Shipwrecked

East Bank of Anduin
Forever does the call of the Anduin echo along her banks. Her great figure curls southwards, carrying her load of silt in ruddy silkiness. Wide and strong from her source in the grim Ered Mithrin, so far to the north, she slides ever towards the sea.
 
A tired trail rests along the muddy banks, heavy grass worn away to bare earth by the passage of man and beast of burden... though some of the tracks are clawed, not hoofed.

The late night summer air is hot and muggy around you. The moon is not visible.

Contents:
Magua
Haldir
Yildirim
Nob
Uruk Camp
Obvious exits:
Into River, North, and South

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
It is a starless night, and the sky is stained a deep rain-washed grey, overcast and dreary. Twilight has just passed, and the Anduin Vales lie under the cloak of dark, though the scene is anything but still and quiet an impressive mass of black shapes have begun to stream forth from the treeline of yonder Mirkwood -- orcs and wargs there are, and possibly larger more threatening things the earth thumps a little under olog feet. The Mordain camp has been completely dismantled, and the majority of the creatures are burdened by bundles, tent poles, and other such supplies. But perhaps the most curious of all these are the large wooden devices that are pushed with hand and pulled along with rope behind them: a great number of rafts and boats. Slowly but surely, the camp's path is aimed for the distant flow of the River across the slice of land that separates it from Mirkwood.

Somewhere near the fore of this haphazard line of nighttime travelers is a small group of robed orcs. Amid them trudges Bagaglok, and he, along with the others carries a rather long and awkward looking bundle. Whatever is inside, faint noises come from within at every step, like the bumping of wood on wood and metal on metal.

[Haldir(#25231)] 
Surely the threat from the trees has not been forgotten, and surely the threat has not forgotten that the Mordain are still here. Nigh undetectable in the trees are a company of Elven archers, their light grey cloaks melding to the tawny colors of autumn. For now, they watch and wait -- but surely there is more to be done.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Along the far shore, amid the tangle of the riparian flora that lines the Anduin, crouches a short line of dark lumps that are waiting and watching. The one lump at the head of the line on closer inspection is an Orc of impressive size, Magua. His eyes betray an intelligence and cunning above that of his fellows.

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

Nimble feet carry another of the shuffling shadows, finding his place behind Magua. His voice is a bare whisper for the ears of those near him, "There is much life to be heard and seen, no animals have darted to safety. Our cover is assured."Balint, the name given to him by the tribes in the East, frowns now, "Is the rest to plan?"

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua glances over at Balint before resuming his watch of the river and the far bank. He hisses quietly, "Good. We are near the forest of the leaf-ears." The last two words are said with a mixture of fear and disgust as the lead Orc mentions Lorien, a gloomy blackness in the south.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The Mordain camp is drawing nigh the reedy bank, and as the distance dwindles, the overall mood of the orcish beasts seems to swell clearly some of them are not sad at all to be leaving behind the forest where they had been so recently plagued by falling rocks and other elvish antics. Goblin eyes are particularly perceiptive in the night, though if the yonder shadowy lumps are espied, they are mistaken perhaps for nothing more than rocks.

The red robed shaman trampes on, though now and then Bagaglok turns to look behind with a wary glance where the gloom of Mirkwood yet lies.

[Haldir(#25231)] 
Haldir's grey eyes are bright with malice as he keeps watch upon the shuffling activity on the eastern bank. "Not yet," is the hand signal that he raises for the other Galadhrim. And for now, the orcs (and trolls and wargs and human) are able to carry on without Elvish meddling.

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

A sigh from the human, "This is taking too long."

"We should cross quickly and fortify. The longer we wait, the more time they have to find our trail, the more time they have to prepare."

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua does not move his arms, but by his gaze's shift, he seems to be pointing at the river as he whispers harshly, "They chose to cross too far north..."

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Loud thudding and rending of the soil follows the placing of the rafts, and swiftly they are set against the marshy bank. Despite some obvious resistance, wargs are led up onto the large woodn surfaces and prepared for the water-embarkment. As for the trolls..it appears they will have to be content with wading and swimming across themselves. Already orcs are beginning to board their crafts, swarming here and there like black ants in the dark.

Still on dry land for now, Bagaglok shifts his bundle into the claws of a waiting archer, and around him the other orc-shamans do likewise. The beak-helmed archer grins, and opening a corner of his bundle, there glints arrow-points one them is coated a black-green liquid. "I told you I would have it ready," says the red-cloaked goblin. "Spider venon..useful thing, I think you will agree."

