The Gates of Mirkwood: RPG

[Curubethion]

Haetar looked around, slightly dazed by the sudden turn of events.

What have I done, coming here? he wondered. Harn, have you lost your mind?

He slowly walked around the edge of the camp...and was startled by a voice nearby.

"Don't worry," it said, "you'll get used to it."

Haetar turned to the speaker-it was Pansy.

Raising an eyebrow, he replied, "You swing that pan pretty hard...harder than I would have thought."

[Earniel]

Fletch accepted the food from Telin with a sad smile but said nothing while he ate. The rest of the company were also less inclined to talk while food was distributed around, They had a lot on their mind, not in the least what would be the next course of actions.

Pansy had duck up a plate somewhere for Haetar, a sort of peace offering for the bump on the head she had given him earlier.

[Curubethion]

Haetar grinned as he accepted the plate. He began to eat, and started thinking. Harn had been fairly mysterious about this whole thing...the hostage-who was he? And why was a whole party of adventurers going to seek him?

Unless he is involved in something else...

He finished the food quickly. Thinking was hard work-and now he needed to take his mind off of it. Taking his strange staff in hand and wrapping his cloak around himself, he rose.

He told the others, "I'm going to scout out the land. Something's leaving me uneasy."

"Watch yourself, then, Haetar," Harn told him.

"If you need help," Pansy called, "just shout! I'll be there!"

The warrior grinned. He knew the power of Pansy's pan too well. He tugged up his hood as he stopped walking and crawled into the distance. He blended into the grass easily.

[Tessar]

Like a shadow, Haetar moved and left no sign of his passing on the ground. His keen eyes flickered from side to side as he moved, taking in everything. Nothing seemed out of place, but his feeling of unease grew—a strangle, unsettled feeling in his stomach that warned of danger.

Pausing a moment to lay flat on the ground, Haetar put his ear to the earth and closed his eyes, listening intently. The party behind him… ahead, a horse… a rider… and… something else. Haetar’s heart began to beat faster as the earth seemed to groan beneath him, as if bearing the weight of some great evil. Two evils—the rider, and the unknown… person? Between them they were a blight… but the rider was nothing next to this new power.

Danger.

Haetar leapt to his feet and ran full out—not away from, but towards the signals. His long legs carried him at a swift pace, and soon he saw a field of tall grass ahead. Slowing only enough to mute the noise of his passing, Haetar plunged forward into the grass and slid through it like a snake, crouched low with his head barely above the grass’ level as it rolled in the wind. He could feel it clearly now; the danger was close by. Unafraid, he moved forward. Soon he saw two people standing together in the tall grass. One rode an exhausted horse, and looked ancient and weary himself. The other was an elf maiden, tall and beautiful.

Haetar froze and watched, taking in every detail. The old man he recognized well enough: Seppicor, the wizard whom his friend Harn had a vendetta against. The elf was unknown to him. Their voices carried plainly on the wind now that he could stop and listen.

“He is not pleased, old man,” the elf maiden said, her voice cold. Yet at the same time it was delicate and beautiful, like a muted bell. “You have failed him for the last time.”

“Do not meddle with me!” the sorcerer shrieked, his voice raw and angry. “I am older and more powerful than you can imagine. If he has sent you to punish me, then he was a fool to do so!”

Silence fell, and Haetar ducked a little lower, afraid that he had been spotted. Then he heard it: a low, clear laugh. It was beautiful as the elf maid, but made the blood of Haetar’s veins run cold. He shuddered. Even from where he crouched, the ranger knew Seppicor had just made a terrible mistake.

There was an animal-like scream of terror, and Haetar looked up again, drawn by the fear and power of the noise. He quickly wished he had not.

The elf woman had pulled Seppicor off of his horse, and now held him up and out at arm’s length, her hand tight about the old wizard’s throat. He jabbered something, and lightning crackled about his finger-tips as they clawed for the elf’s eyes. With another of her laughs, she held her free hand aloft and arched her fingers like claws. Haetar watched, unable to tear his eyes away as lightning exploded from the dangling mage’s hands and veered sharply up into the elf maiden’s hand.

