2970, Summer (The One Ring 2e - Strider Mode)

 

2970, Summer

Darling Sister,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. This summer’s heat has been oppressive, but it is with great delight that I find myself in cool shelter within of the Halls of Harmlet nestled in Blue Mountains. I had arrived here not but two weeks ago after a rather pleasant journey from Bree, my path taking me through the lands of the Hobbits, up through Grey Haven and Mithlond, and finally North along the mountains to our the Hall.

Prior to my departure from Bree, I set about the town searching for answers regarding the deep burning questions present by my discoveries in spring. It was a rather elderly gentleman of the town guard that pointed me in the direction of the ancient hall. He had witnessed, in the past, a young dwarf travel through the town bearing jewelry marvelously marked with runes similar to what I have in my possession. This dwarf’s jewelry, who I had later learned to be named Pomma, seemed to entrance the guard who, young in his day, assisted her in locating bed and breakfast. Pomma enchanted him so, and the impression left a deep mark in his memory. In learning that Pomma had come from the Halls of Harmelt in the North-West, I had made it my assignment to travel there to find if Pomma, or anyone for the matter, could help me unearth secrets of what I possessed.

My planned route to the Halls would take me West across the Great East Road, over the Brandywine, and through the Shire. I would rest in Hobbiton a day before journeying off the road to Grey Haven where I would be required to find passage across the Lune to Mithlond. In Mithlond I would again take a day or two to rest before traveling North through the rough country to my final destination.

On the day of departure, I acquired, at the last moment, a pony to assist me. Annabelle is a sweet thing, a beautiful golden brown with a few white spots to adorn her breast. Trusting beyond doubt, our bond grew strong when our travels became difficult.

We proceeded with rapidity towards the Brandywine, the roads in good repair and the weather pleasant. We only dilly dallied for a moment when we came upon that familiar fen where in the Spring those courting frogs had once mesmerized me. I sat and had a pipe upon the same rise as before, closing my eyes and dreaming of that fanciful night. There, half by automation as I had sung this song in my leisure since first hearing it, I sung those guttural notes of the polliwog’s song. As I did, I could swear that the ground around me echoed those notes, joining me in chorus and refrain. But I did not open my eyes, for if it were a dream, I did not wish to leave it. We camped in this spot that night, and as the sun went down those resident amphibians emerged, but only in sound.

In the morning we continued West across the Brandywine and soon found ourselves in Hobbiton. The Hobbits are a curious folk. They seem lively and courteous, but also distrustful, as though they believe me to carry them away from their peaceful homes to some dangerous quest. Perturbed by this, I mainly kept to myself and took delight in fishing The Water which ran nearby.

It was in this brief indulgence of activity that a disconcerting event took place. In a sudden caprice, I had lost grip on my line and my rod was pulled into the water. I had become angry with myself for this sudden lackadaisical daydreaming, and waded into the water to find my rod and line. It was when I plunged my head beneath the water to search for my tools that an ominous horror came. As I dipped my head beneath, the sound of rushing water filled my head. Then faintly, but ever growing, a cry of anguish could be discerned amongst the cacophony of water. Quickly snatching my rod, I thrust above the surface and frantically searched for those cries. But my search divulged no creator of such noise, nor any other persons around. The episode had stirred me, and the tranquil clearing I had once stood held no more peace for me. I retired for the remainder of the day, preparing to set out in the morning.

The remaining days of travel through Arthedain passed by comfortably, the only event of note being my meeting with a grouchy little Hobbit who called himself Winx. He had a small camp on top of a hill and, upon seeing my figure crest the ridge, beckoned me over with enthusiasm. Although being my host, he offered me no tea and only pressed me for information regarding the Elves. He had been camping here for two weeks now, waiting to catch a glimpse of a rumored Elven caravan moving west towards Grey Haven. Enthralled by the Elves, he could speak of nothing else, and when I attempted to discuss my current quest regarding our ancestral history the Hobbit protested. “Why not let the dead lie,” he exclaimed? Eventually, annoyed and angered with my host, I returned to my journey in a sour mood.

