What is common knowledge about Bree.
Bree-land is quite small and contains four villages within its
boundaries: Bree, on the western slope of Bree Hill; Staddle, on the
other side of the hill; Combe, a few miles to the east, and Archel,
which lies a few miles northeast of Bree. The Chetwood, a goodsized
but tame forest is also considered part of Bree-land and lies
just north of Archet. The whole region is a generally pleasant,
peaceful, and law-abiding spot where Men and Hobbits dwell together
in peace, facing danger but rarely — unless one ventures to
the Barrow-downs in search of gold and jewels and magic items, or
is unfortunate enough to run into the bandits that plague the
highways outside of Bree-land proper.
A little flavor about the adventure ahead.
Shaleen pointed eastward toward the row of strange hills surmounted
by mounds. Their grassy flanks looked like silver in the
bright moonlight. She quietly rubbed her hand across the heel
marks in the dry, spongy dirt and whispered: "The Shadow has carried
Darien back to its tomb—we must move fast." Tash looked
over to Namu. The mage grabbed his glowing staff and, rising,
spoke with a determined bitterness in his voice: "No sprained ankle
will keep me from rescuing my brother from the servants of the
Dark Lord."
Each of you make your way to the King's Rest Inn. For those just coming into town, this your first stay. For those that live here you are out on business and decide to stop in for food.
The King's Rest Inn is the largest building in Bree village. It
boasts three stories and sports two wings that slope back from the
road. There are twenty very comfortable rooms to accommodate
men and two to accommodate visiting Hobbits. The Inn is kept
meticulously clean. The innkeeper employs several maids, three
cooks, and a number of grooms.
Dot
Also, dot..lol
Please come in and explain what your doing..
Are you guys eating? Coming in from a journey? on trip ?
It was a long and dangerous trip to make it to this town, Bree was it? The roads have become dangerous, and the countryside awash with bandits, and worse.
I left the port city of Dol Amroth and slowly drifted north, first to the great fortress city of Minas Tirith, and then along the road into Rohan. A short stay at Edoras was followed by the long journey through the lands of Dunland, between the Isen and Gwathlo rivers. The passing through the ruined town of Tharbad showed just how desolate the lands had become. The old stone bridge has nearly been swept away, and the town is little more than a few crude huts hidden in the ruins.
Once across the Gwathlo, also known as the Greyflood, the lands improved, if only slightly, as more villages and farms dotted the empty area, until the road split; the west route leading into the lands of the hobbits, and the north to the town of Bree.
And so it was on a pleasant, sunny day that I arrived in the town, giving my name to the gate watchman and getting directions to this Inn. The rest was well deserved, however my traveler's blood has once again began to beat to the rhythm of the roads.
Relaxing in the taproom, a mug of small beer at hand, Baralas watched the many guests coming and going from the Inn, enjoying the buzz of talk and tales told by fellow travelers.
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Ellshia tiptoes into the town, unfamiliar with how things are conducted in man-lands. The falling night holds no terror for her, but the thought of being among humans makes her nervous. She makes her way to the inn having been told that this was a place where food and lodging could be obtained.
Once she had navigated her way through the negotiations for food and rest she sat down and began to look around. For the first time she realised she had no idea how to find her quarry. She had assumed the person would be obvious, but now she realised she was out of her depth. still she must persevere, so she determined to finish her meal and then approach the issue.
Odo stood outside the Kings Rest, and watched people enter. Looks like a few strangers in town tonight. Might be worth hanging out and see if they have any exciting tales... or drop anything interesting. He then made his way to the common room, his purse for a change with a bit of heft. He made his way to the end of the bar, where the counter top had been lowered for the small folk, and ordered a pint of ale.
Baralas notices the shy elfess enter the taproom, warily looking about. He rises and approaches her.
"Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn" he says, bowing slightly with his right hand over his heart.
A star shines over the time of our meeting
Garulf sits alone at a table near the edge of the common room. He calls for a meal from one of the serving maids, having already paid for his night in the inn. His pack leans against legs of the table, with his spear and shield clearly visible strapped to the outside of the pack while his rough fur and leather coat seems distinctly foreign compared to the men of Bree.
He silently ponders where he will go next. His contract is ended and he finds himself further from home than he's been before. The mix of halflings, men, and even the occasional elf leaves him at a surprising loss of how to proceed in Bree. He knows that his pay will not last for long if he cannot find more work soon. Perhaps there is someone at the inn that can point him in the right direction. A joke once shared with his men comes to mind. "There's no better place to find rumors than a taproom."
