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The trio broke up once more after their long discussion and Grimbeorn and Hathcyn made their way back into the town to the small inn where they had procured a room. It was called the Millpond Hall and it had a simple charm that the men of the vale enjoyed. Arbogast would need stand watch for one more hour before his relief came and this he spent on his own, for even Fen wearied of the cold.

Upon his arrival home, Lindwine smiled warmly - but the smile changed when her husband announced that Hathcyn and Grimbeorn were now here. It no longer reached her eyes. The look was one Arbogast had become accustomed to whenever the three men gathered, as it usually meant that they would be off on some dangerous errand. The plans for the next day proved no different and Lindwine finally acquiesced to Arbogast's desire to hunt the marshes, after long debate, but she did not like it.

So it was that the three men met once more with the light of the new day. Fen had also come, though his purpose was for direction only - the fisherman wished he had the strength of spine to track off with the Beornings and Fire-watcher, but it was not so. Instead, Fen drew them a rough map of Long Lake and Esgaroth therein, and the locations where he and his fellow fishers had seen the troubles.

Esgaroth stood upon a relatively shallow shelf near the western shore of Long Lake, which rose rather gently to meet the shoreline. The Forest River emptied into the mere only to become the River Running (Celduin), well beyond the falls at the south end of the lake. For centuries, Lake-town has endured thanks to its position, set strategically between the Woodland Realm, the Kingdom under the Mountain, and the city of Dale.

The confluence of these two waterways also creates a great marshland that nearly fills all the ground from the lake's western shore to the eaves of Mirkwood. Only hunters and merchant travelers on the Forest River willingly enter this landscape. Northward, the land is arable and good for farming, and the Spring sees this territory bloom with crops. As you continue east along the shore, the land rises sharply, becoming rocky and lightly wooded gullies and shale bluffs. It is here that the shepherds watch their flocks of sheep and goats.

All of this makes up the Nan Annen, as it is called in Sindarin - the Long Lake Valley.

With the territory visualized in its crude form, Arbogast looked to his friends. There was a question that was asked, though no words were spoken. Which path do we take?

---

:ooc: Okay, with you guys wanting to ease back in with a simple hunt - I first want to know which of Fen's rumours you guys want to pursue. The lake is about twenty miles from north to south, and at least five miles from east to west at its widest. You guys could circumnavigate the territory on foot in about three days with good weather and having a good path to follow on the eastern shore.

Sorry the map is not in the new The One Ring art format, but the old MERP stuff is the only place I could find a good map of Long Lake.

Hathcyn strokes his beard.

"Well we dont often return hale and hesrty. Why dont we pole north along the river. Then if need arise we may float back towards the lake.

Grimbeorn chuckled. "Valid point.  The Wood-elves may have some information on those problems as well.  Does anyone know if there are any in town?"

"Aye," Arbogast answers.  "There is an entire quarter of the town set aside for them in the south-west.  You would have seen it coming across the causeway.  Were I looking for an Elf to speak to, there I would begin my search." 


"We should begin our hunt to the southern shore," he adds.  "For if goblins are massing there in sufficient numbers to raid the traders of Lake-Town, then they present a threat to the Forest Road we have laboured so long, and so hard, to build anew." 


:ooc: Check out the cool map of Esgaroth!  I assume the warehouse that Arbogast guards and lives in is near point 7. 

"Well I wasn't so much paying attention to the lay of the land but more the lack thereof, hoping that I wouldn't fall through somewhere in these rickety by-ways.  I'm not as small as I once was, you know.  Well, the news of that is much closer to the town, therefore a more urgent threat... also easier to call upon reinforcements if necessary.  I think you are right Arbogast, let us check out these goblin raids," said Grimbeorn.

"I'll not pass up the slaying of Goblins."

Their direction decided, the trio found Fen down along the docks and persuaded the man to allow use of his boat.

"You won't let anything happen to it, will ya?" the man asked hesitantly.

"Not at all," answered Hathcyn.

"You can always join us," said Grimbeorn with a bearish grin.

"Well... err... no. I am sure it will be fine. Just be careful, as she can topple if you don't distribute correctly."

"It will be fine," assured Arbogast who was the keenest of the three on handling a boat.

Loading in a few provisions that would allow them a longer exposure to the weather, the trio poled away from the docks, all the while other fishermen murmured on Fen's loss.

Take a long good look, they joked. Whatcha be doin' now, Fen, seeing as you won't be on the lake? Never did him any good any way. The jokes turned into guffaws of laughter and Fen decided it best to head home.

