Year 2949-50: Sentinel of the North

[Vladim]

Elfwyn turned to look at Annungil and Dahr-Ol and the others, before returning her attention to Barin, and to the words he had just uttered. Her answer to them was plain and direct, as he had grown to expect from her.

"I go where you go. I will not be left behind. As for Viglund..." she continued, and her mood grew even darker, "... with any luck, the orcs and wargs and hill-folk will take care of him. If not... then we shall see. But I am his thrall no longer."

It was difficult to guess what she was capable of. Clearly, she despised both Viglund and his son, but how far she would go... that was difficult to say.

 

OOC

Although she says she wants to come with you, a Persuade check at TN 14 can change her mind. An Insight check (also TN 14) can reveal what she would be capable of.

[Vladim]

Gramtyng withdrew his sword from the scabbard and examined its steel, his expression cold and vacant. "Dahr-Ol." He spoke without shifting his eyes from the blade that the spirit called Widowmaker. "After the battle, should I survive intact, I will challenge Viglund, if he is present, or Viglar, if Viglund falls. I do not recommend you challenge him yourself, as it could worsen the relations with the Viglundings for Beorn even further. I am an outsider in this land. Even if I fall, it will matter little. If I do, however, it is your task to get Idunn back." He listened to the Beorning's reply, nodded, and headed for the tunnels, sword bared, shield in hand, with no further comments.

[Vladim]

Ingi smiled at Elfwyn well aware of what she what capable of given impossible choices. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to stay here with me ? I'm more use here as an archer, then there in the melee and I could shoot faster with someone else helping with arrows... And your presence can ignite the whole situation further"

Looking at the maidens determination he added "take care of them" and to the company "and take care of her, I doubt she'll allow herself to be captured or reclaimed..."

As an afterthought he added "should anyone ask we caught up with Elfwyn at the tower and were then beisieged... Best if none bar us should enter here for now, otherwise things may become tricky...... We can work out what we do next after the threat is over." Do we all agree ?

[Vladim]

Dahr-Ol listened as his companions, each in their turn counseled Elfwynn on the wisest course of action. She would no more accept it than he could have left her in thralldom.

"Ingi your words are wise and with Elfwynn as guard, you would not need to fear any warrior.

But, this could be our final day, and she should choose to meet it as she prefers. I do not believe any more deception would be wise on our part. We would only give substance to Viglund's slanders. Let us charge forth and meet the day. Viglund or Viglar, or whomever survives will lay their claims. We will offer the corpses of these goblins as weregild. We never offered, and he never demanded that we return Elfwynn if we found her later.

If he presses, I will remind the gathered that Viglund, witnessed by his own men, slew the Hill people leader when he refused to continue Viglund's demands for thralls as tribute. It is the truth as his own Skald told the story. Not just told, but bragged.

Not combat on the open field, his own Skald reported it. They went to collect tribute in thralls and murdered the Hill people's leader when the man refused. Furthermore we are not on Viglunding territory here. He has no authority to demand anything. And he has taken at least some of his thralls by murder. I would resist any hill person who came to my tribe with such demands and be called a hero for doing so. I shall trust in the rightness of my choice.

If necessary, I will trade myself for Idunn. Do not argue, I made the choice that resulted in her captivity. It is my responsibility to make it right. Besides, I am likely the only other person Viglund would accept in exchange.

Elfwynn, Beorn took my parents in when they had nothing to offer but the head of Oghma. I am certain he will show you kindness. If he asks for a guarantee, ask him to let my mother watch over you. I am certain he would accept that."

[Vladim]

As those companions that had chosen so made their way through the tunnel, they could hear the sounds of battle from outside. Faint at first, they grew louder and louder as they approached the exit.

A great melee had been joined here, in the time that it had taken them to come. Carefully looking outside, they first made sure that their sudden emergence from beneath would not reveal the presence of a tunnel. It was a bold gambit, but the skirmish now raged in full strength, and none of those outside, be they orc or man or wolf, seemed likely to notice them: not when engaged in such a manner, fighting for their lives.

The band of Viglundings-the weorod of their chief-seemed hard pressed against the multitudes of enemies. They had been pushed together, fighting back to back with sword and spear and shield, but neither strength nor training nor their superior war-gear would protect them fully against such onslaught.

