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| Aragorn, King in Exile |
![]() Posted: Sat Jun 02, 2007 6:07 am |
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Joined: 26 Mar 2007
Posts: 302
Location: Weare, NH
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| DáinIronfoot |
![]() Posted: Sat Jun 02, 2007 9:49 am |
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Joined: 12 Jan 2007
Posts: 4594
Location: Beltsville, MD, USA
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Oops. I was rushing.  |
Best regards, Dáin, Vice Aftokrator of the Chosen Ones
Check out Lasting Alliances, The Road Ahead, and Ages of Middle-earth, three of my five dream card sets that make up Wars of the Ring. Oh, and I have a trade list now!
Also, if you're into DCs or RPGs (or even if you're not!), check out Realms of Middle-earth, the sequel to CG's "DC Adventure", Realms of the North! |
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| macheteman |
![]() Posted: Sat Jun 02, 2007 10:46 pm |
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Joined: 07 Dec 2006
Posts: 1200
Location: The Jungle
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| ok, i talked to dain, and i’ll be taking over Ryle once more. |
Check out my best article The Utterly Corrupt Corruption,
If at first you don't succeed...Sky-diving isn't for you.
"Combat is dangerous. It tends to interupt your breathing process."
ROLF!!! |
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| CarpeGuitarrem |
![]() Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2007 7:22 pm |
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Joined: 07 Apr 2006
Posts: 3361
Location: Franciscan University of Steubenville
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 Rocky Hollow 
Battleground. Each character with a twilight cost less than  is Vitality +1.
~~Site 6: The Rocky Hollow~~
"Quickly," Curubethion urged the others, scrambling up the rocky slope.
An icy wind blew down upon them...he’d led them into hills, and the winter chill was beginning to set in. There was a howl in the wind...a terrible sound, that hearkened back to the icewargs who had hounded the party. The terrible creatures who had attacked, and then vanished...Curubethion shivered, looking back.
"We’re almost there. It’s a shelter, not too far ahead..."
As they ran after him, he sat down in a large, rocky hollow, which kept the wind away from him. One by one, they arrived as well. He looked around at them, and nodded. "Excellent. It’s good to see we’ve made it. Now, we can rest a while."
"And what about this quest?" grumbled Rorin. "I want to hear more about it!"
"Unfortunately..." Curubethion began to reply, "I...don’t know very much..."
And then there was a scream. A bloodied figure ran towards the group-a man, wearing a gray robe and bearing a notched sword. Curubethion ran forward, and then took a closer look at the man. His eyes widened.
"Tarcian?" he whispered. "Is that you? What-what has happened?"
"A...a great power, Curu...dark and terrible...commands the icewargs...and he’s searching, searching..."
"Searching for what, Tarcian?"
"He’s searching...for...the Iceblade..."
~~
Curubethion had applied all of his healing skills to Tarcian, and now he waited, pondering the man’s words. He turned to the others. "Now, have you any friends that have helped you on adventures? And might you be able to send word back to them? We will need all the help we can spare."
The questers nodded, and Curubethion continued. "I think now, it would be best if we continued on in two seperate groups, one headed by myself, and one headed by Tarcian. Decide for yourselves which group you shall follow, and let me know. We must be swift, for...what he told me informs me of dire things."
Your Task:
Make a follower...that’s it, just a follower.
Decide whose group you will go in. I’m limiting groups to 6 members (including the Leader), so choose wisely.
DCs:
(This guy’s got three wounds on him)
•Tarcian, Northern Dúnedain 
Companion • Man
Strength: 6
Vitality: 4
Resistance: 5
Ranger. Leader.
While Tarcian is the Leader, at the start of each skirmish involving him, discard a card borne by a companion or add two burdens.
And these were played, but no minions...
Deathly Chill 
Condition • Support Area
While you can spot a minion, each unbound companion is resistance -2.
They Are Waiting
Condition • Support Area
Skirmish: Exert a minion and spot a companion with resistance 4 or less to make that companion strength -2.
