Post by Sarawenn on Aug 12, 2008 20:37:58 GMT -5
RP - Treachery of the Dourhands
Journal of Captain Sarawenn
The day looms closer when we must attempt to take Sarnur once again. The failure to retake the fortress a fortnight ago still rankles my pride; this time I shall not accept failure, either from my comrades or myself.
It started as a simple mission: about a fortnight and half ago I received an urgent letter from a dwarven lady in Thorin’s Hall, asking the Helm for aid against the goblins that attacked the roads by Thorin’s Gate. Her nephew, a dwarf of nigh thirty-eight winters (an age middling for Men, but young for a dwarf), was attacked and captured by goblins that dwelt in a fortress called Orodrost, by Sarnur. He was returning from a trading journey to Celondim when these foul creatures assailed his small convoy.
Luckily, the lad escaped, but at a great price ... it was obvious from his wounds that he was tortured mercilessly and his mind had gone as well. The lady wanted vengeance for the dishonour done to her family.
After I read her missive, my thoughts grew dark, for vengeance begets only more vengeance I thought. But I was wrong. These were goblins – they could not be reasoned or bargained with – they destroyed and looted with no mercy; no hearts had they for compassion. I then took the liberty of delving into the situation more closely, and found to my dismay that this was only one of many offences committed by the goblins of Orodrost. They seemed to grow stronger by the week, and even the stout soldiers of Thorin’s Hall could not keep them at bay.
Therefore, with Master Thornspine’s permission, I asked my allies in the Helm to aid in the re-taking of Orodrost. Few warriors arrived that day, for many of the Helm’s finest were occupied elsewhere in Eriador, and yet I was confident we would achieve victory. Along with our warriors, two squads of soldiers from Thorins Hall also accompanied us on the mission. One of them, a grizzled warrior named Marcus, consented to become my herald as well. He did not speak at all but had a comrade speak for him - and then I learned why – Dourhands had cut out his tongue. At any rate, I was grateful for this noble action, for I had sent Servilia, my previous herald, back in haste to Gondor … but that is another tale for the telling.
When we arrived, the goblins did not show much courage against our forces, for the Helm was strong. On that evening the Helm’s warriors shone like a beacon of light to the darkness of Orodrost! Our armour gleamed brilliant and strong, our weapons to the keenest edge and sharpest arrow! I shall recount the names of these warriors: Master Thornspine of Mirkwood – great hunter and the leader of the Helm; Lady Nimlaeth of Mirkwood – a true Guardian of the Wood; Lady Severn – keen of eye and strong of wit, also of Mirkwood; and Lord Amalaphus, whose magicks I do not fully understand but know he is a true ally in battle.
All went well until we determined we should fully clear the camp, and that meant venturing deep into the caves of Sarnur to catch any remnants of hiding goblins. To our surprise, a legion of Dourhands was hidden deep inside the monstrous caverns, and even direr was the discovery of trolls. It appeared the Dourhands were training these creatures for battle – an irate troll was bad enough, but trolls trained in battle? As well, it was unheard of for goblins and Dourhands to be allied thus. We could not believe our eyes, and yet there is was.
... Soon enough we were assailed on all sides – Dourhands blocked our passage back up the causeway, and the trolls were on our very heels. The battle in Sarnur was over before it had begun. We managed to escape, but we did not come away unwounded – Nimlaeth, our brave Guardian, was sorely injured and we lost several dwarven soldiers. I came away with only light wounds, the injury more to my pride than any physical pain ....
I returned back to the Dwarven Halls to recount the mission gone awry to the lady, and instead of a rebuke, she praised me and requested we storm Sarnur once again. But even as I write this, many days after that ill-fated night, the humiliation of defeat weighs heavily upon me like a stone, a wretched lump that cannot be removed until all the Dourhands are dead in Sarnur. I will leave none alive.
And now I must cease my prattling, for Master Thornspine calls me to his side in counsel, but the meeting causes me some anxiety. We do not recount the matter of the Ring and Lord Denethor any longer, but his seemingly unending coldness tells me I may never win his trust or heart ever again. But again, that is another tale for the telling.
