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:ooc: Fellowship phase time!  This will cover the span from May 2957 to sometime in the summer of 2958, unless anyone has a burning desire to go on a player-initiated adventure in the meantime (to which, incidentally, I am always open if that's what you all want to do). 

Each PC earns 8 XP, and the number of AP equal to what is checked off on their sheet. 

Holdings roll

• Every PC with an interest in the Forest Road may count this as a Holding.  Its rating began at 9 last year and has reduced to 8 this year (word is spreading and the volume of trade is growing). 

• If the die roll result is equal to or less than the Holding's rating, you earned enough income to keep your PC's current standard of living.

• if the roll is greater than the rating, the PC gains his standard of living and treasure equal to the difference of the die roll and the rating.

• if the roll is :g:, the PC earns his standard of living and the rating of the holding is reduced by 1 due to some good fortune.

• if the roll is :~~:, the holding suffers some disaster of misfortune. If the hero does not take action the next Fellowship Phase, the holding may be destroyed, or have its rating increase

Weal and Woe roll may be made by all PCs

• 1-2 A Grim year [see page 135 of the Adventurer's Companion Guide for results]
• 3-5 The Quiet of the World/Burdens [see page 135 of the Adventurer's Companion Guide for results]
• 6-8 Blessings/Well Guided and Well Guarded [see page 136 of the Adventurer's Companion Guide for results] 
• 9-10 A Worthy year [see page 136 of the Adventurer's Companion Guide for results]
• :g: or :~~: Life-changing Events [see page 136 of the Adventurer's Companion Guide for results]

I seek the opinion of the group on giving XP and an AP total based on the group average to Arbogast - this has obviously been a heavy few weeks for him, but almost all of it happened off camera so I don't want to just advance him based on pure GM fiat.  The interludes were masturbatory enough. 

Lets see if I have given a large enough offering to the dice gods, they tell the story, we are but their mouth piece.

Hathcyn Holdings Rolls

Cattle:


Fox Tale Inn


Weal and Woe

Inspire +1 for 9 adv
Valour +1 to buy Fell

Character sheet updated.

:ooc: Advance Arbogast as normal. If he is going to maintain a steady part of the story then he should move along with it in advancements.

Esgalwen has no stake in the Road, but she does have a position in Dale... so not sure how that works save to make a Weal and Woe roll:

Quote from: Eclecticon on Oct 27, 2021, 09:04 PM

Quote from: tomcat on Oct 27, 2021, 03:19 PM:ooc: Esgalwen will need 9 days to fully recover.

:ooc: Mechanically, sure.  Feel free to make it longer if you want to for drama purposes.  The woman's been seriously bashed about!

:ooc: Yea, I never intended to make it a simple recovery (i.e. Dungeons and Dragons) but was just stating the mechanic results.

She had 12 XP banked from our last Fellowship Phase and had 9 AP checked off for this Adventure Phase... so I will spend 10 XP to take Great Bow to 4d and bank the remaining 10. I will spend 8 AP on her favoured skill Explore to take it from 2 to 3 and bank the remaining 1 AP.

With her Grim Year result above, I need to decide what is happening to the Dunadan Ranger.

Quote from: tomcat on Oct 28, 2021, 09:55 AM:ooc: Advance Arbogast as normal. If he is going to maintain a steady part of the story then he should move along with it in advancements.

:ooc: Okay, cool.  If anyone has any objections, voice 'em in the next day or two before I save over the master copy of his character sheet. 

Quote from: tomcat on Oct 28, 2021, 09:55 AMEsgalwen has no stake in the Road, but she does have a position in Dale... so not sure how that works...

We discussed (https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/index.php?msg=32671) giving (https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/index.php?msg=32674) her (https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/index.php?msg=32675) a grant of land, but decided against it (https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/index.php?msg=32681), so she has a position at court that we could easily treat as a Holding if you want to. 

Matt, perhaps you'd like to do a Holding roll for the Road?  We probably should do a single one for the whole company. 

:ooc: Pending any views to the contrary, Arbogast has 8 XP and 19 AP.  He'll bank the XP. 

It seems entirely appropriate to advance Arbogast's Battle to 5, for 15 AP, and I'll spend the last 4 to give him a single dot in Search, 'cause it's a bit ridiculous to still have none there. 

Turning my mind to Undertakings, I first need to know whether you guys want to do another adventure this year - that determines whether you get one Undertaking or two this phase.  Tom, in particular, had something he wanted to pitch, but might want to let it go this year. 

Regardless, Arbogast will use one Undertaking to Tend to his Holding at Black Tarn Hall.  He meant what he said about not leaving the place, and he's going to do everything in his power to convince others to stay and rebuild, rather than leave for greener pastures.  This lets him roll the Feat die twice and take the best result.

Holding roll 1


Holding roll 2


Weal and Woe roll

:ooc: Huh.  Okay.  A half-decent Holding roll and a :g: for yearly events suggests that the rebuilding is going to go pretty well!  I'm going to think about what that means for a bit - suggestions are welcome.   

Arbogast has Stockholm syndrome with the Tarn!

I dont think we do a holding roll for the "Road" holding. Because of the investment in Undertakings i think the road automatically improves by 1 each year in the rule book.

We need to go on a treasure hunt. There is a serious lack of economic opportunity for the upward leaning Middle-earth citizen.....

Guard the old ford
"I did it for the money." Assuming we get two.

 $OO three treasure. I'll take it because I am desperate.

Brings me to 33 with the 4 I have in the standing stone I'll dump 32 into it for 36 and raise my standing to 3.

Leaving me with 1 treasure.

Grim year indeed.

Quote from: Telcontar on Oct 29, 2021, 06:34 AMGrim year indeed.