But the companions, though few, were presently hidden. They had surprise on their side, and the Eagles, who had been circling the tower for days, now plunged towards the orcs and wargs with battle-cries. Together, they could prove sufficient to tip the scales.

 

OOC

Ok, this is the all-you-can slay extravaganza we have been waiting for. Choose a foe (orcs, wargs or hill-men), allocate a number (probably somewhere in the 4-6 range; go easy on yourself if you choose Hill-Men as they are tougher opponents) and resolve the mechanics yourselves, if you want. Otherwise, we can just hand-wave it. Some reminders and tips:
_As stated earlier, your PCs cannot die here-just be knocked out.
_Remember, only 3 enemies can engage a single PC at a time. When one dies, another can take its place, as long as there are available enemies from your pool of 4-6.
_Ingi can provide shooting support, but note that if he misses, I'll count it as 'friendly fire' (your PC will take 9 damage). Now, Ingi is unlikely to miss... but be sure to let Yelik know OOC if you don't want to take the risk.
_Whenever you roll a Gandalf, remove an enemy. One of the eagles has snatched them for you. Thanks, eagles!
_After this, I can give you a mini-boss to fight, if you want. We can talk about it. It's not really necessary.
_You're rolling for your PC and the baddies; I'm not gonna run this, but you are free to do so (and ask questions if you want). Since everyone will go separately, there's no need to track rounds or wait for turns. Just go, kill some baddies, have fun, see how many your PC can take out!
_Remember, baddies auto-crit with Sauron, not Gandalf. Gandalf counts as zero for them.
_I'll run Idunn too, in a bit, so you can follow my lead if you wanna. Yelik, feel free to support her with the bow if no-one else wants support!

Here's the stats of the enemies-just choose one type of creature, or mix them up, whatever.

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Orc soldiers	Wargs	Hill-men
Attack: Bent sword 1d12 2d6t; Damage 4/7/10 (basic/great/extraordinary success); edge 10; Injury TN 12; Called shot Disarm	Attack: Bite 1d12 2d6+3t; Damage 3/6/9 (basic/great/extraordinary success); edge 10; Injury TN 14; Called shot Pierce	Attack: Spear 1d12 2d6+4t; Damage 5/9/13 (basic/great/extraordinary success); edge 9; Injury TN 14; Called shot Pierce
Abilities: Hate SunlightIrrelevant here , CravenIf reduced to 0 hate, flee combat as soon as possible	Abilities: Fear of fire-1 Hate at the end of first round against opponent with fire , Seize victimWhen attack hits, victim cannot change stance, and their Parry is halved, rounding up. Victim can escape with Athletics TN 13. While seizing, warg cannot attack. , Great leapIrrelevant here	Abilities: Strike fear-1 Hate to force adversary to make a Fear (Valor) check, TN 14. If failed, hero cannot spend Hope for the scene. Fluff: eyes glow red in the dark. , Fear of fire-1 Hate at the end of first round against opponent with fire

 

[Vladim]

"Fools!" growled Idunn under her breath, upon seeing Viglund's weorod charge recklessly into the frey. She knew them well by now; she understood that their pride would never allow it, to be robbed of all glory by some Beornings. Yet their heedless onset threatened to throw away any advantage that was to be gained by fighting jointly.

She looked to Guthred, her ward. "My friends are there," she said, and motioned towards the tall tower, "starving, weary, surrounded. I cannot fail them now."

And before the old Thane could voice any objection, she too charged, following the war-band closely, with her hound by her side. Soon, the others too would come, whether they wanted to fight like this or not. This she knew.

(...)

For a good while, anarchy reigned on the battlefield. The orcs had not expected it, but the weorod fell upon them like a mighty wave, and in the initial confusion many of the foul creatures had been slain. But sheer numbers now begun to turn the tide; the Viglundings had quickly become enveloped and now stood alone, surrounded at all sides. Idunn fought besides a helmet-bearing warrior, one she thought must have been Thunar. Yet in the confusion she could not be certain.

