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Esgalwen is already putting boot to stirrup and leaping into her saddle as Gwaithlim raises his voice in imitation of birdsong.  Feathered friend who hears this, he sings do not wait, but speed to the eyrie of the mighty eagles!  Fear them not, but bring this message from a child of the Valar: that servants of the Shadow mass upon the great river, and in our desperation we seek their aid!

Then begins a desperate ride through the darkening hours before the rise of the moon, Elf-eyes following the Fellowship's own path back down the hillsides and Mannish ones watching for the flickering of watch-fires.  When at last the host of the Beornings is found once again, a little more than twelve miles from Ferthald's steading, the four companions' eyes are sore and heavy-lidded, their legs saddle-sore.  Exhausted and half lamed are their horses, mouths streaked with foam and flanks damp with sweat. 

Barely pausing to challenge their approach, the watchmen bring them at once before Grimbeorn.  Every inch the image of his father does the Beorning chieftain seem here, in the firelight beneath the stars.  He motions for ale to be brought to his friends as he leans close to hear their report.  Only once the tale is told does his face contort with rage.  With great venom, he spits into the fire.  "BAH!  We've been dancing on our enemy's strings since the start of this, and our only hope is that their tune will soon come to an end!  Taunted by orcs and wolves!  Trapped by sorcery!  Forced to watch the burning of my father's house and likely the fall of the Old Ford!" 

His great hand twitches, and for a moment it seems as if he will snatch up Bear Claw and strike out with it, and surely for several moments no man speaks lest he draw the wrath of the Son of Beorn upon himself.  But no slave of his temper is Grimbeorn, to strike and lay waste heedless of consequence.  Instead, he stands very still, and when he breaks the silence it is with a calm and even tone.  "We can't turn the army around and reach the Ford before these northern boats get there – not now that I've given my word that the folk of the western clans will be protected or avenged.  if need be, we can cross the river at Stánford, though it'll be a slow crossing indeed." 

His eyes meet Hathcyn's.  "But the Carrock must be defended.  It's the heart of our folk and the seat of our law.  Without it, I'm no chieftain and the folk of Beorn are no people."  Turning his gaze to Gwaithlim and Esgalwen (and, with some slight puzzlement, Luindîs) he gives his command: "I'll keep to my course, but as soon as day dawns, take as many men as you think you'll need and make for the Carrock.  Do whatever needs doing when you get there." 

Esgalwen looked at her friend and her face was grim, "We will away with first light. We will reach and defend the Carrock. No enemy shall take what is yours, by the blood of Gondor I swear!"

 :ooc: paul, Hathcyn had spent several Upkeep phases taking the role of Defend the Old Ford. I am assuming that he is pretty familiar with the crossings and the Carrock. How many men does he figure are currently at the locations and what does he think he'll need to take with him?

Trying to get a read on what's there what we will need, etc.

Battle roll (or insight, awareness, dice pool is the same)

 :ooc: this appears to be Hathcyns hour, or just tue hastening to his doom.

Quote from: Telcontar on Oct 09, 2023, 12:15 PMHow many men does he figure are currently at the locations and what does he think he'll need to take with him?

:ooc: Both excellent questions.  As you note, Hathcyn knows the Carrock well (and Esgalwen, at least, has probably been there more than once).  The Carrock is big (see the picture below), but there just isn't a lot of room for a large force to occupy the place.  Keeping about forty men there would fill it up - especially as they'd have to leave the island to forage for food if they were staying for more than a day or two. 

As you'll see, there's a single path up the side, which gets very steep in two places, so large numbers of attackers can't effectively be brought to bear if there are men at the top (which, if it's occupied at all, there must be unless the enemy are complete idiots).  A handful of stalwart defenders at each of the cut stairways, supported by archers above, could hold off a force that outnumbers them ten to one as long as their morale holds. 

Also of importance, the view below shows the approach from the east (note the Misty Mountains in the background).  Any force you take with you will have to get across half the river, then cross the small island in full view of anyone on top of the rock, before they can even start their climb. 

So, with Hathcyn's Great Success he knows that the entire army now assembled around them might not be enough if the enemy (who you can safely assume is Viglund) has packed the place with defenders.  But would he?  It's unlikely that the Carrock is his primary target - that's more likely to be the lands around Beorn's House, or possibly even the Old Ford itself if he thinks he can hold it, 'cause those have wealth that he can distribute to his followers.  You're probably looking at 20-30 defenders - enough to be troublesome to dislodge and therefore likely to peel off a fair portion of Grimbeorn's force, which is almost certainly the idea. 

Given that, the question then becomes 'how much backup do you think you need since you'll almost certainly do the hardest fighting yourselves?'  Maybe you need enough men to match the occupying force, to look like a credible threat.  Maybe you don't want to take anyone, because the four of you appearing out of the night (or doing something else suitably daring and impressive) will make enough of an impression on its own?

