Fatigue Roll (TN 14)



Corruption Roll

Bandy broods over his ill fortune as he carefully places a fat slug between his teeth, trying not to let his tongue come in contact with the squishy, warm blob. Radagast the Brown, more like Radagast the Cracked for leading us into this forsaken place. And who is Arbogast to stand between that troll and I. I am no child who needs a nanny, he thinks crossly. I was right after all. Closing his eyes in preparing to bite down, Arbogast's angry voice draws Bandy attention. He turns to see the Woodman dangling a slug before the ranger as he accuses her of disloyalty.

"Arbogast!" the Hobbit hisses. "What right have you to accuse Esgalwen of treachery when she seeks lost companions? Would you forsake us so quickly if we disappeared? Look where we are, he says pointing vaguely at the dismal swamp. Look where we are going. He lifts head toward the eerie glow emanating from Sorcery Hill. You sow division when our very lives depend upon the fellowship we have created."

The long day of traveling had taken it's toll on Rorin, though he would never allow his companions to see such weakness in him. His boots were soggy and caked with some corruption that he could not clean off and blisters were forming on his feet. But despite this, Rorin continued his steady marching pace that had been drilled into him since he was a recruit in Dain's army. When crossing a particularly rotted part of the Fenbridge, a board snapped under his foot and he fell partway through the bridge, much to the amusement of some in the group. Rorin heard the quiet laughter of his friends and resented it. For the rest of the day Rorin steeled himself and walked in the front of the group without speaking a word to anyone.

Quote from: Eclecticon on Oct 05, 2015, 07:34 PMAs the slugs are ready, he hands them out to his starving companions - first to Radaghast, with considerable deference, then Bandobras, Grimbeorn, Orophin and Rorin.  But he holds a final slug away from Esgalwen's hands.  "Not you," he says.  "Not a single morsel shall you have from me, friend of Mogdred.  For a year passed while none heard from you - a year in which the Men of Tyrant's Hill robbed and raided my folk.  With my own eyes have I seen you receive instructions from his men, you who searched for your kin for so long yet find but one, and that only after his recent death!  Mogdred prepares for war, that much is clear to me, how can it be otherwise to you?  If you are to have meat tonight, I would have you tell me where his first blow will fall.  On my home at Black Tarn Hall, perhaps?  And while I moulder here, lost in this thrice-cursed bog!" 

Esgalwen felt her cheeks flush, as if the Woodman had slapped her hard across the face. How dare you, she thought as anger rose to usurp her feelings of surprise. For a moment, the Ranger thought of drawing Ardil's sword and cleaving Arbogast's hand from his wrist before driving the blade through the man's gut.

Quote from: Bandobras on Oct 06, 2015, 11:23 AM"Arbogast!" the Hobbit hisses. "What right have you to accuse Esgalwen of treachery when she seeks lost companions? Would you forsake us so quickly if we disappeared? Look where we are, he says pointing vaguely at the dismal swamp. Look where we are going. He lifts head toward the eerie glow emanating from Sorcery Hill. You sow division when our very lives depend upon the fellowship we have created."

Bandy's interruption gave her a moment longer. And she took it, allowing herself to breath, close her eyes and take a step back from the Woodman. When she looked at the Woodman again, she nearly wept. Listening to the Hobbit's words, she knew the answers to his questions in her heart. The taint of this land was already clouding Arbogast's judgment. And the Shadow is already searching for a home in your heart, she chided herself.

With sadness, Esgalwen backed away further, "It is okay, Bandy. I will answer Arbogast's accusations." She removed and laid aside her pack, and took the time to remove her sword belt and carefully set down Ardil's blade, fearful of what she might do should the weapon be close at hand.

Rising again, she faced Arbogast. Her voice -- through frayed by grief, anger, and hunger -- was controlled. "Arbogast, you have charged me with being a friend of Mogdred. You have spoken truthfully, for I am indeed his friend. I spend much of the last year, when not wandering the Woods in search of my kin, in the company of the Lord of Tyrant's Hill's. He has shown me unmerited kindness, providing me, a stranger in the land, shelter and food from his table and good council in my search for my companions, though I have nothing to offer in return.

"And you have spoken truthfully when you say the Mogdred and his men have raided and robbed your folk. What you say is true, I have seen the spoils of his looting with my own eyes. And, as I have eaten from his table, I am guilty of living off his ill-gotten gain... as are you, my friend, when you found refuge under Mogdred's lodge.

