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Edoras - Heart of the Riddermark

Started by Nashan, Jan 07, 2019, 03:56 AM

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Anarion

He would be waiting for the refugees by the carts. Similar to Edelyn and her guard he hadn't slept particularly well either. He would be sitting astride whatever mount was made available to him wearing his armour, and his blue and white clothing. His spear and bow would be harnessed on the sadle along with his gear, while his sword and dagger would be on his belt and his lround shield bearing a battered white tree on black field was across his back. He looked to the others the king had decided would be accompanying these folk happy to see the young dwarf he had met the night before was amongst them.

hurcheon

Tyrôk entrusts his finery, such as it is, to the care of his master

He is dressed plainly, in hard wearing but we'll work clothes. Tunic overlain by jacket, trousers tucked into boots, a cloak as the roll stop his pack. He has a short sword by his side and an ace sling over his back, a walking staff rests on his shoulder as he sorts out his belt pouches.

He looks up

"Ah'm ready"

Telcontar

Raghnall and Garulf had nothing better to do. The Breelander liked the girls spirit and on their journey he had grown interested in the plight of her people. Edoras was interesting and he hoped to explore it more, but currently he did not think his companion's mood and temper would serve them well, at least at present. So the two planned to head north again.

Edoras was the first major settlement Raghnall had seen since leaving Bree almost two years before. He was amazed at what could be found, both things that he missed from home and things he never knew existed. When free of the hall of the King the first business at hand was food and drink. There was little use of coin for a bandit in the wild, but here it was of good use.

After food and drink Raghnall went to the market. Though later in the evening he was able to get most of what he needed. So when the daylight found them all assembled the Breelander had a new larger pot, a ladle, and cast iron spikes to build a tripod or a spit as was required. Also from a saddle bag he carried salt and flour, as well as a tin filled with small amounts of spices and seasoning. The King had given them food, but the Breelander determined to feed them meals. 
THE GAME MUST GO ON!

Hathcyn
Great Spear
2h.  4d :00: 9 :dmg: Edge 8 Injury 18

tomcat

Feb 11, 2019, 08:33 AM #123 Last Edit: Feb 11, 2019, 08:51 AM by tomcat
Gárulf slid his saddle onto the back of Cleofus, cinching it tightly around the horse's belly. He then checked to ascertain that bridle and bit were comfortably in place, getting a warm snort of air in reply. The Rohirrim patted the animal and brushed down her flanks with a handful of straw.

He wondered about his companion and his desire to keep putting them in positions that had yet to be agreed upon. Gárulf did not remember Raghnall saying anything more, after the King's hall, then, "Let's find a tavern."

The next thing the man knew was the Bree-lander had committed them once more to the woman Edelyn. They would ride along with them, at least back to where their encampment waited.

"The king gives food and supplies!" Raghnall argued. "We at least should ride for a few days with a full belly."

He was a nuisance - this north-man! The rogue shook his head in agreement and spent the remainder of the day garnering things that he wanted, seeing as they were in the King's city.

With Cleofus now saddled, Gárulf hung her saddle bags across her back and tied them to the saddle. He proceeded to put the supplies he had purchased within - two blankets; a bundle of twenty arrows and an extra length of cat-gut; well-made hemp rope twenty arms in length; ten iron nails; a hammer; a whetstone; and two small wax-sealed pots of oil.

The oil pots he wrapped in spare cloth so that the clay would not be easily broken, if they rode hard. It was a sturdy, baked, glazed clay and he was not too worried, but still better to be cautious. He was not certain if the oil would be needed for cooking, fire, or to water-proof a skin, but it was good to have it in need.

Now prepared, Gárulf mounted and rode out to where the others assembled.
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦♦○] Dmg 10/12  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

Telcontar

The Man Eriador smiled.

"We are much better provisioned and stocked than we have been in a long time!"

He sat upon his horse, not akwardly but not as familiar to the animal as his companion.

"Ahhh..." He looked sheepish.

"I should have gotten more arrows as well."

