Jul 5, 2022
#1
I awoke in a cold sweat, jumbled images of a bare-chested, glowing, man ordering me to do what he no longer could playing in my mind, mixed with the smell of pencil lead, paper, and the sound of clattering dice. My head felt like I had just drunk several bottles of whiskey and I was now paying the price for it. The pounding headache was only worsened by the extremely bright light of the sun that was beaming itself directly into my face. Slowly, painfully slowly, I opened my eyes to have a look around. What I saw did not encourage me. Not only was I somehow outdoors, but I was also outdoors with no sleeping bag or tent, just a fur cloak of some kind covering my body. Furthermore, the rocky hills were like no terrain I had ever seen before.
"Oh, what the hell is it now? Did I get transported to an outdoor fully immersive LARP in my sleep?" I grumbled.
Sitting up, I took in my apparent costume. I was wearing a burgundy padded cloth jerkin with matching, burgundy leather pants. At my side was a set of boiled leather armor, the chest piece was molded to fit my body and traced in brass-colored designs. The leggings were more like tassets though and hung down to protect my upper legs like the bottom half of a trenchcoat. I had only a pair of bracers for arm protection, and below the knee, I only furred boots for my feet. A conical, furred, Rus-style helmet lay at my side as well along with a longbow, quiver of arrows, and a wide-bladed, shortsword in a scabbard on a belt, along with what I assumed was a coinpurse and eating knife on the other side of the belt from the sword. The sword itself had a brass-plated, winged, semi-circular pommel and crossguard. Someone had gone to great lengths to ensure I was in costume and ready to go because I couldn't even find my wallet or phone anywhere inside the study haversack that had been provided.
"Might as well get the rest of this stuff on, pick a direction, and start walking. I'm bound to run into whatever hub town this LARP has set up sooner or later." I griped to myself.
Painstakingly, I pulled on the armor, beginning with the boots, then doing up the chestpiece, attaching the tassets, slipping the bracers on, and finishing with the helm. Next, I slung the quiver over my shoulder and stashed the bow on my back. The swordbelt was next, buckled on tight, then the haversack, placed at the small of my back. Finally, I pulled on the furred cloak that had been covering me while I slept and was finally ready to go. I pulled the shortsword out of the scabbard to check the quality of it, since rarely did you get a good foam weapon that could be sheathed. It came free with a familiar rasp of metal on leather and I frowned.
"What the hell? This is a real blade!" I exclaimed.
The surprise was just the first thing that hit me, as I regarded the actual sword with a confused look, the headache I had been steadfastly ignoring flared back to life and brought a dreamlike state filled with memories with it. Of writing up a Dungeons and Dragons character, a 1st level fighter, before going to bed. My dreams being hijacked by Tulkas Astald, the War God of Arda and Wrestler of the Valar. Of him sending me to Middle Earth as an insurance policy to help with the War of the Ring. Finally, of him giving me the abilities of the Dungeons and Dragons character I had just drawn up in addition to rewriting my backstory for Arda.
The pain subsided as the memories settled. On the one hand, it was probably a good thing that I had a new body, backstory, and abilities if I was supposed to help with dealing with Sauron. On the other hand, I had no clue where or when I'd been dropped into Middle Earth. The war of the ring could be twenty years down the road or it could kick off tomorrow. I could be in the middle of sparsely populated and dangerous Eriador or I could be a few hour's walk from a settlement with decent town guards. I had no way to get my bearings, no idea how to even start going about gathering the necessities for survival, let alone any idea on how to even start to go about defeating the machinations of a literal god-made-flesh like Sauron.
"No, focus on what you can do now. Take inventory, meditate to check your character sheet." I told myself, taking a deep breath. Ok, first I needed to check my coinpurse and haversack to see if I had anything that could solve the food issue in the haversack or be used to buy food when I came across a settlement. Checking my coinpurse revealed several coins of different makes. The most numerous were in silver, the majority of which sported a galloping horse on one side and a pair of swords crossed over a crown on the other. Rohhiric Thegngeld, was what my mind supplied as a name, thirty of them. This was around a month's pay in silver for a warrior in service to the House of Eorl. I also had five silver pieces with a familiar symbol, the white tree of Gondor. Silver Castars, the main trade coin of Gondor. Finally, there was a group of fifteen bronze coins, all bearing an arrow crossed with a sword on one side and a single mountain on the other. Dalish Eir coins. The Eir coins brought me in mind of home, of a drink near a hearth, and long days drilling with bow, spear, sword, and shield with the Town Guard of Dale for several years before leaving home to adventure.
"Huh, it looks like my new identity is from Dale. That's neat, but it doesn't solve my food problem." I muttered. It was time to check the haversack.
I opened the flap on my haversack to find nothing but pitch blackness. It wasn't like it was too dark to see anything so much as there was just a void there that couldn't be penetrated by mere sight. I grinned as I realized that there was only one thing that made any kind of sense for that to be. Reaching into the void of the haversack, I thought about food and was immediately rewarded with a warm, pleasant, weight filling my hand. I pulled my hand out to find a delicious-looking slice of cinnamon bread. I transferred the bread to my other hand and thought of a drink as I reached back into the haversack, once again I felt my hand fill and I pulled out a small drinking gourd. Taking a sip, I tasted apple juice.
"Tulkas you beautiful divine bastard! A bag of holding? With actual food inside rather than just trail provisions? You really do care!" I grinned.
Before I could get too into a celebration of my good fortune, my stomach growled to remind me that I had yet to eat this morning and I ceased my grinning in order to devour the sweet, carbohydrate-loaded, sweet roll, washing it down with apple juice from the gourd. I was finished pretty quickly, you'd almost think I hadn't eaten in twenty four hours or something. As I pondered that while licking my fingers clean of any leftover cinnamon sugar, my new memories supplied that I had in fact not eaten in twenty four hours with this body. Apparently, I'd barely managed to escape a Dunlanding Raiding Party the day before and had been too exhausted from running and fighting all day to eat or even set up a proper camp. I just bedded down in the grass next to a large boulder, covered myself with my cloak, and went to sleep. I had been moving so much to not get pinned down, that I didn't even have the time to loot the bodies of the three Dunlandings I killed with my bow. Too bad, cause by now their buddies will have divvied up any loot between themselves.
"Ok, now that that's done with, time to look at my sheet." I sighed.
I knelt down, took a few deep breaths, and tried to meditate. Surprisingly, it was really easy, at least for the purposes of accessing the character sheet that Tulkas had mystically bonded to my soul. I made no promises about it being easy for anything else. I opened my eyes to see a character sheet floating amidst the white room that was my soul. I approached the floating sheet and appraised my new abilities. "Let's see, level 2 fighter, Power Attack, Blooded, Luck of Heroes, Improved Bull Rush for feats, 28 HP, all pretty standard. Holy shit what are these stats!" I exclaimed.
The stats on the sheet were indeed completely bonkers, it worked out to be something like a 66-point-buy or something. I knew I rolled well when making the character, but I didn't roll this well. It was a difference of twenty two points between what I rolled and what Tulkas had given me, the guy had been generous with the bag of holding, but this on top? There was no logical explanation for it. I searched my sheet for the reason and found it in my race. I was apparently only half Northman from what my sheet said, though it was the other half that confused me. It didn't seem possible, Half-Numenorean, not even Half-Dunedain, but Half-Numenorean. The only way that even remotely made sense was for me to have been the child of one of the very few remaining Black Numeanorians granted extended life by Sauron, and for that to be the case, I'd probably need to have been a rape baby in this life. It gave me a 2 to all stats, but I searched the sheet, desperately hoping that the squickiness implied by that race allocation wasn't true. My eyes glanced over the Background Trait section. I'd used the system from Neverwinter Nights 2 rather than the system from Unearthed Arcana to add a little spice to the sheet. Veteran was there, as I had planned, but not Militia, instead, I had a custom trait called Child of Omen.
"What does that even mean? Child of Omen?" I questioned.
At my query, the sheet unfolded itself and showed me exactly what it meant by Child of Omen. Apparently, my mother, a Noblewoman of Dale was seduced by a 'dark and mysterious foreign nobleman' some twenty three years ago who slept with her and then left the Kingdom. I was born nine months later. That was suspicious enough, but the explanation for the trait laid out who my father actually was. "You've got to be kidding me. Agandaûr? My dad is the asshole from War in the North? What a rip-off." I exclaimed. I had to double-check my alignment to make sure I wasn't evil aligned after reading that. Still true neutral, edging toward neutral good, thankfully.
After that, I wasn't in the mood to check my skills. Seriously, Agandaûr was probably the dumbest pick for a dad I could have gotten, even if it did make a certain amount of sense, given the only other Black Numenoreans either don't leave Mordor or are undead monstrosities. It was still a shitty thing to have happen. The guy couldn't hack it against the Off-Brand fellowship and pussed out like a bitch at the end of that game, begging Sauron to save him. Still, he at least gave me the genetics that gave me all these stat boosts, so I guess he wasn't a complete deadbeat. He was still an asshole, and if I ever came across him while in Middle Earth, I wouldn't hesitate to beat his ass.
"I guess I should stop dissembling. Bitching about who my new dad turned out to be isn't going to do anything but waste time." I sighed.
I closed my eyes and when I opened them, my mindscape was replaced by the boulder-strewn hills I had woken up in. I looked around for any hint of which way to go but found nothing but boulder-strewn hills wherever I looked. Frowning, I reached down to the ground to pick up a stick, no larger than my forearm, with one end split in a Y-shape like the tail of an arrow. I tossed the stick into the air and let it decide my direction for me. It landed and judging by the position the sun was in, it pointed me Southeast, which was a direction I needed to head in to reach Gondor eventually, though I wasn't sure where I was, save somewhere where marauding Dunlandings could show up. Gondor was Southeast from most places not named Mordor, Harad, Rhun, or Umbar, though, so I figured it was a pretty good bet.
Following the will of the stick, I started walking Southeast, whistling a tune as I went. . .
XXXX
AN: No I will not be dropping any of my other stories. This is just an idea that has been germinating since last year is all, and it's time I finally got what I had down for folks to read.
I am pulling from a variety of sources for this story, not just the books, but also several games like LOTRO, Battle for Middle Earth II, War in the North, and even some of the RPG and CCG to flesh out folks like the Easterlings of Rhun and the Variags of Khand. You probably already figured that out from the mentions of Agandaûr, though.
I won't spoil exactly when this takes place, save to say it is an as-yet unspecified stretch of time prior to the War of the Ring breaking out. Not a super long time, shadows are still growing stronger than the Free Peoples can handle, but long enough for some non-canon adventures to cause butterflies.
At any rate, the next chapter will have our SI's first taste of combat, along with the reveal of his new name, stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Aug 15, 2022
276
KnightofTempest
Jul 5, 2022
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KnightofTempest
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Jul 6, 2022
#12
As I made my way Southeast following the directions of the stick toss, a few things became abundantly clear to me. The first was that the area I was in was a wilderness. More than once, I'd had to scare off a wolf with my bow. Wolves didn't hang around places that were inhabited unless they had no other choice. That lent credence to me being somewhere in the lightly settled regions of Eriador. With the whole Dunlanding fiasco, my guess was that I was either in Enedwaith or Minhiriath. If I was lucky, it'd be the former. I'd be able to head South for the Gap of Rohan and then to Gondor to take up a position with one of the Lords there. If it was the latter? Well, a lot depended on when I got dropped in here. I'm pretty sure that the War of the Ring needed to be in my lifetime for me to affect it at all, and even with being half-Numeanorean, that ruled out being inserted in time to do something about the Great Plague, though not necessarily the final abandonment of Tharbad after the floods. If I was within fifty years of the War of the Ring, then the only major settlements still going in Minhiriath would be within the woods of the Eryn Vorn.
Everything else would be populated by Orcs, encroaching Hill-Men, and other allies of darkness.
I tried not to think about that and instead kept a weather eye out for any potential enemies. For the majority of my journey, this meant scaring away the odd wolf by launching an arrow or two at them. However, as the rocky hills gave way to more forested hills, I began to see more variety in the animals, and some of them would not be scared off by an arrow. The first of these animals was a particularly large boar with a shaggy black hide and foot-long tusks. I fired an arrow at it and instead of backing off, it charged me, taking the arrow to the snout instead of dodging and coming on with an almighty squeal. The arrow lodged itself deep in the animal's snout and I had thought for sure that would kill it, but it kept on coming, more passed off than ever from the pain of its wound! I barely had time to dodge to the side before it would have gored me with its massive tusks!
Instead of goring me, its headlong charge carried it right into a large oak tree and it bludgeoned itself as it rammed into the oak, shaking the trunk with the fury of its charge and causing leaves to rain down on it. I took the opportunity presented by that to fire another arrow at the thing. My arrow struck it dead-on in the hindquarters but didn't penetrate the thick, bristly, hide. The boar came in at me again and I dodged aside, firing another arrow that skidded off its flank. As it passed by me, it kicked out with its hoof and caught me full in the chest, knocking the wind out of me and making my everything hurt. I slammed into the ground with a grunt to see that the boar was coming round for another charge.
Shakily, I knocked another arrow and fired. This one barely grazed the boar as it came in, almost not penetrating the thick hide. In return, I was forced to drop my bow as I scrambled desperately away from the boar in an attempt to avoid being trampled. I drew my shortsword as the boar skidded to a halt, confused by the lack of guy being trampled under foot. Instead of slinking away into the treeline, however, I was determined to kill this motherfucker. With a shout, I put all I could muster into an attack with my shortsword and hoped the added damage from the power attack would be enough to finish it. As it happened, the boar turned to glare at me with its piggy eyes as my sword descended. If I didn't put this thing down with this, it'd gore me to death. Somehow though, my blade cut deep into its face with a mighty chop, cleaving into its skull and hacking right into its brain. It squealed mightily and began to thrash around, trying to gore me in its death throes, but I let go of my sword and scrambled backward out of its reach. Eventually, its thrashing knocked the shortsword lodged in its brain loose and the resulting spurt of blood and brain matter seemed to quiet it. It fell onto its side, huffed once, then stilled.
"Son of a whore!" I swore, breathing heavily. The damned thing almost killed me! I hadn't checked my character sheet, but I was pretty sure just getting kicked in the chest once had taken out half my HP. My ribs fucking hurt and it was likely that if I had been a regular guy and not run partially off D rules, they'd be broken instead of just bruised! There was no way this thing was just a regular boar, not with the way it had shrugged off that first arrow wound and had no sold subsequent arrows. It had been my height from hoof to shoulder and was at least as long from snout to tail! The damn thing must have weighed half a ton!
