Elendor
Ambush
Eruphel of Umbar and her men trap some of the Scouts of Ithilien.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: South Ithilien
Game Date: November 13, 3046
IC Time: Day
Description: South Ithilien Forest
Just south of the heart of Emyn Arnen, the hills roll irregularly, with varying slopes and distances between them. The hills diminish gradually as they go southward, as do the trees and brush. To the west, the grounds are littered with bushes and other low-growing scrub and eventually slope steeply downward toward the Anduin. Eastward, a thin old-growth forest of willow and elm walls in these southernmost hills from the South Ithilien Road.
The wide valleys that span the gaps between the southernmost hills abound with younger flora, though some valleys are empty of all but grass. Here, the soil grows richer. The landscape is dotted by large stones & pillars, sometimes congregated, sometimes scattered, sometimes still intact as the foundations of ruined homes. These are remnants of homesteads that stood for centuries here in the royal hills of Gondor. It is daytime.
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Early Evening on Sterday, Day 13 of November.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 20:03:32 MDT on Wed May 06 2009.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
During the early morn, sentries had raised an alarm that yet another party of scouts had been found nearby. This time the whole camp came astir, and the Southron Lady Eruphel herself took interest in the finding and crushing of the annoying force that has harried them for weeks. But alas, by the time a group of fighters had been mounted, there was only sign of passing, and a faint trail. But as the sun rose, the tracking of the group became easier, and Eruphel's force moved faster, regaining some of the lost ground. But now, they have moved far enough north that the terrain and the wood has changed, showing newer, younger growth. But now, as pillars and stones and abandoned buildings begin to pop up, the Lady becomes increasingly reluctant to continue the pursuit. Now, the group of them sit their horses at a crossroads, silent in their contemplations. Finally the Lady asks, "Have we seen them at all, yet?"
It is a small group of Scouts that has been so pursued, perhaps a dozen. In the trees their concealment was an easier matter, but as they headed north and the enemy kept up their pursuit, remaining hidden became a challenge. So it is that the Scouts have taken refuge in the remains of a few of the foundations that dot the ruins here--with nothing between them and the Southrons but grass swaying in the wind, waist high.
No sound nor bird calls here. It is unnaturally still.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
"I see em!" a sharp-eyed fellow says, pointing toward the ruins where the movement was spied. Almost as one, they turned their mounts and spurred them forward, charging across the grassy field. But after a couple of strides, Eruphel reins in her horse, and calls on one of the others to do so as well. "Hold. Lets go around." she says, and turns her mount to take a less direct route.
The main force charge on enthusiastically, drawing their swords and brandishing them as they holler a muddled war cry.
The movement, such as it is, was a flicker of a brown-green cloak, no more, the broken state of the ruins leaving gaps in the stonework to betray the group. No response or movement is seen from the hiding place until Eruphel turns her mount to go around--but as soon as she does so, arrows are loosed into the air, though they seemed to be aimed at the horses first.
And not all the arrows come from this one hiding place--they seem to fly from all directions, as if the men of Gondor have scattered hiding places.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
And horses make much better targets than people anyway, though perhaps the arrows are less effective in their larger bodies. But several cry out as their tender flesh is pierced. One falls right away, then gets up again, while several others continue, but at a slower, limping pace. One man, however, had the poor fortune of catching an arrow in the neck, and slumps now in his (ironically) unharmed horse's saddle.
Eruphel, at least, notices the directions of the arrows with some alarm. "Halt! Retreat!" she calls to the group, and then redirects her mount to find cover from the arrows behind a stone pillar herself.
Two last arrows now fly through the air: One aimed at rider of the last horse to reach the stone pillar, the other shot toward the rump of the horse. And then, quite suddenly, the arrows stop.
Eruphel's hiding place has put her closest to the ruins where the Scouts were spotted. There is some movement there, carefully, the men crouched and staying as hidden as they can from the nearby mounted riders. The walls of the ruined foundation in which they shelter are high enough to afford them some protection, at least.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
In the middle of the field, another horse squeals in pain, and a man cries out as well. Eruphel resists the urge to shout commands to them, as their doom may become her doom. She can hear the Umbarean shouts to find shelter, and the offering to ride double as they mill about in some confusion. The woman draws her scimitar carefully, indicating that the man with her should do so too. They advance slowly, checking behind every corner, every boulder, every crevasse.
