Club Bearclaw - Slow-levelling in-character RP group

[ustaring]

[[Hey Fellow Bearclawians! It's Zapi here.

I have absolutely loved slow-level adventuring with you all. Even though we only meet once a week, it has injected a new level of interest, challenge, and fun for me in this game.

On the topic of our meet-ups, starting Saturday September 26th, RL gets in the way and I won't be able to run with you all at the current 3pm EST time.
Was wondering if anyone was interested in adding an intermittent alternate time (perhaps on an weekday evening or on a Sunday) to run group quests/instances. I feel quite confident that Zapi can solo most things, but as we head further east and the ominous presence of the Barrow-downs bears down on us, I would love the opportunity to continue to meet up and do things with all (or even just some) of you. Food for thought.

See you this Saturday!]]

[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]

"Mr. Chizbeorn? Can I ask ye something?"

Renfred looked up at the hobbit and Beorning striding ahead of him on the path. The party had fought well that day, destroying a few small camps of orcs on the North Downs, and they had almost reached the Ranger Mincham's camp, where they could spend what was left of the night.

"Eh, Merrywillow?"
"Iffen ye're bear folk, how come ye don't turn into a bear like Jarn?"

Renfred had noticed, too, how differently the two Beornings behaved. Not that he would have dared address Chizbeorn so directly-- he knew that his Em would deem such a question "nosy".

After a moment, Chizbeorn replied, "I don't like getting angry." He paused. "Not like Jarn, who is angry all the time."
Jarngrimur, lumbering ahead in bear-form, grunted.

Merrywillow kept on. "Ah. And to be a bear ye gotta be angry?"
"I do - not all Beornings, mayhap. But I have to be angry to change form."
Trebble piped up, "I don't like getting angry either. I prefer getting even."

"Thank you," said Merrywillow. "I like knowin' things." Renfred smiled to himself. Hobbit charm allowed them to be daringly curious.

As they approached the camp, Jarngrimur reassumed his man-form. "I'm not sure you have ever seen me really angry," he said, with a bearish grin at Chizbeorn. "Sometime we'll have to commiserate over the duality of the changeling. Sometime when I'm steaming drunk."

This made Merrywillow chuckle. "I think Jarn is part dwarf!"
Jarngrimur growled, "Beware, that could be a deadly insult to some Beorning-folk."

Merrywillow said, "But you are a bear!"

Jarngrimur frowned at the hobbit. "I am a Beorning-folk. Bears are animals. If you ever want to tell the difference between a Beorning and a bear, ask them for a honey-cake." His eyes glinted in the moonlight. "If they give you a honey-cake, they are Beorning. If they rip your face off, could go either way."


((I won't be around the next two Saturdays, planning to return on 24 July. I'll try to catch up on the Wednesday evening sessions. Take care, Bearclaws!))

[Cinderwynn]

She climbed the hill panting, lost despite Trebble and Hamamac’s directions.

It’d been a relief when the Bear’s group agreed to let her travel with them. A far cry from lonely days of dodging wolves and orcs. Renfred had seemed wary of her though. Did he suspect? The tale she told them was true…. so far as it went.

Waking in an alley with an aching head and lost memories was merely strange. Waking while wearing black and grey clothing with a pocket full of lock picks was not something she was brave enough to admit to.

And then there was…. HIM. The the reason she’d fled from a town into wild and empty lands. His pleasant, bearded face haunted her, soundlessly appearing from behind, following wherever she ran. Hopefully he would lose the trail as they went north though the wild, though she seemed to see dark figures in every shadow.

Glancing anxiously over her shoulder, Eorhild hurried on.

[Craiden]

Stummel has safely made it back to Bree, from where he will eventually return back home to Waymeet.

He had a wonderful time and made memories that will last forever. But he had become very homesick and being so far from home, the world had grown increasingly dangerous. Too dangerous for his own good. No, he is not the adventurer he aspires to be.

It was a memorabale evening when he walked into the Green Dragon one day and encountered a group of admirable adventurers. The leader was a grim-looking, but friendly man named Jarngrimur. In the Bird and Baby, another inn they visited later, he bought everyone a beer and he was a good singer too, with a very deep voice. Stummel is not much of a drinker, but he made a exception that night and enjoyed it.



He followed them when they chased away the wolves from Dora Brownlock's chicken farm and even visited the wolves' den. In the Rushock Bog, he got his pants wet and helped to the best of his abilities when the adventurers attacked a camp of evil dwarves, and his eyes widened in terror when he saw the dwarves open a cage to unleash a troll on them.



A few days later, they again came to the rescue, when two dumb hobbits knocked a bees' nest from a tree.

In the Bindbole Wood near the logging village of Overhill there were rumors of a walking tree, something totally unheard of. Feeling safe among the mighty adventurers, and a bounder among them too, Master Trebble, he joined them for their investigation during which they indeed found a walking tree in a secluded ravine and for some reason escorted it out. What a sight to behold, a tree walking!



About a week later he went to visit a music event at farmer Maggot's place, when he met them again. They were headed into the Old Forest, the spookiest place imaginable, looking for a missing hobbit. But he was curious and asked if he could come along again. He soon regretted it, when they made camp in the midst of the dark forest, near a murky river, after nightfall. He didn't sleep well that night, listening to all the frightning noises around him.



