Impressions in the Mud

Western Edge of Mirkwood

The edge of the great forest looms just to the east, the sprouting green canopy blocking out half the sky. The day is cool, and below you the earth is warm and muddy.

To the north and south, a small path follows the outline of the forest. Off to the west lies the great plain created by the meandering Anduin.

Rain hammers down from the storm clouds above, soaking the forest of Mirkwoodd and all that surrounds it.

Contents:

Haldir

Obvious exits:

SouthEast, NorthEast, North, and South

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:

Late Morning on Hevensday, Day 12 of April.

Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 18:52:06 MDT on Wed Feb 24 2010.

[Haldir(#25231)]

Rain sears the edge of the forest, lifting leaf litter up and carrying it away in a chocolate-colored flood. This causes the road to become very, very muddy. And inhospitable to traveling, but excellent for leaving sloppy, rut-like tracks. Beyond to the east, the gloom of Mirkwood stretches wide and far -- a warning in itself that this forest is not to be traveled for leisure.

A grey shape is crouched by the edge of this mucky path, inspecting an impression. From afar, it appears to be a rock. However, if one were to draw near and yank off the surface, one could perhaps see an Elf -- Haldir, this is.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Indeed this forest should not be traveled for leisure, and yet a second figure does for creatures of the Shadow have naught to fear from the gloom of Mirkwood.

Sharp squelching noises rend the dank morning air as foot after foot is yanked from the earthy mud - surely leaving plenty more impressions in the ground as the orc progresses. Slowly though steadily the red clothed shape plodes through the undergrowth on the border of the dark wood. Suddenly, above one bush something pops up: and it looks to be a skull of some dreadful beast. A monster in Mirkwood?

[Haldir(#25231)]

The elf-rock\'s hood turns ever so slightly towards the side, from where the odd squelches are coming. Slowly, as some earthen shape rising out of the sunken mud, Haldir takes a step back, deeper into the cover of undergrowth. A gloved hand sinks to his belt, searching for a weapon. And he waits.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

That oddly topped bush rustles violently, and there are flashes of scarlet visible from amid the leaves and branches. The skull-helmet vanishes for a moment as Bagaglok crouches from behind his piece of foliage, and there is a ripping noise as he tears some of the roots free. Dirt sprays everywhere, and the bush trembles again.

Standing then, the orc stuffs the gnarled plant roots into his crimson robes but a pause is given ere he turns to resume walking. Yellow eyes peer into the shadows of the trees and brush, but the Elf\'s cloak serves him well, for the Shaman sees him not. Nevertheless a curious, and wary sniff is yielded to the air...there is a rather strange smell mixed into the falling rain. A claw drifts lower to where a dark hilt lies.

[Haldir(#25231)]

Alas for the sweet, pervasive scent of Elvendom. The grey-cloaked marchwarden\'s brows knit, and below said article of clothing a weapon is partly drawn, revealing a handspan of damascened steel. Haldir watches the orc shaman, the thin line of his mouth twisting in contempt: though the Elf is still as a statue of stone, he is poised to draw, rush, and strike. Now for the sharp-nosed orc to turn his attention away ...

[Combat(#13388)] Haldir wields Longsword.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

A short length passes, as the goblin remains unmoving, still staring intently into the darkness cast down by the shady boughs overhead. Close at hand, a small white-tailed bunny hops from a felled mossy log, but immediately freezes, eyes staring in fright.

Bagaglok snorts then, turning a disdainful sneer upon the petrified animal. \"For a tiny imp you sure stink enough,\" the orc says, grinning awfully, and drawing the scimitar from its sheath beneath his robes. \"Let me fix that for you, and then this place won\'t smell as wretched...\" He begins to lift the curved sword higher, watching as the rabbit is rooted to the spot.

COMBAT - Wielded: Blackened Scimitar

[Haldir(#25231)]

There is a frown among the foliage.

Haldir shifts, sending a shudder of movement through the grey, concealing cloak then suddenly he is no longer at his spot in the bushes, but nigh -- and drawing even nearer with wind-sped feet -- to the scimitar-raising orc.

\"It is you,\" hisses an accented Westron voice near to Bagaglok\'s right side, \"you and your vermin kin who foul the Greenwood so. Get you gone.\" Haldir raises a cold-edged blade, sweeping it towards the shaman\'s red robes.

Haldir attacks you with his Longsword!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

A blur of gray, a glint of steel, and suddenly the uruk realizes his mistake too late it was not the bunny that was smelling thusly.

The Shaman gives a cry of surprise and panic that quickly turns into one of pain as the elven longsword rips through fabric and pierces mail. A few broken rings of armor and black blood adorn the muddy ground, and Bagaglok stumbles hastily backward, clutching the burning side with one claw. In the confusion the lucky bunny escapes, vanishing back into the foliage of Mirkwood. Quickly jamming a shield onto his other arm, the orc hisses as he beholds the offending Elf. \"If that is so, then why does the stench seem to come from you, albai scum?\" Not waiting for an answer, the scimitar sweeps outward for Haldir\'s legs.

[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok] Wearing: Rune-Rimmed Shield

You half-blindly attack Haldir with your Scimitar...

[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]

Haldir dodges your attack.

[Haldir(#25231)]

The marchwarden\'s eyes fall upon the sweeping scimitar carelessly, gracefully, the Elf sidesteps the blow, and presses forth anew.

