Club Bearclaw - Slow-levelling in-character RP group

[silent-p]

Aside from our regular Saturday schedule, I could be available on Thursdays or Sundays.

Note that Club Eclair meets on Thursday nights around 8ish as their alternate day, and we have a few Eclairians in this group.

[RenfredGreysmith]

The man took up his mace and a shield that he found lying nearby, and made ready for the onslaught. The skies were dark and the light of the torches served only to cast the attackers into deeper shadow. Renfred looked at Trebble and shuddered-- this would not be easy. Where had all the others disappeared to? How were just the two of them, a village blacksmith and an inexperienced hobbit bounder, supposed to hold this section of the wall? As he wiped the sweat from his brow, a chaotic sound of horn rang out, and then the clash of steel-- the orcs were upon them with sword and spear! Renfred fought them as best he could, but he knew that he was no match for these creatures, thrice the size of the goblins in The Shire. He felt himself wounded in many places, falling to the ground, gasping out his last breath as he saw the orcs attack Trebble...

The gasp woke him from the nightmare and he sat up in his bed in the home of Bob Birchcutter. It was the late watches, almost dawn in the village of Combe, and there was no battle, no orcs, no wall to defend. But Renfred's spirits fell as he felt again the sense of failure that had dogged him since the spring. Quietly rising, he slipped out of the house and made his way through the village to Bree-town. Already the farmers were bringing their wares into the market square, and the air was starting to smell of delicious things baking-- he bought a few buns headed out the West Gate.

At last he came to a place north of Bree, a hollow in the hills. Amid the headstones he found the one that read "Greysmith", with three names listed there: Emily, Jack, and Julie.

"Em my dear, it's me, Ren," he said. "I've been away, you know, doing errands in The Shire for the hobbit-folk. And it seems like my wish to join you is not going to be granted just yet, for I've fallen in with a group of capable adventurers." He sighed, then smiled a bit as he thought of mysterious Master Jarngrimur, and merry Zapi, and Jay the friend of animals, mischievous Hamamac, and gentle Bounder Trebble. "I don't know why the plague spared me, why Mistress Jennet's nursing didn't help you and the bairns to make it through, but I have to keep going. I can't return to my old work here in Combe." Sitting down by the grave he breakfasted on the buns and the ale in his aleskin, enjoying for a while the morning birdsong and the fresh air.

At last he stood up, kissed his fingers and pressed them to the headstone, and started to walk back to meet his companions in Combe.

[Tiempko]

The man took up his mace and a shield that he found lying nearby, and made ready for the onslaught. The skies were dark and the light of the torches served only to cast the attackers into deeper shadow. Renfred looked at Trebble and shuddered-- this would not be easy. Where had all the others disappeared to? How were just the two of them, a village blacksmith and an inexperienced hobbit bounder, supposed to hold this section of the wall? As he wiped the sweat from his brow, a chaotic sound of horn rang out, and then the clash of steel-- the orcs were upon them with sword and spear! Renfred fought them as best he could, but he knew that he was no match for these creatures, thrice the size of the goblins in The Shire. He felt himself wounded in many places, falling to the ground, gasping out his last breath as he saw the orcs attack Trebble...

The gasp woke him from the nightmare and he sat up in his bed in the home of Bob Birchcutter. It was the late watches, almost dawn in the village of Combe, and there was no battle, no orcs, no wall to defend. But Renfred's spirits fell as he felt again the sense of failure that had dogged him since the spring. Quietly rising, he slipped out of the house and made his way through the village to Bree-town. Already the farmers were bringing their wares into the market square, and the air was starting to smell of delicious things baking-- he bought a few buns headed out the West Gate.

At last he came to a place north of Bree, a hollow in the hills. Amid the headstones he found the one that read "Greysmith", with three names listed there: Emily, Jack, and Julie.

"Em my dear, it's me, Ren," he said. "I've been away, you know, doing errands in The Shire for the hobbit-folk. And it seems like my wish to join you is not going to be granted just yet, for I've fallen in with a group of capable adventurers." He sighed, then smiled a bit as he thought of mysterious Master Jarngrimur, and merry Zapi, and Jay the friend of animals, mischievous Hamamac, and gentle Bounder Trebble. "I don't know why the plague spared me, why Mistress Jennet's nursing didn't help you and the bairns to make it through, but I have to keep going. I can't return to my old work here in Combe." Sitting down by the grave he breakfasted on the buns and the ale in his aleskin, enjoying for a while the morning birdsong and the fresh air.

At last he stood up, kissed his fingers and pressed them to the headstone, and started to walk back to meet his companions in Combe.

Thank you for these.

Consider this my enthusiastic encouragement for you to continue.

Trebble.

[silent-p]

Just a heads up I won't be at the Sunday 9/27 session today. Sorry for the short notice.

[Tiempko]

Mr. Jarngrimur.

I thought I would leave you a note so as you'd know where things were left off from when you get back from whatever it is you bear folk do.

