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For their long sojourn under the cover of Mirkwood, all PCs receive 13 XP - it's a fair bit all at once, but your achievement will be sung of until the last days of the Woodmen and Beornings. 

Everyone also receives all the AP that are marked off on their sheet. 

I've set everyone's Dagger skill as per the 2e rule, as previously discussed.  Arbogast and Grimbeorn had both spent points on it, so I've added those XP to their un-spent totals.  It makes the stored up totals pretty whacky, but hopefully not so it'll irritate anyone. 

This is a year-end phase, so there's time for two Undertakings.  Healing Corruption is highly recommended - Arbogast just suffered a bout of madness, with all that that brings with it.  Don't be like Arbogast! 

There's also five points of Fellowship to distribute as you will.  Fellowship Foci also apply, though anyone who had Arbogast as their Focus doesn't get to recover a Hope point due to the same madness episode. 

Do I gain an AP for my song roll?

I'll gain a point of hope from Grimbeorn as my focus.

Quote from: Telcontar on Jul 20, 2022, 09:21 PMDo I gain an AP for my song roll?

:ooc: No - and you absolutely should have!  I think I misread your marked-off AP as being in Custom rather than Vocation, or something.  Anyway, I've :csu:-ed the sheet in Dropbox. 

Quote from: Telcontar on Jul 20, 2022, 09:40 PMI'll gain a point of hope from Grimbeorn as my focus.

Indeed, you will.

Maintenance First
(I cant for the life if me find the Weal and Woe table but I am trying to find it on my phone with all my stuff in dropbox)

Spend 2 Treasure for standing upkeep

Weal and Woe Roll


Cow Herd (Holding 8)


Road Holding (Fox Tail starts at 8 improves to 7 as a road holding)


Lets see what the dice say...

Ok I think that's a worthy year, I think, and five treasure minus two for upkeep is net three. Need to work in my Worthy year, pick under takings and do the narrative. I am thinking Travel to Carok and Receive Title. Improve standing seems like it would work too but the title seems to fit with worthy year and the previous scene with the helm.

:ooc: Bear in mind that you only need to spend Treasure to maintain your Standing if you're going to spend the Yuletide away from home.

:ooc: I realise that you're all hard at work putting together some Fellowship phase actions and narration, so before anybody sets anything in stone I'll add in something for you all to engage with.  Over the winter of 2958-9, there is a great calling-together of dark things at Dol Guldur, and anybody with Shadow points (especially permanent ones) feels a desire to go there.  PCs don't have to, of course, but the desire is there. 

Valour +1 and taking close fitting.

Persuade +1

Hope and Fatigue updated

Undertakings:
Recieve Title
Travel to Carrok

Travel roll

Not sure if that hits the target number or not. Kind of a lame undertaking if it is based on a roll.

****** IN PROGRESS ******

Grimbeorn (11 AP, 33 XP)

Persuade 1->2 (8 AP)
Valour 4->5 (16 XP)
Reward - Beorning Standard

Weal & Woe
 :00:
Undertakings
1. Return to Carrock
 :00:
2. Receive Title (Beorning Chieftain)

:ooc: I'll jump on this train, since it's moving pretty slowly (not a complaint!). 

Having banked his points for quite a while, Arbogast has wound up with 23 AP and 38 XP (including his Dagger points for redistribution).  He'll spend eight of the former increasing his Lore to two, and another 12 to bump his Awe up to three, leaving him with three in the bank. 

He'll increase his Axe skill to five (it's been a long time coming) for 16 XP.  I debated increasing his Spear skill to four, just because, but instead I think I'll hold on to the remaining 22 XP and wait for a Wisdom or Valour increase. 

He regains a much-needed point of Hope for Grimbeorn coming through the adventure unscathed, and will take another from petty cash, leaving him with nine points - well above his new permanent Shadow threshold.  He's no longer Miserable (huzzah!) but the madness episode has left him with a new Shadow Trait (boo!).  Technically, he should be progressing along the Lure of Power track in the 1e books, but I really like the feel of the Path of Despair from the 2e book, especially the way it fits with Wardens' roles and outlooks.  With the indulgence of the group, I'll rule that Arbogast becomes Wavering rather than Arrogant. 

Other mechanical stuff!  Tom has helpfully reminded me of the Holdings rules:

Holdings roll

• Every PC with an interest in the Forest Road may count this as a Holding.  Its rating began at 9, dropped to 8 last year and has reduced to 7 this year (word of the Road continues to spread and the volume of trans-sylvan 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]

The more I think about it, the more I like the idea that one person should roll for the Road and everyone takes the consequences - the Fellowship's share of the benefits is supposed to be split equally, after all.  Tom's roll above gives everyone with a share (i.e. everyone except Esgalwen) three points of Treasure.  Spend them wisely. 

