Storytelling: Book 2, Chapter 4

The wizard seemed to have other things on his mind when I spoke to him next. He told me of a scholar, one I had heard of told during my apprenticeship, in the swamp of Harloeg. I would have to travel south to meet Aric Stone-speaker to help us rid the land of the poison. This was not my first foray into Harloeg. A week or so prior I had chased a Tarkrip Seeker down there, but I had to stop at the water's edge. The insects on the direct route to Ost Haer, where the Stone-speaker resided, were bigger than any I had seen. The fleeing orc learned this quickly, and I skampered up the hill side listening to its screams.

However the fates changed my course of direction, and I found myself in a fellowship headed for the eastern reaches of the swamp. A company of trolls had made camp in Harloeg, and the Free Peoples were beginning to grow wary of their slow approach. The group, supposedly from the Trollshaws far to the east, were the Balt-Olog trolls. The leader of the fellowship believed them to be well supplied and heavily armored.

Our fellowship of four attacked like a well-trained pack, and the huge slow trolls quickly fell to our relentless attack. I rallied my group on, raising their morale and spirits, and not one of us faltered. Maiden did fairly well, and even knocked one of the trolls unconscious for a period.

Our brief attack severely damaged the grip of the trolls on eastern Harloeg, but our power was not such that we could have erased their foul presence altogether. I am content knowing that they are too weak to make a direct attack on the Free Peoples.

I bid the fellowship farewell at the edge of the treeline. Ost Haer filled the horizon, and I saw a small campfire glowing within. Aric spoke with me directly, a scholar to scholar. His tone was a tad condescending, but then that goes with the territory. He spoke of the dead holding the secrets we need, and the tiny campfire grew smaller. The ruined walls seemed to allow more of the swamp in than before, and that night I could not sleep.

Moondog: Carn Dum Carnage! [pt. 2] Anatomy of a Beat-Down

Down in the slave pits of Carn Dum, Angmarim, Pale Folk, and Trolls alike slave away in the vile industry of Angmar. The water here is so poluted it glows green and is so toxic that any adventurer who steps one foot in it will overcome and defeated from disease, poison, and dread. What's even more terrifying, though, is that some abominations thrive in this vile spew.

The taskmasters of the slaves are generally patrolling Uruks. These are the fierces warriors of Orc-kind. They may seem from their posture and intelligence less bestial than their less-developed kin, but they are in fact the most barbaricly monstrous fighters to be found in Middle Earth.

This Uruk Lieutenant tried to stop our attempts to free slaves from their prisons in the work area. He found out that despite his skill at combat, the Council's duty was more righteous than his, and we would see it done. Man Guardian Bryandt, Dwarf Champion Gonhsar, and Woman Champion Kaelin drive the point home.

Hobbit Minstrel Moondog sings a song of courage and battle that motivates our heroes to strike with more strength and do more damage with their melee attacks.

Kaelin's blow connects first as the Uruk spins around to respond to Bryandt's taunt. Meanwhile, Gonhsar winds up a double-helping of whoopass.

Gonhsar's fury lands on the Uruk's back, clobbering him a good one. Bryandt brings his spear round for a bite.

The powerful but slow Uruk sets to swing his mace at Bryandt's helmet while Gonhsar and Kaelin reset their fighting stance to strike again. Bryand sees the opening the Uruk has left in his defense.

Bryandt drives his spear into the Uruks gut. Kaelin quickly pounces.

The Uruk is completely harried and overwhelmed. Our heroes quickly finish him off.

As soon as he is smote, another charges in, trying to catch us unprepared. He is met with the combined force of all our warriors, delivered in one fellowship maneuver of ultimate power and precision. His world is rocked to it's evil core!

THAT made him mad! He unleashes a terrible frenzied battle cry to try to unnerve and unsettle our heroes. But they do not waver, and he is ultimately defeated like all the monsters before him.

Ravric: Garth a'goin

Members of the Council of the Secret Fire, led by the oath-sworn originators of the Council - Slashy and Moondog, joined as a fellowship in Ost Guruth with intentions of going into the Garth Agarwen instance to help with some of the quests. The fellowship was fairly well balanced, and there was really no trouble (read: we steamrolled the sucka) with two overleveled members. Especially with a minstrel of such a level. I was lucky to have come along, being a tad underleveled, but since a captain's job is to mostly make the other members better, I didn't have to worry much about my DPS or what not.

Garth Agarwen, like many MMO dungeons, is a melting pot of enemy factions. In our short romp, we mostly hit the Creoth tribes, and only at the end of our journey did we start hitting the Dead.

Like I mentioned earlier, we had relatively no trouble with any of the bosses. Fellowship manuevers were flying left and right with Slashy's burglar skills, and Moondog's healing (minimally supplemented by yours truly) dealt with the high-speed, over-agroing of the two hunters and the champion. It was fairly obvious we were a "green" group of dungeon dwellers, but once Slashy started to control our pace, I felt we started doing pretty well. The Grimbark encounter was over so quickly, I had no idea what was going on.

