Outracing the Flames RPG

[Tevildo]

As the riders plodded onward towards the low hill that Brand had shown them, one or two large raindrops came plopping down upon their heads. Dorran pushed his hood up and pulled his cloak tight about his shoulders. Once again, Brand had been right. This light sprinkle was likely to pick up and turn into a true rainstorm by the time they reached the hill he could just see in the distance.

Dorran had started the morning in good spirits, flashing a friendly smile at Athwen and waving once at Incana. As the road had spilled southward and the clouds had blown in, the young man had found his spirits sinking for no fathomable reason that he could spell out in words. He could feel a definite foreboding in the pit of his stomach, a sensation that he found impossible to ignore or wish away. But why that feeling was there or what it might portend, Dorran had absolutely no idea.

It was only after the rain started to fall that shadowy images, vivid and horrific, began to intrude on Dorran's conscious thoughts. He glimpsed images of a place far away in time and place: women and children shackled together at the ankle with an Easterling master parading up and down the line. Dorran shuddered as he recalled how Urik and his captains would pull the younger women out of line and then drag them off to some unknown destination, never to be seen again. The rest of the slaves were sent out to the fields, with many of them silently weeping to see their beloved kinswomen so cruelly torn away.

Dorran shuddered as he remembered the sharp barbs of the whips of the Easterlings. The men were not as powerful or overtly brutal as the Orcs, but many of the Easterlings exhibited something even more frightful. Their captors had possessed a keen intelligence and cynical spirit, taking absolute delight in causing mental as well as physical pain---not the sharp, rapid blows of the Orcs that would be over in a minute, halted either by their own stupidity or the merciful release of death, but a slow torture, more like the dripping of rainwater onto a hard dirt surface. Eventually, the persistent water would have its way and transform the hard dirt into a muddy bog.

Dorran gasped in surprise as fragmented images of blood and pain that he had intentionally repressed for many years came slinking back into his mind. The last time he had mentioned Easterlings to Brand, he had made a terrible mistake in judgment. They had ended up attacking some good men and women. Perhaps he should keep his mouth closed and say nothing. Everyone else was fearing the attack of Orcs. Why then should he be thinking of the Men of the East? But what if his fears and premonitions were real? Could he forgive himself for saying nothing? Dorran promised that, once they had gotten to the safety of the hill, he would try and pull Brand aside and quietly speak with him again.....

[Undómë]

Rædwald

Rædwald urged Lis to a gallop. Given her head, her long strides ate up the distance to the little tree-topped hill. He’d left the steering of the group in Brand’s capable hands as he went to string up a few tarps between the trees where the riders and the horses might shelter.

The clouds were just opening up more overhead; what had at first just been a few cold spatters on the ground of icy rain now pounded with increasing intensity as he reached the top of the hill. Sythric was already there. And between the two of them they put up several sheltering canvasses.

A small fire was built at the northern edge of the little shelter. It would be protected from the rain and the little wind would blow the smoke out from under the tarps. By the time the flames were crackling the group was just coming up the short path to the hill’s top.

[Farael]

Brand had gone all the way to the back of the column and informed Osmod they’d be resting at the hill that was now visible ahead of them. He nodded his agreement and watched as the other man went up the rather dispersed line of riders, telling them all where they were heading.

”Alright then, I guess I should talk to this Brand when we stop. I shouldn’t let him think he’s the leader of us Bregowares as well.” Osmod chuckled to himself, even though he didn’t mind Brand. On the other hand, he’d been feeling rather put off by the way Sythric had all but unilaterally decided to join groups with the others. Even if Osmod himself would have supported the idea, it seemed the old man was just as quick taking his support away from Osmod as what he had been giving it on the first place. Yet the old rider was scouting ahead and now Osmod could make choices without having to deal with his stares. The way the old man looked at him whenever Osmod seemed to do something he disagreed with, made the young leader feel like a kid who had let his father down.

As the rain started coming down in big, cold drops Osmod decided they were too spread out and it would be best for them to stay closer. Now all they could see and hear was the rain, doubtlessly sent by the gods to cleanse the earth from the orc filth, it would not do to be ambushed and too far apart to help each other. Again.

He approached Fion whom he’d been keeping an eye on all day long and patted his back. ”Come my friend, we are not too far from rest. You have been doing great today, my brave fellow scout” Osmod said, smiling at the young man. Then, he hurried his horse to catch up with Eostre and Athwen, who seemed to be conversing. The young girl had a good heart, that was for sure, if she worried about the other riders in spite of the grief she ought to have been feeling. He told the women he would rather have everyone riding closer to each other for the time being and hurried his horse again, knowing they’d follow him. Then he stopped abruptly, almost causing a small collision.

