A
black splotch dawns near in the night sky. It moves quickly, the form growing
larger and larger. A strong breeze picks up on the ground as the creature soars
overhead. The air is sweet, and smells pure. As the figure catches the
moonlight, its identity becomes known. Golden feathers glow from its breast,
like a suit of golden armor. Broad wings stretched out on each side. This, is a
Great Eagle of the North, just as the bird passes, a shrill scree fills the
tension-filled air. It echoes off the near by hills, creeping eerily back
towards the posts of both Orc and Elf.
The giant figure of the Eagle can be seen,
beating its wings as it lowers majestically onto a large boulder, upon the
Misties. Its eyes, undoubtedly, locked upon the area. He waits for now, a large
silhouette in the distant shadows.
Rhofalneth
opens his beak and lets out a shrill scree that echos in every direction.
A
shrill scree echoes from above.
Deep in
the murk of night, slithering westward and south, a serpentine train of uruk,
uruk-hai, and olog trods their fell path homeward. Most of the wicked
creatures, slobbering at the maw and frowning deep as the pits of Khazad-Dum,
look abnormally apprehensive. Indeed! Their scouts have reported the presence
of foes nearbye ... No creature of darkness wants to lose his life in vain!
They tread onwards: Clink, clank, clomp - through the gloom they go, as silent
as such wretched creatures can be.
Z'macht, an orc chieftain, travels lightly
near the back of the foul column. His mouth is set, eyes determined, and his
breathing is as ragged as his armore, tarnished and rusting. The Talashakh
nudges a nearbye orc and whispers a few words of encouragement. "None
shall withstand the might of Moria... If they come between us, we will be the
hammer and our sacred mines will be the anvil!"
From
the South, From North, Z'macht's +shout echos.
<Moria>
M'giddo says, "Many clients can be told to gag lines that match a pattern.
I did that for the bobbing lights. It's nice and peaceful. :)"
The sun
rises in the east, and hidden behind the stormy clouds she changes night into a
day.
CRINK!
CLINK! Marching uruks on the move; silence is dead. Ground trampled beneath
their boot covered feet, the orcs of Moria march onward and back to the Caves
of Khazad-dum. Whips crack, and snaga yelp as the moving horde crashes forward,
all manner of life being crushed in their wake. All manner of uruk march
forward, their weapons out and ready as the enemies of the FLAME have been
reported to be near.
The Senior Guard Huzghash marches stolidly
in the middle of the column, his face a block of granite worked by an
apprentice sculptor. The Senior Guard moves, spear held in his right hand, and
shield on his left. "<Uruk> Guards of Moria! We shall not leave any
foe we may com up against breathing. They shall all perish should we meet their
wretched hides!" Pumping his right fist in the air, Huzghash smirks and
his eyes seem to glaze over slightly; the lust for battle already upon him.
The
foul darkness of orcish armor opens wide beside Z'macht, and from the maw steps
a shape robed in fur. The stars glitter on the mail beneath as Tuoak raises his
arms into the cold air, "Yes. Do you smell it on the air? Ash and smoke.
The flame fights with us." The Warrior Shaman lowers his head for a moment
and then calls into the night, "Snagas! Sing the songs of the flame! Bring
fear into their hearts!"
And
thne the foul voices of the snagas rise in their horrible song, blades slamming
against shields and boots thundering over the rocks. This is the sound of the
storm as it gathers..
Tuoak
+shouts, "Boom Boom..Boom Boom. The drums speak doom! Hear them call of
death and maul, under skies that burn and spurn. Your voice is still, your
forces mill! All fear the drums!
Flee
before us, foes of the flame! The land burned when the drums came! Boom boom!
Doom doom!
Hear
the call! Your men will fall! For none will stand before us! Orcs laugh and
orcs slash and the drums go ever on.
Flee
before us, foes of the flame! The land burned when the drums came! Boom boom!
Doom doom!"
Blak
+shouts, "Amongst the comlumn of orcs, Blak marches, his eyes flitting
about for a sign of the enemy. He stands in a part of the column in front of
the guards, but not quiet at the front. Half the time he looks around behind
him, as though expecting an attack to come from behind rather than in
front."
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor hefts his bow from its spot nestled about his back and
moves it to his hands in a ready stance.
Haldir
+shouts, "the dark of the night, Elves move like shadows, their cloaks
taking the hue of the surroundings. Black on black, almost invisible, they
hurry up the jagged slopes of the foothills, over the rolling valleys and up
the next steep slope. They make not a sound, not a clink of mail, not a rattle
of arrows in the qiver, but they make good time. In the clear still air, the
rattling and stomping guides them better than a lighthouse toward their target,
the slithering snake of the orcish column.
Finally,
after climbing another slope, the Elven Commander halts his party on the ridge.
There they are, the hated enemies, on the slope below. Without a sound, he
points forward and unshoulders his bow."
Haldir
+shouts, "In the dark of the night, Elves move like shadows, their cloaks
taking the hue of the surroundings. Black on black, almost invisible, they
hurry up the jagged slopes of the foothills, over the rolling valleys and up
the next steep slope. They make not a sound, not a clink of mail, not a rattle
of arrows in the qiver, but they make good time. In the clear still air, the
rattling and stomping guides them better than a lighthouse toward their target,
the slithering snake of the orcish column.
Finally,
after climbing another slope, the Elven Commander halts his party on the ridge.
There they are, the hated enemies, on the slope below. Without a sound, he
points forward and unshoulders his bow."
Magog's
march amidst the column would be inconspicuous were he not alone amongst the
loud army. There is a break before Magog and a break after him, affording the
Gothshaka a clear sightline of the surrounding terrain. A wary gaze is cast
towards the heights and he halts upon hearing the Eagle's cry, catching the
attention of a senior member of the scouts. "Send forth a wave to make
sure the terrain is clear. Where there are eagles, there are elves. This is our
territory. We will not be hindered upon our return to the mines," Magog
intones gruffly. A lazy salute follows and Magog marches onwards, axe bobbing
easily by his side.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor quickly strings his longbow, notching an arrow and
drawing it to bear upon his target with a swift and silent move.
Black
upon black, grime upon ground, the voidforms of the Morian Guards weave their
wagging tongues of unlight across the bleakly arid hills; the dush of the
shadow-host treading heavily into the trembling earth. A speck of an orc breaks
from their ranks for but an instant, and cowing to the ground trills a shrill
invocation into the Guard-march's gutter.
The tiny orc uncranes his neck, tumid glower
bathed in moonrays. Bozblot springs from his kowtow, and plucks up his weapon;
the feral convex of his scimitar lashing back a line of moonray in defiance.
The solid figure of Pough marches steadily
onward, surrounded by his fellow orcs. Joining in the horrible chorus with his
deep base voice. "<Uruk> Hear the call! Your men will fall!"
Shaking his axe into the air he cries into the wind. "<Uruk> Ho Ho!
The elves are merely wells from which we shall draw red blood that we shall
drink! And our keen blades shall be the pumps! Ho Ho!"
Amongst
the massive horde of orcs, Zig, marching with the gusto of the Horde. Mace held
high in the air, swinging wildly in fervant rage and blood lust; fist pumping crazily
as he joins in the chaotic shouting and taunting of the orc army.
The
fell voice of the Morian hunting party booms out it's own version of a song as
the ground of ten uruk's march off to the sid eof the main group. Mugruk
marches at the front of the group, leading the discorded voices,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"
Along
one flank of the long, dark train of orc, march the Fighting Uruk-Hai. Many are
their numbers, but still fewer than the numerous Morians at their side. Many of
the Uruk-Hai look about themselves with a watchful eye, the gloom of the night
hampering their keen vision not. Many snaga walk among them, hauling various
boxes and crates about in, evident of the orc's long stay. On one side, the
archers of the Ravens lope along, on the other march the warriors of the
Uruk-Hai.
Along one edge of the troop marches Unguis,
war hammer wielded, not trusting the night to conceal them from any marauding
pale-skins. Nervous the smith is not, but cautious is he, never one to be
caught off guard. His viridian gaze regards all about him, the Morians, the
woods, the Fighting Uruk-Hai, the snaga.....the moon itself in its high orbit.
From
the South, A faint shadow slips along the edge of the battle, no more than one
among many, and heads silently towards the sound of ringing steel to the north.
From
the South, Legirion crouches up in the ranks of night-shrouded elves, dark
sapphire eyes within the cloak he wears picking out a single form among the
Morian host north of his position. Sound and glimmers of reflected moonlight
are his guides. The minstrel silently reaches a hand back to pull a slender
arrow from the quiver at his back, nocking it in his bow with one smooth
gesture. He waits further orders.
C'zoth
marches among the hoard, next to the Senior guard, Huzghash. As the songs of
war and the glory of the flame, he joins into the songs, singing with all the
volume and ferocity he can muster. As he glances toward Caradhras, he sees
hope: a deeper shade of black upon the dark mountain, the gate of Moria. He has
heard rumors that elves are forward and behind, and that they must fight
through them to get to Moria. His harsh voice sings out in the night,
"<uruk> Yahow! The whips and thongs of the Moria throng will bite
and bash thee elven bone; to Moria, to Moria! The Morians will fight and clash,
beat and bash, the elven blood will roll on Stone!To Moria! To Moria!"
With that he draws his jagged scimitar and waves it above his head, yelling
harshly.
From
the South,
A swift movement brings Tathren's bow to her
hands as she stops along the ridgetop. Unspeaking, as silent as the stars that
guide the elven army, she pulls an arrow from her quiver, nocking it and
holding her bow at the ready.
Unguis
+shouts, "north=@emit Along one flank of the long, dark train of orc,
march the Fighting Uruk-Hai. Many are their numbers, but still fewer than the
numerous Morians at their side. Many of the Uruk-Hai look about themselves with
a watchful eye, the gloom of the night hampering their keen vision not. Many
snaga walk among them, hauling various boxes and crates about in, evident of
the orc's long stay. On one side, the archers of the Ravens lope along, on the
other march the warriors of the Uruk-Hai.
Along one edge of the troop marches Unguis,
war hammer wielded, not trusting the night to conceal them from any marauding
pale-skins. Nervous the smith is not, but cautious is he, never one to be
caught off guard. His viridian gaze regards all about him, the Morians, the
woods, the Fighting Uruk-Hai, the snaga.....the moon itself in its high
orbit."
The
Elves at the ridgetop spread out and hide behind black rocks, following quick
and silent commands of Haldir, little more than a few gestures and signs. In a
moment, just a few Elves stand beside the Commander. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>", whispers Haldir to the warriors at his side,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>". Another quick glance at his
forces, everything is ready there. Slowly, Haldir raises his bow, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>".
From
the South,
The wind has been picking up over the past
few nights, growing increasingly stronger with each sunset. This night has been
no exception. Many trees abound here, causing the wind tunnel effect that's
stirring up so much moving wind. Howling can be heard through the trees as the
air gets into various cracks and holes of the different species of plant life.
Patches of long bladed grass down below run about waist deep to even deeper in
some places allowing for animals or other creatures to hide rather effectively.
However, the best hiding places would definitely be amid the trees, the
branches shrouded in thick leaves and mystery. Each tree seems to hold its own
sense of watchfullness, and each shrub it's own sense of protection by the
prickers and thorns which abide on most of the bushes.
The leaves of the woods rustle with the
wind, hiding things that move about in the forest, be they birds, animals, or
something completely different. None-the-less, there are several areas on the
ground which are lighted rather well by the light of the stars, despite the
fact that the moon isn't about.
Within the wind, along with the occasional
howling, can be heard the lulling sound of running water. Just a little ways
off is the river Anduin, or Celebrant to the elves. Tonight however, other than
with the wind, the usual sound of the river's splatter can't be heard due to
the clanging about of the uruk. With the uruk comes many lights, making it look
like the stars have descended and made their way to Arda. Amid the confusion,
one elf moves with stealth near the middle of the elven pack, and that is
Sajara.
Glindorel
+shouts, "Close by the Commander of Lorien's side there moves another, a
shadow in the night covered by cloak of silver-grey and cowl of black. As Haldir
stops so does he, his eyes set upon the hordes marching. His movements echo
that of the elven Commanders' and a great bow of yew is hefted from about his
torso, an arrow being strung in a movement almost too quick for normal eyes to
see.
The
great longbow of the Banneret is drawn to cheek, and he patiently awaits a
command to fire, eyes narrowed as he peers about."
Glindorel
quickly takes a grey-fletched arrow from the quiver upon his back and nocks it
to the string in one smooth motion, hardly visible to the eye.
Morandil
raises the great yew longbow Alqualindale and sets an arrow to the string.
From
within the ranks of the hordes, a creature of massive size strides. This beast
is loathsomely vile, it's features twisted with hate and rage, it's eyes aglow
with the fervor of bloodlust that has began to grip the horde. A troll this
beast is, a mountain one at that. Clad in the pelt of a gigantic bear, this
gigantic beast towers easily over even the tallest of orcs, and it's fearsome
nature is only reinforced by the gargantuan club that the creature rests upon
it's shoulder with a single hand to steady it. The troll walks with purpose,
it's black blood boiling for death and destruction especially when the cry of
the eagle rings out. Yet, it does not charge yet, despite it's wish to chase
after the bird, it remains amongst the horde, it's gaze fixed steadily on the
silhoutte of the bird in the distance.
From
the South, Palan draws his bow from his back, staying silent and covering
hi,self with his grey cloak. He draws an arrow and pults in the nock, waiting
for furthur orders before nocking it. Many things can be seen to the north, but
it is yet hard to see the numbers. He lies in wait...
Throwing
his helmed head back once more, the large uruk known as Pough opens his mouth,
the purple tattoo separating as cruel broken words fly forth into the nite air.
"They knock on deaths door if they challenge us, yes? They perhaps do not
see their future lies in death!" Clamping his great teeth together he slams
his huge fist against his metal helm, growling and snorting in his anxiety for
blood... His first true battle awaits him.
From
the South, As one shadow among a black night, Galindrion moves swiftly with no
sound with the other elves. His eyes gleaming fire, he pulls his bow from his
back, nocks an arrow and scans the advancing yrch for a target.
From
within the ranks of the hordes, a creature of massive size strides. This beast
is loathsomely vile, it's features twisted with hate and rage, it's eyes aglow
with the fervor of bloodlust that has began to grip the horde. A troll this
beast is, a mountain one at that. Clad in the pelt of a gigantic bear, this
gigantic beast towers easily over even the tallest of orcs, and it's fearsome
nature is only reinforced by the gargantuan club that the creature rests upon
it's shoulder with a single hand to steady it. The troll walks with purpose,
it's black blood boiling for death and destruction especially when the cry of
the eagle rings out. Yet, it does not charge yet, despite it's wish to chase
after the bird, it remains amongst the horde, it's gaze fixed steadily on the
silhoutte of the bird in the distance.
From
the South, Mithryn has bow in hand swiftly as she comes to a silent stop. From
the ridge she can see the horrific column of creatures and her face becomes a
study in concentration. She watches for the next signals, and when they come
she takes a position not in a tree but between some rocks from a high vantange.
Bowstring to her eye, she waits for the signal, having found one among the many
that she owes something to, somewhat personally.
Tuoak
+shouts, "the Shaman falls back through the crowd of swords and spears
that glitter in the dark. The horde tramps past him and he stands still until
he comes to the side of the King of Moria. Tuoak's smile crosses his face, his
teeth seeming like broken mountains rearing from some dark burial ground, his
voice coming like the freezing wind of the mountains, "Arr. I smell death
on the wind. A glorious smell. Let the ash of the flame bless the King. As long
as you stay in the sight of the mountain then you will not fall..""
Z'macht
lifts his wooden face to the moonlit sky, silently hating the million stars
that sparkle there. He hears the screech of an Eagle. "Vile thing..."
he mutters to the orc at his side. A short bow is slung over the uruk's back,
and Z'macht reaches a clawed hand over his left shoulder to loosen the tong
that holds the weapon on place. "Wise uruks are never caught with their
briches down!"
Hard by
the line of elven shadows, a figure in ghostly grey crouches in the bracken.
Morandil is motionless as a carven image, arrow on the string and death in his
gleaming eyes. Only the barbed light glittering on his arrow-point reveals his
position.
And in
the midst of the wraith-like forms of the Firstborn, there is one who is not of
their kindred -- a Man goes with them, tall and swift in the shadows. Yet, he
is well nigh as skilled in movement as they, his passage marked by no betraying
whisper of sound.
Stopping
at the commander's unspoken order then, he pauses beside Glindorel and glances
to the skies whence that piercing cry comes. Grey eyes glint in the gloom, and
a faint smile glimmers upon his visage:
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>"
Even as
his eyes search for a target, with a fluid practiced motion Haldir draws an
arrow from the quiver and nocks it. The orc snake below seems to have no head
or tail, it just vanishes into the night on both sides. Sharp Elven eyes pick
out a larger shape among the marching foes, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>", he mutters under his breath, and quickly draws the string.
From
the South,
Tarasiriel gazes northward, the grim
determination in her beautiful face reflected in the sea of elven faces surrounding
her. It is the calm before the storm. . . behind the thin curtain of placid
tranquility, one can almost feel the tension in the air.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" she
whispers to the Galadhrim beside her. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
Removing a cerulean-fletched arrow from her
quiver and nocking it to her bow in a single, fluid motion, Tarasiriel waits
for the order to fire.
From
the South, Upon the ridge is another shadowy figure with bow ready, his eye
searching for a target till they fall on the form of a urk yelling, Karathorn
draws an arrow and waits for the command to fire.
Moving
yet with the chaotic flow of the orc army, Zig seems to force his way slowly
forward, moving toward the front of the Morian vanguard, shouldering his way
between and around, moving up, mace still whipping the air.
From
the South, Faye fingered her bow, running her hands over it's smooth wood.
This, her second battle, found her more relaxed, knowing what was to come. She
scanned the yrch, catching sight of her old target. Silently she nocked an
arrow to the slender string of her weapon and awaited the order to fire.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" the courier murmured.
From
the South, Erynbrant Erynbrant mingled with his fellows says nothing but
trembles slightly at the force of orcs below him. His bow drawn and lithe
finger upon his quiver, regains his confidnce and smoothly draws a arrow and
sights a target, waiting for the order..
Pough's
eyes glance about through the eye-slits in his metal helm, the plum tattoo
across his lips swisted into an evil sneer...
Magog
raises his off-hand even as the Shaman comes beside him, trudging along without
making contact. "<Uruk> Enough of your chattering. I give orders and
you are in the way." The Gothshaka's nostrils flare and his boots continue
to grind into the ground. As the first arrow breaches the false calm he bellows
forth in the profane tongue of orcs, "<Uruk> Ignore their fighters -
rush past them and let them meet our reserves. The Flame orders the bows of
Lorien burnt as a prelude to the burning of the wood." A snarl erupts onto
Magog's twisted face and he adds, "<Uruk> Do not bother engaging
their swordsmen. The archers are the prize."
A
cloaked figure, separated from both yrch and elf, silently removes the great
bow from its back and nocks an arrow to the string.
Unguis
+shouts, "north=@emit The smith of the Fighting Uruk-Hai walks on silently
int he deathly black night, the chill wind tossing his cloak about as a
plaything. His armor shines not in the night, the black rings of his mail
seeming to suck up every gasp of light. Around him many of the orcs are visibly
agitated by the scree of the eagle, for they have seen what eagles do to their
prey. A skydive without solace is usually the death of one so unlucky. The
Uruk-Hai's muscles tighten and relax in a seemingly endless rythm, his shield
held loosely out in front, heavy but neccesary....his war hammer at the
ready."
As a
phantom drifting silently through the shadows, the Herald of Galadriel trails
not far behind the Commander of the elves, his fell gaze sweeping across what
is to be their battlefield intently. As the first arrow sings out into the
night, a slow smile spreads across the features of the darkly clad edhel, and
he draws forth his blade with a subtle whisper of steel and promised vengeance.
Anseregurth, Long Bloody Death, shall earn its name this day.
Zoglaaz
drives forward a wedge of a dozen or so lightly armoured Uruk archers; at the
rearguard of the marching warriors. Between muttered curses under his breath at
his lot, Zoglaaz barks orders and berates the sloppy bunch; who bear
crudely-fashioned bows - either old and worn or hastily made.
Clink,
clomp, crash! Orce feet pound th earth as the horde moves. Each ring of armour,
each word shouted, every prayer to the FLAME; a sign of impending death, doom,
destruction. Nothing is safe from the path of the Morian horde as the plod
forward.
Huzghash hears the yelled order of his
King, for he is none to far off. "<Uruk> Guards of Moria! Hear the
King Magog! For the Archers we shall go! HRAAAAH!' The loud voice of the Guard
erupts amid the songs of the Morian horde, ringing clearly in the air.
"FLAME bless the King and the horde with him!"<Uruk> Clink. More boots pummel the defenseless
earth. Onward moves the horde, onward to destroy.
From
the South, Aglahad draws his own bow as the Commander does, motioning for the
archers to do the same. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" And so, the
Veteran motions in the direction of the Enemy hordes. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>"
As soon
as the first arrow whistles through the air, and fell cries of yrch shatter the
night silence, Haldir shoulders his bow, and quickly straps a shield to his arm
instead. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" he shouts to archers.
From the
South, One of the many knight-bachellors raises his longbow silently, staring
off into the distance at the gathering forces of light and noise. Keeping an
eye on a near by elder of the Order, he looks towards the back of the horde and
picks a target. Sajara pulls the arrow back, and fires, letting the arrow do
the rest.
From
the South, Glynnis wraps herself tighter in her cloak, draws the hood over her
head, and ... just vanishes. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a quick
movement nearby, but when you look closer, there's nothing there.
From
the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Z'macht, lightly wounding him.
M'giddo
is unlucky enough to get hit by the first arrow, though it takes a while for
him to register that it happened, for he is on the far side of the orcs from
where the archer is. The latadurub is engaged in exhorting - well, encouraging
- a group of orcs, yelling at them till his eyes bulge. Feeling the sting of the
arrow on his leg, he looks down at the wound, suddenly silent.
From
the South,
Bringing her bow to bear upon a particularly
ugly yrch from the enemy, Tarasiriel lets a cerulean-fletched shaft fly at the
command to fire. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" she whispers.
A platoon of jailguards sweep out in one wing
from the main-guard. In front of them goes the runtorc Bozblot. From the bulb
of his head a wall of pale sheen grows... teeth.
Bozblot's scimitar tooth waggles in spiral
above his head... the blade is dropped... the doomchior of the jailguard begins
to purr in bulltoad timbre:
Needles and pins, Needles and pins
In his gums and his guts, elf-giblets he wins
Now the runt shrieks above them:
Your long lives are spent, your long backs
are bent
In the host of The Flame, you've digged but a
dent
The Flame is upon you! Now-lay down and die
In the pits of The Pit you'll wither and fry
In the pits of the pit, you'll lay down and
die
Now the jailguard chants:
Needles, Pins, Needles, Pins Now all
of them:
White in the night, the Jailor's bite.
Z'macht's
heated visage boils into a contorted expression as he hears a Zzzzziip! Thud!
"Elves!" he growls with baleful contempt, conjuring the bow on his
back with practiced ease. Next comes a long black shaft, oil-feathered and
dangerous. This, the Talashakh fits to his bow with a minute 'click'. The orc's
nightseeing eyes, accustomed to low light and a life lived in the darkness of
Khazad-Dum, search ahead, looked for a 'lightlovin' treehuggin' mean
mistreatin'' elf to unload his bow into.
