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| AgentDrake |
![]() Posted: Wed Jun 06, 2007 3:27 pm |
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Joined: 01 Apr 2007
Posts: 667
Location: Halfway between eccentric and insane...
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Ectheow watched the different companions choosing various companies. So where should he go?
Iceblade. That sounded promising....
He searched his memory for any sort of similar item -- or power, or fortress, or anything else -- that might be the same. Nothing came to mind specifically, but it did sound like the type of thing an Eotan might use, or some other form of fallen Maia... or maybe merely a oken of power...
Iceblade. Yes, that sounded promising indeed. And if he could not have it when they found it -- something he considered rather unlikely that anyone would let him just take -- then he could at least have a bit of fun finding the thing.
He looked at Tarcian. A bedraggled, terror-stricken fellow. Meh. What the hey? he asked himself as he sat down beside the wounded man, leaning against his axe. Where had he come from? What did he know?
"I will go with this Tarcian. He does not seem the type to run for long. You intend to go back, don’t you?" he asked. "I figured. I want to see whatever this thing is. Might be entertaining, if not profitable. And I might just learn a little more about this Iceblade."
Tarcian turned paler, and leaned back, whispering under his breath at the name.
"Do not forget: the old stories were once new. And new ones are always unfolding. Watch for those. Riches tend to be a focus. Power as well. Seek after where those things are, and you will find your story," Hygleac had told him. Then the Master had turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night. Ectheow did not see him again.
Afterwards, he learned that Hygleac had confronted and challenged Grima, and been killed by Hama, who saw the commotion, and slew Grima’s attacker, only discovering the old blindman’s identity afterwards. Grima had then convicted Hygleac and Ectheow of treason, and Ectheow was exiled.
Hama was a fool. The Master indeed had the Second Sight. He had been right about Grima, the treacherous little worm. Theodred had begun to suspect as well, but Ectheow no longer had any place in Rohan. So he left.
But he always remembered: the old stories were once new. The new ones still unfolded.
 Hylgeac’s Vision, Second Sight 
Follower
Strength +1
Resistance +2
Aid - Add two threats.
While bearer is a companion, each time a minion uses a special ability, you may add a burden to exert that minion.
"Hweat! In gear daegum..." |
| Never kid about politicians. The more bizarre the joke, the more likely it is to come true. |
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| DáinIronfoot |
![]() Posted: Wed Jun 06, 2007 4:36 pm |
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Joined: 12 Jan 2007
Posts: 4594
Location: Beltsville, MD, USA
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“Ah, there you are, Elf,” Rorin said, walking up behind Silvarin. It took the Dwarf a second to notice Silvarin was talking with someone else. “Oh, uh, Elves,” he corrected himself, noticing Tuilin. “Er...uh...did I interrupt?” Rorin asked awkwardly.
Silvarin grinned. “Just like a Dwarf to crash into the middle of things, eh Tuilin?” he said jokingly to his Elven companion.
“Ah, but you Elves should have noticed me coming,” Rorin said back, “with your ‘telepathy’ and all.”
They all chuckled. “What do you need, Rorin?” Silvarin asked.
“Nothing that cannot wait, lad,” the Dwarf replied. “You two go ahead and say your farewells.”
Tuilin raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think that we—?”
“What, do Elves not say goodbye to friends?” Rorin inquired with a raised brow of his own. “I know you’ve known each other hundreds of years and all, but....” he trailed off as Tuilin smirked and Silvarin just shook his head in amusement.
“Oh...you blasted Elves! I can never tell when you are being serious!” Rorin said, throwing up his hands and walking off. “And I was just trying to be nice!” He shook his head and called over his shoulder to Silvarin, “Just come see me when you’re done, you hotheaded Elf!”
“Whatever you say, brick-dropping Dwarf!” Silvarin called.
Rorin just waved a hand dismissively and made his way over to where Ectheow was leaning on his axe, sitting beside this mysterious new ranger. The Dwarf never would have imagined he’d meet one who revealed less than Curubethion, but since his initial “introduction” to the company, the man had said practically nothing.
“Might be entertaining, if not profitable. And I might just learn a little more about this Iceblade,” Rorin heard Ectheow saying as he walked up. The new ranger, Tirian or whatever it was, mumbled and whispered to himself. Unsure what to say to the man, Rorin turned to Ectheow and teased “You may have more to learn still than just that, minstrel.”
The Man of Rohan smiled. “Is that so, Rorin?”
“If you’re going off without me, I think you’ll need one final lesson,” Rorin said.