[Haldir(#25231)] 
Something elbows Haldir, mouthing soft words in a quiet voice. The Elf in the tree frowns, then shakes his head. Behind is the slight sound of something being drawn from a pack, though no bright weapons are yet to betray them.

Between the orcs on the east bank and the treed elves on the west bank is, obviously, the fast-flowing current this is what the marchwarden of Lothlorien focuses on now, his frown deepening, calculating.

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

"They spend too much time being proud of their achievement of finding a way to cross than doing it."

Balint casts another nervous glance west, "Ga... I swear I can smell them already."

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua watches from the west bank as the Orcs on the east bank set up their boats and rafts and prepare to cross. Just then, the mention of smelling reaches his ears and he sniffs. "Their scent is everywhere... They could be right on us..." The Orc frees his battle axe warily.

[Nob(#16122)] The trees are silent, dark and tall - and some overlean the very banks of the river itself. In one of them, Giliath o nos Raavindonserke balances and fingers his bow.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Spending too much time maybe, but at last the rafts and boats are scraping through the muddy soil and pushed off from shore. Paddles are brought out and the steerers get to work. A few of the wargs howl, disliking this watery form of travel.

On one of these wooden transportations Bagaglok has already climbed, archer beside him. The latter grunts disgustedly as he glances through the darkness. "Well," the beak-helmed orc fingers the arrows and places them in his quiver, "if the venom don't serve soon I'll be a fool...why did they pick to move the camp so close to the stinky albai filth?" The archer's claw points to the distant form of trees that is Lorien.

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

A wicked curved blade is freed from Balint's side, "A fist of silver to say there is an ambush."

He spits, adding to himself, "With them, there is always an ambush."

[Haldir(#25231)] 
And now, the rapid Anduin begins its work. Haldir's glance darts to Giliath, and a quick flicker of gloved fingers signals to the score or so of archers stationed in the rust-leaved oaks. Oddly enough, there is a slender strand of hithlain curled in his other hand...

The Elves begin to stretch bowstrings and ready bows, and one of them holds a brand up to the darkened sky and sets flint against tinder.

[Nob(#16122)] Giliath's eyes move sideways, caught by the motion. He nods, and an arrow is set to the string of the bow he carries - nearly as long as he is tall - and he draws it half-back, and waits.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua frowns and murmurs, "You'll bring them down on us if you keep talk up like that. Don't tempt 'em!"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Bagaglok replies naught to the other, merely shrugging though indeed he looks none too pleased about the close proximity of that elf-littered land.

Toward the western bank the Mordor boats and rafts near, though rather than land on it directly, it appears they plan to follow is cource southward for a time. Resounding splashing noises mark the strives of the trolls as they plod along in the rushing current.

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

Now the Easterling's attention is fully west, moving to Magua's side, "They know we are here for certain now. Their ears can hear them for miles away, I'm sure."

"Just a matter of if they can cross before they arrive. Any signs? My eyes see only the shadow of limb and leaf."

[Haldir(#25231)] 
The trees are so quiet and still -- a breeze stirs them, almost mockingly -- that it may appear as if there are no nasty Elves at all, that the Mordain pass unnoticed by pristine banks ...

Haldir sighs, and stretches arrow to string: the other Elves follow suit. And quite suddenly, a smattering of arrows arc out from the branches! They are not so many that they blot away the sky, but perhaps they are enough to plant confusion among the rafts. A few branches along the river rustle with movement, the glint of bits of metal therein...

[Nob(#16122)] One - - Two - - Three. Giliath's arrows leave his bow as fast as he can nock them, and then he pauses again, the fourth waiting on the string. In a tree a little way down from him, branches move.

[Magua(#32030)] 
The tell-tale whistle of arrows in the air pulls Magua's attention away from watching the river as he turns and starts scanning the trees. "Boys, they're here!" he whispers. "Eyes up, where are they?"

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

A curse proceeds Balint's words, "The wind blows, there is too much movement in the trees. I see naught but..." his eyes tighten, "Perhaps, metal there..." and he points towards the middle of one of the trees.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Confusion indeed -- arrows streak through the air with suddeness and percision. There are yelps of pain as some bite into orc-armor one of the smaller uruks falls into the cold water even as tree trunk-thick legs of one of the towering trolls thunders passed. Attention is quickly cast to the west bank from whence the darts came, and now the outlines of human and other orcs can be easily spotted at the closer range.

