Iach Celduin Reclaimed

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Midnight on Sunday, Day 13 of August.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 15:26:00 MDT on Sun Dec 06 2009.

Iach Celduin

Iach Celduin was an old trading town built on the border of Mirkwood, where the Old Forest Road emerges and meets the River Running come down from the Long Lake to the northeast. All that remains of it are the polluted and burned ruins.

The town was on the east side of the river, in a bend as it turns to flow to the southeast. It was built next to what appears to be the charred ends of a wide and heavy bridge. The town must have been fairly large, for there are several buildings still apparent through their blackened skeletons and posts. It was situated to have benefited from the increase of trade with Erebor.

Several docks still stick out into the river, somehow untouched by the destruction. Barges laden with logs felled in the forest still pass, making regular runs up-river to the sawmills powered by the waterfall at the base of the distant Long Lake.

Contents:
Thranduil
Thanar
Acton
Iswas
Broddur
Dain
Uruk Camp
Obvious exits:
Inn, Into the River, SouthEast, and West over Bridge

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The humid air of late summer hangs over the Mordor camp and its scene of general disorder. It is an hour before dawn, and there is commotion to get as much accomplished as possible before the dreaded sun shines it baleful stare. Multitudes of Orcs scurry this way and that, carrying various objects of orcish make such as tarnished weapons and armor, or grimy pots whose contents would be better left unguessed. The usual din of harsh voices rings out, and in one particular corner of the encampment there appears to be a heated argument underway.

Just outside the Shaman's tent, Bagaglok has perched himself on a toppled piece of rubble. An amused look is cast toward the small group of goblins fighting over what seems to be a stocky severed leg. Back and forth the gruesome thing is tossed it is clear by the easy atmosphere of the camp that the Orcs have made themselves at home in the ruins. Indeed they seem comfortable enough. Perhaps too comfortable.

[Iswas(#32393)]
Iswas manages to get a good grip on that leg and snarls at the goblin beside him. He bites at and kicks the larger orc and dodges a cuff to the head. This corner of the encampment is not too far from the remains of a burned building the treat that they're fighting over is covered in sooty dust.

Mara has arrived.
[+SET] Mara goes Into Character.

[Dain(#31050)] Too comfortable indeed. The orcs encamped at the remnants of Iach Celduin may be in a commotion to finish things before the coming of the new day, but for others not so very distant, work is only just beginning. Having departed Finney the evening before, there approaches Iach Celduin from the south a party of dwarves. Nay, not a party - an army. They come not upon the road but across the rolling dales, which help to muffle their approach somewhat, though dwarves are still dwarves and ironshod boots thump ununusually loudly upon the long grasses. There is no light in the sky, but there will be soon and the dwarves hasten to near the burnt ruins of Iach Celduin before the bare dales betray them.

At their head marches none other than King Dain Under the Mountain. He is clad for war, his red axe at hand, his white beard forked and braided. If the orcs at Iach Celduin pause to stop their commotion and bickering for a second, the very keen amongst them may begin to notice a dull rumble beneath their feet.

Dain pulls a gleaming hauberk of chain mail over his head.
Dain puts on a helm that gleams.
Dain brings forth an ancient battle axe of stark red and holds it at the ready.
Mara puts on Ring Mail Armor.

[Broddur(#16974)] Marching within one of the Dwarven columns is the miner Broddur. The Dwarf has seemingly recovered from his brush with the tainted goblin arrow a few weeks back - his race is strong of constitution, after all - and stomps forward with grim determination.

Today his body is protected by a padded jerkin topped by a corselet of rings, and he is currently engaged in jamming a battered-looking helm onto his head, announcing his success with a satisfied grunt. "By Mahal, those runts are going to pay for singing my beard!" he mutters in a whisper to the Dwarf marching at his side, who wisely says nothing at all (though his stern features are contorted somewhat. Perhaps just the effort of moving quietly - after all, who would dare laugh at the loss of a beard?).

Broddur puts on Ring Mail Armor.
Broddur puts on Metal Helmet.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Alas, for the bickering have succeeded in attracting a good sized audience at this point, and the commotion is enough to drown out practically anything else. Now Bagaglok rouses himself from his rather uncomfortable seat of broken stone to draw nearer to spectacle an unpleasant grin is flashed as yellow eyes rove back and forth amongst the creatures that struggle for the dwarf leg--for dwarf leg it is indeed, still left over from the recent ambush upon the gazat camp.

[Mara(#22296)] A slight figure cloaked in black moves amongst the orc camp, hood up, movements graceful though definitely touching the ground. The figure stops when it comes to a black horse, murmuring to it carefully, only half an eye and ear on the events at the camp.

[Iswas(#32393)]
Iswas manages to get close enough that he dives at the leg and sinks his teeth into it. The larger goblin kicks him in the ribs and Iswas is knocked away, but tears some of the flesh away. He crawls away, chewing quickly, toward Bagaglok as it happens.

[Dain(#31050)] On the army of "stealthy" dwarves moves, slowing its rough march now to a cautious walk, as if aware of the rumble of its movement. Gradually the brackish smell of smoke and other things most foul begins to ascend the nostrils of the dwarves and a rumble starts up amidst the advancing ranks of dwarves. The army's steps slow further still and then come to a sudden halt. Orders go out from the fore of the ranks of dwarves and officers suddenly begin fanning out, followed by their companies as the dwarves ready for their attack. The keenest ears will begin to hear the clank of metal and a low murmur in the far distance. And the rumbling of the ground grows.

[Mara(#22296)] The figure listens carefully, then the brush disappears and it moves to mount the horse, still soothing in a strange harsh language, its voice deep, but feminine as it moves.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
"Is that it?" The red-garbed form of the Shaman snorts toward the crawling shape of the other Orc. "A meager bite? How disappointing." A few of the other goblins clap and shout at the chaos of the scene, and a few more jump in it themselves for a hope at snagging a piece of the tasty limb.

