Elendor
The Pretender Chronicles: What About the Sword?
Eruphel tries to get information about a certain sword out of the captured Ceredir, but her efforts are hindered by the arrival of Faramir.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: South Ithilien
Game Date: November 16 3046
IC Time: Noon
Description:
South Ithilien, Forest Edge
The forest here is still, as if the dark trees themselves hold their breath in anticipation. Tall and ancient, of ruinous age, moss-covered oak, birch, pine and cedar grow in groves, and the forest floor is a maze of ivy, thorn and undergrowth. Several strange paths crisscross the wood, though whether made by beast or man it is not clear. Eastward lie the dark Ephel Duath, and to the north begin the rolling hills of Emyn Arnen. To the south the terrain grows brighter, as deep forest gives way to open field and the soil becomes more sandy. Even the birds are silent in this watchful land. It is daytime.
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Mid Afternoon on Trewsday, Day 16 of November.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 19:36:30 MDT on Thu May 07 2009.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
A tent has been set up at the edge of camp...beyond it, actually, among the trees. Ceredir has not been taken where the slaves would be taken to be bandaged and shackled. Instead, he's been given this tiny tent to lay in, with some sentry who have express orders to find the Lady and summon her once he wakes. It is the next day, approaching noon.
A groan from the tent and stirring within announces that the Master Scout is awake, finally. He sits up, rubs his head and groans again, and then instinctively feels at his waist for his sword and dagger.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The sword and dagger are of course, gone. Might have known. But the sentries outside note the stirring, and a darkly tanned face peeks into the tent for just a moment before smiling with sickeningly white teeth, then popping back out.
Another soft curse comes from within the tent where Ceredir is stirring, this time given toward the sentry that notes he is awake. Shakily, the Master Scout gets to his feet, looking about for his helmet, at least. There's a cut on his forehead where the collapsing ceiling fell on him, and his hair is matted with dried blood.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The helmet, the armor...everything else is nearby. The helmet shows a large round dent where Ceredir's head might have been caved in otherwise.
Within a short time, there's sounds of more people outside the tent, and some activity, and the somewhat familiar voice of Eruphel, speaking in the Southron tongue. The tent flap opens, and Eruphel ducks into the small tent. She has to hunker over to remain standing in the little pup tent. "I am pleased to see you alive." she says.
"I think I can say the feeling is mutual," Ceredir grimaces. He, too, is stooped over, not able to stand upright, and he reaches down for his helmet and leather armor. But a wave of dizziness makes him sway suddenly, and thinking better of leaning over, he instead sits on a small wooden stool that is next to the bedding where he had been lying.
He looks up at Eruphel, anger flashing in his eyes.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel catches the signs of restrained anger, and sighs. "When you return to your group, you will have a lump on your head to prove everything you say. And you can say that you awoke along the way back here, draped across a horse, and slipped off while no one was looking. Make it as elaborate as you like." Eruphel crouches down to a squat before Ceredir, leaning her elbow on her knee for extra balance. "I am glad we found /you/, though. I would like an interpretation for the paper."
"Is that what this is about?" Ceredir retorts angrily. "Is that why you pursued us and killed my men? That paper and the message on it is for Lord Alphros. Not for you. Lord Alphros."
[Eruphel(#20109)]
"I see." Eruphel says cooly. "I will pass it on to him. But no, that's not why I killed those men. I killed them because they were of Gondor, and they would have done the same to me. I might have killed you as well, except you whispered." She smiles, and shifts her weight in her squatting position. "Which also raised a concern...how would you justify whispering to a Lady Corsair of the Southrons /while dueling with her/ to your companions without ending in certain death? There were three of you. One of them had nothing to do but watch."
"I had no intentions of meeting you there, under those circumstances, nor would I have said any more than I did. As for the ending, it certainly might have ended in death for one or both of us, but may I remind you--we were fleeing north. You pursued me."
Ceredir pauses, frowning, brows drawing together. "Because of the note? Why are you so interested in the matters of Lord Alphros?" he presses, though this question is not asked with anger now.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel's mouth twitches in disagreement, but she decides not to mince words over the matter of pursuit. But the other...she shifts her weight to the other knee again. "Believe it or not, I /am/ interested in him achieving the throne of Gondor. But I thought the note was for me...since I did ask you to look for some information for me...and you just wanted Lord Alphros to interpret it. Speaking of which..." But the Lady leaves the question unasked, hanging thickly on the air instead.