“Such a lovely trick—perhaps I should show you one of my own?”

The lightning still sizzled about the woman’s raised hand, and Haetar saw Seppicor’s eyes widen. He struggled more frantically than ever to free himself. Even Haetar knew what would happen next.

Shoving her hand against the sorcerer’s chest, the elf woman released the lightning and it lanced straight into the old man’s heart with a blinding flash of light. His scream was brief but piercing, and it cut through Haetar like a knife. Seppicor’s body gave a last twitch, and then went limp as the elf woman dropped it into the grass, smoke rising from the burned corpse. Her head turned towards Haetar, and she smiled slightly.

“Tell Harn he doesn’t need to thank me,” her voice was low and almost sultry now, “I know what I need to know. Remind him of Essida, and he will understand.”

Haetar stood slowly, swallowing. “I’ll tell him.”

“Or, if you prefer…” the elf woman’s smile was no longer beautiful, but her voice had returned to its former, delicate peal. “You could always say you fought a great battle and slew the old fool… wait, but we must make it convincing…”

Haetar turned and ran, her laugh following him.

“Run, little Ranger… tell your friends what you’ve seen.”

Haetar yelled in pain and stumbled, falling to the ground as a vine seemed to spring from no where and wrapped itself around his leg, thorns digging into his flesh through the leather of his boots and pants. Even as he frantically slashed at the vine to free himself, Haetar felt more begin to wrap around his wrists, and gasped in pain as another whipped across his chest. Tearing himself free, Haetar felt the thorns slice across his body as he ripped the plants up by their roots.

He ran again, not stopping till he was back at the camp, where he collapsed, panting for breath and dripping blood.

“Haetar!” Anfal rushed to the fallen ranger’s side, digging again into his fast-dwindling supply of herbs and attempting to staunch the flow of blood. “It’s not bad,” he said a moment later, fumbling with a bandage and wondering where he could possibly start, “Just light wounds… but…”

“Someone killed Seppicor!” Haetar managed to pant, cutting across Anfal’s words.

Dead silence fell.

Everyone stared at Haetar, some in puzzlement, and some in disbelief.

“An elf… an elf woman. She said something about Essida, Harn—what does that mean? She was powerful, like nothing I’ve felt before, save perhaps the Nazgul.”

Harn and Kallin looked at each other, faces white. “Essida…” Kallin whispered, and then winced as Harn cut across him before he could continue.

“Don’t.” Harn’s voice rasped harshly, his body trembling with rage. “Not a word, Kallin—that is done with forever.”

[Earniel]

Beryn looked sharply at Harn and Kalin. If they knew something important about this strange new Elf, they'd better spill it quick. Beryn didn't particularly like getting into fights without knowing a few things about who she'd face. If to fighting it was going to come.

"So Seppicor is dead," She said, "hm, that's one less problem on our list. The question is, whether this Elf is going to be a new one. How do we know whether Eaol told Seppicor something and whether the weazely wizard passed that knowledge on to the Elf-witch?"

[Tessar]

Beryn's question drew a sigh from Kallin. Harn simply shook his head, and it seemed enough for the elf.

"I cannot tell you much about her," Kallin said in a slow, measured voice, "but what I know, I will say. Her name is Essida Vallenorth, and she..." the elf's eyes grew sad, and although he did not look at Harn, his body posture revealed the effort of not doing so. "She is dangerous," Kallin finally said, sighing again. "She is responsible for the death of several rangers, and many, many others who either got in her way, or were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Seppicor was a fool in many ways, but he was powerful as an enemy... Essida is far more powerful, and no fool. Whatever Seppicor dragged out of Eaol, she has dragged out of Seppicor."

"Essida... the name is not familiar to me," Anfal said slowly, stroking a hand across his chin. His bandages were forgotten as Haetar climbed to his feet and began cleaning his own wounds, rummaging in Anfal's bag for supplies. "I admit that wizards are no speciality of mine, but..." he arched an eyebrow.

Harn's eyebrow rose as well. "Are you questioning Kallin's honesty?" his voice rasped slightly, sounding more incredulous than angry.

