Log in Register
Remove this ad space
If you are interested in interactive stories, check out our Quests section! With Quests, readers get to vote on what happens next after every chapter.
The thread list user interface for Creative Writing and Quests has been updated. Here's what's new!
Creative Writing
The Lord of the D20: Or How I became a Fighter in Middle Earth (3.5 D /LOTR SI)
Thread starter KnightofTempest Start date Jul 5, 2022 Tags dungeons & dragons lord of the rings (middle-earth) self insert earth fighter
First
Prev
2 of 3
Next
Last
Threadmarks
Informational
View content
Remove this ad space
Threadmarks Chapter 10
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Aug 10, 2022
#166
I spent the next morning training Sniffwise, figuring out what he could already do, and trying to teach him tricks to plug in the gaps. I found out that he was already very good at finding hidden stuff, as he found the copper coin, ounce of raw gold, and boar jerky I hid behind some bushes outside the Argent Branch right away. Of course, he tucked into the hidden meal with delight, but not before I tested him for other tricks. In addition to finding hidden objects, he also knew how to guard me, as evidenced when he fluffed up protectively and growled at Sir Ecthelion when he approached me looking for a sparring partner for his morning drill.
"What is that?" Hissed Sir Ecthelion as he drew up short at Sniffwise's growl.
"That is Sniffwise, my new companion. He's protective of me." I answered.
"That is some sort of mutant glutani. . ." Frowned Sir Ecthelion.
"He's trainable, watch. Sniffwise, no! Sir Ecthelion is a friend!" I cajoled Sniffwise.
The Aurumvorax Kit in question paused his growling then cocked his head at me inquisitively. Over our link, I could get the impression he was confused. I sent reassurance down the link and he backed down, sniffling at Sir Ecthelion. The Knight in question still seemed hesitant, even after I had just displayed my animal handling prowess.
"Hold out your hand so he gets used to your scent." I said.
"And that will work, will it?" Questioned Sir Ecthelion.
"If you act suspicious, he's not going to trust you." I pressed.
Sir Ecthelion frowned before saying, "Very well, but if he bites at me, I'm putting him down."
Sir Ecthelion took his leather gauntlet off and held out his hand for Sniffwise to sniff. The Aurumvorax Kit's sniffer took a couple of whiffs of Sir Ecthelion's hand before he snuffled into it, licking his hand and generally being friendly. Across our link, I felt Sniffwise radiate happiness at a new friend. I sent back good vibes and Sniffwise sent back more happiness. This was only exacerbated by Sir Ecthelion.
"He's a friendly fellow, isn't he? And handsome too. I've never seen a coat that particular color before." Smiled Sir Ecthelion.
Sniffwise preened at the praise and radiated happiness down our mental link. I sent amusement back down the link as I chuckled at the sight of my Aurumvorax preening at what a good boy he was being.
"Careful, too much praise will go to his head." I grinned.
"He can understand us?" Queried Sir Ecthelion.
"Me more than you, as I've bonded to him. He'll still understand you as much as a hound would, though. He's pretty smart." I insisted.
Soon enough, however, my morning's training of Sniffwise and Sir Ecthelion's astonishment of a trainable and friendly glutani would be interrupted by grim tidings. A shout came out from the walls as a flurry of activity over near the gates could be seen. Across our mental link, Sniffwise sent me an inquisitive impression before sniffing the air and hissing. Flashes of danger came across the mental link and I sent him soothing reassurances and got him to back down.
"I think, perchance we should see what that is about." Mused Sir Ecthelion.
"Agreed. Sniffwise, follow." I intoned.
The three of us headed over toward the throng of people near the gates, pushing our way through the crowds of civilians before reaching a line of grim-faced Rangers clad in leathers and mail. As we made our way to that line I spotted the source of the commotion. Amdir had returned, though he was wounded gravely. Part of his hair was singed off and his green Ranger's cloak little more than burnt tatters. His left arm bore third-degree burns from where he had tried to brace a shield against flames. His leather armor was pierced through at the shoulder where a bite mark showed dagger-like teeth had pierced armor and shoulder alike. He was covered in a thin coating of dark red ichor that steamed in the open air.
"Fire Drakes, seven of them. I managed to get one before the rest attacked me. I barely got away with my life." Gasped Amdir, in pain.
"Where? Did you see any eggs?" Questioned Sir Ecthelion.
"Hills south of Zudrugund. No eggs. Nests new. Spotted several skulls. Have to stop them before they wake Draigoch." Huffed out Amdir before passing out.
I looked at Sir Ecthelion. "I'm willing to risk my neck to kill these drakes. How about your group?" I asked.
"Even if the Drakes don't have much in the way of material goods, their hides, blood, and other body parts are useful in a number of things. I could get several thousand Castars for a single drake hide at most master armorers. Drake blood is useful in all sorts of potions and medicines, I could get several hundred Castars a pint. That's without going into claws, teeth, horns, and the like." Mused Sir Ecthelion.
"Would that be enough to convince your group?" I questioned.
"Oh, aye. I'd estimate a conservative haul of 25,000 Castars per butchered Drake, times 6 drakes, is 150,000 Castars. That's enough money to buy yourself a small fiefdom in most nations and the title to go with it. Not Gondor, mind, but the Westmarch of Rohan? Dale? Bree-land? Aye, I'd think they'd want in." Grinned Sir Ecthelion.
"Good, cause they need killing. I'd rather we do it and spare the Rangers any further casualties. The grasp of goodly folk on Enedwaith is tenuous enough without losses to fire drakes on top of Dunlanding raids, Giant attacks, and whatever else might occur." I nodded.
As we spoke, an apothecary came hobbling out of the town to take a look at Amdir, accompanied by a pair of young apprentices. The apothecary was old even for Dunedain, weathered and wrinkled, with gray hair done up in a bun tied together with a stick of holly. Her apprentices looked to be maybe sixteen if that. Looks could be deceiving with Dunedain however. The Apothecary bulled her way through the crowd with the strength of an elder who has zero time for the foolishness of the young and regarded her patient up close.
"Breathing is shallow but steady. Shoulder wound seems pre-cauterized. Valar willing, he will pull through if proper care is applied." Diagnosed the Apothecary.
As she started barking orders to her apprentices, the apothecary produced a foul-smelling greenish-blue salve that she smeared over the various burns across Amdir's body. Then she produced a poultice that smelled faintly of mold and applied it to the bite wound, before wrapping the shoulder with linen bandages soaked in a liquid that smelt faintly of ammonia. Once that was done, she nodded and stood.
"He will not be fair to look at when healed, but he will live. The salve will cool any fever arising from the drake fire and the poultice will ensure his shoulder doesn't fester. Now it is in Nienna's hands." Intoned the Apothecary.
Her two apprentices gathered up Amdir onto a stretcher and bore him aloft back to the infirmary near the fortress proper. Meanwhile, Sir Ecthelion and I watched them go, aware that this fate may yet befall either of us. The somber mood seemed even to be apparent to Sniffwise, who sent reassurance up our mental link. I sent gratitude back down and soon enough returned to the matter at hand. These drakes needed to be killed or more casualties like this were bound to happen, and they may not be as lucky as Amdir was.
A half an hour after Amdir's arrival, I found myself and Sniffwise accompanying Sir Ecthelion's Adventuring Company out of the gates of Harndirion. Heading east for the hills south of Zudrugund. Hopefully, we would all survive the coming battle. Just in case, I sent a prayer to Tulkas for favor in the clash ahead. If he heard me, I was unsure.
One thing was for certain, this fight would be my toughest yet. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah, impromptu drake hunting adventure. If everyone survives, there should be enough loot for everyone to be happy with the decision. Hell, Sniffwise will level up twice!
The issue is surviving. Even though they aren't full-fledged dragons, Fire Drakes are still more than capable of wiping out the entire group if they aren't careful, lucky, and tenacious enough in the upcoming fight.
With six fire drakes against seven adventurers and an animal companion, the numbers advantage will help a little, but not too much.
You'll all just have to keep reading to see what happens. . .
Last edited: Aug 10, 2022
143
KnightofTempest
Aug 10, 2022
View discussion
Threadmarks Chapter 11
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Aug 13, 2022
#168
Our party came upon the first pair of drakes before we reached the nest at all. A scorched dwarven caravan bearing symbols that looked to belong to one of the clans that used Norse-inspired runes. The pair of them were feasting on the corpses of a trio of guards-dwarves that seemingly had stayed behind with the wagon in order to allow the rest of the caravan a chance to escape north to Zudrugund and safety. One of the drakes seemed to be suffering from an axe wound taken in the subsequent scuffle, favoring its right forelimb and refusing to put too much pressure on it as it tore into the breastplate of a guards-dwarf, cracking open the steel armor as if shelling a lobster.
"Three dwarves against two drakes, they had courage, at least." Frowned Cadwallon, the large Dunlanding tightened his grip on his greataxe.
"Aye, it's a shame they didn't do more than buy time from the looks of things." Nodded Athelmund, unlimbering his steel shield and strangely angular dwarven sword.
"Forget shame! It's a travesty! I recognize the symbols on what's left of those carts! Those are Dwarves of Gondamon, neighbors of mine! To be killed and eaten, peeled out of their armor like prawns, it is shameful!" Growled out Bor, all too ready to charge the drakes with his dwarven waraxe.
"Take heart, they seem to have at least wounded one of the beasts. Look at that one, favoring its leg." Pointed out, Lena, shortbow strung and in easy reach
As the byplay continued, I noticed that Sniffwise's hackles were raised and he was sending bad feelings up our mental link. I sent a query and got the impression that he smelled something bigger than these two drakes further downwind. I sent back reassurance through our link and an image of him sticking close to me. Then I spoke up.
"I hate to interrupt, but Sniffwise seems to smell another, more dangerous drake further out, downwind of here. Likely it's chasing the rest of the caravan. Mayhaps we should kill these two while they are wounded and distracted? Before the larger one comes back?" I insisted.
"Quite right, Brand. Lena, you stay back with your shortbow. Pavel, you have knowledge of the true way of things granted you by Aule. Please, recite for us a benediction." Ordered Sir Ecthelion. Gondorian sword and square, dwarven-steel, shield already drawn and ready.
Pavel nodded and began to intone a chant in words that seemed more than just words. Runekeepers were a thing in LOTRO, but I had no idea how they would mesh with the regular way of things in Arda. It made sense, though, that Aule would give some of his favored children knowledge of the true names of things, and that some of those favored children would pass the knowledge of true names on down the generations. At any rate, my powers seemed to treat him as some form of Cleric, though seemingly not very high level. As Pavel wrapped up his incantation in true speech, I felt an extra measure of strength take hold, as if under the effects of Bless.
With that, the battle was on. I stayed back initially with Lena, firing a pair of arrows at the Wounded Drake, even as Cadwallon let out a wordless battle cry and charged forward, alongside Bor, the Dwarf charging in with a cry of "Baruk Khazad!" Meanwhile, Sir Ecthelion and Aethelmund charged the Unwounded Drake. Pavel seemed to be in the middle of the two groups, acting as a pivot and occasionally swinging his axe at a drake if it got too close.
My pair of arrows were not the normal, alchemical type. Those would not damage a creature immune to their flames, but they found their marks, all the same, thundering into the Wounded Drake's shoulders just below the wings. At the same time, Bor and Cadwallon swung their weapons into the Beast, Cadwallon striking twice with otherworldly speed. Both the Big Dunlanding and the Firebeard Dwarf seemed to take burns on their arms from the sheer act of making contact with a being whose body temperature was the same as the average bonfire, but both struck true. Cadwallon's magical axe cut deep into the Drake's flesh both times, whereas Bor's mundane, though high-quality, waraxe barely scratched the toughened scales. Cadwallon's axe managed to open great rents in the Drake's flank and wound it badly. In its anger at being wounded, the drake lashed out with its full might, biting at Cadwallon, clawing at him, and swiping at him with its tail. The Drake tore into Cadwallon with its full might wounding him with tooth, claw, and flame, before bowling him over with its tail. Miraculously, Cadwallon stood back up after such taking brutal punishment, seemingly ready for another go.
This time, however, Cadwallon's axe only managed to find purchase once on the Drake, his follow-through swing turning against the toughened hide. Similarly, Bor's waraxe ricocheted off of a thick patch of scales. I knocked another pair of arrows and fired, one skidding off one of the Drake's horns, but the other burying itself in the Drake's left eye, running the orb and piercing into its brain, killing it. Our group turned to see how the other fight was unfolding. Sir Ecthelion and Athelmund seemed to be wounded and burned, though not nearly as badly as Cadwallon had been, taking the full brunt of a Drake's ire all by himself. In exchange, their Drake seemed to have a few wounds going up its flanks and a trio of arrows sticking out of its back. As I shifted targets, and Bor and Cadwallon moved to reinforce, the Drake struck out with its claws at Athelmund and its maw at Sir Ecthelion. Sir Ecthelion managed to interpose his shield in front of the oncoming Drake Maw, but Aethelmund took a wound from a claw catching him between pauldron and rearbrace. For finishers, the Drake swung out with its tail at Bor, who was charging its flank and caught the stocky dwarf full on in the chest, knocking him down.
That was when Sir Ecthelion let out a shout and struck the Drake with a powerful blow with his longsword that managed to cleave into its skull, killing it. The fight was over already, and we had wounded. No sooner had Pavel begun to recite invocations to Aule in the true speech to patch the worst of our wounds, however, than a roar sounded out from the north. Sniffwise's hackles raised immediately, as he ducked behind my legs. He sent a vague impression of a big threat incoming down our mental link and I had to send reassurance back, attempting to calm him so that he didn't run in the face of an incoming threat.
That's when it appeared from out of the sky. It was notably another fire drake, though somehow this one seemed to be more than the others. Larger, fiercer, more possessed of draconic traits. Had I not known otherwise, I might have mistaken it for a young red dragon. It swooped down on our group with a roar and an attempt to claw one of us in a flyby attack. Fortunately, Lena seemingly had the same idea as I did.
"Aim for the wings!" She shouted, firing a pair of arrows at the membrane of the Drake's wings. I followed suit, and Pavel intoned a chant to Aule in true speech, manifesting a cloud of knives around him, releasing a knife from the cloud to shoot at the diving drake. The three of us managed to tear into the thick leathery membrane of the Drake's wings, forcing it to crash land short of the still wounded Aethelmund, its intended target. The fight wound continue on the ground as Cadwallon, Bor, Sir Ecthelion, and Aethelmund would charge the Drake and engaged it in melee. Cadwallon was the first of the party to reach the Drake and he struck out with all his might, scoring a deep gash into the side of the Drake on his first swing, only for his follow-through to skid off a patch of thickened hide. Sir Ecthelion, Aethelmund, and Bor all had less success than Cadwallon, with Aethelmund managing a slight hit with his dwarven blade. Sir Ecthelion's sword was dodged aside from as the sinuous neck of the Drake weaved away from it, and Bor only managed to do superficial damage to one of the Drake's horns.
