Dlsharrock
First Post
[SBLOCK=OOC Introduction]The Third Age of the Sun, and long have the sons of Numenore struggled against the tides of evil. The Witch King of Angmar, Lord of the Nazgul, holds dominion in the north and threatens the diminishing kingdom of Arnor. He seeks an end to the age of Men.
In the south, King Umbardicil of Gondor battles to maintain his country's borders against the barbarian hordes and especially the Wainriders of Rhun. The Dwarfs of Moria have vanished, and the Elves of Lorien, Rivendell and Belfallas are enshrined, unwilling or unable to help the ailing Dunedain.
Moreover, something evil stirs in the shadows of Mirkwood...
Welcome to The Citadel of the Iron Crown (previously Eve of Mirkwood), Dlsharrock's 3.5ed D&D game set in Tolkien's Middle-Earth. Included in this all new shiny intro post are some of the more useful aspects of the OOC thread, along with an overview of the setting and a map of the region we'll be playing in. Enjoy![/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Links]The OOC Thread
Binder_Fred and renau1g's pre-game IC thread
One Wiki To Rule Them All, The LotR wikipedia (for reference)
[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=List of PCs/NPCs]In alphabetical order:
Binder_Fred - Baran the dwarf, foreman of the logging camp, responsible for the day to day running of affairs.
Fenris - Thalion the Sindar Elven druid, of mysterious background and calling, he dwells in Mirkwood.
NPC - Gellion a young orphan who idolises Thalion.
NPC - Granthan in charge of administration, diplomacy and trade with Lake Town.
Necro_Kinder - Aurvandil, Son of Erentil, disenfranchised knight of Gondor and heir to a long line of unseated Gondor knights.
Redclaw - Aerec, Son of Shild, Eotheod horse master, prized in the logging camp for his knowledge and expertise in all matters equine.
Renau1g - Ulfang the barbarian, troubled refugee from Rhovanion who has long sought solace in the bottom of a bottle, and whose newfound courage to face the world is thanks in part to his discovery of a new life in the logging camp.
Shayuri - Aranel Amandil, Elven ranger/scount multiclass. Native of Mirkwood and watcher of Men's affairs (particularly their harvesting of the trees of Mirkwood).
NPCs
Belly the dog - hound companion to Baran.[/SBLOCK]
The thrush espies the world from afar and above, an expanse of woodland from horizon to horizon, a sea of swaying green, though in this dusk the colour is more of muddy hues and a deep darkness there dwells in the heart of the trees. The bird glides 'neath emerging stars, then drops on a falling thermal, a breeze ruffling his wings and tail feathers. He banks aside and down like a dart toward islands of stone rising from the swell of trees; mountains, and they rise up to meet him amid the green. On their shoulders a tributary stream, a waterfall and tranquil pool where oft before the thrush has bathed and sung.
He drops unseen and alights on the branch of a tree just short of the rushing falls, where he surveys now the realm of Men. A camp hidden within the mountains, a place of sturdy wooden huts and canvas tents. The buildings stand on platforms raised against the steepness, while all about stand stumps of trees and debris. The tents are upon the banks of the river, and from them come palls of smoke and the smell of cooking food. Groups of Men gather hereabouts, surrounding pots and spits, or speaking softly in the shadows, the glowing embers of their pipes and bonfires casting light across their beards and whiskers.
At the heart of the camp is a round hut made of stone with a thatched roof and a skewed chimney. A light flickers in one window and from within comes the sound of voices. The thrush watches as five shapes, dark and fell, creep across the camp then sneak one by one through an open window at the rear of the building.
Baran and Ulfang have been talking and drinking in Baran's hut. Of late, Baran has become a lender of ears to the barbarian, a troubled refugee from the southern lands of Rhovanion where evil Men are reducing a once thriving realm to dust and shadow. Suddenly there comes a crash and the sound of cursing voices from a room at the rear of Baran's hut. In a flash the pair are on their feet and through a small wooden door at the back of the room.
They are just in time to see five figures, each dressed in black, scrambling through the window. Caught unawares and unnarmed, the Dwarf and Man race across the room in an effort to snatch the trailing leg of the last burglar. But their hands fall on empty air and the intruders escape.
Outside, a cry goes up and several workers at the camp are alerted to the five black clad figures dashing toward the fringe of trees. By the time Baran and Ulfang have emerged from the hut the burglars are gone, melted back into the dark envelope of Mirkwood.
