Welcome, one and all, to the Revamped and Recommissioned Shire Defence Squad Training Grounds! In here we role play, have fun, and prepare to defend our fair Shire, not to mention our Shire's fare, from possible danger. Main rules, have fun, role play, have fun, (yes, that got said twice!)
Here’s how it (hopefully) works...
. This is a space for Role Playing our training. Training might take the form of:
- single, paired or group combat
- survival training
- field cookery.
Of course, there may be other SDS related activities that you would like to train in.
Please make sure, the first time you check-in here, to give us a little description of your character's personality/background and to let us all know your character’s weapon of choice.
If you would like to invite someone to train with you, please feel free to do so. If you would like to join someone in their training, please request this in character.
Important Rule: Well more like a Guideline really: Hey, you know what, let's call it a Suggestion: On the topic of *takes a deep breath, looks furtively from side to side, and then squeaks quite conspicuously* god-moding, it is my opinion, that in this current age of the Plaza (may the admins not throw me down for suggesting this) in which there tend to be a few less of us around, sometimes making for longer breaks in between replies, and in a situation i.e. 'training' with another person, which necessitates a high level of interactivity *once again takes a deep breath, looks furtively from side to side, and then squeaks quite conspicuously* I'm going to suggest that a small amount of lower level god-moding - shall we term it... Istari-moding - might just be necessary. As we all know, the IStari were to aid the free peoples, to guide their actions and decisions, and not ultimately to "interfere" with events. In a similar spirit, I might suggest that, as we role play our little geeky hearts out here, we may need to suggest a character's initial reaction to our action so as to give the game play a better flow.
@Chrysophylax Dives @Saranna @VelvetineZone
SDS Training Grounds
- Points: 257
New Soul
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Joined: Mon Jul 31, 2023 1:21 pm
Hobold Hobblefoot Chubbs wanders in to the training grounds, having just recently signed up in the Officers' Mess. The older, well travelled hobbit, slings his dusty pack down on the floor. Clasping his solid blackthorn travelling stick with a heavy ball as a handle in one hand, he draws out of his pack, a rather handy camping knife with a ten inch blade; and a stout, handmade hunting bow.
Yes, Hobold, while a gentle-hobbit by nature, knows well, how to take care of himself with the usual tools of his travels.
"Is there anyone 'round abouts?" calls Hobold. Hearing no response, he proceeds to the archery range and prepares to take a few pot shots at the training grounds brand new targets.
"Drats! Maybe I shouldn't have had that pint just before coming here, or my aim would be a little tidier." Hobold stomps off to remove and errant arrow from the, "Keep all shooting STRICTLY to the archery range," poster.
"Perhaps I shall take a seat for a while until someone else shows up and then I may be sober enough to shoot straight or swing a stick with proper force."
Yes, Hobold, while a gentle-hobbit by nature, knows well, how to take care of himself with the usual tools of his travels.
"Is there anyone 'round abouts?" calls Hobold. Hearing no response, he proceeds to the archery range and prepares to take a few pot shots at the training grounds brand new targets.
"Drats! Maybe I shouldn't have had that pint just before coming here, or my aim would be a little tidier." Hobold stomps off to remove and errant arrow from the, "Keep all shooting STRICTLY to the archery range," poster.
"Perhaps I shall take a seat for a while until someone else shows up and then I may be sober enough to shoot straight or swing a stick with proper force."
Periantar:
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
- Points: 325
Learned Ent
Posts: 266
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2024 7:55 pm
As dark falls, Tylwyth Took approaches the training ground. It's an indigo black night full of clouds, but as she walks across the ground, the silver moon emerges, and the ancient sword she found inside an old dusty cobwebbed chest in the depths of her home suddenly begins to glow. She stares at it in amazement. There's an old family legend which tells of Isilmë, a sword once gifted to a brave ancestress by the elves, which glows in the light of the moon. This must be Isilmë, named for the moonlight.
Tylwyth Took holds up the sword, seeing her long wild silver white curls, dark brown eyes and curvy, but not stout, middle aged hobbity form reflected in the blade. So the legend was true. Perhaps the tales of faerie ancestry are too. Tylwyth Took has never done magic, nor wielded a glowing sword. She's had a quiet hobbit life mostly spent painting and selling scenes of rural Shire scenery. Nothing outlandish or adventurous has ever occurred, other than the tendency for strange magical creatures and trees with eyes to appear in the edges and corners of her art. Really, she shouldn't have come. What can she offer, other than a glowing sword and a knack of spotting mystical beings and features in landscapes?
She's just about to head home and go back to doing the washing up and laundry when she spots a hobbit with a blackthorn stick sitting in the shadows.
Tylwyth Took holds up the sword, seeing her long wild silver white curls, dark brown eyes and curvy, but not stout, middle aged hobbity form reflected in the blade. So the legend was true. Perhaps the tales of faerie ancestry are too. Tylwyth Took has never done magic, nor wielded a glowing sword. She's had a quiet hobbit life mostly spent painting and selling scenes of rural Shire scenery. Nothing outlandish or adventurous has ever occurred, other than the tendency for strange magical creatures and trees with eyes to appear in the edges and corners of her art. Really, she shouldn't have come. What can she offer, other than a glowing sword and a knack of spotting mystical beings and features in landscapes?
She's just about to head home and go back to doing the washing up and laundry when she spots a hobbit with a blackthorn stick sitting in the shadows.
- Points: 4 777
Tree
Posts: 3136
Joined: Sun May 17, 2020 7:54 pm
Fairbairn the Fat had visions, which he drew and then framed and hung them on his walls. For the last fortnight he had been lost in drawing, not stepping outside the once. He had consumed a whole barrel of Old Toby, and he felt it. He had also emptied the two larders and both pantries, and was feeling that worse. But he had a new drawing, an amazing drawing, possibly this was the picture - the true representation of the upstairs.
Fairbairn lived in a house, not a hole. He had grown up in a hole in Michel Delving but inherited a house in Hobbiton from a bachelor great-grand-uncle whom he had never met. When he turned up at the house Fairbairn was delighted to discover that it had two storeys. Unfortunately, long before he moved to Hobbiton, Fairbairn had earned his epithet, and though he amply enjoyed the ground floor of his inheritance, had never been able to squeeze up the staircase. Hence his visionary art, an attempt to gaze with the inner eye at the space above his head that he himself had never seen.
But two weeks back, just before he had sat down to draw the picture that he had already titled 'Upstairs inside-out', Fairbairn the Fat had seen the advertisment for the SDS and was inspired. Training in arms might substitute for the diet that Fairbairn could never face! Just maybe he might lose enough pounds to breathe deep and squash himself up that stairway... The hairs on Fairbairn's toes stood upright.
So Fairbairn pulled his bow and arrow from out of an old chest in the corner, opened the door of his house, and walked to the SDS Training Grounds. He was just thinking that it was the middle of the night and nobody would be there when he spotted one hobbit with a blackthorn stick having a sip of something in the shadows, and a second, curvy, but not stout, practicing sword strokes in the moonlight.
Fairbairn lived in a house, not a hole. He had grown up in a hole in Michel Delving but inherited a house in Hobbiton from a bachelor great-grand-uncle whom he had never met. When he turned up at the house Fairbairn was delighted to discover that it had two storeys. Unfortunately, long before he moved to Hobbiton, Fairbairn had earned his epithet, and though he amply enjoyed the ground floor of his inheritance, had never been able to squeeze up the staircase. Hence his visionary art, an attempt to gaze with the inner eye at the space above his head that he himself had never seen.
But two weeks back, just before he had sat down to draw the picture that he had already titled 'Upstairs inside-out', Fairbairn the Fat had seen the advertisment for the SDS and was inspired. Training in arms might substitute for the diet that Fairbairn could never face! Just maybe he might lose enough pounds to breathe deep and squash himself up that stairway... The hairs on Fairbairn's toes stood upright.
So Fairbairn pulled his bow and arrow from out of an old chest in the corner, opened the door of his house, and walked to the SDS Training Grounds. He was just thinking that it was the middle of the night and nobody would be there when he spotted one hobbit with a blackthorn stick having a sip of something in the shadows, and a second, curvy, but not stout, practicing sword strokes in the moonlight.
Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.
- Points: 257
New Soul
Posts: 174
Joined: Mon Jul 31, 2023 1:21 pm
@VelvetineZone
Hobold, puffing thoughtfully upon his pipe, looked up. He felt somewhat better - the Training Grounds were no longer swaying in time to the sweet golden ale of his heart - or was he still under the influence? There seemed to now be a curvy, but not stout, hobbittess with a glowing blade standing before him, and and an equally curvy hobbit... no, wait this, this hobbit was just fat, Fairbairn the Fat... wondering in to the Grounds armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows.
Hobold bowed low, "My fellow members," he started, "I arrived a little while ago but was seemingly a little dru.. err... unwell from my evening meal, so I decided to take a seat. Would either of you care duel?"
With that, he hooked the knob of his walking stick behind Tylwyth's right ankle and swiftly gave a playful yank, tipping her off balance. As the curvy hobbittess began to topple, her glowing blade swung unwieldly upward and reflected Hobold's surprised expression right back at him, Hobold parrying this and stepping in to catch her fall before the hard earth of the Ground had a chance to do so.
"What do you say to a little light combat Tylwyth? Maybe we can battle it out to 5 points? No blood ofcourse - we are all on the same team here - just point sparring."
And so the fun of training had begun.
Hobold, puffing thoughtfully upon his pipe, looked up. He felt somewhat better - the Training Grounds were no longer swaying in time to the sweet golden ale of his heart - or was he still under the influence? There seemed to now be a curvy, but not stout, hobbittess with a glowing blade standing before him, and and an equally curvy hobbit... no, wait this, this hobbit was just fat, Fairbairn the Fat... wondering in to the Grounds armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows.
Hobold bowed low, "My fellow members," he started, "I arrived a little while ago but was seemingly a little dru.. err... unwell from my evening meal, so I decided to take a seat. Would either of you care duel?"
With that, he hooked the knob of his walking stick behind Tylwyth's right ankle and swiftly gave a playful yank, tipping her off balance. As the curvy hobbittess began to topple, her glowing blade swung unwieldly upward and reflected Hobold's surprised expression right back at him, Hobold parrying this and stepping in to catch her fall before the hard earth of the Ground had a chance to do so.
"What do you say to a little light combat Tylwyth? Maybe we can battle it out to 5 points? No blood ofcourse - we are all on the same team here - just point sparring."
And so the fun of training had begun.
Periantar:
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
- Points: 257
New Soul
Posts: 174
Joined: Mon Jul 31, 2023 1:21 pm
@Chrysophylax Dives
Periantar wondered across from the Officer's Mess, having just shut up shop there for the day, Even hobbits need to stop eatin and drinking some times he had told himself.
Wondering across to lock up the Training Grounds as well (after all, who trains at this time off night) he heard the sounds of lighthearted tom-foolery and saw a curious flashing blue light.
"There are indeed hobbits who train in the wee hours." Peri said, as he approached the commotion. "Would you care for a little friendly competition Fairbairn?" he asked, pointing at the substantially sized hobbit's bow. "I wouldn't normally use a bow myself - broad sword for me. But I'll use one of the spare bows over here..."
A moment later, Peri returned, clumsily fitting an arrow to the string of his bow.
Periantar wondered across from the Officer's Mess, having just shut up shop there for the day, Even hobbits need to stop eatin and drinking some times he had told himself.
Wondering across to lock up the Training Grounds as well (after all, who trains at this time off night) he heard the sounds of lighthearted tom-foolery and saw a curious flashing blue light.
"There are indeed hobbits who train in the wee hours." Peri said, as he approached the commotion. "Would you care for a little friendly competition Fairbairn?" he asked, pointing at the substantially sized hobbit's bow. "I wouldn't normally use a bow myself - broad sword for me. But I'll use one of the spare bows over here..."
A moment later, Peri returned, clumsily fitting an arrow to the string of his bow.
Periantar:
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
- Points: 257
New Soul
Posts: 174
Joined: Mon Jul 31, 2023 1:21 pm
Peri, with all the aparent confidence of a well trained archer of the Woodland Realm, but to the even slightly trained eye, having no actual idea how to properly hold a bow, stand and fire, stands some 15 paces from the archery target (Hobold and the Tylwyth duelling it out on the mellee ground just behind), and lets fly his arrow. His bow twangs, an evident swoosh is heard, and then a destinct thunk. Peri walks up to remove his arrow from the ground about a meter in front of the target.
"Oh dear. Same thing every time. I stand, I aim, I shoot, I fail.
"Your shot good Fairbairn. Shall we say, twenty points for a bulls-eye, and five less for each ring outside of that? Hmmm, now, that would make hitting the grass..." At this point Periantar commences counting on his fingers. "Ooh, well, maybe we just won't score for hitting the ground, what do you say?"
"Oh dear. Same thing every time. I stand, I aim, I shoot, I fail.
"Your shot good Fairbairn. Shall we say, twenty points for a bulls-eye, and five less for each ring outside of that? Hmmm, now, that would make hitting the grass..." At this point Periantar commences counting on his fingers. "Ooh, well, maybe we just won't score for hitting the ground, what do you say?"
Periantar:
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
- Points: 325
Learned Ent
Posts: 266
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2024 7:55 pm
Tylwyth had never used a sword before. She waved it around a bit more, experimentally, trying not to accidentally wound anyone. Luckily, the sword itself seemed to know what it was doing, and made graceful arcs through the air.
"Night combat training it is then," she agreed, nervous, but also excited, before the glow of the sword was suddenly reflected in a pair of low eyes at the edge of the training ground.
Tylwyth immediately whipped her preferred weapon and a small sketchbook out of a large pocket in her green many-pocketed trousers, muttering to herself, "The pen is greater than the sword."
She placed the sword down on a rock, and crept towards to the creature, which did not move, before crouching down and beginning to sketch its eyes and snout in the dark.
"It's a badger!" she called to her new training companions. ""I wonder if it came here to train too."
"Train!" scoffed a low growly voice in the darkness. "I don't need to train! I've fought more battles than you've had second breakfasts."
Tylwyth nearly jumped out of her skin. "A sentient talking badger? I thought they were a myth too. I've had a LOT of second breakfasts," she added.
"I've been in a LOT of battles," replied the badger, ambling forward, out of the shadows. He had a low stubby black and white body, multiple scars, and eyes that managed to be simultaneously fierce and friendly. "The name's Battlebrock."
"Night combat training it is then," she agreed, nervous, but also excited, before the glow of the sword was suddenly reflected in a pair of low eyes at the edge of the training ground.
Tylwyth immediately whipped her preferred weapon and a small sketchbook out of a large pocket in her green many-pocketed trousers, muttering to herself, "The pen is greater than the sword."
She placed the sword down on a rock, and crept towards to the creature, which did not move, before crouching down and beginning to sketch its eyes and snout in the dark.
"It's a badger!" she called to her new training companions. ""I wonder if it came here to train too."
"Train!" scoffed a low growly voice in the darkness. "I don't need to train! I've fought more battles than you've had second breakfasts."
Tylwyth nearly jumped out of her skin. "A sentient talking badger? I thought they were a myth too. I've had a LOT of second breakfasts," she added.
"I've been in a LOT of battles," replied the badger, ambling forward, out of the shadows. He had a low stubby black and white body, multiple scars, and eyes that managed to be simultaneously fierce and friendly. "The name's Battlebrock."
- Points: 257
New Soul
Posts: 174
Joined: Mon Jul 31, 2023 1:21 pm
@VelvetineZone
Hobold pondered quitely.
"Hmm, one moment, we're duelling, and the next, her sword's been put away and she drawing a badger, who by the looks of it, is more than happy to be the centre of attention."
I wonder if he's interested in training at all, because that's what I came here for
Hobold pondered quitely.
"Hmm, one moment, we're duelling, and the next, her sword's been put away and she drawing a badger, who by the looks of it, is more than happy to be the centre of attention."
I wonder if he's interested in training at all, because that's what I came here for
Periantar:
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
- Points: 325
Learned Ent
Posts: 266
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2024 7:55 pm
The badger drew his sword. Not with a pen.
"Come on then hobbits, show us your mettle."
"Come on then hobbits, show us your mettle."
- Points: 4 777
Tree
Posts: 3136
Joined: Sun May 17, 2020 7:54 pm
Fairbairn was lost in dreams of the great battle of Fornost, where a party of Hobbit archers had stood valiantly with the king, though nobody else noticed. He was lining up a shot at the target that Perianter had missed, and imagining he was about to dispatch the Witch-king of Angmar himself, when a strange voice made him turn around - only to see Tylwyth Took with a pencil facing off against an armed and battled-hardened badger.
Fear, Fire, Foes! The SDS is under attack! A badger! One of those malicious, spiteful, aggressive creatures that once tried to kidnap Tom Bombadil!
Fairbairn loosed his arrow, which flew threw the air and skewered the badger through the skull, causing shards of badger bone blended with brain to explode in the air like a thundercloud suddenly bursting upside down, even as the body of the badger was propelled 3 feet to land, oozing blood, at Tylwyth's hairy feet.
Fairbairn give Tylwyth one of his 'Don't thank me babe, just call me a hero' smiles, put down his bow, and sat down on a log to fill his pipe. 'That was more enjoyable than I had expected SDS training to be', he thought to himself as he patted his stomach, wondering if he had lost any weight yet.
Fear, Fire, Foes! The SDS is under attack! A badger! One of those malicious, spiteful, aggressive creatures that once tried to kidnap Tom Bombadil!
Fairbairn loosed his arrow, which flew threw the air and skewered the badger through the skull, causing shards of badger bone blended with brain to explode in the air like a thundercloud suddenly bursting upside down, even as the body of the badger was propelled 3 feet to land, oozing blood, at Tylwyth's hairy feet.
