Outracing the Flames RPG

[Folwren]

Wulfham


Smoke. . .there was so much smoke. . .and ashes. Every gust, every breath of wind, caused whole handfuls of ash to swirl up in the air. Nothing was left of her home. Nothing, except for the ruined, stone fireplace against which Athwen cowered. One hand covered her mouth, the other arm wrapped about her head. Her tears were spent, and her eyes burned because of it.

Why? She couldn’t stop the question from turning over and over again in her head any more than she could answer it. They hadn’t caused any trouble, they hadn’t done anything wrong. They were a peace living people without an evil thought to share among them, why this? Couldn’t it have been somewhere else? And why had she been spared? She should have been home with her mother, she should have been baking the evening bread, but no! She had gone out to ride, and she had ridden a long way and come back oh, far too late.

A choked cry escaped from her mouth and she shut her eyes and drew her knees more tightly against her chest, trembling at the sound. Why? She didn’t know. Maybe the dead would hear her.

How long she sat thus, crouched beside the ruined fireplace, Athwen didn’t know. Time passed unnoticed, but seeming to take an eternity. The dead corpses of her family, and everyone she had known her entire life were strewn about the ground, some near, many others farther away, all lying amid the burned and smoking ruin of their homes, some untouched by fire, others half burned. She dared not lift her eyes. Not until a sound pierced the unnatural stillness. . .

Athwen’s eyes slowly opened, and then her arm, aching with having been clamped so long and so hard about her head, slowly relaxed and lowered. Her other hand dropped and she lifted her head; slowly, slowly - afraid to move, afraid to be seen. Upward by degrees, she raised her eyes and looked. A short distance away, two horsemen were walked carefully through the burnt ruins of the houses and buildings. She could not see their faces clearly, her eyes were bleary and weak, but she could make out the familiar form of horse and rider. They rode slowly towards her, down what used to be the main road through the village. Athwen forced her legs to move and she slowly and achingly stood up. Her hand shot outwards towards the fireplace to help support herself and a loose stone fell with a clatter.

A thought of caution flashed through her mind. Had they heard that? Would they hurt her, or help? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, really. Her hand dropped away from her support and she looked up again towards them. Yes, one of them had caught sound of the falling stone, and now they both turned their horse’s heads towards her. Her clear blue eyes watched them, and she waited in silence, neither worried nor anxious for them to finally stop and address her.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana and Dorran made their way towards the West side of the village, "So much destruction, it seems to have taken much more damage than the East side of the village. Do you think that this is where the onslot of the rampage had begun?"

Her boots were getting heavy with mud and ash and she had to stop and sweep the excess off every few steps. The one time that she was bending over to do this, however, she happened to spy something ugly and hopefully dead lying on the ground to her left. Incana hadn't seen any such creature before, thus not knowing its breed or type. All the woman knew was that it was hideous and it smelt bad. This one wasn't as badly charred as some of the others that she saw earlier, the smell was the creature itself. Incana's gag reflex went into action as she approached it, "phew this is truly horrible" waving her hand in front of her face looking at Dorran. She hesitantly gave it a quick kick in the foot, nothing. She gave it another kick, nothing. Courage was building the more Incana kicked the creature's feet, one more good hoof and she was satisfied that it was dead.

The reason for her even wanting to go near something that wretched was to retrieve an axe out of its head. Incana put one foot on its stomach and the other firmly planted on the ground, and pulled. The axe came out with surprising ease, she held out the tool and said to Dorran, "Look what I've found, we could surely use this to chop wood." Incana attached the axe to Starlight's pack and got back into the saddle to continue their survey.

The slow gate of the two horses didn't get the couple too much further from the found dead creature, when Incana heard what seemed like a stone being dropped or thrown. She immediately brought the mare to a halt and listened intently for any further disturbances. Incana looked down and saw that the dog had also heard the noise, he was frozen in his steps and had his hackles raised starring at the door to a cottage. She whispered to Dorran, "Did you hear that? I think that sound came from in there." A sudden fear rushed over Incana and thought that the noise may be one of those creatures that she came across. She decided to wait and see what Dorran wanted to do before investigating any further.

