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Relics of the Third Age: A Lord of the Rings Quest

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Kir the Wizard said:
Does Faramir count as "High Society" for Arphazel's trait to activate?
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Even if he doesn't the royal Lady Eowyn surely does. And on balance I'd rather get into her proximity than Queen Arwen's at this juncture. As a matter of fact, Queen Arwen's very existence is an excellent reason to avoid the court in Minas Tirith until we get a better handle on our temper. I do not trust us not to fly at her elvish personage in a murderous rage, given the reasons Black Numenoreans exist.

[X] Emyn Arnen to Speak with Faramir

EDIT: And oh my, judging by her reaction to "Minas Ithil" (really it should be Ost Ithil, given how it's described, but I suppose there is some value in aspiration) Arphazel would be the sort to defend spanking her kids on the grounds that she had it done to her and turned out fine, wouldn't she? She does not even realize how many abusive cycles she is in. Poor girl.
 
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Zimmerwald1915 said:
And oh my, judging by her reaction to "Minas Ithil" (really it should be Ost Ithil, given how it's described, but I suppose there is some value in aspiration) Arphazel would be the sort to defend spanking her kids on the grounds that she had it done to her and turned out fine, wouldn't she? She does not even realize how many abusive cycles she is in. Poor girl.
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Spend your formative years in the dark castle of darkness long enough, and it will feel like home!
Additionally, it is possible that the Nazgûl's servants were indeed protected from the negative effects of Morgul sorcery.
 
[X] Emyn Arnen to Speak with Faramir

Seems like a no-brainer, and will hopefully get us out of Gondor quicker.

Maybe it's the foul magic of Minas Morgul, but the Gondorians have razed the entire city to the ground and that does not appear to have made any difference. My plot senses tell me there's some form of artifact at work here. Obviously we are no where near prepared to know about or deal with it yet, but worth putting a pin in.
 
Kir the Wizard said:
Does Faramir count as "High Society" for Arphazel's trait to activate?
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Definitely, he's the Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor. He's the son of Gondor's previous ruler and currently one of the most important nobles in Gondor.

For future reference, her Noble Daughter of Numenor title will generally activate with anyone who is nobility or gentry.

Kir the Wizard said:
Spend your formative years in the dark castle of darkness long enough, and it will feel like home!
Additionally, it is possible that the Nazgûl's servants were indeed protected from the negative effects of Morgul sorcery.
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I'd imagine that Sauron's forces wouldn't want their supplies spoiling rapidly, but turning people towards their darker natures if they stay too long in Minas Morgul would probably be seen as a feature, not a bug.

Zimmerwald1915 said:
EDIT: And oh my, judging by her reaction to "Minas Ithil" (really it should be Ost Ithil, given how it's described, but I suppose there is some value in aspiration) Arphazel would be the sort to defend spanking her kids on the grounds that she had it done to her and turned out fine, wouldn't she? She does not even realize how many abusive cycles she is in. Poor girl.
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I imagine they restored the old name as a point of pride and aspiration. There are plans to properly rebuild the city at some point, it's just waiting for when Gondor can spare the resources for a massive project like cleansing the Morgul Vale and rebuilding a city from the ground up.

Arphazêl had the benefit of a pretty decent childhood in Umbar and Mordor, all things considered. The daughter of a reasonably high-ranked military commander is going to get a sheltered and privileged upbringing. Assuming she goes to meet with Faramir and Eowyn, I am so tempted to have awkward dinner conversation about how her father used to work for the Witch-King of Angmar, and what it was like to interact with Nazgul in more casual day-to-day conversation.
 
Chengar Qordath said:
Assuming she goes to meet with Faramir and Eowyn, I am so tempted to have awkward dinner conversation about how her father used to work for the Witch-King of Angmar, and what it was like to interact with Nazgul in more casual day-to-day conversation.
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Arphazêl:.....Sooooo, how did you two met?
Eowyn: In the Houses of Healing, after I killed the Witch-King of Angmar.
Arphazêl: You killed my father´s boss?! But he was so nice! He always let me pet his horse, and gave me (evil) candy when he came for dinner!
Awkward Silence
Faramir: And this is still better that my dinners with dad.
 