Tuoak's
smile grows deeper and more vile as the King bellows out his orders. Now his
crimson eyes track toward the depths of the darkness where a light shaft flies
through the air, arching with grace toward the forces. He draws forth one of
his throwing spears and for a moment lets his eyes close and his voice whisper
to the weapon. Then suddenly they open and Tuoak calls out, "We will see!
Hail the King and hail the flame!"
From
the South, Mithryn says a prayer to Elbereth in the milliseconds it takes her
to fire her arrow...
From
the South, Peering with eyes of fire through the night, Galindrion pulls back
the string of his bow and prepares to fire.
From
the South, Faye says in Sindarin, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
From
the South, Karathorn places the arrow in his bow and finding the plumb tatooed
orc that drawe his attention take aim and fires
From
the South, Palan draws the string taut as he picks a target and allows his
arrow to fly into the wind.
From
the South, Faye launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Faye's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits M'giddo, lightly wounding him.
From
the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
Ow!
You've been injured for - hp's by the bowshot.
ARB:
Please RP this injury accordingly.
From
the South, Erynbrant looses the arrow carfuly aimed at Blak
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it quickly and securely.
He aims at his target and draws the bow taut. He looses the arrow into the
fray.
From
the South, Tathren nods silently, raising her bow and drawing the string.
Taking aim at Zig, she murmurs, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" and
launches the dart.
From
the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Tathren's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Zoglaaz, lightly wounding him.
From
the South, Palanhenelidh launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Unguis, mildly wounding him.
From
the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Erynbrant's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Legirion turns his head as he scans the grouping ahead. Picking out
a target, his bowstring creaks as he pulls the feathered end of his arrow back
on the string, taking careful aim on C'zoth. Suddenly, on the urge to fire, he
releases his grasp on the arrow's end, watching the slender line arch high into
the night-darkened air and descend again with lethal speed.
From
the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits C'zoth, moderately wounding him.
From
the South, Glynnis looks up confusedly as a shadow grows about her, then
shrieks as she is picked up and carried off by a giant eagle. You swear you
hear her yell, "I hate these damn birds!"
Not
many paces from the Elven Commander, the lone Man takes an arrow from his
quiver, and nocks it. And raising the bow then, he draws back the string -- for
an ageless moment he stays thus, frozen save for his eyes.
And
then, the bowstring slaps against his bracered forearm, and the arrow is sped
silently on its way.
Celebdur
launches an arrow...
Celebdur's
bowshot hits Unguis, lightly wounding him.
Blak
+shouts, "//As the first arrow falls and the King's orders are heard, many
orcs rush forward looking to engage the hidden enemy. Amongst them, Blak is
forced to join in the charge and finds himself running headlong towards the
area where the arrows are coming from. Many uruks sprint alongside him,
shouting blood-curdling war cries, or just iunitelligible screams. They are
headless of the arrows falling amongst them, though many fall as a
result."
From
the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Blak, badly wounding him.
From
the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Zig, badly wounding him.
Glindorel
+shouts, "And as the first shot is launched, Glindorel follows suit,
aiming carefully toward the first orc unluckily caught in his sights.
"Elbereth, bless us this night," he murmurs, arm drawn taut, bow held
steady despite the pressure.
A
calming intake of air does he give, and on the exhale releases his volley into
the horde that approaches."
Tuoak
brings forth Slayer, The Goblin Defender. Its bladed tip gleams as it reflects
the bloody light.
Unguis
+shouts, "north=:is not surprised by the arrows as they fall into the
orcish host, some strikeing home with a squeal from their prey, others leaving
nothing but broken shafts in the earth. Immediately, the Captains of the
Uruk-Hai prepare the host for action, sending groups this way and that.
The smith follows the Bear clan towards where
the elven archers may be from, but before he gets to far, two arrows strike the
smith, one a glancing blow on his side, the other a shot to his shield arm.
Nothing major, but perhaps an annoyance."
Glindorel
launches an arrow...
Glindorel's
bowshot hits Bozblot, lightly wounding him.
The one called Pough charges on with the
rest, disolving into the frey.
The
band of hunters keeps up it's relentless pace. They are coming up from the back
swiftly, passing the slower uruks that carry the tents. They stay off to the
side of the main group as they go. The hunters stride is even as they go until
the arrows hit. One hunter falls immediately, an arrow stuck in his throat. As
he falls Mugruk snarls and pulls out his war hammer as he runs in teh general
direction of the elves.
M'giddo
looks up after a moment of observing the results of the first arrow to strike
him, and laughs. "Nothing but a scratch, boys! Now go get them
elves!" Then a second arrow strikes him, lodging in his upper left arm. He
spits curses, and gingerly pokes the arrow. Then, gritting his teeth, the
latadurub tries to break off the tip of the arrow to be able to pull the rest
of the shaft out harmlessly. Since he's doing this one handed out of necessity,
though, it's not going to work very well... poor orc.
As
arrow falls upon the orc, many fall, and Blak receives a large wound as one
arrow impacts upon his shoulder. It sticks fast there, and he gives out a yell
of pain. Halting for a moment, he is almost pushed over by orcs behind him,
many still alive and eager to make the elves pay for the damage done already.
Blak himself regains his composure, and continues running forward, his shield
held up, trying to block any further arrows coming to him.
Glindorel
+shouts, "It is mere seconds after the Banneret releases his arrow that he
with draws the bow and slings it across his shoulder. He straps a wooden
buckler shield fast to his arm, then draws a long sword from its sheath at his
side, it shimmering in the moonlight."
Arrows
rain down, striking the hide of the troll. Yet, they harm him not. None have
pierced the massive brutes scaly pelt, indeed when they strike the scales, the
arrows bounce off with the ting of metal on stone. The barrage infuriates the
troll though, and it's restraint on it's passions is minimal at most. In fact,
the beast suddenly rears back and lets out a roar of pure rage that blasts out
upon the surrounding country. As soon as it's battle cry is sounded, the troll
surges fowards torwards the source of his ire. The eagle for now is forgotten
in lue of the obvious threat ahead. The troll lopes towards where the arrows
originate, the orcs before him scrambling to get out of the raging brute's way.
Tuoak's
face is then gone. Vanished into the depths of the orcish wave that rushes
forward like a black breaker sweeping down on the fools that would build their
castles of sand. Tuoak's spear waves in the air as his lips peel back from his
gums and a shriek of rage pierces the night
Tuoak
+shouts, "Arrrhhhh! For the flame!"
Gleaming
eyes narrow from within the depths of the cowl as the hooded figure takes
aim... at the foul yrch. The arrow sings from the string with but a whispered
refrain.
Arrows
come down amongst the storming horde and yet it moves onward though Zig finds
himself faultering as an arrow burries itself into his left shoulder. He
continues to march hastily onward; breaking off the shaft of the arrow as blood
slowly trickled from the wound; he then rips the arrow from his shoulder,
bellowing an unintelligable cry.
"AAAAAAArghgleaiii!"
Megiddo screams through clenched teeth as the arrow comes out of a hole that's
now bigger than it made going in, blood streaming down his arm. The orc holds a
rag over the double wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He's showing no signs
of joining in on the charge, dealing with this injury instead.
The runt springs! Humping over the loping
hills his metallic mocassins blink beneath the moon. The jailguard is quick to
sunder their lines and rise in virulent black-foam, ebbing ore the shores of
the utmost left of the host.
One black lash flicks across the moon's
curve, and speeds its way into the runtorc's shoulder. Bozblot hacks the shaft
to splinters with his scimitar, but the jailguard reaches his position, and
thunders past him on either side.
With
his shield on his left arm, and the right arm on the hilt of the sword, Haldir
again surveys the valley below as if fills with screams, clashes of armor, and
the rain of grey feathered arrows above it all. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>", he glances at the black figures below, crawling stains in
the darkness.
From
the South, Aglahad watches the flight of the arrows only for an instant, and
then barks out more commands to the stand of archers. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>"
"Onward,
snagas!" Zoglaaz snarls to the small band he commands. "Close 'nuff
that your puny bows can reach the treefaeries! On or die!" His reply comes
from above, as the long, sizzling shaft of an Elven arrow bears silently on
him, its report only the *chink* as it pierces his armour. As he siezes the
shaft, and rips it from his flesh and the broken rings of his mail. *Arrgrhh!*
he groans gutterally, his ire blisteringly raised. "On on on!!" he
barks at his charges,
Zip!
ZIP! Thud! An arrow slices across the Senior Guard, removing some skin and
allowing a trickle of blood to flow down his arms. "<Uruk> Gah!
Elves! Guards! We charge their archers!" Huzghash's pace quickens along with
that of the horde, taking him off towards the direction of these blasted
arrows. "<Uruk> Follow close guards! We spill their blood now!"
Legs beginning to pump with more ferocity, Huzghash bangs his spear arm against
his shield. CLANG! Numerous Guards fall in behind the Senior, while some still
stay their path looking ahead for their melee targets. Huzghash glances over
his shoulder quickly, the Guards march to war again; for Moria, for the King,
For the FLAME.
Ow!
You've been injured for -- hp's by the bowshot.
ARB:
Please RP this injury accordingly.
From
the South, Before the arrow can even hit, another is nocked and ready to be
fired off. Sajara's eyes remain on the same orch that takes his arrow and he
decides to stay with it, trying to down that orch if he doesn't do anything
else. Again, his arrow sails through the air, seeking it's target.
From
the South, Legirion reaches back to pull another arrow from the quiver at his
back. Eyes still on his previous target, which he had been blessed to hit
moderately well, he draws the feathered end of his arrow back on the bowstring
aiming once again on C'zoth. With a distant twang, the arrow is loosed to arch
with haste through the air and descends upon the Morian host.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it quickly and securely.
He aims at his Uruk-Hai target and draws the bow, loosing the arrow as quick as
it's drawn.
From
the South,
Her expression grim in the darkness, Tathren
nocks another arrow, draws and releases on command, aiming once more for Zig.
From
the South, Mithryn has another arrow nocked before her first one hits her
target. At the command, she lets this one fly too.
From
the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Z'macht, mildly wounding him.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Earil-Nioldor's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South,
A smile quicky appears upon Tarasiriel's
crimson lips as she sees her arrow strike her intended target. Whispering her
thanks to Elbereth, she draws another cerulean-fletched arrow from her quiver
and nocks it to her bow in a single, graceful motion and draws back on the
bowstring. At the signal to fire, she lets fly. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>" she whispers.
From
the South, Faye noticed blood on her
wrist and wondered for a wild split second if she'd been attacked. Coming to
her senses, she realized that the slap of the bowstring from her last shot had
cut her arm. Deciding that that had been the reason behind the poor aim of her
first shot, she adjusted her grip on her bow and the guard she wore at her wrist
before nocking another slender, razor-straight arrow to her bow. Taking careful
aim, she drew back and fired once more.
From
the South, Palan sees his arrow hit its mark, and draws another arrow, quickly
loading it and firing it again, screaming towards his target to the north.
From
the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits C'zoth, badly wounding him.
From
the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Tathren's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Looking North, Varya spots a target, Chukk. Varya strings an arrow,
and sights down the shaft, aiming at Chukk; Varya let's go of the string and
lets the arrow fly toward the target.
From
the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Burzdug, moderately wounding him.
From
the South, Faye launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Bozblot, moderately wounding him.
From
the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
Mithryn's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
C'zoth
grimaces as a long silvery shaft flies true into his leg, and sinks nearly to
the bone. He curses the Light-lovers loudly and foully, then, with obvious
effort, he snaps off the feathered shaft, but the head is still lodged in his
leg. Rising again, he bellows out in the language of the uruk the morian battle
cry, "<uruk>For the Flame!" With that he joins the Morian
charge at the elves, along with the rest of the guards.
From
the South, Palanhenelidh launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Palanhenelidh's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Erynbrant qucikly draws a white feathered arrow from the neetly
adorned quiver on his hip. Knocks it, drawing the longbows string back to the
edge of his eye. He sighs heavly releasing all the air from his being, so he
can better take aim at Blak, and after the space of a heatbeat lets the smooth
string slide from his fingers letting the arrow soar.
From
the South, Pulling another arrow from the quiver and fitting it to the string
in movements faster than eyes can see, Galindrion breathes deeply. Feeling the
wind about him he adjusts his aim and fires into the horde.
From
the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Erynbrant's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Galindrion's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Looking North, Varya spots a target, Mugruk. Varya strings an arrow,
and sights down the shaft, aiming at Chukk; Varya let's go of the string and
lets the arrow fly toward the target.
From
the South, As his first arrow find it
target Karathorn smiles and take aim again this time at an orc with a spear. He
pulls his arrow back and allowing for ther march and let it fly
From
the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Varya's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Karathorn's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Roaring aloud, the large uruk raises his axe
as he charges on. "<Uruk> Blood and vinegar! Moria!" Sweat
already trickels down his back, saturating his thick dreadlocks, his thick
tattooed legs pushing him forward.
The
cowled figure smiles grimly as she sees her arrow fly true, and lays aside the
great longbow called Tanglin upon seeing the result the loosed arrows have
achieved; angry orcs, storming the ambush. She stands, deliberately revealing
her position, a dim light from the depths of her cowl glinting off Maeglin as
she draws it ringing from its home.
Through the ZIPS and ZINGs of arrows
taking flight, another sound comes. Full of bass, and powerful gusts of wind.
Orcs turn their head to se a frightening picture, the Great Eagle, once still,
now rises off its perch. His sharp talons hand down until he gains height
enough where he draws them in. After his figure is again mixed with dark
clouds, there is a pause. Nothing more is seen from him. Until....'SCREEE!' The
battle cry of an Eagle, ear shattering in its least. The clouds part in his passing,
the bird drops, talons first towards the Orcish hordes. His target, the largest
creature there; the Troll. The angled wings of the bird, create a gust of wind
powerfull enough to blow over many an Orc, and it does, Uruk bodies take to
falling and sliding a few feet, as Rhofalneths piercing claws heard for the
Ologs shoulders.
Rhofalneth
attacks Jhrog with his Eagle Claws and mildly wounds him!
Looking
down the straight and black shaft of his orcish arrow, Z'macht's eyes narrow in
concentration, seeking a target. "I suppose I'll have to wait for the
fools to show themselves," he says, wrenching back the gut string of his
weapon.
Whack! An arrow drives itself into the
Talashakh's thigh. He yells into the night and aims in the direction the arrow
came from. "Uruks - charge!!!!!! Archers - Fire!!!"
The jailguard sweeps up the runt in their
torrent, black lashes of arrow shafts screaming thick into their ranks. Bozblot
lopes low between the plethora of pistoning orclegs. A second arrow sinks into
his shoulder...
And
even before his dart strikes its target, the Man has nocked another one and
sent it on its way. And pausing a moment to survey the oncoming host then,
softly he murmurs in reply to the Commander; a calm appraisal,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"
And
then, he sets the bow aside and draws his blade with a whisper of steel and a
thread of light. Thus he awaits the clash.
Z'macht
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Tuoak
+shouts, "The air fills with the thunder of orcish screaming and the
clashing of steel. Like a swarm of ants they bury the land under them as they
rush toward the elves with weapons raised. Hard to make out faces among the
foul ones as they burst over the land and come toward the fair ones like one.
As if one hammer that sweeps toward the elves...And through the air comes
arrows and spears..darkening the sky and blotting out the stars."
Bozblot
says in Uruk, " Hack the nasty hornet nest first. Hack it to the ground and
stomp on it! To their archers ladz!"
The
hunter charges at the ranks of the elven lines. His hammer bounces excitedly in
his hand as he goes. Arrows rain down around him but none find their mark as he
darts towards the elves. Now there is one before him, one with a sword. What
luck for the hunter as he raises the hammer and tries to smash the point down
through the elf's head.
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer, but Glindorel parries the attack with
his Longsword!
The
cursed light-lovers shaft connects with C'zoth's left arm, and he stumbles as
the Arrowhead connects with bone, but with a roar, he hacks the shaft off with
his scimitar and continues charging towards the direction of where the cursed
arrows are coming from. "<uruk>For the flame! For Moria!!" he
screams as arrows ZIP! and ZING! all about him, finding fellow uruks
everywhere, many dropping to the ground, never to move again.
Having
bellowed forth orders, Magog lurches into action. His thick hands grip down at
his fierce axe and wrest it into position before his burly chest. "If you
knock down an elf," the King counsels at the top of his lungs, "Stop
and slit its throat. They will not be dragging off any wounded so close to our
Halls!" Tightening his hands on his weapon, Magog commences a slow lurch
towards the line of melee elves, oblivious of the hail of arrows about him.
Every so often, the Gothshaka flicks his head aside to dodge an elven gnat.
Blak
sees the elvish line approaching fast, already orcish warriors have charged up
to the line and started fighting hand to hand. Blak though tries to move away
from the main battle line, making his way around to the right flank, hoping to
get past the melee fighters and amongst the vulnerable archers. He winces as he
runs, the arrow obviously causing him pain as he runs, but it's better than
those that have died from projectiles already.
Pough
roars into the night as he charges on next to Bozblot. "Yes! We shall have
something better than slop for dinner tomorrow!"
Pough
+shouts, ""Yes! We shall have something better than slop for dinner
tomorrow!""
Tuoak
suddenly drops low and lets the tide break about him. The small uruk seems to
hesitate only a moment, his nose flapping at the air as the forces rush past
him. Then suddenly he jumps atop a large rock that juts from the ground, his
eyes staring over the forces set against them. And they fall on a target.
Slayer is cocked in his arm, and then with a foul word it is thrown...
Unguis
+shouts, "north=@emit Unguis ignores the arrow sticking in his side,
merely bothering to idely snap off one end of it before racing off towards the
Raven archers to cover their flank. Some elves can faintly be seen, most are
still hidden in the brush. The smith rushes not after the elves foolhardily,
but decides it would be better to give the archers melee cover. Who knows what
ruse the elves plan? He watches the archers knock arrows and take aim to fire,
and then shifts his gaze to the eagle and the troll, and then to the terrain
about them."
Pale
blue glow lits Haldir's fingers as soon as his arm begins to draw the sword
from its scabbard. Fiercly, the blade sends streaks of light toward the blask
spots crawling up the slope, but the elf just shakes his head,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"
Zoglaaz
and his band, now culled to thirteen, presses onwards, leaping and climbing
over the fallen before them. "Now, here!" he shrieks, "Avenge
Moria, let loose upon the fiends!" The group drop down for cover, and
almost as one, let loose a hail of arrows.
Zoglaaz
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
From
the South, A light bobs and weaves off to the north.
Zig
moves onward, though his charge may have slowed only slightly, his mace waving
crazily above his head and he once again moves to the front of the vanguard.
The mace comes down to an attack position and then forward the orc rushes, eyes
fixed upon Erinstar; "You will now die," he cries in the common
tongue, no matter how foul it may be. His mace comes sweeping down at
Erinstar's shoulder.
Zig
attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but Erinstar parries the attack with his
Longsword!
Tuoak
throws a spear...
Tuoak's
spear flies wide, doing no harm.
Tuoak
removes Slayer.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor staggers as an arrow catches his breath from him and
he sinks against the tree he rests in, painfully writhing his legs as he pulls
the cursed shaft from his shoulder.
Not the
brightest of creatures, the foe the troll chose to abandon in favor of easier
prey decides it is time to strike. But the troll is not entirely caught off
guard. The roar of the wind broadcasts the eagles approach, and as orcish
bodies fly past the turning troll, it's talons strike hard into it's shoulder.
Yet, it's shoulder is not quite pierced through. The resulting wound is nothing
more then a bloody scratch and a few missing scales. But this infuriates the
troll to no end. Raising his free arm up, he attempts to bat away the seeking
talons of the eagle while at the same time, he swings the club that was on his
shoulder in an downward arc meant to knock the eagle to the ground.
Jhrog
attacks Rhofalneth with his Club and badly wounds him!
Glindorel
+shouts, "sindarin=And so it is that the orc Mugruk's hammer crashes toward
Glindorel's head, but it is to no avail. The Banneret's blade is raised in
time, and the clash of metal upon metal is loud as the two weapons meet.
"'Tis a pretty thing, is it not?" he questions in the elvish tongue.
"Yet even more beautiful is my blade when cleaving the heads of your
kin."
He
quickly pushes off from his foe, then returns the favor with a downward
sweeping blow meant to disembowel Mugruk."
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!
You
+shout in Uruk, ""GRRRAAAAAR!" Huzghash yells out as his legs
pump furiously move, propelling him forward alongside his many Guards as they
move for the Elven archers. "For their archers! Guards! For the
archers!" The Senior Guard shoots out slightly ahead of his pack of Guards,
nary a glance being cast behind him as his legs take him towards the archers.
CLANG! Steel meets steel as the orcs meet the first line of the elves, but
Huzghash and his Guards move fast, working their way through the elvish fights;
smelling the blood of the archers fresh in the air."
Erinstar
+shouts, "//Silver light flares in Erinstar's eyes as the first of the
charging horde comes to bear, his gleaming blade rising sharply to meet them.
In simple, though heavily accented common, the noble elf replies, "Not by
your hand." The ring of steel is heard to punctuate his words, as he
easily swats his opponent's weapon aside, and makes to stab for the Uruk's
now-exposed arm."
Erinstar
attacks Zig with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.
Burzdug
jogs along in the throng of guards behind Huzghash, a scimitar brandished high
over head. He has called to himself a small troop of some half-dozen uruk who
jog behind him in a ragged wedge. The whiteskin archers are their target and
they follow Huzghash without question.
His
blade sweeping out like a glitter of stars, Morandil strides forward to meet
the onrushing foe. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" he calls to the
other Firstborn; his fair elven voice sounds strange in the din and fury of
battle. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"
The jailguard descends, the black wall of its
high wave swoops up doombreeze in its hard, wide lean. Vile, trenchant
black-foam, the crest of Bozblot's platoon runs up to the elf-sand shores of
archers in hedonistic ardor.
Morandil
draws forth the ancient elvenblade Hirilmacil with a deadly sigh of steel.
From
the South, Aglahad motions again, scowling as the enemy fire now is returned.
Arrows whizz by the Veteran, but he pays no heed. Not at all. Behind the rows
of archers he prowls, his voice magnified seemingly. It might just be the heat
of the moment. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
Glynnis
+shouts in Sindarin, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"I,
Glinineilesteleste, of House Cultasare, do swear to serve the Lady Galadriel
and the Golden Wood, through fire or flood, attack or seige, against
treacherous friend and dark enemy, until I depart this place for the Halls of
Mandos or the Undying Lands. My word is my bond, my word is my life. So have I
spoken, so let it be. By my honor, my Lady and the Two
Trees!"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"
From
the South,
A smile quicky appears upon Tarasiriel's
crimson lips as she sees her arrow strike her intended target. She quickly
draws another arrow from her quiver and nocks it to her bow in a single, fluid
motion and draws back on the bowstring. At the signal to fire, she lets the
cerulean-fletched shaft fly.
From
the South, Varya watches his arrow fly wide. Varya watches at Mugruk engages in
melee with his target, he decides not to take the chance, and aims at Lauhul,
sighting down the shaft at his heart.
From
the South, Once more his arrow sticks into the orch for a moment, but it seems
that this one is persistant, luckily for Sajara, so is he. Another nocked
arrow, another pull back, another arrow sailing through the wind to its target.
