Healing for all?

Intersection of Great West Road and Old South Road

Clouds scutter across the Spring sky...

The wind blows in from the plains, chilling you.

This is a major intersection of two of the greatest roads of ancient Gondor. The great heights of the Misty Mountains\' south end leap upward north of you, and the line of the White Mountains runs east-west off to the south of here. To the north and northeast, the Wizard\'s Vale opens up, and you can see the ring of Isengard with the tower of Orthanc up against the mountains in that direction. The fields of Rohan open up to the east, and the Gap of Rohan lies off to the west.The Old South Road runs out through the Gap of Rohan to the west. The Great West Road runs a short distance northward, to the gates of Isengard, and a slightly longer distance southward to the Fords of Isen.

Obvious exits:

West leads to Old South Road - Gap of Rohan.

North leads to Vale of Isengard: North of the Fords of Isen.

East leads to West Bank, Fords of Isen.

NorthEast leads to Track--Along Foothills.

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Dunland Time and Weather Forecast

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Real Time is:       Mon Jun 21 15:36:27 2010

IC weather is:      Wind:  - Clouds: moderate - Rain: moderate

IC Moon is:         Full

IC time is:         Dawn

IC date is:         Monday, Day 26 of March in the year 3050.

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[Tet\'Nak(#6174)] The early morning hours sees the sun in the distance. It is raining ever so slightly, making the weather miserable. Off the side of the road is a small encapment, built with small timber, a fire pit, and a few stones for seats. There\'s a wagon nearby, and already people are moving about, loading the wagon and ready to depart. Dawn will sing in the air soon, making it fit for travel, and obviously these people are eager to make their way.

They are not the only ones abroad this day. The sound of hooves on the rain-damp turf is followed by the emergence of a single horseman from the shadowed arms of the western hills. In the grey dawn light there is little to show his race or errand - simply the outline of a solitary figure in a sodden grey cloak, a long spear resting at his side. He comes on toward the encampment in silence - and then leans forward over his steed\'s grey mane as a fit of coughing takes him.

[Tet\'Nak(#6174)] \"By all that\'s holy!\" someone barks, and either the same person, or another, walks toward the rider. He\'s holding a spear, and with the gradual rising of the sun, he is in his manhood, but has not seen enough summers to wear a full beard yet.

\"What is it, there? Coming to get us all sick?\" He waves his spear up at the horsemen, \"We are already. Going to Isengard! For a cure!\"

The rider answers this question by sending out a gobbet of spit, and bringing his own spear up in a warning gesture, though he remains leaned forward over the grey mare\'s neck. Even half-incapacited, the casual skill in the motion is apparent. \"Then you will wait.\" The words, harsh as a raven\'s croak, fall flatly in the silence. \"There are others, back yonder seeking the same path. In these lands, larger is better than smaller.\"

[Tet\'Nak(#6174)] The man looks over his shoulder and calls out, \"Remar, we got a problem here, a real talker.\" He turns back to the rider before the other gets there, who is walking over in the distance. \"Who says? We\'re almost there, we have no need to wait. You wait if you want.\"

Now, an older man, holding a club at his side stands there and stares at the rider without word.

The rider pulls himself erect, though his spear remains level. \"I think not. Do you prefer to talk with blades?\" He twists the spear, angling it so that the wan morning light reflects off its bright tip, and the motion sends the hood spilling from his head. The rain-soaked tresses that reach past his shoulders are unmistakeably dark: not a Rohir, then.

He holds the pose a moment, then draws a long breath. \"Go - seek your cure. And may the Forgoil reward you for your kindness to your kinfolk.\" Notably, he neither asks nor offers a clan name.

[Tet\'Nak(#6174)] \"Not if you mind your own business,\" the man that has been speaking continues. \"Otherwise, yeah, you might get your head beat in.\" The man known as Remar just nods. \"Now, if you are deciding to leave us alone, fine. Get going, we\'ll be off in a while, your banter is making it hard for us to pack up and get going, hear me?\"

The drizzle drips off the rider\'s hair and the horse\'s mane. His shoulders shake, as though another cough were being suppressed. When it is done, he speaks again. \"Or I might ... just ... remove yours.\" Without warning, the spear twists forward, aiming toward the club-wielder\'s weapon-shoulder even as the rider kicks the mare to leap past both footmen, angling her as though to pass both and continue eastward. The fact that neither man shows signs of the sickness has likely been noted.

\"Filthy peasants,\" he murmurs under his breath.

[Tet\'Nak(#6174)] \"Aaargh!\" yells Remar as the spear pierces his shoulder. He drops his weapon and falls onto his back in pain. The horse vaults away even as the speaker turns and stabs wildly at the rider. He\'s obviously not greatly skilled with the weapon, but the spear has quite a bit of reach ...

The grey mare, fortunately, has quite a bit of skill in dodging. She wheels away from the spear-point, hooves slipping on the muddy ground and then finding purchase again. The speaker\'s spear misses the rider\'s vulnerable leg by only an inch or so, but it is enough.

A moment\'s silence follows broken only by laboured breathing as the rider brings his steed around to face the spearman again. \"That was to teach respect toward a Fian,\" he growls, the words ending in a cough. \"And this-\" he forces out between wheezes, \"is to make certain you appreciate that cure.\" His spear-tip, already washed clean by the drizzle, remains in a warding gesture instead he inhales a lungful of air and with the next cough expels tainted air and mucus toward the spearman while his shaking arm attempts to keep the other weapon at bay.

[Tet\'Nak(#6174)] The spear wielding Dunlendings takes a gob right on the chin. He screams out in anger, rushing the Fian with his spear raised. Remar is still on the ground in pain, his club laying a few feet away, but he does not seem to be a danger at the moment. \"You bastard, I will kill you!\" Charging, the man\'s eyes are wide, in a fit of wild rage, looking to break down the distance between he and the rider as quickly as he can without regard for his own safety.

The horse neighs and rears, striking out with her forelegs at the threat. Of course, this unbalances her rider. Years of practise can only do so much, especially when concentration is compromised by ill-health. This time the footman\'s spear slices through one of the long boots the rider wears, laying bare flesh beneath. The rider\'s face contorts, but he does not cry out, instead tightening his knees to guide the mare back and away. A thin line of blood wells up through the slash in his boot. \"No need,\" he answers hoarsely. \"The sickness will do that - but I have,\" he pauses, swallows phlegm, \"a price to exact first. Not from you - but I loathe opportunists. Bear, was it? Stag?\" Each word is slightly fainter than the last the grey mare is drawing back and her rider does not stop her.

[Tet\'Nak(#6174)] The young man scores a hit, well, more like a nick. Rushing so wildly causes him to stumble to his knees and fall. Meanwhile, Remar stands up, grabbing his club again, though he is unable to raise it with his \'sword-arm\'. \"Just let him go, Blethar!\" the man with the club yells.

Blethar, the man with a club, just waves toward the rider. \"Go! Leave us be already!\"

The rider pauses at the sight of the waving club, clearly torn. His spear-arm rises. \"Shall I leave you with one extra present?\" he taunts. It is an empty threat, and he knows it - he will not risk losing his spear. And the cough hacks at him again, spoiling his aim.

He struggles for breath for a moment, then barks out harshly, \"Take this - a warning. This cure you prate of was offered to /my/ clan. Any who hinder their passage, or try to steal healing for those less in need, will regret it.\" Words end, and his knees tighten again round the mare so that she is moving away at speed.