Then, one of the bystanders frowns suddenly, cocking his head to one side. "Wha's that?" his deformed ears seem to perk then. "Ya hear it?" the beast asks to no one in particular.

[Broddur(#16974)] Broddur is one contributing to the rumbling. The miner has little concept of stealth, and as he moves off at an angle, pulling his pick from his belt, the weapon strikes against a rock with an audible 'plink'.

"Hold it!" hisses the Dwarf next to him, quietly but nowhere near silently. "Our Lord King wants a /surprise/ attack." The speaker bears no axe or pick, but instead carries a short curved bow of horn in one hand. The other holds a bundle of arrows, each rag-wrapped.

Rhorikh has arrived.

Broddur wields War Hammer.

[Broddur(#16974)] The cloak of darkness still lies upon Iach Celduin, though it will not for much longer. Scarce wonder that the army of Dwarves approaching from the south betrays their presence by sounds: a clanking, a shifting and above all a rumbling. They are lucky that the group of orcs encamped in the burned-out remains of the town is making plenty of noise of their own. The round of daily tasks, a scuffle over food ... Now one or two heads are turning, however, and listening ...

Rhorikh slips a spear from the strap on his back.

[Rhorikh(#31337)] From outside one of the larger tents, a Warg Rests, it's massive head snarling in half sleep. The noise around the camp does little to alarm the beast while it slumbers, but moments later, large serving plate eyes snap open, a low growl emitting from the throat of such a monster.

The tent flap flies open, and a monstrous looking Uruk, nearly the size of a Hai slips from inside. "Shaddup ya damned beast! I ain't feedin ya again!" Rorikh snarls, lashing out a kick to the snout of his mount, which snaps at the foot, but is obedient enough to refrain from tearing the rider limb from limb.

The rumbling of the ground has caught his attention now as well, and the squabbling Uruk's dulling the Warg Rider's hearing, brings a Violent snarling roar to his lips. "I'm tryin ta listen ya blasted dogs!" The Rakarg roars before he starts shifting around the camp, moving further away from his Warg as he tries to strengthen his understanding of the noise and vibration.

[Dain(#31050)] The dwarves are spread out and beginning to make a ruckus, as dwarves do. The clank of armor and rumble of complaints about the stench from Iach Celduin is now joined by low growls on anticipation as the dwarves grow excited about the prospect of encountering their enemies. And then it comes. Muttered orders go through the ranks and at the centre front, the dwarves begin to surge forward. It is Dain who takes the first steps, beginning at a jog and gaining pace as the entire army begins to move. Orders have been given to utter no battlecry until the orcs have clearly spotted the dwarves, but who knows if this will be held to.

As the pale light of the morning begins to grow, the ground suddenly rumbles far stronger than before. The metallic clank and clang of the dwarves is not masked now. Perhaps now the orcs at Iach Celduin will begin to take notice, even as the first dwarves top the last of the dales separating them from Iach Ceduin and lumber into full view of the camp.

[<#22296>] The nervous horse and cloaked rider start to make their way through the camp, though orcs seem more annoyed and sleepy than anything else. As the horse draws nearer to Rhorikh, there is a harsh set of syllables uttered in a voice designed to carry further than merely the tent in front of the rider. " *** is not what it *****. Feel *** ******. They're coming for **."

[Broddur(#16974)] Broddur grunts and struggles up the the last of the hills. He is not the first to top the rise - but nor is he the first to stop. While the archer beside him halts at the crest of the hill, crouching to set his arrows out in a line, Broddur himself barrels on for several steps, his miner's pick held before him like a banner. His mouth is open, but no battle-cry comes - instead harsh, laboured breathing sounds as he surveys the scene.

[Iswas(#32393)]
Iswas lifts his head, chewing thoughtfully, then stands. His keen eyes scan the darkness beyond the ruined town. Still chewing, he weaves around the rest, trotting toward the outside. He pulls out his bow, fits an arrow to the string, then swallows.

Iswas wields Bow.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Indeed, notice they do. Some hear the grumble of the Warg Rider nearby, and attempt somewhat to stay themselves long enough to continue listening. The Orcs who catch the statement of the hooded rider tense then, and many of them start to reach for weapons.

Shifting with these then, Bagaglok moves a clawed hand to draw out his scimitar. For now the Shaman stands silently, nose sniffing to catch the direction of whatever it is that is heading this way.

COMBAT - Wielded: Scimitar
Wearing: Studded Leather Shield

[Dain(#31050)] The orcs hardly need wait long to discover from which direction their enemies come. Dwarves are not quiet when they are -trying- to be, and they are certainly not quiet when they -aren't- trying to be. The breach the last dale and instinct sallies forth a number of battle cries up and down the line of charging dwarves. And with that, all attempt at secrecy is abandoned. Whoops and yells of 'Baruk Khazad' and 'Khazad ai-menu' rent the dawn sky as dwarven boots pound full speed ahead (which, granted, is rather restricted by height!).

Dain lifts his stark red axe into both hands and growls out loud enough for all of the dwarves about him to hear, "For friends and comrades lost, for Iach Celduin, and for Erebor! Baruk Khazad!"

[Iswas(#32393)]
Iswas snarls as the darkness comes alive before him. He draws back the string, aims for a white beard bobbing, and shoots.

Iswas launches an arrow...
Iswas's bowshot hits Dain, mildly wounding him.

Rhorikh turns his head, spotting the charging Dwarves. One hand leaves the spear in his hand to reach for his bow, but the twang of another Uruk's stays his hand, as he grips his spear again, the shield on his forarm glinting in the firelight as he remains more of less still,

Jogging after a moment as beady eyes begin searching for an opponent, his roar loud and challenging. His markings, and equipment show him this groups commander.

[Acton(#17050)]
In a violent roar of sound, the dwarves descend the last rolling hill towards the orc encampment. And yet they leave no peace in their wake - for the sound of rumbling yet growls in the distant - indistinct in direction and possibly lost in the general clamor of the attack.

