The Great Golden Hoard Game Thread

[Valier]

Day 4 came to an end, the adventurers were finding the trail arduous and long...was the promised treasure worth it?

Night 4 has now begun.

All players please pm me your daily favorite vote. You have 24 hours for this.


Players that may converse are as follows...

Group 1
Eomeleo
Valesseka

Group 2
Thin-Gloomy

Group 3
Galadster

Group 4
Novgorod
Glirdingo

Group 5
Ransley

Group 6
Kafkalina

Group 7
Narleah


This map is where you are resting for the night and where you start from on Day 5.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Éomeléo lazed by the great oak tree and watched the last vestiges of sunlight diminish. It was a lovely night. He wondered if Valesseka had followed him west. He supposed she would. He wondered also where the other competitors were, and whether they took less rest than he did. Frowning slightly, he realised that this was very likely.

The time passed and Éomeléo felt a surge of foreboding. He gripped his sword and looked into the distance. He had the feeling that hostility was approaching. Sure enough, he heard a sound to his right. Turning around he spotted the Arnorian girl marching towards him, a slightly mad glint was in her eye. Éomeléo could hardly believe that someone would not be smiling at the sight of his friendly face.

He stood up, swinging his sword around as if he were practising his strokes; he was actually a little bit nervous.

[Valier]

Night Four went out without a hitch, the adventurers were quiet and subdued...

Day 5 has now begun. You have 36 hours to complete your daily tasks.


Players in Roa's zone

Sleepy
Nogrod
THE ka
Naria

You will pm your direction to Roa and recieve all your info from her.


Player's still in my zone

Valesse
Eomer
Gil-Galad
Thinlómien

You will pm me your direction still, until I tell you otherwise

The day 4 favorite post winner is.......Novgorod!!!! He will travel twice as far as the others for today only.

Edit: Sorry I posted this an hour early...if any players wants to add a post, please let me know....

[Valesse]

Valesseka had refused to talk with Éomeléo the night before, and was now mentally reciting her new mantra Noble -indeed-. As far as she was concerned the Gondorian was guilty, and she would figure out his punishment in due time. As for today she was sure to walk up as early as she possibly could have and noisily prepared herself for the next trek. After I was so nice to him! After I shared my kingsfoil!

Even as steamed as she was with Éomeléo, it was in her plot to sabotage him not to have him believe it could be her. With hardly an audible grumble (clearly not the same situation in her head.) Valesseka headed west once again, quickly entering the northernmost part of Mirkwood. Here the air seemed much cooler which was a relief after the blistering heat of the sun, and the cruel burn of the wind from days past. Hours went by, but with hardly any notice. The Arnorian's hatred was fast becoming the last thing on her mind as she took in the young forest around her. She thought it was beautiful and just for a minute perhaps it even humbled her enough to consider that maybe, just maybe, the scene she had just walked into was fairer than herself.

That moment was soon to pass, as she came closer to a river in the woods where apparently there had been a recent flood. There water stood in large shallow pools, glittering where the trees broke and let in light from above. "Well how am I going to--Putooh!" Valesseka sputtered, and then again. Backing away she saw something monsterous coming at her, like a large bubbling shadow she'd before only fear in nightmares. Holding back nothing, the girl screamed and retreated out of sight. She was panicked... how was she suppose to get past that... that... Thing!?

M-maybe...if I... Valesseka was blumbering behind a tree, here and there she could be heard whimpering. Maybe if I looked scary also? Would that thing be afraid of orcs? Somehow mustering up the courage to approach the pools again she gasped... whatever it was, it created something like a wall across the water. Shuddering, she reached deep into the pulls and starting caking on mud. Not exactly sure what an orc looked like, she was quite liberal in applying it. Soon she was covered in muck and fallen leaves. It isn't leaving. She frowned, slinging her pack back over onto a shoulder, and holding her stave ready. I have to get across. Just think about that... whatever it is, can't hurt me too badly...

The moment of truth had arrived for the day, as Valesseka approached the floating mass. Mosquitoes! Big ones, and lots of them...

Valesseka could still hear the humming through her mud packed ears. Just get across the river. Just get across. She soon found that it was getting impossible to see where she was heading because the mass of mosquitoes were quite interested in this strange creature that had wandered into their midst. She took off her axe and used it to bat away what mosquitoes were infront of her. Progress was slow, and what time she had made in her pleasent stroll through the woods before was now being literally eatten up by mosquitoes. "Putooh!" They were getting in her mouth! She tried to hold it as closed as she could and still be able to draw some breath from it.

I'm there, I'm to the river. Now there was another problem... How was she going to get across? Now at the edge of the mosquito cloud, she could see a fallen tree laying across the river. Hurrying toward it, she was nearly hurt to find it rotting. Obviously it couldn't carry her weight. Valesseka slung her pack infront of her and tied it to her stave which she balanced ontop of the rotting tree. carefully she entered the water, pulling her supplies across with her. She would tread water manically when she didn't feel ground under her, and used the fallen tree to pull herself across. When she was finally to where she could stand again, Valesseka was sapped of energy, but feared that if she remained close to these insects, she'd end up sapped of more than that.

Dragging her toes across the ground, she managed to clamber away from the mosquitoes and set up a muddy camp.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Éomeléo marched onwards, still bemused by last night's events (or non-events, as it were). Why had that odd Arnorian girl refused to talk with him? He certainly hadn't done anything to upset her, unless (he thought) being in the presence of handsome men upset her. Éomeléo chuckled to himself. Yes, I'm afraid this is true; but please don't hold it against him, for vanity is encouraged among the noble class.

Regardless, on he went, thinking less and less about Valeseka and more and more about the great forest of Mirkwood, which he was fast approaching. It looked very dark and not too friendly. He reached it in the late afternoon and, after a brief rest, dived into the unknown. He had barely walked ten minutes under the great trees and already he felt suffocated and unwanted. His eyes became twitchy and he was flinching at the slightest sound.

As the Sun descended, Éomeléo noticed a difference in the forest up ahead. It looked very hazy and grey, and as he approached the source of this change, he saw that it was being caused by water. Clearly, there had been some flooding in these parts. There wouldn't be a problem, though: unless Mirkwood hosted a phantom canyon, this water wouldn't be deep at all, and anyone should be able to walk through it.

He strode on towards the water, but stopped short in terror. Something was there.

At first he thought it was a ghost. It was a big, grey, floating thing so this guess was pretty logical if you think about it. However, even from his vantage point several yards away, Éomeléo could hear a horrid buzzing sound emanating from the spectre. Rubbing his eyes, he realised that what he was seeing was a swarm of mosquitoes.

"Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear!" he wailed. Éomeléo hated mosquitoes. In fact, he hated all manner of bees, boogs and buzzing, bumbling beasts of the air. He hopped from one foot to the other, terrified by the prospect of being eaten alive by this forest-evil.

Still, he knew that sacrifices would have to be made in order to win this gold; and the less the sacrifice if the cleverer the solution! The flooding had not covered a great area: it was probably only about forty feet 'til the blackness of the trees on the other side of the slimy lagoon. So, without giving himself time to get even more scared, Éomeléo whipped off his cloak, wrapped it around his head, and ran.

He ran like the wind!

Splash! and into the water he went. Crash! and he felt the heavy blows of the mosquitoe-kings, presiding over their stagnant domain. It was sickening: blind to the world, every touch accentuated tenfold, and the mosquitoes covering his clothed form so completely. But he escaped the water, and slowly, slowly the mosquitoes lost interest in this blue intruder. Still, he kept running.

Unfortunately, he collided with a very strong tree.

Lying dazed on the ground, still with his cloak over his head, Éomeléo had left the bugs behind him. Picking himself up and wandering deeper into Mirkwood, he finally lifted his cloak from his face, and saw the great forest looking blacker and even more threatening. Mosquitoe-free, though.

[Glirdan]

Glirdingo set off at an easy pace the next day. It wasn't long before he reaced a fast running stream, where two stream's met and joined. "How in Eru's name am I to cross this!?" he thought. He started pacing back and forth along the bank, trying to figure out a way to cross the stream.

It was then that he turned, slipped in a thing of mud and fell partway into the river. He caught himself and clambered back out onto the. It was then that he noticed that his sack was missing. He looked downstram and saw it floating along the river. "Oh no!! My food! My clothes! My rope and my canteen!!" he cried aloud. Luckily, he still had his bow, arrows, dagger and walking stick. "Uh!! What am I going to do!?" his sack was now 30 yards away. "That's it, I can't go on without food and I don't know my roots and berries to well. I need my sack!!"

With that, he dove into the stream and started swimming fast, aided by the current of the stream, towards his pack, dodging the odd rocks sticking out. He reached it and grabbed onto a near by rock to hold him there while he caught his breath. "Okay, now, I can either attempt to swim up stream against this current, or try to swim to the shore," he thought exhaustedly. Just then, a splash of water hit him in the face, forcing him to let go of the rock. He tried grabbing at something else and managed to grab onto another protruding rock.

"Okay, need to think of something fast." It was as another spray of water caught him in the face that he made up his mind. "I'm swimming to shore." "With that, he set out for shore, attempting to swim past the current. Unfortunately, it still managed to grab him and sweep him off a little further downstream before he managed to reach the shore.

He clambered out, soaking wet and exhausted. He rested a little longer before heading back along the bank upstream to where he had left his other things. It was a few hours before midday when he got there. He rested a little longer in order to let his clothes, both pairs, dry off. The lembas bread was soaked right through, but still edible as they did not crumble. His rope was unharmed and they same with his canteen. "Well, I'm glad that's over, Now to think of a way to cross this stream," he thought, quite upset.

It was then that he noticed that there were a few stones placed here and there in the river which were flat enough to stand on. "Hmmmm. If I jump correctly, I'll be able to land on those rocks and make it across. I just need to watch my step and hope that I don't fall in..." With that, he set off on his terrifying task. Every jump he made, he was afraid he had miscalclated. But his luck held out this time. He made it across with nothing but wet feet.

"Well, that was certainly enough adventure for one day. Now, let's get on with this adventure," he said aloud, always walking west towards his eventual goal.

