Legacy of Traitors RPG

[Eorl of Rohan]

As Ferethor was not one to revel in such trifle as beer in the line of his duty, he naturally failed to accompany the others who were asking for beer at the bar. Taking a quick survey of the dilapidated and grimy inn with some distaste and aversion, though Ferethor had seen much worse, he sank uneasily on one of the wooden stools to wait.

He was somewhat apprehensive and restless, if only because of the villager’s casual remark about Maen’s vivid curls of molten-gold. Indeed she was easily recognizable, and if someone should… Ferethor sighed and wondered when he would stop in his habit of presuming the worst. Not in the near future, it seemed.

Maybe it was because he had almost been expecting something like this that Ferethor was less surprised than the others, when Maen leaped to her feet with a cry of startled amaze at beholding a seeming wayfarer who called for her by her birth-name.

Ferethor it was who instantaneously rose also, his slender blade already unsheathed and gleaming in the dim torchlight as he cried, “It would be only a common courtesy if the stranger introduces himself first. Who are you, and what errands have you to Lady Maen of our company?”

Ferethor’s ashen-grey eyes that usually sparkled with twilight-shadow radiance were dimmed in earnest distrust, harsh and hard as iron and steel as he glared with open hostility at the foreigner. Lady Maen was his charge at least until they captured Il Galoth the Renegade, and while he lived he would not fail in his duty. His challenging gaze was locked for a moment with that of the man's uncowed gaze, a shade of midnight blue of the high firmament starlit.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen thought quickly. "Miss Lhunaro, put your shawl over your hair and hunch as if you are an old woman. Wrap it around covering your hair and mouth."

Not waiting to see if she did as he bid her, but knowing that she would if she had any sense, the ranger rose to meet the man's dark blue gaze. "What business do you have with Lady Maen?" he seconded after Ferethor, his voice courteous and blank, giving nothing away.

"Where is she?" The stranger repeated, apparently oblivious, haughtily looking away, his eyes searching their table. He took a few steps forward and Atharen put one hand on his sword hilt. It was not a violent motion, but somehow the way he executed it made sure that every man in the room knew that his hand was on a weapon that he knew how to use very well.

"She is not here at the moment," Atharen replied after a second, not turning to see whether Maen had covered her head - he knew she would have done. "We-"

"Oh, don't give me that!" The man sneered, stepping forward regardless. "A woman cried out and you expect me to believe that there is no woman in your company - finely thought out, sir." The last word was spat out mockingly. Atharen didn't flinch.

"That was me," a soft voice replied. Crystal stepped out towards Atharen from the shadows that had somehow stopped her from being seen. Atharen noted again with some admiration her complete ability to make herself utterly unseen when she wanted to. "I cried out because the wind when you came in startled me."

The man now turned his gaze on Crystal and he sneered. "A woman travelling in only the company of men? A fine lady you are, I am sure..." he trailed off.

"This is my fiancee and travelling partner, Miss Fallowheart, and nothing of what you insinuate!" Atharen's voice had started quietly but now, to his surprise, he found it rising. He slipped his arm into Crystal's easily, as if it was natural, and she moved a little closer to him. If he hadn't been so angry he probably would have been lost for words, and as it was it was only with the greatest self-restraint that he stopped himself from looking at her. His temper was still rising though. "You will not doubt the goodness of myself or my companions."

The man glared at him as if he was dirt and started forward, his own right hand going to his belt as he threateningly approached their table. "You will stop right there!" Atharen raised his voice, his tone dangerous.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn, who was sitting in the shady corner, the smoke from his pipe winding its way up his face. The soft glow illuminated his face fractionally. At the entrance of the stranger, he moved his eyes up slowly, making no movement with his face at all. "Where is she, where is Maen?", Roryn's hand slid under his clothes, closing around the grip of his bow. "She isn't here at the moment", he heard Atharen say...fool he thought, you just revealed that you know her. His hand gripped harder on his bow, more for comfort than anything else, although he was distinctly wary. He saw that Maen had covered her head with a shawl, and smiled subconciously, at least she knew what to do...

"Stop right there" Atharen said.
"And If i don't?" the stranger asked, a threatening tone evident. Atharen was obviously shaken by this. He was unused to people making such direct threats.
"Then I will stop you..."
"Really?"

...

[Amanaduial the archer]

The man sneered yet again, showing a yellow tooth at one side. "Stop me? I don't think so."

A mistake. "Careful. I wouldn't like to have to fight you," Atharen's voice was now very soft, dangerous. The man now laughed out loud and Atharen smelt the alcohol on his breath.

"I bet you wouldn't, boy" the stranger scoffed. "Few people would want to cross blades with me."

