Jotun lights the cloth and hurls the bottle of brandy at the 'feet' of the wraith, then casts about for a thick branch with which he might create a torch.
Jotun's fire bottle misses the cold shade and starts a small fire in the woods. But with so many of you now armed with fire, it shrieks balefully and withdraws into and through the woods. In a moment, it is gone.
COMBAT OVER!
"What evil was that?" pants Edoric, leaning on his spear. "It reminded me of the tales men tell of the dwellers in the ancient barrow-mounds."
"Now we know what slew Deadeye." Waylon says as he goes to knell by Berelas to try adn tend to her wounds, "But who is this Garloc that hey mentioned?"
Hirlinon is dead and Berelas is dying. Eoin and Edoric seem unsure what to do.
Jotun turns to Eoin and Edoric. "Your Berelas summoned the thing somehow. It must have been what killed Deadeye. Make yourselves useful and grab some bandages so we can save her life and maybe find out why. Bain, don't let those two out of your sight, my friend."
Turning to the Breelander, Jotun grabs her by the shoulder, shaking her gently out of her reverie. "Tilly. You must do what you can to save her. For all our sakes."
Kneeling next to Berelas, Jotun lends a hand as he whispers to Waylon. "No idea. Let's hope we can get an answer."
Báin breathes a sigh of relief. "That thing was nasty! I daresay that we shall face it again, and we will need to have a better plan ready for next time. It seemed to be sucking the very life from me."
Tilly is able to stop Berelas's bleeding, but has no idea if she'll survive. The caravan is over a day away from Bree and it's probably dangerous to move Berelas anyway.
Edoric and Eoin do as they are told and try to help, though no one has disarmed the caravan-leader.
"I should try to ride for Bree," says Edoric after handing bandages to Jotun. "She may not live through the night if we cannot bring her succor."
Jotun nods at Edoric's suggestion. "The roads may not be safe, that thing is out there somewhere. We know what it is capable of, and that fire drives it away. We will keep a fire going here and bring oil to light fire if you need."
He glances at the others gathered. "I will go with him, Belle will you come with? Tilly should stay and tend to Berelas as best she can until aid arrives. Eoin and Bain should stay in case that thing returns."
"I will stay, no problem, but if that thing returns, I don't know how much of a fight I can make of it."
"Come, then," says Edoric. "Though I've but one horse to ride. I would go faster without you."
Jotun grins at his dwarven friend. "Well then, Tilly can protect you.
I know she's more than capable. Oh, and Waylon too." He gives the Breelander a wink, then turns to Edoric when that one speaks. "Surely you had more than one horse? I can ride one of the others." Jotun replies, motioning for Belle to follow. He glances at Waylon meaningfully as the man turns his back to head toward the caravan. 'Follow' He mouths silently, glancing at Tilly as well. Once they have the horses and begin the ride to Bree, he will rest a little easier, though he still doesn't relax around this stranger.
"The liquid that Deadeye had may save her. Should we use it so that we might learn what she knows?" Waylon says as he looks with concern at the woman.
Jotun had forgotten about the vial, though he had never really gotten a good look at it. "It's worth the chance, I think." He agrees with Waylon.
Turning to Edoric, he holds up a hand to stop the man. "Wait a moment. Perhaps there will not be a need for a mad dash through the night with that creature out there." The barding watches the man closely, trying to determine if he has an ulterior motive for getting back to the caravan.
Edoric had the only riding horse. There were a dozen or so draft horses pulling the carts.
Edoric waits, showing no signs of treachery. He's still fully armed and armored, but seems unwilling to restart the fight.
"Liquid?" he asks.
Jotun nods at the question. "Yes, Deadeye had it in his pack. We aren't sure what it does, though we think maybe it could be an elixir of some kind. Seems the right time to try it anyway - though if it works I hope her life is worth saving. She did call that thing down on us, after all."
He considers the man for a moment, and then asks. "Why don't you take a seat here while we see if this elixir works on your friend. How much did you know about Berelas? Or Hirlinon for that matter? Do either of you know anything about what happened back at the inn? What about the others of the caravan? Mirabar and the dwarves?" Jotun pays close attention to Edoric's answers, if he gives them - comparing his words to what they've managed to suss out over the last few days.
Man 3 (Mirabar) - An old man, with a face like an aged crow, all beak and dark wary eyes. He’s bundled in furs despite the warm weather; he has many rings of gold on his old fingers. He’s the only member of the caravan to ride instead of walking. He appears to have no close associates. Edoric and Eoin obey his commands, but he doesn’t welcome their company. He tolerates Beleras, glares at Hirlinon, and has little time for the Dwarves, who seem subdued in his presence.
Dwarf 1 (Vig)- An old white-bearded Dwarf, carrying the tools of a smith. Helps out his brother Vogar
Dwarf 2 (Vogar) - A burly Dwarf with a hideously scarred face. Might be simple-minded? Seems to have trouble just getting around as though his mind is constantly in a fog, though his brother Vig constantly looks after him. Maybe under a magical compulsion or something (an OOC guess.)
Dwarf 3 - Young, tall for a Dwarf. We haven’t learned anything about this one.
