Year 2950: Those who Tarry no Longer

[thesloth]

Arton of Gram

Arton was cheered by Aldor's recovery. The old man had gathered some strength and his sense of humor had returned. Then the traitor arrived bearing gifts. After Thammegil signaled the all clear, Arton nodded and reaffirmed his brother Ranger's assessment. 

"We would become those who we witnessed slaughter our own. It would be us tearing child from parent. Us putting the torch to our kinsmen. My body may pass in this dungeon shackled to these walls, but my soul will take flight, for it will remain free.

Brothers, remember this. They would not have bothered to march us here if they were strong enough to take our lands on their own. We can deny them the strength  of arms which they seek. We can keep them from running amok across our fields and towns. We can do that from where we are, right now."

 

[Vladim]

The other prisoners listened carefully. The boy, Haleth, quickly sided with the rangers. Rodwen the elf would never serve; even if she wished it, the Necromancer would never allow it. She too stood with them. And as for old Aldor, he laughed at the offer. He had been healed, but he was still old and far from hale. Even if he were to betray his comrades, the so-called Master would have no use for him, now that he was well past his prime.

But the minstrel, the Woodman called Geb, was another matter entirely. For he had recognized his kinsman, and so understood that his settlements too had been attacked, and now his only hope lay in taking the offer.

He turned towards Thammegil and spoke to him in a grim tone. "The Alderman... You say that you know what happened to him. But you do not know the whole truth. I overheard it from those foul orcs. Do you wish to hear it?

The truth is that the Alderman was tortured for days and weeks, until they broke his mind and reduced it to madness. He fought, but in the end it was useless. But if I were free, then I could help my folk... If I were free, then I could perhaps help you...

I don't want to die here in the dark. What difference does it make who I kneel to, or what oaths I swear? Can you eat honor? Will valor keep you warm in this dungeon?"

He looked at the others, alone against many. Weeks of imprisonment had forged strong bonds between them, and he was no exception. But now, seeing his only chance to escape this fate before him, he was tempted more than any other.

 

OOC

I'll let you handle it as you wish, but ultimately I'll need a roll to convince him. The book suggests Awe, Enhearten or Persuade, depending on your goal and approach. Add 1d6 because you're doing well warding off despair. Remember you have Hope and Traits you can use!

 

[Suzuki Stumpy]

Thammegil sighed as Geb said his piece.  He couldn't fault the man's logic, however flawed his reasoning may have been, but he had to try to dissuade him from this rash course of action.

"Aye," he began, "what you say may well be true, but consider this - if you bow before the Shadow, then you would be less free than we are here now.  You would be bound for eternity, and upon your death you would remain bound to the shadow in eternal torment and sorrow.  You would not be serving your people, but instead betraying them, just as your kinsman has already done.

"The difference as to whom you bow or pay service to matters.  It matters because if you bow to a good lord or no lord, you still retain your freedom of choice, you still retain your conscience, you still retain the ability to do good by your fellow men.  If you bown to the Shadow, then your shall only serve under the boot-heel of the Dark Lord.  Will be forever taunted by the Orcs that are deemed of higher station than menfolk.  Will be whipped and goaded by the Wraiths who serve above you.

"Arton and I, along with our kin scattered throughout the North have, for years, kept the worst of what the shadow can muster at bay.  We are the ones who have protected your homesteads, your towns, your villages.  We are the ones who have hunted Foul Orcs, Goblins and worse to allow you to sleep soundly in your beds.  We don't always accomplish this through strength of arms alone, but through strength of will.

"I will not stop your throwing your life, your very soul, away if you so wish to, but I would dissuade your from doing so until my very last breath."

As he spoke, Thammegil drew himself up to his full height and loomed large over the Woodman, trying with every aspect of his being to impress upon the man the folly of his line of reasoning.

 

 

 

[thesloth]

Arton of Gram

Arton followed Thammegil's lead. These men were scared and had not seen enough of the orcs and other foul beings to understand the folly in following them.

"You are a good man, Geb. Your intentions are honorable. But the dark lord these orcs serve has been corrupting men for generations before any of us drew a breath. Do you think you are the first to plot such a deception? 

