Elendor
Saving Ranger Amrundirn: Keeping Watch
Faramir, Aearion, Ceredir and Lochland (Menawa temp) keep watch by the Poros while awaiting a meeting with the Southrons
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Harad: Crossing of the Poros
Game Date: October 27 3047
IC Time: Evening
Description: [Aearion(#17937)]
The northside of the Poros was quiet. The sun was setting into darkness and the rangers and scouts were setting up a fireless camp. Aearion pulled his cloak around his arms for protection against the cool air coming off the plains to the south. He gazed at the Poros and the land beyond. A land that could possibly be his final resting place.
Settled among some reeds here for at least some cover, Ceredir, cloak about him, gazes steadily south across the river. The remnants of his cold meal are in front of him, and he lifts a waterskin to his lips to sip, then seals it back up again. "At least they're not coming north to disturb us from these banks. Yet," he notes dryly to Aearion.
[Faramir(#10683)]
As the wind, the appearance of the son of Denethor comes swiftly and without warning. Suddenly crouching behind the twain, the Captain joins them in gazing southward. "What news?" asks Faramir, his voice low and soft, yet within it's embrace is the tone of authority. Steel eyes flit between the two a moment, before once again he returns his attention southwards, cool as the night air.
[Aearion(#17937)]
A low murmer had errupted among the rangers and scouts when Faramir had appeared, Aearion had never seen the man, but he had heard countless tales of the sons of Denethor and their heroics. He turns to look upon the man from his perch looking southward. He studies the man before saying, "No changes sir, the southbank is silent." His young voice is low and controlled, as was the custom of those in Ithillien.
"As ever, Lord Captain," Ceredir replies quietly, with a glance to Faramir and then back to the south, "the camp of the tribals is lively." He grimaces. "But that of the men of Umbar is disciplined. I do not know why they ask for a meeting."
[Faramir(#10683)]
A nod is all that is given the report, eyes never leaving the south. "Nor do I, Ceredir." states the Captain, his voice calm and soothing as he speaks. "Yet, we shall find out soon enough. A meeting they wish, and a meeting we shall give them." A gauntleted hand is placed, each on one of the men's shoulders. "Yet I shall not be alone. With men as vigilant as you, I am in good company."
[Aearion(#17937)]
Aearion feels a strange comfort in the man's words. Assurance... Suddenly the youth realizes that he had abandoned real hope that he was going to survive his first tour in Ithillien. The presence of Faramir offers him hope. Perhaps he would be able to see Dol Amroth again. "Thank you sir, we shall follow you to the end of Harad if necessary." It is then that Aearion catches movement from the otherside of the bank. "We have an observer moving on the other side of the river," he says.
Ceredir looks across the river and into the fading light. "Their sentries, likely," he says after a moment, then looks to Faramir again. "I thought the plan -was- to go to Umbar... though with at least one of the Southrons knowing we are here, is that even possible now?"
[Faramir(#10683)]
"It is possible." states the Lord Captain with certainty, tearing his eyes from the sentry and regarding the other two. "Though we will be without tents when we do so." A fleeting smile creases the lips of Faramir as he looks upon the man on the southern bank once more. "Let him report his findings to his superiors. We shall meet with whomever they deem fit, and
hear what they have to say. Then we shall plan our next course of action. Not before."
[Aearion(#17937)]
"I'm not sure he sees our camp, but I can make him out in the fading light," Aearion says. "Do you want me to kill him sir?" he asks Ceredir. He grips his bow, which lies close by and flips his cloak from his shoulders.
"I recognized the man, sir," Ceredir notes. "The one who requested a meeting. He was in the camp when the Southrons took me last time. Was one of the ones guarding the tent they kept me in. So...I wonder if the meeting is his initiative or his superior's." At Aearion's question, he looks to Faramir, deferring to the Captain's judgment on it.
[Faramir(#10683)]
"No, Scout." comes the Captain's calm words. "To do so would only draw attention from the Haradhrim. If indeed he does not see our camp, there is no harm in letting him go. Yet if we kill him, they are certain to send out a search for their missing sentry." Shaking his head, he places his hand once again on Aearion's shoulder. "Let him live this night through. And perhaps on the morrow we will find out why he desires this meeting."
[Aearion(#17937)]
The young man relaxes his shoulders and pulls the cloak back over them. "Yes sir," he says trusting in the judgement of the two older men. He could have feathered the fool and thrown his body in the river. Killing was something Aearion had grown used to, a necessary part of his chosen occuption. Day by day the youth was becoming a professional.
The red hot desert sun rises over the horizon and heat waves dance before your eyes. The day begins.
