Year 2950: Those who Tarry no Longer

[Vladim]

Location: The Forest Gate, northwestern eaves of Mirkwood

Time: Early spring 2050 T.A. Morning.

 

They had been led by Barin, who had recently received summons from an old friend to meet with her here. The dwarf had been planning to undertake the journey into the elven realm, to bring tidings of Celebros’ passing to the Elvenking. It was only by chance that he had met Lára here merely one day prior. The elf-maiden had a request, and she had asked Barin to gather up his companions, promising to reveal all on the next day.

 

With him came Gramtyng, and Dahr-Ol and Annungil; all those that Barin had been able to gather in such short notice. But those were not all; others yet followed them, each for their own reasons.

 

When Barin had sent the letter to Dáin Ironfoot, informing him of the tower to the North and requesting reinforcements, the king under the mountain had sent all those that he could, though he did not have many to spare. A company of dwarves and Bardings had been tasked with this, and many were now stationed at Beorn’s house, preparing for the northern journey into the Vales of Gundabad, where they hoped to join the skeleton crew of Beornings and Viglundings that had been left behind. Bláin, son of Lofar, and Torwald of Dale had been amongst them, yet they had not joined their brethren after their long journey from the East. Instead, they sought those that had reclaimed the tower, for that was their task: to gather all the information that they could about it before departing again with their own.

 

The news had travelled to the west as well, carried on the wings of the Great Eagles, until it reached the ears of the Grey Wizard, who grew interested in the old tower. He had sent two rangers to investigate, and they in turn made the journey to Wilderland, and found their contact. He was Grimgar the tall; one of those free men who had joined Beorn after the Battle of the Five Armies. Yet few amongst even the Beornings knew his true nature: that he was one of Gandalf’s trusted men, and reported to him regularly, and hailed from Dúnedain stock. Arton and Thammegil knew this full well, and it was he that pointed them to Dahr-Ol and his companions, who could speak of it all from first hand. And now at last they had found them, and sought to learn all that they could.

 

Last but not least came Elhadron from Imladris, and it was to him alone, apart from Lára, that the true nature of the quest that lay before them was known. For he was sent to find Írimë, the noble lady of the House of Gil-Galad, and accompany her back to the house of Elrond, from where she was to journey on towards the West.

 

At the threshold they stood still at last and paused: each with their own questions and agenda, eager to know that which would finally be revealed, as promised, from the elves or from those that had seen with their own eyes the tower.

 

Out of Character

PC names underlined for the sake of convenience.

 

I took some liberties with providing some hooks and additional information for the sake of narrative continuity (to link this adventure with the previous one). If you don’t like them, please let me know and I can edit/change stuff. But the hooks are just a springboard for this adventure.

 

The old, first edition PCs (Barin, Annungil, Dahr-Ol and Gramtyng) can be role-played too, if you want, but it’s not really necessary. They can (and will) soon fade into the background, and not be a big part of the adventure. However, if pairs of players want to RP between old-new PC(s), I won’t stop you. Go for it!

 

For now, feel free to introduce your PC(s) in any way you wish, e.g. by giving some description or some thoughts, or even dialogue. It’s up to you-the purpose of this first post is merely to set the scene, provide the hooks/premise and get us slowly moving.

 

I am still not sure if Fossil Firebird will be joining us as Lára. I will send a final reminder, and if not, then I will simply NPC her for a while before letting her fade in the background.

 

Enjoy!

Expectations

1. Posting rate. I’ll assume a posting rate of about once a week per participant (more is welcome). I will also strive for one post that pushes the narrative forwards a week. If someone cannot meet this requirement, then I will move on without them until they are able to return to the narrative.
2. Communication. Please communicate absences if possible. I will also let you know if I am unavailable. If you are bored, it’s always better to post something, rather than nothing (even if it is a simple out-of-character statement that you feel you have nothing to add to a scene).
3. Tracking your stats. Please keep track of your character’s statistics. I will keep track of group statistics (Fellowship pool etc).
4. Contents of posts. I will not place any limitations or posting format requirements, but I encourage you to be creative and proactive with your characters. I also encourage you to take control of the narrative to set the mood, embellish a description or develop a minor character. This is in general allowed if it does not ‘break’ the game or make your character unreasonably powerful. It is also up to you to pursue interesting subplots for your characters, or suggest some to me. The only limitation is to please try and stay true to the setting.

