Year 2950: A Darkness in the Marshes

Modest_Proposal · February 6

Cecil Brandybuck

Cecil left the tent calmly and with the faintest smile. He turned to Winfrith, but did not greet him as as he had previously. Instead, he bowed as if to a grave warrior.

“You are twice as brave I was at a quarter the age.” His smile grew wider, “Your uncle is a great man. You know this. If you see this through, come to us and we will take you to open lands. Farewell.”

With that, he followed Barin to their boat without his usual frivolity. He took an oar in each hand and, with his heel, corrected Barin’s paddle. Soon enough they were off and the young boy and his kingdom faded in the mist.

Edited February 9 by Modest_Proposal (see edit history)

thesloth · February 7

Dahr-Ol of the Beornings

The news of the River Folk was bleak, but at least they had the truth. Dahr-Ol settled into the boat oar in hand while Elfwynn watched the banks. They talked briefly from time, commenting on any scrap of remembered Hillmen lore that might hold the key to finding the fortress.

Eventually it fell to tried and true tracking skills as their best hope.

"Old Rork would say a lot of things after two skins of wine. How much of it could be believed?"

"Many a drunken boast has held some seed of truth. Who can deny the Rohirrim helm he returned with? Clearly he ranged far south."

Vladim · February 9

Chapter 3: The passage of the marshes

Scene 17: Slave and hunters

Time: Early summer 2950 T.A. Twenty-six days since the departure from Rhosgobel. Noon.

Location: Somewhere in the Fields of the Gladden...

The Anduin is never idle, and before long they had left Traders' Isle far behind them, out of sight yet perhaps not completely out of mind. The gentle current did all the work, and the rest of the day passed uneventfully and without much strain. Then, by the second day, the proximity of the marshes was heralded first by the presence of insects, which bred to vast numbers over each hot and humid summer. Soon enough, the mists rose into view, and at length they steered their boats to the muddy shore and disembarked.

Magric, who knew these marshes better than any other, scouted ahead, leading them through paths as swiftly and silently as he could. His easy-going demeanor and tendency for frequent jests had now vanished, and it was clear that he was focused solely on the task.

Barin set the pace, ever their trusty guide. He did not know these marshes, that much was true-but he remembered still those that lay south of the Long Lake. He had ventured there not too many years ago at Glóin's and Bofri's behest, with another company, and had nearly perished at the claws of the Marsh-dwellers.

At first, this place seemed no different to him. Moving at speed was all but impossible, however hard Magric tried to find the best pathways, and they all had to resign themselves to struggling in and out of the sucking mud. But after a while, when they had grown accustomed to such hard going, they could finally appreciate that this place was not entirely devoid of beauty. At times, they would come upon fields of flowers: hillocks crowned with golds and yellows, and attended to by buzzing insects. Then at others, the streams would grow wider and clearer, and they could see the waters teeming with fish, and occasionally jumping upwards and breaking the surface as if to greet them. Birds who fed on insects and worms often filled the air with their voices, though not all here where without peril: Gramtyng remembered the tales of the river-folk about the Grim Hawks...

In short, it seemed a land of plenty, yet desolate and ever-shrouded by the mists. Mists that concealed not only paths but also dangers, as Magric made sure to warn them at every chance.

Cecil could not help by recall the wild tales of his youth, those that spoke of giant frogs and even bigger fish, and the hobbit-holes of his ancestors. It was such tales that had convinced him to leave the Shire; the tales and, of course, the deed of the dead Mr. Tuber, which he now was sole owner of. With a great deal of imagination, perhaps one could be forgiven in seeing this swamp in more positive light: gloomy and muddy, yes, but also a delight for any fisher-folk that ever dared to come here. There was, after all, so competition save that of the birds! Perhaps the hobbits of old could adapt to such a muddy habitat... But if they had ever dwelled here, then they had left nothing behind-or, at least, nothing that the eye could discern.

On their first day in the Fields of the Gladden, they marched for several hours until Magric-who was never too far ahead-came back with news of a path. He led them there, and the companions soon found themselves travelling along it. The trail wound its way among the great rushes and tangled reeds of the marshy terrain. It was not without danger: at times they made out the silhouettes of Grim Hawks stalking from above, but these did not otherwise disturb their journey.

After the better part of an hour, they noticed that they were not the only ones to walk this way in recent days. Dahr-Ol first pointed out the flat-bottomed boats lying abandoned at the shores of a larger stream, and traces of a camp not far from it. Gramtyng and Ernstyr and Magric concurred: these boats were of éafolk-make, and they fitted well with the tale Winfrith had told them.

That night they set their own camp, far from that place, seeking stealth as they made their approach towards the Dwimmerhorn.

