Unrelenting
Wooded Vale
In this small level clearing, a large brook plunges over a fall of green-hued stone to the immediate north, and foams down into a small dell at your feet, before continuing its hurried way south. About the pool are fir-trees, short and bent, keeping the company of harts-tounge and shrubs of whortle-berry which cloth the area. One fir tree, larger than the others, stands in their midst as a shepherd might stand amidst their flock. To the west, the high promontories of the Misty Mountains range, their peaks shrouded in snow, block any travel in that direction. To the east, the foothills of the mountains blend into a wide hazy plain.
Content:
Haldir
Ormesir
Obvious exits:
Southeast, South, North, and East
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Midday on Monday, Day 24 of October.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 20:58:01 MDT on Fri Apr 30 2010.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Winter is drawing near, and the peaks of the Misties are blanketed in snow that has creeped down into the lower foothills. But here in this clearing a pool sits, not yet frozen, and about it are naked trees. There are no bird-voices this afternoon only the sound of trickling water from a brook can be heard.
But, there is something more, growing louder by the passing minute. Rustling, and muttering? Have the bushes come to life?
[Haldir(#25231)]
Once, there was a talan here. Now, its cinders linger in the arms of one naked fir, but that does not mean it is unused. Haldir stands here, his grey cloak near melding with the netted snowy branches. He is watching the area with a bow in hand.
[Ormesir(#31473)] Following Haldir was another grey cloaked form. His body tense, Ormesir moves up alongside him, looking over the wreckage. He frowns a little bit, eyes flicking back to Haldir, before panning out over the forest finally, seeking out anything that may be unusual at this time in the winter.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Seemingly quite oblivious to any lurkers in the branches, the bush's trembling continues until there is a rather violent motion followed by a loud tearing disturbance -- snow sprays everywhere over the ground from the bush's leaves. Then, something in red emerges from that piece of undergrowth. It is the orc-shaman, Bagaglok, still grumbling as he fingers a sizable rip in his crimson robes. "Wretched plants..." Just to be certain that the bush is aware he is angry about it ruining his garments, he gives it a good kick. A branch snaps and falls to the snow.
[Haldir(#25231)]
The marchwarden's eyes alight upon that red-clothed thing, and Haldir smiles thinly, glancing to Ormesir. "Do you see it?" Haldir murmurs. One hand, bandaged heavily, moves toward the hilt of a sword.
[Ormesir(#31473)] A nod comes from the squire swiftly as he does indeed, eyes squinting at first to focus better on it. He glances to the hand on the blade, his own resting near it as he watches the other for a que. He tenses further at the sound of the branch snapping. "Yes, I do. What will we do? " he murmers back, sinking into the snow a little.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Bagaglok steps away from the pesky foliage, and more into the clearing where the brook flows into the pool. Now that he is further out in the open, it can be seen the uruk carries items in his arms: they look to be an assortment of dirty bottles and vials, ranging from small and short, to long and tall. He plops them out over the snowy grass, pushing himself down soon afterward to crouch near the edge of the water. The orc snatches up one container, but pauses, turning an unreadable glance backward where the trees and other plants still lie.
[Haldir(#25231)]
"I am going to go to it," replies the marchwarden, slipping the injured hand into his cloak. He sets the bow down, gingerly, on the burnt boards. "If you wish, you may assist with the longbow. For now, I would like to ask him some questions." Haldir begins to climb down the tree, seeking lower branches with ease.
[Ormesir(#31473)] "Will you be okay??" asks down the Squire as he follows a few branches down, not wishing to let Haldir draw too far away as he grips his bow obligingly. He bit his lip, freezing as the branch he just stepped on creaked.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The creaking sound holds the orc's gaze in that direction for a while longer, but he does not appear to see either Elf who wears the concealing shadow-grey cloak of Lorien's guards. Instead, the shaman turns his attention back to the pool and the bottle he holds. With one finger, Bagaglok prods the surface of the water, a distasteful look creeping across his face. Then, he thrusts the bottle into the pool, keeping it down long enough for it to fill.
