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

[Inez Hull]

The company makes a final circuit of the hall, but ingress seems impossible. Meanwhile Artos searches his mind for a phrase that may magick the doors open, but alas has no more success than his companions. You regather to contemplate what direction to head next, basking in the sight of the magnificent construction and the serenity of the wooded dale.


[OODM: OK life has slowed down a bit and I believe we should be able to get this going again. GaryH seems to no longer be at ENWorld so I'll assume that Belegon fell ill and remained at Nothva Rhaglaw - which should speed up the party's movement and improve its general level of stealth at the expense of combat power.]

 

[Manzanita]

Valandil

"OK. So much for my theory that this shrine would prove pivital to our quest for the phantom. Or perhaps if we could get inside we would understand more. Anyway, I say we head back for the Drebiwyd forrest, to where the man died and the shepards were frightened or missing. If we go to the spots where this phantom appeared, we might be able to trace it back to its nest."

 

[Festy_Dog]

Antroine runs his fingers through his hair while his pipe appears to simmer in his mouth.

"Sounds like a plan," he replies, and adjusts his pack for further travel.

 

[rangerjohn]

Arathorn nod in agreement, "Let us be off."

 

[ferretguy]

"Full agreement here....To the tracking of the creature we go..."
mumbling to himself..."beats hanging out at a old tomb"

 

[Inez Hull]

The company back tracks its way through the great vale and then heads straight north winding a fresh path through the light forestation. The travel is a light downhill and after little more than a mile the thinning woods eventually break into the shallow grassy gorge between the northern and southern woods. Almost a mile north the woods resume in a solid line of trees that stretch from west to east.

At this point Artos takes up the lead, directing the party northeast until he locates a game trail entering the Drebiwyd that is commonly used by local hunters. The wyd comprises similar foliage to its southern brethren and seems significantly less hilly, with just the one significant rise to your northwest.

Artos advises that the body of Beroth was found perhaps a mile down the game trail. The party share tense looks, despite the becoming look of the wyd and prepare to continue onwards.

 

[Mirth]

"We're not far now," Artos says, smiling broadly. Hoping to break the heightening tension, he adds, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

OOC: I'm still here. It was just a busy Mother's Day weekend.

 

[Festy_Dog]

"Indeed it is," Antroine agrees.

No smoke issues from his pipe, but from the way it moves the others can tell he's somewhat nervous. His hand often strays to his rapier, just for reassurance.

 

[Inez Hull]

As Artos leads the company down the game trail everyone has their eyes peeled for danger. The wyd is quite beautiful and the foliage sparse enough that you all have fair visibility for at least 100' ahead of you at most times. Regardless of the serene backdrop and the pleasantly warm sun which has reached its zenith overhead, nerves run tense and cold sweat trickles down backs. However when a threat eventually comes it is in the most unexpected of places.

As Artos leads the party around a bend in the trail his attention focused firmly ahead, he notices something in the grass underfoot just as he is about to set his foot down. He desperately throws his weight to the side and falls over with a crash and a whoosh of air expelled from his lungs. The company is instantly at arms and scrambling for cover or a sign of a foe. Artos gets to his feet and calls for calm. As the company gathers around he picks a fallen branch from the ground and stabs it into the patch of grass he had been walking through. A metallic clang and the crack of splintering wood resounds. Artos bends down to retrieve a now sprung bear trap and you all see a shiver run up his spine as he realises that he came within inches of losing his foot. The irony of the huge, shaggy, bear-like man almost falling victim to a trap intended for his ursine cousins is lost on no one.

 

[Manzanita]

Valandil

"Well, there are clearly people about. We're probably in about the right place. I'm glad you saw that Artos before you stepped in it. That would be even worse than what the bear produces." He says with a laugh.