Arrival in the Lone Lands

The road to the Lone Lands was a long one. The trip though uneventful was difficult. There was a stark difference between the landscape of Breeland and this desolate place. After a long run I came upon a dilapidated structure that was the first sign of friendly folk I'd seen. It was appropriately called the Forsaken Inn.

There was an assortment of odd and surly characters there. As with all of the settlements I've been to there were an assortment of tasks these folk needed someone to take on. I began helping wherever I could.

The first task of note was to locate a missing wagon and driver. I found it on the edge of the Midgewater Marsh. The Goblins had destroyed the cart and killed the driver. While I was a able to dispatch the brood responsible, I doubted this would be the end. It was disturbing to see that these goblins were already operating in Breeland. Was I already too late.

I needed to address the Goblin problem quickly. Not wanting to make the mistakes of my past I took a cautious approach and began scouting the area around the Inn. I discovered a number of Goblin camps. The appeared fairly well organized which was not a good sign. Along the way I found pockets of orcs and a host of hostile wildlife. I've seen no evidence of organization among the orcs yet, though rumor has it that they have camps somewhere to the north of Weathertop. I'll need to investigate this soon.

I returned to the Inn and began working on the simple tasks there. I've seen them before. Materials needed, animal populations reduced, lost items recovered. I hope that my efforts here will help me gain the trust of the locals. They have been here for quite some time and I suspect they may know more then they will willingly tell a stranger. time will tell.

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Moving On

The days following the party were filled with conflict and trials of many kinds. I slayed all manor of trouble makers be they men, beasts or undead horrors. I tracked down historic sites and rare flowers. I even entered the depths of the Great Barrow and slayed Sambrog the Wright-Lord. I was showered in titles and thanks for my various accomplishments.

As time went on, fewer and fewer townsfolk came to me with concerns. It looked as if we'd finally brought order to Breeland. I was starting to consider retirement, perhaps even settling town in Bree to pursue a career as a woodworker. That fantasy was not to be.

One particularly bright morn Daisy Appledore visited me at the Prancing Pony. She congratulated me on my many accomplishments (not the least of which was keeping up with her hectic training schedule). After a fine breakfast she began to tell me of the many rumors coming for outside Breeland. It became clear that though we had our troubles at bay, this security would not remain if we didn't start taking the fight to the enemy. To truly be safe Bree needed men to meet threats before they ever reached our boarders.

Though all of the territories surrounding Bree had their troubles, the Lone Lands seemed to be a particular threat at the moment. It was rumored that hordes of Goblins and Orcs were massing there. This could mean an all out assault on Bree and that could not be allowed happen.

I had no choice. I spent the rest of the day preparing. Sharpening my Spear, crafting new Javelins and getting may belongings in order. Tomorrow I'll set out for the Lone Lands. My Goal is to disrupt, if not destroy, the forces massing there in the hopes that they never get the chance to threaten the townsfolk here.

It's a tall order, and one I'm not at all sure I can accomplish alone, but this is what the townsfolk have come to expect from me and I owe them nothing less.

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Return to Duty

Finally back to my feet I headed out of Bree reinvigorated and focused on repaying all the kindnesses of late by pushing back the evils that threaten townsfolk across Breeland. First though, I had unfinished business.

I headed strait from the Old Forest. That Haunted Barren Oak would burn in the fire at the Prancing Pony tonight! I knew where to find the evil thing, but along the way I stumbled upon a path I'd not seen before. As it appeared to be a quicker route to my bark clad target I followed it.

A few steps in the path opened into a clearing. Once inside I was immediated assailed by towering vicious timber! It appears this clearing was home to an entire forest of menacing hardwoods. A wiser man would have turned back, but I had vengeance and the loss of my eye on my mind.

Hours went by as bits of bark, sap, and my own blood flew all about. I crushed roots under foot as one after another the demonic trees were feld. I lost count of how many went down. I stacked their remains high to later return with a wagon to collect them. I was exhausted, spent, but not yet satisfied.

Pressing on though waves of spiders and clinging webs I finally reached the topiary menace that had taken my eye. I was in full blood lust, my judgment clouded with retribution and foolhardy from recent victories. Without a thought I charged in, tearing into the Oak as it's roots and spiders assaulted me from all sides. As if surprised, the thing stumbled backwards. pressed into it, driving my spear deeper and deeper into its trunk. It fell to my feet as I was nearly over come by it's henchmen.