:ooc: Tell that to Bandy.  ;)

 :ooc: Dude I almost teared up writing that. I said to myself if the eye comes up its gonna be real bad, its a low chance but I've been rolling like crap.

I think the dice demanded it, and the narrative result will be worth it.

:ooc: I won't lie, it's been a stressful week at work and I didn't need the slap across the soul that you gave me.  But the moment came alive in my mind's eye like you wouldn't believe. 

Paul said he is open to player directed adventures. I have two proposals for the group.

1. We head down to Tyrannts Hill and see if we can get those jokers to join the league of men. (Granted Arbo sticking it out on the Tarn lessens the sales pitch of moving closer)

2. We try to figure out what it up with the River Maidens.

3. We see what we can do to get the Vigs back into the fold.

 :ooc: I'm good with a single roll.  I can't really deal with this part until I'm home so tomorrow at earliest, likely Sunday.

Quote from: Telcontar on Oct 29, 2021, 10:29 PM1. We head down to Tyrannts Hill and see if we can get those jokers to join the league of men. (Granted Arbo sticking it out on the Tarn lessens the sales pitch of moving closer)

:ooc: I can definitely see Arbogast trying to woo some of them into moving to Black Tarn Hall - he needs people and some of them might want out from under the thumb of Mogdred.

Quote from: Telcontar on Oct 29, 2021, 10:29 PM2. We try to figure out what it up with the River Maidens.

:ooc: There may be something coming up shortly along these lines.

I can also work opportunities for Treasure in as appropriate, or do an entire adventure as a treasure hunt - I have at least one idea already.

Grimbeorn
XP: 15+8 =23->23
AP: 4+11 =15->0

Awe +1 (4->5)

 :00:

A grim year all around

:ooc: Perhaps not entirely.  Matt hasn't rolled for the fortunes of the Road, so let's see how that goes.  The rating of the holding, for those playing at home, is currently 8. 

:ooc: So, traffic is picking up and everyone gets a bit of extra coin to splash around.  Not enough to make any mechanical difference, but perhaps enough to work into your narration. 

On that note, I'm scratching around for ideas on what kind of (positively) life-altering event can happen to Arbogast after the battle.  I'm wondering about a final reconciliation with his father and brothers, but if anyone else has any better ideas, I'm open to suggestions. 

Also, please chime up about what you'd like to do next!  All of Tom's suggestions are good, but if you'd like me to just have the next adventure happen, I can certainly do that. 

:ooc: I will chime in with a post here shortly.

Well it wasn't that bad for Grimbeorn and he is happy for the less than eventful time.

As for what's next, I'm thinking as time wears on, he will be coming closer to his eventual retirement of the road and finally take his father's place (likely due to his passing; not unexpected yet unlooked for).

I was thinking about time the other day too. I was thinking this was the low point in the campaign but.... No it gets worse we are only ten years in!

I'd like to do an adventure phase with trying to get Tyrants Hill or the Vigs closer allied with the woodmen. Or even the Leofrings.

:ooc: I thought I'd replied to the above post, but I now suspect that I wrote it out, never hit 'post' and then closed the browser like an idiot.  My failings as a human aside, to avoid any further awkward silences I propose the following: we do a year-end Fellowship Phase here.  Everyone gets two Undertakings (huzzah!) and there's an index attached that lists all the published ones (on p 2). 

The next Adventuring Phase will kick off in September of 2958, and will feature both a treasure hunt and Duskwater, the corrupted River-maiden.  It'll also be more in the 'heroic journey' mode of story than what I've been doing since I took over.   The one after will deal with the other peoples of the Vales. 

Questions and comments will be heard and considered as appropriate. 

EDIT: Probably more like two Adventuring phases, starting in July-ish 2958.  Adjust your narration as appropriate.

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Nov 02, 2021, 03:35 PMAs for what's next, I'm thinking as time wears on, he will be coming closer to his eventual retirement of the road and finally take his father's place (likely due to his passing; not unexpected yet unlooked for).

:ooc: Matt, shoot me a PM when you're ready to do this.  There's a cool scenario in TDoM that would perfectly frame a handover from Beorn to Grimbeorn.  Also, feel free to start bringing potential replacement characters on stage.  It makes it much less jarring to switch to someone we've already met. 

 :ooc: Let's start now, this adventure for the treasure hunt and resolution of with the River-maiden seems a good point to do so.  I will begin putting together a new character, what parameters do I have in creation (extra AP and/or XP, equipment, etc.)?  Working with the Vigs would be a tall order but is in-line with encouraging peace in the Upper Vales.

Custom is you make a charscter straight out of the rule book section on character creation and hope for the best.

Or start spending those undertakings on an heir.

:ooc: I'm making full use of the Heroic Heritage rules on p 282 of the rulebook, so your next character will start off with at least 10 extra points to customise their skills, less Grimbeorn's permanent Shadow rating (which, from memory, is zero).  But - and this is a big but - don't feel the need to do anything mechanical just yet.  I meant more bringing the character on stage as a person, so we can get to know their name and personality etc.  Stats can be sorted out at the point where they matter. 

In other news, I'm hoping to have Arbogast's end of year narration up today. 

I have a post for year end. Just need to try something new and proofread it.

Her convalescence was spent in Rhosgobel under the care of Idunn, as well as the Brown Wizard, Radagast.

Esgalwen could do naught but moan through fevered, sleepless nights and she prayed the gloomy days would end. Many of which were spent being incoherent due to the wizard's bitter medicine. Her ribs were mending, but the ailments that come from broken bones plagued her. The flesh along her right side and breast maintained a terrible purple and red hue and the woman worried if it would ever return to what she knew. Radagast would only mumble and say, "All is well. Time will show." And then he would pace off on some other errand. Only Idunn gave Esgalwen any bedside manner, applying cool clothes when the fever's raged and rubbing the aching muscles whenever Radagast's elixirs wore away.

