Year 2949-50: Sentinel of the North

[Vladim]

Idunn, having only recently returned from the lands of the Woodmen, and only at the behest of Hartfast and Radagast, did not know much of what had happened in the lands of the Beornings since they had last been here, nor did she know much about new tidings from Erebor, Dale, or Lake-Town. She did, however, know of what had happened in the lands of her kin.

Presently, she sat quietly at a corner, somewhat far from her companions, keeping company only with her great hound, for Thunir was not here, being content to fly freely outside. She had taken the mead eagerly, but she had not joined in the festive atmosphere, nor did she offer any smile of approval at the hobbits’ compliments and oration. She observed all with detachment, and remained in her corner, brooding.

Ingi’s arrival caught her by surprise, but she showed no gladness at being reunited with her old companions. ’Black Tarn is growing,’ she remarked at Ingi’s request for news, ’the folk of Mogdred are causing trouble, Radagast is worried as always, and Nori’s kin at Mountain-Hall are digging deeper and deeper, much to chief Hartfast’s joy. The world continues to move. But as for the Thanes – Merovech and Odo – they are still with the dead, and so the world moves without them.’ she added bitterly, hoping to dismay the friendly Lake-Towner, and indeed anyone else, from asking her more questions. She much preferred the company of Uthred, and another drinking-horn of mead.

[OOC: My intention is to keep Idunn in the background for this adventure, only rolling when necessary, but of course if you want to engage with her, feel free. I might make the occasional post about her when I am bored / things are slow, as well.]

 

Lore concerning Gundabad

Alright, so some of the characters should know these things… For others, it’s a Lore check, with the TN indicated next to the info. Feel free to roll for it if you want to, and don’t forget to trach your Advancement Points!

Common Knowledge (everyone should know this):
1. The orcs of the Misty Mountains have Gundabad as their capital, but they were greatly diminished after the Battle of the Five Armies. Their leader Bolg son of Azog was slain at the hands (paws?) of Beorn.

Dwarves should know the following for free:
1. Gundabad is occupied by orcs now, but it was not always so (Lore TN 16). This is the place where, according to legend, Durin the deathless, the first of the dwarves, awoke at the dawn of the world. Therefore, Gundabad has an almost religious significance for all dwarves (as above, but also requires a Great Success on the same roll).
2. Gundabad was briefly recaptured by the dwarves in the War of Orcs and Dwarves, about a century and a half ago, but the dwarves could not muster the forces to keep it, and they abandoned it. Orcs soon returned (Lore TN 16).

Those with orc-lore and Shadow-lore should know the following for free:
1. The breeds of orcs are many, but they can be distinguished based on physical characteristics as well as their equipment and the symbols they bear. Misty Mountains orcs are different from Mirkwood orcs, for example (Lore TN 14).
2. Orcs breed fast, so although their increasing numbers and brazen attacks are alarming, they are not necessarily surprising, despite their great defeat almost ten years ago (Lore TN 14).
3. The orcs must have some new leader, as they are generally disorganized without one. Amongst orcs, only the strongest can rise to power, but more powerful creatures of the Shadow are sometimes known to gather orcs under them (Lore or Riddle, TN 16).

Dahr-Ol should know this for free:
1. His former kin, the Hill-Men, are often allies of the orcs, but none of them actually live in Gundabad - these evil Men live mostly in the Black Hills, which are to the South of Gundabad. Gundabad itself is exclusively populated by orcs (Lore TN 14 & Great Success).

[Vladim]

Coming in through the door, Nori stops about two or three feet in and shuts the door behind him. He starts to take a step forward before Agatha raises her voice - not angrily, but like a mother scolding one of her children. "Uhp! Uhp! Uhp!" Her voice crescendos as she attempts to get Nori's attention and make him stop, to which the dwarf expectedly halts his progression and turns to look in bewilderment. "Shoes...", she states calmly, glancing down at the dwarf's boots.

Nori looks down at his feet and it registers with him that his footwear has seen better days. In fact, the boots are downright filthy. Travelers may have seen Nori working on the stone bridge leading to the entrance of the inn earlier. Wadding in the stream and mud, Nori had been helping the hobbits reinforce the supports on the bridge so that it would last them longer.

Stepping on the toe of one boot with the heel of another, he lifts his foot out of the muddy boot, making a soft squishing sound as he does so. He then proceeds to do the same with the other boot, leaving him now barefoot. His glistening toes wiggle on the floorboard before the dwarf tosses them gently to rest against the wall near the door - an action that causes Agatha to smile in gratitude before telling the dwarf, "Come on you lug... your supper's ready..." Agatha leads him over towards a table near the fire to dry off while she fetches his supper and something to drink. The dwarf stretches, arching his back and popping a few bones in the process before taking a seat. He nods wearily to the Woodswoman off in the corner as he hears his name mentioned and glances about at those gathered, his attention finally coming to the Beorning as he calls his close companion, saying something about an "enemy".