The means and purpose of the five is a mystery, though before he gave chase Baran noticed one thing missing from his possessions. The parchment of his fathers, a meagre heirloom brought forth from the halls of Moria, has been torn from its place upon the wall. One half still remains, hanging defiled from the uppermost wooden roller, attached well enough to the stone to resist the clumsy grasp of a burglar. The other half is gone.
[SBLOCK=Setting Details]
General Setting Details
We're playing our game in the Third Age of the Sun, 1874, some six hundred years before the events of The Hobbit, though the location is much the same now as it was in that book with the exception of certain chronological events. Mirkwood has recently become a place of evil, thanks to the presence of 'The Necromancer' in Dol Guldur, a tower on the western fringe of the woods. The Lonely Mountain is yet to become the realm of Dwarfs and Dale is yet to suffer the arrival of Smaug. Indeed, Dale and Lake Town to the south in Esgaroth, are still thriving towns, both seats of power in their own right.
The region around Mirkwood is inhabited by Northmen known variously as Beornings, Eotheod horsemen (precursors to the Rohirrim nation), Lake Men of Lake Town in Esgaroth, Dale Men from the town of Dale in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain and Woodsmen from Mirkwood itself. Other Men who live hereabouts include Rhovanians from the great tracts of wilderness stretching east of Mirkwood. This region is currently oppressed by the barbarian Wain Riders, who contol most of the major settlements and systematically pillage and bully the minor ones.
Elves also live in the area, most notably the Sindar Elves of King Thranduil who inhabit the north of the forest itself. Their kingdom used to extend all the way down to the Brown Lands, but since the forest became a place of evil they have been forced north to live a restricted existence beyond the Mirkwood Mountains.
Many great nations exist in Middle-Earth at this time. Gondor is diminished but still retains control of much of the southern civilised lands. Arnor still stands to the far West, though here the Men of Dunedain fight an ongoing struggle for survival and many of their major cities have been reduced to ruin. The cause of this is the Witch King who resides in Angmar, a mountain enveloped realm and home to most of the raw evil infesting Middle-Earth outside of Mirkwood. Moria is a major Dwarf domain and at this time houses most of the dwarfs of Middle-Earth. Its doors are closed to ousiders and the Dwarfs, who rarely venture outside, fear the world above ground may soon be conquered fully by an allegiance between the Necromancer and the Witch King, both seats of power encasing Moria as pincers of evil.
Lothlorien is the Noldor Elven enclave east of the Misty Mountains and there are other Elf lands such as Belfalas, the Gulf of Lune (home of the Falathrim and the famed Elven shipwright Cirdan) and Rivendell, home of Elrond, an Elf of old and keeper of The High Pass.
Mordor, once the realm of Lord Sauron, lies largely empty and abandoned by the orcs and goblins of that banished evil. Long has it been since Isildur, son of Elindil the High King of Gondor, cut the One Ring from Sauron's finger and smote his ruin upon the battlefield of Dagorlad. The One Ring is thought destroyed, or lost, nevertheless, Isildur's heirs fear it not, for there are greater evils massing and greater threats.
Chief among these are the barbarian hordes of Rhovanion, Wainriders, charioteers and thugs who have raped, pillaged and burned their way across the settled lands of the east and enslaved all who fall under their rule. To the south also dwells the threat of barbarian Men, dark of skin and mind, Men who fear no force for good and would see the downfall of the last great nations in Middle-Earth.
The Logging Camp
In Mirkwood Mountains lies the starting point setting for our game, the logging camp of Brethilost (so named by the Elves of Mirkwood, meaning 'tree town'). The camp stands upon the slope of the mountain side where the falls of Dôlanthir create a short, fast running river stretching from the fringe of Mirkwood to the southern end of Lake Esgaroth. The camp harvests trees from the woods, works them into manageable logs then sends them down river to Lake Town where they are used for building, firewood and so on. A number of the logs will also end up in Dale where they are used primarily for firewood in heating the furnaces and ovens of the town and keeping the residents warm during winter.
The camp is roughly circular, strewn over an area of about 60,000sqft, and consists of sturdy, wood frame tents (most of these set up alongside the river and around the perimeter of the camp) and large wooden buildings constructed on stilted platforms or, more rarely, on stone foundations. Movement in Brethilost consists of either trekking uphill, scrambling down, or tracking sideways along the steep slope. There are odd areas of flat ground, but most of these are reserved for storing or working logs.