Paying little heed to what was behind, Arbogast poled the boat south to where the forest river entered the lake. It was here that King Thranduil sent the barrels back south to Laketown, only for them to be re-provisioned and carried back north. The Fire-watcher struggled at the current and the boat bobbed and yawed, but soon he was through the headwaters and pushing up the calm river.

On either side of the river, the banks were a frozen scene of leafless bushes and brambles, and dried-out river reed grass that crackled in the wind. Lonely birds gave gloomy calls, but there were few answers. Not insects buzzed and no frog croaked. It was cold and lonely in this land between forest and lake. What was worse was the onset of a rainy, frozen drizzle that dampened everything - including their moods.

The men listened carefully for any sound and kept a keen eye upon the shoreline for any signs. It was at the noontide that Hathcyn pointed to the reeds on the south side of the river. The ground was churned to mud and a carcass lay stripped and bloody in the marshy waters. It was picked to the bones, but the men were sure it had been a good-sized sheep.

Hathcyn heard the murmurs and jibes of the other fisherman. He also knew that this boat was Fen's livelihood and primary means of living. This weighed on the man as the companions adventures were not always clean and tiddy.

The Beirning eyeballed the other fishermen and reached into his pouch.

"Fen, it is a brave thing indeed to part with ones prized possession for the good of others. Take these. Here is a coin for the use of your boat, and three more as a deposit should we or it not return. The Men of the Anduin know what danger lurks in the world and we know too it is small courage and ordinary help that keeps the darkness at bay as much as the sword and the axe."

The Beorning rolled a small barrel of beer he had procured into the boat and laughed.

"The Firewatcher knows all about such methods of movement. I'll be content to keep a watchful eye and not move a muscle. Other than to tap the beer."   

Hathcyn's confidence at the outset of their journey brings a quiet grin to Arbogast's face, as does the coin that the man lays out against the possibility of their return without Fen's boat.  Poling away from the bustle of Lake-Town with his friends at his side he feels a world away from the cares and struggles that beset him west of the Wood. 

The merry mood is gone, however, by the time he turns the boat in to the channel of the Forest River.  The stillness all about them brings back memories of the Gladden Fields, and of the marshes that surrounded Dol Guldur years before.  The sight of the carcass, cleaned of blood only where the languid river water has washed it away, does nothing to lift their spirits. 

As the two Beornings begin to heft their weapons, he poles the small boat in towards the southern bank. 


:ooc: Not to nit-pick, but weren't we going to tackle the goblins first?  We seem to have gone a little off course! 

Quote from: Telcontar on Feb 19, 2020, 01:07 PMHathcyn strokes his beard.

"Well we dont often return hale and hesrty. Why dont we pole north along the river. Then if need arise we may float back towards the lake.

:ooc: Sorry - I read the thread down, but this is what stuck in my brain when I started writing. I can retcon the posts... it will be later tonight.

:ooc: I wouldn't worry about it - I'm happy to assume that there was further discussion and Arbogast agreed with Hathcyn's course.  After all, it's not like any of the group are skilled boatmen. 

 :ooc: Arbogast claimed he was the captain of this vessel and well schooled!!

:ooc: And you believed him.  Tsk tsk tsk. 

Grimbeorn is ready for anything that might come along.

 :ooc: Anything suspicious in the area of the carcass? Is it old or fresh?
 :00:

Hathcyn eyed the shore. "Pull us closer so that I may get a better look."

:ooc: Will Hunting work here?

:ooc: Hey Tom, yes.

I am fine with any skill being suggested and tested, as long as you can incorporate a reason as to why the skill would work. Now obviously, some skill cannot work on all things, but if you have a good descriptor as to what your PC is doing with the talents he has, then I am willing to give it a chance.

TN's might be higher for off-situation skills, but it is still something you can do.

Arbogast pushed the boat through the frozen reeds and then onto the riverbank - the flat-bottom skiff scraping along pebbles and ice. The Fire-watcher targeted a location just upriver from the carcass so that the men could approach without stepping over any tracks or signs.

They each got out of the boat with weapon in hand and then moved to where the dead creature lay. Grimbeorn's eyes scanned the horizon before he bent his concentration on the subject. It was definitely a large sheep. It was skinned and stripped of all meat and then unceremoniously dumped on the shore. It was evident that other small animals, and maybe fish, had taken their own bit of nourishment.

A set of heavy footprints led from the river's edge and the men followed them away towards a large circle where snow had been churned to mud by iron shod boots. In the mud, also, could be seen the prints of large canines or wolves. Arbogast picked up a rib bone that was mashed deep into the mud and the man knew that the sole carcass on the riverbank could not have been the only animal to be butchered.

