Year 2949: Kinstrife and Dark Tidings

[Vladim]

During the funeral, Nori's eyes focus on grave. He does not look to his companions, Beorn, or even the grieving loved ones of those who had died. He simply focuses on the graves, a forlorn look upon his face that coincides with the somber nature of the proceedings. His ears twitch as those around them speak of the fallen, but again, his eyes remain solely on where the bodies now lie as if to look away would be an insult.

When there is silence, whether those gathered having said their piece or not having worked up the courage to speak, something overcomes Nori. Perhaps he must have felt some invisible pressure on him to say or do something given he had known Merovech and Odo and was one of the ones who had found them. Perhaps the silence urged him to speak so that it did not cause him to dwell on other thoughts. Whatever the case, the dwarf breaks out in song: the only expression he is able to muster or feels appropriate for the setting.

Sung in a low, solemn tone and in the dwarven tongue, Nori contributes to the ceremony in what way he can. The haunting melody is one fitting the events, but that only Fundor can likely understand. It is a less common dirge, but one Fundor has likely sung himself once or twice before.

The light is gone
No glimmer, no shine
The darkness has come
No food, no song
Only bones and silence
You have gone and left us poor

[Vladim]

Fundor didn't want to speak words. He feared he would not find the right ones and he wouldn't take the risk of hurting the families and friends of Morovech and Odo.
But when Fundor hear the first song words of Nori, he grabs his small harp and starts stroking the strings for emerging notes, Long and low notes for musical accompaniment of Nori's song.

[Vladim]

Annungil listened as Beorn pronounced his judgment, eyes somber, but chin held high, although he spoke no more word to the great lord of men, but bowed and withdrew from the hall. He had made his report as accurately as possible and had no more to contribute.

Yet in the time between the conversation and the funeral, he cast himself down upon a rough bed to rest from the journey and arose in time to be prepared for the ceremony.

The young Gondorian spoke nothing of the Beorning's tongue, nor that of the Dwarves. Having no relation to the deceased, and not wishing to intrude upon their grief, he held himself in the back of the crowd, his gaze ever drifting back away from the crowd, to what might be behind him.

Despite the assurances of the goblin's death, it unnerved him that they had traveled so close to the House of Beorn, for some yet unknown reason, and their intervention had aided a prisoner's escape, although perhaps unintentionally.

Many were the threads of the riddle and he turned it over in his head, considering the possibilities as he watched the ceremony proceed.

[Vladim]

Ava's grief would not be consoled by words, no matter how persuasive or motivating they were - her sorrow had consumed her whole. Perhaps there were regrets she'd had, unsaid words she'd have taken back... or maybe her grief was simply too fresh. Ragnar, on the other hand, looked up at Idunn and nodded wordlessly, wiping his tears with his sleeve and placing one hand on the spear to help guide it to its final resting place on his father's grave.

The crowd receives Dahr-Ol's story well, as the singers pick up on the incident and intertwine it in their own songs on the fly. In a sense, Idunn's view of the songs is right - they are boasts; the prideful talk of those left behind among whom the deceased heroes have walked. 'Look!' They said. 'This is the sort of person that we raised! Witness the deeds of one who was one of us! We must all aspire to such greatness!' It was both praise and grief, the Beorning way, to see things as a challenge to be overcome, and for those who passed to not be forgotten, stories such as the one that Dahr-Ol had told were passed around, ensuring the memory of the two men would live among the Beornings and inspire future generations with their example. Perhaps there were days when some of them might have looked down on Dahr-Ol and his ancestry - but today was no such day.

The dwarves' chant had at first confused the mourners, but though they could not understand the words, Nori and Fundor's expressions, the tone of the music and voice had made things plenty clear that Merovech and Odo had friends all over. This earned much in the way of respect among the Beornings, and though they could not follow the song, several had attempted to follow Fundor's lead, bringing instruments of their own, careful not to intrude on the sorrow. Though Annungil had chosen not to participate in the funeral, his refusal was met with a silent respect. He knew neither of the deceased, and making up lies about how he felt or what he knew would have upset the Beornings greatly.

Gramtyng's choice was similar to Annungil's. He'd known Merovech and Odo briefly, but didnt feel this earned him the right to properly participate in their funeral. Instead, he'd chosen to stand by the rest of his companions, singing the songs of the Beornings quietly, under his breath - not to be heard, not for the others, but only for himself and the deceased. The traditions of the Beornings were similar to that of Rohan, but he felt greatly out of place and did not wish to cause another incident on such an occasion, as he did at the competition.

 

---

 

The following morning finds Beorn in a much better mood; his grief has not ended, but his fury had been sated. As the companions awaken after a night's rest, one of his dogs leads the company back to his hall, where they find the big man making toast and cheese for breakfast. A dozen Orc-helms lie piled on the table; anyone who examines one notices that it is dented as if struck with immense force. Outside the stead, there are a dozen pikes with fresh Orc-heads on them. Beorn puts plates of toast and cheese down in front of the company, and then takes a huge iron kettle off the fire and fills a strange teapot made of some greenish metal and decorated with pictures of birds.

