So it is that, shortly after dawn, the four companions once again take to the road, following the now well-travelled Dwarf road west to the Old Ford, where Grimbeorn and Hathcyn are greeted as befits worthy warriors, and Esgalwen and Arbogast as honoured friends of the folk. From the western bank, they leave the stones of the road and turn north, following the Great River into the wilder country of the Beornings, where the steadings are fewer and their walls stouter, and the lone lands between may hear the voices of Men but once or twice in a year. Though the going is easy and the sun bright and warm, still they travel warily, for this time, when crops and fruit are ripening and cattle are fattening lazily, is the season of fire and iron, and the unspoken threat of Viglunding raiders looms over the land.
Ahead of them, at the end of a long series of foot trails and game paths, shallow dells and rolling hills, beyond the fleet and chill waters of the Langwell river, lie the vales of Mount Gundabad, in whose shadow rose of old the city of the Éothéod.
:ooc: We're doing a journey, and not a short one either. This calls for some Lore rolls:
Arbogast:00: 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 1d6 : 5, total 5
Esgalwen:00: 1d12 : 3, total 3
Rolled 2d6 : 2, 4, total 6
Grimbeorn:00: 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 3, 3, total 12
Hathcyn:00: 1d12 : 4, total 4
:ooc: That's one bonus die for Arbogast, and two for Grimbeorn.
EDIT: :csu:
:ooc: The first five days (and first Fatigue test - TN 16) will bring the companions to the crossing of the Rushdown River, near the base of the Eagles Falls, and out of the lands of Beorn's folk.
Arbogast:00: 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 6, 2, total 11
Esgalwen:00: 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 3, 2, total 9
Grimbeorn:00: 1d12 : 1, total 1
Rolled 4d6 : 2, 6, 6, 4, total 18
Hathcyn:00: 1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 1, 5, total 12
:ooc: Whoops, that should've been TN 14. Regardless, everyone knocked it out of the park. :csu: again.
More to follow - likely tomorrow.
Hathcyn looked east across the river and the rolling hills. He paused and looked for a long moment.
"Are you missing the forest?" Asked Esgalwen.
He was silent for a moment longer.
"Out there is the man who would be my father-in-law and I burned the Hall of his father's to the ground and freed all his slaves."
Hathcyn smiled, "this will make Yule time interesting for years to come."
He laughed then to the sky.
"When I think of it that way it does not trouble me. Maybe one day Aestid will see her home again and maybe not. But she shall be the heart of my hall and we shall welcome all free folk who come in peace, even her father and brother should they ever come. Here before the sky, the river, and in sight of their land I swear. I'll extend my hand in peace if they take it and abide in truth and out of filial respect I'll send them a barrel of beer every year whether they accept it or no."
"I am glad to see your hopes be higher than mine for peace. My mind and heart still dwell upon our failure there. True enough some amends were made but our people are still not wholly united. One day that may come."
"I do miss the the cover of twig and bow of the forest ere we approach these accursed lands. It is said that goblins, hobgoblins, and orcs of the worst kind have been spawned in these lands. Though the charge of the Free Peoples in the battle about Dale and Erebor broke their might, it has been many a-year since and they waste no time in replenishing their number nor rebuilding their arms. We must maintain all caution so from here on out we should forego a fire at night if we can help it."
"Cool is the bearing of the Wolfslayer, but colder still is his campsite."
Hathcyn laughed again. "Tate would make a song of that for sure. You are right, we go north and the land is dangerous, but if we pass a house and a fire near to the end of day then I say there is no harm in asking for a fire that is already burning. They may have ale and comley daughters too!"
Esgalwen marveled at Hathcyn's happy mood. The man, in battle, could become so fey as he plunged his body into the fight with no thought whether he live or not, only to reveal his ever positive mind as he stood on the stoop of his tavern.
His laughter and mood were contagious and the woman could not help but laugh and feel merry, even as they pushed into the north lands towards Mount Gundabad. The mentioning of Tate's name made her smile and ignore the man's outlook for ale and daughters, though she could not help herself to add to the conversation.
"Aye, the ale would be good but I am not sure what I am to do with a daughter... comely, or not?"
"Speaking now as a father of daughters, rather than a pursuer of them," Arbogast adds, "the likes of you and he ought do nothing but admire them from a respectable distance."
Thus passes the night in easy mirth, as the stars in their silent glory wheel above. The following day sees the Fellowship leave the roaring of the Eagles' Falls, where it is said the high and noble birds gather to conduct business that they will suffer no other being to observe, and venture northward once again. This land is wild enough that it might be supposed that Men have never sought to dwell here, though upon their seventh day since leaving the Road behind they pass a pair of standing stones bearing carvings so time-weathered as to be almost lost. "These were raised by Men in an Age gone by," he says, "though none can say where the path they mark once led."
The following day, the solitude of the empty vales is broken. From his position ahead of his companions, Arbogast returns, his mien grave. "From atop the next hill, I espied a ford across the shallows of the river. Come see."
The reason for his concern is plain when the others find his position, for it is plain that two groups, one small and the other yet smaller, have just forded the Anduin.
:ooc: I'm going to roll some Awareness rolls and see what you can see.
Esgalwen:00: 1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 4, 3, total 9
Grimbeorn:00: 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 3d6 : 1, 5, 4, total 10
Hathcyn:00: 1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 6, 1, total 11
As the two Beornings watch three figures, one the size of an impressive warrior and two slighter, struggle away from the river, five others, clearly well-armed and strong, give chase, though they are slowed by the weight of their armour and shields.
