High Pass: With friends like that, who needs enemies?

Misty Mountains, Rocky Split

Two peaks split here like a cleft palette beconing you into the very jaws of the Misty mountains. The trail running between them is steep, narrow, and covered in loose chaff that could easily break loose and send you spilling down the rejuvenating and warm slope at any moment. This is a treacherous way to pass through the mountains, but is really the only option in this part of northern Middle Earth. You have heard that this trail may in fact lead eventually to the fabled place known as Imladris to the elves, or Rivendell to men, in which case this pass may be worth its danger!

This is a beautiful night of spring, and the dark sky is filled with brilliant stars, winking at the onlookers. The late night spring air is warm and mild. The moon is above the horizon and in its last quarter phase.

Obvious exits:

�West leads to High Pass, Eastern Trail.

�East leads to Craggy Slope.

================================== Bree Time ==================================

Real time: Tue Jun 23 14:51:43 2009

Bree time: Late Night <03> on Trewsday of Spring - April 4,1447

Moon Phase: Last Quarter Moon

===============================================================================

[Ragus(#28392)]

It\'s the middle of the night, and still the dwarves and company are in the high pass. They would be long through it for now except for the lingering snow and the fact that some of the Blue Mountain dwarves are not familiar with moving wagons through the dangerous road.

The wagons are strung out in a line to camp, for there\'s no other choice but that in the narrow way. Few lanterns are lit. Guards are set.

But dwarven eyes can\'t totally pierce the dark, and above there are red-glinting eyes watching the camp, and a smile growing.

[Mobeorn(#22365)]

Other eyes watch the camp, too, or at least one pair of dark brown eyes set in a feral-looking dark shape that patrols the camp\'s edges. This, some of the dwarves might realize, is Mobeorn. Or so it is rumored, for it is a bear that patrols the camp edge.

The air is clear and chill, and far above the stars sparkle like myriad specks of mithril embedded in the enduring rock, waiting for the miner\'s pick to release them. Perhaps this is what Broddur is contemplating as he plods backward and forward alongside the wagons, for his hand rests on the haft of the pick at his side, and every now and then he caresses it lovingly. He halts to peer into the darkness, and seemingly identifies neither bear nor others, for with a \'hmmph\' he turns on his heel and starts to move back the other way. \"Bloody cold,\" he mutters to himself.

[Ragus(#28392)]

And so goblins creep closer to the dwarves as they quietly wait, some studiously avoiding Mobeorn.

Ragus is fortunate to not be near the bear, and even more fortunate to be closer to Broddur, who sees nothing but darkness. This goblin is cursed with pocked skin as pale as a fish\'s belly, but he has smeared it with filth to make it mottled as a shadow. He clutches his spear tightly and fidgets. He licks his black tongue over a crack in his lip and then, as someone else screams, he throws his spear at Broddur.

[Mobeorn(#22365)]

Mobeorn sniffs the air. \"Fish...? filth?\" he mutters to himself, but it is in his own particular gutteral growling, and the dwarves would not understand it. Maybe they understand his next words: \"WARE! Goblins!\" Again, growled in the odd speech of Beorning bears, though its meaning might be clear enough. The few Beornings in the camp spring to their feet at the call, taking up arms.

Broddur\'s booted toe stubs against a rock, and his measured pacing falters. A mercy, that, for the swift spear that was intended to skewer him instead strikes no more than a glancing blow, clipping his left shoulder. The dwarf\'s eyes go wide - sturdy leather has parted under the strain, laying bare a long gash - and then he /yells/, a wordless cry loud enough to wake the dead (or any snoring dwarves not on watch).

\"To me, lads,\" he cries, brandishing his pick. \"Time for some exercise!\" With the typical hardiness of his kind he rushes forward, in the direction from whence the spear had come, quite unaware of the fact he leaves a thin trail of red behind him.

[Ragus(#28392)]

At first the goblins are still silent, trying to take advantage of the surprise while they still can. A dwarf falls to his death with a bellow that is silenced some distance below in a thunk.

Ragus hisses in disappointment as his spear doesn\'t skewer its intended target. He darts forward, trying to circle around Broddur toward the lost spear, his hand whipping out once to try to claw the dwarf\'s face while passing by.

[Mobeorn(#22365)]

The bear\'s paws sink into the ground, kicking up loose stones and setting dirt flying as it runs toward the attackers. Or, in some cases, runs -through- its attackers, flattening at least one unlucky orc that does not get out of its way. A goblin spear does manage to strike the bear as it makes its charge, but it bounces off the creature\'s thick leather hide, leaving only a scratch. Mobeorn is headed toward Ragus\'s back.

The clawed hand finds purchase in the long tangles of Broddur\'s beard, and the dwarf lets out a howl of rage as his head is jerked forward. \"Let go, goblin scum, or I\'ll take yer hand clean off yer arm!\" he threatens, his features purple as he struggles to free himself. His pick is swung wildly towards his assailant\'s stomach.

