The Journey to Fornigard

[Lord Kensman Oron the Wolf]

This RP thread will be concerning the long journey to and from the Axe-Hold of Kinsman Oron the Wolf. It will be done in a style much like a D&D campaign, and only involves Zaron, Nichtmar, Baethor, and myself. The journey will be long and perilous, with many dangers to be encountered along the way. Hopefully this form of RP will be found enjoyable by those involved, as well as those who read it.

The Setting: Tis late in the evening, the sun has long since set, the sliver of a moon is just beginning to show itself above the tree line, in the cool night sky. A campfire burns in the darkness at the very outskirts of the lands of Mittlemarch. The shadow of a man can be seen pacing about. He seems to be waiting for some thing or someone. Another figure larger than the first seems to be tending some thing at the fire.


Zaron ponders the need for this journey, going over all of it's merits in his head once again... I hope that I am doing the right thing for Mittlemarch. I truly need to speak with Oron to see what I can do to help protect Mittlemarch from Grish 'nak's attacks. They will surely renew with the coming of Spring. The wooden stockades and trenches we have worked so hard to erect through the Winter may slow him and his gathering horde down, but they will not protect us indefinitely. I am not even sure they will slow him down long enough for our allies to come to our aide. Mittlemarch may need my leadership as Steward, but they will need more than that soon... I see no other choice, I must find a way to break Grish 'nak and his orcs for good...

Zaron's concentration and his mood are broken when the ogre beside the fire speaks up.

"Zaron, stop that walking back and forth... It hurts my head."

"Is that stew ready yet Nichtmar...? The smell of it is making me hungrier by the minute.

The ogre Nichtmar gives voice to the concerns that Zaron is fighting with in his head. "Eh? it'll do for now. Zaron I am anxious over the coming months and what may come. I'm concerned that the wooden walls of Mittelmarch will not repel Grish' nak's forces. We've yet to find the supply lines of his forces and I fear the longer we hesitate the stronger his attack will be.

[Lord Kensman Oron the Wolf]

"I agree Nichtmar, and finding those supply lines, and Grish 'nak's allies is certainly our first concern. I too am concerned that Mittlemarch could not withstand a prolonged attack. Oron will be able to help me form some better strategies for dealing with these attacks. I wonder what is keeping Baethor, he should have been here by know. Rune and Gravein are supposed to meet us here. I must give them my instructions, for they are to see to the protection of Mittlemarch in our absence.

Out of the dearness strolls a man. He steps up to the fire and warms his hands, as he takes a seat on an old log. "This fire feels good. how are you two? "

Nichtmar turns his attention from his stew pot to the man. "Evening, Gravein. It is a nice night, in the morning we ride to Oron's and hopefully the journey is safe. You and the others shall protect Mittelmarch while we are away. Do not take this charge lightly, I fear the enemy is watching us and soon they'll make their move."

"I understand Nichtmar. We will be on high alert during your journey. Grish' nak won't get in without a fight"

"Grish'nak wont get in period " says Rune as he walks up to the campfire.

"True, he won't. Cause you will just scare him away, Rune." says Gravein as he gets up from his log seat.

"Where are you off to Gravein?" asks Fenir as he walks into the small camp and approaches the fire.

"To get my bowl for some stew, if it's any concern of yours. lad...Nichtmar, do you mind if I have some?" Nichtmar motions Gravein toward the bowls. Gravein fills a bowl with stew sits down next to Rune. "Hey, did you here that??" Gravein cocks his head, trying to listen to the night.

"That's the best idea I've heard in a long time." says Zaron as he starts to dig some bowls for stew out of his pack.

"And now that you mention it Gravein my skin is crawling a bit, Rune, would you mind scouting the perimeter of the camp, while I get us some bowls out of my pack?"

Rune nods, and swiftly vanishes into the darkness without a sound. Rune draws a pair of daggers as he meticulously traverses the perimeter, finding nothing but dirt and wood. Finaly, just before coming back to get some stew, he hears something rustle in the bushes behind him. he spins and kicks into the brush, knocking a body out with an umph! He jumps on figure's back. "Identify yourself, or forever be silent" he spits as he sticks the daggers to the figure's throat.

[Lord Kensman Oron the Wolf]

The man takes a moment attempting to choke out his name after getting kicked in the chest. "I-i-i-it's I, Delmontey no need to get so physical.", nudges Rune away from him. "I smelled something yummy and wandered this way..."

Gravein comes to the sound with sword drawn. "You alright Rune?", looks at Delmonty, "and what were you doing?"

"Ya, I'm fine." says Rune, "Caught him by surprise. Not much of a scuffle."

"I see that you've caught my good friend Delmonty." Gravein begins to laugh at the site of his noticeably shaken friend.

