Featuring Dolphus, Teradoc, Torvo, Olfo, Dharlon (Shirefolk hobbits), and Olfo as Ferocious_Boar (non-culture Orcine)

Gates of Michel Delving
The road climbs up a hill here, and beside it is a fine white fence with an intricate iron gate set in the middle. This is the fence that runs around Michel Delving, built when the orcs of Golfimbul invaded the Shire, long ago. You can tell that the gate is lovingly cared for. The gate is open today and you are free to pass through, for the Shire is at peace.

From inside the gate, you hear the sounds of a lively town and the smells of food cooking in the Delving Inn.
Contents:
Teradoc
Torvo
Midien
Olfo
Epo
Obvious exits:
Gate leads to Michel Delving.
East leads to Michel Delving - Eastern Outskirts.
North leads to Little Delving.
West leads to White Downs.

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RL (Arizona) time is Sun Feb 25 16:12:20 2001 (+time).
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IC time is about 2 PM on Monday Wedmath (August) 25, 1422 S.R.
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IC Weather Conditions
Some clouds are visible in the sky, but it is still hot and humid. A small breeze blows, moving the leaves on the trees on this Wedmath day.
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Standing by a small pony near the gates is Dolphus Burrows. He is clad in simple armor for the hunt (leather armor, helmet, and shield) for the hunt. A number of other hobbits are sitting here and there as well, a few with or on ponies, most armed similarly.

"All right, now..." says Dolphus to those present, "we'll be getting going soon. I've been appointed by the First Shirriff to lead this hunt. We'll start here, of course, and make our way westward, toward the Tower Hills, where we will set up camp and begin to hunt. Any questions?"

Unequally clad as Dolphus, a short, but rather plump figure stands by his own pony. He is a Shirriff, in all obviousness, as noted by the large yellow feather which protrudes from his brown hat; his likewise yellow weskit covered by a small black cloak, and his staff at its usual place in his hand.

"S'a'lookin' t' be a good hunt, ain't 't, M'ster Burra's?" Shirriff Olfo Diggle--of the East-farthing variety-- says, glancing over to the slightly older hobbit to his side. "Th' w'ther's a'lookin' r'ght'n'f'ne f'r it, too!"

Dolphus turns to Olfo and cocks an eyebrow. "Ah, pardon, Shirriff Diggle?" he asks of the other. "Was that Westron? You know I'm not much of a linguist, and... oh, the weather? Well, yes, I suppose it is. Rather nice, I should say." He nods confirmingly.

Standing off to the side a hobbit dressed in a cloak with a short sword wraped around the outside, he removes his hood and bows his head, showing it is Torvo Bracegirdle,"So where may this hunt be that I hear of?" Walking up to the crowd he asks a couple more questions,"What are we hunting?"

A hobbit lad with long, curly hair grins to himself, watching the exchange between the two Shirriffs. "I'd say that we should get on the road before the wind changes and night-time comes along," he says, scratching at his neck underneath his mass of brown hair. He turns, glancing at Torvo, and raises a hand. "Hello, Mister Bracegirdle. I believe it's boar season, but I could be mistaken." He glances back at the Shirriffs. "What are we hunting, cousin?" he half-shouts to Dolphus.

As Torvo speaks, Dolphus turns his head to address the Bracegirdle as well as Teradoc. "Ah, as I said, we will be hunting boar, in the Tower Hills. It should be a journey of about a half a day by pony, and we will set up camp when we reach the Hills. The actual hunting will begin tomorrow, after breakfast."

Adjusting his trousers a bit, and tugging at his weskit some, Olfo nods to Teradoc. "I s'pose y'r r'ght, M'ster Burra's," is what Mister Diggle says. He then looks to Dolphus. "Wh't d' y' th'nk?" the young Shirriff inquires.

A particularly strong gust of wind comes by, causing the hat of a particular Hobbit at the back of the crowd to fly away toward the east. This Hobbit gives out a shout, and chases after the headgear frantically.

"Well," says Dolphus to Olfo, "I suppose we should get going then... are we all in agreement?" He looks out over the following, climbing into his pony's saddle. "Onward to the Tower Hills, shall we?"