Archers retrieve black orc-bow and set their own shafts upon them. Even then, Bagaglok curses. "Garn, the mountain-rats have come back?" the Malkog glares toward those distant shadowy lumps. "That little scout must have gone back and told his little friends what we were planning..."

"The Northerners must have led the leaf-ears back here," growls the beak-helmed archer. "The arrows are not of uruk make." With that, the orc launches black feathered dart. Sharp twangs herald the showering of more arrows -- some of these bearing their bath of spider venom, aimed wildly for the cover of the trees.

[Haldir(#25231)] 
No spoken words are passed among the Galadhrim, who go about their meddling silent and grim an elven foot leaves one branch for another. Haldir's hand moves in a blur. The branches tremble, and another chorus of whistling arrows sails through the night.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Some of the Morians yelp and cry out in pain as a few of the Mordain arrows stray. One Orc rises from his squat and then tips over into the river, an arrow protruding from his chest.

Magua growls at being in a crossfire and calls out, "Get them leaf-ears! Kill 'em all!" He doesn't jump up himself though just yet.

[Nob(#16122)] One arrow, also gone astray (surely!), whines through the air just over Giliath's head, ruffling his hair in its passing. He looks up, then drops lightly to another branch, and lets a few more of his arrows loose at the orcs.

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

"This is bad."

Balint curses once more, taking his shield and holding it over head. A nod towards Magua, "I will try a less direct approach," and then he begins a slow, low shuffle away from the shores and towards the north side of the engagement.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua watches Balint go. "Coward!" A stream of curses follow in the barbarian Morian dialect.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
An arguement seems to be breaking out amid the Mordain officers as they debate what to do a shout goes out, ere the path shifts course, now heading closer even more to the western bank. Orc bows are directed ever upward for the trees -- if the Morians or human are in the way, the Eastern orcs seem to care not.

"We're landing here," Bagaglok sighs, pulling a grimace -- it is as much of a groan as it is a statement of fact. The ground trembles, and the wind howls as the rafts near several of the wargs leap eagerly off, and begin sniffing wildly at the air. One of the more curious ones (or perhaps hungrier ones!) moves to prod a Morian with an enormous wolvish head. Trolls draw up now, soaked and unhappy. Toward the trees some of them go, reaching up to thump and bend bole.

[Haldir(#25231)] 
Haldir shakes his head as arrows thud into branches and trolls bash trees, flicking his fingers backwards to indicate a falling-back of sorts. No, but this is far from a retreat: some of the foliage quivers yet again, but it may become apparent by now that there are no elves behind the shaking ...

Another stream of shafts falls from above, this time aimed at Morian and Mordain alike -- and a few flaming brands are tossed among them, toward the rafts ...

[Magua(#32030)] 
Morians push away the wargs, though one smaller snaga finds himself as dog food before he can escape. His screams though are lost in the bustle of the arriving Mordain.

Magua pushes forward as he looks this way and that for what could be the leader of the eastern Orcs.

[Nob(#16122)] The shaking is not entirely unexpected, for surely the elves saw the trolls coming (it's awfully hard to hide when you're that big!). But Giliath almost loses his balance at the first blow, before he finds it again, and rides the wildly bending tree until... there! He leaps for the next.

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

Eyes glancing furtively up, breaking from the protection of his shield, Balint stalks the edge of the landing, wishing to the Elves, "Fall damn you, fall," as the trolls and orcs pour onto the land. His eyes catch their movements as the jump from branch to branch, tree to tree, but on the ground he has no recourse.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Ologs continue their tree assaulting, despite their limbs and boughs lacking elvish foes. The sight of fire serves to spur them all -- warg, orc, and troll -- into a panicked flury of movement. Many of the rafts are upon the west shore at this point, and the remainer are drawing up behind. Water is hastily splashed to try and quell any fire that kindles upon the wood, and orcs scamper off onto land again. But there are no sight of elves, and the orc-arrows slow a little.

Raising a shield in case there are more elven presents, Bagaglok shifts along with the rest. Steps bring the shaman nigh the larger Northern uruk, and the short robed creature stops, glancing the other over. In one hand a scimitar blade waits, though it moves not. "Are you this band's leader?" Bagaglok inquires simply.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua catches sight of Bagaglok and rises up to his full height: nothing so high as if he could stand up straight, but his body even with his stoop is muscular, made for hacking apart foes. "This /band/ is my vanguard and I am the king of the mountains."

