(Archive) Of Rabbit Stew and Hobbits

::OOC Note: The editor has taken the liberty of removing all the +wields and such from the log, also room descriptions are not shown because the editor was set TERSE and did not have them. Sorry. Any complaints may be made to the Log\'s editor Rinkair. Thank you and I hope you enjoy it. -The Editor END OF OOC NOTE::

Anborn sits, his clothes making him seem part of the surrounding area. His bow his cradled gently across his knee and an arrow is across it. He watches quietly the area as is his habit. The only sign of his existence to the untrained eye are his grey eyes, searching the area.

Faramir slips his bow from his shoulder and holds it firmly in his right hand.

Mablung stands with a long spear in his right hand, he scans the area carefully as his gaze goes from tree to shrub looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Laurendur crouches besides the bole of a large tree, on watch and alert for disturbances to the natural order of the forest.

Kelemavor leans back on his haunches and gazes out about the glade his gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of his sword

L\'Aran sits on the ground, shifting his sword and eyeing it with pride, then shifting his gaze to his surrounds, and those assembled.

Ahead of the lines of Rangers marches Faramir, his mask pulled down to hide all but his piercing grey eyes. As the men move in the follage they are mostly hidden and no word is spoke among them except whispered quietly. Scouts to both sides watch the road as they go.

Tir\'anon stands silently beside a large rock, leaning against it and almost totally behind the foliage, watching quietly.

Lirios kneels on the ground with a notched arrow and his bow half pulled. He looks around and then at the ground, searching for any tracks.

Anborn looks over at Faramir and catching his eye signs a silent question that all watching recognize, \'Stay or go on?\'

Faramir turns to two closest among his soldiers, \" ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... our scouts are ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... very spot\"

Celarn sits on the other side of Tir\'anon\'s rock, keeping an eye on the surroundings, and a tight grip on his longsword.

L\'Aran fumbles with the sword, apparently a slight bit nervous.

Faramir inclines his head to Anborn and simply nods in return. He continues the march, working his way down into a deep gulley, swearving around trees and entering the fern-brake common to this hillside.

Ingloren looks at L\'Aran with concern and gives a comforting nod.

Damrod had been walking quietly behind Faramir. At his words he nods his head, \"Aye, and then our blades will make them rue the day they took service with the Enemy and dared enter our domain.\"

Mablung nods as he is one of the closest to Faramir. He follows closely at his lord\'s heels, disapearing in and out of the shadows as he keeps a close eye on either side of the group.

Anborn turns back then and moves quietly along by Faramir but not as close as Mablung. He watches for movements from affar, his bow at ready.

L\'Aran smiles grimly, saying nothing.

Ingloren continuing to keep within the shadows follows his lords adroitly at a discreet distance from the next scout in line.

Lirios stands from his kneeling position and follows, silently. His eyes look left and right and his face looks calm but ready.

L\'Aran stands, preparing to follow as well.

Laurendur falls into the line of march and maintains a rearward vigilance at the tail end of the company.

Tir\'anon moves from the boulder, his light steps making little, almost no, noise as he does so.

Faramir looks to Anborn his chief scout among his soldiers and nods approvingly, happy to see him keeping a close eye on the flank.

Celarn, squating low behind the a giant boulder, scoots himself around toward Tir\'anon, and following him silenty

L\'Aran adjusts his sword, following the group, although rather more noisily than Tir\'anon.

Ingloren flexes his hands and arms to keep loose and keep the blood flowing.

Kelemavor draws his sword silently and continues to move along slowly and silently.

Bra\'an moves with all the fluid grace and skill of the other men. Yet he seems unencumbered by weapon or possessions save a small leather satchel.

Faramir starts his way up out of the gulley and along a fient trail that leads over the hill before them, he pauses to look skyward as he watches the rise of the midday sun. He half turns to look upon the others that follow, \"Come men, we peek this hill and can set ourselves for our approaching enemy...for if our scouts are true soon they march along the road just to the other side\"

L\'Aran nods grimly.

Laurendur turns his eyes into the wind, his senstivity to scent heightened by years in the wilderness. He makes his way up to the crest of the hill in good order.

Ingloren drawing his sword quietly, he moves stealthily forward and places himself in an advantageous position for the upcoming battle.

Lirios tanghts his bowstring and his ears rise a little, listening for anything unusual in the forest.

Tir\'anon gives a comprehending nod at Faramir\'s words, following the other men as they pace up the hill. His hand goes to his sword hilt, but remains there, not drawing it or touching it.

Damrod creeps forward, his bow in hand arrow notched until he reaches a fallen tree that he kneels behind near the crest of the hill. He peers over it, watching.

Laurendur strings his heretofore slack bow, and, choosing a favorable location, sets a fistful of arrows on the ground and at the ready...

Anborn moves silently through the brush, his passage neither disturbing anything nor making any sounds. He continues silently and almost unseen as he moves.

Mablung kneels not too far from Damrod, his spear is held at the ready. He looks intently down the hill but remains utterly silent.

L\'Aran notes the preparation of the others, readying himself in much the same way.

Lirios climbs into the lower branches of a low tree and aims with his bow in the direction he thinks the enemy will approach.

Fanathir starts his climb on the hill and reaches Damrod and Mablung by the fallen tree. He kneels besides them and awaits the signal, his hand firmly holding the tilt of his sword.

Celarn takes up a position, easily hiding his small body. His sword is pointed down, as not to reveal his position with a glint of his blade.

As the line of men reach at last the crest of the hill, with a good view of the surrounding land including the road of too the east Faramir raises a green gauntlet and signals a halt, \"Hold here my friends...let us wait for the foul men to appear\"

Bra\'an stays rear the rear, his lips moving silently as he invokes blessings of protection upon the company. His face is set in a mask of resolute determination, yet his eyes betray his fear. He looks to those about him, drawing strength from their sure handling of their weapons and the steely set to their expressions.

Tir\'anon, upon reaching a point not too far from the crest of the hill, pulls his bow off his shoulder and ducks half behind the trunk of a large tree, bringing his weapon to the ready.

Laurendur leads aside his vigilance for just a moment, and nods to Faramir\'s request

Ingloren making a final brief check of shield and armor to ensure he is ready for the upcoming conflict also checks his comrades in arms.

Celarn gracefully slips around Tir\'anon, taping him lightly on the shoulder to let him know where his allies will be. He comes to rest behind the end of a line of shrubbery.

