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Chapter 2: Timeas' Folly


rogueblade0729

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Posted (edited)

Music: Fair They Wrought Us - LOTRO

The Black Barrow - Winter 2947 T.A.

88257251_large-2550347234.jpg.b5adab7eb1a44903bdda97a1fc4eb29e.jpg image.png.3696a68d0d96fef285379cbe03c9667d.pnggror.jpg.e3b3d85344212bdbca4c33c42f2487f7.jpg

Emptying the Black Barrow took the Company well over an hour. While very little treasure could be found within the upper level, it was through continued dives that the heroes managed to recover more and more from the murky depths. The swim, however, was too exhausting for any one person to accomplish alone, so they took turns. When Fletcher's shift came up, he plunged into the water, when a strange gleam caught his eye that none of the others noticed--even Galian, with her keen elf-eyes! Diving to the bottom, the Ranger cleared aside some broken stone, only to spot the handle of a surprisingly well-kept sword. All other weapons he had seen were badly rusted and beyond repair, but this one... this one was as sharp and well-kept as the day it was forged.

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Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the blade was of Númenórean craftsmanship. Yet there was a hidden quality to it, some long-forgotten subtlety that differed it from other, lesser crafts of the same people. Whose blade was this? When was it made? What power may still reside in it, awaiting a hero of the Free Peoples to claim and use in the battles against the Enemy? None in the Company held these answers, neither did Grór. "A fine blade, I suppose, but inferior to the skill of my own people," was all he said when questioned. Apparently, he wasn't sure what use Gorlanc would have for such a weapon, yet it was undoubtedly precious to the sorcerer.

Despite being shown the treasure, his "inheritance", Tomas seemed no more satisfied in the adventure than before. All he desired now was to go home with his father. As for the dwarvish villain, his fate remained in the Company's hands.

OOC

Roles for Journeys

  • Guide - ?
  • Scout - Fletcher
  • Hunter - Orn
  • Look-out - Léofwyn

Company Conditions: None

OOC: Alright folks, I've listed the contents of the Black Barrow below. We have just about reached the end of the adventure, so let's wrap up the last few plot points (Tomas, Grór, the treasure, the spectres) and head on into the Fellowship Phase!

Treasure of the Black Barrow

  • 27 gold pieces + 30 gold pieces (recovered earlier)
  • 142 silver pennies
  • 69 copper coins
  • A small gold ring, worth 5g
  • A ring of silver, studded with a fine emerald (total value 10g)
  • A jewelled sword-hilt, worth 20g (sentimental to the Men of Bree)
  • Pearls of great worth, total value 20g
  • A lordly chain of gold, bearing the emblem of Arthedain, worth 20g (sentimental to the Dunedain)
  • A golden crown, bearing seven shining sapphires, worth 50g
  • Fletcher's Sword
  • Léofwyn's Ring

Roll20 Map


To Post: Roleplay at will!


@codexgigas @BobtheWizard @Papa Bear @grimlock

Edited by rogueblade0729 (see edit history)
Name
Gold Pieces
27
7d6 1,5,1,6,6,5,3
Silver Pennies
90; 52
4d6*10;16d6 [3,1,2,3]; [3,1,2,3,1,4,2,3,3,6,3,1,4,3,6,1,6,1,2,6]
Copper Coins
69
6d20 9,19,12,19,4,6
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Amdiran, Son of AmdirgirDunédain Warden 3
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AC: 15/17 | HP: 15/22 | HD: 3/3d8 | Initiative: +4 | Passive Perception: 17 | Warden's Gift: 0/3 | Discourse 0/1 | Foresight: 0/1
Shadow Points: 4 | DM Inspiration: 1/1


Amdiran emerges sodden from the icy waters, gripping the sword to his chest. He pushes his wet hair out of his face and heads into the sunlight outside. He holds the sword aloft, watching how the light glints on the silvery metal. Something about the weapon feels right in his hand. He has always favored the bow, given the lingering effects of his childhood illness. However, with this sword in his hand, he feels as if he could match blows with the strongest of warriors.

He studies the sword, but cannot find any marks identifying it. He supposes this is folly. It would be beyond hope to find a blade so fine as to earn a name here, in this forgotten barrow. While such blades exist, they are heirlooms of his people, guarded and cherished. And yet, watching the silver light glint off the sword's edge, he cannot help but give it a name. "Egeleb," he says in a hushed whisper. "I shall call you Egeleb." It is an Elvish name, as his people have always given to their greatest works. "Silver Thorn." Not so great a name as that of the greatest of the Numenorean blades, Narsil or its brothers, but still a name fit for a fine blade in the hand of a warrior coming into his strength.

Thrusting the blade into his belt, he turns to his companions. He will have to find a sheath for the blade when they return to Bree. "What shall we do with Grór?" he asks. "I would give him to the judgment of the Bree-men, but given what he has told me of his master, I fear that his master would overwhelm whatever guard the Men of Bree can muster. I would parole him to my people, if you are agreeable, or else we could petition Lord Elrond to guard him in Rivendell. It may be that it will take the strength of one of the Wise to keep Grór from Gorlanc's grasp."