•Alvarrad, Dark Messenger
Follower
Strength: +2
Aid-
Skirmish: If this follower is attached to a minion, return this follower to your hand and discard a minion to make the Free Peoples player exhaust an unbound companion. |
| "ok, change of plans. the Cobracards christmas party is coming to my house, and we’re gunna teach FM how to hunt." (mm) |
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| legoles3333 |
![]() Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2007 7:46 pm |
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Joined: 28 Nov 2006
Posts: 861
Location: In a place that is beyond your imagination
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Legoles said, "I will go with Tarcian, the rest of you may choose as you wish, but U will take my friend," at this, Legoles whistled 3 times at differant pitches, summoning an eagle to his arm. "I am ready now Tarcian."
*Legoles’ Hawk, Bird of Mirkwood 
Str +1
Res +1
Aid -
At the start of the Skirmish Phase, you may add and exert bearer to heal a companion |
Here's My Trade List
I have taken an oath of poverty, to annoy me, send money
I am a trained assassin catcher |
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| Anonymous Prodigy |
![]() Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2007 7:51 pm |
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Joined: 10 Jan 2006
Posts: 4197
Location: United States
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Dirthon watched as Curubethion finished tending Tarcian’s wounds. As the master ranger announced that the fellowship would be splitting up, Dirthon lifted his gaze. Most of the companions looked uneasy and unsure of which leader to follow.
Dirthon himself was pondering which ranger to go with. As he thought of the dangers that lay ahead on their road, his mind wandered back to when he was only a teenager in Ithilien, a ranger in training…
Dirthon walked silently beside his father, Dirthor, in the woods of Ithilien. As his father spoke to him of the customs and laws of the rangers, an arrow whistled through the trees and struck his father in the arm. Dirthon unslung his bow from his back and nocked an arrow. At the first sign of movement in the bracken, Dirthon loosed his arrow.
The shaft sped straight and true into the chest of the rogue Orc that had wounded his father. Dirthor lay on the ground, extracting the arrow from his arm. With a grimace, he pulled the barb free from his flesh. Dirthor had survived, but he was never able to use that arm again. From then on, he remained in the heart of Ithilien, unable to go to war with a lame arm. His father had father had charged him that he must become a great ranger like him, and accomplish great deeds for his home country of Gondor…
Dirthon had never forgotten that talk, and it had changed his life. From that day on, he vowed to become a ranger like his father.
Dirthon’s mind returned to the present, and he stood up from the log that he had been sitting on. Turning to Curubethion, he spoke clearly. “I have already walked many leagues with you, my friend,” he said. “And I will also walk the remaining leagues of this journey with you.”
• Dirthor, Veteran Ranger
Follower
Strength +1
Resistance +1
Aid – .
Each time you transfer this follower to a companion, except a ranger, exert bearer and add a burden.
Each time bearer wins a skirmish, you may heal a companion with the lowest vitality. |
| I had to put something here. |
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| elf lvr |
![]() Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2007 8:41 pm |
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Joined: 13 Jun 2006
Posts: 3065
Location: Rivendell
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Silvarin walked near the rear of the group, with Rorin and Ryle. He was shivering, despite the heat of a heavy cloak he had borrowed from the Ortan.
"Ah, are you cold, elf?" Chuckled Rorin, although ice and snow was clinging to his own beard. "A bit different from your cozy forest home, hmm?"
"Yes. Quite different indeed. You dwarves must be mad to try to withstand it," muttered Silvarin.
"Now, now," cautioned Ryle, "let’s not get into that arguement again. Let’s just get moving. I’d like to stop for a bit soon; Aeglirnen’s wings are freezing."
Silvarin looked at the Eagle with honest concern. "I might know something that could help. Hand him here, would you?" Silvarin, letting the eagle grip his right arm, began making signs in the air with his left hand. Suddenly, the eagle was wrapped in a cloak of blue flame. Rorin jumped back, swearing, but Silvarin laughed.