Arbogast turns the bone, still fresh and white, over and over in his hands.  Marks of teeth and feet, and the position of the bone itself, all are clues in riddles nested one within the other.  When it lived, he thinks, was this creature a man or beast?  Was it slain in this place, or brought here already dead?  And was it food for those that slew it, or an offering to something darker still?

Though much will be forever unknown to the companions, much may still be gleaned...


:ooc: I'm hopping on this 'rolling for things' bandwagon and trying my luck with a Riddle roll to see what Arbogast can puzzle out. 

With an eye now bent for those things that might answer his questions, the Fire-watcher moved about the circle, too. He easily discerned the freshness of the prints of animal and orc - for certainly this was the goblins at work. They had large wolves with them - there was excrement near at hand, more bones that he found were chewed by powerful teeth and jaws, and he also found tufts of woolen fur.

Sheep.

Fen had been right, the shepherds' flocks were a target of the raiders.

He continued to look about, along with his friends. More bones were uncovered that told tale of more than one animal slaughtered. Finally, Grimbeorn discovered a broken knife among the frozen grasses that stood tall and dry in the cold wind. It was a goblin-knife, crude in make but lethal nonetheless.

The men were certain that the raiders had come with their pets, stole away with a number of captured sheep and brought them here. In the pitch of night, they had clearly slaughtered and stripped the animals for what they were worth, leaving only grisly bones and tufts of fur as a testament of their being here.

"Why the uncleaned carcass by the water?" Hathcyn asked out loud.

"Mayhaps they gave one of their stolen sheep to their wolves, whils't they did their own work?" answered Arbogast, trying to make sense of the riddle.

"No matter what the reason," said Grimbeorn as he stood back to his full height. "The raiders marched that way, back towards the wood." He pointed south and west. On the horizon, the eastern eaves of Mirkwood and the mountains that loomed out of the forest could be easily seen. Each man remembered those mountains, as it was just a few years past that they climbed onto the feet of Saer Aegas to confront the horror that resided therein. "I judge all of this was done sometime within the last three nights."

Their eyes traced northward along the wood-line. What of the Elves? Surely they have eyes upon these lands. Would they let a goblin raiding party slaughter stolen animals upon their doorstep?

 :ooc: doug I want to use my Orc Lore to know if they make offerings to dark powers and if the sheep by the water may be one.

:ooc: Hey Tom, yes - Hathcyn has heard tales of orcs making offerings to dark powers, but the condition of the sheep body is too rough to determine whether that was the use of that animal. A lot of damage was originally done to the body and then there is the scavengers that have taken a toll.

Paul, any word on your friend joining us? I am not holding up the game for her, but if she wants to enter the game now would be the better time.

:ooc: Agreed.  I've pointed her to the site, but it's been so long that I couldn't figure out how to register a new account.  I suggested she email you (and gave her your address from your account details - I hope you don't mind) but clearly that hasn't happened.  I'll give her a hurry-up and see what comes of it. 

EDIT: An update - she has been wrangling thesis proposals and university enrolment procedures, hence the radio silence.  Doug, you should be hearing from her shortly.

"Arbogast, you've been here awhile, have you heard of anything like this from the Elves in their travels up and down the river?  Do you know of any nearby settlements of theirs that we might inquire of?"

"I'm sure if we spilled some wine on the ground and bent a couple of branches they'd appear. Perhaps we can throw in a dwarven wood cutting song to really secure the summoning?"

Arbogast chuckles at Hathcyn's jest, but his laughter fades quickly.  "Many miles are we from even the marches and borderlands of the Woodland Realm, and this place is no man's land, nor that of any Elf!  Nor," he continues with a distracted air, "are the Elves known to be fond of settling anywhere for long, save only the Elvenking's Hall.  But here we might find hunters, sentinels or renegades alike of that folk." 

"Well then let us be off and pursue these dogs where they lay. No need to waste the day hoping fir help of the Sylvan kind."

 :ooc:
Follow whatever trail is there to goblins...
 :00:

His companions watched him stride off on the trail, taking advantage of the daylight that they had, and so they quickly pressed after Grimbeorn.

The heavy-shod feet of the orcs were easy to follow from the riverside, the trail leading west towards the woods. It was the land around them that began to change, lowering into a great frozen marshland where each footstep became treacherous. The trail would suddenly disappear under water and reed only to crop back up again across these divides. The trio had to maneuver around the bogs, so as to not get their own clothes and boots wet. Freezing hands and feet would hamper their task very quickly.

