South of Taurduin's Mouth
You stand near the Long Lake at it's south-west edge, in sight of both the
Running River to the East, and the Forest River to the North. A bridge crosses
the Celeduin (Running) but the Taurduin has a short free ferry ride on a barge.

Dwarven Travel Camp
Around you is a small dwarven campsite. The campsite is smaller than normal for
Khazad. There is a campfire in the center, surrounded by a number of small
shelters. Though not as large as some dwarven camps, there are sentries on
duty.

***** Erebor Time + Weather Service ******************************************

** Real time is: Tue Aug 24 12:46:58 1999, GMT -8 **
Elendor time is: Midday (about 12 Noon (lunch time) ) on Monday, 21 March 3018.
In the Spring sky, Tonight the moon will be last quarter. 

****************************************** Erebor Time + Weather Service *****

On the top of a rolling wagon, Brican sighs for a moment as the road seems to
go on endlessly. It's been a cold few days for him as there been a lack of
fires and heat for the poor souls of the camp. He grunts as he takes a bite of
perserved meat from under his jacket and slaps the reigns of his horses to
quicken there pace.

Gumbart swears loudly as he comes back from the river bank, "Damned, unholy,
pest-carrying mosquitos, visitors from the Nameless One, cursed orcish insects
of Mirkwood!!" Gumbart is slapping himself here and there, trying to kill all
the blood-suckers, but with limited success. At the same time he is trying to
shoo the flies away from the two dead rabbits he is carrying. "I shall kill a
pony and leave the carcass for you, black midget devils from the darkest
tunnels Durin's sons ever stumbled across!" he roars as he nearly stumbles
across a log while trying to defend himself against the boiling mass. "Hey
Brican, why did we camp so close to the Marshes??" he shouts.

As he pulls up alongside Gumbart with his wagon, Brican looks down to him from
his perch, "Well tis you who got here first cousin Gumbart, I just been
bringing in the wagons closer to the marshes. But a strange place you have
brought us to Gumbart, and yet ye still have reglected to tell us why we have
come this way, perhaps now this would be a good time." He turns to go into his
wagon for a moment, and after a moment of shuffling he comes out bearing a
moskito net which he tosses towards Gumbart.

Datain sticks his head out of the wagon, "Yeah, havent we gotten to know each
other well enough to build up some trust," he adds with a slight hint of
sarcasm.

Steaming in anger but quiet nonetheless, Gumbart wraps his face and hat under
the mosquito net that Brican provided so unselfishly. "Aye, now it's my fault,
is it? Nobody knows where we are going and yet we seem to steer into the
deepest marshes, the blackest ponds and now we're camping as near to mosqito
bliss and dwarven misery as you can get. And through no fault of mine!" he
shouts. He falls silent then. "Ah," he mutters, much calmer, "ye shall know it
all. I should have showed you some days back." Seeing Datain sticking his head
out of his wagon, he waves and says, louder now, "Yes, Datain, do come out and
let me tell you what we're after!"

Stepping down from the wagon with a bump, Brican looks over towards Gumbart
with a smile, "Perhaps not your fault, but the forrest isn't far now I can say,
to the west maybe it bears, ye have the map however so I'll have to rely on
your judgment on this. The word of trolls disturbs me though, they are reported
to be near here when we spoke to our cousin several days ago."

"How should i know what were after, I just had to get out of Engrin for a
while," Datain says jumping down from his wagon and making his way to his two
cousins. "And now that I am on this trip I can't go back."

Gumbart busies himself with the two rabbits, skinning them quickly and wrapping
the bleeding lumps of flesh into some rags. "That'll do," he mutters. Then he
calls, "Wait a second," goes to wash his hands, comes back from the river, and
sits by the empty space that will hold the cooking fire towards the evening
hours. From under his cloak he pulls a brown leather cylinder, shining and
smooth, waxed and locked by an intricate dwarven lock of silver rose patterns
with interlocking thorns. He opens the lock with a swift pass of his dextrous
fingers and pulls several sheets of paper from the cylinder. "This," he says in
his sarcastic voice, "is the key to a fortune larger than what was regained
from Smaug a few years back."

Curious, Brican moves to get a closer look to the sheets, he turns to Gumbart,
"Aye you mentioned of this before, I thought it was nothing more than a legend
when you had mentioned it, how can we possibly find this treasure? And as you
know, we need someone who knows of the black arts to help us with this journey,
but that is terribly hard to come by, especially one that wouldn't be working
for the nameless one. How can we know such a person wouldn't backstab us at the
first mention of this treasure?"
 