Rune joins Gravein in the joke, and begins to laugh at Delmontiy's predicament as well. "Well, how bout we get back to that stew, aye?"

Delmontey stands up dusting himself off, wandering toward the fire, following his nose. "Aye can I get me some stew?" He holds small bowl out and looks to Nichtmar. "I would rather go with you, but if I must, I shall stay here and keep an eye out for any threats that may come.... and as for my stealthiness, it has yet to be improved... i was mearly....hunting.", eyeballs the stew.

Nichtmar grabs a ladle full of stew and plops it in Delmontey's bowl, and then sits on the ground leaning against the log.

"Thank ye' Nichtmar." Delmonte grins, dipping the spoon into the soup, slurping away. "Eh, who made the soup? its mighty yummy... "

Isen sits in the tree not too far from the fire but just out of the reach of the light. He listens intently to the conversation hoping that Baethor makes his way to this camp soon so he can learn more of this journey, and the plans for Mittlemarch.

Isen silently jumps from the tree branch and walks over to Nichtmar, staying just outside of the reach of the flames full light.

"I will lend as many of the brothers as I can spare but I must tell you we are not many. For the trip to Oron's The Brotherhood of the Crimson Fang will stay here near the villagers to keep them safe from any attacks. "

Isen finds himself a comfortable spot on the ground and lays down to look up at the stars seemingly lost in his thoughts.

From beyond the shadows cast by the campfire, a voice booms out.

"Yer a jumpy lot ain't ye!"

Rune hops up holding his daggers, but stops short when a rather hefty axe blade stops an inch from his nose, a voice from below him laughs heartily.

"Calm yerself poltergeist, tis only Baethor walkin in yer midst."

Baethor pulls the axe away and wraps an arm around Rune with a one armed hug. He clomps his way over near the first, revealing half dry mud along his knee's and tabard, and a few nicks and scratches on his hands and face. Baethor plants his battle axe down into the dirt, and takes a seat next to it.

"Sorry it took me so long boy's, got a wee bit side tracked on the way home"

[Lord Kensman Oron the Wolf]

Belmont set his bowl down looking to Bather. "Were ye attacked er somethin? He shuffles his feet around then looks into the fire. "And better yet...where ye followed?"

"Attacked? oh the scratches! nay, I wouldn't call it an attack per say. Nichtmar and I met this group of warriors that were using only rapiers and shields, quite strange folk, but they were fast, I'll giv 'em that. Only problem is that rapiers ain't much good against a good shield, ha!"

Baethor helps himself to some stew and digs in, dribbling into his beard bit.

[Sir Nichtmar]

Nichtmar pours himself a bowl and drops the ladle in the pot of stew simmering over the fire. Pulling the spoon from his mouth, he raises a brow to Baethor. "W'took ya so long Dwarf? I been here long time now."

Baethor wiping his chin, “Pffhh, ya left a few straggla’s, ogre. Had’ta clean up yerrr mess!”

Nichtmar shrugs, “They’re all on the ground when I left.”

Nichtmar spoons a few bites of stew and looks to Zaron, “Z, so when we goin’, what's the plan?”

[Zaron]

Zaron checks the position of the moon, seeing that it is getting late into the night.

We shall camp here tonight, where we have plenty of guards to take their turn at watch. It could be our last good nights sleep for a while. In the morning us three shall start along our path.

Do you think you can keep up with us dwarf? Winking at Beathor.

[Baethor]

"Bah! Me legs may be short, but me stamina will long outlast ye, Elf!" Baethor grins and lays his weapons at his side, and props his shield up against a tree before pulling his red blanket out of his gear and wrapping himself up in it.

"Just as long as ye dont cheat and take a head start that is! Wake me for my watch when it comes..."

between the soft crackle of the fire, the smell of stew, and the soft wind blowing through the trees, it does not take long for Baethor slips into his dreams

[story]

Baethor drifts off to sleep and all is quiet in the small camp, save the snoring of the dwarf. The men of Mittlemarch each take a shift at guard, but the night passes by without cause. The coming of the dawn is heralded by the feint calling of songbirds in the fading dark. The men begin to rouse from their slumber, some in anticipation of the trek ahead, others with thoughts of the responsibilities they must live up to while their Steward is gone.

After everyone has arisen, and the sun begins to show itself on the horizon, Zaron again goes over his orders to be followed in his absence, and bids the men good luck as they leave to head back to the settlement. Zaron goes to his horse and pulls out a map case, withdraws the map and lays it upon the ground...



