CALDUR: All for a Corpse

Moving in the darkness is patrol of Gondorian men, they move silently and swiftly through the dark, remaining hidden from sight as best they can. Archers, spearmen, and swordmen make up this group of warriors. Quickly they move towards the keep their weapons at the ready and at their front is the Lieutenant Aearon Telpekhor.

Eruphel is making last minute checks on the state of the seige, her War Captains having made an account of the placement of the armies, friendly and enemy, and the speculated state of Caldur's Keep, along with some interesting tidbits of happenings in the town. All of this is done inside the Harad Encampment, with the glittering stars overhead. Eruphel stands. "Thank you gentlemen, you are dismissed. Sleep well, if it is your turn. She smiles at them all, and glances at the irritatingly shut gate of the keep one last time. Or is it? Eruphel looks back again, seeing something she has never noticed before. 

"What is that?" she asks. 

One of her captains looks at the crenellated walls. 

"A body," he reports. 

"Whose?" 

"I do not know, Lady." 

"How long has it been there? Fetch my spyglass." 

As a page hurries to do the lady's bidding, the Captain says, "An hour at least, I believe."

Part of the group of soldiers of Gondor, Menelglir moves with stealth, drawing near to his cousin and looking warily about. The patrol is still well back from the Keep, though, and careful in their approach.

As the spyglass is fetched, Eruphel holds it to her eye. Even with the benefit of the spyglass, the darkness and the mutilations of the body make it difficult to positively identify. But...it is quite muscular, and Eruphel sucks in her breath through gritted teeth. She turns to the nearby Captain, waiting to be dismissed. "Get the Captains. Mobilize the army. NOW! Launch an attack at the Southern wall with ladders and hooks and volleys. Wake up the Citadel!" The Captain salutes, and hurries off. Eruphel starts to gird herself hurriedly, summoning the Serpent Guard who are her loyal bodyguards.

From a distance, the seemingly sleepy Haradrim camp suddenly comes to life, with clanking and shouting and the lighting of new torches.

 

The Gondorian patrol continues to silently move forward, remaining hidden as best they can in this unfamiliar territory. The Lieutenant looks to his cousin as they draw nearer to the Keep and calls the patrol to a halt by raising his arm with his fist closed. All the men silently come to a halt, many kneeling. Leaning into his cousin, the Lieutenant says in a soft voice "The enemy stirs" 

 

Silently, Menelglir assents to this, turning toward the noise of the Southrons in the distance and listening for a moment. "Best keep hidden until we know their intent and number," he replies, in scarcely a whisper. Then his eyes, ever restless and wary, move toward the Keep and the body hanging from it. He points that way with a gloved hand and raises a brow in quetion to Aearon.

 

 

The trebuchet are brought to bear, and as quickly as the first can be loaded, a volley of rocks and stones are vaulted toward the southern wall. The army rises in its roaring, gathering at the edge of the line of demarcation where an arrow launched from the walls may not fall. Then, with the sound of a horn, they charge forward, holding shields above their heads, carrying ropes with hooks and tall ladders toward the base of the Keep.

His eyes still upon the keep the Lieutenant goes to speak as the trebuchet fires, then looking to the Squire he says "May the resolve of your order keep those men strong.." Looking to the men he raises his longbow and says "be ready to fire, and be ready to withdraw from the battle if need be." 

 

"This makes me wish I was more skilled with the bow, cousin," Menelglir says as Aearon speaks to his archers. The Squire has drawn his sword, its blade gleaming softly in what light there is here. His shield he secures on his left arm.

 

Her armor tightly buckled, Eruphel turns to her guard, which seems to be gathering more and more, as the alarm has roused them from their beds, and returned them from their places of...whatever they were doing. Eruphel points northwest to the portal of the Keep. "While they assault the southern wall, we are going to cut that body down." she says. "Why, my lady? Who is it?" "No one, I pray," Eruphel's face is grim and dark, even in the black of the night. "Come, lets hurry!" Together the group moves toward the front, and Eruphel gathers a few bowmen and a ladderman along the way.

Farside's command is set up in the farrier's complex on the northern side of the crossroads. Since the dawn invasion, it has been hastily fortified with whatever materials can be found. Soldiers tired and bloodied from a day of fighting rest or receive the attentions of healers they lie or sit along the edges of the courtyard and in the stables. Even more are set up in a field beyond, sheltered by tents and warmed by countless small fires. There is no need to hide one's location - North and South know where the other lie.