[Broddur(#16974)] Broddur's hob-nailed boots pause for a moment as the Dwarf-King's cry reaches his ears. After a moment he raises one of his own. "For Luin! For the Mines!" And then, under his breath, "And to avenge my beard!" His boots pick up momentum again and he charges, brandishing the pick wildly.

The archer behind him, busy with something on the ground beside his arrows, looks up and curses. "Slow down, can't you?" he mutters futilely. And then the little bowl of oil he'd been busy with flares into light and he prepares an arrow. Alas that his kinsmen and cousins have given him little time in which to use it before their bodies get in the way.

[Dain(#31050)] Dain may look ancient and white-bearded with age, but his charge is steady and seemingly without undue effort as he pounds across the open ground towards the burned village. It is pulled up for a second, however, as a goblin arrow descends from the skies, lodging itself between the links of his chain mail hauberk at the very edge of Dain's arm.

Either the barb does very little damage or not hardly enough to stem the Dwarf King's battle fury, for his steps slow only a little as he wretches the shaft free of his armor and casts it aside. "Come again, you shall have to do better!" The open ground is sizeable, but another hundred feet and the dwarves will be upon the outer edges of the camp.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
There is a dark growl that emerges from his throat as Bagaglok sights the flurry of charging picks and beards. A tarnished shield is brought to rest upon one arm, ere the red cloaked Shaman slips through the mass of orcish bodies toward the wave of opposition. He scans the attackers quickly, and yellow eyes narrow as they spy the gazat with the wild flourishing pick. A swift look of recognition passes twisted features, and Bagaglok paces forward as the enemy's line reaches closer, and soon the gap between himself and Broddur will be sealed.

For now he stands, waiting--a silent, though nonetheless malevolent challenge.

Rhorikh paces as he snarls and roars. "Steady against the charge, Archers loose at will.. I will take the point." he roars as he moves towards the point of the Dwarf charge. "Infantry Dogs! On me!" He roars a second time, as he takes off at a run as well, some following. The distance of their charge is not so great, and Rorikh's rush cuts it in half, his intent to perhaps engadge them while still in good range of his archers.

[Iswas(#32393)]
The dwarves pound ever closer, but they are not here yet. Iswas keeps his eyes steady on the target. He draws another arrow by feel and shoots again, taking a step backwards after. With any luck he won't shoot the charging goblin infantry in their backs.

Iswas launches an arrow...

Iswas's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

[Acton(#17050)]
Another movement can be descried, this time from the northeast. A dark line emerges from behind another hill - seeming to rise from verdant landscape itself: A line of sturdy men, blue-clad and armed. The dawn sun glints from the tips of their spears as they march in unison towards Iach Celduin. Before them marches a young man, Lieutenant Acton of the King's Men. His spear shines brighter than the rest.

The men of Dale have come. Come to reclaim their ruined outpost.

[Mara(#22296)] The slight figure on horseback lowers her hood to reveal salt and pepper hair and slowly removes a dagger from the depths of her cloak. While she stays mostly behind the lines for the moment, she keeps her eyes on the leaders of the dwarves. In a loud, ringing voice she calls out, "You would so defy the Dark Lord? This bodes ill for you. Go back, lest you be consumed by the Chosen."

[Broddur(#16974)] Broddur, less keen-sighted than his orcish opposite, nevertheless catches the glint of Bagaglok's yellow eyes within the dark, and aims his pounding feet in that direction. "Time to crush the rubble," he pants. "You'll be powder when I'm done."

And then the archer behind looses his barb. The rag-wrapped arrow flies through the night, a streak of fire, aimed not for the mass of seething black shapes, hardly distinguishable in this light, but for something rather more bulky that rustles and flaps in the wind. Surely a tent?

As a streak of flame whizzes past his ear, Broddur ducks, reflexively, the movement slowing him slightly. It is unlikely he fully registers the Common speech coming from behind the Orcish lines.

Long Lake shimmers gloriously, heralding the coming of the morning.

[Thranduil(#5440)] 
The ruined town rings with the coming of the dawn. The marching of boots thunders from southeast, and now northeast. But for a moment, all the other sounds are drowned out, For there is a great horn blown, its pitch starting low, and then rising sharply, full and powerful.

The horn sounds a second time, for from the west, down the forest river, come a dozen wide-bottom boats, piloted by the Duinedhrim, the river-folk of Thranduil's realm,

The second blast of the horn is accompanied by the greeting of the elves, their darts rising high above the ruined town, greeting the morning sun, and then falling amongst the orcish camp.

[Dain(#31050)] The leader of the dwarves has little trouble hearing the loud, ringing voice that lifts in challenge to the dwarves and Dain gives a sharp laugh. "Oh, I do so, indeed," he calls back at a deep bellow. "Flee now to your wretched forest!"

And with that the dwarves crash down upon the camp. The clash of steel fills suddenly the murky dawn air. Dain strikes aside a smallish orc with one blow as he seems intent on driving a path to the woman challenger on horseback, but between here and there is another - and this orc has rather annoying been aiming arrows at Dain. The king's red axe rises, catching the glint of the first rays of dawn, and crashes down towards Iswas's left arm.

Dain attacks Iswas with his Battle Axe and severely wounds him!

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
And then as the dwarf before him ducks, likewise does the Shaman dive out of the way for an instant as the rain of death falls from elven bows. Rising again, Bagaglok casts a hasty look about the scene, which all the while seems to be growing more and more ill for the orcish troop. Nevertheless, the matter of the bearded opponent in front of him snaps his attention back to the fore Bagaglok offers nothing more than a hiss as he springs forward, dragging the egde of the sharp blade toward Broddur's left flank.

[Iswas(#32393)]
Iswas steps back and turns as Dain comes, but too late! His arm is cleaved from his shoulder, dangling from a line of bloody flesh before snapping away. The goblin screams, drops to the ground, drops his bow, scrambling back as an elvish arrow dings against his helmet. He jerks his spear free defensively.