"You..?" Surprised by this, Ceredir stares and sputters the word out. "Why do you support this ambition in him? And it seems to me..." he frowns, wording his thoughts carefully, "that he does not know it. If he knew it and trusted you with it, then he would have made you his emissary to me this trip."
And then, noticing the woman shifting, he gets carefully to his feet. "How is your leg?" He gestures for her to take the stool and lowers himself carefully to sit on the bedroll.
"The sword. You wish to know about the sword."
Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel looks...confused. She shakes her head. "I am not his emissary. And he does not tell me everything, nor do I expect him to. Nor do I tell him everything, such as the sword, yes. It is the way of our people: trust is dearly given, and betrayal dearly bought. Have you learned anything about the sword?" She shifts and moves sideways, accepting the stool and sitting on it without ever standing up.
"But if trust is dearly given and betrayal dearly bought...and I am sworn to Lord Alphros, who also seeks this sword...then you understand, my lady, that if I tell you anything of this sword before I tell him and without his permission, I betray that trust and my oath to him?"
With a sigh, though, Ceredir relents a little. "The sword..is an heirloom. Ancient. And if it exists at all still--and it may not--then it is in Gondor still."
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Suprise crosses the Lady's face, and she holds her breath for a moment before laughing out loud. "So it /is/ about the sword. Perhaps I should speak to Lord Alphros about it. Believe me, he will get your note, nor have I any move I can make based on the information you supplied. I would like detail, Ceredir. Specifics on its length and heft, markings and runes, composition, everything and anything that would identify it." She tilts her head to the side curiously. "Did he really ask you for information about the sword? Or just in general?"
"No. In fact...it is not about the sword," Ceredir insists, though his face twitches briefly as he says this, as if Eruphel has guessed right and he is pained by it. "Lord Alphros needs support here in Gondor and I am working on garnering that support for him. But I must meet with him and we have to arrange that."
He shakes his head at her questions. "For all I know, the sword has disappeared into the mists of time at this point. How would you possibly retrieve it? Or..."
He does not continue.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
"Oh, so it is lost in the mists of time, so we shouldn't even look for it. Shouldn't even try to find out what it looks like. Can't be done." Her tone is a bit mocking and sarcastic. She stands up. "We will worry about how after we have a better idea where to look for it." She pauses for a moment, looking at Ceredir. "My leg is healing, thank you. As for your sword and dagger, they await you outside."
"You are going to forge a new one--a replica, and give it to him, aren't you?" Ceredir says, getting up too quickly so that he sways on his feet for a moment."Is that what you have in mind?"
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel was turning to exit the tent. But at the question, she stiffens between the shoulderblades and stops, then turns back to look at the young man. "Perhaps. But that depends very much on you, and what you can find. Maybe we can find the original, if that is the information you produce. Or perhaps a copy can be made. Who can say?"
"If I find it--and who can say that I will--it will be dearly bought, each piece. So before you leave, tell me why I should give you this information first and not Lord Alphros?" Ceredir has stepped forward as well, following Eruphel to come to the tent's flap.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
"Because whether the real thing, or a copy, it /will/ end up in Alphros' hands...likely as a gift from me." Eruphel says a little sharply. "And such a thing can only be used to his advantage."
Ceredir reaches out a hand to try to stop Eruphel. "What oath will bind you? What oath will you not break?"
Eruphel(#20109)]
"Oath? Me make an oath to you?" Eruphel seems quite incredulous. "If you need convincing, perhaps it could be the fact that I have done all I have done so far /without/ an oath...no compunction, no force or requirement. I have done it all from a desire to see him succeed - I've planned his attacks when we were here, and directed his troops. You may recall, even in Umbar, when you were his guests, that only I or his sister Azradi were permitted to take you beyond the walls of his tower." She takes a breath, and a moment to think. "If you want me to swear on something dear to me," she holds out her sword, still in its scabbard, "this, the sword of my father."
