Elendor
Iach Celduin burns
An attack on Iach Celduin does not fair well for the dwarves and men of Dale
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Iach Celduin
Game Date: Day 11 of January 3048
IC Time: Early night
Weather: Cold
Description:
Iach Celduin
Iach Celduin is an old trading town built on the border of Mirkwood, where the Old Forest Road emerges and meets the Running River come down from the Long Lake to the northeast.
The town is on the east side of the river, in a bend as it turns to flow to the southeast, built next to a wide bridge heavy enough for large burdened wagons to safely cross. The town is fairly large, with several livery stables, stores and inns to help support the increase in traffic across the road since the death of Smaug and re-population of Erebor years before. The town also has a large contigent of soldiers from the Dale-Lands, to help guard against the predidations of orcs and other fell beasts from the woods.
Several docks stick out into the river, and barges laden with logs felled in the forest make regular runs up-river to the sawmills powered by the water fall at the base of the distant Long Lake.
Contents:
Witch-king
Drinking object
Bifur
Caravan
Obvious exits:
Inn, Into the River, SouthEast, and West over Bridge
Ragus crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Ragus has arrived.
[Ragus(#28392)]
Night falls across the land once more, but the brave watchmen of Iach Celduin may be glad indeed that this evening no tongue of flame licks against the sky. All is calm and dark, as it should be, but all the same a strange disquiet settles upon the town. Guards are posted with keener and warier eyes than usual -- keeping a vigil o'er the land lest the mysterious fires of the Enemy are finally to be revealed.
And all the while they might miss the dark shapes that steal forth toward the town, slipping into the waters with nary a splash swimming with soft strokes to the eastern bank. For remember -- no bridge now stands to carry them across the river, its charred timbers serving as a daily reminder to the town of the grisly foes that are at their doorstep.
Orcs are on the move once again, then, and as they claw their way out of the water they flatten themselves against the bankm awaiting perhaps some sign.
[Frarin] The dwarf Frarin comes from the direction of one of the stables of the town, carrying with him a limp leather bag that might have held something heavier a moment before apples, perhaps? Whatever the case, he comes away from the stables and seems headed from the inn. A heavy cloak and scarf are wrapped about his person to protect against the cold, and he wears the grim, stony expression that has been his habit since coming to Iach Celduin, but he looks generally at ease. Now and again, however, his eyes do steal to the sky, looking both north and south, but if they turn to Mirkwood, it is only to look absently at the wood. Other distractions of late, it would seem, have stolen the silversmith's attention.
[Ragus(#28392)]
And he seems not alone, for likewise are the eyes of the other guards, keen and attentive they may be, are trained upon the horizon and not the broders of their torchlight. So it is that the band of uruk-hai, or yrch as they are known to the Elves, slink on. When all are gathered upon the banks, whispers and hisses that stay beneath the wind are sent among their number. Slowly bows are brought forth from leather sheaths, their strings thus undampened by the river, and more than a few of their bearers have with them also a curious pouch.
These they open, dipping arrowheads inside eagerly, and were the moon to catch the darts just right thay might glisten as though covered in some sticky black ooze.
[Frarin] Painfully unaware of the encroaching danger, Frarin stops half-way to the inn, where another dwarf is passing. The two seem to make quiet conversation for a moment, their voices business-like but generally relaxed. News of recent events at the Lonely Mountain, it seems, has not yet reached Iach Celduin. "And the barrels...not a matter...if need be." Snatches of the conversation may drift down to the uruks who approach, if they have any interest to listen.
From the inn comes a burst of sudden laughter, a bief respite from the tension so heavy upon the town. A door opens somewhere and a lantern sputters into life at a window. And with a slight breeze, a dog begins to bark behind the inn. And then another near the stables.
[Glorfindel(#30248)] Two dark shadows among the silent assailants rise in the crook of the docks, cold black eyes narrowing just below foot level at the sound of barking. Both draw forth black bows from their backs, nocking poisoned arrows as quietly as their brutish hands can manage. One sneers, cracked grey lips drawn back from yellow teeth, while the other only shifts impatiently, eyes staring intently as his muscles coil, waiting.
[Ragus(#28392)]
Though even as they do, the barking of the dogs gives them pause. Wary, vicious eyes peer up to check on the town's defenders, but after long moments with little heed paid to the mutts, they curl their lips anew and return to their work. The slick black arrows are set carefully to one side, and at a sign from a leader, they bring forth small boxes.
Flint and tinder! Quickly they make sparks to kindle a flame, and when several tiny fire burn upon the banks of the river, shielded by the black shapes of the orcs that stoke them, finally the archers nock their darts to their strings...
[Frarin] "Right, see to it," comes Frarin's gruff voice from the town. His comrade departs, leaving the silversmith to peer studiously at the inn, his head cocked to one side as if listening to the bark of the dogs behind it. A young lad, one of the townsfolk, exits the inn suddenly with a bucket of water and Frarin catches him by the arm. "Say, lad, have a look behind the inn and see what's giving those dogs such a racket. Can't be too careful otherwise." The lad mutters a reply and dashes off, leaving the dwarf to continue on towards the inn.
[Glorfindel(#30248)] As tiny fires kindle around the bank, amber sparks light in both pairs of cold eyes near the docks. Snarling beneath the sound of water lapping against the shore, the two assassins bring their eyes level with the planks of the docks, picking out guards upon the stair to each pier with eyes cold and calculating. With their bows nearly laid upon their sides against the wooden surface,to avoid drawing notice or casting unwanted shadows, they take aim, each upon the foremost guards with only the whispersoft groan of a bowstring - hardly different and far quieter than the creak of a mast - is their only chance at a warning.
[Frarin] "Would somebody stop up them bloody dogs?" one of the Dalemen guards complains loudly, crossing his arms and glancing back at the town with annoyance as the dogs bark on. "Ah go on," another of the guards calls back to his comrade, "wouldn't you bark if you'd got nothing better to do on a freezing night?"
"Suppose," the first guard mutters, then looks back at the woods. His head tips slightly to the side and he squints at the darkness, perhaps his first - and likely last - inkling of something wrong?
[Ragus(#28392)]
If so, then it may have come too late to the man, for as the shielded fires burn, the doctored arrows are dipped into their flames and are set ablaze themselves. Swiftly the archers spin about, drawing back their strings and letting fly their fiery shots into a high arc. It seems they're after the thatch and wood of the buildings themselves.
[Glorfindel(#30248)] No sooner than the archers whirl to loose their shots do the two shadows assassins bend their bowstrings upon the dockside guards, speeding two black, unlit arrows upon the air toward the hale Dalemen that guard the banks. To the one who watches the darkness to the west, a faint glimpse of a pale sneer set in a wicked face intent upon his may be his last sight, if the arrow's aim is true.
[Frarin] What at first was only an inkling of doubt upon the guardsman's face turns quickly into surprise as darts of fire suddenly light the ground at the forest's edge and are soon flying overhead. And there before him is a pale face, a sneer as terrible as the forest the man is bound to guard against. "Sou--" the unfortunate man begins to cry, but the assassin's arrow is indeed true and the Daleman falls back with the feathered shaft caught fast in his throat.
Yet the foreshortened cry and the fly of arrow overhead are enough to draw alarm from those few out of doors in the cold still. And among these are Frarin. His boot is only just touching the first step up into the inn when a blazing arrow thunks into the overhanging thatched roof of the building. For a second, the dwarf's eyes widen, and then he whirls about as other spots of flame begin to lick at the buildings of Iach Celduin. "Attack!" bellow the silversmith. "The town is under attack!"
Grishnakh crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Grishnakh has arrived.
[Ragus(#28392)]
And now revealed the orcs cackle and chatter their scorn out into the night the archers nocking fresh arrows to their strings and setting these ablaze in similar fashion. Up and out they soar as they are loosed, once more arcing towards the buildings of the town.
And meanwhile the two assains are not left alone, for amid the archers stir more shapes, fewet to be sure, but these have a purposeful gait and jagged blades rest in their fingers as they move to meet with the silversmith's challenge.
One of their number, a tall, stocky brute with livid red eyes glares about, hissing in anticipation for the oncoming fray. Ragus grips tight a spear, and points its tip toward Frarin.
[Glorfindel(#30248)] Except for their heads, the assassins remain under cover of the docks for another volley, and where their kindred cackle and howl into the night, this pair seeks to maintain a treacherous silence. No sooner than the first guard is felled do they turn upon two more, trusting much to the attention drawn by the assault of their brethren, wrought of flame and blade.
Bagaglok crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Bagaglok has arrived.
Pishgob crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Pishgob has arrived.
[Frarin] Frarin pounds up the remainder of the stairs to the inn's door and throws it open. The men inside are already beginning to stir, but the dwarf repeats his cry of attack and suddenly the merry chamber is a rush of action. Outside as well, the encamped soldiers of men and dwarves alike are coming to life, drawn by the shouts of attack and the pinpricks of fire so suddenly dotting the town. Frarin stands in the doorway of the inn only a second, for he is already drawing the blue war hammer that hangs at his side and readying it.
It does not take the dwarf long to spot the stocky orc who seems to have fixed its target on him. "Aye, well then," Frarin mutters to himself, follows it up with a muttered curse as well, and charges. Men and dwarves stream from the inn, those who have them drawing weapons, and others scurrying about in panic to attempt to put out the growing flames.
Thranduil has arrived.
Thari travels along the River Celduin as she approaches the town from the southeast.
Thari has arrived.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
The alarm of the Dwarves rouses the men of Dale no less, though they take a moment or two longer to ready themselves. Out behind the rush of Frarin comes the youthful lord Lorthrain, and his eyes widen at the sight before him. Nodding curtly to two of his guards he points to the panic of those stemping against the flames, and says: "Calm them, and find what stores of water or ale we have. Rouse Thari too, and have him get the merchants involved. The rest are with me.."
And so the Girion noble advances out, sword in hand, to meet with his first true taste of battle. Six hardy warriors of Dale flank him, and they join ranks with Frarin, Forli's son.
[Combat(#13388)] Ragus puts on Ring Mail Armor.
[Combat(#13388)] Ragus wields Spear.
[Ragus(#28392)]
The eyes of the stocky orc blaze anew at this, but anger is not to be found in their gaze -- rather Ragus appears to relish Frarin's advance. He squares himself to face the doughty khazad, and hefting his spear within his hand he steps forth with purposeful gait the tip of his weapon snaking this way and that through the night air in a bid to slip past the Dwarf's guard.
Ragus attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he misses!
[Thari(#31038)]
More dwarves come from the town, stout figures with heavy axes and armor set with precious metals and gems. Thari is among them, toward the back, holding a steel shield high against arrows, looking beneath it out upon the battle.
"Baruk Khazad!" cries this dwarf, and others take up the cry in a thunder of deep voices. "KHAZAD AI-MENU!"
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Khazad on the menu, all right," mutters one orc, a smallish, wiry she-creature who knows this place well enough. She has walked here, burned here, passed her water here, why not? Now time to catch a meal for eating. Pishgob licks her teeth, laughing to herself.
[Frarin] Frarin looks only briefly to his side when he is joined abrest with the half a dozen men of Dale as they advance. And it is not long before men, dwarves and orcs meet. Frarin grunts when the stocky orc does indeed take aim at him, but the silversmith skips a step to his side and the spear stabs past him harmlessly. "Go on then," he taunts gruffly. Seeking to take advantage of Ragus' failed stab, Frarin swings the mallet of his hammer up and over, aiming it down towards Ragus' outstretched forearm.
You blindly attack Ragus with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ragus badly wounds him!
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari, still toward the back as the dwarves and men advance, says a bit desperately to a brown-bearded dwarf nearby, "Let's go out there. Can't do anything from here-- we can't go to the fortress and not know, Hal. My axe is as keen as theirs!"
[Bagaglok(#24847)] Fire rains from the sky as the orkish arrows continue to spill forth, landing here and there amongst the townsfolk and their buildings. Several roofs catch fire now as the goblin horde advances, the hunched form of the red-garbed Mordain Shaman, Bagaglok, in their midst. A rusty scimitar is clasped in his black claws, though it has not yet tasted blood of any foes this night. He watches the assault with yellow eyes that gleam with naught but cruel amusement as the orc weapons clash, the deafening ring of metal sounding through the darkness. A rasping voice emerged from his throat as he calls out, "Death to the humans and khazad fools! Let their life-blood be fitting sacrifice for our Master!"
[Combat(#13388)] Bagaglok A harsh ring of metal heralds the flash of a rusty scimitar as Bagaglok draws it from its sheath.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Lorthrain meanwhile steps forth past the duel of Frarin and Ragus, his eyes turning harder as they become more used to the sight of the orcs. His gaze flits from savage brute to savage brute in search of a fitting challenge, and as Bagaglok cries out he nods decisively. He stalks forward then, moving to cross his path with that of the Shaman, but perhaps lack of caution betrays him. Heeding not the sly figure of Pishgob he all but walks by ther burner of the bridge entirely, his side unguarded.
[Combat(#13388)] Lorthrain brings forth his fell blade, Scrutiny, and it sits in his palm as it awaits the fray.
[Frarin] "I know it is, Thari," the brown-bearded Hal rumbles back, watching the unfolding fight with all the longing of a hardened veteran. "Right, I reckon Frarin wouldn' have it any other way, but you stick close by me, right? Back to back if need be, cause I ain't going home if you ain't!" With a gruff nod at Thari, Hal waves the healer towards the fray and starts that way himself.
[Combat(#13388)] Thranduil smoothly slides the ancient blade Endumegil into its scabbard.
[Ragus(#28392)]
Frarin's strike is well aimed indeed, and the Dwarf is well rewarded in turn as the hammer crashes down against his arm. A snarl is taken up, and a hiss of pain to boot, but still he does not drop the long shaft of his spear. Instead, backing away, crading his wounded arm up beneath his shoulder he retreats warily shield held high to hold off the wrath of Frarin.
ARB: Ragus has "passed" on his turn to attack.
[Thari(#31038)]
So Thari goes forward, hunched against the arrowes and followed by the taller and older Hal. In fact, their path lies toward Frarin and Ragus.
Thari's axe is the smallest among the dwarves and bejewelled, but it is held up and ready as nearer they come to the foes. A flaming arrow hisses by, just a few feet above (a man might have been slain) and behind, the town is going up in flames.
[Frarin] "No no, where's that smile gone, mm?" Frarin grunts at Ragus as the orc backs away. He does not taunt the stocky orc further, however, instead following him even as he backs away. The dwarf swings low, aiming to bring his hammer beneath the orc's shield held high. This time it is the wicked spiked end of the hammer that the dwarf swings, driving it towards Ragus' left knee.
You attack Ragus with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ragus badly wounds him!