[Acton(#17050)]
Onward the men of Dale march, coming nearer and nearer. Acton shouts something, indistinct in the distance, but most likely a command as the rows and rows of spearmen double their pace. Their swift approach is accompanied by a roar of thunder and clash of metal as their booted feet pound against the ground.

The famed Bardling archers break away in two groups to flank the central body. They kneel and lift their longbows high into the air. Their loosed arrows fly in a soaring arc, falling to earth well behind the clashing front lines of dwarves and orcs - joining the elven volley.

Iswas wields Spear.

You half-blindly attack Broddur with your Scimitar...
Broddur dodges your attack.

[Broddur(#16974)] Horns. Horns in the night - or is it day? As the sun rises behind him, Broddur's vision clears and the dark shape he'd been running toward comes sharply into focus, its scimitar-blade aimed squarely at his left leg. He staggers to the right in time to avoid the blow, which puts him in a nice position to hack at the Shaman's own left knee. "What is it about goblins and legs?" he mutters sourly, between pants for breath.

The archer left somewhere in his wake sets another arrow to the string, squints toward the melee - and sighs. Friend and foe are too entangled now for his barbs to be of much use. Philosophically he waits.

Broddur attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he misses!

[Dain(#31050)] The Dwarf King moves with an agility that seems to defy his age as he takes off Iswas's arm with apparent ease. He does slow a fraction of a second as that loud, clear horn rings out over the encampment, but only long enough to gives a sharp huff of satisfaction. "Hah! Come all the free peoples of Rhovanion upon thee now!" The red axe is recalled, only to sweep out again, slicing down from aove towards the retreating Iswas's chest.

Iswas collapses to the ground, defeated by Dain!
Iswas's weapon "Spear" falls to the ground...

Anglor has arrived.

[Iswas(#32393)]
The dawnlight seems bright and cruel as Dain's axe buries in Iswas's chest. It smacks in with a meaty sound and cleaves his breastbone in two, surely crushing his heart as well. And yet, for a moment, his eyes widen, looking at the smaller dwarven king, before they dull.

The corpse is stuck to Dain's battle-axe, dangling there, hooked by bone to steel.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The war hammer flies harmlessly to one side as Bagaglok shifts to the right. A new arrow whizzes by, a little too close for comfort, the shaft missing by centimeters. "Would you rather it your arm then?" the goblin replies, after glancing upward to check for more soaring projectiles. "For certainly, I can make it so if you'd rather it." Then, the curved scimitar is whipped outward again to do just that, the strike aimed this time for Broddur's weapon wielding limb.

You half-blindly attack Broddur with your Scimitar...
Your attack against Broddur lightly wounds him!

[Acton(#17050)]
At a run, the men of Dale charge the nearest orcs upon the northeastern side of the camp - their spears lowered. Cries of "DALE" and "BRAND" shatter the air.

First among them is their Lieutenant, the young man Acton. He lowers his spear, hazel eyes darting about to find an opponent. His face darkened with passion, he curiously shouts "FOR DALE, FOR KING, FOR DENTON!"

As Acton and the first row of spearmen advance upon the enemy, the second row pauses to throw their lighter spears over their compatriot's heads into the mass of orcs - quickly reaching to draw their swords even as the shafts leave their hands.

[Dain(#31050)] With a look of grim disgust, Dain wrenches his embedded axe free of Iswas's chest and lets the orc fall lifeless at his feet. Black spots of blood have already stained the Dwarf King's pure white beard. He snorts at the dead orc and hefts his axe up once more.

The dwarves are pushing hard against the ranks of orcs now and Dain wastes little time finding more of the brood of Mirkwood to set his axe against. The red blade flies at an alarming rate, slowly cutting a path further into the heart of old Iach Celduin.

[+SET] Iswas goes Out Of Character.
[+OOC] Iswas goes Out Of Character and leaves Middle-earth for a while.
Iswas has left.

Rhorikh remains motionless with his flank group. Acton and the men of Dale move on them now, the sky whistling with light spears, some of which find the flesh of dog and Snaga alike. "The loud one is mine. Break the line and engage at will!.." The Rakarg roars as he launches himself forward, a twirl of the Black spear in his hand that denotes skill no simple Uruk should hold.

Bringing the weapon back to the front of him, his charge cutting the distance with suprising speed to take him within the range of light spear, as he rushes Acton and his men, Half spinning his spear to bring forth the cutting haft of the weapon, and upward slash with it directed towards the join of Acton's armor at the hip.

Rhorikh attacks Acton with his Spear and moderately wounds him!

[Broddur(#16974)] A stray arrow now sits quivering in the ground mere inches from where Broddur and his opponent strive, its shaft long and slender neither is it black-feathered. "Oi!" Broddur yells at the sky. "Watch where you're sending the arrows. Those things are sharp!" He does not quite dare shake a fist.

Bagaglok's scimitar recalls him to more urgent matters. He jerks back his arm, but sluggishly the padded sleeve of his jerkin splits and a line of red springs beneath. Broddur's breath whistles louder for an instant, through gritted teeth - then he manages to respond. "I'll keep both legs and arms. Pity /your/ legs have nothing between them." The pick, which had dipped low in effort to avoid the scimitar-blade, suddenly jerks forward and upward.

Broddur attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and you parry his attack with your Scimitar!

[Thranduil(#5440)] 
The elven boats are steered towards the shore, landing upon the bank as a second volley is launched skyward, though these do not crest as high, they are meant for the backs of the orcs, As the boats land, so do the elven spears, It is from the north and west of the town that they come, setting themselves behind, the anvil that the dwarf-folk might drive their foes into.

Urkluk has arrived.
Urkluk returns from beyond Middle-earth.
[+SET] Urkluk goes Into Character.

[Acton(#17050)]
The orc's spear pushes through the gap between cuisess and ring mail, scoring deeply. Blood darkens Acton's tunic and armor as the young man lets forth a yell of anger and pain. Using both to power his attack, the Daleman jabs at Rhorikh's throat with spear's top spike.

