The Great Golden Hoard Game Thread

[Valier]

The first night passed quickly as the adventurers snoozed away. The dawn broke with a glorious sunset spilling colour like jewels of orange and gold over the land. The adventurers awoke to a dewy morning, as they readied for the day ahead.




Day 2 has now begun. You have 36 hours to complete your tasks.

Yesterdays favorite daily post goes to.........Kafkalina and her thistle armour!! She will move twice as far as the other adventurers today only.

Players you may now pm me your direction choices.



Oh and don't mind the big yellowish spot on the map.........

[Glirdan]

Instead of continuing on straight (like he knew that some other would do), Glirdingo decided to branch off to the left and see what would happen there. He was walking along, enjoying the warmth and light from the sun, taking rests here and there for food and water breaks.

It was about midday when he was taking a short lunch break when something happened. He was just seraching through his sack for his canteen and a thing of lembas bread when he heard a noise in the shrubbery close by. He straightened up and drew his bow and arrow in the blink of an eye, squinting at the bush where he heard then noise. Then he saw it move again and loosed the arrow and out of the bush fell a hog, female by the looks of it.

It was then that he heard squeals nearby. "Uh oh... I don't think that was the brightest thing I've done," he thought to himself as two hogs thundered out of the brush (male this time) and charged at him. He turned and ran as fast as his feet could carry him. The hogs weren't far behind. He jumped into the air to grab at a low hanging tree branch and hauled himself up on the tree. The hogs thundered by underneath, not noticing that their quarry had eluded them. "Definetly not the smartest thing I've done," he panted.

He waited a little until he caught his breath and was sure the hogs had found their way home another way before jumping out of the tree. "I think I'll avoid that pig that I caught. "Maybe one of the other hunters will pick it up and decide to try their luck with that lot of pigs," he thought pensively.

It was then that he remembered that he had forgotten his things by the dead pig."Again, not the smartest thing I've ever done," he thought, exahspereated. He took his time going back, in case the pigs hadn't returned and decided to charge at him again. He was lucky, they had returned some time ago and he found his belongings and the trail without a further hitch.

He walked along, hoping that the pigs wouldn't pick up his scent. Again, his luck had held out. The pigs, who were trying to find food at that time, had gone back into the den.

"Well, that's the last time I shoot at a bush without first calling out to it!" he thought, a weak smile creeping up as the sun shone brightly on his face as he continued his journey.

[THE Ka]

Kafkalina woke much better than she had begun the day before, and traveled with great ease and stride. This soon brought the ent very far, and to a very surprising sight. The fields had slowly been giving way to small hills, which soon seemed to drop off the horizon into a gorge. It was a dry mouth of the earth, with no river, most likely its founder, in sight. Kafkalina stood back and looked down into the great dry casm. In the rocky and deep gorge there were a few points that rose up out of the ground below, and not much else.

Ho Hmmm! What a way to find oneself. I couldn’t walk around this great hole in the earth, and climbing down and across looks to be too much time, it would take me at least four days whole. Hmmm, if there was a way to possibly go from those high points to other high points, I could cut my travel in half with careful planning. I need something strong and flexible, maybe there is a log around.

The ent looked for a log that might fit this purpose. Others might consider felling a large tree to fit this purpose, but being an ent this was highly obviously out of the thought and idea of Kafkalina, as she definitely was not bent with such malice as might belong to the Huorns of Sauron or other fell creatures. Since there was naught but rocks and dry land, nothing but small shrubs and scraggly plants grew to the side of the earth. Kafkalina could not rely on that of the earth anymore, as to use rock and stone however great to fill a path across the gorge would take far too long. This time it would call for a much more demanding sacrifice on the ent’s half.

Oh great earth scourges! Ents were not meant for this! Wait, I think I do have an idea now. Ents definitely were not meant for this, since not all ents are the same tree, thank great Yavanna for that… I am forgetting myself entirely in this matter, and the work I have done for the past two ages it seems. We ash trees must be defensive, for many a woodsman values our bark and wood since we are strong and most elastic for bows and spears. Oh, I sound horrible now, talking of myself as if I was a commodity! Has it really come to this then?
Well, if only for myself I guess I can make such a pole of wood with which to travel. I will need to make much ent draught after this, possibly when I reach Mirkwood. That is, if I ever do make it that far. Oh bless my bark, I hope this works!

