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

[ferretguy]

Thinking to himself Enough of this waiting..any more and my fingers will not be able to feel my sword. Breor moves quickly forward to engage the lights before any further cold freezes him in his tracks.
As he moves forward he remembers that the lights possibly had a companion, that could be controlling them...he looks around quickly as he moves towards the lights.

OOC: Spot check +6

 

[Manzanita]

Valandil completes his spell casting, then glances at the raven. "Perhaps you can talk to it, Arathorn. I'm somewhat protected from cold, and will try to destroy this thing!" With that, Valandil charges and strikes at the light with his sword. (+5 (1d8)+2)

 

[Festy_Dog]

Antroine winces as the cold becomes worse. He flicks his wrist, trying to increase the circulation to his hand before moving into combat. He positions himself so as to flank the light with one of the others.

(+7 to hit, d6+1 (+1 rapier), 17/21hp, ac 16 (17 vs light))

 

[rangerjohn]

Arathorn will approach the bird, perhaps it friendly like the one's around the Lonely Mountain, From the time of the Battle of the Five Armies. "Ho friend what news may you have?"

 

[Inez Hull]

The company surround the lights and drive their blades into its midst, seemingly without effect. The lights continue to pulse and glow but fail to react in any way to your attacks which simply pass through air. However the icy cold continues to grow. Breor yells in pain as the bite of his icy cold armour does 6 more damage and Antroine struggles to retain his blade in hand, taking a further 2 points of damage.

A distance off, Artos recovers his wits and shakes away the last vestiges of fear and begins returning to the camp.

Arathorn approaches the raven, attempting to communicate and while the bird appears to notice him it makes no communication save resuming its strange dance and croaking. As the raven flaps its wings a swirl of mist emerges from its body, soon growing to block the bird from sight and expanding ever outward until Arathorn loses sight of all around him but the thick mist. He hears the raven flap away and fumbles about in the dark towards where the light of the campfire and the Phantom glow vaguely ahead.

 

[Manzanita]

Valandil

"This is getting us nowhere. We must retreat! Arathorn, come, let's get to the other side of the campfire!" Valandil turns and runs towards the fire.

 

[Festy_Dog]

"Curse this cold!" Antroine exclaims and falls back with the others towards the fire.

 

[rangerjohn]

Retreating Arathorn is very depressed. He was entrusted with leadership of this group by the Ranger Lords. He can think of no way to defeat this enemy. It seems it is not the Choir's wish for him to become a Ranger Lord.

When they reach a safe distance, he stops and says "It appears there is no way to defeat this enemy without the assistance of one of the Wise. I must admit defeat. You are free to do as you like, I must return to the mayor, and then to the Ranger Lords, to tell of my failure."

 

[ferretguy]

As they fall back, Breor curses the dark ones for this untouchable enemy. At the regrouping he looks to the others "The problem is that we are fighting his tools, not the real phantom.We have to think of a way to lure out the one controlling these lights...."
To Arathorn "Giving up right now is foolish, that is just what those who seek to bring harm to the innocent want those like us to do." He rubs himself in the frostbitten areas of his body "It knows we're here and we're a threat..if we give up now it wins. We MUST continue on, this creature can be defeated"

 

[Festy_Dog]

"Yeah, that sound about right, finding the right target is our problem," Antroine says, having sheathed his weapon and started rubbing his chilled hand.