My arrival in Grey Haven was two days earlier than planned, such had been my good fortune up to this point. The plan being to recuperate on the opposite side of the Lune in Mithlond, and in much need of recuperation, I quickly set about to find a ship. In the seaside tavern Forget Me Knot, I identified a sailor that presented extreme confidence in her craft and inquired to employ her services. Mariel, the brilliant sailor, expressed her condolences. While she would have liked to sail us across the Lune, her vessel was in need of repair. Discussion commenced in which I offered my abilities in repairing her vessel for passage to Mithlond, which she agreed to. I spent the following day in a forge, crafting two exquisite pulleys for Mariel’s vessel. By that evening, we had set off from Grey Haven and arrived in Mithlond shortly after sun down. Watching the sun set over the gulf was one of the most majestic events I’ve witnessed.

I rested a week in Mithlond, preparing myself for the final stint of my journey. I ate and drank my fill, for I knew that the country ahead would be the roughest yet. It was in my respite when, by fortune, I happened to meet a fellow dwarf who was traveling from the Halls of Harmlet. Over a few suppers, he reciprocated the meals with information regarding a stable and safe path to follow. It would require me to travel closer to the mountains than I had anticipated, but I held a primeval trust in him.

The day I commenced on the final leg, the searing heat of summer arrived in fury. My only blessings were the few hours when the sun dipped below the mountains and cast long shadows across the hills. In addition to this, if the path recommended by our kin was the safe and stable one I dare not imagine what the other paths might be! The way was rocky and dry, not a stream or creek with water suitable for drink. Annabelle began to suffer dearly in these wretched conditions and the lack of water exacerbated the situation. Annabelle’s situation became so dire, that I remitted the last of my water for her for the final two days or journey. You can imagine the joy we felt upon our first glimpse of the Halls of Harmlet!

We were welcomed in, and, the resident observing our pitiful state, tended to us with mineral water and cool stones. It book us both a full day of recovery before Annabelle and I returned to our full faculties. It was then that I was able to observe this Hall in all its glory! How magnificent!

I have heard that Pomma still resides in the Hall, and when ready I shall progress to greet her and present my story. I shall inform you of the outcome of this meeting once achieved. Until then, I wish you a joyous summer and reprieve from this wrathful heat.

Affectionately,

Rori

2970, Spring (The One Ring 2e - Strider Mode)

2970, Spring

Dearest Sister,

It is with great interest that I share with you the peculiar and daring events which unfolded in my presence this past Spring and the mystery which now occupies my consciousness in my down time. Although these happenings were perilous in the extreme, I do not wish to cause any grievance unto you and I am safely in the confines of a sturdy inn within the walls of Bree.

This series of proceedings all started along the Brandywine, near where the river forks and runs towards Annuminas. I had stopped for a respite and a meal, the fish were plentiful and my bounty came with relative ease. It was during this time when I spied a series of papers floating downstream. My curiosity amused, I fished some of the papers from the river and noticed that they were written in an ancient form of Dwarvish! Oh, how I wish I could read them!

I hastily packed camp and started up river, searching anxiously for their origin. That is when I came across an old water mill structure, it’s water wheel immobile and it’s door ajar. I knocked on the door, to no reply, then cautiously entered the mill. To my surprise I discovered it wasn’t a mill at all, but rather a forge, the water wheel powering immense bellows. The inside of this forge was scattered with more papers and smithing artifacts, many of these in that same ancient tongue of our ancestors. Alas, I eventually found whom I believe to be the resident. He was an elderly man in the peaceful everlasting repose of his cot.

Startled by this discovery, I had nearly forgotten my excitement when I heard the low call of a cat above me. Up in the rafters above there sat a fat, round cat as orange as the sun and nearly as old. It stared at me as it mewed, and as I looked back I saw a small silver key strung around its neck. In searching for what it might belong to, I found a small iron safe, the size of a cabbage, immaculately crafted, and immensely heavy. I beckoned the feline down with some of my earlier bounty and snatched the key as it feast.

