[Archive] The Raven Victorious.

Harad Road

The outlines of the cool and dry grassy savannah stretch off endlessly to the horizon. To the south it appears the grass thins, giving way to scrub brush and patches of bare earth.

The sky is clear and the stars shines brightly. The twilight winter air is cool and dry around you.

***

The sun begins to set, but war does not always obey the old rules and customs. So it is that the forces of Gondor have been drawn into battle by the twilit glow of the west, only just to the south of where their camps lie amidst the ruins of the old Narakshi stronghold.

Their enemy is before them: a host of the tribal Haradrim, not only the Naraksi but also other desert clans that call Harondor their home. It is a strange enough thing to see the Haradrim so arrayed, especially the Naraksi, yet here they are, beneath all their multitudinous banners and flags. They move forward towards battle, slowly but impatiently. At their fore are a small unit of Umbarean soldiers, mingling with the Haradrim's commanders.

Further to the east, just beyond the line of sight in the darkening glow, the sounds of battle can be heard. There rages another great fight: a battle joined between Prince Elphir and his knights, and the Farside army that has already campaigned against them for several weeks now.

      Twilight, the time of assassins but not of war. Amongst the rustling shadows, is Farside Tower's own Slik'koo. Reversed in one hand an opal encrusted dagger, in the other a finely honed scimitar. The times of war, are not the times of the assassin, however he remains still the man battles a single Gondorian.

A young Captain marches at the head of one of the leading Haradrim forces - he is tall and lean and clad in a dusty uniform. His men march forward with rank and precision, unfazed by the lingering heat of the day. This is one of those startling new companies the Knights of Amroth speak of - and Melkizidek marches at its head, a cruel mace in hand.

     High in the air, there glides a single bird slowly moving in circles over the battle field. As such a height as is currently achieved, Laegtiri would be considered just a normal fowl, the immense sky dwarfing him. Yet, amber eyes are keen to watch all that happens and a time to take action nears.

      Thus are the forces of Gondor: two Companies of the Hosts, each forming a square bulk with its men of shield and sword and spear, diagonal to each other the banner of the Seven Stones Company flutters over the one to the right, the first that shall make contact with the enemy.

      Tending to the right flank of the Hostmen formation, the famed destriers of Dol Amroth, skillfully led by brightly armored Knights and tall Squires.

      Gurtir Carmayar is the Captain of the Seven Stones Company and he marches in unison with his men, shield ahead of him and blade unsheathed, a grim expression heralding the fell deeds to come.

      Many torches are already lit to repel the growing darkness of the hour.

Among the ranks of the Seven Stones Company is a young Telpekhor soldier. Thaladel marches near the front of his company, a few rows behind the Captain, holding his blade ready. By the torchlight, he glances around, looking on edge but determined.

The whistling of the arrows through the air seems to be the signal for the lines of the Haradrim. With the Umbareans at their fore -- Melkizidek and Slik'koo foremost -- they begin to charge forward towards the lines of the Gondorians, rapidly gaining speed. Mounted outriders are followed closely by the lines of the tribesmen and their companions as they race to make contact with the Gondorians before them.

Arrows fly through the gloaming and Melkizidek raises a horn to his lips.

Baaarooooooom!

Horns echo out now, harsh and clear. Calling to battle and deeds and death. Melkizidech raises his mace to the air, "Attack!" The Captain of the Crusaders directs his men towards the Seven Stones Company.

Eben is also within the ranks of the Seven Stones Company. Standing in the front ranks of the infantry company, the man grips his shield and spear firmly, peering out into the darkness towards where the Haradrim mass. Seeing the massing enemy approach, the front ranks lock shields together, lowering their pikes to receive the incoming attack, arrows thudding against both shield and hostman alike.

      There is a subtle gurgle as the dagger drips the black blood of Gondor. However the incoming missile keeps Slik'koo on his toes as the arrow pierces where the assassin stands, or rather stood. The swirl of his cloak and the arrow misses, before the assassin begins to make his way after Ceredir, and the archers of Gondor.

      Amongst those on foot and standing out like a white dot on a black page is the White Squire Agladar. Dressed for war in his studded leather armour and helm, the young man of seventeen years rests his father's Greatsword against his shoulder as he marches alongside Captain Gurtir's side.

      The expression he wears today is one of determination, his body driven by some sort of energy which only he understands. Silently he walks with the massive blade in his hands amongst the Hostmen, his gaze searching the lines of the enemy.

      As the Haradrim charge forward, a hand signal from Gurtir results in horn blows from the side of Gondor the word they carry? Stand your ground. Thus the Seven Stones Company halts on its march, the front men all acting after Eben's exemple: shields locked, wicked steel gleaming. Meanwhile, let arrows rain.

