Half the fun of an adventure was all the meals. It was like alchemy, a number of reagents added can have wondrous effects on people. Today he used up the last of his fruit into a odd salad. A sweetly tart mix with plenty of citrus and sugars to give everyone that much needed kick in the pants.

He set up a number of odd tubes on the counter of his expanded wagon. "A bit of alchemy, pull the cap off, tug the rope on the bottom, and it shoots up a light for others to see if things get really bad."

A quick nourishing meal before he retired was barely enough to sate his appetite so that when he woke around noon, he was ready to eat again. Fortunately, Saxon was as adept at preparing meals as he was at preparing potions.

"Excellent repast, Saxon!" he complemented the chef. "I've been meaning to ask you how praline is made. It seems like it is something an alchemist would have brewed in his lab, but I've always been afraid to ask what it is made of."


Once everyone has awoke and eaten and made what every preparations they need to continue the quest, Radagast is ready to leave.

"What a marvelous creature, Tavaro!" he says to the nature spirit. "Is it... natural? I don't recall ever hearing of such. Does it have a name?"

Once more, the group treks eastward. There would be several hundred miles of plain to cross. Other than the inhabitants, little was known about it.

Tilaleria had taken her repast with the others, then settled down to the journey east. This was new territory. A place that she'd not been to, and heard little of. "Have you been here before Radagast?" she asked as they traveled. She knew he'd known of the inhabitants, but the wise knew of many things.

Tavaro would not have halted for anyone, but it made an exception for Radagast. The creature replied in an eerily haunting sing-song, one clearly not produced by its mouth, but carried from elsewhere..

♪ In days of old, when this place was wylde ♫
♪ Great Yavanna once walked and smiled ♫
♪ Moss and tree, flower and beast ♫
♪ Were made in many forms, one like thysse ♫
♪ But the wylde needs no name ♫
♪ for it is not for men to tame ♫

"Oh, yes, I quite understand. My knowledge of the Wylde pales in comparison to yours," Radagast responds to Tavaro. He still wondered if Tavaro had conscious control over the form that he took, or if it was just a kind of resonance with the Wylde.

He then answered Tilaleria's question.

"No, I have not been in this part of Rhovanion before. There has been too much to tend to in the West--no time to go where I am not wanted. Nothing here for me to tend."

"There is also a... reluctance... I wouldn't go so far as to say a compulsion... to venture eastward. Perhaps there is some great ward on it. After all, we all came from the Far East... Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit, Man... we were all born or created in the East."

"It does seem odd, now that I think about it, that we don't go there, that there's no desire to explore our roots. Perhaps that is something that was built into us at our creation. We went forth and built a world. Maybe when the likes of Morgoth and Sauron can no longer exist we will be allowed to return."

"As for right now, I suspect that our quest, our fellowship... is over-riding whatever force or spirit steers us away."

Anira listened, as Radaghast had come to expect, with unfeigned interest.  Whether it was something more dryly historical or some of his fanciful tales, she obviously admired and respected him deeply.  "Well if that time comes and I'm still around, I would love to go investigating with you," she stated when he'd stopped speaking and no one else seemed to have something to say.

As the group continues on, it's around 5 in the afternoon, just as people are keeping an out for a suitable campsite, when some of you, Tavaro and Otorno particularly, feel a vibration through the ground. It's faint, but it's clearly the hoof beats of horses... lots of horses.

Lady Isile, who once again was scouting from the sky, was returning for camp anyway, but she reports a group of mounted riders coming up from the south. She estimates 100 horses at least.

"Well... Run, Hide or Greet" Tilaleria listed the obvious options, suspecting the others would be thinking the same. As an Elf she would normally just hide at a time like this "Perhaps one of you people that can fly can see what they are like. If they are orcs, we may choose to change our mind" she doubted it though, usually horses meant Men. "I would recommend myself that we move quickly... I doubt if they have horses that can keep up with us"

Under her breath she muttered the words of a spell, one of the few she knew, if it came to a fight it wouldn't hurt to be prepared

"I can fly for a short period of time but cannot change my form," Anira replied with a tinge of regret.  "I've had people not take it so well so perhaps our flying friends can give more detail of the riders," she said, looking to Lady Isile in particular.  "Were they flying any banners or anything unusual about them to give a clue who they might be?"

Tavaro was ranging in the meanwhile, but the tremors did not escape his attention. He breathed deep, and threw out his senses, passing through leaf and wind, to see what was transpiring all around..

Elmohtar, who had traveled on foot with the main group since they broke camp earlier that day, now changes form into a falcon.

"I shall see what that is about." He says before doing so. Then both birds - the falcon and the roc, fly in direction of the sound.

Horses, eh? Borun thought. The teachers at the Diamond Heart Academy had not trained him to fight an army of cavalry. Evasion would be the better option. Yet with so many travellers and a wagon, hiding was impossible. Nevertheless, Borun did his best to disperse the ashes of the campfire and looked around for suitable hiding places or cover.

Tilaleria can outrun the horde. Lady Isile, Tavaro and Elmohtar can fly away. Can Saxon's wagon outrun them? And will it hold everyone else: Anira, Arithal, Borjnen, Borun, Garan, Grimfast, Jak, Orndir, Radagast, Sky and Otorno (Arithal's bear)?


Tavaro tries to commune with nature, and encounters something he's never felt before: Nature in this part doesn't like him! It's kind of like Nature here doesn't speak the same language. It's not overwhelming by any means, but he has to fight it for every scrap of knowledge that should have come easily.

The horsemen are one of the Horse Clans of the Plains of Rhovanion, what most folk call Easterlings. This particular Horse Clan are Dark Riders. They are hard, tough, warriors. 'Nice' isn't even in their vocabulary. Neither is 'mercy'. At best, you could say they are nomadic raiders.

