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Few sleep that whole night through, for the thirst for revenge is bitterly felt among the Beornings and all are keen to slake it with the blood of orc and warg.  Nor do they hesitate to stir from their places on the floor of the hall when morning comes, but break their fast with what ale and bread remains and, stout shields and iron spears hefted, march forth with voices lifted in song. 

After a brief council with his thegns, Grimbeorn gathers the Fellowship to him.  "I'll march the army about just as we decided yesterday, and keep it together, but it'll only be as good as our scouts.  We can't fight what we can't find, after all!" 

He tears a huge mouthful from the half-loaf in his massive hand and continues, crumbs dropping into his beard.  "I've sent some of our folk's best hunters out to follow whatever tracks we can find, but I'd like you to go out as well, unless you've some objection.  If you find foes, harry them but try not to slay them all!  I want them to think that we're buying time to flee, not coming to conquer.  Now, unless there's anything else, mount up and ride well." 


:ooc: The army is going to start heading out in a broad circuit, with scouts ranging out and then reporting in every day or so (so we're not going to be using the Journey rules for travelling around).  Assuming that you go with Grimbeorn's plan, someone will need to succeed on a Hunting check to find an orc-band or wolf pack (there are several out there).  The TN will start at 14 and change according to circumstances. 

 :ooc: will my Orc Lore trait impact the TN?

:ooc: Esgalwen is endowed with that specialty as well.

 :ooc: 2 pips + Favored here but no appropriate specialty

:ooc: Ooooh, this is one of those times when having a particular trait can be used to open the possibility of knowing more.  Let's do some Lore rolls, shall we? 

Esgalwen


Hathcyn

:ooc: Right.  Esgalwen has seen signs of many orc-bands leaving their holes under the Misty Mountains, and heard tell of even more.  Of these, most seem to have travelled east, as if called to something in Mirkwood.  Or, possibly, they were defeated in the wars that have raged in the darkness beneath the peaks since the slaying of the Great Goblin by Beorn all the way back at the Battle of the Five Armies.  In either case, these bands were disorganised and not operating with any plan beyond flight and opportunistic pillage. 

If the orcs have now emerged to raid in force, it suggests that even if the Orcs of the Misty Mountains aren't united under a single leader, then the number of contenders has dropped markedly, and those that remain have enough followers to spend their strength on the surface. 

Is this immediately useful?  Probably not, but it's what you know at the moment. 

:ooc: Since nobody's stepped forward yet, Luindîs is going to take a look around...

On horses borrowed from Grimbeorn's men, the companions ride forth, ranging ahead of the main army.  Luindîs, grin as wide as her eyes, watches the birds circling high in the sky more than any signs of wargish passage upon the ground, and it is little surprise that it is another who first gives the call that a trail has been sighted. 


:ooc: Who that person is, is largely up to you guys now.

 :ooc: hunting roll

The longspear hing like a lance as Hatcyn rode in search of the wargs. He could not make up his mind on whether they were natural beasts ot note. They could not be tracked like normal beasts and they tended to be hard to find during the day, but their bite and their blood were real enough at night.

When he relaxed his thoughts and used his passive mind to scan he then began to see the signs. Not so much as tracks, but as if in their passing they were angry at the earth and the growing things underfoot.

"Here!" He called out.

"I think I have found something."

:ooc: Esgalwen's roll
TN 14 hunting 2d

Even as Hathcyn called out, Esgalwen's own eyes locked on to the telltale sign.

Though the spirit-wargs have indeed left no trace of their passage, the skinned carcasses of those slain in the rainy skirmish some days past now bloat in the sun, and within the walls of Ferthald's steading their hides are stretched to cure, and will in time grace the cloaks of thegns and famed warriors.  These have, without a doubt, left a trail to follow.  The cool wind blowing from the mountain slopes tosses the grass and carries the scents of summer meadows as the companions ride forth, the expert eyes of Hathcyn and Esgalwen finding tracks and spoor aplenty, as from the passage of a host much larger than that which gave battle before Ferthald's gate. 


:ooc: A brief pause here, as this calls for some Riddle rolls:

Esgalwen


Gwaithlim


Hathcyn


Luindîs

:ooc: Not willing to pass up the option of an Extraordinary success, Luindîs is going to drop a Hope point on that to turn it into a success. 

