DMDM's Adventures in Mirkwood

Game Master Douglas Muir 406

It seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Follow the dwarf! So simple. Dwarves, like halflings, are strangers in the lands of Men. So if the dwarf got a good reception, then the Men would be friendly. It made sense. When the dwarf plunged into the forest... well, obviously he must know where he was going. So, keep following him, more closely now.

Confidence turned to unease on the first night. The forest was unnerving by day, but by night it was terrifying. And unease became real fear on the the second day, when you realized the dwarf was going in circles.

On the third day, the spiders came.

It seemed like such a good idea at the time.

The noble elf visitor needed to be entertained. Your family had the goshawk. It made perfect sense. Of course, strictly speaking, the goshawk wasn't theirs -- it belonged to Ingomer Axebreaker, Chief of the Council, the closest thing the Woodmen have to a leader. It was a gift to him from the Lord of Toft -- a princely thing, a noble bird, but Ingomer had little interest in falconry, so he let the bird stay with your family. And strictly speaking you didn't have permission to take it. And if you want to be extremely pedantic, the bird was still in molt, and sulky, and shouldn't be flown.

But it was such a beautiful day!

And so you brought the bird to show the noble elf. And if you were going to SHOW the bird, of course you had to show him where you would fly it. And there was the meadow by the Dusky River, where the rabbits come out in the evening. And there was a rabbit! Much too early in the day, it was full afternoon, but there was a young foolish rabbit nibbling some primrose down by the edge of the water! So of course you had to unhood the hawk, lift, let her fly...

...and watch the sulky, molting bird haver, hesitate too long, swoop, strike, and miss. And then, angry, glide across the river to perch in a tree branch on the other side. The Mirkwood side.

Well! If you leave a goshawk out overnight, it goes feral. Everybody knows that. A merlin, a peregrine might come home... but not a gos. One night and done. So the only way to avoid losing the precious bird was to take a little boat across the river and wait under the tree until nightfall. Then, once all is dark, climb the tree and recapture the sleepy hawk. That will work.

Except that every time you approach, the foul-tempered hawk flies away. Flies away deeper into the forest.

Hours have passed now and the shadows are growing long. And you -- and the elf, and the long-suffering healer woman -- are chasing the hawk deeper and deeper into the darkening heart of the deep forest. The river and the meadow are miles behind you at this point. The ground is growing muddy and boggy. Twilight is rapidly becoming full dark. And still the hawk is just a few trees away.

Well! It's a good think for the elf and the healer that you're an EXTREMELY experienced and talented guide!

VEIG THE DWARF: you've been captured by Spiders and are hanging helpless in their webs, suspended 20' off the ground. The Spiders simply threw webs at you until you were entangled and helpless, then bit you. You have taken four (4) points of damage and have the Poisoned condition (disadvantage on attack rolls and ability checks).

The good news is, you're Poisoned but you're not Paralyzed. That's your Dwarven resilience kicking in. Unfortunately, the webs are too strong for you to rip open by main strength: they're not only tough, but they're both sticky and elastic, and you're wrapped in several layers.

Your mattock and most of the small items from your pockets have fallen down to the ground below, which is covered with dried bones and drained, withered corpses covered with webs: the remains of the Spiders meals.

You're not the only guest in the spider's pantry. One branch over, there's another large cocoon. It doesn't move, but you can see the tip of a boot sticking out. It's impossible to say if the person inside is alive or dead.

FAEM THE HALFLING: you saw Veig get captured. Neither the dwarf nor the spiders noticed you. For the last little while you've been watching in horror, undetected, from behind a tree.

The Spiders hiss and creak to each other in what sounds like some sort of speech, but you can't understand what they're saying.

RADEGUND, FINRAETH, AND AMALINA: You're trying to sneak up on that wretched hawk without spooking it even further.

Move quietly as a group, or send the quietest person ahead? Note that someone will need to climb a tree -- Athletics -- and if the bird rouses, you might need Animal Handling as well.