Things in the Southfarthing had been especially calm over the past year, so when he received the letter from the Dunedain inviting him to meet once again in Bree for a spell of revelry, Brand could not pass up the opportunity. He crossed the Brandywine at Samford, cutting through the low hills and across wolf territory to make it to the northern road. He made sure not to wander to far into those hills, for as they stretched north then would inevitably become the cursed Barrow Downs. It had been several days well spent, and now here he was, once again entering the town of Bree.
Brand enjoyed interacting with his Kin in Bree. They had a slightly strange air to them, adding a touch of something unique to each encounter. But for now, he needed food. And he knew just where to head - the King's Rest, where he and Arradir had previously met on two occasions. Striding in on the wind, he glances about for his friend, yet seeing him not present, grabs a corner table where they can chat and feast. Looking about the room, he sees the usual mix, with two exceptions - a burly human warrior in strange attire, and an elf maiden. Two surprising additions for a quiet afternoon.
But enough pondering the imponderable. Now, where is that silly Arradir...? Catching the barmaid's attention as she passes by, he orders a owl of stew and a pint of ale. A proper pint indeed.
Arradir strides into Bree on long legs, pulling his cloak around him. It isn't too cold, certainly not for him, a Dúnedain of the North, but he isn't entirely... welcome, in Bree. Not that he isn't allowed in the city, but the Bree-landers, especially the folk of Bree itself, are always suspicious of his kind. The Ranger double-checks that his hood has shadowed his face and shrugs his cloak forward as he looks up to the sign. The King's Rest.
As he steps inside the inn and gives a curt nod to the bartender--the Rangers aren't unheard of in Bree, and most of those who deal with travelers recognize them--Arradir reflects on what's brought him here tonight. Times have been dangerous for the Rangers of late: their chieftain Arathorn was slain by an Orc arrow all too recently, and his heir, Aragorn, was whispered away to Rivendell in the night. Since then, the Dúnedain have just been making their way as they can, Rangers wandering the northlands to protect them and hold back the orcs of the mountains, and put down the Men who turn to banditry in the region. Arradir himself has patrolled all over the region from the Misty Mountains into the Shire, and it was in that western reach of his travels that he first met...
"Brandibald Hornblower!" he says with a grin, sitting at the hobbit's table and already withdrawing a pipe from a cloak pocket. "Fancy meeting you here. How have you been, friend?"
"Arradir, you old dog, how are you? I have been well, the Southfarthing has been quiet as of late. Not much more than a few squabbles over property lines and which 'taters belong to whom. How about yourself? Lookin' a touch scrawny perhaps?" As if on cue, the barmaid brings Brand a large bowl of stew and an ale.
"Can we get a round for my friend? He doesn't know how to take care of himself. Thank you."
As the Brand gets his food from the barmaid Maisy Broadleaf a cute looking woman. As she serves the food she notices Arrandir.
My good Sir are you new to town? She asks the Ranger. About that time Arrandir can answer a tall stranger enter the taproom. He is wearing a grey cloak toped with pointing hat. He carries his staff and then sits.
Greetings Gandalf Ham Rushy the owner of the Inn. Says to the wizend man with a greybeard.
Greetings Ham! The old man's voice booms in the room. How is the lovely Cora tonight? He asks Ham. Ham has the look of someone who is uncomfortable. Ham clears his throat and says
Speaking of Cora, she would like for you to pay up front . Umm since the last time you where here.
Odo can hear the conversation between Ham and Gandalf. The tall man has history of stirring up trouble. As Odo turns he can see Cora Rushy peeking out from the kitchen door. He can also see Maisy Broadleaf being inquisitive of the man with that she is serving.
The doors burst open and a pair of men come in. The locals here recognize them as Rory and Mat Heathertoes. Rory is the Mayor of Bree.
We need to call a Moot now its important! Rory says to Ham.
Ham says We can hold the Moot here
Rory then clears his throat. Tonight I discovered that the barn door has been ripped open, and several of my cattle are missing. Meneldir my hire hand after examining the barn, discovered the
cause: He saw signs of a troll or a band of trolls have been in the barn. As you know Bree cannot stand the ravages of trolls for long, for the guard is too small to search the area and protect the villages and farms at night. At the Moot, I am putting a call for volunteers to hunt the trolls, offering what aid the village can. Is there anyone here who can help? Rory says
While he is waiting for a reply from the elfess, Baralas looks up and sees the familiar pointed grey hat, and then hears the voice of Mithrandir. The colour drains from the half-elf's face, and he quickly sits down at the table with his kinswoman.