When Renfred Greysmith and Zapi missed both breakfast and lunch, I thought I would go to the swamp and try to rescue them. It's a horrible place to be trapped, as I well know . . . having been trapped there myself for so many days. I figured I could find the hill where that neeker trapper was and mayhaps ask him iffen Mr. Greysmith and Zapi was about. Hamamac was out hunting somewhere and Jyokster was likely sleeping in a stable somewhere as he has not yet been accustomed to a bed. but I left word with the barkeep of my intent should she see them.

Well, it's hard for me to see far in them swamp weeds and them ruins stood between me and the neeker trapper so I stopped there for some high ground to look around. And, much to my surprise, I climbed upon some ruins and saw Hamamac out in the swamp battling one of the swamp vermin with Renfred and Jyokster wading through the swamp behind them. I shouted to them from atop my rock to get their attention but they did not see or hear me, or so I thought, so I jumped into the weeds to try to find a closer rock to stand on. I got accosted by swamp vermin and the three showed up and slayed it for me.

I do not know how Hamamac and Jyokster rescued Renfred before me but them swamps are not easy for a hobbit to navigate and I may have gotten a bit lost in the weeds for a bit.

There's still no sign of Zapi and folks are concerned about what may have happened. There's no note or sign of disgruntlement and we hope that he finds his way out of the swamp soon.

But we did take Renfred to talk to Strider. And there Strider told him the story of our battle at the bandit camp and the fate of poor Amdir. Whereupon we retired to Combe as it had been a long day of rescuing. I think you find the rest of us . . . except Zapi, of whom I am most worried - at or about the Combe and Wattle ready to aid Constable Underhill in his plan - after we have had some rest. And a bit to eat. And a bath. Swamps make a hobbit in desperate need of a bath.

Let me know when you are in need of assistance.

Bounder Trebble

[silent-p]

Father,

It has been some time since I last wrote and so much has transpired that I hardly feel a letter sufficient. I long to return to the Beorninghús and share my tale over a flagon of strong mead. Certainly, some events have taken place that would be worthy of a song at the hearth!

Our band dwindles by the day, however the Hobbits Trebble and Hamamac, as well as the Man Renfred and the Moria-Dwarf Jyokster have remained steadfast.

The Man Renfred was invaluable in guiding us in Bree-land, having spent his youth in the villages nearby. Despite his humble stature, Renfred has proven a brave ally and I am glad for the company. And the Hobbits have further grown on me, as has the Dwarf Jyokster.

Once we had another Moria-Dwarf, a Keeper of Runes, but he went missing in the Midgewater Marshes and has not been seen for some weeks. The marshes are treacherous no doubt--we lost our intrepid Bounder Trebble in the swamps and almost left him to a soggy end-- but I doubt the goblins got at the Dwarf. Both of the Moria-Dwarves' minds have been cracked somewhat by their servitude in the Dark Lands, so it is entirely possible that he simply wandered off and will wander back again at some point. Regardless, we have no more time to spare to search for him and have moved on.

In Bree, I finally spoke with Strider at length. We were enlisted immediately to help rescue a fallen Ranger named Amdir... but of that dark night I care to speak little. Suffice to say, events are unfolding which confirm everything that R. warned of. The Ranger Amdir was turned to a Cargûl in some foul ceremony that we arrived but moments to late to halt. And worse, I saw several of the Nine--Nazgûl!-- with my own eyes! The ceremony was led by a dark Dwarf that reeked of the stench of death and decay, as if the creature itself was dead but risen again. The foul dwarf and the Nazgûl fled while we dispatched Amdir. There was no saving him.

We returned to Bree to lick our wounds, but there was scarce opportunity to do so before Strider had us travel to Buckland to rendezvous with the Ranger Lenglinn. A fellow Beorning received word and joined us from his patrols in the Mountains just in time for the journey.

We arrived to find Lenglinn wounded (run down by one of the Black Riders) and the hills crawling with crebain. After dealing with these Eyes of the Enemy, we ventured into Buckland to investigate any evidence of remaining Black Riders. At one of the homes in the town, we were assaulted again by crebain, and some flew off into the Old Forest.

I must determine where the crebain have gone, and whether any Black Riders remain in the area. It has been a long day, frought with turmoil, and the Hobbits need rest. We spend the night in Buckland.

Tomorrow, we travel to the Old Forest. Who knows what we shall find?

Yours,
Jarngrimur

[RenfredGreysmith]

Renfred paused for a moment behind the others and grabbed a handful of fern fronds to wipe off his mace. The quest into the Old Forest had gone very well, all things considered, although the poison bites of numerous spiders had made him feel light-headed. He smiled grimly to himself, remembering the fight with the giant spider-queen: the bear-folk, Jarngrimur and Ragmus, and Jay the dwarf, had torn into her body, while Hamamac's ingenious explosive device had exploded underneath her. But Renfred had landed quite a few blows on the monster as well, and he felt more confident in his abilities. How proud of him Emily would have been!

Suddenly he felt a stabbing in his back, and turned to face a stalking spider. Where were the others? Alas, too far ahead! He shouted, and was startled to see the young hobbit, Stummel, appear at his side. Together they fought the spider, but its bites and poison were overwhelming. Renfred gasped to Stummel, "RUN!", and struck out at the creature with his last conscious effort. He collapsed on the ground and the world went dark...