While Incana waited for Dorran to think, a horse came from what it seemed out of nowhere. She immediately noticed that it still wore its saddle and halter and thought this to be curious. She had yet to see another horse and wondered why would a horse let loose in a pasture have all of its equipment on. Sensing no immediate danger, the lone horse had very little problem approaching the two riders and greeted them with a low grunt. Incana did not make a sound, she gave the horse a rub on the cheek for reassurance and took hold of its reins and sat quietly.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn stared stupidly at the distant ferry for several long moments, his tired brain struggling to comprehend the situation. Half of his mind was still preoccupied with the horror of the ghost village, and another large slice was busy worrying about Bregoware and his family. That left a rather small section to wrap itself around the problem of the ferry.

Overwhelmed, the boy rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. At first he was willing to urge his horse forward anyway, letting the mare swim across. But luckily, a sliver of common sense slapped him in the face and pointed out the current. He and the horse would end up seven miles downstream before they reached the other shore. Fionn discarded that idea. The ferry was still the best way to cross the river.

But how to reach it? Slowly his mind let go of the images of the deserted village and turned to face the problem at hand. The sooner they crossed, the sooner they could get away from this place. And that suited all parts of Fionn's mind just fine.

They might be able to manage a crossing if they had some rope, he thought. But there was no way that anyone would be carrying that much rope with them. So how would this town handle such a problem? It was their ferry, so they had to have some kind of plan in case of accidents like this.

"Perhaps we should check the buildings around the river," Fionn suggested. He had to speak loudly over the rushing of the current, which made him uncomfortable. "The boat-houses and the ferry-master's quarters might have something we could use." Fionn knew nothing about boats, but he figured that someone else might.

He felt a little uncomfortable about rooting through someone else's belongings, but it might be the only way to cross the river and continue their journey.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa stood outside the dwelling, staring in throught the open door for a long moment. Brand had disappeared into one of the cottages after she told him she was going in search of some supplies and hopefully some horses. She felt a shiver go up her spine as she held her breath and stepped inside. It was a small, cozy place, not unlike her own. In the center stood a large wooden table clad with settings for five people. The family who lived here must have been about to sit down to sup, when the attacks started. The food on the table was starting to turn, causing the air in the small space to be sicklingly sweet. Moving towards the cooking area in search of some food, Vaenosa's foot moved something on the floor. She bent to retrieve it when she realized it was a child's doll. It was made of straw, with horse's hair upon it's head. Turning it over in her hand Vaenosa fingered the dress it wore gently. It was worn and dirty from a child's hands, who had held it dearly. Perhaps the child dropped it in the panic to flee to safety. Vaenosa smoothed the dolls hair and placed it upon the table.

She had no desire to search the house further. Turning towards the door to leave Vaenosa spotted an interesting weapon planted firmly in the doors frame. It was three inches wide at it's fattest point, tapering to two and a half inches at it's rounded hilt. The handle was wood wrapped in worn leather." I will take just this, nothing other,for I am sure the bounty we have already taken is enough for many." She wiggled and pried as she strove to remove the blade from the frame. It was at Vaenosa's shoulder level, a large, tall man must have wielded this. After a few seconds of struggling to pry it loose, she resorted to placing her foot on the frame for leverage. With one large heave it came loose. Admiring the fine, sharp blade, she wrapped it in some stray cloth. Taking one last solomon look back, Vaenosa stepped back out into the sulight.

