Turning from their chance meeting to tread once again the northward tracks, the Fellowship ventures now further with every step from the lands of the Free Peoples and into lone and wild places, where the hisses and hoots of goblin-kind are answered by the howling, not only of wolves, but of Men. For it is said in hushed tones around the hearth-fires of the Beornings and Woodmen that the scattered tribes of hill-folk who haunt the foothills of the terrible Mount Gundabad were servants once of an a black and awesome sorceror, and remember to this day the dark art he taught to them, to shed their Mannish forms as Beorn's folk might sometimes do, and join in the warg-hunt by the dark of the moon.
Beneath a heavy rain, as if the sky itself seeks to drive them back, the Fellowship of the Helm fords the fleet and freezing Langwell river, struggling their way across and up the steep northern bank.
:ooc: Time for some more Travel rolls (vs TN 18, because this bit is hard work):
Arbogast:00: 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 3, 2, total 8
Esgalwen:00: 1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 3, 1, total 9
Grimbeorn:00: 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 4d6 : 6, 1, 4, 5, total 16
Hathcyn:00: 1d12 : 5, total 5
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 5, 3, total 11
The river crossing is terrible, leaving the companions drenched and shivering even in the height of summer, but a quick check of sodden packs in the lee of a leaning stone establishes that what food remains has not been ruined, and the river allows at least for the refilling of water-skins. Alone of all the four, though, is Grimbeorn able to shoulder his burden once again as lightly as the day they departed the Old Ford.
:ooc: That's two points of Fatigue to everyone except Grimbeorn, unless anyone feels like spending Hope on it.
"Well that's one bath complete for the journey. At least there were no boats to borrow this time."
Damp and muddy, Grimbeorn helps the others across and hefts the equipment to more forgiving ground. "Aye, a bath you needed lest your scent be mistaken for a beast most foul instead of Man."
Though the muscles ached when the crossing was done, Esgalwen ignored the fatigue. This was more to her liking - long trips, camping under stars, ranging the land - then standing guard for the Lady of Dale. She felt more at home, as if in Ithilien among her fellow Rangers. Even the view lent itself to that idea, as the Misty Mountains rose before her though they were far less foreboding than the Mountains of Shadow. Still, an oppressive weight did lay over the land, as if something patiently watched.
She chuckled at Grimbeorn's words, "Maybe we should all take the warmth of the day and the opportunity to allow our clothes and gear to dry, whilst we bathe? It might be cold, but I fear this will be the last fresh water we see for a while."
If the men blushed at the idea of being naked in front of her, or her in front of them, she did not notice. Nor did she allow any humility to overshadow their need for keeping clean and healthy. She had spent many days among the Men of Gondor - Rangers of Ithilien - and modesty was something you left at home.
Hathcyn said nothing but turned his head deliberately and pointedly to look at Grimbeorn. Then at the Firewatcher. Then to the sky. And at last to the travel stained but lovely lady of Gondor.
"uhmm....the water is cold, and the river overcrowded."
Silence hung in the air for a moment and then Esgalwen laughed, her face lighting with the beauty that it held.
"Dear Sir, I did not mean to scare you so. If need be, you may all wash while I away and I will then wash in private once you are done. Either way, it would behoove us to allow our clothes to dry in the sun. We neither want to chafe from, nor climb higher into these mountains with, sodden cloth and leather."
"Would there were sun. But let us pause none the less and let us risk a fire in this weather. We can make a hasty shelter and perhaps dry and warm ourselves some."
:ooc: Paul, im thinking in the rain we can get a hasty shelter up and maybe a small fire? Craft roll or something else?
:ooc: Oh! I read the earlier post when he said height of summer that we were travelling under the sun. Then I read a little further back and read we're in heavy rain! (-D
So ignore most of what Esgalwen has said and was suggesting.
:ooc: I'm still going with the shelter idea. Good opportunity to ise some little used skills and everyone but Grimbeorn is having a rough go of it. Set up a tree bough shelter, small fire, maybe some fishing....
:ooc: It always helps to read closely. :>
But sure - the company are expert travellers so I'm willing to allow a Craft roll to create a bivouac.
