Wrath of the Trees
Western Edge of Mirkwood
Under the renewing eaves of Mirkwood, the mid afternoon sky is shadowed a bit. The ground over the whole area is warm and muddy in the cool spring climate.
The edge of the foreboding forest continues on in a north-south orientation, but that is about all you can tell in the mid afternoon sunlight.
Contents:
Haldir
Elnara
Obvious exits:
SouthEast, NorthEast, North, and South
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Mid Afternoon on Hevensday, Day 24 of May.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 20:59:48 MDT on Wed Mar 10 2010.
[Haldir(#25231)]
The waning afternoon light falls at a slant across the eastern lands, sending a little illumination into the gloom of Mirkwood, though it does not travel far. The Anduin rushes by, slow and deep, its waters briefly teasing the sandy and reedy bank before traveling further south.
Haldir is somewhere among these reeds, his cloaked appearance a green-gray stone. He is washing a handful of bandages, expression calm and unstrained, though between every few scrubbings the Elf turns his head to scan the bank behind him. After all, the orc-camp he has harried must still be near.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Indeed, the orc camp is still nigh at hand, though sheltered beyond sight and sound into the gloom of the forest a length away. It seems Mirkwood is never freed of these accursed creatures for even now a crimson tinted shape creeps amid bole and root. Curious this may seem, for Bagaglok is alone, and judging by the way he limps and stumbles along, the traveling through the forest was not an easy feat.
Nevertheless, it is to the borderline of the trees he creeps, and there the orc halts, cautiously peering out from behind a thick gnarled trunk. The red robes may hide a set of bandages, but they fail to cover the stained wrappings about one of his clawed feet. From behind, faint sounds might be heard by keen of ear, quiet and stealthy -- like the padding over of leaves, though the Shaman himself remains motionless, silent.
[Haldir(#25231)]
The Elf raises a hand to his face, stifling a cough beneath untroubled features it seems that the last round of insults has not left him entirely unscathed, as well. The bandages run clear now, the water with no trace of pink. He wrings them dry, quietly, then turns around for a final glance ere he leaves the cover of the riverside.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
A horrid grin creeps about his mouth as Bagaglok catches sight of the familiar shifting of a grey form near the riverbank. From somewhere behind him the padding noises grow closer, a little more perceptible -- and that awful smile broadens.
Finally, the goblin sidesteps from his hiding place, and stands in plain sight betwixt two large boles. The voice that calls out seems unnaturally pleased... "Hail, tree-loving maggot!" The hands at either side bear no threat of a drawn weapon.
And he waits.
[Elnara(#30361)] Elnara moves silently through the trees, seeking her companion to help him back. She pauses as she hears the orc voice, scrambling up into a nearby tree. Even with only one hand, she moves nimbly and quietly, until she is directly above Haldir. She doesn't reveal herself just yet the orc Shaman obviously has a trick up his sleeve, or he wouldn't have walked right out, so she keeps herself silent and out of sight.
[Haldir(#25231)]
The calm, strained gaze quickly turns to scorn, flashing towards the trees for a sign of the red-robed creature. "It is the scarlet filth again," calls Haldir in scathing response, tossing white bandages aside and reaching for his longsword. "Have you come to taunt your opponent? It seems you are in worse health, yet your numbers were the greater. It hurts, I must imagine."
Haldir's steps advance up toward the tree-line, though the slightest hesitation can be seen in one leg over the other, a limp. The sword is slowly drawn.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
But the advance is what the creature has been waiting for, and even at the moment Haldir takes the first step forward and Elnara perches in her tree -- for now unnoticed -- the curious noises from the forest cease. Two pairs of glowing orbs can be seen shining from the dark of the tree border, and there is a snuffling upon the air.
"Come closer, yessss," hisses the Shaman to himself, still watching with satisfaction, though the marchwarden's words bring a scowl to twitch at one corner of his lip. Louder he answers, "Of course it hurts, fool, garn...but this will hurt much more, I promise you."
And suddenly, the gleaming lights reveal themselves: two more orcs burst from the cover of the foliage -- Warg Riders, and one of them holds fast a large net in his claws. The monstrous wolves snarl as they break into a fast trot.
[Elnara(#30361)] Elnara's eyes widen as she watches the Warg riders appear, her eyes fixed on the net for a moment. She'd been right to stay out of sight she'd only end up in the cook pot herself if she hadn't. She bites her bottom lip worriedly as she watches the approaching wolves, visibly weighing her options in what to do. Green eyes narrow for a moment before she moves back towards the way she'd come, back well away from the orcs.
[<#25231>]
'A reception..?' Haldir's chin lifts slightly at the two noisy wolves and their orcish riders, as if appraising a challenge. Then, the steel of his sword held out before him, the Elf darts determinedly at the other wolf -- the one whose rider does not bear the weighted net, slashing forward at the lupine paws.