At the heart of the camp is a large circular kitchen and eating shack, one of only four permanent buildings, alongside which stands a chuck wagon and its associated canvas awnings. The other three permanent buildings are the forge and furnace with its tall stone chimney, the foreman's hut, and the stables where work horses and one or two riding horses are housed.
During the winter months large iron stoves are used to heat the bigger tents and the wooden structures, while braziers are set up outside for workers to keep themselves intermittently warm during work breaks. Stacks of canvas covered wood chocks line the exterior walls of the permanent buildings all year round, but are replenished with gusto in the autumn months.[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Rumours]RUMOURS
(heard by any or all in the logging camp and the region thereabouts, and to be used as players see fit).
- Most know of The Brown Man who has lived in the south since our home was known as Greenwood and famed as a land of Elves. Long have his footsteps been observed crossing the plains and wild lands yonder. He heals the Beornings and the Northmen if they call upon his door with their ailments and wounds. But beware the south, if you seek the Brown Man or any who dwell there, for they are wilder still since the passing of Gondor's jurisdiction, and the Riders of Wain oft travel hence seeking sport. Indeed, the Brown Man may yet be dead at their hands.
- Mirkwood of late has become a riven place of shadow and fear where even Elves fear to tread beyond their newly limited domain of the Forest River. The old roads and paths are no more, or too fraught with peril to walk in safety, and rumours abound of fell creatures abroad whose appearance is unfamiliar, even to those luckless souls who have witnessed the foul visage of orc and goblin.
- It is a tall citadel of dark spires they say, risen in the west, upon the fringe of Mirkwood. I have heard the Elves speak of a Necromancer who lodges there and they speak too of foul hosts; goblinoids, whose black drooling ilk and brethren loiter in the grounds and spill forth unto the Vale and the woods. Though the wood is thick and I do not fully trust the lore of Elves, we are but a week's march from the place.
- Travel if you must, or if your feet itch, but fear ere you walk or ride the valleys north of the Ettenmoors and may your soul be shriven ere you return. For there lies a land of witches and wizards whose black arts shake the Earth and unnerve even the hearts of the strong Men of Arnor. Ha! Don't look so afeared. The Misty Mountains march twixt here and there, not to say the width of Anduin and the broad shoulders of Mirkwood. We are safe in our spot, such as it is.
- This work is for fools. Moreover, fools we are to toil here when gems and stones as like to the legends of old lie unknown 'neath the mountains yonder, ripe for the plucking! Aye, there they stand on the lip of the world, great teeth of rock, once the spur of dwarf Kingdoms, you can see them clear as the nose on your face. And you know well what dwarfs covet best and keep well locked in their underdark. Treasures and troves! Well, you can gaze and dream my friend. Those are the Iron Hills, not best suited for the likes of yours or mine. I suppose we'd best tend back to this wood and water for the while and the gold of old Dwarfs can keep, eh? Heh.
- Yea, I heard it from my nephew's cousin, once removed, a far traveller, just back from Dale after business with the Elves in the West! He spake it to my nephew, and I heard it from him. A town, fallen to ruin, beyond the woods and the mountains thereafter, and the stones of the town speak of words and deeds! Stones that speak! Just imagine. Though I don't say as I believe a word of it, nor hold to visit such a place myself.
- Wizards are real, yes of course they are. There is a deal of legend about them, and not all you may hear is true. Like as not, most of what you think you know you probably don't and the rest you should probably learn anew. I do know of Men who know of those who hear tell of the Grey Wizard in these very woods! He stands three times as tall as the tallest man you know, and from his long grey beard swing the skulls of his enemies. He carries a stave of scarlet and from his fingertips come sparks of fire, kindling trees, or like as not the clothes on your back if you get in his way.
- There's one here who harks from their ranks, or at least his brethren do. Masters of horses they are, and they seek the spirits of the horse gods from the northerly climbs of the Anduin and as far as the Wold of Gondor. Their steeds are thoroughbred; best horses on all the Earth. If you want to travel with swiftness you'd do well to seek their lands at Greylin and Langwell, though you'll need plenty of gold. Not lightly do the Men of the North trade their steeds.
