052 - Snuffing lives: the end of the Palantir Commission Campaign.

Before you read on, none of the deaths were PC deaths. So there, the title is misleading but the post isn't. The Palantir Commission has run its course. This post is the last session report for it, although a character-wise epilogue post will follow (so we can all have some closure).

Ulrich, 324 y.o., ice troll, tumbled down, way down.

I tossed my rock at a little archer, but she stepped aside. Across the room, I saw Armech fall to the ground for no obvious reason, Erlich was teetering. The intruders were streaming up the stairs and were about to break into the temple hall. I jumped over the bannister in an attempt to stomp on the little archer. I missed by a yard, slipped on the snowy stairs and toppled into the void (critical fail). My hand caught the stairs on the other side. I swivelled down by one swirl of the spiral staircase.  I landed on my back, with slightly more than my body overhanging, the snow under me turned to ice as a I slipped.

It didn't hurt, I landed head first on Merloch, who tumbled down the shaft at few minutes ago when the invaders first attempted to get to the temple. It could have been worst.

Erlich, 578 y.o., ice troll, humanely disposed of by a hobbit

I tossed my rock at the leader of the invaders. He, and the little bearded northmen had spoiled our surprise. Me was angry. My rock missed the mark and rolled down the stairs into the wall. To my left, Armech fell over backward for no particular reason. The last thing that I remember is the sight of a knight waving a twig at me. I blacked out. 

I wasn't awake when the battle was over, that Farathu lay dead on the floor and all of my friends but Borkum had died. I wan't awake to plead for mercy: a little hobbit gently walked to me and snuffed my life with a few strokes of a sword. I had so much potential.

Armech, 221 y.o., ice troll, inhumanely disposed of by a hobbit

I didn't even had the time to throw my stone when I felt the choking grip of witchcraft on my throat. I remember the look of Ulrich as I slipped backward and hit my head on the stone bench against the wall. 

When I woke up, both my eyes had been gouged and I couldn't find my bearings. The pain was searing. I could hear the rumours of battle, but I knew that my fate was decided. I tried to stand up once or twice, then I passed out for good.  

KerKhan, 324 y.o., ice troll, his last straw was a... knee lock

KerKhan is enjoying his last second in the upright position.

By the time that I managed to shoot my rock, a hobbit and an elf (without a nose) had run by me. I missed the elf by an inch! I jumped over the bannister and slammed into a Lossoth warrior (Nilppi). The lossoth made a crunchy noise and never stood up from my slam, at least until I expired. 

A little bearded Northling grabbed on to me. I tried to push him off, but he instead latched on with both arms and legs. There was no way that I could get rid of him (10 CP, pretty helpless). A dwarf sung his hammer at me, but I dodged it. Two more humans in chainmails moved forward. The chubby one with a longsword stabbed me in the arm, the other scratched me on the chest. I couldn't do much: even the filthy elf was coming back to hit me from the rear. 

My best bet was to try to jump backward over the bannister in an attempt to pop the northling off my chest. My jump attempt failed, badly: my foot got caught and I hit the bannister at the height of my shoulder blades. In the reclining position, I noticed that reinforcement had arrived! Farathu used his irresistible shout to force the Northling to let go. Borkum was picking up a stone bench to throw at the invaders. The dwarf tried to hit me on the head, but their leader managed to sink his sword deep into my throat. Out of breath, in utter pain, I could feel the Northling grabbing on to my leg but I couldn't shake him off. I don't know how he did this, but he snapped my knee backward. The shockwave ripped up my spine and I finally closed my eyes. 

An airborne stone bench grazed my cheek and slammed heavily on the invaders. But this is not part of my story: I was dead by the time that the bench hit the ground. 

Farathu, 4 y.o., Winter Drake, beheaded in his sleep by a warhammer (ouch!)

Less than a second before Farathu lose his head.

I am the campaign supervillain. I was a little unimpressed when Borkum roused me from my sleep with the news that there was invaders in the temple hall. By the time that we arrived in the hall, KerKhan was swarmed by them. I used my command to force the Northling to let go: he rolled off KerKhan and slipped from my sight. 

By then, KerKhan had been mortally hit at the neck by an inordinately tall man in chainmail. I caught the glimpse of another knight in the background waving a wand at me. His magic was weak, but I flukily was weaker. It was bedtime for this drake. 

