[Archive] The Price of Dishonor

Further west down the river Poros, in the lush forest that still clings to the southern shores in spite of the desert beyond in Harondor proper, a campfire burns. If the sparse trees and accompanying greenery still stand in defiance of the arid south, then this campfire burns in defiance of the numerous campfires of Gondor that lie to the northeast, on the northern shores of the Poros.

Sentries are gathered about it, Corsairs in their number, seeking warmth by the fire despite the relatively mild winter that these lands know. And if the camps of Gondor are grim and silent with the seriousness of its Lords, those of Harad ring with music and laughter. There is joy in the air. This one is no exception. A Harper plays by the campfire and a couple of Corsairs and sentry warriors sing along. Strange behaviour for a sentry fire in a time of war, but perhaps the cause of their joy is that which rises high above the fires, lit by the warm burning glow.

It is the banner of the self-proclaimed King, Alphros anAzulada, though he himself is not here. But the White Tree and the Raven is clear for all to see.

One of these Corsairs sits upon the ground before the fire, reclining against a log. Her sheathed scimitar lies on the ground beside her and though she still wears her armor, her helmet is off and likewise lying on the ground near her sword.

Azradi smiles broadly as the others sing and laugh, but she does not join in. From time to time, her gray-eyed gaze falls upon the banner of her brother, thoughtfully.

Busy these days is the crossing of the Poros, where Southern Ithilien turns into the land called Harondor. This day is no different, as the sound of hooves splashing through water fills the air-- a group of Gondorian horsemen making their way south, to the side currently held by the Southrons. Water runs cleanly off the legs of their steeds, leaving a moist trail of mud behind them once they reach the other side.

The colors they bear are that of the Hosts of Gondor-- the shimmering White Tree, and another lesser known banner-- the sword and sun of the Ephalkhiri. At their head rides the Lieutenant-General Phazganun, armed and armored for battle, his pace still such that fatigue will not yet set upon his horse.

A helmed gaze is shot toward the camp to the west, and it is then that the Gondorians are drawn to a halt. Motioning toward the encampment, he speaks to the man nearest him, \"Shall we go test the might of this so called \'King\', hmm?\"

The warriors sing along, alright, and the harpist plays a merry tune. With a little encouragement, a little cajoling, and a little goading, Su\'ad finally gets up from her seat by the fire and starts to dance, not unlike a man would dance. In her armor, there\'s not a whole lot of choice. \"For a day well fought and a night well played, you\'ll never be better clothed or paid...\" she says to the beat of the song. The men send up a rousing jeer, entertained.

Yudas sits by the Haradaic campfire, warming his palms before the flames, which cast an ominous shadow upon his facial features, features that are already hidden under a black cowl. His Black Staff leans against his frame today, it’s decorated by a BLACK FLAG, which flutters in the wind. He takes a white branch from the ground, seemingly chosen for this moment, and lifts it up for his fellow kinsmen to see. \"The men of Gondor worship the image of the tree, aye? They think this makes them look mighty in reflection. Yet even a slave girl knows that all trees, no matter how strong, will burn when touched with the fiery tongue of our Dark Lord.\" With that, Yudas throws the white branch into the fire, and green sparks seem to hiss out of the fire, as if an evil spirit were alive in the flames, greedily consuming the offering.

\"Indeed,\" comes the calm, cool tone of the man atop steed beside the Lieutenant-General. Laeghen Carmayar, Ranger of Ithilien is he, and his steel-grey orbs peer across the land, cutting through the night and examining the joyous camp. \"Perhaps they know not there is a war going.\"

Dismounting from the steed, the man clad in browns and greens drops to the sodden earth below, his green gauntlets verily pried from the reigns of the beast he rode upon. \"Let us go and test the mettle of this \'King\' and his cronies. I have little doubt they will be as mud beneath our boots.\" And with words spoken, the man of Ithilien begins to stride calmly forth.

Su\'ad hops in a circle on one foot, like a ballerina laden down with lead, clumsy but funny. Her cheeks begin to flush red with the exertion, but she laughs and continues. \"…than-to fight the men and boys up north, greenly greet them at our shore, and chase them down river, rock and glade.\" Then she falls, to the rousing laugh of everyone.

