Game 76

The Dunlendings welcome all diplomats to the trade city of Larach Duhnnan, along the Old North Road (or the Old South Road depending upon your heritage). Leave all weapons at the second guard gate. for diplomatic communique.

PS: Bonus points for allied team(s) using instead of Yahoo Groups for coordination.

I will be playing the nations of Murazor and Adunaphel in this one. Send your diplomatic messages to

Easterlings say hello from our horse lands. JasonRoberts dot jmr at gmail dot com

Bring me presents;)) Larfleezha the orange

Greetings all from the Noldo and North Gondor nations! We welcome and would befriend all neutral nations, and to the Dark Servants, we say (in Elvish): “poo on you”


Woops, thanks to my teammate Raven for reminding me to put my email in: – Jeremy

Correction NOT my teammate; Raven is the Dun player. Truly, and I apologize to him since some people may now think he has made a commitment but all that has happened is we have corresponded, as I have with other neutrals.


Ha, you are, in fact, my teammate in 4th Age Game 45, but no surprise to anyone, Dunlendings just one day into receiving Turn 0 is very much an undecided Neutral abd talkjng to all players.

It is nice to see you back playing the 1650 game again Jeremy- is E3 playing with you?

Hmm… still no word from Rhudaur, Corsairs, or Haradwaith.

The Tabloids of Turn Two
Athaulf Takes a Nap!

Bain and Celedhring Play Chicken!

Thuidimer Takes a Nap!

Tarondor Gets a Frog in His Throat!

Mahrcared Takes a Nap!

The Whole City Waves to Waulfa!

Vinyaran Doesn’t Feel So Good!

Tonn Varthkur Visits the Lake!

Drugrandra and Camlin Play Chicken!

Vinyaran Throws a Party but No One Comes!

Slaughter at Thuringwathost

The battle had been glorious. The combined armies of Eothraim had joined with an army of Northern Gondor outside the fortified town of Thuringwathost in the shadow of the Morannon- the northernmost gate of Mordor. My King, the mighty Mahrcared, led our cavalry on the field with his forces holding the middle position with the Gondor general Vinyarin at his side. I held the left flank and my brother Athaulf was in charge of the right. Our pennons gleamed in the bright early morning sun and snapped in the freshening breeze.
Taking the field before the town were the forces of the Dark Lieutenants, led by their great trollish general, Gothmog. How their inhuman hearts must have quailed at the sight of our army! Though Gothmog did indeed have a large force of cavalry at his command, over half of his troops were archers and infantry. Our cavalry outnumbered the enemy horse at 5-1 and we knew we could easily ride over the assembled infantry once their wolf riders had been dealt with.
My brother and I were summoned to a conference with my King and General Vinyarin. There we were informed by our liege that the omens were with us and, with such a large advantage that we possessed, that the entire force need not engage in battle but only the troops under my brothers and my command were necessary to gain victory this day. The remaining forces under my Lord and of Gondor would remain fresh and prepare to move to besiege the fortress of Durthang.
“Destroy the army of Gothmog”, we were told, “and leave no survivors. After this you must move on to destroy the town”.
My own forces were fresh but those of my brother had come a longer distance and had missed breakfast because of this. His men grumbled amongst themselves as they drew into battle line but brightened as our King promised them a great feast after the victory had been secured. At the brazen sound of the trumpet both my brother and I shouted the order to “Charge- onward Eothraim!”
To my amazement the forces of Gothmog remained in standard formation- even the wolf riders!

As we closed we saw the goblin archers raise their bows and prepare to fire but we knew that our charge would only give them time to fire one volley of arrows before we thundered into them. Their arrows flew upon our ranks as would a light rainstorm and, though some fell, there were few casualties and our horses carried our charge upon them before the goblins could prepare another shot.
The battle was over swiftly and it took more time to execute the remainder than had the battle. My only sadness at this time was that it had been my brother who had reached Gothmog first ad taken him prisoner. I remembered joking with him after the battle that our mother would favor him all the more after our return home because of this.
The battle for the town itself was not worth mentioning. Disheartened by the slaughter of their main battle army the town garrison put up only light resistance and we slaughtered them and put Thuringwathost to the torch. Though losses in our two commands were heavy we had accomplished our task, captured Gothmog, and prepared for our victory feast. All was right in the world- or so we thought.
Alas my brother! Alas my friend Thuidimer! Alas my King! The soup course was served first and most of us set hungrily to our meal. For myself I knew that a fine desert of spiced cake awaited at the conclusion of the feast and I chose to give my portion of the soup to Athaulf my brother. I saw that the Gondorian Lord Vinyarin ate only a small amount of his soup as well while most others ate with great appetite.
After the soup had been consumed we sat waiting for the trenchers of meat to be brought in when, to my amazement, my brother clutched his throat and began to choke and retch. Though I rose and tried to render him what aid I could he collapsed and, with his face turned purple, he passed from this life. With tears streaming down my face I saw that my King was also dead along with my fellow general Thuidimer- all lay dead with purple faces clawing their throats. Vinyarin was stricken ill but, having only eaten a smaller amount of soup, he was able to vomit it up and recovered although he was sick and greatly weakened.
Shouts of dismay rang from the rank and file of the men of Eothraim and, although I did my best to persuade them to stay, a vast portion of the army cried “Eothraim to your homes! The King is dead!” Only those troops that remained from my own army stiffened their resolve and remained on duty with me. May the gods give me the strength to avenge my brother and my liege upon those foul Dark Servants!