"You have charged me with receiving instruction from Mogdred's men. Here, Firewatcher, your eyes and ears have not discerned clearly. I have received no instructions and Mogdred's will is his own and he keeps his own council... as do I. Had you listened carefully, you would have noted how the chamberlain guarded his tongue on Mogdred's whereabouts, and how he kept watch in the shadows to ensure we would not stir up trouble in his master's house. He took a risk allowing us to pass through his master's lands with so few questions and no escort. Why do you think that is, Arbogast?

"It is because, though Tyrant's Hill follows Lord Mogdred, not all within her gates fully believe their lord's raids against the Woodmen are noble and good. Had you listened well, Arbogast, you would have heard him mention that his master thinks more clearly and kindly when in my company. Why? Because I argued with Mogdred many a long nights to turn away from his raids on your people and keep his focus on the true threat in these accursed Woods -- these orcs, spiders and worse filth.

"Here me well, Firewatcher. I believe Mogdred to be a just lord. I agree with Mogdred that much of the prosperity that your people experience has been at the cost of Tyrant Hill's men. I know well the price Mogdred's men have paid. I have seen the wounds caused from orcs' blades and spiders' bites. Where have the men of the Woods and Mountains been while Tyrant Hill kept the shadow at bay? Were they not building their lodges and raising their crops and drinking in their feast halls these last good days? Should not your kin share in these blessings? No, the will of the Mountains and Woods was to cast Mogdred and his people aside... twice abandon he and his people were. Though I can understand the Necromancer's treachery, and do not understand how their kin could abondon them. You once believed that too, Arbogast, when you spoke clearly at the Folk-moot. You laid claim to your own friendship to Tyrant's Hill when you sought refuge under their lodge.

"But know this, friend: Though I believe Mogdred's cause just, I do not believe it noble or good. Though your people ruled against Mogdred, I still have hope that the clans might be reconciled and strong together again to face these troubles. I still believe Mogdred has some good still left in him. While you were building lodges, I stayed up fighting for your people... for you, Arbogast, never knowing if it would be the night that Mogdred would grow tired of my council and send me away or worse. For you and your people, Arbogast, I did this.

"You have eyes and ears, Firewatcher, but you have not discerned the truth, friend. Though it is of no business of yours, Aldwyn is a friend of mine who was passing on information I had asked of him in my search for my own kin..." Esgalwen paused for a moment to stoop down and fish out the scroll case containing the map she received. She tossed it gently to Arbogast. "Here, friend. May your eyes see more clearly. It is a map of the surrounding land so that I may find my way. I did not think that it would concern you so, friend, or I would have shown you sooner."

Hesitantly, Arbogast takes the map from Esgalwen's hand.  His own begins to shake as he regards Aldwyn's careful work, and he sits down heavily without finding the strength to reply. 

When his voice does come, it is quiet and despairing.  "That I should have so wronged one who has come so far from home, and who has ventured into this dark place, at risk to life and soul, only to ensure the safety of her friends!  Esgalwen, my shame is great.  In my folly I have come to see enemies about me when the true foe lies without the fire-light.  In my heart, I believe as you do - that the folk of Tyrant's Hill are yet my kin, and that there must be peace and good will between us.  For the darkness that gnaws at Mogdred's heart, as it does at mine, would have us divided, and would batten itself upon kin-shed blood." 

Wearily, he meets the Ranger's eyes.  "You have lifted a darkness from my eyes that I allowed to settle.  If you have done as much for Mogdred, then I am greatly in your debt." 

He avoids the gaze of his fellow-travellers, preferring the dance of the flames, and speaks that night not another word. 




That was cool.  If this were a Hillfolk game, it'd be raining drama tokens at this point. 

Bandy sits beside his friend and silently watches the fire. Taking his pipe from its sack, he slowly, ritualistically fills the bowl and with a hot ember lights the fragrant weed. Puffing slowing, he wonders whether the fellowship can survive the journey to that dark place he will not name aloud.

Esgalwen returned Arbogast's gaze, allowing the man to speak. She replied with simply a nod, not patronizing or dismissive, but rather a nod of acknowledgement and grace. Wisdom told her there were no more words that needed to be spoken to the Woodman. Gathering her things, the Ranger found a space near the fire to lay down.

"My friends, if I may, let me take the final watch."

Assuming noone objects

Esgalwen lay her head against her pack and tried to let her body, mind, and soul find rest. She found herself drawn to a fond memory of her mother, brushing her hair and singing a lullaby of her people. Soon enough sleep overtook her.