After two weeks of rest and care, Idunn finally thought Esgalwen was ready for the news of the battle - having avoided the conversation with her all along. She told of the victory at the door's of Sweartmereseld and how Lindwine had saved Esgalwen with a bow shot that took the monster in the skull, killing it before it could make any other strike on the fallen Ranger. She told how with the slaying of so many of the great orcs and then the troll, that the Shadow host broke and dispersed into the darkness of Mirkwood. Idunn spoke of the losses among the Wood-men and that many would not find their way home. Lastly, she told Esgalwen of the death of Bandobras the Halfling and Esgalwen was stunned. Throwing her arms out in rage and disbelief, Esgalwen swooned as the pain of her broken ribs shot through her like an electric bolt.

NO! NO! NO! was all she could say in her agony as the sobs wracked her tightening muscles causing the pain to continue. Idunn quickly gave her a draught of the bitter medicine and it soon had Esgalwen in a stupor, quietly weeping. The healer cursed herself and made her way from the tent.

Days turned to nights and back again to days. May passed into June and the Dúnadan woman slowly began to feel herself again. She got herself out of her healing bed and began to take walks about the small town. It was during one of these quiet walks that Esgalwen came upon a Dwarf - his hair and beard speckled with the gray of age. It took her a moment and then a smile broke across her face, "Rorin? It has been so long."

"Lady Esgalwen, it is good to see you well and to hear your voice once more." Rorin held his hood in his hands and fumbled at the fabric. "It has been long and I wanted to make sure that I saw you before I was on my way once more, back north."

Esgalwen could see that the Dwarf was agitated and she knew at once why he had come, "You heard?"

"Aye, the news of death of a dear friend can travel quickly. I came south to pay my respects. Bandy and I had our business..." Rorin looked about, "just over there."

"I remember," smiled Esgalwen. "That fool of a Bracegirdle would walk about delivering your wares and a smile, no matter if the items were larger than himself." A laugh came but it was stymied by the sudden ache.

"He brought cheer wherever he went... even in the darkness," said the Dwarf, his eyes wet with tears. "Do you remember in the watchtower, along the Dwarf Road before it had been cleared. We were beset by spiders but never once did his bow falter. He had more bravery and mirth within his small stature than some of the tallest Men I know."

"He did indeed," agreed Esgalwen with a happy grin on her face and a good memory in her soul.

"I am also pleased to see that you were not lost as well. Trolls are no easy opponent and I understand you met the beast head on. You are brave, Lady, and I daresay one to bring light to the heart. Please don't ever let that light be snuffed out - not by something so crude as a troll or orc."

Esgalwen thought about his words and nodded, "I will do my best, friend Rorin. Still, I have my duty to Steward, Queen and friends."

"Aye, I know... I just hoped that I could convince you that you have done enough. I also bring this..." Rorin reached to where a tree grew tall and grabbed a sword in its scabbard.

"Nimronyn!" she beamed, "I thought it lost! I had not seen it since the battle."

Rorin handed it to her, "It is a good blade. Blessed by the Elves and given a strong name. It was given to me by Grimbeorn on my journey south to Rhosgobel, as he returned north. He asked that I keep watch of it until I saw you and knew you were ready to receive it. As my business here is done, I could wait no longer and so I return it to you now."

"Your business is done?" Esgalwen's heart sank at the idea of her old friend leaving. She had seen no one since the battle save her caregivers.

"Aye, Lady. I head north with the dawn. I have paid my respects to Bandy and wished him on his way. I hope that he finds green fields and hills so as to dig the deepest of holes. A Hobbit hole, of course!" The Dwarf gave a wink. "It gladdens my heart to see you, too, and I wish you strength and healing."

Esgalwen could do nothing else but embrace Rorin causing his large nose to blush with his cheeks. "Strength and safety to you upon your road."

The two spoke a few more words and then the Dwarf smith was off on a new errand. Esgalwen was left alone in the wooded grove and she looked at her sword. She pulled the blade from the scabbard and it gleamed with the sun, but lifting it caused her pain.

She slid the weapon back into its sheath and continued her walk in silence.

---

:ooc: I will have some more up soon.

Hathcyn sat brooding in the Fox's Tale. The business along the road was steady and the high hill of the standing stone of the Fox had expanded and grown. The long hoarded coin of the Warrior was put to good use at last and the the hall was almost properly an inn and the hill of the stone now had the adornment of other menhirs and dolemans of the folk of Beorn. Hathcyn had even been made Moon Keeper to maintain and enforce the prohibition of hunting around the area of the stones, in fact the site now was recognized to stand witness to the distance of a league in all directions of the central column and a weirding fence had been set. A league out white warning stones in a ring had been placed at interval in the manner of the Beornings. All this was due to the work of Hathcyn Longspear and his rising standing among the people, but still he brooded.

Harhold his old friend earlier in the year had asked to stand for him in his oaths to marry Uppala and he had agreed. His friend was now the keeper of his herd, an honor he bestowed upon his friend in perpetuity for as long as he should own one beast of the flock. Likewise the herd of Uppala grew still as the agreement between she and Hathcyn still stood. Both were happy and in good health and the fortune of his friend who once lay butchered beneath the knives of the orcs increased. The Longspear was glad for his friend and still tipped many ales with him, but still he brooded.