On the last word the man lunged forward suddenly, but not aiming directly at Atharen - he was aiming at Crystal. Atharen didn't have to think about it: he shoved the woman to the side out of the way, crossing his blade in the way of the stranger's. The clash resounded throughout the room, causing a sudden silence to fall around the Inn Common Room as over fifty men suddenly sobered up very fast. The room was suddenly bristling with concealed weapons and every customer had the exits marked out in a second.

The stranger's sword had been knocked jarringly out of his hand by the sheer force of Atharen's blow and he had stumbled back, hitting a table and nearly falling, clutching the table edge. He looked back at the ranger who swivelled his sword around slowly to face diagonally down, tensed to move again.

"The same could be said of me," Atharen replied to the man's last statement, then he gave a small wry smile, his black eyes flashing. "Boy? I have wandered the wilds longer than you might imagine, and that is not done without learning a few things. Tell me your business and I will not harm you, but threaten or insult any one of my companions, especially my fiancee, and a fight you will have well-earned."

[Kransha]

Idruil sat, very calmly and studiously, at his small rickety chair across from Roryn, leaning down and stooping over a tin tankard, nursing the drink he’d gotten as he stared into the frothy foam that cascaded in a narrow river over the side. Even as he heard the clashing of sword on sword, he didn’t bother to look up. He’d heard the sound all too many times, coupled with the curt twang of bowstrings and the whistling of jagged bolts through the still air. It brought no memories now, as Idruil’s mind became more wistfully murky as he returned his faculties to the present, glancing up at the conflict, brief and impatient as it went. Atharen had won the upper hand already, and seemed to bear a clever grin upon his face as he spoke to this stranger who had accosted Miss Crystal. Idruil scowled pensively as he swung his creaking chair sideways and raised a flat hand towards Atharen, trying to distract his attention momentarily before the fight grew.

“Though I hate to be the voice of reason, perhaps it would be better if we did not emulate this man’s hostility. If he leaves us be, we may do the same for him.”

The man of Minas Tirith looked about coolly; an otherworldly look of beleaguered weariness plastered over his face as he shook his bearded head to recover some sense and overviewed the crowd as a bristling sound rippled over the inn strangely, like an eerie shockwave. Suddenly, the glint of metal shimmered in many places, peering out beneath coats, cloaks, and frocks that muffled the gait and silhouettes of the inn-goers. Idruil pushed his mug down the table, watching it skid to a fractured but prompt halt at the other end. Oddly enough, even though the few visible faces with their rotten, yellowed teeth, deep and rough pallor, and sinuous, burly airs looked hostile, there was a spot of grotesque glee embedded in their obvious expressions. It seemed that they wanted a fight. In fact, it seemed that they would become just as hostile and aggressive if their was no brawl, their eyes gleaming in spiteful anticipation.

“Or, perhaps we should.” He whispered, almost smiling to himself as he fingered the icy metal of his hilt beneath the table’s concealing shadow, he traced his rough-skinned thumb down the hilts spiraling cylinder and onto the lacquered scabbard below, prying the blade out minutely by its cross-guard if he was called upon to take up arms. He felt another mildly sensational twinge in his hand, a flickering pulsation as he told himself doggedly to yank out the weapon, overturn the table and its held contents, and challenge the boorish oaf, but he knew that would be foolhardy, since Atharen could handle any ailing brute such as this. Now, Idruil pulled his seat at another faulty angle and shot a calm, but still venom-tinged glance at the stranger.

“Sir, no matter your prowess in battle, I highly doubt you can defeat my companion in combat, or any of us, for that matter, so why don’t you make this easier for all of us and tell us what you want and why you want it, so we don’t have to besmirch this inn’s good name, hmm?” This elicited an invisible chuckle from Roryn, who was busy theorizing over his smoky pipe.

[Everdawn]

This man laughed suddenly at Atharen and tapped his arm. “Had you going for a second there didn’t I?” Atharen was taken aback in surprise.

Maén had slipped the shawl off form around her head. “How did you know I was here?” she said. The man stood up and bowed.

“Hittai is the only horse tied up outside bearing the mark Mi.IG. The mark of the Il Galoth household. Besides, I know Hittai when I see her. Bloody aweful creature. You would do well to cover her if you wish not to be seen, as I think thats what you wanted to achieve." He smiled and turned and shook Atharen's hand and bowed at Crystal, "Im sorry if I caused you any trouble."

The others looked at Maén questioningly. “Maén, who is this man!”

Maén looked from the ranger to the man. “Well, do you remember how I told you that I had been engaged once? Well, here he is, this is Arridan” she said with some bitterness.

Arridan did not smile this time. “Are you to stay here tonight?” he said looking around the Inn. Maén nodded. “Its not becoming of you my lady ,no for Maén this will never do.”

