Year 2949: The King's Hunt

[Vladim]

OK, here we go ... I've given rolls for both Day 1 and 2 as you've done for the others above. If you only need one set, then just take the best first set
 

Barin Hunting Day 1:
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 4
d6 Results: 1
Sum Total: 5

 

Barin Stealth Day 1:
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 2
d6 Results: 2
Sum Total: 4

 

Barin Awareness Day 1:
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 7
d6 Results: 4
Sum Total: 11

 

Barin Explore Day 1:
Dice Roll: 1d12 2d6t
d12 Results: 2
d6 Results: 1, 4 (Total = 5)
Sum Total: 7

 

Barin Search Day 1:
Dice Roll: 1d12 2d6t
d12 Results: 12
d6 Results: 5, 2 (Total = 7)
Sum Total: 19

 

Barin Hunting Day 2:
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 10
d6 Results: 5
Sum Total: 15

 

Barin Stealth Day 2:
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 2
d6 Results: 1
Sum Total: 3

 

Barin Awareness Day 2:
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 8
d6 Results: 1
Sum Total: 9

 

Barin Explore Day 2:
Dice Roll: 1d12 2d6t
d12 Results: 8
d6 Results: 3, 3 (Total = 6)
Sum Total: 14

 

Barin Search Day 2:
Dice Roll: 1d12 2d6t
d12 Results: 12
d6 Results: 1, 5 (Total = 6)
Sum Total: 18

*sigh* that's a pretty abysmal set of rolls. Still at least there's 1AP I suppose from the Search roll.

[Vladim]

[OOC: Terribly sorry for the delay; I wanted to post earlier, but other obligations, plus making an app for a Nova Praxis game, ate my time. But here I am again!.]

As they did previously, the companions split up to cover more ground. The woods-wise Lara, who is most at home in these parts of Mirkwood, teaches her companions how to mimic the song of a particular bird. This is the sound that a member of the company should make should he or she encounter their prey, or some great danger. For though these parts of the woods are often visited by Thranduil's folk, and thus are the best patrolled and better protected, spiders are nonetheless not unheard of, even here. Or so Lara says.

As for Barin, though he is may be growing more accustomed to the forest in these past two days, if such a thing can be said for any of the folk of Durin, his skill as a hunter still seems lesser than that of his more capable companions. Besides, luck does not seem to favour him. Though he is unable to discover tracks of the deer, or follow the sounds of his prey that surround him in the forest, he does find signs of his companions' passing, as if one of them is moving in a particular direction. So at least he can take comfort in the fact that he has not become lost; indeed, he must not be that far behind, and manages to follow his more capable companion.
 

Which companion:
Dice Roll: 1d3
d3 Results: 3

At a clearing he finally comes upon Lara, who is standing quietly behind a tree. As soon as she sees Barin, she presses her index finger against the tip of her nose, requesting silence. As Barin approaches, as quietly as he can, she motions at the distance: there, Barin can see the silhouette of a great white deer, glittering in the green forest. The light reflected from it makes the leaves upon the trees glitter like emeralds, reminiscent of the jewels Barin secured for the Elvenking. Not far away from the white shape are three fawns, playfully chasing each other around their mother.

Lara does not seem inclined to shoot at the deer; her bow is unstrung, and her arrows are resting in her quiver. But from an unseen corner of the forest, an arrow whistles as it flies, though Barin and Lara are too far to hear it.
 

Fareth shoots:
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 7
d6 Results: 3
Sum Total: 10

Alerted to the presence of the hunters, the deer begins its quick retreat towards the opposite direction. Fareth and Asfrid instantly emerge from their hiding-place and begin their pursuit, and Lara follows suit an instant later.

[OOC: Athletics test, TN 14 please if you want to join the pursuit (unless you want to have Barin do something else, which is also totally fine!)

[Vladim]

Barin is momentarily startled by the sudden rush of activity around him, and before he knows it he is staring at Lara's bootheels as she disappears almost silently into the undergrowth.

Steeling himself for further activity in the (bloody accursed!) forest he begins to follow on behind his companions, eager to perhaps get another glimpse of the magnificent White Deer...
 

Athletics (TN14):
Dice Roll: 1d12+1d6t
d12 Results: 6 (Total = 7)
Sum Total: 7

[ooc: Arse! Looking at the above, I think I screwed up the dice roll and it computed as 1d12+1, but never mind since I wouldn't have made the TN anyway...]