Datain leans in to get a closer look, and wait to say anything not wanting to
sound dumb. At the mention of the black arts Datain backs away slightly with a
slight hint of worry in his eyes, then looks to Gumbart for answers to his
unasked questions.

Gumbart shakes his head, grinning, "No my friend Brican, I think we shall make
it without resorting to the black arts. They are dangerous to dabble with and I
would have none of them, if I could. No, take a look at this here..." He
spreads one of the maps out. <OOC: type +inspect gum's map>

This is map usually stored in a brown leather cylinder, shining and smooth,
waxed and locked by an intricate dwarven lock of silver rose patterns with
interlocking thorns. An intricate sequence of little thorns has to be pressed
in order to open that lock. Once the lock is opened and the map spread out, you
see the oultline of fortress walls in the bottom left corner, neatly labeled
DOL GULDUR in khazad runes, the valley of the great ANDUIN to the right,
several tributaries, and in the center of it all, a hill, a cairn, numbers,
lines, runes and a lot of other things, some of it probably written in a
private code with inks difficult to read except under certain lighting
conditions. All you can decipher at a glance is the name Thrain, son of Thror,
and the names of some of the dwarves that were with him at the time he was
captured and tortured in Dol Guldur, a long, long time ago.

From outside the camp > Brican inspects Gumbart's map.
From outside the camp > Datain inspects Gumbart's map.

Brican nods as he looks down towards the map, "This is Dol Guldur, it's on the
southern tip of the great forrest called Mirkwood I believe, we'd have to
travel through the old forrest road to get there, isn't that dangerous, I have
heard there are leaping elves from every tree, ready to capture a dwarf on a
moments notice, spiders that jump and speed towards you without a blink of a
eye, do you think it is wise cousin to travel through such a dangerous land?"

You say, "This map will lead us to where Thrain left his most precious
possessions, when he knew he was going to be taken. He hid it with all his
powers and I am sure that he managed to seal the secrets in his mind so that
not even the black magic of Dol Guldur could discover Thrain's secret. The tale
has survived through some of the survivors, the ones that managed to escape.
Some of their names are listed here, right in the middle. I followed their
lead, I questioned their relatives, I cross checked the information, and I'm
sure that this is no lie!"

Gumbart nods, "And yes, Brican, the way is dangerous. I've heard about the
elves, too. But when I hear talk about trolls travelling through the lands
south of Mirkwood, then I know that the elves are not as vigilant as they used
to be."

Brican nods twoards Gumbart, "Aye, perhaps your right about that, but I'm not
sure which I fear more, meeting up with a elf, or having a rampaging troll on
my tail. I think it best if we post double guard from now on, we can't afford
to take any chances. Also our rations are running low so we should start
conversing, I'm not sure when we would get another chance to fill our water
barrels.

Datain shivers at the thought of elves and trolls, what else could I have
gotten into he asks himself. But Datain eases himself at the sight of Brican
and Gumbart who seem like they aren't too worried. "Lets say the trolls and
elves dont get us, if this treasure is guarded so well how do we know there are
no traps on the way?"

Gumbart grins, "Yes, I know about traps. There are two things to that: 1. I
hope that the traps are designed to trap orcs, creatures of Dol Guldur. 2. I've
brought Rimli along who seems to have a talent with certain kinds of locks...."
He smirks. "We'll just keep a low profile, get to the point on the map, figure
out how to enter Thrain's cache and get out of there as fast as possible."

Gumbart chuckles, rubbing his hands together.

Brican smiles towards Gumbart, "A plan, perhaps a good plan, but you will have
to excuse me if I keep the warders on double watch while we are in mirkwood,
never can be too careful. Aye, the thought of such a treasure is beyond the
mind, when we get back to our homes we will be famous I tell you."

Gumbart grins widely now, and says gleefully, the spark of greed shining bright
in his eyes, "Yes we will! Let the warders guard us, it won't matter once we're
rich beyond our wildest dreams!!"

With a yawn, Brican looks back over to his wagon and turns to the others, "I
have been on the road consently for the last 3 days, as all of us have, and I
think sleep is in order even if this confounded moskitos do not know the word,
I will dream of the treasure we bring back." With this he turns and walks back
to his wagon.

"Well we already are infamous, my cousin, if you don't remember. I hope we do
find something, just to clear our names." Datain imphasizes. With that Datain
turn and retires to his wagon and settles down for some much needed rest.

The dwarven talk about treasures, dangers, elves, orcs, gold and fame and
fortune (especially gold and fame and fortune!) keeps Gumbart awake for long
hours at the fire...