      Their Captain, fate seems to have decided, is in the straight path of the Captain of the Crusaders, if but a few rows behind... he speaks with Agladar: "Do not destroy our formation with your large blade, my guest."

This is not the wooded lands north of here, and the Scouts of Ithilien will have little place to hide. A first volley of arrows is released, then a quick second and third, yet then bows are hastily cast aside and swords drawn, shields pulled to the front.

Except for one of this company: Ceredir's bow is strung on his back, and his shield brought forth, but instead of drawing his sword, he draws a long-bladed dagger. And then waits.

With a loud and drawn out crash, with the creak of leather and with the screams of men the two opposing companies meet. Long scimitars sweep out to swipe aside lowered pikes as the Crusaders try to push back the Gondorians men fall on both sides.

Melkizidek knocks his man aside, dark eyes fixed on the opposing Captain.

      Gurtir, the opposing Captain, holds Melkizidek's gaze. Haughtily, he steps forward to take the place of a fallen soldier, his shield trying to fill the gap left on the formation. And his sword thrusting at the midsection of the Haradrim Captain.

Eben grunts as he feels something stick onto the end of his pike. Given the swirling mass of limbs and blades around him, he releases the burdening pike, drawing his longsword with his right hand, the blade screeching as it is released from its sheathe. One of the advancing Crusader's oncoming blades is stepped aside as the young infantryman does his best to keep in line with his comrades, bodies on both sides falling at their feet.

      As the Captain informs the White Squire to be careful with his Greatsword, Agladar nods. Now holding the finely crafted blade Estel in both hands, the man of Dol Amroth is ready to face down the enemy. As the lines crash and the pushing war begins, the Squire assists where he can in the line of Hostmen but truly is seeking open space so that he may wield his blade to the best of its ability.

      Biting his tongue, spitting blood and bile, Slik'koo taunts the archers of the white city. Switching hands, Slik'koo brings the heavier curved blade into his left hand point down and the small dagger into his right which never stops turning. "Come come, the night is young and desires your blood!" The assassin calls to Ceredir, his tone mocking.

A mottled force, these Umbarean soldiers - not just the regulars of Farside have joined this battle but a peppering of Corsairs, too. One figure is such - either a tall woman or a slender man of non-descript height. Sporting red-dyed leather armor and shield, this Corsair charges into the Gondorians - grinning a wicked grin. Brandishing a scimitar, the Pirate makes straight for the White Squire Agladar.

"Welcome to the desert, pale-face!" The Captain of the Crusaders yells with a grin, dodging back from Gurtir's longsword as best he can in the tight confines of the battle. Melkizidek swivels, attempting to bash himself more room with his shield as he swings out aggressively with his mace at the Carmayar Captain.

      "Thank you."

      Gurtir leans his head backwards, clear from the attacking mace. From behind his shield, he lets his sword out again, tip flying swiftly at the knee of the Haradrim Captain.

      "Allow me to introduce you to the might that is Gondor."

The enemy has rushed forward and into the small company of Scouts by Ceredir. Shields and swords clash together, and there is blood and shouting and screams from either side. But Ceredir stands as all of this rushes about him, the Master Scout looking for a fight. And then he spots the Haradrim assassin, and his lips curl in a smile. He rushes forward to face Slik'koo--going into a crouch, holding a small shield and his dagger. He says nothing in reply to the man's taunt, only watches his every move and waits for an opening.

Following close behind the crimson-clad Pirate of Umbar, the boy, Yiliridim, notes the target set by the woman and pulls his shield close. Matted dust cakes his brow, staining his face and hair a dull, ruddy brown, his eyes, fixated as they are, still waver from their mark with fear as battle edges closer.

Eben finds himself shifting down the line until he nears the Gondorian Captain facing off against the Crusader. Keeping his shield up and ready to block a stray blow aimed by one of the myriad of enemies swirling around the front ranks of combat, he takes a careful thrust at Melkizidek, seeing if he can distract the Harad long enough for the Captain to gain an advantage.

      As his taunts have no effect, Slik'koo shifts his weight to the back of his heels as he ducks another arrow. Spinning on the balls of his feet, the assassin of the desert releases a streak as a single dagger whooshes towards Ceredir.

Horncalls come from the east, where the second battle between the knights under Prince Elphir and his Umbarean opponents rages. Something bright and dark flashes in the sky, ere the din of battle resumes.

Melkizidek dodges the Gondorian's longsword once again, "Very well, I am waiting." He says with a smirk. Then suddenly another sword joins the fight and the Crusader Captain pushes his speed up a notch, swinging his mace around to smash Eben's blade from its path.

