ROTN Chapter 1. Moors and Shadows

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May 26, 2025 7:54 pm
We can try

Rolls

Hunting - (1d12+3d6)

(8) + (365) = 22

May 27, 2025 6:21 am
Jot displays skills in tracking and interpreting that even many elves are not experienced enough to do. In this meticulous survey he puts together observations of details that many can see just as well, but they do not see what such a sign ( or lack of sign) must mean.

"We will find no trolls in the mound. Yes, there is traffic of several days here, three or four days.
And two different sized trolls made most of them. Along with booted feet. Several boots. Mainly orc feet in their boots.. see the discarded sole nail there?
And standing here, a set of bigger boots. With a tread cut into them by a stirrup. No horse came out here, so a being who is more commonly a rider: they stood and watched. From here, supervising or commanding, no doubt. Only one other set of the orc boots comes up to this point. The Leader was not one to be in with the mob: powerful, intimidating I think.

The clearest troll prints head off from here, back northwards. Orc marks followed them. The smart boots probably led them away, and there is no sign of His passage.


No. The construction crew has left. Possibly 7 to 10 days or more now."

May 27, 2025 1:57 pm
"I do not think we can catch a lead of even seven days, lest we arrive with our feet ground away and exhaustion weighing on us like snow on the mountains in winter." Larsi grumbled.

He would not pretend to know how the ranger could tell such tracks apart beyond the troll print and the smaller ones, but he could understand Jot's words easily enough.

"I do not like fighting trolls, but if fight we must, Larsi Troll-slayer shall add another tally or two to his count. Such high ground will be advantageous, even a troll will be at a disadvantage if the height be great enough."

Larsi looked northwards, seeing mount Gram on the horizon like a white spectre haunting him. The dwarf shook his head before looking back ti the others.

"More importantly, regardless of our choice, we cannot tarry overlong here. Even should the Enemy be searching for Rivendell, Gram still sends out scouts and raiders looking for travellers. The longer we stay in one place, the more likely such chance patrol finds us."
Last edited May 27, 2025 1:57 pm
May 27, 2025 5:40 pm
"My counsel is to get moving north and quickly- while daylight lasts." She follows Larsi's gaze to the distant gray bulk of Mount Gram. "Our search should focus on pathways from Gram to here. It sits astride the path from here to old Angmar."
May 27, 2025 9:11 pm
A mixture of relief and disappointment comes across Oderic. Jot is convinced the foe is long gone.

"we are checking through the mound though?"

He is rather quick to get into the troll lair and marches forward...

Rolls

Awareness check as he approaches mound - (1d12+3d6)

(7) + (114) = 13

May 28, 2025 1:45 am
*shrugs* "We are charged with scouting, not slaying. I will not hinder you if honor requires you take a troll's head. Hurry though and choose your course." She sounds immensely chagrined.
May 28, 2025 6:56 am
She is reluctant to criticise, but the elf lady is correct.

In something of a conflict of mind, she will follow Oderic to what soon appears as a low entrance to the mound. The ground here is indeed somewhat flattened and compressed: the weight of many footsteps in and out.

A cold sense of foreboding moves up her spine as she stares at the rather low gap - the trollsmust have wriggled past this.

Oderic is staring in, bent down.
May 28, 2025 7:11 am
With the bright daylight behind him, he cannot see far into the bolt-hole. He prods a bit with an arrow, running it across the part of the entrance he can reach into.

The general muck and slime here are a disincentive to enter further.

He snags something, and drags it closer. A bone. Like a limb of an animal, even a human... or a goblin.
Gnawed clean of flesh, but it is transparent that the bone was recently picked.

He does not wish to tolerate the dull stench any more, and gets up to return to Larsi and the others. Cora is right behind him. While waiting for his opinion, she has looked around the outside a bit more.

In the grass-reeds, she sees something and crosses to it. A splintered length of dark wood.
The handle of a broken tool, thrown away.
May 28, 2025 7:14 am
There is little to be interested in at the mound.

As they cross on the western side of it and start off following the line of marks northwards, they come across the remnants of a fire: charred bones suggest some meat was directly roasted or grilled here.

