Year 2949-50: Sentinel of the North

[Vladim]

Scene 6c: If chance you call it

Three days passed slowly, like snow falling from the sky. It was as if the cold delayed the passage of time itself, stretching the short, dark days as they awaited their fate in the tower.

The ravens had already been dispatched with letters, though none had yet returned with a reply. As they waited for tidings and made their plans, arranging their provisions so that they could last for as long as possible, the days begun to take shape, crystallizing into some kind of routine or ritual. Outside, many orcs and hill-folk and wargs had mustered. Too many now to take on directly. Most likely, the sorcerers of the hills had heard already from the countless crebain, and there was no doubt amongst their foes that new occupants had returned to the ancient tower. Many were the times they tried to taunt or challenge them from down below, speaking crudely in the common tongue, and seeking a response with what seemed to be desperate persistence. Yet the companions held their silence, and preserved their arrows while their foes remained out of bowshot, knowing full well that there was nothing they could do against the tower’s fortifications.

In the long nights, the lady of the tower returned to them in strange dreams, scenes reenacted again and again until all of the companions had witnessed all fragments of her tale. She never spoke nor perceived them, and it was clear that her true nature, whatever it was, differed from that of the half-mad elven lady that had long ago forged Annungil’s armor. At times more of her forgotten cryptic writings were discovered in some corner or another. Short, poignant, each in much the same vein as the one before it: a palimpsest of poetic lamentation and longing for something that could not be attained save in death. Soon, all the pieces fell into place, and all could perceive and understand what had happened here, and what her part in the tale had been, as the final defender of the tower.

As for the companions, they had much time to think about their own predicament, but also the path that had led them here, and their part in this. It seemed to all evident that all had their role to play, each unique and indispensable, as if each was chosen carefully for some reason or another. For would they have been able to find this place had it not been for Dahr-Ol and Elfwyn? Or Ingi, with his gift of raven-speech? Would they have been able to identify the dwarven spell if Barin and Núr and Nori were not amongst them? Or unlock the doors without the knowledge of Heruthain, Annungil and Gramtyng? Would Viglund have allowed them to leave had it not been for Idunn, whom he still likely held? And would the elven spirit not have assulted them had it not been for Celebros, her distant kin, now departed beyond the endless sea?

 

OOC

Ok, I fast-forwarded us a little. The next few scenes that remain will be played in a sort of montage-mode, so feel free to skip if it’s not your jam. This is the introspective one that I already mentioned in the OOC, which serves the purpose of highlighting the themes of chance and destiny, basically showing that all of the PCs and NPCs had their part to play in getting here.

To reinforce this theme of fulfilling the destiny of finding the tower, here’s a little mechanical benefit for each PC. The rules are described below.

 

Destiny Rewards

To determine Destiny Reward, roll a Feat die (d12) and consult the following table. Destiny points can be used to allow re-rolls. It costs 5 Destiny points to re-roll the Feat die. Ignore (re-roll) repeated results. Destiny point costs for subsequent re-rolls are given at each entry.

All results rolled can be used as a pool of options, from which a player may freely choose from.

Additionally, any left-over Destiny Points (i.e., not used for re-rolls), to a maximum of 10, can be exchanged for Experience Points (XP) or Advancement Points (APs). Destiny Points can be converted to XP on a 1-for-1 basis, to a maximum of 5 XP. Destiny Points can be converted to APs on a 1-for-2 basis, to a maximum of 10 APs. You should use up all your Destiny points after this scene, and it’s up to Diofant if we’ll use them for the next adventure, as it’s an entirely homebrew mechanic of mine.

Whenever the text states 'Determine Randomly', list all possible outcomes alphabetically, and roll the appropriate die (1dX, X=number of outcomes) to determine the result. Ignore (re-roll) repeated results.