"Run away, child, and leave us to talk." He hisses with venom, and swings his heavy mace towards Gurtir once more.

It takes no more than a step to his right for Ceredir to be clear of the thrown dagger, and in that moment the Master Scout launches his own weapon at the Haradrim, the knife thrown end over end at the man. Then just as swiftly, the Master Scout draws a second knife.

       Noticing the Corsair who appears to have chosen Agladar as its target, the White Squire charges forward through the field of bodies. Greatsword in hand, the man of Dol Amroth swings his massive blade down at the Haradrim with great zeal. For now he has not noticed the shadow of the Haradrim with whom he engages in battle as he is too focused at the task at hand.

      As the dagger moves past, a deep cut forms on the assassin's forearm. A hiss, like that of a spitting serpent, comes from Slik'koo as he moves forward and takes up another blade. Moving with haste, the Farside Assassin lashes out and tries to match the hit on Ceredir.

      At the Haradrim's new motion, Gurtir stretches his right arm to the right, his blade halting the advance of Melkizidek's mace. Quickly disengaging his weapon, the Gondorian attempts a slash at the opposing Captain's neck region.

      Around him, the Seven Stones Company holds their ground.

Insolently, the Corsair steps from the path of the greatsword and laughs. "Little boy," says the woman, in a mocking tone, "You should have stayed home with your mother."

Azradi makes a sudden motion with her shield and comes in fast with her scimitar point first - aiming between his right arm and body, sharp side towards his inner-arm.

With a deep breath, Yildirim charges from behind Azradi as she strikes, to sweep the Squire's leg with his blade. His movements are unpracticed and unskilled, but the blade is sharp and the intention clear to keep the Gondorian from leaving this battle.

A cut opens on Ceredir's left arm just past the gauntlet, but he turns in toward the man of Harad, trying to thrust his knife blade into Slik'koo's side even as the attacker rushes him.

Eben grunts as he feels the pommel of his longsword shudder with the impact of the Harad's mace. Not giving the enemy any sort of satisfaction, the young gondorian pulls his blade back, slashing out with another half-hearted attempt at distracting the mace-wielding Harad from attacking his Captain.

      Another score for the scout of Gondor as a shallow scrape reddens Slik'koo's arm. A smile contorts his lips into something wicked before the assassin reverses the blade and tries to stab at Ceredir's weapon wielding shoulder.

It's a shallow cut that the Haradrim assassin opens in Ceredir's shoulder, and though the Master Scout grimaces slightly, it doesn't seem to affect his strength. His body turned toward Slik'koo, he jabs forward quickly with his dagger, aiming for the Haradrim's side once more, trying to slip the knife between the man's armor.

      As the Corsair strikes out against the White Squire's torso, there is a loud rip as the scimitar slices cleanly through the studded leather armour and cuts into his side. Grimacing in pain, Agladar holds back a yell. As if the pain from one wound wasn't enough, the smaller Yildirim strikes from what appears as from out of no where and causes a gash across the Squire's leg. Bleeding now from two different locations the man of Gondor goes into a rage. Shouting out to all who can hear amongst the din of battle, he says "Aid! Aid for Gondor. A White Squire calls for aid!"

      Now in his rage, Agladar brings down his Greatsword from his high guard stance down at the female pirate with enough strength to break ribs. His target just happens to be the women's collar bone however.

The Seven Stones Company may hold its ground, but the Crusaders have certainly not lost any intensity. Their Captain Melkizidek leads the way, dodging again both blades which fly in his direction. "Beware, men of Stone land, the south is not without strength itself. You bite more than you can chew."

Urging his men forward, Melkizidek pressures Gurtir again, his mace arcing towards the once-Ranger's chest.

In the east of the immediate battle, where the Haradrim outriders and footmen contest with the Knights of the Chapterhouse and the men of the Seven Stones Company, the line of attacking Southrons begins to buckle. Though the centre of the host holds fast under the Umbareans led by Captain Melkizidek, the tribesmen to their east begin to slowly fall back beneath Gondor's pressure.

      The dagger does indeed slip into Slik'koo's armor and slices into one of his ribs. After a moment, a sharp intake of breath can be heard as Slik'koo shakes off Ceredir's hit. "You'll pay for that," he growls and stabs back at one of the man’s kidneys.

As Ceredir twists away, Slik'koo's dagger meets nothing but the evening air. The Master Scout's steps have brought him up behind the Haradrim, and he wastes no time now, trying to thrust his knife into the assassin’s back. Nor does he waste breath on words, instead narrowing his eyes to keep his focus in this fight.

