Bruce played the Scots against Mike’s Vikings and Phil was the Umpire.
The Vikings formed up on the hill (anywhere east of the road) in shieldwall. Meanwhile King Malcolm prayed at the Kirk.
The Scots under the three Fated Thanes rushed forward across the Dullan Water and surged towards the shieldwall. At the clash of the forces the Scots fared badly losing 2 units of spearmen and one of their heroes in single combat. They did however manage to push some units up the hill and pursue with the Scottish Thegns (Huscarles). At this point the Viking King was held in reserve.
From the Kirk, Malcolm could see the disaster unfolding! His cup of reputation tokens was rapidly emptying whilst the Vikings were gaining! Soon all would be lost. So he prayed to God almighty to intervene on his behalf on the scenario prayer table! a good roll with 3 units/ leaders lost meant he gained a unit of Thegns and a mounted Champion arriving late to the battle field and was able to rally his remaining troops.
At this moment there was a lull in the fighting as both sides withdrew to their initial positions. The Viking shield wall reformed on the hill. The Scots redeployed all their forces in the meadow, now under the command of Malcolm the Destroyer himself.
Battle began again. The Scots outnumbered but not cowed formed facing the hill and advanced but did not charge. The vikings were tempted from the high ground and advanced down shields locked onto the meadow. With a mighty roar the Scots charged led by their King.
As in the legends Malcolm challenged the Proud Viking King to single combat. The Viking leader was slain, dragged from his horse and strangled in the last round of single combat. His troops too were pushed back. However not all the Vikings were defeated and were pushing forwards on the flanks. The Scottish mounted champion was killed in combat!
With their king dead though the forces began to retire to their second camp and it was clear the day was lost. So victory was awarded to the Scots when the Viking reputation cup was empty of honour!
Bungo and his companions Nuri and Forlong , moved by pity, took into their care the elven hermit Aya, who for long years had dwelt alone in the wild places. Though her heart was heavy with solitude and she had turned from the high folk of Elrond’s kindred, still they hoped she might yet find solace among the Silvan people, who keep to the secret fastnesses of the ancient woods. Thus, with gentle words and steadfast friendship, they persuaded her to journey with them back toward the peopled lands of Middle-earth.
Yet on the homeward road Bungo himself was troubled; for the daggers he had borne away from the fell sorcerer Snava gnawed at his sleep, kindling in him dark dreams and murderous thoughts alien to the heart of a hobbit. But with the quiet strength and good sense of his kind, Bungo mastered the shadow within. At dawn he cast the weapons aside, determining to hand them over to Balin or one of the Wise, choosing peace over peril, and so freed himself from their malice.
When at last they returned to Bree, they were met by Balin son of Fundin, a Dwarf of renown. Eagerly did they tell their tale of the North, and when the key of strange make was laid before him, Balin’s eyes shone with wonder and desire, for it was said to unlock a hidden way into Khazad-dûm of old. Greatly did this stir his heart, for the halls of Moria had long been closed to the Dwarves, and their memory weighed upon his people like a stone.
Forlong, the man of the Dunedain, then brought forth Esterlang, his sundered sword. Balin, moved by the tale of its breaking, promised that it should be borne to Erebor, where the forges of the Lonely Mountain still rang with craft and cunning, that the smiths there might examine it and bring it anew to life.
But for all these marvels, the road of the company was not yet ended. Their counsel turned westward, toward the Grey Havens and the twilight lands by the Sea. There, in the shadowed forests nigh to Mithlond, dwelt yet some of the Sindar and Silvan folk, and it was thought that Aya might find peace among them. For indeed, in Bree she had been ill at ease, distressed by the noise and tumult of mortal folk.
So they passed swiftly through the green hills of the Shire, where Bungo felt again the quiet of his homeland, though he lingered not; and soon they came to the ancient Elven-towers upon the western borders of Eriador. There they were halted by a stern warden, tall and grim, who kept solitary watch over those fair and fading stones.