He awoke again and saw the concerned faces of his companions, Hamamac and Stummel, Bounder Trebble, Jay and Ragmus. Staggering to his feet, he looked around for their leader. "Where is Master Jarn?" he coughed. The sound of roars and the tearing of flesh came from across the Withywindle, and the party stood shocked into silence. Jarngrimur was in his bear-form racing about on the other bank, attacking wildly in a furious frenzy, shredding spiders and bats and battling the sickened bears. When at last the bank was completely clear of living creatures, Jarngrimur swam across the river to rejoin his company.

Renfred looked into the bear-eyes, wondering if this time, perhaps, the Man-spirit had disappeared completely, wondering if the animal's cold gaze signaled that Jarn would turn on them, and slaughter them, losing his self-control in the wild bear nature. But then a consciousness flickered in the bear's eyes, and Jarn quickly resumed his Man-form. He smiled grimly. "I think it is time for us to take leave of this place, for now," he said.

Trebble spoke up. "I think the sickness of the forest is getting to us."

Jay added, "Or hunger!"

"Back to Buckland," said Hamamac, and broke into song, "Buckland, Buckland, where its always time to tuck in."

Renfred shuddered at the peril he'd survived, and joined the others, taking pains to stay close to them now.

[silent-p]

Written in stark handwriting:

The urgent business that called me elsewhere for a time has been concluded.

Word at the Inn have the Companions travelling north, to deal with orc encampments on the errand of the Ranger Saerdan.

I have followed them there, but did not catch sight. The orcs had returned in force, so I spent some time thinning their numbers.

While rooting the vermin out of their foul caves, I came upon more evidence that the Iron Crown and Sharkey are at odds-- further confirming the suspicions raised by the evidence we've gathered thus far in the Bree-Land hills.

I fear I know the nature of this Sharkey-- the coincidence would be too great-- but I keep my thoughts to myself for now.

Perhaps the Companions have returned to Bree-Town and our paths have simply not crossed. No surprise, as I travel the wild paths of nature and the Hobbits are stubbornly fixated on travel by road.

I will return to the Inn and drink until their return.

[RenfredGreysmith]

Renfred sighed to himself as the band of adventurers climbed the street to the Prancing Pony. How strange it felt to be returning to Bree-town, after a week spent in the Barrow-downs! He looked at the town with eyes newly awakened to the dangers surrounding it. Orcs and brigands to the north, and more to the south, and dangers natural and unnatural in the Old Forest, and now, most terrifying of all, the dangers of the Dead in the Barrows. And yet business went on as briskly as ever in Bree. How oblivious folks were!

In the stable-yard a band of musicians was practicing, an older man in front, with several young women playing at his direction. One of the young women reminded Renfred of his daughter, Julie, who had taken up the lute as a child and played it well. He lingered for a few moments, listening, as Hamamac danced a few steps. But the heavy task laid on them by Bombadil soon returned to Renfred's thoughts, and he went to meet his fellows inside the pub. The time for celebration was not yet.

[RenfredGreysmith]

“Today we head back into the Barrow-downs,” Bounder Trebble told the group.

“B-But without Jarngrimur?” stammered Renfred. “Without Master Jay? Without Steinnbjorn?” He looked at the diminished group: Trebble, and the two hobbit archers, Hamamac and Merrywillow.
Hamamac said, “We have four, that is nearly an army.”

Trebble nodded. “Renfred will protect us. He’s good at that.”

The man sighed. He’d been trying to improve his fighting skills by watching the sturdy dwarf, Steinnbjorn, and he knew that he was sturdier himself than any of the hobbits. Moreover, they’d had some success earlier in accomplishing various tasks for the men and hobbits on the Old East Path. Still, he couldn’t help but judge this decision (uncontested by any of the others), to enter the Barrow-downs with only some of their number, needlessly reckless.

Suddenly, the quiet Elf Gilanthuil was there, startling Renfred. Merrywillow cheered, “Well, now we are a proper group!”

But Renfred was nervous. Where had the Elf come from? Why did he seem to have power over animals? What was he doing, wandering around with mortal-folk?

By this time the hobbits and the Elf were half a league up the slope towards the ominous rocky gate. After a last longing look along the road to Bree Renfred began to trot to catch up with his companions. He reached them where the entrance gap opened up onto the downs, where they had paused to speak with…. Of all people, Stummel!

“What are you doing here?” asked Trebble.
“I wanted to go on an adventure again,” answered Stummel. “I heard a story about a beautiful princess who lives here.”
Renfred shook his head in dismay. The lad was touched in the head, and someone should walk him back to the Shire.

But the others accepted Stummel’s explanation and agreed to let him join them-- a decision that, three months ago, would have astounded Renfred, but which now did not surprise him in the least. He sighed in resignation and directed the young hobbit to stay close to the group.

They began searching through the open barrows for relics for the Bree hunters’ lodge, and they fought off nasty spiders and wights, and animated corpse-limbs, together. It was dank and dirty work, but no one was lastingly poisoned. “Crawling arms, now that is creepy,” said Stummel.