In response, the Drake attacked Aethelmund with claws and tail, while it moved to bite Sir Ecthelion. Athelmund, already wounded, was too slow to interpose his shield and wound up taking both claws and the tail full on. The claws speared into Aethelmund's legs just below the armored skirt and the tail slammed into him, knocking him to the ground in a bloodied mess. He didn't get up from that. Meanwhile, Sir Ecthelion was grazed by the snapping jaws of the Drake, heat searing at his forearm. The drake might have taken the arm altogether if not for the way Sir Ecthellion managed to skip back in the nick of time, losing only skin. That wasn't where his focus was at the moment, however.
"Pavel! Help Aethelmund!" Ordered Sir Ecthelion.
The Stonefoot Dwarf nodded, firing off a last knife at the Drake as he ran over to the downed Rohirrim and began attempting to stabilize the dying man. The mystical knife stuck into the Drake even as I fired another pair of arrows at it. Only one of my arrows hit it, though, the other snapping in twain against the thickly scaled hide. Cadwallon struck out with his greataxe, but his strength seemed to be flagging somewhat compared to earlier, as he failed to score a single wound for the first time since combat began. Bor did better, cutting into the Drake's tail with his waraxe. Lena's pair of arrows failed to penetrate as she fired them from behind the Drake only to hit the thick spiny scales along the Drake's back, which stopped them cold.
In response, the Drake focused its efforts on Cadwallon, whose battle fury seemed to have left him in a state of fatigue now that it was over with. Miraculously, Cadwallon dodged the bite attack, only to be struck with one of the claws and the tail and fall to the ground, unconscious and bleeding, but not dead yet. I fired two more arrows into the beast in response, hoping to hit something vital and end this before another party member was downed. As it happened, my second arrow wound up thundering into the Drake's open maw and embedding itself in the soft palate, spearing into its brain stem and killing it.
With the third, largest Drake finally dead, I took stock of the battlefield. Sir Ecthelion and Bor were wounded, Cadwallon and Aethelmund were down, and Pavel would exhaust his remaining spells just healing everyone to a sufficient level. There were also three more drakes in their nest further east from here. "Do we have Pavel heal us the best he can and press on, or do we come back another day?" I asked.
Sir Ecthelion frowned at that, "Pavel, what do you think? Will your true speech serve to mend our wounds?" He queried.
"You and Bor? Almost certainly. Cadwallon and Aethelmund need more than just what I can bring to bear in the field though. Aethelmund is half dead as it is, and Cadwallon would have bled out. Just stabilizing them took one of the more powerful incantations I am capable of, as did the Cloud of Knives. Healing everyone will likely take the rest of my allotment, leaving me with very few of the Incantations of Mahal left of those I am currently able to perform. Even then, Cadwallon and Aethelmund will likely only be at half strength." Answered Pavel.
"Then perhaps we should finish here for the day and return tomorrow?" I asked.
"Aye. Let's butcher these drakes, salvage what we can of the battlefield, and return to Harndirion." Nodded Ecthelion.
I nodded, took out my skinning knife, and went to work. Surprisingly, I was joined by Bor and Pavel, though given how the Dwarves were known for craftsdwarfship, I suppose it shouldn't come as too much of a shock. An hour later, we had not only 3 full drake hides, but also several gallons of drake blood preserved in clay containers with an application of a few syllables of true speech from Pavel, 12 drake claws, 6 drake horns, 3 drake skeletons, and 3 sets of drake teeth. Bor had even harvested several pounds of drake sinews, while Pavel had harvested hearts and livers.
From the Caravan came a small number of masterwork weapons and shields along with a lockbox containing 12,000 Castars worth of mixed dwarven coins from the Blue Mountains, Gray Mountains, and White Mountains holds. One of the Dwarven Shields I claimed for my own, it was a large, square, thing made of finely crafted dwarf-steel with the image of a thunderbolt engraved on it in brass. Intricately worked Khuzdul runes outlined the thunderbolt and I could tell it was magical. I claimed it and the hide of the larger, more draconic, drake for my own, along with an equal share of the coins in the lockbox and a bit of drake meat for Sniffwise. Everything else, the others were free to claim. These I shoved into my bag of holding while the others assembled what looked to be some kind of portable travois to carry the remainder back to town. It was an ingenious device that I wasn't surprised in the least to learn was Dwarven in origin.
Once that was finished, Pavel intoned an incantation in true speech to heal Aethelmund and Cadwallon enough to make the trip back to Harndirion and we headed off. By the time we arrived in the fortress town, the sun had begun to set, thanks to the pace set by our need to drag a loaded travois with us. I parted ways with Sir Ecthelion's company, feeding Sniffwise a meal of Drake meat, raw gold, and a few copper coins and leaving him in the room I'd rented to eat while I headed off to Badhordam's quartermaster's office. When I arrived, I pulled out both the large Drake Hide, but also the Aurumvorax hide from Sniffwise's mom. Badhordam's eyes became the size of dinner plates as he saw this.
"I don't care who you give the glutani pelt to, I don't need it. I do, however, want armor made of the drake hide." I said.
"There's enough drake hide here for a suit and a half of armor, or possibly a Man-sized suit and a Stoor-sized suit, and you're just giving the glutani hide out? For free?" Questioned Bardhordam in disbelief.
"Aye, and you may keep the excess drake hide for use in a shield. In exchange, I would like 250 Castars and a set of small normal leathers for my newest companion." I nodded.
"This would be the small glutani kit I've heard about?" Questioned Bardhordam.
"Aye, I will bring him in for a supervised fitting. He's well trained, just be gentle and don't display the glutani hide when he's here." I affirmed.
"You'll forgive me if I ask a Ranger to be present in case he turns feral on me. I require my fingers for my work." Replied Badhordam, flatly.
"Sniffwise is a good boy, I'm sure it won't come to that. If it makes you feel better, however, then by all means." I intoned.
"Drake hide armor is going to be different than winter wolf armor. I can make scale mail out of it, for one thing. For another, it will have different properties. I can keep the endurance of the elements bit, but you won't be moving over ice and snow with abandon from Drakehide. I think instead it will better protect you from fire and flames." Cautioned Badhordam.
"That's fine. Have you started on the winter wolf armor yet?" I asked.
"Luckily for you, I haven't. I finished your cloak on schedule but when Amdir came in wounded this morning, I had to switch my focus towards supplying the Apothecary with a steady supply of various herbs and bandages instead. Why?" Asked Badhordam.
"Because you can make me boots out of the winter wolf hide that will allow me freedom of movement over ice and snow like the armor instead with the hide." I answered.
"Aye, I can do that. Should only be another couple of days before I can get everything done. In the meantime, your cloak and Castars." Shrugged Badhordam.
He went not the back room and took out a beautiful white-furred winter wolf cloak complete with a wolf's head hood. He also grabbed a lockbox, before heading back to the front. He handed over the cloak, which I swapped for my current one, and I handed him the Drake and Aurumvorax hides. Then he counted out 250 Castars from the steel lockbox, put them into a small purse, and handed that to me. Once everything was exchanged and my business had concluded here, I bid Badhordam a good evening and made my way back to the Argent Branch for a dinner of vegetable soup, bread, and good brown ale. By the time I got back to my room for the evening, Sniffwise was already fast asleep. I knew how he felt after the day I'd had.
After all, I was so dead tired that I didn't even notice that Sniffwise had leveled up before falling into a deep sleep. . .
XXXX
AN: Ok, yeah, I know the whole Runekeeper thing might be a stretch, but it's me trying to work in a Cleric-type so that they didn't all die from Drake attack. Plus there is some precedence for Runekeepers in the lore.
In this case, Pavel is technically a Cleric of Aule, who forged the Dwarves in ancient days beneath Mount Gundobad. I'm using the Lotro-class as an abstraction. I tried to pick at least a few spells for him that fit Aule's theme of crafts, such as cloud of knives which created a cloud of throwing knives that hurl themselves at an opponent within 30 feet every round.
The shield that Brand picked up from the destroyed caravan was a 1 Large Steel Shield of Electricity Resistance. It gives him resistance 10 to electricity. His winter wolf cloak gives him resistance 10 to cold, and once he has his drakescale armor, he'll also have resistance 10 to fire.
Just picking up a lot of resistances here.
Anyway, the next chapter will be the second part of the Drakehunt. Stay tuned. . .
122
KnightofTempest
Aug 13, 2022
View discussion
Threadmarks Chapter 12
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Aug 18, 2022
#177
Our party healed up quickly enough. Between the long rest, Pavel's Aule-given abilities, and a pair of bottles of Athelas essence out of the six bottles we had purchased from the Apothecary, we were ready and able to hunt the last trio of Drakes by two in the afternoon the next day. It was at this time that I noticed that Sir Ecthelion had a new sword. Instead of the finely crafted Gondorian Longsword he'd used yesterday, this was a finely crafted Dwarven longsword inscribed with Khuzdul runes that glowed with a soft, white light. When I enquired as to the nature of the enchantment, Pavel was the one who answered.
"It is a holy blade, marked with the Symbol of Mahal. It will be far more effective against servants of the enemy than his Gondorian weapon, including drakes." Answered Pavel.
"If it's a Dwarven blade with holy significance to Aule, why are you not using it?" I queried.
"My order trains in the use of maces and hammers. I have some skill with an axe, all Dwarves do. Swords though? No, I have no training in such a weapon. Better it be in the hands of one who will use it than gather dust in my traveling pack. Besides, my own mace is already magical enough for my needs. Not only is it made with lore gifted to my order by Mahal, but it is made from steel forged in such a way to channel heat away from me and into an opponent. Were these flame drakes not immune to their own flame, you would see me use it more often. As it is now I am more useful using true speech in a support role." Nodded Pavel.
Just then, Sniffwise let out a low growl from his perch on my shoulder and his hackles raised. Before I could question him about it through our mental link though, Bor spoke up from where he'd taken point in our formation to give Cadwallon a break after Yesterday's battle.
"Silence! I smell smoke!" Hissed Bor, drawing a dwarven waraxe that was decidedly different from the mundane, but well-crafted one he'd used yesterday.
Bor may have been the first to smell smoke, but Lena was the first to discover where it was coming from. Creeping between the trees she snuck to the roadside of the Dwarven road leading from Zudrugund to the North-South Road. She peered out of the bushes on the side of the road, taking in the scene before she returned to us further back from the Dwarf road.
"Three dead Aurochs and a dead Dunlanding Shepard up ahead, along with a cart of grain that's been burned. Possibly from Lhanuch looking to sell produce at Zudrugund. Also two more dead Dwarves around twenty feet up the road. Two drakes are sitting on the road. It looks like they're killing anyone who passes by in revenge for their dead fellows." Hissed Lena.
"Only two? There were supposed to be three Drakes remaining." Queried Aethelmund.
"Does it matter? We kill these two and look for the third later." Insisted Cadwallon in hushed tones.
"Unless the last is laying in wait to ambush any who would try and clear the road." Frowned Sir Ecthelion.
"Are they capable of such planning?" Asked Lena.
"Why wouldn't they be? Wargs do similar tactics, and Drakes are hardly less intelligent than wargs." I shrugged, recalling certain scenes in the books and films.
"Aye, Brand is right. We shouldn't underestimate the low cunning possessed by the servants of the enemy. We need a plan." Intoned Sir Ecthelion.
"I will pray to Mahal in the true speech to call down a blessing of aid and a blessing to defend from fire." Offered Pavel.
"Aye, and I will hang back in case of a third Drake. If one does attempt to flank us from ambush, I will distract it with my bow from the treeline on the roadside." Nodded Lena.
"That's a good start, but I feel like a contingency should be in place just in case. Brand, can you join me in melee against the leftmost Drake, whilst Bor and Cadwallon take the right? That way, Aethelmund can cover Lena in the event of a third Drake attack." Asked Sir Ecthelion.
"Aye, I can do that. I'd prefer my bow, but needs must." I nodded.
"Good. Pavel, you're supporting, as usual. This sounds like a plan, let's put it into action." Ordered Sir Ecthelion.
Immediately, Pavel began chanting in true speech, calling upon Aule to call down first a Bless Spell, then a Mass Resist Energy spell. Once that was done, Pavel gave us a warning that the spells would last less than an hour, and to hurry.
"Right, then. Let's do this." I nodded, resisting the urge to shout Leroy Jenkins as I charged into battle alongside the others, sword and shield at the ready. We were fighting Drakes, after all.
Cadwallon's primal shout of fury was enough of a battle cry for all of us, though, so I refrained. The Berserk Dunlanding reached the Rightmost Drake before the rest of us had reached our assigned targets and struck it with a whirling cut of his greataxe that carved a deep, bloody, rent into its side. The Drake roared in surprise at the sudden but inevitable attack and raised a forelimb just in time to deflect Cadwallon's second axe blow with its daggerlike claws. Bor reached the Rightmost Drake next and struck it in the rear leg with his Dwarven Waraxe opening up a smaller gash on its flank.
Then I reached my assigned target, as did Sir Ecthelion. The pair of us struck out at the same time with our blades. Our Drake took a cut from my Longsword on the snout that left a large cut just above its maw and shocked it with electricity, causing the wound to smoke faintly. However, Sir Ecthelion did the worst damage, cleaving into its tail with a powerful blow that almost cleft the appendage in twain, the power of Aule enhancing his new, blocky, Dwarven sword to new heights. The scalding heat from the Drake's body rushed out to lick at us, but fortuitously, Pavel's blessing absorbed any potential flame and continued to function afterward. I felt fresh as a daisy, even though the heat from the spilled drake blood was enough to practically cook the grasses springing up between flagstones of the Dwarven road.
Meanwhile, Pavel invoked Aule in true speech, and the flagstones of the Dwarven road shaped themselves into a trio of spikes that sank into the left forelimb of the Rightmost Drake, doing only a little damage, but trapping the limb so that it could not be used to claw at Cadwallon.
Both Drakes roared out in anger and were answered by a third roar as a third Drake emerged from the wooded hills off to the east of the Dwarf road, flying toward our rear to attempt to pounce upon Cadwallon from the air. Instead, our diligence paid off as a pair of arrows from Lena caught the surprised Drake in the shoulder where the joint between right-wing and shoulder was, forcing it to land short of Cadwallon. Aethelmund came out of the bushes, sword at the ready, and hacked at the Drake, but his blade was deflected by snapping jaws, even as he caught a claw strike to the shield arm in riposte.
Our Drake seemed angered by the very presence of Sir Ecthelion's blade, as it focused the majority of its attention upon the Gondorian Knight, merely sending a claw my way that I parried on my shield. Sir Ecthelion cried out in pain as he took a bite attack to the shoulder that pierced his Gondorian chainmail and depleted his resistance blessing with the steaming jaws. A claw attack he was able to parry with his sword, but the tail swipe caught him full in the chest picking him up off his feet and sending him skidding away. Over near Bor and Cadwallon, Bor had been bowled over by a tail slap at face height for a dwarf which had broken his nose and depleted his flame protection, while Cadwallon had taken a bite and a claw to the arm and lower thigh that had wounded him badly and scorched him after breaking through his flame protection.
Now, however, we struck back, determined to kill these beasts for the greater good. I charged Our Drake's front and thrust out with my blade, intent on dealing as much damage as possible with a powerful blow to take the Drake's attention away from Sir Ecthelion, who was shakily picking himself off the flagstones at the moment. That made him a prime target for the Drake's fury. My gamble paid off as I managed to pierce deep into the Drake's torso, meeting only momentary resistance from the toughened hide and sliding into its chest. My blade must have nicked the heart too, as the Drake began to gush steaming blood and thrash around in its death throes, depleting my flame protection, scalding me, and clawing my sword arm in its last gasp of life. I was forced to let go of my blade in order to avoid being crushed under the bleeding hulk of the Drake's corpse, slowly boiling to death from the steaming blood.