Feat die results:
1 - Strengthen the bonds. You may designate up to two Fellowship focuses, not just one, with all the bonuses and penalties that entails as per the Core Rules.
2 - Sharpened Wits. Mark down the two skill groups associated with the character's calling (e.g. for Slayer, it's Movement and Personality). Additionally, randomly determine a third skill group (it costs 2 Destiny Points to re-roll this). From now on, you gain advancement points in these three groups by achieving normal successes, even for the 2nd and 3rd AP.
3 - Trait Mastery. Randomly determine one of the character's traits. It costs 2 Destiny Points to re-roll this. From now one, once per chapter, you can invoke the trait (if narratively appropriate) to upgrade the quality of success of a common skill roll (Basic Success is upgraded to Great, Great to Extraordinary, Extraordinary to Magical). You may still use the trait for other purposes (auto-success, gaining advancement points, etc).
4 - Skill Expertise. Randomly determine one of the character's Favored Skills. It costs 2 Destiny Points to re-roll this. From now on, whenever you score a Basic Success, check the Success dice (d6s). If one or more show a result of 5, upgrade to a Great Success. Note: This does not work in combination to any Virtue or Ability that upgrades Quality of Success. Re-roll the Favored Skill at no Destiny Point cost if this happens.
5 - Dreams of old Arnor. Gain 'Lore of Arnor' as a trait, with a twist: whenever you use this trait to gain an auto-success, roll a d6. On a 1, gain a point of temporary Shadow (nightmares). On a 6, gain a point of Current Hope (dreams of glorious past, etc). On a 2-5, nothing of note happens (but you can still use the trait).
6 - Dreams of Foresight. Once per adventuring phase, when on a journey, you may take one point of fatigue to receive a dream of foresight. When this happens, the Loremaster should give you a relevant piece of information regarding negative events likely to occur during your current adventure. If no such information is available – or the Loremaster prefers not to divulge it – he must award you one Experience point instead (your foresight contained a more intimate message, leading to a sudden bout of insight or deeper understanding).
7 - Strategist. From now on, you can use bonus dice (d6s) after the roll, not before, in all three pillars of the game (Journeys, Combat and Encounters).
8 - Unlock Potential. Determine randomly one of the Attributes (Body, Heart, Wits). It costs 4 Destiny Points to re-roll. You gain +1 to both the Basic and Favored rating. Derived stats are also affected (Body-Damage Rating; Heart-Hope and Endurance; Wits-Parry).
9 - Skill focus. Randomly determine one of the character's Favored Skills. It costs 2 Destiny Points to re-roll this. From now on, you can spend 1-3 Hope to upgrade the Quality of success by an equal amount of levels (Basic --> Great --> Extraordinary --> Magical).
10 - New trait. Add a new, story-appropriate trait of your choice.
11 - Sauron. Gain +1 Temporary Shadow and re-roll. Alternatively, one of your traits can be 'compelled' ala the Fate rpg (and the GM gives you +1 XP or +2 APs when you accept, or +1 Shadow when you deny), but you can then re-roll and add anything between -3 to +3 to the next result.
12 - Gandalf. Choose one from 1-10.

Final say from Diofant also on some of these, as they may be a bit too powerful. I've ran them past him a while back but might be worth re-discussing. I'm ok with any of them though. Good luck!

[Vladim]

Dahr-Ol paced the tower stairs for three days. It was clear he did not like being confined. He liked it less surrounded by enemies. What worried him most was not knowing if the ravens had made it to their destinations. Trying to decide how to explain both his failure at keeping peace with Viglund and his success in finding the tower had gnawed at him. Now he could only wait and imagine what Beorn might think of his missive. After many hours of fretting over his lack of skill with words he had decided to keep it simple. He stopped when Barin told him he was out of room on the parchment:

"Viglund is taking slaves of men and orcs. He desires wealth and power. He has taken Idunn captive. That is my fault. We are now surrounded by a band of Orcs, Wargs, and Hillmen in the Lost Tower at the foot of Gundabad. We are in desperate need of help."

"How fast did you say those birds of yours can fly?" Dahr-Ol asked Barin for the tenth time since the birds had departed.

[Vladim]

Barin sighed as, for the umpteenth time, the huge hillman asked him about the speed of the ravens.

"They fly as swift as the wind, but even they need to rest on occasion, and they'll also need to find one with whom they can converse. They may not return with tidings for several days yet, so patience. We are secure enough here, and if we're lucky, we may be able to dig ourselves out of this mess before aid arrives."

With that said, he headed off into the darkness of the basement once more, "Núr, with me, and bring our tools."
 

~oOo~

He mused over the letter he had written to King Dain about their predicament. Of course, as it was written in Khûzdul using the tiniest of runes he could scribe, none of the others had been able to read it...

"My Lord Dain, may your beard grow as long as Mahal's. My journey to scout the Orcs has taken a rather unexpected turn. Sadly, our elven friend is dead - he gave his life honourably to save the company I find myself in from a terrible servant of evil. The Orcs and Goblins appear to have the Northern mountains overrun - I fear that we will have a full war on our hands if we attempt to retake our homes without guile. We may be able to work with some of the Northmen - many are taken to the shadow, but some appear trustworthy and capable. The harsh lands having shaped and honed them into natural survivors. We currently find ourselves trapped within the Tower of Gundabad (yes, it still stands, and it is magnificent!). There is a large (and growing) troop of Orcs, Goblins and Wargs massing outside, and Crebain in service of the Shadow undoubtedly send word further afield. We desperately require aid as the enemy are too many to fight, and there appears to be no viable escape route other than via the front doors, which we have barricaded from within. We have, perhaps, enough supplies to last us but a few weeks before hunger takes us. Whether you can muster our people and send them to aid us in that time, or perhaps convince the Eagles and men of Dale to offer aid I do not know, but without aid, we will surely perish - the situation looks bleak my King, so I beg you for aid in this darkest hour.