Weal and Woe roll for Arbogast:

:ooc: For his Undertakings, he'll visit the Kingstone (from Heart of the Wild - I'd give a page reference but I'm on the train home and can't access my books).  That lets him regain three points of Hope.

He'll also search for answers among the elders of the Woodmen - specifically looking into the nature of the evil spirit that manifested at the battle of Black Tarn Hall. 

The results of that depend on a Lore roll:

:ooc: Cool.  A basic success lets him roll an unmodified Feat die for the result:

:ooc: I'll look up what that means when I'm back home.

What's the result on my travel roll for return to Carrock. i wasnt sure what the TN was.

:ooc: Right, sorry.  The TN is just the basic 14, so Hathcyn gets to drop two Shadow points. 

:ooc: Esgalwen's Fellowship Phase

Weal and Woe roll first:

AP and XP
• she will spend 8 of her 11 AP and increase Riddle to 2d, and then bank the remaining 3 AP
• she will bank her 15 XP

Undertakings
1) Heal Corruption (in Rhosgobel Sanctuary - allowed two rolls)
TN 14 song/craft 2d


2) Visit the Kingstone (in Rhosgobel Sanctuary - gains back 3 Hope)

:ooc: Well there is a pretty good set of rolls for Esgalwen's time of rest in Rhosgobel!

Weal & Woe result is :g: Good Fortune! Paul, I turn it over to you to let me know what Esgalwen's boon is to be.

She loses 4 :&: points from her Heal Corruption :%: success.

She gains back 3 :vv: for visiting the Kingstone.

She spends 3 Treasure to maintain her standing in the region. I know that it is only if you do not go HOME, but as a foreigner, it seems like a necessary service to keep her place among the people.

Narrative to follow...

 :ooc:
Grimbeorn's W&W is  :g: so I'll account that as his ascendency to chieftain and general well-being of his people such as beating back Viglunding raiders from the Old Ford, outside of the issues of the Forest Road.

As for his Heal Corruption, he got an  :~~: +18 (with 1 6) to make it a Great Success if the  :~~: is counted as 1, potentially reducing his Temp Shadow to 1.

Otherwise, my narrative will come with Grimbeorn returning to the Carrock, ascendency, local issues, and transfer to Gwaithlim.

Word spread quickly of the Fellowships deeds, and the black and ugly scar Hathcyn bore was witness. Many of the folk who lived near the woods had seen the terrible wounds of a spider, but few had seen one so large and so deep. The scar he bore became proof of the fellowship's deeds in the wood. If any other proof were asked for people simply pointed south, "Look to the Tarn". The lake became more wholesome and provided again for its people. The fishing and the blessings of the lake seemed to return greater than any had seen in living memory.

The tale of the Fellowship was told again and again in  the Fox's Tale . If Hathcyn had not been the owner, then he would have drunk the place dry in the drinks that were offered to him. Many folk had lost friends or kin to the spiders over the years and many felt a measure of vengeance had been served by the Fellowship. Hathcyn was always quick to point out that they he knew not if the great spider was dead but known seemed to care. They felt that in some way the Fellowship had struck a wound that those who suffered never thought possible. A measure of justice had been served and taken as a collective point of pride.

There was much to do when he returned home and for a while the Beorning begged off many tasks and needs. The story of the journey was told many times in many nights. Though Hathcyn was able to take a break from ordinary cares. The wound he suffered was excuse enough and he felt no guilt and none was laid upon him. So he wandered the hills and forests of the lands about the green stone, and at night he ran as a fox gaining more insight into the land and a measure of peace. The time was not wasted, for it lessened the burden on his heart and the terrible sights he witnessed faded in his mind. The lessons were still there but the horror and shock of the spider layer and the vile servants of the spiders were less sharp in his mind. He no longer imagined that he smelled the rot of Mirkwood in his nose and the green fields and clean land did much to soothe his soul.

Also, Grimbeorn's words in the wood had not been in jest. Word spread far and wide that Hathcyn Foresthelm was named Thane of the Green Stone Land. He now had greater responsibilities as a leader among the Beornings. When he spoke or gave directions it was readily obeyed as a command and not a suggestion. His authority grew as did the requirements on his time. His first order of bussiness was to see to the woods and the road. He had been quietly working and making the inn a hiring point for trusted caravan guards and escorts through the wood. Now he also made calls for Spider hunters. Those who did not want to sign on to a long journey in the wood now found good money in the hunting of spiders. Hathcyn had spoken to the other holders in the area and together they placed a bounty on spiders. To entice the wayward but the skilled to direct their talents in positive ways. Soon as word spread the Fox's Tale became the gathering point of the Spider Hunters. Woodmen and Beornings who ventured into the woods and returned to tell tales of spider fights and to collect bounties. Hathcyn was true to his word and offered greater than his share to encourage the hunting of spiders and his promise not to let them rest or draw near again to their people rang true.

