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Westernesse: A Númenórean Colony Quest

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I mean, it would fit the modus operandi of an early prototype of a ring of power if we take the elven ones as being the first made, as they seem to have been, since its power of preservation would explain why Tharbad is still standing and operational...
 
phil03 said:
I mean, it would fit the modus operandi of an early prototype of a ring of power if we take the elven ones as being the first made, as they seem to have been, since its power of preservation would explain why Tharbad is still standing and operational...
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It's crumbling to pieces, man. The only reason the place is still standing is because the Middle Men were "mastered". If it's a ring of power, it's not one of the Elven ring line
 
Chief18753 said:
It's crumbling to pieces, man. The only reason the place is still standing is because the Middle Men were "mastered". If it's a ring of power, it's not one of the Elven ring line
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Yes, because it is a lesser ring, not the real deal. It can go some way, hence why it is still more or less in one piece after centuries of no longer being in contact with Numenor, but it can only do so much and it cannot sustain Tharbad as it was eternally. Either it will crumble or it will turn into some kind of local politie with the cultural differences coming with it.
 
It should be noted that Hazrabân wasn't the only individual wearing a golden ring in that update. Assuming anyone with jewelry is secretly working for the Enemy is a small step from crippling paranoia.
 
Its a Lord of the Rings quest. I figure its probably best to assume that any ring actually mentioned in text is magical until proven otherwise. It doesn't mean that they are necessarily evil though.
 
Really excellent to see that this has returned!

Took me some time to catch up, but it's been an exciting read. The antagonism between the Men of Brun Gledd and Tharbad is surprising, although in retrospect not shocking, and it presents an interesting dilemma. Rather than going "[X] Diplomance Everyone" as is so often the case in Quests, it looks like we will be forced to do some actual diplomacy, having to mediate between people with serious past grievances and different versions of events. Potentially we may even be forced to back a side, which would be unfortunate.

The discussion about whether Hazrabân is under the influence of a Lesser Ring is interesting. It's certainly possible; he's in exactly the right part of the world and time period to have stumbled across one of the minor rings in some ruins somewhere, or possibly even been covertly given one by a Servant of the Enemy. It's also entirely possible that it's just a normal gold ring.

On a more deeper level, though, I think that what we are seeing here is definitely the work of the Enemy. I speak not of something so fantastic as Sauron's magic rings, but of a deeper and more profound evil. This is a part from the ending of the Silmarillion which always stuck with me:

But Morgoth himself the Valar thrust through the Door of Night beyond the Walls of the World, into the Timeless Void; and a guard is set for ever on those walls, and Eärendil keeps watch upon the ramparts of the sky.

Yet the lies that Melkor, the mighty and accursed, Morgoth Bauglir, the Power of Terror and of Hate, sowed in the hearts of Elves and Men are a seed that does not die and cannot be destroyed; and ever and anon it sprouts anew, and will bear dark fruit even unto the latest days.
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Let's look at what we know already here.

The Baradhrim believe that some of the other local Middle Men tribes attacked them out of avarice and ignorance, possibly even working for the enemy. (With a certain amount of prideful arrogance that obviously, it is only natural for the locals to gratefully accept their "protection".) The Men of Brun Gledd believe they are fighting a desperate battle to save their land and their freedom from a cruel tyrant. Both hate and distrust the other. Both believe they have no alternative but to meet the other with deadly steel. Violence has begat violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already bereft of stars.

This is the classic modus operandi of the Enemy.

Turn brother against brother. Turn the Free Peoples of Middle Earth against one another, so that the Men of Númenór begin to distrust and hate the Elves, the Elves begin to scorn Men, Dwarves begin to distrust both, and so on. Where misunderstandings exist, amplify them until they become hatred and fear. Where strife and discord occurs, multiply them until they become bloodshed. This curse has marred the fates of all peoples since the first Kinslaying, the terrible oath of the Sons of Feanor, the betrayal by Bór and Ulfang, the imperialism and slow moral corruption of Númenór that even now is waxing over the world, and every petty act of mistrust or deceit.

It may be the case that the Enemy or one of his many agents is literally twisting words, hearts, and minds here, to further sow hatred and distrust. Turning the Middle Men against the Númenóreans is one of Sauron's favourite deceits, because he hates all Men (especially the descendants of the Edain), and watching his enemies murder one another is one of his greatest joys. But it is far more likely that this is just the result of very human ambition, mistrust, pride, and fear doing their work. In these things, Morgoth is still alive, and Men keep him alive in every generation by deceit and hatred, by avarice for land and gold, and through the will to power over other Men.

That is the true Enemy we face. That is Morgoth's ring, which encircles the whole of the world, and cannot be unmade.
 
Admiral Skippy said:
That is the true Enemy we face. That is Morgoth's ring, which encircles the whole of the world, and cannot be unmade.
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Well, we certainly can't.
Maybe if we just make Eru grumpy enough though... :V.
Jokes aside, this is a good point, and one I hadn't particularly considered. Nevertheless, though, there are a few hard facts that might clarify this:
i: The identity and motives of those that assaulted Tharbad.
ii: The identity and motives of those currently enslaving/assaulting the Men of Brun Gledd.
If both of these groups were, in fact, Men under the influence of the Shadow (well, more than the usual Numenorean or man of Brun Gledd, anyway), then excellent! Proof of that would be a big step in forging peace between these two groups and against the Dark Lord.
If, however, either of those groups had a hand in either of these events, then there's a legitimate grievance on our hand that we may well have to make some difficult decisions on.
For my part, I'd be somewhat surprised if typical Numenorean arrogance/colonialism hadn't done some very nasty things around here, and I wouldn't be shocked to know that some ancestors of the Middle Men certainly did attempt to take Tharbad.
 
Strange9 said:
For my part, I'd be somewhat surprised if typical Numenorean arrogance/colonialism hadn't done some very nasty things around here, and I wouldn't be shocked to know that some ancestors of the Middle Men certainly did attempt to take Tharbad.
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Personally, I think it's almost certain that there's a kernel of truth to both sides' stories here, because they match up too well for it to be otherwise. There was almost certainly a violent conflict, some kind of power struggle for influence over the surrounding tribes and the region. Those tensions may have been deliberately stoked by agents of the Enemy, possibly, but it's also entirely likely that it's just human mistrust and strife at work - the seed that forever sprouts anew to bear more terrible fruit.

Hopefully, if we play our cards right and maintain our moral authority, we can attempt to thread the needle here. The two joint motivators behind this conflict, I think, are fear mixed with a certain amount of ambition, as is so often the case. With a bit of luck, I think we might be able to assuage both to a certain extent, because we can quite truthfully and credibly say that all we want is peace and trade.

The men of Brun Gledd are terrified of having their influence shrunk down to nothing by terrifying seven feet tall supermen, and eventually being made serfs in their own lands. The men of Tharbad are strategically threatened because they are an outnumbered island in a sea of potential foes, and have reacted by proactively trying to make allies and clients of all the surrounding Middle Men. Both of them want to exert their own sphere of influence, and both feel threatened that the other will impact on that sphere of influence. Right now, Tharbad is clearly winning, but it's clear from talking to Hazrabân that they fear being surrounded and sieged out - it's why they want to repair their walls.

We have the potential to act as something of an honest broker here, and defuse the situation. The men of Brun Gledd, by allying with us, gain a powerful partner who can secure their independence against Tharbad. Tharbad, by no longer being alone and having their walls repaired, suddenly will feel less threatened. Both of them, if they are feeling a little safer, a bit less like the knife may be at their throats any minute, may look less towards war and more towards trade. They don't have to love each other, not any time soon, but with us around, perhaps they won't need to be so afraid of one another.

Or at least, that's what I hope, but we'll have to wait for the next update and see what else is revealed.
 
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VII: Kings of Sea and Stone
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Plan Say no to Oligarchies - opportunities edition
    -[x] Men of the West
    -[x] Hall of Speakers
    -[x] Encourage Immigration From The Eastern Colonies:
    -[x] Begin Construction Project
    -[x] Forge Arms
    -[x] Watch the Mountains
    -[x] The War of the Blacklocks and the Longbeards
    --[x] Send an envoy to Durin's Folk (requires hero)
    -- [X] Ûrîphêl
    --[x] Send an envoy to the Blacklocks (requires hero)
    -- [X] Inzilbeth
    -[x] The Tyrant in the Tower
    --[X] Alternate: Do not visit the Middle-Men, but travel to Tharbad instead to question them on the Middle-Men's claims. (Requires Imrazor)
    -[x]Investigate the Branded Orcs
    -[x] Invite Survey
    -[x]The Orc Hunter

    The City-Under-The-Stars


    At the mouth of the black river Angren, on the shores of the Belegaer, lies the Númenórean colony known as Târ Nîlon. Founded by Imrazôr the Shaper in the eighteenth year of the reign of Ar-Belzagar the Conqueror, it stands as Númenór's premier outpost in the middle lands of the continent, straddling the wide land between the great wilderness of Minhiriath and the eastern sprawl of Rhovanion. Though small and newly-founded, the city burns star-bright in the shadow of the Misty Mountains, a dim glimmer of the glory which is Númenór.

    Population

    The city's population is diverse, drawing from across the vast breadth of Númenór. The greatest bulk of the initial colonists hail from Andustar, in Númenór's west, bold Faithful stout of heart and strong of spirit who have settled along the spine of the Angren, near the running waters of the black river. Large numbers of Romennans, born seamen, have settled along the shores of the Angren, where they may gaze out across the sea. An enclave of Hyarrostari, the small and shrewd men of Númenór's south, have settled on the outskirts of the city, helping to tame the thick woods around the river. Scattered among these are a number of Forrostari, stout workers hard of body who have thrown their backs into the development of the city proper. A handful of Mittalmari round out the colony, hardworking King's Men whose experience tilling the soil has proven valuable in the colony's early days. All together, these number some one thousand, five hundred and forty-one.

    The colony is little over a year old, and some disputes have begun to emerge among them, though no clear factions have formed. The colony is politically organized into divisions of a few hundred each, each of which is represented by an elected Speaker who informs the Sea-Lord of the views of his constituents. There are currently 7 Speakers.
    Military

    The 'army' of the colony is small, but growing daily, and consists currently of several dozen repurposed seamen and ex-soldiers who ply the river in small, swift boats. Aside from this marine infantry force, you estimate that some seven-hundred people could be raised to the colony's defense in an emergency, roughly organized and semi-trained, many of whom are equipped with weapons of brittle bog iron. There exists also a small scout force of Rangers, lightly armored scouts equipped with bows who number some thirty-odd men and women.

    Your fleet consists of the fourteen ships which carried your people and supplies here, though they are not built for combat, and of Inzilbeth's pride and joy, the Pillar of Heaven. A fully crewed Númenórean warship with bristling masts and a gleaming hull, the Pillar is more than a fair match for any other ship upon the seas.
    Guild Influence


    The Guild of Shapers have the greatest influence over the city at the moment, providing most of your backing and resources. They have poured a great deal into this venture, and stand to lose much should it fail.

    The Guild of Venturers has little direct influence over the colony currently, though the foundation of a colony by the Shapers has greatly angered them towards you, causing them to place an embargo on all Guild dealings with your colony, harming your trading potential greatly. Dealings with them will be sour until you make steps towards appeasement.

    The Guild of Workers has no influence on the colony at the moment. Their power in the continent is weak, and your colony does not even have a large enough workforce to currently even merit a guild representative.

