Farmer in the Dale RPG

[Child of the 7th Age]

Pumping her legs as fast as she could, Elanor bolted across the open field, too afraid to gaze up into the open sky. The young woman could see Elian sprinting just in front of her, intermittently glancing back to make certain that she was still alright.

Panting as much from fright as exertion, the two managed to find their way back to the outer ring of farmhouses on the far outskirts of Dale. The shortest way home was to cut straight through the fields and pens, ignoring private boundaries, clambering over the wooden fences. They were quite prepared to do this but some saving instinct inside Elanor's head warned her to stop for a moment and spy out the lay of the land.

As she and Elian crouched behind a hedge and peered cautiously outward, a horrifying spectacle caught her eye. They stared unbelieving as a commanding shadow swooped down from the sky spilling flame and ashes in its trail. Two of the smaller sheds on the nearest farm had already caught fire and the greedy tongues of red and orange were threatening to spread to the adjacent house. Worse yet, the beast had now alit on the ground and was tossing cattle out of the way with a shake of its head as if they were nothing more than little toys, like those made in Dale that were so popular among both human and dwarven children.

Struggling to stay calm, Elanor bellowed out above the racket, "Let's get out of here. It's too dangerous. There has to be another way home."

Elian nodded curtly, "Back there. Up, over the rocks." He pointed to a string of boulders that were grouped around the base of the nearby foothills. "We can get over those, and cut around to avoid this mess." With a wave of his hand, he gestured towards the dragon who as yet showed no signs of leaving.

The two swiftly backtracked towards the path Elian had recommended. As they started to clamber up the rocks, Elanor thought she heard the scream of a woman from behind her in the same direction as the burning house, a scream that lasted only a few seconds and was then cut ominously short. She shook her head and covered her ears to block out the sound. But the only thing she succeeded in doing was to conjure up a picture in her mind of her younger brother Eric, the one she usually dismissed as a great pest. When she had left her home that afternoon, she had not been able to find him. Surely, he was with their mother. He had to be with mother!

But for the first time that day, Elanor felt her confidence waiver. What if she was wrong.....?

[Regin Hardhammer]

Eric raced after the humungous creature, his heart pounding. He was determined to catch up with it to get a closer look. Wide clumps of trees flew past him as he ventured deeper into the forest. His shoe caught on a tree root protruding from the ground and he fell, receiving a large mouthful of dirt. Blubbering under his breath, Eric hastily scanned the sky to find the beast.

“Where did you go bird?” he yelled desperately. After several minutes of searching, Eric guessed that the bird had flown away into a clump of thick trees. Why did nothing he did ever turn out right? His left leg now swelled with a sharp pain from the bruise that he had received from his ungraceful descent. But he was not going to cry about it like that little baby Eli, who wailed whenever he got a paper cut. Mom and Dad, of course, always tried to calm him and assure him that he was okay. Well I could get their attention too if I was such a baby, thought Eli.

Thoroughly depressed that his adventure seemed to have hit a brick wall, Eli sat down on an old oak stump. Eric looked up at the old trees surrounding him, their long branchy fingers reached far into the sky and were covered with thick clumps of green pine needles. Squirrels scuttled up and down the trunk, munching on bunches of nuts and kernels. He wished that he had something to eat as it was getting late and his stomach rumbled tumultuously

Eric had explored most of the forests around his house, but these woods were not familiar to him. As the sun crept lower in the sky, he searched for something, anything, which would remind him of where he was. Over hours, the foreboding darkness crept up on Eric, cast upon him by the elderly trees. As the bleakness of the situation became apparent, panic set in. He was not safe in this strange forest all alone, no matter how tough he was. Eric cringed as he could have sworn he heard a long, mournful wolf howl echoing through the crisp air. No, he assured himself adamantly, I will make it out of this place and I will find my way home. And I’m not going to sit here and cry about it.

[ArwenBaggins]

Arinn rushed recklessly through the door of his home, a struggling Eli in his hands; the boy was pushing locks of sweaty hair out of his father's eyes. He let the weak boy down gently, hoping he would find a seat for rest after his frightening ordeal. Instead, he beamed proudly, put his hands on his hips, and proceded to waddle to his mother. "Momma! There's a big monster in da sky! Did ya see da big birdie-thing?"

"A dragon," Arinn clarified, even though he himself was unsure if their sighting. "It was a dragon, coming from the North." He tried to remain calm, with the blood rushing through his veins and the breath coming quick. He had to be strong for his family.

