Mid Spring, 2946

The earth is warming up. The trees have sprouted rich green leaves, the smell of honeysuckle fills the air, and everywhere bees are buzzing, gathering nectar from flowers. On stilts and raised platforms in the Long Lake, the town of Esgaroth, or Lake-town as it is otherwise known, is brimming with new prosperity. Every day, construction carries on as the town continues to rebuild after the destruction it suffered from the fire of Smaug, and merchants travel from Dale, Erebor, and farther away, bringing in gold, jewels, and exotic wares.

After a few days' rest, the Dwarf Balin is eager to make another attempt, this time with a larger company of adventurers, those who rescued him and his companion Óin from the lair of the Mewlips. This company happens to have representatives from each of the major free peoples of Middle Earth: Men, Dwarves, Elves, and Hobbits, and Balin has decided that his journey will include a side trip to the Beornings so that Balin can personally invite both Gwaihir, the Eagle Lord, and Beorn, the skin changer, to the coming anniversary of the Battle of Five Armies at the end of the year.

While Balin busies with arranging food and supplies, the recently formed company meets to interview new members to replace the departed Thibault and Gram. Gilmith, Gumm, Gwydian, Jody, Mock, and Navarre hold court at the tavern The Silver Flagon, the five sitting around a table as they meet with prospective members. The afternoon crowd is lively, with day laborers mingling with out of town merchants and the occasional Dwarf and Elf, and on a raised platform, a man is juggling small brightly colored balls.

Most of the interested persons already interviewed have proved less than satisfactory. Few have had any kind of combat experience, save for a grizzled Barding named Grimmar who saw action five years ago at the Battle of Five Armies and lost an eye and an arm in the process.

Some have other useful skills, such as a plump Lake-town youth with scraggly facial hair. Skarf, though possibly the clumsiest Man Jody has ever seen, can throw a dart with uncanny accuracy from 10 feet away. Regrettably, personal hygiene is apparently a completely unknown concept to the young fellow, who is pleasant enough as long as one does not stand downwind of him.



OOC: Welcome back, and my apologies for the delay! In addition to our returning company members, Haldir and Eorik are also joining the adventure as prospective members. Haldir and Eorik, in your introductory posts please describe yourselves. Treat this as an informal job interview. Explain why you would be suitable companions to join the others in their trek into the wild.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:54, Fri 07 Feb 2020.

In reply to Loremaster (msg # 1):

Mock sighs at the rpospects so far.

"Do we really need anyone else? I have gotten a whole lot of supplies. 100 rations, a barrel of water, an extra mule, some rope and axes in case we need to make a raft. I even got some ideas how to make it too, just in case. And Tools. Saw one of those tents too is someone had cash for that, and perhaps groups basics, but the come to less than $300, and they can be put on my mule. Then we are set.

We even have the two extra dwarves! Three Dwarves...how much fighting do we expect...an army of elves?"

He enjoys the beer offered, as dwarves do!

A tall man wearing a travel stained green hooded cloak approaches. Beside him trots a giant shagy grey hound. Larger than an average wolf. The stranger throws back his hood revealing an young bearded face with brown hair and dark eyes. He motions to the hound and gives the command to sit. It complies sitting close to the table and eyes the group warily. Leaning on his short throwing spear he scans the occupants of the table and bows his head slightly in a gesture of respect. "Word about is you are looking for companions to accompany you on a journey. Buren and I would very much like to join you. I am Haldir son of Galdor. Buren and I hail from Wilderland on the otherside of Mirkwood."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:49, Sat 08 Feb 2020.

In reply to Haldir (msg # 3):

The grumpy dwarf look up, trying to evaluate the newcomer.

"We are. Hail from the other side of Mirkwood do you now? So you know the woods well?"

Haldir looks at Buren and as he pats him on his head,"Buren and I are familiar with Mirkwood. Things have improved after the battle of five armies.  However, there are still places one dare not tread.

In reply to Haldir (msg # 5):

"So you know how to survive there then, and the paths through there?"

He looks at the dwarf,"That is how Buren and I came to be here."

In reply to Haldir (msg # 7):

"Well, yes. But we too have traveled through Mirkwood on occasion, but I would never claim I know the paths, nor how to survive there without carrying my own supplies. Do you?"

"We have hunted in Mirkwood from time to time.  But not everything is wholesome that dwells inside.  There is still a taint of the evil that dwelt there in years past.  But that is where Buren comes in.  He is the best tracker I know.  We can fair well under her boughs."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:31, Sat 08 Feb 2020.

In reply to Haldir (msg # 9):

"Do you know of the Mewlips that dwell there? Or trolls?"

Haldir laughs,"Of course I have heard stories.  Never have seen any.  There were and likely still are many foul beasts that still dwell within.  Buren's sire and I hunted Goblin and Orc raiders when I was younger.  But after the war not many of those foul creatures about.  Especially with Beorn and his people about."

Gumm takes Mock aside, and explains that he wouldn’t mind paying for a 20-man tent, as long as somebody else carries it.

In reply to Gumm (msg # 12):

Mock is happy to put it on his mule.

OOC: Can we get hold of a Legionary tent, from Low Tech? $225, 45 lbs, sleeps six to eight comfortably. 10' x 10'. Comfortably in between a 4 man tent and a 20 man tent! That way we can get group basics for $50 (20 lbs) and still be under the $300 you would pay for the 20 man tent.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:41, Sat 08 Feb 2020.