So then its not already held by Beornings then?

:ooc: There's no permanent garrison there, certainly.  In fact, nine days out of ten there's nobody there at all.  It's not like there's been any threat to it in the past.

:ooc: Just as an FYI, Esgalwen's last Fellowship Undertaking was Defense of the Ford, so she might be privy to some info, too.

 :ooc: is there a bastion at the Old Ford? My thinking is that the Old Ford seems like a better place to take and hold then the carrock. The carrock has symbolism but if we take it they can just ignore us.

:ooc: The Ford isn't fortified in any way.  The closest habitations are the hall of Gelvira Pot-Stirrer (https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/index.php?msg=34799) on the eastern bank and a collection of small farms on the west.  Hathcyn and Esgalwen, when they have stood watch over the ford, have been billeted at one or other of these.  This is bad, of course, in that it makes the Ford an easy target to take, but good in that it's just as easy to re-take. 

Quote from: Telcontar on Oct 10, 2023, 05:42 PM:ooc: The carrock has symbolism but if we take it they can just ignore us.

:ooc: You're absolutely right - it's not huge in military significance, which is why Grimbeorn plans to take the greater part of his army elsewhere.  Let's roll some Insight (TN 12 for Esgalwen and Hathcyn, due to their familiarity with Grimbeorn and his folk, 14 for the others):

Esgalwen


Gwaithlim


Hathcyn


Luindîs

This war will be won or lost without regard to who holds the Carrock, Hathcyn thinks to himself.  But my lord and friend is like a southern king who has seen his crown stolen and his throne burned!   The thegns will follow hm tomorrow because they must, but would they follow the day after if he shows himself unwilling to strike back to reclaim them?


:ooc: I'm putting some more of this information in character - which I really should've been doing from the beginning - but it's reliable. 

A plan was beginning to form in Hathcyn's mind. Ownership of places would not settle this matter, this would be decided by the will and reputation of leaders.

"Wolfslayer, the carrock is a symbol for our people. But possession alone will do little to impact this war. The pieces on the board are the wills that move about and act. I propose that we fight this incursion with the tools and symbols at hand.

I shall go to Carrock with only the companions I currently have. And there upon that island rock I shall challenge Viglund to a holmgang and make it known among our people and his that I have done so. This is something he will not expect and honor will demand that he respond or loose face among his people. After all it was I who burned his hall, it was I who took his daughter to wife. Custom demands he answer in 3-7 days and the longer he takes the greater the unanswered challenge will work against his men's spirit. Should he ignore me and I hold the carrock it will rally our people and sap the strength of his. This should also buy our forces time to get organized. If I succeed he will be dead or shamed and his army will melt away. If I fail then it is I who have failed and not our people. Your prestige will not suffer any further due to the private nature of my feud with Viglund. Whether I win or fail your cause will be advanced and the thirst for revenge shall be slacked on the part of his people. We dont have an army, so it is our own skill and courage that will have to see us through these days. I will take this burden on, perhaps the fates have pushed me towards this one moment all along."

As Hathcyn speaks, all those nearby grow quiet until his last words, whereupon the warriors of Grimbeorn erupt in a mighty cheer.  Grimbeorn himself looks troubled, but this he clearly cannot deny his most loyal vassal.  He claps a meaty hand upon the slighter man's shoulder.  "Fight him, then, and fight well.  Fight for all of us!  But watch out for that son of his, if he's about.  That man's no better than a snake." 

Behind the Longspear, Luindîs' eyes widen and it is all she can do not to clap her hands with glee.  A duel of honour!  A feud driven by love and hatred in equal measure!  Glory or death!  Oh, this is every bit what I hoped I should see when first I set out to join these Men! 

:ooc: I'll throw the thread open for people's reactions, and any specific preparations you want to make before you set out.  When you're ready, we'll start the first proper journey of this entire chapter!

For Gwaithlim, the politics of these lands are those of the men to settle and he will not weigh his mind in unless requested.  His role in these lands is to help ensure peace and security as a bulwark against The Shadow that grows in the East as it grows closer here and from the South as well.  These folk are his friends and he will stand by them as the Beornings are greatest means of stability these agents of chaos.

Now where is that winged chatterbox...

:ooc: Let's do a little retroactive rolling to see how well Gwaithlim's request to the birds was picked up.  The TN will be the standard 14 because there were plenty of birds around in the summer hills, but you were asking them to do something rather scary...

Even as he so wonders, on a windswept rock many miles to the north and west a magpie nestles into a hollow.  Its message, given to it in tones felt as keenly and deeply as any command from a king of Men to his followers, it has delivered to the eagle that bore on its brow a crown of gold, though its heart trembled at the sight of that great sky-lord's sharp beak and cruel talons. 