On the next day, they continued following the same path, but it soon led them to nowhere, and they had to, once again, fall back to their own skills and those of Magric to find their way forward. By noon-time, they chanced upon yet another camp, but this was different.

Dahr-Ol and Elfwyn quickly alerted them to their grim findings: chewed bones and discarded remnants of food that littered the area, and the tall grass savagely trampled, and small trees and plants hacked senselessly to pieces. Was this a camp, or the scene of a battle? Both, perhaps...

The last finding, grimmer than the others, confirmed it: a dead man, his hands tied behind his back, lay rotting in a foul pond a few yards from the scene. He had died many days ago from a large wound that had opened his side. All signs pointed to the same thing: orc-work. Their enemies could not be far off now. Dwimmerhorn too, Margic assured.

They left the scene and marched on with increased watchfulness and wariness. They had not taken many steps when, out of the mists, the shape of a man emerged. He ran towards them, but he was far, and had not yet seen them when a well-aimed arrow from a great distance buried itself in his back. He fell to the ground, motionless-likely dead.

Magric cursed quietly, and at once urged them to hide.

OOC

Here's a summary of the most important mechanics:

The company passes from Border lands to Wild lands. Hunt threshold thus drops to 16. Revelation episode triggered on day 2 (as described in the end of this post; it's the man who gets shot).
Barin's roll triggers a hazard on day 2. This is the grim encounter with the orc-camp. Everyone, make a Corruption (Wisdom) check, TN 16. Failure means you gain +1 (Temporary) Shadow. Failure with a Sauron gives +2 (Temporary) Shadow.
Eyes rolled add +3 to the Eye (Hunt) Threshold, which is now set to 11/16 (check the first post for details).
Barin and Cecil gain +2 Fatigue each. Ernstyr's roll pending... Edit: No Fatigue gained!
Everyone, add any Advancement points potentially gained from your skill rolls!

Mechanics for this scene:

If you want, give me a TN 14 Insight check (everyone can attempt this).
Please choose (individually-no need to agree with everyone else) if you rush towards the felled man or remain behind and try to hide. In the former case, no roll is required. In the latter case, give me a Hunting or Stealth check, TN 12. Remember, Radagast placed a blessing of secrecy on you (so you can add your Wits or Favored Wits score to your Stealth checks for free).

thesloth · February 9

Dahr-Ol of the Beornings

The marsh was much as he had expected it to be, full of bugs. He had not expected the small areas of natural beauty. Almost as if they were remnants of a former period. Dahr-Ol wondered if the presence of the Dwimmerhorn affected these lands. His thoughts were interrupted when they came upon the scene of the slaughter. Orc work. He recoiled in disgust, before reminding himself that his enemy would do the same to him if he did not strengthen his resolve.

Then came the man. They were close. A bow shot and no further. But where? Experienced

"Elfwynn, watch our flanks. We need to know more."

"They will be moving in a pack, pray that there are no wargs among them."

Diofant · February 9

Gramtyng, son of Fastred

Magric was the one used to these parts. Giving up your life - much less companions' lives - to pull a dead man elsewhere seemed foolish, and Gram hid as instructed, falling flat behind a bush.

OOC/Actions

Edited February 18 by Diofant (see edit history)

Suzuki Stumpy · February 12

Barin Greycloak

Upon leaving the river and beginning their trek through the marshes, Barin was sorely reminded of the treacherous grounds he travelled previously not that many years ago. The sucking mud, the ever-present, chilling mists, the glow-lights from will-o-wisps over the marsh waters at night, the constant buzzing of midges. At least, his bears protected him a little from the annoying little biting things which buzzed incessantly around them.

The discovery of the abandoned éafolk boats on the first day at least let them know they were on the right track, although the fact that the boats and nearby camp did little to lift the company's spirits. Perhaps, mused Barin, the river people had all travelled further into the marsh as a group and the smaller company would catch them up eventually.

That night's camp was a miserable affair. They daren't risk a fire lest they alert agents of the Enemy to their presence, so a cold meal of water, dried meat and trailbread was rounded off with a night spent shivering in damp clothing and blankets.

The following day, was much as the first. Following a path found by Magric, come midday, they eventually stumbled upon another éafolk camp, but this one, this one looked more like a charnel house. The man lying in the centre of the camp, obviously executed. As pointed out by Magric, they were getting closer to the enemy.

When the man burst from the reeds not a hundred yards ahead of them and then dropped suddenly, a long black arrow embedded in his back, Barin joined his companions hunkered down in the reeds, pulling Núr down alongside him. Hoping, praying silently to Mahal that whoever had fired the shot had not seen, nor heard any sign of the company's approach.

Peering through his cover, Barin strained to see if he could detect any movement up ahead.