"Just curious, sir," Ceredir continues to the Captain, nodding in agreement with the decision not to attack, "has the desert between here and Umbar been crossed before by our men? Or if we make the decision to head there, will we be forging a new path for us? And if so...the desert sun without the protection of tents.." He leaves the rest of that unstated.
[Faramir(#10683)]
"We have had dignitaries." states Faramir simply. "As for the heat, yes. That shall be a burden." Glancing back at the tents, he adds, "If in fact we are discovered, we shall need to leave a diversion." Waving a nearby Scout over, he whispers. "Have the men break down half the tents and pack them. Those assigned to those tents are to double with others." The orders given, he turns to regard the sentry across the river once more, even as the Scout scurries off to fulfill his orders.
[Aearion(#17937)]
Aearion listens to the conversation from his spot observing the river. He turns slightly to look at the two men and comments, "Sir, I am from Dol Amroth and have lived most of my life under the banner of the swan. I believe this situation would be aided if we had cavalry or some horse. Crossing such terrain on foot will test even the strongest among us." He falls silent and seems to fear having said too much. It wasn't his place to rub elbows with the son of the Steward.
"What kind of diversion did you have in mind?" Ceredir asks, watching the Scout hurry to carry out the orders. "And...if the heat and sun are a problem for men, won't it be even more so for horses? They would have to carry their own fodder, for one thing. And water or lack thereof...?" He turns his gaze south across the river again. "How do the Southrons manage it, I wonder?" Then a grin. "Perhaps it is something we can ask at our meeting with them?" he jokes, but then turns quite serious to look at Faramir again. "There is a way, sir...if we -do- have to go to Umbar...we might be able to do so openly, but it would involve..well, lying, frankly."
[Lochland(#20113)] A movement in the shadows announces the arrival of another scout, one of the more quiet ones. Not that the lot of them are noisy to begin with, but this one gives 'strong silent type' a run for it's money. Lochland. He gives a respectful nod and salute to those already gathered, then cops a squat among them.
[Faramir(#10683)]
"Horses would die in the desert." come the words of the Captain in response to Aearion. Then a nod to Ceredir. A frown creases his brow, but Faramir motions for the Master Scout to continue, pausing only to say to Lochland, "Do not salute while out here, Scout. All you do is present your officers as the Enemy's first targets."
Lochland frowns a tiny bit.. which means that it looks like he is now scowling full on. A grunt and he mumbles, "This is what happens when you spend most of your time alone."
The Master Scout's face twitches at the salute from Lochland, but as Faramir mentions it, he says nothing about it. A nod to Faramir, then he cautiously continues, picking his way through the topic with care.
"There is their claimant to the throne, Lord Alphros. It seems to me that...well, this is difficult. But I think that a delegation from Gondor, sent to hear his claim to the throne so that they can investigate it...I believe the Southrons would honor that. And in the course of the negotiations and discussions to hear that claim, it could be arranged to secure Amrundirn's release."
[Faramir(#10683)]
Silence falls upon the Lord Captain as he seems to mull over the suggestion presented to him. "Very good, Ceredir." he states after some time. "It may just work." Glancing back towards the camp, he continues. "I shall inform the men that the tents are to remain. I wish you to work out the details of this plan with Thingalad. In the mean time, keep an eye on the south. Anyone trying to cross the Poros is to be halted, but not harmed. Understood?"
Lochland is listening intently, as any good scout should, drinking in details and points. He nods subtly, even though the directive wasn't aimed at him.
"Understood, sir," Ceredir says, though his words are said with a heavy sigh. "We will do what we must to regain our brother." And that, it seems, is said with a certain intensity of feeling to it--a vow of some sort, though tinged with more than a hint of sadness and resignation. "Stand watch for now, Lochland," he tells the scout.
[Faramir(#10683)]
"Indeed we shall." comes the simple response from Faramir. Nodding to both men, the son of the Steward steps back a pace, still crouched. "Stay vigilant, the both of you. It is well that we have such men, for we have need to be strong. We shall not fail our brother." A smile is graced each - though fleeting it may be - before Faramir turns from the twain and makes his way back to the encampment.
Lochland waits untill Faramir is good and gone before he looks to Ceredir, his frown still fully in place. "Do you realy think such a plan will work?"
Ceredir is quiet for a while, too, looking after Faramir rather than watching the enemy on the southern banks. Lochland's question draws him out of whatever thoughts he might have--he stares at the Scout, his demeanor unusually quiet. "It will, in fact. Yes." He looks south again.
