(Archive) The Strange Adventures of Numandil, Naerdil, and Huan 11
Elendor - Monday, May 01, 2000, 10:12 PM
*note- CS removed from log to save space*
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Outpost in Repair
Holding the ground at a local hill is an outpost of quarried stone, roughly 50 square meters to the side and with sloping exterior walls. Walls more than half again a man's height run between four towers on the corners that are nearly six meters high. The construction is of the finest dwarvish stonemasonary the walls look to be two meters thick at the current height, and sit so solid into the ground as to belie a deep foundation. The paving in the central courtyard is heavy cobblestone from the nearby Anduin river. A couple of log sheds, constructed not by dwarves but by Beornings, rest in the courtyard. There is quite a bit of scaffolding and wooden bracing still in place.
The night's gloom has settled over the outpost torches have been lit, four on the high towers to give a better view of the roads and ways. The Guards up in the towers can't be seen, but their presence can be felt. Few Beornings come here at night, but for those who are caught away from the village after sundown, this place provides a refuge.
Contents:
Bzjokze
Sloane
Geoff
Zoe
Marusia
Numandil aka Indilzar
Naerdil aka Aearwen
Lenny
Dajil
Orion
H'ruin
Zijghashgoth
Religious Followers(#23031IVn)
Orc Camp
Obvious exits:
Northeast leads to Anduin Valley - West of the Carrock.
North leads to Vales of the Anduin.
Northwest leads to Vales of the Anduin.
Storage Shed leads to Storage Shed.
Headquarters leads to Headquarters.
Barracks leads to Barracks.
Southwest leads to Western Vales of Anduin.
West leads to Wooded Glade.
[Ghlurshrekh(#29406)] "Fine, take my ring armor!" growls Ghlurshrkeh at Orion. "But don't get it loused up!" His fingers dance up and down the suit of mail he wears, and he shrugs out of it, dropping it to the ground. Turning, he strides towards the armorers' wagon, presumably to fetch some other mail.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Chieftain seems vaguely amused at the Under Ruler's actions and grins slightly. Suddenly, he stiffens, the grin quickly slipping from his face. He holds his spear up high and calls out. "Be ready! I smell it! The battle is upon us!" The orcs all get ready, their weapons ringing out as they brandish them. They all turn towards the direction that the Chieftain points his spear and they wait for many long moments...
The enemy does not come, however. The orcs grow bored with staring off into the empty blackness and go about their business. The Chieftain keeps watch, though, convinced that something is out there.
Dajil looks up at the catapult. The smith struts around the catapult. He points out a few of the better features of his work, "I have a few surprises in the basket. Just before this is fired i have hot metal in this fire throw into there." Dajil chuckles at himself and his deviant ways.
Ghlurshrekh slowly exits the armor-wagon, tightening on a suit of black chain mail, pulling the leathern straps taught, the hooks and links together. He moves towards Zijghashgoth, stride filled with puprose, carrying him towards the Chieftain.
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe prepares herself, bringing out her spear and twirling it a bit in hand, testing the weight.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Uruk-hai Chieftain looks to the Latadurub as he emerges with new armor and shakes his head. "They are fools... They won't heed my warning... The Flame... She wouldn't be pleased." He again shakes his head in disgust, his hand still clenched to his spear. He seems to snap back to attention, seemingly sensing something off in the distance. He slowly puts on his leather shield, and puts on his helmet. He is now fully protected..
[Har'jag(#29919)] Marvelling at the darkness, Har'jag removes his battle axe. Told seconds ago to ready himself for battle, this uruk seems to be a little less then battle-hardened. Though still brutish, and carrying a massive weapon, he seems unprotected. HIs armor is decent, but he seems inexperienced. Likely he will fall within the early ranks, or he will have enough luck to stay alive.
[Sloane(#17876)] It is a typical night in the Anduin vale... typical, that is, unless you consider the noise from the goblins infesting the outpost. Stars shine down, but they are not as bright as the fires of the goblin camps.
Loud calls and foul smells waft down from the outpost and towards the group of men approaching the outpost, as silently as their kind can move, stealthily walking towards the buildings and the vermin within. In the fore stands Sloane, armed with a long, sharp dirk. He glares at the fires, and the outlines of the figures around them. Hatred burns in his eyes, the hatred for what they did to his best friend and mentor, Lenny.
Tonight, Sloane is here for one thing and one thing only: to kill as many goblins as he can.
[Numandil(#10108)] Behind the Beornings rides a man in white garb. Different in nature and appearance than the Men of the Valley, his horse trots easily behind him, and next to him strides a great hound. At length he turns to look at his nephew, "Huan smell war afoot in the hills! Come Naerdil my brother's-son! Now we must oblige our hosts and fight as Men of Gondor in an alien field. Already behold! The carrion flies high. I wonder what proof the blades of the Men of the River may have against the sons of the Enemy? For do you not remember when last we were in this place, you and I?"
The Man of Gondor loosens his sword in its sheathe and the twinkle of its golden hilt can be espied by sun or moon.
Ghlurshrekh draws nearer to Zijghashgoth. "Smell what I smell?" he hisses, and his tone carries glee upon it, like a reeking wind laden with the stench of carrion. He casts his glare about him, calls up to the sentries, "Any sight of them?"
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe waits patiently, watching the swords and spears sparkle around her. Her golden hair is pulled up by her hand into a ponytail.
[Marusia(#22365)] Standing just a few feet behind Zoe, Marusia tries to search the night for the not-so-distant evil, the scent of which is burning her nostrils. The light from the fires, at it flickers across her face, reveal a worried look, as if she is not sure what she is doing here. Nevertheless, her hand tightens on the handle of a sturdy axe she is carrying.
[Orion(#24926)] "It shall be returned," Orion replies as he starts toward a good spot to attack. Throwing on the black scale armor and pulling out his dark bladed scimitar in front of himself. Bright red eyes scan the darkness for the enemy. Not saying a word just listening and waiting for the first sight of a light lover.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Chieftain nods his reply to the Latadurub's question and clenches his hands tighter on his spear. His eyes continue to search in vain for the enemy, which must be just beyond his sight. He too can smell the scent of the enemy, and shudders in preparation of the spilling of blood. It will be a long night...
"Steady!" he calls out to the horde. "Be prepared! Shall the Flame guides us this night! We shall vanquish the enemy of the Demon if they show their wretched faces here! Be ready! Be ready!"
The younger Nimothan sits easily in the saddle despite the events unfolding in the Anduin Valley. The ever present Huan, the wolf hound of Dol Amroth brings a grim smile to the lips of Naerdil as he replies, "For Gondor! And our hosts, we shall give our best." Strung over the shoulder of the young man is a bow and quiver of white shafted arrows. Silvery grey eyes peer into the darkness as the stench of the outpost fills the air.
Pyralis stands next to Zoe his axe held loosely in his right hand. His usualy cheerful eyes glint with the fire before them.
[Geoff(#29825)] A smaller man stands behind Zoe. To those who know him, he goes by the name Geoff. His eyes skim lightly around, as he tries to deciede what he shall be doing tonight. His ears also are alert for any sounds that are not human. All senses are ready for what he is about to partake in. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, fists clenshed in a sturdy hold.
[Har'jag(#29919)] An akward movement, followed by unthinkable grace is seen. Tripping slightly before steadying himself, Har'jag removes his battle axe, and in simple grace steadies it in both hands. He seems well versed in the art of handling his axe, but clumsy in all else. Looking at all around him he sees many a uruk, readying their weapons, or adjusting their armors. He adjusts his armor, leaving it as unkempt as before.
[Numandil(#10108)] "Hardly a host do we have here this day," replies Numandil. "Yet here my word. Stay ye behind the ranks and upon your steed. Because your art is with bow, succour the Men of the River as you may. As for myself, I shall see what terror Huan and the blade Nimracil can bring upon our foes. I can smell already the burning. If these orcs are as to like any that are upon the borders of our land, then it will be ill to make an attack at this time, yet we must do as we must and honour our hosts and resolve with most stern action to assail them and rid these hills of their egregious perfidy."