Kafkalina then buried her shame at this fact that she would need to take from herself as if she came hunting mercilessly with an axe, and found the ent wine in her bag. Looking far and wide to make sure that no tree was watching this, the ent began to drink the invigorating draught slowly, but steadily. Soon, one of her top most branches along with a few hundred leaves here and there, began to grow rapidly. Soon it was long enough that the ent had to sit on the ground from becoming too top heavy. After a time, the branch had now become a long enough log that with good luck would help her vault from the sides of the small peaks within the gorge. Carefully taking a sharp rock found nearby, Kafkalina readied to remove the branch as quickly as could be done.

Ho Hmmm! Yavanna help me that this doesn’t turn for the worse!

Quickly, and with as much force, Kafkalina removed the branch. The ent slowly arose and felt the top of its head. The branch was indeed removed, and it indeed was painful for awhile. Drinking more ent wine and allowing sap to cover the top of her head, the sharp pain left and was slowly throbbing away, as she prepared the branch to become a pole.

Well, it could have been worse, I could have missed. Bah Hmmm! I don’t need such thoughts right now, time to try this pole. It better be well worth the sacrifice I put into it!

The ent carefully planned out the position of the pole as it scaled down the side of the gorge, and finding a side jetting out far enough, the ent made for the first high spot. Being as flexible and strong as to her namesake, the ent made it with a some difficultly as it steadied itself on the narrow top. Slowly, and with much precision, Kafkalina carefully made it far enough to reach about a mile from the top of the other side. There she decided to walk and climb carefully the rest of the way, and reached finally the other side.

Today had been a trying day, and as the ent stopped to rest, she knew that what she gave in would certainly be able to be rewarded later, whether she was able to reclaim lost land or no.

[Valesse]

Waking just early enough to see the brilliant colors of the rising sun, Valesseka quietly started to put together her pack stealling careful glances at the sleeping Gondorian. If she was careful, she could be a hour or more ahead of the nobleman before he could make his breakfast. Éomeléo could stand some more sleep, she figured, smirking to herself. For his beauty rest and my wealth.

Sneaking small bites of stale bread, Valesseka hurried northward away from the river and out into a vast field billowing like the angry waters of the sea. The wind had picked up noticably as she ventured into the plain, which made the burning sun more tolerable. It'll be a shame if that Lord goes a different way... She huffed, hair blowing down in her face, forcing her to quickly forget about her previous thought. With a growl she man-handled it back behind her ear just in time to be hit with a blast from Manwë.

"Gracious!" She gasped, the wind was taking a turn for the worst, and walking was starting to become more laborious than it should have to be, especially with her sail of a skirt. To add insult to injury she could feel her precious face burnning with the intense gales of wind, so the girl hastily pulled her wool shawl over her head and close to her cheeks. Relieved for a moment that she would be able to save her complexion from the elements, Valesseka sighed and continued further into the plain. But her relief was short lived.

Surging again, a mighty gust forced the Arnorian to check her balance, and in the process carried off her shawl. Valesseka squawked loudly and chased after the run-away article as fast as the terrible wind would allow. Just out of reach each time she bent down, or tried to pin it with her stave, the shawl took to the air, then tumbled across the ground only to be tossed in another direction. Valesseka became more and more infuriated at the thought of loosing what would be one of her capes. There are mountains coming! Mountains! I -need- this shawl! I can't give it up! She also knew the longer she chased it around the plain, the longer Éomeléo had to catch up with her... or that the other adventurers had to get toward that treasure, and this, simply, was unexceptable.

Swallowing hard, Valesseka pulled her throwing axe off of her hip and waited for the shawl to tumble on the ground again. Wincing as she did, Valesseka threw the axe soundly onto the shawl, making an alarming gash across a corner, but none the less pinning it to the ground. Mournfully she pulled the axe off of the shawl and put it back on her hip before examining the damage. It would be alright... if one could ignore the gash... scoffing at her own impulsive rescue, Valesseka carefully wraped the shawl around her head and shoulders before pinning it to the rest of her attire with her prized brooch.

Valesseka was sure this meant that she earned herserlf an good sound meal, though cursed that the wind and her poor packing ensured that this was impossible. She would have to settle for jerky.

[Thinlómien]

Thin-Gloomy was on a better mood than he had been on in ages. The journey to Rhûn had done wonders to him. He was much more fit than before the journey, his normally pale skin had got some colour and though he was still thin, he was not as sickly skinny as he had been. And though he was gloomy like always, the idea of a great treasure awaiting him gave him new strength, mentally as well as physically...

North, north, I wander north, Thin-Gloomy hummed an old dwarvish tune with his own words, There will be a great golden hoard, and I will be the last man there. River will drown me, wood will cheat me, knight will beat me, beast will bite me...