EDIT: Rollin' 'em myself, and assuming that everyone pitches in. If anyone gets a Great or Extraordinary success, you'll be warm and dry enough to lose a point of Fatigue each:
Arbogast:00: 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 1d6 : 3, total 3
Esgalwen:00: 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 1d6 : 4, total 4
Grimbeorn:00: 1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 2d6 : 6, 2, total 8
Hathcyn:00: 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 1d6 : 4, total 4
The building of a shelter, taking advantage of the lee of the great stone, of sufficient quality to enable the lighting of a fire proves an exercise in frustration. The land and weather seem at first to conspire against the company, concealing any suitable branches behind curtains of rain and carpets of mud, and a quarrel over the proper technique to wield flint and steel nearly becomes heated before Hathcyn, swift as a striking serpent, snatches the flint from Grimbeorn's hand and strikes sparks from his own knife. The resulting flame burns away the bickering and soon the companions are, if not cosy, then at least more comfortable.
It is only through long habit that Esgalwen keeps a sufficiently watchful eye on the dismal surrounds to spot the hunched figure that approaches, slogging its way determinedly through the mud. Hands are already upon the hafts of axe and spear when it, or rather she, reaches the shelter, for the figure is a fur-clad woman, her hair the grey of unforged iron and her mouth missing many teeth. She has, at first, eyes only for the fire and any nook in the shelter into which she might fit, but the first words out of her mouth are not a plea, but a curse. "By the Shadow," she spits, "it's you two!"
The company meets her with incredulous stares for a heartbeat before Arbogast guesses "Essylt (https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/index.php?msg=26427)?"
Hathcyn was on guard.
"Is this a woman or a hill spirit!?"
He saw the questioning face of recognition on the Firewatcher's face, "or perhaps both."
The woman answers in a harsh voice, "I am Essylt of the Raven-folk, though I am cast out from my home and clan. Your friends," she pauses to spit into the fire, making it sizzle and spit, "thought to free me from orcish captivity, and for that I was grateful. But Ralcath, our chieftain, decided that my return was an ill omen, for it meant either that I had not found favour with the lords under the stone, or that I had escaped their clutches and they would soon come after me."
Un-invited, she seats herself between Esgalwen and Hathcyn. "I have lived a rat's life these six long years. Imagine then my surprise to come to one of my hidey-holes and find you here!" Pausing to peer suspiciously at those she sits next to, she adds "Who are you, then, and what became of the two dwarves you came with?"
"Please, have a seat by our fire."
Hathcyn wasnt pleased by the smell of the woman either, she needed to take Gwen's earlier advice. But he fished out a honey cake for her.
"Here is something to gnaw on then if you are to nest by our fire."
Grimbeorn eyes Arbogast. "You're the storyteller, brother," he says, thankful that he is at the opposite side of the fragrant circle.
Esgalwen inched herself away from Essylt, trying to not be rude in her efforts, but her smell was strong. She was confused as Hathcyn of this tale, for she had played no part.
"Yes, Arbogast, you will need to tell us this story as I know naught of this woman." To Esslyt she said, "I am Esgalwen, daughter of Eradan, of Gondor."
Her mind thought back to when they were here before. Esgalwen remembered the slave camp and the children, and that they had rescued them. She had elected to take them south - back to their people - and left the party to continue on.
"Aye, here is a fire. And there a firewatcher. I fear his tale will ve long and require another trip for wood. This batch is about steamed and ready to burn, but it will not be enough. I fear none of us now wish to head out again."
Hathcyn had in fact dragged some dead fall and hacked some dead limbs and stacked them near by. His comment indicated that their temporary stop to dry had already stretched overlong and as they dried under the bougher few thought of pressing on again.
"Well Raven daughter, how familiar are you with the lands north of here? We could use a guide perhaps and we would share food."
The Beorning shook his wineskin, "and drink. For your services."
:ooc: Okay, if you're determined to make the GM talk to himself, I'll do that. :roll: Post to follow when I get a minute.
:ooc: i tried to minimize that somewhat. I'm fine with hand waving that part.
:ooc: Nah, it's alright. This is what I get for turning one of the key 'social' PCs into a GMC.
Essylt snatches the proffered honey-cake, tearing it up and swallowing it almost without pausing to chew, her attention focused solely on the morsel in her hands until the sloshing of the wineskin draws her still-hungry eye. As she washes down her food with a generous draught of Hathcyn's wine, Arbogast clears his throat.