[Ragus(#28392)]
The hammer strikes well again, and with a fresh roar of pain the stocky orc hobbles back and down onto one knee. But malice flashes in his eyes all the same, and casting aside his shield he grips tight his spear-haft with both hands, dragging it back urgently only to plunge it forward in desperation toward Frarin's belly.
Ragus removes Leather Shield.
Ragus puts down Leather Shield.
Ragus attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 3 hp's by Ragus's attack...
...you have 94 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
Pishgob, licking her lips, sees the succulent figure of Lorthrain, his tastiness exposed, and the side, too. Her scimitar twitches in her hands, and she darts partly out of her concealment and slashes at Lorthrain's side, rather like trying to slice bacon, but without the pig-tail
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by a long shot.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] A hiss of sick laughter escapes Bagaglok's fanged lips as the besieged town blazes in the winter night, and he mutters something in a dreadful language. He turns now to cast a quick survey of the scene, and a second dark look crosses the Uruk's twisted features as he sights the approaching form of Lorthrain. "Is it such that you do not value your life, filth? Strutting about in the midst of the enemy is not a wise decision." The creature's eyes light hungrily as he raises forth his own weapon.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his shield!
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Sly Pishgob may be, but at the last moment it would seem she gives herself away, and with a gape of alarm Lorthrain turns to face her. Up comes his shield urgently, meeting with the jagged blade of he scimitar and saving him from gore, but all the same he is cought off balance. He staggers away a pace or two, sword lashing out wildly toward the orc's face with little thought for defence.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
As the battle rapidly escalates to a frenzy, few would have noticed the ebony clad figures darting across the bridge. A small contingent, perhaps twenty strong, all wielding shields emblazoned with a red eye and a scimitar, all clad in the purest black. Not many, but some of Mordor's most elite uruk-hai soldiers. The black guard of Barad Dur and at their head the commander of the whole stinking mess.
A bit of time has passed since they crossed. The uruk-hai now close in on the melee. A terrible new wave of death, crashing into the town.
[Frarin] The desperate lunge sends the orc's spear stabbing at Frarin's mid-section and it catches for just a second, dislodging several of the rings of the dwarf's chainmail hauberk and apparently finding flesh. But barely. Frarin pauses only long enough to step back and away from the speartip. Then with a growl, the silversmith swings the mallet of his hammer once more, aiming now for the downed Ragus' neck.
You blindly attack Ragus with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ragus severely wounds him!
[+LIGHT:#23381] Lorthrain lights blazing fires.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari and Hal near Frarin now, weaving between those engaged in battle already. Thari sees the black guard, orcs marked with a red eye, but watches them only for a moment. In the next, this shorter dwarf darts toward a stocky orc-- Ragus-- and nobly strikes with the smaller axe to his back.
Thari attacks Ragus with her Axe and badly wounds him!
[Ragus(#28392)]
Once again does the hammer of Forli's son find its mark, smashing into the thick rings that mask away the orc's neckline. But while the rings soften, they cannot deny the weight behind that stroke and the Uruk is battered to the ground entirely. Spear falls from his grasp to litter the grass, and as he clutches at his throat the orc's legs flail wildly. More than once they kick at Frarin in panic, even as they try to push him away from the wrath of the Khazad.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Wicked dinner!" grumbles Pishgob, shaking her head, leaping aside from the clumsy blow aimed at her. "Just shut up and die quietly, an' I'll make a nice stew out of you. It might not even hurt much..." Glory and darkness? No, meat and supper. She slashes again, upward this time, to gut the creature.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by an arm's length.
[Ragus(#28392)]
Once again does the hammer of Forli's son find its mark, smashing into the thick rings that mask away the orc's neckline. And Thari too his well, clouting into the mail that drapes down his back. But while the rings soften, they cannot deny the weight behind those strokes and the Uruk is battered to the ground entirely. Spear falls from his grasp to litter the grass, and as he clutches at his throat the orc's legs flail wildly. More than once they kick at Frarin in panic, even as they try to push him away from the wrath of the Khazad.
Ragus removes Spear.
Ragus puts down a Spear.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
But not all that comes from the wood is dark. For shadowing these dark-clad uruk-hai from the north, is another band clad in browns and greens, they are tall, and they are swift. With only the slightest pause in their movements, a volley of darts is thrown aloft towards this new band that hazards the bridge.
"Aiee!" comes the cry as the arrows begin to fall, the voices calling out are bright, and though dawn has not yet come, there is a lightness brought by their cries.
[Combat(#13388)] Thranduil wields Longbow.
Ragus attacks you with his Bare Hands!...
...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
The subtlety of Pishgob is well devised, but this time Lorthrain has had eyes to watch it come, and he leaps back a pace or two to escape the swing of her blade. His movements seem well trained, if not fluid and well practised, and perhaps this may Pishgob an opening to deal with the youthful Girion. Either way, she will first need to deal with the slice of his own sword that arcs down toward her shoulder!
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.
[Frarin] "Thari!" Frarin says, surprised when the healer dwarf is suddenly at his side and attacking Ragus. The silversmith is quick to look back the dying orc, however, and back away from the flailing kicks. With little immediate trouble from that end, Frarin gives Thari a brief dark look, then nods gruffly. "Be careful," he mutters before looking back to Ragus. With a sneer of disgust, the silversmith lifts his hammer and brings the spike down towards Ragus' chest, apparently to put the dying orc out of its misery.
You attack Ragus with your War Hammer...
You have defeated Ragus!
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ragus fatally wounds and defeats him!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
The arrows plummet among the well trained orcs. Though some find their mark, shields are swiftly brought up to ward the darts. A single arrow glances off Grishnakh's shoulder. The commander's crimson eyes flick betwen the burning town and the screaming trees for only a brief moment.
The commander growls out a single word, "Go." Immediately the big orcs reverse course. Shields held defensively Grishnakh and his guard charge the direction from where the arrows came.
[Ragus(#28392)]
And indeed he does, for as the hammer of Frarin falls it is the stroke of doom for Ragus, whose mails is split and sundered from the fury of the blow. Ribs crack and limbs flail for not long does their thrashnig last. The hideous head of the stocky orc lolls to one side, and the tale of Frarin, Forli's son is made grander by the deed.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] As Lorthrain attacks the dark figure of Pishgob, Bagaglok, spotting his chance, sprungs forward suddenly the scimitar whips through the fiery air with a sharp hiss, aiming for the man's weapon-wielding shoulder. The gruesome creature licks his gray licks again, yellow gaze glinting maliciously.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but he misses by a long shot.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Sssss... you swing like wind in grasses, lots of noise, no action," chortles Pishgob, dancing away from the human's blade. "Stupid dinner. Stupid, plump dinner. Really, why make this so hard on you?" She laughs gutterally, spits, and then stabs again at human-belly. Mmmm... gut-meat.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by a handspan.
[Thari(#31038)]
"The town is on fire! It was this or the fortress!" Thari tells Frarin, then steps to the side as he disposes of the orc. The healer looks around, shield clutched close, and then, "Elves! Look, the elves are coming! Oh, those big goblins are heading for them!"
Lorthrain is forced back by the ferocity of the strikes from Bagaglok and Pishgob, but youth is on his side and nimble yet is the Girion. Escaping the bite of their blade he raises his shield and glowers above its gaurd to the new entrant. "Get back, scum!" is all the spite this greenhorn Captain can force through his teeth ere he aims a low slice of hisown weapon toward the Shaman's foremost knee.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
[Combat(#13388)] Grishnakh puts on Wooden Shield.
[Frarin] Frarin lifts his head once Ragus is despatched of and follows Thari's gaze, catching for the first time the strange lightness of the forest and the cry from it that is so distinctly not orcish. "Elves indeed, well I'll be damned!" the silversmith rumbles with a snort and a half-smile. "Let us catch these vermin between then! Khazad ai-menu!" And with that Frarin charges forward once more, catching a small orc in the stomach as he runs up against the line of invaders once more.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
Bows and spears both are among the small company of elves. Bowstrings are drawn again and loosed into the oncoming charge of Uruk-Hai, even as others among the elvenfolk stand forward, setting their shields against the oncoming charge.
One among the elves, standing at the fore but still holding his bow. It is the order-giver that he sets his sight upon, not firing a volley, but a shot, his dart aimed straight for this uruk-hai captain.
Thranduil launches an arrow...
Thranduil's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
[Thari(#31038)]
"Baruk Khazad!" Thari cries, running after Frarin. The same small orc gets it twice, for just as a warhammer pounds it, an axe slices after. She splashes through red-dyed mud.
Vuglax has arrived.
Vuglax returns from beyond Middle-earth.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] There is a venemous hiss through jagged teeth as the Orkish Shaman stumbles back a pace, a black trickle of blood seeping out from the fresh cut on his left knee. Bagaglok grips the cruel scimitar tighter as he glares at the human before him and he breathes, "You are outnumbered here, fool. There is no point in fighting, for this pathetic town is doomed." Not yet noticing the arriving elves it seems, he swings forward again, this time towards Lorthrain's sword-hand.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
These orcs have longer legs than most, and their pace is swift. They rapidly eat up the ground between the elves and themselves. Arrows do strike home, but at least the most vital areas are blocked or simply miss. One orc does fall, an arrow lodged in his throat, only to be trampled by his charging comrades.
Grishnakh can see that elf. The one in the front. He stares at him as he charges. Notes as he takes aim. The arrow whizzes right past the orc's head, mere inches to the right. Grishnakh howls in fury and increases his pace.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Lorthrain's hand is deft in turn, and he snatches it away to keep it attached. A stern light kindles in his eyes as he squares himself with the Shaman, and perhaps inexperience leads to folly as his side is left open to Pishgob anew. The Barding's sword sings out in reply to Bagaglok's own, and it is the orc's black shoulders that he seeks to hew.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Meanwhile, as Frarin and Thari charge out, a fresh challenge rises to meet them, and throwing aside his bow one of the archers rears up to near the height of a man. Brawny fingers drag a mace from the ground into his grasp, and with a hiss he springs forth with alarming speed charging down the silversmith and hopeing perhaps to catch him unprepared. Up swings the mace in a deadky arc -- surely enough to tip the chin of the noble khazad?
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 13 hp's by Vuglax's attack...
...you have 81 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The Aran na Nandor o Taur e Ndaedelos is unused to missing but there is no pause in his motion either. Even before the first arrow sinks to the ground, the next has left the bowstring.
Thranduil launches an arrow...
Thranduil's bowshot hits Grishnakh, moderately wounding him.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] As the gleaming spike of steel whirls towards him, the Orc hastily twistes to the side, though not quick enough the man's wretched longsword manages to nick the corner of Bagaglok's right shoulder, and the goblin spits disdainfully in the direction of Lorthrain. "Is that the best you can do, weakling? That was but a mere pinprick," he growls, glancing his target up and down, searching for an opening. "Hungry for battle, are we?" the rasping voice now calls out, mockingly. "Then, taste the cold fire of my blade!" Another lung is given as the Shaman reaches forward his own dark scimitar at Lorthrain's side.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Frarin] Frarin knocks a second small orc to the ground and steps over him, but his charge advances only a few steps more before a giant of an orc unfurls himself with hardly a second's notice. Frarin's steps slow and he instinctively leans backward as Vuglax towers over him, but the silversmith's momentum and height work against him. The archer's mace catches Frarin across the chin just so, pulling out tufts of beard and leaving a boody trail across one cheek. It takes the silversmith a second to recover, the weight of the mace enough to stun him temporarily as well as tear flesh. When he does right him, Frarin swings out with his mallet only distractedly at the orc's forearm.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax dodges your attack.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
The orcs and elves begin to join steel as the ground is finally gained. Not easily either. Most of the orcs are cut and a few wear arrows embedded in armor or flesh. 2 perished in the run. Thranduil's arrow rips into Grishnakh's armored hip, dipping into flesh and striking with enough force to exit again. The jolt stops his right leg cold for a moment, nearly tripping him up.
A furious roar breaks from the orc's lips, saliva flinging loose. he closes the remaining distance, a limp in the right leg, "Yeah! You can hit me! When I'm ten feet away!"
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
A hiss of pain ushers forth from the Barding as Bagaglok's blade slices at his side, though the chian of his armour holds up well and it seems the impact alone drew the sound from his lips. Lorthrain back away anew, eyes flitting between his two assailants, but with the Shaman pressing the attack more fiercly he steps forward suddenly punch out the pommel of his weapon into the advancing orc's face.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
[Thari(#31038)]
"Hah!" Thari cries, just making a sound, as Frarin's face is struck. Her momentum she allows to carry, stepping to the side and whipping otu the small, fast axe at Vuglax's hip and thigh.
Thari attacks Vuglax with her Axe, but Vuglax parries the attack with his Mace!
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Frarin's hammer swats naught but air this time around, but small matter for with a deep hiss of loathing the huge orc's eyes are drawn to Thari instead. Out swings the axe but Vuglax remains undaunted, raising his own weapon to swat aside her strike. Laughter spills out over a livid red tongue and up swings his mace anew, looking perhaps to do the same for Thari as was done for the other Dwarf.
Vuglax attacks Thari with his Mace and badly wounds her!
[Frarin] As Vuglax swings at Thari, it gives Frarin the time he needs to recover from the unexpected glow. Blood dribbles down one side of his face and stains his tunic and cloak, but Frarin hefts his hammer up and readies it for a concentrated attack this time. Even as the tall orc swings at and strikes Thari, so Frarin swings the spike of his hammer at Vuglax's side, just at the hip.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax parries your attack with his Mace!
[Bagaglok(#24847)] Lessoned learned: Steel connecting with mouth is dreadfully unpleasant. Bagaglok snarls as a clawed hand whips up to whip the stream of dark blood that now adorns his deformed features, and the creature turns slightly only to spit again, more black liquid flying forth. For a moment he pauses suddenly, as an arrow streaks overhead, and it is then that the Shaman sees the newcomers from the bordering wood. Another growl is uttered, ere he hastily faces Lorthrain once more, fanged mouth torn slightly from the offending sword's pommel. Despite the obvious pain, the Orc laughs abruptly as he stands up straighter, looming again over his foe like a red storm cloud. No retort does he give this time, and all the while the evil snorting erupts out as he swings for the man's chest this time.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
But Lorthrain has the wit to retreat once more from the dreadful sight of Bagaglok's face, and steeling himself against its ruin he raises high his shield. Lunging forward he sets the weight of his limbs and armour behind the shield's wall, and his intentions seem to be barding the SHaman to the ground.
[Combat(#13388)] Lorthrain sets Scrutiny, his sword, into its sheath with a practised ease.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Bare Hands and mildly wounds him!
