Middle Earth [TA 2997]: The Phantom of the Northern Marches

[Inez Hull]

[OODM: Good to have you back Mirth. My posting has been fairly infrequent so you shouldn't have to read too far back to catch up to whats happening.]


As the party mutely watches, the pulsing blue-green lights slowly float towards the campsite. They blink out briefly several times but always appear a bit closer, seemingly the Phantom will grant you its first close up visitation. Valandil and Arathorn carefully move from their position and place themselves to cut off any retreat by the lights. With painful slowness the lights move into the range of your campfire as you all stare in a mixture of fear and wonder at the strange fey glow as the lights swell and shrink, ebbing from blue to green.

Actions?

 

[Manzanita]

Valandil

Valandil, seeing that conflict is likely, begins walking directly towards the light. He moves at half speed and tries to be silent and unseen. He will approach to about 30 feet, or charging distance through the brush, and then see how events are going.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Antroine rises to his feet and draws his weapon, readying himself for what he thinks is impending conflict.

 

[Inez Hull]

The ghost-lights drift ever closer as the party ready themselves, drawing weapons and waiting with bated breath for what will happen next, Breor laying a reassuring hand on Grey, smoothing back her raised hackles. As Arathorn and Valandil silently close in from behind the lights stop and sit pulsing and glowing not ten feet from the campfire. As you watch expectantly, the lights seem to flicker in and out unchanged but you begin to notice a chill in the air, at first as if a chill wind had blown through the camp but as the intensity grows it becomes obvious that it is more.... painfully more. Breor begins to squirm uncomfortably in his armour which is gathering an icy sheen and Antroine can feel the cold in his rapier through his gloves.

 

[Mirth]

Seemingly unaffected by the wintry chill, Artos squats on his haunches and lays his axehandle across his shoulder, his breath frosting the air. Although the barbarian tries to be nonchalant in his motions, those near him feel that his whole body is tensed to pounce at a moment's notice.

 

[ferretguy]

As his breath comes out in a fog, Breor states "Well if we're going to do anything we better do it quick....before we freeze to death!"

He draws his sword hearing the frost crack on his blade as he readies it.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Antroine takes up a fencing stance.

"This is uncomfortably cold," he says, with mist cascading from his mouth, "Who wants to make the first move?"

 

[Manzanita]

Valandil

Valandil, feeling the unnatural cold, does what he can. Speaking softly, yet clearly, he calls on the powers of the ancient Numenorians to protect him from this evil cold. (cast endure elements). If nothing else significant has happened during this action, next round he will charge forward and attack with his longsword.

 

[Inez Hull]

As the party stare at the Phantom, unsure of the next move, the cold continues to grow in strength. Breor's chain shirt has become burningly cold against his flesh [3 damage] and Antroine can feel a painful, almost burning numbness in his sword hand [1 damage]. Although the woolly Artos seems to have shaken off any effect of the cold, he begins to shiver nonetheless as a bone-chilling fear wracks through him. A sudden terror at the sight of the Phantom fills him as he turns and runs, crashing through the undergrowth.

As the two northmen move to engage the lights both hear a strange sound behind them. You both exchange a glance and then spin around, spotting a large raven in a tree not far away. The bird is cawing in an almost speechlike fashion, moving its feet and flapping its wings in some strange kind of dance.

 

[Mirth]

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