"I know this, but I am sworn to Lord Alphros and I will not break that oath. But...I also believe you. And I want to help you. So swear to me now that you will only use this information to help Lord Alphros gain the throne of Gondor and that you will not use it in any way to plot or scheme against him or to help or allow others to do so. I ...I also wish that you do not tell him of this. Nor his sister." Ceredir frowns, not comfortable with this, but continues. "Swear it by your father's sword and on your life."
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel looks truly irked. But tired of bending over, she passes outside the tent flap and waits for Ceredir to follow, so she can face him properly. She draws her sword somewhat menacingly, and naturally holds it at the ready. "I swear, on my life, and on this," she holds up the sword, "the Devilblade of Umbar, my father's sword, that I will use information found about the heirloom sword of the Kings of Gondor only to Alphros' benefit." Now she swings it downward again, holding it at the ready. Nearby, a soldier can be seen holding Ceredir's captured sword and dagger.
[Faramir(#10683)]
ha-ROOOOOOOOM! ha-ROOOOOOOOM!
A horn call echoes through the noon-time woods, reverberating off trees and tents, and with it, an accompanying voice. "These have trespassed upon sacred ground! Drive them from the Garden! To battle, Brothers!" Atop an incline in the earth, a line of green and brown clad men stand, bows at the ready. At their center, and three paces afore them, stands their Captain: The green-gauntleted form of Faramir, a bow within his grasp with arrow nocked and drawn to his cheek.
With little hesitation, the shaft is released, let loose to streak towards it's intended target: Eruphel fell Lady Regent of Seaward Tower, for the Captain of the Company will not leave one of his men in the danger such as Ceredir is currently perceived.
Moments after the volley of arrows is loosed not only upon the seperate tent, but the main camp as well, the brave men of Gondor descend, swords drawn, upon the Haradhrim.
"I accept this vow, Lady Eruphel," Ceredir says solemnly, his eyes on the blade that the woman holds so menacingly. "I will question your loyalty to Lord Alphros no more and will join you in ..."
The Master Scout's words are abruptly cut off by the horn echoing through the woods. He turns sharply to look at the hillside and the men there--and then gives Eruphel a panicked, wide-eyed look before he reacts: In this case, he dives out of the way of what seems to be the path of Eruphel's blade toward him and instead tries to tackle the man holding his sword and dagger.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Ceredir's tackle likely saved the man holding his sword and dagger, though that likely was not the intent. Both went down together, the man on the ground reaching for the sword hilt but finding the dagger hilt instead. Nearby, others are struck where they stand, and cry out in surprise and pain, and Eruphel is no exception. Her free hand flies to the biting wound, and she turns to regard the trees, seeing the brave form of Faramir standing there. She charges forward, trying to close the distance before he can nock his bow again, shouting like a banshee demon. She takes a slashing swing across his midsection, but the arrow sticks in her shoulder, hampering her movements more than she knows.
Within moment, a hue and cry goes up in the camp, and men begin to scramble for their weapons and in some cases, armor.
[Faramir(#10683)]
Bow yet in hand, Faramir jumps back from the advancing foe. Yet he is not swift enough, and though the bow is brought upwards, it does not hamper the blow enough to avoid injury. A slash across his midsection pierces leather and cloth, revealing split flesh where crimson begins to seep, and Faramir--though having retained the hold on his bow--drops it now, instead drawing his longsword which gleams in the noon-day light.
"You have come unto Ithilien, woman, and have Doomed yourself." Hard, grey eyes are upon Eruphel as he speaks, even as the men of Ithilien swarm those remaining in the camp. "Prepare." he states simply.
The Master Scout's sword is out of reach, the weapon having landed several feet away when both men fell to the ground. As Eruphel's man reaches for the hilt of the dagger, Ceredir lunges for it as well, trying to rip it from the man's grasp. The cut on his head opens from the effort, and blood trickles down his face.
Fighting as he is, Ceredir spares no glance to see how Eruphel is faring, nor does he look up to Faramir. He is too locked in his own struggle with the guard.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel's charge takes her past her foe. But as she turns back to address him once more, she feels the need to circle him, so her own camp is to her back once more, which gives him time to draw his sword. "My doom has been foretold, man of Gondor, and it is not here it is not now." Eruphel says in the common tongue. She feints forward again to the right, then does a lower jabbing thrust aimed toward his thigh.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The guard, though perhaps stronger, is at a disadvantage, fighting from his back. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, he gives up the contest for the dagger and gets to his feet, calling for others to rally around their Lady, then he charges to her defense, but time seems against him, and his feet mired in mud.