"You had to be some kind of dire boar." I mused. At the very least I should skin it and take the tusks, maybe grab some of its meat too for dinner. I unsheathed the utility knife at my belt and got to work. Thankfully, I'd taken survival as a cross-class skill. Skinning was actually pretty easy once I let my survival knowledge from my character sheet guide my hands, so was taking portions of the meat for a couple of days, preserved through the magic of the bag of holding. The tusks were harder, it was more delicate work, I didn't want to chip my trophies or cut gouges out of them, as there were only two of them. By the time I'd finished, washed the hide, and set up a drying rack to dry the hide, the sun was beginning to trend its downward arc. I judged there were maybe a few more hours till sunset.
"Looks like I'm camping here for a couple of days. At least until the hide is dry enough for transport." I muttered.
I began to gather wood for a fire. Dry wood was suspiciously difficult to come by in the area, and I had a sneaking suspicion that I was close to a major river, possibly the Greyflood, possibly the Isen. It pointed more towards me being in Enedwaith right now than anything else I'd seen. Eventually, though, I was able to get enough dry branches and kindling to set a fire, striking flint and steel from my haversack of holding to get it going and feeling gratified that a cast iron camp stove for cooking had been included by Tulkas, along with salt for seasoning. Soon, I had some makeshift boar bacon sizzling over my fire and was able to watch the sunset in peace.
A few hours later, as I was finishing my dinner and storing the leftover salted bacon in my haversack of holding, the unexpected happened. A man in a dark green cloak and brown leathers seemingly melted out of the forest around my clearing. He had a longsword and bow, but neither were drawn at the moment. His dark hair wasn't black, but a darker shade of brown and his eyes were stormy gray, much like those of my new body. "Mae Govannen, may I share your fire?" He asked.
"You may." I responded.
The man came closer to the fire and sat down. Between his equipment, the Elvish greeting, and his Dunedain features, there was no way this guy wasn't a Ranger. The question was whether I'd heard of him or not. I doubted it was Aragorn, he didn't match the description from the books or look like Viggo Mortenson.
"That is quite the boar you've killed, and I can see you know your way around skinner's work. By any chance did the boar have a black coat, red eyes, and an aggressive manner?" Queried the Ranger.
"Aye, all three. Did you know this beast?" I affirmed.
"Know? No, but I know of it. The beast attacked and killed a number of sheep and chickens being raised by the Stoors of Maur Tulhau to the west of here. Injured their keepers too. There was a reward posted by their mayor, sixty Castars for proof of its death from the town treasury." Answered the Ranger.
"I'm not heading west. I'm staying put for the hide to dry and then I'm moving south." I shrugged.
"Well, then, I have a proposition for you. South of here, there is an old Gondorian Fort, Amon Min. In the past few hundred years, with the waning of the population in Enedwaith, Gondor has long since pulled its troops out. Recently, however, the Hill-men of the Boar-clan have had a schism in their ranks thanks to what we believe to be the machinations of the enemy. The Schismatics have taken up camp at Amon Min." Began the Ranger.
"And you want me to go over there and do, what exactly?" I questioned.
"Thin the herd, see if you cannot find what their orders might be. If you do this for me, not only will I pay you the sixty Castars for the death of the Black Boar, but I will also pay you an additional twenty Castars on top of whatever loot you can find at Amon Min." Answered the Ranger.
"You're a Ranger, living out in the wilds. Do you even have eighty Castars?" I asked, skeptically.
"I have sixty, and can easily get the twenty more after a trip to Maur Tulhau." Retorted the Ranger.
"Let's see the silver first." I frowned.
The Ranger pulled a coinpurse out from under his cloak and shook it up and down, causing the coins inside to jingle. He tossed the purse to me and said, "You can count them if you like."
I did so and once I was satisfied, I grinned and said. "Ok, you have a deal. I'll take a look at Amon Min. Here, in case the Stoors want proof." Then I handed over the tusks to the Ranger.
"My name is Amdir, by the way." Nodded the Ranger, taking the tusks and storing them in his pack.
"I am Brand of Dale." I Introduced myself.
"Of Dale? Forgive me, but with the grey eyes and facial features, I had thought you from Gondor." Replied Amdir.
"I have the blood of Numenor in me, aye, but I never knew my father. He seduced my mother, a Noblewoman of Dale, and then left shortly after, ahead of a scandal. It is likely he was a noble of Gondor, possibly even one of the few possessed of a stronger lineage than most. I know not, however." I lied, knowing damn well who exactly my father was. I wasn't about to tell a full-blown ranger that I was a bastard of one of the few pureblooded Black Numenoreans left, though. That seemed like a bad plan.
Amdir arched an eyebrow at that but only said, "You are a ways from Dale."
"Dale was where I grew up, but I had few prospects there thanks to the scandal caused by my birth. I am currently what some would term a sellsword, though I prefer the term freelance adventurer, myself. Most recently I had just finished a term as a Thegn for the House of Eorl. I am heading south for Gondor, to offer my services to the Steward." I explained.
"Yes, I had heard that Osgiliath had become the site of yet another round of skirmishing. There are even rumors that the Corsairs have been acting up again, not twenty years after their last big defeat. You would think it would take longer to rebuild a war fleet from scratch. I think you will do well in Gondor. The Enemy seemingly is on the rise and they will have need of capable fighters, unfortunately." Sighed Amdir.
Twenty years since the Raid on Umbar and the burning of their fleet meant that it was currently T.A 3000, roughly nineteen years before the War of the Ring. Combined with the knowledge that I was in Enedwaith, I could actually find my bearings and make plans. Go to Gondor, pledge my service to a lord as a squire, beat up some Corsairs, Orcs, or Both enough to get a landholding, turtle up for the commencement of hostilities. That seemed like a good outline, even if it was more bullet points than a detailed plan.
"I hope to get a landholding out of my service. It's a long shot, I know, but you never know." I shrugged.
"Well to be appointed lord of a landholding, you would need to do something quite spectacular. You certainly aim high, Brand of Dale. When will you be heading to Amon Min?" Asked Amdir.
"Once my hide is dry, give it another day or so." I responded.
"Then I think I shall leave you for the moment. I have a few other things to check on before heading to Maur Tulhau. Maer Daw Brand, I shall look for you in a few days." Intoned Amdir, standing up.
"Safe travels, Amdir." I nodded back.
I had one final thing to do before bed. I had the oddest feeling in the back of my mind like I had gotten a swell of power, I took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly, closing my eyes in meditation. When I opened them again, I was standing before my character sheet in the white room that represented my innermost mind. A few things had changed between the last time I was here to look at my sheet and now. On the wall was mounted a pair of foot-long boar tusks, spiritual trophies of my first, and so far toughest, battle. Next to them was a bookshelf containing several bound volumes. A volume bound in brown leather had the word Fighter stamped on it, the next bound in red leather had the word Barbarian stamped on it. Looking through the books revealed tomes for Monk, Samurai, Ranger, Paladin, Knight, Marshal, Swashbuckler, and Hexblade in differing colors. My floating character sheet was not simply floating freely either but hovered an inch above a granite pedestal.
"I think I'll go Ranger for level 3." I muttered before grabbing the green leather-bound tome marked Ranger off the shelf and moving over to my character sheet. I made the necessary alterations to my sheet. Being able to track and better use survival could only be a good thing out in the wilds, plus with two-weapon fighting or bow feats just given to you for free, it let you do more with fighter bonus feats. I was leaning towards two-weapon fighting for the moment. I guess I'd see what happened when I reached level 4. Plus Ranger allowed a limited selection of spells at higher levels, which was always a plus.
Once I was finished with that, I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them I was back at my campfire. I decided it would be a good idea to sleep in armor tonight, given I was apparently close enough to a hostile Dunlanding Fort that heading there to attack them and thin their numbers was doable within a couple of days. I pulled my furred cloak over me, sat upright against a tree, and fell asleep. When I awoke, it was to the sounds of chirping birds and the sight of sunlight poking through the canopy. I stood, did my morning business behind a bush, and went about my day. The most exciting thing that happened today was when a pair of grey wolves came sniffing around the camp after smelling the remainder of the boar meat I hadn't taken from the corpse of the Dire Boar. Unfortunately for them, I was able to kill one and wound the other from a distance with my arrows. The wounded wolf ran off with a yelp and I found myself cooking wolf meat for dinner, skinning the wolf for its pelt too. The rest of the corpses were dragged away from my camp.
The next morning I took down my now dried dire boar hide from the makeshift drying rack I'd strung it up on and replaced it with my wolf hide. I did my morning business, doused the embers of my fire, and had a breakfast of bear bacon and wild greens. Then I pinned my cloak onto my shoulders, pulled on my boots, and headed off to the south, heading for Amon Min. Thanks to having had two long rests, I was back up to full HP from the fight with the Dire boar and ready to take on some Dunlanding Warriors. With any luck, I'd be done with this within the day. Enedwaith was supposed to be sparsely populated, to begin with. I doubted that there were more than a hundred and fifty of these Boar Clan Dunlandings in the area, to begin with. Maybe twenty of the schismatics would be at Amon Min? That made sense. I could handle twenty of them.
As it would soon turn out, however, I was going to have to fight a lot harder than I had anticipated. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah, turns out his name is Brand of Dale and he's been plopped down in Enedwaith some 19 years before the War of the Ring kicked off.
A lot of the stuff I pulled for this chapter came from LOTRO, from the Stoor community of Maur Tulhau to Amon Min. Even Amdir is from LOTRO, he's a ranger from the Breeland Story Missions and similar in age to Aragorn.
Lotro is good for plugging gaps in the Legendarium, at least usually. I won't be including stuff like the Goblin offshoots near Maur Tulhau that live in houses and wear Stoor Clothing. Some stuff is just too out there, even for fanfic.
Next, I'll be putting up Brand's Current Character Sheet and after that will be Amon Min. Stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Aug 18, 2022
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KnightofTempest
Jul 6, 2022
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KnightofTempest
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Jul 8, 2022
#19
Amon Min was pretty easy to find once I got down to it. The dilapidated hilltop fortress had a pretty commanding view of the surrounding area. From the hilltop it sat atop, a road ran across the valley below from north to south, paved with old flagstones still in places, while the dirt poked through only in areas that looked like they had been struck by deliberate sabotage. The sun was still rising when I caught my first glimpse of Amon Min, as such there were still cookfires going from the Dunlanding's morning meal. Counting the smoke from my position in a wooded copse in the valley nearby, I estimated that there had to be at least twenty schismatic warriors in the abandoned fortress. You don't have two fires that big without serving one or more per fire, it would be a waste of firewood. Given how hard dry firewood had been to find for me the past few nights, it was a solid bet that they wouldn't burn that much for no reason.
This presented something of a conundrum. Twenty was too many for me to take on alone. True the walls of the fortress seemed to have crumbled into piles of ruined masonry in the centuries since the Fall of Arnor made Gondor rethink their position in Enedwaith. I very much doubted that any sentries would brave the crumbling masonry to stand atop and look out. However the tower in the center looked sturdy enough to have a watch in it, and even if it didn't the hill alone gave a pretty clear view of anyone trying to climb it. With twenty or more Dunlandings encamped, they would be able to muster their full force to meet any attack should I try charging up the hill.
"No, unless I can lure them out in groups, my best bet here is a nighttime raid." I whispered to myself.
Thus began a waiting game, I waited in my little copse in the valley for either sunset or an opportunity. Several hours went by as the sun climbed steadily in the sky, I had to avoid doing anything that might give away my position. It was an uncomfortable and boring stretch of time, but the prospect of a violent death should your boredom get the better of you does wonders for one's patience. Noon came and went and I was almost going to lose my mind from boredom, even with the threat of imminent death hanging over my head. I distracted myself with a vague plan to increase agricultural yields via a natural fertilizer and four-field rotation in the event I gained a landholding, which bought me a few hours of alleviated boredom. Eventually, an opportunity to strike presented itself. A group of six Dunlandings armed with spears and bows and clad in reinforced leathers and chain shirts left their camp around an hour before sunset, presumably to forage for game in the valley for dinner. As the minutes ticked by and they clambered down the hillside into the wooded parts of the valley, I knew that this was my shot. I would pick them off and see if I couldn't get another group to come down looking for them.
It helped that the troop of Dunlandings had split apart into pairs to go hunting. That help was mitigated somewhat by how they split up, with one spearman and one bowman to a pair. Fortunately for me, I had the element of surprise. I skulked through the woods drawing my bow and aiming for the chain shirt armored spearman of my first pair of hunters, even as the bowman of the pair fired an arrow into the underbrush at some quail. I took a deep breath as I drew the arrow back, the bowman went off to retrieve his downed quail, I let my breath out as I released my arrow at the spearman. My arrow caught the spearmen right in the eye, killing him outright and I hurriedly moved to reposition as the bowman of the pair came back holding a dead bird in his hand instead of his bow to find his partner dead. Before the bowman could draw a hunting horn, I drew a second arrow and fired at him. My shot was more rushed than last time as I raced to prevent him from sounding his horn. This shot wasn't a clean hit through the eye and instead took him in the chest between a gap in the reinforced leather chestpiece and his furred leather pauldron. Fortuitously, that was enough to cause him to drop his horn from suddenly nerveless fingers and sink to one knee. He pulled a long knife out of his boot and stabbed at me as I rushed in to finish him with my shortsword. His knife thankfully skidded off the boiled leather of my armor and I was able to finish him with a thrust through his throat.
"That was close, he could have alerted the others." I muttered as I began to drag the corpses behind a clump of bushes. I could loot the bodies later, for now, I took only enough arrows from the bowman to replenish my diminishing supply and continued on my task. I found the next pair in a clearing, busily arguing over the corpse of a dead boar. The bowman seemed a little roughed up and sounded angry and the spearman was pointing at his spear and the corpse of the boar. I didn't speak Dunlandic, but if I had to guess from context clues, the bowman had been knocked down by the boar before the spearman had killed it, and they were now arguing over the credit for the kill.
I nocked an arrow and fired at the bowman as the argument reached a crescendo. My arrow took him in the armpit as he was gesticulating wildly at the boar and his scuffed-up reinforced leathers, sending him hurtling to the ground. The spearmen turned to see me nocking another arrow and pulled his spear out of the carcass of the dead boar with a wet sound. I fired my arrow at him, catching him in the meat of the thigh between chain shirt and leather greaves but he came on at me anyway and I was forced to abandon my bow in favor of my shortsword. I barely leaned out of the way of a spear thrust in time to riposte with a cut across the spearman's unarmed forearm as he pulled his spear back. In response, he hooked his front leg behind my back leg and smashed the wooden haft of his weapon into my face. I felt my nose crunch as I fell flat on my ass from the attack, and I lashed out blindly at him with my shortsword in retaliation, hoping to get him to back off. Instead, my blind strike wound up cutting through his inner thigh, slicing his femoral artery and causing him to collapse atop me.