So many, Hathcyn finds himself thinking as he reckons the count as at least fifty wargs.  This thought is followed by a more uncomfortable one: they must have outnumbered us more than two to one, though we could see only a few of them through the downpour!  Aloud, he at last asks the question that now bedevils him.  "A full two and a half score, I make it.  They could have crushed us against the closed gate.  Why didn't they?" 

His gaze, and Esgalwen's, turn toward Gwaithlim, thinking perhaps that some subtle wizardry of the Eldar kept them at bay, as Radagast's will held the spiders of Mirkwood in check.  But Luindîs, her ears attentive even as her gaze takes in the wide and rolling sward about them, is swift to answer.  "Sometimes, when the high lords and ladies of the Elvenking's court go a-hunting, low-born beaters are sent out to find game and scare it into a chase, to ease and speed their hunt.  Mayhap we were to be the quarry of some terrible thing even now leashed in the caverns beneath the mountains!  Or perhaps the orcs sought to hold us all in one place while they went about their dark business elsewhere, like a conjurer guiding the eye away from where he prepares his trick?" 

Hathcyn mused..."or they wanted all the rabbits in one trap."

Esgalwen nodded at Hathcyn's reply, "They had achieved that. For all intents, we were beholden to their trap - some more than others. Foul sorcery had been placed here. Why? To imprison Grimbeorn and his soldiers. They could have come and slain them prior to our arrival, lest the magics had not yet taken affect."

The woman continued to wonder, "We found Grimbeorn at bay and then we, too, became ensnared, wasting our time trying to free them from the sorcerous bonds. It would have been the perfect time to attack us in force and what great names would they have taken, should victory have been theirs! Grimbeorn, scion of Beorn, great-slayer in the Battle of Five Armies; Hathcyn, bannerman of Grimbeorn; Elves of wood and beyond; and in all modesty, Esgalwen, daughter of Gondor.

"It seems to me that it was more important to keep us pinned in one place... aye, a trap, but not one meant to keep us long." Esgalwen shook her head once more, "Still... I cannot see the answer to this riddle."

Hathcyn pondered for a moment then spoke.

"The great warg that leapt the gate spoke to me. Or at least I understood it to be speech. The wargs speak like the dogs do, but the dogs having long association with us speaker clearer when you learn to listen to them. This great warg knew me on sight, and he led me to believe that he had some vengeance in store, but they I smelled different, being covered in the smell of horse. I think perhaps the steading was a trap that was not sprung because they were waiting for the nest to fill. I think our coming was expected, but the defeat of the sorcery spurred them to action before the plan was fully ripe. Only the Woodman was absent....is this a hunt against our Fellowship? Was the plan simply to lure us all together, reduce our will, and strike when we were all together? I dont think brute force was their aim. a more malicious and deeper thinking force is at play here."

"You have been a plague against the machinations of The Shadow and its allies for years -- your presence has been noticed and your number, kind, and even names are likely known to all.  Count this as flattery if you will," jests the elf.

Hathcyn frowned deep in thought. He had never considered that he himself may be a specific target against which the malice and the will of the shadow would take particular notice.

"If this is true then we ourselves are the bait and not this Army. Though I can think of no singular being in which such power and hatred could array against us such a force. Unless it were that of one of the great spiders, but this is not their way. They do not command any but their own kind. What singular enemy have we made that would be capable of such a feat and still be unknown to us? I fear this riddle is the true problem we face and these wargs are but a reflection of its power and malice."

These thoughts sit heavily in the guts of the Fellowship as they follow the trail into the hills.  Ever-fainter it grows  as the ground beneath them turns from the thick loam of the vales to stonier soil and the warg-spoor that they seek is harder to find, but such a number of warg-riders as this cannot but leave a trace for a cunning hunter.  Nor is this the first time that the companions have followed an orc trail, and the wanton destruction left by orcish reavers as they travel is clear as day for those with the eyes to see it. 

As sunset approaches, they find their trail making straight for a dell cloven between two low hills, where a stream clearly flows during the spring thaw and has now left an empty bed.  Above the gap grow trees which, while stunted and twisted things, are nonetheless thick of branch.  In the shadow of the Misty Mountains, it seems that they gather the darkness to them, weaving it into a cloak to shelter the dark things that no doubt hide and slink beneath.  Even to this distance, a charnel scent carries on the evening breeze, unsettling the horses. 