Slaughter at Thuringwathost- part 2

Names have been removed to protect the guilty.

A small group of riders sat their mounts on a hill overlooking the still smoking town of Thuringwathost. The night before the armies of Eothraim and Gondor had sat down, led by their generals and lords, to a feast to celebrate their victory over the army of Gothmog and subsequent destruction of the town. Shortly after the feast had begun cries of dismay and anger had begun to issue from those feasting and the men of Eothraim had begun to shout, “Eothraim to your homes! The King is dead!” After this a large number of the Eothraim cavalrymen fled the feast, flogging their mounts mercilessly as they returned northwards.
While they sat watching the army of Gondor preparing to travel and large figure riding a horse came to them on their hill and the figure of the mighty troll Gothmog appeared out of the fog. Reining in his horse before the group he was greeted.
“I see that you have escaped General Gothmog. What took you so long to get away?”
“That bastard Athaulf chained to an anvil in his tent” Gothmogs low voice rumbled, “once the camp began to flee I was able to walk away but I could not bring the anvil with me”
One of the riders smirked at that and jokingly asked the troll, “What?! The mighty Gothmog cannot carry an anvil?”
“Pshaw!” Gothmog growled spitting in the mud “I had no trouble with the anvil. I was carrying it so I could bash in Athaulfs head once I found him. It was this puny horse that could not bear the weight so I had to leave it. There was a lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth back there- I take it that we were successful?”
“Not entirely” came the reply, “Gisulf is unhurt and Vinyarin survived”.
“Only three of them!” roared Gothmog. “Our master will be angry! How did we not kill all five?!”
“Yes, do tell”, one of the Nazgul in the party said with a sideways glance at the group of sorcerers who sat nearby”
“It wasn’t my fault!” one of them stammered, “I cast a powerful enchantment that should have worked- it wasn’t my fault that I had to sneeze before these others finished their spells!”
“fumble fingers” muttered on of the other wizards under his breath.
“Go, and take your fellow mages and follow Vinyarin where ever he goes” another of the Nazgul ordered the assembled mages, “When he stops you must finish the task our master assigned you- do not fail him again!”
With that a portion of the group broke away and began to trail the army of Gondor leaving Gothmog, the Nazgul, and several agents behind to contemplate their work the previous night.
“So what happened back there?” Gothmogs low voice questioned the remaining group. “ I was expecting one of you to stab Athaulf while he slept but he never came back from his supper”
“I do hope that he enjoyed his soup” one of the Nazgul chuckled, “I know that I did”
“You put something in his soup?!” one of the agents in the group said in amazement, “but so did I? I thought we had agreed not to use poison as it would be detected.”
“I put something in the soup myself” another of the agents interjected.
“I daresay that we all put added something to the soup” drawled on of the Nazgul. “I discovered that the Eothraim king is, or was that is, allergic to a certain spice so I added it to the soup”.
“So did I!” exclaimed on of the agents. “I know that Gisulf cannot abide mushrooms so I added essence of mushroom to the soup”
“What happened to your hand?” questioned one of the Nazgul with a gesture towards the bandage on the hand of the agent.
“I accidently cut myself preparing the mushrooms” the agent replied petulantly to the guffaws of some in the group.
“I told you that you shouldn’t be playing with knives” joked another of the agents.
Wanting to change the subject the agent with the cut hand asked one of the Nazgul, “and what did you put into the soup that killed Athaulf?”
With a viscious smile the Nazgul answered him, “he was allergic to something called a peanut so I added the oil from that nut to the pot” Turning to the agent who had tried the mushrooms he snarled, “You bungler! Gisulf is not allergic to mushrooms! He just doesn’t like them! You failed us and now one of us must remain here and make certain he dies.”
“My L-lord” the agent stammered attempting to apologize before he was cut off by another of the Nagul present.
“Enough!” he roared. “All of us have places we need to be to accomplish our Lord Saurons plan. Go, and do not fail him again.” Turning to Gothmog he ordered, “You go as well and tell our armies that the forces of Eothraim are no more. Now is the time for the second part of our plan.”
With this most of the group turned their mounts and left the hill to the group of Nazgul that had remained behind.
“so what do we do next?” one of the Nazgul asked the others.
“We have our targets” came the reply “now we must go and do our masters bidding”
One of the Nazgul turned his mount and said as he prepared to leave, “I suppose that they won’t be eating anymore soup for awhile”.

Nicely done, David

A fantastic write-up, David. Thank you for sharing. Keep them coming.

And I just made a nice lentil and spinach concoction… Well, no allergies in my house.

What will this turn bring? Jz 25

Maybe Monday will be a good day :wink: