Prologue: The Bloody Coin

[cybersavant]

Grimvarg faces Othden.

"It seems to me that his people were bribed with wealth and all succumbed to corruption by a Dark Lord [one of the Nine ?], they erected an idol to Sauron [?] and bound themselves to him just as the Nine once did, a year has passed. They are now enslaved to him and his edicts. I am uncertain of the reference to the torment of time past.


Grimvarg returns his attention to their host.

"Lord Angbor, many thanks for your generosity. Though time is of the essence, leaving by first light may be the mre prudent course."

[Old Duergar]

Angbor rubs his brow wearily, clearly consternated by the words of the Rider and the Wanderer alike. He nods at them mutely, fixing the two diminutive Hobbit figures with his piercing gaze expectantly.

[Samwell Turleton]

Madoc Underburrow

Madoc rummages through one of the rucksacks. He gives the bag a little sniff and furrows his brow with disappointment. He returns Angbor's piercing gaze.

One would think that provisions for the journey should be thoughtfully and generously provided. Especially given that we are on an errand to confront such an evil as that which has given your countenance such grim features. If you expect that I give you my best I would hope for a generous gift of provisions. Is the food from that table still around, perchance?

The seed cake was quite moist and delicious.

Madoc puts his hands on his hips as he lets a piece of pale gray dried meat drop to the stone by his feet.

[Rhukath]

Cerdic

Cerdic grabs his backpack and starts to take items out 1 by 1, mentally cataloguing what he has been given.

To his satisfaction all the items he had asked for are in there, but as Madoc said there is little in the way of sustenance for a hobbit used to several meals a day. His mind then wanders back to his own little hobbit hole and his fine larder stacked high with culinary delights. Steaming platters of freshly cooked buns, large plates of various meats, and a big pot of home made vegetable soup. Yummy!

As the grim warriors start to speak, his mind snaps back to the task in hand and he carefully replaces all the bits back into the backpack.

Knowing things are going to be tough he steels himself and says to the group "This will suffice for the journey ahead. I would have liked a little more in the way of vittles for the journey, but I guess this is the way of things.

If we are leaving at first Light I think I will retire to my room and get some rest."

[Old Duergar]

Somewhere south of Lord Angbor the Grim's Keep, The Granite Sea of the Ettenmoors, Eriador, Middle Earth
August 27, Year 1349 of the Third Age
Day Two. Dawntime. Cloudy, damp, slightly cold

Suggested music cover: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fu3nxBWGwRg (Old Sorcery & Haxan Dreams ‎- Dreams Of The Old Kingdom)

It is a cold, uncouth morning that dawns over the granite sea of the Ettenmoors, where Lord Angbor's bastion lies defiant amidst a barren background. Ever descending to the heavily wooded forest lands to the south, a treacherous pathway through crag, gully and sharp valley alike makes up for a labyrinthine web of passages that often lead to jagged, massive slabs of ancient, uncaring stone.

And it is that path that the Company is to take, if they are to reach more welcoming lands. After a hasty breakfast made of bland gruel and bitter rhye bread, a heavily shackled Agathôr, clad in peasant's clothes, awaits for them at the Keep's gates, where silent guards usher him in your custody. The Keep's gates close and on battlement right above you, you can all see Lord Angbor watching over you stoically, arms crossed on his chest as you are bound to depart.

"May the Valar watch over you.", he calls abruptly. And he disappears, along with his host within the Keep's sturdy walls.

Leaving you alone, at the mercy of the elements, your thoughts and your purpose.

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Current Map


Rhudaur

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Actions? 1 hex = 1 day of travel. Please put down in the OOC thread the following: 1) marching order and prisoner's custodian and 2) name of the Company (optional).

[cybersavant]

On the Road


Grimvarg will grab an arm of the prisoner and lead the way

[tibbius]

Othden keeps an eye on Agathôr - and on Grimvarg; he is wary of the dwarf's cruel disposition. He suggests they lead the marching order so that all eyes remain on their prisoner.

[Rhukath]

Cerdic will stay in the middle of the group, he's not a seasoned warrior and will covet the protection afforded by being so close to the true fighters.

He will also have a rough copy of the route the group are intending to keep to on their quest.

[Samwell Turleton]

Madoc lags behind shuffling his shoes in the dirt and leaves as he walks.

[Rhukath]

After long hard thought Cerdic turns to the party and says "How are we to refer to ourselves...?"

His thoughts turn to the task ahead and he has a sense of foreboding. He's not known to have the foresight of the Elven kin but he has a vision of a long hard road trudged lined with plenty of peril.

"Perhaps we should call our small party "The Last hope", because without us Middle Earth could be lost to the darkness?"

[cybersavant]

Grimvarg


"We are not a clan. Not kin. Why do you think we need a name? I am Grimvarg, you are Cerdic."

[Old Duergar]

With the Hillman at point and the rest of the Company trailing behind Grimvarg, the slightly descending path proves quite tedious to navigate. Often, the massive slabs of grey rock end up in jagged ends, leading to impossible, impassable heights. At other times, the path proves treacherous: the Company would march for the better part of an hour on a relatively clear path, only to have it end in a sharp dead fall, leading to certain ruin in the form of jagged, sharp stone spikes beneath them.

The Ettenmoors were never welcoming. But onward and southwards the Company strikes, Agathôr seemingly complying with the Dwarf's firm hand, keeping his silence as he eyes their surroundings every now and then.

Abruptly, the neverending howl of the wind around you abates for a mere moment. And amplified, in a wide stone basin you are currently crossing, the sound of footsteps echoes from the South!

Actions?

[tibbius]

Othden slides his long blade from its sheath, guiding the pack horse aside and dropping its lead. He trained Manya himself and knows the beast will stay anchored on its lead unless directly attacked.

Ready for action, he looks for a narrow place to defend.

[Rhukath]

Cerdic grabs his shortbow and nocks an arrow whilst quietly concealing himself in a substantial bush.

Peeking through the tree's he prepares himself for the coming fight.

Knowing he isn't a natural fighter he learend early on that he has to rely on his ability with a sling and a bow to survive in the wilderness, and had plenty of practice when he was out and about on his travels as a boy.

[cybersavant]

Grimvarg shoves the prisoner over against the cliffside wall and waits, one hand holding the prisoner's arm, the other hovering over the shaft of his axe.

[Samwell Turleton]

Madoc Underburrow

Madoc quits humming when he sees the company ahead of him react suddenly...and freezes. He stands rooted in place and pulls the collar of his cloak more tightly around him to shield from the bite of the wind. He looks back over his shoulder and peers cautiously over the precipitous edge.

What is it? What do you see?

[Demilich]

Coming up the path you see a lithe figure lower the hood of his cloak, revealing shoulder-length gold-colored hair with one braid on the right side the Male Elf looks over the group starts saying something in Elvish, stops " I mean you all no harm, was traveling through the area, thought to try to seek shelter." a pair of knives can be seen as well as tattoos on his hands, some kind of symbols. worn soft boots worn leather pants

[cybersavant]

Grimvarg

"What's yer name, elf?!"

The Dwarf holds the prisoner's arm tight.

[Demilich]

Krilnar

My name is Krilnar and yours? Dwarf?

[cybersavant]

"I am called Grimvarg. Seems you are heading for Angmar."