Blood Run: A Terror Returns RPG

[Dimturiel]

Once they were all in, Cengal set to make his guests comfortable. He placed them in a room where a fire was burning brightly and served them some food and also some of his wine-“to warm you after coming from that cold dark place outside”, as he told them. While he was doing all this, Erling was telling him about the decision of the villagers to form a group of “Defenders”-the farmer noticed that Erling spoke the word on a very important tone and could not help grinning to himself at that-to try and get to the bottom of what was happening.

“That is all very wise.” Edin Cengal said when Erling had vanished, although he thought it far from wise that such a party had been accepted for the job. Why most of them were so young, and there was a girl also, and a small child and…and three foreigners! Were they fit to be entrusted with the safety of their own land? He did not think so. He would have thought twice before employing such a party to such a grave job. “And what have you done as Defenders?” he continued, trying to hide any traces of mockery from his voice.

Erling looked suddenly uncomfortable. He glanced at his companions, hoping one of them would speak in his head. But then he changed his mind and thought that, since Erling knew him, it was better if he talked.

“Well,” he began hesitantly. “Well, nothing, but…”

“Just as I thought” Cengal told himself. No good putting too much trust in such a party of youngsters and girls and dwarves! Yet aloud, he said:

“Well, that’s not too good, is it, Erling my lad? But what can I do for you brave Defenders?”

“Well,” Erling said. “You….you live here and I have heard you have suffered because of these creatures. We thought perhaps you could tell us some things. I have heard they attacked your flocks twice.”

“Not twice, my lad.” Cengal replied, shaking his head. “But three times actually. So you want me to tell you how it was…”

At this the farmer paused and went to the window to look outside. He stood long like that, staring at the darkness, although it was doubtless he was actually seeing anything.

[Dunwen]

As he nibbled on quite a tasty seed-cake, Sam hoped that the crusty old farmer would give the Defenders some idea of what they were up against. He heard the criticism in the fellow’s voice but didn’t let that rile him, knowing their host’s reputation for irritability.

He shifted slightly in his seat as Erling explained their mission, meeting the disapproval in the farmer‘s expression with his own steady blue gaze. After all, no one else in Bree had volunteered to go after whatever was attacking them!

He watched Edin walk over the window and look out for a long time. As the silence stretched, the young hobbit began to wonder just how dreadful these mysterious attackers were. Helping himself to another golden-brown cake to bolster his courage, he sipped his wine and waited for the farmer to continue his story.

[Groin Redbeard]

Groin stood by the door, enduring Cengal's ever disapproving gaze of him and Kuric. He drank the wine that was given to him in two large gulps, and placed the glass on a table, but knew that there was little chance of him getting a refill. He paid little attention to the farmer's talk about them and contented himself to staring out the window at the darkness, or stroking his beard. Erling had just asked Cengal about his encounters with the strange beast, or beasts, that were disturbing his flock when Gorin stood up in alarm. There were eight defenders when they set out with him but now there were seven, that silent fellow was missing.

"Where's Grimbeorn?" Gorin exclaimed in alarm, interrupting the farmer's talk.

Gorin didn't wait for an answer, the confusion on everyones face told him all that he needed to know. He flung the door open and ran outside. The dogs jumped to their feet and bared their teeth as Gorin approached the gate.

"Out of my way you runts or you'll soon feel the full force of my axe!" At this he directed his axe head at them and prodded them away from the gate.

Gorin ran as fast as his legs could carry him back along the path that the defenders had traveled, but he did not need to go far. About five minutes of stressful jogging brought him back to Grimbeorn; a huge dark wolf shaped shadow stood over a body that Gorin presumed to be Grimbeorn. Gorin quickly retrieved a throwing axe from his belt and threw it at the shadow, which was peering at him now with it's haunting green eyes. Gorin's aim proved true as the axe head dug into the wolf's flank, and with a yelp of pain and anger it leapt down at Gorin. The dwarf was unhindered and let out a deep roaring cry that echoed long in the night.

The huge wolf stopped stunned for a moment, and Gorin could see the full features of it for a second before the figure fled into the night at the approaching of more figures. Gorin ran up to Grimbeorn's body and backed away in disgust and anger. He took of the hood and cloak that he was wearing and covered the bloody mass of Grimbeorn's remains.

"So young," Gorin muttered, "Rest now Grimbeorn of Bree, your death shall not be in vain, nor will it be forgotten"

[Thinlómien]

Before Gorin had covered the body, Leanora had seen a glimpse of Grimbeorn's torn face in the moonlight. She turned her head, looked deep into the forest to hide the tears that had sprung to her eyes.