Dwarf 4 (Narvi) - Young dwarf. Light on his feet. A burglar? We don’t know much else.
Edoric (the caravan guide) - - A big man with weathered skin and a well-worn cloak, leaning heavily on his spear. He walks with a rangy pace, eating up the miles. Maybe has a relationship with Berelas?
Man 1 - A young man of no more than fifteen summers, all of them gentle. He seems to be the caravan’s scout and errand boy. He knows these roads well – he must be from the Breeland. This is Eoin. He’s a scout and apparently in love with somebody?
Man 2 - Bright clothes, ready smile. The soft hands of a scholar. This is (was) Hirlinon.
Woman 1 - A woman from Mirkwood, dressed in simple traveling clothes and a heavy green cloak. She wears a scarf, even in summer. This is Berelas. She seems to be Hirlinon's assistant.
"I came here through Mirkwood and over the Misty Mountains from the Kingdom of Dale," says Edoric. "Eoin, Mirabar and the dwarves came hence with me from there. Berelas and the southerner joined us by the roadside in the Trollshaws some ten days back. I had never met them before, but they paid to camp with us so I did not begrudge them a place in the caravan. And if Hirlinon was a troublesome lout, Berelas sang sweetly and made up for it. But I know them not."
"That he had some sort of hold on her any man could see, though I never learned what it was. And if she held such power, I wonder much that she nonetheless did his bidding."
Waylon draws the liquid and cradles Berelas' head as he slowly dribbles it into her mouth.
Jotun shrugs. "It could easily have been a ruse - either for your benefit or maybe she had tricked Hirlinon into thinking he was doing her bidding when it was in fact the other way around. Perhaps we will get some answers if the elixir works."
He watches Waylon dribble the liquid into her mouth and tosses the ranger some of the spare bandages. "Gag her, I think, when you're done. We don't want her to bring her little friend back."
Jotun kneels beside Berelas and swiftly checks to make sure that the woman has nothing on her that could be a mystic item or the like - whether a necklace, a ring or even something quite innocuous. He stays kneeling beside her with the dagger in hand, ready to threaten her to stillness should she make a move against them. Glancing up at Dain, he motions the dwarf with a nod of his head to keep an eye on Edoric and Eoin.
As requested, Báin moves over and watches the two.
"We took the item she used to do it. But I will keep a hold in case this does heal her." Waylon says as he continues to cradle her as he watches her wounds.
Jotun, as Waylon says, you have already removed her ring. But you find on her nothing else that could be valuable or unusual.
Waylon administers the last draught of the unusual tonic found in Deadeye's pack. Its effects are downright startling. Color returns to Berelas's cheeks and her worst wounds are seen to be less deadly than they appeared. After several minutes her eyes flutter open.
"Oh!" she says, shocked to see you all. Or that's what she would have said, if not for the gag Jotun is shoving into her mouth...
"By the Arkenstone, what was in that draught?"
"No idea, but it did heal her." Waylon says as he continues to keep a hold of her and then says to her. "I am going to remove your gag. When I do you need to cooperate. We do not have another vial so if things get ugly that will be poor for you." Waylon meets her eyes for a second and then pulls out the gag and says, "Tell us why you and your friend there killed Deadeye."
Berelas sits up and gags for breath. She looks both frightened and defeated.
”It is a long tale. And one you might not wish told here in the wild,” she says. ”Will you not take me to Bree and hear my tale there?”
”It is broad daylight,” says Edoric. ”There are likely to be fewer ears to hear your tale here than in Bree.”
”Aye,” she says. ”But which ears, Edoric? The names I will speak are dangerous.”
Both turn their gazes to you for direction.
Báin throws his hands up to fend away their gaze. "I know not of these things, but is just speaking the name a problem?"
Jotun gives Berelas a humorless smile. "Seems to me that if these names are so dangerous, we'd not want to endanger the good people of Bree. Better, I think, to speak of this here and now." He glances at the others to see if they are in agreement.
"I find I agree. We can build up a fire to ward away the cold and hear this dark tale. We also do not know if you have more of your friends in Bree." Waylon says.
Berelas sighs. ”So be it. But names have power. You should be more cautious.”
”I am a woman of the Woodmen, over the mountains in Wilderland. When I was young, I was taken as a slave to the grim dungeons of Dol Guldur, the Hill of Sorcery and seat of the Dread Necromancer. One winter I was on a foraging party, cutting wood for the furnaces when I managed to escape. I fled into the darkness of Mirkwood and would have perished were it not for Gorlanc.”
”He is a sorcerer of great power and wisdom, and I thought him as wise as great Radagast himself, but braver and more active. He found me in the woods and aided me. He sought to know all I could tell him of Dol Guldur, for he was the Enemy’s enemy.”
”While travelling in the South, Gorlanc had learned of a ring made by Elven-smiths of old. He searched for it for years, but other business drew him back to the North. Cruel men and outlaws drove him out of Eriador long ago, he said, but now he has returned to continue his investigations into the power of the fallen North kingdom.”