[Nogrod]

The rainstorm came as unwelcomed news. Novgorod had barely gotten dry after last day’s swimming during the morning and now he was soaking wet again. The continual going uphill and downhill had taken its toll of Novgorod already, but now the slopes were even turning slippery and unstable. The going was getting slower all the time. The first days of the journey he had been in high spirits, now it was different.

These were rough regions to trek. He had known it beforehand as he had picked this southern path in the first instance. No one can drag me into Mirkwood, not even a great golden horde, he had mumbled then, and comforted himself with the thought of avoiding Mirkwood even now as he tried to keep his balance on a steep and slippery uphill he was ascending.

He wasn’t afraid of any fairies or the stuff like that people who had never actually lived in Mirkwood were afraid of. No, no. But he had some unsettled disputes with other rogues and rogue-gangs living in Mirkwood. Novgorod had no desire to meet those rogues or to settle those matters.

Novgorod was almost out of breath as he was reaching the hilltop and decided to have a break after finishing the climb. But there was to be no rest. As soon as he reached the top of the hill he saw them. About ten Easterling-rogues having an encampment on the top of the next hill northwards from him, effectively closing his way as the mountains were on his left side and the river at his right..And their guardsman had obviously seen him too as he had suddenly started to wave his hands excitedly and was pointing to his direction.

Before Novgorod had time to curse properly he noticed three of the Easterlings mounting their horses and starting towards him. It was hard for the horses to descend the unstable slope but they kept coming towards him with a slow but steady pace. They were some hundred yards away from him now as they had reached the low ground between the hills separating him from the Easterling encampment. Novgorod had nowhere to run, except running back south. I’m after the great golden horde and will not be running backwards...

Well, the table is laid and the dices are cast. Now it’s time to perform the miracles..., he thought gloomily to himself as he waved his hand to the Easterlings approaching him. With that he started descending towards them, spreading his both hands wide open to make sure they understood his intentions. They did and halted at the foot of the hill. Hopefully it’s not Khadil-Azahr or Derwang...

Some twenty yards from the Easterlings he called them: “Not the best of days, aye?” He took a careful look at the three. The one in the lead looked uncomfortably familiar. Gemel-Whir! Darn! Just my luck, he thought and cursed heavily to himself. But aloud he yelled: “Gemel-Whir! What a surprise!” He decided to take the risk as there seemed to be very little he could lose anyhow. “Are you still riding with that old Khadil-Azahr, the robed-robber? Don’t tell me you’re still sticking with the old stager?”

“I sure am, and he will be delighted to see you again, I’ll promise you that”, Gemel-Whir answered wryly. “No tricks Novgo’. Just walk between us. My friends here have lances ready if you try something.”

They arrived to the encampment after some slipping and cursing of both Novgorod and the horsemen. Khadil-Azahr, impressive-looking older Easterling, clad in silken robes walked towards them. After recognising the newcomer he smiled maliciously and welcomed him. “Well, well. Who do we have here? Novgorod, the “shadow-blade”, the trick-man himself! Praised be the stars!” He glanced at Gemel-Whir and winked an eye to him. “Nice little coincidence this is, isn’t it?” he continued with his broken Westron and returned his gaze to Novgorod.

“So you have been searching for me to pay back your crime and to give your life for it?” Khadil-Azahr needled Novgorod and bursted to laughter. “Well, what do you say now? You have no chance of tricks this time my friend.”

How ironic! To get yourself killed because of the one decent thing you have done in your life. Novgorod was desperately looking for options to get out of the situation. He knew he had not much time. He had joined the party of Khadil-Azahr two years ago and been with it for a couple of months. After a greatly successful hold up he had decided to get out of the gang that was then hunted heavily, like leaving a sinking ship he had thought at that time. But he had not left alone or empty-handed. He had stolen almost half of what there was in Khadil-Azahr’s coffin, killing one of Khadil’s personal guards by stabbing him in the middle of the night. But what probably was even worse, he had taken the young Esgarothian girl, Fannan, whom Khadil had as a personal toy with him. They had scared the other horses away and rode to the woods. The journey to Easgaroth had taken a few days and Novgorod had had his share of the enjoyment with the young girl. But he had both taken her away from the gang that had kidnapped her and brought her back to her home. To Novgorod, that was the most deecent thing he had done in his life.

The rush of memories overwhelmed Novgorod’s mind and distracted him from coming up with a way out. “So how would you like to recompense me of my losses, other than by dying nastily?” Khadil-Azahr queried maliciously. “I guess you are too poor to pay me back the money and too much of a loner to hand me some soft company you deceitfully robbed me?”, he grinned. After a moment of silence he continued: “Taking that for granted, how would you like to die? Maybe chopped in pieces? Skinned alive? Torn apart by the horses? Suffocated? Strangled?” Khadil-Azahr was laughing and laughing louder after every suggestion he made. The laugh spread over the whole Easterling encampment. The only one who didn’t feel like laughing was Novgorod, but he laughed too. Then he suddenly had an idea, a crazy one, but without better ones around it could be worth trying. And would he succeed in it, he would truly laugh for it.

“If I have a right to choose, I would like to be torn apart by horses”, Novgorod answered in as steady voice he could produce, silencing the laughter. “I’ve always fancied that”, he added and made the Easterlings burst to laughter again.

“You’ll get what you want Novgo’. Take his belongings and tie him up!” Khadil-Azahr called to his men, looking Novgorod keenly to the eye.

“I hope you would grant me just one request Khadil.” Novgorod said to the older Easterling. “I’ve been a fighter all my life and would like to die with my sword on my side. Take the other stuff but let my blade be on my waist as I die. If my hands and legs are tied, there should be no problem for you, but it would mean me much.” Khadil-Azahr studied Novgorod’s face for a while and then nodded slightly. “I’m not a heartless man and would like to die myself with my sword. Keep it.” With that he turned to the other Easterlings. “C’mon, tie him up, leave the sword! We have a spectacle to wittness!” He smiled wryly to Novgorod and turned away.

Four horses were picked and to the saddle of each one of them a rope was tied. These ropes were then tied to Novgorod’s wrists and ankles, one to each. Then Novgorod heard the whips lash. He felt a stunning pain in all his limbs as the ropes tightened. His left shoulder went out of its place. It hurt terribly. But as he had hoped, the ground was slippery enough to save him from being torn to pieces. The horses could not make their balance and were tumbling. As soon as the horse that was tied to his right hand had slipped and fell to the ground the rope got loose. He drew his sword and hacked the other ropes. Amidst the confusion he managed to get up and run for the horse still tied to his right hand. It was struggling to get up as Novgorod jumped on it. Mounted he faced the baffled Easterlings. “No tricks this time you said!” he yelled at Khadil-Azahr and took the reins of the horse, gallopping towards the other horses, cutting the rope from his right hand as he went.. Hitting a few of the rest of the horses with the lap of his sword he managed to panic them and they ran away. Riding through the camp he dared to do the trick he had learned as a young man. There was a backpack of one Easterling just in front of him and he turned around in his saddle, leaning downwards and grasping the sack, turning up from the other side of the stallion he rode.

Novgorod rode straight over the Easterling camp and headed northwards to make it to the downwards slope. An arrow caught his left hand and went through it just above the elbow and at least three arrows hit the horse as he was getting downhill. The horse slipped and then fell, in full speed. Novgorod was thrown from the saddle and landed on the slope, hitting his side painfully to a boulder he landed on. Without thinking he started rolling down the hill, carefully holding to his blade and the Easterling’s backpack.

As he tumbled to the foot of the hill he glanced upwards. Some of the Easterlings tried to follow him, but were stumbling on the slippery and unstable slope. Without horses they had no advance and no one seemed to dare a roll-down. He got up and not caring about the pain in his left hand and his right side he took to running as fast as he could. The curses he heard were not any more in Westron, but in the Easterling tongue, and they were becoming fainter and fainter all the time.

One of the curses in Easterling he did understand. Slimy Burbot! He had heard that one before from the same mouth now bellowing on the top of the hill far behind him. Sorry Khadil! I outwitted you a second time...

[Thinlómien]

Thin-Gloomy had never liked forests. Heading straight west he had managed to get into one. And this was a scary one. It was called the Mirkwood. The trees grew thickly and the sky was scarcely to be seen. Darkness and lack of space were not things that would normally have bothered Thin-Gloomy, but in this forest, they were wrong in a sense. The darkness was not natural darkness - like in a cave, but it was green and well, treeish. And there was something darker to it than to normal darkness.

The dwarf walked warily under the trees. Suddenly the only blue spot above him was covered with black. Before he could do anything, a flock of angry crows was attacking him. “What did I do to have your wrath?”, Thin-Gloomy wailed in vain, trying to protect his eyes. He drew the Thistle-Cleaver and tried to hit the crows with it. They were far too fast for him and his knife was far too short a weapon. Shlashing desperately with the knife, he took a few steps so that he had his back against a tree. The tree offered him protection, but he still needed a longer weapon. He tore off one of the lower branches of the tree, and started whipping the crows with it. They only backed away and after a short while attacked again. This is not working, Thin-Gloomy thought, I need them to be scared away.

Thin-Gloomy crouch down and took his tinderbox. He wanted to set the branch on firw. All the time the crows were attacking him; scratching his back and tearing his hair. When he finally managed to make the fire, he rose up. Shrieking he waved the flaming branch and defended himself with it.

The crows were not used to fire, and a shrieking dwarf was a new concept for them. Scared and surprised, the crows flew away to find easier prey or victim.

“Phew... That was close”, Thin-Gloomy sighed, treading the branch to extinguish the fire.

[Gil-Galad]

Galadster was walking in a dirt field, looking around as there was really nothing to see at all. He loked forward... it looked like a dust strom was heading right towards him, Galadster begins to think of about what to do...

dust storm... what did master sensei say about dust storm again?

|::|FLASHBACK|::|Master: so you see Students, this is what you must do when facing a Dust Storm

Galadster:...so thats how i befrieneded a balrog, so what you doing tonight?

Master: Galadster!

Galadster: i didn't do it! i found that panda in that cage alright!