[Dajil(#17618)] The old smith Dajil looks around. "The hoomans are coming. Oh joy my creation will bring the favor of the Beast I hope." Dajil runs to the back of the catapult. He slides a shovel into the fire. He throws shovelfull after shovel full into the basket. Red hot embers and white hot metal land on the rocks of the basket. "this weill let them feel the power of fire."
[<#29406>] Ghlurshrekh growls, brow wrinkling, before disappearing beneath his helm. "..., ... ... ... ...?" Slowly, he reaches with one plated hand to his side, drawing his sword from its sheath with the scraping rasp of drawn steel.
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe isn't the type that would prefer to kill someone, not even an orc. She doesn't look quite thrilled to be here, and hopes that she will be able to stay alive enough to tend to the injured after the battle. She takes a moment to notice those around her, hoping that this won't be the last she sees them alive. The spear tip flickers against the firelight, and that same light gives her hair color a blazing red tint.
From afar, Iraal, as a plethora of colored strobe lights flash, blink and pulsate, adorned by an obnoxious DING DING DING DING, asks, "Naerdil! I've orders to kidnap a Gondorian, and you--yes YOU!--are being offered the chance of a life time. That's right, you can have a knife held to your throat by a scary man wearing nothing but black. What do you say?" :)
Zijghashgoth replies slowly and in a quiet voice, "Then we must pray to the Flame that their aim is affected by the night." He then holds his shield up high and adds, "And we must ready our shields..."
[<#17876>] Seeing that the orcs scurry around the fire peering nervously around, Sloane realizes that the vermin sense their presence. The element of surprise is lost. Now is the time for battle. He turns. "
The young nobleman, never having seen battle, looks to his Uncle, valiantly trying to keep the fear from his eyes as he nods his head in response to the words of Numandil. "Fare thee well Uncle and may the Valar guide and protect you as you face the evil goblins inside yon fort." One hand reaches to pat the bow slung across his shoulder and he promises, "A shaft of death shall sing through the night in protection of you and those that are our hosts."
[Bzjokze(#28711)] The orc camp is astir with activity as always, snaga run about and tend the fires as the warriors march in full armour. The clanging and clattering of the metal hitting each other is a small symphony of it's own. Yelling, and commands are constantly shouted out in the Uruk language and whips flow just as freely as their tongues - and the message just as harsh, and quite a bit more painful.
The fires reach up into the night, dancing around and leaving the memory of smoke behind. Upwards they reach, trying to rejoin the sky it seems. One of the snaga's throws a rather large log into the middle fire, and sends a torrent of hot embers into the air... suddenly Bzjokze the Destroyer - Gothshaka ob Khazad Dum - bursts out of his tent, his eyes glowing with unmatched rage. A powerful figure, muscles barely being contained by ancient black armour. Battle worn hands both occupied by the massive battle axe Gonturan... searching for some target to punish. Smoke churns around him, shrouding his body and flowing through the links of his black armour.
His fist darts out into the air, and his fingers turn upwards towards the sky. Still the smoke rises up through his fingers before his deep voice booms in the ancient language of Morbeth, "The Demon is with us tonight my minions..." Before he tilts his head to the side and reveals all of his yellow teeth, most noticeably the two gleaming yellow fangs, the language now switching to Westron, "Moria to arms! Take no prisoners... You can have whatever booty you get your hands on - these aren't elves... They don't have the smell..." Tossing his head back and laughing, "They are weak farmers!" The open hand now closes suddenly like a steel trap, his voice raising to the loudest he can force it, "Crush them!"
[Marusia(#22365)] The overpowering stench finally gets to Marusia, and she gags, wretching a bit in the dirt. Recovering, she wipes her mouth on the sleeve or her wool cloak, and seems about to speak to Zoe, when Sloane looses his battle cry. As those around her begin to follow him up the hill, she stands for a second, stunned, and then reluctantly and slowly follows.
[Numandil(#10108)] "Let it be so," calls Numandil riding forth. "And stay out of trouble for a change!"
The hound follows Numandil and now this lord of Gondor is grim to look upon, hardened by the wars of the Marches for long days. He sweeps back his sword and cries aloud, "Gondor! Gondor has come!"
Then suddenly the great hound howls and his cry shudders like the horns of the Knights of Dol Amroth, and it in rests the strength of the peak of Mindolluin!
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe looks to the other woman as she's about to speak, and hears the war cry. She takes off with the rest of the group. The stench doesn't seem to bother her too terribly much, though that's not to say that she likes it either.
Ghlurshrekh tightens his dull-red and jet-black belt upon his waist, pulling it taut with a grunt from within his helm twin pools of horrible, nightmare radiance appear, casting their softly evil, cruel light upon his snarling black mask of a helmet. A deep hiss rumbles from his throat as he reaches to his side, retrieves his black shield. "Come, Chieftain." he rumbles.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Uruk-hai Chieftain turns quickly, catching the last part of the Gothshaka's speech. He grins in delight and holds his spear forwards, hiding behind his shield and waiting for the inevitable onslaught of arrows from the enemy. A confident gleam sparkles in his eyes, however, for he knows that the servants of the Flame will have victory tonight. He calls out in soung
"For the Flame, we fight!
For the Demon, this night!
We will crush and maim, maim and kill!
For the Demon, this night!
The face of Naerdil becomes a bit rebellious as he mutters the words of his Uncle, "Stay out of trouble for a -change-." Huffing indignantly he watches as Numandil charges into battle, sword drawn, a hero of Gondor defending the Anduin against the spread of darkness. Reining in his horse, he draws a white shafted arrow and lightly runs his fingers along the shaft, the sharpness on the tip bringing a smile to his lips.
Slogh pages: I like the pouting.
[Numandil(#10108)] Riding forth, Numandil makes his way forward. Being mounted solely among the Sons of the Anduin his sword shimmer in the moon and his cape blows back in the breeze. He is heedless and fey, not caring for stealth or ambush, he fights as a soldier of Gondor.
[Bzjokze(#28711)] The Gothshaka watches the battle scene unfold from just outside his tent, the saliva on the fangs easily catching the light of the flames. His head lowers down from the laughter, as he allows the haft of his axe to drop to the ground. One hand holds it tightly, as the other freely gestures about. Pointing to walls, "Get some spear units on those walls - let's stab them as they come across! Move it!"
Moving to indicate the roofs, "Archers get into position - we've been training for this moment. If you do not win with minimal losses I will finish the rest of you off personally and start anew!" His chest heaves, as he continues to shout at random creatures and makes attempts at acting like he is in control of this turmoil and chaos.
[Raklor(#19045)] Like a large ball, a fat little uruk runs about the outpost, his hands wildly waving in the air, like reeds whipping in a harsh storm. Out of his large mouth emanates a loud scream, like the screeching of a dying warg, squished under the foot of a smelly troll. Yet this creature is clearly of little import, the way the other uruks ignore him and shoot him looks of threat as he screams past them.
His cries pierce the sky and in alternating hoots outshout the Gothshaka's words, like two uruks engaged in a belching contest, "Raklor run! Raklor die! Ahhhhhhh!" As if waiting for a higher ranking uruk to punish him, his beady eyes scan the camp as he screams his cry.
[Dajil(#17618)] "Ohh here come my time." Dajil jumps up and down and looks at his catapult. He looks at the chain holding the throwing arms of the catapult. The smith reaches out to the block holding it. "Here goes nothing." Dajil pulls the block and throws it to the ground. The rocks and burning logs and hot metal take to the air. The attack was well timed and the rain of pain falls at the charging humans. Dajil jumps up and yells as the weapon he crafted works. A large group of snagas start about reloading the catapult. Before the rocks hit the ground Dajil runs out to the front o protect his weapon. His sword dances in his hand waiting for blood.