I also, during my journeys, ran across talk of two other Kin searching for this very same tower. I was unsure of whether they had been sent by yourself as insurance, or whether they are independent. Whichever, they say that they are apparently acting under your orders. Other than talk of them within the fastholds of Men however, we have seen no trailsign of them during our travels so cannot say if they still live, or what their location may be.

The raven carrying this message will be able to let you know our precise location.

Please, my King, send aid. Your faithful servant, Barin Greycloak."

Unsure as he was if his King could offer anything, at least investigating the basement managed to somewhat occupy his thoughts over those of the fellowships seemingly impending doom.
 

~oOo~

Descending into the gloom once more, he and his assistant took another look at the collapsed passage in the South East corner, heads closely locked together in conference as they poked and probed at the mess of fallen stonework before them.

Over the days since the fellowship's missives had been sent, they had scoured the tower from top to bottom seeking out any clues as to how they may get themselves out of their predicament. Nothing found so far, so their only option seemed to be how to safely clear the one passage they were certain led to ... well, somewhere other than here.

They had made some progress - managing to safely clear much of the smaller debris so that the passage was clear for a few feet now, but Barin was concerned that the larger chunks of rock and masonry would prove more difficult to remove - plus there was the ever present threat that the roof could collapse again once the passage was cleared - even though he was being careful to set some select items of the fallen rubble aside so they could be used as supports where needed.

"Dahr-Ol!" he hollered as the pair of them came to a particularly large boulder in the collapse, "We could use your aid in clearance down here!". His voice echoed eerily in the stark emptiness of the basement...

[Vladim]

Annungil found the situation familiar. He stood watch on the top of the tower, gazing down far below at the orcs and wargs who milled about and keeping an eye on the horizon for the tell-tale clouds of snow and dust that indicated marching columns. The chill was bitter, but he pulled his cloak tight around him and paced the width of the tower. He could have easily been pacing watch atop the citadel of the Minas Tirith or the ramparts of Cair Andros, though the cold was more biting here than it was in the faraway South.

Yet it was in these climes, on the other side of the mountains that loomed to the west, that his ancestors had once built a kingdom of their own, now long lost in the wilderness of the northwest, and waged war against their kin and against the Witch-King of Angmar.

And now he stood watch on the tower built by their kin to hold the north. The war against the Enemy never really changed. Only the age, the actors, and the place, but always it was the same. Long vigils holding the watch against a pending attack or in hope of desperately needed relief. He hoped the ravens had been able to get a message to the Eagles or to Radagast. Perhaps the wizard could magic up a solution of some sort. Or summon a mighty host from peoples of the South and take them swiftly to the North through some secret means. Not even Viglund could be foolhardy enough to war against a host of horsemen from Rohan or a company of infantry from Gondor, unless he had been fully taken by madness.

[Vladim]

Dahr-Ol quickened his pace as Barin's voice echoed through the stairs. Every one's temper was short. They were growing short on food, short on patience, and short on time. The only thing they had too much of were orcs and wargs. He bounded the last few steps lest Barin keep from shouting any more.

"You know we're still surrounded right? By our enemies?"

Dahr-Ol regretted his words and tone the moment he said them. But like an arrow they were loosed forever.

"Wait. I'm sorry, I know you know. But I hate this. The waiting. The starving. And Elfwynn refused half her portion again. She said we need to make every last crumb stretch. I'm worried she will go too far, I know she's doing it leave more for the rest of us.

What do you need me to do? Digging and passing it back? Or am I hauling it from the digger?"

[Vladim]

Barin winced under the ire of Dahr-Ol. He knew there was no malice in it, and everyone was getting tetchy, but the knowledge didn't make it any easier to bear. The fact that he was also trying hard to ignore the gnawing in his stomach only added to the subdued atmosphere.

He sighed. At least on the subject of stone and its applications he could talk with authority.

"Right, you see that huge rock in the middle of the tunnel there?" He pointed to the boulder blocking the southeastern tunnel. "Well, it needs to be removed, but in the absence of any decent mining tools, I'm afraid brute strength will need to do instead.

"Now, you'll need to be careful in removing it - there's a very real danger of collapse. Núr and I have done what we can to shore up the tunnel that we've managed to clear so far, but around and beyond that rock ... well, it's anyone's guess."

Indicating some points around the boulder where they'd managed to clear some space and chip some rudimentary handholds, he continued, "You see here, here and here - you should be able to get some purchase. Ease the thing out gently - try to aim for a side-to-side rocking motion. Stop if you hear anything unusual - dust and dirt coming down around you in small drifts is nothing to worry about, but if you hear any significant cracking or creaking, stop immediately and get back into the room here. Núr and I will remain here to listen out and aid where we can, so if we tell you to stop, you stop. If we tell you to run, then you do your utmost to get out of there.

"What we're aiming for is for you to free the thing up enough that it can be freely rolled back into the chamber here - then we shall see what lies beyond."

