Elendor
Seeing Stars in the Dark
The eavesdropper Elathrad gets what he deserves.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Trollshaws
Game Date: 37 Rhiw, 3046
IC Time: Night
Weather: Rain
Description: East Road - Near the Trollshaws
The road here passes through rolling hills. There is hardly any difference between east and west, but the land seems to be rising to the west and dropping to the east. A small footpath leaves the road toward the south. The surrounding forest looms close to the road here and, though you can make your way, you can see no great distance in the darkness.
Contents:
Logoz
Obvious exits:
Shepherding Village, North, East, and West
================== Eldarin Calendar ===================
IC time is: Twilight < About 8:53 PM >
IC day is: Orithil
IC date is: 37 Rhiw
Moon phase: Last Quarter
Earendil: Gil-Estel shines brightly above the horizon in the
western sky.
IC year is: Loa 22 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor
---------------------------------------------------------------------
RL time: Mon May 25 20:57:44 2009
=====================================================================
A wet night. The dark branches allow little light to pass, and only Earendil is seen slanting far to the west, distant and lonely. The leaves quiver with spots of rain and mild wind.
A well-covered form slowly wends along the road-side, using a spear as a walking-stick. He knows his way, though uneasy, and is well off the high parts of the path, choosing instead to traverse through the soggy ditch.
[Logoz(#19187)]
Deep within the trees, under cover of the pitter patter of the rain and rustle of the wind, other shapes move in the dark. Even on this dank night there are eyes well used to the gloom, to which shadows are no hindrance and whose owners feel little discomfort from the chill. Orcs are on the prowl this evening, and they draw closer to the roadside with every step.
Elathrad plods steadily on, an uneven pattern in his steps. Now he allows his hood to fall, letting rain fall over pale face and inky hair, inhaling carefully of the night -- and whatever company he might have.
[Logoz(#19187)]
And now can be heard the muffled mutterings of those that approach him, for the orcs steal closer with no apparent clue of the elf. Grumbles and grunts slip under the drum of the rain and the bushes closest to Elathrad begin to rustle from something other than the wind.
The walking Elf stops, flattening against a tree. What little camouflage this action might add is enhanced by the darkness and his stillness -- though there are other features, the scent and pale beacon of a face, that would shove him into the foreground.
[Logoz(#19187)]
And shove they do, but not before the orcs themselves burst from the undergrowth. Three of them, to be exact, led by a burly uruk known as Logoz, trample through to the roadside as though they knew naught was amiss -- how this changes when their leader's eyes catch sight of the fair features of the elf.
He blinks, and rubs his eyes a moment, to double check that he is not imagining things on this soggy night.
Elathrad blinks, but sufficient effort is made to make no other movement. Perhaps he is a trick of the weather? Soaking elves are common illusions, no?
[Logoz(#19187)]
Logoz opens his eyes again, peering at the motionless elf, narrowing his gaze in increased scrutiny. "Oi, Goblutz," he barks to the orc at his left. "See that there? Go find out what it is..."
As the other orc moves to do just that, Logoz fingers the haft of his mace warily.
Smoke pours from Mt. Doom as the Dark One's evil sorcery lags the game.
The smoke clears as good triumphs and the database saves.
The elf-illusion loses no time. As the orc Goblutz approaches, his fingers curl about the spear. With a swift, abrupt movement that sends droplets flying, Elathrad thrusts the point toward him -- a rather real spear, unless the orc should dodge or wear sturdy armor.
[Logoz(#19187)]
The orc wears neither, and his eyes open wide as the spear-tip pierces his flesh soundly. Spitted upon the shaft, gurgling his last breathes, the hapless uruk slumps, and becomes dead weight upon the elf's weapon as he dies.
Logoz spits upon the ground at the sight, and with a snarl he points to Elathrad. "Thought so! Looking to spy on us, are yer? We'll see about that!" He rushes forward, mace held high as he seeks to close with the noble ellon.
With the stave bending under the weight, Elathrad backpedals vainly with the body dragging behind. His eyes flash for a moment in annoyance, and he strains, couching the spear under his arm as he sets his boot against the dead uruk. But it is stuck.
Murmuring a few words under his breath, the elf whips out a long dagger and drops the spear, leaving the orc-kebab in the ditch between them as a hindrance.
[Logoz(#19187)]
Bearing down upon Elathrad, Logoz snarls and kicks aside the corpse of his crony with little sympathy. The drawn dagger gives him pause, and so his stride slows, but nevertheless it is with a powerful swipe that he opens the firing looking to shatter the elf's jaw with his weapon.