[Combat(#13388)] Lorthrain brings forth his fell blade, Scrutiny, and it sits in his palm as it awaits the fray.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
Even as the elves brace themselves for the crash of bodies at the end of the charge, the King's bow falls from his hand. In a swift, singular motion, his cape is thrown back to reveal the gleaming truesilver of his mail and helm and the bright iron of his blade, as it is drawn forth.
"Then come, foul Captain I have a message for your master, that you may bear back to him!" comes Thranduil's reply.
[Combat(#13388)] Thranduil smoothly draws the ancient blade Endumegil from its scabbard.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari catches it under the chin, Vuglax's weapon briefly tangling in her beard before ripping a good bit of it out. She stumbles back as Frarin steps forward with his own attack.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] A wall of wood fills the Uruk's vision, and ere he can do anything, Bagaglok finds himself pinned to the cold ground, trapped by the pressure of Lorthrain's shield. He rough gasp is released as the air is forcefully knocked from his foul lungs, and he glares up at his foe who now bares down on him. He tries to worm to the side, but the heavy shield and the firm hold of the man thwarts his angry attempts. Finally, with a noticable effort, the Shaman manages to free one leg, which he then aims upward to hit the human in the arm, hopefully making his grip lessen.
[Combat(#13388)] Bagaglok flicks the cruel scimitar back into its blackened sheath with a hiss of steel.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Bare Hands, but he misses by a long shot.
Vuglax snarls and roars with confidence as he whirls about to meet Frarin's strike, once more the mace of the huge Uruk raises to protect him. But as hammer locks with mace he holds it there, eyes blazing and lips pulled back to reveal yellow fangs that gnash and chomp. "What's this?" he taunts. "Did I clip your beard so hard it tugged the wits from your head? Fall back, old dolt, or I'll dent your skull and hand it to ter friend there..."
And with that the great orc shoves into Frarin's hammer, hoping to drive the Dwarf backward and put space between them. Up lashes the vicious mace once more and as its spiked head hurtles about it seems destined to meet with the son of Forli's helm.
[Combat(#13388)] Bagaglok draws forth a rusty scimitar from its dark sheath with a chill ring of metal.
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 9 hp's by Vuglax's attack...
...you have 72 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Pishgob(#24654)] %rPishgob cares not for the words of elves, as long as they do not address her directly, though her nose wrinkles at the stink of them. She grumbles low in her throat, something about ruining the smell of dinner-meat, and she goes after Lorthrain again, swinging her scimitar at his flank with gleeful abandon, for today is a good day to die. For someone else.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his Longsword!
[Frarin] And meet the mace does, driving into the side of Frarin's head with a ferosity to match the last blow. Where the mace connects with the silversmith's gleaming helm it leaves deep dents, but once again several of the spikes rake across his cheek as well, drawing yet more red streaks across Frarin's face. More than that though, it leaves him dazed for a second time and he stumbles backwards a step, shaking his head, uttering no reply to Vuglax's taunts.
Perhaps expecting the giant orc to follow him as he stumbles back, Frarin swings out the mallet of his hammer with only one hand, a wild swing, but one that will catch Vuglax somewhere near his knee if he does not move.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax parries your attack with his Mace!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
Grishnakh sneers at the elf lord, though the face shifts to look a bit more wary as he sees this is not the ordinary tree hugger. As the bodies crash together around him and the clangs and grunts of battle rise, Grishnakh snaps back his own hood, revealing a very noticable gleam on his own dome.
"A message of surrender? You've finally learned?" The last two steps are taken and Grishnakh leaps forward in a flash. The scimitar slashes from overhead at the elf's neck, even as he eyes the other's sword warily and tries to position a defense.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's face has gone red while she arights herself and she gives a deep, enraged roar. She pounds toward Vuglax, throwing her weight behind her shield as if to crash into him and pounds the blade of her camp-axe toward his face, so high.
Thari attacks Vuglax with her Axe, but Vuglax parries the attack with his Mace!
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Even as Lorthrain raises his sword to strike a killing blow to Bagaglok suddenly his eyes flit to the advance of Pishgob, and with haste he chos down his weapon to save himself. Steel meets with iron as he parries the strike from the sly she-orc, and the Girion is given pause enough to retreat a further pace. Wildly does he swing out in reply, and while furious is his attack it is more than lacking in defense.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword, but Pishgob parries the attack with her shield!
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The orc's scimitar cleaves mightily, a powerful stroke indeed--but one that finds aught but air, where the King had stood.
Thranduil, as well, drives forward, vacating the arc of heavy, curved blade. As his legs drive him forward, and to the right of the dark captain, his sword trails behind, a raking swipe delivered towards the enemy's mid-section.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
Vuglax meanwhile must break off his duel with Frarin for the moment, as Thari's axe joins the assult, though deft is his mace as it swings back and forth to parry both blows. He hisses then in wrath, a hunter denied his kill, and it is upon Thari that he puts forth his malice when next he strikes. Out punches his mace's head, the spikes gleaming darkly with Frarin's blood as they seek to rend the same gore upon Thari's own face.
Vuglax attacks Thari with his Mace, but Thari parries the attack with her shield!
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Dinner, dinner, won't be thinner," chortles Pishgob, raising her shield to block the meat-slab's swing. She shakes her head, shifting, trying to drive the manling away from the others much like wolves separate fawns from the herd. "Mmmmm, venison," murmurs the she-orc, and the burner of bridges stabs a wicked thrust at the man-thing's... danglies. Erm, groin.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Dinner, dinner, won't be thinner," chortles Pishgob, raising her shield to block the meat-slab's swing. She shakes her head, shifting, trying to drive the manling away from the others much like wolves separate fawns from the herd. "Mmmmm, venison," murmurs the she-orc, and the burner of bridges stabs a wicked thrust at the man-thing's... danglies. Erm, groin.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by a handspan.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] As the Girion withdraws back, so must his arm follow, and the shield is raised enough for Bagaglok to roll out from under is oppressive shadow. He rights himself on his gray feet again, the corners of his bloodied mouth tugging back in a smirk as Pishgob's strike serves to distract Lorthrain for the moment. "Skai, let this maggot feel the sting of Mordor's might!" The Shaman laughs to the she-orc beside him, ere his own yellow eyes rove over Lorthrain his weapon lashes out again, a dark glint in the flickering firelight of the burning buildings, coming down for the human's lower leg.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his Longsword!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
WHOOSH! The blade crashes through the air, the orc able to suck his gut in just enough as he leaps back from the stroke. His eyes flick to the face of the elf. They narrow. He moves.
Grishnakh's left foot goes first, stepping inside the cut. He slams his shield in the direction of the sword, across his chest. He starts the momentum thus, and his body follows in a quick spin. He flicks his wrist, reversing the edge of the blade. The blade comes whizzing through the spin, snapped down at the king's knee.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Frarin] Again it is, unfortunately, Thari that gives Frarin's head the vital second or two it needs to stop spinning. The silversmith blinks rapidly for a moment as Thari becomes the orc's next target, and then Frarin's eyes focus again and he hefts his weapon back into both hands. With a grunt, he steps quickly forward and to the side, hoping to come further around to Vuglax's backside before the orc can turn. The blue war hammer is turned in hand such that the long spike points forward and this Frarin swings sideways, driving it towards Vuglax's back, just below the rib cage.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax parries your attack with his Mace!
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's furious eyes are so keen on Vuglax that the dwarf shoves her iron shield into the mace forcefully, a dull clang ringing out. The healer grunts with the effort. At once she reaches up again to strike for his face, to give him back the same marks he gave Frarin.
Thari attacks Vuglax with her Axe and moderately wounds him!
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The knee is too quick, but the uruk-hai blade's wicked point does not sweep past the elf entirely. raking across the chain that extends down over his thigh.
The elf is in mid-spin as well, his sword arcing upwards, and then sharply down, towards the sword-bearing arm of his new foe.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Nimble does Lorthrain need to be to escape the twin blades of Pishgob and Bagaglok, though no easy task is it for him to evade the strike of one and parry the slice of the other. His breath comes in pants, and weighed by the fine chain that guards him the Girion might be seen to tire somewhat. But ire stirs in his eyes then, a cry sounds from his lips, and through laboured breaths he calls out loud and clear: "For Dale!"
Out swipes his blade then, seeking to put an end to the sly she-orc before him, or at least set the fear of the Bardings into her breast.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword and moderately wounds her!
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Finally the huge figure of Vuglax is struck for true, so busy is he with the thunderous attack of Frarin that his mind forgets the threat of Thari. Her axe bites into the already foul features of the Uruk, slicing open his cheek and batting it backward in a wash of dark blood. The orc reels at the blow, stumbling back a pace, and here indeed could be the Dwarves chance to make an end of him!
ARB: Vuglax has "passed" on his turn to attack.
[Frarin] "Hah, Thari!" Frarin crows as the healer strikes Vuglax back a pace, at last giving the duo of fighting dwarves a small victory over the giant. The silversmith follows Vuglax as the orc stumbles back, his face red with more than blood now as his dark eyes blaze with concentration. Out swings the blue hammer, the spiked end again leading the way, though this time aimed for the side of the orc's knee.
You blindly attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax dodges your attack.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari grins wide, at Frarin's cry, beard all wild and bloody. She hurries to Vuglax's side and chops at the leg opposite of Frarin's strike.
Thari attacks Vuglax with her Axe, but she misses by a handspan.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
But the great brute of an orc has been given time now to regather himself, and even with the foul reek of his blood catching upon the night air he whirls about to slip aside the renewed assult of the Dwarves. Thari now fills his wrathful gaze anew, and so it is that the dreadful mace swings up in a bid to leave Frarin's companion headless.
Vuglax attacks Thari with his Mace and badly wounds her!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
The pace of the battle is fluid and swift. Grishnakh falling into the dance completely. He sees the the sword and manages to force the blow to glance off his gauntleted wrist. Still it knicks his knuckles and his black blood trickes from the wound.
As the blade slides off, the vorazg slams his shield at the king's face and sword arm. Legs powering forward he hacks low. Snapping his massive arm down at the legs.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
[Bagaglok(#24847)] "Death for Dale, that is!" the Malkog retorts at the human's cry, fury blazing once more as Pishbog is struck with Lorthrain's point of steel. With a vicious grunt, Bagaglok prowls closer, raking his weapon in an attempt to knock the Barding's sword from his hands. "Don't move," is all he growls as he wields the fell scimitar in stained claws, "and your end will be swift if you are fortunate this eve!"
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
[Frarin] Frarin wastes hardly a second as Vuglax renews his attack on Thari, for the silversmith does not even pause to allow any exclamation at the terrible blow that Thari must have received. He presses his attack once more, perhaps a bit erratically as he strives to draw the orc away from his companion. This time the mallet of Frarin's hammer swings up from the ground, aimed right for Vuglax's groin.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's head catches the mace on the side in a blow that would surely slay a human man. This dwarf, however, remains intact, lofting into the air and thrown back to lie atop dead bodies, senseless and bleeding from the temple.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax dodges your attack.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
A rasp of triumph fills the air nearest the blazing town as Thari goes tumbling, and Vuglax turns a fearsome gaze upon Frarin, stepping smartly to the side to preserve his vitals. Tireless he seem to be, and brawny besides, and raising high his mace he then sends it crashing down in a murderous rush.
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 30 hp's by Vuglax's attack...
...you have 42 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The first flurry of combat is over, and the serious business begins, between elf and uruk-hai. Thranduil's thigh is struck again, the heavy scimitar grinding down over the protective mail. The King's feet, though, are planted firmly, he does not flit or dance away from the blow, instead standing toe to toe with the foul captain, and delivering a forehanded reply.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
Pishgob growls as the human's blade slashes her chest, hurting the mail, and her too. "Curse you to death and darkness and woodsmoke!" she shrieks, her eyes flashing with angry fire. She lifts her blade higher, stabbing it once more between his manly-legs.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Manly legs that still cling to the energy of boyhood manage to dance away, but not far enough to evade harm -- a thin line of red stretches along Lorthrain's knee thanks to Pishgob's blade, and he winces. No less so indeed than after Bagaglok's own scimitar flashes out, and while he is able to drag away his hand from the strike his forearm catches the sting instead.
Heyes blazing, his breath seeping out in pain he is forced back closer to the town by his adversaries.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
Grishnakh does dance from the blow, ducking and stepping to make it fly overhead. The orc commander stares the elf in the face, distant fires glimmering off hate filled eyes. Corded muscles snap an attack back at the elf king as the orc stands back to full height. His blade slices upward, an underhand slice beneath the elf's elbow.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
Thranduil removes Spear.
[Frarin] Again there is nothing but air to meet Frarin's hammer, but it is perhaps fortunate this time that his momentum carries him through. It makes it ever so slightly easier to avoid the crash of Vuglax's mace from above. Or rather, to avoid a direct blow to the head, which might surely have been fatal. Instead Frarin steps just to the side and the mace crashes upon his right shoulder instead. Chainmail rings fly and red instantly soaks the dwarf's clothing straight through to his heavy outer cloak. There is also an unpleasant popping noise and Frarin cries aloud, releasing his left hand from his hammer.
The silversmith is driven to one knee and his good arm and hammer go to the ground to steady himself as his left arm hangs useless at his side. He does not liger there for long, however, well aware of the giant who looms over him. Frarin pushes back, landing at a sit a pace away and pushing back still to give himself distance from Vuglax.
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
You forego your chance to attack.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's eyes open, a little vague and crossed at first. The healer tries to focus, then sits up, head hanging and swaying. She bobs it this way and that, then begins the brave expidition toward her axe, a few paces away, eventually managing to regain her feet, though not very steadily.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] "Get him, get him!" the throaty cheer seeps forth as the she-uruk attacks, and Bagaglok watches the Dale-man with satisfaction as Lorthrain begins to edge backwards. "The uruk-hosts will not leave hungry tonight," a vile tongue flicks out again to lick his foul lips as the Shaman cleaves the air asunder with his blade, a forehanded strike against Lorthrain's unguarded ribs eyes glitter as the scimitar flies.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his shield!
[Pishgob(#24654)]
Pishgob darts as Bagaglok attacks, slipping around the manling's side. "Pity about the dangles. Always so salty," she croons, half to herself. Then she lunges, having reached Lorthrain's side, and attempts to carve a slice of rump while the meat is still alive.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by an arm's length.
Grox crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Grox has arrived.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Cackling darkly to himself as he looms over the maimed figure of Frarin, Vuglax hefts his his mace over his head and sneers down to the brave khazad. "Got even shorter, have you?" he croons, and cruel delight dances in his eyes. "Well now you make my work easy. See! I need not even lift my mace so high to put an end to you!"
And with that he lowers his weapon swinging it out sideways in a bid to swat Frarin in the face, though there is little strength to the blow. Perhaps he is toying now with his prey?