It all seems to be normal for this elf. As soon as his arrow leaves, one
quickly inbeds itself in his abdomen. He falls backwards slightly and sighs,
ripping the shaft of the arrow so that it remains in him but doesn't hinder his
fighting. The knight-bachellor quickly remembers his training and scrambles to
his feet.
C'zoth's
eyes blaze with fury and hatredat the elves as he follows close behind the
Senior guard despite his wounded leg. Twirling his Scimitar over his head, he
then lowers it and points it at the archers. "<uruk>For the
Flame!" he screams, anger and hatred in his harsh cry.
From
the South, Faye let a wry grin decorate her face as she saw her shaft fly true.
The courier's eyes shone with the strange light of battle, something she could
not have imagined a few months before. But the season had changed, and she had
changed with it. She was no longer the elf she was before. Smiling at that
thought, she let loose another arrow.
From
the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Tarasiriel's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Karathorn watchs his target
jump upon a rock and throw his spear and he chuckles, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>" He reaches back and takes another arrow from his quiver
notches it and brings his bow to aim and pulling back on his bowstring lets the
arrow fly.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it quickly and securely.
He aims at the cursed Uruk-Hai who wounded him with the fell arrow and draws
Morwinyon taut, loosing the arrow quickly.
From
the South, Palan draws back the string containing yet another arrow, but it is
for a new target. Hoping to take out some of the orch archers, he turns to see
where an arrow flew from and fires.
From
the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Z'macht, mildly wounding him.
From
the South, Faye launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Glindorel, badly wounding him.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Zoglaaz, mildly wounding him.
Mauhur
+shouts, "Perhaps unnoticed by those now in pitched fray, from the west
appear what seem to be reinforcement for the orcs. They are two-score and with
great bows seemingly to large for orcs, but indeed, these are not common orcs,
these are Uruk-Hai.
A
moment they pause ere engaging, their Captain's eyes flickering over the scene
to survey it, and ultimately to the south his eyes turn, for here is where the
strong bows of the Fighting Uruk-Hai may be turned with greatest effect now. So
they stay to the west of the closely joined battle, and their bows sing out as
well, for they may let loose shaft at greater distance than the shorter bows of
their Morian allies. Bows creak and unflex, black shafts arc high, following
the Morian arrows, but from a different angle, from the northwest..."
From
the South, Palanhenelidh launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Zoglaaz, mildly wounding him.
From
the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Tuoak, lightly wounding him.
From
the South,
Taking aim now for Bozblot, Tathren draws her
bow and lets fly.
With
his mace turned away by elven blade, Zig twists his face in anger and pain as
his left arm swings in his attack. As the elf retaliates, he turns to the side
and pulls back his arm, dodging the blade. Zig's mace is soon to follow, coming
for the sword wielding arm of Erinstar.
From
the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Tathren's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Zig
attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.
Horvak moves through the rear of the Morian line.
He roars his support, "<Uruk> For the Flame, my warriors. Fight for
the flame!" The troll swings his axe around his head encouraging the orcs
to fight on...or face him.
From
the South, Erynbrant curses the wiasted arrows, and resolves to make then ring
true in Blak. Knocking another arrow he fires at his target now rushing in from
the left
From
the South, Tensing now, she nocks another arrow. A quick glance to her side
allows her to locate Sajara when he is hit. With a tightened jaw she pushes
aside any worry for him and seeks to hit her target again, once she re-locates
him. A grimace shows her irritation that her distraction made her lose sight of
her opponent.
From
the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Varya's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Nocking another arrow in a swift motion, Galindrion peers through
the darkness seeking a target under the Uruk's lights. He pulls the string
back, breathes, and fires.
From
the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
Ow!
You've been injured for -- hp's by the bowshot.
Arrgh!
The arrow is stuck fast, requiring treatment.
ARB:
Please RP this injury accordingly.
From
the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Blak, lightly wounding him.
From
the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Galindrion's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Legirion lifts a hand to reach for another arrow in the quiver at
his back, sapphire eyes glittering with a determined light. Again, an arrow is
nocked, drawn, and fired in one smooth motion, sending that sharp arrow
descending upon C'zoth.
From
the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits C'zoth, badly wounding him.
The hunter must be off for the arrow distract
him as he goes for the elf. It leaves his open for the elf's attack. Mugruk's
chainmail holds together keeping him from dying as the sword cuts him.
"Not bad, but it won't save you." The uruk swings his war hammer in a
wide arc at the elf's hip.
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and lightly wounds him!
Tuoak hisses in pain as his position atop the rock
gives him away. A arrow cuts through the night and digs into his shoulder,
cutting through his mail and bringing forth a stream of blood. Yet now his
second spear is drawn. The second of three weapons handed down through the
halls of Moria and at last coming to the hands of this warrior Shaman. Again
his eyes press closed and he turns and hurls the spear toward the elf that
stung him. And from his hip comes the third weapon. Smiter the axe..
Mauhur
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Mauhur's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Tuoak
throws a spear through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Zoiks! A spear comes hurtling in!
Tuoak
removes Biter.
Blak
finds himself among the group of guards charging the archers, and as another
volley of arrows flies through the air towards them, orcs fall down, many dead.
One arrow grazes off Blak's helmet, it's a good thing it was there, and that he
has a thick head. Still, the uruks continues to charge forward, approaching the
ground where the elvish archers are firing.
Haveing struck his target, the Great eagle
spreads his wings to push off, however, the trolls club swing is brought up in
time to strike the Great Bird in the chest! A spray of feathers hits the air as
Rhofalneth is batted away. A mangled scree emited from his beak. Stunned for a
moment, the only reaction the Eagle has, is to kick out with his powerfull
talons. Also, does he attempt to take lift with his wings. The Wind of Manwe
picking up, in attempts to fill the Northerners wings.
Rhofalneth
attacks Jhrog with his Eagle Claws and mildly wounds him!
Unguis
+shouts, "//@emit Seeing the elven skirmishers near at hand, Unguis rushes
towards them with a small group of other Uruk-Hai near him. Fell is his warcry
piercing the night, fell is the red-gemed war hammer at it calls for pale-skin
blood. Sheild is raised out in fornt of him, to ward against arrows, and eyes
scan for a target. Then, he notices a crying elf with drawn blade, and rushes
forward to meet the foe, war hammer raised easily above right shoulder, ready
to cruch bone, shield a rempart of defense"
As
C'zoth roars his allegiance to the flame, a sudden sharp sears his hip, and he
looks down, to see a sharp shaft protruding from it. He snaps the shaft off
with his bare hand, then continues forward again, slower now due too his
wounded hip.
Seeing
battle erupt before his eyes, Z'macht even seems to feel the ground shake.
Before him, Ologs rush forward, the orcs of Moria charge, and the great
Talashakh ob Khazad-Dum loosens his feared axe! "Skai!" the Talashakh
sneers, fitting another arrow to his horried bow. "Follow orders! Follow
orders unless you enjoy sitting on a pike outside my quarters!" Zip! Zoom!
Zap! Z'macht sees orcs around him him fall, elven arrows sprouting from their
torn flesh like saplings of Lorien from the fertile earth. One unfortunate
uruk, to the cheiftain's left, crumbles to his knees squealing: an arrow protruding
from his eye. Z'macht smiles wickedly as an arrow thuds into his armor, barely
noticable. He crrreeeeeaks back his catgut string and gives more orders:
"Archers: Let loose the fury of the Demon!!!!!"
As the
first wave of the yrch crashes upon the Elven line, Haldir leaps into action.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>", shouts he to the warriors at his
side, and charges to meet the oncoming rush of black figures. The blue glow
blurs in a streak of pale light, so swift is his charge, and before the eye can
blink he stands on front of a foe, the first one to climb the slope. Like a
lightning bolt from his hand, strikes the ancient sword.
Zoglaaz
drags up the remnants of the band he was charged with, shoving them toward a
muddy pitch where greater, though inadequate cover is afforded. "Another
round, then you be on yer own, maggots!" he shouts, leaning upon his
shield.
Tuoak
pulls a wicked goblin-axe free from his belt, light glinting off of vulgar uruk
runes etched in the steel.
Haldir
attacks Jhrog with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!
Zoglaaz
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Z'macht
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Z'macht's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, A light bobs and weaves off to the north.
ZIp!
Thud! Another arrow crashes into the form of the Senior Guard, a deeper gash
exposing scross his thigh. Black blood now flowing freely from his few wounds,
Huzghash plods forward; unheeding of the pain. A Guard falls to the ground next
to him, arrow sticking out of his forhead, blood gushing down around it. Yet,
the Senior Guard charges on, getting closer and closer to those elven archers.
For his
part, the Man does not spring forth to meet the enemy. There are brave gestures
from him; no ringing words. Blade in hand, he awaits the foe in silence,
standing in the line -- indeed, many near him already trade blows with the
orcs.
And
glancing aside for a fleeting moment then, he calls mildly to Glynnis,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"
Zoglaaz
calls for one more volley, now abandoning the Uruk archers but with one more
exchange...
Glindorel
+shouts in Sindarin, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"
Zoglaaz
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Catching
site of one he has seen before, Pough makes his way through the horde, finding
himself next to Zig the large Uruk attacks at the nearby helf, grasping his axe
with both hands. As he swings it is in a downward motion, aimed at Legirions
chest, a loud shout accompanying the attack.
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!
Burzdug
hunkers low as he runs with the Horde's Guard, raising a chant.
"<Uruk>Flame above! Flame Below! Flame to the Left! Flame to the
Right! Run Lightlover, Run!"
Glindorel
+shouts, "It is not the hammer of Mugruk which hurts the Banneret of
Lorien, nay. It is the arrow which flies in from the south. Its edge cuts
through his mail coat and into his left shoulder, leaving a large gash which
inadvertently causes him to lurch forward and into Mugruk's blow. He grits his
teeth at the pain and stumbles back a pace, though he quickly steadies himself
and offers a jabbing blow to the orc's midsection again."
Among
the gibbering horde of yrch, one in particular catches Morandil's keen eye; a
cruel-looking fighter with a hammer. And so the Knight-Warden steps forward to
meet his foe, effortlessly bringing his blade around in a flash of cold silver
aimed straight at the creature's heart...
Morandil
attacks Unguis with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
Mauhur
+shouts, "From the west, the Uruk-Hai Captain Mauhur engages the elves
with bow now, yet they are not the only of this fell folk. Having drawn up
behind the larger host of the Morians, the heavily armored Fighting Uruk-Hai
sweep around now to flank the elven forces, their short, heavy blades driven by
powerful arms and cunning skill..they seek death for the enemy and a glut of
slaughter for their steel.."
Z'macht
growls and fetches another arrow from his quiver. Looking down, he notices an
elven shaft painfully lodged in his thigh. He grimaces and tries to break off
the shaft.
Though
Magog does not exert himself tremendously, he is soon well amidst his horde,
his eyes shifting targets with the regularity of elven arrowfire. Soon, the
Orc-King's run has placed him behind the first wave of attackers, which seeks
to simply overwhelm the line and continue onwards to the archers. Halting
behind the cover of a rotting tree, Magog grins malevolently at the elves
foolish enough to engage in hand-to-hand combat, searching for weaknesses -
places where his axe could cleave a decisive rent in the defensive line.
Removing a hand from his axe momentarily, the Gothshaka pushes the remnants of
the tree beside him down onto the ground, the decaying trunk tearing at the
base. Magog moves closer to the fray, ready to reinforce any who might
challenge the first wave of attackers.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor staggers and falls, catching himself with one arm and
clutching his bow in the other. He hangs for a moment, then drops into a branch
lower than the one he chose for combat. With a quick hand he pulls forth from
his thigh a shaft of black, with snarled teeth that damage him even more upon
pulling it out. He seems to nod, falling silently against the tree. After a
moment, he draws himself to a sitting position, willing himself to fire again.
His
attack missing by a long shot, Pough quickly turns and continues the charge,
pulling back next to Bozblot.
Mugruk
chuckles slightly as the elf is struck by one of his fellow's arrows and the
hunter's hammer. In a slightly foolhard move the hunter charges in as the elf
attacks, allowing the elf's blade to cut him slightly on the side of the belly.
As the elf's blade slices meat the orc's hammer is brought down with all his
strength at the elf's head.
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!
The runt's jailguard splays its ranks out in
all angles, racing to the south. The jailors' helms gleam not with ornate
feathers and fuzz, but with plumes of uric-umbrage sweat.
Bozblot lets the hovell of elven footmen pan
into his periphery, speeding with the guards to the hive of arrow-fire.
The
troll runs along the back of the Morian lines. He rallies the warriors to a
greater degree of frenzy as he roars "Moria! Moria! Moria!"
Tuoak
crouches atop the rock, his axe glittering in his hands. Foul points of light
glance about the battefield as the Shaman chooses his target. Yet his voice can
be weapon enough. A obscene shout rips free from his chest, as cruel and bitter
as any poisoned barb, "Ho ho my lads! You'll never see your children
again! You'll never see your fadder again! But we won't just kill you. Oh no.
We'll make you beg to serve the flame! And you will serve it! You'll end up
killing your babies for us! Just so we will stop with our lashes! Ho ho!"
With
little regard for any other threat, the troll is focused entirely on his
original prey. So intent is the troll upon warding off the talons of this big
bird, that when the bird strikes him again, even harder and drawing yet another
nasty gash, the troll does not notice the elf that sneaks in close. He takes
notice though when the elf's blade strikes his flesh, twisting his torso about
with a fearsome howl, his club flying about in the same motion towards the elf.
Jhrog
attacks Haldir with his Club and moderately wounds him!
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it as quickly and
securely as he can, through the pain in his leg and shoulder. He aims at the
cursed Uruk-Hai and draws Morwinyon taut, loosing the arrow quickly, albeit
unsteadily.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Zoglaaz, moderately wounding him.
Erinstar
dances back from the swing intended to maim him, a wicked smile dancing across
his lips as he calls out once more in his own dialect of Westron, "Mayhap
a chill you shall bring me, swing you any harder?" With that, he ducks
forward once more, lashing out at the lower left leg of the Orc who stands
before him.
Erinstar
attacks Zig with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Unguis
+shouts, "//Unguis is to arrogant in his rush, his rage tacking the better
of his senses. He has not the time to avoid the longsword, only to slightly
deflect it with his shield, the blade stings badly as it drinks of orcish
ichor. The smith's torso now wears a nasyt gash in the left side, opening an
older would from an earlier battle with this same elf, although the smith
notices not. Howling in rage Unguis dodges a little to the right of Morandil,
shield warding against the longsword, attempting to rend the thing useless. THe
blunt spike of the war hammer crashes down from top right, aimed to smash the
elf's left shoulder to splinters."
Unguis
attacks Morandil with his War Hammer, but Morandil parries the attack with his
shield!
From
the South, Ducking low for cover, Talon makes his way quickly and deftly to a
place behind a pile of rocks, where Palanhenelidh lies. Moving swiftly and
expertly, he begins to assess the elf's wounds.
Mauhur
+shouts, "-Keeping their distance from the mele with subtle shifts of
their position, the Uruk-Hai with Mauhur line up and loose their shafts with
fluid order. Not straight lines are these forty, but staggered, each able to
shoot without great fear of hitting their fellows. Unobstructed is their view
southward, for they are not entangled by the mele, nor behind it, and once more
at a roared order from Mauhur, the long bows bend and like a small thicket
their miniature spears fly through the air in a widening cluster as wind plays
at the fletching. Apex is reached, and down they fly, whistling through the
night, hoping to find elven flesh and in the dark pierce it bitterly."
Once
again finding his mace's attack to no avail, Irt tries to avoid Erinstar's
oncoming strike, twisting his upper body, but alas, the attack comes to his
legs and he is struck. Blood begins to trickle from the fresh cut upon his left
leg. Weight shifted to the right leg, Zig lashes out with his mace at
Erinstar's midsection.
Zig
attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but Erinstar parries the attack with his
shield!
Glindorel
+shouts, "Mugruk's attack must have been too violent to be held in pace,
for it does not do the damage the orc intended. The hammer that glances off the
tip of Glindorel's metal helm simply causes him to shake his head slightly, and
inadvertehtly brings him into closer quarters. As the two are forced closer to
each other, he attempts to stab his sword into Mugruk's gullet and end this
fight quickly."
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
As his
blade strikes home, Morandil's eyes widen; this orch is known to him! The foul
creature gives the elf-knight little time for reflection though, and only
instinct permits Morandil to parry the hammer strike of Unguis. He spins away,
letting his enemy's momentum work against him, and aims a second slash at the
creature...
From
the South, From North, Morandil's +shout echos.
Morandil
attacks Unguis with his Longsword and severely wounds him!
Spotting another hammerer, Pough makes his
way toward him, forgetting his companions for now. He now finds himself next to
Zig, swinging his axe with both hands at the one called Erinstar. His keen red
eyes seeming to flare ever briter through his the eye-slits in his elm. His
feet planted fermly apart, Poughs axe roars towards Erinstar.
From
the South, A squire enters the area with his bow ready and a stern face on. He
has faced the yrch force before, and didn't fare well then. He is Hoping that
his arrows will be more true this time. He approaces the leader of the archers
bow ready.
As if hoisting a single splinter of
shimmering mountain lake, Bozblot turns his scimitar-wrist in mellifluos
puppetry. The runt orc spins, and runs up beneath the elf known as Morandil's
own swordgleam.
Bozblot hacks at the elf's thigh-meat.
Bozblot
attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.
Tuoak
+shouts, "then Tuoak is moving. The orc warrior's legs carry him from the rock
and then allow himself to be swept up in the tide of rushing orcs. All around
him bodies fall, and he jumps and leaps over the fallen before him. Until at
last the way breaks before him and the fair light of Erinstar glows before him.
Yet his axe will have none of it. Smiter slashes through the underdark and
hisses toward the elf's neck.."
Pough
attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but he misses by a long shot.
Tuoak
attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but he misses by a handspan.
From
the South, Palan holds another arrow, ready for the command. He drops it though
as an arrow pierces his chest. The arrow holds fast, and Palan dares not touch
it, remembering the last attempt of such a thing. Instead, he calls to a
healer. An aid immediately rushes over and removes the arrow, but blood is
still coming out. Palan decides to get it looked at and makes for the nearest
healing area.
Magog
spots one of the famed Uruk-hai, one of the mighty greater orcs of Isengard
receiving a thrashing out of the corner of his eye. Spitting forth a thick blob
of phlegm, Magog slowly moves up behind Unguis, his gaze firmly affixed on
Morandil, "Go charge the archers," the Gothshaka calls at the
Southern orc in a tongue all can hear nearby, "This is real work for real
fighters. Go do something useful." Magog's axe swings into place and he
readies to dance with the nearest elf.
"Gahhh!"
The Hunter lets out a howl of pain as the elf's sword bites his flesh. This
time his leg is deeply wounded and black blood starts to flow out. If he were
an whimpy elf he would be done now but he is not, he is an Orc of the worst
kind. In these close quarters the orc tries to smash the elf's face in with his
hammer.
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer, but he misses by an arm's length.
The
Senior Guard glares out ahead, eyes sifting throught the deluge of melee combat
that still lies before him. Turning swiftly, Huzghash signals for a few of his
Guards to follow him as he heads off towards an elf, an elf he has seen twice
before: Erinstar. Barreling forward HUzghash dodges aside an elf and the
reaches the melee with Erinstar. Many an orc already surrounding the beleagured
elf, Huzghash spots himself an opening anddives forward, spear leading the way
in his attack at the elf's mid-section.
Now haveing enough time to stand, the
Great Eagle lifts his wings, the strong sweet breeze filling his feathers
quickly as he hops off the earth. He lets loose another scree on his upwards
passage. Again he touches the dark cloudline, dissapearing from view. His
hoofing wings beat the winds, churning the clouds and makeing for a frighting
overview. Then he drops, eyes filled with fiery pasion, claws already stained
with trollish blood. This time, instead of falling straight down, Rhofalneth
falls short, the andgles his wings to more of a swooping attack on the stone
beast. His pierceing talons ready to touch troll back. The great wind sends
those Orcs fighting near sprawling, and a few elves as well. The Northern Bird
has one goal, the hunt.
You
attack Erinstar with your Spear...
Your
attack against Erinstar mildly wounds him!
Rhofalneth
attacks Jhrog with his Eagle Claws, but he misses by a mile.
Rhofalneth
opens his beak and lets out a shrill scree that echos in every direction.
C'zoth
roars, following the lead of Bozblot on his attack of Morandil. He charges
forward; scimitar held in front of him, he then twirls it over his head and
attempts to slice Morandil's midsection. "<uruk>For the flame!"
he screams.
C'zoth
attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.
The
return attack comes quicker than the Commander expected, and the strong swipe
of the club knocks him off his feet. He rolls over his shoulder and quickly
gets up on one knee, and, even before fully raising on his feet, with a quick
flick of his arm he sends the sword in an arc to slice across the olog's
fingers gripping the club, before the beast subdues its inertia.
Haldir
attacks Jhrog with his Longsword, but Jhrog parries the attack with his Club!
Burzdug
+shouts, "
Burzdug
breaks off from his wedge of guards as he sees the runt jailor head toward an
enemy. "Save the tender bits for me, Bozblot!" he shouts as he breaks
off and heads into the melee. Perhaps fate or even the Flame have control of
him as his motion takes him directly at Glindorel.
"
Following
after the guards, towards the hottest part of the battle, Blak looks for
someone to smite with his heavy mace. Pushing past orc and elf, he spies a elf
already under attack form many uruks. Eager to attack where the numbers are on
his side, Blak runs forward and lets his mace down in a smashing arc towards
Morandil's head.
Glynnis
moves lightly down the hill, sword flashing and cloak billowing behind as she
makes a beeline for one of the more entrapped of her comrades. She grits he
teeth and swings silently, aiming to take the beast's foul head off.
Blak
attacks Morandil with his Mace, but Morandil parries the attack with his
shield!
Unguis
+shouts, "Again, Unguis is not quick enough to avoid the blade of the
longsword, and the Hammer Cult smith recieves another griveous wound to his
shield arm. The Uruk-Hai is clearly outmatched, and he notices not the Morian
attacking the elf he is embattled with. The Smith decides that discretion it
the better part of valor, and he decides to go after other prey. He leaves the
hated pale-skin to fend off the Morians, and with one last howl of rage the
Uruk-Hai limps off to the other side of the fight."
The mountainous form of the king envelopes
tiny Bozblot in shadow. The runt quickly darts beneath his ruler's legspan, and
renews with ferver the hunt of the archers.
"Not that one, hoof it to the
needle-nest with me!" comes the Jailor's shriek to Burzdug, peircing
through the battle's deafening din.
From
the South, Aglahad angrily scowls at those leaving; he is never one to retreat
unless dragged from the field. Again he motions for a volley.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
From
the South,
Yet unscathed, Tathren nocks yet another
arrow, her aim steady as she awaits the order to fire. Drawing her bow, she
holds her breath... and looses the arrow into the fray.
From
the South, Watching as his arrow fly wide, Varya prepares another arrow in one
smooth fluid motion. Varya's green eyes pierce the darkness, searching for a
target, he spots C'zoth, aims at his heart, and let's his arrow fly. Hoping and
praying that it hits.
From
the South, This elf isn't like most elves. He is getting to be an elder and has
learned the sound of an arrow flying through the air. This time, as an arrow
heads for his shoulders, he is lucky enough to see the arrow too and get out of
the way. Taking another arrow from his quiver, he stays level headed, nocks it,
sights his target, and loosens the string. Woosh goes the arrow, not exactly
the same sound as the yrch's, but close enough.
