ROTN Chapter 1. Moors and Shadows

Here even summer is no excuse for sunlight: the days are often overcast with low grey uneven clouds scudding across the horizon. And rain falls on and off. The wind blows from different directions on different days.

And if there is no wind, there is instead an increasing frequency of mists and fogs.

The ground, if possible, feels wetter.


One day the fog is so bad they hardly make any progress: and they only know it is night when the grey walls of fog turn to dull black.

It is time to rest. Tonight, on Larsi's advice, they watch in pairs...

Larsi has taken the first night watch with Jot.
Then there will be the two elves, and Cora and Oderic will wake for the cold last watch before the blackness fades into the thin white wall of the mist or fog of the previous days.

Jot patrols relentlessly. His ears are of more use than eyes in this deep darkness. With no fire possible in this tree-starved, desolate, drenched - area even if they had considered one safe enough to strike up - he has arranged several thin pieces of string as both trip hazards for animals approaching and as a guide line for his own quiet circuits.

The Ranger is accompanied by Larsi: and, by the grace of Aeglief to whom it belongs, he carries a small wondrous lantern of elven make that shines with a fairly glow all through the night. It illuminates a small area and reveals that the fog rarely persists into the night, but instead becomes thinner wisps. Nonetheless the stars are not visible overhead. Inside the lamp is a stone of crystal that holds even the pale light of the day and releases it when the sun has run its path across the sky. " A gift from the Woodland Realm" Aeglief called it, "for those who may need to travel underground."
Right now it reveals where Jot has placed his tripwire lines - four altogether, each with a bell.

The first watch passes without incident - but both Ranger and dwarf find that the night is not silent.

Creaks, like branches shifting in a breeze; Sighs, like wind over stones; Murmurs, like the mumbling of sheep or wild ponies when threatened by an unseen wolf; and sucking squelchy noises, as if footsteps were pulling across the mires and marshes that still stretch before them.

This land is not still. But neither watcher feels any wind that might explain some of the night-noise.

They end their time and rouse Aeglief and Ahmo - neither of whom truly seem asleep. As they settle, Oderic notices Larsi and grunts a muted question. The old dwarf grimly chuckles and jokes that he and Jot overcame every Troll and Water Giant that appeared in the night. But as he lies down, he adds, " we are far from the haunts of Feredrun, our guardian huntress: yet I feel her eye is not screened by the mists" before he is soon snoring.

Even as the two elves start to settle into a routinue for their Watch, the noises reported by Jot and Larsi begin to increase in volume and intensity.

The two soon realise that there is a gathering beginning some way away from the camp. And whatever is gathering outside there is getting closer as well.

Edging inwards.

They have to rouse them all, and now.

As Larsi and Jot awake again (though neither was too settled in) Cora and Oderic are scrambling up and gripping weapons: both have been advised to ignore Ranged weapons...

... the worst of it all is the very limited range of their vision, the mists and the darkness combine to give little other than the reach of their melee weapons.

---

This darkness is such a disadvantage that no preliminary Battle rolls for bonus dice can be made.

The situation now seems very close to impossible, Cora cannot imagine how they will be able to coordinate and protect each other: there are six of them, yet she can barely see Oderic to one side as she braces her feet and shifts her buckler around in its strap, and judging by his height, and the swirl of a cloak, it is Jot on the other.
She senses rather than sees the two elves are a little further away, and she reasons that Oderic will have Larsi on his other side, altogether the six are making a ring (she hopes!)

The approaching sounds are very much like boots lifting and dragging up mud and water as they come louder and closer... from all directions in the darkness it sounds like...

... and then some faint spots appear in the darkness... ahead and all around...



The lights have a sickly look, and Cora can hear the intake of one of the elves, a sound of distaste. She hears someone say "Prepare yourselves, these mean no good...

All but the Elves present need a Valour Test to avoid gaining Shadow points. If Jot fails, he gains 1 point; the others if they fail gain 2 Shadow points. Failing with an Eye leaves them Daunted and unable to spend Hope while the darkness lasts.

Three of the Company were unaware of having very similar thoughts at this moment.
All about a helpful entity holding a long history with this part of the mortal world.


Of course, those thoughts may have been a coincidence, and if that were all, the Change in circumstance may have been nothing other than the pernicious nature of weather.


Whatever the cause, or lack of cause, the wind came from the South, and above their heads, the fog became a mist; that then shredded into wisps of stringy vapour: abd the starlight was visible again...

... more, A Hunters Moon shone clear revealing the immediate land around...

.... revealing shambling, somewhat disjointed, bodies wearing half-rotted clothing and armour, moving with Purpose towards them.





Many bodies. The faces streaked with black mud or green slime or both, but the edges of their weapons glinting slickly in the moonlight.

But at least they can be seen now. The elves by their nature are not Daunted by the mere prescence of decaying mortals... however, the others still need to take a breath before the ghastly sight revealed.
With the others standing firm around her, Cora too remains resolute.

The Company assume an easy circle as their foes are coming from all directions.

Oderic stoops and flings a stone at one. It seems to bounce off the arm of one of these creatures.

The voice of Jot comes across, quiet and grim,

"I deem we would do best by Cutting into these re-risen foes. They feel nothing, no pain, their limbs will not get tired. We need sharp edges and points to slice them apart. Deliver hard blows, and quickly."

hahaah- 'one'- twice no less