What Bavor reaches the Dwarven camp at North-port and searches for his parents. Who Bavor Rockcutter (#25001).....himself Jormun Lifebringer (#19783)...himself Semi-circle of Wains
The wains have been arranged in a crescent, probably with some natural barrier against the open end, such as a stone outcropping or a river. At the center of the camp has been erected a large firepit. Around this there is a scattering of stools and low tables, a woodpile, and several chests, open to reveal cooking utensils and other tools. There are also large square shields leaning against this or that around the camp, probably for use in an arrow-barrage. The ponies for the wagons are staked out with nose-bags off to one side. Sleeping rolls line the camp along the edges by the wagons.
Type 'camphelp' for commands.
Standing out amidst the wains here are Uzbad's Wain, Baruk Zirak Wain, Barazin Wain, Mazarbul Wain, Bundazanul Wain, and Zinbar Wain.
Around the camp can be seen Jormun.[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Daytime on Sterday, Day 11 of May.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.Real time is: 16:02:03 MST on Sat Jan 20 2001.
[Arkenstone(#17999)->Bavor]
***** Erebor Time & Weather Service ******************************************
** Real time is: Sat Jan 20 16:02:11 2001, GMT -7 **
Elendor time is: Late Afternoon (1700) on Sterday, 11 May 3022.
In the overcast Spring sky, Tonight the moon will be new.
****************************************** Erebor Time & Weather Service *****Bavor(#25001POeA+Nc)
This individual is a short, stocky figure by human standards at just over four feet in height and about one-fourth that size in width, making him either a short man, a tall hobbit, or a dwarf. Yes, a dwarf: that seems logical, given his dimensions, as well as his beard (rather long, it would seem, reaching just down to waist, forked in the middle and braided from there down). And his eyes... rather dull, of a greyish hue. As for this person's hair, it is either a light brown or a dark blonde, being the same shade as his beard, and straight, falling down to just below his ears. His nose is wide, the bottom of which being partially obscured by a bushy brown (or blonde...) moustache, beneath which being a full pair of lips, beneath which being a beard-covered chin. His skin is a ruddy brownish-red hue.As for the attire worn by this dwarven figure, they consist of what would be a greyish-green knee-length tunic with sleeves down to the elbows and a rather simple-looking leather belt (the buckle isn't too bad, though... it's just iron, but it's very well-made, reflecting light nicely) supporting it. A portion of his legs are visible above a pair of large leather boots. Bavor just looked at you.
Jormun
Build like a rock, a stout looking dwarf between 4 and 5 feet tall stands here, almost carved into the surroundings. His face is calm and handsome, with eyes full of joy and life. He has black hair, and from his chin hangs a raven-black beard, reaching down over his broad muscular chest, almost down to his waist, showing his youth. His body appears strong with the grace of agility, his hands too, rough and worn.He is wearing a black cloak with a hood pulled back, resting on his back and shoulders. Under the cloak is seen a grey shirt, ending in black briggas. He is wearing a broad belt, with a black satchel tied to it's right side, it is large enough to hold small instruments of some sort. He wears a finely crafted bracelet on his left arm.
[+Commands(#433)->Bavor] There are no obviously inspectable details on Semi-circle of Wains.
[Jormun(#19783)] The sun stands low on this late afternoon, sending it's rays over the dwarven camp. In the middle of the camp burns small fires, it is too early for them to light up anything, but there is sitting dwarves near them anyway, enjoying cups of tea, talking about old tales, some are even singing. It is a rather strange atmosphere, even though the voices are heard, then it is like the camp is filled with a peace of some sort. Near the wains, and the tents, are dwarves working on packing their gear, could look like the camp is slowly getting ready for being on the move again.
Near one of the fires sits Jormun Hraefanskegg, the Chirurgeon of Clan Bundazanul. He is currently cooking something in a pot, the smell of it would make even the most thirsty person think twice about drinking it. Smiling while he reads in a book, Jormun makes sure the liquid isnt getting too warm, and once in awhile he puts a few more herbs in it.
[Bavor] Not all of the gathered dwarves are getting ready to leave: one Bavor Rockcutter, Barazin miner, stands near a number of wains, watching the goings-on with curiosity and confusion. He does not seem to be doing anything besides standing there, scratching his chin, and observing the state of things in the camp.
Taking note of the chirurgeon sitting by a fire, Bavor nods to himself and strokes his beard, then walks in the other dwarf's direction. He steps over a rock here, a stray boot there, but has an easy time of it.