Navarre has thoroughly enjoyed his time in town.  Picking up a few things on the finer arts of smithing was something he's been angling after for some time but being stuck in Laketown for a week seemed the perfect excuse.  But it wasn't just about learning how to handle a hammer and bellows, Kodran loves the company of good people.

But finally it is time to focus on more important matters, the business of traveling through the great Mirkwood. Navarre finds himself at a table, sharing some of Jody's fine tobacco as he puffs on his pipe and his new friends discuss what to do about the departure of Thibault and Gram.  While Thibault lent little in the way of muscle and melee his knowledge will be missed, but the lack of Gram's sword and scouting abilities will be felt most keenly.

Mock's question and own retort instantly help Navarre understand his position.  True, they had acquired two hearty dwarves in light of the loss of their bookworm and rider.  And true these dwarves were present at the Battle of the Five Armies so no doubt their prowess is up to scratch.  But this is Mirkwood.  Who knows what kind of malicious messes lie waiting for them.  In Kodrans opinion it is only by sheer dumb luck that Balin and Oin, after running afoul of a troll, the killer vines and the Mewlips managed to come out alive.  Next time they might not be so lucky and numbers are an advantage there.  But before he can verbalize his thoughts the new comer approaches and the dwarf seems to warm up to him.

Navarre kicks out a foot to push an empty chair back.  He extends a hand to shake.  ”Well met Haldir.   Call me Navarre Kodran.  Sit, and drink with'us.  Sounds like you're no tender foot.  That's good.  We're looking for people who can handle themselves in a scrape.  Last time out we ran into some nasty business.  Tell us, how'd you hear about our company?”


OOC:
Not looking for a long drawn out IC here.  Just some flavored RP and trying to give credibility to bringing on strangers.

This message was last edited by the player at 23:24, Tue 11 Feb 2020.

Haldir smiles and nods appreciatively to Navarre's invitation.  He draws his long axe from it's place on his back and leans it and his spear nearby so as not to be in anyone's way.  He takes the seat pushed out for him and motions to the barkeep.  He replies to Navarre with a grin,"Surely you would not think your deeds in rescuing the famous hero dwarves from the battle if five armies would not be the talk of the town.  Word gets out fast in Lake Town.  Rumor was your company were going to venture back out towards Mirkwood.  Buren and myself have been away from home for quite sometime in our wanderings."  He smiles sheepishly,"Was thinking I should go visit me mum eventually.  Be an age since I've seen her."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:15, Sat 08 Feb 2020.

For the moment, Gwydian lets Mock and Navarre direct most of the dialogue with Haldir. While listening, he stares at the dog intently, wondering what pedigree it may be. He had grown up with hunting dogs, but since he left home, he hasn't had a stable enough situation to acquire one of his own. He looks forward to that some day, when he retires to his own estate, but for now that day remains many years away.

Gumm takes a seat directly across from Haldir.  After staring a hole in him for at least five minutes, he comes out and says what he's been thinking.  "Mine's bigger.  And better.  Tell yer mum next time you see her."

In reply to Gumm (msg # 17):

"It is not important who has the biggest doggy. You should see your mum more often, but this is not a trip that will likely allow you. We will be crossing Mirkwood and returning. I hope that does not influence your decision."

Haldir stares back at Gumm and says to the group,"Does this braggart travel with your group? He seems an unfriendly sot.  Perhaps you should keep the drink away from him when negotiating for traveling companions. " He looks a Mock,"That was more of a jest than an actual quest on my part.  Me mum will forgive me if coin is involved.  Buren and I can guide you through Mirkwood."

In reply to Haldir (msg # 19):

"Fine to join us as far as I am concerned then."

Kodran doesn't notice the cold stare from Gumm as his attention is on the new comer.  Navarre has a way with people and getting a feeling for them requires studying how they interact with others.  But he does take note at Gumm's antagonistic comments.

He turns to the woodsman curious where this is going and wonders briefly if it will turn into a scuffle.  Thankfully Haldir lets the taunt roll off his back like water off a duck.

Following Mocks appraisal the ranger extends a hand again for shaking.  ”Made my mind up too.  You're good by me.”


OOC:
I'm good with Haldir joining.

Haldir smiles and nods,"Thank you sir." He adjusts his meager backpack as he gets up and shakes Kodran's hand.

“It’s not the biggest doggy that matters.  It’s the biggest axe!  Get it?”

Gumm reminds himself to go to joke school after the adventure.  He obviously isn’t ready
for prime time.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Wed 12 Feb 2020.

In reply to Gumm (msg # 23):

"Bah, it is not the size of the axe that matters, it is how it is used."

Haldir grins at his attempt at a joke.  He gestures to his long axe says,"Mine's big enough. But as far as Buren, he can fair well against any foe."

"All this talk of axes is making me thirsty, lads." Balin joins the group around the table and beckons to a server for another round of ale. "So I take it you've finished interviewing potential candidates? I've made arrangements to buy a mule and rations for our journey." The Dwarf nods at Haldir as the server, Asfrid, a middle-aged woman with fair hair and freckles, brings frothy mugs for each person at the table.

