Thanks for your understanding. Yall have a good game going here!
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Hey gang, a week has passed since I asked for a few more days, and I'm not seeing an end in sight. I think it's time to (sadly) admit that my work responsibilities have grown significantly, and as a result I'm overcommitted (and brain fried when I'm done, in a way that interferes with writing meaty posts). Perhaps Giles isn't ready to go out again after the scares of our last foray, and he begs to stay in Elrond's library for longer...or else is called home to urgent family business in Bree? Thank you all for including me in this rich game. I'm sad to bow out, but I think it's right to admit that I'm overcommitted now, and don't see it changing soon.
Thanks for the understanding!
Hi, apologies! I've been slammed in real life, but sorry not to have spoken up to say so. Honestly, I should consider how quickly that'll change, as I don't want to be a drag on posting. That said, I at least want to join in with the fellowship posting, as best I'm able. Can I have a few more days to assess if Giles can join for the next foray, or if he needs to head back to Bree for a bit?
Giles is a bit surprised to see an older man, wandering by himself. Still, he doesn't look harmful. "Of course! I'd be a poor soul indeed, to say no. Pull up a rock! I'm Giles Foxleaf, of Bree. This is Hobwise, Cereid, Thorgrim, Wulfgith, and Findegil. Pray, tell us who you are, and what has you out here by your lonesome. "I'm afraid we have no food to offer, but I can share some pipeleaf, if you're inclined."
Good call--though I think Wulf and Fin are the extras, currently. DM, when you get a minute, do you want to update the roles in the header?
While he's saddened that some relics were clearly lost forever, Giles is only too happy to get back on the road...and finds himself drumming his fingers nervously, as he wonders how they'll make it back to Rivendell with so little gear remaining.
Despite--or inspired by?--his worries, Giles does his best to help the Company along on their journey.
Giles' eyebrows rise as he feels the power in the blade. "You've found an interesting prize, Master Hobwise. May it serve you well. "I feel there's more to learn about it, but perhaps after I've had a good night's rest...and I don't know we'll have one of those before we make it back to Rivendell, sadly."
Giles carefully pulls the first scroll out and begins to scan them with some excitement...until he realizes they are in some ancient form of the Black Speech. Sweating, he puts them back in their case, saying, "It may be that Lord Elrond will have a use for these...but I think it unwise to study them too much away from his halls. "Still, I'm quite sure it's good that you managed to grab them, Master Hornblower. Say, may I examine that blade as well? It seems quite a fine thing, and clearly ancient of make. "And Wulfgith, I would be interested in studying that necklace as well."
As Giles emerges from the stale darkness into the fresh air, he gasps and is about to collapse on the wet grass, when he notices Thorgrim carrying Wulfgith's unconscious body. "Bring her to me." he sighs, as he unpacks his supplies. Taking his time this time, he carefully washes her wounds and applies a thick, pungent ointment before bandaging her. As he works, he glances hungrily at the scroll cases Hobwise rescued. When--finally--he's content with his ministrations, he turns to the hobbit. "Master Hornblower, you are brave indeed. Thank you for risking yourself to rescue these ancient scrolls. I can't begin to imagine what they might contain." Giles begins to slowly, carefully examine the cases before opening them and examining their contents.
DM, at this point are we in a place that looks stable to us...or are we still in an area that seems to be collapsing?
Giles sees Hob risking life and limb to rescue relics...and is so heartened he doesn't look up until too late and a hunk of falling stone almost knocks him out cold. Blood running into his eyes, he does his best to stay focused and make it out alive.
Giles feels a moment of relief as the angry spirit fades. His eyes light toward the ancient relics and he has the merest moment to hope he'll be able to study them--and then the world crumbles. "NOO!!!" He cries, as he feels-more-than-hears the tremor, and starts to dart for the door. Why did we come down here, if not to unlock new secrets! He laments, as he scrambles for the tunnel.
Seeing Thorgrim uncharacteristically holding back, Giles comes up--waiving his hands to get the big man's attention--and quickly administers a poultice to the worst of the Beorning's wounds. "There you go, now finish that foul spirit!" He says, on the off chance that Thorgrim can hear anything more than this infernal ringing that's making his skull ache.
I'm inclined to shoot again, even though I'm not much of a shot...but I'm not sure how dire yall's conditions are. If anyone wants healing instead, lemme know and I'll have Giles notice your sorry state and come minister to ya.
Sweat pours down Giles brow and into his eyes, as he attempts, again, to shoot malevolent the spirit.
Giles fires off another shot, but he hesitates as it battles the Beorning, and his shot goes wide.
Giles sighs--grateful that something he was trying to communicate got through--and shoots again.