Fighting nearly to the bitter end I crushed the last spider under my boot and collapsed. Though I knew it was not safe here I remained prone as I regained my strength with a few tarts and some wine. It took quite awhile to recover (I even impaled a spider on a javelin thrown without even rising to my feet). When I was finally refreshed I chopped a few trophy branches from the horror and collected what useful wood their was from it and it's brethren before returning to Bree.

That night, the Prancing Pony was exceptionally warm as the remains of the evil vegetation of the Old Forest burned bright in the fires. A impromptu celebration of the victory went on through the night that even drew Buckland folk to Bree. Daisy Appledore, though she simply came to congratulate and bestow the humorous "Root-Hewer" title upon me, ended up passed out on a bench in the corner. Gib Heathstraw made an appearance but was soon off on his own engrossed in whittling. He simply could not resist working with the unusual wood I had returned with.

It was a night to remember followed by a morn of pain that I'd have given anything to forget.

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A Long Recovery

The longer I live the more life surprises me. After my near death at the hands of that evil spawned tree I traveled to Bree to recuperate. I took up residence at the Prancing Pony inn and might well have lost myself in a dark sea of spirits and self pity if not for the kindnesses of others. My spirits rose even as I choked a bit on the guilt if felt.

After setting me up in a room innkeeper Baliman sent for Polly Leafcutter. She's an expert healer, but the damage was significant. After consulting with several friendly minstrels and healers it became clear that my right eye was lost.

Polly and others visited daily, mending and treating my many wounds. Polly was particularly concerned about secondary illnesses and was constantly tormenting me with foul smelling ointments and horrid potions. Though I hope never to experience these torturous treatments again, I must admit, I healed rapidly. All but my eye.

I was in the Prancing Pony for a few weeks. I was starting to wallow in self-pity, boredom and wine when surprise visitors started to appear. I'd become jaded, during my travels , thinking more and more townsfolk were lazy and unable or unwilling to complete the simplest tasks. But when word of my plight reached the surrounding communities those same folks responded in force.

The first to visit was Mason Thorne from Combe. He delivered fresh tarts his wife had sent along and spent hours visiting, telling tall tales and thanking me for my assistance. He also carried presents and letters from a number of people in Combe, all wishing me well and thanking me for my efforts on their behalf. I

A few days later I was shocked to see Widow Froghorn from Staddle arrive. This woman wouldn't even harvest her own fields or deliver her own messages and yet she traveled all the way to Bree to look in on me. She brought me an amazingly soft blanket and spent several days visiting, running little errands for me and keeping me company by the fire as we shared a pipe.

There were many visitors in that week. I felt guilty for thinking many of these folks lazy or incompetent. I was buried in baked goods, letters of thanks, even flowers. I had to rethink things. It still troubles me that so many of these people would lean on others so readily rather than take care of their simple needs themselves. However, how can I continue to see them in such a negative light when so many went so far out of their way to come to my side in my time of need?

I was rapidly cheering up when Daisy Appledore, my mentor, came for a visit. She delivered a letter from Archet's new Militia Captain, Joe Brackenbrook. In it he wished me well and assured me that there would always be a place for me in the Militia. Daisy however had other plans. Dragging me out of the inn she took me to the target range and insisted I begin practicing. I thought it silly until I finally threw the first javelin. I missed completely. The loss of my eye had ruined my depth perception.

We spent the rest of the day training. I saw little progress and my melancholy rapidly returnedas my shoulders burned . That afternoon I headed back to the inn in disgust, but I didn't quite make it. As if laying in ambush Gib Heathstraw popped out and took hold of me. He dragged to the crafting hall where I soon learned my injury had set me back there as well.

Daisy and Gib worked me over for weeks. I had near no time to rest as one or the other was constantly working me to relearn and improve my skills. It didn't end there as each evening one well-wisher or another kept me up late into the night talking and carousing. It took several months, but I'd finally learned to compensate for my injury to the point where I'd not only regained my former skills, I'd surpassed them. My confidence returned in force as I became more and more stir crazy. I had work to do, I needed to return to the wilds.

Daisy and Gib conspired against me one last time and surprised me with a party at the Prancing Pony. Many of the folks I'd helped came in from several towns to celebrate my return to full duty. It was a wonderful event where I once again had to put my jaded nature in check as I laughed and drank with those I knew, and many I just met.

Two particularly interesting new acquaintances I made that evening were brothers. Epicurean and Gillimer Grainline, hobbits of the shire. I must admit I enjoyed their sibling bickering and odd senses of humor. Though I'd just met them, they had brought the most helpful presents. Epicurean, a Tailor of some note had made a new set of armor for me. Gillimer gave me some weapon blades. He explained that he had wanted to make me a new spear and some javelins but when he learned I was a woodworker it thought it would be better simply to give me the parts I'd need to do it myself (sound's like Gib's handiwork to me).