"I may have another person for our journey, an ally of an old acquaintance," the Dwarf continues. "I'm not sure if I can coax him along, but if I can, we should be ready for whatever else Mirkwood throws at us." The Dwarf chuckles and takes a draught of his mug. "With any luck, we'll be there and back again before you know it."



OOC: Make sure you've made your purchases and spent your CPs. I'd like to begin the journey proper by this Saturday.

Haldir looks at the drink with a lustful glance but leans back and sighs,"Alas.  I have no coin to pay for such a draft.  I spent my last copper on the paltry rations in my pack.  I am not any were near as well off as you gents and lady." as he bows his head to the she-elf. He says to the server "Kind lady would it be a bother if you bring a bucket of water for my friend Buren here." As he gestures to the dog now lying quietly next to his feet.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:40, Fri 14 Feb 2020.

In reply to Haldir (msg # 27):

"Yeah. Only really had one, but that should be enough. Three dwarves have all the muscle we need. I think I will have that offered draught though...Haldir, he is offering you one, not asking you to buy it!"

He takes the beer offered and drinks heartily.

Haldir grins and takes it gladly drinking greedily as if it's been ages since he tasted such a drink.

“I’ve got all the muscle we need.” He says this like they don’t even know it.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Fri 14 Feb 2020.

Weardon steps into The Silver Flagon, closing the door carefully behind him.  Instead of heading for the bar, however, he takes a step towards the center of the room, and looks around.  He's a hairy man, with long brown hair and a similarly unkempt beard.  He could pass for a dwarf, except that stands 6'3", which makes him tall for a human.

Weardon is dressed rather simply, like many of the outdoorsmen of the area.  A large cape of furs covers his body, hiding the rest of his clothing.  His left hand holds a staff, and he has a large knife on his hip.  His backpack has a plain 2-handed axe attached to it.

As he looks around, Weardon stands out a bit.  He has an air of business about him that contrasts with the jocularity and general rambunctious tone around him. He had only just arrived in town on his errand, and had not even taken a minute to look around.  He was late, and concerned that he might have missed his moment.  That is, until his eyes settle on Balin.

With a small tilt of his head, the dark skinned man makes himself over to the table.  "Balin, I was told that I would find you here.  And, given the company, it seems I am not too late.  Well met.

Beorn sends his best.  I did not see him, but he sent word that you might need help.  I am here to offer my services, if you are willing to have me along."

OOC Greetings all.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:16, Sat 22 Feb 2020.

Gilmith smiles absently, making brief eye contact as Haldir mentions her.  She had meant to be engaged in finding and assessing their potential companions, though perhaps she had always known that the dwarves would be the ones who had the most input on those that would make the company.

In truth, she had been a little detached ever since the first of the men, smelling fit to offend a skunk, had given her special consideration, trying to make eye contact as he explained his best skills, as if being a woman would make her more easily swayed than the others.  She had let the other do the vetting from then and indeed, she had to admit she had little interest in the fine details.  Mock had taken ages discussing the mules, and rations, and giant barrels of water (giant barrels of water?!) loading them down with hundreds of pounds of food, equipment, and animals that seemed to load them down precipitously... all to deliver a gem the size of a fist.  It was odd to be sure, though perhaps this was the way that men and dwarves did things.

There had been little to pull Gilmith back into the conversation...  The Haldir, Gumm, and Mock had gotten into a very brief and thinly veiled discussion on how large their genitalia was (men!) that is, until the newcomer, his sternum rising taller that Gilmith's entire form, walks in the door, speaking of Beorn...  It was a long walk for sure from his homeland, and likely along the very route that they intended to take.  Perhaps Haldir had done the same thing as he had boasted...  an extremely fortunate circumstance if indeed they had two such men who had made the trip across the Mirkwood singlehandedly!

OOC:  I like including the subtitle of the Hobbit in the last post boss!  Makes me think we'll be in this adventure for quite a long time!

In reply to Gilmith (msg # 32):

"Ehh. We almost left without you. Beorn sent you, did he?"

He generally gave the air of ignoring the elf in the corner. She had not done anything to earn his mistrust, but she was an elf, after all. The lack of facial hair and smooth skin did nothing to add to her appearance, at least as far as a dwarf was concerned, but in passing through the elf lands, she just might save a LOT of trouble.

The big newcomer, on the other hand, seemed to be yet another guide. Good. Hopefully the guides would be accurate. It augured well.

Weardon turns slightly when the dwarf speaks to him, adjusting his posture to face the group at the table more directly.

"He did not ask me directly.  He sent word that you would likely need some assistance.  That was good enough for me.

I just arrived, but can be ready to leave tomorrow.  What are your plans, if this is the appropriate place to discuss them?"

In reply to Weardon of Amon Lanc (msg # 34):

"Passing through Mirkwood. You must know the route if you came through there. Beorn sent word specifically to you?"

Kodran takes note of the mountain of a man enter the room and pause.  His eyes linger on the huge axe. The ranger cheekily thinks, He'd be somethin' 'gainst the Mewlips.  They'd piss themselves at the mere sight a'him.  Too bad he's not comin' with us.

But when the rugged human comes close to the group and introduces himself Navarre cannot help but chuckle at the irony.  He extends a hand.  ”Kodran friend.  And no, you're not too late.  Sit, join us.”