Kelemavor seems to slip and dissapear into a large bush, his clothes matching in perfectly. He leans down on his haunches with his sword across his knees, he watches carefully and waits.

Anborn nods to Faramir and gestures to the scouts silently, they quickly take point positions, their bows and swords at ready and he himself takes a hidden position, blending completely with the surroundings. Even his grey eyes disappearing into the evening.

Ingloren sets himself behind a large tree amidst the thick brush so as not to give away his position.

Tir\'anon galnces up at the touch on his shoulder, and nods silently at Cerlan before bringing his hard-gazed attention back to watching... just watching.

L\'Aran crouches, his hand gripping tightly to the hilt of his sword, waiting. He brushes his hair out of his face with a flick of his hand. He too watches quietly.

Faramir turns and starts his way back down the line of men, he nods to many as they look upon him, more than three hundred men file up too the side of the hill, many still moving.

Lirios lays down a handful of arrows on the tree branch he is sitting on. He then notches one onto his bowstring and waits.

Ingloren returns his lords nod with a solemnity not heretofore known in a soldier so young.

Faramir starts his way back to the front, he frowns at the sight of a thin trail of smoke rising nearby..\"Anborn..Maglung..Damrod..look yonder\"

Ingloren excitedly looks at the approaching smoke cloud.

Anborn turns and looks silently towards the smoke and says softly, his voice gruff and barely carrying, \"Tis unussual m\'lord. Think you it is our foe? Are they so foolish as to do such as that?\"

Laurendur loosens his sword in its, preparing for the eventuality that arrows might not be enough today...

L\'Aran chuckles quietly, looking yonder. \"I would truly wonder...\"

Faramir quickly makes his way back to the crest and points down the other side of the hill, \"I know nought..but we shall investigate..come you three, come with me, the rest shall stay here lest called upon\"

Mablung turns his head at Faramir\'s beckoning, \"Certainly no enemy of ours would be folish enough to show us their location so easily, unless this is foul trap of the enemy.\"

Anborn nods and rises slowly, his bow still notched and says, \"As you wish m\'lord.\"

Ingloren mumbles, \"Me thinks it would be foolish in the extreme.\"

Faramir cuts into the trees at the north end of the glade.

Faramir has left.

Frodo places his index finger upon his lip, indicating silence to Samwise. His hand slowly moves to sting as he hears the sounds of booted feet traipsing through the ferns.

Samwise makes a face, as his fire smokes in the just-abandonded campsite and gives them away. With a small sigh, he then nods to Frodo, and stays as perfectly still and quiet as he can.

A voice is heard close by the two hobbits, \"Here! here is where the smoke came from! it says, \'Twill be nigh at hand. In the fern no doubt. We shall have it like a coney in a trap. Then we shall learn what kind of thing it is.\"

The shifting colors of the elven cloaks yield the halflings virtually indetectable amid the dense foliage.

Another voice answers it gently, \"Aye and what it knows..\"

Faramir moves out slowly from the follage, his keen eyes secrhing from side to side as he goes, signalling with one green gauntlet at several other men not far off

Damrod steps through the brush, bow slung over his shoulder, hand on his sword hilt into the small clearing.

Frodo looks Samwise in the eye, an implicit signal to his companion that evading the interlopers is rather improbable. He springs to his feet, Sting flashing out of its sheath, held defensively towards the tall figures.

Mablung steps into the clearing to the right of Damrod, his long spear held in his right hand.

Anborn gently steps out from the foliage, his form appearing from the foliage around. His bow in his hands and his deep grey eyes scanning the foliage and the ground gently looking for signs of those that were here so recently.

Samwise gives a small squeak and, as escape seems to be eliminated as an option, follows Frodo\'s example by hopping up and holding out his own sword, intent on protecting his master, and trying to regain his balance with the pack on his back.

Anborn starts as the small figure appears near him and looks at the two figures that have appeared from the seeming ground.

Damrod peers curiously at the two figures before him, surprised he says, \"We have not found what we expected but what indeed have we found?\"

Anborn nods in agreement with Damrod\'s words and says softly again, his voice curious, \"Not orcs.\" His statement as much a question as fact.

Mablung peers at the curious little figures, one eyebrow raised in curosity, \"Surely they be not elves.\"

Faramir halts, looking the hobbits over curiously, he inclines his head slightly, \"Nay, not Elves, For Elves do not walk in Ithilien these days. and elves are fair and wonderous to look upon..\" He pauses glancing at the others..\"Or so tis said\"

Samwise snorts, lowering his sword slightly as these Big Folk don\'t seem to mean any harm. Although this doesn\'t mean he\'s not on the alert. \"Meaning we\'re not, I take you.\" He snorts again, \"Thank you kindly. And when you\'ve finished discussing us, perhaps you\'ll say who you are, and why you can\'t let two tired travellers rest.\"

Anborn smiles slightly at the halflings words, a smile playing across his gruff face. He looks over the two carefully, curiosity written in his features. But his eyes also travel to the area around watching for other, more threatening, creatures that could be lurking.

Faramir laughs, his voice deep and grim, \"I am Faramir, Captain of Gondor, but there are no travellers in this land: only the servants of the Dark Tower, or of the White.\" He looks at the twain closely as he remarks this

Frodo says quasi-pugnaciously, \"But we are neither.\" He stands at full height with surprising aplomb, \"And travellers we are, whatever Captain Faramir may say.\"

Mablung raises his eyebrow again and frowns slightly at the tone used toward his lord.

Faramir says turning more serious, \"Well then make haste to declare yourselves and your errand. We have work to do, and this is no time nor place for riddling or parleying. Come! Where is the third of your company?\"

Damrod shifts his stance slightly, releasing his sword hilts as these two seem to be no threat quite yet. His eyes drift nervously toward the road above....

Samwise raises an eyebrow, and studies the man curiously. He shakes his head, a hint of confusion spreading across his face, \"The third?\"

Mablung notes Damrod\'s look and nods toward the man as if agreeing with his silent sentiment.

Anborn looks at Frodo with interest. His bearing and tone making him seem to be the one in charge here and certainly he speaks well for one so small. Anborn turns to Faramir and nods softly as his captain recognizes the signs as well.