    The Guild of Striders has no influence on the colony at the moment. There are mercenary companies and exploratory groups across the continent, and they trust you will have need of their services sooner rather than later. The Nardū̆ are patient.

    The Pharazarim have no influence over the colony at the moment. There is no wealth to be found here just yet.
    Heroes

    Imrazôr, the Sea-Lord of Târ Nîlon

    Yourself. A distant descendant of the royal line of the Kings, you are a studied Shaper and a skilled loremaster, an expert in many arts. You are counted among the Wise, a master of old songs and secret words, studied in the deep secrets of the world and the old songs of the elves. The colony is yours, and by this right you are not only a master Shaper, but a Sea-Lord of Númenór, a lord of cave and cove and shore.
    Ûrîphêl, Lady Shaper

    A brilliant, cold, and ambitious Lady Shaper, Ûrîphêl is one of the greatest students the Houses of Learning have ever produced, and the youngest Lord Shaper in the history of the Guild. Despite all this, she abandoned a prestigious career and a life of luxury in Armenelos to accompany you on this colonial venture, for reasons as yet unknown to you. She brings with her her household, her retinue, and her own unmatched mind. Inscrutable to say the least, she is an enigma even to those close to her.
    Inzilbeth, the Seastrider

    Inzilbeth, called the Seastrider, is the famed captain of the Pillar of Heaven, who for years served as a renowned warrior in the fleets of Númenór, and afterwards continued to serve the Blessed Isle as an explorer and a venturer. She has seen the furthest corners of the world, and has earned herself a legendary reputation among the mortal men of the continent, whose grandfathers' fathers have for generations passed down awestruck tales of the Pillar of Heaven and it's captain. One of the most accomplished mariners to ever grace the western seas, she has joined your decidedly land-bound venture out of obligation for your old friendship.
    Barazîr, the First-Ranger

    Barazîr, captain of the Rangers of the City and foremost among your hunters, is an odd man to define. He is short of stature and dark of hair, speaking little with others and preferring instead to spend his days in the wild far from friends or companionship. The only time his icy heart stirs, it seems, is when the hunt begins. He has strange old eyes, and it is said among his followers that he fears neither death or doom, and laughs --harsh and terrible, like the baying of the hounds-- only when the hunt is on.

    The Realms of Middle-Earth

    Numenor is mightiest among the powers of the world in the Second Age, but they are not alone among the realms of Middle-Earth. The Elves and the Dwarves survive and persist still, in their golden forests and their iron halls. Here are listed those who would claim to be peers of the Blessed Isle:
    • Lorinand: The Land of the elven King Amdir, and his son Amroth. Beneath these golden eaves are gathered many of the Sindarin Elves, but also many of their cousins, the Noldorin Elves who survived the war with Sauron in the early Second Age, and so hold much of the knowledge and power of the dwindling Elven Race. The warriors of Lorinand, known as the Amdirim, are matchless in war.
    • Edhellond and Dor-en-Ernil: In the lands between the Anduin and the Gwathlo have settled a great host of Silvan Elves, the wood-elves of bough and birch, at mighty city called Edhellond, the Elf-Dwelling, ruled by the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. Their settlement on the shores of Belfalas coexists with a settlement of Numenoreans called Dor-en-Ernil, and it's inhabitants are elf-friends who share land and love alike with the elves.
    • The Woodland Realm: Beneath the eaves of the mighty northern forest of Greenwood dwells Oropher the Elvenking, and his people, the Sindarin elves. Reclusive, isolated, and powerful, the Sindarin Elves dwell in relative peace in their sprawling northern forest, and deal little with Men or other Elves.
      Brun Gledd: A place of dwelling of the Middle-Men of Enedwaith. Built into a warren of caves in a hillside some miles north of the Isen, this eminently defensible location is, it's residents claim, the last free town of the Enedwaithrim.
    • The Kingdom of Lindon: Known as Ossiriand in Elder Days, the land now called Lindon once stood upon the eastern borders of the continent of Beleriand, which is now lost beneath the waves. Here, the last of the High Elves of Elder Days, the Noldor who once brought ruin and fire upon the world, are gathered under the rule of their High King, Gil-Galad.
    • Khazad-Dum, the Dwarrowdelf: Beneath the Misty Mountains in the heart of Middle-Earth, the Longbeard Dwarves have tunneled a vast and mighty kingdom under the stone. Richer and more beautiful still than even the spires of Armenelos in Numenor is the Dwarrowdelf of Durin's Folk, greatest of all the mansions of the dwarves, that few men living have ever seen.
    • Rivendell, the Last Homely House: In the north of Minhiriath lies a mighty mansion fair and great in the wild, a place of learning and brotherhood unlike any in the world still. This is Rivendell, the Last Homely House, where dwells the Elf-Lord Elrond Halfelven and his people.
    • Mordor: In the east of Middle-Earth lies the Dark Land, Mordor, ruled by a spirit of horror and terror out of elder days: Sauron, the Dark Lord, called also the Enemy. In centuries gone by, he tricked the elves of Eregion into forging the Rings of Power, and created the One Ring to rule them all. Numenor is at constant war with his vast armies of orcs, trolls, and enslaved Men, led by his terrible and dreadful servants, the mysterious spirits called by Men the Nazgul, or the Nine. His armies are vast and mighty, and though Numenor has grown to become a match for him, the Dark Lord is yet a force to be reckoned with.
      Gundabad: Once called the Mountain of the Dwarves, Gundabad was among the most revered sites of all the dwarven race. A thousand years ago, it fell under the Shadow. Orcs rule there now, goblin-princes and uruk-kings who dwell in the defiled halls of stone and tunnel their vast empires in the dark under the world. A place of filth and ruin it has become, blackest of all the mountains of the world -- save that one which lies in Mordor. A power has arisen there now, a Master with dominion over the squabbling orcs, a Power whose hand might soon stretch out over all the west. Gundabad stirs.
    Telamon rolls 1d100+20 (Wise) = (82 + 20) 102 #Perception
    Telamon rolls 1d100+15 (Near The Elves) -20 (Not Elf-Friends) = (65+15-20) = 60 #Immigration
    Telamon rolls 1d6 = 3 #ImmigrationDuration
    Telamon rolls 6d20 -40 (Insufficient Infrastructure) = (9+5+12+19+11+6-40)=22 #ImmigrationSize
    Telamon rolls 1d100+20 (Wise) = 92 #BrandedOrcs
    Telamon rolls 1d20+3 (Wise) = 23 #OrcHunter

    Inzilbeth rode far north. The woods fell away, and the river swung to the east, and the earth rose up from fair plains to high hills and down again ere the Misty Mountains rose white and cold on the horizon, snow-capped spines stabbing at the sky. There she found encamped in the foothills of the mountains the strange dwarven army, those who called themselves the Folk of Vâr. They were like no dwarves she had ever seen. They all wore armor of pitch-black, with great visored helms filigreed with silver, and underneath it all thick heavy tunics of shifting silver metal. Save for a few, their faces were all obscured, and some, she saw, wore their helmets even at rest or sleep. As she arrived at their camp, she called out to the guards in a tongue of the men of the east, announcing her name and her purpose, and to her surprise, they replied in Adunaic, the tongue of Westernesse.

    "I thought your people knew not the speech of the West?", she questioned them.

    "We did not, when first we met your kind," answered one of the guards. "We have since learned."

    With that strange statement, they led her silently through a maze of dark tents to a wide-open grassy field where many of the dark-armored dwarves sat eating and talking in the khuzdul-speech. Even here, they still wore the great helms, only lifting them up as needed to pass food under the grilled visors. They led her through the mess-field to a great table that stood apart from the others, and where a single dwarf sat and ate alone. Only then did the dwarf-guard speak again, his voice a growl.

    "You are before Vâr."

    Their leader wore armor black as boiled pitch that caught the light strangely and shone at odd angles. Great runes were carved on it in the khuzdul-script of the dwarves, hard glossy black letters that seemed to move in the light of their own accord. Completing it all was a great visored helm with a golden crest, embossed with silver and gold, beneath which nothing could be seen of the wearer's face save two dark eyes glinting behind the grille. A strong-looking axe hung from the dwarf's hip, a large black thing with a head of wicked steel.

    "I am Vâr," the dwarf-lord boomed. "Daughter of Vâr, son of Vâr, son of Vâr, who was a grandson of Vâr who was wronged. Name yourself, envoy."

    Inzilbeth bowed. " I am Inzilbeth, Círhael's heir and Abrazân's daughter. Hail, my lady."

    She paused a moment, choosing her words carefully. "I had heard it said that your people showed their women but rarely, and that almost never do they go garbed for war, or crowned in the halls of stone. In fact, it is recorded there were no queens among the dwarves."

    Vâr daughter of Vâr did not stir, but the eyes under the black visor gleamed. "Vâr's Folk do not enjoy the luxuries of the Longbeards, nor may we until Vâr's bones sit right in stone. We are dressed forever for war, and all of us who can bear arms from the day they may walk."

    "And you have heard it said right, Númenórean. There are no queens among the Dwarves. Vâr's folk knew no king but Vâr, who is dead. Sit, and tell me why you have come. Did we not tell the other all he needed to know?"

    Inzilbeth eyed the rune-carved table where the chieftain reclined. It was large, for a table of the dwarves, and she had certainly had more unpleasant seats in her long life, but the tall woman did not relish the prospect of bending her knees quite that far.

    "I prefer to stand, my lady."

    "Suit yourself. Now speak what you must."

    "I am an envoy from a newly-founded city of my people, far to the south of here where the river spills into the sea. We are new-arrived to these lands, and seek to make all who are strangers known to us."

    "We are strangers to these lands ourselves," the dwarf-chief noted. "So it is curiosity that drives you hither, then?"

    "To a point. We seek to know all that we can of the doings and dealings of Middle-Earth and it's folk, and strangers or no, you are counted among that number. And besides -- what finer friends could two strangers have in strange lands besides one another?""

    The Dwarf-lady chuckled at that. "So you would be a friend to Vâr's folk, then?"

    "Perhaps. My lord merely wishes to have the measure of you. I myself must admit to some special curiosity, however. I have sailed the world from the ice-plains of the Helcaraxe to those burnt lands where the tide steams at the rising of the sun. I have heard in my travels tales of those black-armored dwarves who live under the sun. It is said you are a curious folk who do not live under the mountains, who have axes of cold steel, who go here and there a-wandering, for-ever masterless and inscrutable. Such things and stranger yet I have heard spoken in the sunless halls of Haben-Harâth, and darker deeds as well."

    The dwarf-chief leaned back in her chair, appraising Inzilbeth as if truly looking at her for the first time.

    "Men say many things of Vâr's folk, few of them true. It is true we do not live under the stone, but we have had in our time many masters. Indeed, in the great wars of the east we have had too many masters to count, each richer than the last. Feared were the axes of the Blacklocks on the plains of Zagan-När, and death was upon our foes at the heights of Baralad. It pleases me to know that in distant Haben-Harâth the pale men bemoan still the name of Vâr. We have wandered far and wide in our days -- as, it seems, you have."

    Inzilbeth tilted her head in recognition. "It is said more graves grow on the plains of Zagan-När than stalks of grass."

    A somber chuckle rang from the black helm. "And not a single one of them our own. Great indeed is our asking-price, but few indeed who have looked bitterly upon paying it."