From
the South, Faye cringed as she watched her shaft hit another elf. Taking a deep
breath, she steadied herself and nocked another arrow. Another breath, and she
drew back and fired at a new target before fading into the distance, shooting
no longer.
From
the South,
Seeing her arrow miss its intended target,
Tarasiriel bites her lip in frustration as she nocks another cerulean-fletched
arrow to her bow. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" she whispers, and
lets fly at her target, a particularly ugly yrch running towards the
Knight-Banneret.
From
the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits C'zoth, moderately wounding him.
From
the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Tathren's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Z'macht, lightly wounding him.
From
the South, Mithryn moves atop the rock, which may not be a particularly grand
idea, but it does afford her a better view. She locates her target .. aha! ..
exactly the one she was hoping for. She lets loose an arrow with a shout...
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
From
the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Burzdug, badly wounding him.
From
the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Mithryn's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Glynnis
attacks Magog with her Longsword, but Magog parries the attack with his Battle
Axe!
From
the South, Galindrion moves with purposed strides to the front of the archers.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he screams as he nocks an arrow and
in one swift motion looses it.
From
the South, Maegnas the elf next the Aglahad, nocks and releases an arrow at a
random target
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it as quickly and
securely as he can, through the pain in his leg and shoulder. He aims at the
cursed Uruk-Hai and draws Morwinyon taut, loosing the arrow quickly, albeit
unsteadily.
From
the South, Faye launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Faye's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Zoglaaz, lightly wounding him.
From
the South, Maegnas Takes his great longbow off his back and while placing it in
his hands he draws a arrow from his quiver in one quick motion, notching the
arrow upon the string
From
the South, Maegnas launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Maegnas's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits M'giddo, mildly wounding him.
From
the South, Karathorn says in Sindarin, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>"That flith,"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
From
the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Karathorn's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Mauhur
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
A clash
of metal, a glimmer of sparks, and the Man sends an orc reeling with his parry
-- only for the creature to be swiftly sslain by an elf. Thus, his blade
unblooded yet, he turns; and his gaze chances a beleaguered elf. Running
silently -- yet with haste -- he makes his way thither then.
Glindorel
+shouts, "Glindorel quickly moves his head out of the way of Mugruk's
hammer, and then hops back to put distance between himself and his foe. His
breathing comes in heavy pants now under the exertion of battle, and with a
quick flashing out of his blade he swings it high across Mugruk's face, keeping
his shield in front of him for good defense."
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor falls from the tree, limp body crashing into the
forest floor below.
Horvak
spits on the ground as he observes a lone troll battling not only an eagle but
an elf. The troll knows what to do. Adjusting his girdle, he begins to lope his
way forward toward his fellow troll. He swings his axe in a low angle back and
gorth before his as he cleaves his way through his own warriors to reach his
fellow troll.
From
the South, The spear of the cursed Yrch finds home in the thigh of Karathorn as
he removes the spear, he says "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" as
blood goes every where. Though he is ready by the next order of a volley and
draw another and take aim at the Yrch that that commands there archers and lets
fly.
From
the South, Legirion raises a hand to retrieve another arrow from the quiver at
his back. In his melodic, tremulous voice, naturally pacing words so as to take
full advantage of the simple beauty of language, he sings a quiet, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>" Eyes flashing with righteous anger, he prepares himself. The
arrow is nocked at his bow, the string creaking when drawn, and after a pause,
fired. The arrow flashes through the air like a silver, slender bolt, arcing
through the night air upon Mauhur.
From
the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Mauhur, lightly wounding him.
Erinstar
+shouts, "//Rolling aside from mace and axe alike, the Herald of Galadriel
finds himself only too close to yet another of the foul yrch. He makes to step
back once more as another pair of blows are turned towards him, yet only
escapes one, the other glancing off his tunic with the sound of metal upon
metal. A handful of rings fly, and the Elf-lord growls his annoyance, before
redoubling his attacks upon the first of his assailants."
The elf
is one quick rodent, ain't he? Indeed, they're like cats, always on their feet
it seems. This is a problem the troll intends to rectify quickly, especially
since this elf is persistant, it's sword battering uselessly at the stone-clad
grip the troll has on it's club. And the eagle, it's approach is noted to, for
when it attacks, the troll is ready. Dunking under and behind the seeking
talons of the eagle, the troll quickly counterattacks in a vicious upward swipe
at the great bird's feathered underbelly.
Jhrog
attacks Rhofalneth with his Club and badly wounds him!
Erinstar
attacks Zig with his Longsword, but Zig parries the attack with his Mace!
Magog's
failure to attack Morandil immediately proves a blessing in disguise as
Morandil is attacked by what appears to be an entire legion of orcs. The burly
orc's axe raises to parry Glynnis' sword, the clatter louder than the elf
itself. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" Magog bellows in an
uncommon tongue as the rush of combat is upon him. His verbal assault is as
always matched by a physical one. Pulling his axe far back, a whoosh of air
sounds as Magog brings his weapon forwards horizontally, perhaps to cleave
Glynnis in two at the waist.
His
eyes still watering from the elven shaft lodged painfully in his thigh, Z'macht
nocks an oily uruk shaft to his short bow and draws the weapon to full length.
Thwack! The Talashakh feels another projection dive into his flesh - ripping
and tearig. Blood flows forth from this wound, however, and apparently sours
Z'macht on the idea of standing still and shooting his now. Nay! He feels much
more comfortable with his mace in hand, feet firmly planted! Z'macht lets his
last arrow go and then goes about loosening his mace from his belt.
Magog
attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe, but Glynnis parries the attack with her
Longsword!
Z'macht
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
From
the South, A light bobs and weaves off to the north.
From
the South, Earil-Nioldor wakes on the ground, a broken black shaft sticking out
of his chest. He begins to crawl on his back, backwards from the scene of
battle.
Zoglaaz
lowers his shield, his beaded eyes glaring at the worn metal sheathing that
have been punctured by numerous arrows, even before he could wield his blade in
battle. Out again, comes his small bow, yet now he retraces his steps, darting
as he can from incoming bow-fire.
From
the South, After Maegnas releases his arrow, which does nothing to anyone, he
turns to Earil. "Someone help him, he cannot fight anymore!" he
screams over the cry of battle
Almost
as hastily as he had launched his own attack, Zig finds himself on the
defensive, retracting his mace only to send it forth again to thrwart
Erinstar's attack. That accomplished, he brings the mace quickly forward toward
the elf's head.
Zig
attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.
Roaring
aloud, the great Pough watches his axe attack miss. Planting his feet again he
swings, his dark axe blade aimed at Erinstars kneck, swinging across from right
to left.
Tuoak
+shouts, "with glee as the return attack does not fall on him. Instead his
lips part and spit flies from his lips toward the elven warrior. For this a
battle of two strong. The elf and the Slayer of the flame. The unholy warrior.
Tuoak drops low into a combat stance and lashes out low toward the tendon's in
the back of Erinstar's knee."
Pough
attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but Erinstar parries the attack with his
Longsword!
Tuoak
hisses with glee as the return attack does not fall on him. Instead his lips
part and spit flies from his lips toward the elven warrior. For this a battle
of two strong. The elf and the Slayer of the flame. The unholy warrior. Tuoak
The
Senior Guard looks gleefully as his spear darts in and draws blood from the
elf. Smirking slightly, Huzghash withdraws his now bloody spear and shifts his
body for another attack on the elf. Rolling his right shoulder downward
slightly, Huzghash sends his spear arm shooting forward;bloodied tip gleaming
as the spear shoots forth for the elf's chest.
You
attack Erinstar with your Spear...
Erinstar
parries your attack with his Longsword!
Tuoak
attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but Erinstar parries the attack with his
Longsword!
The hunter is not doing well for the flame
must frown upon him this day. Mugruk takes another deep wound that draws back
blood but this one makes him mad. The uruk lets out a bellow that comes up from
his toes and blasts from his mouth as he attack the elf's body.
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!
From
the South,
Seeing that Indor Sajara is low on arrows,
Tarasiriel passes some of her cerulean-fletched shafts to him.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
The
enemy before Morandil turns craven and runs... only to be replaced by three
others. Beset from all sides, the elf relies once more on instinct centuries of
training. He slashes at the nearest orc, Bozblot.
Morandil
attacks Bozblot with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
:'s
eyes gleam in anger, the jewels upon her brow flaring as if in sympathetic
answer. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" She swings again, parrying
his axe and twisting her wrist to get inside the creature's guard and slice his
belly wide.
Glynnis
attacks Magog with her Longsword, but she misses by an arm's length.
C'zoth
groans with pain again, the fourth plunging into his black skin, right in the
thigh, almost touching bone. He roars with fury and frustration: he was getting
cut down by the foul shafts of the light-lovers! Not bothering to even try to
break off the arrow, he pauses for a moment in his attack on Morandil; taking a
knee and attempting to regain his strength.
His
blade raised high as he comes in toward Glindorel, Burzdug takes an arrow in
the shoulder, its force tearing flesh and leather armor as it twists the uruk
guard out of the direction of his attack. Black blood runs from the wound when
Burzdug reaches back and breaks off the arrow, leaving a half a foot of
elf-wood sticking out his shoulder.
"
Narrowing
his cruel eyes, as wicked as the flames that spurt from the vile pits of Moria,
Z'macht wields his fell mace, caked with dried blood, and begins to stomp his
way into the fray. "Come so that I may brain thee!" he roars, a
sadistic smile smothered across his most horrid face. The beast's steps begin
to quicken, eventually morphing into something between a run and a warg-trot.
"Tonight the Hammer of the Black Pit makes its presence known!!!"
His
attack having been stopped by a shield block, Blak's arms vibrates from the
shock. His opponent strikes out at an orc, and hits, but luckily for Blak it
wasn't him. Still, he recognises the one who was hit, and with snarl on his
face, yells out, "Die worm!" before swinging his mace at Morandil
once more, this time aiming for his side.
Blak
attacks Morandil with his Mace, but Morandil parries the attack with his
shield!
Haldir
is by now firmly on his feet, and he seises the moment as the troll is once
again distracted by the eagle. An eagle feather spirals in the air and sticks
in Commander's hair, just as he leaps toward the troll again. From the ditance,
barely close enough to reach the beast with the point of the sword, he stabs
forward and up, into the scale-covered belly.
From
the South, Aglahad is readying his blade, it seems. Drawing it forth, he points
in the direction of the frenzied battle. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>"
Haldir
attacks Jhrog with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!
From
the South, Varya watches his arrow hit C'zoth, Varya quickly and fluidly
strings another arrow on the bow, he uses his peripheal vision to see how the
battle is going, and readies his arrow. He sees that Zoglaaz is standing in the
open, a easy target, he sights at his heart. Letting the arrow fly, he prays
that it will hit.
From
the South, Sajara feels another pin-prick as again an arrow sticks fast, this
time into his right shoulder. He spins slightly with the motion of it, but
otherwise stands his ground. This is now when Tarasiriel gives him several
arrows. He nods and growls as he breaks off the tip of his arrow,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" With a renewed fire in his eyes,
Sajara nocks one of his newer arrows and lets it fire off into the air, though
it isn't as true as it should be with his arrow stuck into him as it is.
From
the South,
Diinenbrant held ready, an arrow nocked and
drawn, Tathren again awaits the call to fire. With her Champion's cry, the
Indiri looses her dart once more.
From
the South,
A smile quicky appears upon Tarasiriel's
crimson lips as she sees her arrow strike her intended target. Whispering her
thanks to Elbereth, she draws another cerulean-fletched arrow from her quiver
and nocks it to her bow in a single, graceful motion and draws back on the
bowstring. At the signal to fire, she lets fly.
From
the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Varya's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Burzdug, severely wounding him.
From
the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Z'macht, mildly wounding him.
From
the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Jhrog, mildly wounding him.
The runtorc Bozblot's face prunes into
hitself, his nob nose burrowing up into his sinuses as he feels cold metal
splice the line of rings on his back. Bozblot crutches over backwards, and
nearer Morandil's stance. The small orc tries to dig his Scimitar point into
the elf's vitals from below.
Bozblot
attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a long shot.
From
the South, Mithryn is moving towards Sajara, frowning but keeping her eyes on
her target. As she reaches Sajara's side she lets her arrow fly...
From
the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Mauhur, lightly wounding him.
Magog
belches forth a confident laugh, his breath coming out in a hot, pestilent
cloud. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" A bring red tongue licks at
Magog's filthy lips as he appends his words. His eyes gleam as he dodges
Glynnis' blow and retorts with his own, a jagged downward sweep aimed at the elf's
knees.
Magog
attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds her!
And
then, his swift steps have borne the Man unscathed through the press of battle
to the elf's side. He gives no warning, no battle-cry or call of encouragement
-- save a single word to the elf:
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>"
And
then, his blade sweeps down from on high towards the spear-wielding orc's head!
Mauhur
+shouts, "Like a rain of unseen death fall the long arrows of the Fighting
Uruk-Hai's Raven clan among the elves, and no few strike true. Finally they
seem to be spotted, for sparcely do shafts appear in the darkness in feeble
reply. One finds the archer Captain and Mauhur's lip twitches as pain registers
on his left arm, but he spares no time to check it, for now, as it does not
seem to hinder the use of his bow. Again the bow creaks heavily and again the
bows clatter as more arrows arc into the night to fall among the elves, and
evenso another prick feels Mauhur, and this too he ignores, for now, painful,
yes, but will it stop this Uruk-Hai in his wrath? Nay."
Celebdur
attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and
he hits! Ouch!
ARB:
You've been injured for -- hp's by Celebdur's attack...
...you
have -- left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Glindorel
+shouts, "The weak swing of Mugruk serves only to bring forth a little
chuckle from Glindorel's lips, though it is a grim one indeed in the heat of
battle. Now the fray is full upon him as the elvish lines make an attempt to
hold their ground. "You shall not have your bounty easily," he
mutters with a grimace of pain."
Not
waiting for his first foe to recover, an outnumbered Morandil presses his
furious attack; this time against the second orch, Blak.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" he whispers, driving the point of
his sword at the fell monster.
Mauhur
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Morandil
attacks Blak with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.
From
the South, Karathorn eyes shin bring with fire and rage as he miss his target
thought bring his bow forth again he vows, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>" He takes aim at the foul leader of the archers and lets the
arrow fly at Zoglaaz
From
the South, Maegnas nocks another arrow and luanches it at the yrch emeny
towords the north "This is for Lithorien!!! +speak
sindarin=Elbereth!"
From
the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Karathorn's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Erynbrant , noticing the archer Zoglaaz for the first time as
Earil-Nioldor falls, fires to avenge his now fallen brothern. Knocking another
arrow, firing slowly and deliberatly at Zoglaaz. Leaving Blak to meet the fury
of the Elven troopers he has now reached.
From
the South, His eyes piercing the dark, bright and quick like his silver-shafted
arrows, Galindrion stands silently next to a large tree. He points his bow down
past the melee, towards a large uruk, pulls the string back and looses his
shot.
And
then the sword of the Banneret flies once again toward Mugruk in a sweeping yet
well-defensed arc.
From
the South, Maegnas launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Magog, mildly wounding him.
From
the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits M'giddo, lightly wounding him.
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!
From
the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Erynbrant's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
C'zoth
rising again;half blind with rage, C'zoth charges Morandil again with his
scimitar, angry and frustrated at the loss and death of so many good ladz'
around, he roars as he hopes to scewer the cursed light-lover with his
scimitar.
The Eagle, missing the massive troll soars
past, one to meet the blunt side of a club. The trollish blow knocks the great
bird upwards, his wings folding under the weight. Sent higher into the sky, it
would almost appear the Northerner would spread his wings and be off into the
cloud-cover. But none such thing happens, his wings do -not- open and he does
-not- fly, instead, after he hits a highh point, he comes tumbleing back down.
His featherd body smacks off the trodden ground. He manages a soft scream
before rolling to his feet. His wing obviously injured as he hops at the troll.
Rhofalneths feathers are ruffles and torn, a thin stream of red blood rolls
down his golden chest. "You are just game, troll!" He hops up,
spreading his wings, though he dosn't really take off, as much as use the lift in
a kicking motion at the Troll. His talons aimed for his thick skinned throat.
Rhofalneth
attacks Jhrog with his Eagle Claws and lightly wounds him!
C'zoth
attacks Morandil with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
Glynnis
hisses as the axe bites the unprotected flesh of her lower arm, teeth gritting.
She pushes the axe away with a snarl twisting her fair features, slicing the
edge of her long blade against the axearm of her opponent.
From
the South, Legirion back to pull another arrow from the quiver at his back.
Eyes still on his previous target, he draws the arrow on the bowstring aiming
for Mauhur. Twang! And the arrow is loosed down upon the host.
From
the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Legirion's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Glynnis
attacks Magog with her Longsword, but Magog parries the attack with his Battle
Axe!
Still
crouched low between the arch of Morandil's crotchspan, the runt aims another
upwards thrust for the spry elf's netherregions.
"Cuts him Big-Blak, Lil'boz will tap his
juices..." comes the jeers in 'common' from the jailor's tiny beak.
Burzdug's
turn back toward Glindorel is stung again by a cursed arrow sinking in scant
inches from the first and just as deep. Busied now by arrows and growing
weakness, the uruk guard reaches back to break the second arrow in a grimace of
pain before turning back to Glindorel.
Bozblot
attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.
Pough's
eyes flash with anger...
Blak's
attack is blocked by a shield once more, and while another volley of arrows
passes over the fighter's heads, the elf attacks him. Blak only just manages to
jump back out the way of Morandil's sword, but then quickly takes a step
forward again. Holding his shield as high as possible with his wounded
shoulder, he watches his opponent for a moment before swinging. Blak's muscles
flex as the handle of the weapon is gripped tightly, and it moves quickly
toward's Morandil's shoulder.
Erinstar
+shouts, "//Ducking easily beneath the graceless mace, Erinstar swiftly
then turns a half-face to one side with his blade to bear. Turning the lancing
spearhead aside with his shield, he counters the remaining assaults with the
singing elven steel he bears, deflecting each to either side of his person with
uncanny grace and agility before lunging forward and making his riposte."
Blak
attacks Morandil with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.
Erinstar
attacks Zig with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
The
troll lopes forward at an increasingly faster and faster pace. "Jhrog, I
come. Jhrog, my troll we shall fight the bird together and picks his bones for
meat!" Horvak swings his axe high above his head in a broad circle. He
roars, "Ologs!! Ologs to me!!" And still the troll trundles forward
getting closer and closer to the elf and the eagle beseiging one of the troll's
stone warriors.
"Good.
I have yet to meat an elf that could fight!" The hunter grins a toothy
smile at the elf, his teeth blackened with bits of rotten meat stuck in them. A
gush of rancid breath bursts out at the elf as his sword lightly grazes the
uruk. With a snort, Mugruk swings his hammer up and the underside of the elf's
head.
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!
Magog's
mouth drips a droplet of saliva as a random arrow strikes him upon the
shoulder. A light toss of his swart head and all is well again. Back to his
grim business Magog turns, raising his fearsome implement of battle up once
more to ward off a would-be blow from Glynnis. "Orcs of Moria," he
roars, baring his yellowed fangs, "Attack their archers! The line will not
hold!" Magog's bulk moves forward and with it his axe. This time, the blow
is far more hazardous, going for Glynnis' neck.
Magog
attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe and lightly wounds her!
Though
the steel of his enemy cuts through leather and mail, Morandil's expression is
not so much pained as it is scornful. Cowards, to swarm their enemies like so
many ants. He weaves with preternatural quickness, dodging blow and thrust, and
then he slashes with his blade...
Morandil
attacks Blak with his Longsword, but Blak parries the attack with his Mace!
"GRAaaa..."
The senior guard yells out as an unseen enemy laces his back wide open with its
sword. His spear lunge saving his head, Huzghash wheels around to face his
attacker. "You..Die now!" His words seem laboured now as he speaks and
shoots his spear hand out for another attack. This time the spear dives in
towards the man, metal tip still gleaming with elf-blood. Righ leg shooting
forward to add a bit of extra power to his stab, Huzghash watches, eyes
painfilled, as his spear goes forth to kill.
Tuoak's
sneer widens as the elfs blade again cuts through the foul air and again does
not find his flesh. His fangs glitter in the faint light of the elven stars,
yet what stands beneath them is not holy to Varda but to something far more foul.
"The flame.." Tuoak growls as he hears the bellowing of the King. Yet
this elf still stands in path. His axe lashes out toward his shoulder, a
attempt to strike him from his path.
You
attack Celebdur with your Spear...
Your
attack against Celebdur mildly wounds him!
Zoglaaz
moves amongs the pits and heaps of orc corpses, fallen in the wake of the
larger melee assault. Catching his breath, first, he scans the treeline about
the river. It's into a copse of Mallorn he fires a black bolt, towards a foe he
barely sees in shadow.
Tuoak
attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but he misses by a mile.
Watching
his mace go helplessly above the elf's head, Zig finds himself disregarding
Erinstar's sword; and he pays dearly. The blade stabs through his armor and
through his hide, burying itself in his bowels. He steps back, pulling himself
off the sword, blood freely oozing forth. He opens his mouth as if to yell, but
instead his mace tears unlovingly through the air, coming down toward
Erinstar's shoulder.
Zig
attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but he misses by an arm's length.
Glynnis
jerks her head out of the way in time to avoid losing it, but gets a nasty
slice on her shoulder for her trouble. She exhales sharply through her nose,
taking advantage of the risky manuever and the opening its left, and swings for
the great yrch's side with a backhanded sweep of her blade.
The
uruk archers, it seems, have been reduced to little more than a band of loose
and undisciplined hooligans. Their leader, a portly orc with deepset eyes and
chubby cheeks, give a feeble command in a high pitched voice. "Fire!"
he says, his command drifting aimlessly. The sky fills with black arrow, but it
is unlikely any will find their mark.
Glynnis
attacks Magog with her Longsword and mildly wounds him!
Zoglaaz
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
As
uruks pour down upon their elvish opponents, Blak grins, seeing other orcs also
trying to kill his own target. Blocking the light-lover's attack with his own
weapon, Blak lets his immensly strong arms swing once more. The mace seemingly
on its way towards Morandil's side again. At the last moment however, Blak
alters the course of his weapon, instead directing it down at the elf's knee.
Blak
attacks Morandil with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.
The allure of Morandil's long legs seduces
the scimitar-scythe of the runt. And he watches as its cruel curve draws near
the Quendi's calf, to coo it, and woo it, and rub up against it, and...
"Hack your stumps off nasty! See how springy you is then!" Bozblot
cleaves for Morandil's ankle.
Bozblot
attacks Morandil with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
It is
with a fell smile that Magog presents his exposed flank to Glynnis and makes no
effort to ward off her blow, which comes to a near halt upon making contact
with his mail. "You had best run," he counsels in a contemptuous
Westron. "My army and I are invisible when the presence of the Flame is
near." The orc's words rumble with both viguor and faith. Taking advantage
of his lack of defense, the Gothshaka's mighty blade once more rushes forwards,
vertically honing in on Glynnis' chest.
Magog
attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a hair.
Ducking
his way through the sudden hail storm of elven bow-fire, Z'macht spots
Huzghash, his fellow Morghash and Master Guard, fighting amongst the rabble.