"Shit!" I grumbled as I pulled my bow and knocked an arrow, sighting down on the Second Drake. Bor had managed to pick himself up from the tail slap and launch another cut at the Second Drake, this one struck deep into its rear left leg, hamstringing it. With a shout, Cadwallon threw a trio of arcing, circular, cuts, exerting his utmost capabilities against the Drake. The first cut of his greataxe tore a ragged slice out of its flank, the second cut into its trapped forelimb, while the third, most wild, swing lodged in the toughened hide, doing only a little damage to the enemy. That Drake was on its last legs and desperately fought to get away from the fight, even if it would mean breaking its forelimb at the wrist to escape from the Stoneshaped trap. A bite and claw attack found purchase against Cadawallon's defense, though the tail slap that would have made enough space for the Drake to take flight back to its nest was ducked by the raging Dunlander.
Meanwhile, Lena had been forced to leave the safety of the roadside trees, moving out of cover to remain effective with her shortbow. She fired off a pair of arrows at her opponent as she advanced, but only one found any purchase on her foe, piercing it in the rear left knee joint. Aethelmund's blade was deflected off the leathery hide and the Drake swung out with a pair of claw strikes and a tail whip at the Rohirric Warrior. The Dwarven Breastplate turned aside one of the claw strikes, but Athelmund caught the second in the calf and it pinned him in place long enough for the tail whip to crack into his torso and knock him down. The Drake then took to the air, seeking to escape, even as Pavel finished off the second Drake, rushing in with his mace and raining the beast with a vicious blow.
The Third Drake, now alone, flew off to the east, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor. Meanwhile, we had wounded, some quite badly. Pavel desperately poured healing power into Cadwallon before his berserker fortitude left him and forced him into unconsciousness. Managing to get him back up to halfway fighting fit even after the last vestiges of his berserker vitality left him by invoking Aule in frantic true speech. Sir Ecthelion drank one of the remaining Athelas essence bottles and managed to get into a similar state of halfway ready for another fight as Cadwallon, though without the fatigue. Athelmund was just as bad off as Cadwallon had been, having been mauled by his opponent, but without the benefit of berserker rage to lend him extra vitality. He required the last of Pavel's most powerful healing powers to get back to halfway healthy. In the meantime, I and Bor drank the last four Athelas essence bottles and were able to get back to mostly full health.
"What now? The last one got away." Pointed out, Bor.
"Help me retrieve my sword and the pair of us can go after it with Lena. Sir Ecthelion, Pavel, Athelmund, and Cadwallon should stay here and do something less stressful, like butcher these drakes for parts." I said, putting my shoulder into the corpse of the Drake I killed and rolling it onto its side. Bor came over to my position and grabbed the now exposed hilt of my longsword in both hands, before placing a boot on the intact scales near the stab wound and pulling. My sword came out with a wet, fleshy noise and more blood gushed onto the flagstones of the road. I let the corpse drop back to the ground now that my sword was out of its chest.
"Are you certain that's a wise idea? Who knows what could be waiting at the Drake's nest." Hedged Lena.
"Aye, Amdir mentioned only seven Drakes. One he killed with his bow before almost dying, three we slew yesterday, and two slain now. That means the one that fled should be the last of them." I nodded.
"And the beast is already wounded. Shouldn't be too much of a problem given the three of us are barely wounded. Brand has the right of it, we end this today." Grinned Bor, handing me my blade, which I quickly cleaned of drake blood on the grass near the roadside and sheathed.
"Much as I'd like to go with, my Warrior's Fury has left me in need of rest now that it's over with. I would only hinder the attack as I am now. I have some skill with skinning and butchering beasts and that will not exhaust me further as battle would. I will be more useful here." Grumbled Cadwallon, gruffly.
"Aye, I too think it wiser to stay, though I cannot claim to be skilled in the arts of woodcraft." Huffed Athelmund.
"I need to keep an eye on these three to ensure they do not overexert themselves when they should be resting. If they do not go, I do not go." Responded Pavel, casting his last remaining prepared higher-level spell to stone shape the road stones that had trapped the second drake back into a flat surface.
"That seems to settle the matter then. We four will wait here and do the grisly work of butchering our kills. You three follow the last Drake back to its den and finish this." Ordered Sir Ecthelion.
"Right, let's head out." I nodded at Bor and Lena. Sniffwise hopped back up onto my shoulder, maw bloodied from nibbling at a piece of drake tail, then we headed off to the east after the last Drake. We passed by several signs of drake habitation having driven out the local wildlife as we entered the hills south of Zudrugund and east of the Dwarven road. No birdsong echoed through the woods, for one thing. For another, a lot of the undergrowth had been trampled, as if a mass exodus of animals had fled through this patch of woods. Eventually, the woods thinned to reveal a land of scorched, rocky, crags, not true mountains, but not rolling, forested, hills either. There, in between two boulders on the side of a crag, was a crevasse, just wide enough for a single Drake to enter and exit at a time.
"That's the lair. Are we ready?" I asked.
"Aye, let's end this." Nodded Bor.
"I'm as ready as I'm going to get." Responded Lena.
I got a feeling of confidence from Sniffwise over my mental link.
"Alright, let's end it." I intoned.
The four of us entered the Drake's lair, looking to kill the last of the Fire Drakes in the area. We would find a pair of surprises within.
One welcome, the other not. . .
XXXX
AN: Ok, that fight was nuts. I do actually game certain fights out and there was the potential for everyone to die in this one. Of course, if they do die, I generally don't write it into the fic, switching to narrative mode to keep the actual fic rolling rather than end it with a TPK.
I generally only go full narrative for the important fights from the get-go.
Still, though, a lot of people took a lot of damage. Both Cadwallon and Aethelmund were down into single-digit health and Sir Ecthelion was barely in double digits, though not quite to single digits yet. Thankfully, Lena was able to contribute with Sneak Attack by staying within 30 feet of her Drake, and Pavel used stoneshape to trap the second Drake forelimb, which prevented it from running and from using its second claw attack to gut Cadwallon.
Honestly, though, Brand got lucky with a critical hit with his power attack-enhanced bull rush, or it's possible that Sir Ecthelion would have bitten the dust.
Anyway, the next chapter will be the end of the Drake Hunt, featuring an unwelcome surprise.
Stay tuned. . .
131
KnightofTempest
Aug 18, 2022
View discussion
Threadmarks Chapter 13
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Aug 26, 2022
#182
The crevasse into the drakes' lair led into a deeper cave system. The main tunnel led straight ahead, and the heat from the chamber at the end seemed to signify that was where the drakes lived, but there were side tunnels that branched off and led deeper underground. I could smell the stink of Goblins down one of the tunnels, the twisted creatures' habit of bathing rarely lent them a particular odor of unwashed bodies and rotting meat. Another seemed to curve sharply left, denying any attempt to ascertain what was down that path. The third led down, deep underground.
Lena moved down the Goblin-infested path stealthily to scout while Bor and I waited for her to return. If there were too many Goblins, it was likely we wouldn't be able to clear this clear den of the enemy without reinforcements, to say nothing of whatever was down the other paths and the last Drake. Fortuitously, Lena came back around ten minutes later with good news.
"There's about 20 Goblins in a small camp in a chamber. They seem to be scavenging the leftovers from the drake attacks because they have a big pile of scavenged goods in one of their crude, hide tents. They seem to be armed with a mismatch of whatever weapons and armor they could salvage from the drake attacks. I've seen Rohirric-style mail, Gondorian breastplates, Dwarven scale armor, and even a set of elven chain. Their weapons are similarly eclectic. I could make out runes on their chief's weapons and armor, along with some of his guards. The rest of the stuff is well crafted but entirely mundane." Explained Lena.
"We can take them." I nodded.
"Aye, but what happens if the Drake hears the battle? What if it flies the roost, or worse rushes to help the Goblins?" Queried Bor.
"To say nothing of whatever lies down those other passages." Cautioned Lena.
"The Goblin tunnel won't fit the drake inside it and the tunnel that leads deeper underground goes a long way from here. You might have a point about the other tunnel, though. Lena, would you like to take a look and come back once you've scouted?" I queried.
"Aye, I can do that." Nodded Lena, before stealthily heading down the tunnel that sharply curved out of view. Around ten minutes later, she came back, bringing with her an unexpected guest.
The woman in question looked like she'd been through an ordeal. Her bright red hair was matted with sweat, her lip had dried blood on it as if it had been split recently, her roughspun clothing was stained and torn in places, and she had lines around her wrists that she was massaging as if she'd been recently freed from shackles. However, the look in her eye was defiant, and I could see a simmering rage inside them.
"Lena, who is that?" I asked.
"A prisoner of the Goblins. Dunlanding by the look of her, but I don't speak Dunlandic. I would try Rohirric, but I don't want to set her off." Responded Lena.
"She already looks set off, I don't blame her, the lass could hardly have gotten worse hosts." Scoffed Bor.
"Did you see if she spoke Westron? Or Adunaic? Or did you just assume?" I pressed.
"I was too busy trying to get the manacles off her. The damned Goblins still have shite for ironwork when they have to make things themselves. Things were so clunky I thought my lockpicks would snap." Muttered Lena.
I turned to the former prisoner, trying Adunaic. "Can you understand me?" I questioned.
"South-speech know little." Replied the Woman before switching to Westron. "Trade speech is better. Am still learning." She shrugged.
I gave Lena a look thanks to her assumption. Sniffwise, meanwhile, rushed up to my shoulder from the cavern floor so he could give our visitor an inquisitive sniff. I got the sense that he was wondering if she was a new friend from our mental link. Unfortunately, the woman seemed to lean away from Sniffwise's greeting. "Glutani dangerous." She hissed.
"Sniffwise is a friend. He won't bite. Go on, give him a scritch." I encouraged.
Hesitantly, the woman reached out a hand and scratched Sniffwise under the chin. His back left and middle right leg went haywire and I got the sense that he enjoyed it very much from our mental link. "See, he's a good boy. I'm Brand of Dale, that's Lena Rushlight of Bree, and Bor, son of Snorri of the Blue Mountains. We're after the drake and goblins." I introduced.
"I am Branwen, formerly of Raven clan. Now clanless." Intoned the Woman.
"Clanless?" Pressed Lena.
"Raven clan dead. Totem burned. Dragon clan took survivors as slaves. Was supposed to be killed to awaken great wyrm from slumber. Goblins supposed to keep locked away till time." Spat Branwen.
I frowned at that. It was more confirmation that the enemy was moving pieces around the board while Gondor was distracted dealing with Corsair raids. Saruman had likely lent out one of his Tower Sorcerers to the Dragon Clan who devised a ritual sacrifice to wake Draigoch from his torpor. Luckily we'd intercepted the sacrifice. Enedwaith could barely handle the problems it already had, adding an actual dragon into the mix would be catastrophic. However, it might be a good idea to find out if Branwen was actually capable of pulling her weight if we got her some gear or if we'd be better off taking her back to town.
"Can you fight?" I queried.
"Know how. Have training with axe and shield. Too green to take field when Dragon clan first attacked. That was year ago. Not too green now." She nodded.
That was good enough for me as I reached into my bag of holding and pulled out one suit of masterwork Dunlanding reinforced hide armor, one masterwork Dunlanding large wooden shield, and one masterwork Dunlanding battle axe. Bor shook his head at the sight and Lena muttered something about needing to get one of those for herself. Branwen's eyes were as wide as saucers as I pulled the gear out of a bag that should in no way have held it all.
"Here, suit up because we're going to kill the goblins, then we're going to kill the drake. You might need to adjust the armor some later, but this should do for now." I intoned.
"You great sorcerer, have magic bag." Breathed Branwen.
"No, just the plaything of the Valar." I sighed.
Branwen began to buckle on the armor. As she did so, she asked, "Valar. Those your gods?"
"They're a lot of people's gods. Why? What do the Dunlandings believe in?" I asked.
"Nature spirits came out of woods and hills in ages past, made pact with ancestors of each clan. Venerate us and we keep safe they said. Each clan picked nature spirit. Worshipped them and kept safe. Boar, Ox, Deer, Bear, Wolf, Raven, many more. Lots of spirits, lots of clans. Then Horselords came, drove us out of lands. Out of many ancestral lands. Many totems lost, many clans killed. Snake clan abandons totem, need something with more power, they said. Turn to worship sleeping dragon in mountain. Dragon clan born. Start attacking other clans, make slaves of followers of totems. Now many Clans wonder whether pact with nature spirits still good." Explained Branwen.
I nodded at that. Nature spirits weren't unheard of in Arda. They could even be fairly powerful if you consider that Tom Bombadil is a thing. The subversion of the Snake Clan into the Dragon Clan was more or less as expected, but if a lot of clans were already wondering whether their old pacts should be discarded, it wouldn't take much for Saruman to turn them to Sauron Worship. No wonder a bunch of clans joined him with just a vague promise of regaining lost territory if they were already teetering now.
"And what do you believe, Branwen?" I asked.
"I see Raven sometimes in sleep. Raven guides me to know things I not know without him. I know Raven real. He told me help coming. He right. Raven wise." Stated Branwen simply.
That was good enough for me. "She's fighting with us." I said to Lena and Bor as Branwen took up her shield and axe, giving a few experimental swings.
"Fine by me." Nodded Bor.
"Aye, I have no objections." Shrugged Lena.
"Good. Let's go kill some goblins then." I ordered.
As we proceeded down the tunnel toward the Goblin Camp, I looked over at my companions. Lena and Bor looked determined, but Branwen looked downright vicious. She had a wolfish smile on her face and her eyes gleamed with the fires of glee as vengeance was close at hand. Hopefully, she'd not get so caught up in sating her desire for revenge that it would screw us over. There was still a Drake and who knows what else down that other tunnel, after all.
I had to admit, though, that it was kind of scarousing. Buff warrior women were a turn-on for me, apparently. My mind was brought back to the matter at hand by Sniffwise. My trusty companion sniffed the air and let out a low growl, sending an impression of danger up our mental link. I turned my mind from the gutter to send reassurances back to him up the mental link.
Soon, however, the tunnel emptied out into a wider cavern. A stagnant pool of water sat at the far end of the cavern, surrounded by sparse patches of mushrooms. Between that pool and the tunnel entrance was the Goblin Camp. Several hide tents and ramshackle huts had been erected in a rough circle among the stalagmites with a bonfire in the center. Goblins in a hodgepodge of armor stood milling about near the fire, not really on alert, but clearly doing something. It took me a moment to figure out what but I finally found out when one of the goblins grabbed something that had been laying in the bonfire and pulled it out. It was a horse haunch that had been put in the fire to cook. They'd likely dragged one of the caravan horses that the drakes had killed back here, butchered it, and were eating it for dinner.