A shout rips through the forest:

\"Paleskins! Paleskins have forded the river!\"

It is from one of the Haradwaith sentries secreted high above in one of the riverside trees. And from him comes an arrow loosed at the Gondorian interlopers, though its aim is wide and whistles harmlessly into the gloomy river.

Attention drawn by the antics of Su\'ad, Azradi tears her gaze from the banner to the Corsair Captain. She laughs and sits up straight.

And then perhaps some sound catches her attention, because she turns her head towards the river and assumes an attitude of listening. She sits still for several long moments and then glances to the nearest sentries - studying their own postures.

Paying little attention to their duties, the confirmation she seeks comes from above and unseen in the darkness. She grabs her helmet and sword donning the former and attaching the latter to her belt. \"How many?!\" she shouts to the sentry.

Su\'ad doesn\'t hear the first call of alarm, but as the alarm is echoed and the merriment of the camp turns serious almost instantly, she pulls herself up awkwardly, looking around for a direction...the direction of the first alarm. Not finding it right away, she hurries to her initial spot and puts on her helmet and grabs her shield.

Yudas glances up at the commotion, as Haradrim rise at the sound of alarm, preparing for battle. Like an eye in the storm, however, this Black Tower Corsair continues to sit and feed the fire, muttering a dark incantation in his native tongue that sounds rough like the sands of the desert. Only after this prayer is finished does he rise to his feet, turning his staff over, and revealing a sharp metal, jagged tip at the end. This is no staff, but a deadly weapon. He stands motionless, and stares at the Gondorians across the water, his eyes reddened, unblinking, and cold.

With no further words to the Ranger, Phazganun swings a leg over his horse and slides easily from it. The rings in his armor come together as he hits the ground, mimicking the sound of heavy raindrops, if only for a moment. Stepping forward, he watches the arrow fly wide over the small group and he shrugs.

\"Great warriors pledge themselves to such a man, it seems.\"

With that, he tilts his head from side to side, and pulls forth his large blade which shimmers brightly in the daylight, continuing to move toward the camp. Behind him, the small number of men in his company does the same-- only one remaining with the horses.

\"It would appear we are unwelcome.\" comments Laeghen sidelong towards Phazganun as his pace continues along its track, calm and rhythmic in its gait. His longsword is yet within it\'s sheath at his hip, and his shield upon his back. Cloak the colours of the forest drifts lazily about him, trailing somewhat behind as he moves.

Yet, the Ranger seems intent on leaving nothing to chance. A longbow is drawn from over his shoulder, and an arrow nocked upon the string. In one fluid motion, the bow is prepared, fired towards the sentry whose arrow went well wide, and once again the bow is returned to its place over his shoulder.

\"Perhaps we brought too many. This will be an easy rout.\" And with these words, Laeghen draws his own blade, glistening in the moonlight and the flickering of the fires from the distance. Soft footfalls carry him ever onward, his gaze singular in purpose, and his manner relaxed, though ready for battle to come.

Azradi receives no answer from the sentry above there is a cry as Laeghen\'s arrow proves true and the sentry plunges from his treetop watch-point.

All that is heard of his fate is a splashing as his body hits the dark waters of the Poros and is dragged downriver.

The others about the campfire -- mostly Umbareans, both Corsairs and those bearing the uniforms of the Crusaders -- await the Gondorians. They gather about the campfire, seeking the higher ground and the shelter of the trees against enemy arrows, should they come.

\"Torches! Torches!\" Su\'ad calls, grabbing one herself, and getting one for someone else. \"Find them and quickly!\" With her other hand she places a hand on her ornate hilt, and as she moves out of the revealing ring of light from the campfire, the sound of it drawing whispers like a metal snake slithering across stone.

Picking up her shield, Azradi straps it onto her left arm and draws her sword. She too seeks a place just without the circle of firelight, near Su\'ad - but she does not grab a torch. \"They have archers,\" she observes for those who did not grasp the significance of the sentry\'s yell and fall into the river.

Su\'ad nods to Azradi\'s observation. \"Put the fire out!\" she shouts, then says to the lady next to her, \"We\'ll see how their aim fares now. Come. Stick to the trees.\"

One of the Corsairs, the one who just moments ago harped away at song, does his best to douse the fire, but the bucket of water that washes over it does little to dull the flames in their merriment and haste, the fire has grown large. Or maybe it has done so by command.