In addition:
5. NPCing the PCs. In cases of extended player inactivity (2 weeks +) I may need to NPC certain PCs. I will avoid this as much as possible, preferring a 'fade to the background' approach as much as possible.
6. Player removal. This will only be considered after one month of inactivity without prior notice / explanation in the OOC thread. Even then, I will probably be even more lenient than that.
7. Rules and game platform. I am learning TOR2 and Baldr as we go along, so please expect occasional mistakes and be forgiving! I will do the same for you.

 

[Suzuki Stumpy]

The tall ranger sat on a tree stump, bow propped at his side along with a quiver of long hunting arrows.  Ready to grab at a moment's notice.  His longsword held against his knee as he ran a small whetstone along it's edge.  Whilst his attention seemed focussed on the task before him, Barin couldn't help but notice that the man's eyes roved constantly, watching the shadows between the trees on the forest side.  He muttered softly to his companion, "I like this forest not.  There's evil about."

 

He spoke up, addressing Barin, "Master Dwarf.  How much longer must we tarry here?  These woods bode ill, and I would rather spend my evening if not beneath a solid roof, then at least beneath the open sky rather than this ill-omened canopy."

 

"Not long I would think Master Ranger" replied the Dwarf.  "Not long.  Indeed, as soon as Lára joins us, then I am told all will be revealed.  Then we can likely be on our way.  We Dwarves have a saying: Tatsaki maladranlakhâm ya zarsân.  In the Westron tongue it means to play dice with Ents - a game for which you need to show much patience.  But I do appreciate your sentiment - I also do not like this forest.  You are wise to keep your weapons to hand."

 

The Ranger shook his head.  "Puffed up, obstinate Dwarf," he muttered.  "Head too full of aphorisms to see the obvious danger he's putting us all in."  addressing the Dwarf directly again, he said "Well, this elven friend of yours better show up soon.  Preferably before any passing creatures of evil intent do."

 

 

[thesloth]

Arton of Gram

Arton turned the wooden figure over in his hands, slid the knife across the back and removed a few more flakes. Satisfied that it looked appropriately like a warrior he handed it to Dahr-Ol. "There you see how the piece is holding a small sword? He is the warrior. On the board there would be a whole row of similar pieces. They would form the front row when the board is set. Some consider them the least valuable pieces, often sacrificed to lay traps for the opponent. But without them the more valuable pieces have no protection."

 

"Very complex this game is. No wonder your kings of old spent so much time on it." Dahr-Ol dropped the piece into his pouch after examining it by the light of the fire. Arton turned his attention to his companion Thammegil.

 

"This forest does indeed have a dark shadow upon it. But let us not be rude to our companions, Barin can no more force this elf to travel quickly than we can halt the march of the sun across the sky. We have learned much and made new friends here. Our people lost much because we did not value the friendship of others. And you cannot tell me the opportunity to count a few Wildlands goblins among your tally does not entice you." Arton grinned and wagged a finger at Thammegil as he mentioned slaying goblins.

 

[Varon777]

Elhadron laughed softly at the words of the Ranger before flinging himself on the ground beneath the boughs of the trees.

 

"Evil, some, yes, but not the forest itself. The forest itself is older than the memories of Men, and evil has been allowed to fester in its southern marches, bringing the Shadow with them, but blame not the forest. Greenwood the Great, it was named once, in the Westron speech, but also Eryn Galen, Eryn Lasgalen, or Taur-e-Ndaedelos, and it stretched far and wide across the land, and our the Eldar have dwelt in these woods since before my ancestors returned from the West." 

 

He hummed softly to himself, half-remembering an old song, but let it fade out, and his eyebrow raised as he heard the final words. "Creatures of evil intent? Nay, my friend. Bold would they have to be to pass through the forest gates or lands of the Beornings. Wild and less wise my woodland kin may be, their eyes are keen and their arrows never miss their mark, and here..." He waved a hand idly to indicate the over-reaching boughs, "The trees remember us as we remember them. They have little love of Men or Dwarves, too quick are you all with your axes, but they have no ill-will here, where they feast on sunlight and drink clean waters unfouled by evil creatures." 