Radegund, you're not lost of course -- you don't get lost -- but you have to privately admit that this is... not the best corner of Mirkwood, right here. The ground is getting boggy, and some of the trees are dead and rotten and encrusted with fungi. You're entering the Little Sump, a swampy region to the east of the Dark Tarn. It's not a great neighborhood. It's Spider territory, for starters, and then also it's getting near one of the... the sour parts of the wood, where the air gets very close and stifling, and the trees seem to lean in, and an oppressive sense of watchfulness spreads like shadow under the leaves.

Sploosh! Someone just slipped in mud went knee-deep into black water. Someone else just grabbed a vine to stay upright, only to find it's covered with stinging thorns.

Somewhere beyond the trees, the Sun is setting.

And then suddenly all the Spiders go away. Something has attracted their attention. They're scuttling off through the treetops, leaping from branch to branch.

Their horrible pantry is, for the moment, left unguarded. Two large cocoons hang there: the fresh one (full of wriggling dwarf) and the older one (motionless, but a single boot protrudes from it).

Veig, you're Poisoned and are, for the moment, helpless. Faem, you can act.

Oh bother, why today? You know you're making me look the fool in front of The Elf, don't you?

Embarrassed by Aregisel the goshawk's behavior, Radegund pressed on.

Ahh, listen to that jay alarming to the East...and the pigeons have gone suspiciously quiet to the North. I reckon we're not that far off now.

Her thoughts are interrupted by The Elf's leg going knee-deep in mud. "Oooh, do you need a hand out of that? Remember, step exactly where I stepped--and don't touch anything I haven't touched. For that matter, maybe just don't touch anything, OK?

"I'll tell you what, why don't you two follow behind just a bit. Slowly. I'll run ahead and recapture Aregisel. It sounds like he's close, and we don't want to scare him...again."

Stealth: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Stealth: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 Hehehehehe. Of course I roll stealth with Advantage and still get a 4. Starting strong! :-/

Amalina and Odo stay to the rear of the group. Amalina keeps her hand on the back of her great, gray hound as they attempt to silently move through the marshy ground.

[dice=Stealth]1d20+4
[dice=Stealth]1d20+4 Hehehehehe. Of course I roll stealth with Advantage and still get a 4. Starting strong! :-/

SPLASH

The hawk was half asleep, but now it rouses itself and flaps away, several hundred yards deeper into the forest. Now you can just barely make it out: it's a faint shape high up on a branch, almost invisible in the rapidly fading light.

Also, it's well into the Sump now. The ground is a mixture of little ponds -- many of which are covered with leaves and hard to spot -- and mud. About half the trees are dead; many are covered with flabby, foul-smelling fungi. Dangling vines are everywhere. It's becoming increasingly difficult to make progress.

If you wait a little bit, it'll be completely dark! The bird will fall asleep, giving everyone advantage on Stealth checks. Of course then it'll be completely dark. And darkness in Mirkwood is really dark.

(Did anyone bring a torch?)

Faem only knew the Forest from afar, so far that from the west bank of the Anduin she could see only the dark green line marking the veil of trees. In the mornings it appeard as a black cut separating the earth and sky. In the evening, when the rare sun pierced the marsh fog in winter, it was like a chain of gold resting atop green fields. It looked very different now.

Approaching for several days, she knew that was where her future lay - inside that dark tangle. The roads to the north and south looked no different from what she had seen her whole life; she must either scale the mountains in the west, for which she had no experience, or penetrate the Mirkwood, as foreign a land as she could imagine. Tales of the clever wizard that lived somewhere amongst the trees had seeped through the bog to her home and told to children for countless generations. She decided she would find this wizard, and then ask him about the best way to settle her spirit. But first she had to find him.

Faem camped along the edge of the forest for many nights, probing for a trail - not too well trodden but not obscure as to be easily lost. Imagine her disbelief when she spied a dwarf coming, striding confidently into the wood. Well, clearly, this fellow traveler was afflicted with purpose and a sense of direction, so she followed him, discreetly.

By the second day she realized the dwarf was lost. When he made camp, she did the same, far enough away to remain hidden, and she took up following the next day and the day after. When she was hungry she'd nibble small chuncks of smoked trout, bones and all as was her custom. She considered whether to approach the dwarf and tell him he wasn't going stratight, but how would that conversation go? What if he wasn't friendly? He seemed friendly, but lots of people seem friendly until you meet them.