As the group of Gondorians nears the Southron encampment, Phazganun clears his throat and sends his voice plowing through the air, \"Cowards! Send forth your Lord, the one who claims that banner over your heads and watch as his true blood is shown to you!\"

It is then that the Gondorians draw near enough to the camp that their silhouettes might be seen lingering around the edges-- and the Lieutenant-General stops. He solidifies his stance, raising his sword and grasping it firmly in both hands-- again his voice is heard, \"Or any of you cowards. It is all the same!\"

Snorting, Laeghen stares upon the camp with mild amusement. \"I believe they cower before the might of our handful of warriors.\" he states simply, his ire for once caught by something /other/ than another Gondorian. \"Pathetic.\" he spits, pausing to examine the camp.

Blade yet grasped within his green gauntlet, the steel brand remains at his side. His cloak settles into place about him, draped back over his shoulders, allowing him free movement of his arms, unimpeded by its bulk. His shield yet rests upon his back, hidden by the fabric draped there, yet its shape is visible beneath. Grey orbs peer intently.

Thus, he waits.

Su\'ad\'s eyebrow raises, and she peers at the men who have invaded their camp. She sighs to her companion nearby, and hands off her torch. \"Did someone ask me to dance?\" She calls out, a lone feminine voice in the darkness. \"Very well, I accept.\" She gives Azradi a look...then moves toward them at a sideways run, raising her sword to attack.

\"Do you think he stands sentry?\" comes a feminine voice from the darkness. From the shadows emerges Azradi. \"You will have to find contentment in his sister.\"

She crouches slightly, and makes a slight movement with her shield ere bringing her scimitar in from the left, seeking to slash Phazganun\'s right arm.

His gaze locks easily on the one who has come forth to answer his challenge, and anticipating the attack Phazganun is able to avoid the brunt of the blow, as the blade slams against his upper arm, failing to penetrate his armor and likely leaving little more than a bruise. Stepping to the side, he replies, \"So he would send a woman to do the duty of a Lord? A coward, it is true-- but the worst kind. You shall do, for now.\"

The Lieutenant-General then lunges forward, raising his weapon high and bringing it down with force-- intending to catch Azradi at the shoulder.

As the battle is joined, there is a sudden heavy rustling in the forest from the west, almost as if summoned by the fresh clash of blade against shield and blade against blade...

A voice fills the air-- it is not booming, but there is a potency in it, such that the air quivers as it speaks and all can hear its words clear as freshly-sharpened steel. Through the trees comes a shadow, and it is this shadow that the voice heralds: \"Men of Gondor! Servants of the false kingdom. Know that you have broken an ancient law, and thus I come.\"

And thus he does. A tall warrior clad from head to foot in ancient Numenorean armour, resembling the grandest of Swan-knights save that there is a fellness to his iron mantle that no man of Dol Amroth would shoulder, and instead of a swan\'s wings it is a raven\'s or a crow\'s that spread out from either side of his helm.

The gaze that goes unseen behind the helm fixes on those at the fore of the battle. \"Who is the leader among you who would answer for the crimes of his underlings? Fight me, for I am Vengeance.\"

The challenge seems to have done its job, for a screaming banshee of a Haradhrim woman comes hurtling towards him. Laeghen turns towards the woman Su\'ad, and awaits her calmly, his eyes narrowed beneath the mask he wears.

As the scimitar sweeps downwards, the Ranger dances to his right, evading the swordstroke with ease. \"You are more pathetic than the boy Arashen.\" he comments offhandedly, his gaze taking in the girl\'s every movement. \"Then again, I would expect only slightly better than the boy of a woman.\"

His attack comes forth then. Not in the form of his blade, however, for it remains at his right side. Instead, his left hand swings across, aimed in a vicious backhand for the woman\'s left cheek. \"Perhaps you should send for a man to take your place, before I become bored of your idiocy.\"

Yudas darts through the grass, keeping his body low to the ground, like his weapon. He catches the familiar sight of Su\'ad as she engages Laeghen, and decides to lend his support in that direction. Raising his spear high into the air, Yudas takes a running charge, leaping into the fray. He screams a throaty, sickening war-cry, knocking a Gondorian soldier to the ground with the butt of his spear, and then turning on Laeghen. \"Be careful what you wish for!\", Yudas yells, as he JABS his spear straight for Laeghen\'s jugular!