The leg was offered up to a larger goblin clad in a set of Elven chainmail bedecked with various Elven runes that were likely Quenya since I didn't recognize them. Figures the Elves would use the High Speech to work enchantments, even if every Elf still in Middle-Earth spoke Sindarin these days. It was probably closer to True Speech for stuff like this than Sindarin was. The large Goblin took a Rohirric-style sword with inscribed runes in Rohirric and sliced off the juiciest section of horseflesh from the haunch, seemingly as was his privilege. Then he bit into it, chewing a mouthful of bloody rare horse meat, and taking a sip from a tankard of pilfered Stoor Ale to wash it down with.
"Bastard's lucky Aethelmund isn't here to see this. The manling would go berserk to see a horse used for food, carved up by his folk's own artifice no less." Grumbled Bor.
"It looks like we caught them mid-meal. That should make this easier. Lena, hang back with your bow. Bor, Branwen, try and hit the group from the side." I ordered.
"What are you going to do?" Asked Lena.
I drew my bow and nocked a pair of arrows. "I'm going to get their attention." I said.
Bor nodded as he almost bodily dragged Branwen away from us toward a flanking position, the Dunlanding Warrior Woman wanted to get stuck in and so put up a bit of resistance before being assured that she'd get to kill many more goblins this way. In the meantime, I stepped out into the light cast by the bonfire, letting both arrows fly at the Goblin Chief. One arrow thundered out and took him in the thigh and the other took him in the left bicep. The chief let out a loud bellow of both pain and anger, then pointed his pilfered Rohirric sword at me and shouted something in black speech.
I dropped my bow and drew my sword and shield as a wave of Goblins grabbed weapons and rushed to my position. One went down to a pair of arrows from Lena catching it in the throat and eye respectively. The other fourteen came on at me. The last four crowded around their chief, throwing up a ragged wall of pilfered shields around him to deflect further arrow fire. The fight had begun in earnest.
The first Goblin to reach me struck out at my sword arm with a Dwarven warhammer. I parried underneath the head of the warhammer and Sniffwise leaped out at the Goblin, tiny but powerful jaws clamping around his throat and tearing it out. The second Goblin to reach me tried for my legs with a Rohirric-style hatchet, I crouched, bringing my shield low to take the hit. Two more Goblins attacked me from my front with a Gondorian longsword and an Isendale shortsword. The Longsword I parried and the shortsword skidded off my scale hauberk. A fourth tried to stick an Elven dagger in my back only to glance off my hauberk. Two more Goblins reached my position, one attempted to cut me with a shortsword of a make I'd not seen before, and the second stopped just shy of me and tried to bludgeon Sniffwise with a flanged mace. I sent a warning down our mental link and my good boy leaped out of the way of the incoming blow, snarling at the Goblin the whole time. Another Goblin moved to join the one attacking sniffwise, but couldn't find purchase on my boy's dense, yet surprisingly fluffy, coat with his pilfered spear.
With seven Goblins all crowding around me and Sniffwise, the other seven couldn't get a spot to try and attack through. The end result was rather comical and had that group just milling around trying to find an opening. They wouldn't be doing that for long, however, as Bor and Branwen charged from the flank, right into their rear. Bor's Waraxe cut right through one of their legs as he attacked, shearing through his knee and leaving him to bleed out. Branwen struck out with a pair of axe attacks that caught one of the Goblins in the arm before the second took its head off. That decapitation swing continued on, cleaving into the elbow of a third Goblin and leaving a deep wound.
The sudden, furious, rush from the flank caught all the goblins by surprise, and I took the opportunity to impale the Goblin with the Isendale Shortsword through the armpit and strike out with a follow-up cut at the Goblin with the Dwarven warhammer that cut into his thigh, cutting the femoral artery and leaving him to bleed out. A pair of arrows from Lena took out the Elven dagger wielder and the Rohirrhic hatchet user. Sniffwise managed to pounce on the spear-wielder and bear him to the ground, striking out with both foreclaws and his maw to carve a bloody ruin of the Goblin's chest. I sent him a mental command to return to my side, which let him escape the mace blow coming for his back. Instead, the flanged mace Goblin struck his fallen companion, finishing him off.
The second group of Goblins started pushing back against Bor and Branwen but was only able to score a glancing blow on Branwen between the reinforced hide chestpiece and the vambrace on her right forearm. In response, she struck out with her axe and split his skull, before cleaving into a second Goblin's shield arm with the same strike, drawing blood with that strike and opening him up for her finisher to take his head. Bor, meanwhile struck out at a fifth Goblin in the second line, managing to cut through the Gondorian chain shirt and split the Goblin in half from shoulder to waist.
On my end, the Gondorian longsword wielder tried going for broke, as he was the last of his fellows. He actually managed to score a shallow cut on my forearm, as I stumbled over the corpse of the dagger wielder and it threw off my parry for a crucial second. It was a stupid mistake, but I'd take a flesh wound over potential death. Instead, he found himself borne to the ground by Sniffwise who had returned to my side. Instead, I attacked the flanged mace wielder with a lunging rush that skewered him right through the face, killing him outright. Lena's arrows caught one of the remaining Goblins on Bor and Branwen, even as Branwen's axe hacked through the scale armor of the other and carved open his chest cavity.
Now all that remained were the Chief and his guards. We clashed with them in the center of the camp, near the bonfire. I charged the Chief, leading with my blade in a lunging cut that caught him in the thigh. My follow-through, a reverse slash, didn't fare as well, skidding off the fine links of his Elven chain. Next to me, Branwen was battering one of his guards with her axe, catching him with a pair of chops that sent him reeling from one side to the other. On my other side, Bor caught his opponent with one cut to the knee but found his follow-up cut blocked by a pilfered Dwarven shield. Lena had managed to circle around and fire a pair of arrows into her target from the side that sent him staggering into the bonfire where he burned alive with a breathless scream.
The Goblin chief pressed his attack on me next, scoring a wound to my shield arm. As it cut into me, however, a burst of flame erupted with a searing heat that scorched my arm on top of the cut. I cried out in pain as the unexpected fire burned me. I was able to parry his follow-up cut though. "Flaming burst?" I growled through gritted teeth.
"The stupid Tark I took this off of tried to use a flame tongue against a Drake. It won't hurt them, but it seems to work just fine on you!" Snarled the Chief in Westron.
I wanted that sword, I launched an all-out assault on the Chief to try and get it. I cut at his knee, hoping to cut his legs out from under him. He dodged, but even as he did so, he set himself up for an imbrocatta blow. The descending, overhand, thrust was an unorthodox move, especially after having just cut low, but it seemed to have worked, probably precisely because of how unorthodox it was. My blade bypassed his elven chain hauberk by the simple expedient of plunging into his collarbone from the neck hole of the mail, piercing deep into his torso. The Goblin chief fell to his knees grasping at the length of steel stuck in his collar vertically, choking on his own blood, before finally dying.
With their Chief's death, the remaining Goblins lost morale pretty quickly and turned to flee only to be cut down by our party. The fight was won. Now all that remained was gathering loot, before going to face the last Drake. An inventory of the camp turned up a number of pilfered items. Mostly stuff that had been ruined by the typical Goblin unthoughtfulness. There were a few things of genuine value left, though. We found enough full, sealed, bottles of Athelas Essence to heal the four of us back to full health twice over, a full silver tableware set including five silver goblets enameled with lapis lazuli and studded with five, deep blue spinel gems, a five-pound bag of saffron spice, and an ivory and bronze mug with a khuzdul rune on it that Bor identified as a mystical object called an Anymug.
"The Anymugs were created by a Brewmaster from Belegost long ago before the Sinking of Beleriand. You simply need to say the activation phrase designated by the Rune on the mug and ask for a specific type of beverage and the mug will fill with it. It can create any non-magical beverage you like, from the finest dwarven spirits to the goat piss served in the worst tavern in Arda. When Belegost was flooded, production of these shifted over to Khazad-dum. They're mostly made in Erebor, these days." Informed Bor.
The random treasures went into my bag of holding to split up later as we inventoried weapons and armor. I took the Flame-tongue and Elven Chainmail from the Chief. On putting on the Elven Chain, I realized that it was slightly more magical than the scale hauberk I'd worn before. The Scale Hauberk went into my bag of holding as we inventoried the rest. The Guard's equipment was barely magical and not really useful for anyone other than Branwen, who took a magical Dwarven battle axe, magical Gondorian breastplate, and magical Rohirric large steel shield. The rest went into my bag of holding, along with 13 suits of various masterwork armor, 14 various masterwork weapons, and 5 various masterwork shields.
Once everything here was squared away and we were all healed up, it was time to go kill the last drake. When we entered its chamber, we saw it curled protectively around a clutch of eggs. It spotted us enter, and uncurled. It was still wounded from the previous battle, though not as much as it had been for some reason. Once it had uncurled its full, twelve-foot bulk from around the quartet of eggs, it roared menacingly at us. I drew my bow and nocked a pair of arrows, Lena did the same as Bor and Branwen prepared to rush the Drake in melee.
Then the fight was on, and there was room for nothing else but the clang of steel and the fire of battle. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah, other party member get. Branwen is a Fighter 5/Favored Soul of Raven 1 in D terms, which is relevant because she'll be sticking around with Brand even after he leaves Enedwaith for the Gap of Rohan, and so is covered by his gamification effects.
As for why the goblins went down so easy, they're Goblins who were weak enough to stick to scavenging in the aftermath of Drake attacks on caravans traveling the Old North South Road. They aren't exactly the strongest lot. Hell, Saruman's forces gave them one job, look after Branwen until it was time to use her as a sacrifice, and they failed at that.
In game terms, there were fifteen level two goblin fighters, four level four goblin fighters, and one level seven hobgoblin fighter. Facing four level six party members and a level three animal companion. It was never going to end well for them.
Also, yes both Sniffwise and Brand leveled from this, though Brand just barely. They haven't noticed yet cause they're still mid-dungeon. It will be factored into encounter xp.
Anyway, up next is the last Drake fight, followed by an exploration of the last tunnel. Stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Aug 26, 2022
119
KnightofTempest
Aug 26, 2022
View discussion
Threadmarks Chapter 14
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Sep 2, 2022
#195
The fight with the last Drake began with Branwen, unexpectedly reaching out with her off-hand and beseeching her patron to aid her in her time of need. Instead of looking foolish, however, Raven must truly favor her, because as soon as she intoned the last syllable, a twenty-foot bank of thick fog spewed forth from her outstretched hand, concealing us from the Drake. I fired off a trio of arrows at the beast. The first two arrows hit right on top of each other, thundering into the same spot and sinking into a larger wound. The third however skidded off the scales of the Drake's long, sinuous, neck.
In the meantime, Lena snuck around to the side, advancing just inside the right edge of the fog bank, and fired off a pair of arrows from her shortbow. She only scored a single hit, her second arrow snapping in two from the snapping jaws of the Drake. Bor rushed forward to take up the front line and swung with his waraxe, even as the Drake moved in to attack. Bor only managed to scratch the Drake, whose powerful searing body heat began to boil away the obscuring mist in wisps. With powerful beats of its wings, the Drake blew apart the mists, even as it clawed and bit at Bor and lashed out at Lena with its tail. Bor took the whole lot head-on, catching claw strikes to the upper arms and a bite to the forearm that found the joints between gauntlet and vambrace and dug into his wrist. The searing heat also scorched the Dwarf badly. Lena Meanwhile attempted to dodge the tail slap, but stumbled over a few discarded bones on the cavern floor and wound up taking the tail strike of the Drake full in the ribs, folding her in half and searing her stomach from the Drake's body heat even through the leathers she wore. Both of them fell back grievously wounded.
In response, I dropped my bow and pulled my Gondorian Longsword, the Flametongue not being suited to this particular foe. I looked over at Branwen as she prepared to charge with axe and shield. Branwen nodded to me, I nodded back, and together, we moved up to cover our wounded comrades. I rushed in, cutting out with my Longsword in a powerful blow, what the Italians called Colpo Fendente back on earth. It was a blow that would have split open a humanoid target from mouth to knee. On a fire drake, it merely sank into its shoulder, dealing a wound, but not killing it. Likewise, Branwen struck out with her Dwarven battle axe only to cut a slight gash into the Drake's flank.
In response, the Drake lashed out at me with a vengeance, biting into the meat of my sword arm and clawing into my left thigh below where the elven chainmail's fauld ended and the greave began. The pain of the razor-sharp claws and dagger-like teeth tore into me, as did the searing heat of the Drake's body. I stumbled, dropped my sword, but retained enough presence of mind to bring my shield up in time to deflect the other claw. The tail strike came for me, but Sniffwise, my faithful companion, refused to allow it to strike me. My good boy pounced on the Drake's snout and clawed at its eyes, throwing the Drake's aim off. By the time it had managed to shake Sniffwise off, Brawnwen was coming in for another attack.
And what an attack it was. Her axe whistled through the air on an unerring path straight for the long, sinuous, neck of the Drake. It may have been my imagination in my pain-filled haze, but I thought I saw one of the Khuzdul runes on Branwen's axe light up just for a moment before her blade struck true and parted the Drake's head from its neck, killing it. The Drake's corpse slumped to the ground in a spray of gore, forming a smoking red pool on the cavern floor as it exsanguinated.
In the meantime, I groped about for my sword, only finding it thanks to Sniffwise. My little buddy had retrieved it from where it had fallen and brought it to me. I got an impression through my link that he was trying to be helpful. I sent back reassurance and praise, causing him to preen with glee. In the meantime, we all took stock of our injuries. I was wounded and likely at maybe fifty-seven percent capability after that fight. Bor was worse off, he assessed himself at half capacity. Lena was the worst off.
"I think I've got a trio of broken ribs. I do not think I would fare very well good in another fight without being healed first. I'm not supposed to be in the front line of combat, so this was bound to happen sooner or later." She ground out.
"We have enough Athelas Essence to heal all of us to full readiness with more to spare beyond that. Everyone drink up." I said.
"Ugh, the bloody stuff tastes like fermented leaf juice. I'll be glad when we're back at the Argent Branch and I don't have to worry about wounds." Scoffed Bor. He still drank, though.
In the meantime, I sent sniffwise to search for anything out of place. My curious little guy searched the cavern as we let the Athelas Essence do its work. Branwen, in the meantime, being perfectly healthy, began skinning and harvesting teeth, horns, and claws from, the Drake corpse. After an hour had passed, Sniffwise returned. I cast speak with animals as one of my precious few spells per day to get his report.
"Warm soft thing next to old dead bones. Two round shiny things in pile of fresh bones. Round metal thing made of not good for eating metal near evil eggs." Reported Sniffwise.
"Show me, bud." I responded.
"I'll show, I'm best at showing!" Preened Sniffwise as he took me on a circuit around the cavern. Our first stop led to the skeleton of a cave bear that had been blackened and long since stripped of any flesh. It had to have been killed more than a week ago. It was next to the stripped clean skeleton of an elf that looked to be several days old. Sniffwise nosed over the elf skeleton revealing a pale white, silk, cloak with a clasp done in brass in the shape of a shield. There were runes stitched into the hem in Sindarin that seemed to be a prayer invoking the protection of the Valar. A few minutes of studying the runes revealed it as a shield cloak. The user could invoke the divine spell Shield thrice per day by touching the clasp and saying the Sindarin word for shield. I grabbed the cloak and Sniffwise led me to the next find.