That very night, peril came upon them; for both a servant of Umbar, a dark man out of the South, and an emissary of Saruman the White, moving each unknowing of the other, sought to seize a Palantír hidden high within the tallest tower. In the struggle that followed the southern warrior was thrown down, and the emissary taken alive; and the Elven-warden, though at first mistrustful, looked thereafter upon the company with new favor.
Each among them then dared to lay hands upon the seeing-stone, hoping for counsel. But the visions it granted were wild and fell: only war and shadow, ruin and the marching hosts of iron. No wisdom could they wrest from its depths, and each turned away troubled, the weight of dark tidings heavy on their hearts.
Thus ended that chapter of their wandering, with questions yet unanswered, and the road ahead uncertain.
The icy winds of Forodwaith howled across the barren wasteland as three figures pressed forward through knee-high snow. Nuri, a proud and fierce Dwarf of Erebor, clenched his axe tightly as he trudged ahead. Forlong, a secretive Dunedain Ranger, dressed head to toe in the white furs of the Snow Men of the North, scanned the horizon with wary eyes. Bungo, an eager Hobbit burglar and treasure hunter, pulled his fur-lined cloak tighter around his small frame, muttering about the unrelenting cold.
They pursued Snava, a wretched Orc who had stolen something of great value. Their path led them deep into the frozen wilderness, where death lurked in the silent drifts and shadowed crevasses.
As they pressed on, they came upon a funeral pyre, the embers still smouldering against the stark white of the snow. Skulls and bones, twisted in agony, told of a terrible sacrifice. Forlong knelt, inspecting the remains. “This is no common burial,” he murmured. “Dark rites were performed here.”
Soon, they encountered a band of Lossoth, the snow-dwelling folk. But these were no mere hunters of the ice; the cruel glint in their eyes and the black markings upon their hands revealed their servitude to the Shadow. Thinking quickly, Bungo produced the shell tokens they had found at the pyre, holding them forth with an air of authority. The Lossoth hesitated, then nodded, allowing them to pass without further challenge.
Further along the frozen cliffs, a sudden snowstorm swept down upon them. Blinded by the flurry, they found themselves separated. A monstrous roar shattered the howling winds—Snow Trolls! A massive clawed hand snatched Bungo from the ledge, hoisting him high. Another troll lunged at Nuri, but then turned at the last moment as the Dwarf stood ready with his axe. With a roar, the Snow Trolls leaped from the cliff into the drifts below carrying away their prize, only to be pursued into an ice cave.
Forlong, ever the silent hunter, crept through the cavern and found the trolls taunting Bungo, who hung upside down, bound and ready to be devoured. Without hesitation, he hurled his spear, striking the largest troll in the shoulder. With a cry of rage, Nuri charged from another passage, engaging the second beast. The cavern erupted into battle.
Bungo, ever resourceful, easily cut his bonds and seized a torch. As the fight raged, he flung blazing oil upon the icy floor, turning the cave into a fire-lit battleground. Nuri’s heavy mail saved him from crushing blows and sharp toothed bites, while Forlong’s swift strikes harried the beasts. With a final, desperate lunge, Forlong drove his sword through the heart of the first troll. The second turned to flee but met an arrow in the eye—Bungo’s keen shot felling the creature instantly.
Their journey led them next to a small, hidden refuge where they met Aya, a beautiful and mysterious Elven hermit. She provided warmth and food in exchange for Bungo’s songs and tales of adventure. But their respite was brief—Snava crept into the shelter, attempting to steal Forlong’s sword. The Orc was tricked and fled into the darkness, but the pursuit was far from over. Aya offered Bungo a Magic Ring if he would journey with her once again in the twilight forests and secret glades at the edges of the world. Bungo declined declaring he could not abandon his comrades in the hour of their need. However he promised to return feeling pity for the lonely Elf and offered to guide her to kin in Rivendell. She declined the company of the High Elves but perhaps there is another place where this Elf could find peace at last?