Through it all, the Elf and his bear companion were quiet, as usual, and the Elf collected whatever scraps of parchment he could find in the numerous urns. He was uncanny, unnatural, thought Renfred. He recalled tales he had heard in childhood, of long-lived Elves who stole the life-blood of mortals, who used wicked lore to raise the dead back to life, to serve the Elven master. He shuddered. Was Gilthanuil somehow causing these wights to attack them?

“I've heard tell that Elves can raise the dead,” he ventured, glancing at the Elf.
Gilanthuil regarded the man calmly, looking slightly puzzled. “If they can, I have not seen it. Nor have I dabbled in such craft,” he said. Something in his words and expression reassured Renfred. How foolish I am, he thought to himself. Gilthanuil has done nothing but help us so far, Ren, and you know you heard tales of good and noble Elves, too.
He sighed. Perhaps it was the noxious fumes of the Barrows that had muddled his thoughts.

As the sunlight faded they decided to return to Bree-town, although they had not finished all the tasks that had been given them. At least they were all alive and uninjured, even Stummel, and perhaps the next time they ventured, Jarngrimur, Jyokster, and Steinnbjorn would be with them.

[RenfredGreysmith]

The group of adventurers emerged from the barrow into a misty dawn, but the grey sky was a welcome sight. They gathered around the campfire near the entrance and discussed the battles. Refred nodded along, not saying much, but satisfied with his performance. His terror at the wights had gradually faded as he realized that his mace, and the shield that he was learning to use, effectively stopped the walking dead (or crawling dead parts) completely.

Hamamac commented, 'Chizbeorn kept us all safe, if not warm.'
The Beorning frowned. 'I can't say I like how I feel in bear form.' He paused, then added, 'Angry all the time.' He relaxed his clenched fists. 'I'm much more calm in this form.'
Jarngrimur looked at him. 'Really. I prefer bear form.' He shook his head. 'I had never attempted to boost morale before. Usually I focus on ripping things to shreds.'
Renfred began to smile, but as he recalled some of Jarngrimur's more effective attacks, he couldn't help but shudder. No, the Beornings were definitely uncanny, and he did not envy their battle skills at all, although it was marvelously reassuring to have them on his side!
'You folks scarce wavered in your morale,' said Bounder Trebble. He was very pleased.

Jyokster looked for Chip the beaver: where could the animal be? Merrywillow said, 'He's probably in the tent under the sleeping bags.' Sure enough, Jyokster found him in the elf tent. 'There you are Chip! You're a good hider, yes you are!' He looked around at the others. 'I'm up for getting this over with, and then a cold shower in a stream,' he said.

Jarngrimur looked around at his band. 'Do we wish to proceed after Sambrog now?'
Trebble pulled out the parts of the skull key and nodded. 'We should be set to enter Samborg's personal crypt.'
Gilanthuil, the quiet elf, said, 'Did we not meet him earlier, when Tom Bombadil came to our aid? Or was that another foul creature?'
Jarngrimur nodded. 'Tom Bombadil scared him off.'
Trebble agreed. 'Aye. Tom drove him away, but he just retreated.'
Hamamac added, 'Coming to unlife again.'
'He needs to be ended, not scared off!' said Merrywillow, looking as fierce as a hobbit lass could.

Although some were eager to brave the Great Barrow again, Renfred was relieved when they decided to put it off for a day of rest. As Trebble pointed out, 'No Samborg until we have time to slay him proper.'

[RenfredGreysmith]

"AAAAAARRRRGH!" shouted Renfred, holding up his shield, bracing for the attack. And the wights did pause from attacking the others. He saw Jyokster ready his knives, Merrywillow slot another arrow, and Chizbeorn take a deep breath.

Yet these enemies were stronger than they had expected, stronger than the man had prepared for. And Sambrog, the most powerful wight, had grown since they last faced him, or perhaps he seemed stronger, without Tom Bombadil's aid.

Wielding his mace as best he could, and holding up his shield as he remembered to, Renfred fought. The battle was loud, and long, and at last he was overcome. As he fell to the ground, his last thoughts were of his family, his lost wife and daughter and son... "Em! I'm coming, I'll be with you again..."

[Ith2]

"AAAAAARRRRGH!" shouted Renfred, holding up his shield, bracing for the attack. And the wights did pause from attacking the others. He saw Jyokster ready his knives, Merrywillow slot another arrow, and Chizbeorn take a deep breath.

Yet these enemies were stronger than they had expected, stronger than the man had prepared for. And Sambrog, the most powerful wight, had grown since they last faced him, or perhaps he seemed stronger, without Tom Bombadil's aid.

Wielding his mace as best he could, and holding up his shield as he remembered to, Renfred fought. The battle was loud, and long, and at last he was overcome. As he fell to the ground, his last thoughts were of his family, his lost wife and daughter and son... "Em! I'm coming, I'll be with you again..."