At times he was called to the House Of Beorn for councils. No longer just to hold the standard of the Bear and stand by the Aetheling, but also asked for his opinions and thoughts on matters, though he could cast no votes his opinion was sought none the less. And in the Hall of Beorn was Aestid, who obvious to all but the Longspear,  sought to be near him and speak to him. Men spoke behind his back how she tied the braid ribbons of a wife to her shoulder straps to show she was betrothed. To who she would not say, but many guessed, but still he brooded.

Months passed.

"Longspear!"

The baritone voice of a dwarf redounded among the timbers of the tavern.

"I've come far and want to see for myself what the men of the Carrock say of your beer. They say the hand of the keeper brings the best tasting beer, so where is the  Master of the House?"

Stirred from his thoughts Hathcyn rose from the side table he kept to himself.

"Who... Lord Balin?"

"Indeed. At your service and your family." 

"Why, I?"

"Well your tavern keeping needs some work, but by all accounts your spear is still keen. I've come for beer and a talk, this is no chance meeting as they say."

The two were soon ensconced at the side table tall beers in hand.

"I've come from across the mountains visiting a friend. I've also brought a stone with me. Word reached me that Grimbeorn lost a friend in the battle away south. One of the little folk, and my friend secured a stone to mark his grave in a place they call the Great River Farthing. The details are lost to me, but I was coming this way and back again and said I would help. But, the beer is good and the traffic of the road improves, so what is ailing you?"

The two talked long into the night. The Longspear finding the dwarf a good listener and a wise fellow. As they spoke Hathcyn learned more of the history of the dwarf and the trials and tribulations he had undergone as well as those of his folk.

"The night grows long and I must travel tomorrow, but let me part with this Hathcyn. Long years me and my folk toiled. Long years we were bereft of home and the stones of our fathers. We have regained a part of our heritage and the halls of our father's ring again. The halls of our grandfather's still are dark, but that is a story and a dream for another night. My point is that no mater how hot the fire, or strong the enemy remember and endure. Those are the traits of the Sons of Durin, but they will work for you and yours as well. Remember and Endure. I will add also this, and this comes from my own travels. Make where you are a home such as it can be. Long dwelling in loss will poison you in heart and deed to the point that when you achieve your goal it will taste like ash or drive you beyond reason to compromise or see good counsel. Poor Thorin...."

Then the dwarf smiled at the Beorning, "and two more things. The fields about are suitable you need more mushrooms in your fare and dig a cellar for the beer, it will keep better in the summer, your honey brew however is the best between the wood and the stone. I'll take some with me."

The next day the dwarf Balin headed east and the Longspear headed north to the Hall of Beorn.

A two wheeled cart bore the marker stone from some place called the North Farthing and Hathcyn walked with the cart thinking of all that was said and unsaid since the battle of the Tarn. His mind and heart after speaking with the dwarf had shifted. The brooding had lessened, the sorrow grown less, and his mind thought less on dwelling and again towards action. His stride lengthened and his spear lighter in his hand as he made his way to Beorn's Hall.

In a short time the Longspear found himself seated at the board of Beorn. Honeycakes upon the table and honeyed beer in hand. The hound Sardoc lay idly by the bench licking a beef bone Hathcyn had brought with him for the purpose of the dog's amusement. What would have been out of place anywhere but in the hall of Beorn the man and the dog were friends and spoke often.

"I'm a fool Sardoc, but I'm man enough to admit it and will wish her all the luck."

The paws gripped the bone, but the head rose to speak.

"Rathkin, you are fool. You rav the mind of a fox, rumping river and ron. Ruff are you talking about?"

"Lady Aestid. I have been slow to fulfill my promise of being a greater man and winning her a crown."

The hound laughed in breathy weezy way.

"Roo are blinder than a mole Fox man. She's waiting for you. Rust last week she rebuffed Jormir Brokenclaw and said, 'badgers are prickly and sour, but the fox is cunning if maybe slow.' Your nose needs training if you cant follow that trail."

"I thought.."

"Rumans are always thinking instead of following their nose. Case in point."

The lady of the north had entered the hall silently behind him.

"Wassail the Longspear, troll fighter and horn blower, standard bearer of the Wolfslayer, and cutter of roads. I find you here again."

"The hound out foxed the fox for once. You heard my words then."

She smiled, "a fox may be cunning and quick, but the field mouse is silent and listens."

Hathcyn gently kicked the dog in jest, but began in earnest.

"I thought that my ambitions were your own. In my desire for fame and personal glory I projected it on others. I read in others what I wanted for myself. I misunderstood you, I misunderstood myself."

"I would have come south if you asked."

Hathcyn stood in silence for a long moment, even the licking of the bone had stopped.

"I am called the kinslayer because I killed my brother. Foolish accident of youth or not it is true. My father lost two sons that day, one from my spear and the other from the lawgiver. Since then I have sought to redeem my name and standing. I sought gold and wealth out of desire for lordship. I sought glory and fame so my name would rise above the death of my brother and men would know me. I sought you out because you were lordly and came from a lordly family. I sought to use gold, and glory, and even you to further my own standing among men."

"That may be Hathcyn, but in your pursuits you have shown another man. One who stands by his friends, one who is willing to fight for the people, and one who is generous. You stood by Grimbeorn and Harhold at the steading, you saved and cared for the slaves of my father, you cut the forest road with your own hands, and you showed kindness to me when I was a fosterling from the north with no home and came the daughter of a Lord of a hated people. You say you were selfish and I say you have brooded over long on past deeds and motivations of your mind. Your actions speak louder. Cast aside this grim mood and brooding thoughts. You are a spearman of Beorn, you are to be my husband, and you are a good man."

Hathcyn took her hand in his and looked at her, really looked at her. He noted the hair braid ties decorating her apron, embroidered in her blouse a mouse the totem of her mother's people and a fox. Her loose raven dark hair and kind eyes.