Unfortunately by the time we got to the twins, Edan and Esyld - two wights that drop a pretty good chest. It was getting late, and after the short battle, Moondog and I had to sign off for some much needed rest. I was lucky enough to gain the zweihander Aegrist from the Brother's Chest - a two-handed sword with pretty good damage. I checked out the forums, and people said it used to be awesome as a level 30 or 31 req, but now it is a level 34 req, which people say makes it much weaker. Time will tell, when I get to that level.

Storytelling - Book 2, Chapter 3

I returned to the wizard a few days later. My bath-given cleanliness had since worn off with the stench of wargs and goblins. Radagast stood up from his study, and told me that far too many wights were abound in Haragmar to be just the play of evil spirits from Angmar. The necromantic gaunt-men were behind this. I had heard rumors of their sightings east of Ost Guruth, but from afar they seemed has hollow as the wights they created, easily mistaken. From an Istari, the presence of the gaunt-men coven was truth. Radagast needed their sigils so that we would know what vile sect of the necromancers we were up against.

Moondog, a hobbit minstrel, and Targimoth, an elven hunter, answered my call. The Council of the Secret Fire, I knew, was closely allied to the Istari, and the kinship was given many delicate tasks from the leaders of the Free Peoples. Maiden had no choice in the matter but to come along.

Our journey through the swamp of Haragmar towards the evil ruins of Nan Dhelu was swift. The denizens of the swamp, natural and unnatural, gave our fellowship wide berth. Any that crossed our path would be swiftly deal with.

Outside Nan Dhelu, I saw a gaunt-man watching our approach. It was likely a rare occurence that any adventurer came close to their wretched haven, but once I pointed the foul creature to my companions, Moondog and Targimoth's reactions were severe. The gaunt-man was felled before I could command Maiden to herald us forth, however, I heard the crawk of a nearby craben and knew the coven of gaunt-men would be expecting our venture.

We smashed into Nan Dhelu with brutal precision. Targimoth's arrows whistled through the hair around my and Maiden's head and hit their intended marks, always. Moondog called forth the power of light and hope, beams of which burned the fell creatures very soul. I later heard that the guards of Ost Guruth had seen the brilliant light from their posts, and it had given the Free Peoples such hope.

After our entrance, the cowardly gaunt-men began to hide. We slaughtered countless of their animated minions, but none could be seen out in the open. Moondog merely shrugged, for he knew their time was coming. I took a few minutes of respite, while Targimoth tracked for footprints of the gaunt-men to pursue some scholarly work. I cannot wait to share my findings with the other Scholars back in Bree, I hope my notes and artifacts further help our case against The Enemy.

At the topmost point of Nan Dhelu was a temple where the gaunt-men were hiding. With our approach, it seemed they had packed many of the valuables and holed up with a few chests where they hoped we would not find them. I am grateful for Moondog's songs of courage, for little if any dread filled my heart, and any doubt I had for our victory was quickly silenced with the screaming arrows of Targimoth. The gaunt-men came at us in wave with their wights. And they died. And they died.

The horn of the Council was heard over the miles at Ost Guruth. We had collected enough of the gaunt-men's sigils to help Radagast decipher their gaunt-lord, and Moondog said it was time we ventured further into the red swamp to push back the treacherous human tribes found in Garth Agarwen. I told my two companions that I would heed the call, and we traveled back to Ost Guruth.

They waited outside while I briefly met with Radagast. He immediately identified the sigils as being beholden to Iver the Bloodhand. The wizard, as always, had more questions, and I told him I would return to him further after our critical strike into Garth Agarwen.

Moondog: Carn Dum Carnage! [pt. 1]

Looking out from the Ranger enclave of Garth Forthnir the grim desolation of the Witch-King can be seen in the wastes of Angmar. We must march now on Carn Dum and see if we may depose the King's Steward, Mordirith, who still plagues these lands in his master's absence.

It is a long road into the city. Our first view upon exiting the wilderness is a long uphill road towards Carn Dum proper. Images of the terrible spectacle of fell armies of Orcs and Trolls and even worse marching endlessly out of this evil city's throat are enough to quake the hearts of our heroes, yet compel us further in. Woman Champion Kaelin, Man Guardian Bryandt, Dwarf Champion Gonhsar, Hobbit Minstrel Meijha, Elf Lore-Master Gorandir, and Hobbit Minstrel Moondog charge to their destiny!

The road has watchers. Mighty trolls and wicked Men try to waylay our advance. Dwarven Champion Gonhsar narrowly avoids the giant beast's mace blow. Cobble stones are kicked up by the impact. Brayndt and Kaelin charge in while Gorandir conjures some scientific machination to turn the tables.

This troll keeps the first gate to the city with power and rage. But, he is no match for the righteous fury of the Council of the Secret Fire! Man Guardian Bryandt and Gonshar harry him.

We make our way into the outskirts of the accursed capital city of the Enemy. Gorandir and his Eagle Companion Zorandir hurry to meet his friends in the deadly square.

This street is guarded by Goblins. Extremely tough little bastards! It takes even Woman Champion Kaelin, Gohnsar, and Bryandt a while of wailing on this one to continue on our way.

Kaelin et al. are surrounded by the gnarly Goblins. They don't have much trouble plowing through.

