Outracing the Flames RPG

[Folwren]

Athwen followed the young man mutely to his companion. She kept her eyes down and her mouth shut, not really knowing what would happen if she looked a stranger in the face right now and spoke to him. But when he stopped, she looked up, and her eyes fell on her own horse, being held with his reins in the woman’s hands. Silently, she reached out for him, and she was handed his reins.

“Come, li’le one, come,” she murmured, drawing him near and placing her hand on his shoulder. He was trembling, and in the back of her mind she knew he was fearing the same thing she was - the dead and the burned. But she didn’t think about it. She buried her face in his mane, wrapping her arms about his neck, and shut her burning eyes.

Oh, the cruelty of wanting to cry and not being able to. Athwen became absolutely still again, as though frozen in her place. Her little chest rose and fell and her throat was choked up, but there were no tears and she made no sound.

After a moment, however, she seemed to come to herself. Slowly, she looked up, loosed her grasp on her horse and turned about. The strangers, there were three now, she noticed, were all looking at her. Somehow, she didn’t mind, nor did she feel threatened.

“I am sorry,” she said, her tone dull and quiet. The next moment, she realized she had nothing further to say, and so she didn’t say anything, and simply stood and looked at them, just as they stood and looked at her.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Of course they were almost ready. It wasn't as if she would've not taken the time to pack up anything that wasn't needed (which of course nothing was)... it wasn't as if they hadn't taken time to eat. But some things went unspoken, perhaps for the greater good of the party, and perhaps for not.

Eostre didn't care. This was only the first step, after all. Standing beside her horse, she stared across the river. It was a bit narrower here, a bit shallower, but still swift from the nearby mountains—fortunately it was late fall, not spring. There was no melted water runoff to sweep away the horses and riders into the icy maw of death that surely waited beyond the bends and rapids.

The river was their enemy, sure as the orcs and wolves preying upon villages.

The sun gleamed off of the river, as cold as the chilly wind. Eostre tugged her robes tighter about herself, sipped the remainder of her soup down and stashed the tin cup. Surely they'd leave soon...

[Arry]

Wulfham

Brand was very glad the older fellow was not going to be stubborn. He felt he owed the man on two counts – one for the vegetables and herbs he’d taken from his gardens and the second for the use of his healer’s skills to treat his wounds. It would have been very hard to leave Leod behind when it was time to go. And somehow he could not see them hog-tying the man and taking him along with them in that manner.

Leod led him to the cottages of his nearby neighbors. They poked about and Leod called the names of various members of the different families but only silence, or the echoes of their own voices met their ears.

He could not see Vaenosa anywhere in that part of the village, and Brand thought that perhaps she had gone chasing after some extra horses for them. ‘Let’s go to the western side of the village, Master Leod,’ he said after they had finished looking through yet another empty house. ‘My other companions are looking for survivors there. Though it was hit much harder than this little area. Most of the buildings are burnt to the ground and there are a great number of bodies lying about . . . villagers and Orc alike.’

Again Leod led the way, and Brand could see he was saddened and angered at the destruction that had taken place. Soon the could hear voices a short ways away. ‘It sounds like one of my companions, but there is another voice I do not recognize.

The two rounded the corner of a half burnt building and saw Brand’s three fellow travelers – Incana, Vaenosa, and Dorran. They had their backs to Leod and Brand as they approached. And as the two drew near the familiar trio, Brand could see beyond them another person – a very young girl, holding onto the reins of a horse.

Brand hailed his three companions and introduced Leod to them, saying that he had agreed to come with them. He stepped forward and smiled as best he could given his face was half in bandages. ‘And who is this?’ he asked cocking his head a little as he took in Athwen. ‘I see you have a horse, mistress. Are you coming with us, also?’

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric was brought back to the here and now by the oncoming steps. How long has passed, what’s happened? The bright voice addressing him got him totally awake from his thoughts. “Is the soup ready? Raedwald would surely use some in a moment – and so would I”. It was Meghan. She sat beside him with a cup in her hand.

