Elendor
High Pass: Pride comes before a fall
At the High Pass summit, a rockfall heralds the approach of goblins. Human and goblin alike suffer a blow to their pride.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: High Pass
Game Date: May 3048
IC Time: Night
Weather: Rain
Description: High Pass, Summit
The pass continues across what seems to be the very summit of the mountains about you. Cliffs fall away at your feet everywhere, dropping hundreds of feet and spelling certain demise with one false step. This treacherous journey has your nerves on edge and your mind reeling. You will be glad to see it finally over.
Rain pours down from the black night sky, forming numerous small creeks, trailing across the path. The early night spring air is humid and biting.
Obvious exits:
West leads to High Pass, Western Face.
East leads to High Pass, Eastern Descent.
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Sun Nov 01 14:00:23 2009
IC weather is: Wind: gale - Clouds: sparse - Rain: moderate
IC Moon is: New
IC time is: Early Night
IC date is: Trewsday, Day 2 of May in the year 3048.
===============================================================================
Darkness is coming to the Misty Mountains. The sky above the jagged peaks is near-black, though away to the west the sun's last rays tint the underside of the massed cloudbanks with dull swathes of scarlet and mauve, ominous hues reminiscent of pooling blood. Overhead, those gathered clouds have already started to spill their burden on the bare rocks below, and water spills in rivulets over crag and gully, making the footing beneath treacherous.
In such weather, only a fool would press on. The men of Beorning and those they guide are not fools. A small caravan, a couple of carts and a handful or so of travellers on foot, has halted beneath the meagre shelter of a cliff-face. Some huddle miserably beneath the meagre shelter - but in this land, rest cannot be spared by all. Others stand duty as guards. Amongst them, amber eyes narrowed as he stares out into the rain-curtain, is a man in a dun cloak, with dark hair slicked flat to his head. In his hand, and serving as a prop as he shifts position on the slippery ground, is a long spear.
[Magua(#32030)]
Following the secret paths of the mountains and sure of their way even in the growing darkness, the orcs of the High Pass make their way along to overlooks where they look down to observe the intruders below. One of their number, a great uruk carrying himself with authority, hisses and signals those around him. He turns back to check again and his lips twist with hate, revealing his ugly teeth as he counts those below and then nods to himself.
The fellow in the dun cloak, turns, frowning, to stare up at the place where the mountain peak stands sentinel above. But the rain hisses in all directions, and the only sound to be heard now is a quiet murmur from the group gathered round the cart setting up their camp. He shrugs and pivots, glancing northward instead. Further along the mountainside, one of the Beorning-folk keeps similar watch. He, also, shows no sign of having seen anything untoward.
Back by the cliff, where cart and gathered human bodies should shield it from prying eyes, someone is trying to coax a meagre flame to life.
[Magua(#32030)]
The water serves its purpose as it trickles down between rocks and into crevices. Soon, levers are brought to bear. Magua looks to his captains and nods to one in particular who sets off a small avalanche of rock aimed to block any retreat to the east.
Where the hiss had escaped detection, the rumble of sliding rock does not. The dun-cloaked fellow, Brev, twists his head round sharply, and mutters, "Kiern!" Sight may be dimmed to dark and rain, but to one who has grown up in the Mountains that sound is all too familiar. Swiftly, now, he edges back toward his Beorning opposite number, close enough to shout, "How firm /is/ this ground? Damn rain could bring half the mountainside down. The Beorning fellow answers with a shake of his head, gesturing with his axe and murmuring something too low to be heard. A command of sorts, likely, for a few moments later Brev is picking his way warily across sharp rock and loose gravel to investigate the extent of the fall.
[Magua(#32030)]
Watching the Men scurry around in the dark below, Magua looks pleased (if self-hating orcs can be pleased by anything).
Just then, from the west along the path upon which the Beornings travel. a lone berzerker orc appears, glistening from rain water flowing over his bare skin. He howls with rage and moves toward the camp.
Rocks are one thing, goblins another. That single howl brings the entire group of travellers to sudden alert. Amongst the guides, axes are readied and arrows fitted to the string. Amongst those they protect, the reaction is rather different. The gentle folk of Bree are not known for their skill in combat, and while each man or woman has /something/, the hands that hold it are trembling.
Brev, already to the east of the group by now, mutters a single guttural word of his own, one with the cadence of a curse. He does not turn back, however. He has not yet reached the edge of the rockslide bending low, as though to avoid being seen, he begins to pick his way upslope at his current position, each footfall slow and careful so as not to scatter any pebbles.