They ventured onto the Shadow Road, an ancient, forsaken path, braving the darkness that clung to its stones. As they ascended the treacherous stairway, Bungo lost his footing, tumbling into the abyss. At the bottom, dazed, he found himself face to face with Snava. The Orc struck, but before he could deliver the final blow, Nuri came charging down the steps, axe swinging. The battle was short, and Snava fell, leaving behind a set of keys—keys to Moria. Nuri took them, his heart swelling with the weight of their significance.
They pressed on, past the haunted houses of the Priests, where unseen whispers gnawed at their spirits. At the Altar and the Well of Fear, despair gripped them, yet they persevered. Deep within the chambers below, they found themselves troubled by shadows of the past. Weary and miserable, they trudged forward.
Then, Bungo’s sharp eyes caught the glint of gold. Something ancient and dark whispered to him, and in that moment, madness took him. The whispers of old sorcery twisted his mind. The prophecy of Forlong’s ancestor—the betrayal of a companion—was renewed. Seized by the darkness, Bungo took Snava’s Morgul blade and, with cunning, tricked Forlong into leading. Then, with a swift and treacherous stroke, he plunged the cursed blade into the Ranger’s back.
Forlong’s cry echoed through the chamber as the sorcery took hold. Writhing in pain, he fought against the shadow creeping through his veins. With great difficulty, Nuri and Bungo subdued him. As the madness lifted from Bungo’s mind, horror filled his eyes. “What have I done?” he whispered.
Forlong, weakened but resolute, reached for the pouch at his belt. Athelas, the sacred herb of the Dunedain, was pressed to his wound. Though the poison’s spread was halted, no time remained for rest.
A low, chilling growl rumbled through the halls. The disturbance had awakened something terrible. The Worm Wight, an undead beast of immense power, stirred in its lair. Its ancient, skeletal form coiled in the darkness, eyes burning with malice.With his ancestor’s spirit calling him to arms once more, Forlong gripped his Numenorean blade. Weary, wounded, and burdened by despair, the heroes stood together against the ancient terror.
The sky over the Ettenmoors hung heavy with iron-grey clouds as the company of dwarves and their companions surveyed the fortress of Rath Sereg from a rocky hilltop. Its broken walls jutted from the earth like the jagged teeth of some ancient beast, guarding secrets and horrors long forgotten. Beneath its shadow, the Red Gorse Hills stretched, red as blood beneath the dim light filtering through the clouds.
Nuri the dwarf, Bungo the hobbit, and Forlong the ranger stood alongside Floki, a grim-eyed dwarf warrior seeking vengeance for the death of his brother, Flonar. With him marched twelve stout dwarven rangers from the Blue Mountains, battle-hardened and ready to risk all to rescue their brethren held captive within the fortress.
They watched Rath Sereg for a full day and night, taking note of the orcs’ movements. Through keen observation, they discovered that even the limited sunlight peeking through the clouds left the orcs nearly blind, forcing them into the shadows. It was a weakness they could exploit.
Bungo, nimble and silent as a shadow, slipped into the fortress under the cover of a brief shaft of sunlight. Within the grim halls, he discovered a hulking Great Orc guarding the gates, clutching a massive ring of ancient keys. Deeper still, he found a subterranean level where a sturdy portcullis blocked the path to the goblin caves below. In the other direction lay three heavy doors—one of which surely held the captives, while another might conceal the orc leaders: Snava, the shaman, and Hultmar the Many-Handed, their commander.
After regrouping, the company devised their plan. First, they would ambush the orcs at the gatehouse and wrest the keys from the Great Orc. Floki insisted on joining the fight—his thirst for vengeance burned too hot to be denied. The remaining dwarves would await the signal arrow, ready to storm the gate if needed.