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe charges to the orc before her with great speed, her slender body flying at Har'jag quickly. The spear spins across her wrist, snapping to a stabbing position under her arm, the long weapon stauntly poised.
[Sloane(#17876)] Seeing a little knoll in the distance, Naerdil decides that would be the best place from which to lob arrows at the goblin horde. He turns his horse, and rides atop the knoll, bow in hand
[Marusia(#22365)] Marusia screams as the rocks and hot metal come raining down, and grabbing the thick wool folds of her cloak, uses it to quickly snuff out the still-burning embers that are in her hair. The attack seems to take away the last of her fear and trepidation, though, and she looks around for something to attack.
Pyralis had hung back slightly from the charge, his eyes fixed on the catapult for a moment. Because of this preoccupation the falling debris misses him. It does seem to wake him from his trance and he dashes forward to engage the enemy.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] As a lone human archer on horseback attempts to get away from the battle, the Chieftain's glowing red eyes lock onto the pathetic creature. He yells out a battle cry and charges forward, racing off towards the human as fast as his legs will carry him.
You head west towards the Wooded Glade and the mountains that lie beyond. Wooded Glade
As you pass under the eaves of the wooded glade, the woods hound in about you. The trees have grown more sparse than some forests, but denser than others. This glade appears to be once connected to the great Mirkwood forest a long time ago. The tree branches above filter the view of the sky a bit, but when a light breeze rushes from the mountains and the pass to the north, they spread their branches to let more sky in.
The faint light of the moon and the stars floats down through the wood canopy. High above the treetops the stars shine silently. Looking off to the west, a few faint lights can be seen coming from a wooden stockade. The happy sounds of men singing can be heard.
Contents:
Zijghashgoth
Obvious exits:
North leads to Vales of the Anduin.
South leads to Western Vales of Anduin.
Northwest leads to Foothills.
[Sloane(#17876)]Seeing a huge goblin figure dashing after the horseman, Sloane grips his dagger tighter and dashes off after the figure. Though he is fast, the giant goblin figure is much faster. His only chance is to distract the goblin. He throws his dagger, and it clings off the goblin's armor. However, he manages to distract the goblin from his target long enough to launch himself upon the goblin
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] As the Uruk-hai dashes across the glade after the human on horseback, he is hit from behind by an object and stops almost immediately. He spins around and sees another human chasing him. He snarls at the creature and yells out, "You will die for that!" He wields his spear, holding it out in front of him, and charges headlong into the human, attempting to pierce his gut.
The hooves of his steed cut sharply into the ground as Naerdil moves to the the wooded glade. Reining in his horse just under the branches of a lone tree, his eyes peer through the darkness and then reaches into the pouch and pulls out a torch, striking flint to light the area. The glow of the torch illuminates the battle between Sloane and a goblin, his hand reaches for an arrow and quickly draws the bow.
[Sloane(#17876)] As the enraged beast charges at him, Sloane stops. Now weaponless, he suddenly senses that he is not in a strong position. He steadies his shield to take the brunt of the attack, but is not ready for the force of the impact of the goblin. The force of the blow sends him reeling, but he quickly regains his balance and lashes back out at the goblin with a leather-gloved fist, hoping if nothing else to break it's nose or at least blacken his eye.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Uruk-hai seems amused at the human's attempt at an attack, but he merely raises his shield up to block the bare-fisted human's blow. He then snarls again and says, "Leave me be, wretch! The Flame will triumph today!" He then thrust his spear violently at the chest of the human.
Naerdil again draws an arrow and places it in the taut bow. The twang of the bow sounds in the night, an arrow whistles cleanly through the sky, spiraling as it aims for the goblin. Before that one has a chance to hit its mark, another white shafted arrow is placed in the tight string and drawn back, pausing as the two men move, Naerdil waits until his shot is clear and again releases another arrow.
[Sloane(#17876)] Unburdened by a weapon, the human has no trouble dodging the clumsy thrust. Leaping lightly aside, he realizes his best weapon is his speed against the orc scum. He hops to the right, then sends a kick directed at the goblin's midsection.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Uruk-hai is caught off guard by the striking of an arrow in his back. His armor absorbs most of the blow, but he still stutters a bit, leaving just enough of a hole for the unarmed human to kick him in the gut. He stumbles back a bit and snarls yet again. This time, however, he takes a more defensive position and pokes carefully at the unarmed human.
Pleased that one of his arrows found its mark in the back of the goblin, Naerdil smiles a grim smile and draws back the bow again. Tightly held in strong hands as he awaits another chance to lob a gleaming shaft of death into the air. Nervously, his steed snickers in the cool night air as the smell of blood and the stench of the orc rises up the hill to where he sits.
[Sloane(#17876)] Overconfident by his successful kick, Sloane underestimates the creature's speed and takes the butt of the spear in his own midsection. He doubles over, gasping in pain. "You vermin," he finally spits through clenched teeth. "You will pay for fouling our vale with your cursed presence." He summons his strength and straigtens up, clenching his free fist and clutching harder at his shield. He does not strike right away, looking for a window. Finally, he jumps forward, using his own body strength and hiding behind his shield to ram the creature, at the same time lashing out with his fist.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Uruk-hai's successful attack inflated his ego a bit too much and he is caught off guard by the human's quick retaliation. Fortunately, the human is unarmed and does very little but disorient the Chieftain with his charge. The massive Morian jumps back and again pokes his spear at the human.
[Raklor(#19045)] A great wailing comes from the sky, like a massive beast on dark wings, skating along the heavy winds in the air. Yet no form follows it, just the sound, and as it draws near, it resembles more the dying cry of said beast than any terrible wary cry.
With the sound nearly within the copse of trees, seemingly echoing about, a cacophonous crash explodes from within the treetops above the heads of the combatants, and like a heavy weight dropping to the depths of a deep lake, something plummets through the treebranches, dragging leaves and twigs with it in its descent.
Arghh sprints forth from the gaping hole in the western walls of the once imposing outpost. The scimitar gripped tightly in his grimey little paws is waved wildly in the air, moonlight shining brightly off it as he announces his presence rather loudly, "ARGHHHHH!" There is a crazy look in his eyes as he charges straight for the form of Naerdil, wildly slashing his deadly blade at him.
The crashing of a sound through the treetops startles the steed and his rider, nervously whinning and circling around as Naerdil reins in his stallion, looking around for the source of the noise. Unable to see into the darkness very far beyond the light of his torch, he draws another arrow and swiftly turns at the sound of a screech headed his way. The reverberation of the bow sounds as the arrow whistles through the air, straight at the charging goblin.
[Ghlurshrekh(#29406)] The din of charging uruks can be heard from the east a large squadron, it seems, of warrior Dush Armed with scimitars and spears they come down from the outpost, led by a broad-shouldered, sable-cloaked orc, the Under-ruler of Moria, they descend to assist the Chieftain, ready to rescue him from his beleaguered position.
[Sloane(#17876)] The disbalanced goblin thrusts with his spear again, but Sloane is ready for it, and dashes aside. The spear whizzes inches from his face. The human steps in even closer, to disadvantage the goblin with his longer-ranged weapon, and rams his elbow in the creature's gut.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Uruk-hai is quite enraged now by his lack of success. He manages to retain control of his temper, though, and evades the human's attack. Seeing an opening in his enemies defenses, he thrusts his spear with all his might, pushing forward off his feet..
Arghh shrieks in pain, the muscles in his arms spasming as the deadly arrows pierces the armour covering his shoulder. Growling in rage he re-steadies himself, advancing for another attack - this time cautiously. With adequate skills in his weapon of choice he slices steadily upwards through the cool air, intent upon avenging his wound.
[Sloane(#17876)] The goblin's closeness makes it hard for him to hit the faster human, so Sloane has no problem dodging aside from the thrust, then sending his fist to find the goblin's face again.