[Vladim]

Though Barin tries to follow his companions, it quickly becomes apparent that his stumpy legs are no match for those of his longer-limbed fellows. Fareth and Lara soon dissapear in the distance, swallowed by the green forest, leaving Barin well behind. Nevertheless, it is easy enough to follow their tracks. Finding them again, at least, will not be a problem, though it appears that Barin's eyes will not have the priviledge of witnessing the enchanted beasts' majesty from up close.

As he wanders in the forest, following as best he can, Barin hears a muffled scream. It causes him to turn his head towards the left: whoever issued the cry cannot be far. But there are no tracks leading there; in fact, his companions' tracks urge him to continue onwards, if finding them is his intention.

[OOC: Does Barin investigate? Or does he want to focus on regrouping his fellowship?]

[Vladim]

Upon hearing the scream, Barin halts in his headlong flight into the woods.

"Damn!" He thinks, "that sounds like trouble."

Taking a short moment to fix his surroundings so he can find the trail again, he cautiously leaves the trail and heads into the woods towards the sound of the scream. Although the Elves had mentioned that this area of the woods was relatively safe from the darker creatures of the treetops, caution was his byword and he proceeded at what he believed to be as rapid a pace as he could muster, tempered with caution to observe whatever might be awaiting ahead with evil intent...

[Vladim]

Barin proceeds cautiously, but it would seem that such caution is unnecessary, for there is no sign of obvious danger, and the forest remains quiet after the scream. Before long, he arrives at a small clearing, where he encounters a most curious sight: a deep pit cut into the forest floor, opening among the thick roots and fallen leaves. The pit was obviously concealed in the underbrush until recently.

At the bottom of the pit, he notices a silvery glimmer in the murky green light. It is the precious bow Penbregol, the very same that he saw on Ruthiel when he arrived at the Woodland Realm. Yet there is no obvious sign of the arrogant elf here.

[OOC: Give me a roll depending on what you want to do. The pit is not too deep, so Barin can climb into it and explore, if he wishes (no roll needed).]

[Vladim]

"That's odd!" Barin thinks upon recognising the bow. "I wonder where Ruthiel is. Can't imagine her leaving her bow here."

He begins to take a look around the local area to see if he can spot any signs of her presence, before climbing down into the pit to take a closer look.

[Vladim]

Barin searches around the pit, and initially discovers nothing, much to his dismay. It is as if this giant pit is nothing but a hunter's trap, though Barin knows full well that it is simply too large to be one. But as he examines the trunk and roots of a dead tree, something stands out: something that he knows well, for here is the craftsmanship of the folk of Durin. This is no mere tree, but a cunningly concealed dwarf-door; the entrance to an underground lair, perhaps. Perhaps it is fate that led Barin here, for surely this door would be invisible to they eyes of Men and Elves alike.

Still, the door is closed, and Barin knows full well how difficult it is to open, for the dwarves that made it likely lay spells of sealing upon it. Without knowing the command word, or the unique circumstances under which this door would open, it is hopeless to even try.

Yet as he ponders what the door might mean in such a strange place (this is, after all, still the Woodland Realm of Thranduil), he hears the sounds of footsteps approaching from the other side... Barin has only a few moments, a minute at best, to seek a hiding spot if he does not wish to be seen.

[OOC: Hiding is only one of many options; feel free to choose whatever, but give me an appropriate check. For hiding, Awareness or Search may help you find a good hiding spot, and a Stealth check would be necessary to hide. Both start at TN 12, but the level of success on the Awareness / Search will lower the Stealth TN (10 if Normal Success, 8 if Great, 6 if Extraordinary).]

[Vladim]

Barin swiftly looks around to see if he can secrete himself behind the door, out of the sight line of whomever might come through. That way, he could at least possibly manage to sneak in before it closed once more.

Search (TN12):
Dice Roll: 1d12 2d6t
d12 Results: 1
d6 Results: 3, 3 (Total = 6)
Sum Total: 7

"Damn" he thought to himself "there's nowhere!"

Being unable to find a decent spot, he instead tried to simply make himself look as unobtrusive as possible behind the nearest tree...

Stealth (TN12):
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 11
d6 Results: 2
Sum Total: 13

[ooc: Jeez. Poor old Barin can't get a break.]