I could feel Borkum dragging me on the ground, I was about to wake up. A blind dwarf was running in my general direction, I knew this dwarf... the invaders were the demon slayers from Forochel! My last memory of the screech of a possessed warhammer shearing my head off before I could move it out of the way. 

Borkum, 322 y.o., ice troll, retired to live another day

When I opened the door, a lossoth lay dead on the stairs while the other invaders were swarming KerKhan. I picked up a stone bench and threw it at the knights. The dwarf dodged, the leader mostly got out of the way but got hit on his leg. The brunt of the bench's mass landed on the third knight's groin. He should have died, but he didn't. He instead teetered until the elf caught him and used his witchcraft to prop him up for good. 

I pulled Farathu out of harm's way, but got overtaken by one of them hobbits. The dwarf ran up to the drake and pinned his head against the ground. I panicked and ran off to the hoard room. Some of the invader followed me there. The hobbit tried to make me surrender, but the nicer knight told me that my life would be spared if I helped them recover a large glass sphere. The sphere was across the chasm, and the little bearded Northling tried to make me jump across to get to it. 

The invaders were pretty smart: they found a secret door in the temple which lead to the hoard. They stuffed their pockets with as much gold as they could carry. I carried the big rock for them as we hiked out of the temple and through the valley. We parted the following morning. I was free, and frankly I still don't know what to do with freedom. 

There is a twist, which will be explained in the epilogue post!

047 - A journey up the Lhûn valley

The Gulf of Lhun

The Swan had entered the gulf of Lhun two days earlier and was making good progress against the current. A small elf-made craft approached the large Gondorian hulk as the harbor of Gray Haven got in sight. The elves on deck were neither friendly nor hostile, but made the whole crew uneasy. The ship attached itself and pushed a gangway up to the Swan's deck. An austere looking elf introduced himself as Alumnim, dockmaster of Mithlond, and informed the crew that Gondor was not allowed to sail passed this point.  

There was a pile-up in the leadership of the Swan as Arnadil, Galdor and the ship's captain all felt that they should address this edict. However, Arnadil had the key document: a letter from King Elessar. Arnadil introduced himself the best that he could in Sindarin, and managed to convince Alumnim to let the Swan enter the port under a number of restrictive conditions.

The Swan sailed into the harbor. On both sides were arrayed a number of ships being built to take more elves to the undying land. The Swan moored itself to a pole off the shore and a few of the crew members made it to shore with a rowboat.

045- The longest day on Middle-Earth

This session picked up at the height of a cliffhanger from last session. Arnadil, the company's moody but fearless leader had fallen off the mast and seriously injured his pelvis. Kasper, the squire with spells, has managed to climb up to another mast with only one hand working. The rest of the company is running around trying to hit a winter drake hatchling which is having fun ripping off the ship's rigging. It was dark, in the middle of an unnatural snowstorm, and the company were caught in this while binge drinking, following the death of their friend: Araliniel the seer.

Act 45, Scene 1 - Slipping right through the fingers

One thing that got clear for both parties was that this combat wasn't going anywhere fast. Thannolf began negotiations. The drake asked all to lower their weapons, and in turn the snowstorm immediately subsided. The drake pointed out that their ship was getting in a terrible shape, and that they would need it to escape the angry Lossoths from Mulkan. He pointed out that his army would also be there in a few hours to collect his treasure. He proposed to stop thrashing the Raven against both Southron stones and the gondolin sword. 

044 - Dashing through the snow

... with a 900 lbs crystal ball!

Act 44, Scene 1 - Dashing through the snow

After cleaving the Palantirs from the altar, the two living members of the company set on foot to reach the Raven before nightfall. Sir Galdor was weighted down by his armor. Halin offered to carry his hauberk to lighten his load. To maximize their speed, they decide to travel on the hard ice of the fjord, which should put them on sight of Mulkan at some point. Finbert, as a wraith, decided to follow the two and scout ahead. 

The snow was falling with increased intensity. By the time that the pair was passing east of Mulkan, the visibility was less than the width of the fjord. Finbert flew over to the village to take stock. The Lossoth of Mulkan were picking up the pieces after the wave of destruction of the afternoon. Halin and Sir Galdor never realized that they had passed the village.

029 - The proverbial lost sheep(s).

November 16th, FA 15

The following morning, the company woke up in the Slapfoot Inn to a small gathering of hobbits in he dining area. Most noticeably, the Mayor of Michel Delving was present. Samwise Gamgee, one of the most famous living hobbits was surrounded by half a dozen of nosy geesers. They were waiting for the company to rise from their slumber. 