Fairbairn give Tylwyth one of his 'Don't thank me babe, just call me a hero' smiles, put down his bow, and sat down on a log to fill his pipe. 'That was more enjoyable than I had expected SDS training to be', he thought to himself as he patted his stomach, wondering if he had lost any weight yet.
Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.
- Points: 325
Learned Ent
Posts: 266
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2024 7:55 pm
Tylwyth stared in horror at the dead badger at her feet.
"You killed a badger?"
As she stood rooted to the spot, a horde of foxes and bats burst out of the undergrowth and forest beyond the training ground.
"You'd better run!" she said to Fairbairn. "They've come to avenge the badger."
She stood her ground, holding up her glowing sword as the mass of creatures rushed towards them, before dropping the unwieldy ancient weapon.
She crouched down to pick it up, and as she did, the foxes and bats hurtled past, fox eyes wide in terror, batwings urgently flapping.
Tylwyth stood up, and looked towards the forest to see what they were running away from.
"You killed a badger?"
As she stood rooted to the spot, a horde of foxes and bats burst out of the undergrowth and forest beyond the training ground.
"You'd better run!" she said to Fairbairn. "They've come to avenge the badger."
She stood her ground, holding up her glowing sword as the mass of creatures rushed towards them, before dropping the unwieldy ancient weapon.
She crouched down to pick it up, and as she did, the foxes and bats hurtled past, fox eyes wide in terror, batwings urgently flapping.
Tylwyth stood up, and looked towards the forest to see what they were running away from.
- Points: 4 777
Tree
Posts: 3136
Joined: Sun May 17, 2020 7:54 pm
Fairbairn watched the strange scene unfolding before his eyes with mild curiousity. Tylwyth had not yet noticed the dragon lumbering out of the woods, the terror of the woodland folk. It was Chrysophylax Dives, the Librarian's helper out at the Undertowers Library.
'Hello, dragon!' said Fairbairn.
The dragon was a little shortsighted and it took a while before he noticed the Hobbits. He gave a nod.
'Come to join the SDS?'
'Who me? No, no, no. I am not an overbold dragon and am content to leave the security of the Shire in the hands of capable hobbits, like yourselves.'
'O come on dragon, it will be fun!'
The dragon shook his head and carried on walking. He was off on another of his wild goose chases, and there was no distracting him.
Fairbairn finished his pipe and looked at his two companions. Tylwyth was glowering at him. He supposed that this was to cover over her embarrassment at being so nobly rescued in such a dashing, heroic way. He flashed her a smile as he stood up, walked over to the pile of spare weapons, picked up an old, rusty sword, and asked:
'So who wants to practice?'
'Hello, dragon!' said Fairbairn.
The dragon was a little shortsighted and it took a while before he noticed the Hobbits. He gave a nod.
'Come to join the SDS?'
'Who me? No, no, no. I am not an overbold dragon and am content to leave the security of the Shire in the hands of capable hobbits, like yourselves.'
'O come on dragon, it will be fun!'
The dragon shook his head and carried on walking. He was off on another of his wild goose chases, and there was no distracting him.
Fairbairn finished his pipe and looked at his two companions. Tylwyth was glowering at him. He supposed that this was to cover over her embarrassment at being so nobly rescued in such a dashing, heroic way. He flashed her a smile as he stood up, walked over to the pile of spare weapons, picked up an old, rusty sword, and asked:
'So who wants to practice?'
Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.
- Points: 325
Learned Ent
Posts: 266
Joined: Sat Jul 27, 2024 7:55 pm
Tylwyth looked at Hobold shooting arrows into the ground, and Fairbairn with his old, rusty sword, and then at the poor, departed badger.
She picked up her own sword, which had landed in a cow pat, and wiped it off on the grass.
"I mean, we're a dream team," she said, rolling her eyes. "The Shire Defence is in safe hands. Nothing's getting past us, is it? Today, decapitated badgers, tomorrow, I expect we'll take out a thousand orcs and several Nazgul." She sighed heavily. "Ok, on with training."
She picked up her own sword, which had landed in a cow pat, and wiped it off on the grass.
"I mean, we're a dream team," she said, rolling her eyes. "The Shire Defence is in safe hands. Nothing's getting past us, is it? Today, decapitated badgers, tomorrow, I expect we'll take out a thousand orcs and several Nazgul." She sighed heavily. "Ok, on with training."
- Points: 257
New Soul
Posts: 174
Joined: Mon Jul 31, 2023 1:21 pm
*Periantar and Hobold chat quietly together on the side of the melee arena.*
"Have you any idea what just happened Hobold?"
"Not the foggiest Peri. I came here for some training for battle readiness, attempted to engage in a little sword play (no pun intended) with the curvy hobbittess over there, and then suddenly animals are being slaughtered, other animals stampeding, and a dragon wandering straight through the Grounds!" Hobold exclaimed.
"Well, I hear of a garden party starting away off in Mordor shortly, I imagine a handy bit of self-defence readiness might be in demand for that."
Heeding the subtle suggestion, Hobold swung a generous blow directly at Peri's head with the heavy knob of his blackthorn cane. Peri deftly stepped aside, parrying carefully with the fleshy side of his forearm as the blow glanced into the ground at his feet.
At the same time, he unclipped his broadsword from his belt, and (still sheathed) held it with the point towards Hobold's pudgy red nose.
Hobblefoor, though, had seemingly had some experience of the sort from time to time in his many adventures, and though he was a hobbit of comfortable proportions, was nonetheless more than capable - not to mention, athletic - in a fight. Leaning all of his weight upon his walking stick, Hobold leant back sweeping a powerful kick at the ankle of Peri's front foot, at which the younger and less experienced Periantar lost his balance and toppled over.
Grasping his advantage, Hobold lunged forward and drove the narrow tip of his stick at Peri's forehead, bringing it to a sudden halt only millimetres (for hobbits were well known to measure smaller distances in metric units) from making contact.
"Meet Headthwacker," Hobold laughed, as he helped the younger hobbit to his feet. " Named by one of my travelling companions shortly after we survived a wild wolf attack one night. Blackthorn makes for a truly wonderful walking stick, and an even better self defence weapon.