Logoz attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 10 hp's by Logoz's attack...
...you have 72 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
A solid smack of the weapon slaps the Elf's head to one side though softened marginally by his helm, the blow sends Elathrad staggering into the nearest tree. With an ill-tempered cry, he dashes blood away from his mouth and slices at Logoz's arm, not daring to strike further into the orc's range.
You attack Logoz with your Dagger...
Logoz dodges your attack.
[Logoz(#19187)]
Though he may rue the decision, for the orc is able to drag his arm away just enough to evade harm. The blade slices but a hair's breadth away from his ugly skin, and with a grunt of alarm the orc swipes down with his mace. Down it crashes, seeking the kneecap of the Firstborn, perhaps looking to even out their height a little.
Logoz attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 7 hp's by Logoz's attack...
...you have 65 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
A pity that the rings of Elathrad's armor end below the knee, and the leather boot is little protection. The Elf drops to one knee, a shudder of pain running over his face.
Running is no longer an option, and the knife that is directed at Logoz's belly from below is a little faster, a little more vicious for the fact.
You attack Logoz with your Dagger...
Logoz dodges your attack.
[Logoz(#19187)]
But once again the uruk bandit has the advantage, leaping back a full pace to put himself out of reach as the blade whistles by. Sneering to Elathrad, spitting also at the fair elven features of his foe, Logoz dances left then right -- presumably to keep the elf guessing. But then, swift as a serpent his mace hurtles out once more in search of Elathrad's weaponhand.
Logoz attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 27 hp's by Logoz's attack...
...you have 38 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
The blade thuds satisfyingly into a tree stump, some stone's throw away. The weapon-hand -- well, there's not so much to it anymore. The rain helps wash some of the blood away, but Elathrad would much rather cover it up than see it, and does so with the shaking fingers of his left hand.
The elf makes an effort to stand, rain and sweat pouring down his face and dripping into the muddy ditch at his feet.
You forego your chance to attack.
[Logoz(#19187)]
A cruel, mocking laugh is sent Elathrad's way no measure of respect given to the courage of the ellon as he stands. Logoz chuckles as he looks the warrior over, before he lowers his mace to shake his head. "Look at this," he croons. "Still standin' even after a good beating. Well now, they do say brave meat makes the best meals.. wanna keep you nice and tender though!"
He stalks forward then, eying his foe, before a meaty fist comes crashing in at Elathrad's temple in a bid to knock him unconscious.
Logoz attacks you with his Bare Hands!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 5 hp's by Logoz's attack...
...you have 33 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Elathrad loses his balance as the fist comes down, and the impact is not, perhaps, as strong as it should be. Sprawling, the elf gazes up at the orc coldly. "You will not find me nice," he whispers, bitter even while helpless.
Helpless? The luthier's good hand finds the haft of his spear, still stuck in Goblutz's body, though pulling it out is another task...
[Logoz(#19187)]
The burly orc stalks forward slow, menacing strides that show little care for caution now, and with a heavy boot he stamps down upon the haft of the spear, even as Elathrad struggles with it. "Don't know when to quit, do yer?" he taunts down to the elf, and spits once more as appears to be his vile wont.
"Ere, boss!" cries out the voice of the third orc, who just now arrives to join his leader's side. "Could be this is the same leaf-ear we shot at before.. he might know a thing or two about who's watching us?"
Logoz snarls at the interruption, but does not eventually as he appears to mull the thought over. "Could be, could be," he agrees. "We'll take him to camp, and have some fun finding out what he knows..." The burly uruk glares down to the Eldarin traveller once more, ere he lifts his boot a second time.
"Goodnight, maggot," he growls, and place a kick at Elathrad's forrid.
Earendil suddenly multiplies and dances in Elathrad's vision, ere the rough lullaby ends and the Elf's eyes roll into oblivion. He is pesky to the end, his grip on the spear a vise.
[Logoz(#19187)]
The two remaining orcs sneer down at the unconscious elf, and Logoz even decides to kick him once or twice for good measure. He reaches down to work at Elathrad's fingers, but failing to prise the spear from their grasp he nods grumpily to his fellow. The other orc quickly brings to bear a jagged blade and with a savage chop he hacks away the poor ellon's hand altogether!
Caring little for their fallen comrade or the blood gushing from the elf's wound, Logoz and the other pick up Elathrad's limp form, before ferrying it into the undergrowth.
