Pursuit - the Fugitive

[tomcat]

BAM! With     she gets an extraordinary success

• 3 successes

OUTCOME - Extraordinary success (unless Paul has other things, or needed scores up his sleeve    )

[tomcat]

Esgalwen listened while Brunhild continued to speak fondly of her husband. She felt a pain inside - one shared with the widow.

Brunhild was now alone, childless and husband-less. She had naught left in the world and would be a widow for the rest of her life, lest some new suitor desired her. Esgalwen was not sure if the Beorning culture freed a woman of her marital bonds upon death of a husband. Though she had not experienced death in such a way, Esgalwen was beginning to know this loneliness.

When the woman had finished and her heavy sobs resided, the Ranger placed a hand on her back. She spoke softly, "Brunhild you have lost your husband..do not lose your brother, too. Men of Beorn's house have been slain. Oderic is held as suspect of this foul deed. If you know where he is, let us speak with him. Let us return him to Beorn's house so he might be given the chance to safely speak, and thus be properly judged. We do not want to see him hunted down."

Esgalwen waited another moment, "Please."

[Posterboy]

  I don't have much to add here...

Tate took up on his heart and soul as much pain as Brunhild was willing to share. Her grief was not unknown to the man of the Lake. Many-a woman had been left destitute and childless by a husband long awhile with war or trying to scratch a-living together only to be cut down too soon.

Tate looked to his partner. Esgalwen seemed to intuit the young woman's pain as well and tried once more to press Brunhild for information. For his part, Tate tried to encouraged the Beorning woman through his body language and eyes to be courageous and ask the Ranger's question.

[Eclecticon]

Brunhild wipes her eyes, businesslike again, and perhaps ashamed to have let strangers see her grief so plainly.  "Yes, of course," she says, barely a trace of bitterness in her voice.  "You have come here for him, and not for me.  He was here, though I have said as much to no other living soul, nor shall I again.  He said that he would go into the lone lands across the river, and find there what doom there may be for him.  None of the fishermen's boats are missing, so someone will have ferried him across.  I do not know who, for precious few friends had he." 

She stands and brushes down her apron, then bends and tenderly blows out the candle.  It is with no small surprise that Esgalwen and Tate realise that night si rapidly falling, and the graveside is nearly dark now that the candle no longer shines.  "You will hear as much from the others, I have no doubt, so it is well that you hear it from me first: Oderic is proud and wrathful.  Having once escaped the justice of Beorn, I doubt that he will willingly submit to you, or to any man.  I do not think that I shall see my brother again, alive or otherwise."

She bows her head, a picture of formal manners.  With a slight shifting of the wind, the smell of woodsmoke and venison carries to the trio, and the nearby stream whispers endlessly to itself in the gloaming.

[tomcat]

"We shall do our best to see otherwise, Brunhild, if it be our choice. I would rather him return to us of his own will then for us to have to subdue him. Worse still would be he takes arms up against us, and even in that we shall do our best to return him unscathed.  In the end, it will come down to Oderic's will."

Esgalwen could see the woman was done with their meeting. Offended as she was for their purpose, there would be nothing more from her - save unless they really could bring Oderic back. Brunhild was certainly filled with bitterness for the death of her husband, and more so due to the fact that it was her own half-brother that killed him. But certainly, to lose both would devastate her even more? To lose both husband and brother?

The Ranger wondered.

Watching the widow walk away, she turned to Tate. "Time is against us now. It is getting late in the day and we are no closer to our quarry, if he has taken flight across the river. Do we partake in Ava's offer of hospitality and sit at their table, or do we continue our pursuit?"

Esgalwen was leaning toward the former - no sense in offending another person in Stánford. Doubt was ever tugging at her mind, though, and she aired her thoughts, "I think it would be rude to not take the town's offer, but I fear that Brunhild might be wrong with one thing - that her brother has no friends. As she said, someone must have ferried him across the river. If there be such a person, would they send word to him? Though the sun is falling towards the mountains, should we push on?"

Another sudden thought came to the woman, even as she struggled with her decision. How does her friends fare, back north? Were the orc scavengers taken care of?"

[Posterboy]

"I think it wise to accept the gift, m'Lady," Tate said, his thoughts still distracted with their encounter with Brunhild. "We are strangers in a foreign land with little more than a token to gain the people's trust. Let us enjoy their table this evening and see what allies we may find amongst this good folk."

[tomcat]

With a smile and a nod, Esgalwen followed Tate towards the smell of the cook-fires.

[Eclecticon]

The fare at the feast is of a rude standard compared to that at Beorn's table, though meat is much more plentiful.  As a hearty fire dances in the pit in the village hall, the folk of Stánford bustle about, taking advantage of the impromptu festivities to make fast plans for the harvest soon to come.  All are eager for news of the wider world, and Tate in particular finds himself near overcome with requests for tales of the goings-on elsewhere in Middle-Earth. 