With that, he gestured for the huge hillman to proceed into the mouth of the tunnel that had been excavated thus far, still trying to ignore the rumbling in his belly. God, how he wished for even some of that dry trailbread that Celebros used to carry ... what did they call it? Lembas, that was it. It may well have been like eating a compressed bar of gravel, but at least it filled the stomach and granted energy, even if it didn't do much for the soul.

[Vladim]

Scene 6d: The long wait

At long last, after days of nerve-wracking waiting, the first ravens returned with messages from those that had been contacted by the companions. In time, all such messages would receive an answer, providing a measure of hope. They were alone, yet not forgotten.

First came the letter from Beorn. It was as succinct as Dahr-Ol’s, stating simply that the bear-lord himself would come, and as quickly as possible. It would take a few days to muster, but Beorn himself promised it; it merely instructed them to remain, and hold the tower as best they could. Of Viglund or Idunn it made no mention, but Dahr-Ol could assume that the information had been received, and would factor into the plans of his leader.

Two more weeks; perhaps three. That was the time for which they would have to endure, locked inside the tower, provided that they could hold onto it.

Then came Dain’s answer. It was lengthier than Beorn’s, and promised far less… but it was penned by the king himself, which made it clear that the matter had been taken very seriously. The king under the mountain could not promise much aid-at least not at present-for any troops would have to march long, and under difficult weather, and would not make it in time. He counselled Barin to seek aid from Beorn, and appeal to his hatred of Orcs. If that failed, then the Woodmen, who were nearer, and thus abler to help.

But there were a few promises in the concluding paragraphs: one was to send reinforcements after the tower had been secured; another to look into the matter of the two travelling kinsfolk. How much this aid would be, in terms of raw numbers, was impossible to say. But the promise was there, and in writing. Barin had to assume that dwarves would be sent as soon as spring came, but not earlier.

Outside, dark clouds covered the sky. Under their shadow, orcs and other enemies were amassing, protected from the sun’s rays. They were too many now, too numerous for the companions alone to take on. Yet an army from the South should be capable of driving them away. But things were not hopeless yet, for aside from the letters, the Eagles too had answered the summons, and after a few days, appeared in the distant sky, where they soared leisurely for hours at a time, no doubt striking fear into the hearts of their enemies. At times they would fly closer, and circle the tower, and once or twice an eagle would land on its roof, and curiously examine it, but seem rather wary of its occupants. Wary they were also of the orcs and hill-folk below, and ensured to remain out of reach of their black darts, and did not make an attack.

It was as if they were waiting for something.

 

Mechanics

I’ve reset everyone’s Endurance to max and removed the Weary status from Dahr-Ol to reflect the passage of time.

We’ll handle the passing of the next few days (18 days, to be precise) until the arrival of the Beornings narratively, in just one post. During this extended downtime, there’s several tasks that each companion can perform, as listed below:
1. Clear the passages. A Craft or Athletics check, TN 14. On a Great or Extraordinary success, the tunnel is cleared. On a Basic success, the tunnel is cleared, but the PC also takes 1d4 points of fatigue. On a failure, the tunnel is not cleared.
2. Ration the supplies. A Riddle or Lore check, TN 14. On a Great or Extraordinary success, nothing bad happens. On a Basic success, everyone loses 1d4 Endurance. On a failure, everyone becomes Weary until the end of the adventure.
3. Maintain morale. An Inspire or Song check, TN 14. On a Great or Extraordinary success, nothing bad happens. On a Basic success, everyone suffers -1 Hope. On a failure, everyone takes -2 Hope.
4. Parlay with foes. An Awe check, TN 14. On a Great or Extraordinary success, the foes are demoralized (-1 Hate to all enemies, to a minimum of 1). On a Basic success, nothing happens. On a failure, the foes are emboldened (+1 Hate to all enemies).
5. Keep foes at bay. A bow check, TN 14. On a Great or Extraordinary success, an enemy leader (e.g., great orc, hillman chieftain, big warg) is slain. On a Basic success, nothing happens. On a failure, all but 1d3 arrows of the sniping PC are spent.
6. Befriend the eagles. A Courtesy check, TN 14. No specific mechanics; the outcome is narrative: on any success, the first steps of a friendship are formed, on a failure, they remain aloof. This may have a narrative effect in the future.
7. Interpret the dreams. A Riddle check, TN 14. No specific mechanics; on any success, you can ask me a question, or more, or I can just provide some exposition. But you probably have some answers already, so maybe ask me before rolling (to ensure that I make it worth your action).

You must select at least one action, and roll the dice. You may additionally select another action as a follow-up (but you don’t have to), but this secondary action will be at +4 to the TN (TN 18). You can roll your first action and then decide if you’re doing a second. Multiple PCs can attempt the same action (e.g., if one PC fails one task, another can step in to help). You can summarize what happens during the downtime in your post, from the POV of your character. I won’t delve into detailed RP, as I want to conclude this adventure.