[Magua(#32030)]
Magua is watching his servant below probe the defenses of the party as the servant continues on.
He raises up his weapon, a nasty looking scimitar and charges the first guard he sees with a snarl of suicidal glee!
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain himself seems to be less trembling than the other Breefolk. In his shy, self-effacing way, he stands and bends over his bow, running his fingers along the string. A bow is fit to it.
A figure charges out of the darkness. Owain is not to the fore and is possibly not the man that the figure is charging for, but he is the one who shoots.
That snarl, and the rush of footsteps on the slope above, is all the warning Brev needs. The man does not wait to be sliced down where he stands instead, with a rattle and a few sparks as a few pebbles go bouncing, he scrambles sideways across the slope, feet seeking more secure footing. His spear is in his right hand, and braced against his side his free hand, the left, snatches up a handful of gravel. This is hurled toward the approaching goblin.
In the aftermath of Owain's, other bows sing, and there is the sudden flare of a pine torch catching. Risky, yes, to give away their position, but that information seems already to be known.
[Magua(#32030)]
A hail of arrows stream at the orc and he screams hateful words as he is cut down, his body pushed over the side of the cliff into oblivion by the impact.
Magua watches his man die at the hands of the Men and then he looks to his company and raises a shout. Others join him in a verbal assault that rings out through the pass. Ha-YAAAAAAAH!
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain's eyes briefly flicker toward Brev as he fits another arrow to his bow. He takes a two slow steps toward the foe as they scream through the canyon. He takes a settling breath and then shoots at the form who first shouted, as lit by the torch.
Owain launches an arrow...
Owain's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Some, at least, in the little group, have faced goblins before. The guides are issuing instructions. Axe-wielders group round the little camp in a loose semicircle. A few more arrows arc upwards toward the source of the shouts.
Brev, for his part, has found what he sought - a flat patch in the lee of a jutting triangle of rock. He does not seem inclined to press a lone charge, for all he's nearer the enemy than the rest of his kind. Nor - yet - does he turn his back and run. Instead he hunkers down in the puddled water at the base of the rock and waits for a goblin to come back into spear-range. Unlikely he'll need to wait long.
[Magua(#32030)]
Magua sees Brev and decides it is time to attack. Moving along the line, he comes to the point at the top of the rockfall where Brev lies below. Starting down with his axe in hand, the great war chief slowly moves in for a close encounter with the Beorning guide, his other captains watching from above to see what will come of this single combat.
[Owain(#32501)]
Now suddenly Owain is spurred into quicker action. He takes several rushing steps toward Brev's rock, a line drawing between his brows. He shoots over Brev's head toward Magua.
Owain launches an arrow...
Owain's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
The rain has not slackened, and the spear-haft is slick. Brev scowls and shifts his grip, waiting, waiting ... Owain's arrow flies over his head and is lost in the darkness.
He leaves it late - almost too late? - before erupting from his crouch to face the rushing goblin. The spear-tip darts snake-like toward the creature's right flank, whilst its wielder pivots sideways and away, ducking to snatch another handful of gravel - and hopefully miss a return swing of that wicked-looking scimitar.
The Beorning axe-fighters wait patiently, almost stoically, whilst their few archers take opportunity to loose again, in a ragged line up the slope and into the darkness. One arrow clatters off a peaked rock and tumbles down almost upon the defenders. There is a muffled cry of alarm, a womans, quickly bitten off.
You attack Magua with your Spear...
Magua dodges your attack.
[Magua(#32030)]
Magua is about on top of Brev when the spear is pushed at him. The goblin has no need to dodge as the spearpoint misses. He growls and hacks in annoyance at the arm that wields the spear, ignoring the flight of arrows from below.
Magua attacks you with his Battle Axe!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 33 hp's by Magua's attack...
...you have 52 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain gives a small sound of frustration as his arrow misses. He stalks around the boulder as Brev does and comes quite close to the combatant pair as they move. Just as Brev is struck by Magua, Owain shoots at his ribs from a distance of about three feet away.
Owain launches an arrow...
Owain's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Brev is swift and light on his feet, for his kind. Perhaps he would have dodged the blow completely, had not a stone slipped out from under him. The man's foot skids, and he tumbles forward, almost into the blow. The arm that wielded the spear does so no longer the goblin leader's axe has parted leather as though it were butter. Red drips from a long, angled gash, down toward nerveless fingers that can no longer maintain their grip. The ash-wood spear lands on the ground with a soft splash.