Thin-Gloomy's song stopped suddenly. Beast will bite me indeed, he thought. He had arrived to a river's fork and saw a huge bear fishing there. It was so concentrated in its food that it didn't notice the dwarf. Thin-Gloomy backed slowly and silently. He did not wish the bear to hear him.

Had I noticed it earlier, I could have driven it way by simply making so much noise that it'd have run away. Now it's too late and there's only one of me and I'm too small to scare it away, he thought, remembering the beorning Barlath who had told him that bears were actually timid creatures and feared humans. And best not to make it angry, by making noise or shooting it, Thin-Gloomy decided, it might have cubs around hidden somewhere and then I'll certainly die.

I guess I'll only wait then. It can't fish all the day, Thin-Gloomy decided.

Hours proved him wrong. The bear seemed to be a clumsy and a stubborn one. It caught only one fish, but didn't give up. If it continues that way, it'll be night before I can continue my journey. I must do something...

Thin-Gloomy walked back to the woods he had come from. He didn't go very far, though. He collected some dry wood and lit a big fire edged with fist-sized stones. He hoped the stones would prevent the fire from spreading further and setting the whole wood in fire.

The trees blocked all major winds, but the air was still moving. And it was moving towards the river fork. Thin-Gloomy climbed to a tree and spied the bear. It had started to grow restless. It had certainly smelled the smoke. Thin-Gloomy climbed down and add more wood to the fire and threw fresh leaves into it. Like the dwarf had expected, there was even more smoke from the fire. He coughed; it was difficult to breath this close to the fire. He climbed to the tree again. The bear was gone.

Now there's only the future forest fire to be put out, he thought. The river fork was too far away for him to carry enough water to extinguish the fire, so he had to wait it to die away by itself. Even though he watched that it didn't spread and threw the water in his waterskin to the middle of the fire, he had to wait for more than an hour before he could continue his journey.

He crossed the river fork from the shallowest spot and refilld his waterskin. He hoped the still slightly smouldering remains of the stone-edged fire wouldn't be able to spread to a forest fire.

[Nogrod]

Novgorod was marching straight on through the grassland with fair speed and in high spirits. The sun was shining, and not regarding the low-lying shrubs, the terrain was easy to walk. Suddenly he ran into an area of familiar blue on the ground. “Blueberries!” he shouted and ran to the bushes, laying down on the ground and guzzling the sweet and ripe berries. He just loved them, had always loved.

But soon he came to think of continuing with his journey. I’ll not leave these to anyone else to pick. I’ll have to carry as much I can with me. With that he took a quick glance around to see what there was to make a basket or other kind of vessel to carry the berries. His mother had taught him how to make different baskets when he was young and he still thought he could make one from almost anything.

There were a couple of birches and poplars but they were too stunted to produce any reasonable quantities of bark for the purpose. That was sad because birch-bark baskets were both easy and fast to make and solid in use. He would have to come up with something else. He studied the shrubs with a keen eye. The stalks were thin and had just a little of broad leaves in them. The grass was knee high and had thin spindly stalks. These will have to do, Novgorod thought and took to his task.

First he searched four thickest stalks from the shrubs and cut them to different lengths. Then he took them one by one to be pre-bended. His mother had taught him that that way the stalks would slowly learn and get used to their new form and would then settle to it at will. He took a stalk with both his hands from the middle and started to bend it easily, being careful not to break it. He did all this in rhythm, moving his hands slowly farther away from each other with every bending until he reached the end of the stalk. Then he re-performed the operation. After he had handled all the four he left them to rest for a while.

Next he gathered some of the youngest and thinnest shrub-stalks to make strings for tying. He carefully gnawed the surface of the stalks to break it. This way the stalk would become supple and yielding. Then he rubbed them between his hands, twisted and turned them for a couple of minutes to gain more elasticity.

Now he had what he needed to begin the work. He went through the bending operation once again with the thicker stalks, but this time he went all the way through to bend them into a round shape, both ends of a stalk overlapping each other by a few inches. These he then tied up with the strings he had just made. Very soon he had four round circles of different sizes. The smallest one he put in the middle, the next in size around it and so on. Then he needed again some more stalks from the shrubs.

Novgorod picked four thicker stalks and eight thinner ones and came back to his framework. Carefully he slipped one of the stalks over the largest circle and then under the next one. This way he continued, slipping it over the third and under the middle-one, then over the other side of the middle-one and under the second, over the third and lastly under the largest one at the other side of the circle. He soon realised that he had not done this for a long time as it proved to be pretty difficult. The second stalk, that he threaded between the circles in a straight angle to the first one, proved even more complicated as the first stalk tried to move and go off its place as he was handling the second one. In the end he managed to slip the second through the framework and now it had nice cross-stalks keeping the circles at place. And as he had picked as curved stalks he could find, the basket was starting to get into a shape too. It was not flat, but a bit convex. After I get the two others in here, I’ll have to press the framework a bit to make the basket deeper, he thought, and performed the same operation with the two remaining thicker stalks, threading them through the circles from the middle of the triangles the two first ones had created.