[Haldir(#25231)]
Haldir does not answer the Squire. But on the ground, somewhere in the vicinity of the fir, there is the icy ring of a longsword drawn from its sheath.
[Combat(#13388)] Haldir wields Longsword.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The submerged container is withdrawn -- but at the cold ring of steel, it almost falls from the creature's hand and back into the pool. Swiftly, the robed goblin is on his feet again, dark fabric whirling as he spins around to face that large fir tree. Yellow eyes squint through the daylight to find the revealed longsword.
The bottle is corked, and stuffed into his robes the rest of the vials are hastily plucked up -- alas it seems they will have to be empty -- and stored with the first. Taking a twitching claw, Bagaglok jerks his own blade from its spot at his side. But the shaman does not make any attempt to move forward.
COMBAT - Wielded: Blackened Scimitar
Ormesir freezes, paling as the limb announces his location. He remains still as Haldir moves further away, watching. His eyes flick from one to the other, and he leans a little bit more... allowing the branch to creak AGAIN.
[Haldir(#25231)]
Haldir approaches the orc slowly, booted feet making nary a print on the snow-dusted ground. The bandaged hand is kept well out of Bagaglok's sight, but the other bears a very shiny, sharp blade.
"The waters of these lands are not conductive to orcish alchemy," the marchwarden says slowly. "Nimrodel once sang by them. You would do well to keep away."
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The orc does not yet move, seeking neither steps forward nor backward. He frowns though, hissing at the elven name. 'I could care less who sang where, and why...the name means nothing to me, save reminding me of what a hideous language your kind have...ours is much better.'
Bagaglok gives an awful grin as if to prove the point, he continues, this time speaking in some foul tongue. "
[Ormesir(#31473)] The Scout winced somewhat at the sounds, gripping the tree mightily as he eased off the branch... now kneeling at the trunks' side as he knocked his bow, moving to keep an arrow trained on the ork from where he sat in the tree, his face dark.
[Haldir(#25231)]
The harsh tongue rasps on the air, and for a moment Haldir's expression is grey, pale. Then the marchwarden surges forward with renewed irritation, his voice coldly smooth as he retaliates with Sindarin: "
Haldir swings his longsword forward, toward the body of the red-robed shaman.
Haldir attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 17 hp's by Haldir's attack...
...you have 73 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Ormesir(#31473)] The Marchwarden had gone pale, the Squire had nearly lost his grip entirely. He puts his hands over his ear, curling up against the tree against the sensations from hearing that tongue. He breathed deeply, eyes shut before he shook it off, snow plopping out of the tree at his movement, a huge SPLAT escaping as one lands right on his hood.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
And quite suddenly, the uruk is no longer laughing, the nasty smirk having twisted into a grimace as Haldir closes the distance between them. Before Bagaglok can respond, the elvish weapon is sweeping outward it is a sure, swift, and sturdy hit, and the white dusting of the ground is littered with black. A few rings of armor have fallen as well. It seems the tear from the bush is now outweighed by worse offense.
For a moment, the Malkog says nothing, opting for a glaring look of hatred as he stumbles a little backward, left arm fumbling for a shield. At the great 'splat', his yellow eyes shift upward for the tree's limbs at last. "Have the trees come to life again, or have you brought along a friend?" The words come in the Common this time, although they are still made as unpleasant as possible.
[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok] Wearing: Rune-Rimmed Shield
[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]
You forego your chance to attack.
[Haldir(#25231)]
The elf circles slowly, gaze darting down to the blood where it stands stark against the snow. "What do you mean?" asks Haldir, the lilt of the Westron tongue made mocking by a cant of gold-crowned head. "We have befriended the trees." However, he does not attack, keeping a wary eye on the scimitar.
ARB: Haldir has "passed" on his turn to attack.