The chieftain, in a flurry of battle-lust and fear of his Master, springs to
his comrade's side, attacking a common foe with all his strength.
Z'macht
attacks Celebdur with his Mace and badly wounds him!
Whirling
in a flurry of grey and silver, Morandil evades more heavy-handed strikes.
Another blow impacts him, and the elf grimaces in pain; it does not deter his
onslaught, however. He wastes neither time nor energy in responding to the
gibberish the orchs shout. Instead, he speaks with the steel of his sword,
aimed at the creature Bozblot.
From
the South, Aglahad has his blade in hand, and now barks out the orders once
again. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
Pough's
attack is parried and deflected and the surprised Pough stumbles backward. With
a final curse he pludges off into the frey even further, looking for an elf
with possibly lesser skills in fighting...
Glynnis
laughs merrily, eyes filled with battle-flame, and she begins to sing the
cursed name of Elbereth in her tongue as she darts out of the way of the huge
axe. She pivots and strikes with the point of her blade, aiming for the great
belly of the beast.
Morandil
attacks Bozblot with his Longsword and severely wounds him!
Glynnis
attacks Magog with her Longsword, but she misses by an arm's length.
From
the South, Maegnas nocks another arrow and launches it at the yrch emeny
towords the north "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
The
troll is fully in the throes of battle rage, it swings and it howls. It's foes,
dance about him, one on ground, the other from on high. And as if in unison,
despite the grievious blows dealt to it's feathered frame, the eagle and the
elf attack together. The elf strikes a glancing strike across the abdomen of
the troll, drawing it's attention in a moment not to lucky for the troll. But
it's neck is quite thick, and as arrows bounce for the most part off his hide,
except for one stuck between scales, the troll barely has room to avoid the
blow, a long shallow gash and row of chipped scales cross from the side of the
troll's throat to it's shoulder attesting to the eagles attack. This is
painful, though not mortal, and it drives the troll to further reaches of hate
and rage. Howling again it's malice, the troll steps back, it's club raised
high. But that lapse is not even a second, for the troll surges ahead again,
the club now held in both hands swinging around like a bat at the elf.
From
the South, Varya sees that his arrow flies wide of his target, and swiftly
draws another arrow from his quiver. He aims at the leader of the archers, and
fires at Zoglaaz's heart. His green eyes burning with rage, he sees the
near-perfect shot, Varya unlooses his arrow.
From
the South, Legirion breathes a disappointed sound, watching his arrow fly
astray and hitting the ground without purchase of yrch blood. He draws another
arrow from his quiver, lifting his voice in song to encourage the other archers
as he nocks it. Drawing the bow and arrow, he takes aim on the same orch he had
fired upon before. Do not miss twice, he admonishes himself, as he sings the
praises of the Lorien host's cause. Firing, he watches the arrow arc high, then
descend quickly towards his target. He prays for success.
From
the South, Pain overwhelms Tarasiriel
as a yrch arrow buries itself in her side. It takes a moment for her vision to
swim back into focus. Biting her lip, she tries to ignore the pain, and with a shaky
hand, she reaches for an arrow and nocks it to her bow. Taking a moment to
steady her aim, she singles out her target, draws the bowstring, and lets the
cerulean-fletched shaft fly.
From
the South, Maegnas launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Burzdug, badly wounding him.
From
the South, Galindrion says in Sindarin, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>"By Elbereth, By the Lady, by all powers of good in Arda may my
arrow send you to your doom in the pits of hell!"<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>"
Jhrog
attacks Haldir with his Club, but he misses by a handspan.
C'zoth
circles back again after last attack, pleased at the taste of blood his
Scimitar is getting. He roars again,"<uruk>For the Flame!" Then
with his scimitar above his head, he swings with all his might at the Elf's
legs, hoping to lop then off.
From
the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
Burzdug
collapses to the ground, defeated by Tarasiriel!
Burzdug's
weapon "Scimitar" falls to the ground...
The
bowshot hits Burzdug, fatally wounding him.
From
the South, Once assured her mellon is relatively well, in spite of the 2
arrows, she again lets loose an arrow, trying to take out one of the worst - or
best - enemy archers. Mithryn fires at Mauhur once more...
Mauhur
+shouts, "Mauhur's eyes flicker towards the combined force of the Morians
and his blade-wielding kin. Indeed, from that direction few black shafts rise
to meet those elven ones from the south. Mauhur's Raven archers have been
effective indeed, but perhaps he cares little for them now becomming the center
of attention, himself having felt the sting of two darts already. Scowling, he
tosses the bow aside and produces an axe. It is not the same half-serrated axe
he's been known to carry, but perhaps this other simple affair will do, with
the spike on the back of the head and a simple crushing wedge for the head. A
keening cry he gives, and two-score great bows are stowed, the black flights of
arrows from the Fighting Uruk-Hai halted as they leap into runs, these all
scouts among their folk, and swift runners indeed. Aside from their Captain,
they carry short, wide blades, manuverable in close quarters, and devastating
in their quick chops. These now move swiftly, un-impeded by the other elves
locked in combat with the other orcs, and so they advance like a flight of
carrion birds towards their foe"
From
the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Mauhur, lightly wounding him.
From
the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Zoglaaz, mildly wounding him.
From
the South,
Another volley called, and Tathren nocks an
arrow, letting fly without hesitation.
From
the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Mithryn's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Karathorn curses as he misses yet again thought as his atended
target finds it way on a dead Mallorn tree and smiles, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>"
Glindorel
+shouts, "The Banneret of Lorien swoons as the blast of breath catches him
full in the face, yet hops back, the hammer of Mugruk finding little of his
flesh, yet enough to bring forth a grunt of pain even so. he utter as he again
swings his blade toward Mugruk, it heading full for his chest. His blade sings
silver in a blinding arc."
From
the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits M'giddo, lightly wounding him.
From
the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Tathren's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
From
the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
The
bowshot hits Zoglaaz, moderately wounding him.
Mauhur
abadons the main path, and works his way southwards...
From
the South, Mauhur comes towards you from the northern foothills.
Mauhur
has left.
From
the South, Mauhur has arrived.
From
the South, Sajara nocks another bow, his first two wounds starting to go numb
as his mind returns to his duty at hand. Once more as per his training, he lets
an arrow into the air.
C'zoth
attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by an arm's length.
Glindorel
+shouts, "The Banneret of Lorien swoons as the blast of breath catches him
full in the face, yet hops back, the hammer of Mugruk finding little of his
flesh, yet enough to bring forth a grunt of pain even so. "Elbereth!
Gilthoniel!" he cries as he again swings his blade toward Mugruk, it
heading full for his chest. His blade sings silver in a blinding arc."
Glindorel
yells out a cry to Elbereth. His suddenly looks taller, more formidable,
stronger...
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.
From
the South, Out of the bow of Zoglaaz an arrow fires for Erynbrant's heart but
being watchful and swift he throws himself out of the way of the heavy bolt
fired at him. Its barbed tips do indeed connect though, but tearing lightly at
his flesh.
From
the South,
Beside Tarasiriel, Earil-Nioldor lays
wounded, pierced by a number of orcish arrows. Quickly slinging her bow over
her shoulder, she hurries over to the squire and helps him to get to the Field
Hospital (pose out).
M'giddo
has yet to do anything even remotely resembling charging the orcs, still
dealing with the leaking hole in his arm. Now another arrow hits him, in the
leg. He sighs, curses a lot, and moves to extract it, hopefully with more
success than the last tone.
M'giddo
carefully removes an arrow from himself...
With
orcs falling around him from arrows and swords, Blak's grin starts to
dissapate. As the orc next to him is given a bad cut from the elf they are both
attacking, Blak just screams, "Stand still you pansy so bash in your
brain!" With that, he swings his mace high, and though the elf is much
taller than him, tries to smash it into Morandil's face.
Blak
attacks Morandil with his Mace and badly wounds him!
A
jeering laugh escapes the lips of the lightfooted Herald as he withdraws his
darkly-stained blade from Zig's gut and simply sidesteps the counterattack.
Swinging his shield in once more to deflect the second blow almost casually, he
remains intent upon his first and now wounded target. The air singing with its
passage, Anseregurth leaps forth once more as if posessing a life itself in its
quest for blood...
The
arrows pour forth and Glynnis attacks once more, yet Magog escapes unharmed,
truly blessed perhaps, here just to the East of the Moutain. Nodding his head
slightly to the side, the King growls, "The Redhorn is so named because
elven blood has stained it. And there is more to come..." Both a threat
and a promise. As if felling a tree, Magog's next stroke emerges regular and
methodical, but also ferocious. Towards Glynnis' thighs it zooms, hoping to
smash through both flesh and bone.
From
the South, Cursing the scratch Erybrant snatches an arrow from the ground on
which he flung himself firing again at the orc who he has now draw the
attention of
Magog
attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe and severely wounds her!
From
the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Erynbrant's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Erinstar
attacks Zig with his Longsword, but Zig parries the attack with his Mace!
The runt's nobby nose now digs its way full
into his sinuses, a rotund mole squirming into its burrow with flabby fat feat.
The meat of Bozblot's shield arm is sundered from its bonebraces, and the
shield flops to the ground. The wide, dimpled disc of the symbal shield is
quick to fill with blood, as Bozblot's arm urps its syrup into it.
The
hunter steps aside the elf's sword as he makes a daring move. The uruk spins to
his left, leaving his left side open to attack but he gets great amounts of
momentum with his war hammer as it comes around. The hammer is aimed at the
side of the elf's head as he shouts, "Die now!"
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and badly wounds him!
Morandil's
strike finds cruel orch flesh, and his bright sword cuts as sight swathe
through his enemies. Speed, blinding speed; but it is not enough to evade the
mace of one foe, Blak. Aimed for Morandil's face, the blow instead finds his
shoulder, and the elf gasps in pain. He is weary, but he will not back down,
and he aims a retaliatory strike...
Morandil
attacks C'zoth with his Longsword and fatally wounds him!
From
the South, Aglahad gives pause as the hordes of reinforcements arrive to
bolster the orc attack. He turns to the archers and signals back to the wood.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
M'giddo
fails in this effort, and lets out a vegetation-charring oath as he pulls out
the arrow, a few bits of flesh still attached.
Once
again, Zig's mace is unsuccesful and he finds himself on the defensive,
parrying Erinstar's attack again. Without hesitation, he brings his mace in
close and then guides it to the air, bringing it down in a wide, swift arc for
Erinstar's torso.
Zig
attacks Erinstar with his Mace and moderately wounds him!
Tuoak
+shouts, "And in reply comes Smiter! The axe has tasted no blood so far,
yet nothing will keep it away for long. Tuoak sweeps the axe around in another
wide circle toward the legs of Erinstar, again trying to buffet the elf out of
the way so that his axe will feast on the tender flesh beyond..Glory to the
flame."
"Game! GAME!" The eagle seems to
squak in a half crazed manner. His eyes locked upon the stone frame before him,
paying no heed to the other rumbleing stone mountain approaching behind him.
Takeing a few hops back, and ducking a number of stray arrows, the Eagle takes
another glided attack swoop, his right wing crinked in one place where it
appeares to be broken. The one majestic creature is now wrougth to the land,
his advantage slain. His sharp talons lash out in a wiched kick, this time at a
lower region of the Olog. Just below his stomach, in the 'junk' as some call
it. The fiery hate sparked in the birds eyes as he strikes with pasion.
Rhofalneth
attacks Jhrog with his Eagle Claws, but he misses by a mile.
From
the South, Maegnas turns to his leader and says "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>" he nocks an arrow and stands ready.
Tuoak
attacks Erinstar with his Axe and moderately wounds him!
An
enemy unseen and unkown strikes Burzdug down, his back a target for
whiteskinned cowards who never dare to come face to face with a foe. Two arrows
complete the quartet that send Burzdug pitching forward into the bloody mud,
his scimitar flying forward out of his grasp as he collapses and sinks into
darkness, hand outstretched and ambiguous in its reaching for or warding away
the grasp of the Flame.
Glynnis
cries out as the blade bites deep into her thigh, almost stumbling to her knees
from the force of the blow. Red blood flows freely from the wound as she rights
herself again, ear cocked to the call of the archers. She grits her teeth and
takes a final swing, trying to drive her enemy back to give her enoug h room to
move away.
The
sounds of battle engaged reach the ears of the returning Hai long before she
spot the actual engagement. Picking her pace up to a run she charges with some
of the scouts who were off when the battle broke out. Bloodlust lashes her eyes
and the mace Fleasheater is in her hands. Scanning the battle lines for
weakness she picks a spot and makes for it like the wind. As she nears she
begins to bellow a scream from the very depths of her soul. Depths from where
pure evil is spawned and sent forth to the bidding of the Balrog.
From
the South, Varya agrees with Maegnas, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
He then nocks an arrow.
Zoglaaz
tries to regroup some of the scattered, dazed Uruk archers. "Arrers, take
from the fallen!" he snarls, and as the snagas scavenge, he somehow succeeds
in nocking an arrow longer than he is tall, and gets a shot off..
Zoglaaz
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
From
the South, Legirion stands from his crouched position at the rocky ledge, cloak
streaming behind him and a few thin braids of hair whipped and thrashed by the
wind. Hearing the order, he nocks another arrow, aiming again on the orch
nearing their location. He'll get in another shot. Taking a step back, his
bowstring twangs as he looses the arrow, arcing down through the air and
descending with a flash of silver.
From
the South,
Tathren turns in alarm, backing off the ridge
in reply to her Champion's cry. Then she pauses, draws her bow, and fires one
last time into the battle below.
$r $r 'Needles, Pins, Needles Pins' $r $r
Bozblot's glistening inscisors creep out from under his hooding lips, and part.
The jailor cleaves again at Morandir's ankle, but this time only for leverage.
Strands of mud and crud and thalophyte bridge the widening gap between his
opposing fang-tips' tips... Bozblot bites...
From
the South, Legirion launches an arrow...
From
the South,
Legirion's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Bozblot
attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.
From
the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes!
An arrow!
From
the South,
Tathren's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Whew...the
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Blak's
smile returns as he actually hits his opponent. He doesn't even seem to notcie
the cruel wound given to an orc nearby by Morandil, but instead moves forward
to attack attack. "You not so pretty," Blak taunts, "once I give
you a face like mine." He distorts his already screwed up face into a picture
of disgust, as the twisted eyebrows, nose and lips deform. Along with this, he
also attacks, swinging his mace low, trying to knock the elf off his feet.
Blak
attacks Morandil with his Mace, but Morandil parries the attack with his
Longsword!
Glynnis
tries to flee from Magog, but she fails!
From
the South, The elleth, Mithryn, passes on the signal to flee and especially
makes sure the healer Merilwen is getting Sajara to safety. Keeping her
position, feet set wide apart, bowstring to cheek,, in the face of the
onslaught for just awhile longer, she sees Mauhur getting closer and sights
directly at his head.
From
the South, Karathorn says in Sindarin, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>"I will not let my commander fall to save
me."<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
From
the South, Mithryn launches an arrow...
From
the South,
Mithryn's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Taking
advantage of a brief lull as the massive troll takes his time to look at the
elf and eagle in turn (how long does it take to turn that barrel of a head
anyway?), Haldir takes a second to glance at what's left of the melee line. He
hears the command to archers to fall back coming from behind him, and bellows a
command of his own, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>". Just then, an
elven scream drowns out his last word, and he leaps toward Glynnis and her foe,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" He stabs at the orch king as soon
as he's close enough to reach him.
From
the South, The knight-bachellor Sajara hits one of the orch that looks
strangely familiar but way too close for comfort. He remembes what happened to
him last time and he looks to the others. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SPEECH>" At first he doesn't move, but suddenly Merilwen grabs him by
the arm and points to other yrch who are coming their way. The two members of
the order begin getting cut off from the south as they make their way west. He
nods and follows after the elf maiden, frowning...Eventually they are lost in
the folliage, their passage south blocked.
Haldir
attacks Magog with his Longsword, but Magog parries the attack with his Battle
Axe!
From
the South, Maegnas fires his arrow at the orch newcomer towords
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
From
the South, Karathorn launches an arrow...
Glindorel
+shouts, "A healthy grunt of pain escapes Glindorel's lips as Mugruk's
hammer glances off the side of his face. A cut begins to seep blood, yet he
simply ignores it. "Get back to your hole," he suggests, his sword
sweeping across the chest of his foe in an attempt to create space between
himself and Mugruk ere he retreats southward at the call of the
Commander."
From
the South, Galindrion does not waver in the face of the approach. He stands,
fire upon his eyes and light exploding from his chest with his bow level and
steady, aimed at the approaching Orc. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
he screams over the din of the battle, before pulling the string and loosing
the arrow. Another is upon the string before the first hits.
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
From
the South, Seeing Mauhur come near him, he aims at his heart!
One foe
has run, another reels before him; Morandil is righteous fury personified.
Warding aside blows, the knight of Lorien will not be resisted. His sword sings
through the air, aimed at Bozblot's neck...
From
the South, Varya launches an arrow...
Morandil
attacks Bozblot with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
From
the South, Maegnas launches an arrow...
From
the South, Galindrion launches an arrow...
From
the South, Sweeping from the northwest appear two-score orcs, moving with fleet
strides to cover the distance between the two, these have abandoned their
archery, fell as it was and now carry blade and shield. Tall are they, and
lithely built, scouts and skirmishers among their kind, and now they fulfill
their roll, rushing to flank the positions of elven archers and either set them
to flight or stain the grass with their blood. No mercy shines in those
eighty-odd eyes, crimson and yellow both, they flash with death.
So too
does their Captain keep pace, shorter and wider than the rest, but seeming to
lack no speed..on they come, not even bothering to zigzag, trusting on their
speed to close ere the archers can adjust to the lesser range of their new
targets. Mauhur's lip curls in a sneer, for already they have succeeded, some
elves run, and others take pressure off the rest of the orcs that do battle to
the north in order to shoot futily at the Uruk-Hai that bear down upon them
As
C'zoth strikes out at his foes legs with all his might, the elf sidesteps and
C'zoth misses. The elf then pivots, and striking down with force with his
longsword, connects with the back of C'zoth's thighs. The orc cries out in
pain, then falls to his knees, using his last strength to tuck his scimitar
into the folds of his robes, then he coughs up a bit of his own blood, then
falls on his face, not moving.
"You
are between me and my home. I will drive you straight into the cookpots of the
Flame!" Magog taunts with great fervour, his blade finally having struck
true. "You have nowhere to go and no legs to stand on, I am still
fresh." The Lord of Moria's eyes gleam bright, for the kill is sensed. His
axe is checked by Haldir's sword, but not for long enough. A kill stroke is
mustered and Magog screams forth, "I am victory! I am invincible. Run if
you wish to live, elflings, for this is my land!" An angry strike seeks
what is hopefully easy meat, Glynnis' legs a target once more as Magog exposes
himself to Haldir's counterstrike without any defensive countermeasures.
as she
runs she spots her king and moves to be near him and join him in battle. The
memory of the last battle flood her mind and drive her to rage. Racing over the
landscape she draws near and readies to join his attack. To battle together Yes
this is the glory of battle.
From
the South, Maegnas turns towards the south, away from the oncomeing slaughter
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" He readys one last arrow
From
the South, Maegnas launches an arrow...
From
the South, Erynbrant Yelps in pain at Zoglaaz's arrow penitrating deeply into
his leg, destroying his concentration. Slamming him to the ground. Where he can
do no more save attempt to limp away.
The elf
is no longer present, it dodges nimbly around the troll's great club then takes
flight. Not even bothering to see where the rodent runs, the great troll twists
about to fully face his feathered foe. Now grounded, it's wing broken, the
troll knows it's meal is all but assured. Licking it's cracked lips with a
black, slimey tongue, the troll lumbers fowards with it's club held high above
it's head in both hands. Then as the eagle again attacks, the troll twists
aside, and swings with all his might at the back/side area of the bird's head.
Back
the Man steps, turning aside from the spear-thrust such that it merely slices a
ribbon of leather from his hauberk -- yet, it is that step which proves to be
his undoing. For another foe is come forth from behind now, and it is into his
blow that Celebdur retreats!
And the
pitiless mace lands upon the half-turned Ranger's chest -- accompanied by the
sound of bone cracking -- to send him hurtling back and to the ground upon his
knees with a choked hiss of pain.
Jhrog
attacks Rhofalneth with his Club and badly wounds him!
Blak
finally notices the orcs around him are being badly damaged by the elf's
longsword. He pauses a moment, perhaps considering whether it is wise to keep
attacking, but seeing and hearing the mass of uruks still around him, still
attacking the elvish defenders, Blak fights on. He swings his mace high once
more, aiming for the shoulder that he has already hit once.
Blak
attacks Morandil with his Mace, but Morandil parries the attack with his
shield!
From
the South, Seeing his arrow strike Mithryn, Varya decides that he doesn't have
enought training, he slings his arrow over his shoulder, and dashes south.
"Ugghhh!' The Hunter lets out another
pained huff of air as the elf's blade slashes across his chest. Mugruk will
need new armor after this but that is not his worry now. The hunter simply
tries to smash the elf's kneecap with his hammer an prevent him running away.
From
the South, Yelping in pain as a silver arrow lodges into his right shoulder,
Galindrion shakes his head and curses the bad luck. He raises his bow again,
seeking to hit the vile creature who stands close to him.
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer, but Glindorel parries the attack with
his Longsword!
From
the South, Legirion breaths out another sound of disappointment, noting that
the minstrel truly cannot face such an adversary. However, as soon as this
thought crosses his mind, an arrow drives into his side. With a cry, he drops
to a knee, his hand clasping to the wound. With a pant of pain, he staggers to
his feet and stumbles backwards, shaking his head to clear it. Turning, he goes
to flee as commanded.
From
the South, Mithryn gets hit twice in the back by friendly fire and she staggers
as one arrow comes clea through her shoulder and the other one sticks fast.
Magog
attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a mile.
From
the South, As his arrow hits another elf and an arrow burries deep with is his
chest. The Elf caughts up blood and run strugles toward safty.
The runt begins to protest squeakishly as the
razorline of Morandil's blade crawls across his throat, but soon all utterances
grow to gurgles, and sputtle fountains from Bozblot's adams apple. His loosened
neckskin proves to be little value as a valve, for after the runt's lungs empty
all their capacity, the night air rushes down his trachea in a high claronet's
whistle.
Bozblot grapples at his throat.
Glynnis
manages a desperate lunge out of the path of Magog's blow, rolling down the
mountain and taking what punishment the earth itself will deal rather than
leave herself to the tender mercies of the orcish axe.
Morandil
is a storm of steel and light; blood speckles his grey, and sweat beads his
pale brow. He deflects the orc Blak's strike with his shield, and does not
hesitate before answering; dark hammer will find a sharp blade in return, and
behind it, deadly intent...
Morandil
attacks Blak with his Longsword and severely wounds him!
From
the South, Trailing blood Erynbrant drags himself away in to the forest, with
the masive Orc arrow lodged above his knee.
Horvak
comes to a jarring stop right before the trio embattled in a life and death
struggle. The troll all but ignores the petty elves and focuses his attention
on the eagle ducking and diving on his fellow stone warrior. "Fight me,
feather brain. Fight me. I shall batter you limbs in bread crumbs and use many
spices upon you before I dine and lick my fingers from the meal you shall
provide." Horvak gestures violently toward the bird, "Fight
me!!"
