Sailing Away RPG

[Child of the 7th Age]

“Strange?” Bingo’s voice trailed off as he echoed the central query that Sondo had put to him. “ I’d say there are plenty of strange things about this place. I don’t know if it’s the trees or the land but something is pushing us northward. It’s almost as if we were a herd of sheep, with a herder that’s prodding and pulling us exactly where he wants to go. To be truthful, I don’t like this place. I’d rather veer west and walk down by the river, but there doesn’t seem to be a way of doing that.”

In the last few minutes of their trek, the trees bordering the path had gotten taller and more dense. Bingo wasn’t sure if they were actually in the Old Forest or still on the outskirts. The trunks of the trees looming over them were of varying sizes and shapes; some even had branches hanging low over the trail that seemed to thrust out a limb directly in the path of the unwary traveler. Bingo suddenly remembered stories he’d heard about the Old Forest and how it had goblins and trees that attacked the unsuspecting. He’d never believe any of those till now.

At the very moment when Bingo was thinking how much he disliked being in the forest, a large tree root jutted upward from nowhere and sent him sprawling on the ground, much to his embarrassment and discomfort. Sondo reached out a hand to help pull him up. Once he regained his footing, Bingo noted with a sigh, “Wherever and whatever this place is, I think we’d better hurry along and find a way out. I wouldn’t want to be here after nightfall.” Bingo glanced at his companions and wondered how they were feeling about all this. At least there hadn’t been too much grumbling so far. But he thought he saw shadows of unease mirrored on several of their faces, and Falco looked to be especially tired and wary.

[Primrose Bolger]

Walking along in the Old Forest . . .

‘Out of the frying pan, into the fire . . .’ Sassy could just hear her Gammer saying that old saw. And now Sassy understood it. The wolves and Big Folk had gone away, one way or the other. But these trees . . . they crowded in on her with their dark branches and shadowed trunks. The possibility of getting away from the thick closeness that closed in around them seemed to diminish with each step the group took on the mouldering dried leaves that covered the forest floor.

‘I am never going on another adventure again,’ she muttered. ‘I’m never even going to think about going on another one . . . ever!’

And what were these boys and her brother thinking? Seems they didn’t care a bit about the fact that they’d almost been killed by wolves and gosh knows what by the Big Folk ruffians. How could they shrug that off, she wondered.

Worse yet, she had seen some of them take things from the dead men. Stories from her Gammer about those dead men of old in their mossy green barrows on those Downs somewhere made her shiver. What if those Big Folk that just died came after their things . . . reached out for them in the night with the bony fingers of their fleshless hands? Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She wouldn’t throw up again. Probably just get a laugh from some of the boys and a disgusted look from her brother.

She looked round at the others in a sly manner as they tramped along; sliding her eyes from figure to figure. The light from above barely filtered through the thick branches of the trees. It cast a gloomy pall on the group, sliding in pale, murky bars over the moving Hobbits. Sometimes she could see one of the boys or another as the light heightened their features . . . but their eyes, if they turned her way, were always deep pools of shadow . . . and sometimes they seemed to slide into the shadows altogether where the light did not penetrate. Sometimes her imagination got the better of her and she wondered if she had fallen into one of the scary old stories her Gammer had told at night near the little fire in the kitchen.

And save for their footsteps, it was so very quiet. Oppressively so . . . Sassy was frightened to the bone.

‘Shhh!’ she told herself, clenching her jaw together to stop her teeth from chattering. ‘Just watch out for yourself, Sassafras,’ she thought firmly. ‘Keep your eyes on what’s about you and step along.’ If she didn’t feel brave, she could at least look it.

‘And watch out for the goblins,’ she murmured to herself, drawing her now raggedy cloak about her, her eyes darting round her as she tramped on.

And old piece of verse from one of Gammer’s tales rattled in her little head as her toes crunched through the dried leaves; a little story of a little girl who didn’t care what others thought and always did what she wanted . . . and then just when she wasn’t looking out . . .

They was two great Black Things
a-standin’ by her side,
An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’
‘fore she knowed what she’s about!

An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git YOU

Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!


---------

verse courtesy of James Whitcome Riley - "Little Orphan Annie"

[Boromir88]

Eventhough Sondo had addressed the question to Bingo, Rory felt he needed to chime in as well. "Strange!" exclaimed Rory, "why of course there's something strange about these parts. Can't you tell? I've heard talk that Master Merry, and them, met queer happenings in these woods. And what about Old Maggot? He's-"

Before Rory could finish someone interupted, "Oh stop it Rory. There is definately something queer about these woods, but Maggot is an old fool even queerer for living in near 'em."