Strangely, a sigh slips through his tightened lips, forming into cool and clear Elvish words: "
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
A sharp howl rends the air, and the first Warg jerks sideways, away from the offending sword and its wielder but the orc upon the large beast growls a command in a foul tongue, and whips the reigns. Displeased, the Warg circles, snarling more, and falls in step once again with the second rider. This next mounted goblin flings out the net at last as they take another approach toward the Elf, this time from the side. Grass is torn and roots are crushed as the pair charges, and the net is lowered wide between the wolvish beasts -- the enmeshing material purposed to tangle Haldir in it as they pass him by on either side.
From the treeline Bagaglok observes, and he laughs. "You should have gone back to your hole, leaf-ear," he says. "You see, if we can't be rid of you...might as well catch you, hmm? I even picked out some wonderful seasonings for the occassion."
[Elnara(#30361)] Elnara respectfully ignores part of Haldir's order she soon finds herself on the ground, well out of range of detection by her foes. She looks about on the ground, bending to pick up several small rocks/large pebbles, putting them into a bag on her belt. Once the bag is filled, she climbs once more, making her way back to the Marchwarden and his foes. This time, she does stay above, pulling out one of the rocks. She takes aim at one of the wargs, and lets loose the rock, moving quickly and silently away from where she'd been, not even looking to see if she'd hit her mark. She stops once she is on the other side of them, palming another rock. It too is flung, this time at the Shaman. Once more, she moves away, to find another spot for her distraction assault.
[Haldir(#25231)]
As the cut fails to throw the beast off course, Haldir turns sharply, running before the sweeping net in a bid to reach the river. It clips behind him closely, causing his steps to fall into a roll down the bank ... but is he fast enough?
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Closer, and closer...
A combination of rolling, swiftness, and the unforeseen contribution of pelting rocks saves the fleeing marchwarden. A large stone sails down from above, and strikes the first beast on the muzzle instantly the warg snaps angrily, head swerving to try and bite at its rider's leg. "It wasn' me, ya filthy fleabag!" yells the mounted orc, tugging furiously at the reigns to make the beast obey but the efforts are in vain, and the warg shifts off course, dragging the net and the second net-holding orc with it. With their prey getting away, and his companion shouting above the roaring of the wolf, the first rider struggles against his mount. Haldir is unbothered and unpursued for now.
The Malkog's fanged grin turns into a new scowl as the chaos interrupts the chase. "All ready? Skai! None of them do anything right --" A muttered curse comes as something hard clanks against the skull helmet Bagaglok wears, and the rock falls at his feet. Upwards he jerks his narrowed yellow gaze, though the thrower is not there anymore. A shield is moved onto one arm, and held up. He sniffs the air, still peering intently into the branches around. "Pebble-throwing coward," he grumbles.
[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok] Wearing: Rune-Rimmed Shield
[Elnara(#30361)] As Elnara watches Haldir roll toward the river, she throws a rock in the opposite direction, attempting to draw them away from the tumbling Marchwarden. She follows Haldir, still from the trees, making sure that he would come out of this in one piece... Or at least alive. She hefts another rock towards the water, the stone making a loud splash quite far away, continuing to draw them, hopefully, in the wrong direction. She watches the Shaman, knowing him to be the brains of the outfit, the one she may need to fight herself should her ploy not work.
[Haldir(#25231)]
Haldir slips into the Anduin with a quiet ripple, coming up about thigh-deep. A thin trickle of red that flows downstream is swiftly ignored the marchwarden, snatching bow and arrow from his back, draws the latter to the former with an icy glare -- likely colder than the frigid water he stands in -- and sends it buzzing towards the large, snarling maw of the first mount.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Luck would appear to be on the side of the Galadhrim this day, and misfortune for the slaves of Mordor. The enraged warg still contests with its orcish rider, and the arrow that pierces fur and skin does not improve its mood it thrashes all the more at the reigns, but the second wolf-monster perks its enormous ears up at the sound of the thudding and splashing of the rocks. The warg seems dreadfully confused, for the fresh smells come from above, but the sounds do not. Finally, toward the distant riverside it rushes, hunger and madness driving it to ignore its rider's orders.
"No, the trees!" cries the Shaman angrily, pointing a haggard claw upward. "They're coming from the trees!" For a moment the robed orc casts the stretching boughs a mistrusting warily look, as though frightened the forest itself has come to life. "Have you brought along another playmate?" he asks of Haldir, glaring again, but the hint of fear could perhaps be detected.
[Haldir(#25231)]
Haldir's eyebrows lift in question, barely scanning the trees so as not to give away the position of Elnara. "Who knows?" he asks sardonically, fitting another arrow to his bow. "The trees of even Mirkwood are familiar with the Elves. ... Now, red-robe, do you still wish to play?"