She had always thought she was a tough girl, not one of those smalltown primadonnas or princesses that cried at everything and could not face any kind of difficulties. She had never been afraid of the dead or their bodies, as a child she had eagerly examined the dead animals she occassionally came by, and unlike all other members of her family, she had not found it difficult to look at her mother's dead face or touch her cold hand.

This was toatlly different. Her mother had died of a long illness, and although she had not been old, she had not been young either. Leanora had known that her mother would die and her passing had almost been a relief. But this young man's death had been totally unexpected and a brutal one. His comely face was torn and his body mutilated.

Lea had not known the young man well, she had only met him tonight. Still she was sick with terror and grief. She had liked the gentle handsome stranger, and she had to admit that had she had the chance to know him brtter, she might have been attracted to him.

Suddenly, she could not hold it anymore. She sank to her knees, sobbing quietly. She hoped Ash would be occupied with comforting Orin and no one else would even think about looking at her direction.

[mormegil]

Running as fast as his ancient body would allow, Kuric doggedly followed his new dwarven friend. He couldn’t keep up with the younger dwarf and came into the clearing in time to see the Warg fall. Great disappointment filled Kuric as he saw his opportunity for a good kill slip through his fingers. In frustration he kicked the nearest tree, muttering a curse under his breath.

Walking up to Gorin but still keeping on guard, knowing full well that Wargs are pack animals, Kuric looked at the corpse, seeing the face of Grimebeorn and hearing Groins parting words. Kuric thought it a shame to find him dead but also thought him foolish to come out here on his own. “Bah” spat Kuric, “the lad wasn’t ready to take on a goblin let alone a Warg.” Kuric circled the body oblivious to the crying lass nearby; he was too occupied with studying the nearby ground.

“I can’t make this out, but I reckon there’s more than one of these foul creatures. Didn’t I tell ya all along we’ve got a Warg on our hands.” Kuric puffed his chest proudly, not caring to remember he had stated that it was a troll, not a Warg. “Well let’s have two or three fetch Cengal, he can take care of his body. We need to go find the rest of these creatures before it’s too late,” Kuric stated patting his mace impatiently.

[Groin Redbeard]

Gorin half listened and half thought about the words that Kuric spoke. It was not in his nature to feel sorry for strangers, but the sobbing of Lea and the mournful look of the others made him have second guesses as to what they should do.

Kuric finished speaking and was patting his mace impatiently. Gorin waited for someone to speak, but none did.

"Aye," Gorin sighed, and then he seemed to regain the fire in his heart. "Aye, we have work to do. A wounded Warg is more deadly than a pack on 'em and it will do much harm if it goes unchecked. It cannot get far, now that it is hurt, we'll track in down and shoot it from afar if we can."

Gorin glanced at the at the company again and saw the small child clinging to Ash, his brother.

"No use sending the boy back without and escort to the farmer's house, we'll need every man we can get, just keep the boy in the rear." he said, glancing at Ash.

"My lady," Gorin said, stepping towards Lea, who was getting to her feet, "Do not dwell on this moment of grief, there is work to do ahead. There will be a time to grieve when this is all done.

"Come, the Warg went east. This way!" Gorin plunged into the woods and was swiftly followed by the rest.

[Dimturiel]

All that Erling could afterwards say was that everything had happened so quickly. He had never before thought that an event could come so fast, uheralded, unexpected. He did not know Grimbeorn-he had hardly exchanged a few words with him-but, as was his way with strangers, he had been fond of him. It was hard to believe that he had seen him die, yet it was also hard to pretend that the fact did not happen. It would ever be, from then on, and he somehow knew it.

Erling could very well see that the rest of his companions were also shoked. Well, not all. Kuric seemed quite unconcerned. But he did not mind that. He was glad there was someone like him nearby, someone to draw attention to practical thoughts that would make them forget what they had just seen. Well, maybe not forget, but at least postpone the time when they would have to think about it.

They were now on the move, tracing the wounded Warg. All of them, even Orin. It was a risk to take such a small child on such an adventure, but Erling agreed there was nothing else they could do. But one thing was troubling him. They were perhaps enough to tackle one Warg, but was it only one? Shouldn't they perhaps go back and ask for some help from Bree? But no, that would probably cost them too much time...

"I wonder," he began, and he realised his voice shook slightly-from fear or shock or grief, he could not tell, "Is it really only one of these creatures? Or are there perhaps more? Isn't there a chance for us to be outnumbered?"

As he spoke, he cast uneasy glances around him. He had always thought that knowing what exactly your enemy was made it less feared. He had praid for the time when he would know what was attacking Bree's peace, for he had thought he would be less terrified of them. But it was not true. The fear had not disappeared. It was still there. Strange, he thought. Few stories spoke of such a fear. Few had prepared him for the moment he was facing now.