Fending
himself tightly with his shield, Z'macht continues his vicious attack and
trounces onward, positioning himself over his fallen foe. He eyes the human
lying on the ground with hatred, wild jealously and the rage of battle
smouldering in his glowing eyes. "The Morghash fight as one," he
roars, pulling his mace back like some cruel anvil of Khazad-Dum. "And die
as one! Can you say the same for yourself? For on this day, man, you will meet
your maker!" The Talashakh sneers as he lets his blood-soaked weapon fall
towards Celebdur's head.
Z'macht
attacks Celebdur with his Mace and severely wounds him!
THe
Senior Guard watches with glee as his Talashakh's Mace finds its home in the
man's chest. Turning as the man falls, Huzghash lines himself up for another
stab at the man's body. "Now you feel the power of the FLAME!"
Invigorated by the presence of his boss, Huzghash stabs forward with his spear.
BLack blood still coarsing down his back, Huzghash winces as even his motions
begins yet he keeps his attack going.
You
attack Celebdur with your Spear...
Celebdur
parries your attack with his Longsword!
Glynnis
tries to flee from Magog, but she fails!
Glindorel
+shouts, "Once again, metal clangs loudly across the field of battle as
blade meets hammer. Glindorel swings his sword to parry Mugruk's attempt at
debilitating him further. "Does it not hurt?" he questions, his voice
not so fair as it was when first this scene of war began. "Celebrist has
no love for your lot. Feel its sting now." And with that he brings the sword
upward to gut his foe."
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
Haldir
strikes again, at the exposed side of the orc, but too late to stop the cruel
steel of the axe. He steps forward with his right foot and, with all strengh of
his arm, swings the sword, from the right, down and across the King's shoulder.
Haldir
attacks Magog with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!
From
the South,
Turning her bow on the invading Mauhur,
Tathren fires off a last desparate arrow to cover the retreat of her fellows,
then turns away herself.
From
the South, Tathren launches an arrow...
The
elvish sword bites into Blak's middle, and he stumbles back as black blood
pours out from the wound. A loud cry of pain comes from his misformed lips, and
is followed by more blood. His wonky legs seeming unable to hold him anymore,
Blak almost collapses to the ground, only just remaining on his feet, and
taking a few small steps away from the large elven warrior.
With a thunder
of hooves, a grey horse presses itself into the fray. Its rider bears himself a
blade that seems to shine with light, and wears the mein of a Man of the eldest
kin. His eyes are grey, and his face filled with wrath. The force of his mount
presses the man and his beast toward Haldir, whom of all he recognizes in the
tumult.
Seemingly
in slow motion the distance between her and her king falls and she is near
enough to join the attack. Planting her lead foot solidly she leverages her
body to capture the momentum and heaves her mace wickedly towards her
foe"Death to those who oppose the might of the mountain" She guides
the mace head towards the shoulder of her chosen prey.
From
the South, Glynnis finally manages to control her roll, sliding to a stop as
scree and dirt rush past her. She lifts her head wearily, trying to orient
herself.
The runt's eyehoods sheet most of his eyes,
for Bozblot's vision blackens; running on fumes. The jailor tries to pick and
pull himself upright, toeing at random flesh madly with his Scimitar's tooth.
Bozblot jabs at Morandir's legmeats one last time...
Burzdug
+shouts, "
A surge
of Morian guards pushes forward around Huzghash, their cheers lifting high into
the air. "For the Flame! For the King! For Moria!" The surge pushes
forward with a vengeance, maces and cudgels landing with heavy thuds on the
pale flesh of the Children of Iluvatar. The Guards take as good as they give,
the blood of elf and orc mingling in air and pooling on the ground. The clang
of blades rings like an unholy forge, punctuated from time to time by the
fleshy thud of the butchery taking place on the front line where orc and elf
make war.
"
From
the South, From North, Burzdug's +shout echos.
Aragorn's
sword shines with a cold light.
From
the South, Mauhur watches with terrible glee as the elves fail to adjust
appropriately for just how close the Uruk-Hai are upon them and many of the
shafts that might have whizzed by or struck orc flesh strike friend in the back
instead. Roaring with hideous delite, the Raven clanners of the Fighting
Uruk-Hai leap upon their prey. Blades flash in the night, fanged maws agape,
claws rip and steel bites.
Their
Captain will not be outdone by any of his taller lads, nay, he in the forfront
with axe held low, to keep his arm out of the path of arrows, and as elf shapes
loom in the darkness, he lets out a roar in fairly good westron, "Know
that the Fighting Uruk-Hai are upon you, and feel fear!" and with that his
left claw seeks to drive the points of his steel gauntlets into the chest of an
elf whose hurried bowshot sends an arrow hissing past his neck, nicking it as
it goes, seeking to halt her escape and around comes the axe and low, meaning
to catch the offending archer in the side of the knee and sever tendon and
cartilage alike in a limb-severing blow
Bozblot
attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.
"You
have to hit me for it to hurt elf." The hunter grins at the elf as he
steps aside his blade. With a snarl he leaps at the elf, swinging his war
hammer madly at the belly of the elf for an attack that would cause great deep
tissue dammage.
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer, but he misses by a handspan.
From
the South, Tathren's bow is knocked out of her hand!
For the
first time, Magog is marked by his own blood, for Haldir's terrible blade rips
into his shoulder. "You," Magog snarls in recognition as he truly
realizes just who it is who faces him. "Flee. The battlefield is ours and
we will return to the mountain safely." The Gothshaka's bends down
slightly, smarting from the pain, but this is just a ruse - his axe comes forth
lightning quick in the direction of Haldir's shins. "Stay here so we can
slaughter your archers," Magog taunts.
Magog
attacks Haldir with his Battle Axe, but Haldir parries the attack with his
shield!
Spinning,
dodging, and never stopping for breath, Morandil does not give his enemies a
chance to regroup. The elven knight continues his assault, slashing hard at his
original foe, Bozblot. The sword-strike is quicker than lightning, and aimed at
the orch's throat.
Bozblot
collapses to the ground, defeated by Morandil!
Bozblot's
weapon "Scimitar" falls to the ground...
From
the South, Galindrion zips an arrow from his quiver to the bow, pointed
fiercely towards the orc who stands so close to him amidst the fury of this
battle. He aims quickly and looses its deadly gray shaft towards the eyes,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
Galindrion's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
But the
Man wastes no breath -- precious little that remains to him -- in bandying
words with the night-beasts. Wounded as he is, kneeling upon the ground, up his
blade swings to meet Huzghash's spear and drive it aside.
And
again -- yet again -- giving his attention to the lesser orc proves to be his
undoing. For the mace falls upon his head now, and he raises a gauntleted hand
in defence; a poor one at best, for leather is little proof against steel. And
thus, he is thrown to the ground, cradling a broken arm.
Chuok
grins as the foe is no longer a threat and glances to the king and then moves
on. She halts and then picks out a near favorite of hers and she spots the
guard Bozblot and turns to his aid. She charges and pulls her mace high and
swings to his head. Screaming as a blow seemingly fells his she yells "Die
Maggot"
Chuok
attacks Morandil with her Mace and moderately wounds him!
Overconfidence
proves Erinstar's undoing, as ever - His attack too precariously placed, he
finds himself unable to slow his momentum in time to dodge either of the
vengeful blows aimed towards him. A spray of blood accompanies the unpleasant
thudding of the mace-head as it buries itself into his stomach, and the Herald
gasps at the abrupt jolt of pain. Only as he staggers back, the second swing
finds mark in his thigh, searing a hefty gash upon the fair elven flesh there
and elliciting a violent curse from the besieged Herald. Haldir's barked orders
are met with a snarl, though the Guardsman complies, edging back slowly towards
the archers as he fights. Spitting blood, the Herald beseeches the sky,
"Ah Elbereth...", and feints once more with his darkened blade.
Erinstar
yells out a cry to Elbereth. His suddenly looks taller, more formidable,
stronger...
From
the South, Mithryn turns and starts south, back towards the safety of Lorien,
but finds the way blocked. A glance around and she sights Sajara and Merilwen.
Turning, she sprints after them. Seeing the Indiri fall she almost turns back,
but she sees other edhel coming to her rescue. Just then an orch starts chasing
after her with axe raised high and Mithryn just runs...
From
the South, Mithryn heads westward, along the northern edge of the forest.
From
the South, Mithryn has left.
Erinstar
attacks Zig with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Snarling
like a cornered Warg, Z'macht slobbers and spits, wild foam flinging from side
to side, falling, finally, to the bloodsoaked battlefield. "Indeed!"
he roars, "Your bones will split upon my mace like so many matchsticks!"
Starlight glimmers on the beast's weapon as he brings it skyward. Woosh! Down
it comes again, furiously howling through the battletorn air. "Know the
wrath of the Morghash, man of the Earth!"
Z'macht
attacks Celebdur with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.
"FOR
THE FLAME!" Huzghash yells away his pain as a surge of Guard surround him,
protecting him slightly from any other elves that would dare approach himself
and his Talashakh. Huzghash crouches again as he watches Z'macht mace crash
hard into the humans arm. "Feel our wrath! The wrath of MOrghash!"
Huzghash stabs out hard with his spear, making to skewer the human in his
chest.
You
attack Celebdur with your Spear...
Celebdur
dodges your attack.
Tuoak
points toward Erinstar with his axe and growls, "Yes. Pray to your god.
You will fall. My axe seeks one more worthy." With this he turns quickly
and ducks back into the flow of battle, his axe hewing its way through all that
would stand in his way. Making his way toward where Glindorel fights with
another one of his kin..
Glindorel
+shouts, "He simply sneers, does Glindorel, as the sweeping attack of
Mugruk finds nothing but empty air. As the orc blows past him, he himself
raises his sword. As it rushes down toward the skull of the orc, he murmurs,
"May those be the last words you ever speak. You die.""
His
exuberance in hitting Erinstar is the undoing of Zig as the cold elven steel
penetrates his skin. His red tongue lashes out and runs over his warped lips;
the mace coming back in a return strike toward Erinstar's torso.
Zig
attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but he misses by an arm's length.
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.
Blak
sees another orc fall to the blade of Morandil, and with a scared look on his
face, turns around as though to run away. However, the charge of Chuok seems to
give him heart, and she both attacks and hits the elf. Taking a cautious step
forward to once more face Mornadil, Blak swings his mace towards the elf,
though it lacks the force that his blows normally have.
Blak
attacks Morandil with his Mace, but he misses by an arm's length.
From
the South,
Mithryn
dodges aside Aglahad, and manages to escape!
From
the South,
The axe bites deep into Tathren's thigh, and
she falls headlong, her bow clattering to the ground beyond her outstretched
hands. Getting to her knees, her hand flies to her dagger, then falls away as
she begins scuttling to the west, limping badly and as she looks back but once.
The giant bird, standing as tall as his
foe, nearly topples as the Troll dodges his attack. Unable to gain his footing,
Rhofalneth falls prey to yet another blow from the Olog, this one sending the
entire mass of the Eagle hurdling off a few yards, his wings crumpling under
him as he hits the ground, and slides to a stop. Orcish bodies spring forward,
beating at the broken bird with foul tools of their own make. The Elven call
for retreat being heard by most, save perhaps, the Northerner. As he lays still
and silent. Blood gushes from his wing and the side of his face, just above his
beak. The once golden suit of armor that was his chest, is now a dirt staved
mess of feather and blood. The Great Northern Eagle, brought from his home in
the winds, to hunt, has become the hunted. The prey, the hunter...
His feathered body still moves as raspy
breaths are wheezed in through his beak. His wings lay as such; one stretched
out, broken and bloody, the other folded under him, its condition untold. The
foul bodies of Uruk jump forward, nearly blotting out the grounded eagle from
view, but they scatter as they see who the aggressor really is.
From
the South, Glynnis pulls herself wearily to her feet, looking about at the
battle. She holds her sword at the ready, backing away towards the edge of the
forest and calling again for retreat in her language.
Tathren
tries to flee from Mauhur, but she fails!
Mugruk
snarls as he misses the elf. The words of the elf ring in his ears as the elf
misses also. "No I don't." The hunter takes a sideways swing at the
elf's hip again, this time the point of his hammer directed at the elf's
bowels.
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer, but Glindorel parries the attack with
his shield!
From
the South, Glynnis notices the trapped bowman's failure to flee from the enemy,
and moves to her defense, limping and waving her sword threateningly to try and
portray a larger, more threatening target.
Bozblot's skull canoes open, and red-sauced
nodish noodles steam up from within. Living his entire wretched life out bald,
the runtish jailor dons the creamy curly locks he'd always wanted.. only in
death. The runtorc slumps in joint-harried inclements, finally folding to the
floor.
With
the spead of Haldir's attack, he did not charge in unprepared, and the shield
is brought in the path of the axe in the nick of time. THUD-d-d-d-d, the sturdy
leather shield creaks and whines, but holds. Haldir's own Westron is one skill
he would concede advantage to Magog without much argument,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>", he stretches the words, singing
them in the manner of his own speach, and the sword lashes out once again.
Haldir
attacks Magog with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.
With
the spead of Haldir's attack, he did not charge in unprepared, and the shield
is brought in the path of the axe in the nick of time. THUD-d-d-d-d, the sturdy
leather shield creaks and whines, but holds. Haldir's own Westron is one skill
he would concede advantage to Magog without much argument, "Go-o .. ba-ack
.. to-o .. ca-aves!", he stretches the words, singing them in the manner
of his own speach, and the sword lashes out once again.
Yet,
this once fate, at long last, favours the Man -- back he stumbles, the mace and
spear cleaving the air scant inches from him. Blood staining his lips, his
breathing a laboured effort, he seeks to retreat in the midst of the starlit
elves.
And
yet, the blade is ever clutched firmly in his unbroken hand.
Horvak
glares in disgust as it appears the elf threat has siddled has fled from the
troll. Now only the stone warrior fight an eagle and the battle looks to be
well at hand. Horvak grunts and scans the battlefield for a more worthy
opponent. A short distance away the troll notices a stalwart elf greviously
wounding elves all about him. The huge troll lopes forward to engage the elven
hero. "Moria! Moria!"
From
the South, Cursing his failing luck and the failing battle of his kindred, the
fire in Galindrion burns hotter - his hands now glowing with a red hue as the
blue and green of his eyes pierces the night. He fits another arrow and swiftly
looses it upon the orc. The friendly silver arrow jutting from his right
shoulder seems to slow his hand but little. Refusing to flee before the
creature he fits another to the string before the first finds a mark.
Celebdur
tries to flee from Huzghash, but he fails!
Even as
Haldir's swordstroke fails, a new smell fills the air. It is horseflesh! The
charge of the Dunedain rolls upon the two, and Aragorn's foaming mount rushes
upon Magog himself. The Dunadan smites with his own good sword, laying his blow
toward the great orc's head.
Aragorn
attacks Magog with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>" Morandil's voice is fair and soft in the cacophany of blood
and steel; it drips with disdain. And as the orc Blak strikes yet again, the
elf evades; but only just. He is not so fortunate, as Chuok's attack deals him
a glancing blow. His weariness is apparent, for he has been outnumbered the
entire battle. Yet his courage, and his fury, are not abated. The knight of
Lorien retaliates, slashing at Blak's torso...
Morandil
attacks Blak with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.
Burzdug
+shouts, "
Along
the line of the melee, a scene repeated over and over: A squat uruk Guard
rushes into a pair of elven sword-toters, swinging his scimitar in a circle
aboveh is head. His fury foams in spittle and snot down his face as he yells a
wild, uncouth, and incomprehensible oath. The scimitar tears open one of the
elves, a gash running splitting the whiteskin's chest open like a melon. The
attack, though, leaves the uruk guard open to the blade that darts down and
deep into the lower back, bringing the orc to his knees. Before a second blade
can stick in, a second uruk steps in, mace crushing hard on the forearm of the
stabbing elf. The *SNAP* of an arm breaking sends the elf staggering back.
"
Glindorel
+shouts, "Glindorel lowers his shield in response to the orc's swing,
grunting as contact is made. "Yes you do," he utters, cursing the
name of orcs and all their like, and sighs heavily as he exerts much energy
into his swing made upon Mugruk's person."
Glindorel
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword, but Mugruk parries the attack with his War
Hammer!
Tuoak
+shouts, "And now the battle opens up before him! Tuoak's loping stride
takes him through the open place and over the bodies that lie underfoot. Elves
and orcs with eyes that stare forever at stares both loved and hated. Foes and
freinds that sleep in the sleep of death. The shaman's robes brush over their
faces as his strides take him toward the one that seems almost to dance as he
fights, a flickering light before Tuoak's hating eyes. And he steps forward
with a cry of, "Flame!" and a sweeping scourge toward Glindorel's
side."
Tuoak
attacks Glindorel with his Axe and lightly wounds him!
The
spindly form of a wiry uruk flits silently from behind the main host, wielding
a thick, run encrusted bow. An arrow is swiftly nocked to the weapon, ready to
slay it's foe. The string is pulled tight to the Malghruk's chin as his aim is
carefully chosen, naming a scurrying elf.
Malghruk
swiftly ties the leather straps of a dingy jerkin of Tanned Spider Hide about
his serpentine body.
The Senior
Guard moves quickly, rather, quicker than the man and blocks off his escape
route. Sneering the orc says, "Feed the flame you will! And me!" He
chuckles slightly as he finishes and lets his spear arm dart out towards the
man. Putting his weight behind the stab, Huzghash steps forward slightly to
gain some needed momentum. Finally, the spear tip shoots forth atop its staff
of wood and aims for the mains chest.
You
attack Celebdur with your Spear...
Celebdur
dodges your attack.
Malghruk
slings a thick, black bow from his back in a fluid, snake like motion. Seconds
pass before a black barb is nocked in place, ready to be launched with acute
precision from the wiry uruk's weapon.
From
the South,
To Tathren he goes, blade in hand, fey
creature of the the West. Aglahad, Veteran of the Order, valiant hero of a
hundred battles, goes to his Indiri's aid. As his own former Protector vainly
attempts to distract the hulking Uruk-Hai, Aglahad is even more so determined
to sacrifice a bit of his own life to save the pair. "Flee, both of you! I
shall hold the enemy off for a while!!! Glynnis, Tathren...flee for the
forest!" With his sword, he swings strongly at Mauhur now, cold steel
arcing towards tough armor, aiming for anything in that dark mass.
Bitter
and enraged at his failed attack, Z'macht once again heaves his weapon upwards,
trying to steady his opponent with his left claw while attacking (hammering!)
with his right. "You will not escape me, worm... Try as you may... Look
upon the face of your God and rejoice.. you will soon sit at his side!"
The chieftain's fell voice is a cacophonous blend of reckless abandon and lust
for manflesh.
Magog's
eyes glance longingly in the direction of home for but a moment. With awe he
notices the Olog-hai embarking into action, getting ready to destroy. But all
this passes as the orc is rapped on the head by the Dunadan's blade. A
killstroke, one would think, but Magog shakes his head and sets his jaw square.
Wheeling half about, he blinks rapidly in shock before grunting,
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" The King's axe barely moves forward
as he flicks it at Haldir. One eye on elf, one eye on man on mount. Fancy that,
an orc outnumbered amidst his own army.
Z'macht
attacks Celebdur with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.
Magog
attacks Haldir with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds him!
The
fire in his eyes rekindled by his rage, Erinstar rebounds against the easily
parried mace with a swift lunge of his own, aiming to disembowel the orch with
a single swipe of his gleaming blade. He does not pause to view his success
however, instead charging past his harried foe uncaring, to the aid of the
fallen Ranger. No display of courage such as this is to go unanswered by the
Herald of Galadriel. Crying out angrily to the fiends who harry the dunedain,
he tries to draw their attentions once more to himself, "For Lorien!"
"I said No!" Mugruk grunts with the
effort of throwing off teh elf's attack. The hunter catches a fellow uruk
strike the elf and takes this oppertunity to press the advantage. HE swings his
hammer at the nect of the elf.
Erinstar
attacks Zig with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
Mugruk
attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and mortally wounds him!
Blak
shies away from the elven blade coming at him, only just managing to avoid it.
He takes a further step backwards, and looks to see the large troll nearby, and
coming closer. Blak's middle is still leaking blood, and the arrow stuck in his
shoulder, diminishes his ability to hold his shield upright. In response to
this, he starts to move away from the battle lines, having decided that those
orcs still alive are more than capable of taking the smaller number of elves
left. Every step causes his to wince though, as he moves away from the battle
lines.
Malghruk
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Indeed,
the orcs do scatter before the brutish troll. The foul beast is bloodied, it's
pelt torn and hanging in places, and it's mood vile. It's eyes glow with pure
hate, pure rage cross his features in waves. It's mouth is slightly ajar, drool
hanging from teeth in a manner befitting a hungry beast. Though battle rages
about, the troll is intent only on the source of his pain and potential meal.
Not even look to the other troll when it calls, the bloodied troll instead
approaches the fallen eagle at a steady pace. At it side, held firmly in a iron
grasp is the instrument of the eagle's destruction. As the bird twiches in
anguish, the troll raises his club up high. Staring the bird squarely in it's
intelligent eyes, the troll snarls the word, "Die!" Then flies
fowards and swings the club with all his might at the feathered breast of the
bird.
Blak
tries to flee from Morandil, but he fails!
From
the South, His strike true, there can be little help for the felled archer,
surely she cannot outrun this Uruk Captain with one leg, so he moves swiftly to
overtake her hobbled escape, and the axe rises for the killing blow, but
suddenly a blade flashes in his periphery and Mauhur pivots away awkwardly from
Glynnis' blade. Still his sickly amber gaze flickers towards Tathren as if
trying to decide whether he can get away with slaughtering that elf before
dealing with the next.
It
seems he decides he cannot, and as his scouts seek to silence the rest of the
archers, blood is spilled. As big as they are, these beasts seem not used to
fighting foes on foot, and lightly armored at that, and for these fleet of foot
among the Raven clan, it is warefare to which they are suited.
To this
new foe Mauhur whirls, and his left gauntlet of blacksteel balls into a fist,
the bracer on his arm and the armored fist itself hammering down at the flat of
the blade, hoping to drive it earthward -though such a feat would be difficult
indeed- the axe flashes in a backhand, but past Glynnis flies the long spike on
the back of the head as Mauhur backpeddles at the last moment to avoid
Aglahad's sweeping blade, and so that long spike whips straight for Aglahad,
thrown off course by his hasty movements to avoid the new attack
Chuok
is fresh to the battle and she moves easily to avoid his attack. She glances
only briefly at the body of the fallen uruk and the gore that was his head.
Snarling, she lets out a ferrel sound and wheels about. Hate fills her eyes and
her body is a tense mass of muscle with only one thought blazing in her mind.
Kill. And that she hopes to do or at least extract some small piece of
vengeance. The mace slashes thought he air towards her knee.
Chuok
attacks Morandil with her Mace, but she misses by a handspan.
The
figure of a green-cloaked man might be seen upon the sideline of the battle,
glimmering sword in one hand and round shield held fast in the other. But his
ready appearance and grim visage may do little to hide the great bandage
wrapped about his right thigh, the leg lagging behind in a sizeable limp as he
makes what haste he may toward the fighting, a glint of grey eye betraying his
gaze as he searches for any sign of familiarity among the chaos.
Glindorel
+shouts, "'Oof!'
An axe
swings seemingly out of nowhere to catch Glindorel's flank. It glances off his
ringmail corslet, and causes him to stumble away... right into Mugruk's hammer.
