Tears of Mirrormere RPG

[Himaran]

The heavy latch fell into place and Dalin breathed a long sigh. Was it relief? He felt somewhat safe, at least. Or perhaps it was merely an expression of his troubled spirit. Since recovering from his grief long enough to leave the hall and return to his quarters, the dwarf had watched countless others drift off into the caverns in grief, despair and bewilderment. He was strangely fascinated by how their differing emotions manifested in physical ways, particularly subtle hand gestures. Those with families clutched one another, reassuring young and old alike that their situations were far from dire while comforting the distraught. Others walked with a new determination and purpose, hands kept noticably closer to visible weaponry, as if prepared to strike out against an unseen foe.

But a third group troubled Dalin; these individuals walked alone, hands nervously clenched, fidgeting and glancing furtively left and right. The atmosphere among these dwarves was tense and smelled of panic and fear. Hushed voices whispered back forth as rumors began to spread; some said that an orc army had already invaded the upper levels. Others swore that outsiders weren't involved at all, but that Balin has been murdered by one of his own. A fringe gathering were even rambling about a dragon's involvement in the affair. Dalin didn't know what to believe, but found the rammifications of the collective possibilities to be terrifying. Safe at last in his home, he re-examined the lock to make sure it was secure. "Not a day to be taking chances," he muttered.

[Boromir88]

Gror had not often been in a company as mighty as the one he was in now, and he didn't like it much. The eyes of all the noble dwarves, of the council, staring back at him; waiting on his report.

Gror! Get a hold of yourself! You were never this way around Dain, and King Dain was a mighty dwarf; it was an honour to be in his company too! Then again, Gror got used to being around King Dain. This was an entirely new and uncomfortable situation for him.

"What I've seen? Oh...right...uh - what I've seen. Yes, what I've seen." Get it together you bumbling fool! Act like you would around Dain, or even your father's friends. It isn't much different.

Yet, it was different. Gror couldn't describe it. King Dain was a noble dwarf in his own right, but being in the presense of Balin's dwarves - there was a different air of nobility. One that made Gror feel like he didn't deserve to be here; he should be washing these dwarves' helmets, not addressing them at the council.

But you are here, Gror, because you were asked to be here. That's got to mean something. Tror could have sent you away and told the Council the news himself, but he didn't. Do not disappoint now.

Gror cleared his throat and spoke with much greater strength and authority:

"I have seen a large Orc army heading up the Silverlode. Nothing more than that, I felt it of dire importance to warn you of this threat that approaches. A force of this size can only mean one thing, they're looking for a fight, and I say we give them one!"

Gror turned to Tror, and bowed low; "My bow and sword are yours, lord, and I offer you my service. It may not be much at all, but it is yours for as long as you decide to have it."

[Groin Redbeard]

The manner of Gror was what Tror expected, gathering from his first conversation with him: nervous and uncertain. Though Gror stuttered often in the first few utterances he made the end product of his short speech effective. Needless to say, this was not what many of the members had expected from the messenger, any rumor of an orc army anywhere near their beloved city had not been heard or suspected by anyone. Even Tror half wished that he had misheard Gror, an army of orcs was not a pleasant thought even for a veteran soldier to think about. His army was small but bore many of the veterans from kingdom of the Iron Hills, but goblins never came in small groups, and an orc army capable of swarming the great halls of Khazad-dum could be expected to be as large as five thousand strong.

Frar grinned at Tror’s side, a chance to avenge Balin would certainly a factor in this battle. Nali gave no expression of shock or surprise, seeing as Tror had already told him before the council what the crisis was, but his brother gave a short cry of surprise.

"My bow and sword are yours, lord, and I offer you my service. It may not be much at all, but it is yours for as long as you decide to have it.”

It appeared that Tror’s rant about calling him lord had little effect on Gror, he bowed low to Tror causing his beard to sweep the ground. However, Tror did not feel as disgusted with this messenger offering him honor, in fact the same situation would probably had occurred even if Balin were there. He smiled and stood looked into Gror’s eyes.