The treasure found inside the safe was breathtaking to a scholar like myself. There were seven silver bars, each weighing 3 ounces and each stamped with more of that ancient Dwarvish! What value of both treasure and history to our people! I took them along with as many of those ancient papers that I could carry, returning them to their proper inheritor. Giddy with excitement, I planned to set off to Bree to see if I could find someone knowledgeable to provide guidance in these artifacts.

But this, dear sister, is where fortunes ended for me. For the journey to Bree was rife with peril.

As I traveled south along the Brandywine, towards the road that runs East to Bree, I was besieged by a pair of highwaymen. I was determined not to forfeit my freshly acquired treasures and a barbarous fight proceeded. I swung my axe hard, the strength of our forebearers behind me, and fell one of the brigands. However, the other riposte and dislodged my weapon into the nearby river. Left with only my walking stick, I fought with all my courage and used all my strength. I was weary, but I held the upper hand! That was, until I heard the cries of more wretches heading towards the melee, undoubtedly to assist the one before me.

I fled! With what natural speed born to us, I fled south ahead of my adversaries. But those fools drew closer! I searched for a place to disappear and found a small hollow near the bank and withdrew inside it. Oh! How I wish I never found that hollow! You see, it was a ghastly tomb! I laid there as still and silent as the tomb’s awful denizens until those of the living dispersed into the wilds. I quickly scuttled out of the grave, and washed my face in the clean waters.

I continued to move south quickly, not wishing to run into my pursuers. When I finally made that road, everything felt safe and I reassured myself that the travel by road wouldn’t provide as pitiful an experience.

However, the first day on the road had produced a terrible series of storms! I swiftly found a small hovel in a series of trees, thinking it a safe shelter until I noticed it situated in a small wetland and the water rising around it. I had started to curse my luck, when a strange and mesmerizing occurrence took place. From out of those flooding reeds, a hundred or so frogs appeared hopping and croaking. They appeared to be dancing and singing in this rain, courting and celebrating! Can you imagine that? I still cannot, and I witnessed this! The festivities continued, but the singing lulled me to sleep. In the morning, the water had receded, and there was no signs of those astonishing amphibians.

Spirits renewed, I pushed on towards Bree. When I finally arrived, I was weary and my spirits were low, but the warmth of a hearth and a bowl of chowder has restored me. Now, I look for someone who can assist me in my pursuits while I pour over and ponder these discovered papers. The silver has been remitted to a treasurer for safe keeping, at the request that it does not leave Bree for other debts.

I am anxious to hear from you, sister. I will remain in Bree until mid summer, by when I expect to embark on an adventure to unearth more of our ancestral heritage. I will write to you when I have discovered more. May the rest of your spring be generous.

Affectionately,

Rori

 

Pour It On ‘Em! - A WWII skirmish war game

 An iteration of the Bullpup system, Pour It On ‘Em! is a WWII war game ruleset players can use to pit squads of 3-10 units against each other in a quick and simple battle! 

Download the Alpha here!

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1zR6tsZkHmUGF2YlABkoVmo32Bntxua4V/view?usp=drivesdk

Bullpup - A One Page Skirmish War Game

Bullpup

Bullpup is my attempt and creating a condense and concise miniature war game.

Download the game below.

Print/Pamphlet Version

Web/Mobile Version

End Zone

December, 1967
They say we had no idea they were coming. I say we've known about them for years. Hell, why do you think the Russians and us wanted to get up there so suddenly. They wanted a better look at the thing. Billions of dollars they spent to get a look at it first and now the whole world can see it for free every night. Sure the mustache, that's what my grand daughter calls it, caused a hell of a lot of panic. I'd never seen so many people packed into St. Catherine's that Sunday, but it also amazed and wondered. We, humans that is, suddenly weren't alone anymore. For a lot of people that was fine as long as they stayed up there, but then they decided to drop in and introduce themselves.

Not only did they decide to drop in, but everyone started losing it because it was the night of Christmas eve. "Angels," they cried. That was before the Christmas day massacre. I'm not sure what exactly happened, but whatever it was it pissed them off enough to vaporize anyone who got near their ship. That was it, people snapped. They packed up what they had and got the hell out of Dodge.