Azradi anAzulada consults with her officers, much as her counterpart did in Seaward's camp. She is armored still and speckled with blood - none of it hers. Fatigue etches her young, light features but a fire burns in her gray eyes.

The din of Eruphel's sudden charge carries but rumors of sound to the Farsiders until the crash of stone hurtled against stone is heard distinctly, its meaning grasped immediately. Lady Farside turns to one of her sergeants. "Find out what is happening." As that man runs to do her bidding, she turns to an officer. "Gather some men, quickly," she says as she reaches for her helmet.

Looking to his longbow the Lieutenant says "Tis an armies greatest asset cousin, allows you to strike your enemy down without having to be near." Looking to the archers he says "Be ready men, we will rain down all of our arrows upon them at my order." Looking back to his cousin "We can not openly assault such a large force."

A volley of arrows arc toward the heights of the walls, the archers immediately hiding behind Shieldmen, as they put their next arrow to string. Under the flying arrows, the Seaward corsairs swing hooks, lobbing them at the top. Many clank against the crenellations, if they even get so high. Ladders rise and lean against the outer walls, and the assaliants begin to climb, many of them sporting hooks with ropes hanging over their shoulders.

 

"One day..after this.." Menelglir pauses to frown under the din of the sudden assault, "I will have you teach me. One day." Another pause, this time as he watches te Southron assault, then he speaks again, still quietly. "We cannot assault them outright, no. And as I do not have a bow, I can return to the beach to get more help? Though I would rather stay here, but leave that decision to you."

 

A tall, wiry man named Jabril follows along in the wake of Eruphel. He is dressed unlike the others of her party as he wears robes cut in a different fashion. Dressed in the gear of war, with a scimitar in hand, the young man looks up at where they are headed, the wall waiting for them ahead.

 

 

Motioning to the Archers to spread out and find better positions the Lieutenant says to his cousin "They will not be here in time if this is truly a full out attack. Your skills with a blade may yet come in handy." Pointing to a spare Longbow he says "Aim high cousin, these long shots require little skill when your enemy has such great numbers." Readying his own longbow the Lieutenant sighs heavily. 

 

Eruphel and her party wend their way through the chaos toward the front gate of the keep. She keeps her shield above her head to deflect the expected arrows, rocks, and burning things of random origin and composition. She notices suddenly an unexpected face. Jabril. Grimly she nods to him. "I need you to scale the ladder and cut down the body hanging from the walls." She peeks out from under her shield to look at it, and to see where the majority of the defenders are active. "We'll loop a rope through the top rung to steady you and help you go up quickly. Can you do this?"

 

Jabril looks back at Eruphel without flinching at being singled out. "The Dark One will aid me in all that I do because I believe it. I /can/ do this easily." He puts away his scimitar in his sash and slings his shield. "I am ready."

"Very well," Menelglir nods to Aearon, picking up the extra bow and quiver, then searching for a position in the darkness where they patrol lurks. He waits for a signal to shoot, his shield on his back at the moment.

 

 

The second volley of the war machines lob another assault of rocks on the wall, stoning those unfortunate enough to be in their way. On the ladders, the men pause most of the way up, unhooking their grapplers and swinging them, throwing the heavy iron ends up over the wall. Immediately they jump off the ladders, hanging from the ropes alone, to try to keep too much weight on them that the defenders will not be able to slip the hooks off the wall. Others add their weight to the ropes, then they begin to climb. But the defenders are slashing the ropes, and its a difficult assault. A few ropes are cut clean through, the men who were climbing up now plummeting back to the ground and the awaiting assalants below.

Before her runner even returns with news, Azradi is hastily leading a small number of her soldiers towards the keep. Ahead of the detachment lopes two men serving as scouts. They alertly keep an eye out for a responding Gondorian host. Not expecting a smaller, stealthy patrol, they are nearly upon the Gondorians serving as archers before they notice them... 

  

Picking up an arrow the Lieutenant gives the signal to fire, and then quickly notches an arrow, drawing it back he pauses a moment then lets the arrow fly, high into the air at a great arc, heading down towards the haradrim army.

 

Seeing the arrow fly high into the air, or perhaps the signal, but the Gondorian Soldiers let their arrows fly, high arcs, flying towards the enemy.

Aearon launches an arrow...