Master: Galadster, pay attention! now what do you do when you are facing a dust storm?

Galadster:uhhh... put a stick in the ground, tie a rope to it and run around in circles?

Master:... yes, put a stick in the ground, tie a rope to it and run around in circle... to the Head Masters office!

Galadster: what i do? you said it was right!?

|::|END FLASHBACK|::|
Alright, now i know what to do

Galadster Sticks his Sword into the ground and ties his rope to it using many Knots, Reef knots, sheet-bends, figure-8 knots, Bowlines, the whole bit, and he begins running around in a circle. Though the dust storm won't approach till for another 45 minutes or so, Galadster keeps running, and he begins to make a trench in where hes running

ha, all that track & field classes paid off... and running from those angry guys...

When the dust storm hits, Galadster was in his ditch waiting out the storm, when it passes, he got up and unties the rope, puts it back in his pouch and pulls his Scimitar out of the ground and puts it back in his sheath and continues on...

Sunshine, lollipops and rainbow candy tops...

[Sleepy Ranger]

Ransley had arrived at a river as he continued his journey. He reckoned at deepest it was only waist high and began to cross it. Alas, the current was too strong and he began to get dragged away. He tried to swim towards shore but it seemed too far to reach and he was being dragged away.

In desperation Ransley the Ranger began to flail around. Luck seemed to be on his side and he grabbed hold of something, he did not see what it was but he was just glad to be holding on to it. He kept his grip tight and drew out his short sword, there were still some trees across the bank. He pulled out his rope and gripping the sword in his mouth managed to tie a knot single-handed, he suspected it would not hold long but a chance was a chance.

His aim would have to be accurate. He raised his arm and flung his sword towards a tree, it struck dead in the center and he grabbed on to the rope, trying to pull himself towards the shore. Unfortunately things were not in his favor as the knot began to give way but Ransley noticed something else as well, the tree was beginning to snap. Maybe, just maybe there was still a glimmer of hope.

He pulled back, in the way of the current with all his might and it seemed luck still was on his side as the tree snapped and began to fall towards him. He moved quick and dove under water with a deep breath. He heard the tree splash over him, still holding on to the rope he flung an arm out towards his short sword which was lodged into the part of the tree that was underwater. He pulled it out as he hung onto the tree.

The tree had not broken through completely and part of it was still cracking away on the shore. Ransley managed to move shorewards with the help of the tree. He managed to mace it across in time and dropped onto the shore. He took in a deep breath, thanking his stars for that save. The road would only get tougher he guessed and Eoln the sissy elf would be making it no easier for them.

[Naria]

Narleah spent most of the night awake and in pain. She did however, in the wee morning hours, manage to close her eyes and find some rest. She awoke chilled, but no worse of wear. The pain had subsided and she was ready to set off again.

The dwarf stomped through Mirkwood hoping that she was still on the right track. As she walked on she couldn't shake the depressing gloom the forest was offering her. Narleah was getting increasingly annoyed by this and found grumbling unmentionable words under her breath was of some help. Suddenly and quite literally, she fell onto a rocky beach. She stood up and noticed a river, one that went in both directions for a very long way and one that was very wide across. Narleah just stood staring at the rushing water in disbelief. Some time had passed before she blinked her eyes relieving herself of the trance she was in.
She thought for a moment of how to cross and began to pace back and forth, back and forth. She happened to notice while pacing that there were some tree stumps and boulder size rocks on the other side of the river. The gears in her head started to work and an idea came, I could throw my rope across and it should wrap around either a stump or a rock.

So that is what she tried...and tried....and tried. With three failed attempts, Narleah quickly came to the realization thtat she was just to damn short to throw the rope far enough. She had to think of another way to conquer her obstacle. She decided to give swimming across a try. With her pack abover her head and using her hands as a support she slowly waded into the water. The water rose higher and higher until it reached her waist. Narleah gave a quick look back to where she had come and for a moment thought about turning back. She gave a heavy sigh and thought better of the idea while continuing forth. While pushing her legs through the heavy under current she noticed that the water was getting lower and lower with every step forward. Narleah had reached a sand barge. With a big grin on her face, she knew at once that she was going to be able to throw her rope at the new distance she was at. She gave her rope a huge heave ho and on the first try the rope grabbed a stump.

Her day had turned into an adventure that she would not want to repeat any time soon. Narleah was exhausted and hungry. She found a patch of grass under a tree near the beach. She had a small fire going in no time, ate and felt sleepy...sure enough sleep is what she did....finally.

[Valier]

THE ka's Day 5 post

Kafkalina continued her journey through Mirkwood at a regular pace, heading north in a hopes to find an easy pass to the mountains. Time went slowly by, even for the ent, and it wasn't until much later she noticed why.

Ho rah tum... I am going around in circles through this wood! I haven't had a good drink of entdraught in two days and I haven't rested as well as I should. Tra la rom, my head is too dizzy for travel. I will need to go back today, and find a stream at least, if not the forest river.

Carfully walking back to where she was on day four, Kafkalina came by a small stream and filled up her supplies as best as she could, and refreshed herself. Finally arriving back, the ent settled down for a rest and decided upon a different road that might be taken the next day.








Night 5 has now begun. This night will end at 1am CST tomorrow

Players may now pm me your daily votes, you have 24 hours to do this.

the only players able to converse with each other tonight are Eomeleo and Valesseka All other players may carry on with their own nightly carrying-ons

[Valesse]

Making camp is not very pleasent when you are covered in hardening mud. Valesseka found this out rather quickly, and was doing her best to lose as many clumps as possible before she guessed Éomeléo could catch up with her, but by the sound of it, he was approaching quickly. Finally, she heard the Gondorian come to a sudden stop.

At least she hoped it was the Gondorian. Her breath had, she noticed, become swallow and near-silent, and she had tensed up a great deal since the sounds had started. The trees which she had enjoyed first entering Mirkwood were now omnious and dark, which had been only a phenomenon of night for Valesseka up until this point. She was scared, and knew that it wasn't the blue-clad nobleman that she might actually be in some danger. For such a rascal, he is good to have around. She confided.

Forgetting about her visage for the slightest moment (Though I would have done her good in this instance), the Arnorian called out to Éomeléo.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Éomeléo was seriously creeped out. Mirkwood was evil black now, he could hardly remember being in a scarier environment. He kept seeing phantoms and shadow-beasts everywhere. In a trance-like state, he stumbled through the trees, too nervous to stay still for the night. At the same time, he was terrified by the prospect of what might come out from behind the next tree. And then he heard it:

"Éomeléo........Éomeléo!...........

"Aargh!" he screamed, very cowardly and all; and then he saw it: the treacherous mud-beast ascending from the forest-floor to meet him. He just stood there shaking, looking for all the world that he might collapse in fear.

"Sir?" the monster exclaimed.

"Stand back!" Éomeléo shouted, wide-eyed, hopelessly grasping for his sword.

"It's me, Valesseka.......idiot..." She mumbled that last part.

After looking dumbstruck for a minute, the Gondorian smiled. He was absolutely delighted to be with this, admittedly odd, girl again. Even though he had been getting more and more concerned that the other participants in this treasure-hunt were eventually going to do him serious harm, he could hardly have hoped for anything better to happen to him in Mirkwood; and even though the twain kept getting separated during the day, it was funny how they kept bumping into each other at night.

To Éomeléo, Valesseka looked relieved by some company; but he never was a shrewd reader of minds. He joked about the lack of mud that he had accumulated that day.

[Nogrod]

As the night was drawing closer, Novgorod started to feel safe enough to have a break. He heard no sounds of a chase from behind him and sat down under a smaller hill and decided to check the Easterling's backpack he had picked from the camp. Novgorod had lost all his gear but his sword, and swords are rarely nutritios themselves. And he was too exhausted and bruised to go on and try to hunt down anything, if there was anything to hunt in this empty country in the first place. His fingers trembling from pain, tiredness and hunger, he opened the cords of the sack and took a look inside it.

First he came up with an Easterling robe, a pair of cotton trousers and an embroidered scarf. Nice looking or not, it will have to do, he thought to himself. He took a firm hold of the arrow that was still sticking in his left arm and cracked it in two - cursing silently from pain. He pulled also the second half from his arm and took off his dirty and bloody shirt, bandaging the arm with the Easterling scarf. Then he went to search for more. I could see these ones first, I just can't take the pain of adjusting the shoulder just after this one, he thought and grinned as he grasped the next items from the sack.

To his great relief, there was a skin of water, some dried bread and a smallish piece of meat that stenched pretty foul. At the bottom of the sack there was a rough rope, not so firm-looking as his own had been, but it would have to do. And then there was the knife! Under all the other stuff, as if someone would have wanted to hide it there, was a beautiful longknife of Easterling handcraft in a decorated sheath. It was a real beauty and the blade was both sharp and clean. It kind of didn't fit with the other things in the package. This one has tried to get something free, something he hadn't a right into... Robbing from a thief that robs other thieves... Novgorod smiled even though the pain was still as present as ever.

Let's get to it then, he sighed half aloud and laid the stuff to the ground. He turned and leaned to the boulder he had been sitting in and yanked forcefully his left arm with his right. The bone slipped into its place, but this time he howled out aloud from the pain.

He pulled the Easterling robe on and ate a scarce and late meal. Soon enough the tiredness overpowered him. He was still hungry and the pain in his left hand - both shoulder and elbow - and his right side were tormenting him, but still he fell asleep. I will have to see for some herbs tomorrow, tomorrow... he promised himself as his last conscious thought.

[Valier]

Day 6 has now begun. You have 36 hours to complete your daily tasks.

The Day 5 winner is.....Galadster!!!! He will move twice the distance today only.

Players may now pm their direction to Roa. Gil pm me your direction first and Roa will give you your scenario.

[THE Ka]

Kafkalina after a day's rest felt more exuberant than ever, and with great strides soon passed to the northwestern borders of Mirkwood.

Farewell great wood! May you and I see better days...

The ent was about to continue when she noticed the heavy rain that had been falling. Under the thick cover of the wood, Kafkalina had not taken notice of its presence, but out now in the open, it was a sight of mixed results.

