MEE-S1E1: Breeland/Old Bones and Skin (part 1)

MEE-S1E1: “Don’t Dally, I Have Your Scent.”

Otbert (Bill) Beorning Wanderer

Zim (Tony) Hobbit Treasure Hunter

Ricfried (Brian) Woodsman Warden

Lorig (Matt) Dwarven Scholar

Mud (Duane) Wood Elf Wanderer

Axel (Geoff) Rohanian Warrior

May 5, 2951: The day had been filled with mundane tasks. Thus late evening when they all gathered outside the Prancing Pony. Entering to find a crowded room: Throngs of Breelands and Hobbits, a table of dwarves, a lone cowled ranger in another corner, and a lone dwarf lining his own empty ale mugs. Thankfully Hilda noticed them, “I was just about to give your corner table away.” Tankards soon crowded the table, along with elbows and plates of food quickly being emptied by the voracious hobbit. Otbert had to shoo Zim away from his own plate, “Where the hell are you packing all that food?”

Gror	Gror's travels

Curious, Mud approached the lone dwarf for traditions of introductions, “Well met stranger. I am Evermud "Mud" Mountainroot of Mirkwood. What clan you from?” The dwarf sized the long-ear, “Don’t see your kind much anymore. Names Gror, here to lay up on my journey to Ered Luin. It’s been a long journey from the Iron Hills across your trees.” Soon Lorig joined in with traditional greetings and mugs of ale offered. Fortune Mud knew a little dwarven to follow their conversation. “A challenge. Come long-ear, drink along with us.” Mud quickly regretting, “What have I got myself into?”

Zim too was curious about the other patrons and wandered the room to get acquainted. Strange how his nose (and hands) JUST reached the coat pockets of most humans. Soon coins unconsciously changed pockets. Meanwhile, Ricfried approached the Dunedain ranger for greetings hoping to learn what areas HE patrols. Secretive sort.

And that’s when he overheard some Breelanders, “The black-sheep of the family caught robbing his uncle. Always said Tomas wouldn’t amount to much. Worst than his uncle Timeas. The tightwad. Off adventuring. They say he left with Breemen but returned with a dwarf and ranger. Guess they cut the men out of their treasure find. Must be treasure cause the Heatherton farm always manages to weather the rough times. Always have coin.”

The gossip continued, loud enough for the others to hear. Zim paused in his rounds at the word “treasure.” He edged closer, enough to hear another story, “Except the coins he borrowed from me and never repaid. I hear Tomas searched the house for treasure and the map for himself. I guess Timeas’ treasure map lost and buried along with him. I’d suspect Tomas killed his uncle if gossip didn’t suggest old Timeas died of fright. Tomas couldn’t scare a worm let alone someone living.” Zim mused, “Can’t die of fright.” Loud enough for Lorig to offer, “Count your blessings you never encountered the dragon of Erebor.” Which only peaked the Hobbit’s interest more, “Dragon? You’ve got a dragon? Can you show me? Introduce me?”

Otbert quietly listened and stopped Hilda to whisper, “Let me know if anyone pays in strange coins. Or one of your locals offers to pay his overdue tab.” And that’s when the front door crashed open as a disheveled teen (face white as a sheet) rushed in, slammed the door behind him, and shuttered, “There’s, there’s, a, a, ghost in the graveyard!” The gossipers laughingly chided, “What’s the matter Tomas? Your uncle Timeas haunting you for failing to attend his funeral?”

The mention “ghost” perked Otbert’s attention as he rose and headed for the door. The others ignoring his departure. How do you NOT see a 7’3” pillar move?! As he stepped outside on the porch, he grabbed a torch from the exterior sconce and hurried into the street, “If I remember correctly, the cemetery is that way. Maybe I can get there in time to sense his aura and track him down.” Meanwhile, Axel approached the boy leading him to the corner table. Tomas glugged the offered cup of milk, “9ft tall he was. Hunched over Timeas’ grave.” The gossipers’ prodded more, “Stealing his map you were. Your uncle clinging tight, you pulled his soul along with it.”

Zim had such high hopes until those last remarks had him mumbling into his mug, “I guess the map’s gone forever.  Can't go digging up a perfectly good grave.  It would be bad luck to disturb Timeas in the hereafter...” Axel grilled the boy, “So, did you ransack the house?” Tomas lowered his head, “Dad paid for the house. Uncle just squatted on the land. He owed us. The treasure rightfully belongs to us. Yes, I searched for coin and the map.” The gossipers poked more, “Good for nothing. Always looking for the easy way out. Never amount to nutting.”