The title of thane brought new and different challenges as well. While he had sat in many councils and was always quick to offer advice now, he was the one that needed to decide. Now he was the one that was called to act the responsibility and the consequences were his to carry. His first challenge was Athala.

The women had come out of the south and the lands of the Leofrings. Hathcyn was surprised to see here, but also happy to see that she had made it from the north alive and with her charges. She confirmed what Hathcyn had said about the people of the vales and this indicated to him that she had traveled some and somewhere had left the prince and his nurse. The Beorning didn't pry and perhaps this was a matter best left in secret. She did however, come seeking vengeance. And to do so she called upon the Thane of the Greenstone Land.

In her travels she had gone south and encountered the men of the Toft and Tyrant's Hill and she had crossed paths with their lord, Mogred. This man was known to Hathcyn and in all their dealing he was never truly sure where the man's loyalty lay or what his relationship with the ranger of Gondor had been. Athala had come to lay a charge at his feet. She claimed vehemently that it was Mogdred who had sold her into slavery and she asked for revenge and justice. She claimed that unsavory and distrustful people and creatures had been gathering. She had encountered them as they headed south. Where they were going she could not tell, but there was no dearth of troublesome men and villains in the lands around Tyrant's Hill. She petitioned and then pleaded with him to convince Grimbeorn and his father to go to war against these terrible men.

"War? We have had war enough and peace has only rested lightly on this land. Another war is a bold move to undertake. We have slavers to the north with a more pressing claim for our vengeance then these men in the south."

"Peace. I see your blood rising. I do not doubt your claim and I do not doubt that the past of such men is unpleasant and their future likely to be as well. I can not abide slavery and the keeping of people as chattel. Here you will find folk that were once slaves. Redeemed in the north and then decided to stay among us. I will not suffer a slave here, and I will shelter and aid any that come here. You have my word on that. War is another matter. I will not tell you I think the men of the south to be good men, there are good men among them, but I will not say that virtue is stronger than their vices. But as long as they raise their swords against the orcs and foul creatures of the south and they keep to their own lands I could not council war with them. I also will not tell you to set aside your revenge if it is well aimed, that is for you to decide. If however, you find that he has taken council with orcs or servants of the dark tower then this I would be keen to know and you would find me a more vocal ally."

They spoke for a time and Athala stayed several days. She did not agree with the Foresthelm, but she also understood his concerns. He had also not given her a flat no. The offer of aid was real but did little as a balm for revenge. But he had also given her an opportunity. Proof that the men of the south were in league with the orcs and not fighting them. This was something she could discover with her own skills.

This was not the last or the least trouble that the Thane of the Greenstone had to face. When winter was well on two men came to the tavern. They came with the sunset and spoke little to anyone and avoided questions. They sought only for the master of the house, but the Beornings gave them a cool reception and the Woodmen smelling trouble gave them a wide birth. One man at least was known to Hathcyn when he finally met them in the hall. Their dress and custom were from the North and not a few knew them as Viglundings, but love of Aestid and respect for Hathcyn stayed their hands from open conflict.

"KInslayer."

Hathcyn let the name pass without comment or emotion.

"I am Drughin, of the burnt hall folk."

His companion chimed in, "and apparently you left your manners there."

"Longspear, I am Thugan Chippedblade. You spared me in the woods, kinsmen to your wife you called us."
"I remember, and a keg of beer I promised with the hand of friendship from a wife's husband to her father."
"Your deeds, your words, and the admiration for Aestid are known among some of us. Even this lout, which is why we have come."

The two men then told their tale. One which confirmed part of the story of Athala. Men and others had gathered in the south. They said a longing to travel had taken hold of Viglund, but he dare not leave on such a trip instead he sent his son. And by slow and careful path they had gone. South councils were had and troubling meetings occurred in the fetid marsh of the southern forest.

"It was an ill trip Longspear and ill omened. There are some among us who keep Lady Aestid dear in our hearts, and some few who grudgingly respect you for your words and deeds. We have come to warn you, and to tell you that not all in the north are happy with the company our lord keeps."

"This is grave news and you took no small risk in coming here. I have not had the chance to feast with any of wife's folk. So you shall eat with us, and I will make good my offer of hospitality and the wifegeld of the barrel of beer."
The title was a double edged blade, a dangerous thing Hathcyn began to realize. He now had to carry a portion of his lord's burdens and he began to realize the great weight that Beorn and soon Grimbeorn would have to carry. His burdens grew as did his responsibility. Under his roof and by the care of Aestid, his wife, he grew strong again and despite the troubles and burdens knew great happiness.

 :ooc: Not my best narrative but I need to get this posted before I get overcome by life events.

:ooc: Very good, Tom!  Things are, as ever, afoot in the Vales. 

Quote from: tomcat on Jul 25, 2022, 07:26 AM:ooc: Well there is a pretty good set of rolls for Esgalwen's time of rest in Rhosgobel!