The men who rode forth with the Alderman set out with noble purpose. None of them willingly came back to slaughter the town. Some of them no doubt thought as you do.

Thammegil and I rushed that company of murderers. I fought a pack of your former kinsmen. They were skeletons! Thammegil himself struck a blow to the Alderman's neck that would have felled a mule! He rode away...

The dark lord will not risk your betrayal.  If he let's you ride forth it will be as they... Wholly sundered from any good emotion... Shadows of your former self.

Aye, your kinsman retains his body. He also serves food here in the dungeons. We did not see him in the town. I do know who rides to war on behalf of the master of this tower.

He was once a King among men. He also accepted a boon from the dark Lord. Go ahead. Take this offer. Tell yourself that you will secretly do some hidden good. Tell yourself that as they twist your body and corrupt your soul....

Never in all my battles have I met an un-corrupted servant of the Shadow."

 

[Vladim]

The Woodman listened to the somber words. He nodded, and to the rangers he seemed to consider them carefully. He offered no counter-arguments, no protest: it appeared as if all his fears and despair had been a momentary lapse in courage, and so none pressed him further.

But his silence hid his doubts. That night, he did not sleep. And when his kinsman returned on the following day, he silently rose, and he took the offer. 

He did not look at them. He offered no parting words. Shame weighed heavily upon him, and he was eager to leave them-and the guilt they made him feel-behind. All the light had gone from his eyes.

They never saw him again.

---

As the next few days and weeks went by, the Woodman Annatar came to them again and again, each time repeating the offer. But none of them broke; the seven that remained were as one, and they did not falter. And so, after many refusals, he stopped visiting the cell.

Then things took a turn for the worst. At first, the food and water became sparser and less. Then, the orcs started to abuse them. First verbally, and soon after physically. There was no end to the torments they would subject them to. It was clear now that, sooner or later, it would all end in their deaths.

One day, an orc burst into their cell, and with little explanation, he took Arton. "The lads want some sport. You're coming with us, slave!" he demanded, as he dragged the ranger by his chains.

 

OOC

Rolling to determine PC.

1-Arton

2-Thammegil

 

[Suzuki Stumpy]

As the days turned into weeks after the Woodman Geb left them, Thammegil tried his utmost to keep the spirits of his fellow prisoners alive.  Yey, each day that passed it became harder and harder to prevent the black cloud of despair growing over them and slowly, but surely, the faint flame of hope began to flicker and gutter.

The food also reverted back to the rotten bread and gruel they had been given when they first arrived.  Worse even.

When the lone Orc burst into the cells and began to drag Arton away for 'sport', Thammegil finally broke.  When they were halfway to the door, he ran at the greenskin, leaping at it's back, attempting to loop his chains around its neck.  There was no way he was going to let them take his friend, his brother in arms, to what was likely to mean his death, without a fight...

 

 

 

 

[thesloth]

Arton of Gram

Arton was defeated in spirit for a day or two after Geb abandoned them. It bothered him to think of the lad as the enemy. Thammegil's efforts to keep faith drew Arton from his despair. He was grateful again for his friend. When the orc behavior changed Arton was not surprised. In fact, he had expected it.

"What's the matter orc? Tired of only fighting the churlish dogs of your masters?  Finally decided to try your luck with a true warrior?"

Arton dropped his head as the creature seized his chains and butted it squarely on its nose. Enraged, the beast landed three quick punches to Arton's gut which left the weakened Ranger gasping for breath. The orc seized Arton by the hair, dragging him to the door, now heedless of the other prisoners. Arton and Thammegil had traveled together for over a decade, he knew what his friend would do next. As Thammegil leapt on the creature's exposed back Arton twisted, despite the pain to his scalp and bit the orc's arm. Foul flesh and fluid tasted exactly as they looked. But that arm was now effectively grappled.

 

[Vladim]

The violent struggle did not last long; after Thammegil had wrapped his chain against the guard's neck, it was only a matter of time before the orc was made unconscious. Aldor and Rodwen and Haleth merely watched with a mixture of frozen terror and elation; it was a small measure of vengeance exacted over their enemies for months of captivity and cruel treatment.