”Athwen, would you like us to stop for a moment so you can get your cloak out of your bags? It’s raining now and you will be cold when the night comes if you let your clothes get soaked”

[Folwren]

Athwen looked up as Osmod addressed her again. She had instantly assumed that he would continue on ahead when he spurred past them, but when Parith pulled himself up sharply to avoid colliding nose and rear with Osmod's horse, Athwen realized she was mistaken. Her hands jerked out mechanically to grasp the reins and while she heard Osmod tell her to pull out her cloak she evened them out in her hands.

'I don't have a cloak,' she told him, looking up as she spoke. 'Everything was burned, remember? I came back too late to save anything, much less clothing. I'll live, though. It is a bit chilly.' She looked up with regret at lowered clouds and the cold rain drops wetted her face and slipped down to her collar.

Osmod frowned at her explanation and turned his horse about. She watched as he once more drew up to her and her mount's side. He draped his reins over his horse's neck and then his hands went to his own cloak's clasp at his throat.

'You can have mine,' he said, undoing it.

'Oh, no!' Athwen cried. 'Then you'd be without it! I'm fine, really I am. I don't-' the cape was placed over her shoulders - 'need it, really,' she ended, sounding rather lame. 'Osmod, please. . .'

'You can't change my mind,' he told her with a smile. 'You need it more than I do.' She smiled back at him and relented.

'Thanks,' she said quietly. He nodded and rode on. Athwen watched him go as she fastened the cloak shut and then pulled the hood over her head. It made a difference immediately, for it was warm from him. He's very kind, she said to herself, still following him with her eyes. He's so much like. . .like Korin was. At the thought of the name, she could barely keep the tears from coming to her eyes. She glanced quickly away and took a shuddering breath. To distract herself, she address Eostre.

'It will be nice to stop and find shelter. This rain is likely going to get heavier before it goes away. Let's ride a bit faster and at least catch up with the others.'

[Nogrod]

Nogrod's post:

Sythric was showing the traces orcs had left to Vaenosa, as they noticed Raedwald approaching them. “Orcs, on their way westwards, maybe two days!” Sythric called to Raedwald as he had dismounted and came towards them. Raedwald took a fast look around the place and nodded thoughtfully.

The rain was slowly getting more intense and sudden gusts of wind made it even more chilly. Storm was building up. “Hoisting some tarps, should we? It will be a wet lunch without them?” he asked Raedwald, turning towards Vaenosa at the same time: “Could you get us some wood and get a fire going? Maybe somewhere there...”, he pointed uphill, to a place some twenty yards from where they were standing, “there seemes to be just a bit of more even ground”.

As Vaenosa left to get the wood, Sythric and Raedwald started to check the trees around the fireplace to come, to see where they could tie the tarps, and should they need additional supports. When they finally got to the bussiness of actually spreading and hanging the canvasses, Sythric asked Raedwald the question, he had been thinking a lot during the morning: “How about this Brand-fellow? You’ve been riding with him all morning, I gather. What kind of man is he? And have you got any idea, how Osmod takes this? A strange guy from another village just practically leading the whole group. He did seem to be a somewhat reluctant leader, but still. He has been so quiet after that attack. I wonder, whether you should talk with Osmod on a suitable occasion?”

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Undómë's post


‘I’ve upped my estimation of Brand,’ Rædwald said as the two men secured the tarps to the trees. ‘He’s not a military man, doesn’t think in those terms from what I can see. He’s a good, solid fellow, though, who listens to what his folk have to say, and takes their opinions into account.’ He tightened a knot round a branch and chafed his hands together to bring back a little warmth to them.

‘He’s got a good head on his shoulders and an admirable sense of responsibility for what tasks he takes on. And I think that’s how he sees this ride to Edoras. As a task he’s taken on for his village’s lord, and by extension for the village itself. He has a strong sense of family, too. His first loyalty, I think is to them and then to his village. Now that’s not to say he has no respect for the King. He does seem to in his own way.’ Rædwald looked into the distance, his face thoughtful. He’s a good man, one who would do right by you. And I think that’s why the others follow him . . . not because he wants to be leader . . .’

‘And Osmod, well I’m not sure what’s going through his mind. I think the ransacked village and the unfortunate injury to Fion has put him in a reflective mood. Both these young men . . . Brand and Osmod . . . they’re just farmers and ordinary villagers at heart. That’s where their real strength lies in the husbanding of land and flock and crop . . . not in the awful, foul business of war and slaughter and grim deeds.’

He took a breath and waved at the approaching group. ‘I wouldn’t want to push him . . . Osmod, that is. If he wishes, he can come to me with his concerns, in his own way and at his own time. It’s the consideration I’d give any man.’

[Tevildo]

Dismounting his horse, Dorran went over to Brand and excused himself for interrupting, "Can I speak with you? It shouldn't take very long."