Chaos descended onto land, and I'm not just talking about the people. The landscape started to change and funny things started to happen. The egghead on the radio said that they use stuff from a perpendicular dimension and that it pokes holes in our dimension like a needle in cloth or something like that. She also said that those holes may continue to tear the more visitors we get. The tearing causes weird phenomena and the other worldly relics left by the visitors create a deadly attraction to people.That's why the government brass set up the End Zone.

As for right now, the city is quiet, which I'm happy with. It's a pain that Ivan decided to try and nuke a couple of the saucers after the massacre and now winter is a month longer. But every few weeks another ship comes down, not afraid of us a damn bit, stays for a week, and bugs off again. Then, as usual, you get the influx of people, like yourselves, who managed to slip by or pay off the military. The End Zone is a magnet for scientists looking to make a name for themselves, and criminals who want theirs forgotten. Spiritualists and treasure hunters looking for their salvation. But the End Zone is as deadly as it is tempting. A woman came by few weeks ago showing off what she thought was one of those perpetual batteries you've probably seen and in the process it blew her head and arm clean off.

As for me, I was born in Detroit, I was raised in Detroit, and, by God, I'm going to die in Detroit. My only hope is that there's still a spot left for me when the time comes.

The Story of the Magic Fish

The Story of the Magic Fish

Once upon a time, not so long ago, in a place not so far away a young seafaring lad met a beautiful enchantress. The enchantress was so beautiful that to gaze upon her was to forget all else. But, when separated from the enchantress the spell began to fade. The enchantress’ mother, the Old Sorceress, knew that in order to aid the enchantress and trap the handsome young seafarer she would have to use another spell.

The Old Sorceress made plans to give the seafaring lad some magic fish that would take away his memory of his home and his previous life. So, the Old Sorceress invited the lad to come and dine with them saying “come in sailor and have some fish”. The lad ate his fill, and his memory was lost, except for thoughts of the beautiful enchantress.

The seafaring lad and the beautiful enchantress were wed and raised a family. The enchantress passed on to her children the secret of the magic fish, and the spell continued to work.

The secret of the magic fish is now being passed on the grandchildren and the great-grandchildren of the Old Sorceress. The magic fish is being prepared so often that more and more innocent lads are coming under its spell. Soon the country will be populated with nothing but love-sick lads under the spell of the magic fish.

The Hounds of Mirkwood

GM Note: The Hounds of Mirkwood is my first The One Ring adventure which did not come out of a published book. While not a published adventure, it is heavily inspired by the early event of the Darkening of Mirkwood and Ruins of the North books. Below is what unfolded at the table, with commentary about process or intentions noted just like this in italics.

The Adventuring Company

• Ash - Woodmen of Wilderland
• Bell - Hobbit of the Shire
• Mozart - Ash's hound of Mirkwood
• Toefur - Dwarf of the Lonely Mountain

GM Note: These characters were pregenerated characters that I had previously used in a convention game run at AcadeCon. These are experienced characters with approximately 120 advancement points and 25 XP each. Each of these characters had special "power" cards which summarized character abilities. Since some of the players were new to this game, I found these cards very helpful in ensuring players did not stall out hunting their character sheet for things to do.

Part I

While in the House of Beorn, the company met with Gandalf the Grey and was ask to deliver a letter to Radagast the Brown in Rhosgobel, a settlement on the edge of Mirkwood. When the company arrived at Rhosgobel, they found the normally open and welcoming gates mostly shut. Once inside the walls of the settlement, they found the Woodmen around were uneasy or anxious. They discussed this with Radagast in his dwelling and learned that currently that the Men of Tyrant's Hill have sent an envoy here to discuss an alliance and that the envoy's arrival coincided with the disappearances of a number of the Woodmen and their hounds. The people of Rhosgobel are currently distrustful of the envoy, and blame them for the disappearances. 

GM Note: When the discussion with Radagast occurred, the subject leaned heavily on the hounds. The players did not know people were also missing until about 3/4 of the way through this discussion. This was intentional, as I've found that most of the players will have an emotional response to saving an animal over people. 