A grim countenance etches in the face of the nobleman of House Nimothan as the sound of the orcs coming closer sounds in the night. Staying atop his steed, his arms hold the bow tight in his hands, silvery grey orbs focused on the oncoming creatures as bow after bow whistles through the night. Narrowed eyes take in what appears to be the chieftain of this hellious clan and one white shafted arrow zings out sharply, circling the darkness, hoping to find a target in the chest of the hideous creature.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Chieftain lets out a loud curse at his own stupidness, and then a near laugh at the human's stupid, quick retaliation. He easily blocks the blow with his shield and jumps back a bit, poking at the human's leg, hoping to slow him down.
[Arbiter Globals(#722)] [+TIMEWARP] Thranduil(#13852) timewarps this location to NIGHT.
[Ghlurshrekh(#29406)] The march of uruks near, battle cries and angry roars hissing from their throats, shields rising to defend them from arrows even as they limber their scimitars for the attack they seem to pick up volume with speed, until as their powerful limbs twist beneath them they roar furious cries, and slaver, and shriek angrily.
At their lead is Ghlurshrekh, shield thrown up before him yet with a whistling shriek, a white arrow squeals towards the orcish leader, clips his shoulder, cutting into the muscle beneath the chain mail. With a wrathful cry, he makes a beeline for the source of his pain, scimitar above his head like a hammer still, it may take him a little more time before he can close with the accursed archer.
[Fierce(#24303)] A white blur can be glimpsed out of the corner of your eye, coming from the Northeast. Like a flash of lightning past the sparse trees of the plains, the presence can be seen... quickly the form grows nearer and turns towards the battleground. It seems to take on a discernable shape... slowly... not more than 500 yards away now.... the form of a white rider mounted on a snow white wolf or small horse can be seen... it draws nearer.
[Sloane(#17876)] The act of jumping back unsettles the goblin's balance, and his spear thrust is easy to dodge. However, his landing is precarious, and seeing his chance, the human charges the goblin, setting his shoulder behind his shield, trying to crash into the goblin and bring him down with his weight.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Chieftain is again caught off balance, but he is completely enraged now and does not care one bit for a defensive stance. He backs up a bit and then rushes headlong at the human, his spear tip leading the way...
Dajil comes running in from the east. His blade waving about in the night air. Thick red blood drips from it down the smith's hand. "GNASH!" the smith hollars as he runs in. His eyes look for someone to attack and maim.
[Raklor(#19045)] The long and loud descent from the treetops is clearly slowed by the many branches and leaves along the way, but still the creature descends, falling through the thin, whiplike branches, screaming as each twig switches at his exposed skin.
Finally, like a great explosion from the treetops, the round form falls to the grassy ground, a fat ball of uruk hurtling to the ground at incredible speed, right in the middle of the combatants. As he bounces off the hard ground, a great squeek escapes from his lips, as if a dying breath has passed his mouth one last time.
[Fierce(#24303)] The white blur from the Northeast comes to an immediate stop, 200 yards out from the center of the fighting. It is clear now... a rider, garbed in the skin of spotted plains cats (think leopards), wielding a vicious black spear, and mounted on the back of a purely white Warg... Silent, forboding, the figure observes the battle from a distance.
[Sloane(#17876)] His charge preparing him for a defensive stance, Sloane is easily able to jump aside as the orc, blinded with rage, charges past him. Laughing now with the adrenaline and the battle, he turns and sends a fist flying into the goblin's back.
Arghh is further infiriated as his assault upon the horseman is easily dodge. Foaming and ushering forth large sacs of phlegm he screams in rage, "We will send you back to Gondor, there you will learn your proper role in the World!" With no regard for his own safety, Arghh presses forward on Naerdil, sending a high slash speedily at his body.
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe's hair flashes in the early morning rays, and her spear glints on the sunlight through the trees. The thick leather armor doesn't seem to affect the nimble teen's movement much as she charges towards Orion.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] Though the uruk-hai's attack misses, he spins around quickly and is able to evade the human's quick retaliation. He steadies himself now, and swings the spear like a sword at the human's leg.
Calmly awaiting a good shot, amid all of the chaos, Naerdil stills his bow as the orcish lead rushes his way. The gleam of the scimitar glittering in the light of the torch. Grim lines etch from his mouth as the hoardes of urks come forth. Finally the bow is drawn back and again an arrow whistles through the air.
The rush of another orc at his side surprises the young man as the scimitar slices into the leather of his breeches, a thin line of blood just barely visible as it stains the material.
[Sloane(#17876)] Jumping aside, Sloane is able to avoid the swinging spear. Landing, he is able to hurl himself at the goblin again, his fist swinging.
Dajil's eyes fall upon a human with a bow. He quickly runs at the human head long. His sword held out infront of him, Dajil dives and makes an attack at the human, "Leave my master alone vile being." Dajil slashs at the larges part of the human he can find.
[Ghlurshrekh(#29406)] The under-ruler and his orc-warriors approach with great leaps and bounds, as they move closer to the pesky archer and Beornings. The Latadurub himself pants with rage, slaver falling from his masked helm to the earth as he charges at the bowman the arrow that barely clips his chest doesn't faze him in the slightest as he closes, joining Arghh in swinging blade at the human, black scimitar slashing glittering down at the human.
[Fierce(#24303)] The white form of the wolf and his rider seems to disappear, away from the melee. Lost in the sea of trees that makes up the forest, it is difficult to discern where such a creature and his warrior would go...
Zijghashgoth attempts to jump out of the way of the human's fist, but it catches him off guard and smacks him in the head, disorienting him. He steps back a bit to regain his composure. He settles for just poking at the human to keep him back.
Arghh unleashes a ball of mucus upwards in the direction of Naerdil's face, at the same time he relentlessly slashes at the human. As before, his tactics show no regard for his own safety.
[Ghlurshrekh(#29406)] As another arrow bounces off of his chain armor upon his side, Ghlurshrekh hisses, swings wildly now, all his anger bent upon beating down this upstart tark. He snarls, hacks at the human.
[Orion(#24926)] As Orion makes his way from the east also, when he sees the figure of Zoe approaching. Bringing his scimitar out in front of himself he runs to meet the teen half way and swinging his scimitar hard towards the side of Zoe with a great dark arch. Orion's two bright red eyes burn with fury at the light lover.
[Fierce(#24303)] The figure of the white wolf and his rider appears once more, behind the lines of the non-Uruks. Silent, motionless, not a hundred yards away, the mounted warrior's intentions remain unknown.... red eyes peer outwards through the darkness towards the exposed rear of Naerdil, and the sea of Uruk's attacking him. The two wait.
[Sloane(#17876)] Barely able to avoid the thrust of the goblin, Sloane loses his balance and waves his arms around, trying to hold himself upright. He falls back a step, but realizes he's lost the chance for attack.
Another arrow finds its way into the frey of fighting as Naerdil kicks out with one booted foot, landing squarely in the chest of one of the orcs. Unfortunately, the blade of the scimitar makes its mark know, as another stream of blood darkens the leather of his breeches. White shafted arrows are drawn from the quiver with steady hands and aim taken, despite the noise and commotion.
Ghlurshrekh roars, hacks at the tark again. His eyes blaze with insane light from his helm, his muscles twist like cables beneath his skin as he slams his sword down once again.
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe brings to play a strange ploy, ever showing her inventive personality. As the scimitar swings at her, she collapses to the ground in the middle of her charge, ducking below the blade. The girl's momentum carries her forth still, as she goes into a roll, and then flies off of her hands as the sword passes, sending her feet flying like lightning towards Orion's head.
[Zijghashgoth(#24843)] The Uruk-hai Chieftain is enraged now and gives up all hope of defense. He charges with all his might. Suddenly, though, he stops. He looks to the creature that has bested him and he nods in respect. "The Flame was not with me tonight. You're god has seen you through." With that he dashes off back towards the broken outpost, away from the fight and his fellow Morians.