But the field is being watched, and closely so. The men milling about are rewarded with arrows flying toward them now--each arrow seems to be carefully and painstakingly aimed. And in the ruined foundation, eyes watch through the crevices afforded by the broken stone. An arrow is loosed from that shelter, arcing into the air, perhaps in the hopes it will fall on Eruphel, for it heads her way.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
An arrow falls nearby, and Eruphel ducks after the fact. She hisses under her breath, and raises her shield above her head to serve as an arrow umbrella. She looks at her companion. "We must move fast." she whispers, then dismounts her horse, leading it forward till she thinks she has visual cover from the archers above, then she tethers her horse. With that, she moves swiftly up the nearest stairs, holding her shield before her, now.
A soft curse sounds from inside the ruined foundation as the woman and her companion move too fast for more arrows to be targeted at them. The three men inside scramble, slinging bows on their backs, drawing swords. One--Ceredir--draws a dagger. All three are masked.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
At the threshold, Eruphel peers down into the darkness of the basement, filled with debris and shadow. Even with the roof missing and the daylight streaming in, she can only barely see three men waiting. She takes a moment's pause to pick her landing spot, then drops down into the bottom, somehow managing not to impale herself with her own scimitar. Then she moves aside to allow her companion to follow, and then its a face-off. Finally she takes a leap forward, stepping over a beam and jumping off the other side, using her downward fall to put more power in her downward stroke.
Two of the Scouts immediately fall upon Eruphel's companion, attacking him with their swords and trying to pin him back against a tangle of debris by the one of the decaying walls. Ceredir ducks out of the way of Eruphel's stroke, the scimitar's blade swishing over his head as he slashes with his dagger toward the woman's thigh. "Why are you here?!" he hisses. "I gave you what you need!"
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel reels backward as the dagger finds her thigh and cuts a long gash across it. She hisses in pain, but then turns to attack another of the men in the room instead, perhaps because he is an easier target. Or perhaps because she wants him dead more. She turns to make a stroke across the chest, ducking under an anticipated swing.
"NO!!" Ceredir's shout echoes in the confines of the ruined foundation, but it comes a second too late for his fellow Scout, who stares in brief astonishment as the scimitar cuts through his leather armor and into his chest, opening a gushing wound. In seconds he crumples to the floor, dying.
The second Scout, fighting Eruphel's companion, cries out, too, and hacks with his sword toward the neck of the Southron man. This Scout has already taken a wound to leg and is bleeding profusely, as well, but a sudden burst of energy puts force into his stroke.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The third man's energetic stroke seriously wounds Eruphel's man as the blade bites deep into his neck, bringing about a fountain of arterial blood. But Eruphel doesn't give him a chance to recover, and stabs him in the side where his armor buckles, thrusting deep. Then, after a moment, she pulls the sword out halfway, gleaming red in the dim light. It is a mortal wound for him as well, and as both men lay dying, Eruphel turns once more to Ceredir. "I hope they weren't friends of yours." she says softly.
"Brothers," Ceredir says, the word coming out in an angry snarl. He hurries to the side of the dying Scout, dropping to his knees and leaning forward to give the man whatever comfort he can in these last few moments--Ceredir turning his back to Eruphel, even, as if he expects she will not attack him.
The death comes quickly, though Ceredir is still bent over the Scout for several long moments. And when he turns to face Eruphel again, there is fury in his eyes--all that can be seen of his face behind his mask.
"Why?" he demands. "Why? Why ...this..?" he gestures at the blood-strewn room and the dead men. "Did I not give you enough? Has your greed driven you to this?"
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel, by contrast, does not comfort her own man, who suffers his death in silence. She watches him with compassion, but apparently it is his time to go. "It's not /greed/, Ceredir. I have no idea what you gave me. So how can it be greed?" She's standing here...he's standing there. But she notices how precariously some of the flooring above stands over the man, and a single beam still half-holds the wood up, though it has split and splintered until it resembles a bow. She swings at that beam, breaking it the rest of the way, causing the flooring to fall on top of Ceredir's head.
With a shout, Ceredir both puts his arm up and tries to duck out of the way. His helmet tempers much of the blow, but the flooring still hits heavily enough so that he falls to the floor, unconscious.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel actually looks surprised that it worked, as the dust settles in the moldy old basement around the dead and dying men, and Ceredir. She stands there a moment looking at his prone form, before she realizes she's got to haul him out of this debris herself. She sighs as if inconvenienced, then checks her own wound to see how bad it is. She takes her blue sash off and wraps her leg with it tightly, then gets to work moving the beams aside to get to the man's prone form. It is nearly dusk before she manages to get him out the hole in the rear of the basement wall.
In the fields and ruins outside, a few more of the men of this small troop lie dead or dying, while a handful have managed to escape to safety. No arrows trouble the Southrons anymore.