      Instead of stabbing at Ceredir, the motion sends him forward letting Ceredir up behind him. A slender stab comes from behind as the man lurches forward. Growling with pain, Slik'koo spins on his heels and slashes at Ceredir's kneecaps with his Scimitar.

Slik'koo slides a finely-crafted ornate scimitar out of its sheath with a vicious grin.

The massive blade rings loudly as it meets, not the woman's collar bone, but her curved blade. Skillfully, she twists her scimitar to redirect the greatsword and shuffles to her left to get out from beneath it.

Azradi spares her young shadow an approving glance before turning back to the squire. Smirking she says, "No one is going to help you, little boy."

Quickly disengaging her blade she drops it, dances further to her left and brings it in low to slash at Agladar's injured leg.

Eben sees he is having nearly no luck engaging the Crusader Captain. Moving away, nearly having to push his way through the melee he seeks out others who might need his assistance. Seeing the young Agladar in need of help, the Hostman struggles in his direction, chopping his way through the chaotic melee engagement as he heads towards Azradi.

      Melkizidek's attack is not meant to hit Gurtir's chest, for the Gondorian's shield guards him... or used to: such is the strength that leads the haradrim weapon, indeed greater than the men of the land of Stone expected, that the Captain's shield is deformed, as iron pounded by a smith for the craft of a new tool.

      And the arm behind it? A loud crack, perhaps unhearable over the cacophony of cries, clashes and footfalls, speaks of the grievous fate Gurtir's defense arm suffers.

      Face contorted by pain, unwilling tears filling his eyes and a terrible yell. Gurtir takes a step back, cutting himself the leather strips that bind his shield to him.

Ceredir keeps moving--left, right, never standing still, so that Slik'koo's scimitar does not find him. Grim determination is set on his face as he again closes the distance to his enemy, this time trying to get the blade under the man's armor and into his gut.

"If she does not it to you, I will give you your wish, squire, and aid your release from this world," Yildirim counters, flanking Agladar he raises his scimitar, swinging the blade down across the White Squire's spine.

Though the battle lines at the heart are drawn evenly, in the east the Haradrim flank begins to crumble entirely. The units of tribesmen in the west also begins to weapon under the onslaught of the Hostmen and the Company of the Ithilien.

      Another attack, this one to his side as Slik'koo howls in pain. Lurching backwards, the assassin calls for reinforcements. "Farside, forward!" He calls as Slik'koo falls back amongst the ranks using his Harad 'brothers' fall in line in front of him.

Eben growls as he finds Yildirim attacking the stricken Squire. "Leave the little one alone, scum." he spits, bringing his Longsword to bear. Not that Azradi was any closer, the Hostman merely hopes to fend off the Haradrim long enough to assist Agladar, who seems to have bitten off more than he can chew. Regardless, a quick slash is aimed at Yildirim.

In spite of his success, Melkizidek's men do indeed begin to flounder under solid pressure and the Crusader Captain looks around to find himself beginning to be stranded. He snarls an animal snarl at Gurtir and Eben, edging back to join the line.

"Hold, hold!" Cries the bold Haradrim with the mace, but even so he steps back with his men.

One assassin wielding a knife is a deadly challenge, but the ranks of Harad men that come rushing to Slik'koo's aid are too much for Ceredir to take, and so he, too, falls back among the other Scouts nearby, who seem to be prevailing for the moment in a fierce fight with the enemy.

      The White Squire is indeed young as such much more agile then the older women. Dodging the scimitar despite the wound hindering his movements, Agladar smiles at the woman's failed attempt. He does not smile however when the younger man strikes out against his back, cutting a fine red lines which quickly begins to darken the white of his uniform. Wounded now almost all over his body, the White Squire is still in a rage.

      For some reason he is more angered by the female however as as such chooses to strike at her again. The Greatsword is raised and then brought down in a fierce ark at the woman's left side.

Catching sight of Eben as his blade draws down towards him, Yildirim sidesteps him, the blade swinging harmlessly to his side. He turns fully on the Hostman, readying his scimitar and shield against his new foe.

Eben continues forward, finding his footing compromised by a decapitated Gondorian. Fighting the urge to vomit, the swordsman takes another half-hearted swing at Yildirim, merely trying to fend off the Harad to make room for his fellows. The battle-line in general seems to have broken up, beginning to snake this way and that as the melee brawl continues.

      Though dire is the injury Gurtir sports, he cannot forsake his role as Captain on its account, and even as blurred as he sight is, the Haradrim retreat is unmistakable. Raising his sword high in the sky, he masters his pain to yell his command with unwavering voice: "FORWARD!"

      And such is the content of the cry, and the apparent magical recovery of the Captain, that the Seven Stones Company marches forward with new impetus, their wall of shields pushing against what they try to hack with their blades.

      Gurtir himself, however, does not attack, instead allowing himself to fall back a row and glance at his injured arm, a twitch of pain twisting his face.

Kohl-lined eyes shift from side to side - briefly taking in the wavering flanks of true Haradrim - especially the caving eastern flank. Frowning, Azradi parries the greatsword again and moves to her right. She takes a step back and swings her blade widely, aiming it at the squire's helm-protected head, silently.

The hostman's blade sneaks in between the young Haradrim's defenses, slipping under the skin of his shoulder. The boy yelps with pain, a tear darkening the dirt smudged under his eyes. He manages to control his fear, and swipes his own blade towards the midsection of the Gondorian.

Beneath the press of the iron-shod Gondorians the tribesman army begins to fall back. Around the center of the host, where the Umbareans are gathered about Captain Melkizidek, the retreat is ordered, but in the eastern and western flanks the rout is more chaotic as panicking Haradrim fall to the blades and spears of Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth and Ithilien.

Eben takes a little half-step backwards, moving just enough out of the way to avoid a serious blow, but a blow still lands. The Gondorian howls with anger as a wound is opened along his side, leaving a trail of oozing, dark blood down his side. "Swine!" he barks, keeping up the offensive with a step forward and a thrust from his shield to try to off-balance the Harad, following the attempted blow with a chop from his longsword.

"Back! Back! Hold some form of line you cowards!" The main force of the Haradrim slowly appears to descend into disarray. Melkizidek continues to edge backwards, surveying the battle. He lifts another horn to his lips and there is a bright glint in his dark eyes as it sounds out into the growing dark. "Back!" He cries.

Another hit lands, this one the Haradrim boy manages in silence. His voice comes with words although, "Swine? How weak is Gondor that swine can make them bleed a trail of retreat from lands they once called their own!" He makes reckless jab towards the skull of the hostman, attempting to end the fight quickly so he may return to Azradi's side.

      Ducking underneath the swinging scimitar, the White Squire chuckles in pain. Blood dripping the wound on back his, his underarm and his leg a mess of dirt and blood, the man of Gondor some how carries on. The blade of his House in hand, the son of Lord Menegor brings down Estel in a large arc once again at the woman's shoulder. Silent once more, the White Squire hopes to finally make contact with the enemy's body.

"Retrreat, Yildirim!" Azradi echoes the Captain's orders. She dodges the greatswrord and swings her blade hard at the Squire's right arm before leaping back - drawing the squire back with her or abandoning him...

Eben howls with pain as the sharpened scimitar blade seeks his face, tearing a rather nasty line from the upper left portion of his scalp, diagonally across his face, cutting at his left eye, leaving it bleeding, following it across his nose and ending at his jawbone. Blinded by blood, the Hostman puts a gloved hand to his crippled eye, trying to stem the flow of blood and gore as he stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over a dead Gondorian as he tries to retreat, crippled.

      Gurtir speaks no more his cry is now the translation of the Gondorian horns that blow, filling soldiers with feral glee at the approaching victory. Step after step, swing after swing, injury after injury, the Seven Stones Company pushes onwards.

      Their Captain marches together, though pale and wide-eyed, lips shut tight, his longsword still held, but more for poise and protection against anything unexpected than for any intention of fighting further. Still he makes a gallant figure in all his height and mien.

Yildirim blinks, " Retreat?!" Seeing his handiwork complete with Eben, he spits at the Gondorian and pulls his shield up close to his chest, 'Enjoy your swine's present. I shall have another for you later.' He runs past Agladar, falling in behind Azradi, " I am at your side."

      Not having the greatest luck for the moment, the White Squire is disappointed at his lack of contact with flesh. When he is suddenly unable to block the blade of the woman and another red line appears on his arm, he is almost more angered rather than pained since he has felt much worse this coming night. Pursuing the woman as she begins to retreat, Agladar reaches out with the long arm that his Greatsword has and slashes out once more at the women.

     Far to the west, where the uneven ground seems to turn to uneven clods of dirt and sand as the elevation rises, the earth moves just a little, and a dirty, dusty figure climbs up out of the ground. The figure stands and rustles through their non-descript clothing and pulls out...a horn. Shaking the dirt quickly from the bell, it raises the horn to its lips and blows...a long blast that cuts through the air...cuts through the sound of battle, even.