Maén looked towards the ground. Arridan continued “No, You must stay with my father and I this evening, we will give you everything you need for the night, then you can tell me why you are here, because clearly I can see you have not come to take me back. Or have you?” he his smile quickly faded.

“I would rather speak of it with your father, I was ever politer than you Arridan.” She turned her back on him and faced the company. “This mans father is respectable, a friend of my fathers, he is the lord of this town. Shall we stay there for the night?”

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn was astounded. He was grateful that this had come at the time it had, for he had been about a second away from loosing an arrow into the man's chest. He sighed and went back to puffing at his pipe. Bloody hell Maen...tying up your horse under the mark of your true name...He skook his head slowly and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath. He had been amused at Atharen's attempt to glean the inn's name from the stranger, but it didn't really matter, as long as they were gone, and soon.

Cursing again he put his feet up on a chair and leant back. He was stupid to be so worried, actually now he wasn't...it was in his breeding to be careful. His grandfather, Owacyn, was always very careful, so was his father Seon...Gah, that old humbug of a man, never good enough for him, anything that I do...perhaps he just wants rid of me...well I've joined the right venture to do that for him...I wonder what his reaction will be when he finds out I'm dead...wouldn't surprise me if it was joy really. Well I'll never be there to find out. Ferethor is plotting something, but I'm not sure what. After all this he'll stop Maen I reckon. Ah, we'll see when it comes to it...

[Eorl of Rohan]

"Great Grief, for the sake of Iluvatar..." Ferethor sheathed his blade again reluctantly, but did not sink down back to his stool. His brow was furrowed in distrust and anger, his youthful countenance creased with a mistrustful scowl as he watched the man appraisingly and said softly and deliberately so that only the newcomer could hear him,


"Arridan, I think you named yourself. You would do well, boy, to not address Lady Maen so publicily if you want to stay alive yourself. That is, unless you are suicidal. Our friend Roryn here was about to put an arrow through your neck, I noticed, and I wasn't too far away from running you through with my steel either. Whoever you are and whatever relation you have towards a member of our company, keep it to yourself if you don't want to die. I am not unskilled in the arts of fencing and swordfighting any more than you are."


A candid threat, but not one of the blustering ones since Ferethor was in a position to fulfill it. Sinking slowly down on the stool as if nothing happened, but his hand still pointedly on the hilt of his jewel-encrusted knife, he turned to Maen and said as he nodded brusquely but courteously in seeming meek submission, "As you wish, my lady." He may as well try his best to take the others off their guard by being meek and submissive instead of argumentative and quick-angered like he usually was. But Ferethor had doubts that this would work.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Something inside Atharen melted and for a second he seemed to be in a place far away from this hill... riding towards a house on the outskirts of the plains of Rohan. As he slowed to a trot, he shaded his eyes against the bright sun and watched as a woman came out of the house, fair and beautiful, the golds of her hair catching in the sun so she seemed to glow, celestial and idyllic. She smiled widely with a mystery that only Atharen could understand so well...

But it was only for a second. The ranger leant his head back against Crystal's, so he was leaning against her. She would age, he would not, yet the ranger knew that they would nonetheless grow together. "You make a fine choice, Lady Crystal," he replied quietly, happily. "And there is no choice I would rather make than to take that path with you, no matter where it will lead."

Reaching back, he felt for Crystal's hand in her lap and, as she took his, he squeezed it gently. "Thank you..." she said quietly.

Sighing contentedly, Atharen then let go and returned to the hillside, straightening up again and facing Maen from horseback where she stood, gazing out across the hills in the distance, her arms wrapped around her against the chill in the breeze and the cold of her 'failure'. "Lady Il Galoth," he said, a clear address. She didn't turn, but he knew she was listening. "Lady, I do not think I can say anything more than has already been said by these companions with whom you have travelled for the past weeks. Each from different circumstance, each from different origins...and look around and listen to us, Maen, and hark at this, will you? You cannot have failed: for all out differences, you united us in one cause."

"A failed cause, Atharen," she replied angrily, turning sharply, her face and voice bitter beyond her years.

"Maybe it was simply the wrong one, my Lady," he replied, quietly, calmly, then continued. "You say you have no reason to go on, Maen, but look at us: we are your way of going on. Oh, of course, the faces and the names may change: but your leadership skills will only mature as they do so. You formed us, for whatever reason, have united us, given us a joint purpose, and you have led us, Lady Il Galoth. And in a military family, in these still-changing times, that is your gift. That is your future."