"Here, touch it. See? It’s only a bit warm. Should make things easier for him." Silvarin Let the bird fly away from his arm. In the cold mountain air, it quickly returned to Ryle.
"You have many a trick up your sleeves, Silvarin," said Ryle.
"Oh, yes, eagle-toasting, what a talent!" Muttered Rorin, jokingly. "Now why don’t you warm the rest of us up, eh?"
"Ah! I see how it is now. The dwarf suddenly doesn’t find the mountains quite so comfortable, eh? Would you like me to take you back to my ’cozy little forest’ now? Perhaps you could find yourself a sleeping Princess to serve. You look like you could certainly bear the title of Grumpy."
"You know as well as I that the dwarves are well-suited to the mountains. But this cold is more than winter’s tricks. It’s something much more evil."
The three walked on, slightly subdued by that pronouncement. Silvarin looked forward, to see Curubethion walking side-by-side with the other ranger, Tarcian. Soon, however, they would split up to search for... whatever it was they were searching for. |
Happy Hunting! Elf Lvr
Winner of Best Personality in the FPCA. Thanks!
Archduke Elf Lvr - Archidoux of the Chosen Ones
AMV Maker In-Training! Check out my newest production, Katsu!- A Diedara Tribute!
And behold, EL declared it good. And there was morning, and there was evening, the first (new) day. ~ DainIronfoot |
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| NBarden |
![]() Posted: Wed Jun 06, 2007 11:40 am |
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Joined: 28 Dec 2006
Posts: 5468
Location: I don't know...
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This is getting really tricky...
Duinihir looked at the stranger wily. This stranger was unknown to him, and he was not sure how trustworthy he was. Duinihir looked at Curubethion, and knew that he trusted the ranger, but was still unsure about this newcomer.
"I will travel with Curubethion," he said. "And I won’t go alone."
Duinihir let out a long sharp whistle. The sound of it seemed to pierce the air and it set off a loud noise.
From the distance, a howl responded, a long lonesome howl. The elves turned in surprise and nocked an arrow to their bows, but Duinihir motioned to them to lower the bows. Suddenly, out of the shadows sprang a large figure. The Rorin gave a cry and raised his axe. Duinihir was there in an instant to parry it.
"This is not one of the wargs, my friend, but my hound that has followed us from Bree. He will accompany us for the remainder of the mission."
At that, Rorin looked in amazement at the size of the hound. "Does he...bite?" asked the dwarf.
Duinihir laughed. "Only if I tell him to."
With that, Duinihir and his dog walked over towards Curubethion. "We will go with you."
 •Duinihir’s Hound
Follower
Strength: +3
Aid-  and add two threats.
Bearer must be Duinihir.
At the start of each skirmish involving Duinihir, wound a minion skirmishing him.
Assignment: If this follower is attached to a companion, return this follower to your support area to make this follower a strength 5, vitality 4, resistance 8 companion that cannot be overwhelmed unless his strength is tripled until the regroup phase. This card is still a follower.
"This is not one of the wargs, my friend, but my hound that has followed us from Bree."
BTW, how many copies of Deathly Chill are out? |
 -Trade With Me
 Add the popcorn smiley to your sig, help it achieve world domination.
What if the hokey pokey really IS what its all about? 
As I lay in bed staring at the stars last night, I thought to myself, "where the heck is the ceiling?"
 Spotlight on....Sense of Obligation. |
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| macheteman |
![]() Posted: Wed Jun 06, 2007 12:04 pm |
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Joined: 07 Dec 2006
Posts: 1200
Location: The Jungle
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Ryle and Rorin walked away from the commotion over the hound, and sat down on a large log. The eagle flew up above them.
Ryle took his eyes from the bird and clapped a hand on Rorin’s back. “Well,” he said, “even if this company is to split, nothing will rip me from you Rorin. You’ve been with me from the beginning, way back in Dale, and I’ll be there till the end, wherever that may take us. My sword will be at your side.”