He stood transfixed by her beauty and her keen kind mind. "Your hair will be braided soon..."

Then another voice.

"Longspear." Grimbeorn's heavy voice broke the spell of the moment.

Hathcyn sighed, "This hall needs doors!"

The hound by the bench laughed, "terrible noses."

**********
Hathcyn spoke in council with Beorn and Grimbeorn. A strange council even for that of men for in truth they cut and stacked wood for the hall. But the task left time for informal discussions on weighty matters.

"Wolfslayer, the battle of the Tarn showed us several things. One, that Arbogast is the most stubborn man I've ever met. Damn fool wont leave his poisoned lake. Two, a home and a people are a powerful thing. I have pondered how we are to use our stubbornness and our home to our advantage. The White Wizard and the Ghoul were both right about one thing, we dont have the strength to withstand the hordes and the evil that is coming. At least not as we presently are. I have thought on this."


I think we need to raise the tolls. The Carrock is secure and now so is the way to the forest road. By the strength of the Bear the mountain to the wood is passable, and it is the only such way. We have asked only for enough money to pay those who take up the task of watching, but we could ask for more and it will be paid.  I say this not to hoard the wealth, but with it we could buy better arms from Dale and the Mountain, and improve the settlement defenses that we have. The Tarn was weak in design if not in courage. The men of the Lake have water, the men of Dale have stone, we must be the men of wood and earth. With the money from the tolls we can pay to move earth and timber for stronger walls and deeper and higher dykes. And the water of the Duskwood would connect the woodmen. I have heard your friend Bandy say as much before. 'The water of the wood is a road free of mud.' To that end we must seek out and settle this issue with the River Maidens.

We must prepare for the coming storm, and to my mind it is by coin and by brave deeds we can set the course of our people in motion. Increase our strength and prepare for the coming storms."

:ooc: Holy crap, I love 'Great River Farthing'.  This stuff is pure gold.

:ooc: I know what I want to post now, but still have to find clear air to do it.  Tonight?  If not, then tomorrow. 

 :ooc: paul I was thinking of writting another short bit that may factor into your portion. Bandy's wife was going to gift the stone of arsillon to the tarn and Lindowine the Trollslayer. So that its light would provide for the prople Bandy fought to save and their current great need of hope.

Arbodag, son of Scyldag, bends his back in time with his son as together they row out upon the smooth, green surface of the Black Tarn.  When the battle was done, the corrupted River-maiden seems to have slunk into the deeper parts of the lake.  The foul mist that beset the village has given way to bright sun and the choking weeds have died back, allowing the black herons to return to their fishing in the shallows. 

Reaching a spot not so far that they cannot make out the figures watching from the shore, Arbogast stops rowing, stows his oar and, bracing his feet against the strakes, takes forth a net and flings it into the water.  Arbodag leans back against the gunwales and watches as his son draws the empty net back in and throws it once again.  "I never took you for a fisher," he says at last. 

"I have done most kinds of work that are to be done here," the Fire-watcher replies.  "But no, I am a poor fisher.  I do not think to return with a catch worth the effort." 

"Then what, if I may be so bold as to ask, are we doing out here?" 

Arbogast pulls the net in once more, gives it an appraising look, and throws it a third time.  "We are appearing unconcerned.  After a while, we will be returning safely to the shore." 

The older man cocks a bushy eyebrow.  "Is such a thing needful?" 

"I think it to be." 

"It is well to do it, then.  Why am I here?" 

The reply to a clearly-expected question is quick.  "You are here because you are known and trusted among the other clans of Woodmen-Town.  When you, Oderic and Cendag return home, the news will spread that you ventured forth on the waters of the Tarn and nothing more remarkable happened but your son failed to catch any fish." 

Arbodag frowns quizzically.  "Why should that matter?" 

"Because the folk think that the Tarn is cursed, and as long as that is true we can never truly rebuild.  Several of my kin here perished in the fighting, or of the privations of the siege.  Others will leave to seek a more secure home and will not return.  Word that the folk of the Black Tarn Hall are rebuilding and have a broad and calm lake to fish will draw some of those who even now seek new pastures in the Dalish lands beyond Mirkwood." 

"As it drew you, years ago." 

Arbogast's shoulders, working steadily as he draws the net in yet again, slump.  "Father, I know you think me to have abandoned..."

He is interrupted by his father's callused hand slapping the outer hull.  "No.  Once, yes, and for many years, but hear me now and hear me true: my brother perished this winter without even kinfolk by his side to bury him.  We had many differences, he and I, but it grieves me beyond measure that he was alone at the end." 

Arbogast looks his father in the eyes and is both surprised and not to see him weeping.  "You are so unlike me, and so like him.  For many years, I did not understand him, or you.  Likely, I still do not, but nor do I care.  When the news came that my son was beset, I could not bare the thought that you too might die without my saying another word to you." 

The old hunter wipes his nose on his already grimy sleeve.  "I know not how, for I never meant for such a thing, but I have fathered a hero.  I knew as much the night you and your companions found us in the hollow of the basilisks across the river, but could not say so.  Now, there is no room in me for any other thought: I give you my blessing, my son, and I give you my love, for I take great pride in having fathered you, even if you were raised by another."   

Never before has Arbogast seen such an earnest look upon his father's face.  "All I would ask of you, son, is that you give thought to leaving this place and returning to your kinfolk in Woodmen-Town.  My granddaughters are a delight to me, and your mother greatly desires to meet her daughter-in-law.  Please," he says, reaching for the younger man's hand and taking the net from it, "cursed or not, this place is not safe.  If you remain here, it will be the undoing of you." 