Tonight, in a wine induced haze I head to bed exhausted from all the revelry. Tommorrow I head back into the field. Armed with a few new tricks, a deeper understanding of tactics and a deep desire to somehow makeup for all the kindnesses that have been granted me these past few months. First however, I must pursue a quest to improve my woodworking of Gib will let me know no peace.

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Beaten to a Pulp

Finally, I was able to pull those suckling hobbits of Staddle from my teat and move on. In need of training as both a Warden and a Woodworker so I headed to the large village of Bree. S o many townsfolk in one place, I feared the worst.

I was shocked to discover that while many of the residents of Bree needed assistance, for the most part their needs were genuine. Most notably were the foul undead creatures in an area called the Barrows. I attempted a quick run at this evil place and barely escaped with my life. I needed more practice with my newly learned skills.

I stumbled upon Adso's camp on the road back to Bree. Adso was an interesting character. Seems he was trying to build a road side inn at that location. I had just started to respect him when he asked me to find a clean source of water the project. How does someone start the construction of an inn without first finding critical resources, like water?

I was once again tasked with thinning wild beast populations, dealing with those ubiquitous Blackbold Bandits, and gathering all sorts of things along the way. It was perfect practice for my newly trained skills.

My trip into the eerie Old Forest to find fresh water for Adso the hindsighted was unnerving. The place had a sense of dread to it that chilled your bones. Discovering the living and violent trees was particularly disturbing (and strangely alluring) to the woodworker in me. Though I suspected it would be a mistake, I decided I'd explore the forest at length after I'd headed to Buckland to repair my gear and lighten my bags.

Sadly, the people of Buckland had many of the same petty needs as Adso, not to mention all the other small communities I've visited. It seems Bree may be the one beacon of reason in this sea of sloth and ignorance. At least most of their needs were in the Old Forest while were in line with my own plans.

While I'd been growing more and more powerful, there were threats in this wood that brought me to the brink several times. I was getting confident, cocky really, taking greater and greater risks for martial and the financial gains. I finally took it to far when I discovered the evil tree guarded by spiders. It seemed to be the root of the the problem in the Old Forest. using stealth and ambush I took down the spiders and the vile roots that surrounded it, leaving me with only the tree itself to deal with.

I stealthed in, hit it with an ambush and tried to stun the thing. In retrospect it makes sense that kicking a tree would have had little effect. We traded blow for blow, it's branches slashing at me from every direction. I was sure I had it, but a mis-step on the final lunge left an opening that the topiary menace exploited expertly.

The wound was devastating, the wicked branch not only slashed open my face, to destroyed my eye. The pain was unimaginable, I went down and the thing pounced, tearing me apart. I fell unconscious in a sea of red. When I awoke I was back in Buckland, a friendly minstrel was tending to me as best he could. Apparently he and a hunter had come upon my plight and rescued me for a future as fertilizer. After several hours he informed me that though he'd staunched my wounds, my eye was a lost cause.

I took a horse back to the Prancing Pony in Bree. I was going to need time to recover and consider my options.

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Staddle'd

While Townsfolk, and their apparent inability to deal with threats on their own has become an increasing source of frustration for me, the Hobbits of Staddle take this concept to new heights.

When I arrived and saw the rustic setting and the shear amount of farmfolk I was relieved. Surely these people know self-reliance. I was shocked to discover the the "town effect" as I've come to call it not only extended to these Hobbits, but they'd taken it further then I'd ever seen.

Straddle, like Combe and Archet had problems with beast populations as well as the Blackbold's. Rumors tell of a secret Blackbold hideout in this area which I hope will afford the opportunity to rid us of this blight for good. As always, I volunteered to assist with various dangerous issues to help secure the area. However, it became increasingly obvious that these folk were capable of, and more than willing to, take advantage of anyone who lends a hand.

As a Warden who's marshal skills grow daily I could easily deal with the physical threats facing the town and farms. But the errands, by my spear the errands were ridiculous! Farm folk of all people, apparently incapable of bringing things to market, sharing information with neighbors or even delivering love letters! Love letters! I half wondered if I should deliver that piece of scented paper via the tip of my javelin.

I begin to fear that an epidemic sweeps through Bree-land. Many fear the Evil Sauron and what he might have in store for all of us. But I tell you, the greater threats are sloth and complacency. How can a anyone hope to survive an evil onslaught if they cannot lift themselves from their rocking chairs to tend to their own crops or mail a letter?