[Faramir(#10683)]
A dark gaze is cast upon the Lady Regent, and Faramir circles easily with her. As the thrust is made, the fleet of foot Captain dances to his right, away from the swordpoint, and instead his own blade snakes in. The son of Denethor spares no more words for the woman, his intense gaze speaking volumes as his sword sweeps in, aimed for the woman's left thigh.
As the guard gives up the fight for the dagger, Ceredir's hand closes on the weapon. But that is all he can do--bleeding and still dizzy from the blow he had taken to the head the previous day, he remains fallen on the forest floor.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The slash to Eruphel's leg is deep, and her armor does little to protect against such a blow, both armor and flesh splitting wide open. The gash is deep, and looks like a butcher has tried to cut a hunk off of her. She bleeds profusely, but the all-important vein is missed by less than an inch. As it is, though, she is done for now, and falls toward a nearby tree, catching herself and hanging there, her cut leg limp beneath her.
At last, what few of her guard are left alive charge into the void, addressing Faramir and the other scouts with scimitars and spears raised.
[Faramir(#10683)]
Harried by the woman's guards of a sudden, Faramir is pressed and pressed hard by the trio who engage him. Weaving through the dance of death, the son of the Steward is fleet of foot, though takes a few gashes and nicks as he is teamed against by multiple opponents. At present, however, Eruphel is dismissed, even as two Scouts move to Ceredir's side, lifting him from the ground, and beginning to carry him away from the enemy camp.
Dizzy and weakened but not helpless, Ceredir stumbles away from the camp with the help of the two Scouts. He has, at least, his dagger again. The sword is lost on the forest floor somewhere, at least for now.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
And, likewise, Eruphel finds one of her men suddenly at her side, shouldering his way in between her and the tree, and taking her arm behind his neck like a yoke. Without a care for whether she wants it, permits it, or not, he slowly begins carrying and dragging her back to safety. She hops slowly with great effort and pain, till another man comes and assists on the other side, literally lifting her and carrying her away. "Take me to my tent," she can be heard to say, "and prepare to break camp." Her men, however, stay to hold off the scouts, and push them further back into the woods.
South Ithilien, Forest Edge
The forest here is still, as if the dark trees themselves hold their breath in anticipation. Tall and ancient, of ruinous age, moss-covered oak, birch, pine and cedar grow in groves, and the forest floor is a maze of ivy, thorn and undergrowth. Several strange paths crisscross the wood, though whether made by beast or man it is not clear. Eastward lie the dark Ephel Duath, and to the north begin the rolling hills of Emyn Arnen. To the south the terrain grows brighter, as deep forest gives way to open field and the soil becomes more sandy. Even the birds are silent in this watchful land. It is daytime.
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Mid Afternoon on Trewsday, Day 16 of November.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 19:36:30 MDT on Thu May 07 2009.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
A tent has been set up at the edge of camp...beyond it, actually, among the trees. Ceredir has not been taken where the slaves would be taken to be bandaged and shackled. Instead, he's been given this tiny tent to lay in, with some sentry who have express orders to find the Lady and summon her once he wakes. It is the next day, approaching noon.
A groan from the tent and stirring within announces that the Master Scout is awake, finally. He sits up, rubs his head and groans again, and then instinctively feels at his waist for his sword and dagger.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The sword and dagger are of course, gone. Might have known. But the sentries outside note the stirring, and a darkly tanned face peeks into the tent for just a moment before smiling with sickeningly white teeth, then popping back out.
Another soft curse comes from within the tent where Ceredir is stirring, this time given toward the sentry that notes he is awake. Shakily, the Master Scout gets to his feet, looking about for his helmet, at least. There's a cut on his forehead where the collapsing ceiling fell on him, and his hair is matted with dried blood.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The helmet, the armor...everything else is nearby. The helmet shows a large round dent where Ceredir's head might have been caved in otherwise.
Within a short time, there's sounds of more people outside the tent, and some activity, and the somewhat familiar voice of Eruphel, speaking in the Southron tongue. The tent flap opens, and Eruphel ducks into the small tent. She has to hunker over to remain standing in the little pup tent. "I am pleased to see you alive." she says.