A cruel orc-blade had wounded her hound. She fought with swift movements, thrusting her spear against the hoard quickly, whilst trying to dodge blows. She had fared well, and slain three in quick succession, and the eagles were now descending in great numbers, dealing serious damage. But the enemy was pushing ever onwards, tightening the noose. Soon, she would have hardly any space in which to move. So she tried to force her way, cutting a hole through which they could escape, but the task seemed difficult.

The others would come soon, though: Beornings and Viglundings. They had to.

 

Mechanics

Hound is out of the fight. No bonuses from him apply.

[Vladim]

Gramtyng raced through the tunnel with everyone else, nameless blade bared, shield braced. He felt his anger flare, but he let his reason guide him, darting towards the pack of wargs. He'd still been used to fighting these monsters from before - better leave the orcs for the others. As for the hillmen... despite all his distrust and suspicion, they were still humans. Perhaps they could still change to the better, turn away from the shadow. Instead, he set upon the beasts of shadow; he was ambushed by three immediately, one sneaking up on him, while other two approached from the front. Assuming a defensive stance, he allowed the warg to fall upon his shield and impaled it on his sword, throwing it aside using the surface of his shield, only to be assailed by another beast, a third sneaking in to strike at him. The second leapt at him, pinning him to the ground and preventing the bard from using his shield. Thankfully, the teeth of the animal closed harmlessly around the wristguard, and the bard, thinking quickly, decided to use the warg as a shield instead, positioning it to block another of its packmates. What followed was a savage battle, nothing to do with a proper hunt or melee - partway through, Gramtyng's blood boiled and he felt the fey mood come upon him. The nameless dwarven blade rose and fell, rose and fell, and so did the wargs. After a few moments, an eagle swept down upon the battlefield, ripping away the wolf that was keeping a grasp on the rohirrim. It gave a yelp as it was forced to let go, and the bard hissed in pain as his arm twisted, but with another few strikes, his battle was done. Now... Came the tricky part.

Viglund.

[Vladim]

As he emerged from the tunnel, Barin was careful to step quietly for some ways before observing the battle unfolding before him. After all, he thought, there was no sense in giving away their secret egress to either friend nor foe alike.

As soon as he deemed it safe to do so, he watched for a few moments as the meleé ebbed and flowed before him, like a sea tide made up of heavily armed men and beasts. Ensuring his armour was well placed and strapped correctly, his helmet securely fastened on his head, he unlimbered his Fell Axe and kissed its blade. Lovingly he whispered, "Orcs, my beauty, are you ready to taste their blood?", then at the top of his lungs he screamed "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!"* before plunging headlong into the fray.

In all honesty, after the fight, he couldn't recount exactly what unfolded as his bloodlust was up. He knew he'd emerged bruised and weary, having escaped any serious injury, save a few more nicks and dents in his armour where blows had landed. He knew that he'd faced at least five Orcs directly and vaguely recalled cutting down two of them - the blood on his axe could attest to that, but the Eagles has certainly aided in his attempts to cut down the forces from Gundabad, snatching some three of his opponents during the battle.

As he paused to catch his breath, he looked at the devastation surrounding him. Bodies scattered around the field of battle, trampled into the mud and blood that now formed the ground underfoot. As the battle began to ease, at least around where he stood, he espied some of his companions still engaged with foes, and rushed across to see if he could lend aid.

[Vladim]

Though she had slain many orcs, more were coming. As soon as her foes fell, hill-folk swarmed into the opening, and she found herself surrounded on all sides but the rear, with six spear-points raised against her. Before she could react, one of them cut her forearm, threatening to disarm her, but she clenched her teeth, and endured the pain, and turned it into rage and strength.

She tried desperately to fight back. Shieldless as she was, she was far more exposed than Viglund’s warriors, but she managed to fell two evil men swiftly. The eagles were wreaking havoc upon the ranks of the enemy, and that brought a grim smile to her face, but there were still countless others.

Too many, it would prove. Two leapt into the fray, eager to take their vengeance. One she wounded, but the other seized the advantage, and while her weapon was busy with the killing-work, he stabbed at her with his own.

She turned to look, but it was far too late. Everything around her was already growing dark. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was the hill-man’s hate-filled eyes. Then, she fell to the ground as if lifeless, sinking into oblivion.

