17th Forelithe, 2949 (Summer)
As they squat down amongst the looming trees that cloak the slopes of the Mountains of Mirkwood a plan is hatched. They gather fallen branches of roughly the same size, straight, still sturdy, and head off immediately to the clearing where the black beast known as Mor’du lies asleep in the remains of an old barrow. Under the faint moonlight filtering through the foliage of the trees, visible only due to the clearing the barrow resides in, they see a tall yet narrow entrance leading inside: a squeeze for th beast, which surely gives them an advantage.
There are standing stones surrounding the hillock, one tumbled to the ground. While Gilthannas stands guard, Dafydd Ap Alfred quietly lays down the branches to use as rollers for the obelisks, which Alberic and Grimgar stand ready to push over. Their plan: shove the stone over, push it along the rollers, partially block the entrance to the lair, long enough for them to pelt the beats with arrows and hopefully destroy the amulet, robbing the great Mor’du of its power and immortality.
Their plan is a success! The stone falls with a thud, waking the bear inside, but the stone rolls along, blocks the entrance, and when Mor’du arrives at the stone, it is delayed long enough for Alberic and Gilthannas to send arrows in, shattering the amulet in a flash of fierce white light. The bear is enraged, shoves the stone aside, and climbs out, rearing over everyone. Grimgar leaps in, his great long spear stabbing out. His spear nicks and bruises, but for the most part it slides off the beast’s thick hide, doing little more then making it mad. But the distraction helps, and the others move in, jabbing with spear, swinging with Wolfbiter, peppering it with arrows.
But felling the beast is not easy: Dafydd is clawed, mauled, bitten, and almost goes down. Weary, he staggers to his feet, attacking its flank as Alberic moves in, swinging his axe; the Woodman is knocked back, his mail barely holding the deadly claws at bay; the one-handed berserker fights fiercely, shaking off rending claws and snapping claws; while the Elf stands back, shooting arrow after arrow, cutting the beast and bleeding it bit-by-bit.
Mor’du is soon weary, huffing and puffing as it slashes and snaps, but the loss of its amulet and the lifting of the curse has done its worse: a final arrow from Gilthannas takes the beast in the eye, and with a mournful howl, the black beast falls to the forest floor with a mighty crash; dead!
There is much rejoicing, and the beast is skinned, teeth taken, the barrow looted of anything of value, and the four hunters retreat into the barrow, sealing themselves in with the bear’s carcass and resting for the rest of the night. In the morning they bid farewell to Grimgar, who heads off to the West, leaving the three remaining members of the Company to the long journey back to Lake-town, which they hope to reach before mid-summer, to meet the Dwarf Chieftain of the Greydelve.
A week later they are in the eaves of the forest, a few days out from the marshes, when Dafydd, scouting ahead, spots unusual mounds of leaves ahead. He hesitates, wondering what they are, and the others come up behind him.
Suddenly, the leaves move, and monstrous spiders leap forth to attack!
End of Session
XP Awarded: 2 each.