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Pressed back further, hounded by the vicious strikes of the two orcs facing him, Lorthrain stalks ever closer to the firelit town. As as the timbers of the buildings there creak and groan with the very effort of staying aloft, the Barding evades and parries for his life. Suddenly he changes tack anew, hoping it seems to catch Pishgob off guard, stabbing forth his blade in search of her black heart.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword and lightly wounds her!
[Pishgob(#24654)]
Pishgob's little black heart is protected by big steely mail, wiry muscle, ropy sinew, and a temper to match a rabid warg in heat. The blade pricks her shoulder, and she spits a foamy gob at the manling, her breath matching the cleanliness of what she spits. "So be it, meat," she growls, a bit pained, and goes to slice the boy up the groin again.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The elf shifts, taking the blow instead in the side, as he moves to mirror the uruk captain's dance. He twists as he is struck again, his eyes darkening as the melee thickens between orc and elf about him.
His rush is sudden, and swift, whipping his blade from his right shoulder, to his left, and reaching for the hilt with both hands now, he drives it down towards the uruk-hai's weapon-arm.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
[Frarin] Maimed though he may be, Frarin, it seems, is not dead yet. He continues to push against the earth, but when Vuglax bears down on him, his good arm lifts his hammer up and blocks the lazy swat at his face. Thari is spotted as the healer stands unsteadily, but Frarin growls as he strains himself and pulls unintentionally at the mangled muscles of his right arm. Yet a parry is not enough to put off the giant orc. Wielding his weapon with only his one good hand, Frarin swings out at Vuglax's ankles, clearly hoping to take the orc off balance enough to move away.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax dodges your attack.
[Thari(#31038)]
"Hal!" shouts Thari above the noise of the battle. "Hal!" The healer starts to walk toward Frarin in a determined way, but stumbles and drops to a knee.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] "Why make it harder, filthy human?" Bagaglok's cackle raises over the din of the crackling flames as the group of three venture further in the ruined trade town. "Though your pitiful persistence adds to the worth of the sacrifice to the Eye you will be--still it would be better if you yielded." His eyes scan the area as he speakes, "There seems to be plenty of firewood for cooking," he adds to Pishgob as he himself turns again to lash the scimitar forward like a scorpion's tail for Lorthrain's shoulder.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but he misses by an arm's length.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
Such power. Savage nasty elf power. Type of power that really hurts. Seriously.
Grishnakh takes it all. He attempts to get the more armored shoulder in to take the brunt of the blow. It drives home wickedly, tearing through armor and flesh. Hitting bones. It is all he can do to continue moving back, loosing his body from the blade.
Grishnakh backsteps a few times, Keeping his shield full up to defend. His blade stays in his grip, fingers can be seen opening and closing around the hilt. He tries to rotate his shoulder as thick black ichor begins to seep out, steaming in the frozen air.
[Frarin] But Hal is already at Thari's side, having come from behind her even as she tried to walk towards Frarin. "Other way, Thari!" the seasoned veteran mutters quickly into the healer's ear and he takes Thari's arm to steer a path for the town, burning though it may be. The old soldier spares a glance back at Frarin upon the ground, but a second glane at Thari seems to steel his resolve anew and he pulls still harder at the healer's arm.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Vuglax hops from foot to foot as Frarin strikes out, cackling madly and spitting down upon the noble, if bloodied brow of the Dwarf. Not a whit of care is given to the various cries about him he has burning eyes only for his foe, now. Deep and low swings his heavy mace, the spikes glistening in the light of the fire as it seeks an end to the tale of Frarin son of Forli.
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari turns, head swinging low. "Help him! I'll go back!" Thari tries to shake Hal's arm off as she goes toward the town in flames.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The elf-king's advantage is gained suddenly, and pressed, his fellow elves surging around him, the flow of this smaller battle pivoting upon the waxing and waning of dark against light, captain against king.
Right foot crosses behind left. Knees bend and then straighten, hips twist violently, the elf-king's blade rises as his spin begins, and falls as he steps forward out of it, suddenly and terribly.
You paged Vuglax with 'Mind if I bring in my NPC to aid Frarin's flee?'.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Lorthrain winces anew as Pishgob's blade slices in, but once again he is agile enough to lose only a fresh score along his thigh -- he rues it all the same. Bagaglok's fury forces him back yet further, and now the glow of the fire rises up behind him to cast reds and golds about their feet. Lorthrain snarls then, some levy broken in the youthful features and a feral gleam enters his eye.
Lout he lashes with a wicked stroke of his blade aimed at the Malkog's eyes, ere he turns his attention to Pishgob once more.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Longsword and severely wounds him!
[Pishgob(#24654)] %rPishgob howls as yet again she only manages to scratch the man-thing, and she leaps toowards him, swinging her blade rapidly, gibbering at him vocally, as if she is a mad horde of wild beasts come out after him. Her eyes flicker in the town's burning light, and it is not a nice flickering at all. She swings her blade to cleave his hip from his body, if she can.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
The orc roars in defiance off the king and his elves. The primal malice and loathing in that scream almost tangible. Grishnakh keeps stepping back. Thus the sword slices short of the commander.
With the roar, the orcs push back on the tide. Grishnakh too steps in, his blade held high. Surely slower than before and with less power, it plunges. The blood splatters off his soaked arm, down to the gummy hilt. The king better move his neck....
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Frarin] Hal does indeed leave Thari to return to the town alone and he pounds back towards the forest with battleaxe at the ready. He reaches Frarin just as the silversmith is reaching up again to manage a desperate parry to the vengeful spikes of Vuglax's whirling mace. With a cry of Baruk Khazad, Hal swings up with his axe even as Vuglax swings down. Frarin, maimed but clear headed, strikes at his chance for retreat while Hal distracts the orc. The silversmith pushes himself to his feet and makes for the burning town.
You try to flee from Vuglax, but he blocks your attempt!
[Bagaglok(#24847)] There is a terrible howl of anguish as the Barding's cursed sword flings out, scoring a direct hit across the Orc's muddied brow, finding a mark just beneath Bagaglok's skull helmet the Shaman whirls around, stumbling blindly away from his assailant, hopefully back enough to be out of the human's reach. A gray hand snakes up over his face as Bagaglok struggles against a new foe--the black oozing blood that runs over his eyes. The scimitar lies useless at his side for now as he steps a hasty length away.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Valour is won and lost upon the field of battle, and yet few could have expected the gamble made by Hal as he streaks across to intervene with Vulgax' business. Even as the deadly mace hurtles forth the axe of the brave Dwarf meets it, sparks flying as it runs then down the hilt to sever the Uruk's hand at the wrist.
A howl of pain rends the night air then, and staggering pack, clutching at the stump of his forearm, Vulgax sinks to his knees in agony. More of his foul blood stains the land beneath him and for the moment at least he is vanquished.
ARB: Vuglax has "passed" on his turn to attack.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Lorthrain's eyes narrow as Pishgob once again makes her strike upon his flesh, but with the departure of Bagaglok from the duel suddenly the young Barding lord takes heart. His back straightens, eyes flash in wrath as he squares to face her, and up raises the shield once more as a guard against further harm.
"Get gone, swine!" he spits, even as Pishgob's spittle stains his livery, and it is with a savage hack that he sends his sword out looking for blood from the she-orc's shoulder.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The King raises a mailed arm to deflect the blow, taking the edge of the heavy scimitar as a glancing blow.
His own blade is not so heavy, but its reach is long, and its point is sharp.
"Back, foul minion!" the King exclaims, his voice ringing out across the whole field, thunderous with rage, and unmistakable to any who hear it, "Back to your hole! Back to your glen, your dell! Back!"
With this exclamation, his sword drives forward, a thrust aimed at the neck of the orc, yielding no quarter.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword, but Grishnakh parries the attack with his shield!
[Frarin] Hal wastes no time as the orc sinks to the ground, one hand down. The old soldier grabs Frarin under the arm of his good shoulder and hauls him up from his unsteady stumbling, steering the silversmith towards the town just as he had Thari only moments before. "Come on, come on, come on," Hal mutters over and over, as Frarin pulls together what strength has not been bled away.
You try to flee from Vuglax, but he blocks your attempt!
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Aww, does he get his little clothes wet?" sneers the she-orc, noting Lorthrain's distaste. She skitters away from his attack, laughing again, amused despite the pain of her own wounds. "Die, die, we can roast you on the embers of your town. Nice embers, and beer, maybe..." She lunges at him again, aiming for his side again, nice rib-meat, if not plump enough.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by a mile.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
No reply comes now from the Barding's lips as he vies with Pishgob he steps aside her efforts to give an answer in steel and a gaze turned fey. Fell are his strokes as they rain down upon the she-orc, and gine is the stiffness of the training yard. This Greenhorn Captain grows bolder with every lash of his sword, and he sends a low sweeping slice toward her foremost leg.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword and lightly wounds her!
[Grishnákh(#22300)]
The beast roars again as time seems to slow around him. He thrusts his wood shield upwards and catches the thrusting sword diirectly. Treated not to crack, the shield groans. Grishnakh pushes his shield against the tip with his good arm, trying to make it accept the sword. Powering forward he hacks down at the king's knees, trying to overbalance him.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Angry mutterings is all that Bagagglok can yield forth, as he blinks wildly, still trying to see the scene happening around him sounds and smells only aid such a creature so far, afterall. The robed form curses again, turning this way and that, for now he is no longer certain which direction he is facing. "To the Halls of Feasting with you, manling!" he is able to snarl, ere he takes heel once more, retreating a little further away, hopefully not back towards the fray that has now degraded to the Dale-man and she-orc. What use can a blinded Uruk be in such a situation?
[Thranduil(#5440)]
Thrust turned aside, the King is bloodied by the heavy blade of the scimitar, a quick leap backwards keeping the blade from doing more damage.
Landing, planting, and driving forward again, feinting another thrust to the right, before rolling his shoulder forward, twisting his hips, and delivering a heavy overhanded blow.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
With a final hiss, the hunched figure of Bagaglok whirls around once more, ears cocked as he listens for the nearby sounds of the battle. As soon as he thinks he is able to hazard a guess at any sort of direction that will serve to let the Uruk live to serve the darkness another day, he is off, slipping through the remainder of the Orkish horde for a place in the rear. After a moment and flurry of tattered garb, he is gone.
From West over Bridge, [<#28583>] A sudden cry can be heard from the forbidding line of Mirkwood. Shrill and piercing is the sound, long and drawn out, but those who have heard the tongues of orcs might make out a few words. " Fall back, Vorazg!" it cries. " The town is ablaze that is enough! Fall back and save your strength for another day!"
[Grishnákh(#22300)]
Grishnakh hurls his shield across at the sword. It glances off enough to direct the blow to the already wounded shoulder. The orc groans as the sword crashes in, higher this time, cracking his collarbone. He staggers back from the elf and takes up his sword in his left, unwounded arm. Then comes the scream....
Fanglike teeth gritted together in pain, Grishnakh glares at the king in defiance and murderous rage, "There are far worse than I coming for you, albai buub. The master comes. Walking death. There is nothing you can do!" Almost maniacal in his speech, the orc laughs wildly and leaps with a sudden quickness. He stabs his heavy curved blade in for a death blow. The razor honed edge in a line with the king's throat.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.
Grishnakh removes Wooden Shield.
Grishnákh puts down Wooden Shield.
[<#5440>]
"" The elf-king's cry is accompanied by a flurry of feints and quick moves, side-stepping the left-handed blow with ease, he he measures his next strike carefully before delivering it, towards the underside of the outstretched left arm, and the uruk-hai's side.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
[Grishnákh(#22300)]
The vorazg growls through the pain of the blow as he tries to step back and doesn't quite make it. It tears armor and will definately hurt, but no blood comes pouring forth as it rakes across his ribs. He keeps back stepping, for the first time survying the battle about him. Elf and orc alike lie scattered about, dead in the cold. Blood mixes a hot muddy brown in the snow, melting and refreezing and being trampled underfoot. Black and red blood. Death and fire.
He utters a word in morbeth and what is left of the orcs break off and group around him. Steam bursting from his mouth in the cold air, sweating despite the chill he growls at Thranduil, "Your woods are not yours anymore. It's not safe. It won't be long." He keeps backstepping as he talks. The orcs obviously attempting to retreat, "Can't you see the clouds in the east? The time is come! He comes!"
[Combat(#13388)]
Grishnakh tries to flee from Thranduil, but he fails!
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The King's rage is complete, as he sees his fallen comrades, it drives him forward. He is swift, as are the remainders of his company.
"Speak more!" he commands, his tenor booming above the sounds of the remaining fray, "I shall take your tongue next, and the foul stink of the bonfire will be all that returns to Dol Guldur from this field!"
His cries bring with them another heavy blow, the blade of Thranduil's sword is blackened with the blood of this uruk-hai captain, shedding that icre as it arcs out in ia vicious strike toward Grishnakh's head.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and terribly wounds him!
[Grishnákh(#22300)]
The vorazg staggers under the weight of the mighty blow. The mithril helmet is all that saves him, for the blade does not pierce the helmet. Immediately, a few orcs step themselves between the king and Grishnakh as the entire contingent continues to retreat. Staggering now and sweating profusely, the orc commander retreats as fast as he is able, no more words spewing from his rolling tongue.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
The shrill cry from the forest has drawn the gazes of more than one combatant, and while the orcs look back in frustration, the defenders of Iach Celduin seem confused. The fighting slows as the orcs sullenly withdraw, though nothing can hide the cackles they give as they survey the burning wreck of the town and the bodies of the slain.
Lorthrain watches the melee die before him, and now the breath comes thick and heavy from his breast as he is left alone befre the great fire. Hie eyes turn then towards the duel of the Elvenking and his savage foe, and the young Girion lord breathes a sigh of relief to see the latter take flight.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The Elvenking makes quick work of the orcs that press themselves forward to cover their commander's retreat, "Bows! Bows!" he cries out in Sindarin, and then in the common speech, "Tell your master of the wrath of the Elf-King for I have heard that voice before, and it has been, and will be driven back again! Fly now, but there is no escaping me!"
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
As the soldiers of Mordor depart, or fall to elven shot and dart, Lorthrain finds at length the breath to cry out across the slain. "Elf-lord!" says he. "Or so I deem you to be! Waste not your arrows in wrath, but I pray you come meet with me here, where our once fair town burns."
A different light is in the Barding's eyes than before the battle, and a sterner set has come to his brow.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The Elf-King stands amongst his small host. His bow is retrieved, handed to him just as the last orc escapes its range. With a brief, quiet word, the pair of fallen elves are silently retrieved by their companions and borne off, even as Thranduil turns his attention to the smouldering of the town.
He sets off to close the distance, still surrounded by half of the three dozen who accompanied him from the forest.
Iach Celduin
Iach Celduin is an old trading town built on the border of Mirkwood, where the Old Forest Road emerges and meets the Running River come down from the Long Lake to the northeast.