 

Elhadron leaned on one elbow to watch the board game take shape. "I am intrigued by this game of yours." 

 

Not far away, a broad shouldered, dark-haired man stood facing away from the woods, gazing at the distant shadows of the mountains to the west and north. "Do your kindred remember the tower in the north?" Annungil turned back to look at the gathered travelers. "I have yet to search the archives in the White City, but none whom I have corresponded with have any knowledge of such an expedition." 

 

The Noldo of Rivendell could only shake his head as he plucked a strand of grass and chewed on the end. "Little attention do we give to the cold north. We have not dwelt there and the Great Enemy tainted much of those lands. We have no desire to walk where its shadow lay if it is not made of dire necessity." 

 

Edited June 6, 2022 by Varon777 (see edit history)

[thesloth]

Arton of Gram

Arton set down a piece which had a passing resemblance to a bear with tusks, but more massive in scale. A hump on the back hinted at some sort of structure yet to be defined, protruding from it's back.

"It is indeed. But we are nowhere near ready to play. I have barely half the pieces carved well enough to represent their positions. This game was played by my ancestors, it was considered a mark of an educated man that he played well. Kings and Princes strove against each other in more or less friendly competition. A story is even told that the king of the Northern Kingdoms held a decade long match against the rulers of Gondor. Ravens were used to send each player's move in turns. The tale sounds fanciful, but I have seen a match between two masters last three days. Patience, wisdom, and foresight are the keys to this game. A man must think of the possibilities and consequences of the move he makes now that stretch 10 or even 15 moves into the future. While I doubt the story of the game played by raven, I do not dismiss it outright. My ancestors were known for their single-minded pursuits, often to the detriment of the lands. Perhaps in a fortnight I will have enough pieces shaped that we can play a match or two.

 

I am intrigued by your knowledge of this forest. Many are the tales we have heard about the Mirk Wood. Very few mention anything other than giant spiders and lost towers. We had heard that a great elvish king still ruled here, but the rumor goes that the foreign traveler will find no welcome in his lands. Such is the harsh nature of survival here. I take it this is not entirely true?"

 

Arton watched Annungil question Elhadron but made no effort to join the conversation. The dark haired soldier of Gondor was close to Dahr-Ol and both had been closed mouth when first the Rangers had arrived. Whatever had happened at the tower had been marked by dark times, and strangers asking intimate questions had not been welcome. Only when Arton had learned about the chess board and Dahr-Ol's fascination with it had the Beorning discussed any of the horrors. Apparently, the men of old had starved to death in a siege. The same fate nearly being met by this band. But there was more, Arton was sure of it. Perhaps some secret shame haunted the group yet.

 

 

[Vladim]

Nearly an hour of uneventful waiting had passed, with the unlikely company waiting patiently at the edge of the forest, leaving them ample time to introduce themselves to each other, and to discuss at some length, if they so desired. Then, as had been promised, the elf-maiden, Lára emerged from the path beyond the great forest gate, and bid them her welcome in the common tongue, as well as that of her folk.

 

She did not arrive unaccompanied. A small party of six elves came with her, led by another elven woman, a fair-haired lady of some rank. Barin recognized her quickly: for she was Ruithel, the famed huntress that wielded Penbregol, a bow strung with mithril, one of the greatest treasures of the Woodland Realm. For she was not just any elf, but the commander of the guards that watched over the elf-path by the Elvenking's order. Less than a year had passed since the dwarf had negotiated her release from his half-mad kin, the brothers Polin and Pomin, who had foolishly decided to ransom her. 

 

Of the others, only Elhadron recognized her, for she was more than two millennia old, yet even he had not received tidings of her recent promotion, and knew her only as an accomplished tracker. Lára also knew this, and much more, for Ruithel was her kin.

 

As Ruithel and her fellow guards approached their company, she did not introduce herself to any, and offered a greeting only to Elhadron, in the Sindarin tongue. To the others, she only spoke bluntly about pressing matters, in the tongue of mortals:

 

"You must be those that my kin spoke of. You are lucky to have such friends, else we would not allow you to trespass in our realm. Tell me, have you seen orcs in your travels? A great band of them is nearby. They are hunting us, and we are hunting them."