The spiders removed her choice. When the dwarf got caught, Faem lit a quick tinder fire and fashioned a poor torch, should they come for her. Why didn't she run? Because running had never saved her before, and against those overgrown critters it would not save her now. What spooked them she didn't know, but she pushed away fear and stepped quickly with weak legs to where the dwarf was suspended in webbing.

"Yur lost," says Faem in a terse whisper, the words accented by her mild brogue."So who's the greater fool, you, or I for followin' ya?"

Faem sets her torch against the web to try to free the dwarf as quickly as possible, keeping an eye out for the spiders should they return.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Faem sets her torch against the spider web to try to free the dwarf as quickly as possible, keeping an eye out for the spiders should they return.

This is the fastest way to release the dwarf. However, it WILL do damage to him. Climbing up the tree and cutting him loose will be safer, but on the other hand slower.

Are you sticking with the fire?

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

How interesting -- Well: the ground beneath the tree is sprinkled with shredded old cocoons and bones. You have a bad moment when you think a Spider is there on the ground by you, but then you realize it's just part of a Spider's shell, shed when it molted.

Sticking with fire.

"Sorry," Faem whispers through gritted teeth, knowing the dwarf is getting singed by the burning web. "I can't risk getting us both stuck."

Okay!

ssssSSSSSS CRACKLE CRACKLE CRACKLE

The dwarf falls out of the cocoon! And drops hard to the ground with a CRASH.

Veig, you take 1d6 ⇒ 2 points of damage from the fire, and another 1d6 ⇒ 2 points from falling out of the tree. You can avoid half the damage on that second die by making a DC 15 Dexterity save... with disadvantage, of course, since you're poisoned. This is in addition to the 4 points you'd already taken.

Finraeth spares a swift, downward glance at his now-sodden boot, conscious of the muddy, black water trickling down towards his socks; before turning his gaze back to his friendly (but perhaps overeager) companion as, in her haste to rebuke him, she in turn slips and falls - noisily enough to scare the bird away.

He looks ruefully around, conscious more than ever that the Eryn Galen of legend is, well, legend even in the stories of the High Elves. This far from the influence of his wayward cousins the silvan Elves, Mirkwood is no place for strangers. He does his best to project an outward calm, but one hand is never far from either bow or sword. It would not do to let such a child fall to mishap in this forest.

He gives her a warm smile, mindful of his responsibilities here: he has trouble guessing the ages of the race of Men, but this one seems particularly young even by their standards. "If thou wilt accept the counsel of a friend - for friend I am to all of the Free Folk, as many will I hope attest - then it doth seem to me that our chances dwindle even as the light itself doth fade (leaving us ever more and increasingly at the scant mercy of whatever peril roams beneath these trees) and thus would I suggest that our next actions, whatsoever they may be, are taken with a certain urgent swiftness."

Yep, that's right: he just used nearly 100 words to suggest that we get a move on

He looks up speculatively at the nearly-sleeping bird. "While I lack the woodcraft skills of my cousins who call this place their home, yet may we in hope trust that your feathered companion doth rue his missed opportunity earlier this day to partake of food and - while the dried trail-meat in my provisions bears but scant resemblance to the warm and sanguinated flesh of a fresh-caught rabbit - might it yet not be enough to tempt them from their lofty perch and back into our welcoming hands?"

So saying, he puts this to the test, eschewing stealth for careful tread around the little ponds that dot this part of the wood. Reaching into his pack, he withdraws some of the aforementioned dried jerky, and does his best to coax the bird back to safety.

Athletics, if needed to make progress: 1d20 ⇒ 12

Handle animal: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

1) The dwarf is on fire. Either Veig or Feim must spent a full round putting the flames out, or Veig will take another d6 of damage.

2) The trees are catching fire, because spider webs are very flammable.

3) There's still another cocoon hanging up there, with a boot sticking out. No way to tell whether the person inside is alive or dead.

Yep, that's right: he just used nearly 100 words to suggest that we get a move on

Not sure how well that will stand up to extended play, but okay for now.