The town is on the east side of the river, in a bend as it turns to flow to the southeast, built next to a wide bridge heavy enough for large burdened wagons to safely cross. The town is fairly large, with several livery stables, stores and inns to help support the increase in traffic across the road since the death of Smaug and re-population of Erebor years before. The town also has a large contigent of soldiers from the Dale-Lands, to help guard against the predidations of orcs and other fell beasts from the woods.
Several docks stick out into the river, and barges laden with logs felled in the forest make regular runs up-river to the sawmills powered by the water fall at the base of the distant Long Lake.
Contents:
Witch-king
Drinking object
Bifur
Caravan
Obvious exits:
Inn, Into the River, SouthEast, and West over Bridge
Ragus crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Ragus has arrived.
[Ragus(#28392)]
Night falls across the land once more, but the brave watchmen of Iach Celduin may be glad indeed that this evening no tongue of flame licks against the sky. All is calm and dark, as it should be, but all the same a strange disquiet settles upon the town. Guards are posted with keener and warier eyes than usual -- keeping a vigil o'er the land lest the mysterious fires of the Enemy are finally to be revealed.
And all the while they might miss the dark shapes that steal forth toward the town, slipping into the waters with nary a splash swimming with soft strokes to the eastern bank. For remember -- no bridge now stands to carry them across the river, its charred timbers serving as a daily reminder to the town of the grisly foes that are at their doorstep.
Orcs are on the move once again, then, and as they claw their way out of the water they flatten themselves against the bankm awaiting perhaps some sign.
[Frarin] The dwarf Frarin comes from the direction of one of the stables of the town, carrying with him a limp leather bag that might have held something heavier a moment before apples, perhaps? Whatever the case, he comes away from the stables and seems headed from the inn. A heavy cloak and scarf are wrapped about his person to protect against the cold, and he wears the grim, stony expression that has been his habit since coming to Iach Celduin, but he looks generally at ease. Now and again, however, his eyes do steal to the sky, looking both north and south, but if they turn to Mirkwood, it is only to look absently at the wood. Other distractions of late, it would seem, have stolen the silversmith's attention.
[Ragus(#28392)]
And he seems not alone, for likewise are the eyes of the other guards, keen and attentive they may be, are trained upon the horizon and not the broders of their torchlight. So it is that the band of uruk-hai, or yrch as they are known to the Elves, slink on. When all are gathered upon the banks, whispers and hisses that stay beneath the wind are sent among their number. Slowly bows are brought forth from leather sheaths, their strings thus undampened by the river, and more than a few of their bearers have with them also a curious pouch.
These they open, dipping arrowheads inside eagerly, and were the moon to catch the darts just right thay might glisten as though covered in some sticky black ooze.
[Frarin] Painfully unaware of the encroaching danger, Frarin stops half-way to the inn, where another dwarf is passing. The two seem to make quiet conversation for a moment, their voices business-like but generally relaxed. News of recent events at the Lonely Mountain, it seems, has not yet reached Iach Celduin. "And the barrels...not a matter...if need be." Snatches of the conversation may drift down to the uruks who approach, if they have any interest to listen.
From the inn comes a burst of sudden laughter, a bief respite from the tension so heavy upon the town. A door opens somewhere and a lantern sputters into life at a window. And with a slight breeze, a dog begins to bark behind the inn. And then another near the stables.
[Glorfindel(#30248)] Two dark shadows among the silent assailants rise in the crook of the docks, cold black eyes narrowing just below foot level at the sound of barking. Both draw forth black bows from their backs, nocking poisoned arrows as quietly as their brutish hands can manage. One sneers, cracked grey lips drawn back from yellow teeth, while the other only shifts impatiently, eyes staring intently as his muscles coil, waiting.
[Ragus(#28392)]
Though even as they do, the barking of the dogs gives them pause. Wary, vicious eyes peer up to check on the town's defenders, but after long moments with little heed paid to the mutts, they curl their lips anew and return to their work. The slick black arrows are set carefully to one side, and at a sign from a leader, they bring forth small boxes.
Flint and tinder! Quickly they make sparks to kindle a flame, and when several tiny fire burn upon the banks of the river, shielded by the black shapes of the orcs that stoke them, finally the archers nock their darts to their strings...
[Frarin] "Right, see to it," comes Frarin's gruff voice from the town. His comrade departs, leaving the silversmith to peer studiously at the inn, his head cocked to one side as if listening to the bark of the dogs behind it. A young lad, one of the townsfolk, exits the inn suddenly with a bucket of water and Frarin catches him by the arm. "Say, lad, have a look behind the inn and see what's giving those dogs such a racket. Can't be too careful otherwise." The lad mutters a reply and dashes off, leaving the dwarf to continue on towards the inn.
[Glorfindel(#30248)] As tiny fires kindle around the bank, amber sparks light in both pairs of cold eyes near the docks. Snarling beneath the sound of water lapping against the shore, the two assassins bring their eyes level with the planks of the docks, picking out guards upon the stair to each pier with eyes cold and calculating. With their bows nearly laid upon their sides against the wooden surface,to avoid drawing notice or casting unwanted shadows, they take aim, each upon the foremost guards with only the whispersoft groan of a bowstring - hardly different and far quieter than the creak of a mast - is their only chance at a warning.
[Frarin] "Would somebody stop up them bloody dogs?" one of the Dalemen guards complains loudly, crossing his arms and glancing back at the town with annoyance as the dogs bark on. "Ah go on," another of the guards calls back to his comrade, "wouldn't you bark if you'd got nothing better to do on a freezing night?"
"Suppose," the first guard mutters, then looks back at the woods. His head tips slightly to the side and he squints at the darkness, perhaps his first - and likely last - inkling of something wrong?
[Ragus(#28392)]
If so, then it may have come too late to the man, for as the shielded fires burn, the doctored arrows are dipped into their flames and are set ablaze themselves. Swiftly the archers spin about, drawing back their strings and letting fly their fiery shots into a high arc. It seems they're after the thatch and wood of the buildings themselves.
[Glorfindel(#30248)] No sooner than the archers whirl to loose their shots do the two shadows assassins bend their bowstrings upon the dockside guards, speeding two black, unlit arrows upon the air toward the hale Dalemen that guard the banks. To the one who watches the darkness to the west, a faint glimpse of a pale sneer set in a wicked face intent upon his may be his last sight, if the arrow's aim is true.
[Frarin] What at first was only an inkling of doubt upon the guardsman's face turns quickly into surprise as darts of fire suddenly light the ground at the forest's edge and are soon flying overhead. And there before him is a pale face, a sneer as terrible as the forest the man is bound to guard against. "Sou--" the unfortunate man begins to cry, but the assassin's arrow is indeed true and the Daleman falls back with the feathered shaft caught fast in his throat.
Yet the foreshortened cry and the fly of arrow overhead are enough to draw alarm from those few out of doors in the cold still. And among these are Frarin. His boot is only just touching the first step up into the inn when a blazing arrow thunks into the overhanging thatched roof of the building. For a second, the dwarf's eyes widen, and then he whirls about as other spots of flame begin to lick at the buildings of Iach Celduin. "Attack!" bellow the silversmith. "The town is under attack!"
Grishnakh crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Grishnakh has arrived.
[Ragus(#28392)]
And now revealed the orcs cackle and chatter their scorn out into the night the archers nocking fresh arrows to their strings and setting these ablaze in similar fashion. Up and out they soar as they are loosed, once more arcing towards the buildings of the town.
And meanwhile the two assains are not left alone, for amid the archers stir more shapes, fewet to be sure, but these have a purposeful gait and jagged blades rest in their fingers as they move to meet with the silversmith's challenge.
One of their number, a tall, stocky brute with livid red eyes glares about, hissing in anticipation for the oncoming fray. Ragus grips tight a spear, and points its tip toward Frarin.
[Glorfindel(#30248)] Except for their heads, the assassins remain under cover of the docks for another volley, and where their kindred cackle and howl into the night, this pair seeks to maintain a treacherous silence. No sooner than the first guard is felled do they turn upon two more, trusting much to the attention drawn by the assault of their brethren, wrought of flame and blade.
Bagaglok crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Bagaglok has arrived.
Pishgob crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Pishgob has arrived.
[Frarin] Frarin pounds up the remainder of the stairs to the inn's door and throws it open. The men inside are already beginning to stir, but the dwarf repeats his cry of attack and suddenly the merry chamber is a rush of action. Outside as well, the encamped soldiers of men and dwarves alike are coming to life, drawn by the shouts of attack and the pinpricks of fire so suddenly dotting the town. Frarin stands in the doorway of the inn only a second, for he is already drawing the blue war hammer that hangs at his side and readying it.
It does not take the dwarf long to spot the stocky orc who seems to have fixed its target on him. "Aye, well then," Frarin mutters to himself, follows it up with a muttered curse as well, and charges. Men and dwarves stream from the inn, those who have them drawing weapons, and others scurrying about in panic to attempt to put out the growing flames.
Thranduil has arrived.
Thari travels along the River Celduin as she approaches the town from the southeast.
Thari has arrived.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
The alarm of the Dwarves rouses the men of Dale no less, though they take a moment or two longer to ready themselves. Out behind the rush of Frarin comes the youthful lord Lorthrain, and his eyes widen at the sight before him. Nodding curtly to two of his guards he points to the panic of those stemping against the flames, and says: "Calm them, and find what stores of water or ale we have. Rouse Thari too, and have him get the merchants involved. The rest are with me.."
And so the Girion noble advances out, sword in hand, to meet with his first true taste of battle. Six hardy warriors of Dale flank him, and they join ranks with Frarin, Forli's son.
[Combat(#13388)] Ragus puts on Ring Mail Armor.
[Combat(#13388)] Ragus wields Spear.
[Ragus(#28392)]
The eyes of the stocky orc blaze anew at this, but anger is not to be found in their gaze -- rather Ragus appears to relish Frarin's advance. He squares himself to face the doughty khazad, and hefting his spear within his hand he steps forth with purposeful gait the tip of his weapon snaking this way and that through the night air in a bid to slip past the Dwarf's guard.
Ragus attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he misses!
[Thari(#31038)]
More dwarves come from the town, stout figures with heavy axes and armor set with precious metals and gems. Thari is among them, toward the back, holding a steel shield high against arrows, looking beneath it out upon the battle.
"Baruk Khazad!" cries this dwarf, and others take up the cry in a thunder of deep voices. "KHAZAD AI-MENU!"
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Khazad on the menu, all right," mutters one orc, a smallish, wiry she-creature who knows this place well enough. She has walked here, burned here, passed her water here, why not? Now time to catch a meal for eating. Pishgob licks her teeth, laughing to herself.
[Frarin] Frarin looks only briefly to his side when he is joined abrest with the half a dozen men of Dale as they advance. And it is not long before men, dwarves and orcs meet. Frarin grunts when the stocky orc does indeed take aim at him, but the silversmith skips a step to his side and the spear stabs past him harmlessly. "Go on then," he taunts gruffly. Seeking to take advantage of Ragus' failed stab, Frarin swings the mallet of his hammer up and over, aiming it down towards Ragus' outstretched forearm.
You blindly attack Ragus with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ragus badly wounds him!
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari, still toward the back as the dwarves and men advance, says a bit desperately to a brown-bearded dwarf nearby, "Let's go out there. Can't do anything from here-- we can't go to the fortress and not know, Hal. My axe is as keen as theirs!"
[Bagaglok(#24847)] Fire rains from the sky as the orkish arrows continue to spill forth, landing here and there amongst the townsfolk and their buildings. Several roofs catch fire now as the goblin horde advances, the hunched form of the red-garbed Mordain Shaman, Bagaglok, in their midst. A rusty scimitar is clasped in his black claws, though it has not yet tasted blood of any foes this night. He watches the assault with yellow eyes that gleam with naught but cruel amusement as the orc weapons clash, the deafening ring of metal sounding through the darkness. A rasping voice emerged from his throat as he calls out, "Death to the humans and khazad fools! Let their life-blood be fitting sacrifice for our Master!"
[Combat(#13388)] Bagaglok A harsh ring of metal heralds the flash of a rusty scimitar as Bagaglok draws it from its sheath.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Lorthrain meanwhile steps forth past the duel of Frarin and Ragus, his eyes turning harder as they become more used to the sight of the orcs. His gaze flits from savage brute to savage brute in search of a fitting challenge, and as Bagaglok cries out he nods decisively. He stalks forward then, moving to cross his path with that of the Shaman, but perhaps lack of caution betrays him. Heeding not the sly figure of Pishgob he all but walks by ther burner of the bridge entirely, his side unguarded.
[Combat(#13388)] Lorthrain brings forth his fell blade, Scrutiny, and it sits in his palm as it awaits the fray.
[Frarin] "I know it is, Thari," the brown-bearded Hal rumbles back, watching the unfolding fight with all the longing of a hardened veteran. "Right, I reckon Frarin wouldn' have it any other way, but you stick close by me, right? Back to back if need be, cause I ain't going home if you ain't!" With a gruff nod at Thari, Hal waves the healer towards the fray and starts that way himself.
[Combat(#13388)] Thranduil smoothly slides the ancient blade Endumegil into its scabbard.
[Ragus(#28392)]
Frarin's strike is well aimed indeed, and the Dwarf is well rewarded in turn as the hammer crashes down against his arm. A snarl is taken up, and a hiss of pain to boot, but still he does not drop the long shaft of his spear. Instead, backing away, crading his wounded arm up beneath his shoulder he retreats warily shield held high to hold off the wrath of Frarin.
ARB: Ragus has "passed" on his turn to attack.
[Thari(#31038)]
So Thari goes forward, hunched against the arrowes and followed by the taller and older Hal. In fact, their path lies toward Frarin and Ragus.
Thari's axe is the smallest among the dwarves and bejewelled, but it is held up and ready as nearer they come to the foes. A flaming arrow hisses by, just a few feet above (a man might have been slain) and behind, the town is going up in flames.
[Frarin] "No no, where's that smile gone, mm?" Frarin grunts at Ragus as the orc backs away. He does not taunt the stocky orc further, however, instead following him even as he backs away. The dwarf swings low, aiming to bring his hammer beneath the orc's shield held high. This time it is the wicked spiked end of the hammer that the dwarf swings, driving it towards Ragus' left knee.
You attack Ragus with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ragus badly wounds him!
[Ragus(#28392)]
The hammer strikes well again, and with a fresh roar of pain the stocky orc hobbles back and down onto one knee. But malice flashes in his eyes all the same, and casting aside his shield he grips tight his spear-haft with both hands, dragging it back urgently only to plunge it forward in desperation toward Frarin's belly.
Ragus removes Leather Shield.
Ragus puts down Leather Shield.