[X] Emyn Arnen to Speak with Faramir

I'm mildly amused at how delusional she is about how "great" Sauron's kingdom was. I suspect her parents, at least by the end, were...less enthused.
 
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    Pathway to the Relic 3
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    • Memories of Minas Morgul​

    Even if it irked me to be stuck with a pair of Gondorian soldiers as escorts, I couldn't deny that having them along was useful. I had been thinking about how traveling on my own made me look less like I was an official envoy of a sovereign nation. Not to mention being accompanied by a pair of Gondorian soldiers was very handy for clearing up any obstacles on my way to Emyn Arnen.

    Not that there were too many of those. For a thousand years Ithilien had been the central battleground in the war between Gondor and Mordor. Ten years of peace wasn't enough time for ruined cities to be rebuilt and new villages established.

    Not to say the countryside was completely abandoned. We passed by the occasional settlements, but they were still few and far between compared to Gondor's heartlands. According to my traveling companions the land still wasn't entirely safe, and it was hard to convince many people to leave Gondor proper to settle lands where the Orcs had only mostly been cleared out. Considering Gondor was apparently driving the Orcs out of their land and into ours, I wasn't particularly sympathetic.

    If anything, my traveling companions were more of a problem than anything I encountered on the road. Though perhaps that wasn't entirely fair to them, I couldn't complain about having two other people to help with making camp whenever we stopped for the evening. Especially since they insisted on doing most of the work themselves and treating me like a proper dignitary. Clearly Anborn had picked two of his more sensible and diplomatic rangers to serve as my escort.

    No, the problem was far pettier than that. It was a long and not particularly exciting journey, so inevitably the Gondorians wanted to strike up a conversation. I had little desire to engage in small talk with Elessar's servants, but considering they were officially my bodyguards for the moment I didn't want to be completely dismissive of them. Considering they were doing things like pitching my tent and preparing my evening meals, a little basic civility was the least I could offer.

    "Milady Arphazêl, might I ask a question?" The younger of my escorts, a man of about the same age as me, nervously shifted in his saddle as we rode down an empty path. "Your parents served the Dark Lord Sauron, right."

    "They did," I confirmed tersely while bracing for whatever he would ask next. Probably some inane question like asking if I was still loyal to Sauron.

    Instead the soldier managed to surprise me. "Did you ever meet him? What was he like?"

    The other soldier, a grizzled older veteran who'd doubtlessly fought in the War of the Ring, let out an incredulous snort. "What, do you imagine Sauron went to the homes of his servants and doted upon their children like a kindly grandfather?"

    The young man's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I was just curious!"

    I sighed and resisted the urge to throttle the soldier. "It is as your companion said. I was a child, and Sauron would hardly spare time for me." I don't think my parents had even met with him directly. Only the Nazgûl and a few others like Gothmog and The Mouth ever had that honor.

    Unfortunately, the curious young man wasn't satisfied yet. "You lived in Minas Morgul, right? That was the lair of the Nazgûl, so you must have met them. What were they like when they weren't plotting the downfall of Men?"

    The veteran let out a loud scoff. "What, do you imagine them sitting playing cards and smoking pipes while gossiping about the weather?"

    The younger soldier groaned. "You make me sound like a fool."

    "You make a fool of yourself," his senior replied. "I can hardly be blamed for pointing it out."

    Despite my continued irritation with the existence of this entire conversation, I felt compelled to answer. "I did meet one of them, once…"




    Swordplay lessons were far duller than I had expected them to be. I'd been looking forward to starting them for a while, becoming a soldier of Numenor like my parents, but instead of doing mock battles and showing everyone else what a great warrior I was, it was just an endless series of boring, repetitive exercises.