    "And which master, my lady Vâr, do your people now serve?"

    The black helm shook as the head beneath moved in laughter. "None, save ourselves. No coin has sent us hither, and no amount could now persuade us to return, for the prize that draws us nigh outweighs all the gold in all the vaults of all the kings of the world. What think you of that, far-traveller?"

    Before Inzilbeth could make response, the Dwarf-chief slapped the table with a single gauntleted hand. "I have decided," she declared, "That I like you. Better than the last one, at least. Not many make the journey to the sunless halls and return -- and fewer yet who are not of the Unharim. There is a spine in you, at least. Speak whatever question you will, and I shall answer as I can."

    Inzilbeth smiles. "You honor me with praise, my lady. I would know one thing only: tell me of your people -- why you walk so armored, and what this oath is that you have sworn that binds you so."

    For a few moments, Vâr did not speak. Inzilbeth felt a shiver of unease in her bones, and then, looking around, she realized why. The black-helmed dwarves had fallen quiet, and every head in the place was swiveled towards the spot where she stood. An eerie silence lay over the whole great host.

    "It began with the mountain. Gundabad." Vâr's voice was low and somber, like a drum in the dark, and the uneasy silence of the dwarves was amplified rather than broken by the somber voice of their chieftain.

    "It lies in the North, beyond the Misty Mountains, near the crown of the world. It was where Durin woke and walked alone, first of our kind to stir from sleep when the world was new. For this the mountain was held sacred, even among those Houses who were no friends to Durin's Folk afterward. In years of strife, the chieftains of the seven kindreds would gather atop the peak, for all held it hallow, and no steel was ever drawn when they met there in peace."

    "The mountain lay for centuries unmarred...until those days when Mordor came with all its power to the north. The dwarves defied that land and its master then, though it was not their fight. For that crime, their Enemy stretched out his black hand in reproach, and his servants in their endless numbers fell upon Gundabad. They overran the mountain. The orcs threw down the statues of the fathers that had been carved when the moon was young, and trampled with filth the white stones that Durin named when he walked alone. They filled the first tunnels that the dwarves ever delved, and Gundabad the great became a dwelling of orcs and goblins and fouler things still. The stone wept."

    The dwarf-chief's voice rose and fell almost like a chant, or a dirge. She had said this many times before, had heard it many times before.

    "None among the seven houses of the seven fathers could sit idle at this. None among the khazad could know that Gundabad lay in darkness and sleep right in their beds, or feel ease in their days. From east to west to north the Dwarves came together and decided as one that we would as one make war on the orcs. A thousand years ago and two hundred more again, Vâr and all his sons and the sons of their sons left their great hall under the Red Mountains and went into the north. None were spared the call -- only their wives and their children remained. There was a war then, war such as the dwarves will never know again, for never again shall all the houses bear arms for common purpose. Many sons were slain."

    As one, the great black-helmed host broke their silence and echoed her, a rumbling chant that passed through the whole army, falling as a moaning wind from a thousand lips: "Many sons were slain!"

    The silence swept in like a dark wave afterwards. Vâr did not speak again for a long time.

    "And then?" Inzilbeth ventured.

    The black visor gleams coldly, and the dark voice rasps out again. "Vâr did not come back. Nor his son. Nor the son of his son, or any of the host who followed him. Gundabad lies still in shadow. Their flesh is dust in the orc-halls, and their axes lie dull in the dark. Their bones are not right."

    Another echo, this time a keening wail that rose into the sky, accusing and bitter, from a thousand black visors: "Their bones are not right!"

    "News did not return east to to those they had left behind for many years. But when Vâr's mother heard the terrible fate of her son, she tore her beard and beat her breast and wept. And when she had no tears left to her she took up her son's axe, and swore she would see his bones laid aright in stone, ere she ever dwelt again beneath the earth. And Vâr's wife swore with her, and his daughters too, and all Vâr's folk who still drew breath."

    "But my lady," Inzilbeth pressed. "You have not told the whole of the tale. What was the fate of Vâr?"

    "Of that I cannot speak, not til his bones are right. But know this: Vâr wore on his finger when he went west a mighty ring, a gift given to honor him in older days, which brought good fortunes untold to it's wearer. That selfsame ring burns now on the hand of Durin's heir. It shall be ours again."

    A final echo, this one a roar from a thousand throats, like the bellowing of a dragon: "It shall be ours again!"

    Diplomacy Option Unlocked!
    The Blacklocks:     You have struck up a certain rapport with Vâr (sixth of that name), chieftain of the Blacklock Dwarves. Her and her people, an odd clan of dwarves out of the deep east, make war on Khazad-Dum for an ancient wrong done to their forefather. Though somber and wary of strangers, she has not turned away the idea of Númenórean aid. Inzilbeth has reported that the Blacklocks have struggled to find a secure source of food in this corner of Middle-Earth, resorting to buying what they can from villages of Middle-Men they pass. Procuring them a surefire source of supplies would go a long way to winning their trust.

    Over a thousand years ago, the doors of Khazad-Dum were shut. The Doors of Durin, the western doors to the dwarf-realm, which had once stood open to all friends of the dwarves, were sealed. To reach the East-Gate, more properly called the Great-Gate and the Dimrill Gate, one would have to travel through the mountains themselves, by the treacherous path known as the Redhorn Pass, or otherwise ride the long way around the mountains, through the land of Calenhardon and the elvish realm of Lorien.

    Either route was risky and uncertain, and would by necessity pass through ways and lands long unmapped by Númenóreans. Furthermore, it was well known that the Great Gates too were sealed, and written with warnings and curses for all who came nigh without a summon from the lord of Khazad-Dum. Durin's Folk took no visitors.

    Risk and uncertainty were not factors that Ûrîphêl favored -- and she had no desire either to traipse through snow and ice, nor to go cavorting pointlessly through elven lands. When Inzilbeth rode off to visit her faction of the dwarves, Ûrîphêl followed in her own turn, but did not swing north towards the mountains or east towards the Gap of Calenhardon. Instead, she headed for the wide and wild lands once known as Eregion.

    There, she traveled for several days between the scattered villages of the Middle-Men, questioning them tersely in their own tongue. She, had, after all, recalled clearly from her studies in the Houses of Learning that the Dwarf-Kingdoms of old Beleriand did not produce most of their own food -- for how could one grow grain in halls of stone? -- but rather traded for supplies with the men living outside their mountain-homes.

    Unless something drastic had changed in two thousand years, the dwarves, she surmised, still needed to eat.

    So she questioned and cajoled and, on a few occasions, terrified -- which was more than easy enough. Her eyes shone like cold blue diamonds, and her hair was like that terrible fire which had been spun from the forges of Aule when the world was new-made. The Middle-Men trembled and boggled to see her in her sternness, and when she turned her eyes in that royal and piercing manner that had once made men hundreds of years old lower their eyes in shame, they could not help but tell her what she wished to know. There were, as she had suspected, secret ways in and out of the mountain-kingdom. Men knew them not, but every few fortnights dwarves would come out of the mountain-stone as if by magic, would trade in certain villages for grain and fresh foods, and then vanish into the rocks as suddenly as they had come.

    The next time the dwarf-traders issued from their secret passages and made their way to the towns of the Middle-Men for the monthly market, Ûrîphêl was waiting for them. The coldness in her eyes was as unnerving to them as it had been to the Middle-Men, and when she proclaimed herself an envoy from the King of Númenór over the sea, they blanched and bowed and bid her wait. She stood awhile waiting amid the longhouses and hovels of the Middle-Men, and perhaps an hour later, the dwarf-lord came.

    He was stout and ruddy-faced, with a high nose and a bright red beard bound all in brass bells that fell to his waist and jangled as he moved. A thick circlet of iron sat about his head, though it fitted him ill. He whistled as he walked.

    "Ullo there," he started in slow, halting Adunaic. "I'm Froin. Captain of the Gate."

    She pulled herself up to her great height. "Hail, dwarf. I am Ûrîphêl, Razanaur's daughter and Núnadië's child. I come over the western seas in the name of Tar-Calmacil the King, and my voice is the voice of the Land of the Star."

    The Dwarf whistled appreciatively. "Well...as I said, I'm Froin."

    Ûrîphêl glowered down at him and set her eyes with imperious steel. He did not seem to notice.

    "Captain of the Gate," he pitched in helpfully, as if she had maybe forgotten. "And my voice is none but Froin's. The traders said there was one of the tall folk making noise outside the gate, and now I'm here. What d'you want?"

    "I would break words with your king."

    "Well then, I'm afraid you've come a long way for nothing. The gates are shut. And 'tis not my place to speak for the King, but I dare imagine that Durin's heir does not oft running for every Man who knocks at his door."

    Ûrîphêl frowned. This was growing frustrating. "I come on behalf of Númenór, and the King of the Men of the West."

    Froin glanced about pointedly, the bells on his beard jangling. "I do not see a king anywhere, do you? And since you are not your king, and I am not mine, what say you tell me what you came to ask, and I shall see if it's worth his time."

    Ûrîphêl had had enough. Her mouth was a thin line of impatience. "I am the second-born of Razanaur the Golden, who was Lord of Orrostar in a line unmingled from Tazayâr the First, who was a Prince of the Star and himself the blood of Elros Tar-Minyatur. I am a Lord Shaper and a holder of one of the seventeen Rods of Making, and I am counted thus among the Zimrailai. I come in the name of the Lords of the West. I am worth your time, dwarf."

    "And I," the dwarf repeated slowly and with patience, as if to a child, "am Froin. Ori's son, if you wish, though he was a coppersmith and bit of a fool. I am Captain of the Gate. And the Gate is shut. None may pass, and certainly not you, unless you speak your business."

    Ûrîphêl stared for a long moment, her jaw tight as a spring. Froin son of Ori whistled a light tune.

    "Very well then," Ûrîphêl failed not to hiss. "I am come to bear word from our new colony on the shores of the Angren. We wish to open communications with Durin's Folk, and to seek, if it is possible, a friendship with the Dwarrowdelf and it's king."

    Froin smiled and clapped his hands. "Now, was that so difficult? I'm afraid, though, that won't be possible. The king takes no visitors without invite, and he parlays not with those who are no friends of Khazad-Dum."

    Ah. Now there we go. Ûrîphêl smiled -- a problem. She could handle a problem. "And how might one make friends of Khazad-Dum?"

    "Many have tried to answer that question while I held the gate, and far and few are those who succeeded. I wish you luck at it. The gate will remain shut until you find an answer."

    She clicked her tongue as she often did when her mind was at a task. "Perhaps we could offer you aid? Weapons? Arms? Supplies?"

    The dwarf raised a bushy eyebrow. "Whatever for?"

    "Why, your war, of course."

    "War? I fear Razanaur's daughter has been ill-informed. There is no war in Khazad-Dum."

    "Come now. Armies in black march about the mountains. The land is torn with signs of battle. All can see plainly that war is come to Khazad-Dum."

    Froin snorted. "Oh, you mean our unwelcome visitors. Nay, that affair is no war, and they know it well as we. They beat at our walls above and below, but they have not the numbers or the means to overcome them. The Gate-Guard alone holds them at bay. It is well-fought, I will give them that -- and honor on the folk of Vâr that even their daughters are so fierce -- but it is no war by the reckoning of the Longbeards."

    Ûrîphêl narrowed her eyes. "There are scars on the mountains. The earth is rent up for many leagues, and fires smoke under the earth. And you tell me that the invaders have not stepped a foot into Khazad-Dum? That all of this is -- what, them beating upon your doors?"