Near under a pile of fresh bones from three separate races, Dwarves, Elves, and Men, sat a pair of Quartz Crystals linked together with frames of bronze. In the frames, Runes of Old Adunaic were etched which invoked the vision of the Great Eagles with sympathetic magic. A moment's study of those runes revealed these as Lenses of Keen Sight. When worn, these lenses granted the wearer the ability to see further, with greater clarity, even in low light. I grabbed them as Sniffwise led me to our last destination.
Here was the clutch of eggs the Drake had been protecting. The eggs were things of crimson malice that pulsed with a warmth that was kin to the searing heat of the fully grown Drakes'. Sniffwise bared his teeth at the eggs and his hackles rose. He swiped at one of the eggs, knocking it over with a cry of "Bad!" Underneath that egg was lodged a steel helm worked in the shape of the head of a Glutani. Khuzdul runes were inscribed delicately in inlaid bronze at varying points around the helmet. I retrieved it but had no idea what exactly the helmet did. Thankfully, Bor did.
"That's a Glutani Helm. It's a design common to many of the Runsmiths of Durin's Folk. It grants those who have difficulty seeing in the dark the senses of a Deep Glutani. Mostly, they get sold to Manlings in allied towns. I know Erebor has sold a number of them to your fellows in Dale, and it's not uncommon for the Holds of the Ered Luin to sell to the Militia of Breeland." Offered Bor.
"What's a Deep Glutani?" I asked.
"It's a type of Glutani found deep in the mountains, where only we Dwarves tend to live. The bloody things are six feet long from tail to snout and can see in pitch blackness up to sixty feet around them, see in the lowest of lights indefinitely, and track unfailingly by scent. They've been known to ambush dwarven miners that show too little care for their surroundings in the tunnels. Usually, those miners that survive learn a valuable lesson in diligence." Answered Bor.
"I see. I'd like to take the helm." I intoned.
We set to haggling over loot. In the end, I got the Helm, Lena got the Shield Cloak, and Bor took the lenses. The Anymug went to Branwen, and we agreed to share the Masterwork equipment from the Goblin camp in their favor, with Branwen, Bor, and Lena each getting ten, pieces of equipment to sell, and me getting only four, in recognition of the fact that I had taken a larger share of the magic items. Of the Drake's remains, Branwen would receive the hide and horns, Bor the claws, and Lena the teeth. I forwent any part of it. Lastly, there was the issue of the Drake eggs.
"We could try raising the Drakes as a force for good." I offered.
"Are you daft, Manling? That's the same sort of shite that led to Numenor being sunk! Evil cannot change its stripes!" Scoffed Bor.
"How would you know? Has anyone ever tried rehabilitation?" I pressed.
"That sounds like you're just asking to get ripped apart by Drakes when you least expect it." Frowned Lena.
"Aye, once a Servant of the Shadow, Always a Servant of the Shadow." Intoned Bor.
Branwen put paid to the argument by taking her battle axe to the quartet of drake eggs and that was that. Nothing more needed to be said on the matter, nor was it. Now all that remained was to check the other tunnel. As we backtracked and went down the tunnel, I couldn't help but notice a chill seep into the air under the earth. Down here, where the Sun didn't shine, it was cool and dark, requiring Lena to spark up a torch. Eventually, our tunnel ended in a cavern entrance, flanked on two sides by statues carved to resemble small, neanderthal-like, men.
"What are those?" Asked Lena.
"Pukel-men. Guardians made by long dead race of men." Answered Branwen.
"They're Druedain statues. Some Druedain still exist far to the southwest in Andrast. They guard their territory fiercely with poison-tipped arrows and blow darts. The slightest scratch can make a man feverish for weeks. There's a reason even Numenor only put a lighthouse at the very tip of the Cape of Andrast and never ventured into the forests and mountains further inland." I explained.
"If they're that bad about trespassers, shouldn't we be leaving?" Asked Lena.
"No. The stone here's long worn by time. I'd say there hasn't been a Druedain presence in the caverns ahead since the early Second Age. We should be fine to move in." Scoffed Bor.
"That doesn't mean something else couldn't have moved in here in the interim. We should approach carefully." I cautioned.
"Fine. But if anything's daft enough to sleep here with the Drakes and Goblins up above, they'll probably be long dead." Shrugged Bor.
"Not so sure. Smell is off for just cave." Cautioned Branwen.
"Yeah, let's not be too hasty with this." Affirmed Lena.
"Why not send your Glutani in first to have a look round then, Manling?" Questioned Bor.
I nodded, quickly conveying to Sniffwise what I wanted him to do and that he was to come right back at the first sign of trouble. My little guy went off to sniff around only to come hustling right back five minutes later. When I asked him what he found, his hackles were raised.
"Big snoring rock thing. Smelled bad, don't like!" Hissed Sniffwise bounding back up onto my shoulder.
"What did he see?" Queried Bor.
"I'm not sure, sounded like a cave troll, but he doesn't know what a troll is. He's just a kid." I replied.
"Right, sounds like we ought to proceed with that in mind." Nodded Lena.
"Indeed." I affirmed.
We headed into the cavern with weapons ready, prepared to have to fight for our lives. Soon enough, we saw it, lying atop a pile of ancient furs, sleeping the day away with a snore that sounded like a chainsaw. A cave troll lay sleeping at the other end of the cave. It would have been a perfect opportunity to kill it in its sleep except for one thing. It paused in its snoring long enough to inhale through its bulbous, rock-like, nose. It must have smelled something off because it instantly woke up and spotted us. A few moments passed where nothing happened, as if its slow brain was processing intruders in its cave.
Then it bellowed and charged us, and the battle was joined once more. . .
XXXX
AN: Surprise Cave Troll!
Regarding the Drake Eggs. Tolkien's world doesn't do Nurture over Nature like that. It's unfortunate, but some parts of the setting have no leeway. Drakes were twisted and bred for evil by Morgoth, hence all Drakes will always be evil as a species.
It sucks but it is what it is.
The Druedain are something I plan to do more with down the line. They're actually an interesting idea that isn't fleshed out all that much by Tolkein. A race of men that seem to be based on Neanderthals rather than Homo Sapiens.
I'm a sucker for pulpy stuff like surviving Neanderthals, so expect to see more of them in the future. I blame my love of old-school pulp adventure.
At any rate, the next chapter will be the fight with the cave troll and then this little mini-arc will be done and we can move on to Captain Baradir's return and finishing up in Harndirion.
Stay tuned. . .
106
KnightofTempest
Sep 2, 2022
View discussion
Threadmarks Chapter 15
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Sep 13, 2022
#199
Thinking quickly, I leveled my flame tongue at the Cave Troll and spoke the command word imprinted on the guard, the Old Adunaic Runes lit up along the blade with an orange glow and the glow coalesced into a scorching ray that shot out at the Cave Troll. The ray took the cave troll full on in the chest and the underground cavern filled with the scent of oily, burning, flesh as a fireball's worth of flames scorched our savage opponent. It did not slow down the Troll, however, as even the least of Trollkind would only fall after great effort. Instead, the Cave Troll seemed to focus its attention on me, even exposing its flanks to a pair of arrows from Lena as it did so that sunk into its leathery, pebbled, hide.
Down came both of its clawed hands in an attempt to rake me with its sharp taloned fingernails. Its blows sacrificed accuracy for sheer power, and thus, even as its right hand raked into me, drawing blood and bruising bone, its left rebounded off my shield. It did manage to latch onto my shoulder with a vicelike grip and set me up for a kick that slammed into my chest, the force of which bowled me over backward. I could feel my ribs groan in protest as I stood, even as Sniffwise raked the Troll with his claws, my good boy trying to distract the beast away from me. His claws drew black, viscous, blood from the Cave Troll's leg, causing the beast to look down at the ground. I sent a warning down our mental link just in time for Sniffwise to dart back out of stomping range, as the Cave Troll tried to bring its foot down on Sniffwise's neck.
Either way, the Cave Troll soon had other things to worry about as Branwen and Bor came in with axes to strike at the Cave Troll's Flanks. Both scored hits, but Branwen's axe struck a much more grievous wound, as another of the Khuzdul Runes lit up just before impact, carving a horrific gouge into the leathery, pebbled, troll-hide. The Cave Troll roared out and lashed out at Branwen with both meaty, taloned, hands, attempting to rend her flesh with its talons as well as break her bones with force. Unfortunately for her, it managed to get one good claw in on her that gouged into her flesh with talons and dislocated her shield arm with force, flattening her to the ground, where the Troll kicked her with its massive, clawed foot and sent her into blissful unconsciousness.
A pair of arrows from Lena simply skidded off its hide and an attack from Bor's waraxe was deflected with a claw. Amazingly, some of the wound from Branwen's battleaxe was already beginning to scab over and heal. If I didn't do anything, then the Troll would be free to advance on Branwen's prone form and end her. I couldn't let that happen on my watch. As short as her time as a companion was, she was still part of our fellowship.
Instead, I rushed the Cave Troll, Flametongue blazing with light as I put everything into one big stroke of my sword. On a man-sized opponent, the sottano blow would have been a powerful, rising, cut that bisected an unarmored man from knee to head diagonally. On a Cave Troll, however, it merely bit deep into the hips of the beast, catching on the thick bones that trolls had. However, between the mortal wound, the powerful, rushing blow, and the flame effect of my blade, I was able to mortally wound the beast, bowling it over and sending it into its death throes.
Of course, being within grappling range of a cave troll that has nothing left to lose is not a particularly good position to be in, and in its death throes, the beast hammered me with both taloned hands, attempting to grab me and take me with it. I twisted and squirmed, managing to only take one of the beast's flailing hands, which snapped the radius bone of my shield arm in two. I howled in pain as I was thrown off the thrashing form of the dying Cave Troll, slamming into the cave floor hard. That sent me into blissful unconsciousness.
I awoke later to Branwen pouring healing magic into my prone form, muttering incantations in Dunlandic that I couldn't make out, but guessed were pleas for Raven to heal me. Thankfully, the healing magic seemed to get my shield arm partially healed and the three bottles of Athelas essence I downed next did the rest. I still felt like total shit and would put myself at only around halfway healed, but it would do for the time being.
"That's the last of the accursed stuff, so you'd best be careful." Intoned Bor.
"I thought we had more of it than that? There should still be two bottles left?" I queried.
"I may have used those two after an incident." Hedged Lena.
"Look by wall." Snorted Branwen, amused.
I did and found a blood stain along with a bone dart that was laying on the floor. The wall also seemed to have an opening that hadn't previously been there. Lena had the good sense to look ashamed about that as she told me what had happened.
"The wall had a hidden door in it that I just needed to find the trick to opening. Unfortunately, I had to resort to trial and error to do so. The Bree Thieves' Guild where I learned to do this stuff doesn't exactly have a lot of practice with old Drudain security measures." Admitted Lena, looking away.
"Were you poisoned?' I asked.
"No, the dart was covered in a Caustic Substance that burned, not poison. I needed the last two bottles of Athelas Essence to heal up. Sorry." Answered Lena.
"Alright, so what's behind the door?" I questioned.
"An armory. We did a little scout afore you woke up, but were waiting for you to go in fully." Nodded Bor.
"A little scout?" I pressed.
"No foes. Maybe traps. Only Lena know for sure." Shrugged Branwen.
"And you were taking the time to heal?" I queried.
"I'm hardly going to be able to disarm Druedain traps wounded." Affirmed Lena.
"You didn't exactly disarm the last trap." Pointed out, Bor.
"Yeah, but I think I've got the trick down now. Their mechanisms use workarounds for not having access to the kind of clockwork you get with metalworking. I just had to get used to that." Defended Lena.
"Sure. Whatever say." Chuckled Branwen.
"Ok, let's go check out this armory. I was beaten unconscious by a troll to get to it, so I hope it's worth it." I sighed.
Lena went in first, though I sent Sniffwise in with her just in case his nose could help spot something. Fortunately, they managed to disarm the one trap that would have filled the room with poisonous spores from some kind of plant. That would have been a bitch and a half to deal with if they hadn't. Then the rest of us were able to enter the Druedain armory.
A lot of the stuff was old and no longer useful. Even masterfully carved wood and bone gets brittle or rots with millennia, leaving only obsidian knife blades or spearheads behind. A few pieces still stood out as clearly magical, though, and had been able to withstand the test of time fully intact and empowered. One was a bone and obsidian battleaxe that was intricately carved with runes in the strange tongue of the Druedain. Nobody here could tell what it was, but it was clearly magical. Another was a bone and darkwood club carved with the image of snarling beasts that we also could not tell what it did. There was a wicker and hide shield that seemed to grant cold resistance as the chill, underground, air seemed muted when using it. Finally was a suit of black studded leather armor that seemed to be reinforced with studs of chitin in place of metal. It looked horrendous, but a flash of insight from Branwen, likely sent by Raven, allowed us to understand what it was.
"Spider Armor. Allows you better resist poison and acid. Also better defense against harm than regular studded armor." She intoned.
Lena tried it on and found it more protective than her current leathers. The other items went into my bag of holding for later division. Finally with no further areas to explore or foes to fight, we retraced our steps, heading out of the area to meet back up with Sir Ecthelion and the others. When we arrived back at the rendezvous point, only Pavel remained to wait for us. Apparently, Sir Ecthelion, Aethelmund, and Cadwallon had left to go back to Harndirion and had left Pavel at the rendezvous site along the road where we fought the Drakes at the start of all this to tell us that. He spoke the true speech and invoked Aule the Smith to heal the rest of my wounds before we headed back to town.
As we walked, he asked me, "Who's the lass, Manling?"
"Her name is Branwen of the Raven Clan. We saved her from being sacrificed to awaken Draigoch the Red from his slumber. In return, she helped us clear the Drake's lair." I answered.
"Draigoch is still around? I thought that was just a story the locals told themselves, and the Dragon was long gone?" Frowned Pavel.
"No, apparently after sacking all the local Dwarf holds except for Zudrugund, Draigoch went to sleep on his plundered hoard. He's still around, sleeping away the ages." I intoned.
"Something will have to be done about that, Manling. If the enemy were to get a Dragon on their side, untold damage would be wrought." Insisted Pavel.
"That sounds like a job for someone more powerful than us, my friend. Maybe even someone like Gandalf the Gray. I have heard he has experience with Dragons." I insisted, shaking my head. Drakes had been bad enough. Full-blown Dragons were above my pay grade at the moment.
Eventually, we reached Harndirion just as the sun was setting and headed to the Argent Branch to divide the spoils of today's adventure up amongst our various people. I drew the equipment out of my bag and divvied up the loot according to our prior agreements. That left the Druedain axe, shield, and club. Bor took the axe, and Pavel took the club, hoping to ask Aule about its secrets. That left the shield, which Branwen took for her own. After divvying up spoils, it was time for a drink, dinner, and bed. It was part way through dinner when Branwen spoke up.
"Need room at inn. Brand spot coin?" She asked.
"Sure. Why not?" I replied around a spoonful of chicken dumpling soup.
"Good. Will travel with Bran going forward. That ok?" Pressed Branwen.
"I mean, I'm sticking around town for a bit before moving on. When I do, I'm going to be heading South to Isendale and the Westmarch, then south through the Old Pukel Gap to Gondor. If you're fine with that, you're welcome to come with." I cautioned.