They were on a raid somewhere to the south and are 'returning'. If the group stays where they are, the clan will pass some 5 miles to the west. However, there's no guarantee that the group won't be spotted, particularly with all the flying creatures.

They seem to heading for a watering hole about 10 miles to the north.

Just as his spell is dying out, he is able to sense something else, perhaps the cause of this land's condition--the ground has the 'feel' (touch, stench, taint) of Sauron. It's very faint, but it is all around.


Elmohtar flies over to where the horsemen are. They aren't riding fast, but the fact that there are so many of them affects the ground.

He can see that they are all rather dark-skinned, dark-haired, wearing black armor, only some of which is metal, the rest being leather. They have small round helms with horns and strips of fur around the edge. He does not spot any lances or spears, but various swords, axes, maces and clubs are visible. Many of them also carry crossbows.

The horses are at least semi-warhorses. They are not as large as typical warhorses, but they are all wearing black leather barding and seem to be trained to fight.

The only unusual feature is that the person at front, presumably leading them, is not wearing a helm at the moment, and has flowing white hair.

This message was deleted by the player at 08:33, Thu 22 Oct 2015.

She'd rather have been out scouting herself, but the lands were strange... in ways that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

She recognized Tavaro's effort to commune with Nature; she'd done it a few times herself. When it looked like the nature spirit (what else could he be, changing into all those wondrous forms?) was done, she tentatively approached him.

"What did you discover, Tavaro?" she asked. She was as much interested in the details as his wisdom.

"They are men" the spirit replied, not veiling his resentment that he reserves for those who do not attempt to live in harmony with nature. His eyes, the deep orbs of stars, take on a deeper darkness as he speaks. "Men. Men on horses, who bear the same taint as this land does, for I smell upon it the lingering scent of Mordor. They come from the south, and are headed north, to a place where clean water flows. They will pass to the west, but only an hour or so as you walk. You may wish to fly or hide, for their scouts may find you. And as the ground already trembles at their approach, you know their number is beyond you."

"Perhaps they are beyond me," Sky replies with a grim smile as if to say 'don't be so sure', "but they are not beyond all of us."

"However, they have done nothing to us... yet. We need no assistance from them and we are not a diplomatic mission, so I see no need to cross paths or swords with them."

"Saxon, if you take your wagon over there to that gully, the rise should hide you from their sight. None of the rest of us stand up so high, so we should be safe. My concern is for you, Tavaro. I do not think you are in any danger from these riders, but in your current form, they will surely hunt if they spot you."

"Oh! But there's an idea! Would you be adverse to leading them away to the north, so that we can continue on once they pass? You can then turn into mist and rejoin us."

While she agreed with about men and nature, she'd had it explained to her that Morgoth and Sauron did not think that way. To them, those who were connected to nature were the ones in the way. She understood the concept, but she could not resolve it with her own belief.

Elmohtar flies back to the group, and describes what he saw. He pays special detail to the white-haired man.

"Have any of you heard of such a man?"

"Many times have I heard of a man with white hair" Tilaleria commented "Especially in a leadership role. Is there anything other than the indication of his age that makes him stand out? Perhaps the lack of helm is that he doesn't want to get hot and sweaty. I myself, like many of us, don't have a helm"

"He's just showing off," Arithal suggests, "not wearing a helm. On the other hand, if he's an albino, his leadership role is probably compensation for not getting much respect in his youth."

"If he's from the East, none of us are likely to heard of him."

"I say we avoid battle. Although I haven't gotten the impression that this is supposed to be a stealth mission, I don't think it will help us to make waves. Let's go to ground and let the column pass."

"I agree, lets avoid battle. I'll keep an eye on the riders, and you can keep an eye on me, to know where they are." Elmohtar says.

He changes back into a bird, and flies to check on the riders' progression and direction.

"I've seen thousands of men with white hair. In fact most that live a long time get it, or end up with no hair. And I've seen perhaps two albinos" Tilaleria observed. "Was his skin very pink? You could probably of seen that as he had no helm. Mind you if he was an albino he would have to hide from the sun, unless he has magic to ward the rays and keep them from burning him"

She looked around

"One question is 'can we out run them'." she chuckled as she looked as Saxon remembering the chat they had had about this before. "Let's see if your wagon is faster than a troop of Nomads in the short term. We cannot avoid leaving tracks, unless some of you have suitable magics. Mind you mortal horses are restricted to some tens of miles in a day, and I think we can move far further than even the most gifted such horse, so if we can stay in front of them for some hours, they will have to stop unless they want to kill their mounts"

"We probably can outrun them, but they would pursue us," Radagast replies. "It would then become a question of endurance. And we would then have an enemy at our back."

"I think our best option is to hide. Let them pass. The alternative is to engage."

"Can any of you adjust the wind? Change the direction towards us so that their horses won't be able to pick up our scent."

In reply to Radagast the Brown (msg # 59):

"Not I," Borun shook his head sadly. Weather manipulation was rarely required in the dwarven caverns. "However, I am able to create a simple illusion, perhaps something like a boulder formation that might hide us."

OOC: http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/...pells/s/silent-image

Tilaleria shrugged in response to Radagast. It was hard for her to see how they weren't going to be spotted: they left many tracks, and the tracks of the wagon were unmistakable. A group that large would have outriders. Perhaps magic would solve some of the problems: she didn't do much magic and certainly nothing on the scale that would be needed to solve this problem. Since it seemed they had stopped she leapt easily into the branches of a nearby tree. Up there she cast one of the small charms she knew, one that would help her if, or when, they got into a fight
This message was last edited by the player at 10:58, Thu 05 Nov 2015.