[Elnara(#30361)] Elnara makes her way down the trees again, this time heading along the river, back behind Haldir quite a ways, still out of sight. She takes a large leaf from a fern and fills it with river mud, and wraps a bit of thin rope around the bunched up ends. She carries it back to the orc, setting the nasty surprise right above his head. She moves away, moving to sit above Haldir before she throws the next rock. This one strikes her bundle of mud just hard enough to knock it off its branch, dropping it right onto where the Shaman's head should be. She smirks at Haldir's words if he wanted to play, she would play alright.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
At last, the first rider manages to get his animal under some sort of control, and quickly, wrathfully, he redirects his attention on Haldir. Forward the orc spurs his warg, and the wolf's wicked teeth flash between torn jaws. A large paw rakes out for the marchwarden.
"Play indeed," snorts the Shaman, glowering darkly for a moment at those wretched trees...and just in time to get an eyeful of thick mud. A surprised and irritated rant follows in the Black Speech, and Bagaglok is busy clearing the mess from his sight. "Garn! Accursed leaf-ears, and their trees..." But again that fearful note returns. "I have burned plently of them down before, without...tree spirits interfering..."
[Haldir(#25231)]
"They prefer to build up their anger, see," explains Haldir briefly, attempting to duck into the water before the warg tramples him -- but a clawed paw rakes over the marchwarden's bandaged and water-logged side, and he inhales sharply, tumbling deeper into the river with a blossom of red.
Bubbles rise from the rippling surface, and a cold longsword pierces the water from below, aimed at the beast's chest.
[Elnara(#30361)] Elnara very nearly laughs at the rant, smiling with satisfaction as she creeps along the trees once more. Again, Elnara turns to her rocks, pelting the wargs from behind, moving before they can catch her in the act. Occasionally, a smaller pebble is thrown into the trees, to make the leaves move almost as though the rocks truly are falling from the trees of their own accord. Elnara looks up for a moment, at a brown branch just above Bagagok's head. She grins once more and moves up to the dead branch. She carefully presses on it, breaking it off and sending it tumbling down towards the orc being a rather large branch, it makes a lovely crashing noise that disguises Elnara's ungraceful retreat back towards Haldir. As it falls, the branch could be considered almost a warning from the trees to be left alone.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
And pierce the longsword does, and the warg yowls in pain and rage. But deeper into the water it refuses to go, and it backs up, its thick coat matted and soaked. Instead it paces along the riverside, ears flattened and growling. From atop, the rider laughs and calls mockingly to the river-trapped Elf. The second warg gallops into view once more, this second rider grumbling as he wheelings his own beast back into the area. The net he holds is still Haldir-less. But the pelting of the stones irritates both of the monstrous wolves, and their attention is diverted again at the stinging rocks as they bounce against their furry hides, and at the loud thudding of something from behind.
The cause of the thud is soon revealed, and there lays the dead branch, pressed into the mud and soil from its weight and its fall. Clearly having been caught unawares, Bagaglok is likewise upon the ground, and one leg is stuck beneath the offending oak limb. For a long length the words he hisses are unintelligible, though the sounds of them are horrid enough. "Did you not say your pitiful ilk can talk to the trees?" asks the robed orc, risking a glance toward Haldir in the Anduin. "Call them off, or I'll..." but the threat desolves into nothingness.
[Haldir(#25231)]
Haldir's head is sodden, darkened to an ash-brown as it rises from the water. 'You appear to be in pain,' he remarks, pressing his arm to a series of slashes along his side, slowly seeping scarlet. 'Very well. If you tell your beasts to frolick elsewhere, then I shall ...'
Raising his voice, he addresses the rustling foliage in an authoritative, flowing tongue: "
[Elnara(#30361)] Elnara smirks and gladly follows the Marchwarden's orders, dropping the larger rocks she'd been saving directly onto Bagaglok's head, and throwing them quite hard onto the wargs. Satisfied at the chaos caused, she makes her way down the river way, barely containing her glee. She glances back one more time, wishing she had the time for another leaf of mud.... But she continues down the river way, not a leaf stirring to betray her position.
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
And this seems to do it.
The big stones that whisk down from on high are enough to spook the wargs, and back toward the cover of the woods they rush -- despite the frantic pulling of their riders to steer the beasts anywhere but to the veil of angry trees. But the wargs are soon gone amid the foliage.
The large falling rocks that are saved for this last assault encourage Bagaglok to work faster at dislodging himself from the dead branch no sooner has he done this, he claws the earth furiously as the marchwarden is no longer in sight. But the hard rain from the boughs have done there fair share of damage -- not only cracking a section of the Shaman's helm, but also giving a rather violent headache. There is no where else to go but toward Mirkwood, and reluctantly this is where the robed orc forces his injured legs to move though the trees overhead are cast suspicious and wary looks, ere he vanishes into their darkness.