 

Mechanics

The grand tally-3 orcs killed (+1 by eagles) and 2 hillmen (+2 more by eagles), but the last 2 hillmen get her. Could have gone better if she was only a little luckier!

[Vladim]

Dahr-Ol emerged from the tunnel behind the others. He shivered in the cool breeze, his natural body fat had long since been used by his body to stay alive. While he was not particularly weak, neither did he feel truly strong. The clash of arms and the Dwarven cry to battle cleared the fog from his brain. It had been too many weeks since he could reach out and touch his enemies. Placing both hands on the haft of his great axe he looked for Viglund, knowing Viglar would be close by his father's side. The fools had let themselves be nearly surrounded. And there... a flash of long hair cascading down leather armor. That was no Viglunding in ancient armor. That was Idunn and Dahr-Ol intended to free her. He looked to his right where he knew Elfwynn would be.

"If this is our last day, I gladly spend it slaying orc by your side. But, I must make good on my oath. She has spent the winter in captivity and I led her there." Dahr-Ol did not need to name Idunn, Elfwynn and he had talked about her captivity and the black mark that Dahr-Ol felt it left upon his honor. Dahr-Ol waited a moment and stepped off at slow jog. The fight against the wargs had taught him the value of standing by his fellows, he would not make the mistake of Viglar's people and rush into the thick alone.

The orcs turned as Barin announced his presence. Dahr-Ol took three more steps and bellowed his own savage cry, drawing a knot of orcs to move away from Barin and towards Dahr-Ol. He grinned as the orcs came, confident in their numbers yet unnerved that this new fighting force had appeared behind them. They were hesitant, unsure if this might be yet some trickery. It suited Dahr-Ol as his limbs were stiff and he had not swung his axe in many weeks. It felt like an acquaintance whom he had not seen in many years, familiar but not quite comfortable.

Dahr-Ol planted both feet and swung hard from his left, to leave Elfwynn room to maneuver. The orc easily avoided his blow, but both of them mis-timed their own strikes, having expected him to continue his charge. Recovering, Dahr-Ol thrust his axe straight forward hammering the orc in the fore head with the top of his axe haft while their blades rang as they slid down the wide blade of his great axe. The orc crumpled. His companion was slow to engage and missed his opportunity to connect with the Hillman. Pivoting, Dahr-Ol felt the effects of the long hunger, he was too slow to connect with the chest of the second orc, while it scored a glancing blow to his thigh. Two more times the combatants side-stepped and thrust, each seeking the other. Two more times Dahr-Ol found his mark while the his opponent came up empty. Dahr-Ol stepped over the body as two more orcs, hearing the ring of steel on steel, had rushed to protect the rear of their force.

Dahr-Ol brought his axe up and caught the first orc across its chest. A shallow wound, but it bled. Both orcs delivered well timed thrusts of their own. Had they been better positioned they would have penetrated but both orcs caught the side of Dahr-Ol's corselet and their blades slid off, scarring the leather but not the man. Dahr-Ol judged these two to be experienced veterans, they did not rush in wildly to offer their necks to his axe. The guarded with their weapons and struck with control. Dahr-Ol was unable to penetrate their guard and again steel rang on steel as they combatants ducked and wove around each other.

Dahr-Ol was pulling back from another failed strike when a great shadow crossed from behind him. He was slow to recover and the orc's blade was about to reach his torso when the eagles that Barin had spent so much time talking to made their presence known. Dhar-Ol's opponent was lifted in great claws and carried off. Dahr-Ol thanked the Great Hunter for his benevolence and turned his attention to the remaining foe. Finally the fist orc stumbled, perhaps it was the ice. Or a loose rock. Dahr-Ol did not know, nor did he care. Dahr-Ol's axe bit solidly into his thigh. The orc screamed and made a quick thrust, it was well timed and would have connected had Dahr-Ol not been able to bring his axe up, deflect the blow, and continue on to his opponent's throat. Clutching at the wound the orc looked up helplessly as Dahr-Ol stepped past him.

