Post by melodar on Mar 1, 2008 20:39:37 GMT -5
Mooni- Lore master
Chilled to the bone I crouch down under the branches of the tree, I try to wipe the rain away from my eyes. This tree is my only form of shelter in this ongoing storm. I’ve been following the movements of this tribe of Goblins for days now, constantly under a barrage of rain from this fall rain that just will not quit.
Cold, tired, and terribly hungry I think back to the events that have brought me to this cold, dark, dangerous place. I grew up in the bustling town of Bree; the son of a scribe. Constantly surrounded by dusty shelves covered in books, I learned the skills many folks never learn in a lifetime. I learned to read and write, and there were never enough books to satisfy my curiosity, nor cure my hunger to learn more. My parents hoped that I would follow in my Father’s footsteps and continue the family business as a scribe. They were highly disappointed in my desire to learn more, to discover on my own the wonders of the world. Never satisfied with the teachings of others, I wanted to adventure on my own and experience my own adventures that I could one day write about as an experienced adventurer.
At first the signs were not obvious. I spent many days fetching supplies in the Chet woods and other forests around Bree. I’d became quit a woodsman and spent more and more time in those woods. Everyone who spent any time in the lands outside the protected towns knew that the world was changing. The winds whispered change. They cried warnings that few heard, and even less understood. From brigands becoming braver and braver, to the Orcs and Goblins taking small footholds in the hills, the evils of the world were growing in power and strength.
I’d read every book I could find through my years, and grown bored looking for more. As I grew more powerful with the stave, and mastered control over certain animal companions, I became more and more obliged to help those around me. Few I’d encountered were any match to my newfound skills. I’d helped many all around Bree and the surrounding farms. I’d started moving further and further from home. I lived my new life camping in the wild, becoming one with nature, helping anyone in need. I kept record of all my deeds and adventures, making notes that I hoped would one day become an epic story for others to read.
My latest prey was this band of Goblins that I’d been tracking for days in the cold rain. They’d ransacked a poor merchant’s wagon on his way to the Forsaken Inn. One would think they were just like any other goblin that dredged through the stinking mud of the swamp. But after tailing them I began to realize these were more organized, stronger, more evil if possible tribe. I’ve followed them into the Lonelands, tracked them to their makeshift base in the ruins of these hills. These goblins seem to be gathering for war. I’d heard rumor from passerby’s in the Forsaken Inn of small camps of Orcs and Half Orcs making their home here, but nothing of note to suggest any organization. Perhaps this was just their chaotic ways. The more digging I’d done the more I began to realize this was the preparations of WAR. Hundreds of goblins seemed to be making ready, piecing together armor from scraps of their victims, sharpening homemade weapons and shields.
The sinking, dreadful feeling in the bottom of my gut was not from trail food and rations. Something had to be done and I alone would make no difference here nor save Bree. I needed help. I’d heard of a band called the Pillagers of Pipeweed that were rumored to turning the tide against Sauron’s forces. A motley crew of all manner of Free Peoples united against the forces of evil. Elves, hobbits, dwarves and humans all united for Freedom. I needed their help.
My plan became crystal clear: I would make my way back to the Inn and write to their leaders. I would pen up a request to be allowed membership among their ranks. A warning would accompany my note informing them of all I’d witnessed and the danger that was brewing in the hills just outside Bree. Together we could save my hometown of Bree, then press on against the armies of Angmar!
A shiver runs down my spine. Not born of the elation of hope against this new darkness, not chilled from the cold wind and rain that beat against my cloak, but from the sharp point pressed against my back. The stench from the goblins had never smelled so terrible. I slowly start to turn towards the goblin that had found my secret sentry point. Thoughts race through my head, if I can make it through this it’ll be a miracle, I may soon be tonight’s main course at the goblin camp.
My senses sharpen, I think over every useful spell I’ve mastered, and with an explosion of staff, spark and flame I turn the tides. The spear stabs into the empty space and thrusts into the tree trunk. With a smashing blow I race past the stunned goblins and fly down the hill away from my certain death. I know with no uncertainty that my next move once safe will be to write to the Pillagers. Something must be done to save Bree! If only they’ll have me………….