(what's the plan now? Love what you guys are doing btw *thumbs up* )

[Chizbo]

Chizbeorn had just switched back to man-shape, and flinched as the ichor squirted out of Samborg's shoulder where Jyokster had slashed him. The ichor struck his arm and the foul smell made him gag, but he had to fight on. Renfred had fallen, and now it was up to the three remaining companions to finish the job. In desperation Chizbeorn brought his ax down on the Samborg's head, using both hands to impart as much force as he could. Somehow his blow struck true, and finally the wight fell and moved no more.

He turned to Renfred as quickly as he could, and tried to bandage and staunch the wounds the wight had inflicted. Renfred was very pale and did not move, but was that a breath?

[RenfredGreysmith]

(what's the plan now? Love what you guys are doing btw *thumbs up* )

Thanks, mate, we appreciate it!

________________________





After a seemingly endless long day spent wandering the horse-fields near Hengstacer farm, slaying orcs and helping a curious old dwarf, the party at last reached the shores of the huge lake. A trail of smoke in the air led them to where two hunters were camped, and not only the hobbits were delighted to see a large roast turning on the spit above the campfire. They'd arrived just in time for supper!

Walt Whitrose and his lady friend, Sage Hayseed, were kind and hospitable, although there was no room in the tent for the party of adventurers. It wasn't the first time they'd slept in the open, and they thought nothing of it.

Renfred sat down next to young Stummel, their occasional companion. "You wanted to know what happened to me, Stummel, a few days ago, in the ... the ... "

"The Barrow-downs, yes," said Stummel. "I didn't like it there, too much adventure for me."

"Aye, you never know who might get be-wighted in the Barrows," added Jyokster, who was close enough to overhear them.

"So what happened in the Barrows, Master Renfred?"

The man closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, imagined stuffing his terror into a box, so that he could tell the tale.

"We'd made it through the Great Barrow well enough before, and I was feeling very confident. This old mace I won in The Shire, and the shield I was given in Bree, seemed to work pretty well against the crumbling bones and putrid flesh of the wights." Then he frowned. "But my armour is old and not very strong. At last we came up against Sambrog himself, the strongest of the wights, a kind of king wight." Renfred paused, wondering for a moment if he should try to describe the horror of Sambrog to Stummel. Then he shrugged. The lad had accompanied them in the Old Forest, after all, and was no child.

"Sambrog was very tall, taller than even Gilanthuil over there, and the pale hateful light of his eyes, and his voice so cold and deep that it seemed to come out of the depths of the earth, and his icy touch, he was terrifying." He shuddered. "I shouted at him, to keep his attention away from the others, but he was much stronger than I, and he fought with sword and with some kind of poison, and with dread." He fell silent for a moment.

"I remember falling, and thinking of ..." Renfred realized that he hadn't told any of his companions about his lost family, but he felt no wish to do so now. "I remember falling," he said again, "and there was a distant light, and I felt that I should move towards it. There were beckoning figures, but as I drew closer, they seemed to shimmer from light into darkness, they turned into wights, ugh!"

"The next thing I remember was waking up, with Master Chizbeorn binding the wound on my shoulder. He saved my life." Renfred nodded at Chizbeorn, who looked very tired this evening. "Kind of you to say, ser Renfred, but you've done the same for us many times."

Renfred smiled. "Well, anyways, Chizbeorn and the others defeated Sambrog, and we all came out alive. So now we're back to above-ground adventures, attacking orcs, and the random wild unfriendly beast. And we're very glad to have your company again, Master Stummel!"

Hamamac said, "Stummel, I would give you some [Barrow-brie] but I'm afraid it's gotten a bit soft."

Stummel wrinkled his nose in disgust, "Ugh, that smells terrible!"

[silent-p]

Written in stark handwriting:

It seems at last the time has come for me to leave the Bree-lands. My path now unfolds to the east.

I must speak with R!

I have done all he asked, and have been gone so long that home is but a distant memory.

And yet, I am not alone. The Companions do me proud--even with their spirits at their lowest ebb, they are an inspiration. If only all the peoples of Middle-Earth were so brave.

We camped recently at the Nen Harn, an impressive lake, to be sure.

But there is not enough water in the world to wash away the blood... We have slaughtered so many goblins, and orcs, and wights, and spiders, and brigands in our travels.

Still, in-between our red work there are moments of respite, and even joy: Today was spent in simple hunting and swimming. Turtles for dinner!

And the clear, cool water of the lake reminded me of the Silverwell.

If we chance to pass by, perhaps I might sneak away.

One last glimpse of her face...

[ustaring]

[[Hey! It's Zapi.
My Saturdays have cleared up again. Wondering if Bearclaw is still meeting? (I truly hope so.)

And if so, any chance there is still room for a stout-axe runekeeper? I'm still at Lvl 11, so I'm I'm going to need to do some leveling on my own to catch up, so probably won't be able to join you for at least another weekend or so.

Let me know (and if not, for whatever reason, no worries)!
Hope all is well!]]

P.S. It looks like you just cleared Great Barrows? That's awesome! I can only imagine how much fun that would've been under-level

[Tiempko]

[[Hey! It's Zapi.
My Saturdays have cleared up again. Wondering if Bearclaw is still meeting? (I truly hope so.)