Faramir nods \"Yes, the skulking fellow that we saw with his nose in the pool down yonder.\" He gestures by the pool, \"He had an ill-favoured look. Some spying breed of Orc, I guess, or a creature of thiers. But he gave us the slip by some fox-trick\"

Frodo says, \"I do not know where he is. He is nothing more than a chance companion met upon our way, and I am not answerable for him. If you come upon him, spare him. Bring him or send him to us, he is nothing more than a pathetic mongrel, who happens to be under my care for a while. But as for us, we are hobbits of the Shire, a fair land far North and West from here, beyond many rivers...\"\"

Frodo continues to explain to those gathered, \"Frodo son of Drogo is my name, and with me is Samwise son of Hamfast, a worthy hobbit in my service. We have come by long ways--out of Rivendell, or Imladris as some say...\"

Samwise gives a small nod, standing by his master\'s side as he talks. Since Frodo seems to have trusted these men enough to tell them this much, he lowers his sword even more, until the point reaches the ground. But not out of his grasp yet, and he still continues to scan the big folk suspiciously.

Anborn looks at Frodo, his eyes keen and curious, listening to his words and explanations. He seems to note the names but has no recognition of any, though the name Rivendell seems to spark interest in the halflings words.

As he listens to the hobbits tale here Faramir started and grew intent.

Frodo says, \"Seven companions we had: One we lost in the mines of Moria, the others we left at Parth Galen above Rauros: two of my kindred, a dwarf was there as well, an elf, and two men. They were Aragorn, and Boromir, who alleged he was from Minas Tirith, a city in the South.\"\"

Mablung turns his attention back to the hobbits as the name Rivendell is spoken. His grey eyes sparkle with wonderment.

Damrod reacts with surprise at the mention of the long missed son of the Steward, \"Boromir!\" he exclaims.

Faramir says, \"Boromir!\"

Anborn blinks and starts, \"Boromir?\"

In unison with Damrod, Mablung shouts, \"Boromir\"

Faramir frowns \"Boromir son of Lord Denethor?\" and a strange stern look came into his face at this. \"You came with him? That is news indeed, if it be true. Know, little strangers, that boromir son of Denethor was High Warden of the White Tower and our Captain-General: sorely do we miss him. Who are you then and what had you to do with him? Be swift \"He implores\" for the sun is climbing!\"

Frodo says, \"Are the riddles known to you, that Boromir brought to Rivendell?\" Frodo replies. He stops, looks skyward, and then meets eyes with Faramir, saying simply, \"Seek for the sword that was Broken. In Imladris it dwells.\"

Anborn looks at the two with new interest but he quickly turns back to the surrounding area, concern and impatience of in his eyes and posture.

Faramir looks upon Frodo with astonishment, \"The words are known indeed. It is some token of your truth that you also know them\" He looks sideways to the other rangers, beneath his mask his face somewhat pale at the news of Boromirs passing.

Damrod is involuntarily drawn a step forward by the tale being spun before him, his prior concern for the road and the pending arrival of the Southron forces all but forgotten.

Frodo says, \"Aragorn, whom I mentioned before is the bearer of the Sword that was Broken. And we are the halflings of the rhymes.\"

Faramir looks Frodo then Sam up and down, \"That I see..\" he says thoughtfully \"Or I see that it might be so. and what of Isildurs bane?\"

Samwise is watching, carefully, as the others scan the area or listen to his master. He seems to be a little more relaxed at each passing moment, but still, it never hurts to be careful, which is exactly what Sam is doing. He also takes a few moments to study each of them, though, while listening to Frodo and Faramir converse.

Anborn winces hearing that name, his face pained by the thought of that. He looks at the two halflings and seems curious now, and tired.

Frodo tilts his head sideways, \"That...\" he pauses for reconsideration, \"Remains hidden. Doubtless, it will be made clear in due course.\"

Anborn looks at Frodo, his keen eyes seeming to show his consideration of the hobbits words. He accepts them though there is curiosity in his eyes and a bit of skepticism, the hobbits pause making him suspicious.

Faramir shakes his head slightly \"We must learn more of this and know what brings you so far east under the shadow of yonder-\" He cuts himself off and simply points, mentioning no name of sorts. \"But not now. We have business in hand. You are in peril, and you would not have gone far by field or road this day. There will be hard handstrokes nigh at hand ere this day is full. then death or swift flight back to Anduin. I will leave two to guard you, for your good and for mine. wise man trusts not to chance meetings on the road in this dark land. If I return, i will speak with you\"

Frodo says, \"Farewell, then!\" Frodo bows low, thinking it wise to ingratiate himself as a foreigner. \"Think what you will, I am a friend of all enemiesof the One Enemy. We would go with you, if we halfling folk could hope to serve you, such doughty men and goodly as you seem, and if my errand permitted it.\" He half-smiles, \"May the light shine upon your swords!\"\"

Faramir starts to turn, \"The Halfings are courteous folk, whatever else they be\" He raises a hand in a friendly manner, \"Farewell!\" then he looks to Anborn, \"Come, let us be off\"

Samwise gives a small bow, mimicing Frodo. Although he snaps back up rather quickly, for two reasons one is because, while in the bow, they\'re vulnerable to attack, just in case these big folk are up to no good...and, most importantly, so his pack doesn\'t weight him down and knock him over.

Anborn nods silently and softly moves after his lord, his eyes now fully on the area around him as he watches for things of danger, the halflings now a part of memory until the time comes for further consideration.

Faramir sets a path back into the follage from whense he came, soon he dissapears from sight

Faramir trundles away to the south along the top of the bank.

Faramir has left.

L\'Aran leans forward, stretching his cramped muscles. He nods at his Lord\'s return.

Anborn pads gently along and follows his lord and moves silently and unseen among the foliage.

Remulak rides up the road from the South on a giant Mumakil.

Garj\'imak has left.

Garj\'imak has arrived from, the south...

Garj\'imak has arrived.

Diigai has left.

Diigai has arrived from, the south...

Diigai has arrived.

al-Akeem coughs, the dust kicked up from the huge beasts in front of him catching in his throat. He uses his spear like walking staff, his feet tired after the many miles he has travelled already. He just looks his feet and listens to the rhythmic marching and plodding of those around him.

Along the road marches a force of soldiers. Men from the far South, riding to the land of Mordor to ready for war against Gondor and the Captains of the West. Some ride huge beasts, the Mumakil. Others ride horse, and still more are on foot, marching in neat order.

Remulak lazily scans the horizon.

Lirios notches an arrow onto his bow as he sees the company moving below him.

Ingloren peers through the brush with wide eyes paying close attention to the huge animal in front.

Anborn silently and slowly notches an arrow to his bow, his movements looking like nothing but the grass moving in the soft wind, his form hidden by the terrain and clothes. His grey eyes look on the foe with barely held anger and determination.