[Haldir(#25231)] 
And as the stream of orc-arrows slows, so does Haldir stop his occasional shooting: gloved fingers reach out to pluck an orcish arrow from where it quivers in the tree-trunk. The marchwarden peers briefly at the gooey substance on the arrowhead and sets it upon his own string, drawing it back to aim at what seems to be the Very Important People from the opposing side: Magua, first. With an elvish curse, the shaft is returned towards the orcs. ...

[Nob(#16122)] Giliath is now a little above and behind Haldir - as the warden shoots, he drops down. "Poison?" he murmurs, glancing out at the river.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
For a moment, the Malkog stares, clearly not having expected for Magua to be revealed as 'king of the mountains.' "A pity you didn't come with more troops then," replies Bagaglok, shooting the nearby trees a dark glower, ere he resumes orcish introductions. "I am healer to the Vorazg, the Commander of the Mordain horde."

As elven arrows stop, the troll shaking of the trees does likewise. The night is still filled with wolf-howls. Here and there the rest of the Eastern orcs move about, weapons drawn and ready.

[Combat(#13388)] Haldir wields a longbow.
Haldir launches an arrow...
Haldir's bowshot hits Magua, badly wounding him.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua is about to reply when an arrow flies from above and buries itself in his thigh. He stumbles and falls as he holds the shaft and grunts. "Ahhh, it's one of yours! Yer people are shootin' at me! You're a healer, pull this out!"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
"My people are on the ground, not firing from the trees," hisses the answer, but even as it is said, the scarlet-garbed shaman inches closer. A grimy claw shoots out to grab for the orc arrow shaft, and the orc gives a yank on it. "Our arrows were covered in spider poison...you will most likely require an antidote after this as well."

A small handful of Mordain archers let loose a tiny flutter of black darts into the trees. Wargs pace to and fro, some of them trotting along the treeline and smelling with large noses.

HEALING: Magua has one arrow injury which you now attempt to treat...
Success! You remove an arrow from Magua without causing further injury.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua yells in great pain as the barbs tear his flesh. But he tears off a strip of dirty leather and binds his wound before standing up gingerly, balancing on his good leg. Blood seeps out around the bandage and the great Orc snarls at the sensation of the poison. "Venom..."

[Combat Function Library(#15)] Magua tends to the injuries on his own person.

[Haldir(#25231)] 
"Indeed," murmurs Haldir to the dark-haired Elf, "they are well known for their poisons."

Aptly timed, one of the black darts arcs into the branches, and the marchwarden dodges -- but it grazes his glove, tearing leather and flesh. "See?" says the marchwarden, exasperatedly tugging the arrow from its final position in the trunk. "We shall have to interfere further: let us set fire to their rafts." He gives no concern to the small wound, but stretches an arm for the brand that one of the Galadhrim has lit now further arrows are set alight and set loose...

[Nob(#16122)] Giliath eyes that small wound with concern however... the thought of poison is not a comforting one. But as Haldir doesn't fall instantly out of the tree, nor turn blue and stop breathing, he contents himself with keeping an eye on the other elf, as he turns to lighting arrows and sending fire arcing through the sky.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
"Should be in here somewhere," mutters the shaman, feeling around the inside of his robes. Finally a small vial is produced and Bagaglok thrusts it out for the Morian king to take. "It will not fix the venom right off, but should take most of the effects away."

Now fire arcs down, and the uruk arrows renew their firing into the veil of trees for the hidden elf-interlopers. Again, water is dumped onto the rafts, though the fire is spreading more rapidly then they can quench it. Some of the trolls chose boulders and loft them for the spots from where the fire-arrows rain.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua takes the vial containing the antidote and chugs it down before tossing away the empty vial. He hefts his axe and gets ready to do battle! "Bring 'em down!" he calls to the trolls. "Down and we'll cut 'em up for supper!"

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

Fire. Light. The things Balint has been wishing for are given unto him en masse. With a certain regularity, pinpricks of light appear in the branches then sail off into the night. He watches carefully, and slinks to the base of the trees that, he hopes, holds the prey he seeks.

Slowly, he begins to climb.