    Froin son of Ori, Captain of the Gate of Khazad-Dum, rolled his shoulders. The bells on his bright beard danced in the sun. Something proud glinted in the stone-grey eyes.

    "Do not mistake me," he growled,"The Blacklocks are fearsome indeed. Were we elves, or tall men out of the sea who put our strength in ships and wooden things, we might perhaps tremble and wail to see them at our door, and gird all our kin for battle. But our doors are of dwarf-make, and their stones were laid by Durin's hand. The sun itself might fall from the sky before the first of the walls of Khazad-dum fell. There is no power above the earth that could bring them down. The West-wall holds. The Gate is shut. None may pass who are not friends."

    Ûrîphêl wondered for a moment on the violent things she had seen in the Houses of Learning and smiled a soft and mirthless smile. Nothing above the earth, indeed. The dwarves, buried these long centuries in their halls of stone, did not --nay, could not-- imagine the powers which the Land of the Star could now bring to bear, power that might give even Durin pause.

    But she did not say this, and instead tilted her head perhaps a centimeter -- for her, a sign of humility. "Great indeed are the defenses of your realm, master dwarf. Is there however nothing we might ply you with to begin winning the friendship of your people? "

    Froin fingered his belled beard again. "Well-llll. The merchants have been mighty sore of late. Many of the towns in these parts have had less and less to trade these past years -- near half of what they make is sent downriver to some new lord of theirs. They must roam further and further. It is no matter to the city herself, as the traders out of the east-gate gather more than needed from the elves and travelers down the Great River. But on our side of the mountain the Guard have had to tighten our belts a few winters, it is true. We could use something to fill our bellies. And..."

    The Dwarf thought a moment on what he was about to say, then shrugged. "Perhaps it is my old age, but I remember the men of these parts being fatter in my youth, and greater in number. It is a painful tribute indeed that this lord wrings from them, I suspect, and were I younger and bolder, I might march down the river and have words with him myself. But alas, I am the Captain of the Gate. I cannot forsake the post, even for mercy's sake."

    Ûrîphêl grimaced. The dwarf could be speaking of none but the halfbreeds of Tharbad. Perhaps they were not so innocent as they pretended -- no tribute came from Tharbad to the King, and none had been ordered. Still, she would not speak ill of Numenoreans (no matter how thin the blood) to a dwarf. Especially not one so insolent.

    She bent her head a sliver once more. "Your words are noted. Thank you for the audience, Master Froin."

    The dwarf-lord bowed stiffly, then turned and walked away, whistling in time to the jingling of his beard.

    Diplomatic Opportunity Unlocked
    The Doors of the Dwarves:     As they have been for ten centuries, the Doors of Durin are sealed. None may enter the Dwarrowdelf. The westward gate of Khazad-Dum is shut. But it is guarded. You have made the acquaintance of that guard: Froin, Captain of the Gate, Lord of the Western Wall, who with his Gate-Guard holds back all foes of Durin's Folk. He denies entrance or words with the king to all who are not proven friends of the Dwarves. He has suggested you could begin to earn this friendship by filling the bellies of his Guard, or by some means easing the hardships of the men living in Eregion, of whom he has grown fond.

    You ride out from Târ Nîlon along the now-familiar northwest path to Tharbad. You cross over plain and fen and dell, and quick is your time, for in perhaps two days you are come to the rushing river Gwathlo, called the Greyflood in the mannish tongues, and to the tower which stands black upon the ford. With your own eyes you see the burgeoning industry of the Baradhrim, their mills churning and their fisheries grinding. Tharbad grows and stretches outward with every passing day, and greater and greater seems it's need. Wooden ships come paddling down the river, packed high with dark black bags of grain, and you wonder briefly at their source, for the news from the mouth of Froin has reached your ears.

    Through the town you go, the eyes of the Baradhrim upon you, and past the crumbled walls and up the high tower over the river running. There the Lord of the Tower waits for you, as tall and fair of eye as Inzilbeth reported. His armor gleams golden, and his face is bright as he bows before you in the ancient greeting of the Men of West. He names himself and his parents, and you do the same in turn, and then the two of you straighten.

    "Hail, Sea-Lord. You pay us great favor with your presence. The garrison is heartened indeed to recieve two such noble visitors in so short a time."

    "The honor is mine, to come as guest to such a storied place. Númenór first reckoned with the Dark Lord upon these very banks, in the days when the siege lay on Imladris and all between the mountains and the sea fell under the shadow."

    Hazrabân nodded. "My father would often tell me the story. It is a noble duty that was set on our shoulders all those years ago. In their darkest hour, the elves called, and we came. We broke Zigûrun* upon the ford, and the Enemy fled horseless and friendless to his Dark Land with not even an honor-guard about him, so great were his losses at this place." The day he speaks of is nary a thousand years gone, but he smiles to speak of it as if he had seen the ancient flight of Sauron with his own eyes. "Many years have we seen since then, and many battles, but the duty that was laid on us then has not failed. The tower stands. The ford is held."

    "Long the duty, and long the service," you agree. "But was it perhaps too long?"

    Hazrabân tilts his head. "I am sorry, my Lord?"

    "I have heard reports out of the wilds. The men who dwell between the Greyflood and the Isen have much to say of Tharbad and it's master."

    An unreadable expression crosses the Warden's face. "Of that I have no doubt."

    "They claim they are hard-pressed. That their daughters are made slaves and their sons are slain. That blood and sweat and more are given in tribute to the river-tower, and that all the lands about the Greyflood know the terror of the Tall Men."

    Hazrabân's mouth turns. "So you have come not in friendship, but to peddle the whisperings and malcontents of urchins and wildlings. I had imagined a Sea-Lord to be above such things."

    "A Sea-Lord I am, and by that right I query as to the suffering of my neighbors."

    "Your neighbors?" Hazrabân sounds half incredulous.

    "Aye, my neighbors, as we were neighbors to the elves in Elder Days, when we too were urchins and wildlings, and lived in fear of what came in the dark. What comes in the dark now for the Middle-Men, I wonder?"

    Hazrabân seems almost struck by your words. His jaw works silently for a few rigid moments, confusion dancing in his eyes. "Forgive me, my lord," he says at last. "I suppose I did not truly appreciate the...depth of your feelings on the matter from my previous audiences with your emissaries. Give me leave to voice my own telling of events."

    He heaves a long breath. Clearly, he did not expect the audience to take this turn. "There was need."

    Your mind is drawn back, for a moment, to trees whispering mouthless in darkened woods, and glinting eyes like starlight. Need.

    "A little under a century ago, in my father's day, there came a winter like none we had ever before seen. The fields died. The river froze. From the mountain to the sea was snow, and ice, and death. We were more then, but we managed. My father was foresighted. There were long, lean weeks, but we had enough to make do, and even when our stores ran thin, we were hardy enough to bear it. But the Baradhrim...they suffered. The graves outnnumbered the homes. Many were lost. Even when the thaw came, there were not enough to make the harvest. More starved. More wept. They called for aid and beat with thin hands upon the walls."

    You see where this is going, and the corner of your mouth tightens. "There was need."

    Either Hazrabân does not hear your tone, or he does not care, for he continues. "We asked at first, and they sent food. But the winter had been hard. It had hardened hearts. They did not send enough, or as much as they could. They still believed we horded great treasures in the tower. So my father sent out bands to take. It was not easy work...or rather, it was too easy. Food we took first, then cattle and lumber. But the harvests were still tight, and we needed more hands. So we took...more."

    He sees the look in your face and sneers defensively. "They did not want to leave, once they came. We gave them food and shelter and high walls -- better lives than they would ever have known, out there in the mud. My father stopped taking...well, he stopped certain forms of tribute once the harvests came in high, but it was not enough. They did not forgive, and they did not forget. Short lives they have, but longer memories. When we loosened our fist, they would come in the night to plunder and burn. So we squeezed instead."

    "And you have not stopped squeezing for a century hence."

    The Warden's voice was an icicle now. "It is better this way. The tribute feeds all who live along the river. Tharbad thrives. We could see ten winters like the one that came in my youth and not lose a soul -- the Guard grows, for the first time since my grandfather was a boy. We are not unkind, either -- we guard them from orcs and wolves and worse things yet. Who would sleep quiet in their hovels at night, what roads would simple men dare to tread, what safety would there be from the mountain to the sea, were the Númenóreans of the Tower gone to the grave?"

    "Indeed," you echo darkly. "What safety would there be?"

    Hazrabân continues. "I do what I do not for my sake, but for those in my care, and for the duty that was laid on me. You would do what what you needed for your colony, of that I cannot doubt. But you are of high birth, and the Gift was under your feet, and so you imagine you can wander in over the sea and cast aspersions upon the duty that I hold. My mother's people will not starve again -- this I swear."

    "And so you bind them in thrall instead."

    His mouth is a thin rude line now, and his fair eyes are dark. When he speaks again, frost drips from each syllable. "I apologize, my lord, for decieving your envoys before. I did not wish to answer to the King for tribute unsent -- word has reached us even here of the great tithes they pay to the crown in the southern lands, where they have bound many Men of Darkness in service, and I did not want to suffer my people such a heavy price."

    "Your people?"

    His mouth works a moment, and then he nods, and the green eyes flash bright. "Yes. Yes, my people. I am Lord of the Tower and master of the Greyflood. I have done the duty."

    "So it seems, and more besides."

    Hazrabân taps a gauntleted hand on the carved table, running a finger over the illustrations of ancient warriors cutting down orcs. "I am not foolish enough to refuse to admit that we may have overextended our remit, even for good cause. You sit upon the Isen, so then let the lands north of the Isen and south of the Gwathlo go in tribute to you and yours -- should you wish it." He speaks with the languid confidence of a man for a moment startled who has now remembered that he sits behind the mightest walls on this side of the continent, with the greatest Númenórean force for a thousand leagues.

    And yet...

    You have heard many arrogant men in your long years, and many foolish men too, and lies without count. You notice a tenseness in his voice, behind the self-righteousness and the ice. He knows more than he dares say, you gather, of the attitudes of the King and his Men. But his offhanded comment about the tribute has revealed his hand -- that is the root of the fear, you would guess. Ar-Belzagar the Conqueror does not frown on tribute, so long as the greater share of it ends in his hand. For nearly a hundred years, one could well argue, Hazrabân and his father have stolen from the crown. High are the walls of Tharbad, and sharp the spears of the Baradhrim, but here at least is a chink in the armor. The Lord of Tharbad is very, very afraid.

    He bows in the rite of farewell, though with considerably less deference than he did in greeting. "Fare thee well, Sea-Lord. Think on my offer, and for your people's sake choose well."

    Diplomatic Opportunity Unlocked!
    The Lord of the Tower:     At the close of your terse meeting, the Warden of Tharbad made you an offer: the tribute of all the lands south of the Gwathlo, which he currently holds, or claims to hold. Implicit in this offer was a desire to keep the affairs of Middle-Earth between those who rule on Middle-Earth. As is often said in the colonies of Númenór, "Êphal îdôn Yôzâyan, Êphalak îdôn ka-Bâr"-- Númenór is distant and the King is far away. You perceived something of his true heart in this discussion, and understand that you might have more leverage with the master of the ford than first believed.

