Hunt for the Palantíri RPG

[Regin Hardhammer]

Holding the Palantir gingerly in his arms, Marreth watched eagerly as his ship got closer and closer to the wounded Elven vessel. Soon the other Stone would be his and the Elves would be dead. Even Lord Castamir could no longer stand against him.

But when he was no more than a stone’s throw from the ship, he saw with dismay that the Elves had finished restringing the sails on the half shattered mast. Now their ship was escaping and sailing slowly toward the shore. Although their sail worked, it did not provide full maneuverability and it was unstable enough to be knocked down by a strong gust of wind. Perhaps, they aimed to continue the fight on land, where both parties stood on equal footing.

“Not again!” yelled Marreth livid from frustration. He would not let the Elves slip away again and thwart his plans. His determination and passion flared higher than ever as he racked his mind for a course of action. The Corsair ship might not be able to catch the Spirit before it reached land and Marreth did not want to pursue them on dry ground if he could finish them off at sea.

Then Marreth stumbled on an idea that he had used once before to gain the upper hand on the Elves. “Bring the hostage to me,” he roared. Two of his crew brought the Elf woman to Marreth. She had been captured during the foray to free Hilde from her incarceration. The blue robe the woman wore was battered, covered with dust, and slightly ripped in places but the Elf herself was relatively healthy, especially considering the abysmal conditions of the ship’s prison. “How are you doing, little lady,” Marreth quipped with a grin. She made no effort to answer and kept her head down and eyes closed.

Marreth brought his ship to a halt and bellowed out a challenge, “Luindal, you sea dog, I have something that might be of interest to you. You best stop and hand over that large Palantir. I already hold one of them in my hand and I enjoy starting new collections. What do you say? Otherwise, this little lady could get very damp.”

With that, Marreth grabbed Andtuariel by the shoulder and shoved her out to the very end of the plank.

[Child of the 7th Age]

The two ships stood unmoving in the water, each in close proximity to the other. After hearing the proposal that had been made, Luindal responded calmly to Marreth, "We wish to see the Elf safe, but will need a moment to consider what you are asking us to do and how we are to move this massive Stone. It won't be easy getting the thing from one ship to the other." He pointed towards the massive globe that had been set down in the stern of the vessel.

Marreth responded with a grin on his face, "A moment? A moment is fine but make sure you take no longer than that."

Quickly, Luindal beckoned the crew, both Elves and Lossoth, over to a spot where they would not be seen or heard by the Corsairs. Annû was the first to speak, "Surely you do not believe him?"

"No more than you do. But we can play for time, enough time to prepare a little surprise of our own." Luindal snapped out his instructions. "Tarn, Nilak and the other Lossoth....you are to move the Stone into the net and act as if you are cranking up the winch to swing the package over to the Corsair ship. Keep a firm grip on Stone and net, but make sure you have trouble with your task. If a head or two should roll by being knocked by a swinging net and Stone, so be it."

"I will take the helm and sail straight in, positioning our ship beside theirs."

"That's all?" Annû queried.

"No, I need volunteers, preferably Elves who don't mind cold water. As we approach the ship, slip into the sea and make your way over to the far side of the Corsair vessel. You won't have to swim far. One of you take this rope, throw it up and have it latch onto something solid to give yourself a ladder to shimmy up. Once you're on board, stir up some havoc and try to get Andtuariel out of the way. We'll attack from the front once we see you're safely on the ship." The companions nodded and each headed off to a task.

Luindal was not sure about Andtuariel's safety. Once Mareth knew they planned to attack, she would be the first to go. Yet he had no idea what else to do.

Luindal turned back to Marreth since the Corsair had again begun to call impatiently from the other ship, "We will give you the Stone," Luiindal hastily assured him. "I do not want to see another crew member die, especially a woman. Only this Palantir is massive, and it may take us a while to get it loaded in the net. If it's alright with you, I'll sail over towards your ship where we can do the transfer."

"By all means, come visiting. But remember that we will all have our weapons trained on the Spirit and, if there is anything suspicious, the pretty dainty goes first." Marreth grinned again and gestured towards Andtuariel who was perched on the end of the plank, shivering and looking thoroughly miserable.

[piosenniel]

Rôg’s hands were gripped firmly on the rail. The waters of the bay were choppy, making him feel as if he did not hold on tightly he would be washed overboard. He stumbled a little as the deck lurched, and felt the strong grip of someone’s hands on the back of his arm, steadying him. ‘Careful, Rôg, we would not want to lose you when you are so close to going home.’ It was little Rodhal, a concerned look on his face. Rôg smiled at the boy, stepping away from the rail with him to the passageway below deck.