[Fierce(#24303)] With a sudden blast of motion, the White Warg and it's rider move to action... like a white blur from the Western Wood, the beast's claws dig into the ground, propelling them towards the backside of Naerdil... the rider, clad in the pelts of snow cats, his white cloak flowing in the breeze, levels his blackened spear towards his target and spurs his Warg onwards, faster now... the distance dies quickly...
Arghh continues to spit upwards in the humans direction, a look of rage in his eyes as he screams, "How dare you touch my lord!" With that said he leaps forward, hands twisting to the slide as he slides the Scimitar horizontally at Naerdil's leg.
[Fierce(#24303)] The white warg rushes towards Naerdil and emits a loud, predatory snarl. It's rider levels his spear at the back of Naerdil, but at the last moment, fate seems to intervene... sending the spear astray and missing it's target. The warg's vicious jaws snap and hiss, tearing at Naerdil's clothing with each vicious swipe.... the Uruk rider draws his spear back and prepares to slash at the bowman with all of his might.
[Sloane(#17876)] Seeing his opponent flee, Sloane pants strongly for a few seconds as he turns and sees others attacking the Gondorian rider. Snarling, he launches himself at the nearest, a large goblin hacking at the bowman with it's scimitar.
[Haldir(#15711)] Far to the south, a group of travellers are on their way through the dense woods. Their steps are swift, sure, and light: to twig breaks under their light feet, no leaf rustles as they step over it. They all look alike, dressed in shimmering grey cloaks which take the hue and pattern of the wood around. Even if someone would take the time in the heat of the battle to look for them, they are but fleeting shadows between the silent trees.
Dajil curses as his blade misses the human. He sees the chieftain run and he heads over to the human he was fighting. The smith swings his blade at the head of the human with all his might.
Raklor sighs and leaves.
Ghlurshrekh backs off of the first human, seeing the second bearing down upon him. With a vicious grin he throws up his shield, following up the block with a slash of his blade.
Orion falls to the ground for a second before he was back to his feet with a even more furieous look upon his face. The move was a surprise to him but it did not wound him that much. Bringing his cimitar up quickly and down towards the shoulder of Zeo with great speed and strenght.
Fierce spurs his mount towards the one named Sloan, red eyes glaring at the pale skinned one. The White Warg makes a dash across the field towards Sloane, and with a mighty swing of his spear, Fierce takes a thwack at his target.
Arghh falls back as the horseman begins to retreat, quickly gazing about the open field for another, weaker target. He smiles broadly as others assail Sloane, with a loud cheer he rushes towards the human - scimitar waving wildly in the air. "Die filth!" he screams as the weapon sails towards Sloane's side.
[Sloane(#17876)] The goblin however, senses the human's attack and turns to parry the blow with his shield, then sends his scimitar flying, seeking the human's blood. Sloane leaps aside, dodging the blade, but right into another's path. The blade bites deep into his shoulder, and the Beorning screams in agony as several more goblin blades nick him or whiz by his head screaming for his blood. Enraged, he charges the goblin whom he'd attacked nonetheless, fist raised high, to ram down the goblin's throat.
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe's good reflexes serve her well here, as her handspring left her onher feet. A quick spin on the spear provides a glancing reprieve from the sharp blade's thrust. She dare not try to over power the orc, she would surely lose. The spear continues in a spin with the blade against it, in order to bring it to her other side, so that his arm has to be brought back before another attack can be made. In the same move, she ends with the dull end of the spear in a good position to jab at his gut, which she indeed does attempt.
Fierce is no Goblin, that is for certain. The large white form, mounted on his white wolf, maneuvers his Warg to the side with a gentle tug on the scruff of the wolf's neck... deftly wielding his spear in one hand, Fierce drives it towards the back of Sloane's head.
[Ghlurshrekh(#29406)] The human's hand smashes into the uruk warrior's face-plate, deflecting most of the blow... still, some viscous blood drips from the side of the orc's helm, probably a bloodied nose or some such. Enraged, the orc-warrior slashes at the human's side viciously, scimitar shrieking through the air.
Dajil grins with grim satisfaction as his blade strikes blood. "Oh. I like blood. Lets have some more hooman." The old smith swings wildly at the human side to take out his innards.
Kicking and grunting as one fist slams into the horrid face of a goblin coming at him, Naerdil kicks his heels into the sides of his horse. The sting of scimitars biting into his flesh as his attackers blades hit home. Drawing his horse in sharply, a few yards away, his bow is drawn and a an arrow launched as he realizes Sloane is in trouble. The whistle of the arrow sounds as it spirals through the air.
Fierce turns his white wolf, hearing the sound of an arrow whiz past his ear, and seeing it plunge into Dajil. With a strong tug on the mane of his wolf, it turns swiftly and snarls deeply at the horse. At an almost slow, dreadful pace, the wolfrider stalks back towards Naerdil... his white warg seems most dedicated to terrorizing Naerdil's steed... frothing slightly at the mouth. It's intelligent blue eyes glare knowingly at the horse.
[Sloane(#17876)] The charge carries the human forward, just as several more scimitars clash together, lighting the little glade with sparks as they strike together. His fist connects with the goblin face, and he sees it covered with goblin blood. He grins, satisfied, even as he dodges the goblin's repose with its blade. Ignoring the rest of the battle around him, he hops to the goblin's left, leading the beast away from the rider still shoting arrows at the orc horde, and then sends his leather boot to seek the goblin's knee, hoping perhaps to break it.
[Aegraum(#12417)] Still keeping to the trees and long grasses, the band of travellers closes on the terrorous melee in an arc from the south. With blade drawn, Aegraum nears the clearing where the fighting roars, piercing elven eyes flickering grimly across the scene...
[Haldir(#5711>] The leader of the shadow party raises his hand in the air, signalling for his troup to halt as they approach within about 50 yards from the entangled mess of bodies, spears, and shields. "
Fierce draws nearer to Naerdil still and thrusts his spear at the bowman's side. Rising off it's front paws, the White Warg snaps it's jaws at the horse...
[Ghlurshrekh(#29406)] The armored knee takes the blow, the uruk groaning with the impact of the foot upon his knee-plate. He grunts, slicing at Sloane painfully. The blow is telling on him, though he's far from incapacitated.
[Terridan(#29424)] The travellers move closer to the great melee before them. One, taller than most, pulls a bright blade from the folds of his cloak, and on his other arm, a shield rests tightly. Terridan gazes over the battlefield, his features concealed by the heavy cowl he wears.
Arghh backpedals a pace with his left foot, placing all the weight upon that heel he pivots around - eyes gleaming red as he once again spies the horseman. In a horrid, wailing voice he speaks, "Hah! Back for more?" With speedy legs he is carried back towards Naerdil in short time, time enough to unleash a new attack before another stinging arrow pierces one of his comrades.
[Orion(#24926)] Zeo's spear jabs into the gut of Orion barely piercing the black scail armor he wears. Getting tired of the quickness of Zeo, Orion grabs the arm of Zeo and tries to jab her with his scimitar hard in towards the gut
[Combat(#13388)] Aegraum slides the ancient elven-blade from the leather scabbard at his hip, the great shaft of the blade glittering menacingly.
[Haldir(#15711)] The twang of longbow is muffled by the dense leaves hiding the archer, and the cries of the battle, but the arrow speeds from the shadows...
Kathalis travels quickly along side the other elves as the move in to engage staying on Terridans left side as the approach the combat his blade held low and at the ready..
Dajil stops his assault on the human and turns to find an arrow in him. the old uruk sees two of his brethren. The smith turns back to the human and swings his blade at the leg of the human hoping to make walking impossible.
[Sloane(#17876)] His overconfidence is costly to the human, for as he regains balance, the goblin surprises him with a rapid slice. This time, the blade cuts his other shoulder, and crimson blood can be seen spattering by the dull firelight over his cloak. Wincing in pain, he nevertheless assumes a more defensive position.
Suddenly, something whizzes by his face, and an arrow buries itself in the goblin before him. Shocked, he nevertheless uses the advantage to rush forward, bashing the goblin as the latter, too, must be disoriented by the sudden projectile.