    On your order, the people of the city are divided up by their places of dwelling and apportioned into groups of roughly two hundred, then given leave to select from among themselves one to speak for all of them -- a Bêthan, or a Speaker. The issues your people most desire to see dealt with are filtered through them, from land disputes to territorial claims to their feelings on the city's future. From the moment they are gathered, you find yourself more in tune with the desires of the populace. Where once you had been forced to guess or assume the wishes and wills of most folk, these Speakers present to you clearly the general moods among those for whom they stand. You will have a finger on the pulse of your city for all future decisions. (Votes will now make explicit the desires of your people.)

    As your city coalesces, you find it important to turn an eye towards future growth. You send messengers on your swiftest ships down south towards the Anduin and the cities that dot the fields of southern Middle-Earth like stars. They travel far and wide among the Faithful that Târ Nîlon seeks new colonists, spreading word of the city all along the southern shores. It will be difficult, you know, to attract many living in the south to a newly founded colony -- it is inviting them to trade the relative safety and security of the cities of the Faithful for uncertainty and hardship.

    Some weeks after you send out the messengers, a single ship returns from the South to drop off what is (you hope) merely the first in a wave of arrivals. The ship brings five families, their skins tanned by the southern sun, who speak in a lilting, airy tongue -- Sindarin, the elf-tongue of the west and the chief speech used among the cities of the Faithful, which for all other Númenóreans has been relegated to a second tongue.

    They are disheveled, and few, but they are the first new arrivals since your colony's founding, and your people welcome them with open arms. You, however, keep your eyes fixed upon the southern shore, hoping for more to come -- and maybe they will. Perhaps, you wonder, the results would be more impressive had you the means to send out more messengers, or something besides proximity to the elves alone to draw prospective dwellers.

    On this matter, you do two things: first, you send a messenger to the Shapers in Numenor, summoning their envoy forth. If they are pleased with your progress thus far, they may foist great rewards upon you, or even aid you in recruiting more colonists. (The envoy will arrive in approximately two turns. Be ready.)

    Secondly, you meet with Ûrîphêl and some of the Shapers. They have readied many plans and designs for the city, some more ambitious than others. Each of them might open up new paths for development, or close off others. (Pick one. You may pick extra if you assign a Shaper hero to a construction (sacrificing their action for as many turns as construction lasts). Construction on all projects may last between 1-4 turns, depending on choices, and may be affected by availability of materials. You have space left for FOUR projects before the city must be expanded.)

    [] Build A Shaping Hall: A domed hall of cast stone, where the Shapers may plan, gather, and study. Most every colony has one. It would allow for a greater variety of construction projects, they assure you, and allow for several projects to be worked on at once. (Grows Shaper Influence)
    [] Build A Crafting Hall:     Here, gilt is laid and diamond chiseled, here chain is wrought and beryl shaped. Here, your people might begin to make art, and finer crafts.
    [] Build A Lore-Hall: Here may be gathered and laid ancient works of lore and prized scrolls from over the sea -- the collected knowledge of a people. A library would have many benefits, and allow Research once you had enough scholars.
    [] Build A Ranging House: A place where your Rangers may rest their heads, gather supplies, and string their bows. It would allow for more extensive explorations.
    [] Build A Barracks: Not just a clearing where the swords are kept, but a building made for soldiers to sleep. A necessity in transforming the militia into a viable City Guard.
    [] Build A Granary: A large domed building for the storage of food and other supplies. Resources would necessitate it be built from wood, but it would insulate the colony against hard winters and short harvests. (2 turns)
    [] Build Proper Forges:     Great foundries of steel and iron, churning engines of fire, vast pits of molten metal. Here may be built weapons of war in vast amounts. You do not have the necessary resources. Perhaps the Shapers can help, or the Dwarves.
    [] Build A Guild-Hall:     A place where visiting Guild representatives may rest, abide, and conduct business. Almost a necessity for attracting Guild attention. (All Guilds gain influence)
    [] Build A Shipyard:     To properly utilize the Shipwright you brought with you, you begin construction on a great shipyard where vessels in the Númenórean style may be built.
    [] Build A House for the Sea-Lord: A place of dwelling for yourself and your heirs. A place to collect yourself and conduct private business, something sorely needed.
    [] Build A Charting Hall: A place for explorers and scholars of the Charting Houses to congregate. This may draw interested explorers to the city, seeking to make profit in the wilds.
    [] Erect Logging Camps
    [] Expand the Farms:     With your city more than provided for, this would begin making surplus grain which could then be sold.
    [] Expand the Stone Quarry: With your stone needs met, this would begin extracting surplus stone which could then be sold.

    When you have a few spare moments, you begin to pry into the matter of the branded orcs. Dead they may be now, but you know well that where one orc goes, many more are soon to follow. The branding suggests a greater cohesion to their actions beyond warbands and raiding parties. It smacks of loyalty, of organization, of heirarchy, of planning and command structures -- all dangerous things for orcs to have. You are wise and much-learned, but you do not speak or read the language of Mordor, and so the going is difficult. You consult with Shapers, root through old scrolls brought with you from over the sea, and puzzle through rhymes of lore. Finally, you cross-reference an oblique statement in a research paper with a testimonial of the mouth from a veteran of the southern wars, who saw the Black Speech written and spoken aloud in his youth, when he was for a time a prisoner of Mordor.

    The sigil burned upon their skulls is Burzagh -- in the mirthless tongue of the Black Land, which was devised by the Dark Lord himself and is spoken aloud by none save his servants, it means Black Mountain. This confirms what you and some of your advisors had feared, but dared not say: these were no wild orcs or stragglers of a roaming band. These were scouts, for the only permanent settlement of Orcs west of the Anduin, the greatest bastion of the shadow between the mountains and the sea:

    Gundabad.

    It sits at the crown of the Misty Mountains, a black blot upon the spine of Eriador. There, orcs beyond number or imagining dwell in the dark as they have dwelt a thousand years since the Mountain of the Dwarves fell to the Dark Lord. Whispers have filtered in from the settlements and towns of the Middle-Men, and even from far Tharbad -- the branded orcs were rare upon a time, and many believed them contained by the dwarves, who's ire has not dimmed in ten centuries. But in recent years orcs bearing the black brand have been seen further and further afield, and now it seems they have passed beyond the Ford by some secret means, and that their influence has spread from their northern stronghold across all the westlands.

    Critical Result!

    Many mutter that this can only be the work of the Enemy, but you have your doubts. If it is him, it can only be indirectly -- a thousand leagues and more lie between Mordor and Gundabad, and all the power of Pelargir and Lorien between them. All Middle-Earth is to some extent under the Shadow, but messengers of the Dark Lord still cannot travel so freely or so far in any great number. Nay, your learning and wisdom suggests to you that whatever power has begun to rally the orcs of Gundabad, it is a local evil, one perhaps in ultimate service to the Enemy but nonetheless located within the Mountain itself.

    There is little more you can learn through guesses and suppositions, however. If you wish to learn more, you will need intelligence of your own. Perhaps they may know something of Gundabad in Imladris or Khazad-Dum.

    Faction Discovered!
    Gundabad:     Once called the Mountain of the Dwarves, Mount Gundabad was among the most revered sites of all the dwarven race. A thousand years ago, it fell under the Shadow. Orcs rule there now, goblin-princes and uruk-kings who dwell in the defiled halls of stone and tunnel their vast empires in the dark under the world. A place of filth and ruin it has become, blackest of all the mountains of the world -- save that one which lies in Mordor. A power has arisen there now, a Master with dominion over the squabbling orcs, a Power whose hand might soon stretch out over all the west. Gundabad stirs.
    Defense Opportunities Unlocked:
    Scout Gundabad:     Beyond the Misty Mountains lies a mountain the dwarves mourn in their hearts. Evil stirs there now. Send rangers to scout the Mountain, and see what wakes in the north.
    Search For Signs of Gundabad: There are whispers. Shadows in the dark. Shapes in the waters. Eyes in the forests. Evil awake in the lands of men. Orcs are about all Eriador, from the wide woods of Minhiriath to the ruins of Eregion. Seek them, and uncover their vile purpose. (Takes Two Turns)

    With orcs and rumors of orcs about the land, you begin to inquire into the matter of the bold young hunter who so recently led the hunt for the branded orcs. Barazîr is his name, you learn, a man some sixty-three years old, lean and lanky with muscle, yet short for a Númenórean -- just under six feet. Dark of skin and hair with a sharp face, he seems as one born to flit through the forests sight unseen, wing-footed and wood-sure. When you question him on where he learned his skill with the bow, he shrugs simply and tells you that there are still wolves in the forests of Hyarrostar, and many are the herds of his people which need safeguarding. But still, there is something strange about him, something you cannot quite place, at least not until you look into his eyes.

    A Man may change in terrible ways over a hundred years of war, something your people have learned well. Some break, some fail, some go mad and suffer worse fates yet. Precious few last more than a century on the front lines, and it is said of these oldest veterans (who have survived horror and fear and fire for three lifetimes of lesser men), that there is a certain cold stillness to their eyes. It is known to soldiers as the Eyes of Mandos -- the grim look of one who fears neither doom nor death, but seeks only to bring them to their foes. You have seen that gaze but twice in your life: once in the eyes of a two-hundred and ninety-seven year old captain who had seen exactly a thousand battles in her day, and was readying for her thousand-and-first...

    ...and again, here and now, in the eyes of this shephard turned hunter.

    Hero Unlocked!
    Barazîr, the First-Ranger:     A small man with cold eyes and dark hair. He hunts, and he hunts well. He leads the rangers.

    One bright morning, Inzilbeth comes to you with a hungry gleam in her eye. The colony's very first harvest has just come in, and though it is not great by any measure, it is enough. Enough to fill the holds of the great ship that has for nearly a year sat basking like a titan at the mouth of the Isen. The Pillar of Heaven, she tells you with undisguised joy, may sail again. It might deprive the colony of fifty good men, (and Inzilbeth herself) for a time, but the benefits of the great ship taking to the water again are almost too many to name. The captain is willing to trade, to make friends, to explore distant horizons -- whatever you will her to do, she will, so long as she may sail upon the sea once more.

    Seafaring has been unlocked!
    Supplies     set to 2!
    Ship unlocked:
    The Pillar of Heaven:     For long centuries, the silver-hulled Pillar of Heaven has been seen upon the waves from eastern cove to northern waste. Many and famed are the voyages it has undertaken, and great the battles in which it has fought. The old ship and it's captain have set asail again, in the name of Târ Nîlon. The Ship has known many voyages in her day, and her sails yet thirst for strange winds, driving her further and further afield. Gain 1 extra Exploration turn per unit of Supplies.

    The Númenóreans are the Sea-Kings, lords of wave and cove and shore. They are mighty at many things, but they are matchless upon the sea. Possessing a harbor, a ship, and supplies capable of feeding a crew (and a captain to lead them all), you may now launch great Expeditions from Târ Nîlon. Each unit of Supplies allows a ship to visit up to three known costal locations a turn for any purpose (say, diplomacy or trade), or to embark on a Exploration to the North, South, or East for as many turns as you have supplies. A single well-stocked ship can do more in one turn than a dozen scouts and envoys on land.

    To make it very clear, the exchange rate is 1 unit of Supplies to 3 locations (anywhere on Middle-Earth connected to the sea) a turn, or 1 unit of Supplies to 1 turn of Exploration in any cardinal direction save West. Currently, you gather 1 unit of Supplies every three turns, though you may gain more through events and in-game actions (say, a particularly good harvest or a lucrative trade).