Its mind is a simple thing by the reckoning of the Free Peoples, but were one who knows the tongue of the birds to ask it, it would say without doubt that it wishes no further part in the squabbles of the ground-dwellers, and of what the eagles will do in response to its second-hand plea it has neither wit nor care.  Long will it be before this bird again troubles itself to come close to those who go about the world on two feet! 

 :ooc: And yet great was the elf's entreaty as is that little one's valour to make the journey.

:ooc: Righto, the Carrock is two days' travel pretty much a straight shot north of where the Beorning army is currently encamped.  Our party Guide (Gwaithlim) needs to make a Travel roll, and I'm bumping the TN up to 16 because you're moving through an area full of hostiles. 

:ooc: Looks like something or other is going to happen when you're still some miles from the Carrock.  Let's see who's going to have to rise to the challenge:

:ooc: Looks like it's going to be Hathcyn, our Huntsman.  I'll get some text up, but it may not be until tomorrow morning (I have to go watch my daughter get an academic award tonight ;D).

EDIT:  Oh, I've also ticked off another AP for Gwaithlim based on his Folk Lore trait - I like the idea of him already knowing enough about the Beornings and their lands to be able to pick back ways to go that might not be as well-watched.   

No sooner has dawn broken above the indistinct line of trees that stretches endlessly north and south on the horizon than the Fellowship of the Helm mounts up once again ready to ride forth to the spiritual seat of the line of Beorn.  Before they can gallop forth, however, Hathcyn hears his name called by a voice well-known from years gone by.  "Longspear!  Tarry a moment, if you'd be so kind!" 

"Harhold!" he answers as he beholds the companion of his youth.  Lined is his face now with the cares of manhood, and his hair has begun a long, slow retreat from his brow, but beneath it all is still the wry grin and mirthful glint in the eyes.  "It's good to see you again!" Hathcyn says.  "Tell me how you fare." 

"Oh, well enough, though not so well as you with your fancy helm and comely wife!  But that's not what I came to say."  The grin falls from his face as he continues.  "If half of what I hear about your adventures is true, then you're twice the man I'll ever be, and it may be that you need no words from a common cowherd to tell you your business.  But know this, oh Foresthelm: your friends of old have not forgotten you, and indeed many who once spat your name now say with pride that they knew you as a youth!  They, and I, wonder at each new deed of yours that comes to us in tales and song, but we know, as maybe few do, that a man of flesh and blood is behind it all, and we'd sooner lose all future songs than lose the man." 

"Listen, old friend..." Hathcyn begins, but Harhold interrupts him. 

"Word has gone round the camp of what you intend.  I know of the feud between yourself and Viglund.  But I pray you, don't let it consume you!  Let him go rather than perish yourself!" 

The words strike deep into the Longspear, who recalls darker days when friends were few, and far between.  He looks from Harhold to where his newer companions wait, all full of patience, for his readiness to ride.  At last, he kicks the flanks of his horse, and the sudden pounding of hooves drowns out his response. 

Will he or nil he, he knows that fate draws him northward, to issue his challenge and see it through. 


:ooc: Something a little different, in that this challenge happens before your journey even really starts.  Hathcyn needs to make a Valour roll (TN 16 as before) or lose a point of Hope as his confidence is shaken.  If he gets a :~~: he'll be temporarily Miserable until the start of the holmgang. 



Tom, feel free to expand on the scene above, and/or Hathcyn's thoughts on the matter, as you see fit. 

:ooc: But it looks like he's come through the test with flying colours, at least!

 :ooc: the norns are still with him.

More to follow

The beast stamped it's feet and turned, causing Hathcyn to make a full turn with the horse.

"Harhold, old comrade! Yes, I assure you I am only too keenly aware that I am still but flesh and blood."

He steadied the horse again. "Dear friend, I say to you truly I do not ride out in wrath. I have already tried once to make peace with my Wife-father but failed. I go out to try again. To end this feud between us, and perhaps even among our people. I go to challenge Viglund, but my offer is to embrace him as a father or as a foe. The choice shall be is on which it is. Either way I hope that this challenge will buy our people time in the least or peace in the most far desperate hope."

The horse stamped again.

"I must ride, the beast itself is anxious to be off. Harhold, I ride now for peace, but if I should fall then half of my cattle are yours and your fair wife, and the rest shall pass to my own. Farewell old friend may we meet again in better times."

The horse could no longer be restrained and Hathcyn gave the beast its lead and it thundered after its companions.

Many miles pass beneath the hooves of the Fellowship's steeds as northward they race, passing through familiar lands recast into new and dreadful form, for the wargs of the mountains and the followers of Viglund have each taken their opportunity to ravage and despoil.  Their way passes many farmsteads, for though this is the land across the wide Anduin still this is the heart of the country that Beorn claimed for his folk, and yet in almost every one beasts lie half-devoured and now rot in the sun.  No sign of the inhabitants of these places can be seen as they ride past, though the sense of timid eyes upon them is difficult to shake. 