Though it may not yet realise it, the quarry is at bay. 

Luindîs can barely contain her glee as she alights from her mount and strings her bow.  "Surely as night follows day," she says in a giddy whisper, "This is where our foe abides.  But how many are they, and of what kind?  I will go forward and spy them out, for I am a maid of Mirkwood born and none can tread softer, nor see clearer, beneath bough and shadow!" 


Without waiting for a response, she begins to creep forward, her feet soundless on the summer grass. 


:ooc: I'll give you a chance to interject before I make any rolls, but Luindîs is already moving so it's going to have to be fast!. 

"There is something peculiar about this elf."

Hathycn debates stopping her, but pauses. The party is known to one of these warg chieftains but perhaps not the elf. Their job was to scout for the enemy and they have found them, but the risk may bear fruit.

:ooc: Let's have Luindîs roll for bein' all sneaky-like, then:



The TN will be 16, because we're talking about wolves and their notoriously keen sense of smell, but you never know your luck...

The young Elf glides forward.  Soft as prayers, her footfalls barely disturb the grass, and while Esgalwen and Hathcyn watch with some admiration, Gwatithlim finds himself inwardly recoiling, for he sees once more the signs of one of the Firstborn who has renounced the call of the West, and who has thus begun to fade.  Not wholly real is this one, he thinks, and neither wholly a creature of the Powers of the Undying Lands.  Though she is closer kin to me than these Man-children, this I must not forget: she is no kin of mine!

Within moments, Luindîs disappears into the foliage that chokes the entrance to the dell between steep and rocky slopes.  There follows then a tense wait for several minutes before once again, with the barest of rustles, the undergrowth parts and she re-emerges, her rictus grin half of exhilaration, half terror.  Breaking into a run, she hastens toward the relative safety of the Fellowship.  "Some two score wargs I count in there, and half that number of orcs!  I know not whether any company of our small number could defeat such a host," she gasps.  Then, her eyes still wide but her mouth taking on a fey look, she adds "... but that they were the three of you!" 

Esgalwen is puzzled with Luindis' last words - instead she looks behind their party. "Grimbeorn and his force follow behind, but still at a great distance." The Ranger then looked to the sky to determine how much daylight they had left.

---

:ooc: I am not sure if a roll is needed, but here is Battle (?)... or maybe Awareness? I will give both rolls in case:
TN 14 battle 2d - or awareness 3d

:ooc: LOL! Such a capable Ranger.  (-D

Well, based on how you wanna interpret that, I will wait on my narrative follow-up.

Gwaithlim also readies himself for the unexpected, keeping his wits and eyes about him.  With Luindis leaving so brashly makes him all the more on edge.

 :ooc:

"Indeed. But this battle is not ours alone. Were we here for our glory alone we could test our capabilities against this foe, but even so it seems longer odds than seem profitable that each of us would return. Also, this is a challenge against the folk of Grimbeorn. If we were to solve their problems for them they would draw no closer together as a group. Those who share the burden of this conflict will be melded by it and each come away with tighter bonds to the group. A victory here will do much to aid The Wolfslayer in bringing the people under his banner."

"Our job was to scout and we have done that, now let us bring word to those that follow behind."

Luindîs' face visibly falls.  "But you are the heroes of the Vales who seized the forts on the Dwarf-road and braved the court of the spiders!  With Grimbeorn by your side, you slew the Werewolf that plagued the forest!  You scaled the high peaks yonder and were visited by one of those who dwell beyond the world!  Surely such foes as these are not beyond you?" 

Gwaithlim turns away before the young and wild maid sees him roll his eyes.  What tales has this one heard, he wonders, that she would believe them still having met her heroes in the flesh? 

Gold shines the river in the last of the afternoon sun, bright and clear... but not perfectly so.  Upon its surface, not visible perhaps to the eyes of any but the greatest of the Firstborn, lie the shadows of a score or more sails, and beyond them rises the faintest hint of what may be a column of smoke.

:ooc: That's a very nice roll, Matt - well done for making it when you did. 