From the gates of Michel Delving, another Shirriff approaches the hunting party, Captian Dharlon Took. His staff, which is usally safely tucked away inside his cloak, instead rests in his right hand like a walking stick, and a hilt of a marble knife is just inches about his waistline to the left. A smile adorns the face under the feathered cap, and as he reaches the group, he asks loudly, and rethorically, "You all haven't started without me, have you?"

Taking a seat on a rock near the group Torvo looks up to Dolphus,"When shall we leave to this place where we will do the hunting?" He reaches into his pouch while talking and takes a sip of his ale that is in a container. Looking at the people that are gathered around the area there seems to be a large turn out.

"I s'pose we is, M'ster Burra's," Olfo replies, tucking the Shirriff's staff in his right hand under his arm, and mounting the pony to his left. However, a loud and hearty chuckle is evoked in the young Diggle as the Hobbit at the back of the party looses his hat. "I d'n't g'ss," he says between sincere chuckles, "'at 'at Hobb't'll be a'joinin' us!"

Teradoc, who has started to plod westward, looks back at the Took Shirriff, grinning. "We're about to... if you don't hurry up, that is!" He waves at Dharlon, looking back as he walks. Passing by Torvo on his resting place, Teradoc looks down at him and says, "Why, we're leaving now. Didn't you hear? C'mon." He offers the hobbit a hand standing up. "By noon, I'd say, Mister Bracegirdle, that I will have shot us a big, fat boar to take back to the Shire. Unless you get one first, of course, though the very thought of -that- happening..." He chuckles, obviously joking. "Want to make a friendly bet?"

"All right," says Dolphus ignoring the hatless hobbit spectacle, "Away we go, then." He kicks his pony gently. "Onward, lads!"

Passing by the gates of Michel Delving, you travel towards the White Downs where the Shirefolk hold the Midsummer's Fair every year during the Lithe season. You travel through the small settlement of Greenholm on the way.

White Downs
You have entered a region of silvery rolling uplands, known as the White Downs. It is rather chilly here year round due to the slightly high elevation, and a perennial fog rolls gently across the hills. Fluffy white sheep with black faces speckle the downs, grazing and going about their daily routine.

This area is used for many of the Shire's festivals and fairs, and a foggy path leads back east to the Delvings. Obvious exits:
West leads to Far Downs.
East leads to Gates of Michel Delving.
Links Field leads to Bandobras Took Memorial Golf Links.

Olfo arrives from the east.
Olfo has arrived.

Torvo arrives from the east.
Torvo has arrived.

Dharlon arrives from the east.
Dharlon has arrived.

Dharlon trails behind the group, just barely getting on hsi pony as the others left. However, he pushes is pony much faster, in an attempt to catch up. His staff is now at his side again, as his pony makes a fast trot across the downs "Hey, wait up!" he shouts after the group.

Teradoc arrives from the east.
Teradoc has arrived.

You head westwards, eventually arriving at...
Far Downs
The so-called Far Downs (or `Fox Downs') are a rugged range of hills and small dales, a vast expanse of green grass with occasional patches of uncovered soil or jutting rock formations. A keen eye might spot a cool blue pond or tarn not far off the thin trail which winds through the Downs and joins the Great East Road eastwards. This set of hills stretches for several miles in each direction.
Obvious exits:
North West, West, and East

Dolphus spurs his pony again as the sun dips toward the horizon. "All right, it's westward, then, toward the Far Downs and the Bounds."

Teradoc draws near from the east along the road.
Teradoc has arrived.

Olfo draws near from the east along the road.
Olfo has arrived.

Torvo draws near from the east along the road.
Torvo has arrived.

Dharlon draws near from the east along the road.
Dharlon has arrived.

The sun begins to set as the hunters arrive on the Far Downs. "Not much farther, lads," says Dolphus from his pony. "We'll cross the Bounds now. We're entering queer country, so be on your guard."

Lightly Wooded Grove
Here, the woods lessen and a grove has grown around the intersection of a road that leads north, towards the northern range of the Ered Luin, and a path that leads west, towards the Grey Havens, and east, towards the Shire.
Obvious exits:
East and West

Torvo arrives from the east.
Torvo has arrived.