     All around the lone figure, the earth moves and trembles as if in an earthquake, and then the clods of dirt rise and take shape...into humanoid figures, shouting. Hundreds of warriors clad in dirt reach for their swords and spears, shouting a terrible war cry. At the next sounding of the horn, the entire group charges toward the exposed Gondorian flank from the west, screaming for blood.

     As the reinforcements appear, Laegtiri no longer remains idle. In an angled descent, his figure grows becoming massive compared to the Second Born. The gaze of the great Eagle scans the warriors that now approach and seems to be considering which shall be his first target.

As the hidden army -- reinforcements from Umbar, kept secret from Men of the North -- emerges, its horncalls go up into the sky. And horns sound in answer, from further in the west, beyond the desert rises. Not moments later, shadows first appear there: a small host of mounted warriors, Umbareans also, bearing countless bright purple pennants emblazoned with the black Raven of the Farside Tower. Horns ring in answer, and the riders from the west begin to charge down the slopes to join their previously-concealed kin, falling upon the western flanks of the Gondorian host.

     At their fore rides Alphros, Steward and Captain of Farside. He lifts his ancient Numenorean blade into the sky and cries: "For Umbar! For Farside! For the Dark Lord and the Salkathorim!"

As the piercing horn tears the night, Melkizidek's face sets in a smile fey and dark. Still unscathed the Crusader Captain halts his retreat suddenly. "Now hold! Hold! Give them no ground!"

And all around the Umbareans suddenly find courage again, turning on their attackers and refusing to give ground without a fight. The sounds of chaos and retreat swiftly coalesce into the harsh to and fro of melee once more.

Leaping back from the swing of the greatsword, Azradi laughs and says in accented Westron: "You want to follow me boy? Should I bring you to Umbar with me? A pretty price you'll bring me."

When the figures appear out of the very ground, Azradi halts her retreat. Her scimitar is brought to bear, arcing downwards towards the squire's right shoulder. "Farside! Salkathorim!," she cries.

     As if in reply to the cry given by the leader, Laegtiri opens his beak and lets out a great call in his own tongue. As he comes closer to the man, he calls, "For Manwe! For all those free in Arda!" With piercing claws bearing forth, the bird takes a swipe at the man who brings another wave of darkness.

Trying to match Azradi's attacks, Yildirim answers her question for the Squire, "Perhaps better as a pet or meal for the pups at the tower." His blade attempts a similar arc as hers, but without the grace or training.

      So ends the glory of the Gondorian charge, with the piercing horns of Umbar rising over the desert. The impetus dies, becoming something of despair as the Seven Stones Company presses at the now motionless Haradaric line.

      To their left, the second of the Hostmen Companies, that of the White Tree, is now suddenly forced to divide its attention between what comes to the fore and this dreadful promise at the flanks.

      The attention of the Knights of Amroth is called and they drop their harassing to stand up against the Umbarean riders.

      Still, no hope shines in Gurtir's grey stare, that is already cast behind once.

     The line of fresh Haradrim...Corsairs by their dress, though there is no uniform that is not mismatched, crash into the uneven Gondorian line, and the two enmesh to one with a great groan of clanging metal and breaking wood. Amidst the bunch, Su'ad fights her opponents like a demon, with a crazed light of joy in her eyes. "For Umbar! For Farside! For..." She cuts short to parry a thrust, and does not continue. She looks up just in time to see a giant bird descend, and Alphros falls prey to his vicious talons. With widening eyes, she wades through the battle the short distance till she is at his side, holding up her shield against the thrust of beak, and taking a swipe at the vulnerable wings.

At the fore of the charging horsemen is Alphros, and so fixated upon the Gondorian foe is he that he hardly notes the shadow that descends from the sky thus as the Umbarean horseman smash into the Gondorian flanks, the would-be Lord of Farside is swept from his saddle by the claws of Laegtiri amidst a cry of pain and a flash of blood.

     Alphros comes to his knees, and the veiled lordling -- in desperation -- slashes out at the eagle's claws with his blade.

      Startled by the appearances of so many Haradrim, Agladar somehow manages to stand firm before his enemy. Unable to block the blade of the woman, another wound appears on the Squire's body. How much more can this young man take? Fighting back the desire to cry out in pain, the man of Dol Amroth manages to bring Estel up in time to block the male Haradrim's attack. Breathing heavily from the excursion, the man lifts his blade once more to swing out at the woman who keeps causing him harm. "Burn, witch." Just when hope seems lost to the man, as his two-front war has begun again, the sight of the Eagle fills him once more with courage and for a while his wounds are forgotten.