Nasset continues on this seemingly endless march. He momentarily knocks into the traveller in front of him. In his dazed state a slight nudge is the only reaction between the 2. Nasset continues on...

Garj\'imak trods on along the side of the road, dirty and dusty, his mind focused on avoiding the feet of the great beasts alongside him. The noise of the caravan drowning out the quiet clanking of his scimitar against his mailed leg.

Faramir pushes aside a large brush to look down at the road below, a scout too his right points to the coming Southrons and he turns to him and nods understanding. He looks over his shoulder and down the long line of Rangers at the ready, then lets out a loud whistle..

Laurendur quickly sets his arrows on the ground and nocks the first to his bow.... He sights it at the approaching horsemen...

Marching in time with the soldiers before and after him, Sklaer plods through the choking clouds of dust kicked up by the massive, hulking gray Mumakil ahead. Wearily, this red-clad soldier of the far South glares at the boots of those before him, and pays no heed to the bleak scenery.

Remulak snaps to attention. \"What was that?\"

Diigai twists his hands of the haft of his Haradaic spear. He begins to say silent prayers to the Heroes. He says prayers to Castamir, ar-Pharzon, and the other heroes, but those two get the most prayers. He then leans forward in his saddle and peers around slowly, looking for a sign of an ambush, he sees none so he relaxes once more.

Tir\'anon raises his already notched bow from its position of the arrow pointing down, watching carefully Faramir and those others at the head of the line.

Remulak looks around fearfully.

Ingloren tenses for the brief sprint to the first of the southrons he can get to quickly.

L\'Aran half draws his sword, smiling briefly at Ingloren. He murmurs, \"now it starts...\"

Ra-Sheiba makes her way through the haze of dust, her face vieled to protect her from breathing it into her lungs. She follows the ones on the beasts, while she herself continues on foot. her sword safely sheathed at her side, provides her with comfort and security. The oath she\'s taken drives her on, plodding forward unaware of what might be up ahead.

Celarn crouches in the brush, right along side of the road. Eyeing carefully the approaching line of southrons. Laying his sword in front of him on the ground, preparing to leap froward.

All the droning footsteps taking the focus from Garj\'imak\'s already dull mind, when suddenly a commotion begins ahead. Thinking it just another scuffle between orcs, he puts his head back down and continues walking, his scimitar clanking gently against his mailed leg.

Anborn sights on the rider of the great Mumakil, knowing that beast to be the most deadly to his captains plans. He sights and then hearing the signal of his captain releases.

Faramir stands upright in the long grass, his upper half of his body showing. In his hands he holds a great bow and the string is drawn back to his cheek with a long green fletched arrow nocked in place, he calls out loud as he lets the arrow fly \"GONDOR!\"

Lirios releases an arrow. It whizzes from his bow and buries itself beep in the heart of a horseman. The horse reels in panic and gallops of, sending many of the other horses into panic.

Faramir launches an arrow...

Faramir\'s arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Laurendur releases his arrow in silence, all energy gone into pulling the bow to its utmost. He spares no time to chart the progress of his missile, but reaches down to nock another and yet another, before the hand-to hand fighting starts....

Tir\'anon lets loose the arrow from his bow, a quiet \"twang\" comeing from the string. Without following it as it flies, he reaches into his quiver and pulls out another arrow, noching it to his bow before looking up and watching the other one.

An arrow embeds itself in the hide of the giant Mumakil, sending it into a wild frenzy. Remulak hangs on for dear life. \"AAAAA!!!\"

The eyes of al-Akeem grow wide as the Gondorian\'s war cries rise around him. He crouches instictively looking for the enimies. Swearing in the Haradrim tongue, he tries to take cover from the onslaught of arrows. He attempts to run off the road, out of the way.

Anborn fires off an arrow at el\'Heph...

Anborn\'s arrow flies wide of el\'Heph, doing no harm.

L\'Aran nods to Ingloren, then at the enemy. He chuckles quietly.

Celarn keeps himself down, watching the first volley take effect. He eyes his first victim, an unsuspecting vanguard stopping in panic by the edge of the road

Ra-Sheiba hearing the horses rare and whinny, she takes note of the arrows flying through the air. Her eyes quickly search the area for a place to take cover, only it appears someone already has. An ambush! Her heart pounds as she slides her sword out of her scabbard. Her feet planted firmly as she attempts to not only keep her eyes on the surrounding foliage, but tries to keep herself from being trampled in the process.

An arrow takes Diigai\'s Mumak in the side, and the Mumak begins stomping and flailing wildly. Diigai, in a great display of agility, dives off the Mumak and lands, rolling. He looks around wildly, his eyes wide, \"Ambush...\" He mutters to himself, \"I should have smelled it.\" He says with a sigh, and then looks for a Gondorian to attack...

Nasset lifts his head up as Gondor! is shouted. Still fazed from the fatiguing footsteps of the journey it takes a moment or 2 before he reacts. His reaction? Nasset halts his forward progress. He circles around desparately trying to find where the arrows are coming from.

As the tallest of the men stands and fires a missile at the front of the approaching army all along the side of the road many men in green get too thier feet and realease a deadly barrage of arrows. Aside them each is another soldier holding broad headed spears and they charge out from the underbrush. Crying \"Gondor!\" as they go

Sklaer raises travel weary eyes off the dusty road before him to stare in shock at the sudden flurry of arrows. Fierce black eyes, widen, then narrow as the Southron soldier crouches low and jerks his axe free from a wide leather belt.

Kelemavor holds his shield up high in front of him and keeps his sword low as he watches and arrow land near him. He stands and shouts out \"Gondor!\" then charges out from the bush in which he was hidden.

Ingloren screaming, he rises to his feet quickly charging to engage the nearest enemy all the while yelling, \"For Gondor\".

Laurendur holds up with his missile-fire as the spearmen charge. He too, prepares himself for the inevitable melle.....

L\'Aran rushes alongside Ingloren, yelling, \"Gondor!\"

Remulak tries to get his Oliphaunt under control as it tramples the surrounding army. Eventually, he is thrown off and lands in a thicket of bushes a few feet away.

Celarn pounces on the paniced southron. Screaming a harsh battle cry, charging into him with the full force of the leap and all the way through his leveled sword.

Remulak dies.