If a task is not carried out by any PC, I will regard it as a failure. E.g., if none steps up to maintain morale, everyone will suffer -2 Hope.

Some of these tasks will determine how we go into the next scene, which will be a battle, either narratively (e.g., tunnels) or mechanically. Note however that even if you ‘die’ in the fight scene that will follow, I’ll just consider it as your character becoming unconscious. I would find it extremely anticlimactic if we had actual deaths in the last scene. It can, however, be a cool moment of killing orcs and/or bosses like Great Orcs, Trolls, etc. Or we can just hand-wave the fight and say that you win, without mechanics. I’ll leave it up to individual players (a mixed approach is also ok).

[Vladim]

Dahr-Ol looked through a narrow window at the assembled horde. He was tired, hungry, and angry at the same time. The orc leaders knew their victory was imminent and sent messengers day and night to the edge of an arrow's shot to mock and belittle the defenders. Dahr-Ol was becoming tired of the sight. He had asked Heruthain and Annungil to meet him near the top of the tower with their horns.

"I am sick of these cowards strutting like peacocks when they have us outnumbered. They aren't brave. If a host of dwarves or elves appeared behind them right now they would panic. We all know it. I think they know it. I would like to prove it. Can the two of you keep low and out of sight on the parapets; and still sound a mighty blast off your horns? Good.

I'm going to lure one of their leaders up close. Try to get him to brag and boast in front of his men. When I give you the signal, I want you to sound your horns in unison like Gondor and Rohan are thundering down the vale. Make it long, make it loud. With any luck that general will think he's been surprised by our allies and embarrass himself."

Dahr-Ol stood on the high reaches looking over the assembled host of enemies. It had grown since last he walked the tower roof. It was depressing, robbing his companions of their spirit and giving hope to the enemies. He wished to change that, at least for a few minutes.

Dahr-Ol waited for one of the messengers to approach and begin it's littany of insults and threats. He called back a few insults of his own and reminded the assembled horde that if it had not breached an empty tower in the last thousand years they had no hope of doing so with a defended tower.

He continued to insult the assembled horde until he drew forth one of their leaders. An old and scarred orc. He wore an assemblage of rusted pieces of man and dwarf forged armor. No doubt a visual list of his victories, which he soon began to recite. Dahr-Ol cut him off dismissively. If Dahr-Ol had learned anything in the halls of Viglund, it was how to insult a ruler in front of his men.

"Waylaying lone merchants and travellers is not the same as fighting true warriors. Go ask your generals who fought at the Lonely Mountain. Nevermind, you can't! You will die here as surely as they died there."

Dahr-Ol waited a moment, he wanted the relatively recent defeat of large armies of goblins at an old abandoned fortress to be fresh in their minds. "Now." he whispered to his companions. The notes of the two horns mixed and melded as they rose off the tower and echoed through the cold dense air. They reverberated and recombined in a long full tone that was glorious to hear. Unless that sound had heralded millennia of defeat and an untold number of victories by men against orcs.

The general's face dropped. He turned shouting and running for his lieutenants. The close packed horde started to shift as the fear that yet another trap had been sprung spread from leader to followers. Chaos ensued as ranks of goblins, orcs, and wargs turned trying to find the source of the notes. They collided, tangled, and fought with one another as a moment of panic set in.

It lasted only briefly. Such a simple ruse could never withstand even a minute's scrutiny. The general returned to spit vicious curses upon Dahr-Ol as had not been uttered in the beast's lifetime. But he could not scale the wall, and was impotent to enact his rage on his targets. A display witnessed by many of his warriors. Dahr-Ol and his companions, now revealed, laughed deeply at his rage and shame. Tonight would be a bad night for any goblin who might come to his commander's notice.

[Vladim]

Eventually, after several days of waiting, the ravens began bringing back replies to the missives the company had sent out. Sat on the roof, he couldn't recall who it was handed him the small piece of parchment with the Dwarven script on it - possibly Ingi - but on reading it, his heart sank. Not really caring who he was speaking to, it could have been any of the company resting up there inbetween taking pot-shots at the orcs massing below, or any one of the ravens or the magnificent Eagles that had taken to occasionally coming down to perch and take stock of all the comings and goings on the tower.

"Well," he intoned gravely, "It seems that my kinfolk won't be with us after all. Unless we can hold out until Spring or Summer that is.

"I feared it may well have been so, and Dain himself has written this, so it has been given due consideration, but with the harsh snows across the mountains there's no way a company, let alone a whole army could get to us in time. He suggests we speak to Beorn or the Woodsmen in the interim.

"The rest? blah, blah, ... will help to fortify once the tower is secure... So, no Dwarves apart from those we already have."

He screwed the parchment up into a ball and pitched it across the space towards the group's meagre fire. "I'm going down to continue clearing the passages. I fear it's our best hope to get out of here unscathed."