I lay under him for a few moments, trying to get my breathing under control. Hardly heroic, I know, but still, that was damned close. If I hadn't gotten lucky with that last cut, I probably would have taken a spear to the gut while knocked down. After a few moments, I levered him off of me and proceeded to drag the corpses behind some trees at the edge of the clearing. My nose was busted, but it looked worse than it was. I'd probably only taken 7 hp worth of damage from the haft to the face, it was what was coming after he tripped me that would have killed me. Character sheets could cover a lot of things, but I was betting that him impaling me like that would count as at least a critical hit by whatever magic governed my life now. I wouldn't survive that without being at full health.
The last pair I found not too far from the edge of the woods. Their bowman had an armful of branches for firewood and the spearman was carrying a pair of dead rabbits in his left hand while using the haft of his spear like a walking stick in his right. I dispatched the bowman first easily enough, he caught an arrow through the back of the neck and fell to the ground stone dead, scattering his firewood across the forest floor. The spearman dropped his rabbits and charged me, this time, though I was playing keep away. I backpedaled out of his range as I drew back my second arrow and fired it at him it just barely penetrated his chain shirt and he swung his spear at me in an arc, trying to corral me towards a stand of trees where I couldn't run away. Instead of dodging backward as he'd hoped, I dodged to the left and fired off another arrow, this one skidded off his chain spaulders and he struck out again. I backpedaled just in time to get a superficial cut below my right eye instead of taking a spear thrust full in the face. I fired off a third arrow that sunk into the meat of his arm. Up came the steel-shod butt of his spear and he struck my knee with it. I turned my fall into a backward somersault and nocked a final arrow, coming up in a kneeling position. I fired right as he came in with his spear to gore me and caught him right in the chest with my last arrow. He collapsed to the side, strings cut like a marionette.
I took a moment to catch my breath and take stock of my injuries. It felt like I had taken enough injuries to be at half health, but something seemed to be keeping me going, almost as if there was a hidden reserve of strength within me. Had I leveled up from just that? I took a deep breath and fell into meditation entering the white room I associated with my mindscape. I stepped up to my character sheet, floating above its pedestal, and saw that yes, I had in fact leveled up. I was now level 4 and around 2800 XP away from level 5. I decided to go for another level of ranger, to match my levels in fighter. Since I was getting quite a bit of use out of my bow, I picked archery for my combat style and then put my ability score point in Wisdom. I closed my eyes and when I opened them up I was back in the forest clearing, just as the sun was setting.
Next, I got to work looting the corpses of my kills. I came up with three longspears, three shortbows, three suits of reinforced leather armor, one intact chain shirts, one damaged chain shirt, sixty arrows, six long daggers, and ten silver Castars worth of coinage. I donned one of the intact chain shirts, as it was an improvement over the stock leather armor I was wearing and everything else went into the bag of holding for sale down the road. I was just about to leave and come back later after a full rest when I spotted something nearby where I had fought the last pair of Dunlendings. A satchel had been set on the ground, presumably by the last bowman so it didn't get in the way of gathering firewood. I almost didn't spot it in the failing light. When I opened it, I found three bottles of greenish fluid. I knew what these were thanks to metaknowledge.
"Athelas essence? They must have scavenged these up from the depths of the fortress. Gondor must have missed some when they pulled out. Makes me curious what else is up there." I muttered.
Serendipitous or not, the trio of small bottles was a godsend. I could continue my mission without needing to come back after a long rest with these. It would take all three of them to get me back to full health, provided whatever magic I ran off of treated them like potions of cure light wounds. Afterward, I'd be ready and able to keep going. I pulled the stopper on the first bottle and downed the contents. It tasted like burnt seaweed in water, but I could feel my wounds knitting as I drank the foul-tasting stuff. After tasting it, I was half convinced the foul taste was the reason Athelas was labeled a weed by the Free Peoples. I downed the second bottle holding my nose and the third soon after. I discarded the bottles as the last of my wounds finished healing and dragged the now naked-save-for-loincloth corpses out of sight of the clearing I'd stripped them in and sat down to wait for a response. It didn't take long for another group to make their way down from the fortress. There were only four of them this time, bearing torches in the steadily decreasing light. They were led by a man in a breastplate over padded leather, wielding a beautifully crafted longsword and a wooden shield covered in hides.
It seemed that the leader of this group had come out to play. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah, fourth level came quickly. That'll happen when you're facing CR2s and CR3s with a single party member.
For reference, the pair of Dunlanding spearmen who gave him so much trouble were CR3 while the remaining 4 were CR2. He got real lucky with circumstances, tactics, and a crit or 2 from his bow to do this well.
As for the Athelas Extract, well there's a reason these guys went to Amon Min instead of any of the other smaller Dunlanding settlements or homesteads in the area. A lot of the times when Gondor leaves a fort, it doesn't just take everything it had there back. Not if they don't have the manpower or logistics for it. In the wake of the Great Plague, when Amon Min was abandoned, it was a lot easier to take what they could and wall up any store rooms that remained.
The Dunlanding Schismatics are at Amon Min because there are walled-off storerooms there that they can dig into to get at what goodies Gondor left behind. With gear like that, taking over the Boar-clan should be easy for the Schismatics. After that? Well, their leader might push for war with Rohan depending on certain factors.
At any rate, the next chapter will be more action against the Dunlanding Schismatic Chief. Stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Aug 18, 2022
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KnightofTempest
Jul 8, 2022
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KnightofTempest
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Jul 10, 2022
#31
I stalked the group of four Dunlandings, I noticed how well equipped they were compared to the group I had killed earlier. Their leader had what looked to be a sword that was not only extremely well made but seemed to have runes carved into the blade in Old Adunaic script, the kind used in the late Second and early Third Age. If I'd had an up-close look and time to study the runes, I perhaps could have made them out, but I had no such luxury at the moment.
Besides that, the leader bore a shield of hides stretched over an oak frame with a steel boss fashioned in the shape of a leering boar. I could see no runes on the shield, but it was clearly of fine make. The leader similarly wore a well-made suit of steel scales etched with runes in old Adunaic. His steel spangenhelm was similarly finely crafted, with brass embossing, and a crest worked into the shape of a boar. I could see no runes on the helm, but that did not mean there weren't any, just that I wasn't close enough to catch what small runes might be worked into the helm.
Meanwhile, the three others with him all wore finely crafted steel chain shirts and bore finely crafted steel longswords in the fashion of Gondor. They also had finely crafted steel shields, embossed with the white tree of Gondor. Finally, they wore spangenhelms of fine quality, though with few embellishments, if any.
These must be the Schismatic Chief and his closest warriors, out looking for their missing hunting party. Fortuitously, they had no bows, and so as I stalked them to a clearing, I nocked a pair of arrows and let loose with little fear of immediate retaliation. My first two arrows took one of the bodyguards in both legs, the first piercing through the soft leather of his boot and hamstringing him and the second sinking into his thigh below the chain shirt's skirt of pteruges and slicing into his femoral artery. He went down, bleeding out in a spray of arterial blood, but the rest of the group raised their shields and put their backs together in a triangle, covering each other's rear and sides and presenting a bulwark of steel and wood to their fronts.
The leader was a large, beefy, man with a ruddy red beard. He called out from their formation in Dunlandic, but I didn't speak that language. Then he tried again in Westron, a language I did speak.
"Come out bowman! Or are you too afraid to face a real warrior as a man does?" Challenged the Leader.
I frowned. I could fire all the arrows I had at them until they went down. The sheer law of averages meant that at least some would get through their formation, shields wall, and armor. The question was if it would be enough to down them all. Either way, the smart move would be to try it anyway and if it didn't work, at least they'd be weakened enough to be easier pickings with my sword. Did I have time for that, though? There were still nine other Dunlanding warriors holed up in Amon Min on the hilltop, after all.
"Will you not answer my challenge? Or will I be forced to summon my men from the fort to flush you out of your hiding spot?" Demanded the Dunlanding Leader, glancing down meaningfully at the hunting horn hanging off his belt. With that ultimatum, my choice was made. If he blew his horn and summoned the other nine Dunlandings from the fort, I'd lose any chance of cutting the head off this snake.
"Single combat to decide the engagement? I have your word of honor on that?" I questioned from the treeline.
"The ghost speaks! You have my word of honor on that. If you put me down, the rest of my men will quit the fort. Will you let them leave peaceably?" Queried the Dunlanding Leader.
"I will. You have my word of honor on that." I promised.
"Very well, then show yourself, and let us get to it!" Shouted the Dunlanding Leader.
I stepped out of the treeline and said, "Before we begin, tell me why you have come west to Enedwaith?" I asked.
"Why? Because the Chief in Lhan Rhos is too weak to hold the Clan together! He is old and too feeble to do anything about our situation. Our homeland is miserable, filled with fenland and hills, what little farmland there is inundated with rain three months out of the year and snow another three months! Many are not happy the damn Horselords pushed us to our current lands! I chose to take what men were loyal to me and strike out to the empty lands to the west! These lands belong to no one anymore and we had thought to claim what relics still remained, that we could take the leadership of our clan and mayhaps lead them westward to settle these empty lands. It would be hard work, but easier than attacking the Horse-Lords over our old lands, as some wish!" Explained, the Leader.
"I see. I will make a bargain with you then. If I defeat you in single combat, you pledge your service, and that of your men, to me. I intend to go South to Gondor, to face the Corsair Raiders and win a landholding for myself. I could use warriors of quality on such an endeavor and the lands of Gondor are rich and fertile, your men would not go hungry." I offered.
"A tempting bargain, but I cannot leave the rest of my Clan under the care of a senile old fool who will be their ruin. What is your name, warrior?" Replied the Dunlanding Chief.
"I am Brand of Dale, and I am sorry we could not come to a better arrangement." I intoned, putting up my bow and drawing my shortsword.
"I am Rhodri of the Boar Clan, I am sorry as well." Nodded the Dunlanding Leader as he stepped forward.
We circled each other like a pair of fighting dogs. He threw a testing cut at my head that I dodged aside from, the blade of his longsword leaving a trail of static air as it passed by my ear, causing my hair to stand up a bit. I riposted with a testing thrust that he batted aside with his shield. He brought his sword in for a thrust through the opening he'd created and I skipped backward out of range. The whole exchange took seconds and we resumed circling and waiting for an opportunity to strike the first blow.
That opportunity came when he threw an overhand strike that seemed to have enough power behind it to be a power attack. I ducked aside and bull-rushed him, swordpoint first. With his blade out of position he could only dodge, but he wasn't as fast as I was. My shortsword sliced into the meat of his bicep, as I drove past him in a lunge. It wounded him and he turned to face me as I did the same.
"First blood to me, then." I said, gaining confidence in my skills from a successful exchange.
"Only last blood matters today, don't get cocky." Huffed Rhodri.
We resumed circling. The next exchange came moments later as I struck out with a blow aimed at his exposed throat. He parried and we entered into winding and binding, each trying to lever our blade into position for a cut or lever the other's out of position for a follow-up attack. I was able to use both hands, which put me at an advantage against his single-handed grip, otherwise, I had the edge in strength and he had the edge in experience. Slowly, I began to move his blade out of position so I could strike him with the quillions of my blade when he took the opportunity to bash me with the rim of his shield, sending me staggering backward with a split lip and a mouthful of blood.
"I told you not to get cocky." Grinned Rhodri.
I spat the blood out of my mouth and nodded. "So you did." I said. I'm pretty sure he cracked my back teeth with that move. I hoped there was more Athelas Essence in the storeroom at Amon Min.
We resumed circling and the next exchange turned into an extended one, both of us trying to do as much damage as possible to the other. I cut out at his face and he tried to lean back, turning a killing blow to the brain into a cut across the bridge of his nose. He responded by planting his steel-shod boot into the side of my knee. As I went to one knee I cut out at his leg, scoring a hamstringing blow on his calf through the leather of his boots. In response, he brought his blade down on my shoulder. The mail of my chain shirt was what saved my life from the attack, as not only did the blow land and bite into my shoulder after parting the mail spaulders, opening a gash, but a loud crack of electricity sounded out and a bolt arced into the wound, causing my left arm to spasm. In response, I grit my teeth and thrust my blade up and under the scale fauld into Rhodri's Groin with all the power I could muster. The unorthodox move worked and hot blood poured forth from under the scale fauld. Rhodri twitched once and fell to the floor of the clearing.
I stood shakily, badly wounded, my chain shirt rent apart over my left shoulder, where blood oozed from the wound. The other two Boar Clan warriors seemed to be used to this sort of thing, though they looked solemn. The leftmost warrior stepped forward.
"We will honor Rhodri's Bargain. We ask that his shield and helm be returned to us with his body. They are heirlooms of our clan. The armor and sword he found in a chest in a walled-off section of the fort. You may take them if you wish as spoils of victory, along with the equipment of young Llew which your arrows killed, as those were also found in a walled-off armory. We of course wish to take the bodies for funerary rites." He said.
"Of course. You will find the bodies of your slain patrol in a clearing a quarter of a league southwest as well. You will be allowed to keep the rest of your arms when you leave, in keeping with the spirit of the agreement." I nodded.
"We will depart tomorrow after proper rites are observed." Intoned the Rightmost Dunlanding. Then the pair broke apart, the rightmost back to the fort and the leftmost to confirm the info of the bodies of the hunting party.
Thus said, I stripped both Rhodri and Llew of what equipment I was allowed to take, tossing Llew's into the bag of holding except for the shield, which I strapped on. I then replaced my shortsword with the magic longsword and my damaged chain shirt with Rhodri's magic scale hauberk. The longsword registered as a 1 Shocking Burst Longsword to my Dungeons and Dragons-based experience and the Hauberk as a suit 1 Scale Armor. Llew's shied was only a masterwork shield, but it was better than having no shield.
As I finished up with that, I took stock of my injuries, I had cracked teeth, a split lip, a sprained knee, and a large gash in my shoulder. Honestly, if not for my gamified body, I would probably be dead. As it was, I judged I had maybe 11 HP remaining out of 50.
"Some fight." I muttered.