Su\'ad ducks as the man of Gondor takes a swing. Quick on her feet and light as a cat, she crouches low and makes a thrust underneath, aiming toward the man\'s ribcage with the tip raised just slightly.

Azradi brings up her shield high to deflect the blow but fails and it lands hard - first against her shield and then sliding off and slamming into her shoulder. She cries out softly but does not give ground. Gamely bringing her scimitar in for another blow, she aims this time for the Lieutenant-General\'s leg.

\"So it is cowardly for Alphros to send a woman to fight for him but not for you to strike one?\" she says, her voice strained with pain.

Swift in his movements, Laeghen manages to bring his blade up, flicking it diagonally downward in an attempt to knock the spear wide in its thrust. Yet, the maneuver is not fully successful, only diverting a killing stroke to a wounding stroke as the spear pierces leather, cloth, and finally flesh, imbedding into his left shoulder.

A cry is given, blood spurting from the wound just inflicted, and the Ranger jumps back. This maneuver is all that stops him from being disemboweled, as Su\'ad\'s strike punctures into his stomach, but not deep enough to cause any grievous wounds. Eyes narrow beneath his mask, and rage seems to smolder within his gaze. \"Very well.\" he states, eyeing the spear wielder carefully. \"Let us test your mettle.\"

Springing forth, placing Yudas betwixt him and Su\'ad, Laeghen\'s sword goes to work. Sweeping low, the blade is first brought towards the man\'s gut, ere its momentum changes. Expertly, the Ranger brings his blade upward in a vicious thrust for the armpit of the Haradhrim holding the spear, whilst his left arm dangles helplessly at his side.

His muscles now primed and ready for combat, the woman\'s incoming strike is easily deflected with a quick tilt of his own blade. Metal upon metal is the sound, and it rings true through the air. With a smirk, Phazganun dismisses Azradi, \"You are beneath me-- go enjoy the life I have spared you, before I change my mind.\"

It is then that he turns his attention to the fell Knight, and with a smile that can be seen even beneath the visor of his helm, he calls to the stranger, \"There is what I came for-- a fight worth fighting. I am who you seek, southron-- and I will not deny your request.\"

Adjusting his grip on his weapon, the Lord Ephalkhir moves forward at a fast pace, arcing his greatsword low to catch the enemy at the legs.

Su\'ad is surprised and relieved to see Yudas suddenly at her side, then almost annoyed as the pale foreigner maneuvers to place her benefactor between them. But as he steps in to strike at Yudas, Su\'ad moves in once more, swinging hard in an upward cut toward his elbow or shoulder.

Yudas takes the bait, and brings his spear downwards to block what seems like Laeghen\'s low sweeping attack. But when the Ranger shifts modes, the Corsair curses out, quickly bringing the shaft to his chest-area to block the incoming attack. His movements, too slow, simply slows the momentum of the Ranger\'s attack, but does not stop the blade as it SLICES through the metal studs, and blistering leather, of his armor, penetrating the flesh underneath just below his armpit. \"Bastard\", he spits, clutching his wound and tumbling back, but with surprising speed, even as he back-peddles, he delivers a swinging attack with the butt of his blade towards Laeghen\'s head!

The strange knight twists his mace and catches Phazganun\'s blade mighty though the Ephalkhir\'s sword is, and mighty though his strike may be, the Crow-knight\'s dark instrument turns it aside and into the air.

\"Then accept it and die, for there is a Doom upon you, a Doom writ by the dishonour of your people. For one day past, men of Gondor met with men of Harad at the crossroads of this river, and betrayed the sacred treaty of parley. And so you will be the sacrifice for their misdeeds, and I will be the harbinger of this righteous revenge.\" And then the knight strikes at Phazganun\'s mailed chest with his mace.

It would be foolish to let oneself become distracted when fighting a man of Phazgunun\'s caliber - and so Azradi did not turn when the strange Knight made his pronouncement. But when he approaches the pair of opponents, and the Gondorian leader\'s attention is drawn elsewhere, she steps back from the battle and stares at the apparent Numenorean.

Another assault strikes true, and Laeghen\'s arm is caught by the curving scimitar of Su\'ad. Growling as a gash is opened upon his arm--slicing through leather to gain flesh--Laeghen manages not to cry out as with the connecting strike of the spear.