Zaron speaks: "Alright, we are here, at the very edge of Mittlemarch, if we press hard southeast , we should make the Black Door, here in the Great Wood, in about five hours. We shall rest the horses there and eat, before passing over to the far edges of Rivendell. If this were a social visit, we would head into Rivendell to visit with Andin, and Squire Razier, but there is not time for that. We shall skirt Rivendell, and take the pass through the Dragon's Teeth, this is a narrow and dangerous trail, but will save us three days travel. Once we have passed through the mountains, we will travel though the plains of the Firelands. Gavin and his sept of the Fianna watch over these lands. Then past Mirkwood, home of King Shatterhaze, Rausumea, and finally into the lands of Pentwyvern. Oron's Axe-Hold is at the very heart of their Kingdom in the forests of Fornigard. The trail should take us most of five days to get to Fornigard, and much of it over vast untamed wilderness, so stay sharp. We must be alert at all times. any questions?"


and so it begins in earnest... Post your first round.

[Baethor]

"Just one, what're we standin' around yackin away for? Le's get te goin'!"

Baethor slides his mace and handaxe into their respective frogs at his sides, slings his shield over his back, and slides his battleaxe into its frog on his horses saddle. he then realizes he may have trouble getting up unto his rather large horse...Nichtmar chuckles, grabs the little dwarf by the back of his tunic and belt, and lifts him up into the saddle.

"er, thankee ogre. i suppose tha's one use for ye!"

Baethor sits atop his horse and waits for Zaron and Nichtmar to saddle up.

[Sir Nichtmar]

The amber glow of morning peeks through the trees, ambient sounds of the Land waking surround the camp. Nichtmar sheaths his sword on his back, grabs his spear and shield.

“Goliath!”

A black and white spotted shire horse gallops to Nichtmar. He hooks his shield on the hip of the saddle, then his pack, bow and arrows on the other side, and sits himself on the large horse. He slides his spear in behind him and says, “I’m ready.”

[Zaron]

Nodding to Nichtmar and Beathor Zaron hops in the saddle of his own horse, checking to make sure his blade is in an assessable location.

He turns to them both saying, "Then let us begin."

At that he kicks his horse into a canter, leading the way into the perilous wilderness.

[story]

The three travelers press their mounts as hard at they dare, riding on through the bright, cool. morning. Tis a long journey to the Black Door, but the path is well worn, for many have come this way before to cross over to and from the lands of Rivendell. Soon morning gives way to day as the men ride on, no word is spoken.

The importance of this journey begins settle into their minds, much trust has been laid on the table of the Steward. They must succeed, they is no other choice. So grim set, they ride on till midday. The Greatwood rises up to meet them, with it's ancient trees like sentinels from an ancient time. Still they push on...

For over an hour they continue through the Greatwood, until they come upon a clearing. In the center of the clearing is a doorway, large enough to allow a small wagon to pass through it. The doorway is not black, as it's name suggests, merely absent of all light. The clearing is silent as still as it always seems to be, when travelers are here. Zaron reins in his horse, and dismounts at the edge of the clearing, and the others follow his example. .

Zaron breaks the long silence of their ride. "Rest the horses well, they shall need it. This leg of our journey was easy compared to what awaits us on the other side of the Black Door. We should eat now, while we can, it shall be a long ride till nightfall, when we break for camp. Baethor how are you holding up, I know you do not favor riding, but we do not have time for you to walk the entire way." Zaron laughs at the jest, a small attempt to lighten the mood.

[Baethor]

Zaron finishes his question just as Baethor pulls his horse to a halt, and begins trying to clumsily get down.

"Ach! these accursed beasts are no way te travel! to tall, to bouncy, how is one supposed te drink on one o these! but the worst part about em is.."

before he can finish his sentence, Baethor falls out of the saddle and lands on his back with a clank.

"OOF! ....the dismoont...ow...

[Sir Nichtmar]

Nichtmar grins at the trouble his short friend is having, grabs his spear from behind him, throws his right leg over the horse and plants it on the ground, and releasing the other foot from the stirrup. He steps to Baethor and grabs his hand, pulling him to his feat, and says, “Friend, you should be more careful.” Looking around as he says this, “As much noise as you make, Grish’nak himself probably hears you.” Nichtmar turns to his horse, tucks his spear under his shield and grabs his quiver of arrows and bow. “I’ll be back I’m gonna scout around.”

Nichtmar walks silently through the forest scanning for any possible threat.

[Zaron]

Zaron turns, telling Nichtmar Just hurry on your scouting, I want to eat quickly and cover as much ground today as possible. Saying that Zaron starts to unpack rations from his saddle bag. He turns to Beathor as he does so saying, "Can you make us a very small fire with little smoke, this could be our last hot meal in a while?"

[Baethor]

"Aye, but that requires dry wood. i'll see what i can find." Baethor begins to look around for fallen branches, or other sticks that are dry enough to burn.

"....the ogre.....just said i was to loud...pfeh..."