I still have much to do here, not the least of which is to locate this rumored Blackwold hideout. However, my happiest day in a long time will come when I can no longer see any of these Staddle folk without looking over my shoulder. For the life of me I cannot understand why my father held Hobbits in such high regard.

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New place, same concerns

When I left Archet I headed south to the small town of Combe. It's larger than Archet, with more services including a crafting hall and a horse to Bree among other places. I was there but for a moment before I learned that the citizens of Combe faced many of the same issues that plagued Archet. I soon found myself aiding the townsfolk. Once again, local beasts were too numberous and those Blackwolds thugs threatened, though this time they were more numerous and better organized.

I took care of some immediate threats and then turned my attention to improving my crafting skills. My forestry was put to good use in this area and it fed materials to my woodworking nicely. I was beginning to craft better spears and javelins. Something I'm sure the Blackwolds wished I had not taken the time to learn.

One skill I continue to ignore is farming. Before my father passed me off to the Archet Militia he had wanted me to be a farmer so that I might take his place one day. I cannot imagine a time when I'll be so idle that farming appeals to me.

Though organized I found the Blackwolds easy to deal with so long as I approached them strategically. Impatience could easily lead to being overrun by dozens of their ilk. Better to use ambush tactics to take them down a few at a time. My tactics paid off and I dealt them some serious blows before I moved on.

One thing that troubles me from my time in Combe are some of the acts I agreed to in order to accomplish my goals and help improve the security of the town. The worst of which was poisoning the food supply of the wolves the Blackwolds used. If someone had suggested such a thing before the attack on Archet I would have leveled them. Now, I'm concerned. How far will I allow this to go? When do the ends no longer justify the means?

Now I must pack up and head to the town of Straddle to the south. There is a Blackwold hideout rumored to be there. Additionally, I need to meet with some experienced woodworkers in order to continue to improve my skills. Of course I'm sure they likely have hundres of little problems, beast overpopulation, etc. What is it about congrigating in a town setting that seems to weaken folks to the point that they cannot solve these little issues for themselves?

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A Journey Begins

When my father insisted that I swear allegiance to Captain Brackenbrook for the defense of Archet I did so, though I didn't understand why. I wouldn't find out until much later that my Father owed a debt he could not repay. Captain Brackenbrook offered to take me for the militia as payment. While I might have joined of my own accord if asked, this arrangement didn't sit well with me at all.

Archet may once have been a peaceful community but it was now besieged with treats of all kinds. The wolf population had gotten out of control as has the flies infesting the marshes and the spiders that had taken over the nearby caves. Worse still were the Blackwolds. Brigands and thieves who had taken over the ruins to the south.

Once the first stages of my training were completed I spent my days trying to deal with these issues. Working to the reduce the populations of various beasts that threatened the community honed my skills with the spear, but resolution continued to elude me. It was as if each one that fell somehow spawned another in it's place.

While the Captain didn't agree it was clear that the Blackwolds were becoming a real threat to Archet. I thwarted their thievery from time to time but nothing would convince the Captain that more was going on, not even his son Jon who was convinced they were intent on raiding Archet and had a traitoramong us.

When I was alerted to the presence of a Blackwold spy his death resulted in proof of this Trajectory. While we all worked to act now that the Captain was finally convinced it was simply too late. The Blackwolds attacked Archet in force.

It was a long, brutal fight but in the end we beat back the brigands and their leaders. Archet was in flames, but it was still in the hands of the people. The cost of the defense was great. Many, including my father and Captain Brackenbrook, fell on the field that night. The Captain's son Jon, took command and we all worked to put out the flames, bury the dead, and regain order in the village.

Jon Brackenbrook was an honorable and wise man leader. He approached me on morn and said that he knew of my vow of service and the absurdity it was based on. He released me of the oath and ordered me out of Archet. While regaining my freedom was grand, I still felt that I was needed in Archet. Though I never felt any particularly strong love for Archet (always an outsider), I did feel an obligation. With the losses from the battle how could the town spare yet another defender?

My former commander insisted that my skills were wasted here and that many great evils are afoot all across Eriador. He was convincing. with such treats out there, I may well best serve the security of Archet by dealing with them before they reach the people here. I'd be free to live as I choose, where I choose, and address the dangers facing all of us when and where I choose.

Not being fond of cities, crowds, or people in general, I'll keep to the wilderness, its always more peaceful in the woods on my own. I'll patrol the lands, challenging any evil that theatens common folk. Watching over them and defending them even if they never know of it.

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