Esgalwen, try as she might to keep her focus upon the story playing out on the lower lands, finds her mind drifting. The scent of the grass and loam beneath her, the feeling of the summer sun on her back and the sound of the wind as it blows over the hilltop seems to bid her to put such fleeting concerns from her mind, and let herself give in to the peaceful drowsiness that now engulfs her.
:ooc: In case you're wondering, both groups are about a mile away, so it will take some time before you can reach either one. The lands in between are full of copses of trees and shrubs, hidden dells and such, so it would be possible to get closer without being seen, if that's what you want to do.
"Gwen, you are known to keep the company of woodland rouges, are these any friends of yours?" Hathcyn noted that she was not paying attention and turned back to the men. Hathcyn spied out the lay of the land with its folds and hills.
"Let us make our way towards them and see what we may learn. Perhaps one of the groups will have news, or tidings we can use. Or more likely than not we'll be embroiled in someone else's bussiness as we often are. This is a lone land though, so I am sure we may find something interesting. Maybe even news of that snake of Beorning who almost got us killed in Laketown. This would be a land suitable for him to hide away in."
:ooc: Of course, Esgalwen rolls an :~~: . It is her fate to always struggle to earn any APs. ;)
Hathcyn's inquiry drew her mind back to the present. She looked to where her Beorning friends gestured, but she saw nothing but the swathe of green stretching before them until it reached the blue-brown hint of the river.
"I fancy to call you a woodland rogue, as well, Hathcyn, but I cannot say that I make them regular companions." She assumed that the man was inferring her relationship with Mogdred of the southern wood meant that she consorted with others of his ilk. She squinted again to try and make out what they had seen, "I cannot avow for any strangers north of the Carrock, and even those south I would need the details of their patronage.
"I agree, though... let us approach and see what can be learned."
:ooc: Any noticeable sigils, crests, or banners that would be recognizable?
:ooc: Not at this distance - at least, not without elf eyes to see them.
Nearer and nearer draw the companions to the fugitives and their pursuers, and the closer they come the clearer the seeming that they have arrived to witness the end of a long pursuit. Two of the three fugitives are obviously exhausted, staggering and stumbling even on the easy slope by the river bank. One, by bearing and apparel a warrior, towers over the others, the long blond hair of a Northman unruly and blowing in the breeze. The other two are slighter, one bent and hooded and the other with the slight build of a child just beginning to come into manhood.
Their pursuers are much less a riddle. The five bear arms and armour fashioned in the mode common to all folk of the Anduin vales. As they approach the three strangers, they spread out to surround their quarry like a wolf-pack, cautious only of the largest and clearly eager for an easy capture of the other two.
With a shift in the wind, the voice of their leader carries to the Fellowship: "...merry chase indeed, but you find yourselves now outmatched and run to ground. Yield to me, and I swear that..."
Though the wind, fleeting as ever, carries away the speaker's oath, the words that reach them set Grimbeorn and Hathcyn's knuckles tightening upon hafts and enarmes, for they are spoken in the voice of Wulfdan the Traitor.
:ooc: (-D
Oh man! Priceless! That's the dude I was thinking about.
Doug i was actually thinking of the woodmen ruffians we used as scouts, but interesting where Gwen's mind went.
Hathcyns eyes narrowed and he tightened his grip on his spear. Only the fear that he would escape restrained him.
"Well, I know who's side I'm on. Now is the hour of my revenge. The fates have brought us to him again."
Hathcyn shifted his stance and prepared to attack unless he is restrained.
"Let loose a warning," Grimbeorn says to Esgalwen. "Hopefully we can get there in time," he remarks as he spurs himself across the field with Hathcyn.
:ooc: well that settles it. Beorning's doing Beorning things....
Out from their hiding spot burst the two men. The hunters have their backs to the river now and the hunted have become the prey. The foliage crashes and snaps as the men spring forth taking both parties by surprise as a third party has entered the fray.
"Wulfdan! Traitor to folk and lord! Here in the wild the nornir have woven our paths to cross and have spun out the threads of your life. THE LONGSPEAR AND WOLFSLAYER ARE UPON YOU!"
Esgalwen marveled at the transition of these people of the north. In one moment speaking of skies and trees, the joys of life, and then in the next moment bent upon death and slaughter. These folk of the north were passionate people, of that there was no doubt. Then the peril of the moment called her back to the deeds unfolding in this remote wood.
In reply to Grimbeorn's request, even as the men burst forward upon their mounts, Esgalwen pulled forth her bow and loosed an arrow.
:ooc: Per Grimbeorn's request, it will be a warning shot so my goal here is to NOT hit anyone but have it cut through their numbers in a threatening manner. I guess the goal on the dice is not to get a failure.
TN 14 great bow 4d:00: 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 4d6 : 2, 4, 6, 1, total 13
:ooc: That looks like a solid warning shot. You let me know, Paul.
Tom - yea, I thought it something a woman might say back with a sarcastic bite. I am glad you liked the response.
Esgalwen's arrow whistles through the air to pass through the centre of the two groups, leaving confusion in its wake. The yelp of the youngest of the strangers is drowned out by the bellows of Grimbeorn and Hathcyn as they charge forth, strong legs hurling them through the tall wild rye. Arbogast follows in their wake, his shield unslung and his hands working to free his axe as he advances.
"YOU!" cries Wulfdan, sword already in motion as he lunges toward one of the strangers. His Viglunding warriors also move, three to meet the advancing companions, two to seize their quarry before the foe can free them.
:ooc: Let's do some combat! Battle rolls incoming:
Arbogast:00: 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 5d6 : 1, 2, 2, 1, 6, total 12
Esgalwen:00: 1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 1, total 6
Grimbeorn:00: 1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 2, 1, total 9
Hathcyn:00: 1d12 : 3, total 3
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 2, 6, total 10