"I was busy last night. A dozen Orcs in my land without so much as a by-your-leave. The deaths of a thousand Orcs would pay for the deaths of Merovech and Odo. I would sooner have my friends back, but at least some justice has been done." Beorn pauses for a moment, but then continues: “Now, I also found signs – footprints, scents, the night-speech of bird and beast – that there was a third man on the boat. As you guessed, he was a prisoner, and it looks like he escaped when the Orcs attacked. His trail first followed east, where he finished off two goblins... And then lead south. He must be found.”

 

---

Part 3: The Chase

Beorn scented the trail of the prisoner on the banks of the Great River – he emerged from the water a short distance downstream, and then headed south along an ancient path. As the companions are unsure how many days passed between the deaths of Merovech and Odo and the discovery of the boat, they do not know how much of a head start the prisoner has. Beorn suggests that the
prisoner might return to the lands he came from, the Beorning settlements south of the Old Ford, on the edge
of the land of the Woodmen. Beorn offers the company use of his horses until Stoneyford to make things easier on them.

 

OOC

The journey south is around sixty miles, along open terrain in Free lands. On foot, this should take around three days; but with the mounts given to them by Beorn, they can make it south in two days. Only a single Fatigue check is needed for this leg of the journey (TN 12).

As usual, you may roll Lore, TN14, in order to gain bonus dice for this Journey (which will be more than just this one Travel Check).

This Journey is a little different, however. Each day, a a Hunting, Search, or Explore check can be made to look for traces of the prisoner. The TN is 14.

[Vladim]

Idunn felt exhausted. She had barely slept, and was unaccustomed to riding, and the fighting of the previous night had left her weary. She was pleased with the results, however: many orcs lay dead, and though she could not know with certainty if the killers were among them, this was very likely.

But the hunt had done little to give her answers, and now she was eager to track down this prisoner. She could only speculate, but this was all very fishy business, and the fugitive was at the centre of it. Perhaps he was the one truly responsible for the deaths of Odo and Merovech, even if the killing-arrows belonged to the orcs.

The exertion of the night made her look even grimmer to her companions: there were circles beneath her eyes, and her face was pale. But she, like the others, prepared her belongings and made ready to depart for Stonyford. She bid farewell to Ava and Ragnar, but only after she had recounted in detail the nightly hunt. Then, she mounted the horse as her hound and her raven led: Uthred just a few yards in front of her, while Thunir scouted ahead from the sky.

[Vladim]

The company made its way south, now joined by Annungil and Dahr-Ol, towards Stoneyford. Ava and Ragnar stayed behind; Ava had progressed beyond simply tears and now simply sat, staring into a wall. Nobody could get anything from her - she remained silent and unmoving. Perhaps the wound was simply far too fresh; perhaps she depended on Merovech far more than what she showed. With Beorn's offered mounts, their progress through the Beorning lands was quicker than expected; and though the pace their mounts moved at was energetic, the weight of the recent deaths still lay heavy upon them.

Even so, these lands were that of Beorn - traversing them was simple, and soothing; form the buzz of the insects to the gentle swaying of the grass on their way, everything was tranquil. Along the way, the companions had made sure to look out for traces of passing of the prisoner, each in their own way. Though their efforts, some traces were discovered; most of these signs were subtle ones - a footprint here, a path through the meadows there, marks of a campfire and so on, but two occurrences stood out: the meeting with a small band of Woodmen, travelling to Mountain Hall in the far west. They passed through the village of Stoneyford recently, and heard tell there of a bloody murder. Some Beorning named Oderic murdered another hunter, an older man called Rathfic. According to the tale, Rathfic caught Oderic in bed with his wife, the two fought, and Rathfic was mortally wounded. They knew little else, and went on their way shortly.

The second was an old man to whose house the tracks of the prisoner had lead. Far off the beaten path, in a grove of trees, there stood a Beorning farmstead, its sole inhabitant a kindly old Beorning named Geral who greeted the group as they found their way to him. He leaned on an oaken cane smoothed from its age and offered the travellers his hospitality for the night so they would not 'sleep with the crickets' as he jokingly put.

 

OOC

This is not a social encounter - so introductions are unnecessary. As the host is a very kind old man, the TN of social rolls is a mere 12.

[Vladim]

"Geral, we thank you for your hospitality. You should know that we are on the hunt. An ill riddle bedevils our lands. The thanes Merovech and Odo were slain by orcs. They had a prisoner, who was freed by the orcs, but who slew them in turn. We believe he passed by here not long ago. Have you seen any not of Beorn's people in the last day? Have there been strangers about? He might have been dressed like a lake dweller or men from the south."