The man's teeth are set in a grimace, and his rasping breathing suggests pain. Despite that he pushes himself back first to a crouch and then to a standing position. His left hand hurls its new load of gravel toward Magua's eyes, then pulls his dagger from its sheath.
[Magua(#32030)]
With Owain nearing, Magua quickly assesses his position and starts to back up the slope towards the other orcs. He rains down on the two men a stream of crude Westron while he keeps his weapon ready to discourage any pursuit.
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain moves in front of Brev in a trio of side-steps while pulling out another arrow. This is soon sent after Magua.
Owain launches an arrow...
Owain's bowshot hits Magua, moderately wounding him.
Brev does not show any signs of taking up the pursuit. His dagger fits his left hand with the ease of familiarity, but his right arm is hanging limply at his side, and the rain dripping off it is red-tinged. As Owain's shaft strikes home, he unclenches his teeth long enough to mumble in the other man's direction, "Gidon was right 'bout your aim." Then, a couple of snatched breaths later, "Ready to run? Hope they give us cover."
That as yet remains to be seen. Only one more arrow has streaked upward from the little human camp toward the unknown 'others'. Likely the Beornings have chosen to conserve their missiles until any direct attack should come.
[Magua(#32030)]
Magua breaks off the arrow protruding from his side and tosses the shaft at the Beornings before turning to rumble back to his own people shrouded in the dark.
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain fits another bow against the string as soon as the last shot was gone. "What did he say?" he asks in a low and frustrated voice. "That I miss from a foot away?" His arrow-tip moves, following shadows. "Go back, Brev. I'll follow ye."
Brev lets the breath he's been holding out in a snort. "Arrow I saw didn't miss," he says tersely, his jaw tight. The broken shaft that wings its way out of the darkness to land at Owain's feet arrives at the end of the speech, in clear corroboration.
The man hesitates a moment longer, squinting up the slope but there is nothing there now for human eyes to see. "Thanks," he mumbles. Then, "Can't leave a spear lying for the goblins." His foot kicks at the dropped spear, sending it rolling back downslope. He - or more likely some other - will collect it later. The man himself follows, without his usual lightness of step but still with care and good balance.
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain waits for Brev to move away a bit before following. He slowly lowers the arrow and keeps his eyes on the darkness, stumbling once on a stone.
The pass continues across what seems to be the very summit of the mountains about you. Cliffs fall away at your feet everywhere, dropping hundreds of feet and spelling certain demise with one false step. This treacherous journey has your nerves on edge and your mind reeling. You will be glad to see it finally over.
Rain pours down from the black night sky, forming numerous small creeks, trailing across the path. The early night spring air is humid and biting.
Obvious exits:
West leads to High Pass, Western Face.
East leads to High Pass, Eastern Descent.
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Sun Nov 01 14:00:23 2009
IC weather is: Wind: gale - Clouds: sparse - Rain: moderate
IC Moon is: New
IC time is: Early Night
IC date is: Trewsday, Day 2 of May in the year 3048.
===============================================================================
Darkness is coming to the Misty Mountains. The sky above the jagged peaks is near-black, though away to the west the sun's last rays tint the underside of the massed cloudbanks with dull swathes of scarlet and mauve, ominous hues reminiscent of pooling blood. Overhead, those gathered clouds have already started to spill their burden on the bare rocks below, and water spills in rivulets over crag and gully, making the footing beneath treacherous.
In such weather, only a fool would press on. The men of Beorning and those they guide are not fools. A small caravan, a couple of carts and a handful or so of travellers on foot, has halted beneath the meagre shelter of a cliff-face. Some huddle miserably beneath the meagre shelter - but in this land, rest cannot be spared by all. Others stand duty as guards. Amongst them, amber eyes narrowed as he stares out into the rain-curtain, is a man in a dun cloak, with dark hair slicked flat to his head. In his hand, and serving as a prop as he shifts position on the slippery ground, is a long spear.
[Magua(#32030)]
Following the secret paths of the mountains and sure of their way even in the growing darkness, the orcs of the High Pass make their way along to overlooks where they look down to observe the intruders below. One of their number, a great uruk carrying himself with authority, hisses and signals those around him. He turns back to check again and his lips twist with hate, revealing his ugly teeth as he counts those below and then nods to himself.