Giles gasps. "KEEP THE RED SOUL AWAY FROM THE BLUE SOULS! HARM IT IF YOU CAN! SOME EVIL SEEKS TO ABSORB ENOUGH LIFE TO RETURN!!" Giles shouts, hoping at least one of his allies can hear him. He draws his bow and shoots into the red orb, as best he can.
Giles breaths a sigh of relief as the room warms, even if just a bit. He hustles from Wulfgith over to Hobwise's side, and provides what balm he can. When he notices the elf and the Beorning's lips moving, Giles shakes head. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!" He explains, gesturing to his ears. Thorgrim's gestures intrigue the young scholar though, and he squints at the growing red light, wondering: Is there anything I've read about this that might yet help us survive this crypt?
Giles had begun to retreat when he hears a deafening noise. Realizing that the only thing he can hear is an aching ring in his ears, he reconsiders and scuttles back in. Seeing that Wulfgith looks exceedingly pale, he comes to apply a balm to her. "HOBWISE! I'LL HELP YOU NEXT!!" he shouts...wondering if the hobbit can hear him at all.
Before I post next...Giles is going to fail this safe (and probably all future ones, barring a very lucky roll). That's what I get for taking an 8 CON in a very lethal game. I've burnt 2/6 Hand of the Healer so far, which is keeping me alive, and I can sit here and keep burning them each round, assuming the cold stays this intense. Alternately I can try to hustle away from this place (where advantage will mean I'll make a save occasionally) and so hopefully keep some healing in reserve, for if someone else drops low. What do yall think? Suggestions? Is anyone in dire need now?
Giles doesn't like the squeezing, and he likes the horrid cold even less. As they bump their way down the tunnel, he finds himself his nose and fingers stinging with the cold...and then, to his dismay, turning sluggish and numb. He takes some time to rub his hands together, and to better cover his face, all while singing the ancient song that Estel had taught him...and he's relieved to feel the pain returning to his fingers and face, knowing that that meant he was healing. As he recovers his senses, he takes in the scene and gasps--leaving a cloud of mist. "It's just as I read in the Elrond's great library: I'd wager that that crystal is what we must destroy. Legends speak of one such as that, capturing victims' souls inside it, and using them to power its evil. "And that wolf-man in the red robes! The scholars report that in the opening days of the Second Northern War, when the dark forces of Angmar swept through the lands of the north once again, a great horde of wolves and wargs ran with the Witch Kings army...led by a beast half man, half wolf. It was greatly feared in the early days of the wary, but then one day it disappeared from the tales of battle. It was not seen at the fall of Amon Sul, nor Annuminas, nor Fornost Erain when it finally fell. In fact as far as the author was able to discover, it was never seen again in the north. Perhaps now we're learning why!"
[ooc]HP: 34-12-17=5+12+14=31[/dice]
Happy to be whereever makes the most sense...though it might also make sense for me to stay behind whatever point requires CON saves for exhaustion (since my CON save is -1), and have folks come to/fro for healing. We can see as we get closer. Giles REALLY wants to see what's down there (and is still quietly hopeful that there's some relic that can be safely recovered).
Giles worries as he sees Cereid get stuck. Dear me, if she can't get through, how can I? He watches as Thorgrim pulls her through, trying to map out how he can twist his shoulders to avoid the same fate...and somehow barely manages to get through on his own.
Giles nods at the plan, both relieved not to have to go down there, and disappointed at the thought that he won't be able to investigate these relics. Still, if they are as cursed at that disc was, this is likely the wisest form of action. As they discuss, he lights his pipe again and considers what he might do to aid them, or what obstacles they should be aware of.
Thorgrim, I think I don't understand your suggestion...but Giles will certainly offer healing to Hob. I don't want to leave the lamp there...but probably not wise for the guy with a -1 CON save to go in there. Happy to do more investigation too. Giles sees this area as a treasure trove of lore. Should have a gameplay post up today
Giles raises an eyebrow in interest. After smelling it, he carefully packs his pipe, lights it, and breathes in the rich smoke...before blowing it out in rings. With a smile, he says, "Mmmmmm. That's a nice leaf indeed. Sweet, without being cloying. Thank you." He smokes mostly in silence until the Cereidh and Thorgrim return. "What did you discover? Anything of note?" He asks eagerly. When they inquire as to his readiness, Giles shakes his head and says, "I believe everyone is ready to carry on...and I'm quite curious what more we'll find. "First though...I'd swear I heard a loud cracking sound come from my pack, when that Man of Blood and Shadow was vanquished. I'm inclined to take a look...but thought it wise to wait until we were all in good health first." If there are no objections, he carefully opens his pack, and unties the bags around the disc.
Giles stands a bit back, and nods at the suggestion of the Eastern path. "I can't make a case against it."