He had stepped just down to the second step when the ship lurched again. He was thrown against the side of the passageway, staggering to get himself up as well as Rodhal, when a number of Elves came running up the stairs, weapons in hand. ‘What’s happening?’ the boy cried out, shrinking against the wall of the passage. Rôg put his hand out, stopping one of the Elves. Before he could ask his question, the Elf was already starting past him. ‘The Captain has called us on board. The Corsairs are making an attempt to get the palantir from us.’ Rôg took Rodhal down to his cabin and bade him stay there – safe from the happenings above. ‘I’ll send your Uncle down to you if I see him above.’

Rôg ran quickly back to the deck. The Corsair ship had approached near the Elven ship. Luindal had turned the Sea Spirit about and was now parallel with the other. Rôg turned his head up toward the quarterdeck; he could see Elwë and Annû, their faces grim, intent upon the Corsair ship. Others of the Elves had taken positions along the deck, many of them with bows in hand, arrows already nocked. He let his eyes track to the ship opposite them and to the ragged figure that stood wavering on the plank that protruded from it. It was Andtuariel!

‘You should go below,’ one of the crew members said to him. ‘You are not armed. And soon, I think, there will be fighting.’ He pushed the Skinchanger gently but firmly back toward the passageway, then turned away to take up his position. Rôg stood for a few moments in the shadow of the passage, waiting for the Elf’s attention to be turned away from him fully.

‘I don’t have any weapons,’ he murmured to himself as he crept to the opposite side of the ship from where all were focused on the Corsairs. ‘But I can do something to help.’ With those words, he slipped over the side of the ship, dropping toward the waves below. He dove deep beneath the surface, his strong flippers and tail moving him quickly through the water. Soon he was positioned near the Corsair ship, just below the plank. He could see the Elf’s blue cloak fluttering in the breeze above.

‘Andtuariel,’ he barked up to her, trying to catch her attention. ‘Just jump . . .’

[Arry]

The salt water stung his wound intensely. Annû sucked in his breath and eased himself away from the Spirit, swimming with strong strokes toward the Corsair vessel. Elwë followed close behind him. Both of them had stripped down to their breeches and carried a knife and clubs as weapons. A dozen other of the crew had also slipped over the side at Luindal’s request, their own knives, clubs, and swords well secured against the heaving of the waves.

Elwë was the one who had taken the rope the Captain had offered. When all had gathered at the far side of the Corsair ship, Elwë threw the rope with its small grappling hook up toward the long boat that hung from the davit. The curved prongs caught on the rim of the boat, and Elwë climbed up quickly, hand over hand. the others followed suit, clambering into the boat as quietly as they could. Annû was the last one up. He pulled the rope up after him, stowing it in the bottom of the boat.

It was only a short distance from where the boat was suspended to the deck of the ship. With a great yell, the Elves sprang from the cover of the boat, leapt over the ship’s railing, and poured onto the deck, their weapons slashing and bashing with great effect. In the midst of the sudden confusion, Elwë, Annû, and one other Elf made their way toward the plank where Andtuariel was perched . . .

[Regin Hardhammer]

Marreth howled in rage as the Elves spilled onto the deck and began to fight. He quickly glanced at the spot where the female Elf was standing. He felt like tossing her into the Bay. That coward Luindal had broken his word, and Andtuariel should pay the price. But right now he had other things to worry about. The Elf would have to wait until the intruders had been defeated and the Palantari was safe.

"Mates," he yelled out, "Over here!" He beckoned to a several of his men. "Keep the Elves from breaking through to the woman. "The rest of you come with me. Form a cordon to guard the Stone." He set the smaller Stone down on top of a barrell and ordered four of his crew to protect it with their lives. "Keep this safe, and there'll be fine loot in it for each of you."

Then he gestured several more crew members to come to his side. They formed an outer ring around the barrel intent on safeguarding the Stone. Within a few moments everyone was fighting as swords and daggers flashed in the air.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Everywhere loud shouts erupted and the clash of blade on blade as the Elves swarmed over the deck of the Corsair vessel, trying to battle their way to the spot where Andtuariel hung suspended above the water at the end of a narrow plank. With small clusters of fighters engaged in every corner of the ship, Marreth and his men were momentarily too occupied to pay much attention to the Elf who stood shivering and alone, a blindfold covering her eyes. Yes, despite the diversion, there was little she could do to free herself. Unable to see, her arms and legs hobbled, Andtuariel clung to her precarious perch, and cried out with a pitiful voice, beseeching her would-be rescuers to redouble their efforts.