As he turned, however, he managed to trip upon the haft of his axe and fell sprawled right in front of the door ...
... realising the potential severity of his situation, he swiftly began to struggle to try and regain his feet before whomever was approaching could see him...

[Vladim]

 

Barin only had time to regain his footing as the cunningly concealed dwarf-door at the roots of the dead tree opened without a sound, revealing blackness within. But before he had another chance to seek out a new hiding-place, two dwarves emerged from within, wide-eyed, with pupils racing left and right about them, searching their pit with great caution. Barin recognized them, but only barely, for they seemed to have aged greatly since the last time he had encountered them. These were the brothers Polin and Pomin, his kin, dwarves who lived at the foothills of the Grey Mountains, as Barin once had. They were tinkers and scavengers, and their line hailed from the ancient dwarf-hold of the Greydelve, who braved the orc-infested mountains to seek the treasures of yore of their kin, in hopes of finding great artefacts, now long forgotten even by the loremasters.

Yet the two brothers did not seem to recognize Barin, for their initial reaction was one of fear. Indeed, no sooner had they emerged from the door than they scurried back within, drawing axes from about their belts as if Barin was not of their folk. They clearly seemed distressed. Polin spoke first, from within the dark tunnel that lay behind the doorway, ready to close it at Barin's face if he dared threatened or approach them.

'Who are you, trespasser? This is our domain, and here is our home. You should return from whence you came. You have no business here!'

[OOC: Normally, this would be an Encounter, but since I want to streamline it a bit, let's just make it a skill challenge / RP scene. Feel free to use whatever skills you want to speak to them; social skills are most likely appropriate here. The TN will be adjusted by the RP and other details. In addition, feel free to roll Lore (TN 10 for being a Grey Dwarf yourself) and Riddle (TN 14). On a success, you can access the following spoilered information, which you may be able to use to your benefit during the interaction.]

 

Info

Lore:

A basic success gives you some info about the Greydelve:

The Dwarf-hold of the Greydelve lies hidden in a box canyon in the foothills of the Grey Mountains. It was once among the largest of the Dwarven settlements in this region, and the Dwarves dug very deep into the mountains. Some tales claim that they dug so deep that they broke into the ruins of some lost fortress from the First Age of the world, and found things there so terrible that they walled up those deeper passageways and warded them with traps both cunning and lethal.

The folk of this fortress were driven from their home by Goblins long ago. Frár the Beardless is their chief, and still dreams of reclaiming the Greydelve.

A Great / Extraordinary success additionally reveals info about their chieftain:

Frár, called the Beardless, is one of the houseless Dwarves who live in the Narrows of the Grey Mountains. It is said
he lost his beard when he was captured and tortured by Goblins in the ruins of the Dwarf-hall called the Greydelve, which was the home of his ancestors for many long ages until the Goblins took it.

Today, Frár is a wandering tinker and potsmith, travelling down as far as Lake-town on his journeys. Wherever he goes, he tells tales of the Goblins, and tries to rally the Dwarves and other Free Folk to his cause. Even the other Dwarves think Frár to be a madman, and fear that the Greydelve is forever lost to Durin’s folk.

Since the death of the Dragon and the re-establishment of the King under the Mountain, Frár has visited Dáin Ironfoot’s court once each year to demand that Dáin send warriors to reclaim the Greydelve. So far, Dáin has always counselled patience, saying that the Greydelve is too far from Erebor to risk such an expedition. The Greydelve lies near the source of the Forest River. It was never the richest of the Dwarf-holds, but was famed for the quality of its steel.

Riddle:

Any success with Riddle allows Barin to connect the reports previously given to him by Dwalin (link - click) about the sightings of orcs in the Grey Mountains. These two brothers must be desperate indeed to seek refuge within the realm of the Elvenking (and very daring to call this place their own domain - a clear lie). This leads Barin to the inevitable conclusion that the orc sightings have in the interim turned to attacks, and it seems that the orcs must have been succesful in driving these dwarves at least from the Grey Mountain Narrows. How many more, he cannot say, but these news are grim indeed, if they are true.

[Vladim]

ooc

Lore TN(10):
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 5
d6 Results: 1
Sum Total: 6

Riddle TN(14):
Dice Roll: 1d12 1d6t
d12 Results: 7
d6 Results: 6
Sum Total: 13

... bugger!