Weal & Woe result is :g: Good Fortune! Paul, I turn it over to you to let me know what Esgalwen's boon is to be.

:ooc: The ongoing theme for Esgalwen at the moment is a lack of a niche.  She's tried fitting in a number of places, none of which have worked out in the long term, and the fact that she hasn't put down roots anywhere seems to be nagging at her more and more.  It's time we fixed that, because she has distant kin right over there, who she's never met. 

But word has reached them a couple of times that one of their blood has come north from Gondor and has been kicking around Wilderland for more than a decade now.  They've tried previously to make contact, but the Rangers of the North rarely cross the Misty Mountains, and basically never go east of Mirkwood - they don't have that many people to send hither and yon, and their attention is focused on Eriador.  Plus, Esgalwen moves around a lot, so by the time they get word that she's been found somewhere, she's inevitably moved on. 

Now, though, one of the High Elves has gone eastward, and suggests that he will probably meet her in the lands of the Beornings.  I suggest that when Gwaithlim next meets Esgalwen, he will present her with a written invitation from Elrond Half-Elven to visit his house and there be formally presented to Damrod (https://rpg.avioc.org/boards/index.php?msg=26666) and received by her kin. 

Quote from: tomcat on Jul 25, 2022, 07:26 AMShe gains back 3 :vv: for visiting the Kingstone.

They should go together!  I'm happy to write up a scene, if you don't have time.

I will have time tomorrow but if you have some content to start the narrative, I welcome it.

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Jul 25, 2022, 09:02 AM:ooc:
Grimbeorn's W&W is  :g: so I'll account that as his ascendency to chieftain and general well-being of his people...
 <SNIP>  Otherwise, my narrative will come with Grimbeorn returning to the Carrock, ascendency, local issues, and transfer to Gwaithlim.

:ooc: A worthy fate for a worthy character.  For Grimbeorn's retirement without succumbing to the Shadow, Gwaithlim gets an extra 10 build points to spend using the table on page 76 of the core book.  Perhaps some social skills are in order, to balance him out a little?

 :ooc: Do we have any gaping holes in the groups skill sets?

It is a quiet afternoon, but for the soft wind through summer grasses, as Esgalwen and Arbogast approach the Kingstone.  Standing as it has done since it was raised by the Men of Rhovanion centuries ago, the high stone bears upon it the bleached skull of some great beast of elder days. 

"My companions out of Gondor and I spied this from afar as we came northward," the Ranger says, marking the first words since their idle chit-chat fell into comfortable silence that morning.  "I'm glad to finally have a chance to see it up close."

"Yes," agrees the Fire-watcher.  "I have not set eyes upon it before, though Bandy heard of it, I know not where, and we spoke at times of visiting it."  After a short pause, he adds "I think he would have liked this place." 

Esgalwen nods, thinking of the Hobbit's steading set likewise upon a hill, and wondering at how it might measure against a country neither of them has seen, save but in imaginings drawn forth by their old friend's tales.  "It is easier now, to speak of him," she says after a while. 

"It is." 

Arbogast had not the time, in those days after the lifting of the siege at Sweartmereseld, for more grief, though he had watched the small, shroud-wrapped form be lowered into the soil and had sung the mourning songs of the Beornings who were his friend's adopted folk.  Now, as each day seems to bring sweeter water and larger schools of fat fish to the Black Tarn, and the well-seasoned timbers of a new palisade are set strong in place, and his kinfolk drive the foundation pilings of a new redoubt into the mud of the lake-floor, it seems at last that there is time to set himself aside.  And so he has, of an evening, removed himself to a fireside on a quiet bank and spent time merely with his thoughts.  Staring out as the shadows lengthen over the waters, or watching the dawn over the wood in the east, it seems to him that there are far worse places that the bones of Wilone might lie, and fouler places where his friend might have fallen. 

"Did I tell you," he says, "that the folk of Woodland Hall have carven a statue of him?  Amaleoda asked me whether I thought it fit for it to stand on the roof of the lake-tower, when it is done, to hold his stone like a beacon." 

Esgalwen pictures this.  "What did you say?"

"Well, it is not a very good likeness of him, but I think he would nonetheless like the idea." 

Later, when a traveller's repast is finished and the pair lie full and content in the afternoon sun, the subject, to this point spoken around, is broached at last.  "Did you feel the same call?" Arbogast asks. 

"To come to the southern wood?" answers the lady of Gondor, her face darkening.  "I did."  The sensation is not one easily forgotten, by turns nagging, demanding and tugging, drawing her gaze ever southward to a dark place far beyond the brown hedge of Rhosgobel.  It called upon her to turn vagabond, leaving the constraints of a home, however temporary, for the freedoms of the wild. 

"What did you do?" 