- There are those who dwell in the woods and spin their webs betwixt the trees and spindle. And there are those who, I know from stories past, once harvested the web and made good use of its nature and substance, afore the woods became too thick with shadow and rumour. But, there are those in Dale and possibly Esgaroth who would harken to talk of trade, and rich trade, were we to follow in the steps of those web-catchers of old. Tis a dangerous road, but the great rewards might improve our temper ere we returned laden with web![/SBLOCK]
In the south, King Umbardicil of Gondor battles to maintain his country's borders against the barbarian hordes and especially the Wainriders of Rhun. The Dwarfs of Moria have vanished, and the Elves of Lorien, Rivendell and Belfallas are enshrined, unwilling or unable to help the ailing Dunedain.
Moreover, something evil stirs in the shadows of Mirkwood...
Welcome to The Citadel of the Iron Crown (previously Eve of Mirkwood), Dlsharrock's 3.5ed D&D game set in Tolkien's Middle-Earth. Included in this all new shiny intro post are some of the more useful aspects of the OOC thread, along with an overview of the setting and a map of the region we'll be playing in. Enjoy![/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Links]The OOC Thread
Binder_Fred and renau1g's pre-game IC thread
One Wiki To Rule Them All, The LotR wikipedia (for reference)
[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=List of PCs/NPCs]In alphabetical order:
Binder_Fred - Baran the dwarf, foreman of the logging camp, responsible for the day to day running of affairs.
Fenris - Thalion the Sindar Elven druid, of mysterious background and calling, he dwells in Mirkwood.
NPC - Gellion a young orphan who idolises Thalion.
NPC - Granthan in charge of administration, diplomacy and trade with Lake Town.
Redclaw - Aerec, Son of Shild, Eotheod horse master, prized in the logging camp for his knowledge and expertise in all matters equine.
Renau1g - Ulfang the barbarian, troubled refugee from Rhovanion who has long sought solace in the bottom of a bottle, and whose newfound courage to face the world is thanks in part to his discovery of a new life in the logging camp.
Shayuri - Aranel Amandil, Elven ranger/scount multiclass. Native of Mirkwood and watcher of Men's affairs (particularly their harvesting of the trees of Mirkwood).
NPCs
Belly the dog - hound companion to Baran.[/SBLOCK]
The thrush espies the world from afar and above, an expanse of woodland from horizon to horizon, a sea of swaying green, though in this dusk the colour is more of muddy hues and a deep darkness there dwells in the heart of the trees. The bird glides 'neath emerging stars, then drops on a falling thermal, a breeze ruffling his wings and tail feathers. He banks aside and down like a dart toward islands of stone rising from the swell of trees; mountains, and they rise up to meet him amid the green. On their shoulders a tributary stream, a waterfall and tranquil pool where oft before the thrush has bathed and sung.
He drops unseen and alights on the branch of a tree just short of the rushing falls, where he surveys now the realm of Men. A camp hidden within the mountains, a place of sturdy wooden huts and canvas tents. The buildings stand on platforms raised against the steepness, while all about stand stumps of trees and debris. The tents are upon the banks of the river, and from them come palls of smoke and the smell of cooking food. Groups of Men gather hereabouts, surrounding pots and spits, or speaking softly in the shadows, the glowing embers of their pipes and bonfires casting light across their beards and whiskers.
At the heart of the camp is a round hut made of stone with a thatched roof and a skewed chimney. A light flickers in one window and from within comes the sound of voices. The thrush watches as five shapes, dark and fell, creep across the camp then sneak one by one through an open window at the rear of the building.
Baran and Ulfang have been talking and drinking in Baran's hut. Of late, Baran has become a lender of ears to the barbarian, a troubled refugee from the southern lands of Rhovanion where evil Men are reducing a once thriving realm to dust and shadow. Suddenly there comes a crash and the sound of cursing voices from a room at the rear of Baran's hut. In a flash the pair are on their feet and through a small wooden door at the back of the room.
They are just in time to see five figures, each dressed in black, scrambling through the window. Caught unawares and unnarmed, the Dwarf and Man race across the room in an effort to snatch the trailing leg of the last burglar. But their hands fall on empty air and the intruders escape.
Outside, a cry goes up and several workers at the camp are alerted to the five black clad figures dashing toward the fringe of trees. By the time Baran and Ulfang have emerged from the hut the burglars are gone, melted back into the dark envelope of Mirkwood.
The means and purpose of the five is a mystery, though before he gave chase Baran noticed one thing missing from his possessions. The parchment of his fathers, a meagre heirloom brought forth from the halls of Moria, has been torn from its place upon the wall. One half still remains, hanging defiled from the uppermost wooden roller, attached well enough to the stone to resist the clumsy grasp of a burglar. The other half is gone.