The construction crew must have felt themselves secure here in the far wilderness.
May 28, 2025 3:27 pm
She nods in agreement, "You are as correct as you are wise Ahmo and we are indeed charged with scouting and many a time has my spear been left on my back because I was scouting and not hunting. This may have to be one of those times." She waits with the other elf not wanting to venture more into a smelly troll cave than she has to especially if there are no trolls.
May 28, 2025 3:48 pm
"Mr Walker - if you please- you have lead," said Ahmo in a voice used to command. We can take some troll heads on our way home.
As they set out, Laicamiril asked Larsi, "Gundabad is holy to your people, is it not?"
Last edited May 28, 2025 7:52 pm
May 30, 2025 7:49 am
Another Travel roll please (from the drop off to within close enough viewing of Mount Gram), as the Company will be moving across wetlands with patches of sticky mud, other open pools of standing deep brown water, and peaty material. They will have to pick their way through and along as much solid ground as they can find.

The tracks they could follow soon disappear in this sort of terrain, as the ground, when disturbed, soon oozes around and fills in any prints.

Fortunately there is one piece of evidence on the first day of this journey that suggests the construction party went straight towards their goal: a piece of discarded cloth, too dirty and wet through from sitting on the ground so it will not yield any further information. And this scrap of brown animal skin lies directly on the same path and direction as they travelled on that first day.

TN 18.
May 30, 2025 7:54 am
Travel test TN 18.
The track is difficult, after a while her feet get wet through, and unlike her life on the river by Tharbad, this wet always feels cold. The ground itself seems to cling to her short boots, making each time she has to lift her feet up for the next step just that bit more effort.

But the other thing is the quite depressing nature of the terrain: there is little to cheer one, no pleasant wide vista, no magnificent tree or flowering bush, like in the Shire and particularly no heady refreshing scent as in the Imladris Rivendell place...

It needs a much harder and more determined effort (spend another Courage point to get a great Success): so she hums a tune she remembers from Rivendell (poorly, but it sounds about right in her head)

Rolls

Travelling the high bogland Travel roll - (1d12+2d6)

(6) + (46) = 16

May 30, 2025 8:12 am
Along the Anduin there are stretches of reed beds with such sticky, clay like mud. But this is blacker and has an unpleasant smell of rancid decay.
If it were not for the advice of the Lady of Imladris to keep an eye out for the Sapphire Mallow marsh plants, they would be struggling along a lot slower: blundering through and having to use arrows to feel the ground ahead all the time.
A Great Success and therefore worth the second Advancement point in the Movement group, just like Cora. In addition I will permit this second Success to be handed over to another PC who might fail their Travel test.

Rolls

Travelling the boglands Travel roll TN 18 - (1d12+4d6)

(5) + (5264) = 22

May 30, 2025 1:48 pm
Larsi would nod in response to Ahmo's question. "Aye, it is said where Durin the Deathless, the ancestor of my people, awoke. It was he who named much of that land as he journeyed southwards, eventually finding the Mirrormere and founding Khazad-dum."

Larsi continued onwards for a short time before singing softly, more to himself than others, but not so quietly anyone wanting to listen couldn't hear.

"The world was young, the mountains green.
No stain yet on the moon was seen.
No words were laid on stream or stone, when Durin woke, and walked alone."


"He named the nameless hills and dells.
He drank from yet untasted wells.
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars apear.
Like gems upon a silver thread about the shadows of his head."

Rolls

Travel - (1d12+3d6)

(11) + (642) = 23

May 30, 2025 1:49 pm
OOC:
ooops, sorry guys!
Will pass one of the other Successes on, however, it is an Eye.... somethings gonna happen...

Rolls

A roll because we hit a hazard - (1d6)

(1) = 1

May 30, 2025 2:59 pm
(travel-24)

Ahmo lithely hopped from dry copse to rock to bole of a dead tree like a child playing hopscotch, pointing out pitfalls to the others. She felt very much on top of her game until Jot held up a ragged bit of discarded animal skin. This is why we have you in front, Jot- no matter how miserable the slog may seem.
"How many? All headed south?" she looked at the upward sloping land ahead where trees grew taller in the sturdier dry ground.
She felt the comfort of her weapons. It is inevitable they run into pickets, but she had guessed it would be after dark when the orcs would be more at ease and trolls could hunt. Once we;'ve engaged them, she thought, the game would be up and parties would be sent to cordon them off and eliminate them. How far do we push before returning to make report?
She spoke to Jot and Aeglief, "If we wish to live to make a useful report, our best hope lies in eluding the enemy. If they get wind a scout party is working north, they will come out like a hive of hornets," she enjoined.
Last edited June 2, 2025 8:50 pm