Ah! Ro hoom ra tum! The rain, the rain! Many a song to sing I have for you, but now I must be going. There is a river that starts somewhere around here, hopfully this rain shall not flood the river too much for my crossing.

Soon she found the river, and so had the rain. It was now flooded completely, and would have easily taken over the most dexterious elve or man. Carefully, Kafkalina sorted out her supplies for what would be launched over into the ash trees on the opposite bank, and what would be needed to simply cross.
With a light heave over the shoulder, the ent was able to rest her bag in the crown of a few young ash trees on the other side.

Humm, sorry if that disturbed you my young ones, but I am afraid I must cross this bloated river. Ha rum, see you soon.

With that, the ent carefully began to cross the river. The bottom was rather unstable, and seemed to be washed out of rocks with the rain and the river's current. When she reached half way, she found the surprise in store, not only was it a rip in the current, but the riverbottom was nothing but mud and tangled weeds. Soon Kafkalina with a great splash, was floating down river.

Garh ro toom! Not again...

Amazingly, the ent didn't travel very fast, but the large rocks jutting out of the river's surface were in part to this, and rather painful. Quickly, the ent summoned up old knowledge from her mind, and to check what supplies she had decided to keep.

Let's see, well, I didn't carry much. My pole of course, I had to throw that over on the other bank... Hmmm, well, I have a woven container of ent-draught, which is utterly useless now, I'm floating in water! Oh, rah ro tum! Could I have brought anything useful?!

Combing her upper branches in frustration and thought, she felt something that definately was not her own leaves. She pulled from her branches her long, strong rope of willow leaves and stems. With enough in hand, she spotted some cousins of hers, a few strong oak trees standing near where a rock poked into the side of the river. With the right length of rope, she could grapple onto a few of them and climb safely onto the bank.

Waiting with percision, Kafkalina flung the rope at the right moment, and thanks to the rope's ability to tangle easily to anything, she was secure. Carefully, and patiently, the ent pulled herself until she felt the side of the bank where she was able to crawl over. Dismantling her tangle of rope, she quicky thanked the oaks and ran back up stream. Her things were still there, all in their bag, except the bag was now hanging by a branch out in her direction.

Ho humm, you young ashes are always so coy. Thank you, but I must be on my way, once I finish making my ent-draught. I guess I could give you some of it as well, humm.

Carefully taking the bag while giving the ash trees a good looking over, Kafkalina refilled all of her empty ent draught supplies. The rain began to subside, and now was a light mist as the sun began to slowly break beyond some clouds. Giving the trees nearby a good look again, the ent carefully distributed a slight amount of her supply. The trees only moved slightly, and would seem to hum in approval.

No, no! No more, you've had your share, all of you. I can only wish you the best and to keep your wits about you. Now farewell, tra lo lum.

With that Kafkalina gathered her things and left walking towards the west, and the northern ends of the Misty Mountains. She had crossed them before to get to Rhun, she knew she could do it again, but with carefull consideration for what was to come.

[Nogrod]

Novgorod had no intention to meet any other old friends around Mirkwood and had turned his face towards the west and the mountains in the morning. He would continue straight over or under or from between the mountains following the first possible path that would show itself. If your friends are like that, what will your enemies be like, he questioned himself with a sarcastic smile, trying not to care of the pain on his right side and left arm. He had found some herbs from near the river early in the morning and their soothing effects were beginning to be felt at noon. But the wounds still hurt.

In the end he was on the west side of the mountains! But as he was totally ignorant of the geography of that region, he unfortunately had trekked to a place where there was a river of which name or nature he hadn’t the faintest, but which he needed to cross anyway. It was a fair twenty yards wide and the current seemed strong enough to call it a challenge. Could I just sleep here somewhere and think about it in the morning? He thought to himself, but after a glance he saw that that would not do. There seemed to be nothing that could be used as a cover of any sort and the Halls of Moria were just too near. He would have to get over before the dark and the sun glowed already from quite low, giving out a bit reddish hue to the western horizon.

There was a great old oak quite near the shore on his side of the river and a couple of knocked over birches on the other. Neither one felt like a tempting idea. Hacking down a great oak with a sword and a longknife would be just too laborous and time-consuming, and trying to rope the felled birches on the other side seemed counting more to luck than on any actual possibilities of success as there were no ready stumps but just knocked down trunks.

But there were rocks in the river. Very sharp and pointy rocks that sticked out from the surface of the water every here and there. I could take that, and then that, ... and possibly that, he thought as he counted a route easy enough over the river. Then he took the Easterling rope and tied a strainable loop to it. After securing his package and his sword he walked into the water. I’m getting soaking wet again! Three days in a row! I would give quite much for one dry day!

After just a few steps Novgorod was already chest-deep in the water. Okay, this kind of a river it is then, he thought and started looking for the nearest rock that pushed a bit higher from the surface. He rolled the rope above his head first carefully and then more comfortably and made the first try. He missed. With the fourth try Novgorod managed to throw the loop around the rock. He pulled it hard to tighten it securely and then started pulling himself towards the rock.

Then the hard part... As Novgorod had pulled himself to the rock he felt the current whirling around him. He would have to loose the loop and be able to throw it to the next one clinging to the rock at the same time. It was too deep and the current was too strong to give him a chance to even try a foothold on the rock. He splashed for a while, holding firmly on the rope, thinking.

Happily his brain still worked and the next rock was not too far away. Novgorod crept to the upstream side of the rock and let the flow of the current press him towards it. That way he could afford a momentarily two hand work with the rope. Fast he loosened the loop and prepared the rope for the second throw. This time he succeeded with his second try.

As he was pulling himself to the fourth – and last rock he would need to pull himself to as it was just a few feet from the western shore – the rope broke from the knot. Novgorod was thrown to the current. Instinctively he tried to turn upwards and was surprised to feel his feet meet the bottom of the river so fast. Just waist deep here! Doggone it! He made some additional and more elaborate curses over the Easterling rope and took the few steps required to meet the shore.

Wet again, but over the river. Novgorod hanged his clothes to a knocked-down birch and cut some branches from both of them to build a humble shelter. The sun was setting as he went to sleep.

[Sleepy Ranger]

Ransley made his way up the hill. He was in a solemn mood today and hoped nothing would happen. He doubted it though, something always happened. No matter how unlikely or silly it would seem at that time, something always happened. Never, never was it something that had helped Ransley in any way. Whatever happened always seemed to be for the worst. Yet the ranger always kept a level head and saw his way through, that was probably the only reason he was still alive.

He drew his sword as he carried on. There was nothing here which needed killing but for some reason there was something in the back of his head nagging him to keep his sword ready. He had nearly reached the top of the hill when disaster struck. He began to lose his balance and to his surprise the ground seemed to be moving away under him, it did not take him long to realize that he was trapped in a mudslide.

He was glad now to have his sword ready as he drove it into the ground and hung on. That did not last long as he got washed away. Still gripping his sword he noticed some rocks acting as a barrier to the mudslide. He thrust his sword between them and luckily for him it stuck. He grinned as he lift himself to the rocks, one arm around them and the other on the hilt of his sword.

It was a messy job but Ransley saw it through. He lift himself up once the way was cleared and pulled his sword free. He seathed it, it would need some repair at night he reckoned. He treaded carefully back to the top and continued on his journey.

[Valesse]

If Valesseka could see the sun, she would have been disappointed in how late she was to wake up, but even still she was relieved to note that Éomeléo remained asleep. I'll get ahead of him today. I'll get out of this dark and creepy place. She shuddered and pushed on. The forest was dark, and true to it's name "mirky'. Growing more regretful to pass through the woods in the first place, Valesseka found herself unable to focus on the rather eerie setting she had found herself in.

Now the trees were larger, and each breath she took felt like there was a film clinging to it. The trees were growing more and more massive, and with concern that she might have difficulty staying her course Valesseka took care to walk slowly. The Arnorian found telling time hard in the bleak light of the trees... minutes felt like hours; hours: eons. As she became worried that perhaps she had missed lunch already, but decided that she would only stop to eat when she felt hungry; simply put, the terrain was suspending her appetite for now.

Even further into the slimey darkness, Valesseka could recall a slithering like sound. Her grip on the stave could bend metal almost, spinning around in search for the snake that made it... there was none. This happened twice more before she told herself that it was just her stressing out over probably nothing. Night was fast approaching, but under the thick canopy Valesseka was not aware of any difference... what she did notice was first a sudden snapping sound, then a long low hiss coming from above her.

Before Valesseka could raise her head to see what in Middle Earth could have caused it, nearly an entire branch fell beside her- nearly on her. The bough dented into the mildewed earth and again the trees echoed a slow, hateful hiss. Valesseka shuddered.

With an strangely grotesque balance of grace and malice, a giant Mirkwood spider dropped infront of Valesseka. Both shrieked, though obviously with different purposes in mind. Even after her careful planning Valesseka was not at all above running. Though it was smaller than her, only about as tall as a halfling, it was still a monsterous spider... something Valesseka didn't like even at a healthy scale. Quickly she found out that it could and would over take her at her pace, so she turned. It turned, and swung around infront of her. Screaming again, the spider leaped at her, knocking the girl down onto her back.

With white knuckles wrapped around her stave, Valesseka tried to pull her arm back far enough that she might be able to stab the monster's underbelly. Though she was unable, she managed to hit the spider's stinger dead on. Furiously it writhed, trying to shake the staff, but the Arnorian kept pushing back.

In a rage it lunged to bite the girl, tearing a gash on her forearm before she instinctively jerked her hand down and away from the pinchers... then it hit her, literally (and in the elbow). Valesseka still had her throwing axe, and even if it was rather small, there was definitely a use for it now.

Breaking the strap that held it on her belt, she panicked and in the end savagely ripped into the spider's entire biology. Tired, scared, and covered with gore, Valesseka numbly trodded around in circles, trying to recall her flight path, or traces of her footsteps, but instead found the large branch that nearly crushed her. With another shudder she moved only as far away from the dead monster as she could bear. I shouldn't be here. I should be in Arnor. I shouldn't be here. Her arm ached, her back ached, and all she had right now was her cash of athelas. I shouldn't be here.