Dahr-Ol saw her again, beset by enemies. Possibly one of the Viglundings was at her side, he could not be clear. Before he could shout to Idunn two wargs turned, possibly their attention was drawn by the death cries of the orc. Or the sound of his companions battle cries. Either way, they bared their fangs and moved slightly apart, the better to confound their prey. It was an old tactic, but an effective one. Dahr-Ol spit on the ground to demonstrate his contempt and moved forward again.

The wargs charged from both sides as expected. It was an effective tactic and this time was no exception. Dahr-Ol scored a solid hit on the warg to his left, it was not deep but it hit the warg along the shoulder, threatening to cripple it. If the beast survived, it would remember Dahr-Ol for the rest of it's life. The wargs blood was up, and both went for killing blows. They tore at his legs, trying to slip past his axe. Hot blowed from both legs, and the wound on his right leg ran especially deep. Dahr-Ol cried out as the fangs had left jagged tears in his flesh. He knew the wargs tactics and adjusted, keeping his axe low at jaw level to give the wargs pause. Again they came. Again he fended off their blows as they twisted and jumped away from his axe. Again, the eagles came, watching over the injured warrior.

Dahr-Ol could not help but be awed by the eagle as it carried away a fully grown warg. He was not sure he could manage to lift such a beast. For a moment he remembered the hatred his own people had spat at the Eagles when glimpsed in the distance. It was a bravado that was usually tempered with a hasty movement to any sort of overhead cover. He was beginning to feel it now, the blood loss, the burn in his muscles. The long winter had taken it's toll and still he had another warg to overcome. Man and best feinted and struck, to no effect until the Warg caught him off balance. It wove past his guard and latched onto his support arm for his axe. Dahr-Ol pulled back before the beast could fully enclose it's mouth around his bicep, but the damage was done. The blood ran freely and the beast snarled. It knew it was winning. Dahr-Ol knew it too, and he could no longer see Idunn. He could not let this beast stop him. He drew his main hand down to the base of his shaft and stepped forward throwing caution to the wind. He was on top of the beast and swinging with every bit of strength he had, it was a change the beast had not anticipated. The axe crashed down on the warg's back snapping its spine as it sunk through the back and into the lungs. The great beast shuddered and collapsed.

Dahr-Ol tugged hard to free the axe almost tumbling over as his leg refused to plant properly. Looking down he saw the beast's teeth tangled in his breeches. It had been about to kill him as he had landed the blow. He levered the jaws free with the handle of his axe and stood tall looking for Idunn. He could not find her. To his left a large form lifted a giant blade. It was one of his kin from old. The name escaped him, but the jagged scar across his bicep made it clear. The boy had received it trying to kill a badger which he had cornered in a den. There was recognition in the man's eyes. And hatred. No doubt the night goers he had defeated in battle with the Devourer had surmised his lineage. If today he must slay a kinsmen to get to Idunn, then it must be so. "Yes, you know me. I bring you the same greeting my father brought Oghma."

The two men charged, screaming at their top of their lungs in the Hillman fashion. There was no art, no tactical genius, just brute force and a desire to kill before being killed. Dahr-Ol's blow struck true, a heavy hit that dented the steel of his opponent's steel and leather cap. In testament to the fearsome warrior's stamina, he was staggered but not laid low. His blade came round from his right while Dahr-Ol's axe was still high above his shoulder. Dahr-Ol stepped left, dropping his axe across the Hillman's neck and finishing his foe. The hillman's blade continued on despite it's owner's death and connected with Dahr-Ol's ribs. Without the Hillman's rage it did not possess the power to penetrate.

The fighting ranks thinned as the hillman fell. The nearby orcs fell back as their mighty champion crumpled. At last there was some relief for the beleaguered Viglundings. But it was too late, Idunn lay crumpled, surrounded by defeated foes, including two of his former kin. Two more Hillmen stood above her, a Viglunding was fighting nearby. Dahr-Ol cried out in his native tongue, he would avenge her or his ghost would haunt this place as surely as the elvish woman had never left her cave. He was sure of it. "The son of Oghma's slayer sends his greetings! If you children are done fighting our women folk perhaps you could send a real warrior to greet me!"