Happy to be able to take his time, Giles binds Hobwise's wounds, then Wulfgith's, and finally his own. As he does, he sings a melody that Estel had taught him, that somehow seems to help keep the wounds heal faster. When he was satisfied with his work, he leaned back on a broken stone and lit his Pipe of the Prancing Pony. Ahhhhh. Surely there's no sweeter taste than the taste of something I'd feared I'd never live to have again.
Giles, walks back to his companions...wearily eyeing the bloody mess, looking for signs that it would reanimate again. "Well...I'm a bit surprised we're alive, frankly. But grateful. "If we're to follow Lady Cereid's advice, allow me to bandage everyone's wounds first."
Once Giles is what he hopes is a comfortable distance from the blood-monster, he shoots again (taking advantage of his allies crowding around the monster to get a better shot).
Giles backs away, willing himself not to tremble, and shoots at the ancient evil.
The sight of a massive blood-wolf-thing is enough to make Giles' knees quiver, but his mind stays resolute. "Look at the way our blood, and the wargs' blood, seems to flow into that thing!" Glancing down at his own grizzly wounds, Giles decides to quickly staunch one of the largest cuts with a quick poultice, before grabbing his bow. As it comes closer, he asks, "Should we retreat? At least long enough for me to truly treat all who're injured?"
"Uuuuunnnnnnnnffff..." Giles blinks and groans with pain as Hobwise nurses him back to health. "We won? Bested the wargs?" He cranes his neck to take in the scene. Sipping the bitter, viscous tea, he adds, "Give me a minute to catch my bearings, and then let me see your injuries so I can return Master Hornblower's favor."
Giles does his best to hold on, as a part of him realizes that Wulfgith has come to his side...but he continues to bleed out onto the wet soil.
Giles cries out as he's pulled down, and then lies there, motionless, in his own pooling blood.
Sweat pours from Giles' pores, mixing with blood and stinging his wounds. He hops left and then right, barely avoiding the evil hounds. Looking for the next moment it's about to strike, he slashes again at its snout.
Giles goes increasingly pale, as the blood drains from multiple wounds. He slashes a thin line into the wolf below him's snout, as he uses his bow in his off-hand in an attempt to keep it's bloody jaws at bay.
Giles--intent on shooting the wargs that Hobwise is keeping at bay--yelps with fear as he realizes he's now beset with one of his own. With blood streaming from his thigh, he retreats toward the Beorning and up onto a stone cairn.
OK then, DM, could I take a move to get to higher ground, and then shoot at the one that just attacked me? And if so, do I get advantage from shooting from higher ground?
Yikes! Team, are these odds we can beat? Plan A: If I stay where I am, I'll be facing two/round and will be dead very soon. I can, presumably, get myself to higher ground. DM: Can Hobwise as well? In a way that (we believe) the wargs can't overcome? It's possible that putting them at disadvantage and us at advantage is enough to survive this...but I'm not too sure. (Seems too risky.) Plan B: we all run into the tower and close the door. Then it's all of us vs 3 (one of which is injured). DM: would that be feasible to do? (e.g. is there a door we can close, and could everyone make it in time?) Plan C of course is that I take out the disc that keeps telling me it will let me rule the wargs...that seems like a terrible idea too, though *perhaps* less risky than plan A...or just risky in a very different way. Thoughts? Other ideas?
Giles continues to fire over Master Hornblower's shoulder. He attempts to use the brave halfling's movement to his advantage, hitting a tender spot on the wolf.
My intent was to heal her back to full.
Giles says aloud, "You are nothing but lies!" as he shakes off the voice in his head. When he realizes that Master Hornblower is under attack, he aims his bow over the halfling's shoulder, and fires at the nearest warg.
Take care of yourself!
Giles nods at Cereidh, and purses his lips. "Sadly, I was just feeling the same." As they see the various trails, Giles pauses. "Do you see this? it looks like both these trails to the summit are at least a month old. Those wolf trails here and here are far more recent. "Needless to say, I'd rather follow one of the human trails. How about this left-hand one?" As they talk, he keeps his eye out, both for lurking watchers and for hungry beasts.
"I...I hope you're right, Thorgrim. I'm having dreams that feel like visions from the past. I'd swear I saw this hill as it was a thousand years ago, and then...and then I assaulted that the tower. Or whoever's memory I was reliving did. It was like this..." Puffing on his pipe to sooth himself, he describes the details of the dream, as best he's able.
The howls in the night blend seemlessly with the howls in Giles' dreams. In the early light of the sun, he wakes with a shudder that's more to do with the disc's call than it is to do with the cold night air. Those Northern constellations? That tower? He pulls out the Pipe of the Prancing Pony and puffs on it as he ruminates on his dream, silently, wondering what it all means.
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