Sythric looked back at Meghan, pretty unsure about anything just now. Then he took a look to the shore. Fionn and Eostre were bringing the rope to the pulley, and someone seemed to be tying the raft at the other side of the river. “What on earth!” Sythric almost shouted, turning back to Meghan. “It was Raedwald, now wasn’t it?”. As Meghan nodded, he smiled her back broadly.

“Help yourself with the soup, and give it a stir if you leave the pot. It would of course have been better if it could have simmered another couple of hours...” With that he winked an eye to Meghan and rose up, addressing her still: “Then again. I’ll prefer bad soup to the option of spending any more time in this hounted place that just throws grim ideas over you.” He grinned amiably and turned towards the shore where others were approaching the pulley. “I’ll see if I could be of any use down there. I’ve sat down enough for this day.” By that he went to the shore.

--------

The ferry approached slowly but steadily. It was hard work. The rope was totally soaked and the ferry had some weight too, not to mention the current that tried to push the ferry downstream – a force which they had to fight against too. As the ferry was about the midway over the stream, he remembered! Long time ago, he had been on the ferry, when it had been laid full with the autumn’s harvest. The ferry had been quite loaded indeed! Then the ferrymen had used a kind of reel that was attached to the pulley – so that the round movement of the pulley could be changed into a straight pulling movement behind the pulley. And they had used horses to pull it! And that cage-like thing surely was here somewhere! He remembered vaguely, how it looked like. Someone must have run across it while searching the sheds... It would be tough oaring, getting ourselves to the other side anyhow, notwithstanding us being already quite feeble after this one. Well, it is late anyhow. You should remember things in time my friend! Sythric addressed himself, and bit his lip to make another pull.

Of course Raedwald! The thought came to him while pulling the raft. That’s so like him! When others say, that we should think about a problem faced, Raedwald would solve it meanwhile – and not only solve it, but accomplish it also. He just kind of saw the solutions and then acted on them, not making a fuzz about it. That was one of the reasons, why Sythric thought so highly about Raedwald, and why he was so happy about their friendship. He himself might have been the more battle-hardened warrior of the two – having served mostly in parties that had frequent borderline skirmishes - and probably in a bit better physical condition, due to his continuos riding, shooting etc. while teaching the youngsters. But no-one could outwit Raedwald, or actually do the things he did. He is just a marvellous man! Even if, after the soldiering years he had abandoned all the military excercises, he clearly is the man to cross the river by himself! Of course there were other things, more important ones: all the shared memories, the hardships taken together, facing death side by side. Those things do bind people to each other. And anyhow. Sythric just loved the man: his personality, his humour. What an example of the Rohanian spirit he is!

“You never give others a chance to work things out, now do you?” That’s what he would say to him as he would come to the shore. And he would embrace him, embrace him hard. And I’m being the melancholic cooking-boy today as others have done the work? I’m tired, yes. Because of these days of riding with barely no sleep at all, yes. But still. Pull yourself together man!

[Folwren]

Athwen looked up at the man addressing her. Her blue eyes softened slightly as she saw his bandaged face, even now, in her present state, pitying someone without even knowing them.

‘I see you have a horse, mistress,’ he said with a gentle smile. ‘Are you coming with us also?’

‘I don’t know,’ she answered. She studying him a moment longer after her slight reply and then looked at his companion. Recognition flooded her face and she extended her free hand, a smile coming to her face. ‘Leod! You. . .you were not. . .’ she faltered, and her face twitched slightly. ‘That is good enough,’ she said, lowering her hand and eyes together. ‘You are alive.’

She drew a trembling breath and let it out slowly. There were so many feelings warring against each other inside. She didn’t know what to think, what to do, or even how to react. To despair and wish to die seemed to the easiest route just now, and the least miserable. What was living?

But no. She shook her head to her own thoughts, struggling with a battle within. There were people here and she wasn’t alone. She had to show strength . . . perhaps it would get her through, even if it was faked. But at least they shouldn't have to bear it. They had asked her a question, and she must answer.

