IC Story Thread: Ch.1,Ad.2 - The Far Reach

Being from Rohan it's perhaps not too strange that Eothain thinks he has heard of these creatures before.

Commonly associated with the perennial enemy of Rohan; the Dunlendings, and the cursed city of Tharbad and also just the general Southern area of the Misty Mountains all the way to Fangorn forest, by their terrible countenance, Eothain thinks they must be nothing other than crebain.

Amongst the wise of Rohan they are considered as dark omens, or even as direct servants of the Shadow.

However if they were about a task, it doesn't seem like your company was the focus of it. Their movements across the land in approach and departure were erratic, and only seemed drawn to you out of opportunity, it's possible they were fleeing something. However if they were, they came from the west, and so that impetus would still be ahead of you... Or perhaps they were being summoned? Or from their behavior, it seems like they could even have just been mad with hunger or even illness?

Whatever the cause, like a storm on the plains, it came and reaped it's terrible cost, and now seems to have passed. The shadow of it's cloud still visible growing smaller in the distance, seemingly destined for the White Mountains or beyond.

With nothing much left to do but move on, you point your steeds west and... move on.

Over the coming days, all signs of a finished road finally disappear completely, and it becomes little more than a well worn trail barely wide enough for a hand-cart.

The last few days of the journey become sweltering and hot, as only those late summer days sometimes do. It's a development that makes travel uncomfortable at least, and could threaten the successful conclusion of the trip...

The final days of the journey are rough. And not in relation to the road conditions, nor even the weather (though both of those are poor for travel and only worsen the situation).

For miles upon miles as you approach Annulond the land is blackened and wasted, as if by a great fire.

The normally tall and vibrant grasses of the coastal plains are nothing but blackened nubs surrounded by ashen dirt. The stands of trees within sight are leafless and dead, clawing at the sky like burnt bones of the earth. And as you crest a rise in the land, you can see a field with dozens of charred corpses of cattle who were trapped by a canyon draw, and consumed by the conflagration that must have ravaged the land.

There are even a few structures in the distance, perhaps once houses or animal sheds or dry goods storage - now just fallen stone and burnt timbers.

It's of course impossible to know at this stage what has happened. The work of goblins or orcs or even possibly Corsairs? Something that was somehow caused by the crebain? Or is it just the aftermath of a natural wildfire, in the late days of summer?

Whatever the cause, the devastation is complete, and it is perhaps a reminder that inescapable death is never far.

It would appear that the only thing that saved Annulond, and it's immediate surrounding country side, is that it sits in the valley of the River Lefnui, where the nearby waters must have kept things green enough to not be claimed by fire.

As you all approach Annulond, the most prominent feature is a great stone bridge spanning not only the River Lefnui, but much of the banks which flank the sides of the flowing water. The peak of the arching construct could allow the mast of a small lateen-sail ship to pass beneath it.

The more you look upon it, the more the bridge really feels a bit out of place. It looks to have been built in anticipation of a much larger population growling around it, and a much larger river running beneath it!

As it is, the next largest structure is a single, two-story stone tower gatehouse, built on the Gondor side of the bridge. But that has clearly fallen into disrepair. There are three wooden structures that appear to have been built, ad hoc, around the tower, relying on it for it's stone walls, but they are of a much smaller size and lesser quality of build.

The rest of the few dozen buildings are of mismatched construct and many of them sit down along the river, some have a scavenged stone foundation and good beams and boards atop, some are of a log and sod style, some are little more than rickety shacks built onto and relying upon better structures to remain standing.

Despite the devastation up-valley, and the seeming lack of intention or planning that went into it's development, the village of Annulond shows vibrant signs of life.

There is a dock that runs for perhaps 100 feet along the river where the channel snakes by - only a few ships and boats docked at it now, but many more spots that are currently empty but with coiled ropes waiting for someone's return. White wisps of smoke curling up from many buildings, at least one or two carrying the smell of baking breads and cooking meats. Fishermen walking up and down the banks, each tending many set-lines in the water. Subsistence livestock milling about in pens and coups. And here and there are folk walking the dirt paths that make up the village streets going about their daily business.

And perhaps it is so, when your own business comes to mind...

Down on the docks, the air carried along by the breeze smells of brackish water, mud, and... not even fish, but shellfish. Far over-powering the baking bread and roasting meats at the valley top.

There is only one actual building on the docks, most of them sit a good fifty feet up-shore - you can only assume to accommodate periodic flooding - and have boardwalks running down to the actual waterfront.

Most activity on the docks is centered on that lone building, which appears to mostly be a dry-dock. There is a small sailing boat with it's mast laid down, receiving some sort of repair or work on it's hull.

You haven't seen the ship you're searching for, and as is common for smaller boats and ships, few of them have any actual identifiers painted upon them.

There's only a couple sailing boats at the docks here, and they're all shallow-keeled riverboats, rigged for ocean winds. It must be a common need for vessels to serve both purposes. But ultimately the effect is that Cirion just doesn't know enough amount the boat you're searching for to be sure.

You do still have the name of the boat-owner: Urqakar. And it was registered to this village. Assuming it wasn't a forgery, someone must have record of it here somewhere.