[Vladim]

Annungil donned his armor, hefted his shield, and loosed the sword in its sheath as he studied the approach of the two war-hosts. Beornings and Viglundings, reluctantly, fighting side by side. If organized well, they could perhaps catch the Gundabad host in a pincer and hit them from two sides.

That thought was quickly dissipated as he watched a small group detach themselves from the front of the Viglunding host and charge straight into the enemy, cutting deep into the enemy host at first, but it would only be a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. Courageous, yes, but reckless and ill-disciplined.

He shook his head and turned away from the rampart to go down the stairs. He knew not who they were, but he could not let men die in his defense while he stood by. That would be ignoble and a dishonor of the highest sort, regardless of the outcome of the battle.

He followed the others down the tower and through the tunnel, his sword loose in the scabbard, until they reached the end where he waited, until they first burst forth. The blood pulsed in his ears and he could hear from above the clash of steel and the shots of orc and men. His hand twitched on the sword hilt and he breathed deep of the damp, stale air, rich with the scent of ancient dirt. How the Dwarves managed, he could not guess. He craved the sweet, clean air of Anorien and the breezes up from the sea with the scent of salt and the faint cries of the gulls.

He pushed out from the tunnel and watched as the others surged forth to hit the orcs and hillmen. Annungil waited some moments until their charge drove home into the rear ranks and he hefted his horn, blowing it loud and hard, the horn of Gondor answering the calls of Beorn and Viglund. Long and noble, sweet and bold, the sound carried across the battlefield until the horn itself burst asunder and he drew his sword all the way.

Idunn, he could make out, and the others, as they flung themselves into the fray with valor. He ran forward, hearing the jingle of the mail upon his shoulders, and beat his blade across his shield. "Gondor!" He roared, "Gondor and the White Tree! The fury of the men of the west lies upon you!"

His sword gleamed in the light as eagles hurtled downwards to swoop up their prey, and he flung back his cloak so that the mail too shone in the daylight as he pushed forward. Not with recklessness or bloodlust, though the battle-joy sang in his veins, but with the discipline and intention to do the guards of the White Tower justice. Shield close held tight and his blade point forward, he pushed forward to where his companions fell, roaring challenges and fending off attacks to stand with his companions until he too fell, or help arrived.

[Vladim]

Scene 6f: If you can keep it

When at last the snow-dust had settled, and the hosts of the enemy scattered to the four winds, all that was left on the field was frost dyed red with the blood of many, and the broken bodies of friend and foe alike. Most of the fallen were orcs, wargs or hill-folk who had not survived the chaotic battle and now lay broken on the snow, dead or soon-to-be. Viglund’s men scoured the scene, and finished off those that drew breath yet, however feeble, speeding up their passing.

The men of the war-band stood yet, and the weorod itself had not been annihilated, despite its foolhardy charge, though some amongst it had paid the ultimate price for such reckless onslaught. In part, this was due to the company’s timely interference, for if it had not been for their surprise attack, then surely Viglund’s warriors would have been fully outflanked and outmatched, and cut down to the last man. This at least they seemed to acknowledge, and they allowed them to stand in their midst without argument, however begrudgingly.

It was Viglar, Viglund’s son, who had led them thusly. He had survived the fight, and now he eyed them with something impossible to pin down, and behaved as if seeking to avoid them. They had Elfwyn-this much was clear-and thus so was the unspoken implication that they had stolen her. But though it had been clearly noticed, none dared challenge them. And besides, all were presently busy tending to their dead and injured, and licking their own wounds.

Amongst them was a warrior who bore the body of Idunn. She had fallen in the fight. Whether she was unconscious, dead or at death’s door was indiscernible from the distance.

Skyward, the eagles circled like birds of carrion above a battlefield, but they had no interest in the foul dead. At times a couple of their number perched atop the tower; soon, many seemed to depart towards the south, but a small host remained, keeping a watchful eye over the land.

(*********)

And so things were when the main bodies of Beorn’s and Viglund’s hosts re-organized themselves and converged towards the entrance to the tower. As they approached, Viglar led his to join his father’s, and now they stood before them: Beornings to the right, and Viglundings to the left, with the entirety of the company here to greet them, save Ingi and Alviss, who remained inside the tower, and from their vantage points could see and hear all.