 

Her eyes wandered for a while, inspecting the company, until at last they chanced upon Barin, only now noticing who the dwarf truly was. "I did not expect to see a dwarf here, much less you. I trust that you have fared well during your journeys."

 

Lára looked to the dwarf, and her eyes betrayed something. Clearly, she had not mentioned to Ruithel that Barin would be amongst those they would be meeting.

 

OOC

I was going to wait for more posts, but actually I can use an NPC to get us started, so no need to RP Lára too much. Fossil Firebird and the others are still welcome to join us, though. And I think Yelik is debating rolling up a character, so that's another that may join us. For now, though, I think this is enough to kickstart the adventure.

 

 

[Varon777]

Elhadron let a melodic whistle trill through the strand of grass as they discussed the board game. 

 

"The history of the wood is long and of little interest to Men," he paused to point into the wood. "It is the history of every tree and branch, every stream, and the slow passage of the seasons. Others come into the story and pass out of it, but they are side characters in light of the wood itself. To answer your questions, yes, there is an Elvenking who dwells in his halls deep in the forest, and he is wary, but not unkind, nor even unhospitable." 

 

The Elves stepped from the wood and he pushed himself up on his elbow, nodded his head in greeting to the small band of Elves. "Mae govannen," he responded to Ruithel's greeting, but held a polite silence as she spoke. 

 

"I have seen no orcs in my journey, nor any sign of them for some time." 

 

Annungil, the dark haired Gondorian, shrugged. "I have seen orcs beneath the Misty Mountains and beneath the shoulders of Gundabad. From where do yours hail from?" 

 

 

[thesloth]

Arton of Gram

Arton sat upright as the elves entered the clearing. He judged them to be more of the Thranduil's people based on the level of familiarity Elhadron displayed. Mention of orcs hunting elves piqued his curiosity even further.

 

"These must be bold indeed to hunt elves in their own home. This is unusual behavior in my experience, though I admit I have not the breadth of your own experience. Still, the species tends to be opportunistic and lacking the discipline to pursue long hunts of those who can hunt back. Two days ago, when we forded the river to get here I noticed tracks, but they were not hunting us as they had passed in the same direction we were headed and had clearly been made a day prior. They were two maybe three. I presume if they are bold enough to hunt you then they are a large band indeed, in which case I saw only tracks from the scouts. May I ask why they have settled on you specifically?" 

 

 

 

[Diofant]

Bláin, son of Lofar

Bláin had his hands placed on his sword's handle, examining the forest while the others spoke. He felt like he was probably the youngest of all present, and as such, didnt feel it proper to voice his own thoughts. The journey here had been far from easy, and he'd been particularly happy he was meticulous in choosing his gear, obsessing over it for hours. His feet hurt a lot less than he'd thought they would after such a trip. But getting a good breakfast out here... He gave a sideways glance at the beorning and the rangers. True, the folk of Beorn apparently had the art of making delicious honey-cakes; at least according to his father - but it didnt seem like this one brought any. The rangers... Well, he'd keep what he thought of them to himself. The worst offender was the man with the beard that looked like a haystack - what manner of calamity would force one to keep it in such a way? A brush was a simple thing. The boy at his side - he'd heard his name was Belgo - was busy repairing a quiver with a needle. The man seemed mirthless and gruff, but his tone when he spoke to the boy was a kind one, so maybe he wasnt entirely hopeless. At the very least, the dwarf hoped the squire wouldnt pick up on the horseman's habits. The elves... were elves. What was there to be said about them? The young dwarf sighed, rubbing at his eyes; hopefully this group wouldnt bicker too much. His older brother gave him a stern warning that most of them would be 'judgemental' about his mission to recover lost dwarven artifacts and secrets. Whatever that meant.

 

Edited June 15, 2022 by Diofant (see edit history)

[Suzuki Stumpy]

"Ah, you're right." Thammegil responded to Arton. "I worry too much for my own good ofttimes, and a chance to strengthen my sword arm should never be passed on."  He grinned back at his companion.

 

As the Elves entered the clearing, his eyebrows raised as one of them greeted the Dwarf Barin with the familiarity of, well, if not friends, then at least close acquaintance.  That was a surprise to him.  At the mention of Orcs, he stood up, sheathing his sword in it's scabbard and retrieving his bow from where it was still propped at his side.