    I tried telling my parents as much when they came to pick me up after my lessons were done, but they didn't understand. My father grinned and just patted me on the head. "That's how training goes, Arphazêl. You have to master the basics before you get to do really exciting stuff."

    "I'm sure you'll learn it in no time," Mother agreed with a warm smile. At least, I think she was smiling. It's hard to remember little details like that. I barely even recall what their faces looked like.

    I can only remember a few vague things about the time I lived in Minas Morgul. Mostly I just remember that Minas Morgul was cold. Not cold in the way of winter weather that could be held at bay by a heavy coat and a good scarf, but an odd sort of cold that seeped into my bones, or my very soul. Even when the city was beautiful, it was a cold, distant beauty. I think I liked Barad Dur a bit more, though part of that was probably just because it meant my parents had gained Sauron's favor so our lives were a bit more privileged.

    Normally we would've headed straight back home after I finished up my training for the day, but on that day I heard something. The piercing battle cry of one of the Nazgul. The high-pitched shriek was hard to ignore, everyone around me clapped their hands over their ears in a vain attempt to block it out.

    While everyone else around me was still flinching away from the sound, I went towards it. Like any six-year-old kid, I was far too curious for my own good. I quickly returned to the training yard and found one of the Nazgul sparring with several Orcs. The Nazgul's blade snapped out, sending one of the Orcs facing it staggering backward as black blood spurted from its neck. Well, that confirmed that they weren't using dull training blades.

    I suppose most people would've thought it was odd to see a Nazgul killing their sparring partners, but that was just how Orcs were. They killed each other all the time during training, or in arguments over food, drinks, weapons, armor, or just about anything. I'd even seen a bunch of Orcs get into a deadly brawl over whether Smaug, Glaurung, or Ancalgon the Black was the greatest dragon to ever walk Middle-Earth, or whether Balrogs had wings or not, so it wasn't that strange to see someone else doing the same thing.

    Watching the Nazgul fight against six (or rather five) Orcs at once was strangely beautiful. Something about the way the ringwraith moved made it impossible to stop watching. The smooth flow motions of its sword, each attack perfectly measured, while its black robes whipped around it. The Orcs never stood a chance, coming at the Nazgul with heavy-handed uncoordinated attacks that the ringwraith easily flowed past or batted aside before bringing them down with deadly counterstrokes.

    Something about the Nazgul's swordplay was positively entrancing. It was everything I'd missed from my lessons. I'd been clumsily going through awkward motions when what I really wanted was to fight the way the Nazgul did. Everything about the way it moved and the clean efficiency of its strikes was just ... beautiful. If I could learn to fight like that instead of just clumsily waving a wooden sword around I'd actually enjoy my lessons.

    That was why I did what happened next. Once the spar was over and all the Orcs were dead, I walked into the training circle and carefully stepped around the corpses as I approached the Nazgul. Once I started getting closer that strange Minas Morgul cold bit deeper into me, but I ignored the bone-deep chill as I neared the ringwraith. I was a girl on a mission. Despite my eagerness, I did at least remember my manners enough to drop into a proper bow before I spoke. "My Lord Nazgul, that was incredible! Can you please teach me how I can fight that way? Please please please!"

    The Nazgul slowly turned until its empty-hooded gaze fixed itself on me, its head slowly tilting to the side. I flinched underneath its gaze and barely managed to resist the urge to run away. Now that I was standing in front of the Nazgul asking it to teach me, I felt incredibly foolish. A silly little child who'd dared to approach one of Lord Sauron's chosen and—

    "My Lord Nazgul, I am so sorry!" My father was at my side, dropping into a deep bow. "She slipped away from us!"

    "Please forgive her impudence, My Lord Nazgul!" My mother was on my other side. "She's only six years old, she doesn't know any—"

    Both of them went silent as the Nazgul raised an armored hand. After several seconds I heard a voice, like a graveyard rasp. "Draw your weapon, child."