"Enough squabbling you two," Sondo said sternly, but not angrily, "We must continue, atleast for a little longer."

Rory walked along near the front, a new strength was in him. He was usually the one lagging behind, but now with nice biscuits in his stomach, and a good sleep he felt invigorated.

Rory looked at Sondo who was leading the way. He didn't like how Sondo sent him and Marroc back to the supplies. He wanted to help Sondo and also get a taste of the action. He was forced to sit and pace, while the wolves were about, and everyone else was in danger. I suppose someone needed to stay back when the others returned, and there was no sense of running around alone with wolves about, but why couldn't I help? He might as well just told me what my pa used to say when he went out, "Who's goin' to look after your Ma if you come with me?" Ma could have looked out for herself, and Marroc could have too, so why couldn't I help? What Rory didn't understand was that Sondo was actually protecting him.

[Firefoot]

Sondo bit his lower lip. Bingo's (invited) and Rory's (uninvited) comments had confirmed his suspicions. There were more forces at work here than simply eight hobbits trying to return home. Something about the very nature of the landscape was against them, driving them on against their will deeper into the forest. The shallow dips they had encountered earlier were becoming ravines, and they were getting harder and harder to climb out of. The hobbits were getting edgy, too, as Rory's scuffle had proven. He glanced around and saw Rory looking at him queerly. Sondo flashed a grin, though it felt weak under the oppressive mood of the forest.

Presently another ravine appeared in front of them as if out of nowhere, the deepest and steepest one they had yet encountered. The opposite side appeared undercut, and Sondo doubted they would be able to climb out the other side.

"I don't think we should try to climb through this one just yet," he said. "Let's try following it south. Maybe it will get shallower." Sondo thought it was south, anyway. He was starting to get turned around. They had gone barely ten yards, however, when it was almost as if the dirt underneath their feet began to crumble away. Feeling himself falling, he scrambled to get his footing. Someone behind him tripped, though, and knocked Sondo over. The ground yawned open in front of him, and he felt himself falling head first as the bottom of the ravine rushed up to greet him. He found himself accompanied by about half their troupe. He could not see over the edge, but all seemed to have settled out.

"What happened?" someone asked behind him. No one had a clear answer, and everyone's tale differed slightly. The only consistency was ending up on the ground, whether in the crag or on top. Sondo looked up hopelessly. No way were they going to be able to climb back up; both sides were slick and undercut, and at least two feet over his head.

"I don't like this," he muttered. The sun was sinking low, and like Bingo he had no desire to be caught in this place at night. Already the Forest was growing more sinister.

"Didn't we have a rope left over from the raft?" he asked. Everyone dug into the supplies, and one skinny rope, perhaps ten feet long, was turned up. An end was let down, and Sondo grabbed ahold. "I'm the lightest," he said, "and I'm not sure this will support me. Try to pull me up, and I'll brace against the sides." He felt the slack go tight, and he was slowly pulled upward. He was about to grasp the edge of the ravine and hoist himself up when someone shouted and the rope slackened again. Sondo fell back to the bottom, and Rory came right behind. "That tree root tripped me!" he complained.

"There goes that plan," sighed Sondo. "The rest of you, stay away from the edge so you don't fall in, too. It looks like we're going to have to follow this ravine after all; the southward way looks impassable." He hesitated, noting the growing shadows. "And everyone? It looks like we're going to be spending the night here. Be on your guard. This place... I'd bet anything that it's far more dangerous to us than those Big Folk ever were."

[Primrose Bolger]

Had her throat not been so dry from lack of water and from hurrying along at breakneck speed on her short little legs, Sassy would have squeaked at what she was hearing. ‘It looks like we're going to be spending the night here. Be on your guard!’ she heard her brother say.’ The shadows of the trunks and limbs grew thicker and thicker. ‘This place... I'd bet anything that it's far more dangerous to us than those Big Folk ever were.’

Sassy made herself as small as she could, pulling her cloak tightly about her. She didn’t want to be touched by those shadows; she didn’t want to spend a dark night here beneath these bad, spiteful trees. With no wind to stir them, a scattering of dry leaves came pattering down on her head. She brushed them quickly from her, casting a mean look up toward the hovering branches. Again the branches moved a little, creaking against one another, laughing rudely at her discomfort as if they could sense her thoughts.