OOC:
Get Weardon up to speed on our plans.  Not much really.  We're taking the river south and then the Old Forest Road west.  We've bought some animals to carry a butt load of gear which mostly involves food and water. 

Haldir also being new nods his head and replies,"Well met Weardon.  I am Haldir son of Galdir of Wilderland.  This is my companion Buren hound of Mirkwood." He finishes his draught.

"I am familiar with Mirkwood to the south, where I hail from.  The forest was easy enough to traverse where the hazards are known.  My path here took me up the eastern edge.  Mirkwood won't be so different here on the northern side, but I do not know the specific path you will travel."

Weardon pauses after that statement, and a dour look crosses his face as he considers Mock's question.  The man came across as rather pushy.  He had already answered the question to a large extent.  Plus, there were spies to consider, and he barely knew these people.  It did not seem wise to share more in the moment, not until he was more comfortable with his travel companions.  Even if they had been recommended to him, it still seemed wise to come to his own conclusions.  In the moment, he found that he was developing a mild dislike of the dwarf, and so his tone steels in response:

"I already answered most of your question.  The rest of it matters not for now.  Be content that I know of you, and have come to assist."

Weardon then changes his attention to Gumm, who he overheard as he approached the table.  He adds gruffly "And I don't believe your muscle will hold up against mine."

Finally, he turns pointedly to Kodran and Haldir, and extends his hand to both.  His voice softens some as he responds to the men. "Weardon.  I hail from Amon Lanc.  Thank you for the offer of hospitality."

He then offers his hand to the dog to sniff.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:57, Sat 15 Feb 2020.

In reply to Weardon of Amon Lanc (msg # 38):

The dwarf scowls.

"You might know us, but we don't know you from a Mewlip. You speak as if we should be honoured that you spared the time to come with us. It is Balin who is running this show, not you. IF he decides you are a boon to us, he will be in charge. Don't you forget it.

It matters to us who sent you, or if you are a potential bandit who heard about a good mark."

Turning to Balin as he takes a swig from his glass

"Not sure that I trust that one. You know him? Bah, your call anyway."

Haldir takes his hand and shakes it firmly noting the giants strength,"Tis an honour.  My people speak highly of the Beorlings.  I would travel with ye. Mind Buren not unless you try to take his meal or harm me."

A tall, broadly built man with golden curls approaches the small group. "I am Eorik. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Navarre's simple sensibilities are ruffled at the coarseness demonstrated by the dwarf.  Kodran is about to cut off the dwarf mid rant when he reminds himself that he is not the leader of this expedition.  As Mock rightly said, Balin is.  And further Mock has a point.  We don't know these men from a turnip.


And so the ranger waits until Mock has said his piece, then he attempts to smooth things over, but not that its needed.  It just makes Navarre feel better.  ”Now Mock.  Right, we don't know them but they don't know us either.  We're all friends here.”  Kodran waves a hand at the company sent to rescue the missing dwarves.  ”We shared biscuits an' blood for weeks.  We're tight.  IF one 'a these men is a spy AND we find 'em out it's eight 'gainst one.  They'd be good as skinned alive.  An' I don't think anyone's stupid 'nough to risk it.”


Then a third new comer makes his introductions.  Kodran waves in a friendly sort of way. ”Hello and well met Eorik.  What can we do for ya?”


OOC:
Navarre is making the point that if either Haldir or Weardon are spies and they are found out it would be horrific for them to be outnumbered to that degree.  That alone is good enough for Navarre to trust them.  But its clear from his reaction that Kodran is dropping this logic publicly as a subtle warning to say, 'Hey, if you are a spy leave now.  Before we find out and have to do really bad things to you'.

Weardon extends his hand to the newcomer as well, and responds "Well met Eorik.  Weardon." After shaking hands with the human, he acknowledges Mock's comment with a sidelong glance, but says nothing.  He has a frown on his face as he does so, and his body language will convey a certain amount of annoyance.

Instead, Weardon turns back to Haldir, and says "If I may...?" and gestures towards his dog, Buren.

OOC As long as Haldir does not mind, Weardon will drop to 1 knee, and scratch under the dog's chin, and also behind his ears.  I'm assuming the dog will like that, but if not Weardon will adjust based on whatever the dog indicates.  Usually animals tell you what they like with subtle gestures.

In reply to Weardon of Amon Lanc (msg # 43):

"Eorik, Mock. As Navarre asked, what can we do for ya."

He tries to be pleasant to the newcomer, but his body language clearly indicated there are a lot of folk around. He was about to answer Navarre when the newcomer arrived, so you sense he is holding his response, for now.

“Reconsider your beliefs, Weardon.  My muscle could hold out against you until the Fifth Age, although it is my understanding that we are to be on the same side on this quest.  So as long as you don’t turn mewlip on us, you needn’t worry.”

"I had overheard that you all might need some help with your journey - I am willing to offer my services, if you all would like it."

The ranger looks the new comer up and down.  He asks sincerely.  ”And what are your services?”


OOC:
Navarre considers Balin to be the true leader here as this expedition is put on by Gloin.  However this aint my first rodeo and anytime GM's can have the PCs drive the action (as opposed to them steering the car through NPCs) all the better.  It is in this vein that Navarre is speaking up.  He is not truly trying to lead the show.