Why did he follow me here?, he thinks as he attempts to keep a low profile from the Grey Wizard.
Arradir gives a small grin and nods. "Things have been going as well as we can hope, my friend. There's been some activity in the wilds, but for the most part we've seen worse days. Better as well, but worse." He lights the pipe and gives a smile to the barmaid. Pausing at her question, he decides to take the easy route. "Yes, I've only tonight arrived. I'll have what my fellow has."
As he prepares to catch Brand up on the happenings of late outside the Shire, Arradir catches a tall, gray-clad figure out of the corner of his eye and pauses. Gandalf? Why is he here? Arradir hadn't many dealings with the Wizard, but he knew of him, and knew that his presence in this realm usually foretold important events. That he was shortly followed by the mayor of Bree calling for volunteers to hunt--Trolls? In the village?--only cements Arradir's opinion that Gandalf heralds trouble, even if he doesn't mean to.
With a sigh, Arradir pulls up his cowl, looks to Brand, and nods to Rory. "Well, it seems we'll both see some action tonight."
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Startled from her reverie Ellshia looks to the half-elf who has joined her.
Then she seems to notice that her table-mate is a bit worse for wear.
She nods with a resigned, and perhaps grateful air.
Garulf paused with his mug of beer at his lips. His eyes fall on the tall grey cloaked man. "Gandalf?" He had heard tales of the wandering wizard before, yet he seemed... unimpressive given his status as a near myth among the people of the Mark. Perhaps the tales had exaggerated the man's power. Or perhaps he was better at concealing himself than it appeared.
The arrival of the next man turns his gaze from the old man. "Trolls. Why trolls of all things?" He shakes his head ruefully. "Old legends, mysterious wizards and desperate calls for help. I feel like I've fallen into one of the old tales." With a sigh, he looks down at his mug and tilts it back, downing his drink in two quick swallows. "I should have gotten more of this." He knows that he can't ignore the call for help in good conscious.
He stands, shouldering his pack and causing his spear and shield to rattle against his mail as they press against his back. He looks at the speaker and nods.
Taking a few bites of his stew, he is just about to settle in to hearing Arradir's tales when the mayor bursts through the door. Listening intently, a slight glimmer of excitement crosses Brand's eye. Trolls? I have never faced trolls before, though I have heard they can be trouble for sure. What mischief has driven them down out of the mountains and all the way to Bree?
Brand hurriedly consumes his bowl of stew, an impressive feat to say the least. He finishes his pint of ale, then stands up beside Arradir. "Indeed, sounds like a touch of excitement for our reunion. Though trolls, a touch more challenging than goblins or orcs." Stepping forward toward the mayor, he proudly declares, "Arradir and I both pledge our blades and bows to this endeavor. Trust that we will see these foul beasts put down. Now, where is this barn, for that is where the hunt will commence!"
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Ellshia stands suddenly. Speaking haltingly in tongue of men she says," Trools are make mocks of the working of Kementári, if you go to slew them, you shall have my aid."
When she speaks the name of Yavanna and flourishes a hand a gentle fall of golden orange leaves seem to fall around her, only to disappear before they even strike the ground.
Baralas looks up at the elfess, then stands and speaks as well.
"I too will aid in the fight against these dark creatures."
Once Odo has confirmed that people to do the real fighting, especially big people who tend to draw attention, he springs to his feet with a spry hop.
"I'm in. No troll has ever been able to slay me yet, and I don't think they can start anytime soon".
He then sidles up to Gandalf... "Excuse me sir. Do trolls have treasure"?
Noting the strange mix of souls gathered around, from the resolute Rohirrim to the enigmatic elf, Brand chuckles, "Well, Six from Bree it will be! Haza! Now then Rory, will ye take us to the barn?"
Rory looks amazed at the party of adventurers that have offered their services. He recognizes those from Bree as well the tall wizard.
Before he can clear his voice to speak.
Gandalf gets up What fine party we have here. I am sure you will need the services of Wizard.
Umm Mr. Gandalf about your bill Ham tries to get the Wizard's attention but the wizard moves away from him.
Rory says Well of course Mr. Gandalf I not sure if your fireworks will be of use, but please come with me.
The group leaves the Inn. As you each reach the barn, the doors have been clearly ripped off.
Let me get a round of skill checks
Wis or Nature if you have them
DC of 15
Nature:
Those that made the # can see that path leads into the woods. The trolls were moving deeper into the woods towards a mountain range.