“Oh reeeeeeeally?” Ectheow said, rising and simultaneously kicking his axe up to chest level and snatching it out of the air. “I truly did learn quite a bit last time, Rorin. You might not find me so easy to bruise now.”
“Let’s find out then, lad!” Rorin said heartily, waving Ectheow over towards a nearby clearing.
Within minutes, both were winded and probably bruised, but they didn’t stop to check. Ectheow had improved dramatically, and he met Rorin strike for strike, swing for swing, and the blunt side of his axe connected with Rorin nearly as often as the flat side of the Dwarf’s battle axe landed a blow on him. A few of the others had gathered, some cheering on Rorin and others rooting for the seeming underdog Ectheow.
The former minstrel grunted as he misread Rorin’s movements and paid for it with a smack in the ribs from Rorin’s axe. The two were taking special care not to let the sharpened edges of their weapons connect with their opponent, but even the flat metal sides of the axes made for a blow that left marks.
“You’re dead again, laddie!” Rorin said, raising a fist in a moment of short celebration. “That’s seventeen for me, and...how many for you now?”
“Fifteen!” Duinhir shouted from the sidelines.
“That’s two too close!” Rorin said, raising his axe and coming at Ectheow again.
But this time, he was ready. Ectheow raised his own axe in a defensive posture, but then sidestepped at the last moment and brought the flat of his axe down on Rorin’s exposed back as the Dwarf half sprinted, half fell past him.
“Aaagh!” Rorin shouted as he tripped and dropped to the ground. He rolled over just in time to see Ectheow holding his axe above the Dwarf’s face.
“Do you yield?” the exiled Rohirrim asked, smiling.
Rorin nodded. “Aye,” he said, accepting Ectheow’s outstretched hand as he was pulled to his feet. “But I still got you by one, lad.”
“Actually,” Dirthon said, grinning from ear to ear, “you’re tied.”
“You said it was fifteen!” Rorin sputtered.
Dirthon shrugged. “I lied.”
“Why you—!” Rorin took a step in the ranger’s direction, who ducked behind Ryle and Duinhir, chuckling.
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I’ll write another section or two at this site, including one with Rorin’s card. Still have to figure out what to do.  I think Drake will have a follow-on to this section at some point, too. |
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: Thu Jun 07, 2007 1:00 pm |
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Joined: 07 Dec 2006
Posts: 1200
Location: The Jungle
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| bump. come on guys, lets get this going. |
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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| sickofpalantirs |
![]() Posted: Thu Jun 07, 2007 1:25 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 had decided to go with Tircian and was talking to Silvarin about his memories of Lyon and the conquest of moria when Rorin walked up. Not noticing that Tuilin was there he began to talk to Lyon before seeing him. After a bit of friendly banter. Rorin said “You two go ahead and say your farewells.”
Tuilin raised an eyebrow and said non-seriously. “What makes you think that we—?”
“What, do Elves not say goodbye to friends?” Rorin inquired with a raised brow of his own. “I know you’ve known each other hundreds of years and all, but....”
he trailed off as Tuilin smirked and Silvarin just shook his head in amusement. “For the record” Tuilin said “I have only known Silvarin a few years, And I wouldn’t say we are friends” he said with a sarcatic smirk.
Rorin complained about how hard it was to tell when they were serious to which Tuilin replied “You are right there is a chance we will not meet again, after all I am not much good when I cannot even shoot the enemy, and when I do they don’t die. I am beginning to feel our mission is hopeless and we should give up and go to our own homes.” “You don’t mean that” Rorin said incensed. “Right I was being sarcastic.”
Rorin replied with a "Bah" and spun around. Tuilin chuckled lightly at the annoyed dwarf, Rorin spun around quickly and said to Silvarin “Oh come and see me when you are finished please” Tuilin Quickly contained his laughter, and then Silvarin started laughing at him, Tuilin began too, harder then Silvarin. Rorin just looked at them quizzically for a few seconds then turned around and murmured “Elves...” before going over to Ectheow. |
Last edited by sickofpalantirs on Thu Jun 07, 2007 6:36 pm; edited 1 time in total 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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| AgentDrake |
![]() Posted: Thu Jun 07, 2007 4:05 pm |
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Joined: 01 Apr 2007
Posts: 667
Location: Halfway between eccentric and insane...
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As Rorin stepped towards the ranger, Ectheow stepped behind him and tapped him with his axe.
"Kill."
Rorin turned around. "What, laddie?"
Ectheow grinned.
"Eighteen."
The dwarf sputtered, inarticulately, then swept Ectheow’s feet from under him.
"Eighteen."
Ectheow struggled up, legs wobbling.
