Clash at the Crossroads

[Hanomir]
It is late night at the crossroads, and the area appears to be empty and silent, the eerie glow from the East giving it a sinister feeling. However, the crossroads are not empty. A party of nine or ten scouts of Ithilien are out patrolling, moving swiftly but quietly through the nearby trees, eyes searching for a sign of anything, or anyONE unfriendly.

Among the scouts is the scout, Hanomir. Hanomir is currently near the leader of the group, eyes sharp and feet quiet. But something did not seem right as they approach the crossroads, and he knows he isn't the only one to feel it.

"Something is not right here." Hanomir whispers to the master scout that led the group. The master scout nods, and gives the command to draw weapons. Hanomir draws his bow first, eyes scanning the trees ahead for a sign of life.

[Grishnákh(#22300)]
 From behind the decapitated head of the statue comes sounds. A sound like running water? Though surely no stream runs through here.
         "HehehehehahaHA!"
 This terribly rough and grating laughter mingle with the sounds of liquids. A branch snaps to the trees on the eastern side of the roads.

[Hanomir]
The eyes of the young scout, Hanomir, narrow as they dart to to the statue near the road. The sound was like water, but as far as Hanomir knows, there was no stream or river near. Hanomir whispers into the master scout's ear, "There is no water nearby, am I right?"

The master scout nods, not replying with words. Then the terrible laugh reaches the scout's ears, and soon all ten of them are tense and looking around. The master scout, knowing that stealth is no longer needed, says loudly, "Bows ready. They either come from the east or both sides."

The group of scouts move out of the trees quickly and into the more open space, a fight in such cramped space could be disastorous. The ten form a semi-circle, a bow aiming in each direction. Hanomir's is facing east.

[Grishnákh(#22300)]
 "They came ta watch me pee, boys! HA!" A terrible figure steps around the stone head, still urinating. A huge orc, with massive arms and an angry glower underneath the mithril helmet on his head. As the flow trickles to a halt, Grishnakh regards the men with a sneer, "Makin' ya jealous? HA!"
 
 With a lewd shake of his hips the orc tucks one weapon away and retrieves another. This one is razor honed and seems much more deadly. The smirk never leaves the orc's face as he screams, "Get em', boys!"
 
 Suddenly the woods behind him in the northeast corner erupt with activity. 4 black fletched arrows zing out, followed by 8 of the biggest nastiest uruk-hai around. Clad in pure black and wielding battles axes or war hammers. They spring forward, their only intent to destroy.

[Hanomir]
The master scout regards the orc with disgust, the arrow now notched in his bow pointed at its heart. Some of the other scouts also changed their bow aim, some faces showing fear, some uncertain and some, like Hanomir and the master scout, disgust.

None of the group say a word, but Hanomir's eyes widen as the group of orcs suddenly burst out. Quickly aiming at an incoming orc, he looks briefly to the master scout.

"Fire!" The master scout shouts, and soon ten arrows fly through the air. Hanomir, however, aims for the leader orc, hoping to damage the enemy's morale before the battle has even begun.

[Combat(#13388)->Hanomir]
You blindly fire off an arrow at Grishnakh...

Your arrow flies wide of Grishnakh, doing no harm.

[Grishnákh(#22300)]
 The leader waits until the others are just behind him and he joins the leap into action. Grishnakh notes the arrow as it goes by his face. He notes where it came from. His feet lead him that way. The orcs close the distance incredibly fast. A couple final arrows burst from the trees and then melee is joined and no more arrows come forth. The ring of steel on steel once again echoes in ithilien.

[Hanomir]
Two of those arrows were fired from the Master scout's bow, though whether any of those caused any injuries, he does not know. "Swords!" he shouts, and draws out his own sword just in time for the first of the incoming orcs to charge into him. He is soon in a fierce fight with this orc, and shortly after, the other eight scouts are too.

Hanomir, however, has eyes for only one orc, the leader. He backs away slightly, returning his bow to his quiver, before drawing his sword, ready to meet the incoming foe. He just hopes that the orc does not reach and attack before he can defend himself.

