Outracing the Flames RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Folwren · 03-10-2006, 09:48 AM

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 · 03-10-2006, 10:10 AM

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 · 03-10-2006, 12:41 PM

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 . . .?’

03-10-2006, 10:10 AM	#2
Undómë Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Mar 2005 Posts: 400	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 Last edited by Undómë; 03-10-2006 at 11:12 AM.

03-10-2006, 09:48 AM	#1
Folwren Messenger of Hope Join Date: Jun 2005 Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States. Posts: 5,076	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?’

03-10-2006, 12:41 PM	#3
Arry Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Jan 2004 Posts: 704	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 . . .?’