The dwarf seems content to stay where he is, but his curiosity is piqued as he eavesdrops on the news the unfamiliar dwarf and elf bring to the Easterly Inn.

[Vladim]

Scene 2: Dreams and dark portends

’What you will see, if you leave the Mirror free to work, I cannot tell. For it shows things that were, and things that are, things that yet may be. But which it is that he sees, even the wisest cannot always tell.’
 

J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

The discussions continued with the mead flowing freely, at least for those who wished to participate in the exchange of news and tales. The hobbits were gracious hosts, regaling their guests with tales from the Shire, which they missed dearly, often repeating segments from Bilbo's great adventure, for they knew him personally - or so they claimed. At length, the sun set behind the Misty Mountains, and Agatha slowly began the preparations for dinner.

That night, after some drinking and merriment, the inn's guests slept in the common room, where the hobbits had prepared for them bedding, tending to their needs and requests as best they could. They slept, and they dreamt strange and vivid dreams, unlike any they had dreamt before.

 

private Varon777

Annungil's dream...

Annungil stood high up on a tower, alone, standing guard over a land that seemed familiar, as if it were his distant homeland. He stood in vigilance, resting his sword-hand upon the hilt of his blade, and watched patiently. Far below, he could see his kinfolk, who looked like busy ants from this great height, going about their daily business, unaware of the dangers that lurked beyond. For beyond was an evil land, black and poisonous. If he strained his eyes, he could see it at the distance, with dark clouds looming over it and smoke issuing forth from its forges. In its heart there stood a great mountain, though from afar it seemed small, and barely visible - easily overlooked, and easily forgotten.

Suddenly, he saw a red flash radiating from that black land, and felt the earth shaking beneath his feet. He saw the great mountain erupt: it spewed forth a great cloud of thick, black ash, which choked the people beneath. From the sundered mountain he saw also black legions march, countless thousands, issuing forth towards all directions, like another black cloud that grew and grew untill it had enveloped all of the land beneath. He saw that great army conquer unopposed, burning, destroying, enslaving and killing; its enemies fleeing in terror before its might, or bowing down to its captains, until the blackness had devoured all. He stood there, watching, seemingly unable to do anything from his great height.

He blinked, and the scene was gone.

Now he walked amongst ruins, glorious, with masterful stone-work of old. Left and right about him he saw the broken statues of his kings of yore, glorious but long forgotten, now covered in moss and vegetation. He walked amongst rubble and ruin, until he reached the centre of the city that was destroyed. At its heart stood still a great tower, long-abandoned but intact, rising proudly amongst the stones like a mighty spear. From far away he heard a song whispered, a sorrowful lament sang by some unseen voice…
 

The city buildings fell apart, the works of giants crumbled
Broken the gate, ruined the roofs and all the towers tumbled
Frost in the plaster, all ceilings gape
Torn and collapsed and eaten by age.

Under the soil the builders lie
Until a hundred generations of people have passed by.
Often this wall stood, stained red and grey
Surviving storms reign after reign
But now the wall itself has fallen.

The public halls were bright and filled with many voices
Bath-houses many; great the cheerful noises,
And ale freely flowed in many a mead hall
Until mighty Fate brought change upon it all.

Slaughter was widespread, pestilence was rife,
And thus this city stood abandoned, without life.
And death took all those valiant men away
The city’s armies fallen, bones beneath the clay,
And so these halls are empty, and few now come this way.
And this red roof now sheds its tiles,
Smashed into rubble, lying in piles.

Here where once hosts of heroes stood
And for a while their strength held good
Here where they gathered, feasting all together
Glorious, gold-adorned, proud, gleaming in great splendour.
Shone in their armour, gazed on gems and treasure,
On silver, riches, wealth and jewels,
On this bright city with its wide domains,
Which the wall enclosed.

The city fell to dust, and Annungil awoke.

 

private Diofant

Gramtyng’s dream…

Gramtyng stood amidst a great mead-hall, gold-adorned, full of great heroes clad in gleaming mail and bearing bright swords. But there was no merriment here. No lyre played and no song was sang – there was only silence, and a gloomy, foreboding feeling. A few heroes and courtiers whispered and spoke quietly in snatches, fearful and gravely concerned, their hearts resting heavy in their chests.

At the centre sat a great throne, and upon it a great king… only, he did not seem mighty now, but very old and ailing, his health now failing. His head could barely support the crown that it bore, and he seemed oblivious to all but his own suffering. He drew forth breaths with great difficulty, and on occasion he coughed pitifully. He was dying.