    Exploration by sea is more powerful, more risky, and almost infinitely more rewarding than by land. You can travel to far corners of the world, sail burning seas and silent oceans, and uncover terrible treasures from Ages long past. The more capable your captain, the more hardened your crew, and the sturdier your ship, greater yet are the rewards.


    Pick Eight (8) options. You may personally assign yourself, Barazîr, Ûrîphêl, and Inzilbeth each to any votes you pick, making them personal options. As you have 4 heroes, you may make four votes personal options. Specify which character you want to send on which mission in the plan vote.

    The Speakers inform you that the issues which concern the people most are making friendships with the nearby elves, learning more on Gundabad (news of which has them worried), and taking to the sea. In a general sense, they seem eager to grow and expand into new industries, and any actions taken to that end will please them.

    Many of your speakers also have suggestions for what actions you may take, should you choose to hear them out. (WRITE-IN VOTES OPEN)

    Growth:     The city begins to grow, and with it's growth come a host of issues and decisions for you to make. These may be put off until later, but absent input your people may do what they will.
    [] Begin Construction on the Harbor: Begin using your stores of Númenórean Iron to build a great harbor that will stand as a wonder of the continent. (Requires Shaper Hero, will take 10 turns/six years, whichever comes first)
    [] Establish Pastures:     Grain is well and good, but some among your smallholders have been aching to purchase sheep and goats in large numbers from the Middle-Men, that they might establish their own herds. Stake out plots of land where they may graze. (will reduce possible construction projects by one) A decent population of your people support doing this -- 3 Speakers are behind it.
    [] The Wide Woods:     The woods that ring the mouth of the Isen have already been pushed back in order to accommodate your growing colony. Push them back further yet, and gain valuable wood for sale and land on which to settle. There is another steward. He watches with bright eyes.
    [] Encourage Immigration From Home: Now that you are more than a cluster of buildings by a riverside, you may write home to encourage immigration from the Blessed Isle proper. You will need decent amenities to encourage Island-born Númenóreans to come live in the city.
    [] Encourage Immigration From The Southern Colonies: Encourage warlike southerners to make their way from the southern colonies. To entice the loyalist Southerners, you will need to be in good favor with the King's Men.
    [] Encourage Immigration From The Eastern Colonies: You encourage the wise and well-read Faithful to make their way from the eastern colonies to dwell in your city. Your proximity to the Elf-realms makes this easier, but being known as an open Elf-Friend would help matters further.
    [] Encourage Immigration From The Middle-Men: Let it be known wide and far that the doors of your city are open to any of the Men of the West who wish to dwell therin. The Middle-Men are unlearned, wild, and hold no love for Númenór, but they may still come in droves.
    [-] ????: Unlock further immigration options through gameplay.

    Defense: You are not alone in Middle-Earth, and Númenór the Blessed has many enemies. The defense of your fledgling colony is one of your foremost priorities.
    [] Expand the Militia: Enlist more volunteers to the defense of the city, should you think it necessary. A noticable population of your people support doing this -- 2 Speakers are behind it.
    [] The Artifice of War:     You have seen war in far Harad, and know something of the engines of killing and destruction, of the mighty machines your people have loosed in the southern Jungles. Some of these principles might be applied to the defense of your fledgling colony. (Requires Imrazor)
    [] Requisition Weapons:     You have few weapons or armaments at the moment, but you could request a stock of such from the Shapers...putting you more in their favor.
    [] The Eye in the Mountains: Deep inside the white mountains, servants of the Enemy wait and watch. Men, but free and fair no more. Their hearts are turned to cruel things, and their minds to wicked deeds. Drive them out. Drive them back. You do not know their number or their power, but what does it matter? You are Numenoreans, and they are not. They shall fall. A small section of your people support doing this -- 1 Speaker is behind it.
    [] Orcs:     Orcs. From end to end they scour Middle-Earth, leaving filth and ruin and woe in their wake. They are in the north and the south and the west and the east, more virulent and violent than any beast of earth or sky. They are everywhere. And now, it seems, they are here. Send scouts to pick the land apart for them. And then, hunt. (There are no orcs in Enedwaith at the moment...that you know of)
    [] Scout Gundabad:     Beyond the Misty Mountains lies a mountain the dwarves mourn in their hearts. Evil stirs there now. Send rangers to scout the Mountain, and see what wakes in the north. A sizeable population of your people support doing this -- 4 Speakers are behind it.
    [] Search For Signs of Gundabad's Influence:     There are whispers. Shadows in the dark. Shapes in the waters. Eyes in the forests. Evil awake in the lands of men. Orcs are about all Eriador, from the wide woods of Minhiriath to the ruins of Eregion. Seek them, and uncover their vile purpose. (Takes Two Turns)
    [] Defense Write-In:     One of your Speakers has a suggestion...

    Diplomacy: You are not alone in Middle-Earth. There are many realms and powers which dot the land, some more receptive than others. Making friends with even a few could ease many future worries in the days and years to come. With a harbor now built, you may send emissaries by ship, significantly reducing travel time. However, lacking supplies, they cannot travel far. One diplomatic option unlocked.
    [] The Blacklocks: You have struck up a certain rapport with Vâr (sixth of that name), chieftain of the Blacklock Dwarves. Her and her people, an odd clan of dwarves out of the deep east, make war on Khazad-Dum for an ancient wrong done to their forefather. Though somber and wary of strangers, she has not turned away the idea of Númenórean aid. Inzilbeth has reported that the Blacklocks have struggled to find a secure source of food in this corner of Middle-Earth, resorting to buying what they can from villages of Middle-Men they pass. Procuring them a surefire source of supplies would go a long way to winning their trust. (Requires 1 unit of Supplies)
    [] The Doors of the Dwarves:     As they have been for ten centuries, the Doors of Durin are sealed. None may enter the Dwarrowdelf. The westward gate of Khazad-Dum is shut. But it is guarded. You have made the acquaintance of that guard: Froin, Captain of the Gate, Lord of the Western Wall, who with his Gate-Guard holds back all foes of Durin's Folk. He denies entrance or words with the king to all who are not proven friends of the Dwarves. He has suggested you could begin to earn this friendship by filling the bellies of his Guard, or by some means easing the hardships of the men living in Eregion, of whom he has grown fond.
    -[] Give Aid to the Gate-Guard (Requires 1 unit of Supplies)
    -[] Give Aid to the Middle-Men (Requires 1 unit of Supplies) (There may be other ways to ease their hardships)
    [] The Walls of Tharbad:     Tharbad has stood a thousand years, and it's walls once repelled the forces of the dark lord at the ford of the Gwathlo. Those same walls lie now in ruin, but might be raised again given time and effort. The master of Tharbad has promised great things should his walls be restored to the glory of his fathers' time, and endless friendship besides. (Sends Shapers. All building projects delayed by one turn)
    [] The Lord of the Tower:     At the close of your terse meeting, the Warden of Tharbad made you an offer: the tribute of all the lands south of the Gwathlo, which he currently holds, or claims to hold. Implicit in this offer was a desire to keep the affairs of Middle-Earth between those who rule on Middle-Earth. As is often said in the colonies of Númenór, "Êphal îdôn Yôzâyan, Êphalak îdôn ka-Bâr"-- Númenór is distant and the King is far away. You perceived something of his true heart in this discussion, and understand that you might have more leverage with the master of the ford than first believed.
    -[] Accept his offer
    -[] Write-In
    [] Send An Envoy to Brun Gledd:     Several leagues north of the city lies Brun Gledd, a town built into and under six seperate hills. It was dug by the dwarves long ago, but it's first name is now long lost, and it is ruled by the Enedwaithrim and their aging lord Braelor. Send an envoy to break words with the Middle-Men.
    [] Send An Envoy To Lond Daer: Once the mighty harbor of Vinyalonde in days gone by, the port city now known as Lond Daer, sat on the mouth of the river Gwathlo, has declined since it's glory days. It's once-packed harbors are bare, and a dwindling population of mariners and woodsmen eke out a living among it's pillared halls. It is said the men of Lond Daer keep close contact with the elves. You may also do this through an expedition.
    [] The Men of the White Mountains:     The wildmen who dwell amid the snow-capped peaks of the white mountains to the east are worshipers of the Dark Lord Sauron. They have given their hearts and minds to Mordor, and act as it's servants in all things. But they are not orcs or wolves, but men still, and they might be parlayed with, could you find them and break word with them. Númenór, in her glory, has turned many who toiled in shadow from the whip of their master -- but it may be no easy task. Still, you send an envoy to break words with them.
    [] Send An Envoy To Rivendell: Imladris, or Rivendell, is an elvish stronghold deep in the heartlands of Eriador. Founded and ruled by the Elf-Lord Elrond Halfelven, it serves as a bastion of wisdom and learning in these later days of the world, projecting Elvish might into all eastern Eriador. The elves of Rivendell are force to be reckoned with, and are great traders and loremasters besides. It would not be unwise to make their acquaintance. A very large portion of your people support doing this -- 6 Speakers are behind it. 1 is stringently opposed, representing the farmers.
    [] Send An Envoy To Lindon:     Far to the north, beyond the Blue Mountains, lies the Elvish realm of Lindon, the mightiest realm between the mountains and the sea. Here rules undying Gil-Galad, the High King of whom the songs are sung and the greatest of all the elven-lords of Middle-Earth. Though their might has dwindled much since they warred with Sauron, the northern Elves are still great in strength and skill, a fading echo of the glory of Elder Days. A large portion of your people support doing this -- 5 Speakers are behind it. 1 is stringently opposed, representing the farmers. You may also do this through an expedition.
    [] Send an Envoy to Dor-en-Ernil:     The sister-settlements of Dor-en-Ernil and Edhellond lie far to the southeast in the Bay of Belfalas beyond the Anduin. Populated by both men and elves, the greatest power in these lands are the Lord and Lady of Edhellond, the Elf-prince Celeborn and his wife, the Lady Galadriel. Belfalas is a rich land and a good land, and establishing a relationship with it's masters might benefit your city. You may also do this through an expedition.
    [] Send An Envoy to Pelargir:     Far to the southeast lies Pelargir, silver city of the ships. A dwelling of the Faithful, it is among the greatest of all Numenor's colonies. Send a ship here and seek fair words with the city of the swan. (Takes two turns) You may also do this through an expedition.
    [] Ironbark:     In the deeps of the Iron Forest dwells an ent, an old thing with old eyes. He is no foe, not yet. But he is no friend of men, you do not think. Not anymore. Break words with him, and see if the strength of oak and yew might be bent in friendship. (requires hero)
    [] Diplomatic Write-In:     One of your Speakers has a suggestion...