She decided she would stow the blade on Nay's back, but glancing around quickly she saw he was not near. She was sure his nerves had got the best of him and he bolted out of this burnt town. Shielding her eyes, she looked harder. There was Nay, no farther than an arrow's throw away, with his ears perked, trotting towards a wooden structure. She let out a low whistle to get him to come back. He stopped, looked at her....then continued on his merry way. Vaenosa stamped her foot at her horses disobedience. "OOOOhhhhh! I really should have gotten a horse who at least comes when I call him!.. I will sell you, you know!!!" She called after the prancing idiot.

Tying the blade to her back, She started after him, cursing his chestnut hide as she went. She was sure this was just one of Nay's strange games. She slowed as she approached the dwelling and peeked her head inside. There huddled in the corner were two male horses,one black, the other brown. Scared and probably hungry. They did not even seem to notice Nay's weird attempts to cuddle them. But Nay would be Nay.... He gave one of the horses a slight nip in the behind and they both bolted out the door and down the road at full speed towards where Incana and Dorran were searching."Great! Now look what you did!" She said to Nay giving him a small pinch in the flank, before she mounted his back.

She was sure Brand had heared her whistle. So she headed full speed towards the horses. Maybe she could give chase till they tired,then rope them. As she neared the horses they indeed began to tire. She saw to her left Incana and Dorran.And were her eyes right? Another, smaller figure was with them! She jumped from Nay's back and approached the horses, who's heads hung down heaving in exhastion.She slipped two ropes around their necks, giving each one a small treat she had in her bag. Leading all three horses now, she headed back towards The small group of people waiting.

" I have found two new companions! I see you have found one as well!" Vaenosa sized up the small woman, with knowing eyes, she had seen that look of despair before in her own face. She looked towards Incana and Dorran for an answer.

[Arry]

Wulfham


Brand entreats Leod

The blow took Brand by surprise. He had but barely seen the grey haired old man from the corner of his vision lunge at him and had tried to move away. But the flat of the shovel caught him a glancing blow on the right side of his face. The claw marks that ran from temple to chin there were already red and swollen; the force of the blow made him cry out in pain. His wounds broke open and began to bleed profusely.

Brand sat down hard on the floor of the cottage, his knees buckling under him from the sharp, pounding pain. He looked up and saw the old man raise the shovel as if to strike again. The fellow had a wild look about him, his blue eyes glinting with purpose. Brand reflexively raised his arms up to avert another blow. As if in sympathy, the long deep claw marks that ran down the length of his left arm began to ache and throb.

He cried out in the old tongue, speaking to the man as he did with his own grandfather, when that old man’s mind wandered back to his grandfather’s time.

‘Ná, ná! Fréond! Brand - afWulfham; afRiddermark!’ he gasped out. And then again in the Common Speech. ‘No! No! Friend! Brand – from Wulfham, from the Riddermark!’

He rocked back and forth his one hand now pressed against his bleeding face as he held out his other hand upraised, palm outward toward the man. ‘Help me, please! I meant you no harm . . .’

[Tevildo]

Hearing the familiar Rohirric words, Leod hastily drew back his weapon and lowered his arm to the side, letting go of the shovel and letting it drop with a clang onto the wooden floor. There was a gruffness in Leod's voice as he turned to talk with Brand.

"My pardon, but what did you expect, coming into my house this way? If yoy are one of our own Horse-folk, one of the Lohtûr, why do you rob my house, tear up my garden and trample my herbs? Can you not see this is all I have left from a lifetime of service? Would you take away this pittance to increase your own wealth? Is this what is means to be a man of Rohan? If so, I have outlived my usefullness."

Leod turned away, bitterness clearly written on his face, as he gazed off towards the far horizon. His voice dropped lower. "They came from there. The Orcs." He pointed a finger towards the east. "Hundreds of them flooding into our village. We have had a few plunderers before, rough bands from the north. But this was nothing like that. Many of these bore the symbol of the Eye. It was not enough to plunder and rape. They must kill every last one of us. I survived only because I had a place to hide. I doubt there are any others. How I would like to make them pay! I have had some experience with these monstors. But it is no good. I am past the age of being a soldier. I have only my skill with potions and herbs, and my instincts as a healer." Leod looked down at his own hands as if seeing them for the first time.