Tomas, always the whipping boy. Axel just one more flayer. Now crying, Tomas sobbed, “Uncle always wandered off for a few days at a time. Returned with enough coin to pay his debts. Dad always said it was ‘Ill gotten gain.’ I say it’s Heatherton treasure and belongs to the family.”

Otbert arrived at the cemetery and paused to sense his surroundings (Dark Foreboding: sense if Shadow presence stronger or weaker). A faint aura lingered, guiding him to old Timeas’ fresh grave…violated, the top partially caved in. A discarded spade at the edge. Otbert used his hand to dig in the exposed shallow soon realizing the body gone. Ghosts don’t walk away with their bodies!? And that’s when the others arrived: Axel/Zim on horseback, as Mud/Ricfried ran beside. With Lorig dragging Tomas along. “Beorning, when did YOU become so interested in treasure?”

Otbert lifted the spade when he saw Tomas, “I see your handiwork. Where did you move the body?” Tomas gasp, “He’s gone?! I swear, I’d barely thrown a load when the ghost appeared. Towering over me, near 12ft he was! I ran.” Zim stepped forward, “'I'm not into grave-robbing, but if you think the body's up and run away, then it wouldn't really be grave robbing if we were to dig it up to double-check that the poor fellow is still there, now, would it?” Mentally wondering if the map on his body.

Mud added to the news, “Young Tomas, why did you knock down that headstone over there?” Everyone’s eyes not as keen as the elf’s who showed the way… leaving Zim digging Timeas’ grave with the spade. Soon all saw the tombstone…broken in half, fallen to the south. And heard a man approach from town, “Tomas, what have you done?! Get over here!” “Dad?” “You’ve brought enough shame to the family. Now you toy with these men about ghosts. Get home.” Tomas tried to explain but the backhand quieted him…except for new tears and sobbing. Zim intervened with a shove, more a nudge, “Leave the poor lad alone.” But the man grabbed Tomas and began leading him away. The hobbit’s arrow imbedded near his feet, “I said leave him alone.” But the man not swayed, “Careful hobbit else you claim a dirt bed atop this rise.”

Mud intervened, “Forget it. I found tracks. Big ones.” Lorig leaned in closer, “I’d say 11-18ft tall by the stride. Looks like troll.” Ricfried retold the Lore, “They enjoy eating the dead.” Otbert had already begun tracking on his own when Axel called out, “Damn it Ot, be sensible. We can better track him in the daylight.” Zim remembered, “Yeah, daylight. My old cousin Bilbo told of tricking a troll to step into daylight. They hate daylight. Froze right up into solid rock.” Otbert insisted, “The tracks are fresh. Tomorrow can bring rain to wash them away.” Zim suggested, “We can at least stop in Bree for our gear and rations before heading out. It’s already 7^th breakfastie time.”

With the South Downs his known land, Mud led as Guide for the long trip ahead, “At least 50 miles to the rolling hills.” With Zim and Ricfried as Scouts and Otbert and Lorig as Hunters, Axel settled as Lookout. Zim rode behind Axel on his horse ‘Stedrick’ while Otbert and Ricfried followed to the side to avoid the horse-plops. Leaving Lorig as rear-guard.

May 6: Mud pointed out herbs and mushrooms as they trudged southeast along the path blazed by the troll. High broken branches and stomped earth. And when on barren rocky land without signs, Mud’s familiar landmarks that guided him to the obvious destination, “See that gnarly tree. Yep, that large boulder.” A long 20-mile stroll considering it uneventful. The hunters finding a secure draw to camp hidden before they set out for game, returning with a nest of rabbits.

The watch order set, without Otbert, “Allow me to sleep and I can ‘night-walk’ faster to follow the troll.” His Night-Goer dream-state as a bear allowed him to match the troll’s speed and thus quickly found the hillside dig where the troll slept in the day before continuing to the rolling hills of South Downs. It was sunrise before Otbert woke for breakfast to report his travels. Meanwhile, Zim dreamt of the prey, “Uncle Bilbo says trolls speak common. The older ones wise enough to avoid a fight-to-the-death.” He too reported his memories at breakfast. Well, 2^nd breakfast if you count his 3am snack.