EDIT: I'm going to give him an AP for the Great Success despite the fact that he already has two noted down in Perception and he doesn't have a relevant Trait, just because it's a plot-critical check. 

 :ooc: paul, are you waiting on us? If you've left us with something to action or discuss I've missed the que.

:ooc: If you guys are ready to return to the main force and tell Grimbeorn where you've found the wargs, I'm happy to move on.  But this:

Quote from: Eclecticon on Sep 15, 2023, 03:22 AM... the shadows of a score or more sails, and beyond them rises the faintest hint of what may be a column of smoke.

... is significant.

 :ooc: i took that bit to be narrative device and foreshadowing not character knowledge because I dont have eyes of greatness even among the first born.

:ooc: I re-read what I wrote and you're right - it's not clear that this is something Gwaithlim has actually seen, which was the intent. 

Whoops.

 :ooc: I didnt think it was player knoweldge which is why i asked. Let's see what Matt does then.

:ooc: Your willingness to oblige me is appreciated, and will be remembered come XP time.

Ignoring their present situation, Gwaithlim is distracted by a portent of ill-boding.  "Hark!" calls the noble elf. "Mine eyes may cheat me but yonder," he points to the far off horizon.  "Luindis, do you see what that? Pray it be figment of visions for it is not a sight common this side of the falls away south."

:ooc: Let's see what she can see!  She'll need at least a great success to match him:

Luindîs slaps the taller Elf playfully on his arm as she says "Fie, falcon-eyed one!  Mine are eyes of Mirkwood's owls: better than yours in the dimness, but hardly fit for seeing across the whole wide world!" 

Her light demeanour slips away, however, as she then asks "But if your eyes do not deceive you, what does this sight mean?  What folk are these that would set so many sails upon the river?  And what shall we do about the foes here and now?"


:ooc: Tom, I know Hathcyn has already put his two cents in, and they're sensible cents at that.  But Luindîs doesn't feel like a conclusion has been reached yet.  She'll probably follow Esgalwen's lead, once the Ranger weighs in on the issue.

 :ooc: knowing about the situation I dont think changes his current course of action. The people are already in motion and the watgs are found. The boat people are a new issue but little he can do at present.

:ooc: I have been thinking about what Esgalwen would add to all of this, but she feels so out of 'command' - that this would be choices of the Beornings. That said, I will give my character's input.

---

Esgalwen listened as Gwaithlim revealed what his eyes did see - sails upon the Anduin and fires alit upon the land. Such things harkened back to the days in Gondor when the southern city of Pelargir did need defend against the plunderers of Umbar.

"Hathcyn, we know where the wargs sleep and our host still follows far behind, but it is evident that something new threatens the vale. Is that the Old Ford that burns? Boatmen lay siege to some residence along the river and though we can do little to stop them, for our numbers, still we can discern this new threat and bring the news to Grimbeorn.

"It is apparent that this attack out of the mountains by orc and warg is either to distract or support the efforts of others. Maybe the Vigs? Maybe the Toft-men flying banners of Mogdred? We cannot know lest we make haste to see this new danger. Is there a way to send word to Grimbeorn to alert him to these threats? Gwaithlim, can your winged friends take a message? Hathcyn, can you run to him in your night-form?"

The Ranger was torn, as it seemed that the enemy had, in every way, slowed them and hampered their decisions, even as they burn rick, cot, and stable.

:ooc: Correct me if I am wrong, but this is how I map this and how Esgalwen interprets it:

We crossed the river at the Old Ford and moved south where we came upon a battle fought by Beornings and orc warg-riders and wargs. We learned that Grimbeorn had either fought off and pursued - or retreated - to the the settlement, where they were placed under a dweamor. We followed after Grimbeorn which took us further south, yes?

From there, we moved north back towards the Old Ford, scouting before the host? Is the Old Ford what could be assumed is burning? If we moved south, then Stony Ford sits along the river and it could be the location of another attack.

If Esgalwen knew where they were, she might be able to conceptualize the purpose of their enemy. If the Vigs are working with Orcs of the Mountains, or those of the Upper Vales, it would be apparent that they are hampering Grimbeorn's forces down south, cutting us off at the Ford, and perhaps it or the Carrock burns.

 :ooc: further points of clarification.

