Elendor
Campfire chat
Broddur learns of the exalted visitor he's missed.
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Location: Trollshaws: Western Shore of the Bruinen
Game Date: May 3051
IC Time: Night
Description: Western Shore of the Bruinen
You are on the mudflats in the flood plain of the river. Further east, close to the opposite edge, flows the wide but shallow Bruinen. This seems to be the only place one might ford it before it becomes mightier to the south, yet after it falls from the heights to the north. The forest to the west is full of tall pine, and the road seems to pass through a dark tunnel in their midst. To the north is a pleasant stand of oak and beech trees along the river bank. Across the river a small path winds into the trees again, and farther east the Misty Mountains rise in their splendor.
Obvious exits:
West and East
[Ered-Luin ZMO(#9561)->Broddur] Real time is: Thu Nov 11 15:02:07 2010
Game time is: Midnight <02:06:21> on Trewsday, Day 30 of May (Spring) 3051
[Jori(#30183)] In the dark of night, Jori is usually at his busiest. The black of night is when the nearby orcs and trolls and other things that go bump in the night come to investigate, and Jori is one of the scouts left to give the dwarves enough warning to rally.
The camp is mostly empty at this time of night, and Jori silently appears before the sentries, giving enough signal so as to not startle them, before moving into the light of the fire. "All clear so far." he remarks to no one in particular, absently checking the staked horses before moving to a rabbit spit, and beginning his off-schedule meal.
A hunched figure looks up from near the fire, where he's been industriously honing the miner's pick hung by his side. "Pity, that. Was fancying a bit of excercise, meself." The speaker is the miner Broddur, and the light of the fire throws his gnarled, flame-scarred features into stark relief. "Still, there'll be plenty in the morning, trying to get these brainless lumps of horseflesh across the river." He scowls menacingly at the nearest pony.
[Jori(#30183)] The other dwarf snorts in amusement, but smiles warmly at the ponies. "They make my load light, and my travels easier. I welcome those lumps." he says with gruff affection. Jori's eyes linger on the scars of Broddur for only a moment, before nodding back to the river. "At least it gives us something to put our backs to."
Broddur looks startled at that last thought. "To drown in, you mean," he mutters sourly. "Better it'd be that we crossed yesterevening." That statement issued blithely irrespective of the fact that it was already sundown when they arrived at this spot (and who fancies getting loaded ponies across an unknown river in the dark?) Broddur, it seems is a grumbler.
He goes on in the same vein: "It's bad enough to have missed all the fuss with that Wiz-" He stops, peers at Jori speculatively then demands, "Did /you/ see him?"
Jori grins, chest puffing out as rejoices in his temporary celebrity. "I /spoke/ to him." he says, stroking his mighty beard. "Gandalf the Grey. Sat right next to me. I even served him a bowl of soup!" he exclaims, laughing as he cuts a leg from one of the roasting coneys and takes a bite. "Told me about the treasure, y'see." he says, eyeing the dwarf knowingly, baiting him along for the tale.
Broddur is easy bait. "Some folk have all the luck," he grumbles at the first words - but at the last, the whetstone falls from his fingers and he has to grub for it in the mud (leaning perilously close to the fire in the process! He clearly doesn't like that, for he twists his head round as though trying to keep every single hair of his beard out of reach of the flames).
"What treasure?" he asks when at last he leans back again. "Couldn't get a straight answer out of any lad I spoke to. Some said as it was gold, and some jewels ..." There is a gleam in his dark eyes.
[Jori(#30183)] Jori Pathfinder shrugs. "Wouldn't say, would he? Talked of a relic of Durin himself in Mount Gungabad. Said the goblins are lessening their numbers there too. Could be a weapon, or jewelry....or our mountain." he says with a knowing look. "If the goblins are less, maybe we can take them. Use the Elves, go in strong....and take it back."
Broddur listens. "A relic of Durin?" he repeats. "Surely an axe, nothing so paltry as jewels." Then the gleam in his dark eyes intensifies as another thought occurs to him. "Mithril! Now that'd be a treasure worth fighting for ..."
His happy reverie is cut short as he belatedly realizes the rest of what Jori's just said. "WHAT?" he bellows, starting one of the ponies and likely waking up any goblins unfortunate enough to be within a mile or two of his ire. "Use - the - Elves?" The words are spluttered. "The day when I rely on those namby-pamby two-faced dreamers to do our work for us ..."
Jori quirks a brow, before laughing. "Rely? You've got it all wrong, friend." he says, taking another bite. "Elves are being terrorized by the orcs up there, they say. So we /trick/ them. Make 'em think its their idea. They go in, and they chop or get chopped, but in the end, the Elves get less goblins, and we get more treasure."
Jori's not the average Dwarf. He's just as brave and vainglorious as most of them, sure. But he's also cunning, and more than willing to trick a bunch of Elves to help him get his progenitor's artifact.
The force of Broddur's glare does not lessen, though he does at least let Jori get a bite or two of rabbit in in peace before he's off again. "Can't trust Elves," he maintains. "Oh, they might /say/ they'd help, but when it came to the crunch it'd be the Dwarves doing the fighting. More likely they'd steal the treasure, as they did from our father's father's of old. Keep them away, that's what I say. Pah!"
Broddur's not the average Dwarf either. While most might regard Elves as a necessary evil or, as Jori has hinted, useful goblin fodder, the curmudgeonly miner sees only another opportunity to grumble. "Young folk of today," he mutters sourly, then peers at Jori more closely. "How many summers have you?"
Jori rises, but with a grin on his face. "Use 'em, I says. They'll get involved anyway, being that close and on the way. Might as well bring them in and keep a good eye on them." he says, finishing his rabbit. "Off to the trees again." the Scout says, seemingly ignoring the age question, either offended or indifferent. "I'll see you about, Master Dwarf. Rest easy."