Ragus attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 3 hp's by Ragus's attack...
...you have 94 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
Pishgob, licking her lips, sees the succulent figure of Lorthrain, his tastiness exposed, and the side, too. Her scimitar twitches in her hands, and she darts partly out of her concealment and slashes at Lorthrain's side, rather like trying to slice bacon, but without the pig-tail
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by a long shot.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] A hiss of sick laughter escapes Bagaglok's fanged lips as the besieged town blazes in the winter night, and he mutters something in a dreadful language. He turns now to cast a quick survey of the scene, and a second dark look crosses the Uruk's twisted features as he sights the approaching form of Lorthrain. "Is it such that you do not value your life, filth? Strutting about in the midst of the enemy is not a wise decision." The creature's eyes light hungrily as he raises forth his own weapon.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his shield!
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Sly Pishgob may be, but at the last moment it would seem she gives herself away, and with a gape of alarm Lorthrain turns to face her. Up comes his shield urgently, meeting with the jagged blade of he scimitar and saving him from gore, but all the same he is cought off balance. He staggers away a pace or two, sword lashing out wildly toward the orc's face with little thought for defence.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
As the battle rapidly escalates to a frenzy, few would have noticed the ebony clad figures darting across the bridge. A small contingent, perhaps twenty strong, all wielding shields emblazoned with a red eye and a scimitar, all clad in the purest black. Not many, but some of Mordor's most elite uruk-hai soldiers. The black guard of Barad Dur and at their head the commander of the whole stinking mess.
A bit of time has passed since they crossed. The uruk-hai now close in on the melee. A terrible new wave of death, crashing into the town.
[Frarin] The desperate lunge sends the orc's spear stabbing at Frarin's mid-section and it catches for just a second, dislodging several of the rings of the dwarf's chainmail hauberk and apparently finding flesh. But barely. Frarin pauses only long enough to step back and away from the speartip. Then with a growl, the silversmith swings the mallet of his hammer once more, aiming now for the downed Ragus' neck.
You blindly attack Ragus with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ragus severely wounds him!
[+LIGHT:#23381] Lorthrain lights blazing fires.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari and Hal near Frarin now, weaving between those engaged in battle already. Thari sees the black guard, orcs marked with a red eye, but watches them only for a moment. In the next, this shorter dwarf darts toward a stocky orc-- Ragus-- and nobly strikes with the smaller axe to his back.
Thari attacks Ragus with her Axe and badly wounds him!
[Ragus(#28392)]
Once again does the hammer of Forli's son find its mark, smashing into the thick rings that mask away the orc's neckline. But while the rings soften, they cannot deny the weight behind that stroke and the Uruk is battered to the ground entirely. Spear falls from his grasp to litter the grass, and as he clutches at his throat the orc's legs flail wildly. More than once they kick at Frarin in panic, even as they try to push him away from the wrath of the Khazad.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Wicked dinner!" grumbles Pishgob, shaking her head, leaping aside from the clumsy blow aimed at her. "Just shut up and die quietly, an' I'll make a nice stew out of you. It might not even hurt much..." Glory and darkness? No, meat and supper. She slashes again, upward this time, to gut the creature.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by an arm's length.
[Ragus(#28392)]
Once again does the hammer of Forli's son find its mark, smashing into the thick rings that mask away the orc's neckline. And Thari too his well, clouting into the mail that drapes down his back. But while the rings soften, they cannot deny the weight behind those strokes and the Uruk is battered to the ground entirely. Spear falls from his grasp to litter the grass, and as he clutches at his throat the orc's legs flail wildly. More than once they kick at Frarin in panic, even as they try to push him away from the wrath of the Khazad.
Ragus removes Spear.
Ragus puts down a Spear.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
But not all that comes from the wood is dark. For shadowing these dark-clad uruk-hai from the north, is another band clad in browns and greens, they are tall, and they are swift. With only the slightest pause in their movements, a volley of darts is thrown aloft towards this new band that hazards the bridge.
"Aiee!" comes the cry as the arrows begin to fall, the voices calling out are bright, and though dawn has not yet come, there is a lightness brought by their cries.
[Combat(#13388)] Thranduil wields Longbow.
Ragus attacks you with his Bare Hands!...
...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
The subtlety of Pishgob is well devised, but this time Lorthrain has had eyes to watch it come, and he leaps back a pace or two to escape the swing of her blade. His movements seem well trained, if not fluid and well practised, and perhaps this may Pishgob an opening to deal with the youthful Girion. Either way, she will first need to deal with the slice of his own sword that arcs down toward her shoulder!
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.
[Frarin] "Thari!" Frarin says, surprised when the healer dwarf is suddenly at his side and attacking Ragus. The silversmith is quick to look back the dying orc, however, and back away from the flailing kicks. With little immediate trouble from that end, Frarin gives Thari a brief dark look, then nods gruffly. "Be careful," he mutters before looking back to Ragus. With a sneer of disgust, the silversmith lifts his hammer and brings the spike down towards Ragus' chest, apparently to put the dying orc out of its misery.
You attack Ragus with your War Hammer...
You have defeated Ragus!
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ragus fatally wounds and defeats him!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
The arrows plummet among the well trained orcs. Though some find their mark, shields are swiftly brought up to ward the darts. A single arrow glances off Grishnakh's shoulder. The commander's crimson eyes flick betwen the burning town and the screaming trees for only a brief moment.
The commander growls out a single word, "Go." Immediately the big orcs reverse course. Shields held defensively Grishnakh and his guard charge the direction from where the arrows came.
[Ragus(#28392)]
And indeed he does, for as the hammer of Frarin falls it is the stroke of doom for Ragus, whose mails is split and sundered from the fury of the blow. Ribs crack and limbs flail for not long does their thrashnig last. The hideous head of the stocky orc lolls to one side, and the tale of Frarin, Forli's son is made grander by the deed.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] As Lorthrain attacks the dark figure of Pishgob, Bagaglok, spotting his chance, sprungs forward suddenly the scimitar whips through the fiery air with a sharp hiss, aiming for the man's weapon-wielding shoulder. The gruesome creature licks his gray licks again, yellow gaze glinting maliciously.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but he misses by a long shot.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Sssss... you swing like wind in grasses, lots of noise, no action," chortles Pishgob, dancing away from the human's blade. "Stupid dinner. Stupid, plump dinner. Really, why make this so hard on you?" She laughs gutterally, spits, and then stabs again at human-belly. Mmmm... gut-meat.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by a handspan.
[Thari(#31038)]
"The town is on fire! It was this or the fortress!" Thari tells Frarin, then steps to the side as he disposes of the orc. The healer looks around, shield clutched close, and then, "Elves! Look, the elves are coming! Oh, those big goblins are heading for them!"
Lorthrain is forced back by the ferocity of the strikes from Bagaglok and Pishgob, but youth is on his side and nimble yet is the Girion. Escaping the bite of their blade he raises his shield and glowers above its gaurd to the new entrant. "Get back, scum!" is all the spite this greenhorn Captain can force through his teeth ere he aims a low slice of hisown weapon toward the Shaman's foremost knee.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
[Combat(#13388)] Grishnakh puts on Wooden Shield.
[Frarin] Frarin lifts his head once Ragus is despatched of and follows Thari's gaze, catching for the first time the strange lightness of the forest and the cry from it that is so distinctly not orcish. "Elves indeed, well I'll be damned!" the silversmith rumbles with a snort and a half-smile. "Let us catch these vermin between then! Khazad ai-menu!" And with that Frarin charges forward once more, catching a small orc in the stomach as he runs up against the line of invaders once more.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
Bows and spears both are among the small company of elves. Bowstrings are drawn again and loosed into the oncoming charge of Uruk-Hai, even as others among the elvenfolk stand forward, setting their shields against the oncoming charge.
One among the elves, standing at the fore but still holding his bow. It is the order-giver that he sets his sight upon, not firing a volley, but a shot, his dart aimed straight for this uruk-hai captain.
Thranduil launches an arrow...
Thranduil's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
[Thari(#31038)]
"Baruk Khazad!" Thari cries, running after Frarin. The same small orc gets it twice, for just as a warhammer pounds it, an axe slices after. She splashes through red-dyed mud.
Vuglax has arrived.
Vuglax returns from beyond Middle-earth.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] There is a venemous hiss through jagged teeth as the Orkish Shaman stumbles back a pace, a black trickle of blood seeping out from the fresh cut on his left knee. Bagaglok grips the cruel scimitar tighter as he glares at the human before him and he breathes, "You are outnumbered here, fool. There is no point in fighting, for this pathetic town is doomed." Not yet noticing the arriving elves it seems, he swings forward again, this time towards Lorthrain's sword-hand.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
These orcs have longer legs than most, and their pace is swift. They rapidly eat up the ground between the elves and themselves. Arrows do strike home, but at least the most vital areas are blocked or simply miss. One orc does fall, an arrow lodged in his throat, only to be trampled by his charging comrades.
Grishnakh can see that elf. The one in the front. He stares at him as he charges. Notes as he takes aim. The arrow whizzes right past the orc's head, mere inches to the right. Grishnakh howls in fury and increases his pace.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Lorthrain's hand is deft in turn, and he snatches it away to keep it attached. A stern light kindles in his eyes as he squares himself with the Shaman, and perhaps inexperience leads to folly as his side is left open to Pishgob anew. The Barding's sword sings out in reply to Bagaglok's own, and it is the orc's black shoulders that he seeks to hew.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Meanwhile, as Frarin and Thari charge out, a fresh challenge rises to meet them, and throwing aside his bow one of the archers rears up to near the height of a man. Brawny fingers drag a mace from the ground into his grasp, and with a hiss he springs forth with alarming speed charging down the silversmith and hopeing perhaps to catch him unprepared. Up swings the mace in a deadky arc -- surely enough to tip the chin of the noble khazad?
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 13 hp's by Vuglax's attack...
...you have 81 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The Aran na Nandor o Taur e Ndaedelos is unused to missing but there is no pause in his motion either. Even before the first arrow sinks to the ground, the next has left the bowstring.
Thranduil launches an arrow...
Thranduil's bowshot hits Grishnakh, moderately wounding him.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] As the gleaming spike of steel whirls towards him, the Orc hastily twistes to the side, though not quick enough the man's wretched longsword manages to nick the corner of Bagaglok's right shoulder, and the goblin spits disdainfully in the direction of Lorthrain. "Is that the best you can do, weakling? That was but a mere pinprick," he growls, glancing his target up and down, searching for an opening. "Hungry for battle, are we?" the rasping voice now calls out, mockingly. "Then, taste the cold fire of my blade!" Another lung is given as the Shaman reaches forward his own dark scimitar at Lorthrain's side.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Frarin] Frarin knocks a second small orc to the ground and steps over him, but his charge advances only a few steps more before a giant of an orc unfurls himself with hardly a second's notice. Frarin's steps slow and he instinctively leans backward as Vuglax towers over him, but the silversmith's momentum and height work against him. The archer's mace catches Frarin across the chin just so, pulling out tufts of beard and leaving a boody trail across one cheek. It takes the silversmith a second to recover, the weight of the mace enough to stun him temporarily as well as tear flesh. When he does right him, Frarin swings out with his mallet only distractedly at the orc's forearm.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax dodges your attack.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
The orcs and elves begin to join steel as the ground is finally gained. Not easily either. Most of the orcs are cut and a few wear arrows embedded in armor or flesh. 2 perished in the run. Thranduil's arrow rips into Grishnakh's armored hip, dipping into flesh and striking with enough force to exit again. The jolt stops his right leg cold for a moment, nearly tripping him up.
A furious roar breaks from the orc's lips, saliva flinging loose. he closes the remaining distance, a limp in the right leg, "Yeah! You can hit me! When I'm ten feet away!"
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
A hiss of pain ushers forth from the Barding as Bagaglok's blade slices at his side, though the chian of his armour holds up well and it seems the impact alone drew the sound from his lips. Lorthrain back away anew, eyes flitting between his two assailants, but with the Shaman pressing the attack more fiercly he steps forward suddenly punch out the pommel of his weapon into the advancing orc's face.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
[Thari(#31038)]
"Hah!" Thari cries, just making a sound, as Frarin's face is struck. Her momentum she allows to carry, stepping to the side and whipping otu the small, fast axe at Vuglax's hip and thigh.
Thari attacks Vuglax with her Axe, but Vuglax parries the attack with his Mace!
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Frarin's hammer swats naught but air this time around, but small matter for with a deep hiss of loathing the huge orc's eyes are drawn to Thari instead. Out swings the axe but Vuglax remains undaunted, raising his own weapon to swat aside her strike. Laughter spills out over a livid red tongue and up swings his mace anew, looking perhaps to do the same for Thari as was done for the other Dwarf.
Vuglax attacks Thari with his Mace and badly wounds her!
[Frarin] As Vuglax swings at Thari, it gives Frarin the time he needs to recover from the unexpected glow. Blood dribbles down one side of his face and stains his tunic and cloak, but Frarin hefts his hammer up and readies it for a concentrated attack this time. Even as the tall orc swings at and strikes Thari, so Frarin swings the spike of his hammer at Vuglax's side, just at the hip.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax parries your attack with his Mace!
[Bagaglok(#24847)] Lessoned learned: Steel connecting with mouth is dreadfully unpleasant. Bagaglok snarls as a clawed hand whips up to whip the stream of dark blood that now adorns his deformed features, and the creature turns slightly only to spit again, more black liquid flying forth. For a moment he pauses suddenly, as an arrow streaks overhead, and it is then that the Shaman sees the newcomers from the bordering wood. Another growl is uttered, ere he hastily faces Lorthrain once more, fanged mouth torn slightly from the offending sword's pommel. Despite the obvious pain, the Orc laughs abruptly as he stands up straighter, looming again over his foe like a red storm cloud. No retort does he give this time, and all the while the evil snorting erupts out as he swings for the man's chest this time.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
But Lorthrain has the wit to retreat once more from the dreadful sight of Bagaglok's face, and steeling himself against its ruin he raises high his shield. Lunging forward he sets the weight of his limbs and armour behind the shield's wall, and his intentions seem to be barding the SHaman to the ground.
[Combat(#13388)] Lorthrain sets Scrutiny, his sword, into its sheath with a practised ease.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Bare Hands and mildly wounds him!
[Combat(#13388)] Lorthrain brings forth his fell blade, Scrutiny, and it sits in his palm as it awaits the fray.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
Even as the elves brace themselves for the crash of bodies at the end of the charge, the King's bow falls from his hand. In a swift, singular motion, his cape is thrown back to reveal the gleaming truesilver of his mail and helm and the bright iron of his blade, as it is drawn forth.
"Then come, foul Captain I have a message for your master, that you may bear back to him!" comes Thranduil's reply.