Eben stumbles backwards, using his longword as a makeshift cane as he hobbles back through the lines. His ruined eye bleeds profusely, clear liquid puss oozes from the socket as he blindly searches for the rear, helped along by another wounded Gondorian.

Melkizidek calls out again, urging his men on, and wades through the battle to join Su'ad and Alphros. He thrusts his shield into the air, a black raven atop a fist to meet the bird in the air. "Back, sky-demon! This battle is not yours!"

The Crusader Captain's mace strikes out, now upwards, towards the flurrying wings.

     Blood now stains the talons of the Eagle which now matches the wounds appearing across the chest of the bird. Laegtiri lets out a cry as sword and mace dig into flesh while seeming to become more fueled with adrenaline as his predator instincts set in. As he prepares his second dive, he focuses not on the one whom originally attacked but the one with the mace. Once again diving with his claws ready, the aviary slashes at the Haradrim man.

Amidst the vanguard of the Seven Stones Company comes a resounding torrent of power as a new force among Gondor's might makes itself known. Large men, thick in arm and many with little atop their scalps but their skin, stand arrayed in uniform regiment, wearing attire different from that of their fellow Gondorians. They bear strange markings as well, but they are difficult to make out in the swift motion of battle. They fight with a ruthlessness and ferocity unseen in either the yeomen levies or the professional regulars. They are the Nardukan the feared killers of House Ephalkhir.

And at their helm is Rabazgar, nephew of Lord Ephalkhir himself, and Lieutenant of the Seven Stones Company. Beads of sweat glisten off his thick neck, and the man wields a calm authority upon the battlefield. He is a behemoth, and dread he has instilled in many opponent who has crossed him.

Very large eagles are entirely impossible to miss even on a crowded and confused battlefield. Even as Azradi parries the squire's latest attempt to vivisect her, she espies the descending shadow - and its target.

"Alphros!" she screams. True fear invades her sun-browned features for the first time and she leaps back from the squire rather than attack him. "Yildirim, fight!"

     As the great bird disengages and comes in for another round, Su'ad tries to help Alphros to his feet...and to his horse. "You are bleeding badly." She tells him, just in case he wasn't aware. But as the eagle returns almost immediately, striking the one next to her, she cries out in surprise, and makes another upward swing, cursing a long streak in her native tongue.

As the Eagle's attention turns to the Captain of the Crusaders, Alphros struggles to his feet with Su'ad's aid. The claws of the great beast have torn through his mail, and the flesh beneath, and red wells up to mingle with the ruined iron links and tattered cloth. Still, the veiled lordling has strength left in him yet-- the strength and purpose borne of his ancient bloodline. And for his part, he ignores any suggestion that he should fall back.

     "Fall, false servant of the false gods!" he cries as he slashes as best he can at Laegtiri, his curved blaze whizzing through the air.

Taking Azradi's queue, Yildirim lunges at Agladar, the point of his blade striking out towards the Squire's gut. "You will not see your home," he warns, "You will not see your family. Nor your friends. I will be the last man you see, Squire. Your Knight is not here to save you. Nor will that bird fly to save you. You will die, Squire. Here. Alone."

Melkizidek lands a blow, feathers flying off his mace. Soon after he finds himself on the ground, beat down by the sheer force of the Eagle's strike, though it scrapes along his shield and does not find a home on his body.

The bold Captain plucks a bloodied feather and tucks it behind his ear, rising from the dust to stand once more and swing out against the giant avian.

     As the blades are swung, they meet only the resilient claws of the Eagle with the mace whistling in thin air. Laegtiri takes little time in the air to decide whom his next adversary shall be in seeing one of his feathers worn by the Man. With a vengeance that seems to smolder behind the eyes of the bird, he plummets from the air aiming his talons towards the one whom has taken an unoffered gift.

      Unable to block the male Haradrim's attack, the Squire is however able to maneuver slightly causing the blade to slice against the side of his torso rather than into his guts. "I have no Knight, scum. And I need none to deal with the likes of you. If I die today, I die knowing that you and your ilk will perish beneath the boots of Gondorian soldiers." Summoning a deep fury from within, the Squire continues the fight with a powerful slash, this time directed at the already struck male. The Greatsword is brought down towards the young man's shoulder with incredible strength.

Yildirim pulls back from his lunge, the greatsword's tip landing in the dirt but an inch from his toe. He pauses wide-eyed at his foot before laughing nervously, "I think not, Squire. Today I go home a man with a sword that has tasted the blood of my enemies for the first time. Congratulations on being my first victory. My first kill." He raises his foot and attempts to plant it atop the blade, his own blade swinging towards the Squire's neck.