The wonders of the world never cease! The fellowship's quest is so righteous, and their might so noble, that an Oath-Breaker spirit choses this moment to redeem his wretched soul and aid our cause to defeat the Orcs of Angmar!

The closer we get to the city proper the more vicious terrors we encounter! At the imposing gates of Carn Dum this behemoth guardian provides the ultimate defense!

Of course... the Beast was no match for us in the end...

To be continued!

Ravric: Heavy Lifting

After slaying dozens of glowing, evil spiders under the goblin-held ruins of Minas Eriol, the fellowship of Moondog and Ravric felt the time of the goblins in Minas Eriol was soon at an end. Next stop: dead goblins in Barad Ichiant.

With Moondog's violent, musical muscle the elite goblins were being mowed down like weeds. The lighting effects in Barad Ichiant were wonderful and spooky, and also gave our character's a little dread. The way to the Goblin Leader was frought with peril because a goblin sniper took a potshot at Maiden and she ran off directly into the maze-like camp. A minute later 20 elite goblins came back running towards Moondog and me, and our combine might was not enough to vanquish the goblin horde's gibbering fury. After regrouping and explaining to Maiden that the kind of agro she gave us was only done normally by Champions, we made it safely to the Goblin Leader. And killed him. Dead.

We then hopped a few fences to bypass the remaining goblin guards, and made our way north to Ost Laden, where supposedly the refuged Eglain of the Free Peoples had an ancient artifact of such worth and power that all the problems of the Lone Lands could be due to the this one thing. According to one of the refugees, it was their greatest find.

The keep of Ost Laden was filled with goblins of similar power to the ones we had just faced. Finding the artifact was relatively simple. It was a statute of such enormity that Ravric could only run after Moondog. He could not even help loot the dead bodies. Of course as all things must go, Moondog and Ravric became lost and soon found themselves under the Lornspan bridge staring up at where they were supposed to be. The movement of the statute was causing bits of it to chip off, and if they didn't get the statute to the informant by the end of the day, it would be ruined.

Moondog realized that the way was probably cutting through more hordes of goblin in the eastern reaches of Ost Laden, and soon through the blood-misted haze we saw our informant standing under some trees. He took the statue, ran off, and we were left feeling a little bamboozled.

We ended the blood-filled night peering into Mithenrost, a corrupted dwarf stronghold across the Lornspan, before returning to safety.

Storytelling - Book 2, Chapter 2

The wizard waited patiently while I stood there wondering whether to dig deeper in to the poison of the Lonelands. Were it any lesser creature, a simple whiff of the caustic-smelling moss and a realization that further exploration would inevitably deal further with that cesspool would send them back to Bree. The Istari's gaze, and the way he seemed to fill the room with Hope, told me to merely nod at the request.

Radagast now wished me to kill the wights that stirred in Haragmar. I had stuck mainly to the natural side of the Bloodmire, where there were only beasts to rend my flesh. Nothing unnatural, unbidden. I had seen the wights from afar. They were farther south of the Circle of Blood and west to the ruins of Nan Dhelu, but I had kept my distance. I would do as the wizard asked and close that distance.

Maiden and I scouted the Dead that walked in Haragmar, and we (with some of Radagast's help) identified the Wights' species. Radagast called the particular Wights in Haragmar the Bile-Spewers. Most were fully armed and armored, and some of even had ranged weapons. The older Wights had become bloated, and they seemed like they were ready to pop open with puss and disease. The latter seemed also to lack the more human intelligence. Luckily for us, one stood not a hundred meters away while we hacked away at one of its Dead brothers.

The Bile-Spewer Marksman were weak once engaged, but their arrows from afar were perilous. I ordered Maiden to run ahead, our Banner of War held high, to divert some of the damage. The Wight's attention was quickly removed from her and placed on me once my heavy two-handed Wind-Raker tore through its sinewy body.

The most evil of the Haragmar Wights were indeed the Deadly Bile-Spewers. Similarly to the Ancient ones, these Wights chose to go unarmored and simply used their vile magics against Maiden and me. They seemed to call forth the poison of the swamp through their lungs. The unworldly roar sounded like the dark language, and my heart grew dreadful until the Dead was vanquished. The world grows so heavy and dark, and I am grateful that Maiden is always with me. I dare not tell her these words, though. I will never hear the end of it.

As we fought our way closer to Nan Dhelu, which I perceived to be the spawning place of the Wights, we were forced to slay some of the Ancient Bile-Spewers. Much of their bloat was caused by foul smelling gas, but they also carried a Foul Wriggler inside their stomach. A few would puke the thing out while we combated, and others would simply erupt upon final death. It was an experience I quickly would like to erase from my mind: the smell of decay, the ichor of the Dead, and the eruption of bodily organs to a worm the size of my leg. I long for days of killing the comparatively clean goblins.

I retirned to Radagast, and vowed a bath before I told him of our triumphant battles with the Bile-Spewers. He was most pleased, and gave me some money so that I could ride to Bree to take such a bath. The Istari wished for my swift return as he would have further questing for me as soon as I stepped foot again in Ost Guruth.