And then Viglund’s eyes too fell upon Elfwyn, whose presence must have already been communicated by Viglar, and his face grew even grimmer, his displeasure evident.

’I knew that you were full of lies.’

Elfwyn stirred, and stood closer to Dahr-Ol, and her weapon was readied and her shield held in front of her. But Viglund made no move against her; instead, he turned to Beorn, and spoke:

’You send thieves to my land, and call them emissaries.’ Then, he faced the company again, and added: ’What have you done?’

Beorn did not speak. Not yet. Perhaps he also sought to hear the account directly from the companions.

 

OOC

Feel free to recover Endurance equal to your Basic Heart for a short rest after the battle.

This is the final scene before the epilogue(s). I won’t use any mechanics, so we can just RP the whole thing. Given that you’ve already helped the war-band, some requests may likely be granted, though some of the Viglundings will not be happy about some things.

If folks insist, we can do Encounter mechanics, or a duel like Diofant suggested.

[Vladim]

Dahr-Ol stepped forward. He was worried about Idunn, but she had not been wrapped in a cloak or blanket when she was carried over. He hoped this meant she was still alive.

"Beorn did as you requested Viglund. I was sent only as an emmissary to mark the Yule and witness that which you wished to reveal to all the Wildlands.

You revealed that you trade in Thralls taken as tribute! You revealed that you are willing to kill if your demands for thralls are refused! You revealed that you do so for your own enrichment and comfort!

I witnessed everything you showed us! I listened to the stories of your skald and your warriors.

They told me plainly that you demand tribute in the form of thralls from the hillmen tribe! And when Cynewulf refused you slew him by your own hand!

There was no raid. No attack. No party of scouts spying out your lands. You have learned much from the Enemy in the North. They also desire to enslave men. They also pretend that their misdeeds are justified."

[Vladim]

Viglund's expression hardened as he listened to the choice words that Dahr-Ol had to offer; he clenched and unclenched his fists, and though he held his tongue while the Beorning spoke, it was clear what was on his mind.

The companions, Dahr-Ol included, knew this expression; it was not much different from the one he wore when last he had spoken to them, just before they had unceremoniously fled his hall, preferring the hospitality of the icy winter. Anger burned within him, threatening to consume him, but it was cool and measured rage, as cold as this bitter season.

Surely he had things to say in response, but Beorn did not allow it. Before Viglund could respond, Beorn's voice rose, and all-Beornings and Viglundings alike-did not dare dismiss it.

"The blood of the fallen has not yet dried, and wounds are still open, untreated. We have not yet celebrated the victory, and you two are at each others' throats already, quarreling!" He made a strange and disapproving voice, like the subdued grunting of a wild animal, and looked indignant, and perhaps a little angry.

"You say you have taken the tower. What on earth are we waiting for here, then?! Let us go in, and see to our dead and our wounded. And if you want to argue or fight, at least you can do it away from this blasted cold!"

[Vladim]

Epilogue

The cold weather matched the icy disposition of the two peoples gathered here, Viglundings and Beornings. Though they were in many ways alike, they followed different leaders, and practiced different traditions. But eventually, an arrangement was worked out between them, borne out of necessity, respect for both leaders, a reluctance for further bloodshed, and the need to band together, should their foes return with a mightier host. And though they eyed each other suspiciously, and many feared treason, they eventually moved to the tower, where they would be away from the cold, and better prepared to face their enemies, should they return.

They did not. Instead, an uneasy truce was established as their leaders determined how to proceed.
 

---

Amongst the many matters discussed was the company’s conduct, and the seeds that they had sown in Viglund’s Great Hall; seeds that could lead to conflict and open war. But was war not inevitable? Elfwyn had said so, a long time ago, on that very night that her path was chosen, but many Beornings and Viglundings also seemed of the same mind now. Too many harbored mistrust or dislike… and yet for now, catastrophe was averted.

Any concessions were extracted only through great pains and days of discourse. But the facts were plain: the company had, in that fateful hour, come to the aid of the Viglunding weorod, and had thus saved them from certain death. Their misdeeds and wergilds had to be forgiven. Beorn insisted on it stubbornly, and against his words, even Viglund could not do much but protest in vain. And so Elfwyn was given to Dahr-Ol as reward, and Idunn was at last released from Viglund’s honored hospitality.