With Matt on his honeymoon, I am going to roll his tests:

Fatigue
TN 14 travel ♦♦♦○○○

1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 3d6 : 3, 6, 3, total 12

Corruption
TN 16 wisdom ♦♦♦

1d12 : 1, total 1
Rolled 3d6 : 1, 6, 4, total 11

And now for Orophin

Fatigue
TN 14 travel ♦♦♦○○○

1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 3d6 : 6, 5, 5, total 16

Corruption
TN 16 wisdom ♦♦

1d12 : 4, total 4
Rolled 2d6 : 2, 4, total 6

Here are the overall results of the tests that Tom just requested. Remember to update your character sheets when you make tests. You should update for the following:

• to add weariness
• mark a success for an AP
• to add shadow
• or whatever else might affect your sheet 

When you do roll tests and it does affect your sheet, please include in your next post the  character sheet updated icon. Thanks!

I think I have everyone current, but I am not sure about AP's. You may want to audit all your rolls in each thread for this Adventure phase. Remember, you get an AP in each category for a standard success; a second one in each category for a Great/Extraordinary success; a third in each category can only be awarded by the loremaster.

Arbogast passed travel with Great success   
Esgalwen passed travel with Extraordinary success   
Rorin failed travel gains 2 weariness   
Bandy passed travel with Great success   
Grimbeorn passed travel with Great success   
Orophin passed travel with Great success   


Arbogast failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (5)   
Esgalwen failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (1)   
Rorin failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (3)   
Bandy passed Corruption   
Grimbeorn failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (2)   
Orophin failed Corruption gains 1 temporary shadow (3)   

To his companions, Orophin seemed untouched by the haunted wood. Yes, he had been quiet, but he had not complained of their road or hunger. Even his clothes were mostly unsoiled as the light-footed Silvan Elf did not sink into the quags, as did the others. Wherever he could find firm earth, even if it were a muddy bog, Orophin stepped lightly over while the others sunk up to their knees. He climbed the huge gnarled roots as if they were ladders in his home. In this way was he able to keep in advance of the party's guide and help to lead from one patch of dry land to another.

Though his demeanor belied his thoughts, in truth the Elf was feeling the torture of the wood and land. Orophin was only one-hundred and seven years of age, having only seen a short span of the current Age, but his memories ran deep - as did all Elves. Long before the beginning of the First Age, the Elves of the Great Journey traveled westward through the lands of Middle-earth from whence they had awoken. Coming to the Great River Anduin and the high peaks of the Misty Mountains, some of the Elves of the clan of the Teleri fell away from the journey, and settled in the woodlands east of the Mountains. These were the original Silvan Elves, who lived on either side of the River. At this time in their history, all of this people still lived close together, with some dwelling in the land that would later be called Lórien, and the others settling around the hill of Amon Lanc in the far south of Greenwood the Great.

It must have been in the time these Elves were living closely together that the Silvan Elvish language appeared. As history passed, the Elves would move away from one another, and mingle with other Elvish peoples, so that the Silvan branch of Elvish would eventually become extinct. Nonetheless, relics of that ancient tongue survived in some well-known place-names and personal names, such as Caras Galadhon, Amroth and even Lórien itself.

The Silvan Elves dwelt in their twin woodland realms for many centuries, but in the Second Age the emerging power of Sauron began to drive them apart. Oropher was the ruler of the Elves who dwelt in the Greenwood, and he began to seek safety by moving his people northwards, away from Amon Lanc and away from the Silvan Elves who lived to the west of the Great River. Thus were the people separated and so did Greenwood began to feel the ravages of the Shadow. Soon it was renamed Mirkwood and the Silvan Elves had retreated as far north as they could.

Orophin looked at the forest and the land. The smell of decay filled his nose and lungs. No birdsong filled the air. He was not surrounded by a living forest. The Elf did all he could to maintain his hope. I cannot journey here again, he thought to himself. How did his companions suffer such a place?

But he realized that they, too, were being dragged down into the Shadow, just as the bogs wished to drag them under the earth. When they had made camp and he then watched the Woodman turn on the Gondorian, he knew that they were close to despair. It was Bandobras who brought them back! The happy-spirited Hobbit from across the mountains. What a pleasant folk, thought Orophin, the world should be filled with more of his kind and certainly it would be a better place.

With Arbogast's concession to Esgalwen, Orophin broke his silence. It was an old song of his people, but it told of the forest in its youth when the First Age was still new. It told the tale in his kin's original tongue, and though none could understand it, it painted images of happier places and happier moments within their minds.

---

Song
TN 14 song ♦♦○○○○

1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 2d6 : 3, 1, total 4

He is going to activate his trait Merry, which I am going to allow to reduce the TN by one step to TN 12 - thus he succeeded.

---

Orophin did not sing loud, as he did not want to call down upon them any horrors that might be near. He did sing with strength and passion and his propensity to be merry shined through. His companions could not help but smile - even under the shadow of Sorcerer's Hill.