"Now one thing you want to remember, my dear hobbit," said Hobold throwing a friendly arm over his friend's shoulder, is to protect your stance, especially when your enemy is down, or nearly down."
"Have you any idea what just happened Hobold?"
"Not the foggiest Peri. I came here for some training for battle readiness, attempted to engage in a little sword play (no pun intended) with the curvy hobbittess over there, and then suddenly animals are being slaughtered, other animals stampeding, and a dragon wandering straight through the Grounds!" Hobold exclaimed.
"Well, I hear of a garden party starting away off in Mordor shortly, I imagine a handy bit of self-defence readiness might be in demand for that."
Heeding the subtle suggestion, Hobold swung a generous blow directly at Peri's head with the heavy knob of his blackthorn cane. Peri deftly stepped aside, parrying carefully with the fleshy side of his forearm as the blow glanced into the ground at his feet.
At the same time, he unclipped his broadsword from his belt, and (still sheathed) held it with the point towards Hobold's pudgy red nose.
Hobblefoor, though, had seemingly had some experience of the sort from time to time in his many adventures, and though he was a hobbit of comfortable proportions, was nonetheless more than capable - not to mention, athletic - in a fight. Leaning all of his weight upon his walking stick, Hobold leant back sweeping a powerful kick at the ankle of Peri's front foot, at which the younger and less experienced Periantar lost his balance and toppled over.
Grasping his advantage, Hobold lunged forward and drove the narrow tip of his stick at Peri's forehead, bringing it to a sudden halt only millimetres (for hobbits were well known to measure smaller distances in metric units) from making contact.
"Meet Headthwacker," Hobold laughed, as he helped the younger hobbit to his feet. " Named by one of my travelling companions shortly after we survived a wild wolf attack one night. Blackthorn makes for a truly wonderful walking stick, and an even better self defence weapon.
"Now one thing you want to remember, my dear hobbit," said Hobold throwing a friendly arm over his friend's shoulder, is to protect your stance, especially when your enemy is down, or nearly down."
Periantar:
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
- Points: 4 777
Tree
Posts: 3136
Joined: Sun May 17, 2020 7:54 pm
Fairbairn the Fat
Fairbairn had wandered off for a bit to do some scouting. His journey had taken him to Mordor, then Lore, and now back again. Along the way he had stopped off for a couple of days in Gondor, and now he was worried.
@Periantar, Hobold, Tylwyth - all of you! Listen to me. In this whole wide world that we inhabit there is not much going on. As we know, the Goblins have all cleared out of Mordor. Only the agents of Saruman (my own) are in Rohan. The Elves of Lorien have faded, or taken up occupation as the Adamanta Chubb Librarian of Elostirion. Hobbits, this whole world is ours for the taking!
But one small group still holds out in Gondor. I've been watching them. They have this Rangers Training Ground, which is a bit like our SDS training ground - only incredibly serious! They are battle-hardened, trained in every weapon, and very scary.
Sooner or later, we are going to bump into these Rangers. As things stand, they will slaughter us. I vote for upping the Hobbit training, getting our hands on some new weapons, and possibly recruiting some veteran warriors.
Fairbairn picked up one of the rusty swords and for about 4 minutes practiced hearty strokes in the air. Then he caught his breath for 10 minutes.
Fairbairn had wandered off for a bit to do some scouting. His journey had taken him to Mordor, then Lore, and now back again. Along the way he had stopped off for a couple of days in Gondor, and now he was worried.
@Periantar, Hobold, Tylwyth - all of you! Listen to me. In this whole wide world that we inhabit there is not much going on. As we know, the Goblins have all cleared out of Mordor. Only the agents of Saruman (my own) are in Rohan. The Elves of Lorien have faded, or taken up occupation as the Adamanta Chubb Librarian of Elostirion. Hobbits, this whole world is ours for the taking!
But one small group still holds out in Gondor. I've been watching them. They have this Rangers Training Ground, which is a bit like our SDS training ground - only incredibly serious! They are battle-hardened, trained in every weapon, and very scary.
Sooner or later, we are going to bump into these Rangers. As things stand, they will slaughter us. I vote for upping the Hobbit training, getting our hands on some new weapons, and possibly recruiting some veteran warriors.
Fairbairn picked up one of the rusty swords and for about 4 minutes practiced hearty strokes in the air. Then he caught his breath for 10 minutes.
Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.
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Hobold, heeding Fairbairn's warning (and noting, that despite journeys of such magnificent distance, and no doubt surviving on short rations for much of that time, that he was still, indeed in deed as well as name, Fairbairn theFat), stepped up once more to the archery range and brought an arrow to the string. He was sober now, of both mind and determination. "None shall threaten my Shire, my Home," he muttered beneath his breath.
Hobold took aim, as best as he could guess he was supposed to, and drawing himself up to his full 4 foot, 1 and a quarter inches of height, drew back the string of his bow. It creaked a quietly into his ear as it reached full extension. He felt the featherd fletching touch lightly upon his cheek. Then, thinking of his precious Shire, and all that he held dear, and also how foolish he must have looked, being that he still really had no idea what he was doing... he released the arrow.
TWANG
The arrow shot from his bow somehow much quicker than last time, almost alarmingly so. Hobold watched its flight through the air; gracefull and... surprisingly straight.
thunk
Hobold looked, blinked, then looked again. It had! It had hit the tearget. No, not the centre, but the target itself. Quite chuffed, Hobold walked up to collect his arrown. "Bah, Rangers?" he quipped towards Fairbairn. "Let them come. We'll show them, the Shire is not to be overrun so easily as some might believe.
Returning to his original position, Hobold took up his bow once more, and now with greater confidence, nocked his arrow, and took aim...
Hobold took aim, as best as he could guess he was supposed to, and drawing himself up to his full 4 foot, 1 and a quarter inches of height, drew back the string of his bow. It creaked a quietly into his ear as it reached full extension. He felt the featherd fletching touch lightly upon his cheek. Then, thinking of his precious Shire, and all that he held dear, and also how foolish he must have looked, being that he still really had no idea what he was doing... he released the arrow.