The fellow in the dun cloak, turns, frowning, to stare up at the place where the mountain peak stands sentinel above. But the rain hisses in all directions, and the only sound to be heard now is a quiet murmur from the group gathered round the cart setting up their camp. He shrugs and pivots, glancing northward instead. Further along the mountainside, one of the Beorning-folk keeps similar watch. He, also, shows no sign of having seen anything untoward.
Back by the cliff, where cart and gathered human bodies should shield it from prying eyes, someone is trying to coax a meagre flame to life.
[Magua(#32030)]
The water serves its purpose as it trickles down between rocks and into crevices. Soon, levers are brought to bear. Magua looks to his captains and nods to one in particular who sets off a small avalanche of rock aimed to block any retreat to the east.
Where the hiss had escaped detection, the rumble of sliding rock does not. The dun-cloaked fellow, Brev, twists his head round sharply, and mutters, "Kiern!" Sight may be dimmed to dark and rain, but to one who has grown up in the Mountains that sound is all too familiar. Swiftly, now, he edges back toward his Beorning opposite number, close enough to shout, "How firm /is/ this ground? Damn rain could bring half the mountainside down. The Beorning fellow answers with a shake of his head, gesturing with his axe and murmuring something too low to be heard. A command of sorts, likely, for a few moments later Brev is picking his way warily across sharp rock and loose gravel to investigate the extent of the fall.
[Magua(#32030)]
Watching the Men scurry around in the dark below, Magua looks pleased (if self-hating orcs can be pleased by anything).
Just then, from the west along the path upon which the Beornings travel. a lone berzerker orc appears, glistening from rain water flowing over his bare skin. He howls with rage and moves toward the camp.
Rocks are one thing, goblins another. That single howl brings the entire group of travellers to sudden alert. Amongst the guides, axes are readied and arrows fitted to the string. Amongst those they protect, the reaction is rather different. The gentle folk of Bree are not known for their skill in combat, and while each man or woman has /something/, the hands that hold it are trembling.
Brev, already to the east of the group by now, mutters a single guttural word of his own, one with the cadence of a curse. He does not turn back, however. He has not yet reached the edge of the rockslide bending low, as though to avoid being seen, he begins to pick his way upslope at his current position, each footfall slow and careful so as not to scatter any pebbles.
[Magua(#32030)]
Magua is watching his servant below probe the defenses of the party as the servant continues on.
He raises up his weapon, a nasty looking scimitar and charges the first guard he sees with a snarl of suicidal glee!
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain himself seems to be less trembling than the other Breefolk. In his shy, self-effacing way, he stands and bends over his bow, running his fingers along the string. A bow is fit to it.
A figure charges out of the darkness. Owain is not to the fore and is possibly not the man that the figure is charging for, but he is the one who shoots.
That snarl, and the rush of footsteps on the slope above, is all the warning Brev needs. The man does not wait to be sliced down where he stands instead, with a rattle and a few sparks as a few pebbles go bouncing, he scrambles sideways across the slope, feet seeking more secure footing. His spear is in his right hand, and braced against his side his free hand, the left, snatches up a handful of gravel. This is hurled toward the approaching goblin.
In the aftermath of Owain's, other bows sing, and there is the sudden flare of a pine torch catching. Risky, yes, to give away their position, but that information seems already to be known.
[Magua(#32030)]
A hail of arrows stream at the orc and he screams hateful words as he is cut down, his body pushed over the side of the cliff into oblivion by the impact.
Magua watches his man die at the hands of the Men and then he looks to his company and raises a shout. Others join him in a verbal assault that rings out through the pass. Ha-YAAAAAAAH!
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain's eyes briefly flicker toward Brev as he fits another arrow to his bow. He takes a two slow steps toward the foe as they scream through the canyon. He takes a settling breath and then shoots at the form who first shouted, as lit by the torch.
Owain launches an arrow...
Owain's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Some, at least, in the little group, have faced goblins before. The guides are issuing instructions. Axe-wielders group round the little camp in a loose semicircle. A few more arrows arc upwards toward the source of the shouts.
Brev, for his part, has found what he sought - a flat patch in the lee of a jutting triangle of rock. He does not seem inclined to press a lone charge, for all he's nearer the enemy than the rest of his kind. Nor - yet - does he turn his back and run. Instead he hunkers down in the puddled water at the base of the rock and waits for a goblin to come back into spear-range. Unlikely he'll need to wait long.
[Magua(#32030)]
Magua sees Brev and decides it is time to attack. Moving along the line, he comes to the point at the top of the rockfall where Brev lies below. Starting down with his axe in hand, the great war chief slowly moves in for a close encounter with the Beorning guide, his other captains watching from above to see what will come of this single combat.