Anfal raised his hands as if to ward off Harn's words. "I simply mean that I do not recognize the name--nothing more, my friend."

Merely nodding, as if he had expected Anfal to say as much, Harn shrugged his shoulders and said in a breathy, struggling voice, "wake up Eaol. We need to know."

Kallin nodded and moved to the old man's side, pausing only briefly to clap a hand on Harn's shoulder. No one saw his subtle hand movement as he stepped away, a warning for Harn that made the ranger's face darken. Kallin wanted to tell them everything about Essida... But if the elf revealed the sorceresses' full power, and her history with Harn, the ranger feared that the Company would despair. Perhaps Eaol had not broken... perhaps there was no need to hunt down Essida. But the chance was slim."

Crouching beside Eaol, the elf turned and looked at Telin. "Bring me some water, child," the he said softly, placing two fingers on the old man's right temple. As Telin moved to answer the request, Kallin closed his eyes and murmured something.

Bending to hand the water skin to Kallin, Telin could barely make out the words he was speaking. They were a command for the man to awaken, but phrased... strangely. Elvish magic, maybe. She shivered a little, and hurried away from the elf, returning to Fletch's side and watching the elf from a safer distance.

Kallin spoke a final word and then fell silent for a long while, his couched posture seemed relaxed. His appearance was almost of one who had fallen asleep before they could lay down. Before anyone could speak to wake him, the elf's eyes opened, and at the same moment Eaol's weary face twitched, and he woke with a start.

As his eyes focused, and the old man realized he was no longer with his captors... a great wearyness that no sleep could erase seemed to steal over him. Harn's face paled at the sight, and Kallin's expression grew somber, and meditative.

"So they know everything," the elf said slowly, sadly. The company seemed to catch it's breath as one, and all eyes turned to Harn, seeking guidance. The air grew still, and thick with tension. No one, save Eaol, could know the extent of the damage that had bee wrought, but it was clear that the situation was dire.

"We must catch her," Harn finally said. "We must catch her before she can contact whoever commands her... perhaps Sauron himself. This information, should she use it, could..." he had to stop and catch his breath for a moment, "could rule the fall of many great cities and end with the forces of Men easily defeated. We..." again he had to stop, but when he had caught his breath his voice returned stronger than before, "We must catch her," he said again.

[Earniel]

"Hmm" Beryn grumbled when she sat down on a fallen log.

"So we have traded a dangerous enemy for a yet more dangerous enemy. It's no use getting through the shallows if we can't escape the waterfall ahead, to quote my cousin. So I'd like to know a little more about what this Essida can do, though. If she is more powerful than Seppicor was, than brutal force will not suffice. We're going to have to be clever." Beryn's voice showed her dislike of having to resort to tricks. Brutal force usually had her preference.

She looked from Kalin to Harn and back, they hadn't told them everything, Beryn could tell. Kalin had been measuring his words carefully, which meant he had concluded some information was weight and found too heavy to share. Curse these human (and Elven) sentivities, Beryn thought darkly.

She itched to say something about it but, against her nature, for once thought better of it. She would get no answers from them, not now anyway, but she would know soon enough when they met this charming Essida-character. Powerful did not equal undefeatable. Yes, she could always drag the answers out of her, and woe on Kalin and Harn if Beryn didn't like the answers she'd be getting.

[Curubethion]

Haetar breathed slowly, tending carefully to his wounds. He winced as he felt his body, racked with the tearing marks of thorns and plants. Torn up to slash him...torn up by the-sorceress. He carefully looked over his arm, criss-crossed with cuts. A bandage had been newly placed over them, in an attempt to relieve the pain. It hadn't completely worked.

Please, don't let it be poisoned, he thought to himself. Yet, that's exactly how I could imagine that witch-creature...doing her work.

He shivered with the recollection of the attack, and at the same time listened to Kallin's words. Something lurked behind them, he could feel. Something darker and worse...more terrible than anything he had known before. Something fell and evil.

"Harn," he asked his friend, "what have you brought me into?"