The days passed at Mountain Hall.

The companions were busy with many matters, from training with Hartfast's people, to making plans on how to re-route the river and flood the mine in need, to the forging of a treasure.

Rorin's knowledge was most sought in the plans of moving earth and stone to create a trap, which would harm the goblins with the greatest impact, but his mind was bent on the task before him - creating Ceawin's helm. Still, he would pull the metal from the forge, wipe his brow and make time for those that insisted. Hartfast was notorious for his interruptions, and the Chief of Mountain Hall felt it was his right. The Dwarf faced each interruption with grace and tact, only to tell the mountain-men that building a dam and re-routing water would take time - more than they had available - but he would help them with drafting the plans.

Grimbeorn also met with the master of Mountain Hall and it appeared some grievances were assuaged and that with the new year each of their folks would try to work together to make a more profitable arrangement for both parties.

It was three weeks into their visit with their new patron that they sat around the table after a long day's work, enjoying the cup and plate of Hartfast's kitchen. The man was deep within his own cup and so began to confide in his new companions.

At the Company's insistence, Hartfast spoke of the threats to his lands. "Where is any man truly safe?" asked the crag-faced man, "Where he plants his feet and grips his axe." He shrugged, "The mountains, you know, offer us a constant challenge but from the lands to the west of the River Anduin, too, we watch. Aye, from those lands you call home! Yes, there's something afoot down south, in the Gladden Fields. There's always trouble in those parts, around Dwimmerhorn. I pay it little heed, though, as I've worries closer to home."

The Dwimmerhorn, he explained, was an old fort made by 'evil folk' that sat on a stony hillock in the marshes. "At least, it usually did – Dwimmerhorn moved of its own accord, they say, and it is never in the same place twice. It is said by my folk that the fort was built by servants of the Necromancer many years ago. It was abandoned by the enemy several times in the past, but it draws dark things to itself, and is never empty for long. From what I know, it was somewhere in the western part of the Gladden Fields. Local hunters may know more. That puffed-up trapper Magric, for example, knows the marshes very well, even if he is too big for his britches."

The companions were intrigued and asked for more tales of Dwimmerhorn. Hartfast called over another one of the greybeards who sat about the table. The older man said that the marsh fortress was atop a 'great black rock' and that there was only one way up, a narrow path that was watched by many eyes.

"The fort is always well protected. Orcs and worse things dwell there, and it is reputed to be haunted. Tales speak of dungeons and treasures delved deep into the black rock below. Some say the rock fell from the sky. Some of the hunters who came to Mountain Hall to trade had not been seen in several weeks. Maybe something happened to them in the marsh," the old man ended his tale.

Hartfast broke in with a laugh, "If I had time and men to spare, then I would look into the matter, but there is no time..."

A sharp cry was heard to echo outside, in the gorge where Mountain Hall lay. The chieftain and his men stood quickly, his men-at-arms running from the hall.

---

I think everyone is done updating their characters, yes?

Also, your FELLOWSHIP PHASE undertakings may be complete, or may be part of our ongoing story - I will work them in at need, so that it all makes sense.

Fatigued by his efforts with the warriors of Mountain Hall through the day, Arbogast is dispirited through dinner.  He broods on the words of Hartfast and the elders.  These stories of the Dwimmerhorn are most likely a farce.  A shadow play of the Enemy to keep the attention of Men focused on distant lands, and not on the threats gathering at their door.  Our host is right not to send scouts into trackless fenlands to find a place that is said to shift and move!   

When the cry is heard, he does not feel the energising terror that gripped him at the start of summer when Black Tarn Hall was raided.  Rather, it is an intense irritation that propels him to his feet.  "Come, my friends," he says.  "Let us arm ourselves and discover what bloody work awaits us this night." 

And tonight, he thinks I will take the time to don armour, for I have been reckless enough already in the service of my folk.

"It's about time!" growled Grimbeorn.  "The soreness and idle shall drop from my bones with some heads to cleave."