[Haldir(#25231)] 
Now, inevitably, the Galadhrim are no longer invisible: a few cries sound out from the oaks, as large branches are broken off by the hail of boulders. "We have lost our stealth now let us retreat. Sufficient damage has been done," Haldir murmurs, setting fingers to lips in a soft whip-poor-will's call, although he stays a while yet, setting flameless arrow to bow and aiming for the leader of the Mordain, the victim of all previous elvish plagues.

Haldir launches an arrow...

Haldir's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

[Nob(#16122)] Giliath looks around swiftly, then moves to retreat at Haldir's command. Coming partly down the tree, he stops suddenly, seeing Balint climbing up. For an instant, he stays frozen and invisible (he hopes), but then, deliberately, he shows himself... and leaps away for another branch, another tree. With luck, the other will follow him.

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

Halfway the distance to Haldir, Giliath makes himself visible to Balint. As he jump for the adjacent tree, Balint sighs, "Damnit." And eyes above him, seeing if any are left.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
A fire shaft whizzes by, and the Pledged shaman ducks unfortunately, while is misses, it instead strikes one of the remaining boats. The Eastern orcs have begun to move away, for most of their precious transports are already consumes, and their landing has been completed. "Garn, supper yesss," Bagaglok curses angrily, before it turns into an awful sneer, and he fingers his blade. "Sacrifices as well."

"Wonderful," growls a nearby archer, "we're smack right near to the albai-wood now, thanks to poor sailing and decision making." Boulders are still tossed for good measure, and orc-arrows loosed.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua nods. "We are always on the hunt for sacrifices to the Flame. It pleases him to be able to consume fresh victims of our hunts." The few Morians that survived the arrows and the wargs slowly gather around their king and listen to him with nods and evil sounding snarls.

[Haldir(#25231)] 
As the elven pestilence abates, Haldir turns his gaze back to the west, away from the crackling of flame and heaving of boulders. But there is something below his tree. The marchwarden's eyebrows raise, and he hefts an arrow in one hand, hurling it down like a dart.

[Yîldîrîm(#24191)]

There is movement above him, Balint is certain. His eyes tighten, preparing to climb move when there is a tickle on his forehead. He reaches to scratch and then falls limply from the tree, bouncing off the branches till landing with a soft thud, quite dead.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
"We kill and slay in the Name of the Eye, as you know," supplies the red robed goblin. Now that the elven interference has ceased, the rest of the Mordain have come back from the border of the trees and halt around some of them gather up what is left of the undamaged supplies. The burning ruins of the rafts are foresaken, left to torch the grass or bubble and sink in the River. As the trolls blunder up, and the Warg-riders rein their beasts in, a snaga hisses disdainfully, eyeing the Northern uruks. "Worshipers of the false god..." might be heard over the other orcish voices.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua ignores the blasphemy aimed at his master the Balrog. He looks at the shaman and then at the force surrounding them and asks, "What's the plan then? You going into the forest with all this? The leaf-eaters'll know about you."

[Haldir(#25231)] 
With a contemptuous glance down at the dead human (bullseye!), Haldir steps off the branches of the damaged oak and to a tree further from the bank, gripping the tree-trunks tightly for support as the spider-venom begins to numb and irritate.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Into the forest? I think not," snorts Bagaglok. "The leaf-ears have plagued us for quite a time while we prepared these," he points to one of the destroyed rafts. "An ambush wasn't wholly unexpected."

He peers around briefly before returning his attention to Magua. "I shall have to check with the Vorazg, our Commander, but as far as I am aware, we head due south." The shaman doesn't elaborate any further. In the background, faint snarling noises come...perhaps a straying warg has happened upon the felled human.

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua laughs, gurgling, wicked, all around not very nice. "South means going through the forest or finding a guide to take you up into the foothills..."

[Haldir(#25231)] 
The annoying aroma of elven archers is gone -- only their damage remains, and perhaps a further threat to the orcs who have landed on this side of the Anduin: this is near the land of Lorien, and these Elves do not take to visitors kindly...

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The Mordor-orcs do not look pleased at all at this revelation, whether they had already realized this or not. "No decision is made until I have heard the Vorazg's orders," Bagaglok says flatly. "It is not the first time we have come this way, raft-less or no. I am sure one of our boys remembers the way...but if a guide is required..."

[Magua(#32030)] 
Magua nods and looks to his men. "Let's go make camp, boys. We'll leave our new 'friends' to themselves." The Morians snicker as they head off to look for shelter once the sun rises.