~Sarawenn, Captain of Gondor
((
OOC – I thought a journal format would be a good way to summarize the events from our RP nights. Feel free to post your characters journal here as well! ))
Journal of Captain Sarawenn
The day looms closer when we must attempt to take Sarnur once again. The failure to retake the fortress a fortnight ago still rankles my pride; this time I shall not accept failure, either from my comrades or myself.
It started as a simple mission: about a fortnight and half ago I received an urgent letter from a dwarven lady in Thorin’s Hall, asking the Helm for aid against the goblins that attacked the roads by Thorin’s Gate. Her nephew, a dwarf of nigh thirty-eight winters (an age middling for Men, but young for a dwarf), was attacked and captured by goblins that dwelt in a fortress called Orodrost, by Sarnur. He was returning from a trading journey to Celondim when these foul creatures assailed his small convoy.
Luckily, the lad escaped, but at a great price ... it was obvious from his wounds that he was tortured mercilessly and his mind had gone as well. The lady wanted vengeance for the dishonour done to her family.
After I read her missive, my thoughts grew dark, for vengeance begets only more vengeance I thought. But I was wrong. These were goblins – they could not be reasoned or bargained with – they destroyed and looted with no mercy; no hearts had they for compassion. I then took the liberty of delving into the situation more closely, and found to my dismay that this was only one of many offences committed by the goblins of Orodrost. They seemed to grow stronger by the week, and even the stout soldiers of Thorin’s Hall could not keep them at bay.
Therefore, with Master Thornspine’s permission, I asked my allies in the Helm to aid in the re-taking of Orodrost. Few warriors arrived that day, for many of the Helm’s finest were occupied elsewhere in Eriador, and yet I was confident we would achieve victory. Along with our warriors, two squads of soldiers from Thorins Hall also accompanied us on the mission. One of them, a grizzled warrior named Marcus, consented to become my herald as well. He did not speak at all but had a comrade speak for him - and then I learned why – Dourhands had cut out his tongue. At any rate, I was grateful for this noble action, for I had sent Servilia, my previous herald, back in haste to Gondor … but that is another tale for the telling.
When we arrived, the goblins did not show much courage against our forces, for the Helm was strong. On that evening the Helm’s warriors shone like a beacon of light to the darkness of Orodrost! Our armour gleamed brilliant and strong, our weapons to the keenest edge and sharpest arrow! I shall recount the names of these warriors: Master Thornspine of Mirkwood – great hunter and the leader of the Helm; Lady Nimlaeth of Mirkwood – a true Guardian of the Wood; Lady Severn – keen of eye and strong of wit, also of Mirkwood; and Lord Amalaphus, whose magicks I do not fully understand but know he is a true ally in battle.
All went well until we determined we should fully clear the camp, and that meant venturing deep into the caves of Sarnur to catch any remnants of hiding goblins. To our surprise, a legion of Dourhands was hidden deep inside the monstrous caverns, and even direr was the discovery of trolls. It appeared the Dourhands were training these creatures for battle – an irate troll was bad enough, but trolls trained in battle? As well, it was unheard of for goblins and Dourhands to be allied thus. We could not believe our eyes, and yet there is was.
... Soon enough we were assailed on all sides – Dourhands blocked our passage back up the causeway, and the trolls were on our very heels. The battle in Sarnur was over before it had begun. We managed to escape, but we did not come away unwounded – Nimlaeth, our brave Guardian, was sorely injured and we lost several dwarven soldiers. I came away with only light wounds, the injury more to my pride than any physical pain ....
I returned back to the Dwarven Halls to recount the mission gone awry to the lady, and instead of a rebuke, she praised me and requested we storm Sarnur once again. But even as I write this, many days after that ill-fated night, the humiliation of defeat weighs heavily upon me like a stone, a wretched lump that cannot be removed until all the Dourhands are dead in Sarnur. I will leave none alive.
And now I must cease my prattling, for Master Thornspine calls me to his side in counsel, but the meeting causes me some anxiety. We do not recount the matter of the Ring and Lord Denethor any longer, but his seemingly unending coldness tells me I may never win his trust or heart ever again. But again, that is another tale for the telling.
~Sarawenn, Captain of Gondor
((
OOC – I thought a journal format would be a good way to summarize the events from our RP nights. Feel free to post your characters journal here as well! ))