Calriel suddenly appears from the shadows... you catch a glimpse of few spectral figures, probably her companions, but when you look closer, they're gone.
[Haldir(#15711>] The archer in the trees lowers his bow and glances over the shoulder at his companions as he pulls another arrow from the quiver. Seeing his friend anctiously drawing a blade, he nods, "
[Elena(#29558)] Among the elves, a smaller figure than the others cloaked still in shadows, and hidden from the fray behind a wall of warriors lets her emerald eyes peer from beneath hooded countenance to witness the sway of the battle. Her delicate hands firmly grasp the wooden staff, ready to defend if need be, but by no means rushing into the battle.
Dajil stops his assault on the human and turns to find an arrow in him. the old uruk sees two of his brethren on the bowman and he doesn't think it to be enough. The smith turns his body and swings his blade at the human.
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe seems a bit taken by surprise as she is grabbed by the arm. At the site of coming sword, she twists her body, trying to move away from the jab. It's somewhat successful, but not fully. She dodges enough to keep her self intact, but the armor is sliced a bit on the side. She is but scratched, not hardly even bleeding, and releases the spear with the grasped arm, and her left spins it at the center, and plunges it down tip first at the offending wrist.
[Fierce(#24303)] The white wolf and it's white rider suddenly turn to the North and race away from the center of the melee... with the deft woodland maneuvering of the warg, both soon disappear behind the northern trees at the outskirts of the battlefield. Vanishing into the night... like a puff of smoke.
[Haldir(#15711>] The arrow is out of the quiver and laid onto the horn-carved nock. Once again the yew bow bends and the string is stretched by the strong hand. Bright elven eyes shine under the cowl, and a fell grin curves the lip of the archer. The great bow twangs again, the arrow wizzes through the gap between the branches...
A grunt of pain sounds as the scimitar of the goblin slices into the arm of Naerdil, a trickle of blood stains the fine white linen of his shirt. Growling in anger, he again kicks the sides of his horse and turns the horse towards the goblin, his bow drawn and arrow aimed at the hideous creature. The taut sound of the bow releasing the arrow sounds, just as another orc comes from the right and attacks.
[<#29406>] Ghlurshrekh +shouts "uruk=:lets out a savage, raw cry as the whistling arrow Haldir launched slices through the air and embeds itself in his shoulder and lower neck, forcing himself to slowly step back, despite the pain. He favors his left side, right eye half-closed within his helm, a narrowed candle of pale yellow fire, as he defends himself, barely dodging, and roars over the din of battle, "Elves! There are elves! Retreat, we cannot win this ... their arrows must not .. reach us!" He hacks at Sloane, just wanting to keep the human back."
[<#29406>] Ghlurshrekh lets out a savage, raw cry as the whistling arrow Haldir launched slices through the air and embeds itself in his shoulder and lower neck, forcing himself to slowly step back, despite the pain. He favors his left side, right eye half-closed within his helm, a narrowed candle of pale yellow fire, as he defends himself, barely dodging, and roars over the din of battle, "
Arghh appears faint now, the great arrows that stuck him only minutes before remains embedded in his left shoulder. It would seem that he has worked himself to overexhaustion, as he pants steadily and wheezes sporadically. Upon hearing the words of his lord, a sigh of relief is uttered from his chest. Without hesitation he wheels about, trying to march away from the battle intact - yet with some sort of dignity.
[Haldir(#15711)] The archer mutters something under his breath, as the battle is too close even for him to shoot without risking a hit on the wrong target. Another arrow is nocked and loosened almost immediately, the twang of the bow is carried loudly across the field this time...
[Aegraum<#12417>] At the signal from the Knight-Commander, a tall warrior shrouded in grey except for a dully-silver helm strides calmly from the conceilment of the trees. Angling toward the horsed human, he roars with a piercing call, "
Terridan moves forward quickly at the signal from the elf behind him. His form moves rapidly through the grass, nearing the fray. His sword is held off towards the side slightly, and his cloak flows out behind him as he enters the fray as well.
[Calriel(#24093)]High in an old beech tree on the wooded glade sits amongst the group of elven archers a short Laiquendi maiden. She looks at Haldir and then a determined look crosses her delicate elven features. She steadily takes a longbow from her back and takes one of her well crafted arrows and readies it. Her eyes, glimmering in the darkness like starlit nights, overlook the battlefield. Then aiming for one of the foul bodies of the yrch, she releases the arrow... which almost silently slashes through the night.
[Elena(#29558)] The elleth lurking in shadows continues to keep a sharp eye, not only upon the battlefield but the trees surrounding, wary of possible reinforcements or any other looming dangers. Still, she hangs back.
[Aegraum(#12417)] Falling on one of the foul scourge from the rear, Aegraum raises the giant blade and angles it in a hissing arc toward the orc's shoulder.
Orion moves his hand away form the attack and steps back for a second. Then swinging his scimitar again sideways hard towards the gut of Zeo, quickly and with stealth the blade moves like a shadow.
[Haldir(#15711)] The branches swing away as the Elven warrior charges into the fray, revealing now the archer, a tall figure in a grey cloak, almost motionless except for his hands, which again draw a bow, a great longbow over 6 feet long, and another arrow whistles through the air.
Dajil winces as he is pierced by an arrow. The old smith listens to the words of his master. The elves, cursed light-lovers have come and foiled the uruks plans. The swings his blade once again at the bow man to stop his arrows from killing him. Just after he swings a blade a nother blade strikes his side. The smith thinks this is a good time to leave and starts to move away.
[Sloane(#17876)] As the goblin falls back, Sloane pauses to take a breath and survey the scene. What he sees amazes him. Arrows fly through the air as tall, lithe figures swarm over the field, attacking goblins. The figures are elves! Shocked, the man forgets his bleeding shoulders, forgets his escaping target, as he watches the elves attack the orcs. For a few, fleeting moments he stands there and gazes at them, then turns back to see that the battle is already but finished. Goblin bodies, some with arrows, others hacked apart by spears or swords, are piled along the field, and the few surviving vermin flee the field, pursued by a mix of elves, and humans. Exhausted, the man falls to his knees, weeping openly. The only words that flit through his mind are, "too bad old Lenny had to miss this." His tears mix with the blood that continues seeping out of the wounds on his shoulders, but he does not heed the pain, content to watch this most amazing of sights, that few in these dark days would be able to see, elves and humans fighting goblins side by side. This is a day he will never forget.
A sweeter sound was never heard as the sound of the ancient tongue reaches the ears of Naerdil. A hand reaches to draw the dagger from the sheath strapped to his leg, drawing up the blade to slash across the throat of the nearest orc, blood splaying his horse and himself as the creature drops to his knees. Sweat drips from the face of the man from House Nimothan, grim is his expression as he fights for Gondor and for his hosts in the Anduin Valley. 'Mae govanen', are the only words heard from his lips as he fights off yet another orc. Drawing back the white shafted arrow in his bow, he again sends another zinging through the air.
[Calriel(#24093)] Calriel looks surprised by the sudden move of Haldir and covers him by releasing another deadly arrow at Dajil
Ghlurshrekh seizes the arrow in his shoulder with his sword-hand as he backs away from Sloane, jerking it free blood drips from the wound slowly, but constantly, as he makes his way towards Dajil, shield upraised as he approaches the orc to assist him. His shield arm hangs limply at his side, barely grasping the shield, yet he swings at Naerdil, trying to buy Dajil time to escape.
Kathalis darts quickly threw the melle as Ghlurshrekh attempts to assist his fellow uruk, his eyes narrow as he leaps into the frey slashing at him with a quick upward slash.
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe's blade is allowed to go for the ground. It sticks in firmly, and she desperately dives backward around the spear with a grunt, using it to stop the blade as she falls to the ground, narrowly escaping the attack. In the same motion, she pulls the spear from the ground and rolls back a couple yards before returning to her feet, bringing herself to a ready position again.