“Aye lad, we’ll hang together yet. And I tell ya, we don’t know much of this quest, and we don’t know much of this land, and we don’t know much of these leaders we have so willingly pledged our lives to. But having the choice between them, I’d say we go with the one we know better. At least we’ve come this far with Curublastion, and he’s stood by us when things grew dim and dire.”
Ryle had begun sharpening his sword with his whetting stone as Rorin was talking. “It looks like things will only get darker and worse. But sometimes the light is hidden by our own shortsighted concern of our circumstances. We won’t survive if we don’t hold fast to our friendships, and put aside our petty quarrels which hinder our main goal. That’s a lesson the Ortans have had to learn. Our band is not bound by race, and distrust ran rampant through our ranks. It took a catastrophe to bring us unity. We were being picked apart by goblins in the misty mountains because we were fighting disjointed, and independently. We would have all perished but we joined together and fought our way down the slope of the mountain as morning drew near. And, at last, the faint rays of sunlight broke over the horizon and with them they brought hope. We lost many good men that day, and we lost the battle, but I won their trust, and can bring out their courage, now. And we fight as one, unified, because it is our only hope for survival. The Ortans are a mixed group, and you would never expect them to respect each other like they do, but they are all closer than brothers. We are men mostly, only a few from dale, some dwarves, even a couple elves. But it’s amazing their loyalty to one another. You really ought to see it Rorin. If we ever make it through this, you should come with me for a while, and we can roam with the Ortans all over the misty mountains and beyond. Our numbers are few; I don’t think there are more than forty Ortans anymore. But they will give their lives for each other.”
“Well,” Rorin said, “we have to survive this quest first. Don’t try to cross bridges you haven’t come to.”
The eagle flew down to perch on Ryle’s shoulder as he meticulously honed each arrow head. “If I don’t outlast this journey, if I die, will you find my men and tell them. And tell them to press on, hold fast and to never cease to protect the good in this world.”
“If I can lad, if I can. Now,” said the dwarf, “I must be preparing to leave.” As he left Ryle heard him mumble something similar to ‘where has that Elvish pyromaniac gone to now, eh?’
Ryle grinned, and wondered where their paths would take them.
•The League of the Ortan 
Follower
Strength: +3
Aid-
Bearer must be Ryle.
He is damage +1 and defender +1.
While this follower is in your support area, Ryle gains Hunter 1. |
Last edited by macheteman on Wed Jun 06, 2007 5:41 pm; edited 1 time in totalCheck out my best article The Utterly Corrupt Corruption,
If at first you don't succeed...Sky-diving isn't for you.
"Combat is dangerous. It tends to interupt your breathing process."
ROLF!!! |
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| sickofpalantirs |
![]() Posted: Wed Jun 06, 2007 1:18 pm |
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Joined: 23 Mar 2006
Posts: 7750
Location: somwhere, over the rainbow way up high. There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.
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Tuilin spoke up "I really don’t have a preference what group I go in. Whichever you think would be best I will be a part of. It would help if i could actually kill these things" He muttered.
Well others called pets or talked Tuilin retreated into his memories. He thought of his sisters and brothers. his mother and father. Half of his family was dead. but his memories would last much longer. He thought of the raid that had took most of his families lives. He still didn’t know who had orchestrated it. Someone who had been in mirkwood, and gotten out before he was found. The person had had a half-troll he knew that too. But not much beyond that "I need to go and visit my family sometime" he though. The next great gathering will be soon. I should make it a goal to be there"
and my follower
Elven Family
Follower
Aid -Exert an elf
Each time this follower is transferred to a companion you may remove an token to remove a threat. While bearer is a unique elf, bearer is strength +1. |
Sop's haves/ top wants
(mm)"SoP: you will always be the Official CC Spammer in my heart"
"DáinIronfoot"
Spammers really are amazing creatures. You can learn all there is to know about their ways in a month. And yet, after a hundred years, they can still surprise you. |
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