The king had asked for his cup-bearer to attend him, and now the great hero was by his liege, listening to what he strained to whisper in his ear. The cup-bearer nodded, signifying some understanding, and withdrew for a while. Gramtyng followed him to a small room, and there he saw that he was mixing sweet wine with something else: some strange substance, an odourless powder, that nonetheless looked foreboding.

The hero now brought the cup to the king, who drank from it deeply, aided by his attendant… At length he emptied the cup, and let it rest upon his throne. His head now fell forwards, and his limbs lost what little strength was left in them, and his arms fell limp and lifeless upon his lap. The crown, heavy with gold, fell from the king's head, and rolled across the floor… it stopped by Gramtyng’s feet, and there it rested. So did the eyes of the folk of the hall, who observed the young bard keenly.

He blinked, and the scene was gone.

He found himself amongst ruins, glorious, the masterful stone-work of old. Left and right about him he saw the broken statues of great kings of yore, glorious but long forgotten, now covered in moss and vegetation. He walked amongst the rubble, until he reached the centre of this ancient city that was destroyed. At its heart stood still a great tower, long-abandoned but intact, rising proudly amongst the stones like a mighty and defiant sword. From far away he heard a song whispered, a sorrowful lament sang by some unseen voice…
 

The city buildings fell apart, the works of giants crumbled
Broken the gate, ruined the roofs and all the towers tumbled
Frost in the plaster, all ceilings gape
Torn and collapsed and eaten by age.

Under the soil the builders lie
Until a hundred generations of people have passed by.
Often this wall stood, stained red and grey
Surviving storms reign after reign
But now the wall itself has fallen.

The public halls were bright and filled with many voices
Bath-houses many; great the cheerful noises,
And ale freely flowed in many a mead hall
Until mighty Fate brought change upon it all.

Slaughter was widespread, pestilence was rife,
And thus this city stood abandoned, without life.
And death took all those valiant men away
The city’s armies fallen, bones beneath the clay,
And so these halls are empty, and few now come this way.
And this red roof now sheds its tiles,
Smashed into rubble, lying in piles.

Here where once hosts of heroes stood
And for a while their strength held good
Here where they gathered, feasting all together
Glorious, gold-adorned, proud, gleaming in great splendour.
Shone in their armour, gazed on gems and treasure,
On silver, riches, wealth and jewels,
On this bright city with its wide domains,
Which the wall enclosed.

The city fell to dust, and Gramtyng awoke.

 

private thesloth

Dahr-Ol’s dream…

Dahr-Ol stood up on his hindlegs and sniffed the air. He was in bear-shape now: it was night, and he was on the hunt. He had stopped to examine a pair of tracks, and the wind that blew wildly from the North carried with it the scent of his quarry. He could not be too far behind now. Soon. He quickened his pace.

As he ran under the bright moon, he felt that he was getting closer and closer. With keen ears he could now hear the howling of many wolves, coming from all directions. He harkened for a moment and then hastened, using the trees as camouflage as much as he could. At length, and though he tried to hide and to avoid them, he could see their eyes, like burning coals in the darkness, red, gleaming with evil intelligence. These were no common wolves. And yet they seemed as if not to notice him. Seizing the opportunity, he ran, avoiding their gaze.

He had caught up with his quarry at last. He approached slowly, quietly, as stealthily as he could. From the short distance that now separated them he could make out the details: an old bear, silver-skinned, sword-scarred and one-eyed, that moved about carefully in the darkness. Yet before he could attack, he heard howls behind him. Before he could react, he was surrounded. The wolves were circling the old bear now, but strangely they did not seem to notice his presence. With great cries in their cruel tongue the wargs begun closing in. To his horror, Dahr-Ol discovered that he could understand that foul language perfectly. It was then that the realization struck him: the wolves did not attack him, because he too was one of them. These were his kin: as they now pressed their attack, the great bear fought desperately, but it could not hold back the multitudes. At long last it fell to the ground with a mighty crash. As if receiving some signal, the wolves fell upon it in unison, fighting amongst themselves for the carcass, eager to devour it.

Dahr-Ol blinked, and the scene was gone.

He found himself amongst ruins, glorious, the masterful stone-work of old. Left and right about him he saw the broken statues of great kings of yore, glorious but long forgotten, now covered in moss and vegetation. He walked amongst the rubble, until he reached the centre of this ancient city that was destroyed. At its heart stood still a great tower, long-abandoned but intact, rising proudly amongst the stones like a mighty and defiant sword. From far away he heard a song whispered, a sorrowful lament sang by some unseen voice…
 

The city buildings fell apart, the works of giants crumbled
Broken the gate, ruined the roofs and all the towers tumbled
Frost in the plaster, all ceilings gape
Torn and collapsed and eaten by age.

Under the soil the builders lie
Until a hundred generations of people have passed by.
Often this wall stood, stained red and grey
Surviving storms reign after reign
But now the wall itself has fallen.