Now the framework felt a lot more secure and threading the thinner ones in to the eight triangles the four thicker ones had formed was much easier. And the overall form began to settle too. It might carry, maybe three pints of berries, Novgorod estimated. That could just be enough...

Oh, if I just had some decent bark now! He thought disappointedly as the framework of the basket was ready. It would be so easy to just cover this framework with them. Well, no can do... So he resorted to a different version of a basket. He ripped a whole lot of grass and carried them to his basket-to-be. Then he took them a small handful at a time and threaded them over and under the stalks he had slipped through the circles. The first handfuls were pretty loose but as he added the stuff, they started to hold more firmly and in the end he had filled the holes between the largest circle and the one next to it. Soon he had all the holes covered and the basket was almost ready.

I need something to carry this with... Novgorod went again to the shrubs, searching for pretty thin but long stalks. In the end he had what he wanted. He moulded them to yield as earlier, but this time he plaited them into a real rope of a kind as it would have to take on the whole weight of the full basket. Then he attached the ends of the self-made rope to the brims of the basket and tried how it bore. That’s okay. It’s not a masterpiece but will do for me.

Novgorod had spent almost an hour with all this and felt he was in a hurry again. He emptied the bushes quite fast and filled the basket with the ripe and succulent Blueberries. The few remaining berries he stringed into a long stalk of grass, like he would have been making a necklage from the berries.

Carrying the basket and every once in a while slipping a berry or two to his mouth from his “berry-grass” he continued his walk, singing the little song the dwarf had taught him years ago. He was in even better mood than he had been at noon. The sun also, was still shining.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Éomeléo woke up and immediately realised that Valesseka was gone. She was clearly an early starter. Getting slightly worried, the Gondorian assembled a hasty breakfast and started to jog northwards. If he was going to sleep more than any of the other adventurers (and this was practically a given) then he would need to travel faster than them by day.

It was a pleasant country to run in. Vast plains adorned with all sorts of undergrowth. Éomeléo knew that there were mountains in his future and knew that he would have to get there posthaste to stand a chance in this hunt.

The day passed, and Éomeléo was doing fine, but in the afternoon, the further north he went, the conditions changed. Grey clouds formed and the wind picked up. Pretty soon it was whipping poor Éomeléo like an abused dog and he whimpered pitifully as he jogged. He then slowed down and marched.

He was perked up by a previously unimaginable instance of horror: the wind had stolen his feathered hat, and was carting it off into the distance! Yelping in despair, Éomeléo burst into life and gave chase. The wind was always that little bit faster than him, though. Every time he got near to his hat, the gales cruelly snatched it back. Realising that the Lords of Weather were privy to the workings of harsh twists of fate, Éomeléo attempted to formulate a plan as he ran. At first he thought of shooting the hat with his crossbow, but it is fact that the young Gondorian is not the best shot even in good conditions, and so the success of this method was far from guaranteed.

For about 10 minutes of chasing the hat, Éomeléo could think of no better idea. It was then that he noticed he had entered a particularly busy section of undergrowth. Sensing the presence of numerous animals, Éomeléo paused. Just like that, the hat seemed to pause too. He picked up a small stone and threw it into a very large bush to his left. All this accomplished was to send a single rabbit scuttling away out of sight. There was another way, though; it was something that Éomeléo had often done as a child in the gardens of Gondor. He would enchant them with the music of his ocarina. He had always believed it worked by magic and his parents had never discouraged this belief.

So he played. He played for about a minute, and he even began to think the hat itself could be charmed back, for it seemed to dance about, and move closer to him. Soon enough, the music attracted the presence of several animals. There were rabbits and ground-birds, and a couple of very large hares. One rabbit spied the brightly-coloured hat, and shyly moved towards it. Pretty soon, the hares spotted this, and bounded onto the scene, scaring the rabbit away and catching the hat. They jumped onto the top, crushing it slightly, and then Éomeléo made his move. Silently adjusting his crossbow, he calmly shot the hare, piercing both animal and now-motionless hat.

The animals scarpered, and Éomeléo finally retrieved his hat. Ignoring the suggestion that the hat had been caught in a new swirling wind in the slight dip of the land, Éomeléo praised his magic ocarina, and set about finding some water to wash the hare's blood from his hat.