"Safe?" asks the Fire-watcher, his own eyes filled with tears at his father's unexpected words.  "Father, many years have I fought the Shadow, and I have learned its ways enough to know that no place in Middle-Earth is truly safe.  Even far-off and mighty Gondor, or the hidden halls of the Elves, are not truly safe, for the Enemy will send forth its hunting-hounds to find them, and its hosts to crush them, if the Free Peoples do naught but hide and think their strong gates or cunning wards protect them." 

He looks now to the shore, his expression hard.  "Our defences here have been sorely tested, but they have not failed, not at the utmost, and we shall build them anew, and stronger.  I wish for those to come and dwell here who seek not richer lands and greater ease, but who seek to challenge the darkness, for this place is a challenge, though softly-spoken, to the domination of the Shadow over Mirkwood.  If this means that the thralls of the Enemy will strike again, then it is well, for I know then where they shall attack and I know that I can fight them here." 

Now it is his turn to strike the timbers of the boat in his passion.  "I have striven all the days of my manhood to make myself a shield for my kinfolk, and for all the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth.  I would have this place become a greater shield, behind which Woodmen-Town, and all the great houses, and the folk of Beorn and Bard, and other folk beyond our ken, might be protected." 

Arbodag remains silent for several moments as Arbogast sits down and waits for him to respond.  Finally, he says "Well then, if I cannot dissuade you then I must aid you, for I would not have you fight your war alone.  Your brothers and I will spread the word to all who will listen: Black Tarn Hall has withstood the onslaught of the dark things of the Wood and will grow anew, like a cut-away branch of a strong tree.  Let all those who would curse the darkness and spit in the eyes of its servants come and dwell here, alongside my son." 

:ooc: Tom, I have an idea that I couldn't fit into that scene but which I can absolutely build off that.  Go ahead and lay it on us. 

Also, Arbogast and Hathcyn have done one Undertaking each.  Everyone else has two to choose from.  There's an index attached to the opening post if you need some ideas - I'm happy to explain anything you don't have the books for. 

For example, I think anyone attending Bandy's funeral could treat that as a 'There And Back Again' (Rivendell p 22-23) - the celebration of friendships past and present allows everyone to regain Hope equal to 1/3 of their starting score, but the tragedy that brought everyone together gives each character a permanent Shadow point (though not a negative Trait as with a bout of Madness). 

 :ooc: i thought I used two? Guard the carrock and raise standing.

:ooc: Oooo... I will take advantage of the There and Back Again option! That will be one of Esgalwen's undertakings. I am working on the other as I read through them all. She had a Grim Year, so I think I want to tie it to Dale and the fact that she has been gone for at least 5+ months. I cannot see her holding a status within the Queen's guard and NOT be there.

That to me constitutes part of her grim year and effectively would free her from duty to Dale - unless we are going to be up there adventuring. Then I might rethink things.

:ooc: I marked Esgalwen with a permanent :&: and increased her :vv: by 4.

:ooc: Tom, so you did.  My mistake was forgetting that raising Standing took an Undertaking.

 :ooc: or does it..... ;)

Grimbeorn will attempt the following undertakings:
1) There and Back for Bandy's funeral (+4 Hope, +1 Shadow)
2) Return to Carrock (Travel for Heal Corruption)

 :00:

Looks like all Hope restored and 4 Shadow removed, leaving 1 Perm Shadow remaining?
----------

Grimbeorn didn't immediately respond but continued to chop away.  Hathcyn did as well, eyeing his lord and friend to catch any of his mind, but also found himself thinking of his encounter in the hall.  Almost out of nowhere, the son speaks.  "I must away for the Carrock soon.  They've come, the dreams, the pull to the Heart by our ancestors.  When Hathcyn and I come back from honoring Bandobras, we will speak, and I will be off.  Hathcyn will stand in my charge until my return."  At that, he went quietly about the task in front of him.  Beorn nodded solemnly.

When another cord had been prepped and horn in hand, he spoke again, returning to his father's conversation.  "Provisions and preparation -- yes, I agree.  But with a new increase to tolls won't go well, especially with our friends and allies.  Sure to those further east or west or even south, but we should think differently about the others.  True trade might be our goal for our folk are not only hardy and grim, but skill and we have abundance of our own to share.  We might think to an exchange like stonecraft from Erebor for wood of our hills or husbandry for siegecraft of Dale or honey and herbs for Rhosgobel for, well, whatever the Wizard might seek of us?  We must be more in the world than tolls and a tidy road between the Wood and Mountains."

:ooc: Arbogast will also be present at the funeral, gaining one more permanent Shadow (taking his permanent score to three and his overall score to seven) and regaining five Hope, for a total of 11.  He's no longer Miserable!  :csu:

Which reminds me - though two Fellowship points got spent, the remaining two are still available for anyone except Esgalwen, so Grimbeorn and Hathcyn each regain an additional one, plus any for Fellowship foci. 

:ooc: Are we waiting on any more narrative stuff?  If not, I can start the next Adventuring phase when we're all ready.

Inthink we are good. Anything else I have is flavor

I think I'm good

 :ooc: Yea, you can start. All I have left is a flavor post to make.

:ooc: Cool. Bring the flavour posts in your own time. Don't be shy about it, though - they're the good stuff.

:ooc: Okay this is my second Undertaking: Search for Answers. Esgalwen, during her rest in Rhosgobel, sees a young wood-man that comes in with a traveling troupe out of the south near the Toft. The young man is wearing an Ithilien Ranger's leather shirt and well-made backpack.

I will write the narrative below, but first I must roll a Lore test:

TN 14 lore 2d

:ooc: Now I need to roll on the table on page 33 of DoM. I am going to take a +1 to the roll for my Local-lore trait.