He holds forth the now-stained blade, leveling a cold stare across its horizontal length at Bagaglok. \"You embrace what is foul and scorn that which is of nature,\" he rasps, sending a fleeting nod to the now-escaped rabbit. \"It is only natural that you hate the Firstborn, twisted one.\"

Haldir\'s tone is laced with disappointment, which quickly mingles with venom as he darts forward, stabbing at the wound he has already cut into the red-robed shaman.

Haldir attacks you with his Longsword!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

And again that accursed Galadhrim blade sails true, and deepens its previously won strike. The hit of the hard steel forces some of the breath from Bagaglok\'s lungs, and he staggers more, falling slightly on a dirty knee on the mucky soil below.

Between pants of pain as the area around him becomes even more decorated in black stains, the orc manages to growl hatefully, \"Yesss, hated them before. More so do I hate your ilk now, for your nasty burning blade.\" The Shaman glares, but is unable to move to his feet so soon. Instead the scimitar lashes down for elven boots.

You half-blindly attack Haldir with your Scimitar...

[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]

Haldir dodges your attack.

[Haldir(#25231)]

Haldir\'s expression lifts in feigned concern, and he steps back a pace to swing the sword clean of the tar-like ichor that issues from Bagaglok\'s wounds. \"Foul creature, I regret that I am poor at first impressions, then. You have never met an Elf?\"

Even as he speaks he points the steel at the shaman, though it does not strive for orcish flesh again.

ARB: Haldir has \"passed\" on his turn to attack.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Still eyeing the threat of the lowered sword apprehensively, Bagaglok answers, \"Your kind I have encounted before...one I can say tasted wonderfully sweet in the Cook\'s pot...\" And Bagaglok emits a wheezy laugh, coughing slightly. \"Do you taste as good? Shall we find out?\" The pitiful ceature attempts one last time at driving that dark goblin-sword into the marchwarden\'s feet.

You half-blindly attack Haldir with your Scimitar...

[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]

Haldir dodges your attack.

[Haldir(#25231)]

\"You dare to utter such?\" Haldir murmurs quietly, regarding Bagaglok with icy contempt over a lifted chin. \"Deplorable.\"

\"We will not,\" declares the marchwarden, stepping away from the orc-shaman\'s attempt. The point of the battle-blade ventures closer, then raises for a heavy blow. \"Be glad,\" rasps the Elf, \"that we do not consider your foul flesh palatable.\" And the edge falls.

Haldir attacks you with his Longsword!...

...and he misses!

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

The Shaman has managed to reclaim his breath and a wrenched twist away from that fell sword sends it cutting naught but air.

\"Glad indeed,\" laughs the orc through gritted teeth, as he grimaces in pain. \"Glad, that it appears your aim has fallen rusty. Is that the best you can do? I will bite of you yet.\" Again the scimitar thrusts out for the same target as before.

You half-blindly attack Haldir with your Scimitar...

[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]

Haldir dodges your attack.

[Haldir(#25231)]

Haldir looks down at Bagaglok\'s repeated attacks, observing, \"You are fixated upon my feet such odd ways do the Dark have.\"

Shaking his head, a brusque action that dislodges grey hood from pale hair, the marchwarden shifts his grip upon the longsword. \"If I break this, will you persist?\" The Elf\'s expression, unshadowed, is a cold and fearful thing to behold -- especially when he is stabbing down at the beholder\'s scimitar-claw.

Haldir attacks you with his Longsword!...

...and you parry his attack with your Scimitar!

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Only a hiss is given first in reply, and with a grunt of effort the orc manages to bring his blade up to beat aside the other. \"Would you rather I desire your arms? I will do more than break them, I promise you.\" At last, the creature shoves himself to his feet, dirty face contorted in pain but nevertheless still fixing the Elf with a dark glower. Indeed, this time Bagaglok aims higher, but not for arms: the scimitar flashes out for elven flank.

You half-blindly attack Haldir with your Scimitar...

[Combat(#13388)->Bagaglok]

Haldir dodges your attack.

[Haldir(#25231)]

The marchwarden appears to tire of the unfriendly conversation, marked by an increased urgency as he interrupts the shaman\'s speech with a raised hand.

\"No, thank you.\" With a cant of his head, Haldir sweeps away from the orcish blow then, like lightning does the elven blade strive to fall upon Bagaglok\'s head...

Haldir attacks you with his Longsword!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

And like thunder that blow strikes, slamming against the crude skull helm and grating down its side to carve a thick line from lower neck to shoulder. Words cannot adequately describe the awful howl that follows in the wake of that crippling attack and for a second time the uruk is sent groundward.

For a moment he moves not, and only an odd strangling sound drifts up, slightly muffled from the way the Shaman lays. But there is a motion, and Bagaglok raises himself on shaking arms, spitting a mouthful of mud from his teeth as he struggles to regain footing. \"Curse..\" he pauses to take a breath, \"you and your foul kind to the Halls of Feasting!\"

And he spits again but there is a small lake of black blood pooling about his feet, and it is not for the elf that he goes - but turning as quick as he can in this state, slips into the undergrowth and the blackness of yonder Mirkwood.

[Haldir(#25231)]

Haldir\'s expression is blank. \"Your insults are alien to me. Truly, I can never make sense of such blithering.\" Reaching down, the marchwarden of Lorien swipes the soiled blade upon a handful of withered grass. Then it is sheathed, and the marchwarden\'s careful stealth returns: casting the grey hood over his head, he moves noiselessly northward.