The remaining Dunlandings returned shortly afterward, bearing a cart pulled by a stubborn-looking, shaggy, aurochs. They gathered their dead, along with a large amount of firewood for pyres, and moved to a clearing. I rested as they built a pyre, sang songs in their language, and said prayers for the departed. The funeral lasted until the small hours of the morning as the pyres burned down and the chanting and prayers continued. Eventually, the funeral ended as the dead were burned to ash along with what grave goods could be scrounged up. I had no idea what any of the songs, chants or prayers meant, as I didn't speak Dunlandic, but I didn't catch any of the names of Sauron or Morgoth in any of the chants, songs, or prayers, so I assumed that everything had been done properly and Tulkas wasn't about to have words with me.
At dawn, the Dunlandings marched back to the road, where another group of carts was hitched to other shaggy-coated aurochs. A young boy, too young to take the field, was standing next to the carts, keeping the aurochs calm. He had a tattoo on his wrist of a chain in black ink and I realized that this was a slave boy. I knew that keeping slaves was frowned upon by the Free Peoples, though I couldn't be sure if that was a religious or cultural thing. It was a reminder that even if these Dunlandings weren't yet servants of Sauron, they could easily become so with enough of a prompt from the Enemy. I couldn't do anything about it, though. There were eleven of them and only one of me, and I was low on health as it was.
The Dunlandings piled into their carts and headed down the road to the North, presumably on their way toward the junction with the East-West road from fallen Arnor to Dunland and through the Misty Mountains and on toward Dale. I doubted I'd ever see them again. For myself, I needed a long rest to even begin to feel Human again, wounded as I was. A bath wouldn't go amiss either, but I doubted that I'd get that until I passed through the Gap of Rohan on the way South. Instead, I contented myself with trudging up to Amon Min and bedding down in the abandoned fort for eight hours.
When I awoke, Amdir was still nowhere to be found. I had honestly thought a Ranger would find me instead of me finding him, but that was likely wishful thinking. Instead, I decided to go exploring the dug-into parts of the fort for today before heading back to my campsite to see if Amdir was waiting there.
So resolved, I descended into the bowels of Amon Min, looking for potential treasure. . .
XXXX
AN: How's that for actual sword techniques? Ask and you shall receive!
Rhodri was the equivalent of a level 5 fighter. It was a tough fight and if he'd landed another blow before Brand had managed to sneak in that last attack, Brand would be the guy making death saves.
At any rate, the next chapter will be the exploration of Amon Min's undercroft, stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Aug 18, 2022
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KnightofTempest
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Jul 22, 2022
#87
As I went down into the bowels of Amon Min, I noticed that several of the excavated rooms I passed by hadn't been entirely looted. I found a trio of finely wrought chain shirts, a trio of finely wrought longswords, a trio of finely crafted large steel shields, a trio of finely crafted warhammers, and a trio of finely crafted longspears in one of the excavated rooms. In another, I found six bottles of Athelas essence in a crate tucked away behind a pile of crates containing long-since rotted bandages. Lastly was an office that had been partly dug out, just enough to get to a manikin that I was willing to bet had contained the magic longsword and scale armor I was now wearing. However, it was clear that the manikin and desk full of dusty, rotted, parchments had not been the sole occupants of the room. Indeed, with only a little effort moving stones around and clearing away debris, I found a composite longbow made of rich, dark, lacquered, wood and carefully carved with Old Adunaic runes sitting next to what had to have been a bed at one point, but was now merely a frame. Testing of the bow revealed it would take the same strength as my current composite longbow, but was slightly magical on top. A last look around what had clearly been the captain's quarters turned up a quiver of twenty arrows with odd-looking heads. I frowned, unaware of what these arrows could be until I caught a faint whiff of rotten eggs from the head of one of them.
"Sulfur. An alchemical arrow maybe? Worth grabbing, at any rate." I shrugged.
All of what I found went into my bag of holding. If nothing else, I'd imagine I could sell them, later on. The arrows and composite longbow replaced my current ranged weaponry, as I'd definitely use them. The big question was why had the Dunlandings left all this stuff here? They weren't shy about packing other stuff into their carts and I noticed all of the remaining Dunlandings carrying fine-quality weapons and armor as they left. I was pretty sure that random Dunlanding Warriors wouldn't have the kind of Masterwork equipment that their caravan had when they left.
"Maybe there weren't enough of them left to justify taking the rest of the stuff in the armory? But why wouldn't they try to use that equipment to entice more followers when they got back to Lhan Rhos? With Rhodri dead, it'd be the only way for their movement to succeed?" I wondered aloud.
Ultimately, I had no answers and decided to move on. There was an archway that had been bricked up that looked like it led further down into the fortress complex that I was itching to break into. I grabbed ahold of one of the warhammers from the armory and began swinging, using the masterwork-quality weapon as an improvised mattock to break into the lower level. Eventually, the brickwork crumbled beneath the power of my blows, and the Warhammer was only slightly scuffed, a testament to the greatness of Gondorian craftsmanship during the Kingdom's golden age. I put the Warhammer back into my bag of holding and proceeded down the stairs of the newly opened passage.
The light grew dimmer as I descended the stairway and the stones grew slick with natural water. A few beams of light streamed through from openings in the cavern roof that had been worn into the stone and hill by time and the elements. I could see only a little bit in front of me at any given time thanks to these brief rays of daylight filtering in. Fortunately, as the staircase ended, I found a relatively dry torch in a sconce on the wall and proceeded to light it up with my flint and tinder to illuminate my way forward. As the torch threw light upon the darkened room, I found myself in a smithy of some kind. What looked like a type of blast furnace lay cold next to an anvil, with stacks of purified steel ingots, charcoal briquettes, and unidentifiable fluxes stacked up against the wall in crates. Not only that but one of the crates seemed to have some kind of powdery substance in it that I hadn't seen before. It was only when I found the adamant shards in another crate that I realized that it was prilled brimstone.
"Everything you'd need to forge equipment that could take an enchantment, though I'd have to believe that even during the golden age of Gondor, an outpost out here wouldn't have a Loremaster capable of putting anything super powerful on stuff." I mused.
There was, of course, an issue in that I couldn't take everything in this room. Even with the bag of holding's extradimensional storage capacity, there were limits to what I could and could not take. Judging from the size and weight of the bag, it was a Bag of Holding III, which could only hold around 1,000 pounds of stuff before it couldn't take anymore. I'd already put 344 pounds of stuff in the bag. If I took all of the twenty five, 10-pound crates of ingots, all of the twenty five, 10-pound crates of charcoal, the 25-pound crate of Adamant shards, the 25-pound crate of prilled brimstone, and the two, 25-pound crates of flux, it'd leave me with only six pounds worth of storage space remaining in my bag of holding. There was more to the undercroft than this, no way was I taking that much stuff. If I left it, though, there was no way that some new band of Dunlandings or even worse, Orcs, wouldn't take up residence here and find a fully functional smithy.
In the end, I settled for one crate of ingots, one crate of charcoal, one crate of flux, one crate of adamant shards, and one crate of prilled brimstone. Ninety five pounds of materials, but with the brimstone and adamant shards gone, at the very least it would be average quality stuff put out by whoever found this place after I left and not masterwork quality gear that could take an enchantment. I was pretty sure that what Dunlanding Loremasters there were alive were back in Dunland and probably wouldn't leave, but Sauron had been known to be a lot freer with doling out sorcerous knowledge to his servants than the Valar were about giving lore to the Free Peoples. I wouldn't put it past him to temporarily empower an orc shaman or something just to take advantage of an opportunity to fuck up Gondor from an unexpected angle.
That finished, I grabbed the torch off the sconce in the wall and continued on. The next few rooms were empty, with only the last room containing anything of note. Bottles of wine lined shelves, the writing on them Dalish, Sindarin, and Old Adunaic. Casks of spirits with Khuzdul runes on them lay stacked in a corner and the rear of the room was taken up with three big hogsheads of beer with Old Adunaic writing on them. The beer was probably bad after over 1,000 years sitting here, even with the preservative methods of the golden age of Gondor, but wine and spirits didn't go bad with age, only with improper storage. I just had to look out for any cracks or leaks in the bottles or casks, and check if any of these had previously been opened. I came away from that room with two, 18-pound casks of dwarven spirits and three, 1-pound, bottles of wine from each of Old Dale, Dorwinion, and Forlindon. Satisfied with my haul, I continued onward.
The next stretch of the hallway led into a disused prison facility. Ten empty cells were fronted by a guard room with a table and chairs, presumably for the guards to sit at while on duty. A small chest in the guardroom was empty of everything but a small, well-made, dagger of obsidian and dark wood, bearing a single rune on it in a language I didn't know. I was willing to bet, however, given the neolithic make of the weapon, that it had belonged to a Druedain, likely having wandered north from Andrast and been detained by the guards here. Given the obsidian and wood construction, it probably hadn't been deemed important enough to take with when Gondor had pulled out. What had happened to the Druedain prisoner, there was no sign.
The last room down here was an empty vault made of solid stone. Once, this had likely been where the tolls collected from travelers on the Old Nort Road had been held, now it was just bare stone, save for one thing. A fissure had been torn into the rear wall with age and erosion. I moved up toward the fissure and leaned out with my torch, illuminating a natural tunnel. Normally, tunnels under hills were bad news and led to Orc burrows, but there was natural sunlight coming from further down the tunnel round a bend, along with a faint breeze that seemed to indicate a way out rather than a way deeper underground. Besides, an Orc tribe living here would have already looted the undercroft of Amon Min for all they were worth. I decided to follow the tunnel to the outside.
No sooner had I gone a few feet down the tunnel than I began to hear snoring noises, alongside noises I recognized as a dog worrying at a bone. I quickly doused my torch in the dirt of the floor and tried to sneak my way forward up to the bend. Thankfully, the airflow through the tunnel put whatever was around the corner upwind of me, and thus the wind wasn't blowing my scent towards it. I made it to the corner, so far so good, and took a peek around it. There, sitting in a cavemouth, was a trio of large, white-furred, wolves. The largest of which was about nine feet long from snout to the tip of its tail and was snoozing on the floor in a sunny spot. The smallest of the trio was still seven feet long from snout to the tip of its tail and was worrying at the exposed leg of a corpse that was lightly dusted with hoarfrost. The mid-sized wolf was around eight feet long from snout to the tip of its tail and was gnawing on what looked to be a human ulna bone that still had a few scraps of dusky-skinned meat on it. I recognized what remained of the crimson and black clothing of the man as Corsair's clothing, and the finely crafted scimitar that lay against the cave wall cinched that idea. I pulled my head back around the corner and thought.
What was a corsair of Umbar doing here? I knew they were acting up again, raiding Gondor, but there were no spoils to be had this far out in Enedwaith. The nearest settlements were the Stoors in Maur Tulhau, who wouldn't have much in the way of plunder beyond a few thousand Castars and maybe some provisions. Maybe the Rangers had camped further south at the runs of Harndiron, they'd have more cash and goods on hand than the Stoors, but they would be too tough a nut to crack for too little gain. Had Lhanuch been settled by the Ox-clan of Dunlandings yet? Even if it had, the biggest spoils there would be cattle, which didn't take well to shipboard journeys. Ultimately, I'd need to search the corpse to find out what the Corsair was up to. To do that, I would need to kill the three winter wolves that had made a den in the cave mouth.
Drawing two of my new arrows and nocking them to my bowstring, I prepared to try and alpha strike the largest winter wolf. I hoped that I could get it by surprise while it was sleeping with both arrows and maybe do enough damage to kill it while it was asleep. Then, I'd worry about the other two. I took a deep breath as I pulled back on my bowstring, creeping just barely around the corner. I aimed at my would-be target and let out a breath. The smallest winter wolf looked up at the noise, but it was too late for it to act before I let my arrows fly.
The fight was on, and there was no more time for an internal monologue. . .
XXXX
AN: You guys didn't think he'd get all that abandoned loot without a fight, did you?
No, Brand is going to have to face 3 winter wolves. The largest is an alpha that's a CR 6, with the other 2 being CR 5.
This whole quest was something more usually done by a party of 4 guys, calculated to get 4 level 1 adventurers up to level 3 in D terms. Instead, by the time that Brand finishes, he'll be level 5 with over a third of the experience needed to get to level 6.
Keep in mind that Amdir only told Brand to whittle down the Dunlanding Schismatic numbers a bit and maybe find out why they were here. He didn't think Brand would go whole-hog and drive out the Dunlandings completely, kill their chief, and loot the fortress.
He's going to have words for Brand when he checks in, mostly about the size of his gigantic mithril-plated balls.
At any rate, the next chapter will be the fight with the wolves and we'll get to see why a Corsair was in Enedwaith. Stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Aug 18, 2022
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KnightofTempest
Jul 22, 2022
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Threadmarks Chapter 5
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KnightofTempest
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Jul 24, 2022
#96
As my arrows streaked across the space between me and the Largest of the three Winter Wolves, a faint rumbling noise could be heard coming from them. The Largest Winter Wolf woke from its slumber the second I loosed and immediately got to its feet, growling, only to be struck by a pair of arrows in its left rear flank. As soon as those arrows struck, the alchemical reagents in their heads began to sizzle with sparks and heat, searing into the wound and causing the growls to turn into a pained mess. The Largest Winter wolf was hurt bad, its left rear leg seemed to have been crippled from the attack, but it was still able to fight, albeit barely. The other two wolves let out a burst of hoarfrost from their maws that would have completely wrecked me had I not quickly ducked back behind the corner and back into the tunnel leading to the Amon Min Undercroft. Instead, the stinging cold and ice barely touched my trailing leg, chilling it to the bone and causing damage to the skin of my calf from flash freezing.
I popped out to fire another pair of arrows, only one aimed at the Wounded Winter wolf and the other at the smallest one. Unfortunately, the harsh cold of the twin breath weapons had numbed my wounded leg somewhat and made it harder for me to aim. My hamstring twinged as I fired, throwing off my shot as I went down to one knee from the wound. My shot at the Wounded Winter Wolf went wide and thundered into the Wounded Winter Wolf's Shoulder, snapping in half against the preternaturally tough hide. The alchemical arrowhead flew into the dirt and discharged its flame uselessly. My second shot, however, managed a lucky critical hit that caught the Smallest Winter Wolf right in the eye with a thundercrack. The alchemical arrow dumped its payload directly into the Smallest Winter Wolf's Brain, killing it. The other two wolves let out a keening howl and charged at me in response, and I dropped my bow and pulled my sword and shield in preparation.
The Wounded Winter Wolf met me first, biting through the leather boot of my already wounded leg and worrying my calf. I tumbled to the ground as my leg began to gush blood, chilled by the cold of its breath. Pain exploded in my leg, and I knew I was close to death, but I ruthlessly tamped down on the pain and moved my shield arm into the path of the Unwounded Winter Wolf's maw. The Unwounded Winter Wolf bounced off the Golden Age Gondorian Steel and I managed to take my longsword and cleave into the brain of the Wounded Winter Wolf, frying its gray matter with electricity in addition to splitting its skull. With two down and one to go, I stood even as the Last Winter Wolf came in again for another bite. I barely managed to get my shield in front of its fangs, denying it purchase on my forearm and spilling its frost breath onto the painted face of the shield.