The public halls were bright and filled with many voices
Bath-houses many; great the cheerful noises,
And ale freely flowed in many a mead hall
Until mighty Fate brought change upon it all.

Slaughter was widespread, pestilence was rife,
And thus this city stood abandoned, without life.
And death took all those valiant men away
The city’s armies fallen, bones beneath the clay,
And so these halls are empty, and few now come this way.
And this red roof now sheds its tiles,
Smashed into rubble, lying in piles.

Here where once hosts of heroes stood
And for a while their strength held good
Here where they gathered, feasting all together
Glorious, gold-adorned, proud, gleaming in great splendour.
Shone in their armour, gazed on gems and treasure,
On silver, riches, wealth and jewels,
On this bright city with its wide domains,
Which the wall enclosed.

The city fell to dust, and Dahr-Ol awoke.

 

private Suzuki Stumpy

Barin’s dream…

Barin awoke restless, as if from a nightmare. He was deep beneath the earth now, as if buried, far from the sun’s warming rays, but not alone: for he was surrounded by many of his kin – soldiers cad in long hauberks, the grizzled veterans of many battles, grim and determined, with great axes in their hands. Despite their great numbers, they all were deathly quiet: for they were deep into the orc-nest now, and soon they would fall upon their quarry and slay them all…

(…)

It was nasty business, fighting like this in cramped tunnels, clashing ruthlessly with their enemy in skirmish after skirmish, repelling wave after wave; the worst kind of warfare, desperate and disorganized. All the battle-plans were thrown to the wind as soon as the hordes overwhelmed them; there was barely any formation fighting in these endless labyrinths, and the chaotic melee raged for hours, offering the veterans no respite. Three times they had pushed the orcs back, and three times they had returned, thirsting for vengeance for their slain kin. And yet, by the end, the dwarves' valour and determination and steel had won them the day, and they stood victorious, having vanquished the enemy… but at a terrible cost.

Barin had seen it all, standing amongst them and fighting just like any of his kin. For his efforts he was rewarded with a terrible wound in the belly, and now he rested, and closed his eyes, and his vision faded….

(…)

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself under the blue sky, walking amongst ruins, glorious, the masterful stone-work of old. Left and right about him he saw the broken statues of great dwarf-kings of yore, glorious but long forgotten, now covered in moss and vegetation. He walked amongst the rubble, until he reached the centre of this ancient city that was destroyed. At its heart stood still a great tower, long-abandoned but intact, rising proudly amongst the stones. From far away he heard a song whispered, a sorrowful lament sang by some unseen voice…
 

The city buildings fell apart, the works of giants crumbled
Broken the gate, ruined the roofs and all the towers tumbled
Frost in the plaster, all ceilings gape
Torn and collapsed and eaten by age.

Under the soil the builders lie
Until a hundred generations of people have passed by.
Often this wall stood, stained red and grey
Surviving storms reign after reign
But now the wall itself has fallen.

The public halls were bright and filled with many voices
Bath-houses many; great the cheerful noises,
And ale freely flowed in many a mead hall
Until mighty Fate brought change upon it all.

Slaughter was widespread, pestilence was rife,
And thus this city stood abandoned, without life.
And death took all those valiant men away
The city’s armies fallen, bones beneath the clay,
And so these halls are empty, and few now come this way.
And this red roof now sheds its tiles,
Smashed into rubble, lying in piles.

Here where once hosts of heroes stood
And for a while their strength held good
Here where they gathered, feasting all together
Glorious, gold-adorned, proud, gleaming in great splendour.
Shone in their armour, gazed on gems and treasure,
On silver, riches, wealth and jewels,
On this bright city with its wide domains,
Which the wall enclosed.

The city fell to dust, and Barin awoke again.

 

private Jewdebega

Nori’s dream…

In his dream, Nori was back at Mountain-Hall, and he was digging his mine: deeper and deeper he went, and he could not tell how much time had passed in the dream, for it flowed strangely here, making at times the passing of years seem like mere moments. As he dug and dug, he by chance or fate found another tunnel, deep under the mountains, this one made long ago, in an age long forgotten.

He followed the tunnel, delving deeper and deeper into the earth, until he came upon great and many halls, and many mansions and palaces that once belonged to his kin, but that now stood abandoned, and lost to decay. He could tell from the stone-work of old that this was the work of his forefathers, greater than any the dwarves of Erebor could produce now, in this Third Age of Middle-Earth.

As he wandered these halls, he at last came upon a great gate and, crossing it, he found himself under the bright blue sky again. All around him were ruins, glorious, again the masterful stone-work of old. Left and right about him he saw the broken statues of great Men, kings of yore, glorious but long forgotten, now covered in moss and vegetation. He walked amongst the rubble, until he reached the centre of this ancient city that was destroyed. At its heart stood still a great tower, long-abandoned but intact, rising proudly amongst the stones. From far away he heard a song whispered, a sorrowful lament sang by some unseen voice…
 

The city buildings fell apart, the works of giants crumbled
Broken the gate, ruined the roofs and all the towers tumbled
Frost in the plaster, all ceilings gape
Torn and collapsed and eaten by age.