So saying, he puts this to the test, eschewing stealth for careful tread around the little ponds that dot this part of the wood. Reaching into his pack, he withdraws some of the aforementioned dried jerky, and does his best to coax the bird back to safety.

Athletics, if needed to make progress: 1d20 ⇒ 12

Handle animal: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

Not falling into a pool or mud is Survival, but you don't need a roll to move a couple of hundred yards ahead. (Yet. It's not full dark yet.)

Athletics would be to climb the tree and fetch the bird down, and the DC is 15. (I'm guessing nobody invested in Athletics.)

Handle animal: the goshawk doesn't know you, and she doesn't recognize dried jerky as good. Nothing happens.

Faem quickly wraps the dwarf in her cloak to extinguish the flames. He's burnt for sure, but it could've been worse, and they're not out of the woods yet.

While he recovers, she looks at the other cocoon. Trusting the torch in her hand and leaving the rest to the Fates, she sets the other web ablaze to see who drops out. If he's alive perhaps the dwarf will know what to do with him.

Oh, and there's a 50% chance that approaching closer without using Stealth will annoy the bird and cause her to fly YET DEEPER into the bog.

1d100 ⇒ 41

Annoyed, the bird spreads her wings and flies away to another tree... yet deeper into the bog.

Faem quickly wraps the dwarf in her cloak to extinguish the flames. He's burnt for sure, but it could've been worse, and they're not out of the woods yet.

While he recovers, she looks at the other cocoon. Trusting the torch in her hand and leaving the rest to the Fates, she sets the other web ablaze to see who drops out. If he's alive perhaps the dwarf will know what to do with him.

Okay. Well, burn damage 1d6 ⇒ 4 plus drop damage 1d6 ⇒ 1... huh. The dwarf got only 4 damage on 2d6, while this guy took only 5.

It's a Man, dressed in the leathers of a Woodman, with a green cloak. And he's alive! His eyes flicker open, and a faint moan escapes. He doesn't seem to be fully conscious, though, and he's not getting up. Also, he's on fire. I assume you spend a full round putting him out.

(I'm guessing nobody invested in Athletics.)

I did, out of necessity for only having 8 Str.

"Come on, help me drag him somewhere safer," Faem implores the dwarf after putting out the flames.

Athletics: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

Finraeth sighs as his offer is rejected. "Where peaceful amity has failed, then bold action is surely called for."

Striding carefully after the bird, he uses the gathering gloom to best advantage to conceal his approach, before stealthily making his way up the tree and trying to coax the bird to him.

Stealth: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

Athletics: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (16) + 0 = 16

Handle Animal: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Climbing the tree is unpleasant. This isn't one of the dead trees, but it's dying, and covered in some sort of slimy moss. At one point you start to put weight on a branch, and it turns out to be rotten; it snaps off and falls, landing in the muck below with a wet thud. Nevertheless, you persevere.

The sleepy hawk, head already tucked under its wing, grumbles as you lift the leather glove under it. But it's been trained, and it steps onto the glove. One handed, Finraeth fumbles the hood over its head. The hawk hisses in sleepy irritation, then settles.

Below -- quite far below -- you can see the concerned faces of your companions. Even with keen Elvish sight, they're just vague ovals in the deepening gloom.

The good news is... you get an Inspiration die! Make note. The less good news is, you're 50 feet up a rickety, rotten tree, and now you're climbing one-handed. You can either take another DC 15 Athletics check to climb down -- with the possibility of taking some real damage if you fail -- or you can use your rope. That means auto-success, but it also means you lose the rope.

Finraeth wrote:

Yep, that's right: he just used nearly 100 words to suggest that we get a move on

Not sure how well that will stand up to extended play, but okay for now.

Nice to have a proper character-establishing moment, though!

A bird in hand is worth the loss of the rope; Finraeth muses to himself that there ought to be some sort of proverb to that effect - perhaps he will invent one. In any event, climbing down an uncooperative, partly dead tree with only one hand would seem to be tempting fate overmuch, especially when he (Finraeth) is not especially athletically inclined.

He gives the rope a consolatory pat as he knots it tight before essaying its hold on the tree. With that, there is nothing left but to make the descent.