Acton attacks Rhorikh with his Spear and moderately wounds him!

[Mara(#22296)] The slight figure on horseback carefully tries to navigate the lines, moving towards the back, a frown increasingly evident on her face as she goes. Mara's dagger remains out, resting on her thigh as she takes in the scene.

[Rhorikh(#31337)] The blow that strikes true brings Rhorikh deeper into range than he anticipated. The large Uruk is still wrenching his spear from Acton as the man stabs towards his throat. A spin of the blade manages to knock the other spear somewhat but not successfull completely. A snarl erupts from Rhorikh as the blade digs into his shoulder, which may be better than throat, but unto itself is a savior.

A Half step back frees both men's weapon, The Orc blinking rapidly trying to focus on his prey as oppososed to the sunlike and pain.

Another flourish of the spear comes from the Uruk Commander before the lunge, a half passive attack to keep him from the range of the other man's weapon, while still trying to impale him upon his own, the blade of Rhorikh's spear directed towards the belly button of Acton.

Rhorikh attacks Acton with his Spear and moderately wounds him!

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Quickly, the weapon is brought up to meet the threat of the dwarven mallet, and with a straining heave, Bagaglok manages to push the blow away. "Afraid mine wouldn't be as much use, unless you plan on a bite to expedite your death," the Shaman sneers, fanged mouth contorting wickedly. "No doubt it would poison you." He stumbles backward then, for the second volley of elven darts has succeeded in which the prior had failed: one slender shaft has been aimed true, and the accursed thing buries itself in the Orc's right shoulder.

Bagaglok gives an odd snarl of pain, and attempts to dislodge the pointy thing. It is an ill timed motion, for certainly it yields Broddur enough time to renew the attack meanwhile.

You forego your chance to attack.

[Dain(#31050)] "Drive them to the west!" Dain bellows out over the heads of his fellow dwarves. "Drive them against the river, against the elves!" His axe smashes down upon an orc of perfect height (perfect being dwarven), crushing as much as splitting the hapless uruk's skull in two. The bottom of the blade's haft catches another, ever so slightly taller, orc under the chin, wretching neck back at an odd angle to give the Dwarf King time to swing the blade about to the unfortunate orc's stomach.

[Broddur(#16974)] Broddur grunts as he is pushed back, and the line of red on his right arm brightens, a few drops of Dwarven blood falling to the burned and polluted earth. When Bagaglok staggers back, he growls toward the Orc, "Bite? I plan to shove it up your filthy ar-" The words end abruptly as he swings. Despite the claim, the hack of the pick is not aimed low, but rather at Bagaglok's side, where the liver might lie. Pate orc-de-gras?

Broddur attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

[Urkluk(#32393)]
A swarthy goblin steps in front of Mara, eyeing Dain. Urkluk grips his long mace in both hands, the end wicked and spiked. He hisses from between split and cut lips.

[Thranduil(#5440)] 
After the rank of elven spears, advance their archers. Their numbers are not great, but as they approach, the arcs of their arrows are ever lower, and their aim ever deadlier. Most are garbed in the greens and bowns of the wood, but for the singular figure of the Elvenking, his tall bow not firing with the others instead, his eyes search the encampment, following the tip of the arrow, knocked and drawn.

[Acton(#17050)]
With no desire to stay so close to the orc either, Acton too backs away - limping as he does so. The anger and pain that drove his first thrust ebbs and he assesses his opponent more carefully now. Rhorikh's attack and target is anticipated but inadequately fended. Rather than parry with his own spear, the Daleman attempts to evade the attack by jumping backwards and shifting to the side. His wound prevents success, but he does manage to take the blow at a glancing slice across his abdomen rather than be impaled. More blood wells up through the rent armor.

With more discipline, Acton brings his own spear in from the right, trying to slice orc's arm with the broad blade.

Acton attacks Rhorikh with his Spear and moderately wounds him!

[Broddur(#16974)] Broddur glances up briefly from his own engagement to survey the battlefield. What had once been a secure Orcish encampment has been assailed from three sides. The Dwarves have pushed up from the southeast, the Men of Dale from the northwest, whilst now the Elves have crossed the river that borders Iach Celduin to the west, their arrows complemented by spears whose barbs are just as deadly. The camp's inhabitants must face both the assault of the enemy and the light of the new day.

[Dain(#31050)] As the full light of the day creeps over the camp, it is not terribly difficult to notice when a great brute of a goblin starts eyeing you, and indeed, Dain does not fail to notice in this instance either. The swarthy Urkluk towers over Dain, but the Dwarf King pauses but a moment to size up his newest opponent before quickly closing the gap between them. Unlike many of the dwarves about him, Dain fights in near complete silence, his soundless strokes and whirring red blade threat enough to any who come before him. And up that red blade sweeps now, swinging from below and aiming for the inside of Urkluk's right knee.

Dain attacks Urkluk with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a mile.

Rhorikh howls with pain as his shield arm, which leads on the spear, moves to intercept the blade, but overmoves, the hack finding the chain covered bicept, and splitting two rings, bringing forth the black blood from a new wound. "You die..." Rhorikh snarls through clenched, rotting teeth as he comes at the man with renewed vigor, sever hacks and lunges coming out in a flurry, all designed to distract before as swinging slash coming towards the chest, and attatched neck of Acton.

Rhorikh attacks Acton with his Spear and moderately wounds him!

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Whatever progress he was making with the arrow is halted as the spiked end of his foe's hammer connects though it misses the intended organ, the sharp point pierces straight through red cloth, leather, and orcish skin. Suddenly the sting of the elven wood seems to be dwarved (pun intended) by the new wound that spills black blood upon the ruined earth.

The hunched form of Bagaglok stoops lower more still, and the shield-bearing arm is flung out to clutch at that torn side. He struggles to remain upright, but utterly falls short, plopping to the ground in a grimace of rage and agony. A fresh hiss comes then, fell and menacing, "Filth, I'll take your stubby feet off for that, skai!" From the dirt below, the Shaman glares at Broddur, ere sending his scimitar to stab at thick dwarf toes.