TWANG
The arrow shot from his bow somehow much quicker than last time, almost alarmingly so. Hobold watched its flight through the air; gracefull and... surprisingly straight.
thunk
Hobold looked, blinked, then looked again. It had! It had hit the tearget. No, not the centre, but the target itself. Quite chuffed, Hobold walked up to collect his arrown. "Bah, Rangers?" he quipped towards Fairbairn. "Let them come. We'll show them, the Shire is not to be overrun so easily as some might believe.
Returning to his original position, Hobold took up his bow once more, and now with greater confidence, nocked his arrow, and took aim...
Periantar:
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
I am a multi facited hobbit, for I am a gardener;
a leader, hobbit second regiment of the HDS;
and fireworks meister of TISAPA.
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"Rangers?!" repeated Tylwyth.
She flung down her sword and rushed off, reappearing some time later in a glamorous gold tunic, carrying a book.
"That'll show those Rangers! Right, I picked up this Guide to Fancy Swordwork I found stashed in another chest in my house."
She picked up her sword and opened the book on a random page.
"Let me see. OK, step forward on the left foot gracefully as if about to dance. Swirl sword through air elegantly. Step out your right foot. Whirl sword around slowly in a figure of eight as if dancing to slow music, until opponent is mesmerised. Then slash off one of their limbs." She paused, mid sword dancing. "I was quite enjoying it until that last bit."
She flung down her sword and rushed off, reappearing some time later in a glamorous gold tunic, carrying a book.
"That'll show those Rangers! Right, I picked up this Guide to Fancy Swordwork I found stashed in another chest in my house."
She picked up her sword and opened the book on a random page.
"Let me see. OK, step forward on the left foot gracefully as if about to dance. Swirl sword through air elegantly. Step out your right foot. Whirl sword around slowly in a figure of eight as if dancing to slow music, until opponent is mesmerised. Then slash off one of their limbs." She paused, mid sword dancing. "I was quite enjoying it until that last bit."
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Fairbairn the Fat
Fairbairn the Fat sat on a stone under the light of the moon by the side of the practice field. He was alone, aside from the wind in the trees and the angry spirit of the dead badger buried but a bowshot away. Fairbairn could not sleep at night because the badger appeared in his dreams. He had come to see if maybe the badger might agree to settle things amicably after all.
Fairbairn the Fat sat on a stone under the light of the moon by the side of the practice field. He was alone, aside from the wind in the trees and the angry spirit of the dead badger buried but a bowshot away. Fairbairn could not sleep at night because the badger appeared in his dreams. He had come to see if maybe the badger might agree to settle things amicably after all.
Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.
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Fairbairn the Fat
Fairbairn had been sitting by the practice ground for two nights: nothing and nobody. No badger-ghost had appeared, nor Hobbits, nor Elvish Librarian, not even a stray goose. It was time to take the initiative and commence dialogue with the angry spirit. After attempting a Sonnet, and failing miserably, Fairbairn had gone for a simpler genre. On a flat stone he had inscribed an epitaph, and he now raised the stone by the grave of the badger that he had slain in a fit of heroism.
Fairbairn had been sitting by the practice ground for two nights: nothing and nobody. No badger-ghost had appeared, nor Hobbits, nor Elvish Librarian, not even a stray goose. It was time to take the initiative and commence dialogue with the angry spirit. After attempting a Sonnet, and failing miserably, Fairbairn had gone for a simpler genre. On a flat stone he had inscribed an epitaph, and he now raised the stone by the grave of the badger that he had slain in a fit of heroism.
Will nobody speak for the spirit of the badger?Badger, you were an animal, fierce, sad, brave, and at your end bloody, but not very intelligible (nor very intelligent). Yet I did not trap you nor bait you before exploding your brains with my arrow. How about we call it quits?
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Alas poor badger.
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Will nobody speak helpfully for the spirit of the departed badger?
I need it to move on and stop haunting my dreams. I'm willing to offer concessions to buy its forgiveness, wergild.
I need it to move on and stop haunting my dreams. I'm willing to offer concessions to buy its forgiveness, wergild.
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Fairbairn the Fat
'Therapeutic Necromancy'. That is how his good friend, Chrysophylax Dives, had explained it. The dragon was the Librarian's helper over at Undertowers - the Adamanta Chubb Librarian, that is - and so knew what he was talking about. More importantly, the dragon had lent Fairbairn a palantír. Fairbairn made himself comfortable on the ground, cast his mind once more over his argument, and placed both hands on the dark orb of crystal, which began to glow even as the badger appeared inside the Stone.
'Therapeutic Necromancy'. That is how his good friend, Chrysophylax Dives, had explained it. The dragon was the Librarian's helper over at Undertowers - the Adamanta Chubb Librarian, that is - and so knew what he was talking about. More importantly, the dragon had lent Fairbairn a palantír. Fairbairn made himself comfortable on the ground, cast his mind once more over his argument, and placed both hands on the dark orb of crystal, which began to glow even as the badger appeared inside the Stone.
Fairbairn took a deep breath.VelvetineZone wrote: ↑Thu Aug 22, 2024 8:09 am
"Night combat training it is then," she agreed, nervous, but also excited, before the glow of the sword was suddenly reflected in a pair of low eyes at the edge of the training ground. Tylwyth ... placed the sword down on a rock, and crept towards to the creature, which did not move, before crouching down and beginning to sketch its eyes and snout in the dark.
"It's a badger!" she called to her new training companions. ""I wonder if it came here to train too."
"Train!" scoffed a low growly voice in the darkness. "I don't need to train! I've fought more battles than you've had second breakfasts."
Tylwyth nearly jumped out of her skin. "A sentient talking badger? I thought they were a myth too. I've had a LOT of second breakfasts," she added.
"I've been in a LOT of battles," replied the badger, ambling forward, out of the shadows. He had a low stubby black and white body, multiple scars, and eyes that managed to be simultaneously fierce and friendly. "The name's Battlebrock."