"Good, laddie," Rorin said, "Very good. But I believe that you’re a bit too wobbly to continue."
"Nonsense," Ectheow grunted. "I’m just starting," he said, and promptly fell back down. "Maybe you’re right. But we can continue this some other time. I take it you’re travelling with Master Cera.. Cooru... The Ranger?"
Rorin nodded, and Ectheow looked off distantly. Tarcian still sat shivering.
"When this is over, you’ll have to teach me some of those Dwarven lays," Ectheow said. "Some of those ones you sang sounded pretty... interesting."
"A dwarf cannot be expected to recall the deeds of his forefathers properly when he’s doused by ale," Rorin grunted. "But aye, when we meet again, perhaps I’ll tell you what they’re supposed to sound like."
Ectheow smiled, and hobbled off to the campfire for food.
"Till this is over, then." |
| Never kid about politicians. The more bizarre the joke, the more likely it is to come true. |
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| Eomer3rdMarshal |
![]() Posted: Mon Jun 11, 2007 12:48 pm |
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Joined: 14 Apr 2006
Posts: 163
Location: Riding free in the Westfold
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Celebthir remained in the center of the group, yet somehow relatively unnoticed. The Silvan elf had been struggling in his mind for about an hour, deciding the best course of action. "I will go with Tarcian," he said aloud. Stepping up to the man, who looked exhausted and afraid, he said quietly, "Do not worry. Whatever the danger may be, with the help of the Vala we shall prevail. Even Morgoth, the ancient Enemy who overpowered all the Elves that ever were, was not too strong for them. We must do what we can, and have faith." Celebthir meant every word he said.
Though he was not a mage, the elf had learned to sense power, whether evil or good, and he had felt the Vala helping him before. Elbereth, Orome, Manwe, and so many more... It was good to know that there were some things you could always believe in, that the powers of evil were not the strongest out there.
 *Protection of the Valar 
Follower
Resistance +2
Aid - Discard a card from hand. To play, spot an Elf.
Each time you transfer this to a companion (except an Elf), exert bearer.
While bearer has at least 7 resistance, he is strength +1 and damage +1. |
| "Forth Eorlingas!" |
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| DáinIronfoot |
![]() Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 2:59 pm |
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Joined: 12 Jan 2007
Posts: 4594
Location: Beltsville, MD, USA
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10 days since the last post? That won’t do at all.... 
Well, Rorin may be everyone’s therapist, teddy bear, and joker thus far--which is great!--but it’s time for him to get serious for a minute, because the only follower I can think of doing for him does not come from a happy story....
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“Forefathers....”
Ever since uttering the word, Rorin had been lost in thought. A sudden memory had welled up, one he had been trying to put out of his mind ever since telling Silvarin the story of his escape from the mines of the Iron Hills. He had distracted himself with conversation and laughter and sparring, and though he wouldn’t admit it, he had enjoyed hearing others tell their tales...partly because it allowed him to bury his own.
But no more. The feeling of loss and guilt was rushing back now, and just as when his father had fallen, there was nothing Rorin could do to stop it.
“Remember, Rorin,” Balir said for probably the hundredth time. “It is not what we do, but who we are that matters. In the end, though our deeds may be talked of for many years, it is who we were—how we accomplished our tasks—that will be remembered for generations.”
“I know, father,” Rorin replied. “That is why I must work hard in the mines, that I might be remembered as Rorin, the Swift and Tireless rather than simply Rorin, the Smith and Miner.”
Balir laughed, missing the slight eye roll Rorin did as he gathered his equipment for another long day under the hills. “That is actually why I do not mind being known as Balir, the Miner,” his father said. “It is a noble profession, and many benefit from our hard labor.”
‘While we live in a cave and they go off to battle,’ Rorin thought wryly. “Goodbye, father,” was all he said on his way out, without even glancing back over his shoulder.
Rorin spent most of that afternoon dreaming of combat. He had only been in one real battle, but it had been a chaotic one to the west, under the shadow of Erebor. He and his father had answered the call to march to the aid of the long-lost King Under The Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield himself. He and many of his kin had followed Dáin Ironfoot and found themselves locked in battle not with Elves and Men, as expected, but with their old enemies, the goblins and orcs of the mountains. Rorin had spent most of the battle merely trying to survive, fending off attacks more than he focused on striking down foes, but he had come through relatively unscathed.
Though Thorin fell, Dáin was named King Under The Mountain and remained at Erebor, bringing rise to a bright new age for all Dwarves. Balir, however, though fiercely loyal to his king, longed for his simple life at home. He was a brilliant smith, and wished only to set down his battle axe and take up his hammer and anvil again. Rorin had at first pleaded to remain, but he had eventually submitted to his father’s wishes and retuned to the Iron Hills.