Thus the ambush began. The clash of steel and the snarls of the Great Orc filled the air. Nuri met the beast head-on, wielding his great axe with deadly precision. The orc fought ferociously, but with a mighty swing, Nuri’s axe found its mark, and the Great Orc crumpled to the ground. Forlong, narrowly escaping injury, gave a grateful nod as he examined the deep dent in his well-crafted armor.
With the keys in hand, the heroes descended into the fortress’s depths. Carefully, they brought down the portcullis, trapping the goblins in the lower caves. Then, one by one, they freed the imprisoned dwarves, their shackles falling silently to the floor. Victory seemed within reach, but their mission was not yet complete.
Floki refused to leave without his vengeance and also there was the issue of the key to Moria, a precious relic his brother had carried. They pressed onward, seeking Snava the shaman. In a dark chamber filled with the scent of old parchment and strange herbs, they found him. Flames roared to life as a trap sprung, but Forlong leapt through the inferno without hesitation. His spear found its mark, striking Snava just as he vanished through a secret door. Pursuing him through the twisting corridors, Forlong hurled another spear, wounding the fleeing shaman before losing him in the shadows.
Bungo searched the chamber and found a pair of darkly forged daggers—Snava’s cruel and enchanted weapons.
The final confrontation awaited in the chamber of Hultmar the Many-Handed. The orc commander fought with savage strength and cunning, wielding his Great Leap to evade Floki’s attacks and strike at Bungo, who had already taken a poisoned arrow to the side. Meanwhile, Nuri and Forlong battled their way through Hultmar’s guards, cutting them down one by one.
At last, Hultmar’s blade clashed with Forlong’s. Weakened but unrelenting, Forlong pressed the attack. Bungo, clutching one of Snava’s daggers, staggered to his feet and struck the orc from behind. The dark magic bound to the dagger flared ominously as Hultmar turned in terror, recognition dawning too late. With a final gurgling breath, the commander fell silent.
Among Hultmar’s hoard, they found a beautifully crafted elven helm and a great trove of dwarven coins, each stamped with the ancient sigil of lost Moria. Using the secret passage from Snava’s chamber, the heroes slipped away unnoticed and rejoined the dwarven rangers beyond the fortress walls.
There, they parted ways. The dwarves returned to the Blue Mountains with their rescued kin, while Floki agreed to bear news of their victory and their findings to Bilbo and Balin in the Shire. As for Nuri, Bungo, and Forlong, their journey was not yet over. The key to Moria was still missing, and the shadow of Snava lingered like a dark promise in the distance.
The road ahead would be perilous, but for now, the heroes had won a hard-fought victory.
Nuri the Dwarf, Bungo the Hobbit and Forlong the Ranger sit at a good table in the Prancing Pony Inn enjoying their ale. Floki the Dwarf is reintroduced to them and he requests a small favour, that they deliver a sealed message to his brother Flonar. He explains that he will be in the Dwarven Halls of the Blue Mountains to the West should his brother wish to reply with another message.
After some questions and discussion, they agree and head out West through the Shire and then North towards the Lake. With Forlong as the guide they make haste and avoid all mishaps. Looking out towards the Lake they wisely decide to avoid the fog which obscures its surface and the ancient ruins to the east.
They come across the dwarves at the Vale of Gold. They are all dead and their camp is afire. The heroes make short work of a group of goblin archers, felling three outright with their initial volleys as they come across the foul creatures unawares. They discover that twelve dwarves have been taken prisoner and that something was taken, roughly ripped from a necklace on Flonar’s body.
They track the orcs to a hidden vale to the east and decide that the force is too large to attack alone so head east to the Blue Mountains and the Dwarves.