"Sounds good. Nothing left in Dunland for me anyway." Nodded Branwen.
I didn't think Branwen wanted pity so I just nodded and said, "The Dragon Clan will get theirs, don't worry. I doubt they'll have too long to enjoy their position, not if Rohan has anything to say about it."
"Would be better kill them myself." Frowned Branwen.
"That sort of thing isn't worth dwelling on. Revenge may taste sweet fresh from the vine, but after a while, the taste grows bitter." I sighed.
"Bran sound like Raven. Will think on words." Begrudged Branwen.
After our talk, Sir Ecthelion tried to get me to stay and play a few rounds of dice, but I was beat. I paid for Branwen's room and headed to mine, collapsing into bed, with Sniffwise curled up beside me. The next thing I knew, I was in the mental room where I kept my character sheet. This time, more trophies, including a mounted pair of Fire Drake horns and the stuffed head of a cave troll lined the walls in addition to the trophies I'd seen previously. A mental representation of my Flametongue was also sitting on a wall hanging, symbolizing my defeat of the Goblin Chief.
I went over to my character sheet and willed a few changes to it, as I had been needing to make some due to leveling up. Skills, taking a level in fighter, that sort of thing. By the time I had finished, I was catapulted into a dream regarding a Red Dragon and my increasingly complex attempts to slay it. Somehow my tired mind mixed my talk with Pavel about Draigoch with a Road Runner cartoon. I'm sure I would have found it funny, were I not taking the place of the Coyote in the scenario.
When I awoke the next morning, I felt back up to full strength after yesterday's adventure, thanks to a long rest and magical healing. I went to feed Sniffwise some raw gold and boar bacon and he chowed down as I did my morning business in the privy. Once I was dressed and ready for the day, I received four pieces of news. The first was that Amdir was going to make it. He'd finally woken up from the Apothecary's treatments and was walking around, though slowly. With a bit of time to recover and regain his strength, he'd be good as new. The second piece of news was that my drake armor and winter wolf boots were ready at Badhordam's quartermaster building. The third I learned when eating breakfast. Sir Ecthelion's group had left Harndirion early in the morning, heading South and East for Rohan via the Westmarch.
The last piece of information, I didn't hear until Branwen had joined up with me after getting my new gear and having Sniffwise fit for some leathers at Badhordam's. We had been taking it easy at the Argent Branch when a runner had entered. He had the leather armor, green cloak, and weapons of a Ranger and looked tired and dusty from the road. He bellied up to the bar, ordered an ale, and drained his mug before making his announcement to the local tavern.
"Captain Baradir is three hours away from returning. He was wounded by the raiders, so no one will be allowed to bother him until tomorrow." Intoned the Runner. The rest of the bar began to ask the runner all sorts of questions about the skirmish with the raiders. For my part, I only had one real thing on my mind. Tomorrow, I was going to have to make my case to the Captain to send a scout to Orthanc. If I won him over, I could potentially head off a lot of the troubles facing the Free Peoples via Saruman before they really got going. If that happened, all that would remain would be Sauron.
I just hoped I was up to the task. . .
XXXX
AN: Yeah, so the sort of stuff the Druedain use to guard their communities has a very Hovitos Temple from Raiders of the Lost Ark feel to it. Blow dart traps and the like. The sort of thing a stone age people would come up with given a few thousand years to advance their stone age tech to fantastical levels.
As for Branwen deciding to accompany Brand, there's stuff going on with that. Brand is a powerful warrior and clearly has the smarts to back it up. She could do worse for traveling companions.
At any rate, next up I'm going to put out updated character sheets for Brand, Sniffwise, and Branwen. After that, will be the attempt to convince Captain Baradir to send a scout to Orthanc. Then we'll finish up with Harndirion and be on the move south to Isendale and the Westmarch.
Stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Nov 27, 2022
98
KnightofTempest
Sep 13, 2022
View discussion
Threadmarks Chapter 16
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Sep 22, 2022
#209
Captain Baradir, as it turned out, was old. Even for Dunedain, he was old. His beard and hair had gone from salt and pepper to completely gray some time ago and his face was wrinkled. For all that he looked to be in his sixties, however, the man was still vital and able to lead troops, though that would change in the next twenty years, as old age began to catch up to even a Dunedain constitution. Fortunately, long life had given Captain Baradir wisdom and a certain amount of perspective to match what strength and swiftness it had begun to take from him, as the man was highly knowledgable about relics of previous ages. All this, I learned from Amdir, who insisted on accompanying me to see the Captain, even though he was still rehabilitating his body.
"They say that Captain Baradir was a contemporary of Arathorn II. He's certainly old enough to be one, though I wouldn't say that to his face." Finished Amdir as he escorted Branwen and me up to the castle on crutches.
"That would make him what? A hundred and twenty-five?" I questioned.
"A hundred and twenty-seven actually. Not yet retirement age, but give it a decade or two. In the meantime, he's our leader both on and off the field of battle." Responded Amdir.
"Long-lived Dunedain. You have odd customs to retire leaders from the field. In Dunland, if a leader can't fight, they can't lead." Mused Branwen. She had been speaking in full Westron sentences since breakfast yesterday, which I assumed had something to do with my character sheet gamifying my companions.
"Yes, well. Not everything has to be about combat." Sighed Amdir as we passed beneath the castle gates.
Grim-faced men in leather armor and Gondorian chainmail waved us through. Some of them still sported bandaged wounds but were considered fit enough for guard duty. A reminder of how precarious the position of everyone in Enedwaith was. One of the leather armor-clad guards appeared to be using a light dwarven crossbow instead of the usual longbow, due to his left arm being in a sling. Another had the full longbow but had a bandaged up thigh and was limping along the wall. One of the chainmail-clad guards seemed to have had a sword cut above his right eye stitched up in a hurry, the gruesome stitch job leaving a ragged scar that peaked out just enough from under his kettle helm to paint the picture of a close call.
"How bad was this skirmish they got into that they're putting wounded men on guard duty?" I wondered aloud.
"Bad enough. Harndirion can field a hundred fighting men at full strength. Captain Baradir took half of them with him to answer the call to arms. Not all of those came back and a fair few of the ones that did came back wounded. Right now, Harndirion has over a quarter of our fighting strength killed or wounded to varying extents." Admitted Amdir.
"No wonder the Dragon Clan are raiding this far away from Dunland. You don't have the men to stop them from getting through." Wondered Branwen.
We passed into the castle proper, bypassing a group of new recruits from the town drilling in the courtyard with spear, sword, and bow, before entering the keep. Inside the atmosphere was one of quiet determination. None of the staff or officers inside seemed to be willing to just lie down and continue to take the beatings the Dragon Clan was dishing out. I caught a glimpse of the forge and saw that my materials were being put to good use enhancing many of the suits of masterwork armor that Branwen and I had given to Badhordam. What lore the Dunedain still possessed for working metal was being turned toward an attempt to strike back at the Dragon Clan.
"It wouldn't be so bad if Conn Brenin of Lhanuch would agree to lend his warriors to our patrols. Unfortunately, the Chief has decided to take a wait-and-see approach." Scoffed Amdir.
"The Brenin doesn't wish to fight?" Questioned Branwen, incredulously.
"More like he doesn't want to fight for free. If he joins our forces now, he gains nothing, worse still, if the Dragon Clan defeats us and he comes to our aid, suddenly it looks like he chose the losing side and has nothing to show for it." Frowned Amdir.
"This Conn Brenin is a fool. The Dragon Clan will come for him and his just as soon as they're done with Lhanuch." Pronounced Branwen.
"Unfortunately, he's a fool who won't budge without good reason. His heir, Glyn Brenin is more inclined to at least pick a side, though he could go either way. He doesn't rule in Lhanuch, though." Sighed Amdir.
"Maybe Captain Baradir should think about paying the man to join your ranks? If he's that wedded to the mercenary mindset, I can't think of anything that would sway him better than cash." I suggested.
"With what money? Between you two and Sir Ecthelion's group, we've pretty much spent most of what we could afford to spend on mercenaries already. Everything else has to go into making sure we come through this intact." Pointed out Amdir.
I suppose he was right about that. Harndirion was barely a small town. It wasn't like its cash reserves could sustain eight mercenaries for very long. That's the equivalent of adding a full squad of new, veteran, troops to your forces, except you also had to buy whatever loot those veterans salvaged off the battlefield from them. Even if you paid out less than what the loot was worth, after a certain point, it would wipe you out if you were this small.
Eventually, however, Amdir led us to Captain Baradir's office. It was a room off of one of the main corridors of the keep, set into the dark stone of the wall. Amdir knocked twice quickly, then three times in a more evenly spaced cadence on the iron-banded oak door. The door was opened by a man in a Gondorian breastplate bearing shield and sword. He nodded to Amdir and stepped out of the doorway as we filed in.
Captain Baradir's office was a treasure trove of lore. Not only was there the usual armor stand, weapon rack, bookshelf, and desk, but the walls and shelves were practically stuffed to bursting with interesting knick-knacks and trophies. The story of over a hundred and twenty years of being a Ranger was laid out around the office for everyone to see. In one corner was a faded banner depicting a red snake on black that had been torn through by a blade. Stuffed heads of various beasts ranging from giant spiders to glutani, to strange Easterling and Haradrim war beasts dotted the wall behind his desk. On one of the bookshelves, a scrimshawed whale tooth sat with oddly geometric runes carved into it that it took me a while to place as Finno-Ugric. On his desk, a small runestone sat, carved with symbols in both Tengwar and Khuzdul. A piece of a broken spear, including the hewing spearhead, sat mounted on one wall.
And holding court in the middle of it all, head bandaged up like a mummy, was the man we came to see. He was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment with ink and quill when we entered, likely some dispatch to another Ranger outpost further north requesting reinforcements from the brief glimpse I saw of it. Captain Baradir folded the dispatch up, sealed it with a dollop of wax, and handed it off to the guard who had let us in.
"Take this to Captain Halbarad at the Sarn Ford outpost. The Shire is peaceful, he can afford to spare a squad or two of men to bolster our position here. Even if he can't, he can at least send supplies purchased in Bree. Ride fast for the Ford and good luck." Ordered Captain Baradir.
Then he looked up at us. "Amdir tells me that you have recovered circumstantial evidence that points to a wider conspiracy involving the Dragon Clan of Dunland, the Corsairs of Umbar, and Goblins and Drakes in the Serpent hills. He tells me you believe this Sharku person that the dispatch he showed me mentions to be someone highly placed within the Tower of Orthanc. An agent of the enemy right under the nose of Saruman the White?" He began.
"The Dragon Clan has had far too much quality equipment. They must be getting it from somewhere, and the Smiths of Isendale are quite renowned for their capabilities. Besides, we all know that this wouldn't be the first time a sorcerer has fallen to the temptation of the Shadow. As for the Goblins and Drakes, Branwen here can confirm that at the very least the Dragon Clan was conspiring with them to awake the wyrm Draigoch from his Torpor in the mountains east of here at the direction of an agent of the enemy. Possibly this very same Sharku from the Corsair dispatch." I answered.
"Is this so?" Pressed Captain Baradir, gaze alighting upon Branwen.
"It is. The Dragon Clan made me a slave after they slaughtered my Clan. They gave me to the Goblins to watch over as they prepared the ritual to awaken Draigoch. They had the aid of Sharku to do so, though I only overheard the Dragon Clan talk about it amongst themselves and never saw Sharku myself." Confirmed Branwen.
"Besides, how could so many disparate groups be coordinated without sorcery? It's too much to ignore." I pressed.
Captain Baradir paused for a moment to take a drink from a pewter mug of ale. When he had finished that, he blew out a sigh before shaking his head. I frowned as I could see where this was going before the first word of the Captain's refusal came out of his mouth. Captain Baradir wasn't going to send a scout to Orthanc.
"No, you've gathered circumstantial proof. Very convincing circumstantial proof mind you, but I haven't the men to spare for a scout right now without something concrete to justify it. I'm sorry, but the Dragon Clan raids have to be my priority." Intoned Captain Baradir.
I sighed, that obviously made the most logical sense. With over a quarter of their fighting strength out of action, it wasn't like the Rangers of Harndirion could afford to waste resources on what they saw as a fool's errand. They didn't have my metaknowledge about Saruman, after all. It still galled me to have to suffer such a setback. My thoughts were likely evident on my face, as Captain Baradir spoke again, offering words of encouragement.
"Even with our situation as it is, you have done us a great service in the amount of high-quality equipment you have sold to Badhordam at a discount. Soon we will have a full quarter of our fighting strength equipped with the best gear we could possibly provide. Not only that, but you slew the drakes terrorizing the trade caravans on the North-South Road, which will make supply and reinforcement much easier for us. However bad our situation may be, without your aid, it would have been far worse. Take heart in knowing that because of that, Harndirion will be able to make a stand with reasonable, even good odds of success. Mayhap in time, we will be able to revisit the issue of sending a scout to Orthanc. In the meantime, go with our thanks." Nodded Captain Baradir.
That was certainly something anyway. Even if Saruman wouldn't be revealed as having turned to Sauron's side, I could at least take Solace in the fact that I'd saved more lives here than in canon. I recalled that by the time of LOTRO, Harndirion no longer had a town around it and was instead a glorified Skirmish Camp. Maybe it would stay a proper town this time around? Who knew? At any rate, Amdir walked us back out of the Castle on his crutches, bidding us farewell for now, before hobbling his way back inside.
Branwen and I returned to the Argent Branch to eat lunch and pick up Sniffwise. My good boy had still been sleeping, curled up on the bed in my room when I'd left to go to the meeting with Captain Baradir. I hadn't wanted to wake him up to come with me, especially since it was likely he wouldn't be permitted inside the keep and would be forced to stay in the courtyard while we had our meeting. If that had happened, I would have put money on him getting into trouble. Sniffwise was a good boy, but he could be too curious sometimes. Once we were done with lunch, I brought Sniffwise a sausage from the Kitchen and a few copper coins, and pieces of raw gold. He snuffled it up hungrily while sending me a flash of expectant annoyance up our mental link that I translated as him telling me it was about time I showed up with food. I sent good-natured humor back down the mental link, but if Sniffwise felt it, he didn't show it. He was too busy eating.
Eventually, however, everyone was fed and ready to leave. Branwen, Sniffwise, and I ambled down the main thoroughfare of Harndirion toward the gate in the wall around the town. We passed by the pair of gate guards with a nod before stopping just before exiting the town. I turned around to take a last look at Harndirion, hoping that whatever happened with the Dragon Clan Raiders, the town would survive. Then, with Sniffwise on my shoulder, and Branwen by my side, I turned around and headed out the gates.
Next stop, Isendale and the Westmarch. . .
XXXX
AN: We are finally done with Harndirion. It's unfortunate, but with the constant raids by the Dragon Clan, Captain Baradir doesn't really have men to spare for a scout to go to Orthanc and potentially out Saruman.
Fortunately, it seems that Harndirion is in a better spot than it was in canon. In canon, by the time of LOTRO, only the Castle remained with a few outlying buildings that had been rebuilt. Here, thanks to the masterwork equipment that Brand and the others picked up and sold to Badhordam's Quartermaster Shop at reduced prices, combined with the crafting supplies Brand gave them, they're in a much better position. Plus, now there are fewer Goblins and Drakes, and Draigoch hasn't woken up.
