2950: Varr's tale

[Vladim]

In the end, his eagerness was rewarded with more and more tasks, until at length this day of back-breaking labor was at an end. Despite his best efforts, earning Holgeir's respect and favor seemed out of question, at least at present. Varr tried to not allow this to dampen his spirits. He had, after all, much time ahead to prove himself. But he made a mental note of the fact that the old man was a tough nut to crack.

When at last he retired back to the tavern to rest, many hours had passed after the setting of the sun, and he sank into a deep and dreamless slumber.

[Vladim]

Art by Jon Hodgson for The One Ring, 1st edition

 

They set out at the crack of dawn on the next day, after a quick and simple breakfast. The journey ahead was neither long nor perilous: only three days till castle Orlmond and Frostward accross much-frequented and well-trodden lands. Even the need for a guide was little: for all they had to do was keep the northern eaves of Mirkwood to their left; that alone would ensure that they would reach their destination in time.

As they marched through this pleasant green landscape, they could be forgiven for forgetting that they were in what not long ago had been known as the Desolation. The dragon had once cast a long shadow over the land, but life had rapidly returned to the Northern Dalelands, and now tall grass grew along the paths, and crops rose around the many villages that had sprung up in the interim. It was there that they spent their nights, for the people here were loyal to Bard, and eager to lend aid to their fellow countrymen.

In the mornings, the singing of many birds awakened them. Such sights and sounds were strange and pleasant to Varr. He had not ventured this far from Dale before. He was no great traveller, and only knew the Merchants' Way between Dale and Lake-Town. And so, despite taking in much beautiful scenery, the weight of the pack on his shoulders felt as if growing heavier by the hour, until at last he was only eager for a swift arrival to their destination.

 

OOC

Since Varr is travelling with a group along a mostly safe land, I don't see the point for making use of the journey rules. But perhaps I can just roll Travel for him to see how he fares. Perhaps if he fails the check, he'll be weary for a day after arrival.

Then let's roll on the Telling Table to see what the situation is in Frostward when the party arrives.

Edit: A failure on the Travel check. And the prompt is "Explore Fragile Memory".

[Vladim]

Art from the Shadows of Esteren RPG, Dearg vol. 1.

♫ IWD OST -Lonelywood ♫

Scene 3: Arrival

Location: Frostward

Time: Three days following the departure from Dale

 

Apart from the weariness that came with marching, the journey was uneventful. Rumors spoke of orcs that sometimes ventured from the forest or, more recently, the foothills of the Grey Mountains. But after the victory at the Battle of the Five Armies, sightings had become rarer. The elves of the Woodland Realm kept the numbers of the forest-goblins in check, though few could tell what stirred under the mountains in the North.

Varr was glad to see the simple walls of Frostward. They marked the end to the journey. The village itself was small: twenty or thirty souls at best, though it could accommodate again as many in spring. Loggers like them came every year, just as the snows started to melt, in search of timber for the ever-growing cities to the east. 

Castle Orlmond lay not far: about half a day's worth of walk Northwards. They had not passed by it in their final approach towards the village, and so Varr had not seen it, though he had heard much of it throughout the trek. It was the nearest fortification to them, raised upon a hill with stone, and surrounded by a strong palisade. Around it, many farms had cropped up, seeking to take advantage of the futile soil. The castle offered a modicum of protection to farmers and loggers alike: in the event of a raid, they could shelter within it, though there had never been need in those few years since its construction.

As the gate was opened, Varr looked about, inspecting the buildings. The last traces of winter still lingered, as was evident by patches of snow in the rooftops that were in the process of melting. The ramshackle houses reminded the Lake-Man of the difficult days after the destruction of his town, almost a decade ago. It seemed like an eternity had passed since then. He was barely a man when he and his father had had to take shelter in tents at first, and similar buildings after a while, hastily raised for the homeless folk who had lost their own in the great fire. For three years they had lived like this.

On finding the main long-house, Varr hastened his steps, seeking to chase away cold and weariness and old memory by the pleasant warmth of a comfortable fire.

[Vladim]

Art credit: Fran Fdez

 

After a few hours' worth of rest and a good meal, the locals took them out to show them the saw-mill, which lay only a short walk from the village. Although the settlement was recent, the Bardings had already felled many trees in these few intervening years, and so the mill no longer lay directly on the eaves of the great Forest, but a few yards from them. The men-folk who had come before them had labored hard, and many of the trees they had felled were now in use in Esgaroth and Dale. Still, many more remained. A sea of green stretched before them, and Varr thought that it would be centuries before they would have to move the village southwards in search of more.