Behind him dwarves in various stages of disarray (helmets askew, mailshirts twisted, in one case boots on the wrong feet) are streaming out of the wagons to join their comrades who are already facing the goblin onslaught, axes and blades agleam.

[Ragus(#28392)]

Ragus\'s claws tangle in the beard and he finds himself whipped around by this as if the dwarf were a maypole. His breath is knocked out of him as the pick-axe beats against his armor and he falls to the ground. Ah! But there is his spear! He scrambles for it, then looks up to see a wild bear charging toward them!

[Mobeorn(#22365)]

The bear leaps, claws extended, flying fur of fury coming the way of the goblin. Maybe the fact that Ragus is scrambling for the pick-axe will save him.

As Ragus falls, Broddur is dragged with him. Unbalanced by his swing, he too stumbles groundward, though he keeps a firm grip on his trusty pick. When his wounded shoulder hits the gravel he lets out a loud groan and tries to roll over - just in time to see a dark shape flying toward him! Panicked, he strikes upward with the pick.

[Ragus(#28392)]

Ragus rams the butt of his spear against the ground and braces himself for Mobeorn\'s leap much as spears can be used against cavalry. He cringes back from the claws but holds his ground as his \'ally\' Broddur strikes beneath the bear.

[Mobeorn(#22365)]

There\'s a howl and a whine, very bear-like, followed by a string of growls--surely the growls are just growls and not curses to make even the toughest of dwarves blush? Still, the pick pokes holes in the bear belly and the beast\'s flying leap is detoured, so that the ton of bear flesh now threatens to fall in a bloody, furry, cursing heap on Broddur.

There\'s not much Broddur can do to divert the bear\'s fall, though the expression in his eyes changes from one of panic to one of horror, and he manages to mutter a shaken, \"Mahal\'s beard!\" He squirms and gives one final tremendous yank .. and his beard is free! although missing a large chunk. Then Mobeorn\'s weight falls across his legs, and he squirms no more, only groans - feebly.

[Ragus(#28392)]

Ragus breaks out into a laugh, a cackle really at the scene before him. He straightens, then leaps forward to try to ram his spear hard down into Mobeorn\'s fallen body.

The dark hour before dawn is no longer silent, as Dwarves and men of the Beornings clash with Orcs. It is inevitable that their meeting will be bloody, and already the ground is wet to prove it. One poor Khazad lies groaning on the cold ground beside a silent companion, his bent leg streaming red, while above him a comrade fends off the goblin advance with an axe that is no longer gleaming several clawed hands lie scattered around the vicinity, one still gripping a long knife.

At the edge of the melee, one might note a bear, goblin and dwarf locked in combat - well, the former two, at least. The latter now lies half-crushed beneath the bear\'s bulk.

[Mobeorn(#22365)]

Though his belly is bloody, Mobeorn has landed on a dwarf, cushioning his blow. He grunts a \"sorry,\" but it is in the bear\'s own gutteral \"language,\" and then he hastily rolls over to release his weight from Broddur\'s legs. This fortunately saves the bear from being spiked by an orc spear. It does, though, expose poor Broddur to the attack. Mobeorn sees the danger only at the last second and tries to kick out with his legs to disembowel Ragus.

Broddur hears the growl, and his dirty features pale. He tries to crawl away, but somehow his legs will not obey him ... thus it is that he is still there when Ragus\' spear stabs down. A new howl rents the air as he is pinned to the ground by his already-wounded left shoulder. The dwarf\'s eyes bulge as, with supreme effort, he manages to raise his pick-arm to swing the weapon toward the stooping Ragus\' leg.

[Elladan(#27059)] The sound of battle has drawn another traveller to the scene. Fierce eyes are set on the orc Ragus as a gloved hand draws a long arrow out of a quiver and places it on the string of an ancient longbow. Shaded by trees and shrubs the lone figure aims at the dark creature.

[Ragus(#28392)]

Ragus tries to adjust the thrust of his spear as Mobeorn rolls away, and this is why Broddur ends up being speared in the shoulder instead of the throat. And he hangs on to it as his legs are raked by a bear\'s claws, and then! A heavy pick-axe slams into his thigh.

The orc drops to the ground, screaming and clutching his left leg, which now appears to have two knees.

[Mobeorn(#22365)]

With a roar, the bear stands up, intending to continue his attack on Ragus as the orc, clawed and axed, drops to the ground. Only with the orc dropped, an arrow whizzes right by the orc\'s head and instead sinks itself into the bear\'s hefty flank, so that another howl of pain pierces the night. \"By the Bear!\" Mobeorn growls, trying to yank at the arrow. \"Archers too now?\" Maybe the as-yet-unseen elf will understand him.