Sorry Eorik.  Your posts and bio in the Cast section are a bit lacking.  I cant get a feel for what you have to offer.

OOC:
I understand. Sorry about that - will definitely improve those.

"For one, I am a skilled fighter and horseman - on top of that, if you have need of contacting the... upper class, I can gladly assist with that - I was born in Rohan to a captain of an Eored, and I have had contacted with lords and ladies alike while there.

In reply to Eorik (msg # 48):

"A skilled fighter is always good. We also need someone who can assist with a bunch of asses. You any good with the four legged variety?"

"I am from Rohan, so I certainly hope that I would be," he teases. "Though I am not sure how good I am with the two legged kind, that is," he chuckles.

In reply to Weardon Haldir gives a wave of his hand and says,"Buren is his own I am more his friend than his master.  If he deems you a stout and true man he will allow such contact."  He frowns and shakes his head at Gumm's repeated bragging.  Turning to Eorik he says,"Well met Eorik of Rohan I am Haldir of Wilderland son of Galdor.  This is my trusty companion Buren the hound if Mirkwood.  We too are newcomers looking for employ and adventure." He motions to huge dog lying on the ground next to the table.

ooc: Buren is controlled by the Loremaster.  I can only give hints as to what he might do.  And give him commands that were previously laid out at character creation.  Pet him at your peril.... :).
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 16:25, Wed 19 Feb 2020.

Kodran smiles when the man announces his background.  He clasps his hands together and rubs them excitedly.  ”A Rider!  Well well.  That is interesting.  And what would lure a Rider of Rohan to baby sit a bunch of dwarves an' men 'cross Mirkwood?”


OOC:
No worries Eorik.  I wasn't really criticizing, just pointing out that I cant get a feel for your 'class' so you'll have to tell us IC.

The questions are a formality.  The applicants wanting to do this need to make sense to Navarre before he'll risk working with strangers.  Not looking for complex answers.  'I need paying work' is good enough.

In reply to Eorik (msg # 50):

"The two legged variety give us all problems, hence the interview. But it is the four legged asses we are deliberately taking quite a lot of. Glad to have your help with that."

He eyes the big dog warily, not helped by the fact that it could just about look him in the eye...

"Gentlemen" Interjects Jody, way down at the far end, and quite possibly over-looked as Hobbits often are; "May I remind you that we have a lady of the Elfin variety here, rather distinguished, and not just a trusted friend and companion, but in her own way, a diplomat that can help us with safe passage.

But - as long as we're clear on that, it seems to me that your qualifications are really, quite, well, quite nice and eminently suitable.  You have a Yes vote from me, if one was needed, asked for, or even wanted. But yes it is."

"Say, I don't suppose you boys, ah, eat a lot, do you?"

OCC: sry again for delay; thanx.

Haldir cocks his head in a curious manner,"Hello my apologies who might you be?  I thought you were maybe a boy who wandered in.  No offense but you look naught but a child."

From where he is kneeling by the dog, Waerdon can see most of the hobbit's body under the table.  He raises his head slightly, and comments "The halflings rarely leave the shire.  They prefer to stay home and keep to themselves.  I have never worked with one directly, but know of them from others who have."

"Im Jody!" chirps himself happily "And none taken.  I've most definitely left the shire.  I have a knack for a few things, but carrying heavy loads isn't one of them.  I am pretty good at eating, though." He smiles.  "There will be time enough for that, though you may want some travel weight, just in case."

Haldir laughs,"You and Buren have something in common.  He too enjoys to eat.  I have heard of the Hobbit named Baggins who help the Dwarfs reclaim the lonely mountain.  Are you his kin?"

“Bilbo Baggins!” An ancient fire kindles in Gumm’s eyes.  “What I wouldn’t give to meet such a warrior.  He slew Smaug the dragon with a dagger barely the length of his fist!”

Weardon scoffs at Gumm from where he rests on one knee.  That just about puts him at eye level with the human sitting at the table.  "You have all the sense of a mewlip.  I think someone Took you.  Of course a hobbit didn't slay a dragon with a tiny little dagger.  If you're exaggerating that much about a halfling, then I can only imagine the stories you tell about yourself." He quietly sighs to himself at the thought, and then mutters "braggarts..." under his breath.

OOC  Yes, he definitely meant to say one of the hobbits put one over on him.  But he also says it so unemotionally it sounds more like an insult than a joke.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:23, Wed 19 Feb 2020.

"Oh, no no.  Well, not any more or any less than any other hobbit.  I'm a Whitfoot, from East By-and-By; Baggins's are all by Hobbiton; Underhills, and Took Corner and thereabouts.  Good potato country, though my family grew a lot of sunflowers too.  But that's not my trade, yet."

"I'd heard that it was Bard the mayor who placed the arrow, though it was Bilbo who spotted the missing scales.  A wonderful story; and I have it to music as well.  Oooh! Or sung, that's a nice version."