Under the soil the builders lie
Until a hundred generations of people have passed by.
Often this wall stood, stained red and grey
Surviving storms reign after reign
But now the wall itself has fallen.

The public halls were bright and filled with many voices
Bath-houses many; great the cheerful noises,
And ale freely flowed in many a mead hall
Until mighty Fate brought change upon it all.

Slaughter was widespread, pestilence was rife,
And thus this city stood abandoned, without life.
And death took all those valiant men away
The city’s armies fallen, bones beneath the clay,
And so these halls are empty, and few now come this way.
And this red roof now sheds its tiles,
Smashed into rubble, lying in piles.

Here where once hosts of heroes stood
And for a while their strength held good
Here where they gathered, feasting all together
Glorious, gold-adorned, proud, gleaming in great splendour.
Shone in their armour, gazed on gems and treasure,
On silver, riches, wealth and jewels,
On this bright city with its wide domains,
Which the wall enclosed.

The city fell to dust, and Nori awoke.

 

private Yelik

Ingi’s dream…

Ingi stood atop the great bell-tower, his keen eyes fixed on the horizon, with fear in his heart. Behind him several soldiers stood on the ready, arrows notched on ready bowstrings, but their hearts were already faltering. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the great, winged serpent: it flew from the great mountain and, in the flash of an eye, it was upon the great city. The bells, already ringing frantically, made a terrible noise, the likes of which none of them had heard before, but their own tower remained silent. The dragon, breathing fire, had already reduced more than half of the buildings to smouldering ruins. Not far from them stood what was once the great royal palace. Black smoke rose from it now, and its roof was broken.

The great beast flew by now, and all at once, a dozen bowstrings sang in unison… but the arrows did nothing, bouncing harmlessly off the monster’s hide. The dragon had seen them now, and for an instant turned with wrath against their tower, casting it aside as if it were made of matchsticks. In those final moments, Ingi could only look to the sky, and see a black cloud move fast with the wind, menacing against the background of the great mountain.

…But the dream did not end with Ingi’s death. Instead, he now walked amongst ruins, glorious, with masterful stone-work of old. Left and right about him he saw the broken statues of his kings of yore, glorious but long forgotten, now covered in moss and vegetation. He walked amongst rubble and ruin, until he reached the centre of the city that was destroyed. At its heart stood still a great tower, long-abandoned but intact, rising proudly amongst the stones like a mighty spear. From far away he heard a song whispered, a sorrowful lament sang by some unseen voice…
 

The city buildings fell apart, the works of giants crumbled
Broken the gate, ruined the roofs and all the towers tumbled
Frost in the plaster, all ceilings gape
Torn and collapsed and eaten by age.

Under the soil the builders lie
Until a hundred generations of people have passed by.
Often this wall stood, stained red and grey
Surviving storms reign after reign
But now the wall itself has fallen.

The public halls were bright and filled with many voices
Bath-houses many; great the cheerful noises,
And ale freely flowed in many a mead hall
Until mighty Fate brought change upon it all.

Slaughter was widespread, pestilence was rife,
And thus this city stood abandoned, without life.
And death took all those valiant men away
The city’s armies fallen, bones beneath the clay,
And so these halls are empty, and few now come this way.
And this red roof now sheds its tiles,
Smashed into rubble, lying in piles.

Here where once hosts of heroes stood
And for a while their strength held good
Here where they gathered, feasting all together
Glorious, gold-adorned, proud, gleaming in great splendour.
Shone in their armour, gazed on gems and treasure,
On silver, riches, wealth and jewels,
On this bright city with its wide domains,
Which the wall enclosed.

The city fell to dust, and Ingi awoke.

 

private Hallowed Evening

Celebros' dream…

It was night-time. Celebros looked to his left, then to his right. All about him he could see the great and mighty host of the Firstborn, assembled for battle. The more heavily armed amongst them were arrayed to the left, under a shining banner, ready to attack the less protected side of the enemy shield-wall in a flanking manoeuvre. But Celebros did not count himself amongst those mail-clad warriors. Instead, he was in the centre, with others of his kind: forest-elves clad in lighter armour, bearing long spears and light bucklers, with archers armed with slender bows behind them.