[Combat(#13388)] Thranduil smoothly draws the ancient blade Endumegil from its scabbard.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari catches it under the chin, Vuglax's weapon briefly tangling in her beard before ripping a good bit of it out. She stumbles back as Frarin steps forward with his own attack.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] A wall of wood fills the Uruk's vision, and ere he can do anything, Bagaglok finds himself pinned to the cold ground, trapped by the pressure of Lorthrain's shield. He rough gasp is released as the air is forcefully knocked from his foul lungs, and he glares up at his foe who now bares down on him. He tries to worm to the side, but the heavy shield and the firm hold of the man thwarts his angry attempts. Finally, with a noticable effort, the Shaman manages to free one leg, which he then aims upward to hit the human in the arm, hopefully making his grip lessen.
[Combat(#13388)] Bagaglok flicks the cruel scimitar back into its blackened sheath with a hiss of steel.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Bare Hands, but he misses by a long shot.
Vuglax snarls and roars with confidence as he whirls about to meet Frarin's strike, once more the mace of the huge Uruk raises to protect him. But as hammer locks with mace he holds it there, eyes blazing and lips pulled back to reveal yellow fangs that gnash and chomp. "What's this?" he taunts. "Did I clip your beard so hard it tugged the wits from your head? Fall back, old dolt, or I'll dent your skull and hand it to ter friend there..."
And with that the great orc shoves into Frarin's hammer, hoping to drive the Dwarf backward and put space between them. Up lashes the vicious mace once more and as its spiked head hurtles about it seems destined to meet with the son of Forli's helm.
[Combat(#13388)] Bagaglok draws forth a rusty scimitar from its dark sheath with a chill ring of metal.
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 9 hp's by Vuglax's attack...
...you have 72 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Pishgob(#24654)] %rPishgob cares not for the words of elves, as long as they do not address her directly, though her nose wrinkles at the stink of them. She grumbles low in her throat, something about ruining the smell of dinner-meat, and she goes after Lorthrain again, swinging her scimitar at his flank with gleeful abandon, for today is a good day to die. For someone else.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his Longsword!
[Frarin] And meet the mace does, driving into the side of Frarin's head with a ferosity to match the last blow. Where the mace connects with the silversmith's gleaming helm it leaves deep dents, but once again several of the spikes rake across his cheek as well, drawing yet more red streaks across Frarin's face. More than that though, it leaves him dazed for a second time and he stumbles backwards a step, shaking his head, uttering no reply to Vuglax's taunts.
Perhaps expecting the giant orc to follow him as he stumbles back, Frarin swings out the mallet of his hammer with only one hand, a wild swing, but one that will catch Vuglax somewhere near his knee if he does not move.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax parries your attack with his Mace!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
Grishnakh sneers at the elf lord, though the face shifts to look a bit more wary as he sees this is not the ordinary tree hugger. As the bodies crash together around him and the clangs and grunts of battle rise, Grishnakh snaps back his own hood, revealing a very noticable gleam on his own dome.
"A message of surrender? You've finally learned?" The last two steps are taken and Grishnakh leaps forward in a flash. The scimitar slashes from overhead at the elf's neck, even as he eyes the other's sword warily and tries to position a defense.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's face has gone red while she arights herself and she gives a deep, enraged roar. She pounds toward Vuglax, throwing her weight behind her shield as if to crash into him and pounds the blade of her camp-axe toward his face, so high.
Thari attacks Vuglax with her Axe, but Vuglax parries the attack with his Mace!
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Even as Lorthrain raises his sword to strike a killing blow to Bagaglok suddenly his eyes flit to the advance of Pishgob, and with haste he chos down his weapon to save himself. Steel meets with iron as he parries the strike from the sly she-orc, and the Girion is given pause enough to retreat a further pace. Wildly does he swing out in reply, and while furious is his attack it is more than lacking in defense.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword, but Pishgob parries the attack with her shield!
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The orc's scimitar cleaves mightily, a powerful stroke indeed--but one that finds aught but air, where the King had stood.
Thranduil, as well, drives forward, vacating the arc of heavy, curved blade. As his legs drive him forward, and to the right of the dark captain, his sword trails behind, a raking swipe delivered towards the enemy's mid-section.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
Vuglax meanwhile must break off his duel with Frarin for the moment, as Thari's axe joins the assult, though deft is his mace as it swings back and forth to parry both blows. He hisses then in wrath, a hunter denied his kill, and it is upon Thari that he puts forth his malice when next he strikes. Out punches his mace's head, the spikes gleaming darkly with Frarin's blood as they seek to rend the same gore upon Thari's own face.
Vuglax attacks Thari with his Mace, but Thari parries the attack with her shield!
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Dinner, dinner, won't be thinner," chortles Pishgob, raising her shield to block the meat-slab's swing. She shakes her head, shifting, trying to drive the manling away from the others much like wolves separate fawns from the herd. "Mmmmm, venison," murmurs the she-orc, and the burner of bridges stabs a wicked thrust at the man-thing's... danglies. Erm, groin.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Dinner, dinner, won't be thinner," chortles Pishgob, raising her shield to block the meat-slab's swing. She shakes her head, shifting, trying to drive the manling away from the others much like wolves separate fawns from the herd. "Mmmmm, venison," murmurs the she-orc, and the burner of bridges stabs a wicked thrust at the man-thing's... danglies. Erm, groin.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by a handspan.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] As the Girion withdraws back, so must his arm follow, and the shield is raised enough for Bagaglok to roll out from under is oppressive shadow. He rights himself on his gray feet again, the corners of his bloodied mouth tugging back in a smirk as Pishgob's strike serves to distract Lorthrain for the moment. "Skai, let this maggot feel the sting of Mordor's might!" The Shaman laughs to the she-orc beside him, ere his own yellow eyes rove over Lorthrain his weapon lashes out again, a dark glint in the flickering firelight of the burning buildings, coming down for the human's lower leg.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his Longsword!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
WHOOSH! The blade crashes through the air, the orc able to suck his gut in just enough as he leaps back from the stroke. His eyes flick to the face of the elf. They narrow. He moves.
Grishnakh's left foot goes first, stepping inside the cut. He slams his shield in the direction of the sword, across his chest. He starts the momentum thus, and his body follows in a quick spin. He flicks his wrist, reversing the edge of the blade. The blade comes whizzing through the spin, snapped down at the king's knee.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Frarin] Again it is, unfortunately, Thari that gives Frarin's head the vital second or two it needs to stop spinning. The silversmith blinks rapidly for a moment as Thari becomes the orc's next target, and then Frarin's eyes focus again and he hefts his weapon back into both hands. With a grunt, he steps quickly forward and to the side, hoping to come further around to Vuglax's backside before the orc can turn. The blue war hammer is turned in hand such that the long spike points forward and this Frarin swings sideways, driving it towards Vuglax's back, just below the rib cage.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax parries your attack with his Mace!
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's furious eyes are so keen on Vuglax that the dwarf shoves her iron shield into the mace forcefully, a dull clang ringing out. The healer grunts with the effort. At once she reaches up again to strike for his face, to give him back the same marks he gave Frarin.
Thari attacks Vuglax with her Axe and moderately wounds him!
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The knee is too quick, but the uruk-hai blade's wicked point does not sweep past the elf entirely. raking across the chain that extends down over his thigh.
The elf is in mid-spin as well, his sword arcing upwards, and then sharply down, towards the sword-bearing arm of his new foe.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Nimble does Lorthrain need to be to escape the twin blades of Pishgob and Bagaglok, though no easy task is it for him to evade the strike of one and parry the slice of the other. His breath comes in pants, and weighed by the fine chain that guards him the Girion might be seen to tire somewhat. But ire stirs in his eyes then, a cry sounds from his lips, and through laboured breaths he calls out loud and clear: "For Dale!"
Out swipes his blade then, seeking to put an end to the sly she-orc before him, or at least set the fear of the Bardings into her breast.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword and moderately wounds her!
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Finally the huge figure of Vuglax is struck for true, so busy is he with the thunderous attack of Frarin that his mind forgets the threat of Thari. Her axe bites into the already foul features of the Uruk, slicing open his cheek and batting it backward in a wash of dark blood. The orc reels at the blow, stumbling back a pace, and here indeed could be the Dwarves chance to make an end of him!
ARB: Vuglax has "passed" on his turn to attack.
[Frarin] "Hah, Thari!" Frarin crows as the healer strikes Vuglax back a pace, at last giving the duo of fighting dwarves a small victory over the giant. The silversmith follows Vuglax as the orc stumbles back, his face red with more than blood now as his dark eyes blaze with concentration. Out swings the blue hammer, the spiked end again leading the way, though this time aimed for the side of the orc's knee.
You blindly attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax dodges your attack.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari grins wide, at Frarin's cry, beard all wild and bloody. She hurries to Vuglax's side and chops at the leg opposite of Frarin's strike.
Thari attacks Vuglax with her Axe, but she misses by a handspan.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
But the great brute of an orc has been given time now to regather himself, and even with the foul reek of his blood catching upon the night air he whirls about to slip aside the renewed assult of the Dwarves. Thari now fills his wrathful gaze anew, and so it is that the dreadful mace swings up in a bid to leave Frarin's companion headless.
Vuglax attacks Thari with his Mace and badly wounds her!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
The pace of the battle is fluid and swift. Grishnakh falling into the dance completely. He sees the the sword and manages to force the blow to glance off his gauntleted wrist. Still it knicks his knuckles and his black blood trickes from the wound.
As the blade slides off, the vorazg slams his shield at the king's face and sword arm. Legs powering forward he hacks low. Snapping his massive arm down at the legs.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
[Bagaglok(#24847)] "Death for Dale, that is!" the Malkog retorts at the human's cry, fury blazing once more as Pishbog is struck with Lorthrain's point of steel. With a vicious grunt, Bagaglok prowls closer, raking his weapon in an attempt to knock the Barding's sword from his hands. "Don't move," is all he growls as he wields the fell scimitar in stained claws, "and your end will be swift if you are fortunate this eve!"
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
[Frarin] Frarin wastes hardly a second as Vuglax renews his attack on Thari, for the silversmith does not even pause to allow any exclamation at the terrible blow that Thari must have received. He presses his attack once more, perhaps a bit erratically as he strives to draw the orc away from his companion. This time the mallet of Frarin's hammer swings up from the ground, aimed right for Vuglax's groin.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's head catches the mace on the side in a blow that would surely slay a human man. This dwarf, however, remains intact, lofting into the air and thrown back to lie atop dead bodies, senseless and bleeding from the temple.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax dodges your attack.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
A rasp of triumph fills the air nearest the blazing town as Thari goes tumbling, and Vuglax turns a fearsome gaze upon Frarin, stepping smartly to the side to preserve his vitals. Tireless he seem to be, and brawny besides, and raising high his mace he then sends it crashing down in a murderous rush.
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 30 hp's by Vuglax's attack...
...you have 42 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The first flurry of combat is over, and the serious business begins, between elf and uruk-hai. Thranduil's thigh is struck again, the heavy scimitar grinding down over the protective mail. The King's feet, though, are planted firmly, he does not flit or dance away from the blow, instead standing toe to toe with the foul captain, and delivering a forehanded reply.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
[Pishgob(#24654)]
Pishgob growls as the human's blade slashes her chest, hurting the mail, and her too. "Curse you to death and darkness and woodsmoke!" she shrieks, her eyes flashing with angry fire. She lifts her blade higher, stabbing it once more between his manly-legs.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Manly legs that still cling to the energy of boyhood manage to dance away, but not far enough to evade harm -- a thin line of red stretches along Lorthrain's knee thanks to Pishgob's blade, and he winces. No less so indeed than after Bagaglok's own scimitar flashes out, and while he is able to drag away his hand from the strike his forearm catches the sting instead.
Heyes blazing, his breath seeping out in pain he is forced back closer to the town by his adversaries.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
Grishnakh does dance from the blow, ducking and stepping to make it fly overhead. The orc commander stares the elf in the face, distant fires glimmering off hate filled eyes. Corded muscles snap an attack back at the elf king as the orc stands back to full height. His blade slices upward, an underhand slice beneath the elf's elbow.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
Thranduil removes Spear.
[Frarin] Again there is nothing but air to meet Frarin's hammer, but it is perhaps fortunate this time that his momentum carries him through. It makes it ever so slightly easier to avoid the crash of Vuglax's mace from above. Or rather, to avoid a direct blow to the head, which might surely have been fatal. Instead Frarin steps just to the side and the mace crashes upon his right shoulder instead. Chainmail rings fly and red instantly soaks the dwarf's clothing straight through to his heavy outer cloak. There is also an unpleasant popping noise and Frarin cries aloud, releasing his left hand from his hammer.
The silversmith is driven to one knee and his good arm and hammer go to the ground to steady himself as his left arm hangs useless at his side. He does not liger there for long, however, well aware of the giant who looms over him. Frarin pushes back, landing at a sit a pace away and pushing back still to give himself distance from Vuglax.
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
You forego your chance to attack.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's eyes open, a little vague and crossed at first. The healer tries to focus, then sits up, head hanging and swaying. She bobs it this way and that, then begins the brave expidition toward her axe, a few paces away, eventually managing to regain her feet, though not very steadily.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] "Get him, get him!" the throaty cheer seeps forth as the she-uruk attacks, and Bagaglok watches the Dale-man with satisfaction as Lorthrain begins to edge backwards. "The uruk-hosts will not leave hungry tonight," a vile tongue flicks out again to lick his foul lips as the Shaman cleaves the air asunder with his blade, a forehanded strike against Lorthrain's unguarded ribs eyes glitter as the scimitar flies.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his shield!
[Pishgob(#24654)]
Pishgob darts as Bagaglok attacks, slipping around the manling's side. "Pity about the dangles. Always so salty," she croons, half to herself. Then she lunges, having reached Lorthrain's side, and attempts to carve a slice of rump while the meat is still alive.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by an arm's length.
Grox crosses quickly over the bridge and stops to rest for a bit.
Grox has arrived.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Cackling darkly to himself as he looms over the maimed figure of Frarin, Vuglax hefts his his mace over his head and sneers down to the brave khazad. "Got even shorter, have you?" he croons, and cruel delight dances in his eyes. "Well now you make my work easy. See! I need not even lift my mace so high to put an end to you!"
And with that he lowers his weapon swinging it out sideways in a bid to swat Frarin in the face, though there is little strength to the blow. Perhaps he is toying now with his prey?
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Pressed back further, hounded by the vicious strikes of the two orcs facing him, Lorthrain stalks ever closer to the firelit town. As as the timbers of the buildings there creak and groan with the very effort of staying aloft, the Barding evades and parries for his life. Suddenly he changes tack anew, hoping it seems to catch Pishgob off guard, stabbing forth his blade in search of her black heart.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword and lightly wounds her!