Dorran managed to steer Brand gently over to a large fir tree that provided a convenient overhang from the cold rain that was still falling. "I know you must think me daft to keep going on about this. But I feel compelled to say something. Large groups of Orcs don't march out on expeditions like this unless there are some Easterlings nearby to follow up. The Lord of Mordor uses them to keep an eye on each other, because he frankly doesn't trust either group as far as he can throw a stone. And Easterlings are much better for dragging back riches or some of the captives, rather than simply butchering them wholesale."

Dorran drew a breath before continuing, "Out on the trail I had the strangest sensation that there might be soliders from the east lurking about, perhaps even watching us. Probably I'm wrong, but when I was younger I had a good nose for such things. Some of the men used to rely on me to warn me when someone was coming. Anyways, Easterlings and Orcs are different. Orcs will come and accost you face-to-face, engaging in a bloody fight. Usually they're on foot, but Easterlings are good with a bow and can ride well. They'll stay back and watch you for the longest while and pick their time very carefully, sending a barrage of arrows into camp before riding in on their horses."

"Of couse," indicated Dorran with a shrug of his shoulders, "I could be wrong about this, the same way I was wrong the last time. I'll let you be the judge." The young man darted a nervous look towards Brand.

[Arry]

Brand listened carefully to Dorran, nodding thoughtfully as the young man finished speaking. ‘What happened after we found the burned village, regrettable as it was, doesn’t make your knowledge about these matters any less true or well grounded. Seems to me that the rest of us still need to keep what you’ve told us in the front of our thoughts.’ He pursed his lips and looked down at the ground, kicking at a small rock near the toe of his boot.

‘I have to be honest,’ Brand went on, looking back at Dorran. ‘I’ve never seen an Orc; only heard the stories about them and how vicious they can be. And I guess that was all brought home to me with seeing Athwen’s and Leod’s village. The cruelty . . . it sickened me. Had you not brought up the Easterling men and how they might figure into all this, I would still be operating in ignorance of how that foul Dark Lord lets his armies run.’ He shook his head. ‘Orcs are bad enough . . . I mean you can kind of expect something this bad from them, being as how they’re sort of like monsters or deformed beasts . . . or at least, that’s how I think of them. But to think that men . . . I mean, how can they do such horrid things . . . things worse even than the beasty Orcs, if I understand you rightly.’

Brand ran his fingers though his tangled hair. ‘Well, all we can do is be on the alert as we ride along and set watches when we camp. You especially, Dorran, if you see or smell or hear anything suspicious, raise the alarm. “Better safe than sorry”, or so my father always says.’ He nodded at Dorran. ‘If they’re sneaky, like you say, your eyes and ears may give us one advantage we have . . . something to give us just enough time to either get away or to turn their attack aside before they can overwhelm us by surprise.’

He let his breath out in a noisy rush. ‘Whew! . . . Well, let’s put that aside for right now, what do you say. There are no Easterlings in sight at the moment and I’m hungry and cold . . . how about we get us something to eat and a hot cup of tea. Perhaps our chances will look better with our bellies full and our toes and noses warm!’

Brand put his arm over Dorran’s shoulders and walked with him to the fire, making small talk about Wulfham and family as they went along. In the back of his mind, though, Brand could not shake the image of the monstrous men, as he saw them, who would take the lives of others so lightly . . .

[Arry]

Nogrod's post

The chicken were roasted quite quickly. With bread, and whatever anyone had to go with them, it made a decent lunch. The rain wasn’t getting worse anymore, but had evened to a steady flow of water, from which the canvasses gave them occasional shelter. Four chicken to twelve people. Not so bad as missions go, Sythric thought by himself while taking a small sip from his wineskin. But this is not going to last too long... still, we all are cold. He looked at the half-empty skin in his hands for a while and then passed it over.

Addressing all the people around the small fire, he said: “I can continue scouting this afternoon, but if anyone of you is willing to go for it, I will be just happy to ride with the main group. But whoever is going to scout, I would like to give you some advice, as I think that most of you have never scouted in the head of a company. Sooner or later, many of us will have to perform that duty. My friend Raedwald here”, he glanced at Raedwald shortly, “can elaborate, if I make the point inadequately”. He caught Vaenosa’s eyes, then looked at Brand and Osmod to ensure their approval, and then continued.

“Basically scouting is easy. There are just two principles involved: see all, and do not be seen by any.” He smiled a bit after his words – and received the wineskin back from its tour from Leod, who was sitting next to his right. “But to accomplish that, you need two more things. You have to be fast, and you have to plan the best route well beforehand. And even as these are neither very complicated things, you could say, it’s an easy thing. It’s just when you have to combine all these four in real situation, that scouting becomes more challenging.”