"I think I can say the feeling is mutual," Ceredir grimaces. He, too, is stooped over, not able to stand upright, and he reaches down for his helmet and leather armor. But a wave of dizziness makes him sway suddenly, and thinking better of leaning over, he instead sits on a small wooden stool that is next to the bedding where he had been lying.
He looks up at Eruphel, anger flashing in his eyes.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel catches the signs of restrained anger, and sighs. "When you return to your group, you will have a lump on your head to prove everything you say. And you can say that you awoke along the way back here, draped across a horse, and slipped off while no one was looking. Make it as elaborate as you like." Eruphel crouches down to a squat before Ceredir, leaning her elbow on her knee for extra balance. "I am glad we found /you/, though. I would like an interpretation for the paper."
"Is that what this is about?" Ceredir retorts angrily. "Is that why you pursued us and killed my men? That paper and the message on it is for Lord Alphros. Not for you. Lord Alphros."
[Eruphel(#20109)]
"I see." Eruphel says cooly. "I will pass it on to him. But no, that's not why I killed those men. I killed them because they were of Gondor, and they would have done the same to me. I might have killed you as well, except you whispered." She smiles, and shifts her weight in her squatting position. "Which also raised a concern...how would you justify whispering to a Lady Corsair of the Southrons /while dueling with her/ to your companions without ending in certain death? There were three of you. One of them had nothing to do but watch."
"I had no intentions of meeting you there, under those circumstances, nor would I have said any more than I did. As for the ending, it certainly might have ended in death for one or both of us, but may I remind you--we were fleeing north. You pursued me."
Ceredir pauses, frowning, brows drawing together. "Because of the note? Why are you so interested in the matters of Lord Alphros?" he presses, though this question is not asked with anger now.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel's mouth twitches in disagreement, but she decides not to mince words over the matter of pursuit. But the other...she shifts her weight to the other knee again. "Believe it or not, I /am/ interested in him achieving the throne of Gondor. But I thought the note was for me...since I did ask you to look for some information for me...and you just wanted Lord Alphros to interpret it. Speaking of which..." But the Lady leaves the question unasked, hanging thickly on the air instead.
"You..?" Surprised by this, Ceredir stares and sputters the word out. "Why do you support this ambition in him? And it seems to me..." he frowns, wording his thoughts carefully, "that he does not know it. If he knew it and trusted you with it, then he would have made you his emissary to me this trip."
And then, noticing the woman shifting, he gets carefully to his feet. "How is your leg?" He gestures for her to take the stool and lowers himself carefully to sit on the bedroll.
"The sword. You wish to know about the sword."
Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel looks...confused. She shakes her head. "I am not his emissary. And he does not tell me everything, nor do I expect him to. Nor do I tell him everything, such as the sword, yes. It is the way of our people: trust is dearly given, and betrayal dearly bought. Have you learned anything about the sword?" She shifts and moves sideways, accepting the stool and sitting on it without ever standing up.
"But if trust is dearly given and betrayal dearly bought...and I am sworn to Lord Alphros, who also seeks this sword...then you understand, my lady, that if I tell you anything of this sword before I tell him and without his permission, I betray that trust and my oath to him?"
With a sigh, though, Ceredir relents a little. "The sword..is an heirloom. Ancient. And if it exists at all still--and it may not--then it is in Gondor still."
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Suprise crosses the Lady's face, and she holds her breath for a moment before laughing out loud. "So it /is/ about the sword. Perhaps I should speak to Lord Alphros about it. Believe me, he will get your note, nor have I any move I can make based on the information you supplied. I would like detail, Ceredir. Specifics on its length and heft, markings and runes, composition, everything and anything that would identify it." She tilts her head to the side curiously. "Did he really ask you for information about the sword? Or just in general?"
"No. In fact...it is not about the sword," Ceredir insists, though his face twitches briefly as he says this, as if Eruphel has guessed right and he is pained by it. "Lord Alphros needs support here in Gondor and I am working on garnering that support for him. But I must meet with him and we have to arrange that."
He shakes his head at her questions. "For all I know, the sword has disappeared into the mists of time at this point. How would you possibly retrieve it? Or..."