Arinn collapsed into a kitchen chair, apparently tired from the hastened jog and the evident fear. He opened his mouth to say something to Willow about Eli's near fainting, but decided that this jumbled and panicked state of mind was not the best time to tell his already-frightened wife.

"I think we should head over to Rhysdan's and Willow's and make sure everyone's alright- on the way back I saw some flames over that way," he faltered slowly, not sure if it was in his best interest for his wife and son to know that he saw fire near their loved ones. "Eric! Elanor!" Arinn stood from his chair and looked to Willow, still cowering in a chair in the corner.

Why hadn't the children come yet? Surely they had heard his call! "Willow," he said calmly (even though very frightened), but hastened to add, "my dear, where are Eric and Elanor?"

[Pippin Pondlily]

Esmerelda toppled a chair as she raced after her daughter. "Daisy!" she shouted. There was a panicked tremor in her voice when she called again louder. "Daisy! Daisy, come back this minute!" She was nearly screaming. Her daughter threw open the door and ran out into the street. She made for the fields with a wild determination that propelled her with an incredible speed. Her mother raced after her.

Esmerelda looked up into the sky for the dragon. It was flying very low in to the right of her, seemingly towards Erebor. Smoke from its recent destruction and leaping flames could be seen from the roofs of houses or sheds nearest the mountain. The dust had caused salty tears to well in her eyes and fall down her cheeks and she wiped them away, desperate to clear her vision.

Wild whinnies and echoing hooves caught Esmerelda's attention and she was horrified to see a hysterical herd of half a dozen or so horses pummeling their way through the fields towards her and Daisy not fifty meters away. She slowed, "Oh my God…Daisy! Daisy!" The wind was unbearably fierce and took her voice away when she screamed for her daughter. Esmerelda ran faster, racing the horses, praying that she'd reach her daughter before they did. The dust spun in the air and caught in her throat making her heave and cough and threatening to slow her down. She pushing herself forward, fighting against the terror of loosing her daughter that rose up inside her.

A slight glance to her left made Daisy come to a halt as she saw the horses nearly on top of her. Her eyes became very wide and her mouth opened in a scream. In the next few seconds Esmerelda reached her and scooped her up in her arms, racing just out of the horses' path. She dropped to her knees and held Daisy under her, shielding her little body from the spray of dust and gravel kicked up by the frantic herd. The tiny girl sobbed and pulled at her mother's dress, consumed by fear and grief.

Finally the horses passed and Esmerelda opened her eyes, pulling Daisy's face up to look at her. She was crying herself to exhaustion and her tiny face was smeared with tears and dirt. Esmerelda brushed strands of wet hair out of her eyes and rocked her slowly. "Shh, shh," she said, rubbing her back. She was quiet for a minute, concentrating on sending a soothing vibe to her daughter to help subdue her hysteria. She put her mouth next to her daughter's ear and whispered tenderly but firmly. "You must never disobey Mummy again, is that clear? You could have gotten terribly hurt!" She cupped her daughters face in her hands and kissed her forehead. "Now, we have to go back to the house and wait for Daddy and Elian," she said. "If we go out and look for them, we might get lost or hurt, and that would make Daddy and Elian very, very sad. If we stay where they can find us, they'll come home and be happy and relieved, okay?" She stroked her daughter's hair. "Alright, we have to be brave. We have to be brave for Daddy and Elian."

Esmerelda helped her daughter stand and brushed dust from her dress and arms. "Let's go," she said. Esmerelda took a deep breath as they walked briskly back to the house. She held firmly to her daughter's hand and tried not to think of what might have happened if she had been too late in getting to her daughter.

[Fallinel]

Although Rhysdan’s impulse was to run as fast as possible downhill towards his farm and family, he realized that reckless flight over uneven and rocky terrain might very well result in serious injury. And then, of course, he would be no help whatsoever to his wife and children. Man and dog threaded their way through the maze of large rocks and boulders, until they reached a sloping meadow littered with smaller stones. Rhysdan decided to stop briefly to look back towards the southernmost shoulder of the Lonely Mountain, and to scan the sky for the golden wyrm. He could see the monster circling in the air above the junction between the two southern ridges, where the Dwarves were rumored to have their great Front Gate. Rhysdan could just make out a few tiny figures moving agitatedly in that region, and he supposed that they must indeed be Dwarves.