As he reaches the fireside, Bavor smiles and nods to Jormun. "Hallo, good sir," he starts, speaking in a fairly loud tone. "Hallo... might I ask what it is you are cooking? If it is not too much to ask, I was rather hungry... and I'm ready to eat nearly anything..." He smells the air and frowns. "But first, may I ask your name?"
[Jormun(#19783)] Looking up from his book, Jormun seems a bit surprised, but he sends Bavor a smile, "I am Jormun son of Lidskjalf, Warder and Chirurgeon of Clan Bundazanul", he indtroduces himself, shortly but friendly. Then looking back at what he is cooking and then back at Bavor, "You are hungry, you say! Unfortunately you would probably be even more hungry after eating this, you see you will most likely throw it up again, it is for wounds, not for our throats, friend", Jormun chuckles as he speaks, then he takes the pot of the fire, setting it next to him, so that it can be cooled down. "But you are lucky.. eh.. friend.. I will cook some soup now - and I happen to need someone who will help me eat it." Jormun smiles as he quickly put another pot on the fire, filling it with water and starts putting different plants in it, and some small dry pieces of meat he had in a bag next to him, then he looks up at Bavor, "What is your name, friend?"
[Bavor] "Ah... I see..." nods Bavor upon learning the concoction's purpose, "I suppose that I'd not be hungry enough to eat that... it did not smell like food. "And I would not mind eating your soup, as long as it does not smell like your medicine!" He chuckles for a moment. "I am Bavor Ljomi's son, a miner of Barazin." He strokes his beard, his eyes on the pot. "Would you mind if I sit down, good sir?"
[Jormun(#19783)] "Just take your seat and let us talk a litte, Bavor, son of Ljomi", smiling as he speaks, Jormun turns his attention to the soup again, putting in a few more ingredients. "So Bavor, Are you ready for traveling?", smiling at the dwarf at his side, Jormun continue, ".. This pot of medicine here is the last I need to do before leaving this place, I got most of my belongings packed and ready for wherever our king may take us." Jormun smiles, but a sad spark in his eyes reveal that he is not happy about leaving the mountain behind.. leaving home..
Bavor nods to Jormun, sitting down on the ground near the other. "And I am always prepared to travel... though I am not at all sure to where we are travelling." He scratches his head and strokes his beard. "You see, I only arrived here a few days past; I'd been in Naragathol for some months, and just now returned to Erebor... but I could not enter. I'd heard that... something terrible had happened, and I know not what it was. Some horror from off north, and dwarves killed, that is all I'd heard... few seem willing to speak with me of it." He looks downward.
[Jormun(#19783)] "Everybody have lost some close to them when the drakes attacked, and I belive it is the thought of all this evil hiding in the mountain together with the dead, that makes people unwilling to speak". Then he looks at Bavor, a sad look, "You must have known, everybody lost some when they attacked, didnt you have family here?". Jormun keeps an eye on the soup all the time, making sure everything is alright, and the smell of it starts filling the air with a wonderful aroma.
[Bavor] "Drakes!" Bavor starts at the mention of the great worms, his face almost whitening. "Have they returned from the north, after so long?" He shakes his head sadly. "There are my parents, and my brother... I do not know whether they are safe or not... by the Maker, why must this have happened?
[Jormun] Not knowing what to say to the shocked dwarf at his side, Jormun sits still and looks at the smoke from the soup. It is like he remembers the day the drakes attacked, how they broke through and killed most of his clan, including his parents. Then he seems to get back to reality and he look back at Bavor, "Yes, they have returned, and we are leaving this place to seek out help getting back into the mountain, and our deads." As he speaks, sadness carves his face, but he continues, "I do not know what have happened with your family, friend, I will advice you to seek out the Thane of your clan and speak with him!"
[Bavor] "Yes..." agrees the dwarf Bavor, shaking his head sadly, his forked beard swaying slightly with the motion. "By Thelor's hammer, what awful luck!" He sighs quietly, then stands up slowly. "Yes... I should. If you do not mind, good Jormun Lidskjalf's son, I should like to look about the camp for them... I thank you for your hospitality, and hope that we should meet again..."
[Jormun(#19783)] Jormun nods, "Yes friend, I hope for you that your family is alive", then he tries to smile, but the sadness of his face makes him look like one in great pain, "We will meet again, friend, this camp isnt so big, so we can avoid eachother!"... Then he pauses looking down and then back to Bavor, "Farewell, Friend, I hope you find your family!" Finally Jormun rises and bow for Bavor, a sign of respect it would be.
Bavor smiles. "Thank you, kind Jormun... I shall be off." With these words the khazad bows in his turn, his long beard almost touching the ground. He turns and disappears behind a wain.