With each turn and rerouting of their course, Grimbeorn soon found himself bewildered by the marshland - the trail apparently lost. They looked around and could see that they were now deep within the marshes, but the distant woodline seemed just as distant. Looking back, their own path was obscured by the wetlands and snow that covered all.

Were they lost?

---

:ooc: Hey Matt, the 13 on your roll was not enough to keep you on the trail, nor was it enough to keep you from getting turned around somewhere in the marshlands.

I am going to need a couple rolls from whoever wants to make it (might be best if the highest ranked makes them) - but you guys can help one another. The ones who are helping may make the same tests at TN 12 and if successful, give an advantage dice to the primary test maker. The primary test will need be a TN 18 success.

Explore to navigate your way in the strange land
Hunting to find the goblin trail

I recommend that Arbogast be the primary test-maker for Explore and any of the PC's could make the Hunting, as you all have the same skill there.

Lastly, I will need a Travel test TN 16 from each of you to avoid weariness (and Hazards).

:ooc: Yaaaaaaaay we're lost and freezing and miserable and everything is finally back to normal again! 

Ooc: i get an error getting to the character page. I think my hunt is pretty high.

Arbogast rolls his eyes at his companions' attempts to navigate through the swamp.  Though it is not the deep wood with which he is most familiar, the trackless bog in which they find themselves is similar in many ways. 


:ooc: Okay, first an Explore roll:


Then Hunting to help find the trail:


And Travel to get wherever we're going:

:ooc: Wow.  Arbogast, I'm a little disappointed in you. 

He's helped a bit with the Hunting roll, but he'll need at least one assist with the Explore, even after spending a Hope point. 

Doug, I'm assuming we're in winter travelling gear, so failed Travel rolls lose us three Endurance?

Tom, the character sheets are now in Doug's Dropbox (Share_SW -> PBP-Games).  Hathcyn is here (https://www.dropbox.com/preview/Share_SW/PbP-Games/Hathcyn.pdf?role=personal). 

:ooc: Actually guys, I moved away from Dropbox and to Google Drive.

You will find your PC's here: Share_Rpg (https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/112gksYkbCk7p2y8sWiZthb6sgLDJYOZX)

 :ooc: i have three in Hunt, Travel, and Explore. Let's try explore.





Arbogast, do you not converse with the birds? Perhaps they will aid us in a direction or in filling our bellies.

Quote:ooc: Actually guys, I moved away from Dropbox and to Google Drive.

You will find your PC's here: Share_Rpg (https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/112gksYkbCk7p2y8sWiZthb6sgLDJYOZX)

:ooc: Gaaah noooooooooooo!  Great is my shame!  Look down upon me! 

Fine then.  I've :csu: ed Arbogast's sheet, but I don't have permission to re-upload it.  You'll have to take it on faith that I'm recording things honestly.

Also, Hathcyn's successful Explore roll gives Arbogast a bonus die - let's make use of that! 

:ooc: That puts Arbogast one point below what he needs to navigate us out of here.  Matt, if Grimbeorn can make an Explore DC 12, you'll have saved us all! 

Grimbeorn trudges through, more than slightly perturbed at the environs.
:ooc:
LOL the one skill he doesn't have...
 :00:
 :00:
He'll toss a Hope at the Explore if it'll help

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Mar 15, 2020, 06:15 PMGrimbeorn trudges through, more than slightly perturbed at the environs.
:ooc:
LOL the one skill he doesn't have...

:ooc: It's interesting to think about what the lacunae in the characters' skills say about them. Arbogast has next to no general knowledge, but he can talk your ear off about Mirkwood, the plants you find in it and the history of the people who live in and around it. He has pretty decent Awareness but no Search.  I bet he spends a fair amount of time looking for his helmet because he forgets that he's already wearing it. 

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Mar 15, 2020, 06:15 PMHe'll toss a Hope at the Explore if it'll help

Nah, keep your Hope, mate.  You have less to spare.

In response to Hathcyn's question, Arbogast spreads his hands and looks to the sky.  The gesture eloquently conveys his meaning: the sky is empty and the half-frozen marshes that surround them are quiet and still.  It is as if only Men and orcs are foolish enough to be abroad. 

And yet, this is enough to remind the companions of their grim purpose and the three turn their minds once more toward the finding of a path, and of signs of the passage of fell things. 

Arbogast led them on through the marsh, from highground to highground and one small islet to the next in a long chain of dry land. The path seemed haphazard as it took them in their chosen course west, only to have to turn them around to follow from one islet to the next in line. It became confusing and often did they need to stop to regain their bearings.

Slowly the sun crossed the sky above the grey clouds.