You half-blindly attack Broddur with your Scimitar...
Broddur dodges your attack.

[Urkluk(#32393)]
Urkluk starts to laugh as the old dwarf comes at him. "I'll hammer your shiny helm for my own head once I kill you," he says, squinting through the sunlight. "I'll chew on your bones." His voice is harsh, gravelly, and he sidesteps Dain's swing, aiming the spike of his own mace at the King's face.

Urkluk attacks Dain with his Mace, but he misses by an arm's length.

[Broddur(#16974)] Broddur's triumph at having finally downed his foe is short-lived as the scimitar-blade comes stabbing toward his feet. With a wordless shout he jumps back - out of harms way, but out of good footing also. His heavy boot catches on the remnants of something best not speculated on - might it be a dwarven legbone? - and he slides ungraciously to the ground. He rolls over quickly, using his pick to lever himself back up to his feet, but the motion has cost him time.

ARB: Broddur has "passed" on his turn to attack.

[Dain(#31050)] Again the elder Dwarf King's actions seem to defy his age. Deeply lined his face may be, and snowy white his beard, but as Urkluk's spiked mace splits the air towards Dain's face, he ducks quickly and steps back at a skip. The mace whirls by and the Dwarf King brings his own blade up and over, seeking to take advantage of the momentum of Urkluk's attack by striking out before the orc has a chance to recoil his weapon. Dain's axe sweeps down from above this time, slicing towards Urkluk's right shoulder.

Dain attacks Urkluk with his Battle Axe and severely wounds him!

[Acton(#17050)]
From his attack, Acton leaps back and looks around quickly to his men. The command of Dain is heard and the Lieutenant bellows a similar command to the King's Men. "Dale push forward! To the west! Drive them to the river!"

The attack is caught from the corner of his eye and Acton shifts to catch Rhorikh's blow upon his chest rather than his neck. The armor holds, but the young man grunts in pain nonetheless. He pivots, on his good leg and brings his spear downwards towards the orc's head - attempting to use his greater height to his advantage. "I will live to avenge my father," he growls.

Acton attacks Rhorikh with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

Rhorikh shifts to the left, and for the sake of driving fear into man, doesn't block the glancing blow against his pauldrons, the spear bouncing off, and the barely registering pain bringing a laugh from Rhorikh. "You join him!" he roars as he lunges forward, trying to again, skewer the man.

Rhorikh attacks Acton with his Spear and moderately wounds him!

[Urkluk(#32393)]
A crash of metal armor against metal axe is heard and Urkluk's rings break under the weight of Dain's axe. His shoulder is crushed, the bone popping from the socket and cut from the skin-- the round head of his arm a stark white island in bubbling black blood. He roars.

The mace is still in his left hand as he steps back. His flat nostrils flare. He takes three quick breaths, roars again, and aims a distant left-handed blow at Dain's shoulder.

Urkluk attacks Dain with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
And then the dwarf topples, and there is a passing instant in which both Orc and gazat are on equal level once more. A flurry of gravel and burnt earth heralds Bagaglok as he tries to claw his way off the bloodied dirt, but the decision is swiftly changed as yellow eyes spy Broddur's rising seeing that the opportunity is now, the goblin gives up the tedious work of dragging himself to his feet, and instead there is a flash of scarlet garment as he rolls awkwardly to the side. The movement is pained by the streaming wounds, but nevertheless it is able to close the gap between the two. Then the dark blade is swung upward, hoping to cleave the dwarf's lower side ere he can fully regain his footing.

You half-blindly attack Broddur with your Scimitar...
Your attack against Broddur moderately wounds him!

[Acton(#17050)]
Acton's weak attack comes to his advantage in the end for he is free to try and dodge the other's attack. Again he leaps back and though the orc's spear does indeed manage to part the over-lapping rings of his armor - it does not appear to render much damage judging by the Daleman's reaction.

Too close to try and counter-stab of his own, Acton again brings his spear swinging in hard the from the right, seeking to slash Rhorikh's thigh with the elven steel. "I think not," he replies, smiling grimly.

Acton attacks Rhorikh with his Spear and moderately wounds him!

[Dain(#31050)] Dain quickly retracts his axe once it lands with a satisfying crunch upon Urkluk's shoulder and he again skips away from the swarthy orc in order to avoid the swing of the deadly mace. But the Dwarf King's step back takes him instead into the path of a chipped scimitar, wielded by a tall, gangly goblin. The red axe sweeps out to separate the goblin's hand from his arm, but the quick defence leaves the King's flank briefly open to Urkluk, if the injured orc moves quickly enough.

[Broddur(#16974)] Alas for Broddur, the pick that bites so swiftly into orc flesh bites equally well into hard-packed earth. The tip catches, and he must yank it free - and whilst he heaves, Bagaglok swings. The same motion that turns the Dwarf half-away from the blow lengthens the slice. Rings burst, a couple breaking free of their stitching and tumbling to earth at Broddur's feet.

The Dwarf is clearly winded - he wheezes as he catches his breath, and there is a darker stain beginning to bloom along the padding of his jerkin. Nevertheless, there is a chance to be taken, and he takes it. Grunting with effort, he swings the pick back, aiming to pin the goblin's torso to earth with his next blow. "Going to break you apart like an egg!"

Broddur attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he misses!

[Urkluk(#32393)]
Urkluk plants both of his feet and sways, his eyes red. His left hand swings the mace back, then forward again, toward Dain's ribs as they are exposedUrkluk attacks Dain with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.

[Mara(#22296)] The High Priestess frowns, behind Urkluk. "This was the one who did not listen to the Dark Lord's Will." Mara's grip on the dagger tightens, keeping herself near Urkluk.

[Thranduil(#5440)] 
Thranduil, it would seem, does not find his target, even as volley after volley of arrows strike the disorganized ranks of the orcs from behind.