:ooc: Nice!  Let me know what kind of answers she's been searching for (by DM, if you prefer) and I'll see about giving you your two bits of information. 

:ooc: The Loremaster must reveal two useful elements of information and I gain 1 XP :csu:

---

The month of May passed into summer and Esgalwen rested her body and mind. Rhosgobel was a simple place, unlike her home of Minas Tirith or even her adopted home of Dale, but it provided a quiet she needed. The druid, Radagast, tended his gardens and his beasts and so the small settlement was alight with bird song and the bright color of flowers.

It was peaceful and healing.

June passed into August and still she had no desire to take up the road. Her bruises were now just ugly, yellow stains but her body was mended - at least as far as she could feel. The damage had been brutal - almost mortal - and the woman that she was wondered at her future. She was a warrior. A Dúnadan. Still she wondered at whether this warrior within her would ever subside and allow the woman she was to come forth. And if so, would her body still be desired? Would she have the capability to offer a future husband children? She was a Dúnadan, a women of Westernesse, and so her life could be counted in years beyond most other mortal women, but how many cuts, stabs, and broken bones could she take and still have that future?

She walked up to a growth of wild roses - the blooms were many and deep red, causing an assortment of honey bees and bumbles to buzz about. Esgalwen thought of Lindwine. She was a warrior, but also a mother. Could Esgalwen have that life, too? And if so, where? Here? In the Vales of Wilderland? How when there was none of her folk nearby, for certain her father would never accept her taking any other's hand in marriage.

"Hello, Lady?" a woman's voice.

Esgalwen turned to see Idunn approaching and she smiled. The healer was also smiling, "It is good to see you up and about. You are feeling well?"

"As well as possible, I suppose."

"It was a cruel blow that took you. You are lucky to be alive."

Esgalwen nodded and gave a smile that did not make it to her eyes, "I am lucky." Idunn could see that there was trouble within the mind of the Gondorian woman, but Esgalwen did not allow her to pursue the matter. "And what of you, my able physician? How do you fare on this fine June day?"

It was Idunn's turn to give a warm smile, "I am well, but I come with news. I depart with the new morning." Esgalwen could not hold back her sadness at the words. This woman had seen her through the worst of her injuries and had never left her side. The lady healer continued, "I must away. The news of the Black Tarn is good. Arbogast and others of Amaleoda's folk are hard at work on the restoration and I must return to help. It is, after all, my home, too. I understand that my services are needed there and I have been gone for too long."

"I fear that because of me, others who might have needed your skills may have perished."

"Lady Esgalwen, do not think such things. I chose to be here with you. I chose to leave the Tarn to bring you here. But do not fret - when the battle was done and your bier had been prepared, I had tended all that I could of my people. Arbogast sent me with you - he would have it no other way. Neither would I. Neither would the Lady Lindwine. You hold a dear place in all of our hearts, Esgalwen, and it was all of our desire to see you healthy once more."

The Ranger could only nod and smile.

"Perhaps when you are ready to take to the road again, you might come see us at the Tarn? I am excited to see what has been accomplished in its repairs."

"I will do that," said the Dúnadan. "And tell Arbogast that I will expect him to have at least a few chores for me to do."

Idunn laughed, "I will do that, Lady!" She moved to turn away saying, "Enjoy the flowers - they are healing in their own way."

"They are that, indeed."

Idunn began to stroll back towards the hamlet's center but stopped momentarily, "Oh, I forgot to tell you - merchants from the south have come into Rhosgobel. They appear to have bolts of cloth upon their wains and other nicely made crafts. I know not from where they hail, but perhaps the wares come from as far south as Gondor! What a thing would that be? To have fine cloth from the great city of Minas Tirith!"

Esgalwen interest was immediately piqued, "Then wait, Idunn! I will accompany you back to said merchants and see if these treasures are truly made by the craftsmen of my home."

The two women walked back to the center of the town and indeed, three wagons stuffed with wares for sale were encircled in the midst of a crowd of folk that also were intrigued. Esgalwen gave Idunn a farewell hug as the healer needed to attend other things, and then she went to the wagons. Two elderly travelers - or merchants - were speaking to the crowd from atop two of the wagons and presenting items and establishing their values. Three other younger men tended to the oxen still harnessed to the yokes, while another, taller man, sat atop his own horse. He was armed with a sword and had the grim look of a man that knew how to use the weapon.

That is when she saw it. The thin, but durable leather shirt that was undeniably crafted by the Rangers of Ithilien. The rugged lands of her home did not allow for heavier armour, nor did it serve the Rangers to not be stealthy. She then saw the backpack that the man wore - one also well-crafted by her kinsmen. But this man was no Gondorian, nor was he Dunédain. He had the look of the men of the Toft - cruel and forsaken.

Without thinking, Esgalwen stormed through the crowd to where the rider sat. Not caring for any courtesies, she spoke in an angry tone, "That armour? From whence did it come? And the pack upon your back, where did you come by these items?"

All that she could think about was her Ranger companions who had come north with her those many years past. Their band had been ambushed by orcs out of the southern wood and they were all separated in the melee. Esgalwen had escaped the fight, but had found her brothers dead under Mirkwood's eaves - at least most of them. Some did not lay among the others and only whispered words of her fellow Rangers being captured was all she had heard since she found Rhosgobel.

The mounted sell-sword sneered down at her, "What business is it of yours, woman? Be off!"

Pulling on his reins, he used the mass of the horse to shove Esgalwen aside, and he trotted the animal away.

"Sir!" said the Gondorian woman, "You will not discount me so and turn deaf and blind to my inquiry! You will answer me." In her anger, the authoritarian voice that came from her years in court was summoned.

:ooc: I will also provide an Awe roll...