She gives a half-shrug, not rising from the soft grass.  "Hathcyn sent a barrel of his mead as a yuletide gift, so I drank instead, and sang until I could hear the call no more."  She smiles at the memory.  "Radagast matched me drink for drink, and song for song, though I think we both lost the tune fairly quickly."  Looking over, she adds "what did you do?"

"I told Lindwine, of course.  She asked 'and will you answer this call?'  I said that I would not, for all the wine of Dorwinion or the gold of the Lonely Mountain.  So together we spat upon the call and went north instead, to abide for a while with my kin in Woodmen-Town.  My daughters had not before seen the Lamp of Balthi, and Lindwine had not met my mother." 

Esgalwen arches an eyebrow.  "Ah yes?  And how fared the two of them?" 

"Well, I am told that she makes for a wilful daughter-in-law, but it seems that the presence of granddaughters is sufficient gild for the offence." 

"And did you learn what you hoped?  For as I recall you spoke of questioning the elders of your folk." 

"Your memory is keen," he answers, and for a while says no more.  Esgalwen waits, well-accustomed to his silences, and eventually he speaks again.  "The blind crones and greybeards of the Hall of Balthi recalled a version of the story of that worthy hero wherein he and the Grey Wizard are confronted in the depths of Dol Guldur's dungeon by an evil spectre.  The wizard calls it a jailer, and it laments that, since the Necromancer has forsaken his erstwhile fortress, it has nothing more to torment.  Then it plays with them like a cat with a mouse as they search for the lamp.  Fortunately, they are able to drive it back with flame conjured from the wizard's staff, the waters of an underground stream, and finally by the light of the lamp itself.  It flees in the end, cursing both them and its former master." 

"And do you think this tale to be true?" 

"I think most of the old tales have a grain of truth within them.  Perhaps the Elves would know more, but then, perhaps not."  He stands, brushing the remains of the food from what was his lap, and looks at the skull upon the stone.  "I have heard that this is the skull of a great fire-drake, and that it will sound its roar once again when the rightful king of Rhovanion places his hand upon it." 

Esgalwen, standing also, folds her arms.  "And have you come here to press your claim to that title?" 

Arbogast grins and shakes his head.  "Leave riches and rulership to the lords east of the wood, or to Mogdred and his ilk.  I am king of no man, nor will I be." 

"Well," she answers, "perhaps there shall come a queen?"  And with that, she places her palm upon the ancient bone.  But no sound comes forth but the soft wind through summer grasses, and the two companions turn away and begin the walk home. 

:ooc: Doug, Matt, if you'd find it easier (i.e. less pressure to be creative when all manner of Life Stuff is happening) I can start the next adventuring phase and you can put some narrative in this thread as and when it suits you.

:ooc: Yes, Paul - feel free to start. I will be posting tonight (most definitely before weekend's end), but my narrative should have only a slight bit of bearing on our new chapter based on your request.

 :ooc: I plan to write up my stuff tonight, work has been kicking my butt and I'm trying to prepare for GenCon next week too (I'll be incommunicado Wed-Sun next week).

With naught but a look on his son's face as the Fellowship approached the great home, Beorn felt it in his heart and smelled upon the air.  A new wind blew, clear and crisp out of the West and he heard the far off cry of great birds wheeling about as they lurked upon high following the Fellowship out of the dark wood and on to his home.  He walked silently next to Grimbeorn for he knew all deep within -- the hoisting of burden, the weariness of loss, and the acceptance of what is nigh to come.

A crow cried out of the south and tug at the mind of Grimbeorn drew his head in that direction.  A finger of darkness pointed towards him and memory of a dark place, business unfinished and a fury that still burned.  "That is not the way forward for you, son.  That path leads you to a doom beyond any of our sight.  Look ahead and see that the Stone also calls, seek the ancestors and they will wrestle with you over the deep questions."  When the boy did not respond, the great man grabbed him by the breast with hand over heart, "The Carrock, boy -- go to the Rock!  Leave the shades to their schemes and dark deeds.
 Fear not, your absence will be seen but not felt."

His wits returned enough and he bid his friends an immediate farewell, leaving Hathcyn with his charge.  "I will return when you see me again -- keep a pint at the ready.  I fear the head might be too big for the helm 'fore long," he jests.

Though this whole trial was tragic in the extreme, Grimbeorn bore no ill will towards his friend.  Turning to him, he says, "Arbogast, keep that trinket as a reminder of our trial, our friendship, and most importantly your child.  When you return home, that first look from Lindwine and laugh of your children.  There is healing to be had there."