[Pishgob(#24654)]
Pishgob's little black heart is protected by big steely mail, wiry muscle, ropy sinew, and a temper to match a rabid warg in heat. The blade pricks her shoulder, and she spits a foamy gob at the manling, her breath matching the cleanliness of what she spits. "So be it, meat," she growls, a bit pained, and goes to slice the boy up the groin again.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The elf shifts, taking the blow instead in the side, as he moves to mirror the uruk captain's dance. He twists as he is struck again, his eyes darkening as the melee thickens between orc and elf about him.
His rush is sudden, and swift, whipping his blade from his right shoulder, to his left, and reaching for the hilt with both hands now, he drives it down towards the uruk-hai's weapon-arm.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
[Frarin] Maimed though he may be, Frarin, it seems, is not dead yet. He continues to push against the earth, but when Vuglax bears down on him, his good arm lifts his hammer up and blocks the lazy swat at his face. Thari is spotted as the healer stands unsteadily, but Frarin growls as he strains himself and pulls unintentionally at the mangled muscles of his right arm. Yet a parry is not enough to put off the giant orc. Wielding his weapon with only his one good hand, Frarin swings out at Vuglax's ankles, clearly hoping to take the orc off balance enough to move away.
You attack Vuglax with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Vuglax dodges your attack.
[Thari(#31038)]
"Hal!" shouts Thari above the noise of the battle. "Hal!" The healer starts to walk toward Frarin in a determined way, but stumbles and drops to a knee.
[Bagaglok(#24847)] "Why make it harder, filthy human?" Bagaglok's cackle raises over the din of the crackling flames as the group of three venture further in the ruined trade town. "Though your pitiful persistence adds to the worth of the sacrifice to the Eye you will be--still it would be better if you yielded." His eyes scan the area as he speakes, "There seems to be plenty of firewood for cooking," he adds to Pishgob as he himself turns again to lash the scimitar forward like a scorpion's tail for Lorthrain's shoulder.
Bagaglok attacks Lorthrain with his Scimitar, but he misses by an arm's length.
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
Such power. Savage nasty elf power. Type of power that really hurts. Seriously.
Grishnakh takes it all. He attempts to get the more armored shoulder in to take the brunt of the blow. It drives home wickedly, tearing through armor and flesh. Hitting bones. It is all he can do to continue moving back, loosing his body from the blade.
Grishnakh backsteps a few times, Keeping his shield full up to defend. His blade stays in his grip, fingers can be seen opening and closing around the hilt. He tries to rotate his shoulder as thick black ichor begins to seep out, steaming in the frozen air.
[Frarin] But Hal is already at Thari's side, having come from behind her even as she tried to walk towards Frarin. "Other way, Thari!" the seasoned veteran mutters quickly into the healer's ear and he takes Thari's arm to steer a path for the town, burning though it may be. The old soldier spares a glance back at Frarin upon the ground, but a second glane at Thari seems to steel his resolve anew and he pulls still harder at the healer's arm.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Vuglax hops from foot to foot as Frarin strikes out, cackling madly and spitting down upon the noble, if bloodied brow of the Dwarf. Not a whit of care is given to the various cries about him he has burning eyes only for his foe, now. Deep and low swings his heavy mace, the spikes glistening in the light of the fire as it seeks an end to the tale of Frarin son of Forli.
Vuglax attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari turns, head swinging low. "Help him! I'll go back!" Thari tries to shake Hal's arm off as she goes toward the town in flames.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The elf-king's advantage is gained suddenly, and pressed, his fellow elves surging around him, the flow of this smaller battle pivoting upon the waxing and waning of dark against light, captain against king.
Right foot crosses behind left. Knees bend and then straighten, hips twist violently, the elf-king's blade rises as his spin begins, and falls as he steps forward out of it, suddenly and terribly.
You paged Vuglax with 'Mind if I bring in my NPC to aid Frarin's flee?'.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Lorthrain winces anew as Pishgob's blade slices in, but once again he is agile enough to lose only a fresh score along his thigh -- he rues it all the same. Bagaglok's fury forces him back yet further, and now the glow of the fire rises up behind him to cast reds and golds about their feet. Lorthrain snarls then, some levy broken in the youthful features and a feral gleam enters his eye.
Lout he lashes with a wicked stroke of his blade aimed at the Malkog's eyes, ere he turns his attention to Pishgob once more.
Lorthrain attacks Bagaglok with his Longsword and severely wounds him!
[Pishgob(#24654)] %rPishgob howls as yet again she only manages to scratch the man-thing, and she leaps toowards him, swinging her blade rapidly, gibbering at him vocally, as if she is a mad horde of wild beasts come out after him. Her eyes flicker in the town's burning light, and it is not a nice flickering at all. She swings her blade to cleave his hip from his body, if she can.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Grishnakh(#22300)]
The orc roars in defiance off the king and his elves. The primal malice and loathing in that scream almost tangible. Grishnakh keeps stepping back. Thus the sword slices short of the commander.
With the roar, the orcs push back on the tide. Grishnakh too steps in, his blade held high. Surely slower than before and with less power, it plunges. The blood splatters off his soaked arm, down to the gummy hilt. The king better move his neck....
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Frarin] Hal does indeed leave Thari to return to the town alone and he pounds back towards the forest with battleaxe at the ready. He reaches Frarin just as the silversmith is reaching up again to manage a desperate parry to the vengeful spikes of Vuglax's whirling mace. With a cry of Baruk Khazad, Hal swings up with his axe even as Vuglax swings down. Frarin, maimed but clear headed, strikes at his chance for retreat while Hal distracts the orc. The silversmith pushes himself to his feet and makes for the burning town.
You try to flee from Vuglax, but he blocks your attempt!
[Bagaglok(#24847)] There is a terrible howl of anguish as the Barding's cursed sword flings out, scoring a direct hit across the Orc's muddied brow, finding a mark just beneath Bagaglok's skull helmet the Shaman whirls around, stumbling blindly away from his assailant, hopefully back enough to be out of the human's reach. A gray hand snakes up over his face as Bagaglok struggles against a new foe--the black oozing blood that runs over his eyes. The scimitar lies useless at his side for now as he steps a hasty length away.
[Vuglax(#28392)]
Valour is won and lost upon the field of battle, and yet few could have expected the gamble made by Hal as he streaks across to intervene with Vulgax' business. Even as the deadly mace hurtles forth the axe of the brave Dwarf meets it, sparks flying as it runs then down the hilt to sever the Uruk's hand at the wrist.
A howl of pain rends the night air then, and staggering pack, clutching at the stump of his forearm, Vulgax sinks to his knees in agony. More of his foul blood stains the land beneath him and for the moment at least he is vanquished.
ARB: Vuglax has "passed" on his turn to attack.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Lorthrain's eyes narrow as Pishgob once again makes her strike upon his flesh, but with the departure of Bagaglok from the duel suddenly the young Barding lord takes heart. His back straightens, eyes flash in wrath as he squares to face her, and up raises the shield once more as a guard against further harm.
"Get gone, swine!" he spits, even as Pishgob's spittle stains his livery, and it is with a savage hack that he sends his sword out looking for blood from the she-orc's shoulder.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The King raises a mailed arm to deflect the blow, taking the edge of the heavy scimitar as a glancing blow.
His own blade is not so heavy, but its reach is long, and its point is sharp.
"Back, foul minion!" the King exclaims, his voice ringing out across the whole field, thunderous with rage, and unmistakable to any who hear it, "Back to your hole! Back to your glen, your dell! Back!"
With this exclamation, his sword drives forward, a thrust aimed at the neck of the orc, yielding no quarter.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword, but Grishnakh parries the attack with his shield!
[Frarin] Hal wastes no time as the orc sinks to the ground, one hand down. The old soldier grabs Frarin under the arm of his good shoulder and hauls him up from his unsteady stumbling, steering the silversmith towards the town just as he had Thari only moments before. "Come on, come on, come on," Hal mutters over and over, as Frarin pulls together what strength has not been bled away.
You try to flee from Vuglax, but he blocks your attempt!
[Pishgob(#24654)]
"Aww, does he get his little clothes wet?" sneers the she-orc, noting Lorthrain's distaste. She skitters away from his attack, laughing again, amused despite the pain of her own wounds. "Die, die, we can roast you on the embers of your town. Nice embers, and beer, maybe..." She lunges at him again, aiming for his side again, nice rib-meat, if not plump enough.
Pishgob attacks Lorthrain with her Scimitar, but she misses by a mile.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
No reply comes now from the Barding's lips as he vies with Pishgob he steps aside her efforts to give an answer in steel and a gaze turned fey. Fell are his strokes as they rain down upon the she-orc, and gine is the stiffness of the training yard. This Greenhorn Captain grows bolder with every lash of his sword, and he sends a low sweeping slice toward her foremost leg.
Lorthrain attacks Pishgob with his Longsword and lightly wounds her!
[Grishnákh(#22300)]
The beast roars again as time seems to slow around him. He thrusts his wood shield upwards and catches the thrusting sword diirectly. Treated not to crack, the shield groans. Grishnakh pushes his shield against the tip with his good arm, trying to make it accept the sword. Powering forward he hacks down at the king's knees, trying to overbalance him.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
Angry mutterings is all that Bagagglok can yield forth, as he blinks wildly, still trying to see the scene happening around him sounds and smells only aid such a creature so far, afterall. The robed form curses again, turning this way and that, for now he is no longer certain which direction he is facing. "To the Halls of Feasting with you, manling!" he is able to snarl, ere he takes heel once more, retreating a little further away, hopefully not back towards the fray that has now degraded to the Dale-man and she-orc. What use can a blinded Uruk be in such a situation?
[Thranduil(#5440)]
Thrust turned aside, the King is bloodied by the heavy blade of the scimitar, a quick leap backwards keeping the blade from doing more damage.
Landing, planting, and driving forward again, feinting another thrust to the right, before rolling his shoulder forward, twisting his hips, and delivering a heavy overhanded blow.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
[Bagaglok(#24847)]
With a final hiss, the hunched figure of Bagaglok whirls around once more, ears cocked as he listens for the nearby sounds of the battle. As soon as he thinks he is able to hazard a guess at any sort of direction that will serve to let the Uruk live to serve the darkness another day, he is off, slipping through the remainder of the Orkish horde for a place in the rear. After a moment and flurry of tattered garb, he is gone.
From West over Bridge, [<#28583>] A sudden cry can be heard from the forbidding line of Mirkwood. Shrill and piercing is the sound, long and drawn out, but those who have heard the tongues of orcs might make out a few words. "
[Grishnákh(#22300)]
Grishnakh hurls his shield across at the sword. It glances off enough to direct the blow to the already wounded shoulder. The orc groans as the sword crashes in, higher this time, cracking his collarbone. He staggers back from the elf and takes up his sword in his left, unwounded arm. Then comes the scream....
Fanglike teeth gritted together in pain, Grishnakh glares at the king in defiance and murderous rage, "There are far worse than I coming for you, albai buub. The master comes. Walking death. There is nothing you can do!" Almost maniacal in his speech, the orc laughs wildly and leaps with a sudden quickness. He stabs his heavy curved blade in for a death blow. The razor honed edge in a line with the king's throat.
Grishnakh attacks Thranduil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.
Grishnakh removes Wooden Shield.
Grishnákh puts down Wooden Shield.
[<#5440>]
"
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
[Grishnákh(#22300)]
The vorazg growls through the pain of the blow as he tries to step back and doesn't quite make it. It tears armor and will definately hurt, but no blood comes pouring forth as it rakes across his ribs. He keeps back stepping, for the first time survying the battle about him. Elf and orc alike lie scattered about, dead in the cold. Blood mixes a hot muddy brown in the snow, melting and refreezing and being trampled underfoot. Black and red blood. Death and fire.
He utters a word in morbeth and what is left of the orcs break off and group around him. Steam bursting from his mouth in the cold air, sweating despite the chill he growls at Thranduil, "Your woods are not yours anymore. It's not safe. It won't be long." He keeps backstepping as he talks. The orcs obviously attempting to retreat, "Can't you see the clouds in the east? The time is come! He comes!"
[Combat(#13388)]
Grishnakh tries to flee from Thranduil, but he fails!
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The King's rage is complete, as he sees his fallen comrades, it drives him forward. He is swift, as are the remainders of his company.
"Speak more!" he commands, his tenor booming above the sounds of the remaining fray, "I shall take your tongue next, and the foul stink of the bonfire will be all that returns to Dol Guldur from this field!"
His cries bring with them another heavy blow, the blade of Thranduil's sword is blackened with the blood of this uruk-hai captain, shedding that icre as it arcs out in ia vicious strike toward Grishnakh's head.
Thranduil attacks Grishnakh with his Longsword and terribly wounds him!
[Grishnákh(#22300)]
The vorazg staggers under the weight of the mighty blow. The mithril helmet is all that saves him, for the blade does not pierce the helmet. Immediately, a few orcs step themselves between the king and Grishnakh as the entire contingent continues to retreat. Staggering now and sweating profusely, the orc commander retreats as fast as he is able, no more words spewing from his rolling tongue.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
The shrill cry from the forest has drawn the gazes of more than one combatant, and while the orcs look back in frustration, the defenders of Iach Celduin seem confused. The fighting slows as the orcs sullenly withdraw, though nothing can hide the cackles they give as they survey the burning wreck of the town and the bodies of the slain.
Lorthrain watches the melee die before him, and now the breath comes thick and heavy from his breast as he is left alone befre the great fire. Hie eyes turn then towards the duel of the Elvenking and his savage foe, and the young Girion lord breathes a sigh of relief to see the latter take flight.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The Elvenking makes quick work of the orcs that press themselves forward to cover their commander's retreat, "Bows! Bows!" he cries out in Sindarin, and then in the common speech, "Tell your master of the wrath of the Elf-King for I have heard that voice before, and it has been, and will be driven back again! Fly now, but there is no escaping me!"
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
As the soldiers of Mordor depart, or fall to elven shot and dart, Lorthrain finds at length the breath to cry out across the slain. "Elf-lord!" says he. "Or so I deem you to be! Waste not your arrows in wrath, but I pray you come meet with me here, where our once fair town burns."
A different light is in the Barding's eyes than before the battle, and a sterner set has come to his brow.
[Thranduil(#5440)]
The Elf-King stands amongst his small host. His bow is retrieved, handed to him just as the last orc escapes its range. With a brief, quiet word, the pair of fallen elves are silently retrieved by their companions and borne off, even as Thranduil turns his attention to the smouldering of the town.
He sets off to close the distance, still surrounded by half of the three dozen who accompanied him from the forest.
Players: Frarin, Ragus, Lorthrain, Pishgob, Bagaglok, Thranduil, Thari, Grishnakh, Vuglax