Atop each of the small isles was scrub plants that were leafless for the winter and their bare branches reached out to grab at pant, tunic, and strap. The men grumbled with each new islet that was reached having to scramble and pull themselves up and their bare skin was lanced with scrapes and cuts.

While Arbogast scanned the fens before them, the other two rested. Hathcyn grimaced as he pulled at a long thorn that had pierced his palm, the pain sharp still even once freed from his skin. He rubbed at the wound as some apparent, residual poison within the plant's sticker irritated the flesh.

Looking around, the marshes went on in every direction as far as could be seen. Just to their north, a dead, bare tree rose from an islet like a skeletal finger pointing west. Atop the branch sat a carrion bird, big and black. Its head flitted left and right as it sought out whether or not the trio would soon be food, but its judgement knew better and it took to wing. They watched it flap lazily to the west and disappear in the foggy haze that lay over the land.

"If only we had wings, too," said Hathcyn as they idled. His friends did not respond.

Pushing on, they continued at their task and the day continued to pass. At last, Arbogast gave an excited signal - an expanse of water lay before them but just beyond the land clearly rose out of the marshland. Only the frozen water barred their way and no clear way back or around could be seen.

Not waiting for a choice, Grimbeorn snarled and slid down into the water. He quickly gave a curse as the water rose to just above his knees, but he pushed on crossing the pool to the rise of land beyond. His companions looked at one another and then followed in quick pursuit.

It took five minutes of slogging through the marsh-weeds, deep mud, and the freezing cold but at last they pulled themselves up onto firm land. Snow covered the ground all around them, as they lay on their backs panting from the exertion.

"We must light a fire, or we shall freeze to death," said Arbogast shivering in the bitter wind.

"Lighting a fire is sure to mark us to any threats that might be near," answered Grimbeorn.

"Will it matter either way," was the response.

Hathcyn stood and pulled at the wet clothes that clung to his legs. He could find no comfort and wondered what his exposed skin would do if he removed the items. Glancing around, he could see a muddy path in the snow made by heavy boots, not far from where they had exited the marshes.

"It would seem your tracking skills were not hindered by strange land, or horrid terrain, Arbogast." Though the Fire-watcher found little comfort in the praise.

Instead Arbogast moved to the edge of the marshland and grabbed up any wood he could find and pulled the dead bramble that would make for good kindling. If they did not start a fire soon, this land would kill them - more easily than any goblin with a bent knife.

---

:ooc: First - is anyone experiencing a slow-down in the website? Every time I change from page to page, or thread to thread, it seems very laggy.

Second - although no one gave me a successful hunting roll, I gave you guys the success of coming out near the orc trail.

Third - Tom, you did not give me a Travel test and so I will go ahead and mark your sheet for 3 fatigue points. If you roll one and it is a success, we shall go ahead and take those away.

Lastly - I need someone to make a Craft test TN 14 to start a fire that will last the night and keep you guys safe from cold.

Their day has been long and hard but it has only hardened the resolve and fury of Grimbeorn.  "If these goblins would just show, that would kindle a fire enough for me.  Get your rest, I will get the fire going and the first watch."

 :ooc:
Grimbeorn has Hardy, does this help him with the conditions?

 :00:
Add a Hope if necessary.

:ooc: Great fire-starting roll, Matt!

And yea - the Hardy trait definitely sees Grimbeorn through the extreme conditions of the night.

For the last rolls, I need both Arbogast and Hathcyn to make a Body roll (Grimbeorn passes with his trait) at TN 14 to get through the night with no fatigue gain. I will make it quick and roll it now. You guys will gain 1 advantage dice for the fire.

TN 14 Body by PC

Grimbeorn collected all the wood that Hathcyn and Arbogast brought him and he began to pile it in the lee of a small rise that broke the wind. He hoped, too, that it would shade the light from any eyes.

With the mound of fuel piled high, Grimbeorn struck his flint stone to a length of rough steel and watched as sparks rained down on a length of frayed hemp. Nothing. He did it again and a spark caught and the small piece of old rope began to smoke and glow with fire. The Beorning lifted it to his lips, while cupping it and he slowly blew life into the spark and a flame appeared. Grimbeorn tucked the burning ember into the pile of wood and leaves and after a moment a popping fire grew. The trio continued to feed it until it was a controlled, and sustaining fire - and then they sat to rest.

Peeling their wet boots and pants off, they propped them to dry from the heat from the fire and the wind. All the while they sat close and drew their heavy furs over top feet and legs. It took some time, but soon their core temperatures had returned and they settled into sleep - each taking watch as needed.

The night passed.

Save for some glowing eyes that skulked in the shadows along the marsh, nothing approached their camp.