Mechanics

 

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images.jpg
Léofwyn (Rohirrim Knight level 3)
 

AC: 17/18* | HP: 29/29 (1) | Initiative: +2 | Passive Perception: 15 | Insight: 11 | Speed: 30 ft
Inspiration: 0 | Shadow: 5 |Action Surge: 0 | Second Wind: 1 | Mark of Honor: 0/1 | Sworn Defender: Tomas 

Broad Sword | Spear | Short Bow | Dagger 


Aelfric (Horse, Large) | AC: 12 | HP: 27/29 Speed: 60ft | Passive Perception: 10 Hooves Trained Mount


 

Léofwyn warmed her hands beside a small fire outside the barrow after diving once more. A small pile of wealth was beginning to accumulate after each took their turn delving. "I say we let the Bree-men judge him. It is they who have been wronged the most. What becomes of him after is not up to us."

She moved to stir a pot on the stove and serve two bowls of stew to the wounded Heathertons. "Our priority should be the safe return of Tomas and his father to Bree. Then we can pursue this Gorlanc."

OOC

 

 

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Galian Elethor (Mirkwood Elf Wanderer 3) sheet appspacer.png


AC: 16 | HP: 28/28 | Initiative: +4 | Passive Perception: 14 (16 in wilderness) | Features


Galian takes off her armor and cloak, dives into the cold water, and comes up with the golden crown. She then keeps watch as the others take their turns diving into the pool. When the topic turns to Gror, she weighs in again.

"We should turn him over to the men of Bree. They can do what they want with him. If they ask us to take him elsewhere, we can decide that then. Most importantly, let's make sure we get Tomas and Nick safely home."

When the party is ready to leave, she takes the lead, guiding the party past hazards and finding the quickest, safest way back to Bree.


Mechanics

 

 

Main Hand: Bow

Off Hand: none


Action: gather crown
Bonus Action: none
Move: dive
Manipulate: gather crown

     

 

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image.jpeg.73940120db5f4a4029590082d07a0a45.jpegOrn, Son of Thain

Weaponmaster

#3 HP: 14 / 32          AC: 20 (16)           Second Wind: Yes          Action Surge: Yes    Shadow: 2       Character Sheet


"What you think, Gror? Fancy a tip ta the 'last homely home?" Orn says, misremembering the nickname for Rivendell. "You can cozy up with the stiff old fart, Elrond himself and drink that bland elvish wine!"

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Music: Getting Rest - LOTRO

The Prancing Pony - Winter 2947 T.A.

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The journey back to Bree was queerly still and silent. The dwarf and the two Men of Bree traveled along at the Company's pace, though Tom's lame leg and Nick's punctured lung proved challenges for them to travel very far for very long. It took about a week, two days longer than initially expected, but just as they were scratching for crumbs from their rations, the hedge-wall of Bree stood before them. Thankfully they had arrived before dark, so the gate was still open, but upon seeing the state of the travelers, a particularly young Warden approached the group swiftly. Despite hardly being considered a full grown man, the Warden was far more attentive and active than the rest of his older fellows.

TadTillfield.png.12eb6ae3f3f6d32d830fa24992292dd5.png

"Oi, what be this, then? Outlanders and--Mr. Heatherton? Tom? Oh dear, you look dreadful! This just won't do, not at all. Come, come!" the Warden exclaimed, gesturing them along before they could even get two words in. "I'd say you've need of food, drink, and a healer. Stay close now, I shall sort this whole affair out. What befell you lot along the Road? Your wounds seem that of a brigand attack, and Mr. Talltree has been speaking of more ruffians in the Chetwood. Goodness... what is becoming of Bree?"

Indeed, the young Warden, Tad Tillfield, took the lead and addressed each of the Company's concerns the whole rest of the day. Grór was shackled and imprisoned, the Heathertons' wounds were tended by Bree's folk healers and herbalists, and rumor of the adventurers' fates began to spread through town like wildfire. The matter of the Troll was still fresh in their minds, and now with Tomas and Nick returning from beyond Bree in such dire conditions, a gloom settled upon the Men of Bree. No matter where Fletcher, Léofwyn, or Orn went, it was difficult to avoid their inquisitiveness, or for the less savory of their ilk, suspicion. Galian, the relative newcomer to the Company, was somewhat more fortunate, though her status as one of the Firstborn would always draw attention.

Whether they were open and honest about the whole adventure, or chose to obscure it behind subtlety and riddles, they would struggle to find a moment's peace and quiet anywhere in town. Barnabas Butterbur did his best to help grant them peace, if they sought respite in the Pony. But one thing is for certain: with snow settling in, this Yuletide season was off to the most curious, and perhaps troubling of starts in living memory for Bree.

Tomas' leg never truly recovered, nor did his adventurous spirit. He had finally resigned himself to a quiet, peaceful life at home, putting aside all thoughts of treasure and wanderlust. Yet as news of his tale spread beyond the borders of Bree, a version of it eventually found its way into the Shire. In years to come, after more than a few reinterpretations of the tale, the Rhyme of the Troll would become a favorite melody for the idyllic little folk, including the yet-to-be-born humble son of a gardener from Bagshot Row...


Tom's leg is game, since home he came,

And his bootless foot is lasting lame;

But Troll don't care, and he's still there

With the bone he boned from its owner.

OOC

Roles for Journeys

  • Guide - ?
  • Scout - Fletcher
  • Hunter - Orn
  • Look-out - Léofwyn

Company Conditions: None

OOC: With that, we now bring a close to Old Bones and Skins, the second adventure of this wonderful fellowship! If you are wondering: yes, you did in fact just play through the plot of a Tolkien song.

Go ahead and make any final posts here before we head on into the Fellowship Phase!


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To Post: Roleplay at will!


@codexgigas @BobtheWizard @Papa Bear @grimlock

Edited by rogueblade0729 (see edit history)
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