But it had been noisy and chaotic. Now the door to their cell lay open, and the orc lay at their feet. But their chains still bound their hands together, and at the distance they could hear the grunting of orcs and many boots rushing towards them.

 

OOC

This works for me. Instead of going for combat now, shall we just say that both of you lose 2d6 endurance each when the group of orc guards come? Then you can be dragged into the arena together, instead of one at a time.

Alternatively, we can play out the combat with the orc guards too. Up to you!

 

[Vladim]

It was impossible to resist the multitude of the orcs. But the cruel guards did not beat them to unconsciousness. Laughing at the lone orc's misfortune, they dragged them violently by the chains and only struck them enough to dissuade them from further resistance, before putting a sack over each ranger's head.

They had come for Arton alone, but they were returning with two. This change in the plan seemed not to bother them at the least; if anything, it amused them.

For what seemed like an eternity, their captors led them through endless corridors, ascending and descending staircases and winding passages. It was impossible to see, but Arton and Thammegil felt the stifling heat: it was as if at times they were being led through long forges, far greater than any that the menfolk of Eriador or Wonderland had in this third age of the world.

Eventually, both were thrown into a sandy floor. The sacks were removed, and the companions found themselves lying in the middle of an arena. A crowd of howling, blood-thirsty orcs was jeering at them from a ring of stone benches around it. On the far side of the ring was a portcullis. There was something behind it-something that could snort like a bull and move like a lumbering mountain. A Hill-Troll!

Two of the orcs threw two swords, one for each ranger. Then the portcullis was raised quickly, and from it emerged the great beast, blinking into the firelight. It sniffed the air, catching the rangers' scent; then, it roared a fierce challenge and slammed its mighty fists against the sands, making the ground shake.

 

OOC

Feel free to roll that endurance loss from the beating and update your stats. Next, declare stance and roll attacks-we can do some combat.

Both of you are unarmored. The chances here may prove bleak, but the goal is not necessarily to win, but to make a valiant stand.

 

[Suzuki Stumpy]

After what seemed an eternity, he finally thumped down onto a sandy floor.  Momentarily blinded by the dim light as the sack was removed from his head, Thammegil took in his surroundings.  Some sort of arena, with benches full of bloodthirsty Orcs cheering and goading.

A thud as two rusty blades hit the dirt before him.

A groan ... he wasn't sure if it was himself or Arton.

A roar - he was certain that wasn't either of them - this was then followed up by the pounding of huge feet against the packed sand.  Scrabbling for one of the blades, Thammegil stood, raising the blade in a defensive posture, the hilt held high just to the side of his head.

He turned quickly to Arton who also had regained his feet and simply said, "Which limb would you prefer, brother?"

 

OOC

If it's not immediately obvious, Thammegil is taking a defensive stance for this.

 

[thesloth]

Arton of Gram

Arton tried count the steps and turns, but it was futile. There were too many and he was distracted by the occasional punch and kick. Deposited on the sandy floor he shrugged his shoulders as the sack was torn away. He heard the troll before he smelled it. So this would be their end. It would be brutal to be sure. A sword clattered in front of him, some rusted relic from a former prisoner no doubt. He glanced to Thammegil as the port culls opened.

"Well they are not known for their wits. Let us stand together, when it commits to a charge split apart. Force it to choose. Whichever of us gets it's back goes for the neck. The other keep low, try to injure a knee or leg. Just keep working like that."

Arton gave his blade a lazy swoop to test the weight and crouched low, trolls were vicious and impatient. He was certain it would charge.

 

DEFENSIVE STANCE.

 

[Vladim]

Towering over the two prisoners, the mighty brute charged heedlessly into the fray, just as Arton had predicted. The beast first faced off against the ranger, throwing its oversized fist in a wide arc, but this left its backside exposed.

The blow connected with full force, throwing Arton to the side and knocking the air out of his lungs, stunning him for a moment. The crowd of orcs cheered at the sight.