Ormesir shakes his head once, the snow plopping away as he refocuses on the battle. He drew a new arrow, knocking it as before and focused again, though this time his aim was lower. He after all, was reluctant to shoot if the other elf was too close. That and this was Haldir's scene.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The shaman gives a snort at the mocking response, and he fingers the hilt of the orc-blade before offering an answer. "Doesn't matter in the end, I suppose," he shoots the large fir another menacing glance. "Leaf-ear, or tree...we'll burn them all the same. Won't have to worry yourself about friends after that, eh?"
The scimitar follows the words, curving upward for whatever bodily target presents itself.
You half-blindly attack Haldir with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]
Haldir dodges your attack.
[Haldir(#25231)]
Haldir leans away from the blade, his lips pursed in what might be a thoughtful smile. "On the contrary," he says. "You might find that the trees do not take kindly to damage ... of course, you already know that..."
The marchwarden's blade swipes for the Malkog's flank.
Haldir attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 9 hp's by Haldir's attack...
...you have 64 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Ormesir draws back the arrow carefully. A smooth, careful movement as he takes aim at the Orks' back, his arrow's head catching the light before being loosed, flying across the distance!
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The orc growls again, and the marchwarden's blade comes away black for a second time. The shaman steps sideways now, footfalls curiously aiming not yet in retreat..but rather purposing to bring him nigh the side of that big fir -- if Haldir does not block the way. The scimitar is brandished as a deterence effort, though it does not seek for elven side again.
An arrow flies overhead, striking its quivering shaft into a nearby trunk, and Bagaglok grins anew. "So, an albai companion it is." With his free hand he fumbles around in his robes. "Shall we find out if your friend is as flamable as the tree?"
[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]
You forego your chance to attack.
[Haldir(#25231)]
The marchwarden's eyes flicker a moment to the tree, cautious. Then Haldir follows close by, his blade unrelenting, gleaming where it is not stained black. "No," he says affably, stabbing out with the tip at Bagaglok's back, "I would rather we continue talking."
Haldir attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and you parry his attack with your Scimitar!
[Ormesir(#31473)]
Grimacing in irritation, Ormesir was already reaching for another arrow and preparing it as he drew it back, focusing now down the length of the shaft towards the Ork, this time waiting a little longer, aiming lower, before loosing, now with the Ork between them it seems.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Another arrow whizzes from the branches, and Bagaglok pauses, peering down where it has narrowly missed his bare feet. But his steps do not resume toward that particular tree's base, for at the same time Haldir's voice comes and the orc turns once again, the curved black sword lurching up to beat aside the other. 'Oh? But what if I don't wish to converse?' the shaman spits. 'What more would you say to me, filth, other than the talking of steel?'
"
You attack Haldir with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]
Haldir dodges your attack.
[Haldir(#25231)]
"I do talk well with steel," replies Haldir, stepping aside to dodge the blow. "But know this: the elves and trees know of your deeds, and should you venture further, you shall find that neither will relent. You have been warned." To emphasize his point, the marchwarden directs the sword towards Bagaglok's arm.
Haldir attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 11 hp's by Haldir's attack...
...you have 53 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Ormesir(#31473)] THe third arrow drawn remains still somewhat frustrated, the squire remained still this time, watching the swords dance and glitter, the snow hissing and steaming where blood fells.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The robed creature jerks his sword-wielding arm away, but a long line of black is won along its length by the foe-weapon. He gives an odd, forced laugh. "There is no other option, but to venture further. Can't jump back over the river, can we?" The shaman tugs the scimitar-claw closer to himself, backpedaling a little more.
[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]
You forego your chance to attack.
[Haldir(#25231)]
"There are many angry trees," comments Haldir, stepping away as well. "We will be watching you from within, as you continue your terminal path. You are warned -- now away with you."
ARB: Haldir has "passed" on his turn to attack.
[Ormesir(#31473)] The last arrow is lowered, Ormesir watching now as the two seem to part, both alive. He frowns a little, puzzled.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
"Terminal," repeats the goblin, lips pulling back in a noiseless snarl. But he says nothing more, still keeping his bloodied side and arm turned away. The backpacing continues.
Then, with only a final dark glower sent toward the tree that houses Ormesir, Bagaglok is gone into the foliage.