Leod hesitated for a moment and then bent lower, catching a closer look at the half healed wounds that criss crossed Brand's face. "You have not had it too well yourself, I see. And whoever has doctored you has done a poor job of it. Come over here. Sit at the table." He went out of the room for a moment and re-emerged, carrying a small bowl filled with a concoction of herbs.

"Come on," he growled. "I don't bite. You will feel better after I apply this to your wounds. And meanwhile you can tell me exactly what you're doing here, trying to rob my house."

[Arry]

Wulfham


‘It was a big cat . . .’ Brand said in answer to the man’s question of what had caused these wounds. ‘. . . the one that tore my cheek and arm. She was hungry, I guess; she and her yearling cub . . .’ Brand’s words trailed off and he clenched his teeth, hissing softly as breathed in. The man had washed his wounds, and that was bad enough as he peeled off the scabby edges and cleaned out the small amount of purulence that had begun to fester in the deeper places. But now he patted on the herbal concoction and the raw wounds rebelled. He fought back tears, swallowed a scream, and was rewarded with a feeling of a numbing, soothing relief as the poultice began at last to ease the raw flesh.

Brand rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and laid his left arm on the table. ‘Master Healer, if you would be so kind. These, too, are not doing so well.’

As Leod worked, Brand told him the stories their Lord had heard of Orcs and of Easterlings coming into the outlying villages, the ones just beyond the river. ‘Like your village here, we heard they were burning everything and killing all. Wulfham lies nearly five days’ ride up the river from here. We are not much bigger than you, and like you we lie near The Great River. Lord Aldwulf has ordered the village to evacuate; they are heading toward the King’s Hall for refuge. There were four of us young ones sent ahead to ride as fast as we might to ask the King to send Riders to aid the village on its way. The older men, some warriors, most farmers, went with the village to keep it safe should it be attacked on the way.’

‘We saw the smoke from your village when we rode up on the rise just north of here. We came down, Vaenosa, Incana, Dorran, and I . . . to see if any survived. And oh, Grandfather . . . Sir,’ he said, for Leod had not yet given his name. ‘We were struck dumb at the sight and smell and emptiness of this place. Our guts clenched and the blood ran cold in our veins thinking how our little village and our families, friends, neighbors, might meet this same fate.’

‘The only living thing we’ve found so far was a dog, and we thought to take him with us.’ Brand lowered his eyes, his unbandaged cheek blushing as he looked down at the table. ‘And when I found your little place, I thought that whoever lived here had been killed along with the others. I came to get a sack to take the rest of your winter vegetables to take with us. I did not mean to steal, but only thought that out of this horror we might salvage something to help us on our way.’

He looked up a fleeting smile on his lips. ‘My mother has a little herb garden, like yours, but much smaller. She has some way with the making of poultices and unguents and potions and such. And I thought of her as I looked at your neat little plantings. How you’d paired the herbs and the small walkways that make it easy to gather them . . . she has much the same orderly and practical mind about her wee helpers, as she calls them. I confess, I was intending to gather some your herbs, too, only the ones I recognized the uses for. My mother found me a poor student when in came to such things, and thanked goodness for her daughters. For my part, I know only those that are good in stews and teas and those helpful to my sheep . . .’

Leod had finished dressing the wounds and was busy cleaning out the bowl in which he’d mixed the herbs. Brand sat looking about the neat little place and remembering the destruction that lay all about it. ‘I’m very sorry I stole from you,’ he said to the man whose back was turned to him as he worked. ‘And sorrier still that you might think of me only as some thief. My father would die of shame if he thought his only son was thought of in such a way.’

He cleared his throat, not sure how to go on. ‘Grandfather, I think you’re not safe here any longer. Will you ride with us? Tell your story to the King?’