It's possible the Town survives instead of just the castle this time around.
At any rate, next up will be the start of the journey south. Featuring a random encounter that isn't actually so random.
Stay tuned. . .
98
KnightofTempest
Sep 22, 2022
View discussion
Threadmarks Chapter 17
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Oct 1, 2022
#211
The first few days of our journey south was mostly uneventful as we passed out of Nan Laeglin, across the old stone bridge over the Cilstrem River, and through the Elven Ruins of Echad Dagoras. A Ranger of the North named Nargolon had been the sole encounter in that period. He'd made his camp at Echad Dagoras and kept watch over the Dunlandings of the territory between Isenvale and Enedwaith known as Dunfearn.
"Beyond this point, you will be entirely in Dunlanding territory. Dunfearn isn't so bad, so long as you don't do anything to upset the locals. It's mostly Ox Clan hill forts and settlements. The Ox Clan mostly wish to be left to their own devices and won't cause you trouble unless you cause them trouble first. Once you cross the Dunstrem, though, you'll be in Dunland Proper. Dunland is mired in the intrigues of the Enemy. Between the Dragon Clan and their newly gained allies in the Falcon Clan, the Enemy's strength waxes in Dunland. I would advise you to head straight south for the Angren Bridge at Belidin, stopping only in Galtrev if you must stop to resupply." Cautioned Nargolon.
"Galtrev is safe?" I asked.
"The Sacred Laws of Neutrality will protect us in Galtrev. The Brenin there has sworn an oath to the Spirits of Ox and Falcon to uphold neutrality. Plus it's a center of trade. If merchants and travelers were constantly being assaulted in town, the Brenin would soon find his coin running thin." Explained Branwen.
"Indeed. It may be the only place safe to rest in Dunland at the moment. Everywhere else is subject to attack or skullduggery by minions of the Enemy." Agreed Nargolon.
"We'll keep that in mind." I nodded.
"Then I wish you good fortune, friends, for you tread where we Rangers cannot yet go." Intoned Nargolon.
Then we were again setting off. By this time, the rugged highlands of Enedwaith had descended into a series of sloping hills with sporadic forests dotted around. The detour through Dunfearn was adding several days to our journey, but they were necessary. If we had gone straight south through the mountain passes of Thror's Comb, we'd have wound up in the Bonevales, a place filled with unquiet dead. We could destroy the bodies of the wights that prowled the Bonevales, but their spirits would reform and reanimate more corpses down the line. It was an unfortunate fact of Arda that you needed very specific magics to put down the undead permanently, none of which we currently possessed.
Still, the detour we had taken didn't add too much time to our trip. We barely even had to fend off a few sporadic attacks from packs of wolves. Killing one of them usually made the rest flee and we were able to skin and cure around four wolf pelts as we headed through Dunfearn. It was far safer than having to constantly fend off waves of regenerating undead. That was mostly due to how we followed Nargolon's advice and kept to ourselves, though. We avoided the main roads and gave any hill forts a wide berth, camping in the wilderness. We only came upon one party of four Dunlandings during our travel through Dunfearn. A quartet of Hunters seeking a beast that killed one of their Clansman's Aurochs.
"You say this beast left behind only the head of the Aurochs? Severed by powerful jaws?" I asked.
"Aye, Duvodiad. We've been tracking it for most of a day now and we're fairly sure it's somewhere in this patch of woods." Affirmed the Spokesman for the Quartet of Hunters, a man named Madoc of the Stag Clan. Madoc was a large man with a ruddy complexion, whose brown beard was starting to show streaks of gray. Madoc carried a bow, like the other three hunters, but also a boar spear. Unlike the others, he was garbed in a chain shirt rather than the leathers the other three, younger, men wore.
"Had you considered that you're dealing with another man, rather than a beast? I know of no beasts that can decapitate an Aurochs in one go. You'd need an axe for that." Offered Branwen.
"Aye, that is what my foolish nephew thought as well. We found tracks that reveal the lie of such a story, though. Three-toed, clawed, like a bird or lizard, and big. Judging from the space between the claw prints, this beastie's around ten feet long." Retorted Madoc.
"Well, we haven't seen a ten-foot-long lizard, but we'd be glad to help you track and kill the beast. If something that dangerous is nearby, it needs to be put down before it kills a person." I said.
"Aye, we'd be glad for the extra eyes, Duvodiad. With six of us, I'm certain we'll have the beastie dead by sundown. With your trained glutani to sniff it out, possibly even before then." Affirmed Madoc.
Together, the six of us plus Sniffwise set to tracking down the mystery lizard. We'd met up with Madoc's party around two in the afternoon and with the six of us looking, and Sniffwise helpfully pointing out the direction of any odd smells, we managed to track the beast down in just two hours with only a trio of false starts. It was sat between two boulders in a clearing in the woods near a small pond. A fallen tree leaned over the twin boulders creating an impromptu cave. Within that cave, chewing on an auroch's leg, hoof and all, sat a ten-foot long, flat-headed, large-mouthed, stone-colored, lizard. Each of its four, meaty, feet were tipped with sharp talons. A ridge of bony protrusions ran from the back of its head down to the middle of its back. It opened its mouth to hiss at us as we approached, revealing a mouth full of wickedly sharp, dagger-like, teeth.
I unlimbered my bow, as did Madoc and the Dunlanding Hunters. Branwen unlimbered her axe and shield, before uttering a brief prayer to Raven imploring the Nature Spirit to allow me to strike true, then touched my shoulder. Immediately, my aim came into sharper focus and I let fly a trio of arrows at the beast. My first two arrows thundered at the Lizard and sunk into its scaly hide, arrows releasing their payloads of alchemical flame into reptilian flesh. The third arrow, however, bounced off the scales as Branwen's blessing faded. In response, the Lizard roared and charged.
Madoc and the three other Dunlanding huntsmen loosed arrows, but Madoc's arrow skipped off the bony protrusions running along the beast's back. The other three missed their shots entirely, arrows spending themselves in the dirt. The Lizard pounced on the nearest Dunlanding Huntsman and with a snap of its powerful jaws bit the poor bastard's head clean off.
I fired another trio of arrows at the beast, but this time, only one managed to sink into its flesh, embedding itself near the base of the tail and spilling searing flame into the Lizard. My second shot skipped off the bony protrusions along the Lizard's back, my third went wide and sunk into the pond. In response, the Lizard reared up and disemboweled a second Huntsman with its taloned claws. Madoc dropped his bow and took up his boar spear, plunging the polearm into the Lizard's breast with all his might, pinning it down before it could kill yet another of his Clansmen. The Lizard thrashed on the end of Madoc's spear, catching the last random Huntsman with its tail, knocking him to the ground, bruised, but alive.
I drew my Flametongue and charged, as did Branwen. Together we hacked into the Lizard as Madoc held it in place with his boar spear, finally killing the beast before it could attack again. One incantation to Raven from Branwen later, and the last of the Random Huntsmen had their wounds mended by divine power as if he'd never been knocked down. Madoc looked down at the corpse of the beast and muttered something under his breath in Dunlanding. I didn't understand the words, but from context, they weren't flattering.
"So, what now?" I asked Madoc.
"Now? I make a pyre for the dead. I warned them they wouldn't want to face something that could behead an aurochs in a single go. They insisted on coming along anyway. I will burn their bodies and bring their effects back to Beannach along with their story, so their families might know what happened to them." Grunted Madoc.
The last of the Random Dunlanding Huntsmen unlimbered a hand axe from his belt and hacked at the Lizard's neck. It took him three blows, but eventually, he got the head off. He brought the grisly trophy over to Madoc who nodded and said, "At least my fool of a nephew will have proof that there are more dangers in the land than just men to worry about. Mayhaps the death of the offending Beastie will get him to take his training more seriously? If so, some good may yet come of this."
"Aye, well, at least no more aurochs will be decapitated now." I hedged.
"Aye, there is that. Now, no offense, Duvodiad, but I need to be alone with the bodies of my Nephew's kin to pay final respects. Thank you for your aid in this, but it is time for you to leave." Intoned Madoc.
Branwen and I traveled south for another two hours before making camp as the sun set, eager to be away from the clearing of death. It was the first time since coming to Middle-Earth that allies of mine had been killed in battle fighting alongside me. It sat ill with me and my mind wandered as questions assailed me amidst the growing melancholy. Would Madoc finally be able to instill some sense into the Clan he'd married into? Would they double down on peaceful farming now that the Lizard was dead? Would it even matter in the end with the political turmoil happening just over the border in Dunland Proper? In the end, I had no answers to any of those questions. The idea that allies of mine had been killed and it wouldn't even matter was enough to twist my stomach in knots. I slept fitfully that night.
My black mood must have been a harbinger of things to come, for the very next day, we had made it to the Ford of the Dunstrem. We crossed into Dunland Proper a little less than a fortnight after leaving Harndirion.
I could see smoke on the horizon. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah, our SI is starting to come to grips with the reality of adventuring. He's actually lost allies now, temporary though they may have been. He's starting to see that this is more than just characters in a book or NPCs in a tabletop game.
It's shaken him up a bit. How he handles it going forward, you'll just have to keep reading to find out.
That Lizard was a CR 8 Magical Beast known as a Gnasher Lizard. In Arda terms, they're one of the early failed attempts by Morgoth to breed dragons from drakes. They have a vorpal bite.
Next up will be the trek through Dunland Proper with Dragon Clan shenanigans going on.
Stay tuned. . .
87
KnightofTempest
Oct 1, 2022
View discussion
Threadmarks Chapter 18
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Oct 15, 2022
#212
The first few days of travel into Dunland were relatively calm. We stayed well away from any Dunlanding hill-forts as we journeyed south and our only contact with the locals was the occasional shepherd hustling along a herd of aurochs or flock of sheep. Few words were spared in these encounters, as I was an outlander and Branwen effectively clanless. Each time we spoke to the locals, there was merely a brisk, matter-of-fact, exchange of us asking whether we were still on track to make Galtrev and the shepherd replying in the affirmative. The only other words we received were warnings of conflict to the south and admonishments to stick to the roads more closely. All the while, the smoke rising from fires further south steadily grew larger on the horizon.
It was a few hours away from Galtrev that we received more clarification on the conflict. A Dunlanding Broch lay partially wrecked, with its outer wall having been torn down in places as if broken open by a ram, and the door into the tower hanging open on its hinges. The barn inside the outer wall seemed to have had its occupants, a small flock of sheep from the looks of things, violently rustled, along with stores from the larder. I tentatively crept inside to take a look and swiftly wished that I hadn't. The interior was a horror show, most of the valuables had been stripped, down to the candlesticks, but that wasn't the worst part. No, there was a man's head sitting on the dinner table on the first floor, face frozen in a rictus of pain. It looked to have been hacked off with a dull-bladed axe, the neck stump was so ragged.
I felt the contents of my stomach begin to heave as my gorge rose from the grisly hatchet job. I looked away to distract myself and found the calling card of the culprit lodged into the backboard of a high-backed chair. Someone had taken the time to scrawl a note in Dunlanding script and pin it to the chair with a dagger. I reached out with a trembling hand and took the note and dagger with me as I exited the tower of the broch.
"That bad?" Questioned Branwen as she saw me take in great heaving lungfuls of air to try and settle my rising gorge.
"Aye." I said once the shock had cleared. "Whoever did this seriously hated the man who lived here. They seemed to have taken his head off with a dull blade."
"And left a note. Let me see that." She frowned. I handed over the note gladly. As she scanned the note she frowned in thought. Meanwhile, I tucked the long-bladed, dirk-style, dagger into my bag of holding. Eventually, Branwen stopped reading and looked up from the note with a grim look on her face.
"Bad? What's it say?" I queried.
"Aye, very bad. The owner of the Broch was the Gareth ap Gruffyd of the Fox Clan, and the man who did him in was his neighbor, Rhys ap Flynn of the Hare Clan. Rhys here seems to have a lot to say about Gareth, that he was a cheat and a liar, that he unfairly moved the boundary stone between their lands so that his was larger, that his wife should have been Rhys' before he purchased her hand. A long list of petty grievances, some of which must be entirely imagined." She intoned.
"So the man is petty and his fraying temper finally snapped and he killed his neighbor. It's not unheard of." I hedged.
"The worrying part is the one where he states that now that the Dragon Clan is on the warpath, all those who side with them will have vengeance for their grievances. It seems that in their bid for domination, the Dragon Clan is starting to turn neighbors against one another, using redress of grievances to gain followers. I do not know how things are done in Dale, but Dunlandings do not turn on their neighbors like that so easily. The Dragon Clan must have gotten the upper hand in the struggles further south." Replied Branwen, shaking her head.
"It could be something more. The enemy has been known to befuddle the minds of men, and we do already suspect there are agents of his among the sorcerers at Orthanc." I frowned, desperately hoping it was just simple spite and opportunism spurred on by Dragon Clan victories. I wasn't sure I was equipped to deal with any mind whammy coming from Saruman at the moment.
"Perhaps. Ultimately, we know nothing. We have not engaged anyone in a long enough conversation to sound out the situation." Shrugged Branwen.
"Perhaps we ought to stay a day in Galtrev and see what the local rumors around the taverns are saying?" I put forth.
"Aye, it might be prudent." Agreed Branwen.
We left the Broch of Gareth ap Gruffyd and headed further south for Galtrev. We arrived at the hillfort just after noon and were waiting outside the gates to be inspected by the guards. By order of the Brennin, all incoming travelers were to be searched and questioned in case they were Dragon Clan spies. We stood in line behind an increasingly surly dwarf as a grain cart being driven by a gray-bearded old Dunlanding was being inspected by one guard with a spear, while the other, more senior guard asked the Graybeard questions.
"I cannae believe this! He's just a farmer, no need to check his durned cart three bloody times with a spear! What did ye think ye were going to find after the first two bloody times?" Grumbled the Dwarf in front of us, agitation causing his Longbeard accent to become more prominent.
"They're only doing their duty, Master Dwarf. I know I would feel safer being absolutely certain an assassin didn't sneak into my town in a grain cart if I were the Brennin." I sighed.
The Dwarf turned to look at me, his brown beard twitching as he chewed his mustache in annoyance. "Aye, and if I were the lad's Brennin, I'd say two checks is enough Manling." He ground out.
"Perhaps, but perhaps he is new at his post? The lad can't be much older than sixteen from the looks of him. I wasn't as confident in my abilities when I was sixteen as I am now." I suggested.
"I suppose we were all young once, but if he prods that bloody grain pile with his spear again, I'm going to have some very pointed words to say to the lad." Grumbled the Dwarf, patting the bearded Dwarven waraxe resting at his hip. Thankfully it seemed the young guardsman got the memo and the farmer was waved through without further prodding of grain or questions. The Dwarf stepped forward and the Guard moved to him.
"Name and business in Galtrev?" Asked the more senior guard.
"Bragi, son of Narvi of the Morthond Vale, and I'd like to have a pint to slake my thirst and a place to comb the dust out of my beard if that's all right with you?" Responded the Dwarf Hotly.
The guards looked at each other before the older one shrugged and waved him through. Clearly, the man wasn't paid enough to deal with irate, road-weary, Dwarves. Honestly, it was probably a safe bet too. Outside of a very few isolated factions such as the Dourhands, no Dwarves would be caught dead playing for the same team that the Orcs were on. Their ancestral grudges wouldn't allow it. Then, it was our turn.
"Name and business in Galtrev?" Asked the Senior Guard.
"Brand of Dale, and I was simply passing through on my way south to the Old Pukel Gap and Gondor." I answered.
"Branwen ferch Owain. Same." Replied Branwen.
"No clan affiliation?" Pressed the Guard.
"None living." Intoned Branwen.
"I see. A lot of that going around lately. The damned Dragons are on the warpath. If you're headed south to Gondor, I'd take the left-hand branch of the road. The Dragons have Dun Caladach under siege and the right-hand branch takes you right by there." Offered the Older Guard.
"The left-hand branch takes us through the Dunbog. That's a treacherous path." Frowned Branwen.
"More treacherous than trying to sneak past Dragon-clan warbands?" I questioned.
"You could take your chances off-road. There are worse things than the Dunbog road that way." Shrugged the Older Guard.
"It seems our best option, yes?" I pressed.
"Very well. The left-hand branch it is. That means we cross the Isen at the town of Angren. Which puts us across the Adorn at the town of Adornas. It'll tack on another two days to our trip, but it should avoid the current war." Mused Branwen.
"One more thing. Keep your Glutani out of trouble. He is trained yes?" Questioned the Older Guard.
"He is. He won't be any trouble." I assured the Guard.
"He'd better not be. The last Duviodad that came through here with an exotic pet was the damned mushroom-addled Wizard. Had these giant rabbits that got into some of the ale stores and wrecked up the smithy." Intoned the Guard.
"I will keep him under supervision for the duration." I promised.
"Good. Welcome to Galtrev, then." Nodded the Guard.
"Thank you for the welcome and the traveling advice." I nodded. And with that, we were inside Galtrev. The Hillfort was much like any of its contemporaries, the buildings were wood and drystone roundhouses, for the most part, with lots of armed men patrolling, but there were other differences as well. The full stables were one, as was the guildhall. The market was livelier even with the current troubles in the south, and sported merchants from as far away as Edoras, Erech, and Bree hawking wares, alongside those of a more local bent. I even spotted a few Dwarves sporting the trappings of the Stonefoot Clan.
I tarried a little to haggle over some of the loot I had recently gained. I wound up selling a good portion of my miscellaneous loot, the corsair valuables, goblets, and dismounted gemstones sold to a Gondorian Jeweler from Erech, the Masterwork equipment actually got bought by one of the Dwarves, who planned to take it back to Kechel, forge some runes into them, and sell the newly enchanted armor for a steep price hike. Another Dwarf, this one from Zigil Jabal, managed to appraise at least one of the casks of Dwarven Spirits I was carrying at just over fifteen thousand Castars with the right buyer. The other could go as high as three times that, though he recommended I ask someone more familiar with Blacklock Spirits since it was a rarer spirit this far west and he wasn't an expert.
All told, I wound up some thirty-thousand-ninety Castars from the sale of loot to various merchants, and I got an appraisal on one cask of Dwarven spirits and a ballpark figure on the other. Galtrev was turning out to be quite the center of trade after all. To think I had doubted the ability of the town to act as such. I guess that proved me wrong. I met up with Branwen who had also sold her enameled and bejeweled goblet for three-thousand-six-hundred-seventy Castars. Together, we headed off to find an inn for the evening.
We had no idea what was coming for us that night. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah, Galtrev is actually a fully-fledged center of trade, like Bree, Edoras, and Dale are. It's maybe a bit more low output than those examples, but it's still good enough to have a market that can handle transactions in the less than fifty thousand Castar range in a single go.
Also, I like to think that Radagast goes around looking for new animals to tame when not on a time-sensitive mission. He can't always just sit in the woods and do mushrooms. Accordingly, I have it that his last trip through Galtrev ended in hijinx.
He seems like the type.
At any rate, the next update, a surprise attack in the middle of the night happens to our SI.
Stay tuned. . .
91
KnightofTempest
Oct 15, 2022
View discussion
Threadmarks Chapter 19
View content
KnightofTempest
Has no Audience
Nov 6, 2022
#222
The Burned Badger was an inn established some thirty years ago in Galtrev by a man named Conal ap Dougal of the Wolf Clan. Conal and his father Dougal had led a Wolf Clan raid on the Badger Clan settlement of Ynys Broch on an island in the middle of the Dunbog. The raid had wound up destroying the settlement before Badger Clan reinforcements could arrive and the wealth that Conal had carried off had paid for the construction of the inn. It wasn't as large as some of the other inns in Galtrev, having just the common room and a trio of private rooms, but it served some damn good ale and the private rooms each had two beds and were slightly larger than those elsewhere as a result. We purchased one of their private rooms for the night and headed to the bar to slake our thirst and hunger.
The dinner on offer was mashed potatoes, mashed turnips, and ground beef, sort of a version of neeps and tatties mixed with ground beef, served with hearty, crusty, bread and a bit of butter. I heartily dug in, as all those things were delicious to me. I noticed that Branwen ate around the turnips though. Meanwhile, I ordered extra ground beef in a separate dish, placed it on the floor, and put a nugget of raw gold in it for sniffwise. My little buddy sent flashes of happiness up our mental link as he ate his dinner somewhat noisily. The messy eating of my Aurumvorax buddy drew curious gazes from various people. Most were regular townsfolk, some were visiting merchants, and all but one kept their distance despite their curiosity. The one that did approach was a scarred man with his head shaved bald and a simple, blonde, goatee instead of the full beard that most Dunlandings favored. He wore slick black leather armor with runes inscribed in an unfamiliar script in the leather and bore a dagger with a dark red ruby in the pommel as well as a matching shortsword. He was clearly an adventurer of some kind, not from Dunland.
"That is an interesting animal, Glutani yes? I have never seen one with that particular color coat before. Nor have I ever heard of a Glutani being so well-behaved. How did you come by such a creature." Questioned the Man.
"Sniffwise is very well trained. You just have to get them young and be good at training animals. In his case, I found him in the burrow of a dead Glutani. I couldn't just leave him there to die, so he's been my little buddy ever since." I replied.
"Fascinating." Intoned the Man.
"You don't look like you're from around here, and you're clearly not a traveling merchant. Might I ask your name?" I asked.
"Ah, of course, how impolite of me. My name is Elred of Derwhad. I was hoping to find work with the guard now that the Dragon Clan is on the warpath, but Galtrev is determined to maintain its neutrality and the Brennin is suspicious of foreign mercenaries. I fear I'll have to head further south to find employment. May I ask your name and that of your companion?" Replied the Man.
"I am Brand of Dale, my Companion is Branwen of no Clan. We were passing through on our way south to the Old Pukel Gap and Gondor." I answered.
"Gondor is currently under mass attack by Corsair raids. Fighting Corsairs is good work if you can handle it, I've heard that Steward Ecthelion put a bounty on Corsairs. Ten Castars per corsair slain. I'd have gone there myself, save that such straight fights are not my forte." Nodded Elred.
"Oh?" I queried.
"Indeed. I am a better scout than I am a warrior. With the Corsairs' ability to sail up rivers and along coasts to strike without warning, I'm afraid my talents would be somewhat wasted in most circumstances there." Shrugged Elred.
"Unlike here?" I pressed.
"The Dragon Clan do make camp on land. I can scout a war camp. The Corsairs don't make camp ashore unless circumstances dictate. I cannot scout a ship at sea. Then there are supply lines, reinforcement columns, and other, less defended things going to the Dragon Clan Army from their territory that are ripe for an ambush. The Corsairs get resupply from pillage and don't really call for reinforcements much." Explained Elred.
"I see. Well, I wish you fortune on your quest to gain employment." I said.
"Indeed, and I wish you fortune against the Corsairs. You'll need it." Returned Elred.
I went back to my dinner then as Sniffwise finished his and began licking spattered beef and gold flakes off the floorboards around his dish from where his messy eating had sent them flying. He sent disappointment that the food was gone up our mental link and I sent back amusement and reassurance. He'd just eaten a pound of ground beef and eight ounces of raw gold, after all. That was plenty of food for a young kit for the evening. Looking over at Branwen, I noticed she'd cleaned her plate of all but the mashed turnips. I arched an eyebrow at her as she took a long pull of brown ale from her mug. She put down her mug and arched her eyebrow back at me.
"What? I don't like turnips." She intoned, flatly.
"No? I'll take them if you don't want them. If not, I'm sure Sniffwise would love to have more food. He was disappointed that he'd finished his." I grinned.
"How is it that you can talk to your Glutani like that? I asked Raven, but he said to ask you." Questioned Branwen, scrunching up her face quizzically.
"I have certain abilities granted by my. . .unique circumstances let's call them. One of them is a mental bond with Sniffwise that can send and receive emotions and impressions, if not actual speech. I can call upon the power to talk with him and other animals, but only a few times a day. The bond is always active, however." I answered.
"Hmm. Sounds similar to my relationship with Raven. Are you sure you aren't a chosen of one of your gods?" Questioned Branwen.
"If I am, it's because it amuses them to do so." I scoffed. While true, Tulkas said he wanted me to be a backup plan in case Frodo, Aragorn, and the rest failed, but I'm also pretty sure that he didn't actually need an insurance policy, to begin with, and was at least partly using me as entertainment. It must be pretty boring in Valinor for him to do that.
Soon enough, however, dinnertime was over and it was time to head off to bed for the night. Branwen, Sniffwise, and I piled into our single room and shucked off our armor. Branwen kept her gambeson on, though, for modesty's sake. I didn't question it, even though she'd been wearing less when we found her, the tears in her clothing leaving little to the imagination. I knew the circumstances of that were out of her control. We kept our weapons close, however, you never could be too careful this close to enemy forces. Sniffwise made a tiny little bed for himself out of sheets in the corner of the room and began to saw logs. Branwen turned to look at him and smiled faintly.
"He's cute, all curled up like that." She said.
"You should see him when he starts dreaming about chasing something. His little legs start kicking in mid-air like he's running. It's adorable." I grinned.
"You know, you're not bad to look at either." Smirked Branwen as she ran her eyes along my bare chest.
"Why Branwen? Are you saying you wouldn't mind a relationship? How forward." I shot back.
"Hm. I'm a Dunlanding. Unlike your noble ladies, we don't have time for dancing around the issue. You're strong, clever, a canny warrior, and easy on the eyes. If you were Dunlanding, you'd be a shoo-in for Brennin in some clans. I could do a lot worse." Shrugged Branwen.
I considered the issue. I wouldn't mind a relationship with Branwen if I was being honest. The amazon thing she had going definitely worked on me, and I always did have a thing for redheads, but I didn't know much about her personally beyond what she'd already shared. While that in itself wasn't a dealbreaker in terms of Arda, arranged marriages being a staple here, back on Earth it was odd to get in a serious relationship without so much as knowing what your significant other liked doing in their spare time. That didn't mean I couldn't get to know her better over time. It was honestly probably a good idea anyway to do that.
"I'm flattered, but why don't we get to know each other a little better first? I mean no disrespect, but I don't even know what you like to do when not out fighting or in the field." I proposed.
"Hmm. Sounds like it could be fun. I like drawing. I used to have a room full of parchments with various drawings I made with a charcoal stick back before my Clan was attacked. I was pretty good at it too. What about you?" She asked.
"I like games. Dice and card games are my favorites. I also sing a little, though I'm not exactly a great bard." I shrugged.
"I'd like to hear you sing sometime." Smiled Branwen.
"Sure, sometime you probably will. Now though, we've got a full day of travel tomorrow. The Dunbog awaits, and from there we have to cross the Isen and head for the Old Pukel Gap." I intoned.
"Right. Good night, Brand." Nodded Branwen.
"Good night, Branwen." I smiled back.
We turned in for the night and soon were sleeping the same as Sniffwise. I dreamed of a forest, with trees tall as the mountains. I was chasing some kind of beast through the woods, it half-slithered and half-ran through the undergrowth as I followed with my bow. I ran past trees covered in moss, over a rushing stream, and through a pair of round boulders, until finally, I found my quarry. A beast with the head and neck of a serpent, the body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion, and the hooves of a deer. It was the Questing Beast of Arthurian Legend, and it was drinking from a shallow pond, slaking the thirst the chase had given it. I raised my bow and nocked an arrow, preparing to fire.
Then the golden, muscular, form of Tulkas crashed into the clearing through the undergrowth, startling the beast and causing it to run off. Tulkas' shouted a warning at me and I was catapulted out of the dream and back into the waking world. As I opened my eyes, I saw two shadowed, hooded, figures standing over Branwen and Sniffwise, shortswords in their hands, poised to strike! Immediately, I grabbed my shield and Flametongue and shouted out.
"Assassins!" I roared, while I sent impressions of danger to sniffwise down our mental link.
That immediately woke up Branwen and Sniffwise, Branwen grabbed her axe and shield just in time for the descending shortsword to bounce off her shield. Sniffwise managed to roll to the side and avoid the shortsword entirely. The three of us rocketed out of our beds and stood up, ready for a fight. As we did so, a third assassin appeared in the doorway. He was masked up, but I recognized the ruby pommeled dagger and shortsword he held in each hand. It was Elred, the man from the bar who I'd been so open with before.
"Kill the Glutani and the Woman, but the Master wants that one for questioning!" Elred ordered his two minions while pointing at me with his shortsword.
"Elred, if that even is your real name, who are you working for?" I growled out.
"You're getting a little too close to some very dangerous secrets, Brand. My master wishes to know what exactly you know but doesn't require your Glutani or Companion. Too bad for them." Sneered Elred.
"Fine, I guess I'll just have to beat the answers out of you!" I growled.
"Unarmored? Please, you just embarrass yourself. Give up now and spare yourself some pain! I'm afraid that won't save your companions, though." Demanded Elred with a laugh.
In response, I pointed my Flametongue at him and activated its scorching ray attack. The red beam shot straight for Elred and struck him square in the chest, throwing him backward through the opened doorway with the smell of scorched leather and burned flesh. It didn't kill him, but it definitely took the wind out of his sails. He stood back up shakily, his breathing ragged, an expression of disbelief on his face.
"Armor isn't everything, Elred." I taunted.
His expression turned to one of rage as he spat out, "That is going to cost you a finger!"
Then the fight began in earnest. . .
XXXX
AN: Yeah, Elred has a pretty high bluff. It would have been functionally impossible for Brand to have sniffed out that Elred was more than just a really good rogue.
That doesn't excuse how open he was being about himself and his party to a random guy he didn't know in an area where the enemy is active.
One thing's for sure, he's gonna be a lot more careful about OpSec from now on.
Also, yes, Saruman found out that Brand was pushing for the Rangers to investigate Orthanc. That's what happens when Rangers mention the results of the latest big meeting in earshot of circling Crabain. He doesn't know the specifics though.
Hence the current attempt to assassinate Branwen and Sniffwise and capture Brand.
At any rate, the next chapter will be the fight. Stay tuned. . .
Last edited: Nov 6, 2022