Instead, the experienced Ranger manages to duck low, avoiding the swing of the spear. Eyes intent upon Su\'ad now, the man of Ithilien springs forth now, his fighting style that of experience and mobility. \"Die, girl. Feed the carrion of this wretched land.\" And with these words, Laeghen Carmayar thrusts forth once more, this time aimed towards the inner thigh, where one of the thickest arteries rests.

A strange cry falls from Su\'ad\'s lips as the sword passes right between her legs, slicing into the soft flesh there. Blood immediately begins to trickle from the wound, but not the black arterial blood he might have hoped for. She swings her sword down to parry it away before he does more harm. It stings, yet she ignores the wound. \"Before this night is out, it is /you/ who will feed the worms.\" With that, she dances in again, using her shield cautiously this time, and only swinging at the last second at his chest...aiming for his neck, but he is a little tall.

Yudas shatters the air as he screams a black curse towards Laeghen, clutching his spear with one hand, the other hand holding the bleeding wound underneath his arm. The Corsair watches as his fellow kinswoman, Su\'ad, takes another hit. \"Dog of Gondor! First you mock our women, and then, after they take your blood, you run towards them! Coward, turn and face a man!\" Not waiting for the Gondorian to turn, of course, Yudas JABS his spear at the warrior\'s back.

The mace hits its target, mashing against the mail he wears, and sending Phazganun back a step. He does not cry out, or even release a whisper of pain, simply grinding together as his tabard begins to redden in a few small places.

\"The only betrayal that has been suffered in recent days is on behalf of my people, and the blatant lies and filth spread by your coward of a Lord.\"

Then, he lifts his sword much as before-- when he struck the woman-- and drops it so that it might meet the Knight where the neck merges with shoulders.

\"There has been no betrayal. Only justice,\" answers the Crow-knight, stepping back with strange speed enough so as to evade the Gondorian\'s attack.

\"Die a worthy death, now, so that the dishonour of your people that stains this river may be sanctified by your blood.\" The mace comes up, and in both hands, the dark Numenorean warrior brings it down at Phazganun\'s left shoulder.

\"Your people took a boy from here, under the flag of parley!\" Azradi cries. Her gray eyes flashing with passion, she dances into fight the Ephelkhiri lord once more. Using the point of her sword, she thrusts upwards, seeking the gap between chest and arm in the man\'s armor.

Letting out another cry of pain as the spear pierces him from behind Laeghen stumbles, falling to his knees. Growling, the man spins about, and launches himself towards Yudas. No more words are spoken, for blood spills from too many wounds upon the man of Ithlien already for more banter.

Gaining his feet as he stumbles towards Yudas, Laeghen sways uneasily upon them. Yet, the fight is not gone from the man of Gondor, and his sword once again aims forth. Once more he thrusts for the underside of the man\'s arm, aiming for the same arm he struck the first time in an attempt to render that arm useless, and the wielding of the spear much more difficult, if not impossible.

Still, Laeghen\'s left arm dangles useless at his side.

Again the mace strikes true, though this time Phazganun is able to bend forward slightly and take the force of the blow upon his back. Another step back is taken, as the blows from the mace has no doubt left him at least slightly disoriented-- if only for a moment, and even then he is able to raise his sword and fend off the attack of the woman. More blood oozes forth to adorn the layer of cloth that is worn over his armor, and offering this time no verbal response to the Knight, he moves forward.

This time, his sword is swung from right to left, intended for the Knight\'s abdomen region.

The Crow-knight rocks as Phazganun\'s strike is true blood wells up from between two of the armoured plates on the Numenorean\'s side, and it is the red blood of a human, but it does not stall him.

Charging back at Phazganun without pause, he strikes again. \"Take heed, men and women of Umbar! Your time for retribution is come.\" The mace descends upon Phazganun\'s helm.

Su\'ad is relieved to find the man not so full of rowdy words and snide remarks. She takes it as a good sign, and takes heart. As he turns away from her to address Yudas once more, she takes a quick stock of the situation, then on a whim aims for the lower part of the man\'s calf, hacking at the meat with a long slice.

Yudas braces himself as a more serious Laeghen approaches him. The Corsair bends down to one knee and holds his spear upward, in an attempt to deter another trick attack. With a painful grunt, Yudas bellows out in agony as the Ranger\'s blade again penetrates his defenses, and slices into his forearm, cutting through both glove, armor, and skin. Blood pours out from his left arm, adding to the blood already streaming from his torso injury before. Yudas hisses, takes a step back, and with his right arm only, JABS for Laeghen\'s chest, although, using only one arm, his speed has slowed considerably since the initial attack.