Aearon's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

 

Eruphel nods. Together the group of Serpent Guard, their Seaward Lady, and various sundry including one young acolyte pause at the portal, virtually underneath the hanging man. Her men grab the ladder and string a rope through it. Eruphel takes one of the ends, beckoning Jabril closer so she may tie the end of it around his waist. "They will pull you up," she instructs, "All you must do is cut the rope, and hold on to the body, and the will lower you. Do you have a knife?" Behind her, the ladder is being lifted up, to lean against the wall as close to the body as possible.

[(#17324)] Firing along with the other soldiers of Gondor, Menelglir launches an arrow into the night, though where it lands, who may say. The Squire, unused to bow, fumbles with his next arrow so that it drops to the ground. As he stoops to retrieve it, he catches sight of Azradi's patrol, and he hisses something into the darkness toward Aearon. Bow is abandoned his shield is brought about, sword drawn. "...! The ... ... upon ..., ...!"

 

 

Jabril flourishes his ceremonial dagger. "Success, my lady!" With that, he turns to the base of the ladder and prepares to be lifted up, weapon in hand.

Jabril takes out a strange herb and stuffs it in his mouth. Chewing the leaf and feeling its effect, the acolyte experiences a feeling of euphoria and fearlessness as he prepares to be lifted up into the air.

Many corsairs fall to their deaths, the torrent of arrows raining down, along with ladders and ropes and the men still attached to them. What few men make it to the top find themselves alone, and are quickly cut down. And yet, as if slave masters were at their backs with whips, the assault continues again, as another volley of arrows sails skyward with an ominous whoosh, clattering against walls and roofs and armor.

The twang of bows, coming from so near, startles the Farsiders - the scouts especially who are in the fore. Some of Azradi's men falter and peer into the darkness with confusion - others flinch, not yet realizing the arrows were sent elsewhere. Lady Farside, however, draws her sword in a flash and slows her course only slightly. Every sense is strained and alert to see whether foe or friend lies before her. In Westron, she calls out, suppressing her accents as best she can: "Who goes there?"

The Gondorians continue to fire arrow after arrow at their enemies, the Lieutenant among them. Hearing the words of his cousin he nods his head and fires one more arrow, then turning about looks for the enemy that has come closer. Notching yet another arrow he signals for the spear and swordmen to prepare themselves. And then he fires an arrow at the new party of Haradrim scouts. 

Aearon launches an arrow...

Aearon's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

A few men of the Seaward Serpent Guard steady the Ladder, while four together grab the rope and pull, hoisting Jabril into the black sky along the rungs of the wooden ladder. Eruphel remains on the ground, looking up. She watches for men directly above who might shoot. "There. Up there! Shoot at that!" she directs one of the archers nearby. He does as he is told, but its just a decorative head. The arrow is wasted. Satisfied of her safety and the safety of her men, and Jabril most of all, she takes a moment to try to get a better look at the man hanging upside down from the rope.

Nor is there an answer to Azradi's demand from Menelglir, who moves further into cover of darkness, not challenging the Southron patrol. Not yet, at least, though he stands ready near the rest of the Gondorians.

 

Jabril is raised into the air and his feeling of euphoria morphs into a surge of invincibility and even deification as he goes into the air, feeling as though he can fly. The acolyte keeps chewing his root and recovers a sense of his mission (though not losing his sense of importance in keeping the world going). With his dagger in hand, he comes up beside the dead body and feels for the rope in the flickering darkness. Snagging it, the acolyte starts sawing for all he's worth.

An arrow answers Azradi's query and neither her nor her men need to know more. The bellow of "FARSIDE!" rises above the din as the Lady and her small forces charge the Gondorian archers...

 

Hearing the shout of "Farside", the Lieutenant notches a final arrow and lets it fly! A poorly aimed shot for the second it leaves his bow he lets the bow drop and is picking up his spear and adjusting his shield.

 

Most of the Gondorian men have dropped their bows and now wield spears and swords, except for a few that continue to fire arrows trying to thin the lines of the charging Farside haradrim. 

Aearon launches an arrow...

Aearon's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

 

Menelglir long ago dropped his bow, the Squire having no skill with it--so that when Farside charges, he is ready. His blade slices through the darkness, a blind strike at whatever moves or is nearest.

Menelglir attacks Azradi with his Longsword ... and he misses!

Four Serpent Guardsmen hold steady as the acolyte does his work. Eruphel waits tensely, fingering the hilt of her scimitar with an anxious look. Together they wait for the man to signal he is done. Or perhaps it will become apparent.