The next day he and a quiet, but well-mannered smith from Bree fell behind the others and he watched in horror as the man got attacked and poisoned by a gigantic spider and fell to the ground. He slashed at the spider with his small knife, but he just wasn't strong enough to fend it off. Shrieking with fear, he ran off, leaving the dying man behind. He found the others and told them what happened, and they all ran back and luckily could kill the spider and revive the man. And then a most odd thing happened. Their leader got mad and turned into a raging bear, rummaging through the forest, killing everything in sight. He calmed down after a while and turned back into his human form, but from then on Stummel was scared of him and didn't say a word when they made their way out of the forest.

He liked the group, enjoyed their company and started to consider them his best friends. They also didn't mind him being with them, so he follwed them to Bree and from there into the Barrow-downs, where they entered a few old graves. Deep underground, he wondered if this is what adventurers do, looking for treasure in ancient tombs. There were spiders everywhere, and animated corpses without heads, and arms crawling towards them on the ground.



When they were back in sunlight, it all felt like a surreal dream and he started to ask himself if an advenurer's life is really what he wants. He felt feeble and useless. But there were also very good moments, like when they walked far in the northern reaches of Breeland, across an immense meadow filled with flowers, where he chased orange butterflies in the sun and saw a lake that looked bigger than the entire Shire.

[Craiden]

They went further north to a small town that had recently been attacked and burned down by orcs. The adventurers set out to rout the orcs and they entered a deep canyon to the northeast. A large army of orcs had assembled there and Stummel was poisoned by one of them and the world turned dark.



When he woke up again, he lay in the arms of another man of the bear-folk, a lot of worried faces looking at him. He tried to be cheerful and make them not to worry too much, but deep inside he knew that he had almost died. And he wasn't ready to die, at least not yet while he is still so young.

Then they went to the Lone-lands, far from Bree in the east. A dry and barren land, but with beautiful sunsets. They stayed in a run-down inn for a few days, with an open roof, awful beverages and weird noises at night, like the wailing of a baby. He practiced his roars on their patrols, trying to sound menacing and dangerous to their foes. Once he fell down a cliff into the middle of a wolf pack. The intimidating bear-man jumped down after him to save him and he was scolded.



He tried to make himself useful where he could, by cleaning the dishes in the Forsaken Inn for example. He climbed Weathertop with them, the tallest hill by far. The ruins at the top were occupied by orcs and they also had a troll in a cage. By now, he had almost gotten used to that. It was probably the biggest adventure he ever had, and the view of the sunrise from up there was absolutely phenomenal. They also found a stone with some scratches at the top, and he considered to write "Stummel was here" on it.



On and on they went, and in the east made their new home in the ruins of an old fort. Down below was a swamp, its color as red as blood. They met a wizard there. Stummel had heard of wizards, especially of one named Gandalf that comes to visit the Shire from time to time. He knew he could make great fireworks. But this one was different, he talked to the animals. They went into the red swamp with him, but the corruption and the evilness was too much. Walking dead, and ghosts, and skeletons...



The adventurers had left for another patrol in the morning, while Stummel was still sleeping. He waited the whole day for them to return and prepared their dinner. But they never came back. He wanted to go out and look for them, but... everything seemed so dangerous. He felt more and more that he is not really an adventurer. He prefers milk with honey over ale, the real adventurers' favorite drink. The further away he got from the Shire, the more hazardous the world around him seemed and the more unsafe he felt. He wouldn't survive a single day in the wild without the group of adventurers. A stray warg, an orc, an evil man or any other creature could easily kill him.

So, the next day, when the adventurers had not returned, he looked across the swamp and made the ultimate, difficult decision to go back home, to the Shire. He will leave this group of reputable adventurers, who he amires so much and calls his friends. He left a message for them with the Eglain people in Ost Guruth, so they know and not worry about him. Then, with tears rolling down his cheeks, he got on a pony that knows the way back to Bree. He will never forget them. But also, he is not like them.



((OOC: Crossing the border between Nain Enidh and Talath Gaun was where the area for a Level 1 character becomes red and dangerous. This draws a lot of aggro from afar and makes further adventuring tedious and annoying not only for Stummel, but mostly for the rest of group. So Stummel had to go back home. It was a great adventure though and thanks for everyone who cared for him and put up with some of his shenanigans))

[silent-p]

((OOC: Crossing the border between Nain Enidh and Talath Gaun was where the area for a Level 1 character becomes red and dangerous. This draws a lot of aggro from afar and makes further adventuring tedious and annoying not only for Stummel, but mostly for the rest of group. So Stummel had to go back home. It was a great adventure though and thanks for everyone who cared for him and put up with some of his shenanigans))

Thanks for the fantastic story!

Thank you for spending that time with us. Stummel may not have been big in stature, but he made a big impression. It's a shame that the game mechanics eventually forced Jarngrimur's half-joking "Stummel, I thought you had died" greeting to be more true than not.

When Jarngrimur eventually returns to the mead-hall, he will have several companion heroes to drink to and sing of, and Stummel's name will be among them.

[Lohi]

FYI, we're not gone, we're still trudging down the road. But we're all mostly on Discord because some people found that more convenient for chatting and saying "I'll be late!" It's a bit quiet over the holidays but I expect it to pick up.

But post pictures here if you can, now and then, and raise a small ale to Stummel, the bravest little Hobbit of them all.

[silent-p]

Our next meeting is Jan. 8th, 2022 -- we will be heading into Dol Dinen.

There is also a skirmish set in the region, Attack at Dawn, which awards a title. We'll probably spend whatever time is required there to get that.

Wear some orc-stomping boots, the place is crawling with Ongbúrz.