He gives his two companions another warm smile as he approaches them, handing the goshawk over to the young girl, with something of a bow. "Let us return this princely raptor safely home, ere nightfall entombs us all 'neath its inky shroud."

It's not entirely clear whether he's talking metaphorically: Mirkwood is horrifically dangerous.

"Umm, yeah. Let's get home before something truly bad happens."

Still being guided by Odo, Amalina begins to backtrack out of the sump.

Okay, so: one (1) halfling woman, not quite three feet tall; one (1) dwarf, down 8 hp and suffering from the Poisoned condition; and one (1) unconscious Woodsman.

You're in a damp part of the forest; many of the trees are covered in wet moss or foul-smelling fungus. So, the forest probably won't catch fire, because the trees here don't burn very well. But, wow, the webs sure do! And there were a lot of webs. Flaming twigs, embers, and fragments of burning web are falling around you like rain.

The dwarf awakens.

His first sounds are not words but a deep groan, filled with grogginess.

Then, realisation, and words at last.

In Dwarfish. Loud and displeased Dwarfish.

The dwarf struggles to his feet, eager to make truth of his words.

He displays voluminous hair and a flowing beard the colour of flax, though both now singed and matted with threads. His complexion is ruddy even with the spider venom and his limbs are powerful on his barrel of a chest.

Beneath the scorched strands of spider webbing, he is covered in a corslet of mail with a mattock and many weapons on his back over a fur-lined travelling cloak.

Then, he sees the fallen man - and the short one. He switches to Westron, honed by dealings with the Dalefolk.

"Short one! Do I have you to thank for freeing me? Is that one breathing?"

The dwarf is not paying attention to much else right now.

He gives his two companions another warm smile as he approaches them, handing the goshawk over to the young girl, with something of a bow. "Let us return this princely raptor safely home, ere nightfall entombs us all 'neath its inky shroud."

It's not entirely clear whether he's talking metaphorically: Mirkwood is horrifically dangerous.

Oh, it absolutely will be dark long before you get back to the river.

I ask again: Did anyone bring a torch?

"Umm, yeah. Let's get home before something truly bad happens."

Still being guided by Odo, Amalina begins to backtrack out of the sump.

Odo's not a dog that whimpers. He's brave and fierce. But, woo, he is not happy to be here. Only his love for you is keeping him from turning and heading straight back to the river at a fast trot.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

"Don' thank me yet!" says Faem, sensing that they're running out of time. "Are you strong enough to help me drag 'im away from this nest?"

Faem gives the woodman a once over, looking for a necklace, ring, or something that might be used to identify him later if need be.

How many spiders did Faem see before they went off?

Veig strides forward, while replying:

"As you will, short one! I'll have this one up!"

Veig grabs under the man's arms and lifts! The venom only slows him, not stops him.

Athletics, disadvantage: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 241d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

"Easy now fella...I know how you feel, but we have to keep a steady pace we can all follow."

As she is quietly speaking to Odo, Amalina peers into the growing gloom.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Say fellas...does anyone have a torch or lantern? I did not expect to be out this late and did not bring mine!"

Yes, trained in Athletics...and Stealth and Handle Animal. Just off to a poor start on the rolls. :-/
.. Catching up, I'll make a couple assumptions and fudge the timing a bit to explain why Radegund would let her guest climb the tree instead of her. :D

"Hold on, before you climb up there--bold action is good and all but you're not probably not used--" Suddenly--to her horror--Radegund realizes that she's stepped into a puddle herself.

Oy! Of all the times...

When the Magpie splashes Amalina, the Healer stumbles back and grabs a vine...covered with stinging thorns.

"OH! Hold on a second. Let me help!" As the Magpie pulls out the thorns, she says, "You probably already know, but if we can crush up some milkthistle, that'll bring down the stinging. There's often some growing under--" ..and as she casts her eyes around, she notices that the Elf has climbed up the precarious tree.

WAIT!! she barely stops herself from crying out, knowing she'd startle Aregisel the goshawk again. Instead, she bites her lip, watches, and waits.