Rolls

travellin - (1d12+4d6)

(9) + (1365) = 24

May 31, 2025 5:42 pm
Jot’s Perspective:



The sky was the colour of old tin, low and brooding. The wind tugged at my cloak but carried no promise of rain, only the smell of rot and wet decay that clings to stagnant places. We’d left the rocky incline behind us, and now the land had opened up into a vast, silent stretch of mire—where every step was an argument between balance and stubbornness.

I took the lead, as ever, testing the ground with my boot before trusting it. Each pool glistened with a skin of muck, and the earth squelched beneath us as if it resented the weight. Even Laicamiril had trouble placing her feet with grace here.

I crouched once to check for tracks, but the mud had swallowed any sign of passage. No heel, no claw, no drag. Troll-workers or goblins—whatever had come this way—had left little trace. Only the weight of the air and the sense of being watched remained.

We were half a day in when I spotted the scrap. A curled, stiff bit of hide, soaked through and slick with peaty water. Useless, now. I lifted it with my dagger and turned it over—nothing. But its position told me what I needed: it lay on a faint rise in the mire, on a line that matched the direction we’d taken before.

I called out softly to the others.

"This way," I said, my voice low but firm. "They passed through here. Maybe a day or more ahead of us. Straight line, they’re not trying to hide."

The air thickened with the stink of the fen. Somewhere distant, a bird called once, then went quiet.

I wiped my blade on a patch of moss and stood again. In the far haze, I thought I glimpsed the grey shoulder of a great mountain—the first hint of Mount Gram, crouched like a waiting beast against the horizon.

I adjusted the straps on my pack and looked forward. There would be no more signs, no prints to guide us. Only instinct and the weight of purpose.

"Keep your footing," I muttered to no one in particular. "The earth here bites."

And with that, I led them forward, towards the mountain, and what waited beneath it.

Rolls

Travel - (1d12+3d6)

(7) + (242) = 15

Jun 3, 2025 6:30 pm
Aeglief is not nearly as dexterous in her travel. Likely the terrain is far from the swamps and forests she normally calls home.
Last edited June 3, 2025 6:35 pm

Rolls

Travel - (1d12+2d6)

(4) + (41) = 9

Jun 3, 2025 11:48 pm
The little company progress northwards, and a little west aways now. The rising ground on their right heads up towards the Grey lines and spikes that are all they can glimpse of the Misty Mountains; yet there is a spur waiting for them to reach it. A short chain of its own that leads from the main mountain group across to the bloated rock mass that is termed Mount Gram.

But just as the Trollshaws* that they left so far behind them when they descended the landslip had its own features, this terrain they are crossing has its own (depressing) character. Most of the company feel the effort needed to get across the dripping, sliding surface is so much greater than the easy time they had across the southern section above Rvendell. And with every mile spent trudging along the terrain seems to be more sticky, and has a darker and darker hue.
To the sides there are occasion stone features: Jot and Ahmo recall what they can of the war of the Dunedain and the Dark Northern kingdom of foul Angmar: almost a thousand years ago now. These stone features are all that remains of various buildings that once were important places in the old Kingdom of Arnor, before this region was claimed as part of the old territory of land once called Rhudaur. And then subsumed into the Realm of Angmar for a brief while.

Ahmo can recall that the lands here cannot be so very far away from where the mighty Elf Lord, Glorfindel of Rivendell, pressed the pursuit of the remnants of the army of Angmar: after the final defeat of that foul, sorcerous regime some weeks were spent by the cavalry of Gondor over the plains much further to the west, harrying the men of Rhudaur into the ground.
Ahmo declares that small groups of elves went after the last rearguard of Rhudaurans - trying to retire and rally in these stones buildings. She smiles when she recounts her meeting Glorfindel within thirty miles of Mount Gram. The Elf Lord was returning with his report that he had forced the final group into a morass of black mud and cold brackish water. There they had been slain to the last, else they had blundered too far into these swamps, and so foundered.
* earlier described as the Ettenmoors, in error. The Ettenmoors are close to Mount Gram!
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