OK. Badger. I don't like this any more than you do. But you are ruination in this carefully crafted world. You are talking to a Hobbit - what have you done to this poor Hobbit lass before our eyes? This Hobbit is the real badger, and the only glimpse of a badger we can receive without hopeless confusion. Hobbits are rabbits, to an eagle; Hobbits are brave, at a pinch - think Frodo Baggins in the Barrow, and at that moment A HOBBIT IS A BADGER.
Badger Battlebrock breaks the mirror - and why not? But a prologue at least is required.
Yes Badger, I know that you (now) know about a fox that talked to himself at the sight of the Hobbits sleeping under the stars. But Tolkien only just gets away with it, and to jump in with elaboration is a folly beyond measure.
I hope this is clear, that on reflection you will appreciate your intrinsic wrongness, and so stop plaguing my dreams in my own house.
Bye
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Fairbairn returned to his own house and went to bed in his downstairs bedroom.
Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.
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Content deleted
Last edited by VelvetineZone on Sun Oct 13, 2024 11:19 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Or have you just exorcised yourself of badger ghosts?
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Fairbairn the Fat
Fairbairn woke up in his own bed, drenched in sweat. The badger had not appeared in his dreams. Instead, Tylwyth had spoken to him. And yet it was the same voice! Who would have thought the old badger had so much blood in him?
Possibly the strain of conversing with the spirit of the dead badger in the Seeing Stone of Elostirion had been one tension too many in a mind (his own) already fraying at the edges. After splashing himself with water, Fairbairn cooked up a pre-breakfast snack of 3 fried eggs and 11 rashers of bacon to ease his still-muddled brain into action. He made a pot of tea, too.
Feeling much more like his proper Hobbit-self, Fairbairn reasoned things out. Therapeutic Necromancy worked, just as the dragon had promised. The spirit of the dead badger had not haunted his dreams. So the spirit of the very much alive Hobbit-lass Tylwyth had haunted them in place of the badger - but this was at least a step in the right direction. Better to be haunted by a spirit still living than a spirit of the dead! Not least because with the living you could go find them and give them a piece of your mind, without troubling with all that Seeing Stone Necromancy business.
Fairbairn felt much better. He began to make himself breakfast - a proper one, sparing neither cheese, black pudding, nor chutney. Once fortified with victuals, he was going to return to the SDS training ground, find the Hobbit-lass, and have a nice, comfy chat about rules.
Fairbairn woke up in his own bed, drenched in sweat. The badger had not appeared in his dreams. Instead, Tylwyth had spoken to him. And yet it was the same voice! Who would have thought the old badger had so much blood in him?
Possibly the strain of conversing with the spirit of the dead badger in the Seeing Stone of Elostirion had been one tension too many in a mind (his own) already fraying at the edges. After splashing himself with water, Fairbairn cooked up a pre-breakfast snack of 3 fried eggs and 11 rashers of bacon to ease his still-muddled brain into action. He made a pot of tea, too.
Feeling much more like his proper Hobbit-self, Fairbairn reasoned things out. Therapeutic Necromancy worked, just as the dragon had promised. The spirit of the dead badger had not haunted his dreams. So the spirit of the very much alive Hobbit-lass Tylwyth had haunted them in place of the badger - but this was at least a step in the right direction. Better to be haunted by a spirit still living than a spirit of the dead! Not least because with the living you could go find them and give them a piece of your mind, without troubling with all that Seeing Stone Necromancy business.
Fairbairn felt much better. He began to make himself breakfast - a proper one, sparing neither cheese, black pudding, nor chutney. Once fortified with victuals, he was going to return to the SDS training ground, find the Hobbit-lass, and have a nice, comfy chat about rules.
Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.
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Fairbairn the Fat (at his house)
As he finished his second breakfast (not so large, with no cheese selection and only one kind of sausage) Fairbairn had an idea and an inspiration. Tylwyth the insane Hobbit-lass who he had rescued from the armed badger was still hissy with him. He could win her over by painting for her a picture! That was the idea.
Then, as he polished off the last toast with some marmalade, inspiration hit him. He still had the Elostirion palantír in his back pack. He would set up the Seeing Stone now on his desk downstairs and, by force of will, direct his gaze over an ocean of space and time all the way to a remote but clear perception of the upstairs of his own house - which Fairbairn had never seen, being too fat to squeeze up the staircase.
It was a red letter day.
Mushroom Modernism was almost born that morning!
As he finished his second breakfast (not so large, with no cheese selection and only one kind of sausage) Fairbairn had an idea and an inspiration. Tylwyth the insane Hobbit-lass who he had rescued from the armed badger was still hissy with him. He could win her over by painting for her a picture! That was the idea.
Then, as he polished off the last toast with some marmalade, inspiration hit him. He still had the Elostirion palantír in his back pack. He would set up the Seeing Stone now on his desk downstairs and, by force of will, direct his gaze over an ocean of space and time all the way to a remote but clear perception of the upstairs of his own house - which Fairbairn had never seen, being too fat to squeeze up the staircase.
It was a red letter day.
Mushroom Modernism was almost born that morning!
Last edited by Chrysophylax Dives on Thu Oct 17, 2024 4:59 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Fairbairn the Fat (at his house)
What issued from Fairbairn's brushes was not after all what he was seeking; though at first he knew it not and was wildly happy, and wondered if he really must hand the canvas over to the Hobbit-badger-girl as a peaceoffering mathom? But then he could paint, draw, and sketch the upstairs again and again, from memory - for Fairbairn knew that to the end of his days he could never forget what, after those breakfasts, he saw in the Stone.
Afterwards the dragon had explained to Fairbairn that this was not really how the upstairs of his own house appeared, or might appear to one who climbed its staircase. Apparently Fairbairn's attention had wandered at a crucial early moment and the Stone had returned to its conventional point of view, as established by the Librarian's helper - naturally, on the desk of the Adamanta Chubb Librarian high up in the tallest and most western Elvish tower on Undertowers, Elostirion.