”In his absence, I was to continue the search for the Ring, and he taught me a spell that I should lay upon the artifact when I found it, to free it from any curse. After more years of searching, I found the Ring of Seven Jewels, buried in a plot of earth that had once been a mass grave, and I cast the spell Gorlanc taught me as instructed. This unburdened my mind and allowed me to think clearly for the first time in many years - and I began to have doubts about my allegiance to Gorlanc.”
”However, the spell also bound Gorlanc’s Cold Shade to the Ring, cursing it. Some time later, I joined Hirlinon – another one of Gorlanc’s men, and we came north to bring the Ring to Gorlanc. At the Forsaken Inn, I saw someone eavesdropping on one of our conversations. Alarmed, I invoked the Cold Shade and it attacked your ranger. But when he was cold and immobile, it was Hirlinon who slew him with his knife and threw him in the well.”
She looks at you sadly. ”You must give me my ring back. It is bound to me. If anyone else touches it, the Cold Shade will return.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Báin says, "if you expect us to believe this poppycock story of yours, you are going to need more proof of the backstory. For starters, if the basics of it are true, then why, by Durin, should we give you back the ring? You've already used it to kill on, and nearly killed me also."
"Perhaps this is a good thing. If we know that it will be summoned to us, we can prepare and attempt to destroy this shade once and for all." Waylon says.
"I would take back those deaths if I could," she says. "You do not know what roads I have traveled, what perils I have faced. But such things matter little to the dead."
"You must give it back to save yourselves," she says. "You have only encountered it by day, when it is weak. You cannot stand against it at night."
Jotun gives her a long, hard look as he considers her words against what he's seen - and weighs that against what he can see in her eyes and body language. Is she telling them this only to save herself through a desperate bid to turn the tables against her captors? Or is she truly concerned about their welfare and remorseful over the deeds she has done?
She also likely knows more than she is saying at present.
Jotun draws out the ring from his pocket and holds it in his fist as he regards Berlas solemnly. "I think you speak the truth. Sometimes we make decisions in haste, without thinking about the consequences for our friends. Or for other innocent folk, for that matter. But I deem you are not telling us everything. Speak on and I promise to return this ring to you, as I think you will be true to your word. But we must know everything."
The barding considers the woman for a moment, then speaks again. "Have you heard of a hobbit named Bungo? We are searching for him. My friends also encountered a creature of some kind. He appeared to be a man, covered by a thick cloak but with a fell presence about him and surrounded by bats. His arms were withered and they tell that he had wings like the bats that came to his aid. This creature was searching for the hobbit as well."
"I have already told you more than I have ever told anyone," Berelas says. "But I will add this. We were traveling to meet Gorlanc, Hirlinon and I. He has a fortress somewhere to the north of the Bree-land. I do not know whither it lies. Hirlinon knew and he would not reveal it to me. I must find him and go to him or he will seek me out and punish those who have harbored me with some plague or curse for keeping his ring from him. I dare not spend more than a single night in Bree."
"And yet to Bree you should go," says Edoric. "For it is the part of the Reeve there to judge your deeds."
Jotun considers her words, then looks at the others. "I believe her. And too I believe that we must aid her in finding this Gorlanc. Perhaps Bungo was somehow mixed up in all this."
"If we take her to the Reeve, then it is likely her journey stops there." Waylon says.
"Perhaps it should be so," says Edoric. "But perhaps if you spoke for her, it might go otherwise."
"Or we don't head to Bree and take her with us. It sounds as though this ring might put the people of the city in danger anyway. Let us search Hirnlon's belongings, he might have something that will point us in the right direction to find this Gorlanc."
"I like the idea of making a couple bonfires, and trying to destroy the thing outright, but my people have had their own run-ins with terrible creatures before, and maybe it took us a while to get around with dealing with it. Waiting can also work."
"I am all for trying to kill the creature, but if it still lives...or isn't dead anyway, it seems like a bad idea to bring this into the good people of Bree." Waylon says.
Seeing you set against his idea of going to the Reeve at Bree, Edoric accepts your decision and nods. "My charges are still with the caravan. Dwarves, horses and the man of Dale. We should either repair thither, or bring them to this place. There are none to protect them if we do not rejoin them."
"Let us go there then. There is nothing here worth bringing them to." Waylon says as he picks up a burning brand for the trip in case the spirit returns.
Jotun is quick to agree and also takes up a makeshift torch - two, if possible.
Edoric insists on burying the dead, and Eoin joins him in digging a grave for Hirlinon. "For though he was the tool of the Enemy, he was of the Free Peoples and should be buried. I daresay it is better than he deserves, but so should we all hope to receive, in the end."
Swiftly thereafter, the group returns to the caravan. You arrive armed for war and carrying one of their own, injured. The dwarves eye you suspiciously, fingering the hilts of their knives, and the hook-nosed old man, Mirarabar, scowls as you approach. "What is this, Edoric! I am not paying you good Dorwinion gold to bring back wandering strays and vagabonds!"
"It is they who have brought me back, Master Mirabar," answers the caravan-master. "I surrendered to them in battle."
"So, brigands, is it?!" cries one of the dwarves, moving to seize up a mattock from the wagon. "You'll not take the wealth of Vogar Ironhelm without a fight!" He seems to fly into a rage in an instant.