At long last, as their weary mounts pick their way along a ridge in the waning light of the late afternoon, the Carrock comes at last into sight, its sheer sides shining golden as a bright fire.  Even from hundreds of yards away it is plain that the small island is inhabited, for the smoke of cook-fires rises already from the low shore beneath the great stone and small boats have been heaved ashore nearby. 

"I reckon on not more than twenty of them, judging by their fires," Esgalwen says, after a moment's calculation, "though likely a handful more atop the Carrock itself."  Turning to the others, she adds "I'd as soon keep the earth between them and us and keep ourselves unknown for now, though we shall need to announce ourselves soon." 
 

:ooc: Aaaaaaaaaaand we're back!  Sorry as usual to keep you guys waiting so long - let's see how much of a run I can manage this time!   

"Our goal is to distract them away from their main goal and cause confusion. We have marched to their tune and now we must pull them to our own. But let us keep this night to ourselves, learn what we can, and challenge them in the morning."

The Longspear dismounted, "shall we make camp?"

"We must be wary lest we run afoul of one of their bounders or sentinels.  Let us find a place both defensible and out of the way if we can."

 :ooc: My luck has leeched into this game as well *sigh*

:ooc: Matt... the dice are not your friend, at least while you are playing as elves.

Such places prove hard to find in the rolling lowlands at the heart of the Anduin valley, but thankfully the Men standing watch on the Carrock seem uncaring of any signs they may see of other folk abroad in the nearby land and the Fellowship's rest, though watchful, is undisturbed. 

Though the campfire is a small thing, concealed as best it can be behind a hastily-built screen of stones and branches, and conversation is muted, Luindîs' excitement to be once again close to the foe is plain.  "Come the morning," she asks, her eyes gleaming in the firelight, "what shall we do?  I (or my comrade in arms, I suppose)" she adds with a sidelong glance at Gwaithlim "could easily shoot an arrow on to the island as our harbinger." 

Her eyes widening still further, she exclaims "Oh!  And we could tie a message to the shaft announcing that the Fellowship of the Helm has come to give battle, man to man, with the northern chieftain!  Have they honour enough, do you think, that they would accept the challenge rather than just kill us?" 

Hathcyn poked the fire with a stick absently while his hand caressed the raven hair braided torc around his neck.

"That is not the way of it. I will ride up to them and issue the challenge. I had hoped that we would find the rock passed by, but they now  :ooc: hold it against us. Our chief aim is to disrupt their plans and allow Grimbeorn time and space."

The Longspear sighed.

"I must travel far tonight, and with speed other than my own."
 
:ooc: paul, i would like to spirit walk this evening. Primary task is to get word to the Green Stone Steading of what is happening and then any remaining time do some recon to see how bad the harrowing is.

:ooc: Right you are, Tom.  Does anyone else want to weigh in before we move on to Hathcyn's nocturnal foxery?

High above, the clouds slowly, silently creep across the sky, the stars vanishing one by one as the fire burns low.  Esgalwen, well-accustomed to the silences of nights on the road, is already snoring quietly but Luindîs cannot seem to stop watching Hathcyn as the Longspear settles himself, shuts his eyes and begins the almost-imperceptible breathing that accompanies the beginning of his spirit-roaming. 

Only Gwaithlim, his Elven eyes long accustomed to the seeing of things beyond the sight of mortals, marks the uncurling of the spirit-fox as if it abode in the Man's belly.  He sees it sniff the air briefly before taking flight like an arrow loosed toward the river, and smiles to see an art once thought by the Firstborn to be nearly lost still in use by the foes of the Shadow. 

Hathcyn, for his part, feels his heart swell with the pure joy of night-going, the scents of nearby loam and grass, Men and Elves, and the fainter tang of smoke and water all strong in his nose.  But as he closes in on the pebbly western bank of the Anduin, another scent reaches him, a scent of fang and muzzle, of the terror of the hunt.  His heart skips a beat as a long, high howl once again carries a message in the hound-tongue: "We smells you again, foxen one!  Run fast, run far, for no pretty spears and strong friends guards you now!"

Hathcyn immediately felt that he had stumbled into a trap. He had forgotten the words of the warg at the steading. Or perhaps his great need drove him to ignore the warning. The fox hunt was on and using all the wiles of his spirit companion he ran through the night.

His first thought was speed, let me test their speed first and run where they expect me to go. His spirit self was driven on by the remembered memory of braying hounds in the chase, a memory no longer. So he ran first towards home and the green stone, they direction they expected him to go. Though truly it had been his first intention, but now he no longer believed it to be the wisest course, but he would let them think first that fear drove him.