Just south of the heart of Emyn Arnen, the hills roll irregularly, with varying slopes and distances between them. The hills diminish gradually as they go southward, as do the trees and brush. To the west, the grounds are littered with bushes and other low-growing scrub and eventually slope steeply downward toward the Anduin. Eastward, a thin old-growth forest of willow and elm walls in these southernmost hills from the South Ithilien Road.
The wide valleys that span the gaps between the southernmost hills abound with younger flora, though some valleys are empty of all but grass. Here, the soil grows richer. The landscape is dotted by large stones & pillars, sometimes congregated, sometimes scattered, sometimes still intact as the foundations of ruined homes. These are remnants of homesteads that stood for centuries here in the royal hills of Gondor. It is daytime.
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Early Evening on Sterday, Day 13 of November.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 20:03:32 MDT on Wed May 06 2009.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
During the early morn, sentries had raised an alarm that yet another party of scouts had been found nearby. This time the whole camp came astir, and the Southron Lady Eruphel herself took interest in the finding and crushing of the annoying force that has harried them for weeks. But alas, by the time a group of fighters had been mounted, there was only sign of passing, and a faint trail. But as the sun rose, the tracking of the group became easier, and Eruphel's force moved faster, regaining some of the lost ground. But now, they have moved far enough north that the terrain and the wood has changed, showing newer, younger growth. But now, as pillars and stones and abandoned buildings begin to pop up, the Lady becomes increasingly reluctant to continue the pursuit. Now, the group of them sit their horses at a crossroads, silent in their contemplations. Finally the Lady asks, "Have we seen them at all, yet?"
It is a small group of Scouts that has been so pursued, perhaps a dozen. In the trees their concealment was an easier matter, but as they headed north and the enemy kept up their pursuit, remaining hidden became a challenge. So it is that the Scouts have taken refuge in the remains of a few of the foundations that dot the ruins here--with nothing between them and the Southrons but grass swaying in the wind, waist high.
No sound nor bird calls here. It is unnaturally still.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
"I see em!" a sharp-eyed fellow says, pointing toward the ruins where the movement was spied. Almost as one, they turned their mounts and spurred them forward, charging across the grassy field. But after a couple of strides, Eruphel reins in her horse, and calls on one of the others to do so as well. "Hold. Lets go around." she says, and turns her mount to take a less direct route.
The main force charge on enthusiastically, drawing their swords and brandishing them as they holler a muddled war cry.
The movement, such as it is, was a flicker of a brown-green cloak, no more, the broken state of the ruins leaving gaps in the stonework to betray the group. No response or movement is seen from the hiding place until Eruphel turns her mount to go around--but as soon as she does so, arrows are loosed into the air, though they seemed to be aimed at the horses first.
And not all the arrows come from this one hiding place--they seem to fly from all directions, as if the men of Gondor have scattered hiding places.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
And horses make much better targets than people anyway, though perhaps the arrows are less effective in their larger bodies. But several cry out as their tender flesh is pierced. One falls right away, then gets up again, while several others continue, but at a slower, limping pace. One man, however, had the poor fortune of catching an arrow in the neck, and slumps now in his (ironically) unharmed horse's saddle.
Eruphel, at least, notices the directions of the arrows with some alarm. "Halt! Retreat!" she calls to the group, and then redirects her mount to find cover from the arrows behind a stone pillar herself.
Two last arrows now fly through the air: One aimed at rider of the last horse to reach the stone pillar, the other shot toward the rump of the horse. And then, quite suddenly, the arrows stop.
Eruphel's hiding place has put her closest to the ruins where the Scouts were spotted. There is some movement there, carefully, the men crouched and staying as hidden as they can from the nearby mounted riders. The walls of the ruined foundation in which they shelter are high enough to afford them some protection, at least.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
In the middle of the field, another horse squeals in pain, and a man cries out as well. Eruphel resists the urge to shout commands to them, as their doom may become her doom. She can hear the Umbarean shouts to find shelter, and the offering to ride double as they mill about in some confusion. The woman draws her scimitar carefully, indicating that the man with her should do so too. They advance slowly, checking behind every corner, every boulder, every crevasse.