Are the boats moving down the river south or up river north?

We are on the west side of the river?

Are the boats attacking at Old Ford, carrock or somewhere else?

How far are we from the river?

This will drive what Hathcyn says and does next.

:ooc: To your second question, Tom - I can pretty much guarantee we are on the west side of the Anduin. We crossed it in the first thread of this chapter. Paul wrote we moved south, but I do not know the direction from there.

 :ooc: yes that was a statement with a question mark for validation. I also agree.

:ooc: Doug is exactly right - you're west of the Anduin, and west-southwest of the Old Ford.  You crossed that, went almost directly west to reach Ferthald's steading, then south in pursuit of the wargs and west-ish up to where the land has just started turning into the Misty Mountains' foothills. 

An Explore roll will establish exactly where you are:
Esgalwen


Gwaithlim


Hathcyn


Luindîs

:ooc: That's three successes, including two Great Successes, so you're pretty confident in your location, which I've marked on the map (apologies for the very dodgy job - I'm at work and need to do this quickly!).

Esgalwen and Hathcyn each marked the direction of the Elf's outstretched finger and wracked their memories for what might lie there.  They are yet north of the Ford, Gondorian thinks, her heart beginning to race, and the current will be giving speed to their oars. 

In great number they come, the Longspear thinks, dread rising in his gut.  Far greater than some petty northern thegn's followers.  And if Elven eyes see truly...

... he has shown himself honest and true-hearted, Esgalwen finds her hands beginning to tremble as Gwaithlim lowers his hand, his eyes widening as he marks her dismay.  That is just the right direction...

...to be, Hathcyn follows the same path to the same inescapable conclusion.  Almost as one they speak it aloud:

"Beorn's House."

The cold realization gripped her heart and she felt as if she would swoon atop her horse. So easily had they been misled and drawn away - their force now out of position and potentially threatened! As outriders, they could easily ignore and move quietly past the warg-rider host, but not Grimbeorn. His host would be ripe for the attack and waylaid once more, when it arrived hence.

Esgalwen gathered herself, even as she cursed her ill-decisions and poor guidance. "Hathcyn, aid must come to Grimbeorn's house! But how? He has led forth his folk and now finds himself out of position to aid, with an enemy force between. We have been distracted and waylaid since we mustered. Somehow we must regain the upper-hand and fool our foes..."

She looked north towards where the Old Ford lay - the only path back to their friend's home and people. It would take days and the road would need be hard won with blood, with such a force of Wargs and Orcs between. And then a new thought came to her... the Eagles!

"Gwaithlim, Luindis... it is said your folk can speak with the birds, yes? Is it not so, Gwaithlim, that I have seen you share strange words? Can your friends aid us and call upon the Eagles of the Mountains? They have aided us in the past, when the spiders attacked at the Millfort. Could they bring aid now? Could we ask them to sweep this force aside that will assuredly attack Grimbeorn and his folk when they come? Or perhaps they could bear us those many miles that need covered, in hopes that the House of Beorn can be saved?"

Hathcyn gazed off to where the house would be though his eyes were not sharp enough to see it.

"Houses can be rebuilt, but I fear for the people. And my heart tells me this is revenge for burning Viglunds house those years ago and this is the wedding gift of my father-in-law."

He lowered his hand.
"We will not make it to the house in time to save it. Right now we must ride for Grimbeorn and share all of our tidings though they be full of ill. We can not be strong everywhere and our enemies have long planned this. The Carock is our strength and our refuge, there is where I shall counsel that we look to. Until an advantage shows itself."

"I fear Hathcyn is right.  The eagles are of Manwe, lord of all the air and greatest of the Valar.  Their past assistance has been to turn the tide of fortune against the Shadow and will not interfere with the squabbles of the Firstborn, let alone the Second.  Only if they were aided by the forces of Darkness could we possibly persuade them."  But before the lady to retort in protest, he puts up a hand, "But I will attempt to gain aid of my feathered friend to send our message to the lords of wind."

:ooc: Cool stuff.  Unless anyone objects, I'll proceed with the narrative on the assumption that Gwaithlim's bird is heading to the eagles, but that the four of you are turning around and going back to Beorn and the army. 

:ooc: that's an affirm, Paul.