A breakfast was served. Sam was concerned that these wargs were bad news for the Shire. The company asked to talk to him in private. Sam dismissed the other hobbits. 

Finbert proceeded to explain to Sam that there was much more to yesterday than a bad snow storm and a trio of wargs. They told the story plainly to him. Sam was visibly disturbed. He expressed concerns for the Shire and its denizens. The company discussed on possible ways to find more about the drake (possibly named Farathu). Ideas of baiting him with treasure were proposed. But to what end?  Where to? ... and what IF the drake bit the bait?

028 - The last word of a warg.

November 15 FA 15 (1:30PM)

In the previous encounter, the company ran into a skirmish between three wargs and a winter drake hatchling. The company decided to evacuate the farm stead before taking on the pursuits of the dark creatures. Unfortunately, this delay in tracking the beasts meant that the snow slowly started to accumulate along the path. Luckily, the wargs left deep grooves into the snow, and the drake left in his wake countless splintered trees. The going was difficult for the hobbits and the dwarf, but simple for Nimrodel as elves are unencumbered by frost and snow. By the time that they reached a clearing and found the bruised carcass of one of the wargs, the three small folks were starting to bleed Fatigue points due to the strain of walking, and exposure to the cold. 

027 - You mean, dragons are for real?

November 15th, FA 15

Only Halin, Irina and Finbert were sitting at a table of the Slapfoot, the premier inn in Michel Delving. The company was celebrating Finbert's and Arnadil's recovery from the foray in Annuminas with a trip to the capital of the Shire. As the snow storm worsten, Galdor and Arnadil decided to return to Bywater so as not to miss the dice contest. The three remaining company members were promised to sample Wesfarthing Honey Ale on the following day. They met Nimrodel, a Noldor elf from Rivendell on his way home from Grey haven. The mounting storm convinced him to stop by the Slapfoot Inn and sample the rustic charms of the Shire. Nimrodel and the company got acquainted and engaged in small talk. 

016 - The road to and through the Shire

Walking in the wake of a winter drake

October 15th to 28th (map)

The company resumed their long journey to Annuminas on the morning of October 15th. Provisions were purchased for the coming 10 days. With the early light of Fall, they set out across the Gwathlo river, heading north to Sarnford: a fording point into the Shire.

The road was reasonable, and the weather cool. Finbert expressed his concerns that it was unusual and worrisome to see this much frost and snow on the ground south of the Shire at this time of year. His concern kept on growing as the accumulation on the ground began to increase. His chief concern was that the apple season may have been shortened, but to each its own fears.

015 - Sniffing the air for a winter drake.

This encounter reports on a solo session with the campaign's new addition: Irina Took. It was meant to be both a send-off and a playtest. It worked out great: we used the invention rules (see last part), had some role play and lots of exploration of what can be done with a ST 6 hobbit without an ounce of aggression in her (and a 25lb bow).

October 20th FA 15

It snowed in and around the Shire since early-September. Folks in the Shire are worried: there is something queer about this weather, but no one can imagine the real reason for all that snow. Irina knows, and she'd rather not spread the word.

She met in Bree with the Shire's bounders and Dunadain rangers in early September. The rangers are pretty sure that the hatchling of a winter drake has descended from the Blue Mountains. Since then, it has been prowling in the low-lands for food and a hoard. There are reports in the Northfarthing of missing livestock coinciding with snow squalls and general bad weather. The colleagues agreed to be on the look out for white-outs and any other traces of a prowler. This is the reason why Irina was on the road to Tharbad on that quiet morning. The plan was simple: if a drake shows up, she will melt in the woodlands and shadow the beast, if possible. 

There was, however, no snow squalls to be seen all around. Rather, a deafening silence. Irina could hear the snow flakes falling in the ground with an almost audible tinkling sound. Amid the creaking of her own footsteps, she first heard the sound of voices beyond the crest of the next hill. Irina scanned the surroundings and found a path through fallen trees and tall grass to scoot out of sight without leaving an obvious dotted trail of footsteps in the snow [She succeeded with a wide margin a hard Survival check].  She snuck under an evergreen where she could observe the road, unseen. 