Modest_Proposal · February 14

Cecil Brandybuck

Cecil marveled as they passed. Within these shallows… there was untouched beauty. The soil was supple and bounded by mulch. Fish leapt from clear sheltered waters without needing to be teased. He only had to wade knee-deep and hold out his cloak.

His pilgrimage had not been in vain. These lands offered to the hearty hobbit all his needs. Food, shelter, and good old fashioned peace and quiet. He felt the weight of the deed in his coat and had half a mind to wander behind a bush and bury it. But he knew this was not the end.

What! A man raced through the reeds, shot! Cecil plunged to the ground, hands sucking into the muck, and peered through the slip.

Edited February 14 by Modest_Proposal (see edit history)

Vladim · February 15

They had seen the approaching figure just in time. At once they moved, scrambling to conceal themselves behind a patch of reeds. Barin, in his haste to hide, stumbled into a deep puddle of mire, and he was far slower than he would have liked. But he was quickly aided by Gramtyng, and joined the rest of them just in time to see him who had shot the deadly dart.

It was the silhouette of an orc: before long, it emerged from the gloomy mists like an apparition. It bore all the characteristic features of that foul race: short legs, broad shoulders, swarthy skin. He wore a piecemeal armor of hide, leather and padded cloth, as filthy as the swamps were, and in his hand he bore a bow, strung and ready with another arrow.

A lesser specimen of his kind: not a soldier, but a mere tracker, weaker than others, but with a keen sense of smell. Those amongst the company who had encountered orcs before knew this well. He sniffed the air, but he did not grow alert to the presence of the company: perhaps Radagast's spell of secrecy was proving its worth. The orc moved with slow yet steady steps towards the fallen man, shouldering his bow of horn as he approached.

He was only a few more paces away from his quarry when he drew a jagged knife, making his intent plain to the hidden company. There would be no quarter given to the wounded fellow today.

Both Barin and Cecil were focused on this foe, but Dahr-Ol and Gramtyng also noticed something else, perhaps no less disconcerting. For Magric had grown as pale as a corpse, and had fallen back to the rear of the company. Terror had seized him, and to Gramtyng in particular he seemed almost certain to flee, and perhaps in a reckless manner, thus endangering their hiding-place.

Words could strengthen his resolve, perhaps, but not without risk: the orc-tracker might hear them, and thus such words could ruin all secrecy.

OOC

Summary of mechanics:

No shadow points gained except for Ernstyr (+1 Shadow, stats updated on first post).
You rolled really well for stealth/hunting: only Barin failed, but he can be assisted by either Cecil or Gramtyng, who secured an Extraordinary and Great success, respectively (I'll roll to see who helped Barin... edit: it's Gram). I'll roll for Ernstyr too, but even if he fails, he can be helped (edit 2: by Cecil).
Practically, this means that the company can choose to: (1) remain hidden or (2) ambush the orc. Your choice!
Gramtyng and Dahr-Ol are both aware of Magric's fear.

Next mechanics:

Everyone can roll Battle (TN 14) for combat advantages (bonus dice) in case combat is joined (combat is a possibility, but it can still be avoided).
Anyone with a ranged weapon (bow or spear) can attempt to attack the orc (TN 15 with bow, or TN 17 with thrown spear).
Gramtyng and/or Dahr-Ol can try to steady Magric's nerves, but they must do so quietly (Inspire TN 16) or risk alerting the orc.
Anyone not attacking the orc or interacting with Magric can roll Awareness (TN 14) to observe the environment.

Diofant · February 19

Gramtyng, son of Fastred

Something seemed off about the trapper... A knife? One orc would die quickly enough... Was this to mean the man who was shot was alive still? Gramtyng crawled to the side slightly and grabbed hold of Magric's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Words would alert the creature... But not if an arrow found its throat. Magric was the better shot... He mimicked shooting an arrow. Maybe the concentration would help the hunter.

OOC/Actions*

That is a Great Success because of Old Songs but... It may not apply since this was silent? I guess I could have just remembered one for myself.

Edited February 19 by Diofant (see edit history)

thesloth · February 19

Dahr-Ol of the Beornings

Dahr-Ol eyed the orc as it closed on its prey. He could see Magric, and the man looked as worried as Dahr-Ol had ever seen him. Dahr-Ol held his axe tight, while Gramtyng tried to steady Magric. If it didn't work Dahr-Ol would ensure the orc never made it back to it's camp.

Suzuki Stumpy · February 19

Barin Greycloak

The lone Orc leaves little choice but for the party to act as far as Barin sees it. The man must clearly still be alive if the creature is attempting to slit his throat, although he muses that it could just be collecting a trophy. Either way, the Orc couldn't be allowed to live lest it spot them and alert more of its kind.

An arrow would be best placed to silence the creature, but glancing at his companions, he couldn't see any of them immediately reaching for their bows.