:: OOC Note: From afar, al-Akeem waves to Mom on TV. :) -Editor felt this should be left in. END OOC Note::

The loud cries of war and the hail of arrows that fly from above sink through to the dense warrior. Suddenly Garj\'imak\'s training takes over and his dulled mind is of no importance any longer. Without thinking he draws his scimitar and prepares for battle.

As the ambush is sprung, el\'Heph pulls his axe from his side, and smiles grimly. The arrows don\'t touch him, though the people on either side fall, one with a dart through his eye, the other through the heart. \"Bah!\" he calls out as some parts of the column seem to scatter, \"Stand firm and cut these dogs down!\"

Tir\'anon looses another arrow from his bow, taking a step back to find time to pull his bow over his shoulder and draw his sword.

al-Akeem heads for the underbrush and swears as men rush to meet him. He readies his spear and keeps a watchful eye on the archers, though they seem to be preoccipied elsewhwere at the moment.

Lirios manages one quick shot, which finds it\'s mark, before he throws his bow down, draws his sword and charges.

Seeing the enemy flee, Fanathir runs down towards the first Haradrim and charges...

L\'Aran searches the crowd, and spots Lirios charging. He turns, and follows, running alongside him. He chuckles, calling over the din, \"NOW it starts!\"\"

Celarn brandishes his bloody sword up high and screams, \"for gondor\", with all of his might. He eyes the tumulteous battlefield quickly, noticing the archers have droped their bows, he joins up with the soldier Tir\'anon and points toward the pack of southrons with spears nearby running toward them. \"There\'s a battle to be won sir\", a grim smile approaches his lips.

Anborn quickly moves towards his lord and Captain, faramir, he sights along his great long bow as he does and finds a likely target for his wrath and arrow. Sighting at Al-akeem he releases the barb in hopes of it finding it\'s target.

Garj\'imak rolls away from the now frantic animals as they turn every which way trampling numerous in their wake. Garj\'imak raises to his knee and looks over the ambushing forces, seeking an enemy to fight.

Anborn fires off an arrow at al-Akeem...

Anborn\'s arrow flies wide of al-Akeem, doing no harm.

Tir\'anon nods slowly, pulling his sword all the way out of its sheath, \"Aye, so it looks.\" A hard glint appears in his eye as he looks around.

As hundreds of men rush the southron army Faramir keeps cool check on them all and as is of late he heads the battle, leading in all deadly forays. He runs forward for some yards pulling himself up short of the road, he nocks another arrow at this and without much trouble spots many a target. Drawing the string back once more and taking a deep breath he aims...the fires..

The black eyes of al-Akeem go wide as an arrow imbeds itself into the dirt at his feet. He follows the feathers to where they point at Anborn, the archer who sought to take his life. Looking around him, he sees he is still in the open and charges the ranger\'s position, if only to get out of the rain of death of the Gondorian archers.

Faramir launches an arrow...

Faramir\'s bowshot hits el\'Heph, lightly wounding him.

Anborn scowls as his dart misses and he quickly, and with deadly ease, notches another and sights along his shaft at his foe, he releases after a short breath and prays softly as he releases it.

As he passes through the raging battle, Fanthir spots a lonely Southron man, dark and golden, their eyes meet and with the scream they engage a battle. Fanathir strikes first, with a loud, \"For our lord and steward of Gondor!\" he takes a deadly stroke at his adversary head...

Fanathir attacks el\'Heph with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm\'s length.

Anborn fires off an arrow at al-Akeem...

Anborn\'s arrow hits al-Akeem, moderately wounding him!

Celarn eyes the battle carefully, watching the archer Anborn face a deadly charge by a southron with a spear. He stealthfully intercedes, charging at him with his longsword just as a he is hit with Anborn\'s arrow.

Anborn tosses his bow aside as he sees his dart bury itself in his opponent and quickly draws his sword as he faces his opponent.

Seeing a lone longswordsman, Garj\'imak raises to his feet and races through the tall grasses, his own scimitar glinting in the sun. A slight breeze causes the grasses to wave like the ocean, as the running warrior approaches his prey.

el\'Heph, swinging his axe slowly in arcs before him, seemingly immune to the arrows that have already taken out so many of his fellows, advances, seeking out a Gondorian to hew down. Thus, when Faramir\'s arrow finally hits, the Southron is taken by surprise. It slams into his shoulder, drawing blood. Then, still reeling from the blow, Fanathir\'s attack misses somehow. Grimicing, el\'Heph reaches up and rips the arrow free. His return blow at the ranger is one handed, and weak - but aimed at the man\'s torso, and still possibly data.

Faramir hisses under his breath as he spies his shaft strike true, \"By Orome!\"

El\'Heph attacks Fanathir with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a hair.

Tir\'anon looks over the southron army as he rushes forward, gaze falling on one in particular that seems to be coming in his direction. Eyes glinting brightly, he brings his sword up and pulls himself to a stop, waiting for the man to reach him before attacking.

Celarn swings his longsword over his head and toward the southrons head in one great arch. Yelling with all his small body\'s might.

Celarn attacks al-Akeem with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!

As men from both sides join the battle, missile targets become unclear and Captain Faramir returns his great bow to his shoulder, his hand reaching for his hilt. He steps forth into the fray, quickly moving among the southrons his blade hewing left and right, a gleam in his eye and calls out once more, \"For GONDOR!\"

Seeing the rage and despair of his adversary, Fanathir quickly ducks and saves his neck by the straw. His eyes glowing in red flames he waves his sword in the air, shining in the summer sun, then he attacks once more...

Fanathir attacks el\'Heph with his Longsword, but he misses by a long shot.

al-Akeem is in mid-charge when Anborn\'s arrow buries itself in his left side. Pretty close to missing him, and below his ribs, the arrow rips out the back of his side, skewing him neatly. Not close to being immediately life threatening, the wound hurts nonetheless. The southron screams in pain, that is accented further when Celarn\'s sword tears into his left shoulder, though not too deeply. With a jerky movement, al-Akeem thrusts his spear point at Celarn\'s heart, hoping to slay the Ranger quickly in an attempt to even the odds.

Al-Akeem attacks Celarn with his Spear, but Celarn parries the attack with his Longsword!

Anborn moves forward quickly, moving to the aid of his comrade, Celarn, his weapon whistling with speed as he graspes it two handed and strikes at the southrons side, which his attack has revealed to him. Anborn\'s voice is raised in a cry, \"For Gondor and the Stewards House!\"

Anborn attacks al-Akeem with his Longsword...