[Grishnákh(#22300)]
 The combat explodes all around, as Grishnakh gets oh so close.
 6 steps...the massive bicep flexes.
 5 steps...the grip on the weapon shifts and tightens.
 4 steps...the arm cocks back, scimitar to the side.
 3 steps....the orc grins maliciously.
 2 steps...Grishnakh's weapon begins to cut the air towards Hanomir's head.

[Hanomir]
The eyes of the scout widen as the lead orc approaches, and only now does Hanomir realize just how tall and strong the orc is. But Hanomir has no time to regret challenging the foe now, and instead raises his sword and blocks the incoming attack, before bringing it down diagonally towards the orc's chest.
attack grishnakh

You attack Grishnakh with your Longsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Hanomir]
Grishnakh dodges your attack.

[Grishnákh(#22300)]
 Oh, what grace! For such a big beast, Grishnakh can move fluidly. As his blade is deflected he spins deftly to the right. He avoids the slice of the longsword as he spins away. His scimitar trails behind his spin and he drops to a knee as he comes full circle, the curved weapon coming around wickedly fast at the human's knee.

Grishnakh attacks you with his Scimitar!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 41 hp's by Grishnakh's attack...
...you have 42 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

[Hanomir]
The scout curses silently as his slash misses, and prepares for another strike as the orc spins away. However, he is not expecting the orc's attack, and is swiftly brought to the ground as the orc slashes open both legs. "Argh!" Hanomir shouts out in pain, sword sweeping through the air in an auto retalliation, hoping to slash open Grishnakh's stomach.

You attack Grishnakh with your Longsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Hanomir]
Your attack against Grishnakh mildly wounds him!

[Grishnákh(#22300)]
 As the man falls and the orc's cut finishes it's sweep he is left open. Attempting to drop back, still the blade catches him in the chest, shredding some armor. No blood pours forth though and the orc doesn't hesitate in leaping back over the man. Coming up to full height, Grishnakh steps over the man and thrusts his weapon down at his throat in anger.

Grishnakh attacks you with his Scimitar!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 36 hp's by Grishnakh's attack...
...you have 6 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

[Hanomir]
The battle is not going well for the scouts, for three of them already now lie still on the cold earth. The master scout surveys the battle, sword covered in black orc blood. His eyes linger on Hanomir's battle...

Hanomir attempts to stand, but is unable. He lies helpless on the ground, but manages to move slightly away from the incoming stab, but his chest erupts in agony. Luckily, the blow misses his heart but it digs into his chest. Deep. Hanomir screams in pain, and using all his remaing adrenaline, stabs with full strength at Grishnakh, before his head falls back. Dead? No. Alive? Barely.

The master scout sees the scout fall, and now notices only him and four others stand. "Retreat!" The master scout calls, "Back to the camp!"

The master scout hesitates, glancing at Hanomir, before redrawing his bow and prepares to fire at the lead orc.

You attack Grishnakh with your Longsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Hanomir]
Grishnakh dodges your attack.

[Grishnákh(#22300)]
 The lead orc barks out a nasty sounding word in Morbeth. He merely backsteps to avoid the last futile stab of the man's sword. His lip curls in a twisted sneer as he eyes the bow. The rough words come forth in westron this time, "Fools. You are going to die."
 The voice riases now, much louder, "Let none escape!" Grishnakh leaps forward at the man with the bow, closing the distance so fast.

[Ceredir]
The sounds of battle are unmistakeable, and on this eastern edge of the enemy's realm, the Company of Ithilien is ever-vigilant. Still, the soldiers of Gondor cannot be in all places all at once, and it is by luck only that a company of about 20 men now make their way north into the crossroads.

Road worn, weary, and injured, they are stealthy about thrusting themselves so into the battle, yet they do come to the aid of their brothers in arms: From the ring of vast broken trees comes a shower of arrows to challenge the Mordains.

 [Grishnákh(#22300)]
As Grishnakh's scimitar slices into just a bit more man flesh, the arrows rain down. One catches the uruk-hai in the shoulder and he gives a glance to the north. Quickly surveying the enemy he growls angrily, the destruction of these scouts not yet complete. Spitting he hollers loudly, "Fun's over, boys! Back to the east!"

And swiftly do the orcs run, one falling to the rain of death that follows their retreat. His comrades do not turn to bring him along, so unlike the men of gondor. The small party of black clad uruk-hai fast disapear.