[Vladim]

Idunn kept to herself during the journey: she was weary after the night of hunting with Beorn and the skin-changers, but most of all she was focused on the task at hand, looking carefully for signs of the prisoner, and that left little time for talk. But though her actions were focused on tracking down this man, her mind raced, more so when she heard the news of murder from her kinsfolk. These were dark news, and entirely unexpected: when she had visited Stonyford, the village seemed quiet and its folk friendly. But now, rumours of murder were spreading… this bode ill for their journey, but she spoke not a word. There was enough grim news as it was, burdening her heart, and those of her companions.

 

---

 

’We are sent by Beorn himself!’ Idunn added to Dahr-Ol’s words. It was not a boast, after all, but the simple truth, and though their group must have looked somewhat suspicious to the old man (though, even if it did, he was kind enough not to show it), surely invoking the bear-lord’s authority would get him to speak.

[Vladim]

Annungil rose with the sun, habits from his time in the army still ingrained into him, as he prepared for the journey. His motions were quick, efficient, and he hummed softly to himself as he packed the bags before going to meet with Beorn. His eyes were intent as he listened to the words of Beorn, nodding quietly to himself. He spoke little.

Even as they journeyed south, he spoke little, sitting erect on horseback with his head swiveling back and forth across the horizon. Others were better trackers and hunters than he, and his eyes looked far afield for what signs the world could show, especially of these goblins that had crossed the lands and ambushed the thanes.

Later, when they arrived at the old man's house, Annungil slid from the horse with grace and bowed to the old man, although the brusqueness of Idunn caught him off-guard.

"Please, my good sir, we thank you for your hospitality," Annungil interjected. "It would be an honor to stay with you for the night. As my comrades have explained, we are indeed on an urgent errand, but the tracks will be easy to lose in the dark, which is something much worse than spending a night. He will get no further from us than he already has with such a headstart."

[Vladim]

After the funerals and a good night rest, Fundor prepares itself for a journey towards south as suggested by Beorn. As usual, Fundor likes going ahead of the company, looking for the best path for faster move. Still he tries to find signs of the prisoner.

[Vladim]

Arriving at the farmstead, Nori eases off his pack and lingers towards the back of the group - watching their interaction with the old man, a somewhat skeptical expression on his face. Moving over towards Fundor, the rust-haired dwarf murmurs to his cousin - too low to be heard by others clearly, but not hiding the fact that he's talking to the other dwarf. "Let's keep our eyes and ears open," Nori tells Fundor. "Our host seems quite accommodating..."

[Vladim]

Fundor was a bit tired after that long day walk and he wasn't very heedful of the farmer. When his cousin tells him of his suspicions, Fundor gets back to his usual vigilance attitude.

"Sounds like a good advice, Nori."

Discreetly he tries to see any track of the prisoner, tracks on the ground, a travel package, a sound from inside or outside the house ... : maybe Oderic's still here, maybe the farmer is a friend helping him to hide and escape, maybe not, maybe he's already far away. Who knows ... apart of Gerald.

[Vladim]

The old man shook his head sorrowfully to Dahr-Ol's words, leaning on his cane heavily. "Such a shame... for the young to pass on so early, ahead of an old man like me." He shook a stray tear from his nose: "Young Merovech used to stop by sometimes, give me some news. I've not seen much of Odo, unfortunately." He sighed. "Beorn himself you say... Of course, his thanes had died. He would get personally involved... Good man, the chieftain." He nodded. "A stranger, you say?" Geral scratched at his head, shutting his eyes deep in thought. "Nay." He finally ran his hand over his beard. "You are most welcome, young man. It is good to see such polite fellows, even in such times!" His face lit with a smile, though it darkened quickly: "Would that you could have visited on kinder reasons... But justice must be done!" He struck the ground with his cane and furrowed his brows: "Alas... I've little to offer than a meal and a bed. Nothing really happens here - it is rare that folk even visit here, as its out of the way. Most dont even know I live here. Last one who managed to find me was young Oderic... Stayed a night, even paid me with a silver coin - what use have I for them, out here? Left at sunrise a few days ago. Such a quiet and respectful young lad... Rarity these days. Even chopped firewood for me, see?" He jabbed his cane at the large pile of logs. "Back's gotten so bad that would have taken me a few weeks to go through."

 

OOC

This is not a social encounter - so introductions are unnecessary. As the host is a very kind old man, the TN of social rolls is a mere 12.

[Vladim]

Dahr-Ol grunted.

"Hm. I grew up near Stonyford. The name Oderic is not familiar to me. Is he the one who lived with Brunehild and Helmgut near the outskirts?"
 

[Vladim]

'A meal and a bed is more than we could hope for,' replied Idunn as courteously as she could, 'the sun is fading and I have not had a proper night's rest for a while now.'

She dismounted and took a small bow, and then she offered her name: 'I am Idunn of Firienseld, and I welcome your hospitality. On our way here we encounter some of my kinsmen, and they spoke of ill news from Stonyford... a murder, apparently.' She shook her head grimly before adding: 'Know you any of this?'

She expected that Geral had not heard of Oderic's deed, and thus the murderer had deceived him, but the old man was kindly, and she did not wish to upset him with the news.