Ahead of them now the great army of the Enemy stood amassed, like a great black cloud ready to envelop them. The elves waited patiently for the command to be issued… Then, unexpectedly, mighty war-horns were sounded from the right, and before Celebros could do otherwise, he saw his lightly-armoured kin charge recklessly against the orcs, led by a rider whose armour and white steed shone even though darkness was all about him. But it did not avail them: to his horror, Celebros could see the mighty king swallowed by the black cloud, while his kin were cut down and the steel-clad warriors made haste to rescue the forest-elves. It was all in vain. The battle-plan had gone awry, and all hope of victory was now gone. Celebros looked up, seeking the Eveningstar: it twinkled, and at once seemed to fade from the sky.

Celebros blinked, and the scene was gone.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself under the blue sky, walking amongst ruins, glorious, the masterful stone-work of old. Left and right about him he saw the broken statues of great elf-kings of yore, glorious but long forgotten, now covered in moss and vegetation. He walked amongst the rubble, until he reached the centre of this ancient city that was destroyed. At its heart stood still a great tower, long-abandoned but intact, rising proudly amongst the stones. From far away he heard a song whispered, a sorrowful lament sang by some unseen voice…
 

The city buildings fell apart, the works of giants crumbled
Broken the gate, ruined the roofs and all the towers tumbled
Frost in the plaster, all ceilings gape
Torn and collapsed and eaten by age.

Under the soil the builders lie
Until a hundred generations of people have passed by.
Often this wall stood, stained red and grey
Surviving storms reign after reign
But now the wall itself has fallen.

The public halls were bright and filled with many voices
Bath-houses many; great the cheerful noises,
And ale freely flowed in many a mead hall
Until mighty Fate brought change upon it all.

Slaughter was widespread, pestilence was rife,
And thus this city stood abandoned, without life.
And death took all those valiant men away
The city’s armies fallen, bones beneath the clay,
And so these halls are empty, and few now come this way.
And this red roof now sheds its tiles,
Smashed into rubble, lying in piles.

Here where once hosts of heroes stood
And for a while their strength held good
Here where they gathered, feasting all together
Glorious, gold-adorned, proud, gleaming in great splendour.
Shone in their armour, gazed on gems and treasure,
On silver, riches, wealth and jewels,
On this bright city with its wide domains,
Which the wall enclosed.

The city fell to dust, and Celebros awoke.

 

They awoke simultaneously, well past midnight. The night was black, and there was neither moon nor light on the black sky; all was shrouded by grey winter clouds.

 

Mechanics

Please make a corruption check (Wisdom TN 14). Gain a Shadow Point on a failure. In addition, you may roll the following (choose one of the three options only):
Riddle (TN 14) allows you to interpret your dream, to some extent. You may ask me (OOC) any one question about what the dream means, and I will provide an answer depending on your level of success.
Lore (TN 14) allows you to identify some things you saw in your dream. You may ask me (OOC) any one question about lore-related stuff (not so much interpretation, but about a specific area, person, building etc), and I will provide an answer depending on your level of success.
Song (TN 14) allows you to add the song(s) in your dream (if any) to the Fellowship song list, as per the rules in the Rivendell sourcebook.

[Vladim]

The cat in his lap looked up suddenly and stretched, pointing its nose over his shoulder behind him. Annungil turned around in time to see Dahr-Ol attempt to ambush him. He laughed at his friend's words and scratched behind the cat's ears. "Indeed! Perhaps it would be wise to find a such a companion for my own. Never fear an ambush of orcs again." He gave the cat another scratch behind its ears. Griffo yawned, stretched, and jumped down to the floor before prowling away across the room.

Annungil grinned and stood, his attention caught by the other conversations around the room. He soon joined Dahr-Ol to listen to the tales of the others. A shadow grew in his heart as he listened, combined with the events of the previous year. he ha little to say, but listened instead. But in time, the evening passed merrily enough, and they retired to their bedding.

The man from Minas Tirith was slow to sleep as he mulled over the meaning of what had been said, and his sleep was troubled. Ill omens and visions flickered through his sleep, causing him to toss and turn. Griffo came over and nudged his human friend with his nose, concerned. Annungil sat up, sweat in his hair, and breathing hard. He reached for his sword, but Griffo nudged against him instead.

His eyes darted around the low-glow of the quieting fireplace and looked to see his companions. He reached down and scooped up the cat, cradling the small creature in his arms as he sought out whatever had sent the feeling off doom that lingered.

The visions and song echoed in his heart, replaying over and over in his mind. Fire and pestilence raged in what had felt like home. Something about the remaining tower seemed to call to him from the ruins.

[Vladim]

Barin awoke from a fitful sleep with a yelp.

"Mi targê!" he exclaimed as he sat bolt upright, bathed in sweat, blinking rheumy eyes to expel the crusted sleep from them. "What on earth?"

As his eyes and brain slowly adjusted to wakefulness, he looked around the common room, and could see in the dim light that all the others who were bedded down for the night were also either fully awake or were in the throes of stirring.