With that, he descended once more into the basement.

In truth, they'd made decent progress on the southeastern passage. The huge chunks of stone had either been removed, or lifted cunningly until they once again supported the weight of earth bearing down upon them. There couldn't have been much further now to dig until they were through the blockage. He could feel it. Maybe a day, maybe two, but soon enough that they were now entirely unlikely to die of starvation or thirst here in the tower, unlike it's last previous occupant.

[Vladim]

Annungil bowed low to the Eagles that soared in the distance, although he did not know if they could see him, but eagles had eyes sharper than the keenest blade. Or at least, the normal ones did along the White Mountains, though he knew little of these eagles of the Misty Mountains.

At Dahr-Ol's request, he took out a horn and sounded a mighty blast along with the others so the great horns echoed along the valley like the thunder of hooves down the valley. He laughed, mightily and deeply at the sight of the humiliated commander, until tears stung the corners of his eyes and he had to wipe them away with the back of his hand.

He maintained his vigil, his eyes growing slowly keen and bright even as he grew weary and hungry, but his vigil never faded, and his face grew sharp and hard as the stone upon which he stood. Song swelled within him, and the words sprang unbidden from his lips as the wind whistled past the tower's top, setting his hair to flow in the wind.

Gondor! Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea!
West Wind blew there; the light upon the Silver Tree
Fell like bright rain in gardens of the Kings of old.
O proud walls! White towers! O winged crown and throne of gold!
O Gondor, Gondor! Shall Men behold the Silver Tree,
Or West Wind blow again between the Mountains and the Sea?

As the notes faded, he laughed again, rich with joy and at ease, to turn to those who spoke. "My friends, who might have thought that our errand of midwinter diplomacy should take us here! The first defenders of a great stronghold lost for many lives of men and held unfailingly against a host uncountable. Let our ends be good or ill, I say, for the eyes of the Great Eagles are upon us and all the lords of the North now our stand."

He unsheathed his sword, carried far with him from the south, bearing the sigil of the White City upon its hilt, held it up to gleam in the sunlight. "Let them come, I say." He paused and let out a great yell to carry far down below to the hosts below. "Let them come and die! For we are the heroes of some tale, I see, perhaps the great tale that has only one beginning and one end, from our ancient forefathers to my distant kin who dwelt in the fortress of kings, and the sons of Durin who waged their war beneath the tunnels of the Misty Mountains and the ancient horsemen who once rode these vales before traveling South to inhabit the ancient forest and the far-rolling plains of Calenardhon and the ancient wars of the Elves who marched from the sea to the Last Alliance." He leaned far out over the edge of the wall and waved his sword so it flashed and gleamed, before turning to the others.

"Take heart, my friends, for we stand now in the shadow of legends and upon this rock and, by blood and steel and hunger-pains we forge our own. Our vigil will not be forgotten, I think, as long as there remains free folk to tell tales and remember the strength of courage alone to hold back the Shadow."

[Vladim]

Ingi spent the siege quietly, assured by the competence of his companions. Each gravitated naturally towards that task that their skills favoured and did so competently, completely and with grace. Those who knew of navigating through storms knew at the centre point all was still; life in the tower resembled this. A still point in the centre of a gathering storm.

This is not to say there was nothing to be done. Ingi used his bow in the favor of the company, attacking from what point he could gain a vantage and doing no little damage to enemy forces massing outside. The best outcome of this harassment was following that of Dahl-Ors misdirection. For in the aftermath it seemed that the races massed outside stood not together but apart, and in mirth of each other. Taking advantage of a particularly boastful warg leaders taunting of the goblins cowardice; Ingi took aim and reminded all that there was substance as well as subterfuge behind the defenders actions.

The one area of the tower he could not being himself to spend much time in was that of the underground levels. The vision of the towers final defender's act still haunted him; thus though perhaps his craftsmanship could have been put to use he left the tunnel to Barin and those that would lend their hands. He felt some guilt at this and thus associated relief at each little news of progress in the companions efforts.

In his spare time, and as part of exploring the best vantage points, Ingi found himself comming closer to the Eagles. Of all the suggestions of who to contact, they are who Ingi had argued for. Lake town was too far away and not enough of a force to help them and yet the Eagles... Truth be told Ingi yearned to meet these almost mythical beasts. So after a conversation with Munir a call for aide was made. And more and more in the skies their presence was seen. After some time they would come close to Ingi and some mode of communication, with the help of Munir, was established. Yet it was not sure, to the lakeman at least, if aide would be offered if the hour became dire.

Finally as the siege drew on, Ingi felt a gnawing sense of obligation, nudged as ever by Alviss. For his family had the right to know of his fate, and perhaps his oath could be kept by circulating his tale. Thus he began penning the following letter;

We stand here in this tower besieged,
Amongst wild trees and forgotten weeds
In barren lands through ages lost,
Where once men fought, honor proffered,
To serve the cause of good and life.