Balin, who had wandered off to talk with a group of Dwarves in the corner, comes back in time to hear the company speak of Bilbo and Bard. At Jody's remark, Balin chuckles and nods his head. "A remarkable Hobbit, that Bilbo," he says with warmth. "Far more to him than meets the eye. As quiet as a fox stalking a hen, and cleverer than an owl. Thorin didn't appreciate Bilbo as much as he should have, but that little Hobbit is worth his weight in mithril. If you have a song, I'd greatly enjoy hearing it, Master Jody."</b>

Then he spies Weardon and raises his mug in greetings. "Ah, Weardon, I'd hoped you'd come. Company, meet Weardon; Weardon, meet the company--though I suppose you've already met."

The large Mirkwood hound looks at Weardon suspiciously, and he sniffs the Beorning before allowing the man to pet him. Though the dog does not growl, he barks several times at Weardon, a deep, throaty bark.

Looking at the company, Balin says, "So, are these all the applicants? Any keepers among 'em?"

OOC: Thanks for introducing yourselves, Haldir, Eorik, and Weardon!

Let's wrap up this part of the adventure with a final say for each of our three would-be PCs. Send me your votes on these 3 via PM.

For those who don't make the cut, I'll work on alternate adventures for you.

Also, please (re)assign Fellowship roles as needed. I'll assume Navarre will remain as Guide. You can allocate the Look-out Men, Huntsmen, and Scouts as you think best. (These are the jobs I'll be using when rolling for encounters or other events as you travel.)

Weardon scratches the dog behind the ear one more time, and then stands up.  Addressing Haldir, he says "Buren is very well trained.  He has good manners for a hound.  Your training speaks for itself."

He then turns to look at Balin, and nods in assent.  "I am honored that you sent for me, Balin.  Thank you.  I only arrived this evening after great effort, but it has bolstered my endurance and prepared me for our journey.  You seem to have a solid group here, and it is to our advantage that all of the free peoples are represented.  You show your wisdom yet again by choosing a well balanced group."

OOC Assuming Weardon doesn't get kicked to the curb, ready to go.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:48, Wed 19 Feb 2020.

In reply to Weardon of Amon Lanc (msg # 63):

"Bah, Balin sent for ya? Ya could a led with that instead a beatin around the bush! The other two have ma 'Ya', and if you know ya can trust the bushy man, then I am fine wit that."

[OOC: Good for all three here.]

Haldir look inquisitively at Jody as he listens and responds,"Your people sound jolly indeed.  Perhaps Buren and I will visit this Shire someday."

Upon Weardon's sigh of "braggart" Haldir nods in agreement and says,"Indeed"

Haldir laughs when Buren barks at Weardon,"That is all I need to prove your quality Beorning.  If Buren accepts you than so do I."

Gumm falls silent, too astonished for words that anyone would question the martial prowess of Bilbo Baggins.  He wondered what sort of lunatics he’d gotten mixed up with.  But crazy could also make a huge difference in combat, so perhaps it was just as well.

[OOC: Yes, the three have done well.  All are fit, imho.]
This message was last edited by the player at 23:45, Thu 20 Feb 2020.

And so, with three new companions added to their number, Balin bids the company goodbye until tomorrow.

The next day dawns bright and fair, with clear skies. Balin greets the company at the tall Gatehouse on the western side of Esgaroth. The Gatehouse serves as the sole point that foot traffic have of entry into and exit from Lake-town. Archers are stationed atop the Gatehouse, and a palisade extends to the left and right, offering more places for archers to rain down volleys on anyone wishing to attack the town.

"Good to see you all this morning," Balin says, grinning. With him are two younger Dwarves and three loaded mules. "Let me introduce you to my companions, Barrak and Torrun." Barrel-chested and well-muscled, Barrak has fiery red hair, a thick beard, and a stern, serious expression. Torrun has the same red hair, but he is younger, his face smoother, with large freckles splotched across his nose and cheeks. His beard is much shorter than Torrunthe other Dwarves, and he is not as well-built as either Balin or Barrak. All three Dwarves wear leather armor and have well-made axes at their belts.

"Well met," Barrak says gruffly, though he looks approvingly at the company's armor and weapons, particularly Mock Ironside's. Torrun nods his head in greeting and flashes a quick smile, but says nothing.

"Let's be off, then! We've already lost weeks due to our unfortunate adventure with the Mewlips," Balin says. "Lead on, Master Kodran!"

With this, the company sets out from Esgaroth, Navarre Kodran taking the lead on his horse, with Weardon, Eorik, and Gilmith ranging ahead to scout out the way, the Rider of Rohan on his beautiful Rohan steed, Snowbourne. The caravan of Men, Dwarves, Hobbit, Elf, horses, mules, and hound makes its way into the Long Marshes as the group follows the track of the Running River.

That afternoon when the company stops to make camp, Gwydian takes some time to fish, and Haldir goes out with his Mirkwood hound, Buren, to hunt. Gwydian returns with a brace of fish, and Haldir has been able to bring down a buck, which he skins and prepares for dinner. Meanwhile, the rest of the company set up camp for the night, take care of their animals.



Barrak



Torrun

OOC: Due to some good hunting and fishing rolls, you'll have enough food for this evening and the next day, saving 2 meals per traveler. I'm pausing here to give each person a chance to post if they want to. Otherwise, we'll continue on with the journey.

Mock did a bit of fishing alongside looking after the mules as well, enjoying the quiet trip so far.