The Magpie doesn't really exhale until both her charges--the Elf she's hosting, and the goshawk she's borrowed--are back safe and sound.

"That...was most impressive, Mister Finraeth. I've heard great tales of the Elves of Rivendell...but I knew not that you were such able climbers and handlers of bird and beast. My gratitude for your help!"

Deception is a tool of the Enemy. However momentarily tempting it may be to cultivate his reputation as a fearless and able doer of deeds, Finraeth values his reputation for truthfulness far more.

He gives the young child a self-deprecating smile: "I am glad of the opportunity to aid thee, after so long spent idly subsisting off thy hospitality, and fain would I have thy - and thy people's - approval! But candour doth compel me to confess that had I in truth the wood-wisdom of my kindred, the water of this place would not have made its ingress to my boot. Moreover, I must admit that in truth has it been many a year since I exercised myself in such a manner, and wouldst not vouch to do so again, except at great need. It would seem that the Valar were with me (and let us hope that it remaineth so, e'en as night falls upon this darkling wood). Might I impress upon thee once more the perilous nature of our surrounds, and - with all gentle firmness - urge thee yet more speedily forwards?"

Giving her the goshawk back wasn't just a diplomatic move: it enables him to have both hands free and ready to arm himself at need. He doesn't want to panic his companion, but even an Elf-Lord such as Glorfindel would not wish themselves in this position. Finraeth is uneasily aware that he himself is - in all likelihoid - many centuries away from attaining such stature.

He earnestly hopes that whatever malevolent powers are out there will overlook his insignificant presence until they are all back to safety.

Veig strides forward, while replying:

"As you will, short one! I'll have this one up!"

Veig grabs under the man's arms and lifts! The venom only slows him, not stops him.

[Dice=Athletics, disadvantage]1d20+5; 1d20+5

Man, Disadvantage sucks. That said, 16 Str gives you a carrying capacity of 240 lbs. The unconscious Woodman is not that heavy -- say, 160. So unless you have 80 lbs of gear on you already, no Athletics check is needed.

(A more cruel DM would use the optional Encumbrance rule. Mmmmm. But no.)

Okay, so you have the Woodman across your shoulders. Now you... move away from the fire that is raining flaming debris on you?

"Easy now fella...I know how you feel, but we have to keep a steady pace we can all follow."

As she is quietly speaking to Odo, Amalina peers into the growing gloom.

Perception: 1d20+3

A nat 20! Well.

1) Something flying just brushed past you. Either a bat, or one of Mirkwood's black night-moths. But those things are harmless. As far as you know.

2) In the distance, far away among the trees, there's a faint flickering glow. Could it be... fire? Has someone built a fire here?

Veig grunts as he lifts the man onto his broad shoulders but lift him he does. He starts walking forward in whichever direction he happens to be facing.

"Come on, short one, let us be off! No need to remain beneath flaming ruination!"

Faem wrinkles her face at the dwarf, biting her tongue on the first thing she thinks to say in response.

"Follow me lest we be round about this place again tomorrow."

Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

She leads them west, in the direction she knows eventually leads out of the forest. Then, once they have traveled a distance that seems safe from the spiders, she gets a fire going and makes camp.

Once that task is completed, she checks the woodman for wounds, and if he stirs, she squeezes mosswater into his mouth.

Faem wrinkles her face at the dwarf, biting her tongue on the first thing she thinks to say in response.

"Follow me lest we be round about this place again tomorrow."

[dice=Survival]1d20+5

Whoa ho, not so fast. Mirkwood at night? "West" is a best guess. That roll is with disadvantage. sfx: rolling offscreen. Mmm hm. Sure, west is... that way.

So presumably east is the direction the Spiders are coming from.

The good news: Faem's very swift action in removing you from the trees may have gained you several rounds! The less good news: since neither of you could make a DC 15 Perception check, the Spiders have gained that time back, and are now in hot pursuit of you.

They're close enough now that you can hear them, creaking and hissing as they leap through the trees. You set their nest on fire and stole their food. They don't sound happy.

Whoa ho, not so fast. Mirkwood at night? "West" is a best guess.