Ever since, however, he had longed for war again. His father reminded him time and again—as he had this morning—that great wars did not make those in them great, but it was how they carried themselves, and how they carried others.
Rorin had grown tired of the speech.
A heavy, crashing thud brought him back to his senses, and with horror he realized that he had been chipping at the same area of the cavern walls too long, and huge piece had broken loose and ripped the wooden scaffolding free, right below his feet!
Dropping his mining tools, Rorin did the only thing he had time for...he leapt forward and dug his hands and feet into any handholds he could find on the rocky wall.
Just in time! The whole walkway gave way below, and with a final wrenching shudder, broke from the wall and fell into the dark abyss of the mines.
It may have been minutes or hours before help had arrived. Rorin’s limbs were burning from the effort, and his head was spinning...all concept of time had long ago been lost. He had begun to despair at last, and was about to let go when he saw his father drop down next to him.
“Take my hand, son!” Balir cried, reaching out.
“Father?” Rorin said, half-delirious. “Is it you?”
“They are holding me from above,” Balir replied, indicating the rope tied around his midsection. “They can hold us, but you must hurry! Take my hand!” he repeated.
Rorin did so, and with strength he didn’t know his father had, he was pulled to Balir’s side.
“I have him!” Balir called upwards, looking back at Rorin with a smile.
It took only a minute for the stout Dwarves of the Iron Hills to hoist them up. Rorin was beginning to come to his senses again, and observed that they had set up a makeshift simple pulley, with the rope twisted over a rocky outcropping to offset some of the weight.
But even as Rorin looked, the rope began to fray against the sharp edges of the rock. In their haste to save them, the Dwarves didn’t realize that the friction of lowering Balir and then especially pulling them back up had done severe damage to the rope.
“Wait!” he warned. “The rope—!”
He never finished. Just as Balir turned, the rope snapped.
It all happened too fast. Rorin felt his stomach lurch, but then he found himself sliding across the rocky floor into the other Dwarves. Balir had the time to try and save himself, but he had used those precious moments to toss Rorin to safety instead.
By the time Rorin looked back, he was gone.
“NOOO!” he cried, diving forward. Only the Dwarves grabbing at him from behind kept him for going over the edge himself. “FATHER!”
With a shudder, Rorin was suddenly back in the present. He noticed he was sitting down, far from the rest of the company. How he had gotten there—and how long he had been gone—he wasn’t entirely sure of.
What he was sure of, finally, was what his father had always tried to teach him. He had spent all the time he could find since that day training for battle. He had devoted himself to it, training under Glóin and Thorin Stonehelm after moving to Erebor. In battle, he could exorcise his demons. He could escape his memories. In warring with the goblins of the north, and aiding the Men of Dale, and crafting axes and swords and armor as his father had, and in bringing up Ryle, he had always been running from the simple lesson his father had tried to instill in him. He had been trying to accomplish great tasks. They had aided others, certainly, but he had not been doing it for them: he had been trying to become great himself.
And he had been trying to overcome the shame he felt that his father had saved him, an ungrateful son who ignored his father’s lessons and rolled his eyes at his father’s stories and guidance. If he could just be a great warrior, if he could just be a great smith, if he could just....
But it was never enough, because only now—now that he had allowed himself to open up to his companions, to try and help them with their problems, not expecting anything in return—did he feel worthy of his father’s sacrifice.
Only now was he becoming half the Dwarf his selfless, servant-minded father ever was.
“How we accomplish our tasks,” Rorin whispered to himself, wiping his eyes clear. “Aye.”
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 •Balir, Wise Smith 
Follower
Aid – .
To play, spot Rorin.
Each time you transfer this to a companion, except a companion, exert bearer.
Bearer is strength +1 for each weapon and armor he or she bears (limit +3) and resistance +1 for each tale you can spot (limit +3).
“‘It is not what we do, but who we are that matters.’” |
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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| Anonymous Prodigy |
![]() Posted: Sat Jun 23, 2007 6:59 am |
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Joined: 10 Jan 2006
Posts: 4197
Location: United States
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Great piece, Dain!  |
| I had to put something here. |
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| sickofpalantirs |
![]() Posted: Sat Jun 23, 2007 10:14 am |
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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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| there is a discussion thread. Ap after you see this and move delete your post feel free to give mine the boot. |
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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| macheteman |
![]() Posted: Fri Jul 06, 2007 8:43 am |
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Joined: 07 Dec 2006
Posts: 1200
Location: The Jungle
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| is this thing just going to die? |
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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