Whether prompted by Ava and Williferd or of their own volition, the villagers seem eager to speak their minds on the subject of Oderic and Rathfic.  "Helmgut never liked that boy," says a florid-faced man.  "He only took him in to honour his dead father!  Helmgut was overjoyed when Rathfic came here and he stopped having to train that evil boy!" 

"Rot!" exclaims an elderly woman, her callused hands still smelling of the fish she finished gutting not long ago.  "Rathfic was a heartless thug, no better than those raiders he slew!  I told you all it would bode ill for us, to take in one of those mountain-folk..."

For each story of what happened, and who was ultimately responsible, there seems to be someone who knows the truth to be otherwise.  And who, the emissaries wonder, is the friend who ferried Oderic across the great river? 


Feel free to narrate how you're going about your inquiries – use Riddle or Insight rolls to be subtle, Persuade or Awe to be blunt, etc. 

[tomcat]

Esgalwen is going to try some Riddle, which is not her strong suit but something she must learn...

You did not set this up as an Encounter, did you? If so...well this will probably be our first fail. That said, she is also making use of her Fair trait to really try to get some men folk to open up in the conversation.

Her riddling is more to try and puzzle out what they are saying and who is on whose side.

TN 14 riddle 1d

1d12 : 8, total 8
Rolled 1d6 : 2, total 2

[tomcat]

that approach leaves her stumped. And maybe she is seen as a little air-headed, pretty girl for it.

After a while of the two sides bickering and the Mountain-folk being berated, she will stand and use Awe.

TN 14 awe 3d

1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 5, 6, total 16

[tomcat]

Nice!
As the dinner was served and bread broken, the folk of Stánford continued to bicker over their positions on the topic of Oderic, Rathfic, and the decisions of Helmgut. Esgalwen sat long trying to keep the stories in line and smiled pretty to anyone that would look her way, in hopes for them to offer more insight.

In the end, she felt her head beginning to ache from the heavy mead, and to feel that nothing was coming of the discourse. In frustration, she thumped her mead cup on the table and stood. In a voice that belied her smaller frame, she grabbed all of their attention and the clamoring subsided.

"In the spring of 2951, I accompanied the Master of Sunstead, as he himself accompanied a young woman of his folk that was betrothed to a man of the mountain. The maiden's name was Verwyne, and she was lovely. She knew her duty - a duty that most women are accustom - to unite people! Her marriage to a man of the mountain united the people of Sunstead to the folk of the Vale. Thus is Sunstead now counted among the Woodland folk, even as are the Mountain-folk, though their feet tread on stone. It is the same for the Beornings! Together. United. You all stand. Divided...you will fall like the tallest bough before a strong wind."

Some of the Beornings grumbled at her comment, but it did not stay Esgalwen's ire. She let the pause hang only for a moment...

"I say this even now as you bicker among yourselves about one of your own. You call a man rot, even as his widow grieves! Well, I say it is the uniting of Brunhild and Rathfic that brought your people together. Made you one. Made you stronger! And do not nay say the Mountain-folk, for I have stood with them as their home was besieged. I bled with them...and I watched some of them die so that others might live.

"Helmgut seems a good man, for he took in the son of another to foster. He united his house with another folk. But he did not create the evil that was within the heart of Oderic. And though some of you may call him friend, the truth is that this evil has spread through your town. Oderic slayed his brother-in-law; he may have slayed others of the House of Beorn; and he may be harbored by someone that knew him here. As I sit here and listen to you all argue, I hear the poison that courses this hamlet."

She paused again.

"We have been sent by Grimbeorn, scion of your Master, Beorn." She tossed on the table the sigil of his house. "We will find Oderic and bring him before justice. We shall also bring any others who have abetted Oderic in his flight, for poison must be leeched. I pray you all can come together, as a people, united against murder. United against hatred. It tears down halls...believe me, I know. In Gondor, we have watched as poison from the Shadow-land has slowly eaten our defenses away until naught else stands to guard the west save the shining walls of Minas Tirith.

"So please! Start working together in helping us...instead of ruining your home."

[tomcat]

Her anger at them all sated, Esgalwen sat down and looked into the fire. She waited quietly to see if any would offer information.

[Eclecticon]

That'll give the investigation a nice kick along!  I'm going to wait until tomorrow to give Tate time to make any contribution he wants to, then I'll have a new post up. 

[Posterboy]

  Son of a gun... I need to get in quicker! LOL... What the heck, Esgalwen?!? They're never going to invite us back for dinner!!

Seriously though, I'm looking to post tomorrow morning.

Peace,
Ayrn

[tomcat]

Sorry, Ayrn.

Between dice rolls failing and these folk being fickle with the info, she had a moment. She is a woman, after all. 

That's probably dangerous for me to say - I might have to keep this post secret from my wife. 

Anyway, it's PbP, so add what you want and tell Paul where you think your addition falls in the narrative - he can retcon as he pleases.