“Most readily do I accept it then. You are a messenger of king Dain and I will give you all the honor and respect that is yours. Your fealty will not be forgotten by me when this is over.” Tror now turned to face the council. “You heard why I have called you together. The odds against us are extreme but not impossible, we have strong walls to withstand any siege that might be brought to the foot of these mountains, the uncertainty of our enemy is almost certain: they don’t know our numbers or our strength in the field. Most importantly of all: we have the element of surprise, an army that can move undetected by our scouts is definitely relying speed and surprise, they have had to be marching hard today and will be worn out when we take the field. This may give us an edge in battle.” Tror paused for a moment and turned back to Gror. “How long do we have before the orcs are upon us?”

[Durelin]

Kórin could not form words in response to Nali’s chiding. She expected the old dwarf could tell that her body only tensed further following his reminder. Remember her place? She had been summoned to this council along with the rest! But no, she was simply a “guest” here, while the others – the males here, who prided themselves their lineage and experience – they were the actual members of this council. Why under earth did they drag her here if she had no real place in the proceedings?

She also remained silent as the others hailed Trór as their lord, starting with Ori. “For that is what he is now…” Kórin brooded on these words, keeping her eyes often on her new ‘lord’. She twisted her mouth in distaste more, though, when Trór addressed the dwarves gathered around him as friends. Yes, friends. This group of “friends” chose the leader of the entire colony from amongst themselves. Each and every dwarf in the colony had chosen to follow the Lord Balin when they left their homes to retake their ancient home of Khazad-dûm. Yes, Trór had been Balin’s choice as his right hand while he ruled, but this was no clear succession.

The messenger’s words came as little surprise to Kórin, and in her current state she felt little in response. Besides the intense anger and hatred talk of orcs brought about, she was confused as to why Trór and all the dwarves summoned seemed to be settling in for a nice discussion. How much was there to discuss? If this messenger could tell them no more than that there was a “large orc army” headed their way, they were wasting their time. They needed to send more reliable scouts out immediately, and begin preparing to set out and meet these orcs in battle.

Kórin prepared to speak her mind, even though she still felt a little too muddled to voice her thoughts, but she waited at least to hear the messenger’s response to Trór’s question. Hopefully this Gror was observant enough to provide a couple more details.

[Folwren]

Kénan leaned forward and words burst from his mouth be fore he meant them to be spoken. “The element of surprise?” The dwarves of the council looked at him. He didn’t mind in the least. He had had something to say ever since arriving and he had kept quiet too long. So he got to his feet and faced Trór, giving poor Gror no chance to answer.

“The element of surprise? Do you know nothing? The orcs themselves have already had the element of surprise! They took from us our leader! The one dwarf who could possibly lead us well into battle is now dead. What you saw was a mere scouting party of the orcs. They meant to show themselves. They don’t care now what we do. They’ve already surprised us.” He snorted, disgusted, and looked around at the other dwarves.

“I would like to know just why we are in this predicament. Are we sure, I mean, that we want Trór as our leader? Was it not him who allowed Balin to go down alone and look into Mirrormere? And now he speaks of the element of surprise?” He looked again at Trór and shook his head like a reproving father. “Foolishness.” He allowed the word to hang in almost mutinous silence for a moment. “Tell me, how do you intend to use this supposed surprise against the orcs, when we are so few and they are so many?”

[Durelin]

Kórin raised an eyebrow at Trór upon hearing Kénan’s words. She was glad to find another reason for her distaste of him. Though this went beyond distaste – that he would leave the Lord Balin’s side for any reason was disturbing. Continuing to watch Trór closely she wondered if their lord’s death weighed on him heavily enough.

Kórin was very tempted to echo Kénan’s concerns, but she knew he had said enough, and that certainly his voice carried far more weight than hers ever would. Instead she returned to her feelings of impatience with all those present – not just their supposed leader.

The fiery-haired dwarf snorted a laugh of exasperation. It seemed that the blind were leading the blind, using the counsel of the blind!

“And how many is ‘so many’?” Kórin asked – then added, “exactly,” for clarity. She did not bother to rise from her seat, and readied herself to ignore any quiet admonishment from Nali beside her. He apparently thought he could restrain her somehow should she decide to take part in the council to which she was invited.

[Groin Redbeard]

The sudden outburst from Kenan surprised Tror. There was a deep flame of passion burning in the old Dwarf’s eyes as he angerly sprang to his feet. Tror’s insticts caused him to react and face Kenan suddenly, leaving the timid Gror looking about as if he were an insignifican memeber, and indeed he was as soon as Kenan started to speak.