Advancing behind the line of elven spears, his eyes rest finally upon the main force of the orcs, as they clash against the banner of the King Under the Mountain.

It is upon the cloaked, mounted figure that his eyes fall at last. Without drawing a breath, his fingers twitch, his bowstring twangs, his arrow flies.

Thranduil launches an arrow...
Thranduil's bowshot hits Mara, badly wounding her.

[Acton(#17050)]
Evidently Acton's press proves too much for his orcish opponent for Rhorikh is pushed back and quickly disappears within the mass of orcs.

The young Lieutenant steps back, breathing hard, while his men surge forward - allowing him a brief respite. He looks about the battle field, studying the progress of his dwarven and elven allies.

As the Dale soldiers move forward, slashing with spear and sword alike - the archers linger behind. Less skilled with bow than the elves, their shots remain high - sending a rain of arrows into the middle ranks of the orcs to pierce or miss by impersonal chance.

[Dain(#31050)] Hand and scimitar fly away from Dain as the tall, gangly goblin comes quickly to regret taking a swing at the Dwarf King. Black blood sprays the air as the goblin cries out in agony, hastily backpedalling. This time, it is more luck that saves Dain meeting Urluk's swinging mace, for the Dwarf King swings again at the one-handed goblin, slicing deep into his shoulder. But the follow-up attack takes Dain a step further away from Urkluk and the orc's mace swings harmless by.

With a growl, Dain turns back to Urkluk, dark eyes flicking briefly to the High Priestess beyond, and he breaks his silent combat for a moment. "Aye, did not listen and do not acknowledge. Your Lord has no power here." His words are growled out quickly Mara may not even hear them, though Urkluk likely will. For even as he growls them, Dain charges the swarthy orc once more, swinging perfectly horizontally this time for Urkluk's left hip.

Dain attacks Urkluk with his Battle Axe and mortally wounds him!

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Alas, for it appears orcish eggs are not cracked that easily. A wicked grin of satisfaction at the scimitar's hit promptly vanishes as the dwarf's pointed hammer end comes crashing downward. A second uncomfortable roll sideways frees Bagaglok from danger's immediate path and, clenching jagged teeth in concentration, the Shaman forces his arms to heft his form to its clawed soles once again. As soon as balance is somewhat claimed, the uruk brings the scimitar's spike flying forward, aiming at his opponent's center.

"Stab and skewer," the Orc mutters vilely. "Stab and skewer for the Eye..." the hiss fades then, and something is uttered under his breath--a dreadful prayer perhaps to his dark Master. Then louder comes, "The Almighty Power shall save usss..."

You half-blindly attack Broddur with your Scimitar...
Your attack against Broddur moderately wounds him!

[Mara(#22296)] The elven King's arrow hits true and the High Priestess's chestpiece is pierced, her blood, red as that of any other human, running down the rings. Mara sits much less straight now, only the skill of her horse and her training keeping her mounted now as she almost seems to collapse down onto the horse's back.

[Dain(#31050)] The right flank of the dwarves is now forcing a hard attack, sweeping the right side of the dwarven line around to meet the King's Men of Dale. Axes fly and hammers drive relentlessly and, though the dwarves sustain many casualties of their own, gradually they are making progress. Any chance of escape for the unfortunate orcs caught in the three-pronged attack is quickly seeping away...

[Urkluk(#32393)]
With a crack Urkluk's hip sinks inward and the orc tumbles to the ground. There's some bloody through his armor but he very weakly writhes at Dain's feet.

Urkluk unwields Mace.

[Dain(#31050)] Again with that same look of grim disgust, Dain lifts his bloodied axe to put Urkluk out of his misery. "Chew my bones, indeed," says the Dwarf King disdainfully. The red axe falls.

Urkluk collapses to the ground, defeated by Dain!

[Broddur(#16974)] If Broddur had not previously learned the folly of sending a blow against the earth, he learns now. Again there is that time required to tug the pick free again the orcish shaman takes advantage of it. For the second time the scimitar slides across the ringmail, and this time there is a slit ready-made to receive it. It widens, and the scimitar-blade comes away red-stained.

Broddur is bent forward, folded over the line of bloodied flesh ... but then the pick comes free. He heaves it upward, once again trying for a low swing, between the goblin's legs. "Mahal has cursed you, scum. Only death can save you."

Broddur attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he misses!

[Thranduil(#5440)] 
Even as the first arrow strikes its target, the next is released. It is not the rider that the Elvenking aims for, but its mount. Even as this arrow flies, he calls out a charge, his voice drowned by the return of the Elven horns,

As one, the spears of the elves advance, not at their steady marching pace, but at a bold sprint, another volley of arrows arcing over them, heralding the charge of the elves.

[Anglor(#17131)]
For the record, Anglor is here. He stands a little behind the King, among the ranks of Elven archers. To most he is just another Elf, clad in a green cloak with rivulets of golden hair pouring over his shoulders. The only thing unique about him is the fact that no weapons are in evidence upon him. He simply stands, watching the scene unfold with impassive green eyes.

[Mara(#22296)] And the High Priestess's mount begins to agitate as she clings to it for dear life, driving the arrow still further into her body. This may perhaps be due to the Elvenking's arrow hitting him in the flank.

[Acton(#17050)]
Once more into the breech doth Acton plunge, his bright elven steel flashing in the golden light of morning. More than one foul beast of Mordor sates the young man's thirst for revenge as the King's Men of Dale press in from the left, swinging ever closer to the sturdy dwarven flank. The trap begins to close...

The dark mass is driven before them - into the shining wrath of the First born and their woodland King.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
With a leap that yields a new wave of pain to the bloodied side, the Shaman evades the low swinging mallet it is soon discovered, however, that a jump backwards would have been better, for as Bagaglok's pitiful flight ends, he lands right on top of the offending hammer itself. Instinctually trying not to tumble onto the ground again, he flings his free hand out to clutch at the weapon with black nails. With his clawed feet still standing on the larger end of Broddur's hammer-head, the Orc's presence presses the thing downward. It is not a good position though--the uruk's frame is not intimidating, and would farily easily be knocked off as the handwork of steadying himself distracts the Shaman.