The letter the company delivered from Gandalf to Radagast recommended that the company could help solve any issues that may currently be plaguing Rhosgobel. With that, Radagast recommends the company act as a third party scout to search for clues about the missings' whereabouts, as any run-ins between the Woodmen and the Men of Tyrant's Hill could boil over with the current tensions. Level heads must prevail. 

Investigation around the town uncovered that three Woodmen and six hounds had gone missing over the course of three weeks. The Ash decided to visit the residence of the most recent person to have gone missing, Brennan, and try to find a scent to track. Brennan's home was currently occupied by his 16 year old daughter, Morrow, who obliged the Bell's request allow them to sniff around the house for a trail to follow. During this time, Toefur met with the Tyrant's Hill envoy, Torrel. Torrel explained their presence and position regarding the proposed alliance stating that, as a force from the South grows stronger, his people can not keep up the fight and protection they've been providing without support. 

GM Note: The plot of this adventure will be to investigate the disappearances of the men and hounds while also trying to discern the motives of the Men of Tyrant's Hill. 

The next day the company set out with Mozart tracking the scent of Brennan and his two hounds, Rose and Thorn. On day 10 they discovered a spot in the woods where a struggle seemed to appear and trace amounts of blood was discovered. They followed this for a further 3 days and discovered a small camp. Believed to be made by the Men of Tyrant's Hill, the camp was in disarray as if a fight had taken place there. Items of note discovered included symbols or tools that matched those of the Tyrant's Hill envoy, a set of leads tied to a tree which had been snapped or torn apart, and a note in a locked box presuemably written by someone named Mogdred. The note found instructed the reader to continue their duties to stop any orc they find moving North, but if negotiations turn sour, that protecting the Woodmen should no longer be a priority. Also discovered was what appeared to be drag marks heading out of the ruined campsite. 

Part II

The company followed the drag marks for a few hours. As they did, the forest around them began to become filled with spider webs. This continued until they came upon a large spider's web with several wrapped bundles clinging to it, one of which was moving. If Toefur's less than graceful trek through the previous spider webs didn't draw any unwanted attention, the Ash's attempt to climb the web certainly did. Soon a series of spiders descended upon the company. The battle was short and sweet, until the great spider arrived with her horrible shrieking and corrupting bites. Though, she too was soon dispatched. 

GM Note: I wanted this fight to be more difficult than it was, especially since the characters are fairly experienced. I originally chose spiders from the Heart of the Wild book, but completely forgot that I wanted to use them until after the fight. 

After the fight, the company took the time to lower the bundles from the spider web and discovered that the wiggling bundle was one of the missing hounds, Thorn. While Thorn was being treated for being malnourished and poisoned, Ash also discovered that she had bandaged wound along with the spider bite. The other bundles contained the bodies of the three Woodmen, four of their hounds, four Men of Tyrant's Hill, and three other hounds (later identified by Radagast as hounds of Tyrant's Hill). As Toefur attempted to relocate the bodies to a better place, he noticed that the three Woodmen all had stab wounds in their backs along with the spider bites. Ash noted that the weapons used to cause this damage were probably crude and of orc make. 

With Thorn in poor but improving shape, the company traveled back to Rhosgobel to inform Radagast of their findings. While he seemed concerned about the note found at the campsite, the concern wasn't what everyone else was thinking about. He informed the group that the letter they received was a powerful thing before saying goodbye. 

Afterwards, the company returned to Morrow to inform her of their findings and return Thorn home. After being offered a place to stay from her, Toefur decided to visit Torrel again and discuss their findings. When informed of the fate of his kinsmen, Torrel formed a hypothesis of what happened, indicating that his people were waylaid by spiders, which caused orcs to slip through, who murdered the Woodmen and their hounds who were subsequently found by the same spiders. When presented with the note, he made no attempt to deny its contents. He confided in Toefur that the Men of Tyrant's Hill cannot keep what evil grows in the South at bay if they cannot find support from those whom they protect. He reminded Toefur that the letter he holds is a powerful item.

From there, the party decided that they should have a word with the Woodmen and discuss what else may be happening behind the scenes.

GM Note: This is where the first adventure ended and we proceeded to a short fellowship phase.