He does not continue.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
"Oh, so it is lost in the mists of time, so we shouldn't even look for it. Shouldn't even try to find out what it looks like. Can't be done." Her tone is a bit mocking and sarcastic. She stands up. "We will worry about how after we have a better idea where to look for it." She pauses for a moment, looking at Ceredir. "My leg is healing, thank you. As for your sword and dagger, they await you outside."
"You are going to forge a new one--a replica, and give it to him, aren't you?" Ceredir says, getting up too quickly so that he sways on his feet for a moment."Is that what you have in mind?"
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel was turning to exit the tent. But at the question, she stiffens between the shoulderblades and stops, then turns back to look at the young man. "Perhaps. But that depends very much on you, and what you can find. Maybe we can find the original, if that is the information you produce. Or perhaps a copy can be made. Who can say?"
"If I find it--and who can say that I will--it will be dearly bought, each piece. So before you leave, tell me why I should give you this information first and not Lord Alphros?" Ceredir has stepped forward as well, following Eruphel to come to the tent's flap.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
"Because whether the real thing, or a copy, it /will/ end up in Alphros' hands...likely as a gift from me." Eruphel says a little sharply. "And such a thing can only be used to his advantage."
Ceredir reaches out a hand to try to stop Eruphel. "What oath will bind you? What oath will you not break?"
Eruphel(#20109)]
"Oath? Me make an oath to you?" Eruphel seems quite incredulous. "If you need convincing, perhaps it could be the fact that I have done all I have done so far /without/ an oath...no compunction, no force or requirement. I have done it all from a desire to see him succeed - I've planned his attacks when we were here, and directed his troops. You may recall, even in Umbar, when you were his guests, that only I or his sister Azradi were permitted to take you beyond the walls of his tower." She takes a breath, and a moment to think. "If you want me to swear on something dear to me," she holds out her sword, still in its scabbard, "this, the sword of my father."
"I know this, but I am sworn to Lord Alphros and I will not break that oath. But...I also believe you. And I want to help you. So swear to me now that you will only use this information to help Lord Alphros gain the throne of Gondor and that you will not use it in any way to plot or scheme against him or to help or allow others to do so. I ...I also wish that you do not tell him of this. Nor his sister." Ceredir frowns, not comfortable with this, but continues. "Swear it by your father's sword and on your life."
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel looks truly irked. But tired of bending over, she passes outside the tent flap and waits for Ceredir to follow, so she can face him properly. She draws her sword somewhat menacingly, and naturally holds it at the ready. "I swear, on my life, and on this," she holds up the sword, "the Devilblade of Umbar, my father's sword, that I will use information found about the heirloom sword of the Kings of Gondor only to Alphros' benefit." Now she swings it downward again, holding it at the ready. Nearby, a soldier can be seen holding Ceredir's captured sword and dagger.
[Faramir(#10683)]
ha-ROOOOOOOOM! ha-ROOOOOOOOM!
A horn call echoes through the noon-time woods, reverberating off trees and tents, and with it, an accompanying voice. "These have trespassed upon sacred ground! Drive them from the Garden! To battle, Brothers!" Atop an incline in the earth, a line of green and brown clad men stand, bows at the ready. At their center, and three paces afore them, stands their Captain: The green-gauntleted form of Faramir, a bow within his grasp with arrow nocked and drawn to his cheek.
With little hesitation, the shaft is released, let loose to streak towards it's intended target: Eruphel fell Lady Regent of Seaward Tower, for the Captain of the Company will not leave one of his men in the danger such as Ceredir is currently perceived.
Moments after the volley of arrows is loosed not only upon the seperate tent, but the main camp as well, the brave men of Gondor descend, swords drawn, upon the Haradhrim.
"I accept this vow, Lady Eruphel," Ceredir says solemnly, his eyes on the blade that the woman holds so menacingly. "I will question your loyalty to Lord Alphros no more and will join you in ..."
The Master Scout's words are abruptly cut off by the horn echoing through the woods. He turns sharply to look at the hillside and the men there--and then gives Eruphel a panicked, wide-eyed look before he reacts: In this case, he dives out of the way of what seems to be the path of Eruphel's blade toward him and instead tries to tackle the man holding his sword and dagger.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Ceredir's tackle likely saved the man holding his sword and dagger, though that likely was not the intent. Both went down together, the man on the ground reaching for the sword hilt but finding the dagger hilt instead. Nearby, others are struck where they stand, and cry out in surprise and pain, and Eruphel is no exception. Her free hand flies to the biting wound, and she turns to regard the trees, seeing the brave form of Faramir standing there. She charges forward, trying to close the distance before he can nock his bow again, shouting like a banshee demon. She takes a slashing swing across his midsection, but the arrow sticks in her shoulder, hampering her movements more than she knows.