"As it falls to me to speak for us all," he begins, "I shall begin with introductions. I, the Fire-watcher, and Grimbeorn, son of Beorn, you know already. The woman to your side is Esgalwen of Gondor, and the owner of the wineskin is Hathcyn, whom Men name for the Longspear." To his companions, he adds, "Essylt is she, formerly of the Black Helm clan. When we pursued the captors of the Elf-maid Ruthiel to this country, we rescued her from orcish bondage and she stood with us thereafter in battle against her captors."
Her cheeks still bulging, Essylt looks questioningly at he and Grimbeorn. "To answer your question, Rorin of Erebor is now a wealthy and important Dwarf, for he speaks with the Voice of the King Under the Mountain to the folk of the Wood and Vales. As for Bandobras..." His voice trails off, the grief easily noticeable to those with the ears to hear.
:ooc: I'm going to start playing this as an Encounter, since there are story implications for how well we do. I'll get Arbogast to do the introductions and an initial roll. Then, if you want to join in, just jump in.
Courtesy roll:00: 1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 2d6 : 3, 5, total 8
Echoing Hathcyn's comments, Arbogast continues "We seek the place where once stood the city of the Éothéod, and would gladly trade food and drink for your knowledge of these lands." Before she can clear her mouth sufficiently to reply, he adds "I cannot but think that this venture will be less perilous than when last we met."
:ooc: Rolling Persuade...
:00: 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 4d6 : 2, 2, 3, 6, total 13
:ooc: Two successes, no failures. Anyone else want to chime in?
:ooc: First I will roll Insight to see if Esgalwen has any advantages:
TN 14 Insight 2d:00: 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 2d6 : 4, 3, total 7
:ooc: A :g: success for 1 :%: die. I will use Awe for Esgalwen's introduction.
TN 14 Awe 3d:00: 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 1, 3, total 9
Esgalwen smiled at Essylt at Arbogast's introduction and the wild woman took a liking to the Ranger's fair countenance.
Her mouth full with honey-cake, Essylt inquired, "Gondor? And what is Gondor? Where be this strange place?"
"It is my homeland, far to the south. Actually I make Ithilien my home, but it lay within the boundaries of far off Gondor."
"You have the look of the grey men that venture at times over the mountains. Tall and stern they be, and grim of face, but I see them in you."
"Grey men? From over the mountains?" Esgalwen did not know of whom Essylt spoke. Nor was she present when the Rangers of the North had come that night long ago.
:ooc: I will make a Riddle test to try to understand Essylt. I am including my advantage die.
TN 14 Riddle 1d:00: 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 2d6 : 6, 2, total 8
:ooc: That is an 18 :%: and so Esgalwen starts gabbing back and forth with Essylt, as two women might, giving and receiving information. I think that should add 3 successes to the encounter, right? :csu:
"Yes, the Grey Men - regal they are as if kings they be," answered Essylt. "My folk lived on the highlands of the Misty Mountains and oft times we would interact with these men - though it was not always pleasant. They roam the lands of the north, across the mountains... at least that was the tales told. You look like them, woman, and you speak like them."
For the other companions, the memory of Damrod and his company was brought to the fore. The grey-clad warriors that had come, as if from the very ground, to offer aid. The battle with the fell-wraith had been hard won and the company was thankful for their coming.
"So then you have roamed these lands and know them well?"
"Yes, for certain. My people have lived long within these highlands and at times have crossed over the mountains into the cold fells beyond."
"Then you could aid us, no? As Hathcyn has said, we could use the help in finding the old city. Do you know its location?"
:ooc: Four successes all up, yes. Plenty of scope for more people to join in...
Ooc: I'll jump into this awe game.
"I am known as the Longspear to some, the kin slayer to some, and the Hall Burner to others. Know also Raven's Daughter that I am the Foxes Son. I surmise that in the distant past our folk were probably of closer kin then they are now. So sit by the fire, warm yourself and rest easy underneath the protection and arms of the Beornings."
Rolled 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 6, 3, total 12
:ooc: premier tier on the server cost seems to be working Doug! I mean, wow Paul players are sooo lucky this scene.
Grimbeorn was more than happy to let the others gab and guffaw with their latest newcomer of old. He sat back and watched the exchanges, peering into the heart of our their guest as they all talked on so as to discern her presence here along with her motives.
:ooc:
Rolled 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 6, 3, total 15
As the others speak, Grimbeorn watches Essylt look from one to the other with hungry eyes. Silently, he considers the difficulties one such as she might meet in trying to live in such an unforgiving land, in constant peril from the creatures that dwell within and without kinfolk to protect her. He turns his mind also to the way in which her command of the Westron tongue has improved in the years since last he saw her, and wonders who (or what) might have taught it to her.