Behind them, a corpse and a trail of gore tell any who might be passing that all was not well this night...
The road here passes through rolling hills. There is hardly any difference between east and west, but the land seems to be rising to the west and dropping to the east. A small footpath leaves the road toward the south. The surrounding forest looms close to the road here and, though you can make your way, you can see no great distance in the darkness.
Contents:
Logoz
Obvious exits:
Shepherding Village, North, East, and West
================== Eldarin Calendar
IC time is: Twilight < About 8:53 PM >
IC day is: Orithil
IC date is: 37 Rhiw
Moon phase: Last Quarter
Earendil: Gil-Estel shines brightly above the horizon in the
western sky.
IC year is: Loa 22 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor
---------------------------------------------------------------------
RL time: Mon May 25 20:57:44 2009
=====================================================================
A wet night. The dark branches allow little light to pass, and only Earendil is seen slanting far to the west, distant and lonely. The leaves quiver with spots of rain and mild wind.
A well-covered form slowly wends along the road-side, using a spear as a walking-stick. He knows his way, though uneasy, and is well off the high parts of the path, choosing instead to traverse through the soggy ditch.
[Logoz(#19187)]
Deep within the trees, under cover of the pitter patter of the rain and rustle of the wind, other shapes move in the dark. Even on this dank night there are eyes well used to the gloom, to which shadows are no hindrance and whose owners feel little discomfort from the chill. Orcs are on the prowl this evening, and they draw closer to the roadside with every step.
Elathrad plods steadily on, an uneven pattern in his steps. Now he allows his hood to fall, letting rain fall over pale face and inky hair, inhaling carefully of the night -- and whatever company he might have.
[Logoz(#19187)]
And now can be heard the muffled mutterings of those that approach him, for the orcs steal closer with no apparent clue of the elf. Grumbles and grunts slip under the drum of the rain and the bushes closest to Elathrad begin to rustle from something other than the wind.
The walking Elf stops, flattening against a tree. What little camouflage this action might add is enhanced by the darkness and his stillness -- though there are other features, the scent and pale beacon of a face, that would shove him into the foreground.
[Logoz(#19187)]
And shove they do, but not before the orcs themselves burst from the undergrowth. Three of them, to be exact, led by a burly uruk known as Logoz, trample through to the roadside as though they knew naught was amiss -- how this changes when their leader's eyes catch sight of the fair features of the elf.
He blinks, and rubs his eyes a moment, to double check that he is not imagining things on this soggy night.
Elathrad blinks, but sufficient effort is made to make no other movement. Perhaps he is a trick of the weather? Soaking elves are common illusions, no?
[Logoz(#19187)]
Logoz opens his eyes again, peering at the motionless elf, narrowing his gaze in increased scrutiny. "Oi, Goblutz," he barks to the orc at his left. "See that there? Go find out what it is..."
As the other orc moves to do just that, Logoz fingers the haft of his mace warily.
Smoke pours from Mt. Doom as the Dark One's evil sorcery lags the game.
The smoke clears as good triumphs and the database saves.
The elf-illusion loses no time. As the orc Goblutz approaches, his fingers curl about the spear. With a swift, abrupt movement that sends droplets flying, Elathrad thrusts the point toward him -- a rather real spear, unless the orc should dodge or wear sturdy armor.
[Logoz(#19187)]
The orc wears neither, and his eyes open wide as the spear-tip pierces his flesh soundly. Spitted upon the shaft, gurgling his last breathes, the hapless uruk slumps, and becomes dead weight upon the elf's weapon as he dies.
Logoz spits upon the ground at the sight, and with a snarl he points to Elathrad. "Thought so! Looking to spy on us, are yer? We'll see about that!" He rushes forward, mace held high as he seeks to close with the noble ellon.
With the stave bending under the weight, Elathrad backpedals vainly with the body dragging behind. His eyes flash for a moment in annoyance, and he strains, couching the spear under his arm as he sets his boot against the dead uruk. But it is stuck.
Murmuring a few words under his breath, the elf whips out a long dagger and drops the spear, leaving the orc-kebab in the ditch between them as a hindrance.
[Logoz(#19187)]
Bearing down upon Elathrad, Logoz snarls and kicks aside the corpse of his crony with little sympathy. The drawn dagger gives him pause, and so his stride slows, but nevertheless it is with a powerful swipe that he opens the firing looking to shatter the elf's jaw with his weapon.
Logoz attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 10 hp's by Logoz's attack...