In response, I threw a vertical cut at its snout, which drew a gash down the side of its face and singed its snout fur with electricity, but it wasn't enough to put it down. In the meantime, if I took a single hit, I'd be done for. I needed to heal up. Fortunately, I had just the thing for that. I backed away, hobbling on my wounded leg, even as I reached into my bag of holding for a bottle of Athelas Essence. I pulled one out and popped the cork with my teeth, downing it as the Last Winter Wolf stalked towards me. The worst of my wounds knit themselves closed even as the Last Winter Wolf came in for another bite. This bite got past my shield but was stopped cold by the scale sleeve of the Gondorian Officer's Scale Armor. Instead of tearing into my upper arm, the Last Winter Wolf failed to so much as draw blood.
I immediately riposted with a cut that cleaved into the front right paw of the Last Winter Wolf slicing deep into its paw and badly wounding it, causing a gush of blood to pump out of the ruined paw and the Winter Wolf to yelp in pain. In response, it let another torrent of hoarfrost out of its maw right at me point blank. My leg wound got worse, even as I reflexively put my shield up to protect my face, and the chill of the breath weapon burst blood vessels in my shield arm and other leg as well. I fell to my knees, heavily wounded, but somehow alive.
The fight would come down to whoever struck the next blow. I grit my teeth and was determined it be me. Steeling myself against the pain I put my all into a single thrust, even as the Last Winter Wolf came in for another bite. My Magic Gondorian Blade bit into the Last Winter Wolf's maw, thrusting up through the roof of its mouth and into its brain. It yelped once, then went still, dead.
I collapsed to the cave floor, badly wounded and exhausted from the ordeal, but somehow alive and victorious. I lay there in the bloody, icy, dirt, for a long few moments, trying to get my breathing under control and generally downing more Athelas Essence and letting the healing liquid knit my absolutely destroyed body back together. It took four of them to fully finish healing me, which indicated that I was down to single digits in terms of HP from that fight.
"That was completely nuts! I was not in control of that fight!" I exclaimed as I rolled over off my back.
I got to my hands and knees, then levered myself up to a standing position. It was true, I hadn't even come this close to death against Rhodri, and he had actual class levels! At least he seemed like he did. I had better get some serious rewards for all of this.
I looked over toward the corpse of the Corsair that had been the reason I'd pulled this stupid stunt and fought three winter wolves, to begin with. Somehow the body was still intact. Well, as intact as it had been at the start of all this, anyway. At the very least, the combat hadn't fucked it all up.
"Ok, buddy, let's hope this wasn't all for nothing and you have stuff on you that's useful." I grumbled as I walked over and began to look over the corpse.
Most of his clothing was shredded, from the baggy pants to the red and black striped tunic, to the Turban. His belt was intact, a thick leather affair with a golden buckle in the shape of a snarling black bear's head, it was engraved with Old Adunaic Runes. It was clearly magical, and judging by its looks, it seemed to be a Belt of Mighty Constitution, though probably the least version. His gauntlets were also intact, these were of leather and iron with Khuzdul runes engraved into each leather stud. Probably Gauntlets of Ogre Power. The last bit of intact clothing other than his belt pouch and coin purse was a sort of spiked, conical, helmet with an attached turban of black and red striped cloth. The helmet looked to be engraved with oily-looking runes that looked suspiciously like Black Speech to me.
"Twenty five Castars says that's a cursed helmet. Or at the very least would be cursed for anyone not on Team Sauron." I frowned.
I then grabbed the discarded corsair scimitar. It was a finely crafted weapon of lead-lined steel, giving it a little extra chopping power at the cost of more weight. The blade was traced in runes of Old Adunaic that seemed to glow faintly the instant my hand neared the blade. Testing the sharpness, first with cotton cloth scraps from the dead Corsair's tunic, then with a piece of my hair, seemed to indicate it was a Humanbane weapon on top of the minimum enchantment it possessed as a base weapon. I resolved to keep it around for fighting evil men, as it would do more damage against them than my Gondorian Longsword.
I took the Gauntlets and Belt and put them on and belted the scimitar on as well while leaving the helmet where it lay. Then I checked the coin purse and belt pouch. The coin purse had one hundred Castars inside, likely what remained of a share of some earlier plunder, and a number of copper coins marked with the emblem of a ship on one side, and crossed scimitars on the other. Umbarish coins weren't likely to spend very well where I was headed. Hell, shops in Gondor might not just refuse to take them, they might even call the guards on me if I tried to pay with them! I left them be, then moved on to the belt pouch. Inside, I found a bevy of valuables.
Six pearls, three white, two pink, and one black, a silver ring set with a moonstone, a small, finely wrought, gold bracelet, and a golden comb worked in the shape of a dragon, with a red garnet set in it for an eye greeted me as I opened the pouch. All of these were situated on a silk and velvet handkerchief that was embroidered with cloth of gold and cloth of silver to show a rising sun cresting over the ocean. It was a veritable fortune's worth of loot in precious gems, jewelry, and other valuables. It was so lucrative, that I almost didn't notice the parchment sitting beneath the loot. I was that caught up in my good fortune.
Fortunately, I was pretty good at spotting things now. I snatched the letter after depositing the loot in my bag of holding with a cry of, "Wait a sec, what's this?"
The parchment had previously been sealed with a glob of white wax. Fortunately, the writing was in Adunaic, a language I spoke, and not whatever Haradrim language was the most popular in Umbar at the moment. It seems that this guy was a corsair captain turned spy by the name of Kesekos. The dispatch was from someone named Hamarsun ordering Kesekos to head North from his raids up the Lefnui River in Anfalas to Dunland. Apparently, he was supposed to keep an eye on the situation with the Boar Clan to see if a significant warband could not be tempted to break with the leadership and follow him south into the Employ of Umbar as mercenaries. Someone named Sharku had given the Lords of the Haven intel that a schism would form any day. I could guess at events from there.
"Sharku has to be Saruman, right? He should have been turned recently via the Palantir, I think. Honestly, it seems like Sauron's forces are a lot better at communication than the Free Peoples." I grumbled.
I put the letter into my bag of holding, gathered up my bow from where I'd dropped it, then got to work skinning the three winter wolves. Doing that took a few hours, and by the time I returned back to where I'd made camp two days prior, the sun was beginning to set and I had to quickly gather firewood and whatever non-boar bacon foodstuffs I could rustle up. It left me with no time to salt the winter wolf hides and get them on racks to tan. Fortunately, my bag of holding was able to keep them fresh while stored inside. That night, I had a dinner of boar bacon, wild bird eggs, and wild onions, before wrapping myself in my fur cloak and going to bed.
When sleep claimed me, instead of dreaming, I found myself inside my mindscape staring at the room that held my character sheet. The walls had changed to reflect new trophies. The stuffed head of the Alpha Winter Wolf sat next to the mounted tusks of the dire boar and was flanked by Rhodri's heirloom shield. My character sheet was also glowing, showing I had advanced to level 5. I put another level in Ranger, hoping to level my way up to Ranger 4 and getting spells before taking another fighter level. That gave me an extra point of will, base attack bonus, 11 more HP, 9 more skill points, and the Endurance feat. I assigned my skill points, then immediately got shunted out of my mindscape and into a dream.
When I woke up, the sun would be shining, and Amdir would be waiting at my campsite. . .
XXXX
AN: So there it is. The first quest/abridged dungeon is over and our guy made out like a king. In both loot and XP.
Seriously, he's walked away from that with 7 magic items, 2,590 Castars worth of miscellaneous treasure, 1,625 Castars of Crafting Materials, 5,676 Castars worth of Masterwork Golden Age Gondorian Equipment, 3 winter wolf hides, and 432 Castars worth of Dunlanding Equipment.
Of course, it's not likely he'll be able to sell all that at full price or even keep all of it to sell. The Rangers might have something to say about the Gondorian Equipment. Not when they could use a lot of it themselves. Even leather armor specially treated so that most of its natural armor bonus is retained is no substitute for good steel, after all. Not when the hides they usually get are from wolves or stags, with only 1 point of natural armor to add.
Plus, the magic items are better even than that.
Next chapter we'll get to see some of that come out, as Amdir escorts Brand to the Ranger Camp at Harndirion and the bargaining starts.
Stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Aug 18, 2022
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KnightofTempest
Jul 24, 2022
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Threadmarks Chapter 6
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KnightofTempest
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Jul 24, 2022
#98
Amdir sat not far from where I'd bedded down for the night whittling a piece of wood into the shape of a small horse with a dagger. As I sat up, I looked at him and asked, "How long have you been sitting there?"
"Only a few hours. Did you find out what the Dunlandings were doing in Amon Min?" Responded Amdir, eyes never leaving his whittling.
"Not only that, I killed their chief, drove them back to Dunland, and grabbed everything of value left in the fortress. A pack of winter wolves had taken up residence in the undercroft and I found the corpse of a Corsair Agent carrying a dispatch from Umbar." I replied.
That got Amdir to pause his carving and put his dagger down. He turned to me with a shocked expression. "That is quite the claim, do you have proof?" He questioned.
I shrugged off my cloak turned blanket to reveal the scale armor, longsword, and other magical items I had gained from my latest adventure as a response. Then I pulled the Corsair dispatch from my bag of holding and waved it at his face.
"Will this do?" I queried, archly. That caused Amdir to frown.
"Tell me everything. Start from the beginning." He demanded.
So I took him through the entire ordeal. I started with my recon of Amon Min from the wooded valley below the hill, took him through my ambush of the Dunlanding foraging party, my meeting with Rhodri and his guards, their reasons for moving out of Dunland, the subsequent duel with Rhodri, the Dunlanding funeral, their departure back to Dunland, my delve of Amon Min, the fight with the winter wolves, and ended with the Corsair and his orders. I refrained from giving an account of just how badly injured I'd been at various points, only saying I'd taken wounds that had ultimately healed with the aid of Athelas Essence and a good night's sleep. Throughout the entire telling, Amdir seemed to visibly ratchet up his estimate of my skills.
When I'd finished, Amdir paused for a few moments, digesting the tale. He didn't speak for a bit, just long enough for the silence to stretch on a bit too long to be comfortable.
"Let me see that dispatch." He said finally.
I handed him the Corsair dispatch and he read it, his face creasing into a grim frown as he read the contents. Eventually, he handed it back to me before another silence. This time he broke it before it dragged on too long.
"Grim tidings, Brand. This paints the picture of an organized enemy attempting to mobilize even more forces. Informants in Dunland dispatches to Corsair raiders plaguing Anfalas, now the Shadow spreads to Enedwaith. Where next? Rohan? Isendale?" He frowned.
I then decided to try and affect my first real change and try to get the Rangers to investigate Isengard, Orthanc, and the doings of Saruman. It was risky, and it was unlikely that anyone would believe Saruman himself had been corrupted. I would have to just point them in a direction and let them go.
"It's worse than you feared. Last I passed through Isendale, I heard rumors of a mysterious man named Sharkey that seemed to be highly placed in Saruman's service. The rumors suggested shadowy doings and ill-intent." I hedged, trying to point them at Isengard.
"And you think this Sharkey may be related to the Sharku the dispatch mentioned?" Asked Amdir.
"It certainly suggests so. Saruman does have a whole cadre of sorcerers in Orthanc he teaches lore to. It would not be unthinkable that one of them, frustrated with the study of the Lores available to mortal men, sought out the favor of the Enemy to go further beyond. Would it?" I pressed. Amdir frowned at that, before spitting on the ground.
"Empty throne!" He swore.
"Plausible, no?" I needled.
"Aye, plausible. Plausible enough to send a scout to Isendale, I know not. It is not my call to make, that would be up to Captain Baradir. He is currently set up at Harndirion with the rest of my company and a selection of our people, trying to make a go of it bringing some civilization back to Enedwaith. You say you found more than just what you have on you now in Amon Min? I hope you didn't bury it." Answered Amdir.
"I have it on me, Amdir." I grinned.
"On you? How is that possible?" Queried Amdir, confused.
I grinned as I grabbed my haversack and opened the top flap of the embossed leather.
"Behold the power of first age artifice!" I intoned and began pulling out item after item, far more than could ever fit in a haversack this size. As chain shirt, after chain shirt left my haversack, only for longswords to follow, all of them masterwork, Amdir's eyes widened in shock. As I emptied all of the equipment and went on to crafting supplies, he got a calculated look on his face. By the time I'd gone past the crafting supplies, through the random treasures, and had started with the winter wolf hides, Amdir put up a hand in the air.
"Stop. Put all of that back into your magic bag. We need to head to Harndirion. Captain Baradir will want to requisition the equipment and crafting supplies off you." He sighed.
"You mean buy them from me, aye?" I queried.
"After a fashion. We can hardly afford to pay full price for it all. Not for a one-time transaction. Over seven thousand Castars would put too much of a dent in our coffers for that. We can offer two thousand and one hundred perhaps, plus turning that large winter wolf hide into armor for you and the smaller ones into boots and a cloak." Admitted Amdir.
"That's less than a third of their value in silver!" I exclaimed.
"Plus the armor, boots, and cloak." Insisted Amdir.
"What use have I for that? Look at the armor I have on now, Amdir! Leather would be a bit of a downgrade, don't you think?" I scoffed.
"Normally, yes. But the Dunedain have ways to treat hides that allow armor and clothing made from them to retain something of their natural capabilities. In this case, the armor would carry most of the beast's natural toughness, and the boots and cloak would keep you supernaturally warm and able to resist the breath of winter wolves and ice drakes better." Explained Amdir.
That sounded an awful lot like retaining parts of the natural armor bonus and cold resistance of the winter wolves to me. With lore like that, I wondered just why they felt the need to 'requisition' masterwork chain shirts and large steel shields off of me for such a lowball price. They'd be able to easily exceed the chain shirts' protective capabilities with even just leather armor.
"Why do you need the chain shirts at all then? You'd be better served using your lore to treat dire animal hides and the like for use in armor crafting. It'd be more protective." I gave voice to my concerns.
"How many dire animals have you seen in your time here? Just the boar from earlier, mayhaps? Do you know what the most common hides we get are? Stags and wolves. Both are not much more protective than normal leather when treated. Even by a master." Shot back Amdir.
"Fair enough. I suppose we should head for Harndirion then." I grumbled, still not liking the low price. It may be worth it, though if the resulting armor, cloak, and boots were good. At the very least the cloak and boots would be better than my current stuff by dint of having an effect.