[Nogrod]

Thinlomien's post

The river. The Great River. Too much water in one place, Thin-Gloomy had thought when he had first heard of it when he was a child and was sitting beside the fire and playing with his wooden pony cart. Now, when he was a full-grown dwarf nearly drowning in the currents of that stream, he could but agree. Too much water in one place.

He had no idea how he had managed to walk straight to the biggest river in whole Middle-Earth. He should have seen it, or heard it or understood where he was. All too late now.

Thin-Gloomy couldn't swim. Few dwarves could.

Up and down he went as the roaring river threw him below and above the surface. He tried to move his arms and legs in order to not sink, but that was not easy. He tried to move towards a riverbank – either of the banks; at this phase it didn't even matter was it the right one or not. He was helpless; the river took him where it wished.

Had the current been any stronger, he probably would have crushed his skull when he crashed to a big stone in the middle of the stream. Realising this might be his chance, Thin-Gloomy grabbed the stone harder than many men grabbed their lovers.

He was no longer floating – or drowning – in the river, but he was not much more comfortable. Each wave almost carried him away. He knew he couldn't survive on the rock for long.

On the western shore there a few trees. And Thin-Gloomy had a rope. He made a knot to it so that it became a lasso. All the time he tread the water with his short feet and leaned to the rock against which the stream pressed him.He threw the rope. It fell short by a fathom, at least. Cursing, he threw it again, and ended up underwater. By some means he manged to get back and to get air.

This is not going to work, Thin-Gloomy thought gloomily. With every tread he was more tired, with every passing moment he was weaker and with every rush of water it was more difficult for him to not let the stream take him. He knew he couldn't last long. And he knew he didn't have enough strength in his skinny arms to throw the rope to to the trees. Unless...

Thin-Gloomy took the rope and made himself breath steadily. One toss, and it's over. To one way or another, he thought. Putting in all his remaining strength and effort, Thin-Gloomy thrusted himself forward as he threw the rope. Though it took only a few seconds, for Thin-Gloomy it was like ages to watch the rope first fly and then fall. Fall toward the trees. And fall short. The rope slithered back toward the river as Thin-Gloomy helplessly floated downriver, gasping for air in vain. It's over now, Thin-Gloomy thought.

But he was wrong. Just as he was bidding his bitter farewells to the world that he did not love and that certinly did not love him, he felt the rope – which he still grabbed uselessly – tighten. Desperately, he started to pull the rope. With the toughness only the dwarves have, he tugged himself to the shore. Bless Mahal, Thin-Gloomy thought, laying on the riverbank, devastated.

After a few hours rest he rose up and decided to continue for a little while. But before leaving he gently took off his rope which was wrapped about a tree-root. He bowed down and kissed the root that had saved his life. ”Now I know why Elves love trees”, he muttered.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Éomeléo continued west through the great forest, liking it less and less all the time. He could see eyes all around him. He shuddered at the size of these beasts, and hoped that they would leave him well alone. He guessed that this was wishful thinking, and he was all too right.

With terrible speed and skill, a giant spider descended from the forest-roof not ten feet in front of him. It was monstrous, slimy and wicked-looking. It licked its lips, or did the equivalent. Éomeléo could not tell.

He wasn't as scared as he had been when confronted with the swarm of mosquitoes, and he attempted to strike up a conversation with the beast; but apparently this was a dumb spider. It just looked at the Gondorian as if he was trying to teach a cat Sindarin. Birds had been disturbed by the movement of the monster and fluttered hither and thither among the trees. Éomeléo begged the spider to feast on them, but to no avail. The spider started dancing over to the man.

"Poor fool" muttered Éomeléo, as he took out his sword and dove into a collision with the homicidal arachnid. Gondor's finest steel won the day easily, the blade slicing through the head of the spider, sending it into sickening convulsions before it finally lay still. Éomeléo walked on, his boots sticky with spider-goo.

[Naria]

The slosh of footsteps walking through puddles and dripping water was all Narleah had heard through the grunting and squealing of her captors. Her turmoil began while she was walking past a mountain; six monsters grabbed her from behind. Narleah had no idea that she had marched herself right into Orc territory.

They pulled her along until they had reached the tunnel opening and pushed her through. Her eyes opened wide as to try and absorb any light that may be present. None....Narleah was in complete darkness. She heard more grunting as they pulled and pushed her further in. Suddenly there was a squeal from one of the Orcs that was in the front of her and the group stopped. Narleah heard a shuffling of feet moving away from her and then as quickly as they moved away, the footsteps returned...this time four out of the six had lit torches in hand. She thought that the light would help, but it didn't. In fact it was quite the opposite, the small flickering flames were casting eerie shadows on the tunnel walls and it didn't help her to see any further down or where they had come.

Narleah was getting more and more fearful for her life and it made her to want nothing more then to escape her nightmare. She had to find a way out, but how? Although she had thought of herself as a tougher female dwarf, she knew that she could not stand up to the towering stature of an Orc guard. Narleah remembered that her pack and weapons were taken from her at the start of the attack. She also remembered hearing what sounded like the Orcs dropping her pack on the ground inside the tunnel and she also heard the clanging of metal as it came to settle on the tunnel floor. Her only hope was that they had left her belongings just inside the opening. She knew that without her weapons she would have to use all of her strength and agility to escape.

The little dwarf made herself bottom heavy, almost to the point of dragging her feet. At once the Orcs that held her where beginning to have a hard time keeping things moving. They would get her going, then have to stop and re-adjust then move again. It was working, but not enough. She needed to think of something more drastic, something that the Orcs wouldn't be able to just pick her up and keep moving her to her death. Narleah let out a painful howl, that seemed to echo forever....it startled them! She let her legs go limp and found herself being dragged on her knees, however the back two Orcs didn't see this, while they were complaining to each other about the noise they walked straight into Narleah and the two buffoons that were holding her. Chaos immediately ensued and she found herself under a pile of scaly Orc bodies. There was no lack of shouting and whining from them, Narleah had to take this opportunity now for she knew that she would not get another chance to get out.

She stayed on the floor of the tunnel clambering and clawing her way through the dank, slimy corridor. In an odd way, she would be thankful to her captors for using torches. They had lit enough of the tunnel for her to notice that the group didn't make any turns and she knew that they hadn't gone far in with her. She pushed herself on, "Come on ye blustering fool! Go, go, go!" Narleah could feel her finger tips burn from trying to get a grip on the stone below the slime. Then she heard them! The angry beasts were running fast towards her, they weren't about to let there prize go that easily. 'Thud'! A rock hit the back of her head. Dizziness came over her, but Narleah had to keep pressing forward. More shouting came from behind and more stones were thrown at her, the Orcs were closing in.

Through blurry eyes Narleah saw a faint hue of daylight. She was almost there and she knew it. With her fingers grasping dryer ground, she half way stood up and ran towards her freedom. She ran through the door of the tunnel and into brighter light. "Run Narleah...keep running!" She kept shouting this to herself as she blindly tore through trees. She ran as far and as fast as her legs could take her, then her body could take no more. Narleah heard no more screeching from behind and felt safe enough to stop, only then did she allow herself to collapse. She had escaped, but not unscathed. Her night was going to be long and painful.

[Valier]

Day six has now ended. Night six has begun. You have 24 hours. Day 7 will start at 1pm CST tomorrow.

Eomer and Naria have both finished before the extended deadline, they will move forward Day 7, but are still uneligible for your daily fav. vote.

Glirdan and Gil-galad did not finish before the extended deadline, they will not move forward on day 7. They must still post their day 6 scenario post for day 7, then they may move again on day 8. They are also uneligible for the nightly vote.

Players that may converse are...

Valesseka & Eomeleo

Thin-gloomy & Kafkalina

Galadster & Glirdingo

all other players are alone for the night.

You may now pm me your nightly vote.

[Valesse]

Using her marred shawl as a large bulky bandage, Valesseka bound the athelas salve to her arm where she would leave it over night, and probably longer. She was shivering more from nerves than the temperature but every once and a while her trembling would build up into a voiceless sob. Want to see the world! I'm greedy! I just wanted more... Valesseka wiped her face and winced. She needed to find some clean water to wash in soon; yesterday's mud was now some part gooey and the other part itching dust.

I just wanted to go somewhere. she sniffled. Just then she heard Éomeléo humming proudly and then joyfully bursting into song. Nothing else at this point could make Valesseka feel quite as bitter.

Noble -indeed-. He has everything he's ever wanted, pampered to the core, and so insensitive he can't seem to rise early enough to escort a lady through these nasty woods. Of course, the girl was forgetting her entire plot of waking early just to avoid him doing that very thing. Such a cad. So... two faced. He noticed her and grinned brightly, heading her direction with a hearty 'Hullo!'

"I see you had some spider issues, yourself" He beamed, giddy to bump into the Arnorian girl while he was still fresh from battle.

Grimly she took notice at the small splatters of goo which Éomeléo was sprayed with, compared to most of her current outfit. "Yes..." Valesseka replied, somewhat through her teeth. Once more she invited him to stay and eat with her where the two talked, mostly about their lives previous, as Valesseka unconciously built new reasons to hate her competition. Probably only had to battle a tiny spider compared to that monster that attacked me.

About when Éomeléo was settling in to sleep something caught Valesseka's eye. On his strap there was a funny sort of patching... as if he repaired it himself.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

While gazing at the starlight, Éomeléo was concerned at how strangely Valesseka was behaving. She kept sneaking glances at him with a mad glint in her eye. He didn't think it was her run-in with the spider that was causing her this anxiety. No, it was something else, something less tangible.

He realised it was probably his own presence. After all, she kept sneaking off in the morning to avoid him. This race might be making her paranoid of human-contact. A shame; poor girl, he thought. At least I'm holding up quite well.

Quite well? It hit him: he was actually exceedingly happy. "I say, Valesseka, I think I don't want to ever go back to Gondor."