The last defender lays here still,
Though ages pass her legacy is ours to fill,
Thus here sons of the lake may yet lie,
Hopefully not forgotten under far northern skies.

And in text Ingi added the following;
In case my phrases obscure my meaning our wondering have lead us to a potentially dark place. We are besieged in an ancient tower in the north and although we hope for aide we are not sure that it will come. We do not hope for aide from laketown or even return news, but my duty to you would spare you from wondering of my fate. Hopefully one day we may sit and I may tell you the tale from beginning to end. But for now this must do. But know, and tell - even in the barrenness there is some good amongst much bad in the north.

And here Ingi left the decision regarding delivery of the letter to Munir, for he wished not to needlessly endange any more of the ravens. The letter could be sent now or as an epitath should the tower or they fall.

[Vladim]

In face of the looming threat, Gramtyng quickly found a job for himself and Belgo - figuring out the way rationing would work so they could endure the longest necessary time. The reason was two-fold. Belgo was a merchant's son, and was good at numbers - certainly better than him - so giving him a task that involved them would get the boy's mind off things, and let him complete his own work in a better way. The siege weighed heavily on the boy, even if he did do his best to hide that. As for the bard, he recalled an old - somewhat morbid - rhyme about an old man who was challenged by the Frost to survive the winter with little food. The rest of the story was of trickery, and how this old man kept using meagre supplies to stretch our his food supply, and how in the end he beat the Frost, and winter became spring. Gramtyng's own letter was sent directly to Idunn. It was carefully worded, and told her to speak to whom she thinks it necessary about what happened. He ended it with a cheerful note, though he'd not felt anything like that, describing the view (and in doing so, several landmarks). Briefly, he considered also adding a goodbye, but then, revolted at his own weakness, tore the treasonous thought from his mind and attached the letter to Dunir's foot. "Get it to Idunn, all right? And stay safe." He ruffled the bird's feathers, and threw him upwards to make it easier for him to take off. The others have all found their own tasks while the siege continued. Something inside the bard urged him to push open the gate and take the fight to the enemy - or better yet, to leap from the battlement, impale the nearest orc on his sword, and fight through them. It brought an almost glee, to think about such things, consider how he would move to avoid being struck, and he shook his head, shocked not at the bloodthirst, but at how detailed his imagination dictated where to strike and how to move.

[Vladim]

♫ Beowulf OST-Main theme ♫

Scene 6e: Crossroads

The days passed wearily, slowly, with little food and warmth, and yet not utterly without hope, for allies were likely on their way. The orcs and other foes outside did not manage to break their spirit, despite countless efforts, and after Dahr-Ol’s ploy they remained at bay, fearful of the keen arrows that flew unerringly from the tower.

Thus they resorted to merely waiting until the defenders would starve, but things within were not as dire as they thought. For though the supplies were few, the companions could make them last for a few more weeks-this Gramtyng assured them-enough until Beorn arrived with his warriors. And though this meant that they would have to go hungry, they could survive, and save their strength for when they would need it the most.

With the aid of others, Barin led the excavations down below, blessed with dwarven cunning and the stone-craft of his kindred. The earth and stone were frozen and stubborn, but with great effort, they made them yield, until one day the dwarf could warily poke his head outside and observe. He did not linger, for without secrecy this precious advantage could be swiftly lost. But now they had an escape route, should things grow dire and hopeless. The knowledge of the fact emboldened them, and Annungil’s unyielding optimism did the rest to keep their morale.

Far above, upon the tower’s roof, the eagles flew in circles, concentric, with an ever-diminishing radius. As the days went by, the grew bolder and bolder, less wary of the occupants, letting their curiosity get the better of them. Then, after but a week, they begun to perch upon it, and did not fly away, not even when the companions came there to study their enemy and keep the watch. They seemed to enjoy the company of the countless ravens, and perhaps could by speaking in the tongue of birds exchange tidings and tales. They did not even seem to mind the mannish speech of the companions, and appeared to understand all, though they never offered a reply.

---

---

Then one day just like any other, cold and sunless, the time came at last. From afar, bold blasts of battle-horns rang in the valley, reverberating as it seemed against the impenetrable stone walls of the Misty Mountains to the West, and Gundabad to the North. The shrill shrieks might have seemed cacophonous under any other circumstances; to the ears of the defenders, though, who had endured so much, and so eagerly awaited their allies, they sounded like the most beautiful melody.

Deliverance was nigh. Not wasting a moment, they raced to the roof, and looked far below to see the assembled armies of their allies… yet when they finally caught sight of the banners, they understood that both Beornings and Viglundings had arrived, though not together. Under a banner that bore a bear stood the warriors of Beorn. Far away, under another that carried a boar, were those of Viglund.