Dajil looks at the arrows that sink into him. Once he gets back to the mountain new armor would be good. The smith turns and sees a group of uruks running away back towards the outpost. the old uruk tries to run away from the evil bows of the light lovers.
Hissing out in pain as the scimitar of the orc leader swings into his flesh, Naerdil growls out in angry as bloody fingers draw another arrow into the bow and quickly releases the shaft of death. Smiling grimly as the blood of another orc spills to the ground near him as his eyes glance to his right.
[Ghlurshrekh(#29406)] The Latadurub lets loose an angry, painful bellow as the elf Kathalis charges him his scimitar slaps down to drive the sword point out of its trajectory as it carves up at him. Stepping back, panting, he levels a thrust at the elf, still planning on buying his warriors some time to defend.
[Maethildor(#22343)] Not far in the distance, an aloof warrior surveys the battle from a treebranch. His cowl is dark, and his eyes glow as he watches the fighting orcs and elves and men. Straight and tall, he watches as another volley of arrows go flying into the deadly melee and takes a deep breath, waiting to hear the cries. Some come, but not enough. Frowning, the old veteran shifts slightly, letting the bright metal gleam in the starlight and loosening the heavy blade at his hip from its old scabbard. Gazing down into the combat, he tenses, preparing to leap into the fight should he be needed.
[Haldir(#15711)] Behind the line of advancing Elves, Haldir keeps raining deadly fire onto the battlefield as his hand darts into the quiver with lightning speed and nocks the arrow. He raises the bow, the sinew string whines as it's stretched to the limit before his fingers release it.
[Terridan(#29424)] Crying out with the strength of his kind, Terridan moves quickly for Zoe and Orion. His sword flashes out, attempting to gain the yrch's attention. The tall elf stands off to the side, trying to put himself between the human and the yrch.
Ghlurshrekh hisses as Naerdil's arrow sends blood showering from his right arm, though it passes through without stopping yet just as he begins to recover another bowshot sends an arrow cutting through his limp left shoulder. With a howl of agony, he turns tail to Kathalis, rushing at the source of the lesser pain with a great bellow, his only thought to win his way past by bowling through Naerdil.
[Calriel<#24093>] Amongst the Laiquendi archers, high in the branches, Calriel nods to one of the others speaking in the tongue of the wood elves, "
[Haldir(#15711)] The wind blows the cowl back from the archer's head, his long golden locks wave openly, ruffled by its invisible hand. His strong hand tirelessly draws the bow again, and a fell smile plays on his lips as the spirit of battle is in him. The great bow knows no weariness as well and sends one arrow after the other into the fray.
[Elena(#29558)] The elven maiden from behind steps forward somewhat to survey the damages caused by the servants of darkness. Her attention is immediately caught by those wounded, be they elf of human...yet she tarries still, not daring to enter the midst of combat, arrows, swords and all.
Kathalis eyes narrow as the uruk turns his back to him, steping quickly at him the elven knight lunges forward in a attempt to make the uruk pay for that mistake.
Orion sees the reforcing elf and sword. Blazing red eyes start to burn with a un-natural glow. Raising his dark bladed scimitar Orion runs to to the light lover and swings his scimitar down towards the Elf's shoulder.
[Aegraum<#12417>] Glowering balefully at the filth in front of him, the Noldo princeling steps forward and rakes the glittering blade down across the back of the fleeing uruk.
The rushing orc is dodged as the stallion of Naerdil nervously steps out of the way, a whinny and snort of his nose sounds as his massive hooves step on a fallen creature. The gleaming blade of the orc chief finds its mark as a slash in the ribs of the young nobleman is felt. His hand drops to his side instinctively, blood dripping from his fingers as yet another arrow is drawn from the quiver and launched through the air.
[Ghlurshrekh<#29406>] Kathalis's longsword cuts through the chain rings that protect Ghlurshrekh's back, slashes a bloody weal along it, even as a third arrow cuts into his shoulder. "
Terridan moves off to the side quickly as the simitar flashes down, the blade tasting only air. Terridan stands back up, and smiles under his cowl, before his own sword flashes out, slashing for the beast that stands before him. The blade travels upwards in an arc towards the orc's midsection.
[Calriel<#24093>] Then, from high up in the branches, Calriel tries to take a clear shot at one of the yrch. "
Kathalis takes a lunge for Ghlurshrekh but notes that he is out of range he scans for a another target as the orc is out of range...
Dajil curses his luck as he tries to get by the human. The human's blade crashes into his frame and sends his body forward out of the reach of another sword. As he runs anothe rarrow strikes the uruk in his rear. the smith cries out butr still runs from the fray.
Orion takes a hit in the midsection and stumbles. Looking around quickly and getting the sence of a retreat Orion Tries to make his exit also... Using his Orc speed he takes off at a sprint.
Ghlurshrekh retreats more quickly now, beckoning painfully for the uruks around him to follow, those in condition for it. He turns now, managing with as much strength as he can to guard his back with the shield (a weak defense, clearly) and runs (or stumbles) away as quickly as his legs can carry him.
[Haldir(#15711)] Another arrow is sent forth by the archer, who stands tall and silent among the trees, open to the fighters now, if anyone has time to look to the south, if only to see where the deadly gray rain of arrows is coming from. There is no sign of him slowing down...
[Sloane(#17876)] As the final orcs trickle off the field, Sloane stands. His wounds are mostly minor, but he sees plenty of his folk lying around, in more serious pain than he, he bends his knee before each, lending whatever assistance he can. Seeing some beyond whatever help he can give, he turns towards the elves, who even then approach. "Please," he calls out loudly. "If any of you have the power to heal these poor souls, please, come quickly, for they are beyond my help."
Elena moves forwards now, throwning back the hood of her cloak to survey what damage has been caused to her companions. Finding none, she looks to the elves around her. "The affairs of humans or no, I am loathe to leave anyone bleeding upon a battlefield. Shall I assist him?"
Terridan frowns deeply, but lets the orc run, he wipes his blade off, and resheathes the blade. He turns to face Zoe, and begins speaking, "You... can... stand?" The basic is broken, and heavily accented, but is understandable.
The retreat of the some of the orcish attackers gives Naerdil a moment of pause. His dark head bends forward as he inspects the many wounds upon his body. A shrug of his massive shoulders is seen as he speaks, more to himself than anyone, 'Tis a night to remember, for one green to battle.' A smile broadens his lips as his eyes fall upon the elves that came to rescue himself and Sloane, atop this hillside and he says with gratitude, "
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe looks to Terridan. "I can understand you some," she says to the other, panting and a bit out of breath from the fight. Her face forces a smile that is genuine, but tired. "I'm Zoe," she extends a slender hand to shake, while leaning on her spear with the other.
Kathalis eyes dart this way and that as he slowly begins to fall back towards the rest of the elven group here, his face expressionkess as he turns and to the human he move to assist earlier, and nods silently to him, the elfstone on seeming to flicker with its own inner light as the elven warrior wipes his blade clean.
Terridan nods his head once, and takes the hand, "Terridan..." a slight smile can be seen for a moment, but then he turns to survey the rest of the field, "You healer... need."
[Aegraum<#12417>] As the yrchish lines receed, Aegraum turns and peers up toward the horsed human. Raising a gauntletted hand to adjust the visor on his helm, he offers, "
[Maethildor(#22343)] Sheathing and securing his blade, Maethildor leaps down to the bloodily savaged battlefield below. Frowning at the stench, of urine, blood, and other nasty body parts of yrch, he carefully begins picking his way towards the main circle of fighters and warriors. As he nears, the tall elvish warrior tugs gently at his cowl, lifting it up and over his head leaving but the dull silver sparkle of his hair. Occasionally, he will lean down and slit a throat with a dagger, but in due time, he finds himself near Haldir and Aegraum.
[Haldir(#15711)] Among the trees, the archer slings his great bow behind his back, and returns the last arrow to the quiver. The battlefield before him is littered with dead and dying orcs, but none worth wasting an arrow on. His steps swift and light, he runs down the hill and toward his companions.