And if so, any chance there is still room for a stout-axe runekeeper? I'm still at Lvl 11, so I'm I'm going to need to do some leveling on my own to catch up, so probably won't be able to join you for at least another weekend or so.

Let me know (and if not, for whatever reason, no worries)!
Hope all is well!]]

P.S. It looks like you just cleared Great Barrows? That's awesome! I can only imagine how much fun that would've been under-level

Greetings:

We would be pleased to have you return.

The Bearclaws are going quite strongly. There were 9 of us at our last gathering as we left Breeland and went to talk to the ranger Candaith at his campsite at the foot of Weathertop. We then commenced to raid the orc camps about the campsite to buy us some peace. But . . . Candaith saw something pecular atop Weathertop and is sending us to its summit to investigate.

We are currently at level 17. Except for Stummel. Stummel is a Level 1 hobbit.

Our regular mustering time has not changed: 3:00 PM on Saturdays. And you can still reach us on the user channel "/joinchannel club-eclair". [Recall, this is an offshoot of the Club Eclair levelling group that is currently at Level 60 and in the middle of Mirkwood.]

(Aye, we made several trips into the Great Barrow at Level 16 - usually dividing our group of 8 people into two groups of 4. With 4 level 16 characters adventuring where six Level 20 characters are supposed to go, we had some genuine adventure. But, we made it through. Not without some missteps, but that is the nature of adventure. Some of us meet on Sundays at 6:00 PM for catchup . . . so it would be an opportunity for you to get the Great Barrows done if that would be your pleasure.)

[RenfredGreysmith]

Trebble reached the camp first. 'I FOUND THE DEPUTY,' he shouted to the others.
Chizbeorn agreed, 'Yes friend Trebble, you did,' while Renfred saluted the man and Zapi posed heroically.

Deputy Osmann expressed his gratitude to the group and gave them a list of several things they could do to help.
Guileborn commented, 'Those are a lot of orders. You should focus on one thing like the elfs do.'

Hamamac invited Old Mugwort to join his delicious elevenses repast.
Merrywillow asked, 'What exactly is an Eglain?'
Hamamac answered, 'An eglain is a water bird with a long neck.'
'Isn't that a crane?' she asked. Hamamac said, 'No, I'm thinking of an eglet.'
Zapi joined in, 'Are you sure an eglain isn't something you eat? Haha!'
Chizbeorn remarked, 'They don't look very tasty to me ... not enough meat on the bones.'
Merrywillow said, 'I prefer eclairs.... yum! All that cream!'
Zapi giggled uncontrollably at Merrywillow, but he had to agree. Cream-stuffed pastries are delicious.

Jarngrimur explained, 'An Eglain is one of the Men who live in this land,' and Chizbeorn added, 'I believe that is what the folk of this land call themselves, Merrywillow.' The hobbit lass thanked them for the explanation, but the new elf had more information.

Guileborn said, 'Eglan means "forsaken".'
Zapi replied, 'Really? You are full of surprises, Warden! haha!'
Gilanthuil nodded, 'There are not too many of them, though it is lucky that we happened by. It's a Sindarin word.' He added, 'It looks like these people were forsaken their birthright. They were a great people once.' He pondered for a moment, 'Or have forsaken their duty.... It's not clear the meaning.'

Zapi said, 'Well, if their architecture is any indication of their past greatness, I'm inclined to agree.'
Jarngrimur stood amazed. 'What a view! Imagine that tower if it still stood.'

Renfred put his pack under his head and arranged himself to sleep as best he could on the ground. Once again the group's hunting had led them away from civilization (if one could so call the Forsaken Inn), and they chose to camp with the few souls near Minas Eriol. Although he ached with weariness, sleep at first refused to come.

How strange it felt to be so very far from Combe, from the entire Bree-land! He often felt like his new life was a dream, but it also absorbed all his thoughts, such that he rarely now thought of his heartbreak. Today they had passed so many ruined stone buildings, with symbols of stars and spiked crowns, all broken and desolate, save for the wicked half-orcs that came from who knows where. Renfred had grown up hearing tales of the Men of the West who came from the sea and were kings for a while, but he'd never really understood how powerful they must have been. Although for all their might and majesty, they were gone now, and his own Bree-folk, more humble and ancient, still carried on.

Bounder Trebble and Miss Merrywillow had shared a last meal before turning in for the night. Now there was a mystery, Renfred thought. What on earth was a hobbit lass from The Shire doing traipsing about in a company of adventurers? Of course she was not defenceless, she was almost as deadly with the bow as Hamamac. Presumably she had much practice with it growing up, but still, lasses were supposed to stay at home and help their mothers. Did Merry not have a mother? If she did have a mother, what was her mother thinking, to let her daughter venture away like this? He'd watched her gently guide Zapi the dwarf, and her friend (brother? cousin?) Trebble, and they were protective of her, as Renfred himself was.

He thought then of his own daughter, who had taken so to music, who had wanted to be a bard (like the ones the family saw perform sometimes). Emily and he had expected her to grow interested in the youths when she reached a certain age, but she never had, being content to live at home and play her lute in the Comb and Wattle each evening.