The boys were gathered close to the edgo of the ravine. Sassy eased herself in among them, letting their bodies shield her from the forest. She found herself standing near Falco. Curious at how he was taking the news of spending the night here, she glanced up at him. He didn’t look as brave as he had back at the river . . . but a small, shrewd look crossed his face once, and was as quickly smothered, as Sondo talked.

Perhaps she should keep an eye on him . . . bad enough having to contend with the trees without adding in any of Falco’s bad ideas. Or maybe she could just take care of the whole thing by pushing him over the side of the ravine . . .

She giggled quietly then stifled it as some turned to look at her. She squinted up at the nearby trees and pursed her lips. The forest, it seemed, was giving her some queer ideas. She looked slyly at Falco, wondering . . .

[Kitanna]

Marroc trudged along with the other hobbits, carrying some of the supplies in his bag. He did not like being in the Old Forest. His Gammer had told stories about this place. Stories that were frightening enough to scare the hair right off a hobbit's foot.

But his Gammer had also said if he ever found himself in questionable surroundings to whistle. She believed whistling chased away the bad and scary things. So, walking along with his friends Marroc whistled. Softly, mostly to himself. He wanted to tune out what Sondo and Bingo were saying about this place. Best not to know, he thought.

The hobbits moved along, encountering pit after pit. Slowly the pits were becoming ravines and sooner or later they were going to come across one they could not cross. Marroc just kept whistling.

~*~*~

"I don't think we should try to climb through this one just yet," Sondo remarked, looking over the edge of what looked like an impossible ravine. "Let's try following it south. Maybe it will get shallower."

There was simply no way the hobbits were going to get across. So the group followed Sondo, in what he believed was south.

They had not moved far when Sondo lost his footing and tumbled down the ravine. The ground moved beneath Marroc's feet and he, with most of the others, tumbled down into the ravine. He landed on top of Bingo. Rolling off, he apoligized. "So sorry Bingo. Hope you're not hurt."

"Didn't we have a rope left over from the raft?" Sondo asked.

A piece of thin rope was found and Sondo decided to try to climb up first. He was close to the top when the rope loosened and he went tumbling down again. Rory's head peered over the side. "The tree tripped me!"

Not good, Marroc thought. If trees were tripping people and edges of ravines were throwing people into their pits, who knew what would happened the farther they traveled.

"It looks like we're going to be spending the night here. Be on your guard." Sondo said.

The hobbits were divided now. Half in the ravine and half still above. What happened when they went farther and they discovered there was no way out. What would happen to their group then?

[Firefoot]

As the hobbits moved on, they had no choice but to go as two separate groups, one group travelling on the edge of the ravine and the other forced to make their trek at the bottom, though they kept each other in sight as much as possible. They had not gone far when night began to fall. The dark, shadowy wood became darker and and more menacing. Sondo would have sworn that the trees were talking to each other. The branches seemed to be moving, but not so that one could see them move. It felt like they were reaching out, preparing to snatch any or all of them up at any given moment. There was a sound like wind in the branches, except the air felt dead to Sondo. He found himself glancing over his shoulder numerous times, looking for an invisible menace. Though the evening air was warm, he wished he might have a cloak to draw about himself. All he wanted was to be out of this horrible place. As the deep ravine drove them further and further in, however, he became increasingly fearful that they never would. He was now a firm believer of every single one of those stories about the Old Forest. But, wait! The stories had to come from someplace - that meant hobbits did get out alive. There was hope. Sondo would like to know how they had managed.

As the twilight faded, Sondo called a stop. He refused to go blundering about in this place in the dark. He did not know where this ravine led, and who knew what the trees might do to those up top? "What do you think? Should we build a fire?" he asked. He wondered if a fire would make the trees angry at them. Of course not - trees couldn't be angry. He tried to laugh at himself for the silly notion, and found that he could not do it. There was some uneasy murmuring, but no decisive answer.

"Maybe with already dead wood?" someone up top suggested. Sondo could not tell who in the fading light.

"Yes; let's do that," said Sondo, trying to sound sure. Some wood was gathered by those not trapped in the ravine. Part was let down, and tinder was brought out. Soon there were two small fires going, one on top and one on bottom.

"Sleep if you can, I guess," said Sondo. "No need to set watch. I doubt many of us will sleep anyway." He reclined against the edge of the ravine. He could not even bring himself to close his eyes. Fine - I admit it! I'm terrified of this place. I'd let Sassy call me Bunnymuggins every day for the rest of my life if it meant we could get out of this place in one piece. Admission did not help, though. He still could not sleep, and he doubted he would at all this night.