Rhysdan resumed his rapid, yet careful, descent through the meadow, and was once again overtaken by the shadow of the flying dragon. Suddenly, something fell from the sky, and landed perilously close to the shepherd and his dog, with a dull thud. Rhysdan paused briefly to glance over at the fallen object, and what he saw made his stomach churn and his heart sink. It was the head of an adult sheep, attached to the tattered remains of a black-and-white pelt, and it had slipped from one of the monster’s huge claws. He thought of his daughter Daisy, how much she loved the sheep and cattle, how she would ask about the lost ewe and lamb, and what…what could he tell such a sensitive little girl to answer her questions? Rhysdan shook his head at his silliness for worrying about such things in a time of crisis, with imminent threat to human lives.

Rhysdan paused again to look down towards Dale, and realized that the dragon had flown towards the town. The golden monster circled a few times, gliding ever lower, until it appeared to land near some of the farms closest to town. Rhysdan resisted the instinct to panic, though he was consumed with worry and fear for his family. He began to run again, faster this time and over better terrain, with the red-speckled sheepdog close to his side. Hawkweed’s ears were pricked forward, and he was whining softly as they rushed downhill; undoubtedly the dog could hear the whinnies, bleats, and screams of panicked livestock and humans.

Suddenly, Hawkweed began to bark eagerly, and raced away from Rhysdan’s side, towards two lithe figures that were running uphill, away from the besieged farms. The loyal sheepdog would only leave his master for another family member, and Rhysdan felt a surge of hope as he realized that the figures must be Elian and his cousin Elanor. At least the two teenagers had had the good sense and presence of mind to run away from the dragon and his rampage.

[Pippin Pondlily]

Back at the house, Esmerelda washed the dirt off of Daisy's face and arms and cleaned out the minor cuts and scrapes on her knees and bare feet. The wind had started to settle down a bit, which had helped calm the trembling eight year old.

"Will you hold that square on your knee for me dear?," Esmerelda moved her fingers to let Daisy get a good hold on the square fabric that held the aloe cream to her particularly abused knee. "Make sure none of the paste slips out, there, you've got it." She was working very fast and as she went about she was tossing things such as some medicinal effects into a bag that she set on the table. Daisy saw it.

"Mama?" she asked looking at the bag. "Are we leaving?"

Esmerelda stopped somewhat suddenly and looked at her daughter. "I don't know dear," she paused and ran her fingers down the slack of her waist-sash. "When your father gets home we'll decide what we're going to do." She glanced out the window for any sign of her husband or son. She would wait about five more minutes for them and then she'd get Daisy over to the Millwinds'; Arinn might be home and it would be safer there with them than just the two of them at their house alone.

Suddenly a great shadow passed over their house and Esmerelda rushed to cup her hand over Daisy's mouth preventing a scream. "No, dear," she whispered hurriedly, crouching down behind the back of the small stool the small girl sat on, "No, darling, don't scream. Stay very still, and very quiet." Her daughter squinted her eyes shut and closed her mouth. The two waited for desperately long seconds until the sun again shone easily onto their yard in a wicked mockery of the early, sunny morning when dragons were not part of the people of Dale's everyday worries.

Esmerelda kissed her daughter gently on the forehead and moved away her hand, stroking her daughter's hair. She pressed her cheek to the top of her head and hugged her close. "You're very brave, Daisy. You're such a brave girl." She kissed her again and stood, moving carefully to the window and looking out. She was breathing quite briskly and her heart fluttered uncomfortably. She tried very hard to hide her nervousness from her daughter as she pulled in the blinds and latched them shut.

Esmerelda turned back to her daughter, placing her hands on the windowsill behind her and closing her eyes. She took a deep breath before opening them again.

"How's your knee, darling?" she asked softly. Daisy nodded and readjusted the square on her knee. Esmerelda lifted a long piece of linen off the table and wrapped it around her daughter's leg, keeping the square in place. "Keep the fabric pressed to it, dear," she said.

"It's itchy, Mama," Daisy whispered.

"It's alright, you can fold it under so the loose threads don't itch too much." She tucked the ends under the folds of the bandage. "How's that?"

"That's alright." Daisy took a deep breath. Esmerelda smiled at her but her heart was worried. Where was Rhysdan and Elian?

*************************************

Child of the 7th Age's post

With great difficulty, Elanor and Elian picked their way through the rocks and boulders that dotted the foothills east of Dale. At their backs were the vertical slopes of the Lonely Mountain rising tall and proud over the plain. Half walking and half stumbling up the hill, the teens gradually managed to inch forward and upward so that they now had a better view of the town of Dale and everything that was going on.