It was no small price to pay, but Arton's ploy had given his comrade a long enough window of opportunity to seize the advantage. With a flick of his orcish blade, the ranger attacked the troll's meaty, scaled leg, seeking to cut at the hamstrings. The sword bit into the thick skin, drawing a spray of foul blood that stained the sands of the arena. The troll fell on one knee, but only for a moment: the cunning attack did more to infuriate than harm it, and now it turned its ire against Thammegil and tried to seize the puny man...

Its grubby, fat fingers came within inches of Thammegil, but the ranger deftly dodged the hand, forcing the troll to overextend and briefly lose its balance. Then the ranger readied to press his advantage...

 

OOC

Ok, so Arton's attack is a miss, but Thammegil's is a hit. It's also a Great Success, so Suzuki-choose from the options available to you, and I'll apply the mechanics.

Edit: Heavy blow for +7 dmg.

Until then, let's say that the troll loses 7 endurance; that's the base damage of a long sword when wielded two-handed.

Next, the troll will attempt to hit Arton first, and then Thammegil (it gets 2 attacks for its might 2 score). Because of defensive, each attack suffers -1 d6, but I'll burn 2 hate points to give each of its attacks an extra d6. I'll edit the post accordingly after the rolls.

Troll: -14 endurance, -2 hate.

Ok, so the troll misses Thammegil but hits Arton for -6 endurance and a Piercing blow. Sloth, give me a protection check vs. TN 12; since you are unarmored, this is unfortunately without any d6s. I don't remember if you can add hope to this. Failure will result in a wound.

 

For this fight, another combat task option is available to you from Forward stance:

Dull-witted: PCs can attempt a Riddle roll to cause -Hate to the troll (works a bit like Intimidate foe).

 

[Suzuki Stumpy]

Thammegil almost winced himself when he saw the blow the Troll struck against Arton, but spotting his opening he managed to sink his blade deep into the leg of the creature almost, but not quite toppling it.

Damn, he thought, that thing moves fast, as the Troll recovered, and twisting reached out to grab the ranger by his neck.  Still, luck remained on his side as the fat, green fingers missed his throat by mere inches, and pressing his advantage Thammegil managed to turn his momentum from the dodge into an impressive two-handed swing around his head to bring the blade biting into the foul creature's waistline.

For any lesser foe, the blade would surely have cleaved them clean through, but for a juggernaut such as the two of them faced ... who knows what, if any, damage this blow would cause.

[thesloth]

Arton of Gram

Arton could not remember a time when a harder blow had landed. He was certain his ribs had broken. But the ploy had worked, now to give Thammegil a fighting chance.

"What's ten feet tall but fights like a girl? Next time you should actually try to hit me!"

Arton called out hoping the beast was capable of understanding two sentences. Struggling to his feet he swung his weapon while he taunted the beast.

 

Forward Stance going for the Riddle ploy. 

 

[Vladim]

Thammegil's blade drew forth more blood from the creature's torso, and the troll raged with a blood-curdling growl as it redoubled its efforts. Now it focused solely on Thammegil; despite Arton's insults, it did not as much as even register the words. Perhaps it thought him not as dangerous, or assumed that the blow it had struck already was enough to debilitate him. Or perhaps the explanation was simpler yet, and the troll could not understand the words.

Thammegil was prepared for the attack; he expertly dodged the first blow, but the second caught him by surprise, and suddenly he found himself trapped in the troll's grasp, struggling to be free. The troll now begun to move him towards its oversized head, as if to examine a plaything more closely...

 

OOC

Arton takes a moderate wound; from the roll, it will take 6 days to heal. Mark wounded on your sheet.

Troll: -28 endurance; -4 hate; will carry out 2 attacks against Thammegil and spend hate for them.

Edit: Ok, so the first attack hits, and the second misses. I took some liberty and rearranged them to better fit the narrative so let's say it's the other way around.

The second (well, first) attack does -6 endurance to Thammegil and triggers a Protection roll that must be made (TN 12). In addition, due to the 6 rolled, Thammegil is now Seized. Here's the mechanical effects:

Seized: The victim can only fight from Forward stance making Brawling attacks. Seized heroes can free themselves by spending a 6 rolled on the d6 of an attack roll.