Ok, the spiders are gaining on us. We can't outrun them, so we turn and fight. How do you handle intiative?

Nodding to the Elf, the Magpie says, "You are wise to want to leave the Mirkwood before it gets much darker, though know that this isn't my first time walking this forest in the dark. I won't get us lost."

To the Healer she adds, "I always carry flint and steel in my belly pouch. One moment."

She casts about for some relatively dry wood and anything fatty she can rub it in (grubs, perchance) to serve as a makeshift torch.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

Please let me know if I notice the fire in the distance yet, or if the chatter of the birds suggests either Spiders or Man nearby.

DM_DM wrote:

Whoa ho, not so fast. Mirkwood at night? "West" is a best guess.

Ok, the spiders are gaining on us. We can't outrun them, so we turn and fight. How do you handle intiative?

You have a head start, so you can look for a place to make a stand. The Spiders caught the dwarf easily because he was surrounded by trees, and they can throw webs. So you'd like to find a clearing, if one exists.

Faem would prefer to get the first shot off with her bow before we stray too far from the light of the web fires. If that ship has sailed, then a clearing is best where we can make use of nightvision. A clearing would also allow us to orient direction, as trees along the perimeter will naturally lean toward the ecliptic.

I expect you will be rolling initiative for each member of the party. If you prefer to have the players roll their own, please let us know.

"Wait a moment Radegund...look over there. Do you see a light? Someone else is out in this bog in the dark it would seem...I wonder who it might be? Perhaps we should have a look and see. They might need help!"

Amalina looks to the elf and her fellow woodsman to see what they think.

Finraeth gives Amalina a nod of respect: "Thine eyes are keen. Now thou hast drawn my attention, I do perceive it clearly. Few indeed would light a fire in these woods without great need, for fear of drawing worse things than moths. Let us indeed proceed thither, although most assuredly with caution."

I expect you will be rolling initiative for each member of the party. If you prefer to have the players roll their own, please let us know.

3/5 players have posted key information in their statline! 2/5 players have not.

Going forward, I'd like to do one of those Init-o-Matic thingies in the Campaign tab. For now, I'll roll for everyone.

Moving towards the fire: I'll roll a Perception check for the party. The best one I see is Finraeth, +4. Fortunately for you, I happen to know that Radegund has +12 in Mirkwood, even at night. (Which is pretty crazy at first level.) And because I am a kindly DM, I'll use that one. 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 31

Hm! Maybe a little too kind.

Well... yet's see what heading Team Short People is on. 1d4 ⇒ 4. Mm hm, okay. All right then...

So, you were a bit NW of the flame. (You think. You're pretty sure. Mirkwood at night! It's very easy to get turned around.) Heading SE towards it, you hear a flailing and splashing, as of some creature clumsily blundering its way through the bogs and bushes.

And then, a moment later, you hear something that makes your hair stand straight up: a hissing and chittering, like speech but not of any human tongue. Every Woodman knows that sound: Spiders. The Spiders are out, and they're after something.

The prey, whatever it might be, is heading in a northerly direction, with the Spiders in pursuit. Team Hawk: you're approaching from the northwest. You have a chance to ambush the Spiders! But it'll require everyone who wants to try the ambush to make a successful Stealth check against the Spiders passive perception -- DC 12. Fail, and no surprise. (If you have a low Stealth, you can hang back. But then you'll miss the surprise round and the first round of combat too.)

Or, you can turn and run. Spiders are bad news, especially in groups. So that is totally an option.

SPIDERS!! The sound has been drilled into Amalina's head since birth. There is nothing in the woods that sounds like it and nothing that sends the chill of fear down a person's spine.

While her first thought was to run, she realizes that the fire is what has attracted the creatures, and whoever is there will be unprepared. She and her group have a chance to strike while the spiders are focused on those at the fire, or they can slink away and leave the others to the horrible beasts. She quickly decides to help!

"I think we need to help those poor people by the fire. We can try to ambush the spiders as they pass...they will most likely be too focused on the fire and we might be able to hurt them before they can surprise those travellers...or whoever they are. What do you think?"

I will make my stealth roll now so as to speed up the gameplay, if that is ok :-) Stealth: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21