You forego your chance to attack.

[Broddur(#16974)] Broddur scowls. Something is impeding his pick. Something heavy, something ... goblin. The Dwarf lets out a wordless growl, sets his teeth, hunches his shoulders and simply heaves. His wounds will not thank him for it - but if he's lucky he'll disloge his pick's unwelcome tenant and send it rolling in the opposite direction.

[Urkluk(#32393)]
Urkluk lies on his side, two limbs disjointed from the body now, and already his eyes are fading when Dain's axe comes down upon his neck. The soft flesh before the spine is cleaved in two, his head tipped back by the blow. His spine remains unharmed but his throat yawns open like a great mouth, the tube of his windpipe exposed to daylight. His movements cease.

ARB: Broddur has "passed" on his turn to attack.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The kind eye of fate seems to not be on the Mordain forces this day as their enemies close in about every side, the orcish forces are steadily being forced backward to the West, straight into the awaiting hands of the accursed Eleven ilk. Whatever sense of twisted courage and pride they possessed in the start, it has now all but shattered from the creatures' grimy faces. Many have been slain by both arrow and blade, and still more are felled under the relentless assault. Blinded by the light of the sun, and faced with the choice of death by albai and gazat, the bulk of the goblins seem at a clear loss. Panic sets in...as well as more projectiles spurred on wings of death from elven bows.

[Dain(#31050)] Again the red axe is yanked from the gore of another disposed orc and Dain pauses only a second before the black-coated blade is swinging towards yet another goblin.

The availability of disposable goblins seems to be dwindling, however, and with another orc slain at his feet, Dain pauses to lift his eyes to the sky as Elven horns ring clear across the dawn for a second time. The Dwarf King lifts his axe into the air with an indiscernible shout. Then he urges his soldiers on again. "Drive them against te elves! Close the gap to the King's Men! Baruk Khazad!"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
The efforts of Broddur are not in vain, and the strength of his race holds strong--with a startled yelp Bagaglok tumbles off, the momentum sending him backward toward the River along with the rest of the hemmed in party of Mordor. The river...a seemingly inviting escape if it were not for the Elves that block it off. "Luck may have allied with your kind this day, fool," growls the Shaman as he scampers up again, "but soon it will be otherwise: the Eye will claim all ere the end..." Naught else does the Orc offer, and the blade does not fly again. Instead Bagaglok paces backward with the other goblins as they are pushed westward further and further.
 
You forego your chance to attack.

[Thranduil(#5440)] 
It is on the northernmost of the goblins that the Elven arrows strike, as their ranks of spearmen crash into the retreating horde, trapping them in an ever closing canyon of steel.

Between elf spear and dwarf axe, between dalemen and river, there is only the narrow expanse of ungaurded riverbank to the southwest.

[Acton(#17050)]
"Onward, Dale! Push them to the elves!" bellows Acton, lifting his long spear over his head. Its keen blade drips with gore, splattering the churned ground and arm of its bearer. "Left flank close with Dain!" With a wordless shout of anger, the young man charges another of the enemy, impaling its stomach even as he feels the bite of the orc's scimitar in his left forearm.

The left flank of Dale meets the right of flank of Dain's dwarves and in tandem they press forward. In the wake of Dale's advance, lies a litter of bodies - both men and orcs. The Bardling archers advance to the very edge of the battlefield and kneel to release another volley of feathered death into the center orcish mass. It is the last volley for the elvenking's folk press too close on the other side to chance another.

[Broddur(#16974)] Broddur grunts and wobbles as his pick becomes suddenly lighter. It is some time before he regains his balance, and when he does he simply stands a while. The red stain at his side is spreading, and the red line on his arm welling blood, and even the doughty Dwarves tire sometimes. By the time he has recovered his breath and his strength, Bagaglok is long gone. Broddur himself joins his clan-kin and their cousins of Erebor in driving the goblins back. Soon his stocky figure is lost to the eye, just one more in the melee.

[Mara(#22296)] The High Priestess's horse is pulled in the direction of the retreat and her along with it as the surviving orcs head to the southwest.

[Dain(#31050)] The dwarves push onward still and it is with a cry of anticipated victory that the first dwarves find themselves shoulder to shoulder with their allies from Dale.

Dain, tasting victory, has dropped back from the front rank of dwarves, keen eyes surveying the carnage left behind them and the battle as it wraps up in front. And thus he eyes espy the narrow gap through which the beleagured remnants of the orc camp are escaping. "Close the gap to the southwest! Cut off their escape!" bellows the Dwarf King abruptly, but even now there are the few fortunate orcs making good on their escape.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Death and more death comes as more of the orcish horde collapse to the blood soaked earth the forms of their brethren are not heeded by the remainder of the retreat, and iron-shod feet mercilessly trample them in haste. The Mordain that survive continue to press their way southwest, hoping to get by before the last safe escape is sundered from them.

[Acton(#17050)]
Acton too notices the gap, quickly filling with fleeing black shapes. There is little the Dale-landers can do, being in the middle of the sweep, and so they push onward while the young lieutenant anxiously watches Dain's left flank - likely wishing he could will it to close with his thoughts alone. He grits his teeth and fights on - catching the odd fleeing orc as his men advance. His sweeps and lunges grow weaker as fatigue takes its toll.

Alas, there is not enough time for the dwarves to cut off the fleeing orcs and when the three armies meet at the southwestern edge of the ruined town at last, many of the enemy has successfully escaped.

[Thranduil(#5440)] 
"To the boats!" cries the Elvenking, as the vice is closed, and yet some of the goblins escape southward. A part of the bows and spears of the elves retreat swiftly, at this call, the Duinedhrim eager to give chase southwards along the river.

The King, however, does not join them, turning instead to meet Dwarf and Man, and to survey the ruin and despair that has been visited upon the town.