But the companions knew Viglund too well by now… he would never forget the slight, and would hold onto the grudge for many years to come. To his grave, some Beornings would remark behind his back.
 

---

Then was the matter of the tower. It was too far to the North, and yet far too precious to merely abandon. It would be a terrible mistake to leave it now, or worse yet allow it to fall to the hands of the enemy. But it was also closest to Viglunding territory, and so their chief had a claim, which he pressed again and again, seeking to strike a compromise that would result in his folk exerting their control here.

But it was not Viglund that had taken the tower, and so the arguments continued back and forth, throughout most of the rest of the winter. There were few amongst them that could be counted on to act as mediators, but in the end, one of them stood out amongst all others. It was Guthred, Viglund’s Thane, who had once served as emissary to the Beornings, just as Thane Merovech had been his counterpart amongst his peoples. But Merovech was dead, and none could replace him. Guthred lived yet, and this was a task that suited him well.

It was not done without sacrifice. For many years, Thane Guthred had served as the guardian of Aestid, Viglund’s daughter. He had practically raised her, and was more of a father to her than Viglund ever had been. But for no more: for it would be too dangerous in the North, and so Aestid would have to remain with Viglund now. Because of this, Guthred was reluctant to do this… but in the end, there was no-one better for the task, and with heavy heart he accepted.

With him, a skeleton crew of Beornings and Viglundings would remain. A few men and women open-minded enough to tolerate each other, or wise enough to see that the task set before them outweighed any of their differences. They were too few: far too few. Everyone knew that, even with the tower now firmly in their hands, they could not hope to hold it, not without supplies and reinforcements. But they placed their hopes on the companions, and on the belief that more could be mustered from the four corners of Wilderland, and would come to their aid, for holding the North should be of interest to all the Free Peoples.

But would it prove so? Only time would tell.

 

OOC

That’s a wrap, or almost. I can’t believe I’ve been running this for almost two years! I was initially aiming for a short adventure, but it sort of grew and grew until it was out of my control almost. I had great fun running it, and some parts will stay with me for years to come. Thanks for sticking with me!

Now comes fellowship phase, so I’m happy to discuss what your PCs want to do in the interim. Assume that spring comes, and so your characters are free to travel again, and to pursue their own goals and agendas for a while. We can chat OOC to determine the possibilities, and pick the corresponding mechanics (fellowship phase undertakings).

I had a few structured events that could also come into play, namely:

-> The Easterly Inn (the hobbit-run establishment where we started the adventure) is destroyed; orcs from Mirkwood take advantage of Beorn’s absence and launch a surprise attack. If you want a darker ending, we can work this into your Fellowship Phase. I like the circularity of it, and I'm taking a page from the kind soul who suggested that to write a Tolkien-esque story, one must 'destroy something beautiful', maybe... 3 years ago in the now-defunct Cubicle 7 forums? I forget.

-> Heva and her husband, fearing that Viglund will now be looking for young warriors for his weorod, may allow one of their sons to ‘apprentice’ with one of the companions instead. I had initially envisioned this for Ingi, as there was some RP of him teaching them a bit of archery, and it could feed NPCs into his ‘Merchant Prince’ virtue.

-> Despite their oaths to Viglund (made under distress), many of the Free Cottars are concerned, and those closest to Beorn may secretly turn to him for aid against Viglund. If you’re into some politicking and such, this could be worked into your Fellowship Phase. For example, for Dahr-Ol.

-> If Annungil plans to go to Minas Tirith again, he could try to learn more about the history of the tower. We could come up with some cool stuff to build on some Tolkien-appropriate themes; for example, the ghost-lady of the tower might have been of his lineage.

-> If anyone wants to try to convince the spirit of the elf-woman to go to the West, this would likely work now that you’ve taken the tower.

There’s also the Tale of the Years (scripted events from the Darkening of Mirkwood campaign that follow the canonical history of Middle-Earth), but I’ll post more details after everyone has had a chance to think about all these things (fellowship phase etc).