Lochland frowns deeper, his scowl down right intimidating.. to some. Yet his voice remains gentle, barely heard. "You seem so very confident in it." Then he nods once, "For our brother." Then he's off and moving silently to take up his post.
The northside of the Poros was quiet. The sun was setting into darkness and the rangers and scouts were setting up a fireless camp. Aearion pulled his cloak around his arms for protection against the cool air coming off the plains to the south. He gazed at the Poros and the land beyond. A land that could possibly be his final resting place.
Settled among some reeds here for at least some cover, Ceredir, cloak about him, gazes steadily south across the river. The remnants of his cold meal are in front of him, and he lifts a waterskin to his lips to sip, then seals it back up again. "At least they're not coming north to disturb us from these banks. Yet," he notes dryly to Aearion.
[Faramir(#10683)]
As the wind, the appearance of the son of Denethor comes swiftly and without warning. Suddenly crouching behind the twain, the Captain joins them in gazing southward. "What news?" asks Faramir, his voice low and soft, yet within it's embrace is the tone of authority. Steel eyes flit between the two a moment, before once again he returns his attention southwards, cool as the night air.
[Aearion(#17937)]
A low murmer had errupted among the rangers and scouts when Faramir had appeared, Aearion had never seen the man, but he had heard countless tales of the sons of Denethor and their heroics. He turns to look upon the man from his perch looking southward. He studies the man before saying, "No changes sir, the southbank is silent." His young voice is low and controlled, as was the custom of those in Ithillien.
"As ever, Lord Captain," Ceredir replies quietly, with a glance to Faramir and then back to the south, "the camp of the tribals is lively." He grimaces. "But that of the men of Umbar is disciplined. I do not know why they ask for a meeting."
[Faramir(#10683)]
A nod is all that is given the report, eyes never leaving the south. "Nor do I, Ceredir." states the Captain, his voice calm and soothing as he speaks. "Yet, we shall find out soon enough. A meeting they wish, and a meeting we shall give them." A gauntleted hand is placed, each on one of the men's shoulders. "Yet I shall not be alone. With men as vigilant as you, I am in good company."
[Aearion(#17937)]
Aearion feels a strange comfort in the man's words. Assurance... Suddenly the youth realizes that he had abandoned real hope that he was going to survive his first tour in Ithillien. The presence of Faramir offers him hope. Perhaps he would be able to see Dol Amroth again. "Thank you sir, we shall follow you to the end of Harad if necessary." It is then that Aearion catches movement from the otherside of the bank. "We have an observer moving on the other side of the river," he says.
Ceredir looks across the river and into the fading light. "Their sentries, likely," he says after a moment, then looks to Faramir again. "I thought the plan -was- to go to Umbar... though with at least one of the Southrons knowing we are here, is that even possible now?"
[Faramir(#10683)]
"It is possible." states the Lord Captain with certainty, tearing his eyes from the sentry and regarding the other two. "Though we will be without tents when we do so." A fleeting smile creases the lips of Faramir as he looks upon the man on the southern bank once more. "Let him report his findings to his superiors. We shall meet with whomever they deem fit, and
hear what they have to say. Then we shall plan our next course of action. Not before."
[Aearion(#17937)]
"I'm not sure he sees our camp, but I can make him out in the fading light," Aearion says. "Do you want me to kill him sir?" he asks Ceredir. He grips his bow, which lies close by and flips his cloak from his shoulders.
"I recognized the man, sir," Ceredir notes. "The one who requested a meeting. He was in the camp when the Southrons took me last time. Was one of the ones guarding the tent they kept me in. So...I wonder if the meeting is his initiative or his superior's." At Aearion's question, he looks to Faramir, deferring to the Captain's judgment on it.
[Faramir(#10683)]
"No, Scout." comes the Captain's calm words. "To do so would only draw attention from the Haradhrim. If indeed he does not see our camp, there is no harm in letting him go. Yet if we kill him, they are certain to send out a search for their missing sentry." Shaking his head, he places his hand once again on Aearion's shoulder. "Let him live this night through. And perhaps on the morrow we will find out why he desires this meeting."
[Aearion(#17937)]
The young man relaxes his shoulders and pulls the cloak back over them. "Yes sir," he says trusting in the judgement of the two older men. He could have feathered the fool and thrown his body in the river. Killing was something Aearion had grown used to, a necessary part of his chosen occuption. Day by day the youth was becoming a professional.
The red hot desert sun rises over the horizon and heat waves dance before your eyes. The day begins.
"Just curious, sir," Ceredir continues to the Captain, nodding in agreement with the decision not to attack, "has the desert between here and Umbar been crossed before by our men? Or if we make the decision to head there, will we be forging a new path for us? And if so...the desert sun without the protection of tents.." He leaves the rest of that unstated.