You are on the mudflats in the flood plain of the river. Further east, close to the opposite edge, flows the wide but shallow Bruinen. This seems to be the only place one might ford it before it becomes mightier to the south, yet after it falls from the heights to the north. The forest to the west is full of tall pine, and the road seems to pass through a dark tunnel in their midst. To the north is a pleasant stand of oak and beech trees along the river bank. Across the river a small path winds into the trees again, and farther east the Misty Mountains rise in their splendor.
Obvious exits:
West and East
[Ered-Luin ZMO(#9561)->Broddur] Real time is: Thu Nov 11 15:02:07 2010
Game time is: Midnight <02:06:21> on Trewsday, Day 30 of May (Spring) 3051
[Jori(#30183)] In the dark of night, Jori is usually at his busiest. The black of night is when the nearby orcs and trolls and other things that go bump in the night come to investigate, and Jori is one of the scouts left to give the dwarves enough warning to rally.
The camp is mostly empty at this time of night, and Jori silently appears before the sentries, giving enough signal so as to not startle them, before moving into the light of the fire. "All clear so far." he remarks to no one in particular, absently checking the staked horses before moving to a rabbit spit, and beginning his off-schedule meal.
A hunched figure looks up from near the fire, where he's been industriously honing the miner's pick hung by his side. "Pity, that. Was fancying a bit of excercise, meself." The speaker is the miner Broddur, and the light of the fire throws his gnarled, flame-scarred features into stark relief. "Still, there'll be plenty in the morning, trying to get these brainless lumps of horseflesh across the river." He scowls menacingly at the nearest pony.
[Jori(#30183)] The other dwarf snorts in amusement, but smiles warmly at the ponies. "They make my load light, and my travels easier. I welcome those lumps." he says with gruff affection. Jori's eyes linger on the scars of Broddur for only a moment, before nodding back to the river. "At least it gives us something to put our backs to."
Broddur looks startled at that last thought. "To drown in, you mean," he mutters sourly. "Better it'd be that we crossed yesterevening." That statement issued blithely irrespective of the fact that it was already sundown when they arrived at this spot (and who fancies getting loaded ponies across an unknown river in the dark?) Broddur, it seems is a grumbler.
He goes on in the same vein: "It's bad enough to have missed all the fuss with that Wiz-" He stops, peers at Jori speculatively then demands, "Did /you/ see him?"
Jori grins, chest puffing out as rejoices in his temporary celebrity. "I /spoke/ to him." he says, stroking his mighty beard. "Gandalf the Grey. Sat right next to me. I even served him a bowl of soup!" he exclaims, laughing as he cuts a leg from one of the roasting coneys and takes a bite. "Told me about the treasure, y'see." he says, eyeing the dwarf knowingly, baiting him along for the tale.
Broddur is easy bait. "Some folk have all the luck," he grumbles at the first words - but at the last, the whetstone falls from his fingers and he has to grub for it in the mud (leaning perilously close to the fire in the process! He clearly doesn't like that, for he twists his head round as though trying to keep every single hair of his beard out of reach of the flames).
"What treasure?" he asks when at last he leans back again. "Couldn't get a straight answer out of any lad I spoke to. Some said as it was gold, and some jewels ..." There is a gleam in his dark eyes.
[Jori(#30183)] Jori Pathfinder shrugs. "Wouldn't say, would he? Talked of a relic of Durin himself in Mount Gungabad. Said the goblins are lessening their numbers there too. Could be a weapon, or jewelry....or our mountain." he says with a knowing look. "If the goblins are less, maybe we can take them. Use the Elves, go in strong....and take it back."
Broddur listens. "A relic of Durin?" he repeats. "Surely an axe, nothing so paltry as jewels." Then the gleam in his dark eyes intensifies as another thought occurs to him. "Mithril! Now that'd be a treasure worth fighting for ..."
His happy reverie is cut short as he belatedly realizes the rest of what Jori's just said. "WHAT?" he bellows, starting one of the ponies and likely waking up any goblins unfortunate enough to be within a mile or two of his ire. "Use - the - Elves?" The words are spluttered. "The day when I rely on those namby-pamby two-faced dreamers to do our work for us ..."
Jori quirks a brow, before laughing. "Rely? You've got it all wrong, friend." he says, taking another bite. "Elves are being terrorized by the orcs up there, they say. So we /trick/ them. Make 'em think its their idea. They go in, and they chop or get chopped, but in the end, the Elves get less goblins, and we get more treasure."
Jori's not the average Dwarf. He's just as brave and vainglorious as most of them, sure. But he's also cunning, and more than willing to trick a bunch of Elves to help him get his progenitor's artifact.
The force of Broddur's glare does not lessen, though he does at least let Jori get a bite or two of rabbit in in peace before he's off again. "Can't trust Elves," he maintains. "Oh, they might /say/ they'd help, but when it came to the crunch it'd be the Dwarves doing the fighting. More likely they'd steal the treasure, as they did from our father's father's of old. Keep them away, that's what I say. Pah!"
Broddur's not the average Dwarf either. While most might regard Elves as a necessary evil or, as Jori has hinted, useful goblin fodder, the curmudgeonly miner sees only another opportunity to grumble. "Young folk of today," he mutters sourly, then peers at Jori more closely. "How many summers have you?"
Jori rises, but with a grin on his face. "Use 'em, I says. They'll get involved anyway, being that close and on the way. Might as well bring them in and keep a good eye on them." he says, finishing his rabbit. "Off to the trees again." the Scout says, seemingly ignoring the age question, either offended or indifferent. "I'll see you about, Master Dwarf. Rest easy."
Players: Jori, Broddur
Located in: Ered-Luin