What was he leaving? Little but restrictions and the lack of intimacy. He had been raised by servants, not a loving family. Everyone envied his perceived riches but what really makes a rich man? A plethora of fine clothes and a seat at every banquet? Or freedom and your own responsibilities? Valesseka stared at him, not quite understanding how Éomeléo could be so naïve; but Éomeléo did not take heed, and began formulating daring plans and schemes. Thought of his wealth in Gondor had him excited again.

"Valesseka" said Éomeléo, "if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?"

[Valier]

Night 6 has now ended. Day 7 has now begun. You have 36 hours.

The Daily favorite for Day 6 is.....There has been a tie!!! Both Thin-gloomy and Valesseka will move twice as far for today only.



Glirdan and Gil-galad must post their Day 6 post today, then they will move on Day 8.


Players for today.....please pm me your directions....Most of you will be moving into Rune's zone. I will pm Roa with any remaining players in her zone and you will receive your scenario from her.

[Glirdan]

Glirdingo fell quite behind the next day. He had fallen ill the day before and was unable to move forward. Today, however, he was feeling quite well. Well enough to start off again on his quest. "Mind you, there's not really any chance of me getting to it first. But oh well, I'll go on anyway," he thought a little down-hearted.

He ended up in the foothils of the mountains. He was getting quite exhausted because of the continuouse mounting and de-mounting of the slopes. To make matters worse, it had rained there recently. "Must have been over night," he thought miserably. "And that's why my clothes were soaked this morning."

It was on the last rise when he decided to take a little rest before continuing. He clambered up the slope and fell down in the grass. It was then that he noticed that there was an encampment ahead. "Ooo! Perhaps they'll be able to help me!" It was then that he noticed who the campers were. "Easterlings!" he thought, suddenly quite alert. Fortunately, they had not yet spotted him as he was lying down in the grass. He quickly looked and saw that there were only ten of them.

He looked to the left, then to the right, hoping to see if there was a way to get by. Unfortunately, he had no luck. "There are too many for me to fight single handedley!" he thought desperately.

Then, an idea struck him. He drew out his bow and one arrow, strung it to the bow and crept quietly forward up onto the highest point of slope and went into a kneeling position. "Okay, have to take careful aim but make it quick," he thought, his chest starting to hurt from how fast his heart was pounding inside. He thought that it was unlikely that they hadn't heard it. He took aim, off into the bushes to the right, aimed a litte upwards to give the arrow enough height, pulled back the string and let the arrow fly and then heard a dull thud which echoed through the forest.

He looked back to the encampment and saw them all rushing off towards where the arrow had flown. "Yes!! They heard it!! It worked!" he thought happily, darting forward and running through the camp. "Well, you'd think those baffoons would be smart enough to leave a sentry, but nooooooo!!" he smirked happily.

He made it through the encampment and continued on, not daring to stop until he was sure that he was safe. "Whew," he said, wipping his brow off of sweat. "That was close." He took a long rest, drinking from his flask and eating a whole of his lembas bread before continuing on this hair rasing journey.

[Gil-Galad]

Galadster looked around, realizing he slept in, he quickly packed his things and moved on

*yawn* wow must've been a rough night...whats that whizzing sound?

all of a sudden, a arrow came out of no where and hit his armour, making a dull sound

oww, who randomly shoots arrows into the forest? honestly! oh man theres a dent now!

Galadster picked the arrow up as all of a sudden he was surrounded by 10 easterlings

Oh...hey guys... can i help you?

"What are you doing here! this is our encampment! shall i cut your head off?"

what! no no! no head cutting off today boys

Galadster quickly started thinking to himself how to get rid of these easterlings, he began looking at the arrow that hit him

"lets steal his stuff!"

hey guys, have i ever told you about the moon? your suppose to see it this time of the day!

"what really? where? i love round silvery stuff!"

"me too!"

yeah keep looking over there...

Galadster pulls out his short bow and cocks the arrow that hit him and begins to shoot it into the forest again...

"hey wait a minute, its high noon! there is no moon out!"

oh well...heh... look an eagle!

Galadster quickly shoots the arrow that makes anotehr dull thud, the Easterlings then run towards it and Galadster continues on

i still want to know who shot me...

[THE Ka]

Kafkalina was crossing through the Misty Mountains again from the north, she had done this only enough times to remember that they were not very ent friendly. As long as she took her time, and planned out her path, she would be fine. For awhile, this worked, until she reached an open path between the mountains, and a sharp wind came from the northwest. It was not alone, and carried plentiful supplies of snow. Soon, the ent was plowing through the side of the mountain, and becoming quite too frozen for comfort.

Rah tum! I can take the wind, water and earth, but this snow was never meant for ents! I cannot get out of the wind's current without losing my path and going south or back east. Ho hmmm, to ride out this storm would not be too much to ask of myself, but what to make it out of?

She had to think a bit more quickly, as the snow was building up around her. Looking at the slope of the mountain, she found a large enough rock jutting out of the face. Walking as best as she could, she soon reached the shade, but was still being blasted by the wind and snow. Whilst standing in concentration, she noticed that the sides of the rock, and her, were building up a wall. Soon, the entmaiden came up with a plan.

Ro tom la tum, maybe I cannot surpass the snow's skill in collected effort, but I can learn a bit from it. If not to fight it, there is no difficulty working with it...

With that, the ent shook off some of the ice starting to form from her branches, and began building up walls around and under the rock. Soon, the snow in the wind began to howl past, and stick to the walls. Kafkalina peeked out of her shelter to see the walls were several lengths thick, and very well insulated.

Retunring back inside, with a very large smile, she sat down to wait out the storm and drink some of her ent-draught, even though it was slightly iced over. Within a few hours, the wind was now clear and carried no more snow. It seemed to slow down as well, and was safe to travel in again, except for that the side of the mountain was quite deep now.

Kafkalina stepped out carefully and sank into the snow, gradually, the ent pulled herself back and found the problem. Her roots were too narrow, and were formed and conditioned to walking upon flat earth. Spreading and testing them on the snow, she found with the added surface area came a better resistance to the snow. Curling and forming her roots into shape, she began to travel again. A bit wobbly at first, but she soon was taking careful strides across the mountains again.

[Valier]

This so you can see where you are when you are doing your scenarios

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Éomeléo sauntered through the forest. He had meant to go west but somehow he had found himself in the southern part of the forest. He did not know this so he kept going. The place had an inviting quality, which concealed its evil ways very well.

He was hearing unnatural noises and becoming more and more scared all the time. "The forest itself is wicked" he muttered, as he tripped over an inconspicuous root. This then happened another three times, and Éomeléo got very suspicious.

"Aargh!" he screamed, out of the blue, as he noticed a horrific sight just ahead of him. There was a tree, honest to goodness, walking towards him. He stopped dead in his tracks, which made it even easier for the company of Huorns to surround him.

For Huorns they were, black of heart, and devastatingly powerful of body. Despite not being familiar with Huorn expressions, the Gondorian could tell that they were angered. Why? Who knows.

Anyway, they growled a bit and generally made Éomeléo's teeth chatter. Surely it cannot end this way! he thought. Not here, not in a big, dark forest, and not at the hands of anthropomorphised trees. That would be just too tragic. And ironic. In a way.

Anyway, one of the Huorns laughed a deep, bellowing laugh, walked over to Éomeléo, and picked him up. Then they engaged in a game of catch with our hero. Very cruel and unusual. Éomeléo was hurt and lonesome and scared and more than a little peeved.

But the trees became too rowdy for their own good. One of them threw Éomeléo so hard and far, that he missed his buddy, and their 'ball' was sent flung past the brutes into a tree branch. It wounded Éomeléo, but he had enough wits about him to cling on to the branch. Just as the slow-witted Huorns were trying to figure out where on Middle-earth their prey was, the blue-clad southerner was dashing down the branches and through the other trees. He did not stop running until he was out of Mirkwood.

[Nogrod]

Novgorod had walked northward the whole day after getting over the river at the end of the last day. The night was crawling in. The moon had already come up from behind the hills as Novgorod reached the outskirts of Bree, striving for food and information. He was hungry like a wolf. The Easterling’s piece of meat did not only smell foul, it had tasted even worse; sweet and sour at the same time. Novgorod had almost vomited as he had tried it. Only an imminent death by starving could force me to take another bite...

The road led him straight towards the southern gate. It was closed! The village itself was surrounded by a wooden palisade wall about 10 feet high.

Friendly little village this seems to be, indeed... he thought after he had knocked the gate the fourth time with no answer. Just as Novgorod was turning around to sit somewhere to think for his situation he heard some mumbled curses accompanied by the slowly approaching footsteps from behind the gate. A little hatch opened and the unwelcoming face of the old gatekeeper appeared into it.

“What do you want, stranger?” it called him in not particularly a polite tone. “No wanderers are allowed in! Find your peace from somewhere else. Hush!” Novgorod was just about to start to argue to the gatekeeper as he noted the changed looks in the eyes of him. They widened, expressing both fear and anger. “An Easterling! Go back to your homeland and never come back! Go back to your horde of barbarians!” With that the gatekeeper slammed the hatch closed and Novgorod was alone again.

An Easterling? At the same moment he realised that he was still clad in the Easterling robe he had taken from the backpack he had stolen from the encampment. His own tunic was ripped from a few places, muddy all over from rolling down the hill and smeared with his own blood. Gah! This is nightmarish! I could’ve talked myself in otherwise...

Novgorod found a larger boulder to sit on beside the road and after changing his own tunic on he fell into thinking. Yeah, I look like a beaten rogue and a loser, but that’s better than looking like an Easterling around here... He stareted figuring out the options he had. Anyway, he had to get in somehow.

I could make it with the rope. Walk some hundred yards away from the gate, make a lasso, throw it to jam into the pointed heads of the logs in the wall, tighten it and climb up and slide down... But that would not do for Novgorod. He had done that once before in another town long ago. That had been a disaster as he had landed straight to the backyard of the local Shiriff’s dogpit. He would never try to get over a wall as long as he was not sure what there was behind it. And after the incident at the river the day before, he didn’t exactly trust the Easterling rope either.