    Exploration: These are vast lands, and wild. Venture into them, and discover things long forgotten. You may launch explorations of the surrounding lands and seas from here, but be careful -- Middle-Earth is not safe, nor is it tamed, and not all you send out may return.
    [] Explore Enedwaith: There is still much in the lands around your city that you do not know. Send searchers to find valuable natural resources or ancient treasures, and map your new home fully. A sizeable share of your people support doing this -- 3 Speakers are behind it.
    [] Fulfill Guild Map Contracts:     The Guild of Venturers has a permanent contract for any new maps of inland Middle-Earth, for which they pay lump sums to colonies and individuals who fulfill it. You currently have 1 map for sale, and could reach out to sell it, earning money and reputation with the Venturers.
    [] The Misty Mountains: The Misty Mountains which straddle the spine of Eriador are some of the tallest mountains in Middle-Earth. From the great outposts of the dwarves to the deep caves of the goblin-kings, there are many secrets to be found amid the snowy peaks. You send men into the high mountains to explore and map them further. (2/6)
    [] The Land of the Ringmakers:     Eregion, to your north, was once one of the great Elvish realms until it's destruction by the Dark Lord in the War of the Elves and Sauron long ago. Here dwelt the elf-smiths whom the Enemy tricked into creating the Rings of Power, and amid the ruins of their halls and cities lie ancient artifacts from the glory days of the Elves. You send explorers and riders into this land to map it further. (2/6)
    [] The Gwathlo:     You have made contact with the master of the Gwathlo, and the ford is held, as it has been for ten thousand lifetimes of the small men, by Númenór. If you so wish it, your men may pass beyond the ford, and see how Minhiriath has changed in ten centuries. The men of Tharbad speak of myraid towns and villages, and of civilizations flourishing in the wild. Venture past the Greyflood, and see what has become of these lands.
    [] Nargil-Dûm: A manse in the wilderness, built by the elves in better days for their friend Thain, a son of Durin III and a prince of the Dwarves of Khazad-Dum. Overgrown and dilapidated, it stands still imposing in the wild, a memory of a finer time. The dwarf-hall's doors were sealed, and, as far as your explorers can tell, have not been opened in a thousand years. (Hero Required)
    [] Nelchrost:     An outpost nestled in the spine of the Misty Mountains, Nelchrost was a great dwelling of the dwarves in the days before the making of the Ring. When war came to Eregion, it became a formidable redoubt against the power of the Shadow, from which the Dwarves and their friends struck against the Dark Lord. The fortress lies empty, but who knows what remains in the tunnels the dwarves delved below? (Hero Required)
    [] Exploration Write-In:     One of your Speakers has a suggestion...

    Opportunity: There are a variety of miscellaneous opportunities available to you which could benefit either yourself or the colony.
    [] Contact the Striders: Your scouts and repurposed mariners serve well enough, but opening a contract with one of the mercenary forces scattering Middle-Earth would both allow you access to professional explorers and a dedicated force of trained soldiers.
    [] Appease the Venturers: Currently, no Guild-licensed traders or explorers are permitted to visit your growing colony, stifling trade and travel from the mainland. If you have enough money, reputation, or believe you can make a go of it, appeal to the Venturers. If you offer enough coin, or your colony has grown too large for them to feasibly strangle it in it's cradle, they may pay you heed and stop their embargo.
    [] (Special) Reach Out To The King: Send an envoy to the king, informing him of the tribute taken by the soldiers of Tharbad and their failure to pay it forward.

    Seafaring: At last, your colony is stable enough that your people might take to the seas once more. Sail the wide world, as your fathers did in years of yore.

    Your people are the Numenoreans, the finest mariners who have ever lived, and no matter their leaning or beliefs, all of them, to a woman, love in their hearts the wave upon the shore. You can greatly increase morale and happiness by launching expeditions and building ships, or taking naval actions.
    [] Plan An Expedition: Expeditions are unique journeys taken by one of the great ships of the Blessed Isle. They can sail the corners of the world, visit distant locations, or trade a great many supplies all at once. Plan the destinations, allot supplies, and select a ship and crew. (To make things less complicated, I've pre-planned the vote with several routes, but you may still disregard these and construct your own expeditions by picking any three known coastal locations. Current Supplies: 2)
    Ship:
    --[] The Pillar of Heaven: For long centuries, the silver-hulled Pillar of Heaven has been seen upon the waves from eastern cove to northern waste. Many and famed are the voyages it has undertaken, and great the battles in which it has fought. Set the old ship asail once more, in the name of Târ Nîlon. The Ship has known many voyages in her day, and her sails yet thirst for strange winds, driving her further and further afield. Gain 1 extra Exploration turn per unit of Supplies.
    -Captain:
    --[] Inzilbeth Seastrider
    --[] Recruit A Captain
    Crew:
    --[] Gather a Volunteer Crew: Fifty seamen will be roused from your harbors.
    --[] Draft a Crew: Recruit fifty seamen from among your militia.
    --[] (Special) (Requires Inzilbeth) Reunite the Crew of the Pillar: Inzilbeth's old crew have been sailing the rivers and serving as an impromptu city guard. Have them trade the sword for the seaspray. (Temporarily disbands the Seastriders)
    Route:
    -[] The Three Jewels: This route travels to the elvish harbors of Forlond, Harlond, and Mithlond, the 'Three Jewels' of the elvish realm of Lindon. (Costs 1 supplies)
    -[] The Princes' Triangle: This route charts between the cities of Pelargir, Umbar, and Adûnayar -- the City of Ships, the City of Swords, and the City of Jewels. (Costs 1 supplies)
    -[] The Mariner's Route: This path travels from Lond Daer to Romenna on the Blessed Isle, and finishes at Pelargir. (Costs 1 supplies)
    -[] The King's Way: This route charts from Umbar to Adûnayar and finally to Sûzâyan, the great southern cities of the Kings' Men. (Costs 1 supplies)
    -[] The Elf-Friend's Path: This route travels from Pelargir to Edhellond and lastly to the Grey Havens of Mithlond in the north -- the traditional 'pilgrimage' of a Numenorean Elf-Friend. (Costs 1 supplies)
    -[] South: Sail southward, and explore the coasts of Harad. (Costs 1 supplies)
    -[] East: Sail east and explore what lies around the Fang of Harad in the eastern corners of the world. (Costs 1 supplies)
    -[] North: Sail northward, towards the lands of ice and snow, where the great islands that were once the mountains of Beleriand dot the sea. (Costs 1 supplies)
    Purpose:
    -[] Diplomacy
    -[] Trade
    --[] Stone: You have a small amount of surplus stone left over. You have heard they hunger for it in crumbling Lond Daer and ever-besieged Umbar.
    -[] Exploration (Must pick an Explore option)

    NOTE: While expeditions are plenty modular already, they CAN be twisted a lot more -- say, a Diplomatic expedition that later becomes a trading journey in the second leg. This is simply not shown here since the Expedition section is complicated enough already, but can be set up if you wish to do so. If you have any concerns, feel free to ask, and don't be afraid to play around with it.
    [] Build a Ship: Since you have in your employ a Shipwright, you may begin the process of building another ship to tame the waves. Colonies with sizeable fleets are a powerful force upon the waves -- and may even send their fleets to battle in service of the King for great rewards.
    -[] Cannibalize Ships: Having no Shipyard or permanant source of wood, you will need to break down some of the fourteen ships which brought you here (which are not battle-worthy and cannot hold enough supplies to travel far) in order to construct a proper Ship. It will take 5 ships to make one Ship. This will mean less ships to ferry future colonists or establish regular local trading routes. Cannibalizing will take a turn, and construction will take another.

    QM ANNOUNCEMENT: No votes not in plan form will be accepted. There is a TWENTY-FOUR HOUR moratorium before voting can begin. No votes before this time will be counted.

    Reaction posts and Omakes are rewarded.

    *Lit: 'The Wizard', archaic Adunaic. When used as a proper noun, a name for Sauron.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Telamon said:
    Yeah.

    It's a big one.
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    These words are pleasing to my eye

    Tharbads offer is certainly tempting, as its the quickest way to protect a whole host of people. However, it does leave the remainder under the "care" of the tower. Can anyone tell me if the division of land is relatively fair? As in would we be gaining authority over an actual sizeable territory. Or is he just promising us the hinterlands of our city?

    I'm tempted to accept the offer and then exert our influence over time to soften the rule of Tharbad. We after all, will likely outgrow their city in terms of Numenorians and can gradually force a change in policy through threat of exposing their lack of tribute
     
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    Lonkas said:
    These words are pleasing to my eye

    Tharbads offer is certainly tempting, as its the quickest way to protect a whole host of people. However, it does leave the remainder under the "care" of the tower. Can anyone tell me if the division of land is relatively fair? As in would we be gaining authority over an actual sizeable territory. Or is he just promising us the hinterlands of our city?

    I'm tempted to accept the offer and then exert our influence over time to soften the rule of Tharbad. We after all, will likely outgrow their city in terms of Numenorians and can gradually force a change in policy through threat of exposing their lack of tribute
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    If you look at the map on the first page, you can see the Greyflood and the Isen as the two rivers in the top middle-right, right near the Misty Mountains, that open into the sea.
     
    Lonkas said:
    I'm tempted to accept the offer and then exert our influence over time to soften the rule of Tharbad. We after all, will likely outgrow their city in terms of Numenorians and can gradually force a change in policy through threat of exposing their lack of tribute
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Yeah, same. Especially since the alternative is reaching out to the King in the already-darkening Númenór.
     
    Plan draft:

    [] Plan Inspector Calls

    [] Build A Barracks:     Not just a clearing where the swords are kept, but a building made for soldiers to sleep. A necessity in transforming the militia into a viable City Guard.
    [] Build A Granary: A large domed building for the storage of food and other supplies. Resources would necessitate it be built from wood, but it would insulate the colony against hard winters and short harvests. (2 turns)
    - []Uriphel
    [] Establish Pastures:     Grain is well and good, but some among your smallholders have been aching to purchase sheep and goats in large numbers from the Middle-Men, that they might establish their own herds. Stake out plots of land where they may graze. (will reduce possible construction projects by one) A decent population of your people support doing this -- 3 Speakers are behind it.
    [] Scout Gundabad:     Beyond the Misty Mountains lies a mountain the dwarves mourn in their hearts. Evil stirs there now. Send rangers to scout the Mountain, and see what wakes in the north. A sizeable population of your people support doing this -- 4 Speakers are behind it.
    [] Search For Signs of Gundabad's Influence:     There are whispers. Shadows in the dark. Shapes in the waters. Eyes in the forests. Evil awake in the lands of men. Orcs are about all Eriador, from the wide woods of Minhiriath to the ruins of Eregion. Seek them, and uncover their vile purpose. (Takes Two Turns)
    [] The Lord of the Tower:     At the close of your terse meeting, the Warden of Tharbad made you an offer: the tribute of all the lands south of the Gwathlo, which he currently holds, or claims to hold. Implicit in this offer was a desire to keep the affairs of Middle-Earth between those who rule on Middle-Earth. As is often said in the colonies of Númenór, "Êphal îdôn Yôzâyan, Êphalak îdôn ka-Bâr"-- Númenór is distant and the King is far away. You perceived something of his true heart in this discussion, and understand that you might have more leverage with the master of the ford than first believed.
    -[] Accept his offer
    [] Send An Envoy To Rivendell:     Imladris, or Rivendell, is an elvish stronghold deep in the heartlands of Eriador. Founded and ruled by the Elf-Lord Elrond Halfelven, it serves as a bastion of wisdom and learning in these later days of the world, projecting Elvish might into all eastern Eriador. The elves of Rivendell are force to be reckoned with, and are great traders and loremasters besides. It would not be unwise to make their acquaintance. A very large portion of your people support doing this -- 6 Speakers are behind it. 1 is stringently opposed, representing the farmers.
    [] Ironbark:     In the deeps of the Iron Forest dwells an ent, an old thing with old eyes. He is no foe, not yet. But he is no friend of men, you do not think. Not anymore. Break words with him, and see if the strength of oak and yew might be bent in friendship. (requires hero)
    [] The Misty Mountains:     The Misty Mountains which straddle the spine of Eriador are some of the tallest mountains in Middle-Earth. From the great outposts of the dwarves to the deep caves of the goblin-kings, there are many secrets to be found amid the snowy peaks. You send men into the high mountains to explore and map them further. (2/6)
    [] The Land of the Ringmakers:     Eregion, to your north, was once one of the great Elvish realms until it's destruction by the Dark Lord in the War of the Elves and Sauron long ago. Here dwelt the elf-smiths whom the Enemy tricked into creating the Rings of Power, and amid the ruins of their halls and cities lie ancient artifacts from the glory days of the Elves. You send explorers and riders into this land to map it further. (2/6)

    I still think that calling for an inspection was a bit premature, but, since we did, it's better that we prepare well for it and build some essential stuff before we move onto lore halls and personal residences.
    meanwhile, half of our Diplomacy options (not to mention seafaring) are now tied up by the lack of supplies; so, pastures and granary it is. As we would need wood for ships, better reach some kind of agreement with the ents beforehand.
    And, of course, we would need to appease the Venturers, now that we have the means for trade. feeding them good maps seems a nice first step.
     