Taking heart at the Crow-Knight\'s words, Azradi advances. Her curved blade snakes in, seeking to slash Phazganun\'s leg once more. \"He does not understand the difference between the Umbareans and the Haradrim!\"

This time his speed does not fail him, as Phazganun manages to step back and avoid the Knight\'s blow-- likely sparing his head in the process. Little more time is provided, and there is no time for words, as Azradi\'s attack comes quickly thereafter. Again, he manages to maneuver out of the way. With a grunt, he steps forward, \"It takes two of you to fight the battle of one-- cowards is all you have proven to be.\"

The Lieutenant-General\'s sword is once more sent curving toward the Crow-Knight, this time from left to right, and upward diagonally-- aimed for his torso.

\"Your claims will not deny the misdeeds of your kin, Gondorian. Perish!\" The Crow-knight is struck again by Phazganun\'s great blade, though his armour takes the strike and the effect is far less. And not a moment is wasted as the mace once again swings, this time for Phazganun\'s right side.

No words this time from the Corsair Azradi. Half the age of the man she fights, her skill appears not sufficient to harm him - but her heart, despite his claims, does not fail her. She remains in the fight. As the Crow-Knight strikes his right side the sister of Lord Alphros strikes from his left.

This time, Laeghen is prepared for the assault of the spear, and as it comes forth--slow and sloppy as it is--the Ranger sweeps his blade upwards to bat the spearhead over his shoulder, keeping it from his flesh. However, as he continues his movements with practices ease, a cutting scream erupts from the man\'s lips from behind the leather mask, for Su\'ad\'s scimitar strikes true, cutting through muscle and tendon of his left calf.

Tumbling to his knees, the Ranger falls to all fours. Kneeling there before the spear wielder, the green-clad man looks up with menace in his gaze. \"If this is how I am to die...\" he murmurs, the words difficult in coming.”So be it.\"

With that said, the man sweeps his blade forth, aimed for the ankle of Yudas.

Struck again, this time his armor succeeding in absorbing the majority of the mace, Phazganun does not stumble back as before. Of course, the woman\'s attack is again deflected, and bearing his teeth his ire turns toward her, \"I spared you once-- and you are too stupid to see it. Get down, now!\"

With that, his sword is lifted and lowered just as before, seeking her collar.

The Crow-knight steps forward as Phazganun turns to strike at Azradi. And as that blow lands, he calls: \"Loyal of Umbar, of the Raven, to me! Strike at the one who commands! Strike at him for vengeance against the betrayers!\"

And then the Numenorean strikes again, aiming for Phazganun\'s shoulder.

Yudas watches as Laeghen falls to all fours. His lips twist into a bloody grin. \"What now, you really are a Dog, aren\'t you--\" but before he can finish, he moves to defend himself against Laeghen\'s attack, bringing the shaft of his spear upright to block the incoming attack at his feet. But the Ranger\'s sword CUTS through the wood of the shaft, and the blade SLICES the flesh just above the ankles, cutting the Corsair down to the ground, near Laeghen. Yudas hits the ground with a THUD, coughing, \"Damn. Tricks.\" But Yudas moves quickly, crawling away to a safe distance, getting his bearings.

As before, Azradi seeks to deflect the descending massive sword with her shield - but her injured left arm is too weak to bear its weight, even at a glancing blow. Phazganun\'s sword slams into her shoulder, and indeed, drives her down to her knees. She screams in pain. Her left arm hangs useless at her side.

Su\'ad thrills at the success of her swing, shouting her joy in the night, even as her eyes dance with maniacal bloodlust. \"Don\'t kill him, Yudas! I want to!\" she calls out. But just then, the strange knight calls for help, and Su\'ad jerks her head around, just in time to see Azradi\'s plight. With a look of dread, she gathers her strength and speed, and charges at the other fighter, looking ready to thrust as she runs, but at the last moment she cries out in rage, and swings at the stranger\'s midsection.