 

"Well met, mistress" he said addressing the one who had greeted Barin, one who was obviously a warrior amongst her kin.  "These Orcs you speak of.  I assume you have their trail if they are close and you are hunting them?  I would gladly join with you and aid in ridding these woods of their foul presence."

 

Things were looking up.  If there was to be a hunt, then it would at least get his blood pumping, and Gods knew, he felt he needed the exercise.

 

[Vladim]

Ruithel paused for a while, as if weighing their words, uncertain. It was unusual for elves to take interest in the wider world like this. Those amongst the company that had encountered their kind before knew this full well. Yet these were no ordinary circumstances, and the purpose of the summons had not yet been revealed.

 

The elven huntress seemed momentarily reluctant, but Lára whispered something in her ear, and it set her mind at ease, if only for a minute.

 

She turned to Annungil first.

 

"They came from the Heart of the Forest, weeks ago, and have harried our company ever since. Powerful Mordor-orcs, not goblins from Hithaeglir! Their vile nests are stirring again, and I am certain that some dark hand is behind it all."

 

Then, turning to the rangers, Arton and Thammegil, she added: "I do not know why. Their kind knows only hate, and they attacked us on sight. I trust they know who travel with us, and so seek to slay them. Perhaps it is time you meet them, though I were told that some amongst you have already. For with us travel the sons of the king, and the lady Írimë, of the house of Gil-Galad.

 

Come! Hold onto your eagerness for battle. You may find use for it yet. "

 

And with those words, she turned, followed by her elven kin, and begun leading them into the forest, following the ancient and narrow path her folk had cut through Mirkwood.

 

OOC

Just a short transitory post to continue the RPing (in you want-no real obligation) and (perhaps more importantly) to let others catch up.

 

[thesloth]

The big Beorning stood as the elves mentioned Mordor orcs. Silently he checked his axe blade, running a thumb down the edge. Satisfied that he was prepared he fell into step beside Annungil. The Beorning and the Gondorian had slain orcs and wargs by the score together. 

 

Arton nodded as the huntress told him what she could. Mordor orcs did not range this far without orders. "Thammegil, it seems we will add Mordor orcs to your list. These wildlands truly live up to their name."

Edited June 16, 2022 by thesloth (see edit history)

[Suzuki Stumpy]

The ranger looked at Arton and raised his eyebrows.  "Sounds like a challenging hunt.  Let's see what these Mordor Orcs have on their more northerly brethren."

 

Securing his sword at his waist, yet keeping his bow in his hand, he continued, "... and if you fancy a friendly wager.  Not that I have anything to pay you with when I eventually win."  The grin on his face spread even wider with this comment.  Slapping his companion on his shoulder, "Still, if we don't get a move on, our elven friends there will no doubt be putting us both to shame.  We wouldn't want them to finish them off before we even get there.  Come on, look lively my friend."

 

With that, he moved off swiftly after the elves, his ranger training showing as he moved swiftly and silently to catch up with the Elven cohort.

 

[thesloth]

"Ha! There are no friendly wagers. But there are wagers between friends. How about this; the lowest head count once we find the main body has to make the campfire each night for the next week?"

Arton shouldered his gear and moved behind Thammegil. He did indeed wish to represent his people well in the presence of these Mirkwood elves. 

[Varon777]

Elhadron sprang to his feet at Ruithel's words. "Mordor Orcs this far to the north? And with Lady Írimë abroad." A shadow passed across his face and he shook his head, his hand resting tentatively on the hilt of his sword, while the other tapped along the rim of his small shield. "This is grave news indeed. Clearly they are hunting her and her kin, to mar some of the fairest legacies of my king."

 

He gathered the lead of his horse and followed behind Ruithel, a shadow across his face in consideration, singing softly to himself. "Gil-Galad was an Elven king... of him the harpers sadly sing..." The horse neighed, perhaps in consternation, before nudging him in the shoulder. Absent mindedly, Elhadron rubbed the beast's nose. 

 

Annungil rose slower, more thoughtfully, hefting his shield and slinging it over his back. His jaw was tight at the words.

 

"Mordor orcs..." He shook his head at the wagering. "I will be glad enough to live through this and with these esteemed travelers alive. If I kill none, but they live, it will be well worth the struggle."