In a flash of intuition, it comes to him: if the orcs, and worser things, that gave the fellowship such dolorous battle six years ago have not changed their plans, then their need of thralls is ongoing, and what better way to lure in the lost and the desperate than by showing them a seeming friend in similar straits? Thus, she has been taught to speak the tongue of the Free Peoples, and naturally she would approach an unexpected fire in a familiar place. But the ravenous haste with which she devoured the honey cake, and now looks to the companions' remaining food, is unfeigned. Whatever bargain she has struck with the powers of Gundabad, it has scarcely kept her alive.
Were we to offer her a way to deliver herself from this life, he thinks, she would likely leap at the chance, and remain steadfast... so long as we seemed able to keep our side of the bargain.
:ooc: You guys basically have Essylt where you want her - make her an offer for her services as a guide and she will take you right to the spot you want.
:ooc: hmmm, where are we going? Good insight roll, I hadnt even considered duplicity.
"Essylt?" Grimbeorn starts slowly, interrupting the flow of conversation. "We are in need of guide from this point forward to show us the best way unto the 'Burg and back again. Would your belly full, protection from these lands, and my promise of continued service away south in my land suffice as payment? What say you?"
His breach in conversational etiquette curious, the others silently excused it for the moment to listen to the response. He offered none of his insight immediately unless there is push back from his friends or a disingenuous seeming reply is given.
Essylt is quite clearly taken aback by the question, and she coughs out crumbs of waybread for several moments before, her eyes narrowed as she searches Grimbeorn's face for any sign of deception, she answers. "For a portion of your food, a seat by your fire and a roof of my own above my head (for I have heard that the southern folk enjoy such things) once we leave this place, I will take you where you wish to go, and give you my service as long as you shall have it. I warn you, though, that the place you seek is not one that any but the foolhardy would wish to go."
:ooc: Nota bene, I've updated the AP for Grimbeorn and Hathcyn's rolls - try to do this yourselves, if you're making your own rolls and time and other circumstances permit.
:ooc: One last Travel roll for everyone, with a bonus (TN 16 instead of 18) for Essylt being present as a well-motivated guide:
Arbogast:00: 1d12 : 3, total 3
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 5, 3, total 13
Esgalwen:00: 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 4, 4, total 10
Grimbeorn:00: 1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 4d6 : 3, 5, 3, 1, total 12
Hathcyn:00: 1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 3d6 : 1, 2, 5, total 8
:ooc: Okay... Grimbeorn has two bonus dice (https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/index.php?msg=33383) to spend. Given that this is the last part of the journey, I'll roll them (with your indulgence, Matt):
:00: 2d6 : 3, 6, total 9
:ooc: So Grimbeorn's fine as far as Fatigue goes (and gets an AP into the bargain) but AT LAST someone has triggered a journey Hazard. Be warned - the last :~~: has also revealed your presence to the Eye, which means that whatever happens is going to be extra-nasty. Rolling and story to follow, but I have to do some shopping first.
:ooc: I was going to do some rolling for this, but I have an idea that just fits so well that I'm going to put on my GM hat and go with it. Thread to follow.
EDIT: Having given it more than a few seconds' thought, I'll tag Esgalwen's Adventurous trait and Arbogast's Hardened one to give them each an AP for their successes above. Tom, Hathcyn can pass the Fatigue check with a Hope spend, but on the assumption that you don't want to do that, I've applied the Fatigue gain. :csu:
It is hours before the rain shows signs of easing, and the company spends a cramped night in its rude refuge before Essylt leads her new companions forth. Travelling on the sides of hills to keep out of dells and gullies now either awash or so sodden (she says) as to bar passage, she leads the companions west, hewing as close as possible to the course of the Langwell. The hills bear a sparse cover of stunted, lonely-looking pines between which spring thistles cluster in great numbers, such that the entire landscape seems to be one of spine and thorn. Here and there, though, a great storm of birdsong arises, and the sunlight that makes its way through the clouds shines from a hundred thousand droplets still clinging to needle and stone, making the entire landscape briefly shine like the bright jewels the company seeks.
The sun has passed behind Mount Gundabad, and shadow lies heavy over the land, when Grimbeorn at last calls a halt. "How much farther, hill-woman?" he asks of their guide.