She looked back at Brand, though she didn’t know his name. ‘I don’t know if I am riding with you,’ she said. ‘Where are you going?’

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan


Her cup of stew was quickly downed; the rich taste of the lamb lingered on her tongue even as she washed it down with a long drink of water. Meghan ran to the Ferry-dock to see how she could help.

One of the men had climbed the pole from which the pulley hung and was securing the length of rope through its guides. Another of the companions, one on horseback, stood up on his horse’s back as another held the reins and handed up the end of the second rope, which after a few fumbles and twice as many curses was pulled as taut as they could get it and finished off with a sailor’s knot. Rædwald secured the barge to the pulley line with the rope that was coiled in the bottom of the barge.

A cheer went up from both sides of the river as that task was finished.

The pulley apparatus itself was fixed on a stout pole that was driven deep into the ground just back from the bank’s edge. And in normal times, the strength of several donkeys would be used to turn the wheel that hauled in the rope. But their little group was unfamiliar with that more complicated mechanism and so they had to do the work by hand. Gloved hands – as one of them had cautioned, would maintain a better grip and save their hands from rope burn.

The bottom section of the long loop hung down far enough that several of them could grab hold of it and tug. The group formed a line along the length of it, spacing themselves out a little ways along the dock that extended into the river and began to pull steadily with their gloved hands.

Meghan, for her part, added her own slight weight to the team effort. As the rope began to move through the pulley guide, those at the back of the line would move forward to the front to take a new grip. And so began the long slow process of moving the barge . . .


---------------


Rædwald

He had tied Liss to the dock, giving her a last slice of apple and a promise he would soon be back. There were four long, thick oaken poles in the bottom of the barge. He picked one up as he boarded the barge and took a firm hold of it. He would be able to push with it along the river’s bottom to help the barge move forward.

It was slow going, but the combined effort of those on shore and his poling got the barge across. It would be easier going back across as three other of the men could help him.

Once back ashore, he gladly accepted a cup of Sythric’s savory soup, and in fact had a second one . . . ‘Just to fill in the empty corners,’ he said, with a grin.

The barge was big enough for all of them to fit in it. The horses could be tied to the back of it and could swim across as the companions poled. When lunch was done – the fire was put out, the bowls and pot cleaned and packed away and soon the barge was loaded

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘Well, we . . .,’ he paused for a moment his brow wrinkling. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.’ He stepped to the side and let his hand move from one to the other of his companions. ‘This is Vaenosa . . . and this, Incana. And here’s Dorran. Leod you seem to know already. And I’m Brand.’

He nodded northward, saying they were from a village about her size called Wulfham. ‘About five days ride from here,’ he went on. His eyes darted quickly about the still smoking ruins. ‘Our march-warden had heard tales coming in from the north across the river that villages were being attacked by small roving bands of Orcs and sometimes Easterlings. And that the attacks had grown more frequent. He ordered the village packed up and is moving them toward the King’s Hall in Edoras. That is where we’re bound. With letters to the king, asking for help as we move toward the safety of his own town.’ His voice trailed off for a moment. ‘What has happened to your village has made it all the more real for us.’ He turned toward the others of his group. ‘I don’t think we knew the Orcs had crossed the River; that they were even closer to us than we thought.’

Brand noticed her glance at his bandaged face and he raised his hand unconsciously toward it. ‘We had an unfortunate encounter with a big cat several days ago. Or fortunate, perhaps, in that she is dead and we are still able to move onwards.’

‘Anyways, that is where we are going . . . and Leod, too,’ he went on, nodding toward the healer. ‘To Edoras; to the King.’ He looked at her questioningly. ‘There’s the old goodwives’ tale – that there be safety in numbers. Or so my Gran says and in just that way, too.’ He chuckled, thinking of her. It was an incongruous sound as it rolled out of him and over the razed village and the corpses.

‘We’d be glad of your company, wouldn’t we?’ he asked his eyes going to his companions. ‘Come along, won’t you Mistress . . .?’