Luindal stood firm at the helm of the Spirit, wrestling with the wheel as he tried to bring the ship close enough for his men to be able to reach the other deck. The boarding party would not be enough to take the Corsair ship. More reinforcements were needed. A line of Lossoth and a few remaining Elves waited impatiently on the Spirit, most perched in the rigging, hoping that their moment of opportunity would come.

For all his years of experience as a sailor and helmsman, Luindal did not have an easy job. The wind had again picked up and blew in great jagged peaks causing both ships to lunge back and forth from one wave to the next. The mast of the Spirit was creeking and groaning under the strain. The makeshift repairs would never hold. The short stump of the main mast did not have the strength to bear the full weight of the sails: even in calm weather they should have limped back to shore. But the sea was not calm, and the weather was becoming grim. The Elf managed to get his ship within several arms's length of the other but it was still too far out for his men to leap onto the other vessel.

Suddenly feeling a stinging senation on his face, Luindal glanced up from the wheel to the sky and saw to his horror that hail was beginning to fall. At first there were only a few balls no larger than a man's fingertip, but they soon grew in size and number. Hundreds of hailballs came pelting down against the sails, ripping them to shreds and slicing into the rigging itself, leaving ropes dangling free. The main mast itself began to sway slightly back and forth under the weight of the blasts.

Jumping back from the helm, and shielding his head from the hail, Luindal grabbed an axe in his other hand and began hacking away at the largest of the ropes, the one that held the mainsail in place. He called out to his crew who were perched in the rigging, "Use your axes and daggers. Cut the ropes. Let the sail swing free. She'll give you a ride to the Corsairs." The crew began hacking away at the few remaining ropes that were still in place.

"She'll turn turtle!" one of the Elves howled.

"No," Luindal cried fiercely as he climbed up onto the mast. "The Spirit will hold true."

With that, and a final blast of wind from the north, the boom swing wildly back and forth, wholly freed from its moorings. The occupants of the rigging clung for dear life. The Spirit lurched ever closer to the pirate ship. With a final creek and a groan, the mast of the Elven vessel snapped in two and the entire assemblage, both sails and spar, swung far leeward and toppled onto the deck of the Corsair ship, carrying Luindal and his men into the thick of the fighting.

As the mast came crashing down, combattants leaped out of its way. But there was one aboard the Corsair vessel who did not leap in time. Andtuariel, the fair Elf, was swept off the plank and plunged downward to the swelling waves.

[Lalwendë]

As the ship drew to a halt, Tarn’s stomach lurched, not with sea-sickness for he was well used to the waves since his days on the whaling boats, but because he knew another battle was coming. He wondered for a moment what was coming over him; he had never been afraid of a fight before. It was the sight of that stone, he knew, that was holding him from wanting to fight. All he wanted to do was to touch the artefact, to find out what was so special about it.

He looked about to see where Marreth may have stowed it, and if he could sneak back down below deck; surely he could look about for it while battle raged? Tarn decided he would go and search fro the stone, but as he moved off, he heard Marreth shouting his threats at the Elves and he saw with dismay that he held the stone.

Tarn’s eyes were fixed upon the Palantir, as were those of several of the sailors; they were seemingly transfixed, and the spell was only broken by the appearance of the captive Elf. All eyes moved towards her as she came slowly forwards in her tattered robe. She stepped onto the plank, vulnerable and fragile. Tarn almost thought for a moment that he would rather have the Elf maiden than the stone, but then this new bewitchment was shattered by the appearance of several furious Elves, armed to the teeth, who came swarming over the side of the ship.

Instinctively, Tarn slipped back into the shadows as far as he could. He saw the Elf who had pummelled him before and grimaced. He would normally have stepped out to face his new sworn foe, but this time he did not want to be seen. He was still in pain, and he knew only too well the fighting skills of this Elf. Tarn needed to use his cunning this time. He found a length of rope and wrapped it around his shoulder; he had an idea of how it might be used, and smiled to himself, pleased that this thought had come to him. Looking inside his coat, he found his knife and checked to see that the blade was filthy before he hid it in the palm of his hand. He was ready for one last fight.