"My folk reckon not in the miles of the Elves and their kin," she answers, "but I would judge that another half-day, perhaps a little more, awaits us on the morrow. But see," she adds, pointing to an outcrop overlooking the river on which stands the cracked and tumbled ruin of what was once a proud stone watchtower, "I know a safe refuge. If you had not decided to stop here, I would have insisted upon it."
As the companions approach, it is clear that, whether it be time and the slow working of wind and rain that have laid low the tower or the swift malice of orc-kind, the latter have claimed the victory as theirs. The Mannish stonework has been carved and daubed with many years worth of glyphs and markings, their crudity detracting not in the least from their awfulness. Atop them all, an eye surrounded by flame has been carved into the keystone of a still-standing archway.
"We should not..." Arbogast begins, but he is too late. As Essylt shrieks and collapses, desperately drawing her furs across her face, the cold stone seems to blaze with a sudden and all-piercing light, the slit pupil of the eye a black hole in the fabric of the world at its very centre.
:ooc: This will require a Corruption test (TN 18) from everyone. If enough Shadow points are gained, this could easily trigger another revelation episode, so let's see how the dice want this to play out:
Arbogast:00: 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 5d6 : 6, 4, 2, 1, 2, total 15
Esgalwen:00: 1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 5d6 : 4, 3, 3, 1, 5, total 16
Grimbeorn:00: 1d12 : 7, total 7
Rolled 5d6 : 1, 4, 1, 1, 5, total 12
Hathcyn:00: 1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 4d6 : 3, 5, 3, 3, total 14
:ooc: Man, Hathcyn is really taking a battering this trip. He gains a Shadow point unless you want to spend Hope on it, Tom. I had a note here about the extra point tipping him over into Misery, but that's going to happen either way.
Arbogast feels the flaying of his mind by the pitiless light. All the falsehoods he has spoken to himself as well as others to create the seeming of a good-hearted man are laid waste and cast aside, baring the wretched, twisted, blackness within. In a moment that stretches until the very end of time he is forced to recall each and every harsh word he has spoken and every bitter thought he has harboured toward his kin, his childhood friends, his close companions upon the lone roads and his wife and daughters. Helplessly, he re-lives the moment when the corrupted river-maiden seized Wilone's tiny hand and dragged her to her death in the lightless waters of the Black Tarn.
Your allies will turn upon you, comes the thought, from within or without he can no longer say. You, who have suffered and bled for them and their kinfolk, will be betrayed and cast down that they might live one pitiful day longer. Those that you love the most will flee you the soonest, for they see you for that which you truly are.
"No," he speaks aloud, though whether any hear him he cannot say. Though his limbs are weak and tears of self-loathing run freely into his beard, he makes himself stand. "This is some trick of the Shadow. I know myself for that which I am, and the lies of the Enemy shall not blind me to that, nor to the purpose for which I am come to this place."
He speaks slowly, and in speaking makes it so. "You have no power over me."
:ooc: ugh. I was dancing with the Hope devil on this one trying to get to another fellowship phase. Im
Not burning it on the fatigue but I will on the Corruption test.
This poor guy takes it in the gut everytime something 'spectral' happens.
:ooc: It occurs to me that he could burn a Fellowship point instead, kicking the can down the road a little.
Esgalwen saw Essylt collapse to the ground, groveling as she did, and she looked to the terrible sigil. Her mind clouded and the gooseflesh rose across her skin from no chill wind, but only the casted shadow.
Deep within her thoughts, she saw the white walls of Minas Tirith and the Pelennor Fields surrounding, but all was gray as with a sickness - as if something stretched its malign presence across her homeland and it came from Mordor.
Your city will burn, she heard whispered. The last vestiges of Númenor will be wiped from Middle-earth and your folk will become chattel under my domain.
The gray sickness set into plant and stone and the walls of the White City cracked and living things died. But then, atop the prominence of the city where stood the Tower of Ecthelion, a light shone and she heard a new voice speak, And the Crownless shall be King.
Within her heart, a strength rose and Esgalwen staved off the Shadow that loomed over them, "No," she said to no one in particular, "It is a lie. You are a lie."
The shadow became naught else but a blocking of the sun, and the Ranger felt her comfort return, though she could make nothing else of the portent.
:ooc: i thought of the fellowship pool too but wasnt sure. Seems kinda early in the adventure to become miserable.