Melkizidek runs back to avoid the invading claws, nimble feet guiding him over the battlefield. He evades, but the battle shifts and cuts him off from the eagle, surrounding him with other men to fight. The Crusader Captain fights on, absorbed into the battle.

     Wings flutter about Su'ad's head, even as she ducks and rolls under the bird. Even with so many attacking it, it seems a daunting task. "By the Heroes of old!" she calls out to summon her courage, raising her shield once more to him, but then using it as a counterweight to her thrust.

      In spite of the nearly providential help the mighty Messenger of the Winds represent, the tide turns against Gondor hopelessly: both Companies of the Hosts of Gondor suffer heavy losses not even the Nardukan strength within the Seven Stones Company can outdo the trap they have fallen into.

      Sweating cold and trying to hide the trembling that takes over his injured arm, Gurtir has but one shout to give and this has no strength, no fancy, no glory.

      "Retreat."

      The sad ringing of horns follows his command the nearly grasped victory has been taken away from Gondor through vicious decoy and terrible blows.

As Su'ad raises her voice in salute to the Heroes, Alphros raises his own: "By the Great Dark Lord!" And then he took strikes at Laegtiri, slashing unevenly for one of the Eagle's wings at it passes him, stumbling over the sand and the blood at his feet.

Dodging through the crowded battlefield, Azradi parries and slashes at anyone who gets in her way. Several minutes have passed before she reaches the Steward of Farside - bloody and not only standing, but fighting. "Alphros!" she calls in relief and stands beside him, faced towards the eagle.

The Haradrim and Umbarean forces harry the Gondorians as they retreat, striving to get at their encampment. Calls rise up in praise of the Eye and the Heroes, though the Gondorians withhold them from their desires in their ordered retreat.

      Gurtir grabs a Man at Arms with his sword-wielding hand and speaks to him. What, the clamor of battle does not allow to be over-heard, but immediately after, the soldier sheaths his blade and starts a sprint back north through the orderly retreat of Gondor.

     More blood pours from the Eagle as the enemy opens new wounds. As the Dark Lord is cried out, Laegtiri plans one last attack for he too hears the call for retreat. With a final dive, the aviary swipes at the Man whom has done dishonor to the original design of Manwe by following the one who does only evil.

      His limbs still containing power, even though life is leaving them, quickly respond to the movements of Yildirim with their own. Drawing the massive blade back and up, the White Squire manages to just parry his opponent’s scimitar blade at an angle before it reaches his neck. Sliding the blade away from him, he then wheels it about for another swing. His attack now aimed at the other man's neck in turn.

      The words of his superior officer suddenly fill his ears however, causing him to be torn between a desire for revenge and the following of orders.

The eagle dives for him, but Alphros raises his shield: the Southern-wrought aegis takes the brunt of the blow, but the power of the great creature is still enough to send the Steward flying to his knees.

     As the eagle soars off, Alphros remains there, a handful of his guards coming to his aid.

"Go run," is all the Haradrim boy says, smiling, "I am pleased to see Gondorian bravery. Gondorian strength. Go and run. Your mother is waiting for you." He strikes again with the scimitar, "Go run! Leave Gondorian!"

Though her sword meets eagle flesh once more, it occurs to Su'ad that she is only making it peeved. The lord called retreat, even as the eagle struck him once more. Su'ad makes it her business to come to his defense, as his entourage helps him retreat from the bloody field. "Harad, retreat!" she calls out, picking and choosing her opponents when she can.

      "We will meet again, Southron. And next time you will not have nurse to help you. It will just be the two of us and then we shall see who prevails." The White Squire then growls as one final blow strikes him before he flees the field. Limping back to his own lines, it is not long before he collapses in his retreat. Lucky for him though, his brethren are not far and as such he is soon helped back to his feet and half carried back to the camp.

The eagle's attack on the Steward is too swift and Azradi meets with air when she lashes out angrily with her scimitar. Clearly torn between joining the front line for the retreat and aiding Alphros, the Corsair glances at the latter with worry and moves to do the former, joining Su'ud.

 The Nardukan warriors balk at the idea of retreat, yet they form up the rearguard. Rabazgar scowls, and fends off any foolish enough to give pursuit.

     The Eagle's trajectory is no longer towards the Haradrim but now flies towards the Gondorians. With each wing beat, the bird is gracefully carried on the warm currents with his wounds lowly clotting. Feathers once downy white are now red in matching the black claws.

Su'ad's sword reddened with blood, but finding the forces each in retreat, she begins to pick spoils from those she killed, being thorough in her searching. During her meanderings, she finds a feather left by the great bird. She stares at it for a moment, then takes that too, tucking it into her belt.

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