The western wind was getting colder, but it also brought the smell of the pipeweed to his nose some moments before he heard the sound of a cart being pulled towards him and the gate. Soon Novgord saw him. A hobbit, pulling a cart. A trader perhaps? Would he be allowed in? Novgorod was thinking quickly. This surely was his chance, but how to exploit it?

The hobbit was approaching steadily. Novgorod’s plans and alternative plans were in the middle of the making when he realised that he would have to act very soon. So he stepped forwards from the place he was sitting covered by the shadows of the pines around and stood out in the open. He waved his hand in a friendly way towards the hobbit, carefully not yelling anything the gatekeeper could hear. Novgorod picked his sack and walked towards the hobbit, opening his arms.

“Good evening sir”, he greeted the halfling. “On your way to the town, I presume?”

The hobbit halted and let the levers of the cart down. He seemed both suspicious and ready to defend himself. “What is it of your bussiness, mister?” the hobbit answered Novgorod, lowering his right hand to touch the hilt of the little knife that was hanging from his belt.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong my friend!” Novgorod said in an overtly friendly manner, flashing a fake smile. He had always thought that the hobbits were a deformation of the creation, and now being forced to look at one straight into the eye, his fore-perception was only strengthened. These guys really are weirdos, but brave weirdos, must be admitted...

“I intend you no harm. On the contrary. Do you have access to the town? The gatekeeper will not let me in even though I’m hungry and tired.”

“Yes I have. I’m a regular trader here, but what is it of your bussiness – or mine to take care of yours? I didn’t ask for you to come here.” The hobbit took a firmer grip of his knife and continued: “You think I should help you? But why do you think I would do so, if the gatekeeper has already decided not to let you in?” The hobbit was getting all the more confident after the initial embarrassement. “How do I know that you’re not one of those rogues harrassing the countryside, because of whom these gates are closed in the first place?” The hobbit smiled to Novgorod lightly. “You might surely be one of them. Just judging over your looks you seem like no wealthy traveller. Maybe I should call the old Gorger and the guards to take care of you?”

“No, no! Please no! Do not make hasty judgements on the basis of the looks or appearances! I’ve been attacked by those rogues myself!” Oh my! Where is this discussion going to go from here?

Novgord thought for a second and then continued: “Well, I might as well tell you the truth. I think I have no other options.” And would have to find a quick solution to get rid of this hobbit if everything would go as I have planned... “I’m an adventurer. I’m very near to a treasure. I’m in a competition arranged by an elf who overlooks all we contestants do. I need to get in to get some food and find the final understanding of the place where the treasure is hidden.” Novgorod made a little pause. “ I need to get in”. As Novgorod mentioned the word ‘treasure’, there was a flash of light in the hobbit’s eyes. Novgorod noticed it easily enough and smiled inwardly as he spoke the last of his monologue. Good, Let’s try this, Press him forwards!

“Surely I won’t be telling this to everyone around. I know enough of the gatekeepers: tell them something tonight and all the village knows it at the morning.” Novgorod studied the face of the hobbit and saw the growing interest in his face. Novgorod smiled carefully. This just might work...

“I need to get in to the town as I need some sleep, food and information concerning the game. The goal is a Great Golden Horde. Besides you I have no one else to help me. So just think of it. You get a quarter of the treasure if you help me in. What say you?”

The hobbit fell into his thoughts for a while and then answered: “A quarter you say? Why not a third? And how can I trust you?”

“You can come with me in the morning. It will not be a long way anyhow. You can claim your part yourself.”

“Trekking I should go? Forget it! You know us Hobbits, we’re not so keen on adventuring... But with a third I might consider your offer – if I need not wander over any rough lands. These roads are enough of adventure to me” the hobbit answered now calmly, clearly seeing the place for some good bussiness.

Darn haggler! I’m beginning to see why these folks are so renowned as they are! But at this stage Novgorod had no aces in his sleeve and had to yield to the hobbit. “Okay, a third. You help me in. We meet after the entry at an agreed place. And if you wish, we’ll sleep at the same quarters so that I can’t run away and break the deal. Does that suffice?”

The hobbit looked straight into his eyes and pondered the offer for a while. “Well, what’s your plan in concrete?” he asked after a silence.

“I’ll hide myself beside the shadows of the gate after we have broken the wheel of your cart. You call the gatekeeper to help you get the valuable cart inside. As you work it, I’ll slip in. This village seems small enough that you shouldn’t worry: there’s no place for me to disappear and betray you. Just tell me the directions where we should meet.”

The hobbit thought it for a while and then answered: ”After the gate, go forwards over two crossings, then turn right. The second apartment on the left has a reddish door. That’s where my nephew dwells. We’ll meet there and overnight there, both of us. Be there or otherwise I’ll wake up the whole Bree to find you!”

Novgorod agreed and they broke the shaft of the cart with a heavy boulder some twenty yards away from the gate. Then Novgorod took cover beside the gate and the hobbit started crying, getting to the gate and slamming it with faked frustration. “Old Gorger! Wake up you sleepy! It’s me, Paddy Wheatlocks! My cart is broken at your door! Come help me with it!”

The hatch opened once again. The keen eye of the gatekeeper made clear of the situation. Then the gate was opened and the old Gorger stepped over the bridge. “What are you bellowing, Paddy? There was an Easterling around just a moment ago. Now hurry inside!”

“My cart is broken! Your roads are not kept well enough! Help me with it! You’ll have a pouch of weed if you help me from the Easterlings!” the hobbit answered, playing nervous. The old Gorger came to help Paddy with the cart, but meanwhile Novgorod slipped into the town.

Allright then. Now the hide..., Novgorod thought to himself as he had passed the gate and was running the main road northwards. Soon he spotted the stacks of hay around the first crossing of the ways. There! After setting himself down behind the stacks of hay he started searching for a suitable pebble. After all, Novgorod was no killer from nature. A little knock-out would be just enough. Surely the gatekeeper will not help the hobbit more than is required and the cart will be left at the gate....

The aspirations of Novgorod came true. He heard the steps coming towards him and then there was the slam of the door. The steps came nearer. Sorry fellow, but this is a game you’re not invited into. And I’m going for the win and not intending to share it with anyone!

As the halfling was about to pass the crossing, Novgorod leaped over him and knocked him unconscious with the pebble he had found, striking him to the neck with precision. The hobbit fell down. Quickly Novgorod re-arranged the haystack, covering the unconscious body of the hobbit under it. He had tied the hands of the hobbit and his mouth. Farewell my friend in passing... Sleep well. Someone’s going to save you anyway.

Novgorod was in town.

[Thinlómien]

How can one end up in trolls' pot? Thin-Gloomy wondered. His life had brought him many challenges and problems before, but this was certainly unheard of.

He could hear the voices of two trolls, but couldn't catch the words. He glanced around. He was in a big pot. He couldn't climb out from it; the bottom was round and the edges too high. Nevertheless, he tried.

“Hey, Tim, the maggot tries to climb the walls of it’s prison! It tries to run away!”
“It wouldn’t be a big loss”, said the another troll voice, “He’s very skinny and bony after all.”
“He’s better than the squirrels you found last time.”
“Oh, shut up, Greg, or I’ll crush your bones and make powder of them.”

A skinny troll appeared. “Hello, little one. You’re going to be a good meal, once we cook you”, it told him and laughed maliciously. “Begging your pardon, sir, but are you really going to cook me?” Thin-Gloomy asked courteously, though his heart was pounding faster than ever. The troll cast a suspicious look at him. “Of course we are, stupid hamster”, the troll replied, scratching his bald head. “I’m afraid my meat will become leathery when cooked”, Thin-Gloomy told the troll. The troll scratched his head again. “You’re right. I’ve never actually liked a cooked dwarf. Maybe we should fry you.”

“Fry me, sir? Never, I beg you. I have only your best interests in mind and I can assure you that burnt hair”, Thin-Gloomy ran his fingers through his beard, “tastes awfully bad.”
“I see... Maybe we’ll smoke you then.”

“Smoke me? If you smoked me, there would be that much smoke that any bounty hunter – and bounty hunters kill trolls for their treasures, I trust you realise it – within miles knows you’re here. Not a good idea either.”
“Oh, blimey, you’re right again. Maybe we’ll the just...”

“He’s playing with you, Greg, don’t you see it?” a deeper voice broke out. A fat troll appeared in Thin-Gloomy’s field of vision. The bigger troll reeked even worse than his companion. “Tell me, mosquito, how would you like to be cooked?” the troll asked Thin-Gloomy in a malicious tone.

Thin-Gloomy was thinking desperately. How? What would give me a chance to escape? He had no idea. “I could have you as a snack”, the bigger troll suggested and picked the trembling dwarf from the pot. “Hey, he was my prey!” the thin troll protested. “Raw dwarf meat can cause sicknesses!” Thin-Gloomy cried. The trolls laughed, both of them. “Make a stew out of me!” Thin-Gloomy decided.

“A stew?” asked the bigger troll, as if puzzled.
“Let’s do it; it probably tastes the best”, the smaller troll commented, remembering the mutton stew his mother had used to make.
“Okay then Greg. Go and fetch some vegetables then, I’ll find some water”, the fat troll agreed and dropped the dwarf casually back to the pot.

When both the trolls had gone, Thin-Gloomy glanced at the sky. There was still about an hour – or more – ‘til dawn. He had won some time, but not enough.

After a while that was shorter than Thin-Gloomy had hoped it to be the trolls came back. “Make a fire, Greg. I’ll chop the vegetables.”
Thin-Gloomy was horrified. When the fire would be ready and the pot brought to fire, it would only be a question of minutes when would he die in the boiling water.
“What about the herbs?” Thin-Gloomy dared to ask.
“Herbs?” the trolls asked in unison.
“A proper stew has herbs in it” Thin-Gloomy told them.
“Aye, that’s true, Tim, my marmee always put rosemary in hers.”
“Your marmee was a fool.”
“Yours was cow!”
“You father was smaller than a rat!”
“Yours was a worse whiner than a mosquito.”
“Your brother was as whimpery as a rabbit!”
“Yeah, he was a sucker, but less than your brother, who was eaten by Elves.”
“No, he wasn’t! He ate the Elves!”

Unfortunately for him, just at that moment Thin-Gloomy made a small, involuntarily noise. “Back to cooking”, the bigger troll decided, “Or we'll be as dead as your brother when the sun comes up. I want to eat before it.”
“What herbs will we have – and my bro’s not dead”, the smaller troll said.
“Go find some... parsley. And I’ll look for celery.”

Again, Thin-Gloomy heard steps going away from the pot he was in. He tried to climb out again. He did not know how long he tried, but he stopped when he heard: “The lil’ one’s trying to flee again. Hohoho... Here’s some celery and parsley is to come.” Then, the troll whistled. From the other noises it made, Thin-Gloomy concluded that he was making a fire. “What about dandelion leaves? You can’t eat a stew without dandelion leaves!” he cried desperately. “Don’t try to fool me this time, little dwarf”, the troll replied, “Only Elves and cows eat dandelion leaves.” Even in such a situation Thin-Gloomy was alarmed that he agreed with a troll.

“Oh, there comes the parsley!”
Thin-Gloomy was even more depressed, before the other voice called: “Can’t you make a fire, Tim?”
“I can, better than you, old donkey! Leave me be and just chop the celery I brought.”
Cursing by himself, the smaller troll went to chop the celery.

It really took a while for the bigger troll to make the fire, but it was still too soon for Thin-Gloomy. The big troll bowed over the pot and poured water in there. Thin-Gloomy was about to drown again. Desperately, he gripped a giant celery that floated in the pot along with other newly added vegetables. Then, the world began to move. The experience was probably closest to seasickness one can have without a sea. The big troll wasn’t too careful handling the pot and bringing it to fire.

It ends now, Thin-Gloomy thought, It’s the final countdown... The trolls were arguing about something, but Thin-Gloomy did not care anymore. He could feel the water getting warmer. First, it was like a warm bath, but quickly – too quickly – it begun to be uncomfortable. Not the death I wished for myself, the dwarf thought, closing his eyes.

The pot rocked violently and hot water was everywhere. “You idiot! You fooled...” the big troll’s words stopped as cut. The hot pot rocked once more before tilting over. Thin-Gloomy heard a hissing sound when the fire was extuinguished. He rolled out from the pot, still grabbing the celery. He hit the still-hot logs that had just been on fire. Screaming, he sprung up and ran away from the burned place.

He could not believe his eyes. The sun was there, low in the sky, spreading it’s familiar light. Two huge stone figures stood nearby. The smaller one had a knife and parsley leaves in his hands, the bigger one had freezed to a kicking position with an angry look on his face.

Thin-Gloomy dropped to his knees. “Oh, Mahal, the greatest of all”, he muttered, bowed down his head and wept.

---

Later he recovered his possessions from a nearby bush and spread the remains of the aloe vera on his burnt back.

[Valesse]

Valesseka wasn't sure what she wanted most... Right now she just really wanted to get out of Mirkwood, but knew that Éomeléo meant what she wanted all around. She sadly went about readying her pack. It was before sunrise still, and Éomeléo had already taken off. Guess he really didn't -want- an answer. the Arnorian thought bitterly. Well behaved... two-shoes...
She started sobbing.

Not wanting Éomeléo to see her, Valesseka flat out ran out of Mirkwood. She ran into the Anduin, only to retreat back a few steps and gape at it. Across the Great River were the Misty Mountains... and across those was Arnor... She had to cross both if she decided to drop out, or if she pushed on to get the gold. In a blur, she found some large debris floating nearby... She climbed aboard and again, in a gondola like fashion, pushed her way across.

Discarding the debris, Valesseka took lunch on the other side of the Anduin. I want to go home. She whined. I don't care for-shh grabbing her arm tightly she inspected her bandaging. Again she would need to use her quickly disappearing cash of Athelas, or risk infection... and she was better prepared to chase after Éomeléo and give him a long kiss before -that- would ever happen. Valesseka gulped and turned a brilliant red. "I did -not- just think that..."

She didn't like him! What was she thinking? How embarassing... better move. Jumpping to her feet Valesseka made for the mountains, and made quite a lot of progress in crossing them before a heavy snow started falling. I -want- to get home. I could careless about the treasure anymore. Covering her shoulders with another layer of cloak, she pushed on her way, determined to see the other side. The wind was picking up and walking was started to become incredibly labored.

I want... I want to rest. the girl sighed, but not before hearing a small and distant 'crack!', then a quickly growing less distant, rumble. Avalanche!

Panicked, Valesseka looked for something to dive under before it hit her, but found nothing. In a second she was buried in snow, and if I must say, thinking some more 'embarassing' thoughts, at least upon her own description of it. It took a minute or two, but finally she was able to surface and clamber out of the pile, cold, somewhat wet, and very alone. Cursing under her breath she found a short cave not very far from where she was covered. Too tired to continue on for the day, she made 'camp'... hoping (and dreading) that the Gondorian would show up for dinner so she could answer his question.

[Sleepy Ranger]

Ransley had been walking along, continuing his journey as normal till something struck him on the back of his head. Not a pleasent feeling I assure you, being struck on the bag of your head by something heavy is never fun. It hurts quite bad and odds are it'd knock you out as well. As amazing as Ransley is it did not quite stop him from getting knocked out. Nor did it feel pleasent.

When Ransley awoke he found himself wet... Had a branch hit the back of his head and knocked him into a lake? On further inspection he found that it had not been son. Ransley was in a pot and he was surrounded by trolls. Nasty, smelly, stupid, icky trolls. Not a fair situation in his opinion conisdering he had been tied up and unequipped.

"Ah lookit! He be not sleeping." Said Troll#1.
"What if he sleeping with eye open?" Said Troll#2.
"Why you not ask him?" Suggested Troll#3.
"Hey you! Be you awake? For we no likey to eat you till you awake." Troll#2 asked Ransley.

"Morons..." though Ransley. Well lets play along with them. In a situation like this it would be brains over brawns. Ransley doubted he would be killing a bunch of trolls tied up, without equipment and with that pain in his head.

"Why you no say nothing?" Troll#2 asked angrily.

"Idiot!" "No my good sir, I am still asleep." Ransley replied, his voice clear and crisp.

"See! I tell you he sleep with eye open!" Troll#2 exclaimed proudly.
"Nobody sleep with their eyes open." Troll#1 said with an air of knowledge around him.

This sparked a small arguement from their trolls which caused them to turn their attention from Ransley. His mind worked quick and he took a deep breath and dived into the stew. Luckily for him he did not have to wait long and the trolls turned back to him. And lo! How surprised were they to discover that the ever elusive Ransley had vanished. (Though he was actually just underwat... pardon me, understew.) The trolls looked at each other in anguish.

"Arr! He got away! How on earth could he?" Squeaked Troll#1 angrily.
"I no clue. He jump maybe. Like rabbit." Suggested Troll#2.
"He tie up. He no go far. We go find him." Added in Troll#3.
"He no take things. You stay here and guard." Said Troll#1 asking Troll#2 to stay and guard.

Troll#2 had no complaints about that and the other two went off in search for Ransley. The Ranger had hoped all three would go away but well, Troll#2 hardly seemed the brightest of the lot. Far from it in fact. Ransley popped out of the stew, not really bothered if the guard spotted him though he did not. He managed to topple himself out of the pot with a bit of squirming, the clatter did attract the troll though.

"Hey! Why you here? Why no in pot?" Asked Troll#2.
"I'm sleepwalking." Said Ransley softly.
"Oh... that okay then." Said Troll#2 merrily.

Ransley smirked and half-hopped, half-rolled his way to his equipment. He managed to free his hands with his short sword and then cut off the bonds around his legs. He clamly lift up his things, tipped his hat (Hair rather.) at Troll#2 (who was rather distracted with a bit of moss growing on a tree) and silently removed his presence from the area.

[Valier]

Day 7 has now ended. Night 7 has now begun. You have 24 hours.

Naria did not finish all her daily tasks, she must post her day 7 post on Day 8 before she can continue.

Players that can converse are...

Ransley, Thin-gloomy and Narleah

Kafkalina and Valesseka

Galadster and Glirdingo

Novgorod
Eomeleo

You are both all by yourselves tonight.


You may now pm me your nightly votes

(Sorry about all the time changes....forgive me )

[Glirdan]

Glirdingo was walking peacefully when the moon arose and he decided it was time to take a break.

It was then that he heard a noise in the bushes behind him. "Who's there!?" He cried, raising his bow swiftly witha n arrow attached and pulled back taut. "Show yourself!!"

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Éomeléo just sat there, beside a big fallen tree, with a glum expression on his face. It wasn't that he'd miscalculated his direction, and had all but relinquished any hope of reaching the treasure first (unless the other competitors had been killed on the way?) He was lonesome tonight. He had been taking Valesseka's company for granted, but out here in the wilderness, completely by himself, Éomeléo realised the error of his ways, and cursed his tendency to keep all his thoughts to himself. He wondered if he would ever see her again.

Then an owl came and sat on a tree-stump a few feet away, and it amused Éomeléo no end, because he loved owls. It made him happier.

[Valesse]

As lonely as she was, the Arnorian girl was soon to forget it in her dreams. The little cave she had found was cold, and echoed the bellows of the wind outside, but it was free from it. Asleep she was confortable, that was until Éomeléo entered them. But even still, she was far too cozy under her double layers of cloak-'blankets' and garbs to rouse because of... well, nevermind.

There was a sound, something not unlike what she thought triggered the avalanche that nearly totalled her, and then another. Pulling the cloaks up over her poor wind-burnt face, two very long very wooden legs appeared on the outside of her little cave. It was Kafkalina, the ent. "My...word..." She whispered, not sure if she wanted to introduce herself to such a woody old thing when she was so unsure of her personality. No... that wouldn't do to go inviting an ent into her tiny little cave. It couldn't bend down low enough to enter or leave, and what about Valesseka? How could she relax with an oak tree smacking it's lips all night, or worse... snoring so loud that the ent itself sounded like it was... sawing wood.

"Um... Hello?" The girl squeaked, hoping to get no response. "Ent? Hello?" Where is Éomeléo?