    I grinned and pulled out my wooden practice sword, while my father gripped my shoulder. The Nazgul's gaze turned to him, and after a long moment, he finally let go and stepped out of the training circle. My mother followed him, clinging to his arm and throwing a desperate glance back at me. I didn't understand what they were so worried about, it was just a lesson.

    Once they were out of the way the Nazgul flicked its blade, inviting me to attack. I accepted the invitation, trying to remember the basic strikes I'd been learning from the instructor this morning. They all felt clumsy and awkward compared to the Nazgul's flowing grace as it easily batted my attacks away. I could already feel a bit of heat burning at my ears, as I realized how foolish I must look up against the Nazgul's flowing grace. Like a silly, awkward child playing at fighting up against a real master.

    The Nazgul batted aside one of clumsy thrusts, and a moment later its blade whipped around and I felt a tug on my stomach accompanied by the sound of tearing cloth. For a moment I forgot all about trying to perfectly replicate the rote motions of the training ground, and just struck on pure instinct. Probably by sheer dumb luck, my wooden blade managed to strike one of the Nazgul's fingers.

    The ringwraith's counterstroke was swift and efficient, cleaving through my wooden sword in a single blow that flowed into a diagonal slash across my chest. I stumbled back in a vain attempt to dodge, but just ended up falling onto my back in the mud of the training yard. There was another hole in my training gambeson now, and I could feel a faint trickle of warmth from my shoulder where the Nazgul's blade had pierced my skin. It didn't hurt much, so it probably wasn't too bad. Why would it be? We were just training.

    Despite that, my mother shouted my name. I could see her white-knuckled grip on the fence of the sparring pit. I wasn't sure why she was so worried, I was fine.

    The Nazgul stared down at me, propped up on my elbows in the mud of the sparring pit, its blade at rest pointed towards me. I'd seen enough real spars to know what that meant and dropped what was left of my wooden sword. "You win." I let out a sheepish chuckle. "Thank you for teaching me, Lord Nazgul."

    The Nazgul stood above me for a long moment, until with a sudden burst of motion it snapped its blade back into its sheathe. The ringwraith stared down at me for a long moment, and its hood dipped down by the barest measure, almost as if it was nodding to me, before its cloak snapped around as it left the sparring circle.

    Normally in training matches you were supposed to help your opponent back to their feet if you knocked them down, but I suppose that rule didn't apply to Nazgul.

    As soon as the Nazgul was gone my parents were there, hugging me and checking over the little scratch I'd picked up during the spar in between scolding me. I wasn't sure what they were so worried about. It was just training.




    The rest of the journey to Emyn Arnen passed without incident, and thankfully without any more badgering by my traveling companions for stories about my childhood in Minas Morgul and Barad Dur. Not that I was ashamed of my past, but I didn't enjoy sharing those stories with Gondorians who thought my childhood memories were some kind of spectacle to gawk at.

    Emyn Arnen itself almost reminded me of Nurn, in a way. The farms were set up across rolling hills instead of a flat plain, but other than that it was the same sort of collection of small self-sufficient farming communities. It also had the same curious combination of old and new, half-ruined stone buildings with sections where newer stone had been used to patch holes, alongside fresh wooden houses that had plainly been put up in the last few years. It almost would have felt like home, if not for all the banners displaying the White Tree of Gondor.

    I could only hope that particular banner would never make its way to Nurn. I suspect far too many of the people in Nurn who thought we needed a king would be all too happy to nominate Elessar for the role, especially if he sent Gondor's soldiers to protect us from the Orcs. And for those who didn't want him ruling over us, it would be a lot harder for us to object to our new king once Gondor already had troops stationed across Nurn 'for our protection.'