As their hosts spoke of business, Varr observed, seeking to absorb every practical detail. Frostward would be his home for the coming months, until his employer would see it fit to send a new party to replace them. Compared to the city, this place seemed frugal and uninteresting. But the air was fresh and crisp. Perhaps this new life would prove a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of Dale.

 

OOC

I wonder if the telling table can provide some rumors...

Edit: Hide Dark Honour. Hm...

[Vladim]

Night had come. Varr found himself in the High Hall, which is what folk here called the long-house. It seemed a strange name to him, for it was hardly higher than the other buildings.

Next to him sat an old, bald, world-weary man. The two of them had been drinking for a little while. The man, whose name was Iwar, was as close as Varr could find to a chieftain or leader in Frostward. As the two spoke of this and that, the Lake-Man was eager to learn as much as he could about this place and its surroundings, and of any recent tidings. But Iwar seemed not as forthcoming as others; as if he was hiding something, or at the same time wishing and not wishing to speak of it. 

After a few rounds of ale, Varr produced the bottle that he had brought with him: the crimson wine from Dorwinion, that would surely prove a rare and exquisite drink in a place such as this. Perhaps it would loosen Iwar's tongue.

 

OOC

Portrait by Jon Hodgson for Beowulf: Age of Heroes.

Let's try a Persuade check. Still Varr is weary from the journey. The wine only gives a bonus to Enhearten, but for fluff it's ok.

Edit: Close, but not quite...

[Vladim]

"Well." said the old man at length. "It is getting late. You must be weary from your journey. Thank you for the wine, but I must retire. Long day ahead tomorrow."

Varr found the sudden departure unexpected, but he did not offer any protest. There had been something in the old man's mind. Of this he was certain. But all his efforts had been for naught. The village was beginning to seem a bit strange to him, but perhaps it was only his imagination. He too needed some well-earned rest.

He looked about him. A dark-haired woman was stirring a pot over a fire. She was young: perhaps a few years younger than him.

"A long and hard winter, then?" he asked plainly, favoring a more direct approach. 

 

OOC

Let's try another Persuade check.

Edit: Another fail. Which is fitting.

[Vladim]

Varr did not at once receive an answer. The girl seemed not to notice him at first; eventually, she absent-mindedly turned to face the newcomer and for a while said nothing. "Head in the clouds..." thought Varr, but he nevertheless remained in the hall, awaiting patiently, until, as if struck by some strange epiphany, she spoke.

"You must forgive Iwar. He has much on his mind. The winter has been difficult. But spring is coming. I am-"

But she cut herself off mid-sentence, and suddenly turned her head towards the entrance, and for a moment harkened at the noises of the night.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered to him at length, tightening her grip on the large stirring-spoon she was holding.

[Vladim]

Varr turned towards the same direction and fell completely silent, straining his ears. His hand moved towards his sword-hilt, and his posture grew tense, but the girl seemed at ease. Perhaps there was no need. But try as he might, he could not hear anything-apart from the noises of the night, nothing seemed amiss.

Some time passed like this, and even when whatever it must have been seemed to have passed, Varr dared not to speak and shatter the silence. Suddenly, the girl begun to hum quietly a gentle tune, closing her eyes as she did so. Varr wondered if it was to ward them from some danger: for she seemed to do this in a ritualized manner, as if invoking some kind of spell. Then at length she fell silent again, and opened her eyes and smiled. Whatever it was, it must have passed, if there was anything there to begin with.

"Must have been the wind. Are you well?"

The girl nodded. "Let me show you to your lodgings. You must be weary. Tomorrow is a new day. Come."

"Strange..." Varr thought as she led him towards a corner in the common room. "Strange..."

[Vladim]

Scene 4: An honest day's work

Location: Woods outside Frostward

Time: Noon of the next day

 

Varr could not recall the last time he had labored so hard. Despite the chill in the air, he felt hot. The felling-axes were heavy, and there seemed to be no end to the work that needed to be done. The forest was endless and invincible, and all their efforts against it seemed futile and foolish. He paused to catch his breath, and wiped the sweat from his brow and nose with his sleeve. Underneath cloth and skin, his muscles were burning.

The others were faring much better. They were more experienced and better practice; they spoke little and complained less. As he rested for a moment, an older man passed by him, seeking a new tree to fell. Despite his age, he needed no pause. Varr new his name and a little bit about him: Barac, a Woodman who had come from the south years ago, not long after Bard was proclaimed King, seeking better fortunes and an escape from his frugal folk in newly-rich Dale.

 

OOC

Let's start to try puzzling together the mystery. I'll make an Athletics check; if he fails, he's too much out of breath to talk to him. Weariness from the journey has been lifted.

Edit: A basic success. I'll take it.