Garulf reached under a blanket and tossed him another bundle he had bought specifically for this moment.

"We wont need to cook if we're dead Raghnall."

"True enough, the ways of the wild are not yet well known to me. My aim will be true, when called upon. Of that you can depend."

He mindlessly whistled a tune and watched the others prepare for the journey. The two who accompanied Edelyn were still closed mouth and few words had they uttered on their long journey. Raghnall stopped as if suddenly remembering something and dismounted quickly.

"Edelyn, I almost forgot!"

He handed her a small bag that made the sound of wooden objects when he handled it. He looked expectently for her to open it, so she did.

A small smile cracked upon her face when she looked inside. There were wooden soldiers, some horses, a couple of rag dolls, and ball.

"I'm a little old for these."

Raghnall laughed. "After such a long journey I thought since the needs of the belly were met by the King a little joy could be sprinkled on the small ones as well. I thought they would be readliy accepted if they came from you."

He smiled again and fidgeted with his sword belt. Then remounted next to his grim faced companion.
THE GAME MUST GO ON!

Hathcyn
Great Spear
2h.  4d :00: 9 :dmg: Edge 8 Injury 18

stevelampon

Roderic nods a greeting to the company gathered outside the gates in the cool morning air. After weeks of relative inactivity in Edoras the prospect of exploring further out into the plains of Rohan felt good. Goldred and Adrahil had wished him well as he left the inn that morning. Both of them reminded him that they required news on anything that might interfere with their trading interests across the East and Westfold. Goldred had provided Roderic with a fine looking grey stallion named Arroch. 'Look after him Roderic' said Goldred, 'he is even tempered and easy to ride, and will see you well across the many leagues you have to travel'.

Roderic noticed that like him the party appeared well supplied for their coming journey. From the sacks of food piled high in the wagons they would certainly eat well – at least for a while.

Anarion

He looks to the others who have been tasked with accompanying Edelyn and her people. He nods to them all in greetings. "I see that a few of you are Rohirim, what can you tell me about the lands that we will be travelling into?" He asks looking at, at least two of his new companions who bare the fair complexion of the men of Rohan. "Are we likely to meet any danger on the road?"

Telcontar

The Breelander laughed. "All roads are dangerous. This is a lesson every mother has pressed upon her sons, and all have left unheeded. For one step on a road and who knows where you will end up. You shall see grass and hills, rivers and falls, vacant views and herds of horses. There are orcs too, to be sure, too many for anyones tastes. We'll need a watch, but no idle brigand will stop a party this well armed and with so many."
THE GAME MUST GO ON!

Hathcyn
Great Spear
2h.  4d :00: 9 :dmg: Edge 8 Injury 18

tomcat

Gárulf stood silently by as the Bree-man answered. He looked around him at the gathered new company and thought whether Raghnall's words had merit. He came to a silent conclusion contradictory to the North-man, Yes...I would stop this caravan with my riders.

His patience began to wane, "The sun rides the morning sky and there are many green miles before us - mayhaps we exchange our pleasantries upon the trail."
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦♦○] Dmg 10/12  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

Nashan

:ooc: You can choose roles for the journey. Gárulf would obviously make a great Guide thanks to his Lore of Rohan, but it's up to you. Furthermore the preparations Gárulf and Raghnar made lower their TN for the preliminary Lore check to 12. The others roll against 14.
You're still not a fellowship at the moment, so no focus to choose.

Anarion

 :ooc:
Egilhir could work as a scout or lookout 2 in awareness an 2 in explore (favoured) with the keen eyed trait.

TN 14 Lore 2d
Rolled 1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 2d6 : 4, 2, total 6

:dmg:     edge:     injury:

Nashan

Edelyn looks obviously relieved to see the familiar faces of Gárulf and the Bree-lander. She rubs a wooden horse toy for a moment, remembering some distant memories of a better time, then stuffs them in a pocket.

She looks also pleased when Egilhir appears, perhaps even blushing a little bit but it might be from the cold.