[Faramir(#10683)]
"We have had dignitaries." states Faramir simply. "As for the heat, yes. That shall be a burden." Glancing back at the tents, he adds, "If in fact we are discovered, we shall need to leave a diversion." Waving a nearby Scout over, he whispers. "Have the men break down half the tents and pack them. Those assigned to those tents are to double with others." The orders given, he turns to regard the sentry across the river once more, even as the Scout scurries off to fulfill his orders.
[Aearion(#17937)]
Aearion listens to the conversation from his spot observing the river. He turns slightly to look at the two men and comments, "Sir, I am from Dol Amroth and have lived most of my life under the banner of the swan. I believe this situation would be aided if we had cavalry or some horse. Crossing such terrain on foot will test even the strongest among us." He falls silent and seems to fear having said too much. It wasn't his place to rub elbows with the son of the Steward.
"What kind of diversion did you have in mind?" Ceredir asks, watching the Scout hurry to carry out the orders. "And...if the heat and sun are a problem for men, won't it be even more so for horses? They would have to carry their own fodder, for one thing. And water or lack thereof...?" He turns his gaze south across the river again. "How do the Southrons manage it, I wonder?" Then a grin. "Perhaps it is something we can ask at our meeting with them?" he jokes, but then turns quite serious to look at Faramir again. "There is a way, sir...if we -do- have to go to Umbar...we might be able to do so openly, but it would involve..well, lying, frankly."
[Lochland(#20113)] A movement in the shadows announces the arrival of another scout, one of the more quiet ones. Not that the lot of them are noisy to begin with, but this one gives 'strong silent type' a run for it's money. Lochland. He gives a respectful nod and salute to those already gathered, then cops a squat among them.
[Faramir(#10683)]
"Horses would die in the desert." come the words of the Captain in response to Aearion. Then a nod to Ceredir. A frown creases his brow, but Faramir motions for the Master Scout to continue, pausing only to say to Lochland, "Do not salute while out here, Scout. All you do is present your officers as the Enemy's first targets."
Lochland frowns a tiny bit.. which means that it looks like he is now scowling full on. A grunt and he mumbles, "This is what happens when you spend most of your time alone."
The Master Scout's face twitches at the salute from Lochland, but as Faramir mentions it, he says nothing about it. A nod to Faramir, then he cautiously continues, picking his way through the topic with care.
"There is their claimant to the throne, Lord Alphros. It seems to me that...well, this is difficult. But I think that a delegation from Gondor, sent to hear his claim to the throne so that they can investigate it...I believe the Southrons would honor that. And in the course of the negotiations and discussions to hear that claim, it could be arranged to secure Amrundirn's release."
[Faramir(#10683)]
Silence falls upon the Lord Captain as he seems to mull over the suggestion presented to him. "Very good, Ceredir." he states after some time. "It may just work." Glancing back towards the camp, he continues. "I shall inform the men that the tents are to remain. I wish you to work out the details of this plan with Thingalad. In the mean time, keep an eye on the south. Anyone trying to cross the Poros is to be halted, but not harmed. Understood?"
Lochland is listening intently, as any good scout should, drinking in details and points. He nods subtly, even though the directive wasn't aimed at him.
"Understood, sir," Ceredir says, though his words are said with a heavy sigh. "We will do what we must to regain our brother." And that, it seems, is said with a certain intensity of feeling to it--a vow of some sort, though tinged with more than a hint of sadness and resignation. "Stand watch for now, Lochland," he tells the scout.
[Faramir(#10683)]
"Indeed we shall." comes the simple response from Faramir. Nodding to both men, the son of the Steward steps back a pace, still crouched. "Stay vigilant, the both of you. It is well that we have such men, for we have need to be strong. We shall not fail our brother." A smile is graced each - though fleeting it may be - before Faramir turns from the twain and makes his way back to the encampment.
Lochland waits untill Faramir is good and gone before he looks to Ceredir, his frown still fully in place. "Do you realy think such a plan will work?"
Ceredir is quiet for a while, too, looking after Faramir rather than watching the enemy on the southern banks. Lochland's question draws him out of whatever thoughts he might have--he stares at the Scout, his demeanor unusually quiet. "It will, in fact. Yes." He looks south again.
Lochland frowns deeper, his scowl down right intimidating.. to some. Yet his voice remains gentle, barely heard. "You seem so very confident in it." Then he nods once, "For our brother." Then he's off and moving silently to take up his post.
Players: Faramir,Aearion,Ceredir,Lochland,Menawa