"Pack up your spoils and camp first, then we'll be on our way." Nodded Amdir.
It took a bit to pack up and strike camp, but not too long. Then we were on our way. We made our way south along the road. We passed by Amon Min around five hours later and kept up our pace at a decent clip, crossing a stone bridge over a stream around five hours after that as the mountainous terrain gave way to foothills. After ten hours of marching, the sun began to set and I quickly gathered up firewood while Amdir hunted us up a pair of rabbits to roast. We camped that night on a hill overlooking a rolling meadow. I'd judged us to have covered around forty miles in a single day, a feat impossible for a normal human, but doable for those of Numenorean stock, it seemed. I could only imagine how good elves were at cross-country treks. I didn't think they'd be too much better than a Numenorean naturally, but they'd have centuries to get used to the pace.
The next day we began walking again bright and early. By noon, even the foothills had flattened out into gently rolling hills filled with tall grasses. We spotted our first sign of human habitation about an hour afterward. A trio of shaggy-haired Aurochs was being tended to by a bearded shepherd clad in furs. The shepherd carried a hatchet and sling on him as he tended his small herd while they grazed in the grassy meadow.
"More Dunlandings?" I asked Amdir.
"Aye, these are the Ox clan. They're mostly peaceful farmers and herders long since pushed out of Dunland by more warlike or larger clans. Their settlement of Lhanuch is only a few hours northeast of Hardirion." Informed Amdir.
I shrugged, remembering the Ox-clan from LOTRO back on Earth. I had thought their move to Enedwaith had been recent, but I suppose that raising a fortified permanent settlement would take more time than I'd given them credit for. A few hours later, we bedded down for the night in a barn, allowed to sleep there and eat a hot meal prepared by our hosts in exchange for some athelas salve that Amdir had on him and one of the longbows I had taken off of the Dunlanding Foragers. Our hosts were an Ox Clan Dunlanding family of five. Llew, his wife Calla, their eldest son Gwydion, their daughter Morgan, and their younger son Cadfael. Gwydion was off to Lhanuch in the morning to join the Chief's Guards and the longbow would be better than the shortbow he currently had and the athelas salve would help soothe any lumps taken in training.
That night we ate our fill of lamb and vegetable stew and slept under a roof for the first time in a while. The next morning we were off again, joined this time by Gwydion. Gwydion's lanky teenage form didn't quite fill out his father's old leather armor, despite the adjustments that had been made, but I could tell that he'd do with just a little bit of time to put on muscle mass. Tall and lanky bulked up would equate to a regular giant of a man once muscle was added. As luck would have it, the opportunity arose to get Gwydion some field experience came as we were crossing a field nearby a flock of sheep being tended to by an Ox-clan shepherd.
As we passed through the field, an arrow flew out of nowhere and struck the Ox clan shepherd in the back, sending him hurtling to the turf as a quintet of painted raiders in hide armor reinforced with iron rings popped up out of the taller grass at the edge of the field. The rear pair had composite longbows held in their hands of fine quality, the front pair had finely crafted wooden shields painted with the image of a dragon and finely crafted Dunlandic Battle Axes. The leader's armor was of a higher quality than his followers, he had a steel shield of fine make, painted with the same image of a dragon, and carried a broad-bladed Dunlandic longsword of fine craftsmanship. It was raiders of the Dragon Clan, a clan I recalled as being the first to ally with Saruman. Clearly, it was paying off if they let random raiding parties have masterwork gear.
Immediately, Amdir drew his greatsword, I drew my magic bow, and Gwydion drew his own longbow. The Raiders sallied forth as we stood our ground, and the battle was on.
Immediately, I let loose two non-alchemical arrows at the raid leader. They thundered toward him and took him in the armpit as he raised his blade to strike at Gwydion. The arrows went in deep into his torso and he was down bleeding out, fancy equipment or not. Meanwhile, Gwydion managed to put an arrow into one of the Axemen, piercing through the toughened hide between the rings of his breastplate, and bringing him to his knees with a red froth bubbling to his lips. Amdir swung out in a wide arc with his greatsword and took the right leg off of one of the Axe-wielders and tried to cleave into the next Axe-wielder, but his blow was blocked on the man's shield. A pair of arrows streaked in from the Bowmen at me, I took one in the meat of my upper arm that caught me just beneath the short scale sleeve of my hauberk and pierced straight through. The other skidded off the scale spaulders.
One of those bowmen, however, found his arrow immediately answered by one from Gwydion that pierced through the thinner hide tassets of the reinforced armor and struck the Bowman in the groin, sending him down and making him a eunuch. I looked over to see Amdir had taken a shallow cut to the leg that had pierced his leather breeches near his thigh, but he had managed to get a cut of his own on his opponent. He was now poised to finish the last Axe-wielder on the backstroke. I didn't really have to do much of anything else, the situation was in hand. I put up my bow and shortly after, Amdir disemboweled his Raider and Gwydion had put an arrow through the eye of the Last Bowman seemingly by accident.
"Is everyone all right?" Called out Amdir.
"I'm fine, the arrow went straight through. It's nothing but a flesh wound!" I replied.
"They didn't touch me! I'm fine!" Answered Gwydion, he then proceeded to look over at the corpse of the raid leader, lying in a slowly spreading pool of his own blood, and immediately vomit up his breakfast.
In the meantime, I moved to loot the bodies. The raid leader had a silver torc studded with jade on him in addition to his masterwork equipment, but he had disappointingly few coins on him. A few miscellaneous silver coins, two bearing the river of Ironwharf on one side and the tower of Orthanc on the other, three bearing the twin rearing horses of the Westmarch of Rohan. He didn't even have a dispatch on him. The others were disappointingly similar in terms of valuables. I came up with three ivory studded silver arm rings, two silver and topaz rings, and thirty five miscellaneous silver coins.
Aside from that, the equipment was quite high quality for such low-status raiders. I was willing to bet that this was favoritism showing to the Dragon Clan from Saruman before he started mass producing disposable Uruks and munitions grade equipment hand over fist. I called over Amdir and Gwydion after I'd finished piling up the loot.
"All right, it looks like we've got quite a few high-quality weapons for the taking. Amdir, how's your bow compared to these?" I asked.
"Similar in quality, but not composite. I'll take one of them if you don't mind." He nodded.
"Good. Gwydion, I'm assuming you can use the Raid Leader's armor, shield, and sword, and one of those composite bows too?" I asked.
"Aye. I could." Nodded Gwydion, huffing deep breaths in as if trying to not throw up again.
"That leaves two shields, a bow, and three axes up for grabs out of the masterwork equipment." I stated.
"We should keep them in reserve until we reach Harndirion. It is more evidence of the enemy being afoot in Dunland. The Dunlandings do not make equipment of this quality often. Given your suspicions of a potential Sorcerer of Orthanc in league with the Enemy, and Orthanc's proximity to Dunland, it may well sell your request to Captain Baradir." Frowned Amdir.
That settled, the equipment that was to be apportioned out to Gwydion and Amdir was and the rest went into my bag of holding. Six hours later, we stopped at Lhanuch for the night. Gwydion left to report in and Amdir went to see the Chief, meanwhile, I headed for the local watering hole. At the Blue Aurochs mead hall, I managed to sell the ivory and silver arm rings and silver and topaz rings to a passing Dwarven Merchant from the Dwarven Hold of Kechel. His traveling leathers were embossed with designs more akin to Slavic Glagolithic script than the more Norse Rune-inspired designs I was used to. When I asked him about it, he simply replied that he was a Stonefoot, and they used different runes to represent Khuzdul than Durin's Folk or the Firebeards and Broadbeams of the Ered Luin. As to the jewelry? He was not impressed by them.
"The craftsmanship is more slapdash than Dwarf-work, though it is not bad for Man-work. I am heading up to Breeland to sell my metalware and this might fetch an acceptable price there. I'll give you three hundred and ninety Castars for the lot." He huffed.
"This is worth at least four hundred and fifty." I countered.
"At four hundred fifty, I will need to cut my profit margins razor thin. Four hundred." He returned.
"We had to fight to get these, I took a wound to my shield arm. Four thirty." I haggled.
"I would need to skip breakfast every day in Bree for that, four fifteen." He protested.
"Four hundred and twenty five and I'll throw in a round of the house mead." I grinned, playing my trump card.
"Make it two rounds and you have a deal, Manling." Grinned the Dwarf.
"Done, and please, call me Brand." I grinned.
Coins were exchanged for merchandise and we clasped forearms over the deal. As I ordered the first horns of house mead my mercantile opponent for the evening smiled and said, "Brand, you may call me Oleg."
I had a few drinks with Oleg of the Stonefoot Dwarves about his home in the White Mountains before I purchased a room above the common room and bedded down for the night. The next morning, I met Amdir outside the Chief's Hall and cut him in for one hundred and ten Castars for the sale of loot. We caught Gwydion as he emerged for his first time on guard duty at the palisade and gave him his hundred and ten Castar cut too. Then Amdir and I headed out to the Southwest for Harndirion.
We would arrive just before noon. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah, he won't get full payment for his delving, but he'll still walk out of this with 8,200 Castars of profit, plus magic items.
That's not even counting the potential sale of Vintage Wine or Aged Dwarven Spirits, which could be in the 10s of thousands depending on age, vintage, and buyer.
He'll need to get out of Enedwaith to sell those, though.
We also got a bit more of a look at the movements of the Enemy vis-a-vis Saruman subverting the Dragon Clan for Sauron and tooling them up with Masterwork Gear. Between Saruman, the Corsairs, and the Dunlandings, it almost seems like a Prelude to the War of the Ring is building.
Next chapter, we'll meet the Rangers of Harndirion and see if Brand can't convince them to scout out Isengard. Stay tuned.
Last edited: Aug 18, 2022
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KnightofTempest
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Aug 6, 2022
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When we arrived at Harndirion, I was struck by the state of the fortress. While Amon Min had been a ruin, populated by desperate Dunlandings, corpses, and wild animals, with half her rooms bricked up and the other half made of rubble, Harndirion was another beast altogether. The Dunedain here seemed to have actually put effort into making Harndirion livable again. Rubble had been cleared away and used as materials for the rammed earth and wood bulwarks that patched holes in the walls. Statuary had been polished and rejuvenated, or else torn down for use as building materials. Inside the walls were wattle and daub houses that replaced those outbuildings in too much disrepair to fix. It was a small, but a lively community, a settlement not just of rangers, but of women and children too. I would estimate some six hundred people lived here, making a go of it in the ruins of their ancestors.
"I'll take you to Quartermaster Badhordam. He'll get you paid and take your measurements for the winter wolf gear. Even if nothing else comes of my report, I'll make sure that my end of our bargain is held up." Assured Amdir as he led me past a pair of grim-faced rangers in modern Gondorian chainmail guarding the gate.
"My thanks." I replied.
"You're headed south towards the Gap of Rohan, then over the White Mountains into Gondor. You'll need it. If the Dunlandings in the Gap don't kill you, the Orcs and Trolls of the Mountains might. After that, well you already know of the Corsair raids. It will not be an easy journey, Brand." Cautioned Amdir.
"Were it easy, it would scarcely be worth doing. Any advice for crossing the White Mountains? I had heard of a city of the Stonefoot Dwarves called Kechel that might be hospitable." I pressed.
"The Stonefoots may not avail you of their hospitality. Even should they do so, it will not be for free. They are quite isolated. Kechel in particular is out of the way enough to almost be in Andrast. You do not want to get lost on the way to Kechel and accidentally venture into Andrast. Not only is it out of your way, but it is the last remaining territory that the Druedain can truly call their own nation. As such, they take a dim view of outsiders and are more apt to shoot travelers with their poison arrows than speak to them. Not even Gondor at its height did more than maintain a small lighthouse at the tip of the Cape, and even then only because it was neccesary to aid in Navigation and could be supplied by Sea." Answered Amdir.
"So what path do you recommend I take?" I questioned.
"I'd say head south from the Gap of Rohan through the Old Pukel Gap. You should have plenty of time to stock up on provisions while traveling through Isendale and the Westmarch so that by the time you get to the wild lands around the Old Pukel Gap, you will be prepared for the hike through rugged terrain. The other side of the mountains will bring you into Anfalas in Western Gondor." Nodded Amdir.
"You think that will be better than going over the mountains another way?" I queried.
"Better than braving the Paths of the Dead or going over the mountains proper. Most of the other passes will add more time to your journey, I'm afraid." Shrugged Amdir.
It made sense, I supposed. Still, the Old Pukel Gap seemed to tingle something at the back of my mind. Wasn't there some kind of danger there beyond just the rugged terrain, which is why it wasn't a significant trade route anymore? Not that I'd rather brave the Paths of the Dead, mind you. Still, though, I thought I remembered something about spiders? Oh, well, I'm sure it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. It's not like there's another Shelob-style uberspider or anything. I'd remember that.
Amdir led me through the modest market square surrounded by several wattle-and-daub houses and past a longhouse that functioned as a tavern as we spoke. He took me down a sidestreet between a row of houses and up to one of the few remaining stone outbuildings not part of the fortress proper. As he led me through the streets, I couldn't help but notice the size of the actual settlement. There were probably about six hundred people here, which wasn't as big as say Bree or Frecasburg but was still larger than Combe in Bree-land by a factor of two. From what I'd seen, Lhanuch was slightly bigger with a population of eight hundred. I had no idea how many Stoors lived in Maur Tulhau, but if the population was anything like Michel Delving's it'd probably be around six hundred and fifty Stoors. With the Ox-clan farmsteads and shepherds out in the countryside adding maybe another three hundred and fifty people. That gave Enedwaith a population of around two thousand four hundred.
"Say, Amdir, are there any other settlements in Enedwaith besides Maur Tulhau, Lhanuch, and Harndirion?" I asked.
"Aye, there's a small Dwarven Hold up in the Mountains. Zudrugund has around four hundred Dwarves in it, around half of which are Stonefoots from the White Mountains, a quarter of which are Firebeards from the Ered Luin, and another one in five are Broadbeams from the Ered Luin. Only around one in twenty are Longbeards of Durin's Folk, but they control Zudrugund's politics. That hold seethes with discontent, and only the troubles with giants in the mountains seem to be preventing a civil war from breaking out among them. I would not go there." Offered Amdir as he led me up to the doorway of the stone outbuilding.
"That is around two thousand eight hundred people living in Enedwaith, yes?" I queried.