Finally Esgalwen, he gave into the moment, gifting her with one his great bear hugs.  "Though this path was of nightmares to me, out of it came a measure of peace.  I will forever loathe those putrid creatures and haven't completely squared with helping them with their ignoble work, a bit of the vengeance I harbored has been quenched and I can feel my mother's presence again.  There is a steadiness now that wasn't there before.  That was one of the aspects of our kindred spirit, the uneasiness of where to go and who you are.  The trials we have endured make you are no longer just of the South, but of the North now, too.  I ask that you set aside this indecision and questioning -- I hope you realize that you have found the answers here with us.  The Vales are within your blood, they seep in your skin now, just as you are within us.  Accept it," he said with a rare smile.  Looking over at Hathcyn seeing his friend already telling his tales to new ears, "You won't regret it... too much."

= = = = =

The sun beat down on the hard, flat surfaces of The Carrock heating them well above the air around.  This woke Grimbeorn from yet another fitful night of sleep.  Dreams of great birds tearing at him, bears clashing amongst themselves and with other beasts, dark swarms out of the mountains, hills, and forests surrounding him.  There was also memories or old stories turned memory as well. Visages of elders of his people long past speaking to him and him asking questions.  Many paths he tread about the rock in those days in the form of a bear, not to be confused with his father but near just as powerful.

This time he spent in this place of deep memory and knowledge cleansed his spirit but not fully for some of the Shadow shrouded his heart still.  He knew the time came close for him to return one last time as Grimbeorn, a thane of the Vales and seek his place in the chair of his father. (though this would prove little need as during this time the council of thanes met and voted unanimous for him)  On what would be his last night, the darkness was split by forks of lightning but no rain fell.  Winds blew, whipping up sand and stone that tore at him like claws and driving him to cover.  The clouds broke and the moon shone through.  As it reached its zenith, a final bolt from the heaven streaked down, striking the flat in front of the stone table near where Grimbeorn took shelter.

The power of the strike jolted him into a daze and his sight blurred.  A vision came to him in the form of the fractured pattern upon the stone morphing into a symbol, further transitioning into a standard upon a pole -- a great bear paw held palm out with the creases running like the Anduin and its tributaries, in the middle The Carrock.  A voice across the thunder boomed, "In your father's stead and with the blessing of the line, lead the people."  He woke in the morning to the chill of dew upon his skin and the sun not yet up.  The words "Lead the people" still rung in his ears.

= = = = =

It's been days since he left The Carrock, wandering the lands to the south of the stone until he met with the great road that connected the East to the West.  He spent some time near the road, occasionally meeting up with tradesmen and caravans of dwarves heading east towards Erebor or the less common traveler heading to the Misty Mountains.  But fate would have it as he was on the move towards Old Ford, he was beset by a pair of scoundrels, Viglundings by the look and smell of them.  Right away they knew who he was and engaged in all rage.  As you might expect, Grimbeorn soon had two new horses, equipment, and provisions plenty while the earth about drank greedily of the life surrendered by two men. Looking through their things and piecing what he'd heard from others upon the road, it seemed as though the Old Ford was again in the sights of enemies once again.  Galloping with all haste, he set forth unto the east.

Smoke rose from the horizon as he grew closer to the stronghold of the Beornings.  But, lo, the smoke did not rise from the bastion but in the distance at the borders of the fell boughs of Mirkwood.  There wasn't a bustle that he would have expected in the aftermath of an assault but it appeared a usual day of market and ferrying business. The city guard told him where he could find the city leaders and guardians, all on the other side of the river attending to the situation for apparently a few Viglunding spies were sent into the city searching for a means to allow their forces a means to gain entry and cross the river.  "Wouldn't you know it, an elf of the Last Homely House from across the Mountains, discovered their ruse and sent them on a merry goose hunt about the sewers right into our nightguard.  And he claims that he can't tell us apart," they laughed.  "Oh sir, I am without my wits today.  He said for you to 'make haste over cobble and current and rise anew for the stone sleeps ends and wolves howl in the reaches. His words, the master Gwaithlim, he made me memorize them.  How do you reckon he knew you were coming today?"

Leaving the guard and city of the west side, Grimbeorn punted the lowest spot of the Anduin in the Vales.  On the other side, he found the curious visitor and counselor not so long ago waiting for him at the dock. "Hail and well met, son of Beorn.  You received my message I see, the guard earned well his coin."

"Aye he did.  What is this of wolves you speak?" he asks disembarking.  Gwaithlim shows him the way to the captain of the guard and city leaders.  "A force of your kin, I believe you call Viglundings in your tongue, sought to take this place through guile and deceit.  A few spies were sent in to seek a means by which they would enter and no doubt slaughter those within under the cover of night and sleep.  I found them and reversed their fortune.  The city guard snuck out to size up the force and engage it. The smoke in the distance is a last ditch screen to deter pursuit as the enemy, though overwhelming, was outmatched in strength of arms.  It was an act of desperation on their part."

Grimbeorn took in what he was told and pondered a bit.  "I will see what I can find out from the others and consider what is next.  I must get bring this news back to my father and the thanes.  And I would ask that you join me as your counsel no doubt and your skill would prove of great help."