Noticing the man comforting the Inn's cat, Barin grunted in his direction and asked, "Did you just dream as I did? The most vivid nightmare I've just had of lands that tug at my Dwarven heart as if calling me back to them. They remind me of .. of .. well, I don't really know, but the city, the towers, they feel like they're pulling me ... home? Back to the Grey Mountains? But there's nothing there even remotely similar to those mighty edifices up there, unless...", he trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts, visibly disturbed by the implications and trying desperately to cling onto the tatters of the fading dream, attempting to make some sort of internal sense of what it might mean.

[Vladim]

Dahr-Ol bolted upright, breathing heavy and sweating. He ran his hands across his face and chest. Satisfied that he was in human form and not bear or the other he looked around. It was late, the evil hours as his former kin called them. A great many foul things preferred to walk the land at these hours.

Dahr-Ol could not shake the ill feeling his dreams had produced. He walked to the window, half expecting to see eyes burning in the night. He noticed Annungil and the newcomer, Barin, stirring.

"You're sleep was disturbed as well by evil dreams? I have not felt this worried since we discovered Valtar's company in the forest. At least then, we had a reason to fear..."

[Vladim]

Nori seemed to have a less severe reaction to his dream than the others, but awoke none the less. With his dream ending, his eyes opened to stare up into the blackness of the rafters of the inn. He was still lying on his back, his hands resting on his chest, and there was no visible cause for alarm. However, when the others begin to awake in more violent fashion, making noise as they rise, breathing heavily, and even exclaiming surprise, Nori sits upright himself, looking about the main room of the inn to see all of his compatriots awake as well.

Immediately, the dwarf begins to wonder if there is danger afoot. Scrambling to his feet, he moves to grab his axe which was leaving up against the wall near where he slept. However, he doesn't remove it from its resting place just yet. Instead, he readies himself, still looking about the main room as the others begin to speak amongst themselves and describe what awoke them. Hearing the mention of a dream/nightmare mentioned by at least two of them, the dwarf eases his hand away from the axe. They might find themselves in danger, but it does not appear immediate - nor anything an axe would solve at this point.

Moving to the dying fire, he stokes it with another log to help bring more light to the room now that the company is awake. Kneeling near the fire, his left knee pressed into the ground while his right forearm rests on its partnering knee, the dwarf looks into the flames as he considers the dream he had. He says nothing of his dream in particular yet, but says aloud to those awakened by the shared experience, "I do not think we are being plagued by Agatha's cooking. Something is trying to speak to us..."

[Vladim]

Dahr-Ol continued watching through the window. He stayed pressed against the wooden wall, only his head peering through the glass as if he feared an assailant were present.

"I fear you may be right friend dwarf. There was nothing good in my dream. My mother believed that the waking world protected us from influences to which we could be subjected while dreaming. She lived her whole life among the hill people and always feared dreams. I fear that something evil may be moving about in our lands.

Worse, I feel like something wishes to destroy what I have become and replace it with that which I escaped. I feel hunted."

[Vladim]

"North" whispered Barin, "We must go North. To the Grey Mountains."

Looking around, he addressed those now awakened from their slumber, "It seems that our paths may well coincide, at least for the time being. I would welcome your company on the journey if you would have us along?"

"I cannot say specifically where within the range we must go, but I dreamt of old battles beneath the earth, and of walking through the manse of my ancient kin - I can only suggest we make our way to the halls my kin have so recently abandoned and hope that we can pick up a sign or trail on the way."

"I'm not to proud to admit though, this has me afraid. The only good Orc might be a dead one, but where I fear we must tread, there are hordes of live ones. Likely too many for us to take on ourselves..."

He finished leaning on his axe, absently stroking its razor sharp edge, not even aware that he'd drawn it and been inspecting it whilst musing over his thoughts.

[Vladim]

"North you say. I dreamed of a tower, in a great city of men.

I have a vague recollection of a story told by my father. About a city of men who opposed the orcs and hill men for many decades. The city I think may be gone, but the tower might still stand. I have never visited this place, but it was rumored to be in the foothills below Mount Gundabad.

Annungil, if I had to guess these men were related to or even the fathers of our own horse lords and the other men who inhabit this region. Perhaps your people know the tales of the forefathers of the horse lords? My former people warred against them centuries ago and the horse people made such account of themselves that even today the hill men have not recovered from the slaughter. It did not save the horse people, but we enjoy a safety now that we would not otherwise. Were it not for them, we might be awash in foul wargs and hill people raiding parties."

[Vladim]

OOC / General info

A bit about the purpose of this scene...

Basically, you guys are in charge here. I will only interfere minimally, e.g. if you choose to engage NPCs, but will otherwise let you discuss amongst yourselves for as long as you want. As soon as you are ready to move on, just let me know somewhere (OOC, Discord, IC, anything works)! There's no shame in not posting anything - perhaps it's in-character for some PCs to say nothing, and that's totally ok! As soon as we hit the next scene, I will throw the plot hook at you, and the adventure can properly begin.