The two westfolders make a grim lot. They're not happy to be there and don't bother hiding it. Whenever they speak of Edelyn or her two henchmen, they refer to them as « strangers » or « foreigners ». Should you talk with them it's plain they agree with Eogar ; the refugees are Dunlendings in disguise and an ambush should be expected anytime soon. For that reason they refuse to leave he main road and its occasional post guards and watchtowers. Aart and Galan are their names.

« You should watch out for these people. Dunlendings are less than human. They are horse eaters !Mark my words, there's orc blood running in their veins. »

Should you decide to follow their advice, you could indeed hope for a safe journey to the Wold. If a safe journey exist anymore, that is... Beside, following the river would assure you easy food supply thanks to the merchant boats and fish.

The Rider of the Third Marshal is a more pleasant fellow. The East is used to trade with foreigners, and indeed makes good money out of it. His name, Artamir, actually testifies of a strong Gondorian influence, perhaps even a parent.

Gibor the dwarf nears Tyrôk. He's clearly in bad lack of sleep, his breath still smells of ale. He's been one of the last braves standing before Cépia's house closed its doors for a couple of hours. « Rough night eh, lad ? Hope you got some more sleep. » He shivers and gets his heavy woolen cloak closer. « Remember, try to get as much informations as you can. We need to know what's still lingering in Gundabad. Can't risk to let orcs or evil men regroup themselves. These two over there seem to know what they're doing, stick with them. They were at the inn yesterday night, the northman took over the kitchen when the innkeeper went to get another cask of ale. He cooked us sausages and eggs, probably saved my life. » He laughs loudly. « Be safe, lad. Enjoy your adventure. » Gibor seems a bit nostalgic as he returns to the long house provided to the other dwarves. 

Barak and Wil, two commoner will go with you and drive the carts. Artamir looks at the whole group. « Well then, it seems we're all set. Let's go. Gárulf, lead the way. »

tomcat

:ooc: An FYI - I came to the same conclusion for Gárulf to be Guide.
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦♦○] Dmg 10/12  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

Nashan

Feb 14, 2019, 04:32 AM #133 Last Edit: Feb 14, 2019, 04:54 AM by Nashan
Goldred watched the small convoy leave Edoras. The merchant rubbed his hands together, despite the large fire warming more than enough his opulent housing. The furnitures alone could be sold to buy several farmer housings, but to Goldred it was but a poor reminder of the large estate he owned back in the days of Fengel King. But soon, soon, it could all be his again. That and much much more.
He smiled when he thought of the Beorning bodyguard he hired just the day before. He couldn't believe his luck. His investment will be soon reimbursed tenfold.
He took a quiver and a piece of parchment. When he was done writing some short lines, he folded it, sealed it, and handed it to one of his illiterate servant. "take that to him". The servant took the folded paper but seemed to hesitate. "What is it?" asked an irritated Goldred. "He never killed you, did he ? Here, take that for your trouble." He threw the man a coin, and finally the servant took off...

Nashan

Up on top of Edoras, the King and his Queen also looked the convoy slowly disappear behind the horizon. « What do you think my dear ? » Morwen was speaking in Sindarin, as they always use to do when they are in private. The rich elvish language reminded them of their days back in Gondor, when Thengel was not yet King of Rohan and things were easier.

Noises of combat could be heard from the porch ; the young Theoden was already training with Heáfod. The prince was already much more a Rohir than his father, and that was good for the future. But what kind of a kingdom would he inherit ?

« I don't believe they are Dunlendings. So far east from the mountains, it doesn't make sense. Nor does it to walk across all of Rhovanion. They could have settled in the realm of the skinchanger or the Brown, there's space enough. » answered the King.

« Is it not reason enough to seek the land of their forefathers ? » hinted the Queen.

« To the expanse of the lives of the younglings and elders ? That's a heavy price. I fear they hide something from us, but we must bide our time until we know more. In the meantime I hope they will make a safe journey back and find some solace. »

« There's also the reaction of Eógar. » sighed Morwen.« It's unusual of him to be on the edge that way. Something must go wrong in the West. »