Anborn\'s attack against al-Akeem moderately wounds him!

Celarn slashes at the wounded southron\'s feeble spearing with his longsword, glancing it aside. In a swift motion, he moves his strike in for the kill.

el\'Heph\'s swing goes wide as Fanathir ducks, the man unable to control the large weapon with a single hand on it. Nonetheless, he steps back fast enough to let the longsword go by. Fixing his grip, the southron leers and steps forward again, this time sweeping at Fanathir\'s neck...

El\'Heph attacks Fanathir with his Battle Axe, but Fanathir parries the attack with his Longsword!

Celarn attacks al-Akeem with his Longsword, but al-Akeem parries the attack with his Spear!

Faramir comes alongside of the Ranger Tir\'anon, moving not to close to hinder his blade and turns his gaze on a southron opposing him, he darts to one side his blade trailing till close enough to lash out low and deadly..

Faramir attacks Garj\'imak with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!

Fanathir lack of balance makes his sword pass southrons head, but as the adversary stepped back, Fanthir swings once more and in one swift strike he crushes the southron\'s head in two.

Garj\'imak races towards his foe and his instincts take over. His corded arms bring the curved blade back behind him to enable a mighty swing at his target as he races past. Suddenly, hidden from view, another figure emerges and is racing towards him. Ignoring this new contact, the other\'s blade bites deep, as blood runs freely down his injured arm. Continuing his path, he brings a mighty swing down upon the original target.

Garj\'imak attacks Tir\'anon with his Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

al-Akeem growls and swears in his native speach as he is charged again, this time by the archer. The ranger came to finish off what he started, and he nearly does. The Southron skillfully knocks the first swordsman\'s blade away, but ends up leaving himself open to Anborn\'s attack, which sheds more dark red blood. Sweat rolls of his brow from exhurtion and the stress from the direness of his situation. The Southron swings his spear like a bat, trying to catch the first Ranger in the neck.

Oliphaunt comes down the road from the north.

Oliphaunt has arrived.

Al-Akeem attacks Celarn with his Spear and badly wounds him!

Oliphaunt trumpets and tramples onwards, into the horizon.

Oliphaunt has left.

Anborn cries out as the southron\'s spear connects with his friend and companion. He pulls his weapon back and then stabs in, trying to gut his opponent with his blow, careful not to strike Cerlan. Anborn\'s features are twisted with concentration and there is anger in his eyes that doesn\'t touch his movements.

Anborn attacks al-Akeem with his Longsword...

Anborn\'s attack against al-Akeem lightly wounds him!

Tir\'anon waits for the southron to approach, bringing his sword to the ready as he does so. As another figure emerges from the battle and takes a swing at his opponent, Tir\'anon gives Faramir a grateful nod. Yet, as he does so, he loses his balance and barely has enough time to bring up his shield, even then not fully, before Garj\'imak attacks. The blow sends him back a step, hitting him hard just below the shield. He brings his sword back around, and swings hard at the southron\'s midsection

Celarn watches his sword stike harmlessly, leaving his neck open for attack. The southron\'s swing glances his face as he ducks, giving him a long bloody streak down his face. He steps back to wipe off his face.

Tir\'anon attacks Garj\'imak with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

Faramir looks to where he had at first set himself to go, but just then fanathir deals a deadly blow felling the enemy thusly, his face grim he turns back to the man close by and in unison with Tir\'anon he attacks, striking out, his bale point set to pierce the mans side..

Faramir furiously attacks Garj\'imak with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

Finishg his adversary off, Fanthir runs towards the southern already engaged in combat with two fellow rangers. Nevertheless he blazes through the bloody path in an attempt to strike his enemy first...

Fanathir attacks al-Akeem with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

al-Akeem begins to slow, already being thrice wounded. He smiles grimly at the first of his opponants as he draws his blood. Barely ducks another longsword in the hands of Fanathir and shakes his head at the odds. He takes another beastly blow from Anborn, who draws his full attention. Lifting the spear over his head, he stabs downward at his opponants foot, tying to make it a permanant fixture of landscape. He breaths heavily and thick red blood runs freely from many deep wounds.

Al-Akeem attacks Anborn with his Spear!...

...and he misses!

Celarn looks at the blood on his hands in disgust and spits on the ground by the southrons feet. He attempts a low strike at his legs, on the opposite side of his comrade anborn.

Garj\'imak immediately turns and brings his heavy blade down again across the other\'s shoulder in an attempt to render his sword arm useless. The blade flickers in the light and the third man in the melee manages to pierce his torso, between his ribs, penetrating the chain links there. With a mighty howl Garj\'imak forces his attack towards the original target for one last mighty blow.

Garj\'imak attacks Tir\'anon with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.

Celarn attacks al-Akeem with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

Anborn twists away from his opponents strike and with a cry, \"GONDOR!!!\" he strikes out at his opponent, his face full of rage and deadly determination to see the last of foul creatures pollution of his homeland. His sword strikes out and the creatures side, it\'s spear stuck into the ground beside his foot and hopefully unable to block his blow.

Anborn attacks al-Akeem with his Longsword...

al-Akeem parries Anborn\'s attack with his Spear!

Tir\'anon manages to bring his sword up as the southron attacks, up quickly enough to block the blow with it, at least. Moving quickly, though his face remains grim and his eyes hard as steel, he make a sound for the first time since he has approached the enemy and swings smoothly toward the man\'s sword arm with a shout of \"Gondor!\"

At the same moment Fanthir tries to strike his enemy from behind, making room for Anborn to withdraw...

Tir\'anon furiously attacks Garj\'imak with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

Fanathir attacks al-Akeem with his Longsword, but al-Akeem parries the attack with his Spear!

Admist a triangle of opponants, al-Akeem\'s situration is poor at best. Wounded several times, he finds there is just too many of them to fight off. He looks around nervously for a direction to bolt. Anborn\'s sword slams into his spear where it is stuck in the ground, snapping it in half. The Southron holds the haft flabbergasted and weakly bats Fanathir\'s sword away. Holding nothing more then a stick, the spins and bolts, taking a punch at Fanathir on his way by.

al-Akeem slides the throwing spear into a loop arrangement on his back.

Al-Akeem furiously attacks Fanathir with his Bare Hands and lightly wounds him!

al-Akeem hefts a 4-foot long throwing spear. It\'s barbs glint evilly and it\'s point is needle-sharp.