Fairbairn fell into deep depression for many days after the meaning of his picture was revealed to him. He stopped attending SDS training sessions for a long while. But once he had recovered his wits, he resolved to make a good breakfast and then walk over to Undertowers and beg to borrow the Stone once again. In all the days that he was beating himself up for having failed to draw the upstairs, the badger had not once troubled his dreams, in his sleep or out of it. But he did not have to tell the dragon that, and would make out that the badger had launched a semi-lucid appeal that needed to be dealt with. Then, if fortune or the dragon smiled, he would return to his own house, and this time his attention would not flicker!
To be continued (on another thread, as this is the SDS thread; apologies @Periantar; @VelvetineZone - peace! No mathom present - sorry. The image that Fairbairn painted now hangs on the eastern wall of the Librarian's office in Elostirion, it is the Librarian's image, and belongs to all who are Librarians in their hearts; the Library has made a public copy available here).
What issued from Fairbairn's brushes was not after all what he was seeking; though at first he knew it not and was wildly happy, and wondered if he really must hand the canvas over to the Hobbit-badger-girl as a peaceoffering mathom? But then he could paint, draw, and sketch the upstairs again and again, from memory - for Fairbairn knew that to the end of his days he could never forget what, after those breakfasts, he saw in the Stone.
Afterwards the dragon had explained to Fairbairn that this was not really how the upstairs of his own house appeared, or might appear to one who climbed its staircase. Apparently Fairbairn's attention had wandered at a crucial early moment and the Stone had returned to its conventional point of view, as established by the Librarian's helper - naturally, on the desk of the Adamanta Chubb Librarian high up in the tallest and most western Elvish tower on Undertowers, Elostirion.
Fairbairn fell into deep depression for many days after the meaning of his picture was revealed to him. He stopped attending SDS training sessions for a long while. But once he had recovered his wits, he resolved to make a good breakfast and then walk over to Undertowers and beg to borrow the Stone once again. In all the days that he was beating himself up for having failed to draw the upstairs, the badger had not once troubled his dreams, in his sleep or out of it. But he did not have to tell the dragon that, and would make out that the badger had launched a semi-lucid appeal that needed to be dealt with. Then, if fortune or the dragon smiled, he would return to his own house, and this time his attention would not flicker!
the upstairs awaited
To be continued (on another thread, as this is the SDS thread; apologies @Periantar; @VelvetineZone - peace! No mathom present - sorry. The image that Fairbairn painted now hangs on the eastern wall of the Librarian's office in Elostirion, it is the Librarian's image, and belongs to all who are Librarians in their hearts; the Library has made a public copy available here).
Last edited by Chrysophylax Dives on Thu Oct 17, 2024 4:57 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Fairbairn the Fat
Fairbairn was back at the SDS Training Grounds. He had a notion of dragging the dragon down here too, to get his opinion on the badger.
The badger was dead. It was an ex-badger, etc. The spirit of the dead badger had been silenced by literary reason. Fairbairn was no longer troubled by angry-badger visitations in his dreams. But all his recent painting of the upstairs suggested that the upper storey of his house had been colonized by a deviant badger-clan, who had filled the space above his head with earth and dug an interconnected system of tunnels and chambers. His paintings filled him with foreboding.
So Fairbairn had returned to the place where he had murdered the badger, not far from where its corpse now decayed in the small barrow that they had raised as burial mound. He did not carry a Seeing Stone and was not formally attempting conversation with the dead. He was just hoping that if he hung around long enough the angry spirit might pass by and he could pretend an accidental meeting. For this reason he had brought with him his bow and arrow, so that he could make out that he was just taking a breather from strenuous SDS training, and had not actually been lurking near the badger's grave.
Fairbairn was back at the SDS Training Grounds. He had a notion of dragging the dragon down here too, to get his opinion on the badger.
The badger was dead. It was an ex-badger, etc. The spirit of the dead badger had been silenced by literary reason. Fairbairn was no longer troubled by angry-badger visitations in his dreams. But all his recent painting of the upstairs suggested that the upper storey of his house had been colonized by a deviant badger-clan, who had filled the space above his head with earth and dug an interconnected system of tunnels and chambers. His paintings filled him with foreboding.
So Fairbairn had returned to the place where he had murdered the badger, not far from where its corpse now decayed in the small barrow that they had raised as burial mound. He did not carry a Seeing Stone and was not formally attempting conversation with the dead. He was just hoping that if he hung around long enough the angry spirit might pass by and he could pretend an accidental meeting. For this reason he had brought with him his bow and arrow, so that he could make out that he was just taking a breather from strenuous SDS training, and had not actually been lurking near the badger's grave.
Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.
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Tylwyth was strolling around, back for a break from gardening in Mordor, when she thought she saw an entire parade of wraithlike badger skeletons pass by, a bit like some odd faery Halloween procession in Tam Lin, but more badgery.
They were all daubed with mud and covered in leaves. It was quite wild and mystical. They marched across the badger burial mound.
Maybe she shouldn't have stopped for too many drinks in The Prancing Pony on the way, she was hallucinating badgers.
They were all daubed with mud and covered in leaves. It was quite wild and mystical. They marched across the badger burial mound.
Maybe she shouldn't have stopped for too many drinks in The Prancing Pony on the way, she was hallucinating badgers.
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Fairbairn the Fat
Fairbairn considered climbing a tree. Not a profoundly appealing prospect, and he was not sure any of the trees nearabout would allow him to climb to any considerable height without the branches breaking beneath his feet. Also, badger-skeletons could likely climb trees too, and that would be a pretty pass, batting off badger-skulls with a branch and inventing the games of cricket and golf at the same time. O yes. Or rather, no.
Fairbairn took the even less appealing choice, and ran.
Fairbairn considered climbing a tree. Not a profoundly appealing prospect, and he was not sure any of the trees nearabout would allow him to climb to any considerable height without the branches breaking beneath his feet. Also, badger-skeletons could likely climb trees too, and that would be a pretty pass, batting off badger-skulls with a branch and inventing the games of cricket and golf at the same time. O yes. Or rather, no.
Fairbairn took the even less appealing choice, and ran.
Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.