As stealthily as he could, he began to creep from his spot in the rushes towards the Orc, praying to Mahal that the creature wouldn't spot him or cry out until it was too late, fixated as it was on the man lying before it.

With his axe raised and ready in one hand, and his knife in the other, ready for a swift throw at the creature should it prove necessary, Barin made his way ever closer.

Eric · February 19

Ernstyr of Rhosgobel

As soon as he saw Barin heading for the Orc, Ernstyr knew the stout dwarf would need cover. Even a lone foe could be a danger, and an arrow from this range would be an easy shot. Raising his bow, he reached over his shoulder for one of the waiting shafts. If Barin were noticed, he was ready to fire.

OOC

Readied action to fire, but not shooting in a way that could cause jeopardy to Barin's stealthy approach.

Modest_Proposal · February 21

Cecil Brandybuck

Through the reeds, the creature looked smaller and more gaunt than those he had seen at Mountain Hall. But its abhorrence was unmistakable. It was an orc, or some cousin of it, wreathed in mud. It moved with greater speed, too, but did not have the stoutness of a warrior. A scout, perhaps.

Cecil turned to his right and left as his comrades moved around him. Barin, he thought, was merely creeping until he caught the shimmer of his axe and Ernstyr's bow behind him. Cecil froze. He peered again forward, expecting a troop of orcs to leap through the reeds to maul the man. He knew there surely were more. Pack animals, he was told!

With a hand trained by the hunt, he slipped forward his bow and nocked an arrow. But he did not think to shoot. He knew the path rearwards well, and if necessary, he would hide in the thickets.

Edited February 21 by Modest_Proposal (see edit history)

Vladim · February 21

Gramtyng's gesture was at once understood by Magric, and the trapper swiftly unshouldered his bow and readied an arrow... Yet the confidence that the bard had wordlessly instilled seemed not sufficient; not fully.

Magric crawled closer to the reeds, and closer to the lone orc, still keeping his cover. His movements were slow, reluctant, and Gram could see his hands shaking a great deal... He was the better shot, certainly: but these were not normal circumstances, and his prey was not some unsuspecting and defenseless coney hiding in the bushes.

Could Gram be certain that Magric's aim would remain as steady as he remembered it?

Meanwhile, Dahr-Ol watched and waited. Their hiding-place was a blessing and a boon, but this marshland seemed to offer no other advantages. Indeed, the terrain was a challenge. The unsteady, muddy footing would surely hinder them all in a melee. In contrast, the orc was sure-footed, used to these flooded fields. Greatly outnumbered, yes: but the battlefield favored him.

Ernstyr readied his bow. Cecil too, opening his ears as he did the same. The wind was weak, but there were sounds in it: faint and concealed by the occasional cawing of a waterbird or the movement of the reeds. But he could perceive them: footsteps approaching, making a squelching noise as they stepped in and out of the muds. The orc was not alone! He was merely the vanguard, and his friends would soon arrive. A small party, the halfling thought, perhaps matching in strength the company, or perhaps a somewhat greater number. But probably not by much.

At the same time, Barin crept onwards, taking advantage of the reeds and his smaller stature, until he was within just a few yards only from the scout. Just in time too: for the orc had knelt over his prey, and at the same time Magric let loose his arrow... but it flew astray, and with snake-like speed the orc now turned towards the company's direction and raised his knife.

OOC

Gram: I am good for Old Songs to apply here.
Dahr-Ol: The Battle roll is a failure, but I can anyway inform you that the difficult terrain will impose a +2 TN on all melee attacks ('moderately hindered' to use the rulebook's parlanse) if battle is joined. The orcs are used to the swamps, so they will not suffer from such a penalty-as Dahr-Ol can judge already.
Ernstyr: There's no official rules for readied actions (ala D&D) but if Magric misses, or fails to kill the orc, feel free to shoot in your next post.
Cecil: The hobbit perceives more orcs approaching-probably anywhere between five or ten. They'll be here soon.
Barin: The eye adds to Eye Awareness but the Stealth is a success, so you can freely attack the orc in your next post.
Magric: He will succeed on a 51+ roll (see below).
Edit: He failed, and the company can now go! We are officially in combat. Ernstyr and Cecil can shoot, as can anyone else with a ranged weapon. Only Barin can make a melee attack; others will have to close the gap first to get into hand-to-hand range.

Diofant · February 22

Gramtyng, son of Fastred

The horseman shifted his position to one knee and loosed an arrow at the orc. How did the trapper miss?

OOC/Actions

Edited March 1 by Diofant (see edit history)

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Bright_1	Bright_2	Bright_3	Bold_4	Accent_4	Mood_4

Year 2950: A Darkness in the Marshes

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