:ooc: I'll throw it open to the (notional) table. Anyone have an opinion?
:ooc: I'll give it another few hours, but if nobody's responded by the this evening, Tom, go ahead and take a Fellowship point. Then, unless anyone else wants to put some viewpoint narration up, I'll move the story along.
:ooc: no issue with the Fellowship point.
The light split Grimbeorn's mind. He saw one by one his companions falling prey to sling and arrow blade of the Enemy. His home burned and cruelly defiled. The Carrock broken and black as if from dark powers's blast of eldritch energy. Crowd and wargs fed upon carcasses. The eagles pocked with black- fletched arrows innumerable. The great word both burning but teeming with foul creature beyond count swarms. A great bear's last defense. A mocking laughter that he's heard before echoes.
A pale silver light shines out of the West and a clear ringing voice — female —is heard. Words of hope and love, of sacrifice and honor beat back this rage and oppression. His heart is once again kindled.
Focus in his eyes return and he goes to help Esgalwen with their new charge.
Hathcyn no longer saw the ruin of the old work of men nor did he feel the wind of the mountain. Instead, he saw a great hill raised by the labor of men at the entrance to the forest road. A great hall of stone had been built upon it and the size and scope was more in keeping with a great hall of the dwarves, but above ground instead of under it.
Like the vision of a bird his perspective changed and now he saw inside the hall. A great green slab of stone from Erebor had been carved into a throne and he saw himself sitting upon it. His vision changed again and he could see through his own eyes from the throne. Beside him in form fitting black fish mail was Aestid. A great bear fur hung over her shoulders, her neck sparkling with fire rubys. Terrible and fierce to behold a Warrior Queen standing guard by his side and free to command.
Then horns rang and Viglund, now hobbled and maimed, a broken man, ushered visitors into his hall. First was Aestid's brother. He approached the stone throne and laying prostate before it spoke of his offering of cattle and wheat from the north. Here was tribute to the King of the Vales. Then came Mogdred to offer swords and men. Then Arbogast came to kneel before him, and then Esgalwen refugee from destroyed Gondor who poured him wine into the skull chalice of his defeated foe. The once mighty Wolfslayer's skull now held wine for the new King of the Vale.
Upon the mountain the lips of Hathcyn trembled, and tears rolled from his eyes at the sheer strength and power that filled him. "We have no kings and these are my friends not vassals. What dream is this in my mind that started sweet and turned so sour..."
Hathcyn pulled himself back to the mountain and the present. "what devilry is this place? Are not the minds of men ever safe to keep their own thoughts?"
:ooc: I had no problem with the Fellowship point, either - especially since Esgalwen cannot use them. So you guys use at need.
:ooc: So let it be! Hathcyn uses a Fellowship point to stave off the Shadow gain, and doesn't become Miserable after all. :csu:
The howling of wolves accompanies the clearing of the baleful visions from the companions' minds, the sound carrying across the darkening sky. By unspoken but unanimous agreement, they tarry no longer by the broken and desecrated watchtower. Esgalwen and Hathcyn seize Essylt beneath her fur-clad arms as Arbogast points the way to a cold and swift-flowing creek where they might escape pursuit and Grimbeorn readies axe and shield to dissuade any over-eager pursuers. As they approach their destination, Esgalwen starts releases the hill-woman and begins tugging at her own sark. "Drop any clothing you can spare by the bank," she says, "and cast any food you can spare windward. We will go with the wind until we can find another safe place."
The hill-woman slumps to the ground, speaking in the tongue of her folk, muttering strange-sounding words that none among the company can comprehend, her mind still lost in the torments of the Eye.
:ooc: This next part is going to be a contest between the party and the leader of the pursuing wolves. I'm going to run it like an Encounter – you suggest skills you're going to use to escape pursuit (e.g. Athletics to keep running, Inspire to snap Essylt out of her delirium, Riddle to disguise the trail, etc.). Most rolls will be opposed by the wolves. Get seven successes and you've escaped. Rack up two failures and the wolves will have caught you.
I'll open with a roll from Esgalwen (as the person with the best Stealth score) to slow down the pursuit.
Esgalwen Stealth (TN 14):00: 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 4, 6, total 16
Wolves Perception (TN 14):00: 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 2d6+5 : 5, 4 + 5, total 14
:ooc: Ye gods, Esgalwen certainly knows how to do this! That's three successes already!