The Ambush works well against the swarthy Southrons, many already lay dead on the ground, long arrows protruding from thier bodies and cuts of blades. As the last of the Southrons flee, Faramir is at the lead in pursuit, his blade swinging back and forth.

Anborn sees his foe turn and try to escape, his foe though is out of range of an easy sword strike but instead Anborn kicks at his foe\'s feet trying to knock him on his face so he can finish this ancient enemy, for there can be no mercy for those who rape the land he called home. His foot flying as he strives to keep his balance at the unorthodox manuever.

Anborn attacks al-Akeem with his Bare Hands...

al-Akeem dodges Anborn\'s attack.

As Fanathir\'s blow missed the southron he makes sure that his fellow rangers are sure and in a moment of carelesness he is stroke upon his face and fallen to ground. He swiftly momes away from southron making room for others to attack then he tries to strike his opponent\'s legs.

Fanathir attacks al-Akeem with his Longsword, but he misses by a long shot.

Grasping his side, the Southron scampers over Anborn\'s foot by sheer luck, because he didn\'t see it. He does manage to get out of ranger of Fanathir\'s sword, however, else he\'d have lost a leg for sure. al-Akeem spits blood over his shoulder and limps off to the south, shaking his head at all at his dead brothern.

al-Akeem has left.

Celarn chases down the fleeing southron. attempting to bring him down with a leap on his back. But his attempt falls short, and the retreating vile creature runs away.

Garj\'imak turns quickly to square off against his two opponents, when in the distance he notices only one other still fighting the attackers, and he turns to flee, leaving him alone upon the field of battle. With a brief battle of training against wisdom, wisdom loses and yet another attack is made upon the vicious blade that has been plaguing him, when his original target\'s blade slices deeply into his flesh yet again. Now with his blood streaming, Garj\'imak sees nothing but rage and fear. With a powerful blow again he strikes the ranger.

Garj\'imak attacks Tir\'anon with his Scimitar, but Tir\'anon parries the attack with his shield!

Anborn swears and nearly starts after the creature, instead he turns though and quickly runs to pick up his lost bow. Seeing the fleeing creatures he quickly moves towards his lord, Faramir , his blade still drawn to see to his lords safety.

Celarn lies on face down on the ground, breathing heavily. Slowly, he rolls over, cursing and spitting out dirt. Dirt cakes his blood stained face, and he winces at the stinging pain.

Tir\'anon, with a cool movement given his bloodied arm, brings his shield up with his wounded arm to block the blow. And block it it does, though a grunt of pain escapes his lips. Eyes darkening, he throws an attack at his enemy, a hard swing with his sword. Ignoring the fleeing southrons, Tir\'anon\'s attention remains fixed upon this enemy.

Anborn sees his Lord is safe and turns back to his fallen comrades, walking to them both quickly he bends a knee and says, \"Are you alrighty my friends?\"

Celarn reaches for a hand to right himself. Eyeing his comrade he smiles grimly, \"aye sir. I\'ll survive. Is our Lord safe?\"

Anborn nods and says, \"Indeed, the Lord Faramir is safe.\" Anborn helps Celarn up and says, \"Come my friend we must flee quickly before they recover.

Celarn dusts himself off and looks around the scattered bodies on the road. Back to his friend he nods, \"Aye, we better take our leave. But there seems to be one of our company over there, I shall not leave yet, go ahead and join our Lord and accompany him to safety.

Fanathir stands up from a bath of bloody mud and seemes dissapointed for leting his enemy flee. Through the cropses of the fallen men from south he approaches his comrades, searching for his lord and brother. His face seems to regain a smile when he sees Faramir is well and safe and so he walks toward his fellow, waiting for him, to hear of the future plans, \"aye brother, we could not stop them all...shall we pursue them?\"

Seeing the last of his people flee, Garj\'imak takes yet another look over the decimated forces that traveled here with him and he sees at least five opponents still ready to fight. The decision becomes moot as the warrior quickly turns and flees back to the south from whence he came, cursing his fortune, his blood running in rivulets down across his armor, leaving a trail any could follow.

Celarn runs up to the side of his brother in arms, tir\'anon, seconds after his foe had turned to flee. He shakes his head, muttering, \"oh no, not again\"

From the south the road turns quiet at last and Faramir returns, blood red blade in hand, his mask drawn away revealing his face. With him march a score of Rangers and they pass over the littered bodies that cover the ground and near to Anborn and others, \"Our deed is done my friends, but soon our enemy will hear of this, come we turn our path too our place of hiding..\" He gestures to the trail west and starts off in that direction

Tir\'anon\'s sword arm falls as his opponent disapears among those fleeing the battle. Sheathing the bloody sword, he akwardly pulls his shield onto his back and, holding his arm in the least painful position, begins jogging toward the direction the other rangers were heading. Turning as Celarn runs up to him, he allows himself a feint smile, \"We drove them off, brother,\" he says in a quiet, triumphant tone, and again begins travelling.

Anborn follows after his lord and Captain, his weapon quickly sheathed as he takes his bow back into his hands and watches for stragglers of the great harad horde that has been routed here.

Fanathir takes one last look over the battle scene, seeing nothing but stacks of dead bodies, he puts his sword back under his cloak and followes his lord.

Celarn looks off in the distance while Tir\'anon turns to leave. Starring coldly for a few seconds before resheathing his sword angrily and turning to run as well.

:: OOC Note: This was not logged or editied by Rinkair. This was logged and edited by Galain, give him the thanks because he did all the hard work on this one. -Rinkair End OOC NOTE::

Elendor - Saturday, January 24, 1998, 7:46 PM

---------------------------------------------

Diigai runs, at full sprint, towards the nearest Gondorian dog, who happens to

be Laurendur, and begins to attack in the manner of a fierce tribesman of Far

Harad. His spear first darts in and tries to sweep out Laurendur\'s legs, which

should make him fall....

Diigai attacks Laurendur with his Bare Hands and mildly wounds him!

Nasset continues his circling trying to figure out where the attack is coming

from. He finally sights a bull rushing Kelmavor plunging into frey. With

renewed alertness, Nasset loses some of his travel fatigue. He takes his spear

& looks to close with his opponent.

Kelemavor runs onto the road his sword and shield held high about him. He

watches as men all clad in green follow suite. He picks out a figure

and charges toward him, he slows his pace as he nears, then in a quick swing

hacks at Nasset\'s leg, and then finally comes to a halt close to Nasset.