TN ?? Awe 3d

:ooc: That is a 17 :%: success. If that cows this man, you can take the narrative from here.

It has been hinted that one of the Rangers survived and is possibly being held in the ruin of the Elftower, but Esgalwen has not had the chance to pursue this course. He might have perished after all these years, or maybe he is a good adventure plot point.

The gear on this guy could be stolen from the dead that were left on the field, but I offer this as a possible side adventure for our group if you want.

As for the answers, she would want to know where he attained the garments and maybe even force him into revealing information about a survivor? I leave that to you, but I did earn an XP so I guess this should also have some tie to our overarching story - otherwise I will give the XP back if this is weak sauce.

The rider flinches visibly as Esgalwen speaks with the voice of the tall Men who came across the sea, and eve his horse backs away a step or two.  "Peace!" he cries.  "These were given to me by Mogdred, King of the Vales, for my service as a messenger and outrider, and thus did I gain them without shame.  As did many others, for all his hearth-companions go forth attired with the same sign of the white tree, and for this Men name them the hwitbeamthréat." 

Esgalwen recalls her long road back to Gondor many years ago, and her longer road in return, bearing mail and swords to arm the strong and noble folk of Tyrants Hill.  Such things would scarce be known among the folk of the Nether Vales, and it seems scarce wonder that they would be set apart and given only to those who prove their worth through loyalty and skill at arms.  She bears the same white tree upon her own breast. 

Or bore, she thinks, for long miles and many a hard-won fight have stripped away the white pigment and necessary repairs have distorted the shape of the blazon.  Yet this man's shirt bears a tree still white against brown leather, its boughs straight and clear.  It seems to her mind, already alive with suspicion, that it could hardly have survived in such condition had it seen use by the followers of Mogdred. 

"Can you say," she asks, "how it came into his hand?" 

"Hah!  I was told that the folk to the north would regard us as little more than lowly robbers, and I see that I was told truly!"  He leans toward her slightly, his next words clearly intended for her alone.  "But the tale is a good one, and no tale is good when left untold.  Last spring, the King's tower was host to a visitor.  A seeress and a witch, by all accounts, who brought these things, and well-wrought arms besides, as gifts.  It is said that Mogdred sought to woo her, but that she rebuffed him coldly, saying that another had long ago won her heart." 


:ooc: No extra mechanical result for your Awe roll, Doug, but I've flavoured the narrative appropriately.   

Quote from: Eclecticon on Nov 18, 2021, 06:49 PM:ooc: No extra mechanical result for your Awe roll, Doug, but I've flavoured the narrative appropriately.   

 :ooc: Yea, that was expected. I just wanted to support the narrative with a roll.

Cool! I will continue in the new chapter and leave this for you to use if you want to give her a future side quest.

With the summer waning and Esgalwen's wounds properly healed, she decided it was time to pack her things and begin the long road back north. She had not forsaken her duties to the queen in Dale, but she was long overdue after her southern journey to aid Arbogast and the Black Tarn. King Bard was a kind man, but she was certain his tolerance for her absence was worn thin.

The weather would only get worse the longer she waited and so she searched the small town for its master, Radagast, but found his home empty - the wizard off on another errand. Idunn had left months prior, and so Esgalwen had no one to say goodbye to save the few residence with whom she had spent her time. From her purse, she left a series of coins for those that had housed and fed her, as well as aided in her healing. It was not expected, but the Dúnadan could not not make recompense.

The Ranger found her tawny mare in the stables and the horse whickered at her approach. "It seems I have one friend still here," she smiled as she let the horse nose her open palm. Esgalwen stooped to the floor and grabbed up a handful of hay and was pleased the horse took the food. "We head home and it will be a long journey, so we ready ourselves."

Esgalwen spent the next hour brushing our her horse and then pulled the saddle over its back. Soon after, the metal of the bit clattered on its teeth until it was seated correctly in its mouth. She once more handed a coin to the stablemaster who had tended her mare these many months, and then Esgalwen led her out of the small building.

A pair of young boys had brought her personal gear to the marshaling yard and had laid it in a stack. The ranger gave them each three bright pennies and thanked them for their work. The boys blushed and laughed at the fair maiden's smile, and ran off to find some fun new activity.

She reached down and grabbed up her saddlebags and lay them over her horse's flank. She tied them down, along with her bedroll and other traveling gear that would be needed, while her horse cropped at the grass. Next, Esgalwen donned her leather shirt and strapped Nimronyn to the saddlehorn. Her bow and quiver she prepared, too, and had at the ready.

With her gear and horse prepared, she returned to the stablemaster and queried once more, "The merchant van moved out this morning, yes?" The question was regarding a small group of wains that were bringing wares and procuring the same from the northern villages along the Mirkwood eaves. It was always safer to travel in groups and Esgalwen planned to follow any groups along the road until she made it to the Dwarf Road, and its crossing, and then onto Dale. It was the time of year that many of the traveling merchants were making their way home, and many of those were returning north.

The stablemaster nodded, "Aye, there were seven of them. I hear they make for Woodland Hall. I am sure they will appreciate your sword and bow to help them on." He gave her a smile that revealed missing teeth.

She smiled back and thanked him for the information, and then went to mount her horse. Esgalwen led her horse out of the gates of Rhosgobel and onto the wold that stretched off towards the Anduin River. Somewhere out there was the ruined tower that folk called the Elftower and she wondered at the information she had learned. Was there any of her companions still alive? Were they being held captive there, or worse, in the pits of Dol Guldur? Would they survive? Could they survive?

She sighed. Always, anymore, there was some errand that needed to be tended to that was more urgent.

With a click of her tongue, Esgalwen started her journey home.