On the south side of the keep, the army dashes against the base of the fortification like waves against a cliff, the men clamoring to reestablish lines and ladders, though the ladders are becoming damaged, the lines already severed, many of them. The most effective assault now seems to be the alternating volleys of the arrows and rocks, raining down on the defenders from above with random, accidental fate, taking one man, leaving the next standing.

A sword flashes out of the dark, reflecting the light cast from the Keep's fires. Moving aside with ease, it slices empty air beside Azradi. Even as she dodges, she slashes at its bearer - quickly calculating where he might be, though blind as to what she might hit.

Azradi attacks Menelglir with her Scimitar and badly wounds him!

 

 

Jabril is making steady progress and as the rope pops and unravels from the tension and the cutting of his knife, he gives a yelp of frenzied delight at the success of his mission. Just then, the dagger passes through the last of the rope and suddenly it is plunging down to those below (who'd better have care lest they be cut by it) as Jabril drops all and reaches out to grab the body before it can fall away to the ground.

Seeing his cousin attack the oncoming enemy, the Lieutenant leaps into the fray. Moving to his cousins side as he see's him struck, and thrusting his spear at the attacker while shouting "You will die!"

 

The Gondorian soldiers join in the attack upon Farside, hacking and slashing with their weapons, some shooting arrows still."

Aearon attacks Azradi with his Spear, but he misses by a mile.

 

As Jabril grabs the corpse, the knife falls harmlessly toward the ground, burying to the hilt in the soft earth. But in so doing, the ladder wobbles and the body swings to the side, causing both to slip off, and together they swing toward the wall, hitting it, and hang underneath. "Get them down quick!" Eruphel calls, rushing forward to stand under the ladder ready to help Jabril with the body. The men back up in unison, lowering the acolyte quickly. "Oh no. Oh no!" Eruphel says, as it becomes obvious, then certain who the dead man is. "Hayya! No! Hayya!" She cradles his head and torso, but unable to lift such a large man, crumples with him to the ground, holding him tightly to her chest. Lady Seaward begins to weep.

Certainly Azradi's blade has hit something, by the sudden cry of pain from Menelglir, who staggers backwards, falling into some of the Gondorian patrol, who push him back up. Fury or shock lights the Squire's eyes as his blade whips once more to the woman Farsider.

 

Menelglir attacks Azradi with his Longsword and lightly wounds her!

Jabril pushes at Eruphel to get her away from Hayya. The acolyte, seeing how precious this man his to the lady, realizes what he must do. Pulling from his mouth the mushed up leaf he has been chewing, he presses it into Hayya's mouth and then pushes the jaw closed. Jabril calls out in a loud voice, "What the Dark One has given me, I give to you. Live, LIVE!" The acolyte holds out his hands over the dead man's heart and wills it to start beating again.

The dimly seen swordsman is forsaken as a spear darts out from the darkness. Turning her attention to new threat, the wounded man's attack meets flesh - surprising Azradi as much as anyone else. A few drops of blood drip from her left arm where her chain mail ends and her vambrace begins. She hisses with pain and thus her attack on Aearon is delivered weakly.

Azradi attacks Aearon with her Scimitar, but Aearon parries the attack with his Shield!

The lady will not be pushed away from Hayya's body, but neither does she interfere with Jabril's ministrations. She even holds Hayya's head up. Crying, she looks him over, her eyes traveling down to the hurts on his torso and waist, touching tenderly as if a little pressure here or there would tell her much. As Imrakhor calls down from the battlements, Eruphel looks up, her eyes narrowing. "This is a good man! I would not trade him for a thousand other Gondorian slaves!" Her angry looks are likely wasted in the darkness. Nearby, the Serpent Guard arrive with shields at the ready, to cover Lady acolyte and slave as they work.

Eruphel looks down suddenly at the man cradled in her arms, and she bows over him, putting her ear, or cheek to his face. "Lets move him from here!" she instructs.

Raising his shield just in time, the Lieutenant blocks the attack and then glances to his cousin a moment, then sidestepping he thrust his spear once again at the Farside woman while holding his shield high. 

 

The Gondorian soldiers continue to fight, trying to drive back the Farside warriors as best they can, some gaining ground while others fall to their deaths. All while archers continue to fire arrow after arrow at their enemies. 

Aearon attacks Azradi with his Spear, but he misses by an arm's length.