Broddur knows nothing of bear-speech - he knows only that there is a spear stuck in his shoulder, and it /hurts/. And that the wielder of that spear now lies beside him, the falling orc-body having missed him by merely a hairsbreadth. His breath rasping, he tries to pull the pick back toward him for another swing.

[Elladan(#27059)] Archers may be around but the elf resorts to another weapon now. With a quick movement the arrow is tucked back into the quiver, the bow is slung across the shoulder and a wondrous blade is drawn. A fiery white light springs from this elf\'s sword as he leaps forward to aid bear and dwarf. \"Aiya Earendil!\" The voice is crisp and loud. And as he charges towards Ragus, his hood falls back to remove a face filled with hatred.

[Ragus(#28392)]

The orc screams as Broddur\'s pick pierces his other leg. A white light approaches and Ragus coughs some vile curse of his own. The gravely wounded goblin tries to crawl toward the sheltering shadow of the undercarriage of a nearby wagon.

Elladan is just behind the orc now and with a hefty movement he tries to strike Ragus\' back with the bright blade. No more of his kind seem to be around but this elven warrior shows a confidence in his doing that speaks of many such fights as this.

Broddur\'s grunt of satisfaction as his pick strikes flesh is short-lived it changes to a groan as the wounded goblin tries to crawl away, the motion pulling at his pick-wielding arm whilst the other stays securely pinned by a rather hefty spear. The dwarf hangs on grimly to his pick, like a dog worrying at a bone, and eventually is rewarded by its pulling free. Breathing very raggedly, the dwarf lets his pick come to rest upon his chest and curls his hand instead about the spear-haft, trying to pull it free from his shoulder. Attack will have to wait.

Elsewhere, that shining light has been seen. \"Aid!\" one beleagured Dwarf cries, raising a cheer.\" Another turns his head briefly from orc-mauling to spit angrily, \"Don\'t need help from thieving pointy-ears.\"

[Mobeorn(#22365)]

The bear swats at the arrow in his side for a moment, then gives it up and instead turns his attention back to the orc. Mobeorn lunges for Ragus\'s leg, trying to stop the orc from crawling under a wagon. Either that or trying to pull the orc leg out of its socket. \"There\'s more of them in the rocks, likely!\" he growls in his gutteral bear speech as the elven call rocks across the mountainside. \"But none of these seem to walk in the sun!\"

[Ragus(#28392)]

Ragus\'s leather armor is split by Elladan\'s blade, he shows briefly white beneath-- is that his spine showing? -- before the opening is filled with black blood. And Mobeorn then grips his bad leg. Ragus loses conciousness as he is swung by his leg, which straightens for the moment.

His head hits the rocky side of the mountain with a thud. That can\'t be good.

[Elladan(#27059)] \"Leave them to the dwarves, they need not our help, Mobeorn,\" is Elladan\'s response as delivers a last hatefull kick to the fallen Ragus. A quick glance at said rocks though assures him of no obvious danger at this very moment as he approaches Broddur. \"You at least will need help, master dwarf,\" he speaks. \"If you are not afraid of elven medicine I will tend to you later.\"

Likely the all the goblin\'s motion has preloosened the spear - Broddur\'s shaking hand is able to pull it out, and it goes clattering to the ground. His features taut, the dwarf gathers breath for a cry, \"Khazad! Khazad ai-menu!\" He starts to raise himself, only to slump back to the ground, his white face testament to the blood he\'s lost this night. As battle passes over and around him, he can only watch, his eyes glazed. Elladan\'s sudden appearance is greeted by a blank stare, and then the dwarf\'s head lolls, unconsciousness finally claiming him. Hmm? Who says he\'s scared!

The cheer from one Dwarf at the sight of Elladan has roused others, and now they fight with renewed vigour, striving to push back the goblin attackers. Elladan\'s assessment is likely correct. Also, over distant Mirkwood the eastern sky is lightening ... The naysayer, the hater of \'pointy ears\', gestures skyward with a bloody axe and calls out triumphantly, \"Look! Dawn\'s on its way!\"

[Mobeorn(#22365)]

The bear nods its large head to the elf, then with a huge paw swipes at the arrow in its side, knocking it loose. Still bloodied, the bear nonetheless goes rumbling off and into the battle, leaving dwarves and elves to fend for themselves.

[Elladan(#27059)] What orcs are left in the vicinity will surely be dispersed by the morning light and so Elladan, his blade still clasped, crouches near Broddur to take a closer look the at spear wound. \"This one will live,\" he speaks to himself and casts a worried look into the dawning east. \"At least beyond this morning.\"

[Ragus(#28392)]

Ragus\'s body shifts slightly at being kicked, but doesn\'t move. Even the bleeding has stopped. Likely he has been slain, partially through the actions of heroic dwarves.