...you have 72 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
A solid smack of the weapon slaps the Elf's head to one side though softened marginally by his helm, the blow sends Elathrad staggering into the nearest tree. With an ill-tempered cry, he dashes blood away from his mouth and slices at Logoz's arm, not daring to strike further into the orc's range.
You attack Logoz with your Dagger...
Logoz dodges your attack.
[Logoz(#19187)]
Though he may rue the decision, for the orc is able to drag his arm away just enough to evade harm. The blade slices but a hair's breadth away from his ugly skin, and with a grunt of alarm the orc swipes down with his mace. Down it crashes, seeking the kneecap of the Firstborn, perhaps looking to even out their height a little.
Logoz attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 7 hp's by Logoz's attack...
...you have 65 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
A pity that the rings of Elathrad's armor end below the knee, and the leather boot is little protection. The Elf drops to one knee, a shudder of pain running over his face.
Running is no longer an option, and the knife that is directed at Logoz's belly from below is a little faster, a little more vicious for the fact.
You attack Logoz with your Dagger...
Logoz dodges your attack.
[Logoz(#19187)]
But once again the uruk bandit has the advantage, leaping back a full pace to put himself out of reach as the blade whistles by. Sneering to Elathrad, spitting also at the fair elven features of his foe, Logoz dances left then right -- presumably to keep the elf guessing. But then, swift as a serpent his mace hurtles out once more in search of Elathrad's weaponhand.
Logoz attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 27 hp's by Logoz's attack...
...you have 38 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
The blade thuds satisfyingly into a tree stump, some stone's throw away. The weapon-hand -- well, there's not so much to it anymore. The rain helps wash some of the blood away, but Elathrad would much rather cover it up than see it, and does so with the shaking fingers of his left hand.
The elf makes an effort to stand, rain and sweat pouring down his face and dripping into the muddy ditch at his feet.
You forego your chance to attack.
[Logoz(#19187)]
A cruel, mocking laugh is sent Elathrad's way no measure of respect given to the courage of the ellon as he stands. Logoz chuckles as he looks the warrior over, before he lowers his mace to shake his head. "Look at this," he croons. "Still standin' even after a good beating. Well now, they do say brave meat makes the best meals.. wanna keep you nice and tender though!"
He stalks forward then, eying his foe, before a meaty fist comes crashing in at Elathrad's temple in a bid to knock him unconscious.
Logoz attacks you with his Bare Hands!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 5 hp's by Logoz's attack...
...you have 33 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Elathrad loses his balance as the fist comes down, and the impact is not, perhaps, as strong as it should be. Sprawling, the elf gazes up at the orc coldly. "You will not find me nice," he whispers, bitter even while helpless.
Helpless? The luthier's good hand finds the haft of his spear, still stuck in Goblutz's body, though pulling it out is another task...
[Logoz(#19187)]
The burly orc stalks forward slow, menacing strides that show little care for caution now, and with a heavy boot he stamps down upon the haft of the spear, even as Elathrad struggles with it. "Don't know when to quit, do yer?" he taunts down to the elf, and spits once more as appears to be his vile wont.
"Ere, boss!" cries out the voice of the third orc, who just now arrives to join his leader's side. "Could be this is the same leaf-ear we shot at before.. he might know a thing or two about who's watching us?"
Logoz snarls at the interruption, but does not eventually as he appears to mull the thought over. "Could be, could be," he agrees. "We'll take him to camp, and have some fun finding out what he knows..." The burly uruk glares down to the Eldarin traveller once more, ere he lifts his boot a second time.
"Goodnight, maggot," he growls, and place a kick at Elathrad's forrid.
Earendil suddenly multiplies and dances in Elathrad's vision, ere the rough lullaby ends and the Elf's eyes roll into oblivion. He is pesky to the end, his grip on the spear a vise.
[Logoz(#19187)]
The two remaining orcs sneer down at the unconscious elf, and Logoz even decides to kick him once or twice for good measure. He reaches down to work at Elathrad's fingers, but failing to prise the spear from their grasp he nods grumpily to his fellow. The other orc quickly brings to bear a jagged blade and with a savage chop he hacks away the poor ellon's hand altogether!
Caring little for their fallen comrade or the blood gushing from the elf's wound, Logoz and the other pick up Elathrad's limp form, before ferrying it into the undergrowth.
Behind them, a corpse and a trail of gore tell any who might be passing that all was not well this night...
Players: Elathrad, Logoz