This does not mean that this scene is not important. It is, in fact, central to the themes of the story. I've given you all different pieces of the puzzle, based on your backgrounds, cultures and rolls. By talking to each other, you may be able to get a better view of the bigger picture, and what is being foreshadowed. Still, there is no simple, singular answer to the dreams, and the purpose of this scene is not to 'win' anything - I wanted to allow multiple interpretations to motivate the PCs to think and provide their own sense of meaning to the situation. But that's just me.

[Vladim]

Annungil nodded slowly as he listened to the others speak. "Aye, I was tormented by dark dreams. And it seems by the tales you tell that our dreams are not unlike." He paused a moment to scratch behind Griffo's ears. "I stood upon the top of the Tower of the Guard and watched as the Enemy unleashed his strength against our people and swept across our lands."

He cleared his throat. "And there was a song, though I have little memory of the exact words, it spoke of pestilence, death, and the fall of a city." He rubbed his eyes and looked up to Dahr-Ol. "Indeed, the second half of the dream, I saw a great city now fallen into ruin, save for one great tower in the city. I know not which tower it is, or to which city it belongs, yet its craftmanship and making felt like it was a tower of my people."

A frown flickered across his face as Barin spoke. "And you dreamed of ancient battles beneath the earth in Dwarven halls?" He rubbed his chin as he listened to what they said. "I feel that some ill-wind is beginning to blow down from the North. Long ago, the kinsfolk to me people had a kingdom in the north, west of the Misty Mountains, the realm of Arnor."

"The horse-lords," Annungil mused. "The Rohirrim? I fear I know little of their history. Gramtying, perhaps, may know more of such things, and if their forefathers have any such great cities that once stood. Tell me, friends, did you hear anything in your dreams? A song?"

[Vladim]

Barin racked his memory at the question, trying to remember the words of the song he had heard in his mind, but with waking, dreams tend to take wing like murmurations of starlings with the setting of the sun - chaotic and noisy, yet fading and morphing into half-remembered wisps of themselves with rapidity.

Eventually he answered, "Yes, I too had a song in my dream, and a vision of a single tower amidst the ruins of a city - as I said though, this city had the feel of the Dwarf-holds of old, before my Kin moved fully beneath the earth to live in our caverns and mines.

"Now, how did it go ... hmm, hmms ... "

He began humming to himself, occasionally muttering snippets of what could possibly have been a lyric ...

"Something, something ... giants, crumbled ... something about under the soi- AH! Yes, 'Under the soil the builders lie until a hundred generations have passed by ... hmm, hmm, hmm. 'Ale flowed freely in many a mead hall' - see! Dwarven without a doubt - hmm, 'Slaughter ... pestilence ... abandoned without life' ... hmm .. something about a Red Roof? ... then ... hmm, hmm ... '...Hosts of heroes stood, while their strength held good. Here, gathered ... gold-adorned, proud ... gems and treasure, ... something, something, 'Bright city with wide domains, which the wall enclosed.' Damn it, that's all I can recall."

[Vladim]

"There was a song in my dream as well. So far as I remember the lyrics were the same as yours, friend dwarf. I cannot believe this was by chance.

Winter is a harsh time for travelling but I fear we must. We all dreamed of something hunting us. We all dreamed of this crumbled city and its forgotten watch tower.

The question is, were our dreams a warning or a trap? Barin would your elvish companion have any insight on the matter?"

[Vladim]

Celebros awoke with a start. Sweat had plastered his hair to the sides of his face and temple and he unconsciously swiped at, then rubbed his eyes. The dream... left him shaken. He was not left with his thoughts for long before he realized others were talking. Looking up, he saw that a few of the others— Barin included —were awake and having a conversation. By the lack of light and their disheveled appearances, Celebros imagined it was still very early morning.

He gathered his cloak, rising up, and draped it around his shoulders before he stepped lightly towards the others. At first, he stared at Nori as the dwarf tended the fire, stoking it back to life. The flames only reminded him of the dream; a shiver slipped down his spine.

"Indeed. That song... was in my dream as well." He slowly shifted his glassy-eyed gaze to the others. "How this happened is beyond my knowing." He drew up his cloak higher around his shoulders, leaning against one of the support beams. "The Firstborn had gathered for war. We were against the Enemy, ready and prepared to fight... but, an error happened...," he murmured. Celebros frowned to himself, shaking his head slightly, as if confused. "A flaw in tactics which cost us dearly. Hope died on that battlefield." Sorrow, even imagined from such a vision, was all too keenly felt. He had to fight back the tears.

"Then, I found myself within a fallen city. Remnants of an age lost to the Firstborn. That's when I heard the song, too."