But it was Mud who reported the most interesting watch news, “Watched a lone hooded figure approach from the east. Human Ranger; said her name Haleth out of Rivendell on an urgent quest by King Elrond. Headed to the Shire.” Zim interrupted, “Why didn’t you introduce me?” Mud shrugged, “Wise she was. Knows our prey who has even evaded the rangers. Long lived and crafty. Wise enough to avoid all chance of catching him in sunlight. And knows magic…can raise bones to attack.”

May 7: Now into the hills where the Lookouts spotted a pack of goblins in the distance. Most of the fellowship slipped into hiding till Otbert pointed out, “They’re moving away so an ambush here won’t happen unless…” Otbert strung his Great-Bow and loosed an arrow at long range. A goblin squealed then fell. The others turned to spot the lone assailant…and charged. More arrows from long and shortbows cut the numbers till only a half-dozen closed for melee. Soon silence as Lorig (the healer) knelt beside the unconscious elf treating his wounds and reviving him. Otbert wrapped his own wounds to at least stop the bleeding, “You said you wanted battle. At least we’ve tested our fellowship tactics and survived.”

Another camp with watch-order and no fire, “Too close to the troll now.”  As shadow passed over the camp, all jumped at the eerie wailing scream passing overhead. [Nazgul scream causing Corruption]. And then foreboding as clouds blotted out the moon for the rest of the night. At least Mud (Wander Known Lands trait) had found a secure site that allowed a long rest for healing. Despite the mental uneasiness.

May 8: Foul moods and short tempers upon arrival at South Downs. “Damn it hobbit, you ate all the bread and cheese.” The clouds lingered on blotting the sun, creating concern the troll able to emerge from his den. Mud whispered, “There’s his cave opening. See all those piles of bones?” Indeed, stacks 6-7 ft high, “He’s been eating well.”

They could just see him inside the opening gnawing on a human leg, unaware of their presence (they thought). Otbert paused to test the air with his Dark-Foreboding, “This is the same aura I detected at the cemetery. There was no ghost as Tomas feared.” He added, “Careful, that’s his armory for his magical bone attacks.” They edged closer pondering: smoke him out, block him in, draw him out with horse-bait. “What if he has a 2^nd exit?”

Ricfried gathered his composure and stepped forward [Traditions 7], remaining in what little sunlight he could find, “Uh, hey troll.” Without looking up, the troll responded, “Little man, what brings you…and the hairy face, and hairy foot, and the others? What is this man to thou? You and the others are not Bree.” Ricfried cleared his throat, “Uh, we wanted to see if he had paper on him.” The troll chuckled, “Ah, you’ve come for the map. Tucked in his pants. Foul dwarven language but he tasted like a man to me. Not that sweat filling tough dwarf flesh that leaves tasty strings between the teeth for long hours of enjoyment. What have you brought for me in trade?”

Ricfried and the others caught off guard, trade? “I thought we came to kill him.” The troll suggested, “Maybe a deal with Bree…they announce when they bury their dead so I can collect them fresher.” Out of sight, Zim whispered, “Kill him right?” The troll continued, “Ah, the hobbit. Stringy, puny like rabbits. But their bones make good toothpicks. Or we could just split the treasure.” As if it not making a difference to him, he reached out to the closest bone pile, still in shadows, and selected another femur to munch on. Ricfried confused, “Let me talk with the others.”

Lorig reasoned, “He’s not murdering people, only feasts on the already dead.” Otbert grew angrier, “He’s twice as fast as us, has our scent, and has already marked us as his next meal. Who says he doesn’t kill the living? That WOULD make his meals fresher.” But the others recognized the overmatched threat and decided to reason with the troll, “A third.” The troll pushed the map out of the cave mouth, “Deal.”

Gathering his resolve, Otbert stepped forward and retrieved the map as if the troll didn’t matter. And that’s when the troll made the pile of skull-bones chatter their jaws in clacking laughter. Prompting Otbert to hurriedly back away as the troll warned, “Bosbo will be waiting. Your smell is in my nostrils. Dally too long, you have one moon cycle, and I’ll track you down.”

Lorig took the map and read the dwarven runes along the map edges. “Dwarf arrows always point east. Not like your human maps that reference north. Here is Bree and the crossroads. Per the arrow, this eastside reads ‘Here of old was the road to Durin's Gates.’ Which means the southern side, South Downs where we stand, is marked, “Hence came the company to seek treasure.” Shouldn’t be hard to find considering old Timeas came here often to retrieve a little coin at a time.”