Maen contemplated him silently for a moment, holding his deep, dark gaze for several long seconds. Then she seemed to smile, very, very faintly, so little that someone who didn't take quite so much care towards expression might miss it - but it was not lost on Atharen. Without another word, Maen moved towards Hittai - and even the fiery little horse seemed gloomy in the atmosphere - and mounted her smoothly. For a second, in his mind's eye, Atharen saw a glimpse of what she could be in the future: hair braided back, a sword in her hand, brandishing it towards an enemy, any enemy, a worthwhile cause that she would lead men against because she believed in it.

"Come - we shall return to Lysia's," she announced quietly, and although her voice was low and suppressed, still disheartened from such a crushing, the quiet, natural confidence in it was now obvious to all in the company. Atharen rode up to her side and, carefully, reached out and let his gloved hand rest on her shoulder, just for a second.

As they rode on, the rest mounting up again and following swiftly, Atharen turned his head fully this time and smiled at Crystal. "We all take our own paths," he announced clearly to the whole company, then dropped his voice so as only to speak to Crystal. "But better that we do not ride it alone."

[Eorl of Rohan]

“This was a fruitless cause indeed, but not something that yielded none at all. Let our camaraderie remain a peaceful remembrance, not that of distaste. We were united in a common purpose – although all for different causes, it is my belief. And that is the thing of import.” Ferethor put in mildly in a tone completely unlike his usual harsh and commanding ring, his gaze cast down.


And then Ferethor said quite innocuously after a pause, for he was feeling quite uncomfortable of the circumstances, “Back to your aunt, Maen? I don’t think that’s advisable, since I have to file out a report to Lord Elessar verbally about the death of traitor Il Galoth and...” His words trailed into silence, and after a pause he said somewhat lamely, “My colleague Lieutenant Aelimur and I would have to return to our duties in Minas Tirith. Therefore will you allow us to take our leave?” A dead pause, while Aelimur started and looked incredulously at Ferethor, mouthing soundlessly ‘Do you really have to declare out identity when everything’s over? Why not just keep it quiet? Maen might throw a fit, y’know.’ Ferethor ignored his imperative whisper.


“Not very surprising, as half of you know me and others must have all vaguely guessed.” Ferethor added with a wry grin, accompanied by a slight inclination of head as in the manner of a courteous greeting, “Captain Ferethor of Minas Tirith at your service, bearing orders from High King Elessar to seek Il Galoth the traitor and arrest him in the name of Gondor. Impossible to fulfill now, of course – my task is as not accomplished either.”

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn dismounted and walked over to the tombstone. Maen was kneeling, Crystal was conforitng her, and Athern was conforting Crystal...he let out a howl of rage and swung his sword hard into the stone. The old and cracked rock split and shattered under the force, and the top half of the stone flew backwards slowly, shattered. Maen looked up and gasped, Roryn was clearly seeting with rage. "We trekked all this way, lost friends and kinsmen, and you're dead! You useless beast!" Roryn took his sword, still covered in dust from the smashed tombstone and drove it into the earth up to the hilt. He felt it push through the ribcage of a cadaver, and stepped away from the shallow grave. He mounted up and turned to Maen.

"I will be just over the ridge, I'll wait for you, keeping lookout should any bandits come." Maen nodded and looked back at the grave, the now smashed tombstone and the sword in the earth. A small tear escaped the corner of her eye and splashed onto the ground. she stood up and turned away from the grave...

[Crystal Heart]

As Atharen turned the horse away, she turned around. The man they had been searching for was dead. Maen had not gotten her revenge. Her friends new friends were now going to be going in separate directions. Ferethor had admitted to working for the King all of this time. As was Aemulir. She had been shocked so much during this quest that she wasn't sure about any of it.

She had learned to trust once more. She had learned to let go the past and focus on the future. She had learned that life moves on. These people had taught her that.

She had fallen in love, had found out that he in turn had fallen in love with her, and now they would head in their own direction. They would follow a path together.

She had no idea where the others would go or what they would return to. These people were her friends and always would be until the time came when she had to leave middle earth and embark on a new journey-life beyond life.

She was young. She had her dreams and now she had someone to share at least the path with for a while. She knew that she would never forget these people even if she never saw any of them again.

They had been brought together by Maen's amazing leadership. They had been brought together by the prospect of reward. They had been brought together by duty. They had been brought together by ordinary means. But the woman that lead them was anything but ordinary. She had been strong through the entire journey.

They had lost one of their own. Had come through hell and back to get to this spot and now they were riding back-onward to their new lives. The lives that everyone knew would start after the quests.

"We were brought together for different reasons, but we are now bound together with the thoughts and feelings of love and friendship. We share an incredible journey that none of us could ever forget. We have lost one of our own, but we have not failed. We did what we set out to do-find the traitor. We may not have been able to take him into custody or to have our revenge, but we found him and on the way we found out who we were and who the people in the company were. We became a family, companions. This is our legacy that we all share," Crystal said to the company as they rode on, into the distance.