[Vladim]

Forcing himself to cut his brief moment of respite short, Varr made haste towards the Woodman. He approached under the pretence of seeking to both lend aid and learn, an offer that Barac reluctantly accepted. Before long, their axes were singing together, though occasionally the rhythmic staccato of metal against living wood was interrupted by the older man's corrections and advice. Words that the Lake-Man tried to heed as best he could.

When at length they had felled the poor tree, they turned their weapons towards the branches, seeking to clear the log of them. That task seemed easier to Varr, and so he begun to speak more frequently, at first complaining about the pain he felt in his hands, before turning to questions about Frostward and its inhabitants.

"The girl in the long-house..." he said at length, "...the cook. Who is she?"

 

OOC

Given the previous (successful) check, let's give a bit of info, though more may require further checks (if it's sensitive).

[Vladim]

"Why? Do you fancy her?" 

Barac gave him a long and stern stare, and under its weight Varr begun to feel momentarily embarrassed, though he had clearly been misunderstood. Luckily for him, the red hue that was developing on his face could easily be attributed to his exertion.

When the Woodman had had his fun, having tortured the Lake-Man long enough, he cracked a broad smile and slapped him on the back. "You mean Breda? She is from Dale, though as far as I can tell, she's been living in Frostward ever since the village was raised. She likes it better than the big city, she says.

She's a curious character, that one. Moon-struck and strange. Always day-dreaming, about something or another. Don't let her draw you in! There's work to be done, and no time to dilly-dally. Dale needs its timber, and it's down to us to deliver it."

And with those words, he turned his axe and his attention back to the tree.

[Vladim]

Varr went back to work, but his mind was elsewhere. The task was repetitive and bothersome, but it gave him plenty of time to think.

Now that he had the cook's name, he wondered if everyone in the village thought the same of her as Barac. Perhaps not, but he would find out in time. And besides, it was good to make friends. Though Frostward was not bad, he was beginning to miss Dale and Lake-Town. Perhaps life in these green lands was not for him. Some company would at least make the days pass more easily.

Around about noon, Iwar came to the lumber-mill, seeking to see if the newcomers were adjusting well. He brought bread and drink, and gave it to Varr and his peers, and all sat together to eat. He asked them how they were faring, and Varr merely nodded-everything was well and good, and the work manageable. Satisfied, the elder departed, and then it was back to the axes and the trees again till sundown.

[Vladim]

It had been a long and weary day, but at long last it had arrived at its end, and now night and darkness were upon the village. For a while, Varr had sat with the others-loggers like himself-in the great house. He was mostly content to listen to their conversations: tidings from Dale, or personal problems, or talk of the future. He rubbed his pained hands gently. Before long, they would grow calluses. His only hope was to get used to this work in days to come. Only then would the tasks grow easier.

Then, as the night drew on, one by one his companions retired, until he alone remained in the cook's company. For a while he was silent, asking only for drink, which he was given. He observed Breda discretely, and she did not seem to notice him. He wished to strike up a conversation, intrigued by what she had heard about her, but he did not yet know how to begin. 

 

OOC

I should start making use of the Telling Table. Let's say she is Likely (4+) to be positively disposed, making it unnecessary to roll for skills. Otherwise, she will be more guarded.

Edit: An eye! Extreme no. I wonder if it counts for eye awareness. Edit: Discord says no.

[Vladim]

"Many thanks. Long day."

Breda hardly said anything in response. She merely brought him his drink, but otherwise remained quiet. For some reason he could not quite fathom, she was distant and cold. And so, Varr chose to avoid pushing his luck; he merely observed and tried to decipher this riddle. 

At first, he focused his efforts on being discreet. Above all, he did not wish to come off as strange or spying. But Breda's attention was elsewhere, and the more he remained, the more he noticed. He thought he was beginning to understand: at times Breda would cease doing whatever she was, and pause suddenly, as if she had noticed something; something Varr could not perceive. Was it the noises of the night that still troubled her? Or something different? 

 

OOC

Given the extreme no, I think he has to make an Insight check before even attempting anything else. Luckily, it's a success, and the narration is included in the post. Perhaps he can do a Persuade next.

[Vladim]

"Can you hear them still? The sounds of the night? Are they giving you trouble?"

Such a direct question was certainly a great gamble; he half-expected to be rebuffed, which was why he made an effort to speak in a soft and gentle voice, expressing concern that was perhaps somewhat exaggerated, but not feigned. He genuinely wished to help. Why, he could not say... but more than help, he wanted to learn. He was intrigued by these sounds that only she seemed able to hear.

 

OOC

Right, let's see if he can convince her to open up. Rolling Persuade, and spending a point of Hope on it for a bonus die.

Edit: Great success. Will need to think about the benefit.