 

 

Nodding emphatically and feeling the power of life flow out of his body now that he is down on the ground, Jabril helps lift Hayya up after retrieving his precious sacrificial dagger from the earth. "Lead the way, Lady."

The beaten and mutilated slave, perhaps dead.. perhaps alive is limp as he is carried off by his mistress and her guard, as his mistress speaks to him his face seems to smile, though perhaps it is just because of being hung upside down for so long.

Blood now begins to soak through Menelglir's tabard where Azradi's blade sliced through leather armor and then flesh. The Squire staggers to the side, out of the fight of the patrol of Gondor, into the darkness where he leans against some low wall. His hand goes to his side, and as he sees that it is sticky with blood, he sinks slowly to the ground, sword still in hand. Consciousness slowly begins to ebb away from him.

Eruphel is relieved of the body of the slave. Covered with old, thick blood not her own, she composes herself and takes up her own shield to carry again, should she need it so near the enemy walls. She waits for them to walk in unison, trailing them last. Her archers and laddermen and other warriors who had been conscripted to this special task follow along, but soon she dispatches them. "Send word to the Captains that they may retreat if they feel it is prudent." Obediently, the runners are sent out. The group proceeds back toward the heart of the Haradrim encampment. Eruphel turns around, facing the wall and trying to watch the face of the man who spoke, for as long as she may.

The Squire's condition is unknown to Azradi - he is merely an enemy dispatched in the dark, faceless and forgotten. Her attention is now solely on the massive spearman before her. She slashes out with her scimitar.

Her men resist the Gondorian's attempts to push them back, seeking instead to reach the archers and stop their assault on their allies.

Azradi attacks Aearon with her Scimitar and lightly wounds him!

Feeling the sting of the Farside woman's blade the Lieutenant leaps back, cursing under his breath as he feels a bit of blood begin to flow from his shield shoulder, his eyes begin search the darkness for a moment, but they fall back upon the Farside woman and the lunges forward, thrusting his spear at her scimitar shoulder. 

 

The Archers now deem the Farside warriors to close for comfort and pick up swords, and join their brethren in the fight.. no more arrows fly from behind the Haradrim army. 

 

Aearon attacks Azradi with his Spear, but he misses by a handspan.

 

From behind Seaward's assaulting forces, the ring of metal on metal rises as Farside battles the Gondorian patrol. Dodging the spearman's latest attack, Azradi's attention is divided between her own battle and the dim shapes moving beneath the Citadel's walls. She glances back and forth, stabbing forwards with the point of her blade when her attention returns to Aearon.

Azradi attacks Aearon with her Scimitar, but Aearon parries the attack with his Spear!

Using his spear, the Lieutenant parries the attack by the Farsaid woman. Looking to his men he shouts "Push them back! Move yourselves men!" and then sidestepping he thrusts his spear at his opponent once again, this time it is aimed at her thigh. 

Aearon attacks Azradi with his Spear, but he misses by an arm's length.

The Seaward forces continue for a while longer, the machinery grinding out barrage of barrage of stones, the fletched arrows singing less and less in unison, until a horn is sounded, then another, calling for retreat. The Corsairs fall back, picking up their wounded along the way, as they make their way back to the terrain of safety outside the arrows reach from the wall. 

The Gondorian Lieutenant's command is unexpectedly aided by Azradi. Seeing Seaward retreating, she is more than happy to fall back, her purpose fulfilled. But it is a controlled and incremental retreat. "Fall back, slowly!" she commands in Haradaic, "Seaward retreats." She brings blade in from the left and dances back a few steps.

Some of her men disengage from their opponents to fall back several feet. There they turn to hold the advancement if it comes so that those who cover them might fall back as well - and so forth.

Azradi attacks Aearon with her Scimitar, but Aearon parries the attack with his Spear!

Parrying the attack with his spear yet again, the Lieutenant backsteps quickly and shouts to his men "Pull back.. let them go!" With his shield held at the ready, and his spear ready to attack he withdraws slowly. The Gondorian men do the same, slowly back away into the night away from their enemies .

 

As the Lieutenant backs away he moves to his young cousin and picks him up and carries him away from the battle, blood still oozing from the wound.

There Azradi and her small force stand, neither advancing after the departing Gondorians or retreating. They wait until Seaward quits the field. Then leveling grim eyes upon her burning Keep for a long moment, Azradi turns to follow them.