[SBLOCK=Setting Details]
General Setting Details
We're playing our game in the Third Age of the Sun, 1874, some six hundred years before the events of The Hobbit, though the location is much the same now as it was in that book with the exception of certain chronological events. Mirkwood has recently become a place of evil, thanks to the presence of 'The Necromancer' in Dol Guldur, a tower on the western fringe of the woods. The Lonely Mountain is yet to become the realm of Dwarfs and Dale is yet to suffer the arrival of Smaug. Indeed, Dale and Lake Town to the south in Esgaroth, are still thriving towns, both seats of power in their own right.
The region around Mirkwood is inhabited by Northmen known variously as Beornings, Eotheod horsemen (precursors to the Rohirrim nation), Lake Men of Lake Town in Esgaroth, Dale Men from the town of Dale in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain and Woodsmen from Mirkwood itself. Other Men who live hereabouts include Rhovanians from the great tracts of wilderness stretching east of Mirkwood. This region is currently oppressed by the barbarian Wain Riders, who contol most of the major settlements and systematically pillage and bully the minor ones.
Elves also live in the area, most notably the Sindar Elves of King Thranduil who inhabit the north of the forest itself. Their kingdom used to extend all the way down to the Brown Lands, but since the forest became a place of evil they have been forced north to live a restricted existence beyond the Mirkwood Mountains.
Many great nations exist in Middle-Earth at this time. Gondor is diminished but still retains control of much of the southern civilised lands. Arnor still stands to the far West, though here the Men of Dunedain fight an ongoing struggle for survival and many of their major cities have been reduced to ruin. The cause of this is the Witch King who resides in Angmar, a mountain enveloped realm and home to most of the raw evil infesting Middle-Earth outside of Mirkwood. Moria is a major Dwarf domain and at this time houses most of the dwarfs of Middle-Earth. Its doors are closed to ousiders and the Dwarfs, who rarely venture outside, fear the world above ground may soon be conquered fully by an allegiance between the Necromancer and the Witch King, both seats of power encasing Moria as pincers of evil.
Lothlorien is the Noldor Elven enclave east of the Misty Mountains and there are other Elf lands such as Belfalas, the Gulf of Lune (home of the Falathrim and the famed Elven shipwright Cirdan) and Rivendell, home of Elrond, an Elf of old and keeper of The High Pass.
Mordor, once the realm of Lord Sauron, lies largely empty and abandoned by the orcs and goblins of that banished evil. Long has it been since Isildur, son of Elindil the High King of Gondor, cut the One Ring from Sauron's finger and smote his ruin upon the battlefield of Dagorlad. The One Ring is thought destroyed, or lost, nevertheless, Isildur's heirs fear it not, for there are greater evils massing and greater threats.
Chief among these are the barbarian hordes of Rhovanion, Wainriders, charioteers and thugs who have raped, pillaged and burned their way across the settled lands of the east and enslaved all who fall under their rule. To the south also dwells the threat of barbarian Men, dark of skin and mind, Men who fear no force for good and would see the downfall of the last great nations in Middle-Earth.
The Logging Camp
In Mirkwood Mountains lies the starting point setting for our game, the logging camp of Brethilost (so named by the Elves of Mirkwood, meaning 'tree town'). The camp stands upon the slope of the mountain side where the falls of Dôlanthir create a short, fast running river stretching from the fringe of Mirkwood to the southern end of Lake Esgaroth. The camp harvests trees from the woods, works them into manageable logs then sends them down river to Lake Town where they are used for building, firewood and so on. A number of the logs will also end up in Dale where they are used primarily for firewood in heating the furnaces and ovens of the town and keeping the residents warm during winter.
The camp is roughly circular, strewn over an area of about 60,000sqft, and consists of sturdy, wood frame tents (most of these set up alongside the river and around the perimeter of the camp) and large wooden buildings constructed on stilted platforms or, more rarely, on stone foundations. Movement in Brethilost consists of either trekking uphill, scrambling down, or tracking sideways along the steep slope. There are odd areas of flat ground, but most of these are reserved for storing or working logs.
At the heart of the camp is a large circular kitchen and eating shack, one of only four permanent buildings, alongside which stands a chuck wagon and its associated canvas awnings. The other three permanent buildings are the forge and furnace with its tall stone chimney, the foreman's hut, and the stables where work horses and one or two riding horses are housed.