(Going to try and read the lay of the land and the direction of the wind. So travel or insight? Both are 3d for me. Though some how I will get three eyes)
Hathcyn had spent time in the woods and the fix knew how to hide when pursued.
Rolled 1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 4, 1, total 11
:ooc: Is that :g: :%: :%: worth the last AP point in my Movement Group? I will wait to hear. If you need a trait to use in tandem, maybe Adventurous?
:ooc: You're all good, Doug - I've already marked the AP on her character sheet.
:ooc:
Grimbeorn scouts the best, most expedient route for them to go.
:00:
Travel - 1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 4d6 : 1, 1, 2, 4, total 8
:ooc: Not sure if we are going in any order here, but Esgalwen will draw upon her Hunting skill as knowledge in how wolves hunt and what throws them off a trail. Again I am going to work through her Adventurous trait, as this is definitely something that is testing her mettle. (Let me know if I am out of the ballpark on that one, Paul).
Also, Matt - that roll didn't even hit the TN 14, so I think it is an auto-fail. You might want to throw a Fellowship :vv: at it to give Paul a success to roll an opposed roll against.
Here is Esgalwen's test roll:
TN 14 hunting 2d:00: 1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 2d6 : 4, 4, total 8
:ooc: Okay! That is a success - a weak one - but a success. We'll see what happens with Paul's opposed roll. Just as an FYI - can I say I hold a :vv: at the ready to spend, if it is necessary to beat the wolves?
The companions run, following Esgalwen as she leads them silently through the upper vale. She is not too familiar with the land, but she knows her enemy. She knows how they think and how they hunt. The baying of the wolves is distant, but that could change at any time.
Esgalwen whispers to Grimbeorn, "I will take Essylt and we will split up. You two run for that crest there." The Ranger points to where she intends the men to run. "We will follow the low lands," again she points out her path, "and then meet you there."
The two Beornings look hesitant at her plan. "I think it is not best to separate..."
"If we move quickly, we should be back together well before the wolves have closed, but this will confuse them - it will either split them up, or cause them to follow off our main trail." Esgalwen said, cutting off Hathcyn's concerns. "And should you be able, mark the terrain along the way." The men knew what she meant. "We shall do the same, if there is time and it proves useful."
:ooc: Esgalwen is going to lead Essylt down into the lower terrain - hopefully there is a stream or creek that they can zig zag across, as well as run in for a length, and create confusion. If they get the time they may even try to 'mark' the terrain along the way to firm up the scent in the misdirection. Not trying to be gross, just thinking about what animals (wolves) sniff at and follow.
"This plan is not to my liking, but time is short."
Hathcyn paused on the trail, the encounter at the tower led him to believe these were not ordinary wolves driven by ordinary needs. He was wary to run headlong driven by the wolves into perhaps a greater danger.
"I am loathe to flee any further from wolves. Let us grab deadfall as we move to the hill top. And there with fire and blade stand like men. I'll not flee like a hare in a field into perhaps greater danger at greater speed. I'll meet you at the hilltop, but there I will face our foe if they still pursue us."
Hathcyn fingered his horn. "And if they come these hills will echo the thunder battle song of the Longspear."
The Ranger looked at the Beorning admiring his bravado but also thinking him foolish.
"Hathcyn, there will be time to fight, but the destruction of wolves is not our goal. We make this trek to find the lost city of the Éothéod, and so serve Arbogast's needs. We are far from any help and even the slightest of wounds would hinder our plans. Evasion is the best tactic, at this time."
Esgalwen did not look to Grimbeorn for support, but she hoped that wisdom would be perceived as the wiser course over valour.
"That said, if we find that our path has run dry of options, we shall face this enemy."
:ooc: Ya ok, :vv:
"She's right, let's press on."
Quote from: Telcontar on Jan 24, 2022, 08:04 PM(Going to try and read the lay of the land and the direction of the wind. So travel or insight? Both are 3d for me.
Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Jan 25, 2022, 08:17 PMGrimbeorn scouts the best, most expedient route for them to go.
:ooc: So, going by the book, Hathcyn's action should be using Riddle and Grimbeorn's Explore - Travel is really for keeping up the pace in the long term. That said, I'm happy to read both as just trying to outlast the pursuing wolf pack to save you the trouble of having to re-roll anything.