They had kept their warriors separate; clearly, there was still great enmity amongst them, but at least they stood united against the orcs and wargs and hillfolk. They observed the forces of Viglund. A vanguard was at the ready: a handful of men, clad in gleaming armor, bearing sharp spears and keen blades. It could have been none other but the men of the weorod: Viglund’s strongest and finest.

Before even the Beornings could react to it, the weorod charged recklessly into the fray, seeking to overwhelm their foes with their ruthless onset. They were strong, geared for war, battle-hardened, but alone even they could not hope to route their enemy. The remainder of the Viglundings attempted to follow, but the warband was now too far ahead; the Beornings too rushed onwards, but it was uncertain if they could close ranks about them in time.

From far above, the companions watched the battle as it begun to unfold. They would have to do nothing, not lift a finger, and Viglund’s weorod would surely suffer heavy casualties, or perhaps even be destroyed fully. That would be their reward for such reckless bravery and mindless thirst for glory. Yet they now approached the place where the tunnel led… and they all knew it. They could rush to the basement, and join the fray themselves, and with the element of surprise strike at the enemies, and perhaps rescue the doomed albeit proud Viglundings.

With luck, they could save their lives, and hope to pay off all debts and weregilds of the past. If those stubborn men listened. But what else would happen if Elfwyn was revealed to be with them, proving their guilt?

It was a decision that had to be made swiftly. Soon they would lose their chance.

 

OOC

So it comes to this. Each PC has a choice to make-help Viglund’s weorod by use of the tunnel, or let them be killed by the enemies (perhaps joining the battle later, through the tunnel or the main entrance, to help the Beornings).

It’s up to you, and it’s an individual choice (no need to vote). For each PC that tries to save the weorod, there’s a cumulative 20% chance that some important members of the Viglunding warband will be saved. You can make Awareness rolls (TN 16) if you want more information about who’s in the weorod. Based on previous scenes though, you should be able to guess.

As I may have said previously, I’ll try and streamline combat so that we don’t get bogged down in it, perhaps giving each PC 4-5 mooks to kill and a ‘mini-boss’ of your choice (orcs, wargs, hill-folk, whatever). I’ll give you their stats so that you can roll for them and resolve it quickly, so that we can go on.

The goal is a chance to be awesome (and make an impactful choice), not to kill your PCs. As such, even if you ‘die’, you can just consider that you became unconscious (and were saved by Beorn’s forces later). If you want to keep it real, then maybe instead of dying you can suffer a terrible injury, and have to take -2 to Body (basic & favored) for the next adventure. If you prefer that option, let me know from the get-go, and I can award you +2 XP for it, as an extra reward to the risk (otherwise, no bonus XP).

I am not yet sure how to handle archers. I don’t think the chaotic melee will allow archery, but perhaps archers can still shoot from the tower. To not make it super-easy and safe though, perhaps there is a chance of ‘friendly fire’ with each missed shot, targeting PCs in melee.

Ask me if you have questions!

[Vladim]

Looking down at the tableau laid out across the valley, Barin carefully took stock of the situation.

Viglund's weorod charging into the fray, their bloodlust up; Beorn's woodmen following on behind, more warily and considered. Idly, his thumb began to stroke the blade of his ever-present axe as his mind whirled with the tactical possibilities, and despite his hunger and weariness, his blood also began to rise. To get this over and done with once and for all.

"Well?" he asked of his companions. "What are we waiting for? We should be down there, going toe-to-toe with those foul creatures.", then a thought crossed his mind, "... if we all leave via the passage we've unearthed, we should be able to come at the enemy from the rear. Leave them no room to retreat, and possibly take some of the pressure off of our allies."

Looking at Elfwyn he added "Aye, lassie, I've not forgotten about you. I'm in no doubt that your presence here will ... complicate things ... with Viglund and his men, but we should cross that bridge when we come to it. I suppose there's no point in asking you to stay behind here whilst we go fight? We may be able to keep your presence a secret at least for a while longer if you do?"

[Vladim]

Annungil stared down at the host, but tilted his head and gazed to the horizon, where he could just make out a faint haze and a general brightness. Slowly, two hosts came into being, one beneath the banner of a bear and the other beneath the banner of a bear. Both the Beornings and Viglundings then. That intrigued them. He loosed his sword in his sheath and buckled his shield to his arm, looking again over the side of the tower.

A small detachment of men rushed forward towards the orc host and Annungil shook his head. Fools, they were, or overcome with the blood-thirst. Ill-disciplined fighters, he observed. Better than the orcs, certainly, but against a host of such a size, individual valor meant little. They would not fare well against a formation of men-at-arms, although it would be bloody if it all came down to it.

"Aye," Annungil said, at last, unsheathing his sword. "Never would a son of Gondor stand by and watch as others bled and died on his behalf, no matter how poorly I judge them. It would be an ill-done deed. Let us go forth now and crash upon these orcs like waves in a storm. And if we all perish, then we will at least sell our lives dearly and with the honor of the valiant intact."