Teradoc arrives from the east.
Teradoc has arrived.

Dharlon arrives from the east.
Dharlon has arrived.

Olfo arrives from the east.
Olfo has arrived.

"Right then," says Dolphus as night begins to set in, the others still following behind him. "Just a few more miles and we'll be on the Hills." He continues westward.

You walk westward.
Road Through Grassy Plains A breeze sweeps through the tall grass, causing you to glance around. You are on a wide, stone paved road that slowly rises as it goes west, into the Tower Hills, while towards the East the gentle rolling hills and dales of the Shire spread out. Three tall white towers are visible ontop of the hill.
Obvious exits:
West leads to North Tower Hill Path.
East leads to Lightly Wooded Grove.

Teradoc arrives from the Grove to the east.
Teradoc has arrived.

Olfo arrives from the Grove to the east.
Olfo has arrived.

Dharlon arrives from the Grove to the east.
Dharlon has arrived.

Torvo arrives from the Grove to the east.
Torvo has arrived.

Stopping at last in the shadow of the Emyn Beraid just to the west as the moon rises into the sky, Dolphus calls to the other hunters. "Right then, we're here! We can begin setting up camp now!"

Hobbit Campsite has arrived.
Dropped.

"Whew!" Olfo exclaims, patting the pony upon which he sits. "S'a good th'ng w' got here wh'n w' d'd! I d'n't th'nk p'r Dais' c'd take n' more," the Shirriff exclaims, and slowly unmounts the tired-looking beast.

Mister Diggle glances around the grassy plains, a smile quickly curling onto his lips. A soft wind blows across the dale, and Olfo disappears into the crowd of Hobbits attempting to setup a camp.

Before he joins the throng of hobbits workinn to make camp, Teradoc pauses to take in the air and beauty of the area. He takes a deep breath and stretches his back. Then, yawning even as he moves, he turns to help raise the tent that he will sleep in come nightfall. His hands are quickly put to use as he lifts up the corner of a canvas sheet and stretches it to a pole. Pretty soon, the nearby hobbits have the large tent up, its lines taut and well-tied, and they are dusting their hands, looking for new work.

Dharlon reins his pony in for a stop, catching up with the other riders, and glancing about the area. After taking a look, hops off his pony, lifting a fairly heavy rock up with a grunt, shoving his ponies rope under, then dropping in, and taking a moment to breath. Now that he has caught both his breath and his hunting party, he begins to feel the ground with his hands, trying to find small twigs, not an easy task in the grassy area.

A loud call--perhaps more like a grunt-- goes up in the cooling nighttime air. The cry is quickly answered by several more snorts, each seeming nearer to the Hobbit camp than the last.

Teradoc raises an eyebrow at the grunting noise and stops his movement. He's very still, listening to the bestial cacophony that arises near the camp. He doesn't make a move and just glances at the hobbits around him.

Dolphus, upon his pony supervising the setup of camp, nods to those working. "Right then, lads, jolly good. We're making good time. When we're done we can cook up some potatoes." He pats his saddlebags, assumedly filled with vegetables and such. "And then we -- what was that?" He asks himself at the sound arising roundabout.

Dharlon looks up in alarm at the snort, his sharp senses alerting him to the presence of something besides hobbits in the vincinety of the camp. His horse looks disturbed, and begins tugging on the ropes, but they hold firm. Dharlon puts a hand on the creature, and grabs his staff tightly with both hands, spinning around, trying to dtermine the source of the noise.

A chorus of sniffs and grunts and other snorting sounds erupt in the woods--quite suddenly a full symphony of sounds which could only be defined as 'piggish' arise; and then quickly fall back into a cool silence.

"Well," says Dolphus, shaking his head, "I suppose we'd best stay close to the camp for now. I'll be inside the camp, preparing dinner, should anyone need me." He dismounts his pony and leaves it with another hobbit, then shuffles inside a nearby tent.

You enter the small hobbit campsite.
Hobbit Campsite
A small hobbit campsite. Several ponies and a large wagon (by hobbit standards) surround this small campsite. A small cookfire has been made and bedrolls and gear are spread out upon the ground.

To move the campsite, type: travel