[Owain(#32501)]
Now suddenly Owain is spurred into quicker action. He takes several rushing steps toward Brev's rock, a line drawing between his brows. He shoots over Brev's head toward Magua.
Owain launches an arrow...
Owain's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
The rain has not slackened, and the spear-haft is slick. Brev scowls and shifts his grip, waiting, waiting ... Owain's arrow flies over his head and is lost in the darkness.
He leaves it late - almost too late? - before erupting from his crouch to face the rushing goblin. The spear-tip darts snake-like toward the creature's right flank, whilst its wielder pivots sideways and away, ducking to snatch another handful of gravel - and hopefully miss a return swing of that wicked-looking scimitar.
The Beorning axe-fighters wait patiently, almost stoically, whilst their few archers take opportunity to loose again, in a ragged line up the slope and into the darkness. One arrow clatters off a peaked rock and tumbles down almost upon the defenders. There is a muffled cry of alarm, a womans, quickly bitten off.
You attack Magua with your Spear...
Magua dodges your attack.
[Magua(#32030)]
Magua is about on top of Brev when the spear is pushed at him. The goblin has no need to dodge as the spearpoint misses. He growls and hacks in annoyance at the arm that wields the spear, ignoring the flight of arrows from below.
Magua attacks you with his Battle Axe!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 33 hp's by Magua's attack...
...you have 52 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain gives a small sound of frustration as his arrow misses. He stalks around the boulder as Brev does and comes quite close to the combatant pair as they move. Just as Brev is struck by Magua, Owain shoots at his ribs from a distance of about three feet away.
Owain launches an arrow...
Owain's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Brev is swift and light on his feet, for his kind. Perhaps he would have dodged the blow completely, had not a stone slipped out from under him. The man's foot skids, and he tumbles forward, almost into the blow. The arm that wielded the spear does so no longer the goblin leader's axe has parted leather as though it were butter. Red drips from a long, angled gash, down toward nerveless fingers that can no longer maintain their grip. The ash-wood spear lands on the ground with a soft splash.
The man's teeth are set in a grimace, and his rasping breathing suggests pain. Despite that he pushes himself back first to a crouch and then to a standing position. His left hand hurls its new load of gravel toward Magua's eyes, then pulls his dagger from its sheath.
[Magua(#32030)]
With Owain nearing, Magua quickly assesses his position and starts to back up the slope towards the other orcs. He rains down on the two men a stream of crude Westron while he keeps his weapon ready to discourage any pursuit.
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain moves in front of Brev in a trio of side-steps while pulling out another arrow. This is soon sent after Magua.
Owain launches an arrow...
Owain's bowshot hits Magua, moderately wounding him.
Brev does not show any signs of taking up the pursuit. His dagger fits his left hand with the ease of familiarity, but his right arm is hanging limply at his side, and the rain dripping off it is red-tinged. As Owain's shaft strikes home, he unclenches his teeth long enough to mumble in the other man's direction, "Gidon was right 'bout your aim." Then, a couple of snatched breaths later, "Ready to run? Hope they give us cover."
That as yet remains to be seen. Only one more arrow has streaked upward from the little human camp toward the unknown 'others'. Likely the Beornings have chosen to conserve their missiles until any direct attack should come.
[Magua(#32030)]
Magua breaks off the arrow protruding from his side and tosses the shaft at the Beornings before turning to rumble back to his own people shrouded in the dark.
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain fits another bow against the string as soon as the last shot was gone. "What did he say?" he asks in a low and frustrated voice. "That I miss from a foot away?" His arrow-tip moves, following shadows. "Go back, Brev. I'll follow ye."
Brev lets the breath he's been holding out in a snort. "Arrow I saw didn't miss," he says tersely, his jaw tight. The broken shaft that wings its way out of the darkness to land at Owain's feet arrives at the end of the speech, in clear corroboration.
The man hesitates a moment longer, squinting up the slope but there is nothing there now for human eyes to see. "Thanks," he mumbles. Then, "Can't leave a spear lying for the goblins." His foot kicks at the dropped spear, sending it rolling back downslope. He - or more likely some other - will collect it later. The man himself follows, without his usual lightness of step but still with care and good balance.
[Owain(#32501)]
Owain waits for Brev to move away a bit before following. He slowly lowers the arrow and keeps his eyes on the darkness, stumbling once on a stone.
Players: Brev, Magua, Owain
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