:ooc: I am going to write my narrative shortly, but I was wondering if Paul (or Matt or Tom) can answer a couple questions. It is not that I have not paid attention to our game, but it has been going for so long that my player knowledge (and what our characters know) has become kind of gray.

1) Was Viglund killed and his sons now rule his broken lands? Or was the son killed and Viglund rules a disgraced house, while scheming?

2) Mogdred took the Toft as his own now, too, correct? So his folk rule from Amon Bauglir to the town? And was there a gathering there (a moot)?

3) Are the Viglundings conspiring with Mogdred?

I think Esgalwen might be seriously second-guessing her assistance that she gave Mogdred, when Minas Tirith sent her north with a wagon of armor and weapons upon her request. I want to include it in my Fellowship Phase narrative but I want to make sure my brain is correct. Understand that after I ask these questions, I will be perusing the old posts.

Viglund and his son are both alive. In my narrative I mentioned that Hathcyn learned the son went south to the calling. What came out of that is unknown.

The people of the Toft joined with Mogdred and took him as their leader. I believe there was a gathering that happened and chose him as the leader of both settlements.

Hathcyn has also charged Athala, if she wants his support in revenge, to determine if they are in league with the Orcs.

We know Viglund is wirking with orcs and possibly other dark men further north in gundabad. 

:ooc: Thanks, Tom.  I checked up on the details of Grimbeorn's visit but got sucked into reading through the scene again and ran out oftime to post.

I will add to Tom's info above that Mogdred drove out the old King of the Toft, Vidugalum, forcing him to take his followers north and (ultimately) try to seize Stánford.

The days passed into autumn and Esgalwen did not travel far from Rhosgobel, save to occasionally hunt with the hunters, or fish and trap with the trappers. The rest of her time was spent in craft with the matrons and maidens of the village. It eased her mind to participate in these mundane tasks and it gave her a feeling of accomplishment. After the dark journey into the realm of the spiders and the utter despair of the forest, Gwen needed to ease her mind.

There had been little contact with her companions and even the Brown Wizard was rarely seen. Grimbeorn and Hathcyn had returned north to their perspective homes and lives, and Arbogast had followed the trail back to the Black Tarn. It had been four weeks since the two of them had spent time in talk and seeking out the Kingstone, and Esgalwen still felt the rift that was now between them.

The time she had spent with Arbogast on the hill had been pleasant, but Esgalwen was aware of the change. Things were different ever since the lake and the freeing of Duskwater's spirit. She could never tell Arbogast, of course, as she did not know its cause. They had suffered greatly, each enduring the strains of their journey and the horror of the spiders. They had almost given all for this task and Arbogast turned on them in the end. Was it his plan all along? Did he intend on using them to achieve his goal of vengeance? And then to turn his weapon on them.

Madness had taken him, Esgalwen explained to herself for his actions, but still something was now different in her heart. Even as she had hugged him and said goodbye, she felt a distance for this man that she thought of as a brother.

Time is all we need, she told herself. We all need time from each other.

:ooc: More to come... still putting this one together in my brain.

Quote from: tomcat on Jul 30, 2022, 03:56 PMEsgalwen still felt the schism between them.

:ooc: Aaaw.  I felt like they were pretty close at the Kingstone.  Guess I didn't know her like you know her.

Quote from: Eclecticon on Jul 30, 2022, 06:05 PM:ooc: Aaaw.  I felt like they were pretty close at the Kingstone.  Guess I didn't know her like you know her.

:ooc: No, your post was great, Paul. I am just going with the idea that the strain of this last adventure has caused her to pull back. Maybe she is hurt by his action, even though it was a bout of madness. Maybe she is suffering through her own madness that she suffers.

I don't intend to have anything lasting - just working with some inter-character tensions.

Paul, I was thinking...receive title is thematically what happened, but mechanically that only allows Hathcyn to use his standing in a people other than his own.

I think my actual undertaking should have been Raise Standing and thematically receive a title. I think I have the treasure for that so should probably go with that instead. Thoughts?

:ooc: I was holding off saying the same thing 'cause I didn't want to appear persnickety.  Go right ahead.

The Fall had colored Rhosgobel in bright oranges, reds, and yellows, as well as brown. The winds blew colder, and leaves rattled and shivered, but it was a happy time for the settlement. The years planting garnered much and Radagast's many beehives were thick with honey. The herds had been fruitful, too, and there were many sheep to shear, and the winter would not be lean of meat.

Rhosgobel celebrated and the men and women of the town gathered in autumnal colors and wore costumes of varied kinds, as the feasts began. The celebration would last for a full week, at the end of Blooting which would lead into the Yulemath, as it was called in the Vale (and as far as Bree in the West) but Gondorians knew it as November.