It catches him square on the neck, and he falls to the ground, unconscious.
Blood seeps from beneath his helm and from the cut above his eye. Pure fate is
the only thing which could possibly save Glindorel now."
From
the South,
Creeping beneath the combined cover of
Glynnis and Aglahad, Tathren manages to find her feet, in time to be struck
through the arm by a black arrow. She utters a cry as blood soaks her arm, the
arrow still protruding as she makes another attempt to run.
His
mace gone astray again, Zig finds that yet again, he tastes the cold blade of
Erinstar. He open hand quickly shoots the the bleeding gash in his midsection.
He succumbs to pain and falls to his knees, an island in battle, he remains
still.
Tuoak
shrieks in rage and bloodlust as the elf falls before him. Smiter rises high
into the air, hanging for but a moment..
Then it
falls. Rushing down toward Glindorel's neck. To end the life of the dagger in
the side of the orcs and take a prize for his spike.
Malghruk deftly unslings the ebony bow,
Sun-Blighter. The spindly form of the wiry uruk flits silently from behind the
main host, wielding a thick, run encrusted bow. An arrow is swiftly nocked to
the weapon, ready to slay it's foe. The string is pulled tight to the
Malghruk's chin as his aim is carefully chosen, naming a scurrying elf.
But the
orcs are cunning in their bloodlust -- thus they hem in the Ranger, and he is
forced to turn at bay and face them again. And yet again, with stumbling steps
aided by skill and luck, he avoids their blows.
And yet
again, he seeks to draw back to safety -- for wounded as he is, surely he
cannot last much longer.
As Blak
attempts to run, Morandil must once more turn to a new and unblooded foe. He
dodges Chuok's attack, easily it seems, and brings his bloody sword up in
sardonic salute. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" Again the elf's
voice is soft and deadly; his counterattack is just as deadly, but hardly soft.
Morandil
attacks Chuok with his Longsword and badly wounds her!
Celebdur
dodges aside Huzghash, and manages to escape!
Celebdur
abadons the main path, and works his way southwards...
From
the South, Celebdur comes towards you from the northern foothills.
Celebdur
has left.
Gasping
for breath the troll is soon upon the elf, who also battles a group of orcs.
The troll recognizes the she-orc who often has trained him in the art of open
hand fighting. He roars, "He is mine! I shall feed on the brains of this
elf! He is mine! Be away orcs, be away from him." The troll holds his axe
high above his head and brings it down with great and deliberate strength
toward the skull of the elf.
Horvak
attacks Morandil with his Axe and terribly wounds him!
The hunter watches his opponent fall to the
ground. The fight is over and the last swing by the other uruk is not needed.
Mugruk stoops down over the elf's body. "I told you I would not die."
The uruk chuckles lowly and swings his war hammers spike down at the middle of
the efl's forehead, just to make sure he stays down.
Knocked
back by Magog's blow, Haldir staggers backwards, bringing up hissword for
belated defence and strugging to keep his footing. But the weak moan behind him
does not escape his ears, and he glances back, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>". He steps even farther back, before turning his back on Magog
and charging toward Glindorel and his foes.
Blak
takes one last look at the elf but the sight of him injuring another orc
propels him further away. His short, stubby legs only just seem able to carry
him as he runs, away from the battle, leaving it to the uruks still able to
fight.
Glindorel
+shouts, "The axe cuts deeply into Glindorel's neck, tainting the ground
with his blood yet again. No blood-curtling wail is offered in response, only
the sounds of the orcs which surround his lifeless body."
From
the South, Glynnis keeps the attention of the foul Uruk, securing Tathren's
retreat as she swings again at the big orc with her blade, eyes narrowed.
The
rider, Aragorn, turns his horse to join Haldir. But Haldir withdraws! And
between the Dunadan and the elf rises a towering pillar of steel and black
flesh. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" shouts Aragorn in the elder
tongue of the West. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" He spurs his
proud horse upon the beast, and slices upon the right hand of his saddle.
Aragorn
attacks Magog with his Longsword, but Magog parries the attack with his Battle
Axe!
Leaping
over a black rock, Haldir almost lands on top of Glindorel. Standing over his
fallen body, he harriedly bashes with the glowing sword at the orcs who beset
the banneret.
The
lordly figure of the mounted Dunadan, great and terrible upon his grey horse,
is quick to draw the eye of his newly-arrived kin. Toward Aragorn and Haldir
does Dinenin direct his course, belabored and uneven footsteps carrying him
through the carrion and the din. Catching a falling axe upon the rim of his
shield, he is quick to reply in deadly kind. An orc falls, cloven by ancient
steel, and the Ranger of the North resumes his trek.
Haldir
attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
The bloodied and broken bird, a sad sight
indeed. His once golden feathers, torn and bloodied by the hatred an malice of
trollish hunger. Lord of the Sky, now but a meal to a beast. The Trolls hammer
takes its swing, crushing the breast of Rhofalneth, and ending his suffering
and short breath. A lone bird, a sparrow it seems, perched upon a sagging
branch of a near by tree, takes flight. Letting out a sad song on his leave.
For this day a great Northern Eagle was destroyed. His life ended. No longer
will his wings grace the skies, his feathers fill with wind. The Winds of Manwe
will no longer be summoned by his power. His death, a rare thing on this earth
ended, brings a near hush to those who notice, or feel. A sadness it is. A lone
tear drops from the lifeless eye of the Eagle, drifting down his feathered
face, and falling, splashing lightly onto the trodden ground. Then it was over,
it was all over.
"What
is this?" Z'macht snarls, his wicked voice reminiscent of steel grinding
over slate. The uruk licks his dried and cracked lips, summoning all his
strength to connect this next blow with Celebdur's chest... But alas! The orc
watches as the wounded man is able to scamper away, nursing a broken arm.
"Skai! Elven magic!" the uruk roars. He backs away, licks his mace
clean of blood, and scans the battlefield. Numbers are dwindling, on both sides
it seems. Perhaps fifteen yards to his left, Z'macht spies the towering warlord
of Moria, Horvak. "Rally to the Warrior of the Mountain!" he growls,
heaving his mace high and sprinting forth towards Horvak and Morandil.
From
the South,
It is so easy for the enemy to dodge his
blade, and even easier to hit back. Hard, too. Aglahad takes the spike right on
the breast. The armor is not pierced, luckily, but the brute force of the blow
causes a rib to *crunch*
But Glynnis' efforts are not gone unnoticed.
The Veteran raises his blade, somehow, finding it within him to make sure all
are gone...he is but a shadow, a spectre fading into mere dreams and memories.
Again his blade is raised, and again he strikes. A long curving arc once more.
The sword must hit true, or at least hit with luck. Elbereth...he prays to the
Valar in the Immortal West now. This is a Sindar who rarely utters the words aloud,
but in this ultimate moment of justice, he appeals to the Highest Order, to the
Lords of all Arda.
Magog
squints as Haldir leaves him and a knight with a shining sword if not armor
takes that dread elf's place. Steel meets steal as Magog parries Aragorn's
blade, his body giving way slightly, for even his tremendous strength cannot
stop a charge by itself. As the Gothshaka spins, he bellows - I too can speak
in a tongue you do not understand - "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"
But not at the rider does Magog thrust, but at the Horse. Swooping low, Magog's
cruel axe seeks a leg of horse. - Up north they eat ponies. Here we eat horse -
the Orc Lord spits in common Westron.
Huzghash
joins in the charge with his Talashakh, running near him as they pass quickly
to the aid of the Warlord of Moria. Motioning with his hand, the Senior Guard
gathers a few of his guards still near him to join in his new mission.
Following closely behind Z'macht, Huzghash seems laboured to keep up his
stride, but he somehow manages it; only remaining a few steps behind his chief.
"<Uruk> Here we are! O yes! We
come! The dreaded horde of Khazad-dum!" The call goes up amongst the Guard
as the familiar song is begun and sung amongst the horde of Moria.
The
chief of the Dunadan backs his horse from the blow. It seems wise among
animals, but the press is too close. The horse screams as the blow clips its
foreleg, and the creature stumbles and falls. Aragorn avoids his horse, and
puts his sword before him.
Pain
mars the fair elven features of Morandil; he faces not only the fell she-orch,
but now a new enemy. A hulking olog has noticed the knight, and the creature's
ax has fallen hard and fast. Evil blade cleaves bright mail, and Morandil
nearly falls to his knees. At last, it seems, this whirlwind of steel and grey
is overmatched, and the time has come for him to withdraw. He backs away, sword
and shield held up in cautious defense, and uses all his effort to extricate
himself from the assault.
Malghruk opens his horrific maw widely as he
loses a terrible shriek into the battle plagued air. The wiry orc smiles
wickedly as he watches his arrow fly true, hampering the escape of a fleeing
elf. Unable to find the mark again, the spindly archer searches for another to
receive his messinger of death. Sighting a particularly steadfast target,
Malghruk draws the tight bow string back once more as he prepares to send the
unfortunate being to it's final rest. The black barb is flung dangerously into
the throng, speeding with grim precision toward it's intended aim.
A
familiar song goes up amongst the Morian horde, a sort of rallying cry in the
battle as the horde pushes its way towards a hopeful victory:
"Here
we are! O yes! We Come! The dreaded horde of Khazad-dum!
Death,
our message! Fear, our blade! Elf-hide armour there shall be made!"
Morandil
dodges aside Chuok, and manages to escape!
Malghruk
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
From
the South, Morandil goes Out Of Character.
Burzdug
+shouts, "
"<Uruk>
Here we are! O yes! We come! The dreaded horde of Khazad-Dum!" rises up
from the throng of Guards who surge forward to the Senior Guard's call. The
pounding of uruk feet and weapons on shields accompanies the chant, repeating
again and again in voices that ring high toward the mountains.
"
From
the South, From North, Burzdug's +shout echos.
From
the South, No target is there for Aglahad to hit, for like some glutted snake,
Mauhur's speed defies his great breadth and even as Aglahad cries out for
higher-aid, his blade slices behind the Uruk-Hai Captain. Left cleated boot
tortures the soil with rending cleats, greater purchase thus gained, and
twisting in mid-rush, Mauhur drops his right foot back, turning so that his left
side faces Glynnis and her blade lunges past, nearly crashing into Aglahad's as
it does, for the two blades strike for the same spot, and no longer does this
spot hold orc-flesh. Sidestepping to his left, inside Glynnis' guard, Mauhur's
axe whips back to the left, his brute strength forcing the end-weighted weapon
to do his bidding, and to his left the top of the axe rams, blade nor spike to
cleave or pierce elven flesh, but the blacksteel blunted top meant to mash her
chin into a mask of blood and crushed bone. Concise is the motion, but not
wild, for facing Aglahad, a conservative attack now lends itself to defense
should the other attack while he seeks to down Glynnis.
Even as
he does glances a black shaft from his helm, a short one that finds the earth a
short distance away. Too small to be a dart from one of his boys, he curses
darkly in his tongue..no doubt cursing the ineptitude of his Morian allies
The utterly devistating blow of the hunter is
about to connect and smash the elf's face in when a new blade hits him. This
attack knocks him off the elf. Mugruk gets to his feet and turns to face his
attacker. The blue sword that meets his eyes causes him to pause. As quickly as
he can the uruk turns as runs as fast as he can for teh main horde.
Magog
lets forth a raspy chuckle and thus pauses for a moment to wet his lips. Magog
scans his enemy now that he is on the ground and taunts, "You will be easy
meat, bauble or no bauble." A moment of wariness passes through the
Morian's eyes as he beholds the man's blade. A swing that uncorks Magog's
tension is launched backhanded and going towards the sword hand of his new foe.
Magog
attacks Aragorn with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a long shot.
Glee!
That is the emotion that the troll exhibits. Not joyful happy glee, indeed,
this troll chuckles with a manner most distressing, malice and hate seem to
fill the air about the huge beast. Before it, the battered corpse of the eagle,
death visiting the bird in a manner most painful. Lifting the large club held
in it's hand from the breast of the bird, blood smeered across it's surface,
the troll takes measure of his meal. Taking a step towards the eagle, he
releases one hand from the club, and uses it to grab one of the talons of the
eagle. This talon has the troll's blood on it, and the troll seeks some memento
of this encounter. A single bloody crack rings out, and now the troll holds a
bloody talon in it's hand. Pushing the talon into the belt at it's waiste, the
troll steps back to survey his feast. Ignoring the dieing din of battle about
him, the troll suddenly makes up his mind. Snarling at any nearby orcs to warn
them, the troll approaches the corpse, grabs it by the neck, and then starts
walking to the back of the line... the corpse of the eagle leaving a long
bloody, feathery trail behind it in the dirt as it is dragged.
Magog's
blow is easily dodged, for this fighter is fresh to the fray. Aragorn's blade
burns brighter yet as he comes against the foeman, and he swings it with an arm
long and heavy. It seeks to cleave the great orc, though its fine steel is not
mithril, nor its match.
Aragorn
attacks Magog with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!
Seeing
the horse stumble and go down, Dinenin doubles his pace, retaining his footing
only through luck and grace. Crashing through a pair of yrch heading for the
twain of uncrowned King and Uruk-Hai, he strikes one full in the face with the
boss of his shield, his blade of pattern-welded steel neatly parting the throat
of the other.
Not a
word does he speak as he stumbles upon Magog, weapon arcing in and down with
intent to cleave.
Dinenin
attacks Magog with his Bare Hands, but he misses by a mile.
Dinenin
draws his ancient blade from its scabbard.
Dinenin
attacks Magog with his Longsword, but Magog parries the attack with his Battle
Axe!
Horvak
follows through with his axe as it cleaves deeply into the elf. He laughs
ferociously at the pain and surprise on the elf's face. The troll all but
ignores attacking the elf again as he glances about the battlefield for a new
opponent. He spies the orc that he his with a cauldron a few days before
battling a very familiar elf. A very familiar elf. The troll roars with rage as
he heads toward the elf in question.
Seeing
his compatriot fall to the earth, the Herald seems torn between the Dunedain
and the Galadhrim for a moment in his charge. As Tuoak raises his axe to land a
decapitating blow, the decision is made clear. Crying out in rage, Erinstar
swerves abruptly in his path, throwing himself between the fallen Glindorel and
the orc that would have his head, careless of the blow that he will surely
take.
Chuok
grimaces as the mace bites nothing but air. Being though wasting words on this
light loving, tree hugger she focuses her attention fully on her opponent. His
ability to avoid her sends off a deep dire feeling that is unsettling and she
watches him closely. Then to her wonder and joy a troll joins her and new
abandon fills her spirit. Abandoning this one to the troll she spots another
and wades deeper into the gore. She pulls the mace back and swings at the elf's
face.
Chuok
attacks Erinstar with her Mace and badly wounds him!
Z'macht
is forced to stop in his tracks, and change targets. Seeing Morandil retreat,
his keen eyes scan the battlefield, looking for another victim. "My mace
shall steal a life yet!" he roars and lopes towards his king and the
Dunadan that attack him.
From
the South, Glynnis falls beneath the jaw-shattering blow of the uruk-hai,
dropping her sword as she slips boneless to the ground.
The axe
rises again and readies itself to shave Glindorel's head from his shoulders. A
dainty gift to set before the flame. Yet the moment of hesitation seems to be
enough that a enoguh elf lunges in his path. A blur of shadow and white that
rushes across his path and into the way of his axe. As a mace strike him from
behind, the axe sweeps down uncontrolably upon the head of Erinstar...
Tuoak
furiously attacks Erinstar with his Axe and moderately wounds him!
"Go
away," Magog snaps in an irritated Westron, his tongue stumbling over the
words of which he makes a mockery. "It is foolishness to attack the
mountain or to attack orcs when they return to it." His eyes blaze as
Aragorn's blade manaches to breach even his mithril and cause a thin line of
blood to stain his fine suit of armor - all this while his axe is raised to
prevent Dinenin. "Fly before you are overwhelmed," the Gothshaka
hisses, even while he seeks to avenge his blow by swinging at Aragorn with far
less inhibition. The Orc King's weapon is raised high, high in the air, two
handed, his entire torso exposed for the few moments before he slams it
downwards. Droplets of blood, that of elf and horse fly off his axe as it cuts
the air.
Magog
attacks Aragorn with his Battle Axe, but Aragorn parries the attack with his
Longsword!
The
Senior Guard stops and turns as his Talashakh does the same. Glancing about
quickly, Huzghash and his small troupe of Guards follow quickly in the
Talashak's wake as he presses on towards the King. Metal tipped spear gleaming
red in the little light is available, Huzghash brings the tip close as he runs
and licks off some of the elf-blood. Tounge lightly coaxing some of the
elf-blood off his spear, Huzghash revels in the pleasure for a second as he
continues after Z'macht, Guards close behind.
As the
orch before him suddenly sees his fortune change, and, instead of the killing
blow he planned to savour has to run for his own life, Haldir has another
moment to consider the battlefield, which becomes even more haphazard and
fragmented with every minute. Here and there, small clumps of fighters meet to
send steel clashing and blood spilling. The clumps scatter, leaving lifeless
bodies and broken armor on the ground, and new fights start.
And the
air is all Magog's weapon cuts. Aragorn is aside of it. And now he brings his
sword down across the orc's extended arms. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>" he calls. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" But
there is time for no more words.
Aragorn
attacks Magog with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!
Burzdug
+shouts, "
The
fearsome Guard of Moria continues to rally around King, rising to the call of
the Senior Guard. They thirst for vengeance, their fury fueled by the loss of
Master Guards. Blades and maces break open clots of elven warriors at the line
of battle, punching holes in the line that would stop the Morian Horde from
returning to is home in Khazad-Dum. "<Uruk> For the Flame! For
Moria! For the king!" The passion of the Guard seems to know no bounds as
they press forward toward and around the king, Huzghash in the point of the
van.
"
The
hunter has made it away from the elf with the blue sword. He still keeps up his
breakneck pace away from teh battle. Mugruk's wounds are too bad for him to
continue so he get away. For now the battle seems in hand for teh orc so his
presence is not needed. THe hunter follows the bloddy trail left by the troll
and eagle.
Throwing
himself fully at Tuoak, the unseen mace blow luckily deterred by his shoulder
and not his face by grace of his sudden turn. Rings fly, and blood spurts,
though it is not enough to turn the raging Herald aside from his charge. Only
enough is the force of the blow that it puts a slight spin on his flying
tackle, that the axe blow lands with the sound of crunching bone across his
ribcage. Glindorel's life is all the better for it, however, and the Herald
simply staggers back dazedly from the pair of blows.
Dinenin's
first blow is knocked aside, soliciting an exasperated sigh from within the
Ranger's breast. As his chieftain calls out in greeting and moves to strike the
foe, Dinenin does likewise, directing a cautious flicker of his blade toward
Magog's briefly exposed spine.
Dinenin
attacks Magog with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.
Careening
forth in a frenzy and finally reaching his destination, the already bloodied
Z'macht hefts his mace high and shouts to the starry sky. "Flee to your
wood, fools, and avoid the slaughter that will surely come!" Thundering, the
vengeful Orc Chieftain bares his yellowed fangs. A high pitched cry of terror
escapes them as he swings his mace towards Dinenin.
Once
more Aragorn strikes true, Magog's black blood sullying an arm of his mail as
Aragorn punishes him for being overrash. Dinenin's blow misses him.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" the proud King remarks, catching
the name and returning it in the same language, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>" Amidst the bluster, Magog adopts the cowardly tactic of
attempting to capture a hostage by force, his axe lashing out far less
imprudently at Aragorn's revealed kinsman's kneecaps.
Z'macht
attacks Dinenin with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.
Magog
attacks Dinenin with his Battle Axe and mortally wounds him!
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE
SHOUTING>", the starlight plays on Haldir's helm as he shakes his head,
and, leaving Glindorel to the care of few retreating Elves, dashes toward the
Herald. He jumps over one rock, knocks aside a small pebble with his foot, and
runs, runs. His sword is flashing in the night, closer and closer to Erinstar.
From
the South, A ghostly grey figure slips through the treeline from the northern
melee. It is, on closer view, the Knight-Warden of Lorien. Morandil's blade is
covered in ugly splotches of black orcish blood -- and his shoulder is drenched
with red. He has come from one peril to another, it would seem, for here are
his kindred beset by more yrch. The tall knight halts his progress, eyes
widening at the sight of a prostrate Glynnis. And with a spiteful glare at the
enemies so near at hand, Morandil dashes toward the fallen warrior.
THe
Senior Guard charges in behind his Chief, however he slows slightly as a pain
ignites in his side. An arrow lodged there. Huzghash winces the pain away and
follows the attack of Z'macht. Stabbing his spear out towards the man, Huzghash
aims the metal tip to spear into his chest. Leaning forward with the blow,
Hzughash adds most of his weight into the strike.
You
attack Dinenin with your Spear...
Dinenin
dodges your attack.
But as
Magog turns his blow upon Dinenin, Aragorn steps in with a sad stroke of his
own. It took seeks the legs of his foe, which are less well protected by the
draping chains. The blow is fierce, and it is heavy.
Aragorn
attacks Magog with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Tuoak's
lips twist into a hidious grin as the elf stumbles before him. Tuoak draws in
breath and then spits into the face of the reeling uruk, his voice lashing out
like a weapon toward him, "Bring a message to your lady. Your bright witch
that my lads talk about. When we do at last drag her from the woods then our
pleasure will be in her pain. She will be torn apart by many hands and then
when we are done with her body, her soul will he fed to flame." With this Tuoak's
axe lashes out again, driving the elf back toward the woods.
Tuoak
attacks Erinstar with his Axe and lightly wounds him!
Distracted
by Z'macht's attempt to mate mace and flesh, Dinenin falls prey to Magog's
terrible axe. His legs coming out from beneath him, the Dunadan falls to the
battle-scarred ground amidst a terrible cry of pain. Gritting his teeth, he
rolls aside of the incoming spear, lashing out with his sword toward the arm
that wields it.
Dinenin
attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and
he hits! Ouch!
ARB:
You've been injured for -- hp's by Dinenin's attack...
...you
have -- left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Furious
of his failed attack, Z'macht grits his vile teeth cursing to a degree that
would make an uruk midwife cringe. The Chieftain's festering lips, torn and
chewed, draw back into a menacing snarl, framing his face in a mess of tangled
orcflesh. "Join your kin underground!" he roars, eyes blazing like so
many tongues of flame, intent on making his foe one with the Earth. Z'macht
swings his mace in a straighforward blow toward's Dinenin's chest. His shield
his held tight - danger lurks near!
Dinenin
collapses to the ground, defeated by Z'macht!
Dinenin's
shield "Studded Leather Shield" falls to the ground...
Dinenin's
weapon "Daekrist" falls to the ground...
From
the South,
Out of the corner of his view, Aglahad sees
only a figure moving towards the fallen Glynnis. That is all he needed to see
before raising the sword in front of him again, both of his hands on the hand
and half hilt now. The eyes, the dark embers within his skull burn a vengeful
gaze towards Mauhur. "For Lorien, for my Order...for Light and
Righteousness...for Glynnis and Tathren, and all my comrades."
His sword raises up, and flashes downward in
a most /furious/ of slices. The Veteran throws himself into the blow, with
complete and utter disregard for the defensive counterattack.