"It is. Only around two hundred and eighty of whom can even bear arms to stave off encroachment from tribes migrating west from Dunland if we arm everyone we can. Still, that is around a hundred more than we have quality equipment for. Our Rangers and the Dwarves of Zudrugund are equipped well enough, but the Bounders of Maur Tulhau often make do with leathers, slings, and clubs. The less said about the hodgepodge of equipment the Chieftain's Guards in Lhanuch use the better. It is why we are so adamant about the requisitions." Nodded Amdir, knocking three times on the door to the outbuilding.
"Enter." Came a Man's Voice.
Amdir led me inside where a ranger in brown leathers with moss green trim sat going over reports. The Ranger was black of hair and bore what seemed like a permanent five-o'clock shadow. The Ranger looked up and I could see the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, the permanent frown that seemed to plague every logistics officer posted to the ass-end of the world etched across his face.
"Amdir, what have you brought me now?" Asked the Ranger, gruffly.
"Don't worry, Badhordam. It's good news, I promise. Show him, Brand." Grinned Amdir.
I shrugged and began pulling out Gondorian equipment from my bag of holding. Chain Shirts, Shields, Longswords, Longspears, Warhammers, everything came out much to the shock of the Ranger, Badhordam. Once I was finished with the equipment, then the forging supplies came out. Once I was finished, Badhordam took a single look at the pile of loot, then reached inside his belt pouch for a leather flask. He uncorked the flask, drained it of whatever was inside, then let out a breath.
"Told you it's good news." Grinned Amdir.
"Putting aside the fact that what seems to be the majority of the contents of Amon Min's undercroft just came out of your friend's haversack, this is several thousand Castar's worth of equipment and materials. I doubt we'd be able to pay for all of it. I assume you don't intend to let us requisition all this for free, Stranger?" Grumbled Badhordam.
"Amdir and I have worked out a deal. I will take two thousand and one hundred Castars for the lot, a vastly reduced price. To make up the difference, you will use your secret lore to make me a suit of armor out of this and a cloak and pair of boots out of these." I intoned pulling out first the Alpha Winter Wolf's Hide, then the two smaller hides.
"Winter wolf hides! You don't do things by halves, do you, stranger? I'm assuming you'd like the armor to retain the natural toughness of the beast's hide and the cloak and boots to have some of the resistance to cold?" Asked Badhordam.
"If possible." I nodded.
"A lot of things are possible, Stranger. You don't happen to have any other hides you'd be willing to trade, do you?" Queried Badhordam.
"I have these." I nodded, pulling out my Dire Boar and Wolf Hides.
"Hmm. The Wolf Hide is basic stuff, it will only be a little more protective than normal leather. The dire boar hide though, we can make that into leather armor that's as strong as chainmail while being as supple as leather. That's quite a prize, Stranger. I'll tell you what I'll do. If you throw in those hides and give me the smaller winter wolf hide to make armor out of, I'm willing to use what limited lore we have to enhance your armor and cloak even further." Offered Badhordam.
"How so?" I questioned.
"Well, the armor I could set up with a standard armor enchantment as well as allow you to withstand non-mystical extremes of cold and heat, and allow you to see in blizzards, ice storms, and the like. For the cloak? Not only can I enhance the resistance to damage from mystical cold, but I can also ensure you will be able to travel across snow and ice as if on normal ground without slipping or falling, at your normal pace. What would you say to that, Stranger?" Asked Badhordam.
"I'd say that sounds excellent to me. And my name is Brand, not Stranger." I replied.
"Well met then, Brand. Now get out of that scale hauberk and stand still, I must needs measure you to ensure the correct fit." Grinned Badhordam.
The next few hours were spent being measured by Badhordam as his apprentice, a young lad named Valandur, jotted down his observations. Eventually, he had finished taking all the measurements he needed and sent Valandur off to fetch the Celebrant Oils so he could properly treat the hides. He himself went over to a steel lock box, opening it with a brass key, and counting out two thousand and one hundred silver Castars. Once he was certain his count was accurate, he handed me the coins.
"Your equipment will be ready in three days. If you bring in any more hides like that boar you brought in during that time, let me know. You might be surprised at the sort of things you can make out of leather." Offered Badhordam.
I took the rather impractically bulging coin purse and put it into my bag of holding. "I could always use boots or a helm." I shrugged.
"With our methods, we can even make shields out of hides that will be better than even the steel you've got now. Think about it." Intoned Badhordam.
"I will." I affirmed.
Just then, Valandur came back with several bottles of pungent-smelling oils that I could only assume were the so-called Celebrant Oils for treating hides the Dunedain way.
"Excellent, now if you'd be so kind, Brand, I have work to do." Dismissed Badhordam.
I donned my scale armor once more and headed out of Badhordam's Outbuilding. This time, Amdir met me outside the door, he'd left part way through the measuring. He nodded to me and explained the situation to me.
"Captain Baradir won't see us for another three or so days. An urgent matter came up near Dunland. Seems a Dragon Clan Raiding party hit a Dwarven trade caravan heading from the Holds of the Ered Luin toward Edoras and wounded two Guards-dwarfs and made off with a few bits of metalwork. The Dwarves are a prickly lot, and rather than have a caravan made up of merchants and hired guards heading off into Dunland after the Raiders, Captain Baradir offered to retrieve their stolen goods himself. He's not due back for two more days, and it'll take him another day to recuperate before he'll see us." Explained Amdir.
"I suppose that leaves us at loose ends for the moment." I frowned.
"Oh, there are always things to do, Brand. Out here on the edge of the frontier? People always need things. Did Badhordam ask you about more hides yet?" Grinned Amdir.
"As a matter of fact, he did. Why?" I queried.
"Because the first time I brought him a couple of worthwhile hides he asked much the same of me. Sure he'll be more than happy to make your equipment, but the more hides you bring him, the less equipment you need. He'll be more than happy to take the remainder for the Rangers, though." Chuckled Amdir.
"Nice racket?" I asked.
"Badhordam might not look it, but he's eighty years old. And he's been pulling that particular con for at least a decade." Grinned Amdir, affirmatively.
I chuckled, shaking my head. Honestly, I didn't mind beefing up the Rangers some. Especially if I got gear out of the deal. Honestly, even if the immediate benefits on my end diminished to nothing, just knowing that the tenuous position of the Free Peoples in Enedwaith would get a little less tenuous by my actions was reason enough to go looking for some good pelts to hunt down for Badhordam.
First, though, I think it was time for a drink and some food. Judging by the position of the Sun, it was around three in the afternoon, leaving an hour for lunch and two to hunt down some decent pelts before sunset. I was in a holding pattern as of now, so it wasn't like I couldn't afford to do it.
"I might just contribute to that racket, Amdir. First, though, I think I'd like some food and a drink." I informed Amdir.
"I know just the place." Grinned Amdir. And so I was lead to my lunch, ready for some rustic, backwoods cuisine and a flagon of rough ale.
Fortunately, I would be pleasantly surprised by the fare on offer, along with the company. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah. Low-level magic gear is doable with what limited lore the Dunedain still possesses. Nothing too crazy, the armor is the more expensive item on offer and that's barely 4,000 Castar's worth of magic item at full price. The cloak is maybe 3,000 Castars worth of magic item.
They're nothing fancy at all. Compared to someone like, say Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, who is a major Gondorian Field Commander and Lord of a Major Fiefdom? At a minimum, we're talking at least 25,000 Castars just for armor. Over 6 times the cost to enchant than what Brand is getting.
At any rate, the next couple of chapters will cover Brand meeting a new friend and the subsequent pelt hunting. Then we'll get to the meeting with Captain Baradir.
Stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Aug 18, 2022
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KnightofTempest
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Aug 7, 2022
#126
The local tavern was a half-timbered longhouse with half of its structure made from wood and half from pieces of rubble from the walls that had been broken down into rough drystone blocks and fitted together. A wooden shield that had gotten its arm straps snapped off had been repurposed to serve as a sign for the tavern, painted with a silver-white tree branch. The Argent Branch welcomed those who would seek a bit of respite under her eaves.
As Amdir led me inside, I noticed that the interior was quite lively for such a small town out in the middle of nowhere Enedwaith. Not only was there a minstrel strumming a tune on a Lute by the fire, but the fire in the large hearth gave everything in here a warm glow. At one table, a group of men and dwarves sat gambling with dice. At another, a trio of off-duty Rangers in their leathers and green cloaks sat drinking foaming tankards of ale and recounting stories from their latest missions. At the bar, a large Dunlanding in a chain shirt and furs sat gossiping with a Stoor in trousers and a vest over the state of things on the road over a haunch of roasted boar. In short, it was everything you'd look for in an adventuring tavern were this a game of dungeons and dragons.
As a raven-haired Dunedain Barmaid gave me a welcome smile, I couldn't help but bemoan the fact that I had started my adventure in the middle of the woods and not here. Honestly, Tulkas could have been a lot more accommodating about this whole thing!
"Welcome to the Argent Branch." Grinned Amdir.
"I had not thought to find a place this lively so far out into the wilds of Enedwaith." I confessed.
"It is oft in the places closest to peril where such cheer is needed most. The grasp of goodly people in Enedwaith is tenuous. It behooves us to not make it mirthless as well." Nodded Amdir.
"A surprise to be sure, but a welcome one." I affirmed, stealing a line from a space wizard.
"Indeed. Unfortunately, I must leave you for the time being. Lieutenant Langlas has given me a task I must see to. There have been reports of drakes nesting in the hills south of Zudrugund. The Dwarves there have asked for our help in investigating the reports, as their focus remains oriented on the mountains around their hold against the giants there. I've been volunteered to take a look." Frowned Amdir.
"Aye? What will happen if the drakes prove real and not simply a figment of traveler's tales?" I queried.
"Drakes are oft the prelude to a dragon arriving to claim an area. Around five hundred years ago, a Dragon called Draigoch the Red made his lair in the mountains east of Zudrugund, drawn by the wealth of nearby Dwarf Holds. Zudrugund was spared Draigoch's wrath as the Dwarves there preferred to work in steel and hoarded knowledge rather than gold. Draigoch has not been heard from since he sacked the other two holds in the area. If drakes are nesting in the foothills, it could be a prelude to Draigoch's return." Explained Amdir.
"So you slaughter the drakes and hope this Draigoch does not return?" I pressed.
"That is the normal way of things. Dragonslayers are in short supply these days, save amongst the Elves. I fear it will take more force than our tenuous grasp can muster to kill Draigoch should he return." Nodded Amdir.
"Aye, and that is not counting the recent movements of the enemy. I shudder to think what the Shadow could do with a fully-fledged dragon amongst his minions." I frowned. That had likely been why Gandalf had been involved with Thorin, after all. To deny Sauron the use of Smaug as a minion.
"We can only hope it doesn't come to that." Nodded Amdir.
"Well, good hunting, Amdir. May the Valar guide your steps. It sounds like you'll need it." I intoned.
"Aye, my thanks." Nodded Amdir, patting me on the shoulder.
Then my Ranger companion was gone and I was left to my own devices. Naturally, I gravitated toward the dice game. I always did have something of a weakness for gambling, and it wasn't like I couldn't afford to lose a few Castars at the moment. I headed off toward the table where the Dwarves and Men were gambling.
"May I join you?" I asked.
"Have you coin to play?" Asked one of the Dwarves, a crimson bearded warrior in a breastplate worked with the typical sigils you'd see in the Norse-inspired Firebeards, Broadbeams, or Longbeards.
"Aye, I have coin enough." I replied, reaching into my haversack of holding and pulling out my bulging purse of Castars.
"I have no objections, manling. If you can pay, you can play. I cannot speak for my companions, though." Nodded the Red-bearded Dwarf.
"I don't see why not." Offered the other dwarf, this one clad in a scale hauberk with the Slavic-inspired sigils of the Stonefoot Clan, beard black as coal.
"Sure, stranger, have a seat." Smiled a short, auburn-haired, Human woman in black leathers.
"Aye, we need another player, since Cadwallon decided that his stomach needed filling more than his purse." Grinned a man with Dunedain features clad in chainmail armor that looked similar to that of Gondorian make I had seen.
The large Dunlanding over at the bar paused his conversation with the Stoor to offer a rude gesture to the Gondorian at the table, prompting a round of chuckles. The last man at the table, a blonde-haired Rohirric in banded mail just nodded after that.
"It seems Cadwallon doesn't mind either. Take a seat, Stranger. The game is Stag's Dice, do you know how to play?" Asked the Rohirrhic Man.
"Aye, I'm familiar." I nodded. I was familiar with it as the local variant of a game from earth called Buck Dice.
"Good. We were just about to start a new game. I assume you can cover the twenty Castar initial stakes?" Asked the Gondorian.
"Aye." I nodded, taking twenty of the silver coins and throwing them into the pot. The other five players did so as well and we got to the mulligan to establish the point.
"Lena it's your turn to mulligan." Nodded the Gondorian, as he handed the trio of wooden six-sided dice to the Auburn-haired woman.
"Right. What's your name, Stranger?" Questioned the Woman, Lena, as she threw the dice, getting a 3-1-2 and forcing everyone to put twenty more Castars into the pot.
"Brand of Dale." I answered as Lena threw again, this time getting a 1-2-2. We had to each put another twenty Castars in.
"Nice to meet you, Brand. I'm Lena Rushlight of Bree, this is Aethelmund Scefing of the Westmarch, Bor son of Snorri of Frerin's Court, Pavel son of Vladimir of Kechel, Cadwallon ap Lewellyn of the Stag Clan is over at the bar, and our leader, Sir Ecthelion the Quick of Pelargir." Introduced Lena pointing to each of the people at the table and their Dunlanding companion at the bar.
"Adventurers?" I asked.
"A better term than sell-swords, I'll give you that." Grinned Sir Ecthelion.
Lena rolled again, this time getting a six, which was an acceptable point number. The dice were handed off to Pavel, to begin with, and the game began in earnest. The goal of the game was to get to fifteen points to win the game. Each time you rolled the point, you got one point added to your total score. Two points in a single throw was called a little stag and gave you five points. Three dice coming up the same number was also a little stag unless that number was the point. If you rolled 3 point numbers in a single throw, you got what was called a big stag and automatically won.
As Pavel threw, I answered Sir Ecthelion. "I say that because I am in the same business. Professional courtesy, and all that." I grinned.
"Indeed? Well, it's certainly a good time for our line of work. We're on our way south from Breeland, heading to Rohan and the troubles they've been having with some of the Dunlanding Clans raiding the frontiers." Nodded Sir Ecthelion.
"Oh? What was going on in Breeland?" I pressed.