Gilmith returns from her scouting for the evening to note the golden smell of venison searing over a bed of coals.  Despite the long day, she smiled warmly - this was starkly different after all then when Gilmith had first joined the group, when they were close to running out of food.  It seemed that now, they had enough skilled hunters that Gilmith didn't have to shoulder all the responsibility.

Still, it was no bear.  She thought to herself.

It was a good omen that things had been easy so far.  Still, there were much more dangerous areas of the Mirk to go...

Gumm stands guard and tries to pretend he can’t smell the delicious aroma of grilling meat.  He is less than successful.  He hears a growl, but knows it belongs to no fell beast, save for the one in his belly.

Weardon greets everyone in the morning, carrying his backpack and a staff.  His axe and knife are fastened to his backpack, along with 2 lengths of rope.  He seems to be traveling very light, since he has no horse or other method to carry his belongings.  As the rest of the group introduces themselves, Weardon is sure to shake hands with everyone who offers, including Barrak and Torrun.

As they make the final preparations to leave, Weardon stops by to let the mule sniff him.  Once he has been accepted, he rub it's ears for a moment, and speaks a few soft words.  He introduces himself to all the horses in the group in this way, with the permission of the owners.

As the group leaves lake Weardon runs beside Balin until they are well out of sight of Laketown.  After a quick glance to make sure no one is around, he whispers something to Balin, before raising his voice: "Stop a moment!"

As the rest of the group pauses to see what is going on, Weardon jogs out in front of the group.  As he passes Gumm, he mutters "We can discuss a contest of strength this evening should you like."

Once Weardon is well out in front of the group, he stops, and turns to face the group.  With his arms through the loops of rope, and his staff tied to his backpack, he kneels on the ground and begins to......change.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:56, Sun 22 Mar 2020.

After a few seconds of growing and sprouting fur, the grizzly bear stands up on all 4 paws.  The backpack it carries is snugly attached to it's back.  With a nod, and a pointed look at Gumm, it nods.  Then the giant bear turns around and jogs up the path in front of them.

About the time dinner is finished, Weardon walks into camp wordlessly.  He sets down his pack and sighs, and pulls out his staff, then walks over to collect some dinner.  When he approaches the fire, he states "I prefer the fish, thank you for cooking."

He then sits down heavily to eat, hungrily.

OOC I did not want to presume the behavior of Balir or anyone else, so I took a bit of liberty to not give anyone a chance to discuss this until dinner.  In real life it would have been handled differently, more than likely.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:04, Mon 23 Mar 2020.

Navarre was brimming with excitement and for many reasons.  Being a Dúnadan he was a sworn protector of the people though most were unaware of the self imposed oath.  Kodran had spent many of the last nights tucked warmly into a bed but his conscience was telling him he should be out scouting for signs of raiding squads of orcs and goblins.  Another nugget nibbled at him.  This was a large and formidable crew with a wide array of talents.  An elf of Mirkwood, a hobbit, a ranger, practically a herd of stout and well armed dwarves, a Rider of Rohan and several other men.  They would be passing not too far off from the Mewlips den.  Perhaps on the return trip Navarre could convince them to swing in for a visit to finish what they started.

There was another reason for Kodran's giddiness.  When he first met Gloin the ranger sensed something foul afoot.  He suspected that Gloin arranged to have his kin done in, likely for profit.  But finding Balin and Oin alive and seeing the prominent dwarves reaction to the safe return of his underlings convinced Navarre of his folly.  At that point he made up his mind to talk to the prestigious dwarf as much as he could.  After all he was part of the band of braver than brave dwarves who sought to take back their horde of wealth from the dragon.  And they succeeded!  Not only that but they had to defend it at the battle of the five armies.  How often does one get so close to history in action?  A living legend?


OOC:
Navarre will spend part of the first day attempting to cozy up to Balin.  I imagine on the way back to town I just let Balin be to regain his physical strength and mental wits.  But now I am interested, without being too pushy, to get stories of what we the PCs know as tales from The Hobbit, from the horses mouth as it were.

Also, so Weardon is a Lord of the Beornings?  From reading the game background it seems that only a rare few of the Beornings can actually transform into a bear?  Is that right?  How much would the PCs know of this kind of thing?

In reply to Navarre Kodran (msg # 74):

Mock is suitably impressed by the transformation, and offers his cooked fish without reservation in the evening...except for the one he ate himself. Over the evening meal, he asks about that ability, how common it is and any other details. He lets the mules graze if there is grass around, otherwise feeding them from feedbags after setting up the tent.

Haldir replies to Weardon,"Aye I am also partial to fish. Mock may I also partake in your catch?"  he tosses a large choice piece of venison to Buren and sets aside a large leg bone for Buren later on.

Weardon takes a large bite of his fish, and it seems like he barely chews it before he swallows.  The man looks quite fatigued, and it seems like all he can concentrate on is the food in front of him.  He quickly takes a second bite, and gobbles that down just as quickly, mostly ignoring his friends as he does so.  It takes him several minutes of eating before the color starts to return to his face.

Finally, he looks up, and seems to relax a little bit.  He then turns his head to acknowledge Gumm, who had asked him some questions while he was eating.  His response comes out as civil, but perhaps a bit grouchy:  "I was very hungry.  That is a long way to run.  No offense intended.  And thank you for the fish."

Weardon then takes a swig of water from his water skin, followed by a second, before he continues to answer.