Within moment, a hue and cry goes up in the camp, and men begin to scramble for their weapons and in some cases, armor.
[Faramir(#10683)]
Bow yet in hand, Faramir jumps back from the advancing foe. Yet he is not swift enough, and though the bow is brought upwards, it does not hamper the blow enough to avoid injury. A slash across his midsection pierces leather and cloth, revealing split flesh where crimson begins to seep, and Faramir--though having retained the hold on his bow--drops it now, instead drawing his longsword which gleams in the noon-day light.
"You have come unto Ithilien, woman, and have Doomed yourself." Hard, grey eyes are upon Eruphel as he speaks, even as the men of Ithilien swarm those remaining in the camp. "Prepare." he states simply.
The Master Scout's sword is out of reach, the weapon having landed several feet away when both men fell to the ground. As Eruphel's man reaches for the hilt of the dagger, Ceredir lunges for it as well, trying to rip it from the man's grasp. The cut on his head opens from the effort, and blood trickles down his face.
Fighting as he is, Ceredir spares no glance to see how Eruphel is faring, nor does he look up to Faramir. He is too locked in his own struggle with the guard.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel's charge takes her past her foe. But as she turns back to address him once more, she feels the need to circle him, so her own camp is to her back once more, which gives him time to draw his sword. "My doom has been foretold, man of Gondor, and it is not here it is not now." Eruphel says in the common tongue. She feints forward again to the right, then does a lower jabbing thrust aimed toward his thigh.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The guard, though perhaps stronger, is at a disadvantage, fighting from his back. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, he gives up the contest for the dagger and gets to his feet, calling for others to rally around their Lady, then he charges to her defense, but time seems against him, and his feet mired in mud.
[Faramir(#10683)]
A dark gaze is cast upon the Lady Regent, and Faramir circles easily with her. As the thrust is made, the fleet of foot Captain dances to his right, away from the swordpoint, and instead his own blade snakes in. The son of Denethor spares no more words for the woman, his intense gaze speaking volumes as his sword sweeps in, aimed for the woman's left thigh.
As the guard gives up the fight for the dagger, Ceredir's hand closes on the weapon. But that is all he can do--bleeding and still dizzy from the blow he had taken to the head the previous day, he remains fallen on the forest floor.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The slash to Eruphel's leg is deep, and her armor does little to protect against such a blow, both armor and flesh splitting wide open. The gash is deep, and looks like a butcher has tried to cut a hunk off of her. She bleeds profusely, but the all-important vein is missed by less than an inch. As it is, though, she is done for now, and falls toward a nearby tree, catching herself and hanging there, her cut leg limp beneath her.
At last, what few of her guard are left alive charge into the void, addressing Faramir and the other scouts with scimitars and spears raised.
[Faramir(#10683)]
Harried by the woman's guards of a sudden, Faramir is pressed and pressed hard by the trio who engage him. Weaving through the dance of death, the son of the Steward is fleet of foot, though takes a few gashes and nicks as he is teamed against by multiple opponents. At present, however, Eruphel is dismissed, even as two Scouts move to Ceredir's side, lifting him from the ground, and beginning to carry him away from the enemy camp.
Dizzy and weakened but not helpless, Ceredir stumbles away from the camp with the help of the two Scouts. He has, at least, his dagger again. The sword is lost on the forest floor somewhere, at least for now.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
And, likewise, Eruphel finds one of her men suddenly at her side, shouldering his way in between her and the tree, and taking her arm behind his neck like a yoke. Without a care for whether she wants it, permits it, or not, he slowly begins carrying and dragging her back to safety. She hops slowly with great effort and pain, till another man comes and assists on the other side, literally lifting her and carrying her away. "Take me to my tent," she can be heard to say, "and prepare to break camp." Her men, however, stay to hold off the scouts, and push them further back into the woods.
Players: Eruphel,Ceredir,Faramir