He took another sip from his skin and closed the cork. “I saw Vaenora here...”, then he got baffled as Vaenosa’s look changed, “Venoa? Sorry, I must have slipped your name. Vaenosa was it?” As he saw some people around him nodding in comfirmation, he continued, slightly embarrassed. “Well, Vaenosa here”, he nodded to her, trying to apologize from her with his eyes, “I saw her riding today, and she was doing a good job. She was on the primary task of a scout, checking the route of the party ahead. Maybe one should pay a bit more attention to approaching possible ambush-places more covered and faster, but that was a good job from someone with no military training. You have talent for this work Vaenosa.” With that he smiled openly to her, and nodded approvingly. “But as we are strong enough in numbers, we can spare another scout also. And that work is partly different. The other scout should – as I did this morning – try to find places where he would have the best possible view to the surrounding areas. Kind of widening the scope of our awareness. In the best instance, we could have knowledge of any possible enemy from a day’s or two’s distance, and could avoid meeting them altogether. And that brings me to this morning. I climbed that larger hill back there. The city of Croacht seems to be standing, and there were no armies up and about spreading over our land. So also some good news to report on these unhappy times.” With that he ended, and turned questioningly towards Readwald.

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Undómë's post


‘That lifts my spirits . . . the news about Croacht. Though at the same time, I think that it will be hit hard once the bigger battles begin and that Dark Lord in Mordor pushes west.’

Rædwald threw the leg bone from the chicken he’d been eating into the fire, watching what little fat was left on it blaze up around the knob ends. ‘I think Sythric, is right in his little lesson on scouting. I know most of you who tend flocks have some experience with it . . . though your enemy would be of the four legged variety, and less likely to be as stealthy as some of the two legged sort.’

He nodded at Sythric, saying, ‘I think it might be best if you stay on as one of the scouts. Perhaps Osmod and Brand and I can take up the rear position, and be on alert for problems following us.’

Rædwald’s eyes flicked round the circle; some were uneasy at his words and glanced over there shoulders as if to make sure no danger lay behind . . .

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Folwren's post


The food and fire had thoroughly warmed Athwen. The borrowed cloak was pushed back over her shoulders and the hood draped down her back. She sat with her legs crossed and her elbows on her knees, looking from one speaker to the other as they talked about scouting and what dangers lay ahead. She wondered if there would really be any dangers to look out for. Surely the orcs would be long gone by now, and the Easterlings. . .they would have been seen by now if they were around, surely?

All the same, the older men’s words sounded grave and they were absolutely serious. She looked around the group of twelve and then out at the grey and dull sky and world outside the sheltering tarp. Certainly she wasn’t looking forward the leaving and heading out again. With a sigh she rose and went to the edge. She stuck her hands out beyond to catch the falling streamlets of rain water running from their tent. With it she rinsed her hands from the lunch and then turned back.

As she was returning to the fire, she noted Osmod by his horse, messing with the saddle bags. She altered her course and went to him, stopping behind him.

‘Do you want your cloak back? I’m quite warm now. Thanks very much for lending it.’

He looked over his shoulder at her and one of his quick smiles flashed across his face. ‘No, keep it yet a while longer. It’s still raining and you’ll need it when we leave.’

Her eyes almost twinkled as she smiled back. ‘You’ll need it to, I’ll remind you,’ she answered. He shrugged, closed the bag, fastened it and turned to face her, but she could tell from his face that he would still refuse. Her hands were at the clasp. ‘Won’t you take it?’ He only shook his head, and she gave up. ‘I saw you riding Vaenosa’s horse yesterday,’ she said at once. ‘You ride very well. Not many of the boys at home could have kept their seats as well as you. Do you train horses?’

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Farael's post


“Train horses?” Osmod laughed slightly “No, I can’t say I do that. But I spend a lot of time among horses, dogs and cattle. I guess I have learned a thing or two about each of them… A... and Nay, the horse, was only playing.” He smiled briefly, doing his best to downplay what had happened “He could have kicked me off if he had really wanted to” He smiled at Athwen, and offered her one of the biscuits he had taken from his bag, then he put a whole one in his mouth.

It was a moment before he could swallow and speak again, but the blush on his face spoke for itself. “I am so sorry… I guess I have learned about horses but forgotten my modals.” His face was crimson red and he could see Athwen found it quite amusing.

Osmod escorted Athwen back to the fire, as the last few drops of rain fell from the skies. Soon they would be leaving again and Osmod wanted to warm himself some, as he was colder than what he let on. But of course, he smiled at Athwen when she asked him if he was cold and denied it. His cloak looked rather funny on her and at any other time, he would have laughed about it. This time, the situation was too solemn for such thing.

Lost in his thoughts, Osmod did not realize Athwen had been talking to him. This caused Osmod to blush again, but this time, neither of them said anything about it.