[Elena<#29558>] Elena gives a heavy sigh, moving into the midst of what was before chaos. Looking over the battlefield, she casts aside her weapon now to begin work of a different kind, delicate fingers digging in the pouches of her cloak as she approaches Sloane, giving the man a quizical look, bright eyes clearing questioning if he needs assistance. "
[Zoe(#25112)] "I'm sorry?" the girl asks, not quite getting all of the sentence. "I healer need?" She blushes a little, being that she can't understand everything the other says.
[Sloane(#17876)] Standing over his fallen comrades, Sloane watches the elves dispatch the goblins. One female approaches him, and mumbles something in some strange dialect. He shrugs. "I am sorry," he shakes his head helplessly. "I do not understand. But..." he leaves the sentence unfinished, looking down at an obviously dying man at his feet, and tears well up in his eyes. He looks back up, a mute plea in them, as his gaze connects with that of the elven lass.
[Calriel(#24093)] The battle over, Calriel and some of the other archers dart as shadows from the trees. Swinging her bow on her back, she quickly runs to the battle field to catch up with her friends.
Terridan frowns a bit, "You... need... healer..." he speaks each word slowly, working it out. He slips his shield over his shoulders, and calls out to another elf nearby.
Silvery grey orbs take in the form of the elven man as he adjusts his visor to peer upwards. Naerdil crosses one hand across his breast and bows his head in respect to a comrade on the field of battle. "
[Kathlis<#19051>] Kathalis looks over to Elena and says softly, "
[Haldir<#15711>] Haldir approaches Maethildor and Aegraum, and the bloodied weary edain they are talking to now, "
<#29558>] Elena says in Sindarin, "Emerald eyes soften with compassion and Elena nods her reply, kneeling swiftly before the dying man. Biting her lip, she winces slightly, shaking her head. "I don't know that I can aid him...." but she raises the mans head to rest it lightly in her lap....heedless of dirt and blood and anyone else that yet stands by her. A quiet song is hummed on bated breath, wordless and sorrowful in now quiet remains of earlier fighting -- it's contrast is marked, and sad."
Calriel wraps herself tighter in her cloak, draws the hood over her head, and ... just vanishes. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a quick movement nearby, but when you look closer, there's nothing there.
[Elena<#29558>] Elena's emerald eyes soften with compassion and she nods her reply, kneeling swiftly before the dying man. Biting her lip, she winces slightly, shaking her head. "
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe shakes her head. "No, I'm fine." she assures the elf, smiling. "I just got a little scratch." She points to her side. It really is nothing more than a scratch. No more than one might get from brushing against a thorn.
[Sloane(#17876)] Seeing the elves grouping around the fallen comrade but doing nothing, Sloane realizes it is too late. Tears stream down his cheeks as he kneels beside the fallen man, gasping his last breaths. His hand seeks out the other's, and he grasps it, as the human inhales air for the last time. Then, as his chest falls, Sloane reaches out mutely, and, tears dripping on the corpse, he closes the man's eyes. He bows his head, sending up a quiet prayer to carry his comrade's soul to the Great Bear
[<#29424>] Terridan looks around slowly, and turns back over towards the other elves, "
Kathalis looks down to the fallen human, his eyes sadden as he softly says a preyer as well, though none are close enough to overhear exactly what he says, until he looks back up to Sloane and says simply in Westron. "Sorry."
[Aegraum<#12417>] The tall elven warrior pauses for a moment at the Gondorian's words, and as he unclasps and removes the sloping helm from his head, arches golden brows. "
[Zoe(#25112)] The teen nods. "Are you all right?" she asks, returning the concern. She doesn't know much healing yet, but she can at least treat a little bit.
[Elena<#29558>] Elena gives a quiet sigh that echoes with heartbreaking clarity in the ears of those nearby, and she shakes her head again, rising to place a delicate hand on the shoulder of Sloane. "
Terridan looks over to the fallen human, and sighs as well, lowering his head in honor for the fallen warrior. As Zoe speaks, he turns around to face her again, "I... am unhurt... yrch too slow to hit."
Sliding from his stallion at the words of the elven warrior, Naerdil winces as the pains of his wounds ache upon touching the ground for the first time in time untold. Gently his bloodied hand reaches to stroke the mane of his horse, soft words spoken as his words of thanks are given to his trusty mount. Turning as the sounds of grief break the fog he is in, his silvery orbs fall upon the fallen friend, and his head bows in grief. Silently his lips move in a prayer for the man.
Shaking his head softly, raven locks falling over his brow he says to the man with a gentle, melodic tone, "
[Haldir<#15711>] Haldir grimly watches Sloane pay the last tribute to his comrade. "
[Aegraum(#12417)] Peering back toward the gathering of edhel and adan, Aegraum singles out the familiar face of Elena, and calls to her in a startlingly musical voice, "Elena! Here stands one who can still feel the benefit of your ministrations! Come with haste, if you may!
Terridan looks back towards Zoe, "Did... you know human?" he gestures towards the fallen warrior.
[Maethildor(#22343)] Gazing upon the scene, of a brave warrior weeping over his fallen comrade, Maethildor pauses -- giving neither glance, nor motion to his fellow elves surrounding the body and his friend. From beneath his hood, he purses his lips and looks hard at the warrior Sloane. There, maybe, is the leader of these beleagured band of defenders. Shifting his hand beneath his cloak, the tall warrior finds his hand upon the hilt of a dagger -- as well, a gleam of mithril gleams in the starlight from a set of mail about Maeth's chest.
Waiting for no orders from Haldir, the Veteran Warrior stoops and draws the dagger -- placing it point first so that the sigil of Doriath can be seen upon its silver pommel. "Here," he murmers in clear and even westron, "Both the blood of the first born, and blood of those who will inherit, have been mingled in battle against the accursed. There is no loss of honor in this death." Pausing, that being the only words of comfort the old elf can provide, he continues, "Please bring this to your chieftan, a Grimbeorn by name, and ask him to recall the words that were spoken in the halls of Rivendell. Our promise from the south has been fulfilled in part. Make sure he remembers."
[Zoe(#25112)] The girl shakes her head and rubs her nose at a sniffle. "No, I did not. But I still can't stand to see the suffering." Zoe sighs.
[<#29558>] Elena turns at the sound of Aeg's voice, a puzzled glimmer in her emerald eyes. "
HEALING: Elena attempts to treat your wounds...
Terridan nods his head once, and turns back to the fallen human, "Death... is not avoidable... but, he died... noble. You... should be proud," he lays a hand onto Zoe's shoulder, "But... do not forget this..."
[Aegraum(#12417)] Sighing heavily, but with a mirthful chuckle, Aegraum motions toward Naerdil as the healer Elena approaches.
[Elena(#29558)] Laying a hand briefly on Aegraum's shoulder, Elena gives the elder a gentle smile before returning her attention to the wounds of the other.
[Sloane(#17876)] Finally rising, the lone human stands on the field. He lifts his head, assesing the battlefield. His eyes taken in the stumbling and injured, but smiling and victorious humans, helping each other along as they make way towards him, and the elves, tall and grim, yet carrying their own brightness which burns away the night. He looks towards the man of Gondor, the white clothes stained crimson with his own blood, but still managing to stand and smile, victorious against the dark hordes. He sighs. "For you, Lenny," he murmurs softly, too softly for any to hear. Then, he turns towards the elves around him. "On behalf of our villagers, I thank you," he says slowly, enunciating the words clearly and loudly. "You have helped us prevail against the vermin that have infested our village for far too long. Please honor us with your presence as we celebrate this great victory." He holds his hands apart, in what he hopes would be interpreted as a friendly gesture, as the wounded humans gather around him.
[Zoe(#25112)] Zoe nods. "Yes, I suppose so. There's no way I could forget someone dying before me." She looks down at the ground for a moment, and listens to Sloane calmly.
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