During the winter months large iron stoves are used to heat the bigger tents and the wooden structures, while braziers are set up outside for workers to keep themselves intermittently warm during work breaks. Stacks of canvas covered wood chocks line the exterior walls of the permanent buildings all year round, but are replenished with gusto in the autumn months.[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Rumours]RUMOURS
(heard by any or all in the logging camp and the region thereabouts, and to be used as players see fit).
- Most know of The Brown Man who has lived in the south since our home was known as Greenwood and famed as a land of Elves. Long have his footsteps been observed crossing the plains and wild lands yonder. He heals the Beornings and the Northmen if they call upon his door with their ailments and wounds. But beware the south, if you seek the Brown Man or any who dwell there, for they are wilder still since the passing of Gondor's jurisdiction, and the Riders of Wain oft travel hence seeking sport. Indeed, the Brown Man may yet be dead at their hands.
- Mirkwood of late has become a riven place of shadow and fear where even Elves fear to tread beyond their newly limited domain of the Forest River. The old roads and paths are no more, or too fraught with peril to walk in safety, and rumours abound of fell creatures abroad whose appearance is unfamiliar, even to those luckless souls who have witnessed the foul visage of orc and goblin.
- It is a tall citadel of dark spires they say, risen in the west, upon the fringe of Mirkwood. I have heard the Elves speak of a Necromancer who lodges there and they speak too of foul hosts; goblinoids, whose black drooling ilk and brethren loiter in the grounds and spill forth unto the Vale and the woods. Though the wood is thick and I do not fully trust the lore of Elves, we are but a week's march from the place.
- Travel if you must, or if your feet itch, but fear ere you walk or ride the valleys north of the Ettenmoors and may your soul be shriven ere you return. For there lies a land of witches and wizards whose black arts shake the Earth and unnerve even the hearts of the strong Men of Arnor. Ha! Don't look so afeared. The Misty Mountains march twixt here and there, not to say the width of Anduin and the broad shoulders of Mirkwood. We are safe in our spot, such as it is.
- This work is for fools. Moreover, fools we are to toil here when gems and stones as like to the legends of old lie unknown 'neath the mountains yonder, ripe for the plucking! Aye, there they stand on the lip of the world, great teeth of rock, once the spur of dwarf Kingdoms, you can see them clear as the nose on your face. And you know well what dwarfs covet best and keep well locked in their underdark. Treasures and troves! Well, you can gaze and dream my friend. Those are the Iron Hills, not best suited for the likes of yours or mine. I suppose we'd best tend back to this wood and water for the while and the gold of old Dwarfs can keep, eh? Heh.
- Yea, I heard it from my nephew's cousin, once removed, a far traveller, just back from Dale after business with the Elves in the West! He spake it to my nephew, and I heard it from him. A town, fallen to ruin, beyond the woods and the mountains thereafter, and the stones of the town speak of words and deeds! Stones that speak! Just imagine. Though I don't say as I believe a word of it, nor hold to visit such a place myself.
- Wizards are real, yes of course they are. There is a deal of legend about them, and not all you may hear is true. Like as not, most of what you think you know you probably don't and the rest you should probably learn anew. I do know of Men who know of those who hear tell of the Grey Wizard in these very woods! He stands three times as tall as the tallest man you know, and from his long grey beard swing the skulls of his enemies. He carries a stave of scarlet and from his fingertips come sparks of fire, kindling trees, or like as not the clothes on your back if you get in his way.
- There's one here who harks from their ranks, or at least his brethren do. Masters of horses they are, and they seek the spirits of the horse gods from the northerly climbs of the Anduin and as far as the Wold of Gondor. Their steeds are thoroughbred; best horses on all the Earth. If you want to travel with swiftness you'd do well to seek their lands at Greylin and Langwell, though you'll need plenty of gold. Not lightly do the Men of the North trade their steeds.
- There are those who dwell in the woods and spin their webs betwixt the trees and spindle. And there are those who, I know from stories past, once harvested the web and made good use of its nature and substance, afore the woods became too thick with shadow and rumour. But, there are those in Dale and possibly Esgaroth who would harken to talk of trade, and rich trade, were we to follow in the steps of those web-catchers of old. Tis a dangerous road, but the great rewards might improve our temper ere we returned laden with web![/SBLOCK]
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