At the risk of seeming capricious and arbitrary, I'd also like to make an important change to how I'm running this sequence. Rather than just having a number of successes you have to reach before racking up a certain number of failures, I'm going to say that the wolves' successes
subtract from yours, while any extra successes you score add to your 'failure margin'. So Esgalwen's extraordinary Stealth success vs the wolves' regular success only netted you two successes all up, but the flip side is that it's extended the number of rolls you can fail (from two to four) as you've extended your lead.
All good? This captures more of the feel of a chase, I think.
With that in mind, let's do some rolling for the wolves, who will respond to the Beornings' trying to outlast them by trying to do the exact same thing, them being pursuit predators and all:
vs Hathcyn (Movement TN 14):00: 1d12 : 12, total 12
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 4, 1, total 8
vs Grimbeorn (Movement TN 14):00: 1d12 : 10, total 10
Rolled 3d6 : 4, 6, 5, total 15
:ooc: So, that's an outright failure for the wolves against Hathcyn's great success, increasing your lead to six. Even with Grimbeorn's Hope point, the wolves still claw one point back with a great success against a normal one, bringing your lead back down to five.
Quote from: tomcat on Jan 26, 2022, 06:40 AMEsgalwen whispers to Grimbeorn, "I will take Essylt and we will split up. You two run for that crest there." The Ranger points to where she intends the men to run. "We will follow the low lands," again she points out her path, "and then meet you there."
Doug, I like the way Esgalwen thinks here, and Hunting would certainly apply. Don't worry about Hope, as you're mainly looking for :%: es.
Let's see how the wolves cope with her tactics:
Survival:00: 1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 3d6 : 1, 3, 2, total 6
:ooc: Not well, it seems. You're back up to a lead of six, and close to losing your pursuit altogether.
:csu: for Hathcyn and Esgalwen's APs, and Grimbeorn's Hope.
I want to throw in an action for Arbogast here, but I'm about to be tied up with work stuff - hold off on further actions a little, if you wouldn't mind.
:ooc: so from a MeTA standpoint what is a mechanical way to share the burden if rolls? Is there a mechanism that forces characters to roll outside their comfort zone? Is it successes as a group? What is the downside to just leaning on the character with the best skills to carry the whole team?
I think these are also some of the questions I have for social challenges too.
I'm not questioning Paul's running the game just thinking about how this works mechanically as I am exploring differences between 1e and 2ed.
As and when he may, as he helps Esgalwen bear Essylt toward the low lands, Arbogast glances at the sky, peering at any dark shape that hides the light of the stars. Finally, he finds what he seeks in the form of a great eagle-owl abroad on its nightly hunt.
To it he calls out in the bird-tongue, "Silent-wing, Night-prince, hear me! We who have known the favour of the Eagle-king are beset! I beg you, seek the wargs that pursue us and harry them, that we might slip away, to carry stories of your prowess to all those who go about on feathered wings!"
:ooc: A Song roll from the Fire-watcher:
:00: 1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 2, 6, total 14
:ooc: That's... a mixed result. Let's see how the pack leader responds:
Awe (to keep the wolves in line and scare the owl away) :00: 1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 2d6 : 1, 6, total 7
:ooc: That's the last two successes you needed to escape, plus an extra 'cause the wolf blew his roll. Narration to follow tomorrow!
:ooc: hell yeah! I've been waiting for ol Arbo to use his bird speech!
With a sharp hoot of assent, the owl wheels once more and then descends in a sharp and soundless dive, plunging down on the companions' unseen pursuers. The howls of the pack turn, after a few moments, into barks of dismay and snarls of defiance as they are forced to turn from their pursuit to drive away this new and unforeseen adversary. Little by little, by means of false trails and and confusing markings, splittings-off and rejoinings, the companions leave them behind. Finally, as the stars wheel implacably onwards and exhausted legs threaten to collapse beneath despairing runners, an agreement is reached that they have escaped, the hunt of the wolves seemingly having been abandoned.
Though no eyes can be seen in the darkness and no creatures stir in what remains of the night, there is a new sense of malignant watchfulness to the country about the Fellowship, and the next day dawns dismal, as if a blanket of cloud were thrown across the sun to give wargs and orc-kind a few more precious hours to wreak their wrongdoing upon the world.
:ooc: Arbogast's roll produced another revelation episode ( :~~: es are dangerous in Shadow-haunted lands). It's not triggering yet - there's an upcoming event that will be made a bit worse than it otherwise would.