He sighed and rolled over, trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable. He'd had weeks to get used to his companions and he felt moderately proud of himself for no longer gaping when Jarngrimur turned into a bear, or when Gilanthuil called upon a wild animal to come and fight with them. He appreciated Zapi's cheeriness and Jyokster's playfulness. He admired Chizbeorn, an older Beorning, who seemed much less eager than Jarngrimur to assume bear-form. And then there was Hamamac, the fearless tracker, as quick with a pun as with his bow. And Guileborn, the newest member of the group, an elf whose mien made Renfred tongue-tied with awe.

The moon finally dipped below the hill top and the campfire burned down low. It was dark in the Lone-lands, but there in the camp it was safe, and Renfred fell asleep.

[ustaring]

[[Zapi, here.
Super weird! It was 5 minutes before Bearclaw session and I was in the midst of fast-travelling to Trestlebridge when the game got hung up and booted me out. Tried several times to re-log as Zapi, but nothing. Then tried logging on with a different character and that didn't work either, so just called it a day.
Sorry everyone! As always, was looking forward to doing whatever it was we were going to do.
Hope you had a blast!]]

[Tiempko]

A few folks were missing, so I will let folks know where we are at.

Bearclaw folks gathered in Trestlebridge. We raided the orc camp to the east, then went looking for the lost lumber workers and raided the orc fort a second time. At the end, we wandered into Nan Wathren. However, we quickly concluded that we were being drawn into a long battle. So, we backed out and returned to Trestlebridge for reinforcements, and also to have supper and wait for the rain to stop.

In Trestlebridge, we found out the Mayor's home was unlocked so we invaded it. At least, it is dry. WE are eating her food, sleeping in her bed, and otherwise crowding her out of house and home. But, as orc hunters, we think we deserve as much.

[ustaring]

A few folks were missing, so I will let folks know where we are at.

Bearclaw folks gathered in Trestlebridge. We raided the orc camp to the east, then went looking for the lost lumber workers and raided the orc fort a second time. At the end, we wandered into Nan Wathren. However, we quickly concluded that we were being drawn into a long battle. So, we backed out and returned to Trestlebridge for reinforcements, and also to have supper and wait for the rain to stop.

In Trestlebridge, we found out the Mayor's home was unlocked so we invaded it. At least, it is dry. WE are eating her food, sleeping in her bed, and otherwise crowding her out of house and home. But, as orc hunters, we think we deserve as much.

Oh geez! That sounds so awesome (wandering into Nan Wathren) and hilarious (taking over the mayor's home). Wished I could have been there!

[RenfredGreysmith]

Renfred couldn't help but see the day's gloomy, wet beginning as an omen. Nor was the inauspicious weather the only trouble, but also the missing Zapi and Jyokster, and their persistent cheerfulness. Was the band making a mistake, heading into Nan Wathren without the dwarves? Master Jarngrimur appeared as confident as ever, but Renfred hadn't felt so nervous since their venture into the Great Barrow. He looked at the young hobbit, Stummel-- so eager and trusting-- and swallowed nervously. 'No, stop, Ren,' he scolded himself quietly. 'Master Steinnbjorn is here, and Jarngrimur and Chizbeorn, and the two elf lords. Stummel and the other hobbits will be fine. And we'll find that evil poisoner in the camp and put an end to him, and save Trestlebridge-- or at least what's left of Trestlebridge.'





At first the mission went well-- they found the orc that was making the explosive black powder and dispatched him, but Renfred was alarmed to see Stummel too close to the powder.

Merrywillow said, 'I wouldn't stand there Stummel-- Ye won't have eyebrows fer long!'
Trebble exclaimed, 'Gad, Stummel . . . watch where you stand!'

Stummel moved away from the dangerous powder, just as it exploded.
Trebble sighed, 'I would hate to mail pieces of you back to your folks.'

'That would be bad!' said Merrywillow, patting out a little smoke on Stummel's shoulder.
Trebble nodded, 'It would be expensive.'

The orc camp turned out to be more of a military fort, with many, many dozens of orcs engaged in provisioning and building stockades and, to Renfred's alarm, siege engines. They made their way slowly through the mud, taking on a few orcs at a time, looking for the poisoner.

Trebble wondered, 'What does an orcan defiler look like?'
Jarngrimur answered, 'The defilers are their priests. So look for something... religious? Shamanistic.'
'Assuming we have not already seen him and did not know it,' muttered Trebble.
Gilanthuil nodded. 'That could be the case,' he said. 'But I feel we will know when we see him.'

Gilanthuil was correct. Down in the bottom of the valley, on a small islet in the midst of a flooded gorge, they found an orc stirring a brew in a huge cauldron. A sickly sweet stench permeated the air. Standing guard was a very large, well-armoured, tough-looking orc.
'Good thing we brought an army,' said Steinnbjorn with a grin.

After making sure that there were no other defenders around, the group attacked the guard and the defiler, and quickly finished them off. They were stronger than these orcs, Renfred thought, with great satisfaction. Stummel, caught up in excitement, ran in to stab the defiler's foot.