What Tror had expected from Kenan was the reassurance in their certain victory against the orc invaders, but what the old Dwarf said was of an entirely different matter. Tror couldn’t believe his ears. He was always under the impression that he and Kenan were friends but it was evident that Kenan held him as one who had never seen war: no more than an amature soldier! However, what Kenan said next drove Tror to a state of fury. Was he suggesting that Tror played a part in the death of Balin?

“Tell me, how do you intend to use this spposed surprise against the orcs, when we are so many?”

The first thing to do is to breadk your neck old Dwarf! Perhaps I could surprise the orcs by mounting your head on my spear!

“And how many is ‘so many’?” A women asked – then added, “exactly?” Tror snapped his gaze towards the next speaker, who chimed in with Kenan. Who was this lady who spoke as haughtily as a member of nobility?

“Do not interrupt,” barked Tror, “but seeing as Kenan has already set the example for cutting people off I shall set things right by addressing you personally, Kenan.”

Tror clenched his fist and took a step towards Kenan, some broken teeth might remind him that he was not even present whe Balin had died. His angry footfall was checked by Ori, who sprang infront of the angry warrior.

“This is not the time.” Ori whispered through his pressed lips.

Taken back by this gesture, Tror paused. Ori’s words saw their affect almost instantly as Tror’s expression softened and a look of intense agony enveloped his features. Hadn’t he, by his own words, admitted to Kenan that he had failled his lord? Kenan was right on that account: Tror had failled Balin, but Tror would not address that matter. It was a mistake to let his emotions get the better of him this situation. If you want to get these people through this act like a dwarf who know what to expect.

“You lose hope quickly, Kenan.” he said in a rugged yet subdued voice. “I always thought of you as a fighter.”

“What hope is there? Show me the hope in you plans.”

“There is no guaranty of hope in any of our plans!” Tror responded vehemently,regaining some of his pride and slamming his fist on the stone table. There was a short pause, the council had not lasted five minutes and already he was at his wits end. Tror sighed and rubbed his clenched hand in his other.

“Very well then, what would you have me do, most venerable Kenan.” Tror said this last part with an air of mockery. “If we are not to fight, then what? Flee as fast as our legs can carry us to the Hollin Gate? Even if such an attempt were possible, I would not stand for the shame that it would bring upon our heads?” Tror’s voice had risen in the last sentence. Try as he might he could not contain his fighting spirit.

“If you will not fight for me fight for the women, the children, and the honor that is ours as long as Khazad-dum stands. What is this foul rhetoric that I hear from you, Kenan? You speak of Balin with pride and honor, as you rightly should, but did he conquor and restore the great kingdom of our ancestors to live in fear? Speak no more of hope to us if you have none; do not infest our kin with the lies of the enemy. If I am deemed unworthy in your sight then leave me pressence and in a way fitting to yourself dispose of yourself, but if not, then shall I proudly fight by your side as one who is willing to scrafice his all for the glory that belongs to this great city.

“I am no Balin, but who among us can ascend his lofty mountain of leadership? Already I have made faults, but I also have faith in our survival. I know your qualities, and they are many, but if we are to survive I need Dwarves who are ready to fight with me.” Tror paused to see if Kenan was going to respond. He wondered if any of the council had noticed that he had evaded the topic of what his plan was, in truth he had only vague outlines on what to do. Instead, Tror hoped to rouse some of the old spirit that had died with Balin. Tror looked back at Gror he was anxious to get back to the actual planning of the battle. Such outbursts wearried him or than any fight ever would.

[Groin Redbeard]

The old Dwarf winced as Tror rebuked Korin's question, he was just glad that Kenan was on his mind. Nali agreed with the first part of Kenan's questions, even if he did think that they were out of place, but the last part was almost an outward act of treason. Nevertheless, he felt split when Tror began to speak hotly against Kenan, Tror seemed like a youngster defying a father, yet Nali knew that his loyalty was with the new lord.

Thankfully, Gror had continued with talking instead of holding back from the argument. Nali could feel the majority of the council beginning to bristle at Kenan and Tror, the quicker that they got back on track the better.

Two hours is a very short time for a crisis so dire as this. Nali looked up at the stone faces of the gates and wondered if they could hold off, or possibly hide their great city as they they had done before when the Dark Lord enveloped the surrounding lands. He shook his head in silence, nothing happens twice, this meant war. He wished that Gror would be more precise in his explanation of the enemies host. A round about number would give the council a grasp of how to position their own soldiers.