"They had a bit of a goblin problem. A tribe of goblins decided to take up residence in the ruins of Crick in the Midgewater Marshes. The Mayor decided it would be easier to pay sellswords to clear them out, rather than march the Guard into disease and goblin-infested swamp. It was good coin, five hundred silver Oak-leaves for clearing the ruins plus whatever salvage we found." Grinned Sir Ecthelion.
"Aye, and we found salvage a-plenty. The little sneak-thieves had been busy. Not just silver either, though there was plenty of that to be found in their den." Affirmed Bor.
"Indeed, how such poorly disciplined rabble overwhelmed your kin I'll never know. Still, we managed to grab some good dwarf-made equipment out of it. Your breastplate, my new axe, Aethelmund's armor, Ecthelion's new belt, and a pair of daggers for Lena." Grinned Pavel.
"I note you did not mention Cadwallon." I pointed out.
"Cadwallon only took equipment from foes he killed personally. The Goblin Chieftain had a greataxe that could easily cleave a horse in twain and gave the foul creature otherworldly speed made of razor-sharp blackened steel. Cadwallon faced the Goblin Chieftain while Sir Ecthelion and I fought his sorcerous advisor and Pavel, Bor, and Lena took on his second in command. Cadwallon slew the Chieftain with a mighty blow, and claimed its axe for his own." Shrugged Aethelmund.
"It sounds like quite a tale." I said.
"Perhaps we should start from the beginning? Then you can tell us a tale of your own?" Suggested Lena.
And that was how the next hour and a half passed. Swapping tales over the game of dice. The competition for the dice game was fierce, even as the entire table seemed friendly enough. Bor and I were jockeying for the victory, while Aethelmund and Lena fought to catch up. Sir Ecthelion and Pavel were far behind, however. Sir Ecthelion had yet to even score a single point.
By the time a victor was declared, Bor and Lena had swapped positions in the rankings and Lena was only one point away from overtaking me. Unfortunately for everyone else, I managed to roll the final two points I needed for victory in a row, taking the entire pot of three hundred and sixy Castars for myself. Poor Sir Ecthelion had failed to even score a single point, which forced him to throw in a further twenty Castars into the pot.
"Damnation, I was sure I had you at the end there!" Chuckled Lena.
"It was a hard-fought battle. Allow me to buy you all a round as thanks. It is what a gracious victor would do, no?" I hedged.
"Aye, Brand that certainly takes the sting out." Grinned Bor.
Along with the ale, I ordered some venison stew and soon enough it was closing in on six o'clock at night, leaving me with precious little time to hunt for pelts before sunset. I bid my farewells to the group of sell-swords and headed out to try and at least take a single pelt today. As it would turn out, it wouldn't be but fifteen minutes out in the wild lands before I ran into an animal that would make a fine pelt. I almost missed it, distracted as I was by the time limit. I was making my way up a section of wooded hills fifteen minutes southeast of Harndirion when I happened to glance at a small cave in the rocky hillside just as the sunset shone through the trees to illuminate the inside.
There, staring back at me was a large golden-pelted, badger-like creature from inside the cave. It was clearly a type of Glutani, a creature that was mentioned briefly in early writings as a large, carnivorous, badger-like creature, that my powers were gamifying into an Aurumvorax from Faerun. I looked at it and it looked back at me. I drew my bow, and it bared its teeth and growled. I moved to nock an arrow and it made ready to pounce. Soon enough, the fight was on.
I would either get my pelt or it would gore me. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah, imagine my surprise when I went looking for something that Brand's Powers could gamify into an Aurumvorax and found a creature similar enough to work!
As for the Sellswords in the Tavern. This won't be the last we'll see of them. I plan for them to have a recurring guest spot going forward. Their primary function is going to be to show that even if Brand makes things better in areas he travels, there are still a whole lot of problems across Middle-Earth that need solving.
Think of them as a litmus test for how strong Sauron's Forces are getting. If they show up and mention shit going bad elsewhere, that's an indication that the power of the Shadow is on the rise elsewhere.
At any rate, the next chapter will have the fight with the Aurumvorax. Stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Aug 18, 2022
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KnightofTempest
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Aug 8, 2022
#147
I fired a pair of arrows at the Aurumvorax as it pounced at me, both thundering fully into its chest and sizzling away at its breast with alchemical power. The arrows did not slow its pounce, however, as it battered me with a powerful claw swipe that sank into my new boots and tore gouges into my calf. A second claw swipe raked me across the face and drew lines across my cheek, barely having been stopped from tearing my left eye out by my helmet. A third claw swipe caught me in the arm between gauntlet and short, scale sleeve and took a chunk from the meat of my arm. Thankfully, the other three claw swipes spent themselves against my scale hauberk and the bite attack failed to penetrate my gauntlets. I was able to unlimber my shield and longsword to swing away at the foe, dropping my composite bow in the process. My sword smashed down into the Aurumvorax's snout with a vengeance striking a vicious blow to the snout that put out one of the beast's eyes. I felt resistance from the toughened hide, making the blade itself do even less damage than it otherwise would have, though the hit was still vital enough to severely wound the Aurumvorax.
In response, the beast reared up on its hind paws and slashed at me with its front two foreclaws. The first skittered across my shield, but the second was able to clamp onto my arm and cut a gash across my elbow. The Aurumvorax attempted to bear me to the ground where it could easily chew my throat out. For a moment it looked as if it would do so before I levered my longsword into position for a slice at its now-vulnerable throat. The Aurumvorax abandoned its grapple attempt to avoid having its throat cut, instead taking the cut to the shoulder. It let out a snarling growl as it realized that getting in close to grab me was only going to result in pain. Instead, The Arumvorax chose to back away.
It readied itself for another pounce and flurry of attacks, after getting some distance. Instead of letting it do so, I decided to press my attack, coming in with a powerful, charging, cut as it leaped to pounce. Normally, this sort of attack wouldn't work on an Aurumvorax with their six legs giving them an advantage. In mid-leap however, those legs afforded them no extra stability. My cut caught the Aurumvorax dead on in mid pounce, striking it full on the chest and swatting it aside and down into a small gully 10 feet down the hillside. It roared in pain and rage as it scrabbled back up the rocky hillside, giving me time enough to retrieve my bow and fire another pair of arrows at it. The first arrow sunk into its flank, even as the second shattered against its dense, golden hide. It roared in pain as it climbed up the last bit of hillside, sprang up, and tried to bite my throat out. I janked to the side in time to avoid getting my throat bit out, but it clamped onto my shield arm and dug its fangs in deep, bearing me to the ground.
As I fell to the ground, I dropped my composite bow. Not that I could use it with one arm currently being worried bloody between the beast's jaws. The thing was clamping down so tightly that blood was gushing out of my arm! I scrabbled for something, anything, to get this fucking beast off of me before it killed me! I prayed to Tulkas as my hands closed around the hilt of an unfamiliar implement. I didn't want to die here, to this thing! With a shout of defiance and a hint of desperation, I plunged the implement into the Aurumvorax's snout with all my remaining might. I struck it in the other eye, and there was a sizzling noise. The Aurumvorax stilled and let go of my arm, which promptly pumped another gush of blood onto the stones.
"Shit! Fuck! Fuck! Shit!" I shouted, dropping whatever implement I had used for the killing blow and desperately reaching into my bag of holding for my last bottle of Athelas Essence to staunch the bleeding and heal some of my wounds. I would bleed out if I didn't get to it quickly enough. Thankfully, the bag provided and I immediately popped the cork on the potion and gulped down the green liquid. The mystical healing properties of the Athelas Essence stopped me from bleeding out and healed at least some of my wounds. I lay there, panting at the near-death experience, just exulting in the fact that I was going to live. It wasn't until a few moments later that I spotted the implement that saved me. It was the darkwood and obsidian Druedain dagger. It must have been more than slight magical, judging by the corrosive liquid that had spilled out of the ruined eye socket to scour the stone, it was likely to be a corrosive weapon. It fit their MO of using poisoned weapons.
"Holy shit, I'm keeping you on me as a reserve weapon from now on." I muttered, placing the Druedain dagger in my boot sheath.
Judging from the position of the sun, it was around six-twenty in the evening. Sunset was fast turning into night. I got to work getting to my spoils. Most of the spoils of an Aurumvorax were in its corpse. The hide could be made into all manner of mystical equipment, the bones had up to two-hundred pounds of gold grafted onto them that could be gotten at by burning, and the eyes were useful in making potions of clairvoyance or clairaudience. They also were known for attacking travelers, so it was possible there might be more loot in the cave further back on the hillside.
"Well, the eyes are a bust, but I might be able to get the other stuff." I muttered as I took out my skinning knife and got to work. Some twenty minutes of concentration later, I was able to get the hide off in a single, intact, piece. Ten minutes after that, I had the skinned corpse burning on a pyre. By the time seven-forty-five in the evening rolled around, and the sun had well and truly set, I had some ninety pounds of raw gold from the burned corpse stashed away in my bag. I'd give the den a brief once over, and then head back to Harndirion.
The inside of the Aurumvorax Den smelled musky with a hint of what I would call crud vapors. Sure enough, I spotted a secondary burrow right off the main chamber where it looked like my defeated foe had done its business on a regular basis. Near the front of the den lay a pile of bones that had been gnawed on, which was precisely what I had been looking for. Unfortunately, these were not the bones of any would-be hero or adventurer, but from rooting around in the pile, it was clear that they had likely been a traveling dwarf merchant. I found several cut gemstones that had likely been set in gold before the Aurumvorax had devoured both backing and merchant alike.
A golden yellow topaz surrounded by a quartet of polished amber stones that had likely once been set in a gold chain, a violet garnet and two accompanying red garnets that looked to have once been part of a ring, and the most expensive find, a flawless black opal surrounded by a quartet of black pearls and a trio of sardonyx stones that had likely been set in a medallion or large brooch of some kind. Altogether, this was around four-thousand-seven-hundred-fifty Castars worth of gemstones. I could only imagine what they would have been worth with the backing as well.
I slipped the gemstones into my bag of holding with an apologetic shrug to the dwarven bones I had found them near. "Sorry for purloining your wares, so friend, but you can't take it with you." I shrugged.
It was then that I heard a plaintive cry from a smaller chamber far back from the main chamber. I frowned. What were the odds that the Aurumvorax I'd just killed had a kit and had only attacked me so savagely because of that?
The cry came out again and my frown deepened. Had I just orphaned some poor Aurumvorax Kit? I crept further back into the burrow towards the mewling. The light of the moon and stars outside barely came through cracks in the stone or from the entrance to the burrow. The low light environment clouded my sight and made me have to feel my way across the cavern floor in a slow process in order to reach the source of the plaintive cries.
"This darkness could be a problem. I sort of wish Tulkas had bestowed a low light vision helmet on me along with the bag of holding. He clearly could have managed it." I grumbled as I inched towards the secondary chamber.
As if on cue, however, my vision cleared and I found the faint wisps of moon and starlight just enough to see clearly. Wait? Had I just cast a spell? By invoking Tulkas, even in a grumbling way? That meant I had just gained a level! I was now a fighter two/ranger four and could cast spells! True only first-level ones and only as many as my wisdom modifier per day, but that was still a heck of a lot more than most folks! I'd have to go over my character sheet before bed to pick a feat and skills.
Unfortunately, as if to put a damper on my joyous revelation of a level up, I turned the corner into a short tunnel den. At the end of the tunnel, I found the source of the mewling. It was a small, cute, golden-furred, loaf of an Aurumvorax Kit. It couldn't be more than four months old, still dependent on its mom to feed it and help it grow. If I remembered right, Aurumvorax needed a constant stream of gold for the first two weeks of life to ensure they survived long enough to be fully fledged kits. Then they would grow with their parents for six years after that, eating meat and copper, as well as gold in smaller amounts, after which they'd be fully grown. This kit was only four months old, and I'd just killed its mom.
Crap, I felt like the bad guy here. The Aurumvorax kit let out a mewling cry and I decided right then and there that I had to take responsibility. Aurumvorax were trainable if you got them as kits and at fourth level, I'd be able to take on an animal companion anyway. This Kit's mom may be dead, but hopefully, I could be a good enough substitute dad. Silently, I prayed to be able to speak with animals. As if on cue, the mewling squeaks I heard from the Kit turned into words.
"Mom? You're not mom? Where is mom?" Asked the Aurumvorax Kit.
"Your mom is gone kiddo, she wanted to make sure you were ok, which meant she had to go." I frowned. It wasn't even technically a lie. She had pounced on me to protect this kit.
"Go? Where mom go?" Inquired the Kit, snuffling at me.
"Far away. I'm going to take care of you from now on. Make sure you grow up big and strong. Your mom would have wanted you to grow big and strong." I answered.
"Smell food on you. Mom tell you bring food for me?" Questioned the Aurumvorax kit, snuffling around at my feet.
"Sure kid, I've got some food for you." I nodded, reaching into my bag of holding and coming out with the small gold bracelet I'd taken off of the corsair corpse, a few copper coins, and some boar bacon.
"Food smell nice, thanks, mister!" Beamed the Aurumvorax Kit as it began to snuffle up the provided food with a series of noises that speak with animals were telling me meant the kit was happily eating.
"The name's Brand, kid. Think of me as sort of like an older littermate. I'm going to look after you from now on. You got a name?" I queried.
"Mom called Sniffwise, cause like to 'splore with sniffer. Mom not let me 'splore too much outside den, though." Replied the Aurumvorax Kit, proudly.
"Well, then Sniffwise, this is your lucky day, cause we're headed to a big human town outside the den." I responded.
"Humans have much food! Let me grow big and strong!" Beamed Sniffwise.
"Well then, finish up, and let's head out." I nodded.
Sniffwise finished snacking on the last copper coin and immediately jumped up onto my back, wriggling into a position on my shoulder. Given he wasn't much bigger than a kitten and I was currently able to bear his weight, which wouldn't be the case as he grew, I decided to let him.
"Come on, Brand! Time to 'splore!" Called Sniffwise from his perch on my shoulder.
"Sure thing, kid. Let's go." I nodded.
Together, Sniffwise and I headed back into Harndirion, ready for the first leg of our shared adventure. . .
XXXX
AN: Yes, I gave him a cute animal companion to tug at all your heartstrings. Sniffwise plushy coming soon. . .
I tried spelling out everything this time around by popular demand and it took me more time and hassle than it usually does. I might save spelling out full numbers with words for just numerals one to ten in the future.
At any rate, next up we'll be on day two of Brand's stay in Harndirion. Training Sniffwise during the morning, followed by helping Amdir against the drakes in the afternoon.
After that will be the attempt to convince Captain Baradir to send a scout to Orthanc to investigate the Tower.
Stay tuned . . .
Last edited: Aug 10, 2022
153
KnightofTempest
Aug 8, 2022
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