Jarngrimur ordered, 'Destroy the brew pot!' and Steinnbjorn and Guileborn helped him to heave it over, off of the fire it sat on. But alas! As the others watched the destruction, Renfred noticed that Stummel had fallen to the ground, his face an alarming shade of green.

"Stummel!" he shouted.
Chizbeorn cried out, 'Stummel is hurt!'
Jarngrimur ordered, 'Let's get out of this place.' Chizbeorn gently lifted the hobbit in his arms, Trebble shouted, 'HOLD ON, STUMMEL!' and the group ran back up the valley until they found a sheltered spot.

As the Beorning laid Stummel down, Trebble was able to see that the he still lived. Hamamac produced a flask of something and held it to Stummel's lips.
Stummel woke up and gasped, 'Phew, some orc knocked me out, what a story to tell!' His face was no longer green, Renfred noted with immense relief.
Trebble said, 'Whew! I am ready to return to Trestlebridge.'
Stummel agreed. 'Me, too!'

The rain turned into a heavy mist that heralded an early dark. Jarngrimur led his band back towards the town where they could take shelter and rest.

'Nan Wathren has been properly cleared out!' said Trebble, with satisfaction. 'Its orcs slayed, wargs dewarged, weapons burned.'
Merrywillow added, 'Totems ruined!'
Trebble continued, 'Plans destroyed. Alters alterned.'
Guileborn nodded, 'Wargs de-fed.'
Trebble gloated, 'Defilers defiled.'
'And Stummel got poisoned and antidoted!' said Hamamac with a grin. 'Trebble antidotes on him.'
Stummel yawned, 'I think I've never been so tired my entire life.'

Jarngrimur wasn't ready for rest. 'Let's get drunk,' he said. Chizbeorn was game. 'A bit of ale surely would not hurt... I am thirsty to be sure.'

Renfred and the hobbits were too weary to join the Beornings, but Steinnbjorn and the elves went with them to scout for a keg amid the ruins. Returning to Nellie Boskins' home, Renfred laid out his bedroll in front of the fire and barely stretched out before falling asleep.

[silent-p]

Stummel yawned, 'I think I've never been so tired my entire life.'

Jarngrimur wasn't ready for rest. 'Let's get drunk,' he said. Chizbeorn was game. 'A bit of ale surely would not hurt... I am thirsty to be sure.'

Renfred and the hobbits were too weary to join the Beornings, but Steinnbjorn and the elves went with them to scout for a keg amid the ruins. Returning to Nellie Boskins' home, Renfred laid out his bedroll in front of the fire and barely stretched out before falling asleep.

Work hard, play hard. That's the Beorning way!

(( I love reading these! ))

[Swanee]

Patrol update from this week.

The Bearclaws gathered in Trestlebridge for an evening patrol. They were without their leader, as Jarn was sidelined with injury, so Steinnbjorn was selected as patrol leader. The citizens of Trestlebridge had no further requests for the brave band and a discussion arose concerning the planned activities. An argument was made in favor of heading north along the Greenway to the crossroads. A counter idea was proposed to conduct a skirmishing exercise. Unable to come to a consensus, Steinnbjorn turned to his lucky coin. With a quick flick, the coin decided the group would head north. The road was clear of orcs, though some wild animals did venture close. As the band approached the crossroads a flickering campfire was spotted to the West. Mencham the Ranger had made a small camp with a pair of strange companions. Apparently a young girl had gone missing to the North-West and the Bearclaws were asked to find lost maiden. Following the sound of her singing the Bearclaws approached unaware of the danger. As soon as the were within arms reach she turned on the warriors. After a short fight, the girl was subdued and an evil spirit flew from her body. Released from the evil, she turned and fled back to the Rangers camp. Once they gathered their thoughts, following the surprise attack, the band returned to the Ranger Mencham. A plan to “deal with” the evil spirit was made and the Bearclaws ventured once more into the haunted plain. It was suggested the spirit may be found near old tombs so a search was begun. The brave warriors were unsuccessful in finding the evil spirit, though others rose up in defiance to their inquiries. The Bearclaws once again returned to the safety of the Ranger camp, hoping for better search guidance. The night had returned, bringing a resurgence of evil spirits and wild dogs. The coin once again made the decision for the group to rest and recover from their battles. Trebble mentioned he was feeling under the weather and would return to Trestlebridge for rest and recuperation. Perhaps when he returns he will be accompanied by some of the much missed companions.



((With Trebble and Merrywillow going on a real life adventure, and Jarn out with a back injury, the plan is for now is to remain at Minchams conducting solo patrols for deeds and gathering for skirmish trainings over the next 2 weeks. After that time, or sooner if Jarn returns, we will go after that evil spirit in her home to the far west. There was talk of a 2nd patrol on Wednesdays. No time or patrol quests were discussed so it’s really up in the air. If anybody has other characters they would like to use in a second patrol group, and Wednesday works then leave a message below so we can start coordinating. Merrywillow “picked” me to lead the patrol, but this is everybody's group so if anybody has any ideas on what we should be doing, speak up. Don’t let Coin decide. As always, great adventuring with you all, and hope to see our missing companions soon.))