Laurendur looks quite busy, parrying a spear-thrust of one dark-skinned

foreigner before plunging the tip of his blade through his heart. As he

extracts the blade, he feels the sharp prick of steel as Diigai draws Blood!

Like an angry bear, Laurendur lashes out with blinding speed, seeking to catch

Diigai in the midsection!

Nasset dodges your attack.

Laurendur attacks Diigai with his Longsword and badly wounds him!

[Nasset(#18096)] Lucky for Nasset he wakened just in time & saw the incoming

charger. Grimacing as though he\'d been hit, he juts to the left to allow

Kelemavor\'s swipe find nothing but air. Battle lust replaces weariness. He

lurches with his spear toward the ambusher\'s mid-section.

Nasset attacks you with his Spear!...

...and he misses!

Diigai is took hard in the midsection by the longsword, and he falls in a

gasping heap. He then, after a moment, brings his spear up in a quick and

vicious thrust towards the Gondorians groin. His thrust, despite his injury,

is filling with fierce Haradrim strength...

Diigai attacks Laurendur with his Bare Hands and mildly wounds him!

With the great agility Kelemavor jumps to the side narrowly avoiding the spear

thrust. He circles slowly glancing about the battle then feignts a thrust at

his foes leg, then at the last moment turns his blade and brings it up at

Nasset\'s chest.

You attack Nasset with your Longsword...

[Combat(#13388)->Kelemavor]

Nasset dodges your attack.

Laurendur turns to find another foe as the Southerner goes down in a heap...

But he is once more astonished by the ferocity of Diigai\'s assault! He takes a

spear-thrust on the left forearm, just as it was exposed to the fallen man.

Wheeling to end this menace, he strikes with a heavy overhanded blow towards

Diigai\'s shoulder.

Laurendur attacks Diigai with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Nasset is surprised by the agile move but through sheer luck is able to avoid

it. He closes with Kelemavor to launch his next strike. Once again the

Gondorians strike finds nothing but air as the closed distance would have made

a poke more viable. Holding his spear over head, anger wells up in the face of

Nasset. He pokes for the face while calling out simply, \"You will pay\"

Nasset attacks you with his Spear!...

...and he misses!

Diigai rolls away to the left, and leaps up, grinning evilly, despite the

blood running thickly down his side, \"What\'s wrong, dog, thought you\'d killed

me already?\" He laughs bitterly and tries to take out Laurendur\'s legs again,

\"Castamir is with me!\" He shouts as his spear starts it\'s forward motion...

Diigai attacks Laurendur with his Bare Hands and mildly wounds him!

Kelemavor Swings his shield up high and deflects Nasset\'s spear up and over

his head, while his shield is up with the spear he takes the advantage of his

opponets exposed body and thrusts his sword straight at Nasset\'s chest. As he

swings he scowls at Nasset\'s words.

You attack Nasset with your Longsword...

[Combat(#13388)->Kelemavor]

Nasset dodges your attack.

Laurendur laughs at the Southerner\'s taunting, even as the head of his spear

glances on his helmet, momentarily knocking him sideways. \"Castamir was a

failure, and you his follower, Cur!\" With that, he grasps his weapon in both

hands, and swings it back-hand, seeking to sever Diigai\'s head!

Laurendur attacks Diigai with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Nasset watches as the sword misses its target it sails though air under his

left armpit. Not having time to appreciate how close that was, Nasset concerns

himself with offence. He takes a different tack. With perspiration beginning

to beed down his forehead, Nasset uses his spear much as a sword. He slashes

in a downward motion trying to catch any flesh.

Oliphaunt trumpets and rears in majestic splendor, before trampling off into

the horizon.

Nasset attacks you with his Spear!...

...and you block his attack with your shield!

Oliphaunt heads south along the road.

Oliphaunt has left.

Diigai manages to bring his spear up to block it, but alas, the blow just

glances off the spear and the flat of the blade takes Diigai in the left arm.

He winces slightly, before answering. His answer is a complex maneuver. He

swings the spear towards Laurendur\'s head but then, before it reaches the

victim\'s head, he snaps it quickly down in a vicious thrust at Laurendur\'s

midsection. He speaks violently as he does this, \"Castamir...failure?! You go

too far, Gondorian fool!\"

Diigai attacks Laurendur with his Bare Hands and mildly wounds him!

Once again Kelemavor\'s shield swings up and deflects the would be hit of

Nasset. As his shield is already up he takes the time to wipe the sweat out of

his eyes with his forearm. He continues to circle slowly looking for an

opening. Spotting a slight chance he drives his sword hard in a horizantal

sweep at Nasset\'s right arm.

You attack Nasset with your Longsword...

Your attack against Nasset moderately wounds him!

Laurendur feels the cold kiss of the blade caressing his torso.... He stumbles

to his knees, blood frothing on his lips for the wound is mortal. Falling

forward, he expends his last remaining strength on a desparate thrust at his

killer. \"For Gondor! Long Live the Tree!\"

Laurendur attacks Diigai with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Nasset attacks you with his Spear!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You\'ve been injured for 3 hp\'s by Nasset\'s attack...

...you have 77 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

Kelemavor tries to once again defect the spear thrust but the momentum of his

previous swing seems to carry him into the spear. He twist depreatly but the

spear still slices across his ribs and cuts through his armor. He shuffles

back and presses his elbow into his side wincing in pain. He shouts out loudly

\"For Gondor!\" before charging in and thrusting his sword at Nasset\'s head.

You attack Nasset with your Longsword...

Your attack against Nasset lightly wounds him!

Laurendur Falls face forward on the ground, a pool of slick red liquid forms

underneath his face. His gear is notched and rent, his eyes fixed open, and

his fingers still coldly holding his sword. Te southerner\'s words are in vain-

Laurendur has fallen.

Nasset attacks you with his Spear!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You\'ve been injured for 11 hp\'s by Nasset\'s attack...

...you have 66 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

Diigai heads south along the road.

Diigai has left.

Kelemavor dances back but not in time as the spear jabs into his chest and

pierces through his armour. He falls back a few steps grabing at his now

redding armour. He looks up at the Harad and grins despite his pain he taunts

\"Now ye die, stand yer fate for tis your time, if I shall be wrong then I well

fall, but if that is the fate then so be it!\" He steps forward and using his

hight jabs down at Nasset.

You attack Nasset with your Longsword...

Your attack against Nasset badly wounds him!

Kelemavor stumbles to his knee as the Harad dies. he manages to wipe the blood

off his sword then stumble back to his feet and follow a green form into the

forest to the north.