Scrambling carefully to regain his footing, Barin peered into the gloom of the doorway, a glimmer of recognition moving across his face.

"Polin? Pomin? Is that really you?" advancing slowly and cautiously he held out his hands to show as little threat as possible, "It is I, Barin Greycloak. Whatever happened to bring you this far from your - our - home? What tidings have you of the Grey Mountains? Please, I mean you no harm, but dearly wish to hear your tidings. From one Dwarf to another."
 

ooc

Persuade TN(14):
Dice Roll: 1d12 2d6t
d12 Results: 5
d6 Results: 4, 1 (Total = 5)
Sum Total: 10

... hopefully, Barin's demeanour will persuade the two Dwarves to show themselves a little and engage in conversation ... although the dice seem to be willing this to not be so 

[Vladim]

[OOC: Yeah, don't worry about it. RP trumps bad dice rolls in this particular case, otherwise we'd both be completely at the mercy of the dice, which would make for very short and uninteresting story. With good dice rolls, I'll provide some more benefits, but even if luck is not with Barin he may be able to achieve something here just with what he says.]

For a moment, Polin seemed confused and dumbfounded, as if he had not expected to see a fellow dwarf here, but finally his eyes changed, shining with recognition. He had remembered Barin, and so his tone changed entirely, and he spoke now as if to a friend.

'Barin Greycloak, my old kinsman!' he said, and he motioned to Pomin to lower his axe, as he too did the same. 'How many years has it been? Five? Ten? May your beard ever grow longer!' The dwarf, completely changed now, inspected Barin from head to toe, and spread his arms widely, offering an embrace.

At length he spoke again: 'What are you doing here, my friend? Have the orcs also driven you from your homestead? It is most fortuitous that you have stumbled upon our humble abode at this hour.'

[Vladim]

Barin held Polin by the shoulders at arms length to get a better look at him after they broke from their embrace.

"Orcs, you say?" he replied "Mi targê that is bad tidings indeed if they have driven you both so far from the mountains. For myself, when I left our halls, they were plagued by naught more than the occasional band of goblins. I have instead spent many years wandering as far to the east as the halls of Dain Ironfoot in the Iron Hills, and the length and breadth of Erebor. You would not believe some of the sights I've seen ..."

Barin seated himself on the roots of the large tree, filled and lit his pipe and offered his tobacco pouch to his fellow Dwarves. After taking a few contented puffs, he relaxed into his storytelling and continued to recount some of the tales of his previous wanderings and adventures, relishing the company of friends not seen for many years. Eventually, he caught up with recounting the tale of the hunt and what had led him to be here, in this clearing, at this time.

"... Which reminds me," he added, "That bow in the base of yonder pit belongs to a most talented Elven huntress. I cannot believe that she would willingly part company with it, and I cannot see any sign of her passing. You wouldn't happen to know where she may be would you?" His eyebrows raised along with his voice at this last question.

[Vladim]

Upon hearing Barin's words, Polin looked at the direction that his fellow dwarf indicated, and indeed he could see the bow that was spoken of. For a brief moment, something resembling anxiety manifested on the face of the dwarf, and he tried to explain away the presence of Penbregol in this out of all places.

'That... well... Ah...' he begun, mattering under his breath, as if trying to buy some time, before giving up the effort entirely. 'Blast it!' he admitted finally, 'the elven maiden must have dropped it. To tell you the truth, we caught her trespassing here, briefly before you arrived.' He paused for a moment, pondering, before responding with a question of his own: 'How do you know all of this? I don't suppose you are in league with her?' In an instant, the dwarf's friendly demeanour was gone, replaced once again by suspicion mixed with fear.

[Vladim]

"By Durin's beard!" exclaimed Barin. "Have you not heard a word I've just said? These lands belong to the Elvenking Thranduil, and we are all participating in a hunt he has thrown. Pray tell me you haven't done anything rash?"

Barin began to look worried. If his kinsmen had done anything stupid, how could he possibly hope to square this away with the Elvenking? At the very best case, they would find themselves banished forever from the eaves of Mirkwood, at the very worst ... well, he could think of many, many outcomes there. None of them pleasant. Furthermore, somehow, he just knew that if this were the case, King Bard could kiss goodbye to any help that Thranduil might send his way.

"Quickly now, tell me about her, ins Mahal taglibi luknu!"

Agitated now, his hand subconsciously fell to the haft of the axe at his belt.