There they meet Vilia a clan chieftain and Floki. After some intrigue and treasure they are invited to the council of the dwarves to discuss the matters at hand. Floki persuades them to intercede on his behalf: or perhaps it is the plight of the dwarvern prisoners; or indeed the tale of a secret key to Moria being the item taken from Flonar’s corpse; that inspires them. Forlong is intent on pursuing his oath and moving further North to the Hill of Fear and leaving the Dwarves and Floki to their fate. In the end the heroes agree to travel to the fortress of the orcs in the Ettenmoors with a group of dwarven scouts in an attempt to rescue the prisoners. They are rewarded with armour and helms of ancient dwarven make, inscribed with Runes and of fabulous craftsmanship. Crossing the land in relative haste they recover the trail at the hidden vale and aided by the dwarves find themselves looking across the moors to the iron gates of the fortress
Our heroes; Nuri the Dwarf, Bungo the Hobbit and Forlong the Ranger gathered once again ready for adventure. In a small fishing village of the folk of Lond Daer the crowd are angry. They encounter a wild looking character known as Jon a Leaping. The village cobbler Borlas has been held against his will in Tharbad which lies up river. Jon has in turn been caught by the villagers as an outlaw, thief and bandit who has been preying on the villagers for some time now. He claims to be a friend of the Lord and Master of Tharbad, Gurnow. So the village leader asks the heroes to take Jon to Tharbad and ransom him in exchange for Borlas.
They agree and over the next few days travel with Jon upstream along the river bank. Jon escapes and is followed to the Watchful Stones where the group once again meet with Orothel the Ranger. It transpires that Jon has been her messenger into Tharbad and she has been waiting here 5 days for him. After some discussion they agree to continue with Jon to Tharbad and agree to help Orothel obtain a message from her mysterious agent in Tharbad.
The heroes visit Tharbad and during their time find an old Library maintained by an all but forgotten scribe. Bungo searches about but resists the temptation to steal from her whilst Gimli and Forlong obtain her aid in future research as well as finding some useful maps and lore. She receives a generous donation from Nuri. Between them they learn more about the mysterious Hill of Fear to the North and Moria. They find an ancient map of the Redhorn Pass.
Eventually they meet Gurnow in his Hall. Jon is handed over much to his dismay and placed in the prison awaiting execution. They see Tharnow the Lord’s brutal son and learn more about Lady Stock. They earn the Lord’s favour for bringing in Jon and use this to travel with relative freedom about the town. They meet a an antiquarian or treasure hunter, again gleaning some more useful information and a potential future contact. They find the message from Orothel’s mysterious agent.
They set out to the prison and convince the gaoler of Garth Tauron, one Valandur to leave in a hurry with his guardsmen (on the pretext of urgent orders from the Master) whilst they investigate. They find Jon and Borlas who have been brought up from the cells and are being loosely guarded due to the heavy rain flooding the lower levels. Rescuing them both they head out of town using a secret route and reach Orothel. However Forlong has taken a nasty blow to the head.
Orothel reads the letter and is furious with Jon for causing the delay. She accompanies the heroes in all haste after one Deor, a stranger to these lands. He had been seen in the company of Dwarves, one of whom was named Flonar. Then he had spoken with the Master and the Lady before setting off in a boat headed North.
They eventually find Deor’s body which grasps out at one of them even in death. Dark spirits gather and a black cloud suddenly obscures the sun. Orcs and Goblins attack in great numbers. Orothel does her best to fend off the great host. Forlong lifts Esterlang aloft and banishes the clouds and evil spirits, half blinding the Orcs with the sunlight. The heroes are victorious but Nuri is exhausted, Forlong injured.
Orothel is badly wounded by an arrow. Searching about and discovering the Orc camp they find some clues. Also, they are able to interrogate the Orcs who talk about one Snava, an Orc Boss “Up from the Fire”.
They discover two artefacts bearing the sigil of the Lidless Eye, bound with dark magics, which Bungo takes into his keeping. One an iron talisman and the other a circlet which he can use should he choose, to enhance his skills. Also a small amulet which they later learn is from the far north made from the carapace of the fabled Fastitocalon. This is a token of friendship from the Snowmen of Lossoth.
They return to Bree at the Sign of the Prancing Pony where they find Balin once again and are re-introduced to the Dwarf named Floki, who has a small errand for them. Simply to deliver a note to his brother…
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