Abandoned by the foes he faced, Laeghen spares a look about his surroundings. There is little the man can do but thrust his sword in its sheath, and begin to crawl away. Left arm yet useless, the Ranger utilizes his right arm, and knees to begin his slow, treacherous retreat from the Haradhrim lines, towards the horses and the single man remaining to guard them.

Moving well, even as his wounds begin to take their toll, Phazganun is able once more to twist free of the Knight\'s mace. It is the attack of the newcomer, another woman that catches him off guard and strikes true-- barely managing to pierce his armor and draw a flow of red liquid from his abdomen. He spares no time to look at the fallen Azradi, instead turning his attention to the one to do him harm most recently. Shaking his head, he smirks, \"You people have no honor-- how many will it take?\"

He speaks no more, instead moving to Su\'ad and swinging his sword straight across, attempting to return the favor done to his stomach.

Yudas slowly stands up, pain contorting his face. But he seems to derive a certain pleasure from the pain, and in fact he laughs as he looks over his wounds. \"Delightful. The Eye will be pleased at the bloodshed spilt tonight, in Its Honor.\" With those words, the Corsair sniffs the air, looking for another round with the Ranger. But seeing him not, Yudas turns to join his companions against Phazganun, limping to their side, just behind Su\'ad, he holds his spear upright, and, using the twelve-foot weapon to STAB at Phazganun\'s abdomen. \"It will take one more, False Numenorean!\"

\"There is honour only in your death, false one. Whether it be by my hand of the hands of a thousand... Die! Die!\" The Crow-knight strikes again, clutching the terrible mace in both of his gauntleted fists and swinging it at Phazganun\'s chest with a dread might.

Continuing to drag himself on three limbs, Laeghen leaves a trail of slick blood in the grass a dark stain in the moonlight. The Ranger casts his gaze over his shoulder periodically to ensure he is not being challenged or followed, but otherwise, concentrates on the task at hand: crossing the hundreds of yards to the horses ere anyone notice his pitiful retreat.

Pride, rather than ability, forces Azradi to her feet. She sways and stumbles however, and backs away from Phazganun and those that crowd around to fell him. Leaning heavily against a tree, she glares at the Gondorian lord with angry, pain-filled eyes.

His chest already having been wounded, when the mace hits it yet again, what may be the sound of a cracked rib or two can be heard, and the blood that only managed to worm its way to the surface now flows more freely. Oddly, however, there is no cry of pain-- but rather a laugh. And the spear? It is deflected with as much ease as the fallen woman\'s scimitar.

\"Now, fool, you have told me something I can agree with. I am fully aware there is honor in my death-- I am, after all, the Lord Ephalkhir.\"

Tightening his grasp of his weapon, he adds, \"However... do not think you will not be brought to your knees before this has ended. I am more than thrilled to sacrifice my life for Gondor. Can you say the same for your lies?\"

Swung is his blade, hard and fast, aiming straight for the Knight\'s arm which most firmly grips his mace.

\"Ephalkhir! You who once served the true Kings and then betrayed them for the false Throne of Gondor?\" answers the Crow-knight as Phazganun\'s blow rocks him. But the Numenorean is steadfast, almost inhuman in his resilience, and he does not relent. A darkened puissance comes into his voice as he answers. \"You have many other dishonours to pay for as well and may all your line perish to the blades of the righteous!\"

The Crow-knight strikes again, for Phazganun\'s right arm.

Glancing over his shoulder once more, Laeghen catches stock of the woman hobbling after him. Hurrying himself as much as his aching wounds and tri-limbed state will allow, the Ranger continues with more haste in an attempt to quit the battlefield.

Still, the longsword rests within its sheath at his hip.

Mystery_Knight +shouts, \"To me, Umbar! To me, children of the South! Slay the fallen Lord! Slay the betrayers of Penance!\"

Perhaps speed and agility favor Phazganun tonight, as again he steps free of the mace\'s impact. There is no laugh this time, and no notice is taken of the wounds he bears. Nor is there any reply spoken to the Crow-Knights ranting. Instead, he merely presses on with the fight-- his blade moving low to impact the enemy at the knee.

\"For He Who Arises in Might! For the Great Dark Lord!\" rants on the Crow-knight, even as Phazganun strikes him another mighty blow there is a spurt of more blood, human blood, as his thigh is struck and the raven-hued plate there cracks.

\"PERISH!\" and he strikes again for Phazganun\'s crown.