But the field is being watched, and closely so. The men milling about are rewarded with arrows flying toward them now--each arrow seems to be carefully and painstakingly aimed. And in the ruined foundation, eyes watch through the crevices afforded by the broken stone. An arrow is loosed from that shelter, arcing into the air, perhaps in the hopes it will fall on Eruphel, for it heads her way.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
An arrow falls nearby, and Eruphel ducks after the fact. She hisses under her breath, and raises her shield above her head to serve as an arrow umbrella. She looks at her companion. "We must move fast." she whispers, then dismounts her horse, leading it forward till she thinks she has visual cover from the archers above, then she tethers her horse. With that, she moves swiftly up the nearest stairs, holding her shield before her, now.
A soft curse sounds from inside the ruined foundation as the woman and her companion move too fast for more arrows to be targeted at them. The three men inside scramble, slinging bows on their backs, drawing swords. One--Ceredir--draws a dagger. All three are masked.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
At the threshold, Eruphel peers down into the darkness of the basement, filled with debris and shadow. Even with the roof missing and the daylight streaming in, she can only barely see three men waiting. She takes a moment's pause to pick her landing spot, then drops down into the bottom, somehow managing not to impale herself with her own scimitar. Then she moves aside to allow her companion to follow, and then its a face-off. Finally she takes a leap forward, stepping over a beam and jumping off the other side, using her downward fall to put more power in her downward stroke.
Two of the Scouts immediately fall upon Eruphel's companion, attacking him with their swords and trying to pin him back against a tangle of debris by the one of the decaying walls. Ceredir ducks out of the way of Eruphel's stroke, the scimitar's blade swishing over his head as he slashes with his dagger toward the woman's thigh. "Why are you here?!" he hisses. "I gave you what you need!"
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel reels backward as the dagger finds her thigh and cuts a long gash across it. She hisses in pain, but then turns to attack another of the men in the room instead, perhaps because he is an easier target. Or perhaps because she wants him dead more. She turns to make a stroke across the chest, ducking under an anticipated swing.
"NO!!" Ceredir's shout echoes in the confines of the ruined foundation, but it comes a second too late for his fellow Scout, who stares in brief astonishment as the scimitar cuts through his leather armor and into his chest, opening a gushing wound. In seconds he crumples to the floor, dying.
The second Scout, fighting Eruphel's companion, cries out, too, and hacks with his sword toward the neck of the Southron man. This Scout has already taken a wound to leg and is bleeding profusely, as well, but a sudden burst of energy puts force into his stroke.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
The third man's energetic stroke seriously wounds Eruphel's man as the blade bites deep into his neck, bringing about a fountain of arterial blood. But Eruphel doesn't give him a chance to recover, and stabs him in the side where his armor buckles, thrusting deep. Then, after a moment, she pulls the sword out halfway, gleaming red in the dim light. It is a mortal wound for him as well, and as both men lay dying, Eruphel turns once more to Ceredir. "I hope they weren't friends of yours." she says softly.
"Brothers," Ceredir says, the word coming out in an angry snarl. He hurries to the side of the dying Scout, dropping to his knees and leaning forward to give the man whatever comfort he can in these last few moments--Ceredir turning his back to Eruphel, even, as if he expects she will not attack him.
The death comes quickly, though Ceredir is still bent over the Scout for several long moments. And when he turns to face Eruphel again, there is fury in his eyes--all that can be seen of his face behind his mask.
"Why?" he demands. "Why? Why ...this..?" he gestures at the blood-strewn room and the dead men. "Did I not give you enough? Has your greed driven you to this?"
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel, by contrast, does not comfort her own man, who suffers his death in silence. She watches him with compassion, but apparently it is his time to go. "It's not /greed/, Ceredir. I have no idea what you gave me. So how can it be greed?" She's standing here...he's standing there. But she notices how precariously some of the flooring above stands over the man, and a single beam still half-holds the wood up, though it has split and splintered until it resembles a bow. She swings at that beam, breaking it the rest of the way, causing the flooring to fall on top of Ceredir's head.
With a shout, Ceredir both puts his arm up and tries to duck out of the way. His helmet tempers much of the blow, but the flooring still hits heavily enough so that he falls to the floor, unconscious.
[Eruphel(#20109)]
Eruphel actually looks surprised that it worked, as the dust settles in the moldy old basement around the dead and dying men, and Ceredir. She stands there a moment looking at his prone form, before she realizes she's got to haul him out of this debris herself. She sighs as if inconvenienced, then checks her own wound to see how bad it is. She takes her blue sash off and wraps her leg with it tightly, then gets to work moving the beams aside to get to the man's prone form. It is nearly dusk before she manages to get him out the hole in the rear of the basement wall.
In the fields and ruins outside, a few more of the men of this small troop lie dead or dying, while a handful have managed to escape to safety. No arrows trouble the Southrons anymore.
Players: Eruphel,Ceredir