"I apologize for not sharing my ability to transform beforehand.  I arrived late, and we left early, so there was little time to speak with you.  We moved quickly this morning, I assume to prevent spies from reporting on our movements.  The shadow has them everywhere.  That put me in a bit of a predicament, because I wanted to make sure you all knew of my transformation.

I could not think of a better way to do things given the situation.  If the animals were to become spooked, we could have lost half a day or more trying to untie them, and that's assuming there were no injuries.  And I could not leave early either, lest the sudden appearance of a bear cause you to take arms at my appearance.

In the end, I decided that Balin was the key.  Given his stature and wisdom, I expected him to be quite selective in the people he chose to bring along.  And this was not a secret that could be kept as we pass through Mirkwood.  We will see far too many dangers along the way.  Sooner or later you would be exposed to my alternate form.  I would rather it be now, so you don't bear the shock of seeing me change when we see our first party of orcs."

OOC I know Gumm asked other questions, pausing in case others want to join in.  Also, Weardon has quite a strong musky smell to him.  It's consistent with a bear, but rather hard on the nose.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:50, Wed 25 Mar 2020.

Gwydian, who has been even more quiet than unusual since the newcomers came, is visibly shocked by Weardon's transformation. He had heard tales of such magic but never witnessed it. Content with having been productive in providing some food stock, he keeps a distance from Haldir and Weardon, keeping a suspicious eye on the latter.

In reply to Haldir (msg # 76):

Mock has no problem sharing his catch. It was good to be able to add something when out of combat.

"That skill to take another form...where does it come from? I have heard of Lycanthropy, but I heard it was a disease, not something you wanted near you."

Weardon shrugs in response to Mock's question, and sighs before he responds.  It's hard to know if he is tired, or sad, but there is a note of something in his voice.  "I do not know where the ability comes from.  We believe that it runs in our family, but it has always been very rare."

For a moment Weardon runs his hand through his hair, and gathers his beard together, as he considers what to say.  Then he adds, in more of a sad and quiet voice: "The ones who do have it can be judged harshly by townsfolk, so we tend to keep to ourselves."

During the trip, Balin had responded to Navarre's overtures with favor, regaling the Ranger with tales of his expedition back to his ancestral home in the Lonely Mountain. He speaks of his former king, Thorin Oakenshield; of Gandalf the Wizard; of the peerless Hobbit burglar, Bilbo Baggins; of the Dragon Smaug and the terrible destruction the wyrm had wrought. At the tender age of seven, Balin had been there at the coming of Smaug, and he had lived long enough to see the Dragon finally slain by Bard the Bowman, now King Bard of Dale.

Weardon's strange transformation strikes each member of the company differently. Jody reacts with shock and excitement, and when Weardon returns at the end of the day, the Hobbit talks the Beorning's ear off, questions tumbling out of the halfling's mouth. "How'd you do that, Weardon? Are you really a bear, or really a man? Does your fur ever get sticky? Do you prefer bear-like food like honey and fish or Man-like food?"

Balin chuckles at the Hobbit's plethora of questions, and neither Barrak nor Torrun seem surprised at the transformation. Evidently the older Dwarf had informed his two comrades about Weardon's true nature. "You've no doubt heard of the famous Beorn," he says. "I had hoped to visit him during this trip, but he hasn't always taken too kindly to Dwarves. Hopefully Weardon here will make the meeting go more smoothly."

OOC: Yes, the power to change into a bear is one shared by the Beorning Lords, Beorn and his kin, though this is not common knowledge. Beorn is known, being one of the more established lords of Wilderland.

Feel free to post more if you wish. After this, we'll move on to continue the trip.

Haldir looks in astonishment at Weardon,"Oi! You're a skin changer like the lord Beorn! We are truly fortunate to have one if such renown in our company." He graciously nods at Mock for sharing his catch and partakes in a fish.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 22:16, Tue 24 Mar 2020.

Gumm grunts with as much affability as he can, but he obviously isn’t feeling very talkative.  Perhaps he enjoys being the strongest and doesn’t like having to cede that honor to another, or maybe this place is getting to him.  Either way, getting so much as a word out of him seems unlikely.

Weardon politely nods to Haldir as he answers Jody's questions.  There isn't a gap where he can actually respond to the man due to the halfling's enthusiasm.  As time goes on, the undertone of frustration in Weardon's voice turns to anger.  Finally, he stands up abruptly and asks the halfling "Do you ever stop talking?"  Then he turns sharply and approaches Balin, telling him "I don't sleep as a man in the wild.  Too dangerous.  I'll be on the edge of camp over there if you need me.  In the morning, I'll stand guard while you break camp, unless there is any objection."

OOC  Weardon can stand guard if if the group needs one.  Just let him know which slot he will be asked to take.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:12, Wed 25 Mar 2020.

Even though he feels like being taciturn, Gumm repeats his offer to serve in any capacity the party may require.

In reply to Gumm (msg # 85):

Mock starts to warm to the bear/man after his frustration at the endless talk of some of his companions, but he does understand the halflings excitement too. Balin knows his strengths, so he just wait to be directed when to stand his turn.

Eorik smiles at the group, gripping his spear tightly. He, like Balin, knows his strengths and so he will wait with Balin.