Magog
+shouts, "Success is fleeting, for though Magog strikes home true, his
fierce blow is avenged by one of Aragorn's own. With tremendous force, his
shins are slashed at. The Gothshaka flails about off-balanced for a few
moments, unable to return with a counterratack. Yet, as he rights himself he
manages to call out, "Uruk, let the weak one live if this strong one
leaves." Crimson eyes look to the eyes of Aragorn and he remarks, "I
know not what he is, but he does not belong. If he does not relent and pass
away..." Magog's axe is righted and he grimly finishes, "Slay them
all.""
Malghruk curses out of the corner of his
mouth as one of the burly Uruk-Hai finds himself in the way of his arrow.
Shaking it off, the slithery uruk fits another ebony shaft to Sun-Blotter,
ready to remedy his mistake, and put down the predestined elf. Pusing
momentarily, Malghruk closes his eyes, shutting out the chaos of the battle
before sighting his weapon once more. Seconds later, the shaft is gone, a dull
twange hanging in the air as the tight bowstring vibrates slightly with the
effort of launching another missile.
Malghruk
launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From
the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Malghruk's
arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Horvak
rushes forward to intercept the elf. Yet off in the distance a glint of light
catches the eye of the troll. It is the sight of the King of Moria doing battle
with humans. The troll's eyes bulge as he realizes the imminent danger the king
faces for some are mounted opponnets. The troll hesitates but for a moment
before he makes a decision. As the troll trots by the elf in question he sppeds
up his motion to an all out run. Horvak sweeps his axe low at the elf in
passing, not even caring or watching if the axe hits as he makes his way toward
his King.
Horvak
attacks Haldir with his Axe, but he misses by a mile.
The
Guard winces in pain as the sword of the man lashes out and cuts a deep gash
along his shield arm, rendering the arm useless for the time. Huzghash goes
down on one knee as the pain of the arrow in his side and the many deep cuts he
has accumulated seem to overwhelm him. Looking up at his chieftain Huzghash
says, "I hope I have pleased you, sir." The voice of the Senior Guard
Strained as the words wheeze out of his mouth. Unable to raise from his
kneeling postion as the pain seems to much for him, Huzghash two guards over to
his side to help him stand.
"Run
Whiteskins! Run! Tonight we dine on Elf!" A rather fat uruk, sweating like
a cook over the stew pots waves a bloodied cudgel at the fleeing elves. Finding
himself suddenly in the vacuum of battle, the fat uruk grins wildly. "Fire
up the cook pots, slice up some cheese! The Horde is comin' home!"
Ignoring the clang of weapons, Fatty Orc reaches slams his cudgel down on the
forehead of a fallen elf, breaking open the skull in a sickening crunch. His
fingers are quick to plunge into the cracked bone, coming away with a succulent
scoop of fresh sweetmeats. Drippings run down his chin as he stands up and
shouts high into the air, "Hallelujah to the Flame!"
Suddenly,
Fatty Orc pitches forward, struck on the back of the head by the fist of a tall
uruk Guard. "Time enough for feastin' later, Tubby. To the King!
Now!"
"
A
scream of rage fills the air above, echoing off the mountains to the west. A
great bird hurtles down from the north and west, his feathers scintillating a
faint golden even in the dark of night. Again his shrill cry of anger and
challenge rings out; and the Windlord cries in a harsh tongue,
"<Uruk> You should have fled when I bade you!" Then he dives
down toward the foes and the obvious signs of battle, eyes gleaming with
outrage.
"Not
for fear nor favor will I depart from you," answers Aragorn, his voice
like thunder. "Hear instead my offer! The golden wood is too close for
you. Turn, ere the dawn come, and menace you! Slow to slay the fallen, and none
of you will come again to your caverns." And, to punctuate his argument,
he slaps at the weapon of his foe with the long burning sword.
Aragorn
attacks Magog with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Chuok
feels the mace land and she pushes on deeper still to the battle. Leaving the
Elf Erinstar to his fate she spins to her right and charges yet again. Singeing
wildly on those that are battling she takes advantage from coming up from their
blind side and aiding uruks wherever she can. Stumbling as she takes a blow she
staggers forward and spins towards the side that was hit. Instinctively her
hand reaches of her ribs and when it pulls back it's blood. Strange who in
battle you see the wound but at times the pain is delayed. She lashes out at a
nearby elf and tries to knock the weapon from his hand.
Chuok
attacks Haldir with her Mace, but she misses by a handspan.
One
last rock is between Haldir and the yrch swarming around Erinstar, a jagged
black shape in the night. He leans on the rock with his shield, and throws his
body into the air, to leap over the rock... just in time! The axe comes
slashing out of hte darkness and cuts the air at his feet, sending sparks in
the air as it hits the same rock. Saved more by luck than quick reaction,
Haldir does not waste time, and brings the sword down onto one of the orcs even
before he lands on his feet again.
Haldir
attacks Chuok with his Longsword and badly wounds her!
From
the South, The Knight-Warden Morandil is fearless now; desperation makes him
thus. He moves swiftly, half-crouching, and in a moment is at Glynnis' side. He
scoops her up in weary arms, surprised at her lightness.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Morandil says quietly.
"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" He turns, painfully, and with a
whispered prayer runs as hard as he can for the safety of the golden eaves
--and deadly archers-- to the south.
The
fallen Ranger feels his sword strike true... But neither luck nor fate shall
allow him to reflect upon the blow. The mace slams into his unprotected chest,
the nauseating sound of breaking bone and tearing flesh punctuating the
terrible symphony of the night. Sword and shield fall to the ground beside
Dinenin's now motionless form.
Magog's
knuckles are sliced as he is not hasty enough in pulling his weapon out of the
range of Aragorn's sword. "You are in my way," he snaps, voice
dripping with acid. "In the way of me and my army." Shaking a
smarting hand, a thick line of blood upon it, Magog plants a deliberate step
forward and declares, "If we continue, your back will soon be to the
mountains - the High pass is far away, there is no way through." The King
pulls back his weapon as if pointing, "Pass me and go to the Golden
wood." But the weapon flies forward - gingerly, for the Gothshaka's hand
is hurt, yet still powerful enough at Aragorn's chest.
Magog
attacks Aragorn with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a long shot.
From
the South, To his left, the elf crumples, the melon-like feel against his
jabbing axe satisfying to this beast of death, to be sure. Mauhur leaves her
for dead, and must needs do so, for like one crazed the one he faces still
rushes and the blade swings with such venom that even his quick feet avail him
not defense. But shieldless though he is, there is a reason his left bracer is
thickly reinforced, and this he uses to divert the blow. He does nay try to
stop it, such a thing would leave him armless, and he would not be Captain if
he were so foolish. To the side he swings his left arm desperately, and indeed
meets the steel of the elf, but flat he strikes as well as blade and though the
impact must surely be painful -possibly drawing blood, but in the dark and on
black mail and skin, how would one know?- the arm flung away with equal force
that the longsword is driven wide. Staggering to his right to compensate,
Mauhur snarls, glaring with less justified, but equal fury into the eyes of the
elf as his axe whirls around horizontally from the right, aiming to lay open
Aglahad's belly or chest while his guard is wide open.
Z'macht's
lips curl in pleasure, revealing row after row of bloostained teeth, some
broken or chipped. "The Demon has spoken!" he says, spitting upon his
fallen victim and uttering a few more lines of unspeakable profanity. It seems
the Morghash pride themself on not only the foulness of deed, but the foulness
of language! The chieftain now turns his eyes to the right, upon the Gothshaka
and his mounted foe. His tongue darts in and out, that of a viper. Simalarly,
his mace, a piston in the starry night, raises and falls - a backhanded blow
aimed at Aragorn's right side.
Z'macht
attacks Aragorn with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.
The
lord of Rangers makes no further argument, but presses against the fighting
king with newfound wroth. His rage redoubles as he finds himself set upon by a
second foe, and his sword moves quickly, seeming to burn of its own light.
Aragorn
attacks Magog with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!
The
troll runs forward toward his King and the human that he fights, "Moria!
The Flame!!"
Chuok
screams as the blade of her opponent hits. The force of the blow mixed with
it's unexpectedness sends her reeling. Staggering back she stumbles and falls
to the ground, though she rolls with the momentum and tries to distance herself
from the elf's blade. She pulls up on her left knee and shoots a glance over
the field of battle. Seemingly the tide is turning so the she takes the
opportunity of the distance and turns and flees to the Morian encampment to the
west. She coughs up a bloody froth as she make s her way out and then casts a
glance over her shoulder to burn the face of Haldir into her memory. His face
will haunt her nightmares for many months to come.
Burzdug
+shouts, "
Fatty
Orc nods his lard-layered head at the Guard before taking up his cudgel and
lumbering forward into the fray around the King of Moria. "I'll be back,
my sweet, just you hang tight," he says to the dead and recently brained
elf lying at his feet. Lowering his head, Fatty Orc starts to run toward the
throng of combatants near the Gothshaka. "Look out below!" he calls
out as he takes a rather dextrous leap forward at two elves who are fighting
back to back, their blades darting at the uruk guard around them. Fatty pays no
heed to pigsticking blades. His bulk slams into the two elves as if he were a
boulder being tossed by a troll playing ninepins. The ninepin-elves go down in
a tumble, Fatty square atop them like a greedy sailor in a whorehouse.
"You're mine now, whiteskins!"
"
Malghruk shrieks loudly in righteous rage as
his arrow is intercepted by an elvish shield. Further curses stream from the
uruk's hidious gullet as he watches the Senior Guard sink to a knee. A thin,
pale arm snakes into the air, signalling a good dozen Morian bow-uruk to
unleash on Huzghash's assailants. Raising Sun-Blotter into the air in a grim
salute to the wounded uruk, Malghruk spins quickly, just in time to watch the
retreat of his would-be targets. Spluttering garbled curses, he calls off the
assembled archers, leading them silently off the field.
"There
is an army at my back. We will head west. You cannot stop us." Magog
bellows in pain as Aragorn marks his pectoral area for yet another mark. Though
the blade is sharp, the orc takes another deliberate step forward, going so far
as to step into the blade itself. "Our numbers are limitless and you are
but one." The King's jaw clamps shut and he hacks lightly once more at
Aragorn's arms, giving room for those come to aid the cause of the Flame.
Magog
attacks Aragorn with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a mile.
Grimacing,
Z'macht's blow goes wide. The uruk's eyes water with pain and he mindlessly
feels for the elven arrow protruding from his side. Roaring, the orc Cheiftain
pulls his chield close while breaking it off with his right hand.
Two
Guards stoop down and grab the Senior under his arms and lift him slowly.
Gaining his feet under him, Huzghash orders his Guards to take him from the
battlefiled and to seek healing for all the orcs of Moria. Slowly, the three
Guard regress from the battle-weary field and their blood stained armour moves
back to the temporary gathering spot of the Morians. As they move, Huzghash
releases one for cry into the battle, a yell cracked with blood, "Death,
our message! Fear, our blade! Elven blood has spilt this day!" The Guard
faints from his exertion and the two others gradually drag him to safety.
Ignored
and unremarked, Gwaihir dives down into the fray, gliding just overhead of the
heads of the folk below. In his rage, his claws thrash out at orcs as he
passes, rending one into bits as he passes, and wounding or knocking aside
several others in the course of his passage. The largest of the orcs in
Gwaihir's path, a truly monstrously fat orc, the Windlord simply pummels with a
loose fist designed to send the foul creature tumbling end over end.
From
the South,
Aye, 'tis true, Aglahad doth not know if he
truly caused the Uruk-Hai pain. Only the fact that his blade struck the bracer
is what he feels, the inertial jolt resounding down the length of steel to his
very limbs. The stars are there, overhead. The jewels that Elbereth arrays
across the dome of the heavens for the Firstborn...they are all witness to this
terrible fight. The axe whirls right into the Veteran's abdomen, cutting
metallic rings through as a keel through water.
The wound is dire, yet not enough to properly
disembowel the Sinda warrior. He falls back now, blade tip hitting the ground
and causing a furrow as it is drug back, step by pain-ridden step. "And
now, look for the killing blow, to snuff out this spirit, and send him across
the west on the wings of ghosts." Tis not a taunt that Aglahad delivers,
but merely a soft mutter to himself, as if beckoning Mandos himself to lay down
his Doom upon the Elf. Is it really his time, his fate to fall today...will the
next whirling strike bring guts pouring out of his belly in a slow, slow death?
Aglahad's shield arm goes to hold that very wound before the worst can happen.
A step back, and then he stumbles, blood
spilling over his hands.
The
bodies of many orcs lie dead upon the field, never to move again. Yet the
wounded are beyond count, and as the clash of weapons comes from the duel of
Magog and Aragorn, snaga orcs claw over the wounded bodies, knifing those that
are to far gone to be of any use, and dragging away those that are wounded yet
who could still may fight another day in the future. C'zoth the apprentice
guard is one of these. Two filthy little snaga come and claw over him, and
reach under his armpits and begin to drag him across the heap of the dead.
C'zoth moans, being sharply drug out of unconciousness by the two little snaga
wiht a nasty start, yet soon he falls back into dark and violent dreams of
death and dying. The snaga continue to drag him across the field, though,
towards the morian encampment. There they drag him inside a tent and plop him
unceremoniously upon the ground, caring not whether he lives or dies.
Though
still in a haze of shock and pain, Erinstar still manages to bring his elven
steel to bear, but only with enough force to deflect the axe-head into grazing
across his limp and exposed shield-arm. More cloth is stripped away from his
tattered frame, though any additional blood loosed by the wound is lost amongst
the ichor that drenches the entire left side of his body.
Fury
burns in the eyes of the Royal Guardsman, Herald to the Lady Galadriel herself
at the foul words bespoken her, and a surge of strength finds him rallying once
more. Not for Life now, but Honour is his blow driven, seeking redress for the
slander as the slender blade darts towards the very tongue of the offending
yrch.
Burzdug
+shouts, "
Now
Fatty Orc clearly considered himself in the catbird seat, so to speak, as his
bulk bore down on the two struggling elves beneath him. Bringing a forearm to
the neck of one of them and his jagged teeth to the ear of the other, good old
Fatty was settling down for a hot meal until Gwaihir's taloned fist thumps
deeply across his back. The corpulent uruk tumbles like a barrel some fifteen
feet before he sprawls wide on his stomach. He stumbles up to a knee, looking
around himself with wide-eyed bewilderment. "What in the name of the Sweet
Pits of my Birth was that fell magic." Clearly, Fatty Orc hasn't quite
come to grips with the aerial enemy who seems to selected him for culling.
"
Erinstar
attacks Tuoak with his Longsword, but Tuoak parries the attack with his shield!
The
truth of Magog's word is not to be denied. But, though the elves are in
retreat, the way is now closed before Aragorn. He takes a step back from his
foe. "You say well," he answers to the creature. "You have won
the night. Ware you I do not come upon you in the daylight!" Holding his
sword before him, he begins to look around for a road out.
From
the South,
The Veteran now, in fact, is prone on the
ground, a pool of scarlet ichor forming around him. His sword has fallen into
the dust and mud next to him...and even the hilt slips from his hand.
His
eyes dried now and side relatively free of pain, Z'macht furrows his brow and
summons what strength he has left to face the human foe before him. Bolstered
by the Gothshaka on his right, the Morghash Cheiftain bellows strong words,
think with no accent other than hate for all living things. "Our warriors
are as many as the stars in the sky, pale skin, and while not worshipped by the
weak and goodly elven race, they have a Will to rend and destroy! A will to
tear and rip and make short use of foes such as yourself!" Shifting his
weight forward, Z'macht once more chops heavily at Aragorn's right shoulder.
Horvak
charges the human that would dare attack his king. The troll roars and swings
his axe at the human. "Moria! Moria!"
Horvak
attacks Aragorn with his Axe and mildly wounds him!
Z'macht
attacks Aragorn with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.
Tuoak
brings the small buckler across his body, turning away the long blade of the
elven warrior. Sparks fly in the darkness, showing off the ghoulish face of the
leering uruk. And then his axe sweeps forward again, a harsh arc for the neck
of Erinstar. For the Shaman seeks to end the battle here, with the strength of
his body thrown behind him..
Tuoak
attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but he misses by a long shot.
With
one orch running away before his sword, Haldir now stands shoulder to shoulder
with Erinstar, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>", he quickly drops as
he steps forward, between the other elf and the orc, and brings the sword down
onto his foe with a strong swing, leaning himself into the blow and stepping
forward.
Haldir
attacks Tuoak with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.
Magog
plants another foot down defiantly, stepping closer towards Moria. He ducks out
of the formidable blow of the Olog-hai before snapping, "This one is to be
given free passage. He is stronger than even the Lord of the Golden Wood."
There is a strange thickness to Magog's words, akin to the thickness in his
words when the dark rider came to visit. Raising his axe, blood pouring from
his multitude of weapons, the King shouts out loud as he can - a bit of swagger
to his shoulders even. "Let all know that we have gone forth to the Anduin
and back. We are unstoppable." The Gothshaka's eyes are trained on the one
who has done him so much harm, but he makes no effort to renew hostilities with
him.
Roaring
in his rage -and indeed the Windlord seems unusually troubled by this
conflict,- Gwaihir circles and bears down again on the Fat Orc, crying,
"No fell magic... But the wrath of the Lord of the Winds." Again the
Eagle lashes out with his great claws, but his attention is already diverted,
and he does not in truth wait to see if he has dealt his fat foe a final blow.
Rather, crying out, "The night is not yet lost; and the yrch will not win
it!" to Aragorn, flying swiftly to the aid of the Dunedain, set upon by
multiple foes.
Missing
his foe yet again, Z'macht becomes increasingly flustered. This, however, comes
just moments before a train roars past him and strikes at the human. A train?
No! Horvak wielding his heavy weapon! Oompf! Z'macht rolls backward in the
dust, finally coming to rest on his back several feet away. Visions of the
heavens, the stars and bright moon, fill Z'macht's vision. Quickly, never one
to adore the beaties of the cosmos, the Talashakh springs to his feet, dusts
himself off, and jaunts towards an uruks shaman. "Hold that fool!" he
shouts, his mace making small circles in the air. "My weapon is thirsty
for yet another soul!"
The
troll's great axe splinters the rocks whereby Aragorn stood, so that the shards
of the stone sting him. Now the king of orcs proclaims that he is safe to pass.
How well do trolls heed such proclaimations? Striking at the hands that held
the axe, Aragorn backs toward higher ground.
Aragorn
attacks Horvak with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!
From
the South, Mauhur +shouts, "Mauhur watches his foe stumble and meet the
earth. He stands for a moment, glancing about him, as if waiting to see if the
elf will rise. When he does not, Mauhur presumes him dead, or likely enough to
die that he wastes no time or energy mangling the body. Now he turns and trots
northward, back towards the fray, his task accomplished, the archers of the
elves put to flight or to death. Indeed his forarm is wounded, for black blood
slowly drips, drips, drips from the sharp points of the talon-like claws of his
gauntlet, as if instead of hand some seafloor creature with jointed exoskeleton
bled its inky life out on the end of Mauhur's arm. In fact, the way it swings
as he trots, it could indeed be so, rather than a part of him. Perhaps it is
numbed, who can say.
As he
nears the southern edge of the waning struggle, Mauhur whirls his axe overhead,
pointing towards the eagle, and gives forth an earsplitting cry, a sound that
should not come from a beast of his heavy build and deep chest, but
nevertheless it comes, like the keening cry of a Raven, the namesake of his
clan. Indeed, the forty Uruk-Hai archers who have, the last few moments loosed
shafts of opportunity now give ear to the call of their Captain and to where he
points, and a thicket of arrows take flight at the great bird. No needling
darts are these, but great shafts loosed from tall heavy bows, mockeries
perhaps of the slender longbows of the elves.
Mauhur
himself does not take up bow, perhaps not wishing to becoming a target for the
beast, or perhaps has other things to tend to. Indeed, he makes for the eastern
side where are gathered his folk, who, overtopping their Morian allys press
their weight of arms upon the foe. His amber eyes search..but he finds not who
he seeks, so Mauhur bellows, "Press forward! We are the Fighting Uruk-Hai
and we will drive them before us where others falter, their bows are shattered,
these few are abandoned, we feast on elf and manflesh tonight, lads!" and
so do the Fighting Uruk-Hai redouble their efforts, and press into the gaps
where the Morians struggle, and large are these, and they make their presence
known.."
Mauhur
has arrived.
Horvak
winces as the sword cuts a stinging cut along his left arm. The troll hollers
not in response to the minor wound delivered by the human's blade but the
proclamation of the King. The troll backs away from the human and spits on the
ground in disgust. "What Kingie? You give this man free passage! I run all
this way for you to declare no one attack him? Are you orc king and afraid of
him? All of Moria follow you. Are we to call you coward and friend to light
lover?" The troll backs away from the combatants as a look of loathing
crosses the face of the troll as he glares at the King of Moria.
Burzdug
+shouts, "
The
shadow alone of the Windlord forces hot urine to run freely from Fatty Orc and
the great cry of the eagle's voice simply freezes him in place. Unusually
heavy, Fatty is not nimble enough for light bobs and weaves to avoid Gwaihir's
attack. No, Fatty is doomed by his treasured lard, through which the great
Eagle's talons slice like hot knives in goat cheese. The porcine orc is tumbled
again to the ground, his chest and head torn open to let in the air... and
death. No, Fatty, tonight you will not dine on Elf. Go to the Flame, though,
with the taste of fresh elfbrain on your tongue.
"
Magog
flares his nostrils at the Troll. "I am the Flame's avatar beyond the
caverns. Our objectives," he snaps in a truly surly fashion, "Do not
include wasting the army for one strange man. Our cause is not served by trying
to prove our strength against everything that crosses our path." The
battle axe of the King wavers before him, for wary still is he of Aragorn,
"We have accomplished what we set out to achieve. We return when the last
obstacle clears out." This is gruffly directed at the last obstacle,
Aragorn.
As the
last of the retreating knights drag off Glindorel's prone body, the Herald of
Galadriel begins to back
Aragorn
continues to climb up the hill, for above the fray spirals the wide wings of
the Windlord! In his hand, the Dunadan bears a bright sword.
Wary
indeed of arrows, indeed giving them as much concern as the entire melee battle
below, Gwaihir whirls mid-air, diving low over the fray to avoid being struck.
Yet his target remains. Noting Aragorn being ever more completely surrounded,
Gwaihir hurtles forward, his talons flexing in anticipation. He strikes out, raking
with his claws at the large orc which seems to be the leader of those here
assembled, before his momentum carries him past, and the Windlord seizes
Aragorn gently but firmly with his claws.
Mauhur
now seems content not to plunge in and risk further injury to himself. After
all, there are plenty making themselves ample targets for the few enemy that
remain. Finally he sees to himself, the rage of battle easing as he finds
respite behind the lines of Uruk-Hai and Morians.
Gwaihir
attacks Magog with his Eagle Claws and moderately wounds him!
Horvak
blinks, then bows to the King, "By you orders, your Majesty. The might of
the Flame stops here today." He turns to address the human and in clear,
intelligent voice speaks to him as he climbs the hill. "It would seem sir,
you have defeated King Magog and the forces of Moria. You have won the
day" Urbanely, the troll nods his head and turns away heading back to
camp.
Mauhur
stows his axe, wincing as his wounded left claw fumbles with a shaft he knew not
was stuck so fast and it only works around in the wound, his blood-slick
gauntlet sliding free. Cursing darkly, he uses both claws and jerks hard at the
thing..
Mauhur
carefully removes an arrow from himself...