Rory says Do you know where the trolls are at?
"It looks as if they headed off into the woods over there.", says the half-elf, pointing in the direction of the tracks.
The Rohirrim squints slightly, examining the tracks for himself. "So it seems," he says. He draws his shield and clutches his spear in his other hand, then walks to the edge of the trees, looking further down the wooded path. "Perhaps it would be best if you let us go ahead from here. I have a bad feeling about this."
Gandalf walks forward to Garulf. I believe it would be best if we stayed together. Then he turns to face the heroes.
Who among will be our leader? The Wizard asks the group.
Garulf looks at the wizard. "Apologies. I only meant that the mayor may wish to remain behind. There is likely a fight ahead of us and he may be in danger." He shakes his head slightly and backs off at Gandalf's question. "Not I. I am a stranger to these lands and..." He pauses, some thought heavy on his mind. "I would not be fit to lead us. Not now."
Brand smirks, "I'm no mighty leader of men, but, I do know one. I put forward Arradir, one of the Dunedain, to lead our noble quest. Their people are known for working in unison to accomplish great things, and the blood of the ancient kings run in their veins. Sounds pretty appropriate to me."
Baralas waits silently while the group decides who shall lead.
So just to note..
The Female Elf walked off into the woods while everyone is still waiting to talk.
Garulf doesn't understand the elf's words, but he sees as she walks straight by him with a few words. "Hold a moment," he calls out to her, reaching out a hand toward her, not sure if she understands him either. "Now isn't the time to be running off ahead all by yourself"
Garulf's confusion is obvious on his face as he takes a moment to puzzle out the elf's words. "Yes, the trolls are abominations," he agrees. "But all you'll get running heedlessly ahead is trouble and wounds. Wait for the group and we'll hunt these monsters together." He turns back to the others, now a short distance behind them. "I have no objections to following the lead of one of the men of the North, but perhaps we should decide quickly before the elf lass decides to run off on her own again."
Baralas speaks a long string of elvish words, speaking directly to Ellshia.
Sister, why the rush? We must not act as humans in this, but rather like elves and take our time! The stars will still shine once our path is known.
Once the party is ready, we continue down the path following the tracks of the trolls.
Arradir pauses as he struggles to find the trail, but moments later he nods as the others determine the trolls' path. The Dúnedain peers into the darkness as Gandalf poses a question of leadership, but he is brought back by the comments of Brand. Turning to face the party, the ranger raises his hands. "My thanks for your kind words, Brand, but I'm a simple warrior, not a leader of my people or any others. I offer my skills where they serve us, but--" He cuts off as the elven woman steps forward with a comment in her tongue.
Arradir catches the Ellshia's arm with his hand before catching her gaze with his own.
He then turns back to the others and sighs. "Very well. I'll take the lead here." With that the Ranger draws his bow and begins moving forward into the forest.
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Ellshia grows visibly angered.
When she speaks the name of Yavanna a fall of blood red leaves appear around her, only to fade away just as quickly as the word does.
She launches after Arradir, her footsteps are certain. Neither dark nor wood hold any terrors fro her.
"It is not a good sign when one of the Eldar acts rashly like a short lived man...", the 1/2 elf says as he follows the brash elfess.
Garulf nods to Arradir as the ranger takes the lead down the forest trail. He sighs heavily at the elf's response. Though he doesn't understand a word, the tone in unmistakable. "Indeed," he agrees with Baralas, ignoring the comment about his own race for the moment, and follows closely behind the group. "Hopefully her... eagerness to see these creatures found will not lead her or us into greater danger." He pulls his helmet from its place hanging from his pack and covers his head and adjusts his grip on his spear so he is alert and ready at a moment's notice as the group moves forward.
Brand watches the elf-maiden's tirade with a mixture of amusement and befuddlement. As she stomps off behind Arradir he chuckles. "Strange that she'd be so foolish in her aggressive pursuit. I always had heard that elves were a wise, patient kind. But, if she wants to be the bait to draw out the trolls so we can slay them more easily, then so be it! Now, on to adventure. Arradir, lead on good sir!"
Brand tucks his staff into his pack and straps it down, drawing his bow as he follows after his Northern comrade.
Gandalf shakes his head and follows the group. As the group treks in the woods you are about seven miles from Bree. You each come apon a clearing and notices the trolls passed this way. In clearing you can see that an attacked happened. There are no bodies just some arrows and misc items.
Give me an investigation or INT roll to see what you can gleam from this DC 13.