Elendor Info

  • Increase font size
  • Default font size
  • Decrease font size

Shade of the Forest

Tags: Bagurat,  Immin

Short Summary: The Rohir Immin comes upon a masked robed creature. A phantom of Fangorn? So the figure claims.
Date (real-life): 2010-08-20
Scene Location: Tiar Ford, near Fangorn

Tiar Forod, East of Fangorn
The Sun is marching slowly toward the Misty Mountains, as the shadows begin to grow long, reaching to the east.

A lonely stretch of road runs north and south with the eaves of Fangorn, skirting that forest's eager stretch. Overgrown, underused, the path gives evidence of little -- if any -- traffic; though it skirts Fangorn, it comes too near perhaps for comfortable travel. Only the creep of the forest's shade offers sanctuary from the sun. To the east, glaring light rules with no break of shadow.
Uruk Camp
Obvious exits:
 North leads to Tiar Forod, at Limlight River.
 South leads to Tiar Forod, East of Fangorn.

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Mid Afternoon on Sterday, Day 24 of September.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 19:45:59 MDT on Fri Aug 20 2010.

Shadows lengthen as the afternoon sun begins its decent in the heavens, and though it is nearing autumn, the day still holds a feeling of humidity; indeed, this area seems more uncomfortable than it should..and the reason is clear to the West: there sits the menacing Fangorn. A camp mars the landscape here, seen from the road perhaps as a cluster of black tents in the distance where it sits safely away from the black forest. Those that move about in the camp might be perceived by keen eyes; orcs these are.

Closer to the road and to the forest, something pokes about the grasses, stooped over and clawing at the dirt. Whatever this thing is, a robe of black covers it almost from head to toe.

Immin is out for a ride this day, away from the camp of the Rohirrim to the south. He does not though stay out in the open, but seems to be riding parallel to the forest's edge, though the distance he keeps is quite large, on the /safe/ side of the road. The horseman keeps his attention on the forest, only looking forward now and then to keep his direction, leaving his horse to do the rest as it trots along.

During one of his glances, the Rohir might espy that dark hunched shape that digs near the forest's edge -- clearly not on the 'safe' side of the road.

It seems the sound of horse hoofs carries on ahead, for suddenly that robed form straightens, head held high as though listening intently. A pair of malicious yellow eyes snap toward the south, from whence the disturbance comes. With a sharp hiss, the orc -- for indeed that is what this beast is -- flattens herself into the grass with a crouch. A mask fashioned in the visage of a crow covers Bagurat's face. One claw falls to a dark hilt that lies at her side.

Immin is watching the forest with an almost transfixed gaze when suddenly his horse comes to a halt. He snaps out of whatever daze he's been in and pats his mount. "What's wrong, eh? The Entwood is all too close, are the trees coming to get us?" The horse does not reply, but it swings its head back and forth once and snorts. Immin looks around slowly to see what's troubling it.

Now that the horse has come closer ere halting, rider and steed are within hearing range, and at the human's question a nasty grin spreads itself across the goblin's hidden mouth. "We come, we come!" the black-garbed shaman calls in a rasping crooning voice, all the while trying to stay out of sight in the grass. "Turn around, lest your presence displease us!"

The voice carries and Immin looks startled, looking all around for the source and paying special attention to what may be hidden in the trees. But then something undetectable to human noses comes to his horse's and it suddenly rears, threatening to throw the man off. He is a one of the Rohirrim though and keeps his seat, though calming his horse is a different matter.

The horse's rearing distraction is seized as an opportunity to venture a bit nearer, and Bagurat crawls carefully through the foliage, keeping her yellowed gaze upon the human and his animal across the road. Unfortunately, carefully does not often equal quietly for goblin kind, try as they may, and a dead branch snaps under clawed foot. The orc hisses again, a vile cursing that drifts through the air.

"We shall snatch you and trap you in the wood, and never shall you see the sun again!"

The horse is calmed in time for Immin to hear the crack and then the words of the 'wood spirit' and he frowns. "No, I do not believe you! Show yourself if you are real and not just a shade of the woods who would be lost in the sunlight!"

There is a lengthly silence. Nothing moves, nothing answers. But then, a section of the grass nigh the west edge of the road quivers, and a darkling shape stands upright. A hateful glare is yielded to the bright orb of the sun overhead, and the shaman steps from the shadows and reluctantly into the daylight. Fingers twitch upon the hilt of a scimitar, though it stays sheathed for the nonce.

"A fool is he who ignores warnings," the creature hisses, peering out from behind that emotionless crow-mask.

Immin, despite the sudden appearance of the shade, seems not ready to bolt quite yet. Atop his horse which turns this way and then back again as Immin looks at the shaman, the man calls out, "You do not look like something of the forest. Such things do not carry curved blades or so my mother taught me."

The concealed mouth would seem to sneer, judging by the sound Bagurat makes. "Did she come here? Did she see? The weapon I choose to bear is my own decision...and you would do well to not anger the trees if you would rather avoid its bite." A grating ring of steel heralds the drawing of that curved scimitar, and sunlight flashes off its edge. "Now begone, human." The last word is expelled in a fresh hiss, and the orc takes a pace forward.

Immin has no visible arms of his own. Alarmed, he wheels expertly and gallops off to the south as quick as his horse can, headed for from where he came.

And a laugh, low and mocking, follows the Rohir's hasty retreat. "A wise choice," the shaman croons to herself, observing the rider's progress. She makes no move to pursue, but instead, turns toward the east and makes to dash off in the direction of the orc camp.

Date added: 2010-08-20 22:35:40    Hits: 94
Powered by Sigsiu.NET RSS Feeds