Hard Winters RPG

[Galadriel55]

It was not courteous to order a guest to do housework. The people of Scarburg were too courteous for these rough times, Balan decided. And he was a guest who intended to earn his living with more than words, if need be.

Noticing some people leaving the Hall, Balan quietly went back to the room to get his canvas. He slept in the room with all the other men, and it took him a while to find his bed among all the mattresses. By the time he returned to the Hall, people who stayed inside swirled around the Hall like dust on a light wind, picking up here, landing there, clumping together and then falling apart again. He slipped around them, draped the canvas over himself - he usually used it as a tent, and it hung awkwardly on him, but it would keep off the worst of the water - and stepped outside the doors.

At first he could not see anything. There was a wall made of water and darkness in front of his eyes. For a moment, he was lost; he did not know where to head. Then he chuckled at himself. For someone who can invent such clever characters, you are a mighty fool, Balan. He cocked his ear this way and that, straining to hear voices. Almost nothing could be heard over the rain, but Balan thought he heard a snippet of conversation. He followed it, making sure that the water did not come up too high; he did not want to end up in the trench he helped dig just a few hours ago.

He knew he found the right place when he nearly collided with another man.

"Watch your way! Don't walk here like a wraith in the dark!"

"Wraiths in the dark we must be now if we are not to be wraiths in the light when morning comes," Balan retorted cheerily. He could not see the man's face to tell if he was angered or amused. "Tell me," he said, possibly interrupting the man's thoughts, "what task is to be done?"

"Nothing you and I can do until the horses come. The wagons are stuck too deep!" the man shouted back. Another man's voice sounded, asking what was happening. Balan carefully guided himself to a wagon, where a lantern sat shielded from the rain. Its flame barely lit the edges of the wagon, but it was clear that the wheels were buried deep.

"Do you have a strong, flat piece of wood?" he shouted to the man. He did not hear, so Balan repeated again.

"Unless you make a raft of it, how will wood help you drag the wagons out of the mud?" the man asked.

"As long as the wheels are on the ground, they will keep sinking, and the horses would be exhausted pulling them even a single arm length. But if we place the wood beneath the wheels, we will make a road for the wagons to drive on. Not a very good one, but better than this mud!"

[Folwren]

It was hard working in the dark and streaming rain. Javan didn’t have an extra hand to push away the streaming locks of hair out of his eyes as he and several others scrambled in the rising water to get long, stout pieces of wood underneath the wheels of the wagons. Before they were done, other men were leading the horses out with the traces and collars already on them. The water surged around the horses’ knees as they plowed through.

“This your idea?” Javan asked as he and the new minstrel fellow worked side by side at the last wheel.

“Aye,” Balan replied.

“Hope it works,” Javan muttered. He sloshed through the mud and water toward the tongue of the wagon. The horses were backed into places, looking about them nervously, but holding their alarm in check admirably. Javan and the others worked quickly in fastening the traces to the wagon tongue.

“All ready?” Javan asked as he buckled the last clasp.

“All ready,” came the reply. Javan gathered the reins and stood by the near horse’s flank while the other men hurried around to the back of the wagon and to the wheels. They set their hands and backs against it. Javan slapped the reins along the horse’s back, and shouted to the horses. The horses leaned into the collars and heaved. The men gasped as they put all of their effort into the pushing. For one long, horrible moment, nothing happened. The horses strained, their hooves sinking deep into the wet, oozing ground. Then, with a sucking sound and a surge of water, the wagon moved. It rose out of its watery bed, rolled over the wood Javan and the others had put in place. There was a halfhearted cheer as it sloshed out to the main courtyard in front of the hall.

[littlemanpoet]

So Scyld was in a bad temper; at least toward her. Fair enough, she thought. They all deserved to be in a bad temper, considering the nuisance of the flood and rains.

"Let's go have a word with Eodwine, see how he thinks we can both be useful."

She turned toward the eorl who stood in the midst of the Hall. She was not sure Scyld would follow, but that was really his choice.

This rain and flooding was too much. It was uncanny. There was no Dark Lord anymore, but it this much rain and flood must have wizardry behind it; or at least, something altogether out of their reckoning.

[piosenniel]

This Game thread will be moved to Elvenhome.

It can be retrieved for play at the request of the owner and players

~*~ Pio