    To his credit, Prince Faramir's estate wasn't the grand palace of luxury I'd expected to find. I suppose with all the rebuilding after the war and funding Elessar's grand dreams of empire there hadn't been time to build himself a gold-plated palace to replace the old Steward's residence. Instead, it was just a relatively modest manor house, something big enough to hold his family and conduct the business of the realm but little more.

    My escorts took the lead in speaking to the manor guards, which suited me. I wouldn't have had anything to say to them beyond informing them of my business and asking to speak with Faramir as soon as possible. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, a man in a fancier set of armor and a fine cloak came out to see me. "Lady Arphazêl? I am Beregond, Captain of the White Company. Prince Faramir welcomes you into his home and asks that you join him and his family this evening for dinner. While you wait, he invites you to rest in the guest quarters and refresh yourself after the long journey from Nurn."

    Tempting as it was to demand I be taken to see him right away, I also hadn't had a proper bath since I'd left Nurn. Turning up in front of a Gondorian prince in my dust-covered road clothes probably wouldn't make the best first impression. Though speaking of impressions, I should take advantage of my time in the baths to decide on how to approach Faramir. Not to mention I'd need to pick something to wear...




    What does Arphazêl Wear to Dinner?

    [ ] A Nice Dress
    Thankfully I thought to pack something reasonably presentable in my saddlebags before the start of this journey. I anticipated that I might meet with someone high-ranking in Gondor, and prepared accordingly. I might not have access to the height of court fashion in Nurn, but I can still look like a proper noblewoman.

    [ ] A Fine Gambeson
    I might be a noblewoman, but I'm also a soldier of Nurn coming to a friendly power to request military aid. I should dress like a soldier, not a court lady. Lady Eowyn was supposed to have been a soldier who fought in the War of the Ring and slew the Witch-King, so I don't need to worry about anyone causing a scene.

    [ ] Don't Dress Up
    I am not going to bother with appearances. It's bad enough that I have to play the diplomat with the Gondorians, I'm not going to doll myself up just to impress them. If they see that as an insult ... well, it kind of is.
    Snubbing Faramir will give Arphazêl a bonus dice on any willpower checks to remain polite since she's gotten a little bit of hostility out of her system.

    [ ] Write-in




    What Approach Shall Arphazêl Take?

    [ ] Diplomatic Approach
    Much as it galls me, Nurn needs Gondor's help right now. I'll just have to swallow my pride and do what's best for everyone.
    Requires a Willpower + Diplomacy Check (With Bonus Dice for Noble Daughter of Numenor)

    [ ] Assertive Approach
    Elessar gave his word that he would preserve and protect the freedom of Nurn's people, so Gondor is obligated to aid us. Additionally, the reason we're having trouble at all is because Gondor's cleaning out Orcs from their territory and driving them into Mordor. Gondor is responsible for cleaning up their messes.

    [ ] Write-in
     
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    • Chengar Qordath said:
    I'd even seen a bunch of Orcs get into a deadly brawl over whether Smaug, Glaurung, or Ancalgon the Black was the greatest dragon to ever walk Middle-Earth, or whether Balrogs had wings or not, so it wasn't that strange to see someone else doing the same thing.
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    I suppose it wouldn't be a proper realm of wickedness and darkness without some versus debaters.
     
    As much as I would wish for diplomacy, it not at all our strong suit.

    Still uhm dressing up might not be the worst thing to do.
     
    [X] A Fine Gambeson
    [X] Diplomatic Approach

    The assertive approach just isn't productive here, it plays into stereotypes people will have about us. Which means going diplomatic for me. From then Gambeson is my choice, because as much getting a bonus on keeping calm is nice I can't risk getting a malus on actually trying to convince Faramir of the need to help us.

    Whatever we vote, we're going to have to trust the dice and be ready for failure.
     
    [X] A Fine Gambeson
    [X] Diplomatic Approach

    We have the Daughter of Numenor bonus, and it is the most benefitial option when it comes to getting the help we need.
     
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