  Have we received our weapons back or are they still in the keep of the doorwarden?

Rorin, tired after a day hard at work in front of the forge-flames rolled his eyes when the battle call went out. He took a moment to finish the pint of ale that he was in the middle of before slamming the tankard down on the table. He stood, loosened his belt by one notch, and made his way out of the hall. All along the way he grabbed particularly appetizing morsels of the food and dropped them into a handkerchief before tying it off into a pouch to take with him.

As he drew closer to where the men at arms were gathering though, his irritation was replaced by the calm demeanor of a soldier as he prepared himself for the worst.

I will post tonight, guys. It's been a busy week.

Bandy stood as his companions exited the room. He was concerned by the blithe and carefree way in which they headed off to kill and maim others. He could not soon forget the battle wrath of Arbrogast, but this lack of feeling seemed almost worse to him.

The Halfling slowly strung his bow and girded upon himself the bag of arrows he wore from his shoulder. He would not allow his friends to stand alone, but he would draw no joy from the battle.

Quote from: GandalfOfBorg on Mar 09, 2016, 04:07 AM Have we received our weapons back or are they still in the keep of the doorwarden?

Hey Matt, yes - after you guys achieved the success during your encounter with Hartfast and he granted leave for you all to stay, your weapons were returned. Now that he is a patron, you guys are able to carry anywhere within the community.

On the attached map:

A - gathered villagers
B - burning granary
C - direction that the goblins are fleeing

---

The doors opened onto a familiar scene - at least to Arbogast. Fire and smoke raged from one of the town's granaries, while men of the Mountain Hall chased after an escaping group of goblins. The shadow creatures were scrambling up the steep mountain walls to the east of the hall, in an attempt to get away. Arrows hissed in the early twilight of dusk and spears were thrown.

To the west, near the river, another gathering of folk were seen pointing down into the ravine in which the river ran.

Hartfast roared in his drunken state, "CHASE THEM DOWN LIKE THE BEASTS THEY ARE! LET LOOSE THE DOGS!"

His personal guard obliged him - some running to the kennels, while others gave pursuit of the goblin raiders.

Rorin surveyed the scene, then waited for Harfast to finish yelling his orders, then approached the drunken man.

"My Lord, I've a word of advice if you would hear it."


  Edit:

I'll go ahead and roll battle as well.

Battle roll:

Fire two volleys as they run for clear open shot?

"Speak, Dwarf! There is no time for deference."

Rorin could hear the slurred speech and wondered at Hartfast's ability to lead.

---

Yea, Tom, you will be able to get two volleys in the Opening Volley thread that I will post in a few minutes.

Esgalwen Battle test
TN 14 battle ♦♦○○○○

1d12 : 6, total 6
Rolled 2d6 : 5, 1, total 6

Combat Advantage

Name	Success	Advantage dice
Arbogast
Bandy	Yes	1
Esgalwen	No	--
Grimbeorn
Rorin	No	--

Grimbeorn doesn't wait for a response from Mountain Hall's chief, he barrels out after the Woodmen charging towards the fleeing orcs.  "They're running right into a trap!" he thinks.  "Those arsons and looters are just bait."  With his newly recovered shield in hand and ancestral axe in the other, the Beorning moves to protect the unprepared men.

  

Arbogast surveys the scene as he finishes fastening his armour.  As Hartfast bellows into the night, he seizes the arm of a young man rushing past.  "Gather as many as you can and put out the fire," he says, pointing to the granary.  "Save what can be saved."


Battle roll:

"You should chase these cowardly monsters back to the dark pits from which they came, show them no quarter. But I urge you, do not follow them under the ground! Out here we are at an advantage, but we know not what awaits us in their domain. I've seen this tactic many times before with my own people, they pretend to flee but will turn the tide once your men are underground. Let us stand watch and bottle them up underground, then wait to attack when your men are fully prepared. I beg you, do not be rash."

Ooc: hell yeah I got an advantge die!