Three northmen walked by her, discussing enthusiastically about the sheeps that they were to steal from the Shire's outlying herds. Irina knew that this chance encounter had to be dealt with. When the men noticed the footsteps on the road, they began to look for the trail that would take them to Irina. However, their tracking skills were no match against Irina's master work at sneaking out [their margin of success was less than Irina's, which was a bit lucky to begin with]. The oldest of the northmen explained to what looked like his sons that such a strange disappearance of footsteps could only be the work of the Shire's Bounders. All seemed to get nervous, searching around for the outline of a shadow menace, ready to duck oncoming arrows. After much discussions, they decided to leave the road and enter the woodlands. 

Irina decided to shadow the sheep rustlers. She could follow the men very closely without arousing suspicions [quick contest Per vs Stealth, which Irina won with a critical success!]. Irina followed them for an hour, waiting for an occasion to do something. Being a Hobbit, she had no intention to really hurt them. She considered harassing them with pot-shots with her bow until they turned around. In the end, she chose an unexpected solution. She figured out that, having cultural familiarity with "The North", and being herself a very charismatics person, she would attempt to befriend the men and divert them from their original goal. She began to sing a song that she knew was widely known among the northmen, and approached them from behind [singing check success with +3 margin] in the least threatening manner. The men were initially worried, but soon took down their guards when they saw a jolly middle-age hobbit female singing one of their favorite song [the reaction roll was done at +6, +2 for voice, +1 for fashion sense, +3 for the song... and got a Very Good reaction level]. Disarmed by a smile and a song!

Things could have gone bad, but they didn't. The northmen were unwilling to confront the jolly hobbit standing in their way, and lied about their motives by telling her that they were hunting. Irina, smilling at the inadequate "hunting" equipment of the sheep rustlers, offered to take them to a deer feeding ground and help them find meat. She knew of a spot [Area Knowledge success], and lead them to a place teeming with deers. On site, she found some the deers feeding trails [Naturalist check]. The northmen were not hunters by any stretch: they were loud, smelled too much and probably couldn't hit a deer with their spears. She instructed them to stay in place while she scouted ahead. 

Irina sneaked into position, but the deer bolted just before she could get a fully aimed shot [Per vs stealth failed by 1]. The shot was a 20 yd, with a Move 6 target. Irina managed a hit on the leg as the deer disappeared in the thick evergreen underbrush. The deer was weaker, but still fast. Irina patiently tracked the animal [Easy tracking check in the snow], moving silently until she found the wounded beast again. The deer was still, and she slipped quietly at 15 yd without being noticed. She took her time, aimed for the vitals and got a clean hit on the unsuspecting target. The deer fell to the ground [unconscious and stunned, not dead]. Irina, reluctantly, finished the beast with a swift slip of her hunting knife. 

The northmen were brought in, picked up the deer. The new friends walked back to the road. The northmen are unlikely to come back to steal sheeps now. It is more difficult after making a personal contact with a local. Beside, they know that they are no match to her hunting and shadowing skills. The older northmen offered her a beaded necklace as token of thanks. The harvest was not as big as planned, but should be as tasty. 

Irina headed for Sarnford, back to the shire. On the road, she could see a number of horse footsteps and a the tracks of a heavy cart. It looks like a group of human just snuck by while she was hunting. 

Other Notes: Before the encounter. We worked out why a hobbit would ever want to leave the Shire and travel with the Palantir Commission. We established that she nearly died of a fever in the spring. This near death experience triggered the Took's itch, a malady that flips the desire of hobbits to stay home on its head. She had a series of disagreements with her husband on the topic, and they decided to amicably go their own way. Irina is older (45), and there are lots of Bounders around to take over. She needs to see new places. 

Herb lore and GURPS' invention rules

We also gamed the preparation of two herbal brews from earlier on in the summer: Irina's brain explosion and Irina's Sniffle buster. The brain explosion gives the highest of 2 d6 FP for an hour, but cause a crash 1 hours later by the highest of three d6. She found out about the right plant: the root of a pond rush [herb lore], which she knew where to find [Area Knowledge], and harvest [naturalist]. She brew a few doses [herb lore, again]. Her attempt to dry the roots so that she could prepare the herbal mixture off season, however, failed [Hard check -4]. We use the invention rules for her to create the Sniffle buster tincture. She followed a similar process as for the brain explosion infusion, but then had to make a prototype and test it for a few weeks. She found a major bug (drowsiness), and a minor bug (tastes like dung, so she is adding honey...). She found only a small patch of source material, unfortunately, well outside the Shire.  When the first snow arrived, the live plant died and she ran out of fresh material.