Esgalwen enjoyed the gathering and the peace that came with folks being happy and celebrating their achievements - though they be simple and fleeting. The Dúnadan woman dressed in a raiment of brown and gold and adorned her hair with Fall flowers and leaves. Always fetching to the eye, Esgalwen garnered many affectionate looks from those men within Rhosgobel that had yet to court or take wives. She allowed herself to dance their jigs and caroles, taking a partner at need, until she was winded, and her laughter rang.

The days of the festival passed.

The women gathered during the day in sewing groups, while wool was carded and combed, then loomed. At the same time, the men gathered in contests of strength and agility, and Esgalwen delighted in both. She sat with the women and shared stories of her mother and grandmother, and the many pieces that they had sewn, along with the more advanced tools available in Minas Tirith for these tasks. The women of Rhosgobel marveled at her words and some shared a look with the other that surely Esgalwen exaggerated.

With the men's games, the Ranger mostly watched, though she did take part in contests of archery. But it was evident to her that the contests were for the men and though they enjoyed her presence, her participation was meagerly accepted. And so Esgalwen would sit in the round of watchers and enjoy the wrestling, archery, and axe work. She would study the tactics of these men, to learn new techniques for herself, but to also understand them in combat. Esgalwen did not fear that the folk of Rhosgobel would ever be her enemy, but the commonalities of the tribes of the Vale were clear and combat styles were shared.

The last day of the celebration saw the roasting of a great sow and many plates of food were prepared. Sweets there were, too, as well as hardy cups of honey-mead. It was the perfect ending to the week of activities before the quiet of winter fell over the land. Esgalwen entered the hall. The acrid smell of smoke filled the chamber, as well as the earthy smell of people, for it was filled with many celebrants. She moved to where a large keg was tapped and filled her cup with mead. Once done, she moved to find a place on a bench where she could hear a group of musicians play a bawdy song. The mead had a quick effect and soon Esgalwen was laughing along with others at the two bards' tale.

"Yea, over there," said a voice nearby. "She is sitting in the front."

Esgalwen heard the voice but paid it no mind, for there were several women within the hall and she did not know that she was the subject. Moments later, a tall Elf was before her causing Esgalwen to choke a bit on the mead she swallowed. The Elf was tall and unique of eyes, and she had ornaments of gold that adorned her clothing. There were colors painted on her skin and the Ranger was at a loss for words.

"Hello," came a slur. "You are Esgalwen, of the Company of the Helm?"

"I am," answered the Dúnadan – still wondering how an Elf could be in Rhosgobel and no gossip of it had passed through the people. "Forgive me, but who are you and why do you seek me."

A relaxed and happy smile parted the She-elf's face, and the eyes were a bit dreamy. Esgalwen wondered at the possibility of an Elf being drunk on mead, for rumors spoke that those people seldom were affected by alcohol. She must have enjoyed a good sum, thought the Ranger.

"I am Luindîs and I have come seeking a story... well... your story. The story of Duskwater and her rescue, told by someone that was there... not weaved words in taverns and halls along the road. I want the story of the freeing of Duskwater from one who was there. I want the story from you."

Esgalwen eyed the Elf warily for a moment and said, "You are welcome to my story, though I know not why it is of interest to the Silvan folk, for that is what I presume you are, yes?"

Luindîs did not answer Esgalwen's question but took a seat next to her, "I have traveled far, and I would dearly love for you to recount this tale from beginning to end. Once your tale is told, I will reveal my interest and then you may judge whether your tale has been given its value."

Again, Esgalwen looked at her in wonder, but nodded. "Come, let us find a quieter place here and we can talk. You can know all that I have seen."

The two females moved from the bards' stage and made their way to the far side of the hall where the light of the fire was dim, and the raucous laughter was less heard. Esgalwen lit a small beeswax candle that sat upon the table and stared across at the Elf's strangely colored eyes.

"T'was this Spring past that my friend, Arbogast of the Black Tarn, who some call the Fire-watcher, approached me and my other companions, along with the Brown Wizard. They spoke of a parliament that would soon occur within Mirkwood – a terrible gathering of spiders.

"Arbogast proposed an idea that mayhaps, the soul of Duskwater – one of the River Maidens – might be bargained for if an appropriate offering could be made. Radagast hinted that her soul was trapped... trapped by Tyulqin the Weaver. Together the two made the case that if a fitting treasure could be found – ideally a gem of great worth – the spiders would allow us to speak within their parliament and perhaps we could barter for her release.

"It was a horrific idea, of course, but after long debate, we decided to make this perilous journey. And so, with the warmth of Spring just starting to melt the snows in the northern vale, we started our journey to the old city of the Éothéod..."

Esgalwen told her tale, and it spanned the evening, but Luindîs was ever enthralled. She asked few questions but always urged the Ranger to continue. The hall was quiet, save for the sound of the sleeping, by the time the Dúnadan had finished, and weariness hung on her own brow.

"Now I ask you, Luindîs... why does my tale interest you so?"