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    Yeah the farmers are going to be a bit of a thorn but as long as we do things to keep them happy they might be put of doing anything to damaging
     
    I'd like to finish charting The Misty Mountains and Eregion. Leaving tasks begun but undone causes me to itch.
     
    Think we need to do [] Send An Envoy To Rivendell: and [] Send An Envoy To Lindon: as most of our people wants this
     
    DearestAnnabel said:
    Plan draft:

    [] Plan Inspector Calls

    [] Build A Barracks:     Not just a clearing where the swords are kept, but a building made for soldiers to sleep. A necessity in transforming the militia into a viable City Guard.
    [] Build A Granary: A large domed building for the storage of food and other supplies. Resources would necessitate it be built from wood, but it would insulate the colony against hard winters and short harvests. (2 turns)
    [] Build A Shipyard:     To properly utilize the Shipwright you brought with you, you begin construction on a great shipyard where vessels in the Númenórean style may be built.
    [] Establish Pastures: Grain is well and good, but some among your smallholders have been aching to purchase sheep and goats in large numbers from the Middle-Men, that they might establish their own herds. Stake out plots of land where they may graze. (will reduce possible construction projects by one) A decent population of your people support doing this -- 3 Speakers are behind it.
    [] Scout Gundabad:     Beyond the Misty Mountains lies a mountain the dwarves mourn in their hearts. Evil stirs there now. Send rangers to scout the Mountain, and see what wakes in the north. A sizeable population of your people support doing this -- 4 Speakers are behind it.
    [] Search For Signs of Gundabad's Influence:     There are whispers. Shadows in the dark. Shapes in the waters. Eyes in the forests. Evil awake in the lands of men. Orcs are about all Eriador, from the wide woods of Minhiriath to the ruins of Eregion. Seek them, and uncover their vile purpose. (Takes Two Turns)
    [] The Lord of the Tower:     At the close of your terse meeting, the Warden of Tharbad made you an offer: the tribute of all the lands south of the Gwathlo, which he currently holds, or claims to hold. Implicit in this offer was a desire to keep the affairs of Middle-Earth between those who rule on Middle-Earth. As is often said in the colonies of Númenór, "Êphal îdôn Yôzâyan, Êphalak îdôn ka-Bâr"-- Númenór is distant and the King is far away. You perceived something of his true heart in this discussion, and understand that you might have more leverage with the master of the ford than first believed.
    -[] Accept his offer
    [] Send An Envoy To Rivendell:     Imladris, or Rivendell, is an elvish stronghold deep in the heartlands of Eriador. Founded and ruled by the Elf-Lord Elrond Halfelven, it serves as a bastion of wisdom and learning in these later days of the world, projecting Elvish might into all eastern Eriador. The elves of Rivendell are force to be reckoned with, and are great traders and loremasters besides. It would not be unwise to make their acquaintance. A very large portion of your people support doing this -- 6 Speakers are behind it. 1 is stringently opposed, representing the farmers.
    [] Ironbark:     In the deeps of the Iron Forest dwells an ent, an old thing with old eyes. He is no foe, not yet. But he is no friend of men, you do not think. Not anymore. Break words with him, and see if the strength of oak and yew might be bent in friendship. (requires hero)
    [] The Misty Mountains:     The Misty Mountains which straddle the spine of Eriador are some of the tallest mountains in Middle-Earth. From the great outposts of the dwarves to the deep caves of the goblin-kings, there are many secrets to be found amid the snowy peaks. You send men into the high mountains to explore and map them further. (2/6)
    [] The Land of the Ringmakers:     Eregion, to your north, was once one of the great Elvish realms until it's destruction by the Dark Lord in the War of the Elves and Sauron long ago. Here dwelt the elf-smiths whom the Enemy tricked into creating the Rings of Power, and amid the ruins of their halls and cities lie ancient artifacts from the glory days of the Elves. You send explorers and riders into this land to map it further. (2/6)

    I still think that calling for an inspection was a bit premature, but, since we did, it's better that we prepare well for it and build some essential stuff before we move onto lore halls and personal residences.
    meanwhile, half of our Diplomacy options (not to mention seafaring) are now tied up by the lack of supplies; so, pastures and granary it is. As we would need wood for ships, better reach some kind of agreement with the ents beforehand.
    And, of course, we would need to appease the Venturers, now that we have the means for trade. feeding them good maps seems a nice first step.
    Click to expand...
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    (Pick one. You may pick extra if you assign a Shaper hero to a construction (sacrificing their action for as many turns as construction lasts).
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    You can only pick one construction action (plus theoretically two more if you wish to assign Imrazor and Uriphel).
     
    Telamon said:
    If you look at the map on the first page, you can see the Greyflood and the Isen as the two rivers in the top middle-right, right near the Misty Mountains, that open into the sea.
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    *whistles. The man knows how to make an offer. And if you dont mind me seeking further clarification. I was under the impression that his forces were extremely stretched, with barracks standing near empty. etc. Yet he has "the greatest Númenórean force for a thousand leagues." Is this talking purely military forces? Because I was under the impression we had more numenorians than Tharbad does, though we lack the surrounding middle men towns. Or is this purely military forces. As in yes we have more people, but his are soldiers. Or third option. We simply arn't within a thousand leagues of him. The enedwraith is large after all, i'm just not entirely sure if its that large
     
    Telamon said:
    Telamon rolls 1d20+3 (Wise) = 23 #OrcHunter
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    That's a good result, isn't it.

    ....wait, Makatha would've given us +10 on d20 wrt Hero Rolls? I thought it was +10 to d100...
    Eh, water under the bridge.


    We, well, need entirety of the list of buildings, but first priority is definitely granary, IMO.
    Next's either shipyard to actually make use of shipwright or barracks for obvious reasons.

    DearestAnnabel said:
    I still think that calling for an inspection was a bit premature, but, since we did, it's better that we prepare well for it and build some essential stuff before we move onto lore halls and personal residences.
    meanwhile, half of our Diplomacy options (not to mention seafaring) are now tied up by the lack of supplies; so, pastures and granary it is. As we would need wood for ships, better reach some kind of agreement with the ents beforehand.
    And, of course, we would need to appease the Venturers, now that we have the means for trade. feeding them good maps seems a nice first step.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    I think we can afford 1 expedition right now, and we probably should, seeing as expeditions are listed as explicitly better than land exploration (although riskier and costing supplies).

    Ability to get 3 diplomatic visits for price of 1(ish) is pretty neat.

    IMO it's granary + shipyard, if we intend to actually use the shipwright we got.

    [] Plan First Expedition
    -[] Build A Granary:     A large domed building for the storage of food and other supplies. Resources would necessitate it be built from wood, but it would insulate the colony against hard winters and short harvests. (2 turns)
    -[] Build A Shipyard:     To properly utilize the Shipwright you brought with you, you begin construction on a great shipyard where vessels in the Númenórean style may be built.
    --[] Ûrîphêl
    -[] Establish Pastures:     Grain is well and good, but some among your smallholders have been aching to purchase sheep and goats in large numbers from the Middle-Men, that they might establish their own herds. Stake out plots of land where they may graze. (will reduce possible construction projects by one) A decent population of your people support doing this -- 3 Speakers are behind it.
    -[] Scout Gundabad:     Beyond the Misty Mountains lies a mountain the dwarves mourn in their hearts. Evil stirs there now. Send rangers to scout the Mountain, and see what wakes in the north. A sizeable population of your people support doing this -- 4 Speakers are behind it.
    --[] Barazîr
    -[] Search For Signs of Gundabad's Influence:     There are whispers. Shadows in the dark. Shapes in the waters. Eyes in the forests. Evil awake in the lands of men. Orcs are about all Eriador, from the wide woods of Minhiriath to the ruins of Eregion. Seek them, and uncover their vile purpose. (Takes Two Turns)
    -[] The Lord of the Tower:     At the close of your terse meeting, the Warden of Tharbad made you an offer: the tribute of all the lands south of the Gwathlo, which he currently holds, or claims to hold. Implicit in this offer was a desire to keep the affairs of Middle-Earth between those who rule on Middle-Earth. As is often said in the colonies of Númenór, "Êphal îdôn Yôzâyan, Êphalak îdôn ka-Bâr"-- Númenór is distant and the King is far away. You perceived something of his true heart in this discussion, and understand that you might have more leverage with the master of the ford than first believed.
    -[] Accept his offer
    -[] Send An Envoy To Rivendell:     Imladris, or Rivendell, is an elvish stronghold deep in the heartlands of Eriador. Founded and ruled by the Elf-Lord Elrond Halfelven, it serves as a bastion of wisdom and learning in these later days of the world, projecting Elvish might into all eastern Eriador. The elves of Rivendell are force to be reckoned with, and are great traders and loremasters besides. It would not be unwise to make their acquaintance. A very large portion of your people support doing this -- 6 Speakers are behind it. 1 is stringently opposed, representing the farmers.
    -[] Ironbark:     In the deeps of the Iron Forest dwells an ent, an old thing with old eyes. He is no foe, not yet. But he is no friend of men, you do not think. Not anymore. Break words with him, and see if the strength of oak and yew might be bent in friendship. (requires hero)
    --[] Imrazor
    -[] The Misty Mountains:     The Misty Mountains which straddle the spine of Eriador are some of the tallest mountains in Middle-Earth. From the great outposts of the dwarves to the deep caves of the goblin-kings, there are many secrets to be found amid the snowy peaks. You send men into the high mountains to explore and map them further. (2/6)
    -[] Plan An Expedition
    --[] Inzilbeth Seastrider
    --[] (Special) (Requires Inzilbeth) Reunite the Crew of the Pillar: Inzilbeth's old crew have been sailing the rivers and serving as an impromptu city guard. Have them trade the sword for the seaspray. (Temporarily disbands the Seastriders)
    --[] The Three Jewels: This route travels to the elvish harbors of Forlond, Harlond, and Mithlond, the 'Three Jewels' of the elvish realm of Lindon. (Costs 1 supplies)
    --[] Diplomacy



    Thule said:
    Think we need to do [] Send An Envoy To Rivendell: and [] Send An Envoy To Lindon: as most of our people wants this
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    We can do entirety of Lindon via the Expedition, so I think we might as well do that?
     
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