Gazing towards her left, Elanor heard the familiar sound of a dog barking and made out the image of Rhysdan who'd come bounding up onto the base of the hill. Hawkweed started trotting up for a moment but then pulled back, daunted by the large boulders, and went racing back to his master.

From her lofty vantage, Elanor could see the familiar rooftops of the houses and stores that made up the core of the city. The mountain itself had six ridges that reached out onto the plain: between two of these on the southern fringe sat Dale. The town was literally surounded by the mountain on three sides, and was situated no more than one to two miles distant from its towering peaks.

There were dozens of small farmsteads scattered over the outer plain from the base of the foothills all the way down to the banks of the Running River. Her family's own farmhouse lay about a mile south of the main town, not too far from the river's edge. The source of the river lay in the mountain. Two sparkling falls cascaded outward, their waters coming together as they dropped down onto the flatlands. The wide loop of the Running River bulged around Dale in an easterly direction.

From her lofty perch, Elanor could see the hazy outline of Long Lake that stood about twenty miles to the south and east. She had been there only once, when she had come along with her father on a trip to sell produce in Esgaroth.

The great dragon no longer perched in the farmyard where Elanor had spied him before. She had no idea where he was. For the moment, at least, everything appeared quiet. She could see groups of people milling in the streets of Dale, but they looked no bigger than ants.

Carefully making their way back down the slopes, the hikers finally came to the flat plain on which the houses and farms were nestled. Taking a final look over their shoulder and seeing no dragon in sight, they sprinted towards their homes. Elian made a hasty goodbye at the outer gate that led across the garden to the farmstead, while Elanor continued on, rushing next door to her home. Running across the front yard and slamming the door behind her, she raced inside yelling, "Mother, Father, Eric, Eli.... I'm back. Where's everybody?"

[Kransha]

Over Dale flew Smaug the Golden, his radiant scales gleaming as coins of brightest gold in the light of the gently shining sun. The jewels on his breast were dulled as shadow found them, no light piercing them to be reflected down upon the ground so far below, and they did not glint as they had. But, exercising his flapping wings, the dragon swerved and spun, his body, serpentine but careful, spiraled downward and upward again, exposing the multitudinous gems encrusting his underside to the sky. Though none could see the true glory of Smaug the Magnificent from where they stood, he swelled with ominous pride, like a cloud bearing rain before a storm to rival all others, as his front shimmered so grandly, his form ablaze as bright fire. Then, abruptly ending his skyward acrobatics, flipping and twirling in the heavens, he dipped and plowed suddenly downward, seeking prey.

He swept himself, his two crumpled wings of scaly leather unfolding and unfurling with a grandiose flourish, sweeping out to each side to loom over the town. His head, atop a long and winding neck, cocked slightly to one side to see the rough slopes of the Lonely Mountain. He saw its ragged terrain, speckled with numerous rocks and boulders that lined it otherwise smoothly declining sides. He would change that soon, though, and set afire that mountain and all that hid ignobly within. That was his first goal, to see the mountain fall, is proud peak humbled by his fire, but first, he could enjoy the fruits of Dale as a brief interlude. He swooped down, his flying form barely hovering above trembling rooftops and the people that now inevitably wished to seek refuge beneath them. He careened over the buildings of Dale, over thatched and wooden roofs, gardens, fields, fences, and all manner of manmade establishment in the community. It was a rural place, yet untouched by the withering hand of industrialization that might leech the life from its fields, the green from its grass, and the many playful children from its dirt and cobblestone roads. Still the place was picturesque, painted by a natural instinct for beauty and added to by the race of man who settled there. But Smaug cared for none of this, since he did not doubt that whatever was rebuilt after his desolation of the areas would not retain its former tranquil innocence.

Finally spying the victims he sought, Smaug veered sharply to one side, the great gales of wind carried by his wings singed the houses he passed over, the many gusts following him ripping shingles from roofs and mortar from walls with its mighty force. Snorting a plume of billowing smoke, Smaug shot down, tearing over the countryside dotted with smaller structures until most of what lay below him were dappled fields of crops, pockmarked by confused livestock. Another demonic grin appearing on Smaug’s face, showing his countless, dagger-like teeth, the dragon swung himself up and uncoiled his legs beneath him, clenched palms opening to reveal glistening talons. Those claws hooked into the grass beneath him, ripping up dirt and soil, as the dragon alighted nimbly on the ground, sending the surrounding animals braying madly in the opposite direction. After the mild shockwave from his landing had settled and his perpetually moving wings had slowed their pace to a standstill, Smaug began to move, cautiously lifting one leg after the other and soon bounding across the fields, wings flapping again.