Failed has his speed-- his agility, and this time the mace hits its target-- though luckily for Phazganun not as directly as intended. Instead, the mace strikes his helmet near the point, ripping it from his head and raking the mask across his face. What is left is a bloody mess than can hardly be identified as a Man of Gondor, if not for the gray eyes peering out from behind the blood. Pouring freely from his now open nostrils and his mouth, blood cascades down the Lieutenant-General\'s front, and even so he fights on.

Inhaling deeply, and gargling blood as he does so, his blade is raises and he lunges recklessly at he Crow-Knight, this time aiming to strike his opponent straight in the neck.

Su\'ad cries out in pain, her momentum carrying her away from the terrible Gondorian warrior. His greatsword crushes into the meat of her upper leg and hip, and she tumbles into the leaves and dirt, her leg howling with the pain. But she only grunts as rolls about for a bit, before pulling herself to her feet. For some silly reason, she hears her trainer’s voice in her head saying, \"Walk it off\". But as the stranger in their midst...and benefactor, calls for those of Umbar to come to his aid, she goes back in, her face grimly determined. She takes a swing at his legs with her scimitar, murmuring a prayer to the Heroes.

There is no time for the Lieutenant-General to enjoy the success of his own strike, as he is caught off guard by the blade of a woman likely thought to have moved on. It is not a terribly devastating strike, as it is but a blow to his thigh, and results only in him stumbling backward a few steps. The wound, however, squirts blood at a rate seen nowhere else on his body-- as if a mighty vessel had been severed by the blade, and as such, seemingly without cause or reason does Phazganun fall to his knees.

He turns his mess of a face to view the one who struck him so, and smiling a smile that only he could muster at such a time, he speaks, \"Four... then... is the answer... four cowards... to every Gondorian Lord.\" Coughing up blood as he laughs, he spits a vile wad of the red liquid to the ground and adds, \"Those are odds... that might be won... Gondor shall prevail.\"

His attention then turns to the so-called Crow-Knight, and he shakes his head as best he can, \"No honor do you... have... your claims... are nothing but lies... I expect not... that you will admit so... though I know... you see it.\"

His final words having been spoke, the Lord Ephalkhir sways slightly from side to side, his face planting squarely into the ground when finally he falls-- the loss of blood no doubt taking its toll.

Surveying the scene before him, Laeghen\'s eyes widen at the sight which he takes in. The Lord Ephalkhir has breathed his last, and the Ranger sees it all. With a glance towards the other man, the twain who escape turn upon their steeds, and swiftly make their way to the north to inform the men of Gondor what has befallen the man who died valiantly in the service of Gondor.

The Crow-knight rocks one final time as the great blade of Aganizil strikes him, but it is a lesser wound, for Phazganun is near to death. And when the strange Numenorean lifts his mace to strike one final blow in return... He stops. For Phazganun has been struck, the fatal blow delivered by the Corsair Su\'ad.

\"Vengeance is ours,\" says the strange, dread knight when Phazganun is dead and silent. \"The betrayal is repaid. Rest well, Ephalkhir, and know that as your spirit goes to the sacred secret fate of men, and that the honour of your kin is sanctified by its passing.\"

Then the mysterious knight turns his fell helmed gaze to Su\'ad, and Azradi and nods once. \"And farewell to you, children of the Raven. Know that you have played a part in a great and fated battle, and the Doom that has been wrought is now whole by your own blood shed in sacrifice.\"

And with that he turns, and walks off into the west, and is seen no more.

Su\'ad\'s surprise is not hidden from her countenance as her blow proves deadly, for she certainly did not imagine it would be the last. But as the man of the north begins to talk, her ire is raised once more. She limps over to where he lays and looks down at his mangled, bloody body. She holds up her sword, and says, \"No, it was the Devilsword of Umbar.\" And she places it on his chest, and leans down low to whisper in the dying man\'s ear.

And with that, she thrusts the sword deep into his heart.

\"Su\'ad!\" Azradi cries as the woman lifts her sword. She pushes away from the tree and stumbles over to the dead man, looking down at him. \"I wanted to bring him back to Alphros alive.\"

Wincing in pain, she pulls her shield from her left arm and lets it fall to the ground. Then lifting her curved blade in both hands, she lifts it high…

…and brings it down swiftly, severing the Elphakhiri lord’s head from his body. \"His head will have to do.\"

Fin