1.0 - The Marsh Bell

Frór simply peers warily down the uninviting road as it wends its way westward into the wood...

As you all scan about -- some with greater efficacy than others -- Robin takes note of the strange way that the languid waters of the marsh move around something in the middle distance. Curiosity piqued, he pushed closer until he spots what looks like a boat -- partially submerged and damaged. It looks to be a small boat of Dwarven-make and appears to have suffered some kind of attack -- as if something damaged it with fangs or claws. A few disturbed tufts of grass suggest to the Hobbit that the Dwarves abandoned their boat and struck deeper into the marsh -- towards the Old Road and the eaves of Mirkwood.

"They were here," Robin says, teeth clacking on his pipe as he grips it in his mouth. His hands roam over the small boat he'd found, his words accompanied by a hazy loud of pipeweed, "This is theirs. But they left it." He looks around, his eyes tracking various signs before he wipes his hands on his vest and steps in the direction of the Old Road. He carefully draws his pipe from his mouth and, with his free hand, points a finger deeper into the marsh, "That way, by my estimation."

"Right then, let's be following them then" Inar says before he starts to make his way into the swamp in the direction Robin indicated giving one last curious glance to some of the birds roosting nearby.

Frór hefts his heavy mattock over his shoulder, grips his walking stick tightly in his other hand and strides boldly towards the woods with his companions.

Frór the Tall scans the terrain ahead, especially on the look-out for something with large claws and fangs!

"Don't worry, my small hobbit friends, and my dear cousin, Inar," Frór tries to comfort, "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox! ...And a heavy weapon to guard you with!"

You've heard him erroneously describe his keen senses this way before and noticed that he's usually the last one in the group to see what's going on. Hopefully, he knows how to use his big mattock better than his own eyes and ears!

Inar chuckles quietly at Fror's monologue but doesn't let it distract him from scanning the surrounding swamp, an arrow nocked loosely on his bow whilst he walks.

Oddly enough, Robin feels a good deal safer in Frór's presence. Even so, he keeps his eyes peeled as well.

Happy to be Back on the Trail of Adventure, Gilly looks about with interest.

As you move deeper towards the woods -- and the eaves of Mirkwood -- the terrain becomes more swampy with large sinister trees perching in the muck. From time to time you spot signs of the Dwarves and are heartened that you are in pursuit of them. As the trees pull in closer and closer, the going gets a little more difficult -- and your minds are on your mission.

Robin comes up short with an "oh!" just as Gilly, Inar and Fror find themselves in a mass of vines reaching to entangle them from above. Robin recognizes this as "gallows-weed" a strange plant that will attempt to constrict the life out of its victims and then.. well.. eat them!

Inar bites off a curse as he tries to pull himself free of the grasping vines.

"Curse these noisome weeds!" growls Frór as he unwittingly steps into the midst of a particularly tangled nest of the dangerous vines.

"Watch out! Gilly!" Robin shouts, moving as quickly as he can to help his sister.

Gilly calls out, terrified, "Robin!" as she struggles against the grasping vines.