His gargantuan back legs shot out suddenly from under as his whole body surged forward along the swiftly rolling hills, scooping up several members of the scattering herds of cattle. After barely a minute, his front and back claws were filled with the noisy creatures, grunting and growling in bewilderment. Smaug, a dank laugh bubbling up in him, circled back into the air, spiraling back and forth again and dropping the beasts one by one, tossing them from his grip to plummet down helplessly. He heard the miniscule wails and shrieks of meager bystanders in the town, sprinting through the streets and seeking safety in homes. The sounds of fear ran rampant in the streets as Smaug let all his quarry drop, many clattering noisily onto the streets. Then, once his load was fully released, he fell again, his wingspan spreading and stretching until he’d reached the earth again. He tucked his legs and arms into their appointed places and his monumental jaws dropped open, smoke cascading from their corners. He buried the tips of his talon in the ground, tearing it easily asunder as his open mouth clasped around two more unfortunate creatures and eagerly devouring them without a thought, letting the minute bulk of each simply glide down his throat carelessly. After the four herd animals had ‘fallen’ into his waiting maw, he turned up again, tossing more sheep and cattle aside, letting them fly into the distance all around him. He swung himself, claws and wings out, across the fields, pondering his midday meal.

In a short time the fields of livestock were all but cleared, Smaug’s monstrous belly still not filled, and the town of Dale, in severe disarray, awaited Smaug’s coming. Leaving the last few lone beasts galloping over their sundered home, Smaug the Golden shot up and over the wooden fences that bordered all these open lands, heading back over the town. Again his jaws pulled open, but this time more oozing smoke dripped over his many teeth as a deep-rooted light grew behind his flickering tongue. He aimed his head down and a torrent of red and gold fire blossomed from him again, his narrowed eyes following its course down. He watched the prongs of flame stab mercilessly at the first few houses. They erupted beneath him, the tongues of fire dripping over them and enveloping each part of them until a row of three or four houses was completely aflame with the jets of crimson now spreading to other structures. Again he dipped low, letting another incendiary fountain burst from his gaping jaws. The force of it struck a house’s wall head on, crashing through feebly constructed stone and causing the building to cave in instantly, fire and dust spraying up around it to create a smoggy cloud of black and red that roared up into the sky, overshadowing most of the town as the fire at its epicenter consumed houses block by block.

Smiling again, another tremendous laugh brooding in his throat, Smaug plunged through the smoke, carrying some trailing plumes with him, clinging to the tattered edges of his wings and his curling tail. Now he hovered high above, his narrowed gaze straying from the blackening cloak over Dale to the ruptured ridges of Erebor. After more destruction, he would continue his assault on the mountain. He would have headed there many moments ago, but he always put pleasure before labor, and he felt he would get far more pleasure causing the inhabitants of a half-destroyed town to cower in fear than assaulting a mostly inanimate object. But, he knew that Erebor would be the more dangerous target. The weak forces in Dale might oppose him with stone and arrow, but his hide could withstand whatever they could throw. He would have to overtake Erebor soon. So, taking all this into account, he decided to conclude his fun with something particularly enjoyable, and then turn from Dale.

There had been a long, disquieting silence as Smaug lurked in the sky, despite the damage; the ant-sized forms below were now coming out into plain view, gathering in the streets. The dragon, though, was far from done on his rampage. Suddenly roaring with more monstrous laughter that filled the skies, using the blackened clouds of smog as rivers to carry its bombastic sound hither and yon, he dipped again towards the earth, aiming himself carefully at one of the unpaved streets of the town. Soon, the ground flew up to meet him and he pulled up sharply, opening his claws to the roads and tearing down the length of one such road. Every poor creature, man, dwarf, or otherwise, that lingered still on the road could not avoid him as he flew, many caught up in his groping talons, flung aside by the flailing span of his wings, or crushed beneath the bulk of his tremendous tail. Most who were not slain fell beneath the crumbling houses which he left in his wake, a trail of havoc that appeared behind him wherever he flew. As he completed the destruction on that road, Smaug leapt and soared into the air, high above the earth, again through the plumes of black smoke and then, emitting a most terrible roar, plunged down again to repeat the process.