale be engraved upon his sword to help him fight with the ferocity and skill of...now I'm just quoting him here...'Those warrior lasses from the South'."

Rorin laughed boisterously as he recalled the look of awe in the man's face upon receiving his new weapon.

"It's true though, I must've filled 2 dozen orders for long swords and nearly every single one of them was inspired by Esgalwen the Brave. Anyways, how heals your wound?"

On the road again did him good.  Though the trail led towards the enemy and a doom as yet unknown, Grimbeorn moved with a purpose.  He read his surroundings and listened to the wind for any sign that they drew closer to their prey but still they lagged behind.  "If but the great favor still moved us forward, we would yet overtake these fiends," he thought.  His words were few but of command to keep the group on track and on pace lest they fall further behind.  As the food gave out from the Viglundings, they took to supplementing their meals with what was left of the eleven bread.  When pace slackened and hope began to wane from wound and weariness, a mouthful of the cordial was all that was needed to get them going again.

Esgalwen listened to Rorin speak, as they walked. Her leg had been nothing but a dull ache that was quite awkward to walk upon, but she knew that the Fern's medicine was good for it carried her through the day's struggle.

It was the Dwarf though that brought her real comfort. When the Dwarf moved close to her to speak and then shared his story, Esgalwen felt her heart bloom. Not for the need of the accolades, but that she had made a difference here among strangers. She had shown the strength of Gondor. She had shown the strength of her father, and his father before him.

The ranger turned to look down on Rorin and the Dwarf saw her, fair of face. She now had scars where cuts and scrapes had marred her flesh, but still she was beautiful...and then she smiled. "Master Dwarf, praise you! May your beard grow long and your hands ever filled with gold, though it never holds you! My how you have made my day!'

With that, Esgalwen strode forward a step stronger and surer, her wounded leg no longer a thought.

---

:ooc: That was some awesome dialogue input, Steve!  ;D I am awarding Rorin a Hope point back - as he he sees the change in his companion.  :csu: