Looking up from their carving, Tallind notices a patch of disturbed earth between the tree's knotted roots. Scraping it up reveals an old chest bearing a Dunedain mark. Tucked among the basic supplies is a bushel of athelas herbs, still green and pliable, giving forth a clean smell like morning rain. Even in their absence, the Rangers still aid those who stand against the Shadow.
Add the athelas to your equipment: it counts as a potion of healing.
I still need checks from Ikko and Fror, though, if we want to continue the adventure...
With defines that belies his size, Fror wades across the stream and scrambles up the rocky crag. One rope, hitched fast to a tree, is all it takes for the others to follow. It seems the party will reach Archet without delay!
(I don't think Gradius is interested in playing any further, but I'll give him until tomorrow just in case he changes his mind. Otherwise I'll play Ikko until we can drop him off. Sorry I took so long to respond: like I said, I'll try to post pretty routinely going forth, assuming we're still good to go!)
With defines that belies his size, Fror wades across the stream and scrambles up the rocky crag. One rope, hitched fast to a tree, is all it takes for the others to follow. It seems the party will reach Archet without delay!
(I don't think Gradius is interested in playing any further, but I'll give him until tomorrow just in case he changes his mind. Otherwise I'll play Ikko until we can drop him off. Sorry I took so long to respond: like I said, I'll try to post pretty routinely going forth, assuming we're still good to go!)
Already replied. Still keen to go on. You're an innovative DM, I think - That skill challenge was awesome!
With defines that belies his size, Fror wades across the stream and scrambles up the rocky crag. One rope, hitched fast to a tree, is all it takes for the others to follow. It seems the party will reach Archet without delay!
(I don't think Gradius is interested in playing any further, but I'll give him until tomorrow just in case he changes his mind. Otherwise I'll play Ikko until we can drop him off. Sorry I took so long to respond: like I said, I'll try to post pretty routinely going forth, assuming we're still good to go!)
Already replied. Still keen to go on. You're an innovative DM, I think - That skill challenge was awesome!
As the party rests at midday, seated in a mossy hollow, Ikko bursts from the treeline. A barbed shaft is stuck in his left shoulder. "A goblin," he whispers. His hollow voice sends a chill up your spine. "I slew him, but...the arrow. It is poisoned! I cannot stay afoot much longer." With that, he collapses to the ground.
Though Ikko's breathing and heartbeat are stable, his shoulder is pale and cold, and there is no waking him. So the remaining companions carry him, taking it in turns, north out of the Chetwood.
...
It is only Fror's climbing skill at the collapsed bridge that brings the party to Archet ere dusk. The village sits on the edge of the Chetwood, with the looming Downs pressing in from the north. Orange sunset fills the outlying farms, already turning autumn yellow, as you pick your way to the houses. A surly-looking farmer in a wide-brimmed hat points the way to Marty Banks' house: a short but solid farmhouse on the north end of town.
"Hey there! Hold up now!" A bright-eyed old hobbit comes hurrying to meet you, half-dragged by a barking dog. As he catches sight of you, he lets down his woodcutter's axe and stares in relief. "Well, mercy me! When I heard the gate, I thought it was—well, never mind that. Instead, I get three strangers, and from strange lands, it seems. What brings you to my house? I hope you mean no trouble, for if you do, you'll find me much tougher than I look!"
"We mean trouble, that's for certain, master short one. But to whom? It is not you we must confront, but the enemy. They have brought troves of goblins from the East, and with them danger most fierce. We need a place to stay and medicine for our companion. I fear orc poison - he may already be beyond saving. I am Tallind, a trapper from a short ways up north. For your hospitality I can supply all meat you need for a year. That's a hobbit's dream, no? But we must be hasty, as we have little time and much to do."
“An army of goblins! Goodness me. Then this is serious business.” The hobbit shuffles his woolly feet and bows. “I’m Marty Banks, at your service. Pleased to meet you, Tallind and—what’s your name, Master Dwarf?
”I’ll do whatever I can for your friend. But, though your news is urgent and your offer more than kind, I fear you’ll need to hunt something bigger than deer or boar if I’m to help you out. I’ve got a big trouble of my own, you see.
”But sup first, talk later, as my old dad always said. My wife Cordelia’s made a fine mushroom stew. Come in and have some, and then we’ll trade woes!”
Rubbing his dog’s head, Marty trots off toward the farmhouse, and the party trails behind. The low-roofed room inside is bright and cheery, with a brick fireplace as round as the door and windows. The smells set the adventurers’ stomachs rumbling, and the stew does not disappoint. As Cordelia and a few farmhands clear the table, Marty motions you to sit by the fire.
”Now, tell me,” he says, munching on a seed-cake. “What more help did you need, and why did you seek me out?”
"Our companion is dying. Perhaps dead. Tell us your problem. We are in a hurry and I have no time for hobbit's leisure, though I should love to partake with you in a future meeting."
“Oh, don’t fear for him!” Marty looks apologetic. “I should have told you from the first: my friend Halbarad was poisoned in just the same way, and he was quite stable. Your friend will be very much all right, I think.”
Looking up from their carving, Tallind notices a patch of disturbed earth between the tree's knotted roots. Scraping it up reveals an old chest bearing a Dunedain mark. Tucked among the basic supplies is a bushel of athelas herbs, still green and pliable, giving forth a clean smell like morning rain. Even in their absence, the Rangers still aid those who stand against the Shadow.
Add the athelas to your equipment: it counts as a potion of healing.
I still need checks from Ikko and Fror, though, if we want to continue the adventure...
Wizard (Gandalf) of the Tolkien Club
Athletics: 18
I'm the Valar (leader and creator) of The Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit/Anything Tolkien Cult!
Member of the Cult of Cats, High Elf of the Elven Guild, and Sauce Priest & Sauce Smith of the Supreme Court of Sauce.
If you want some casual roleplay/adventures in Middle Earth, check out The Wild's Edge Tavern, a LotR/Middle Earth tavern!
JOIN TIAMAT'S CONGA LINE!
Extended Sig
With defines that belies his size, Fror wades across the stream and scrambles up the rocky crag. One rope, hitched fast to a tree, is all it takes for the others to follow. It seems the party will reach Archet without delay!
(I don't think Gradius is interested in playing any further, but I'll give him until tomorrow just in case he changes his mind. Otherwise I'll play Ikko until we can drop him off. Sorry I took so long to respond: like I said, I'll try to post pretty routinely going forth, assuming we're still good to go!)
Wizard (Gandalf) of the Tolkien Club
Already replied. Still keen to go on. You're an innovative DM, I think - That skill challenge was awesome!
Frequent Eladrin || They/Them, but accept all pronouns
Luz Noceda would like to remind you that you're worth loving!
Awesome and thanks! That's nice to hear. :)
Wizard (Gandalf) of the Tolkien Club
As the party rests at midday, seated in a mossy hollow, Ikko bursts from the treeline. A barbed shaft is stuck in his left shoulder. "A goblin," he whispers. His hollow voice sends a chill up your spine. "I slew him, but...the arrow. It is poisoned! I cannot stay afoot much longer." With that, he collapses to the ground.
Though Ikko's breathing and heartbeat are stable, his shoulder is pale and cold, and there is no waking him. So the remaining companions carry him, taking it in turns, north out of the Chetwood.
...
It is only Fror's climbing skill at the collapsed bridge that brings the party to Archet ere dusk. The village sits on the edge of the Chetwood, with the looming Downs pressing in from the north. Orange sunset fills the outlying farms, already turning autumn yellow, as you pick your way to the houses. A surly-looking farmer in a wide-brimmed hat points the way to Marty Banks' house: a short but solid farmhouse on the north end of town.
"Hey there! Hold up now!" A bright-eyed old hobbit comes hurrying to meet you, half-dragged by a barking dog. As he catches sight of you, he lets down his woodcutter's axe and stares in relief. "Well, mercy me! When I heard the gate, I thought it was—well, never mind that. Instead, I get three strangers, and from strange lands, it seems. What brings you to my house? I hope you mean no trouble, for if you do, you'll find me much tougher than I look!"
Wizard (Gandalf) of the Tolkien Club
"We mean trouble, that's for certain, master short one. But to whom? It is not you we must confront, but the enemy. They have brought troves of goblins from the East, and with them danger most fierce. We need a place to stay and medicine for our companion. I fear orc poison - he may already be beyond saving. I am Tallind, a trapper from a short ways up north. For your hospitality I can supply all meat you need for a year. That's a hobbit's dream, no? But we must be hasty, as we have little time and much to do."
Frequent Eladrin || They/Them, but accept all pronouns
Luz Noceda would like to remind you that you're worth loving!
“An army of goblins! Goodness me. Then this is serious business.” The hobbit shuffles his woolly feet and bows. “I’m Marty Banks, at your service. Pleased to meet you, Tallind and—what’s your name, Master Dwarf?
”I’ll do whatever I can for your friend. But, though your news is urgent and your offer more than kind, I fear you’ll need to hunt something bigger than deer or boar if I’m to help you out. I’ve got a big trouble of my own, you see.
”But sup first, talk later, as my old dad always said. My wife Cordelia’s made a fine mushroom stew. Come in and have some, and then we’ll trade woes!”
Rubbing his dog’s head, Marty trots off toward the farmhouse, and the party trails behind. The low-roofed room inside is bright and cheery, with a brick fireplace as round as the door and windows. The smells set the adventurers’ stomachs rumbling, and the stew does not disappoint. As Cordelia and a few farmhands clear the table, Marty motions you to sit by the fire.
”Now, tell me,” he says, munching on a seed-cake. “What more help did you need, and why did you seek me out?”
Wizard (Gandalf) of the Tolkien Club
"Our companion is dying. Perhaps dead. Tell us your problem. We are in a hurry and I have no time for hobbit's leisure, though I should love to partake with you in a future meeting."
Frequent Eladrin || They/Them, but accept all pronouns
Luz Noceda would like to remind you that you're worth loving!
“Oh, don’t fear for him!” Marty looks apologetic. “I should have told you from the first: my friend Halbarad was poisoned in just the same way, and he was quite stable. Your friend will be very much all right, I think.”
Wizard (Gandalf) of the Tolkien Club