On the Moor
Elendor - Sunday, March 14, 1999, 1:09 PM
On the Moors
You are on a vast plateau slanting up towards the Misty Mountains in the east. Long grasses, heather, and short shrubs grow all around in the thin soil, and the wind coming down off the mountains whistles through them. The cold wind chills you, no matter how heavy your clothing. As you travel you find that frequent rock outcroppings or small undulations in the ground can hide sudden bogs or even ravines. You often have to detour a few miles in one direction or another to go around an obstacle. To the north you see the steep gorge of a river. You cannot possibly go that way. And in the east, cliffs rise towards the foothills of the Misty Mountains. You would be forced southeast at that point. It looks like your options are south and west.
Upon a grassy hill she stands, her cloak rustling in the wind. Her hood hangs from her shoulders, and despite the cold rain hitting her face she is smiling to herself, a smug smile. It is as if despite nature's attempts to drive her away, she stands victorious.
Garjin stands quietly by the side of the moors. The heavy cloak drips with water, draining rivulets down across the King's grisly features. His stoic figure beside his scout stands tall, but his features seem far less pleased, perhaps a displeasure for the weather, though he seems otherwise unaffected. Perhaps it is the evil thoughts that torment his mind, and the nearness of elves that cause his displeasure.
Without turning to face the scout, the King speaks slowly. "Because if you had, you would have been slain and laid out as food before the Demon. Are you still interested in staying home in your cave?"
A bright flash of lightning arcs in the sky, brightening the murky landscape around the pair.
Garjin turns towards Zaash, and his grim face looks unhappy. "Have you found the damnable homeland of the treehuggers yet? The Fire hungers for food, and I will feed you to it long before I am consumed myself."
Zaash shrugs, as if she didn't give a damn. Perhaps she doesn't. "No, not really. I do intend to get this overwith as soon as possible so I can go back, hopefully as alive as possible." She approaches the king, stopping perhaps five feet away. Her voice is more audible now, not as muffled by the wind as it was before. "As for the elves... they are hard to find, but not impossible. Their closeness to nature is a strength, but also a weakness. Set fire to some trees and you'll see what I mean."
Garjin looks at Zaash with an array of feelings, but simply holds out his hand, palm upwards allowing droplets of water, to strike, pool and splash. "In this damnable rain, we can't set anything alight, only the Black Fire could do such a thing. But we will be finding out soon enough just how hot that fire is, unless we find the Demon it's blood."
Zaash nods. "As I see it, there are two things we can do. We either find the elves, and soon, or we just don't go home at all." She pauses for a few moments, looking around the rain-drenched landscape. "I know which one I would prefer," she adds. "I've had it with this weather."
The two Uruks, one tall and one short stand alone aside the moor. The cold rain pelting them and draining off of their cloaks. Their voices are quiet, but they do not seem to be happy.
A flash of lightning arcs across the sky, illuminating their shapes.
The two Uruks, one tall and one short stand alone aside the moor. The cold rain pelting them and draining off of their cloaks. Their voices are quiet, but they do not seem to be happy.
A flash of lightning arcs across the sky, illuminating their shapes.
Dinaloss peers out from beneath her hood at the other, larger elves who walk along beside her. The rain slips under and wets her face as she does so, and she turns her gaze back to the ground, glancing left and right now and then, watching for signs of movement. Her canvas bag she huddles even closer to herself, shielding it from the worst of the rain, but even so a sickly-sweet scent escapes it and lingers about the floral-perfumed lady.
Coronach creeps along slowly through the murk. His grey cloak is gathered about him like shroud, and is probably deployed in such a manner as much out of concern for the weather as for stealth. His form is barely discernable even to his comrades. To any standing further-off he would seem nothing more than a faint shadow upon the moors on this dreadful, gloomy day.
Daerandil's movements are slow, deliberate and steady. Each step carefully considered and enacted with a flowing precision. Naught but the faint rustle of the sodden grass to herald his approach. Form slightly bent, eyes looking about with a keen gaze.
Caradhril moves with silent footsteps, the rain running over his grey cloak in tiny rivulets. From beneath his hood, keen blue eyes peer about at the grim landscape. One hand grasps the edges of his cloak together.
Garjin continues to glare out over the dark moor. Feeling that something is amiss, but after having had that feeling for over two weeks while in this dreadfull place, he is becoming accustomed to it. Nevertheless, he keeps is eyes alert.
The noise from the camp seems to quiet down to the south, but that could also simply be the oppressing weather closing in around them. The rain seems to come in waves, forcing the reeds to bristle rapidly in the wind.
Dinaloss steps more quickly than the others, to keep up with their slow but long-strided pace. She looks odd, certainly, when her cloak parts in the front from the breeze; armor upon the slender figure of the gardener, and a small helmet covering her ebony locks under the hood. More, in one of her hands, she bears a small but sharply pointed dagger, which does not seem to match helm or mail. But it is not the dagger, but her sachel which she takes the greater care of, pulling some of it within her cloak to keep it drier.
Caradhril continues his slow, silent movements. He releases his cloak, and for a moment through the parted fabric can be seen the dull glint of mail over his torso. A small metal helm fits snugly over his head, concealing golden locks.
One of the two fell beasts seems noticibly larger upon closer inspection. Standing upon a slight rise to further his sight, Garjin allows the full moon to glare fully behind him, outlining him in stark contrast to the surrounds. It would almost be a romantic moment, were it not for the thoughts of death and distruction filling the minds of the the two upon the ridge.
His cloak floats about his feet, the heavy spiked mace at his side. The rain pours down upon them. The King falls into a reverie while looking into the darkness beyond his sight.
Dinaloss leans nearer Caradhril, and murmurs softly, "Isthir... Do you know, how near are we to the camp of the morian beasts? I was told that it is somewhere near this area, on the moors..." The rain slowly soaks through her cloak, and about her is the scent of, perhaps, an innundated garden, and indeed a drowned flower does the wet gardener look tonight.
Caradhril tilts his head slightly toward Dinaloss, though his blue eyes continue to scour the countryside. He whispers, "We are close, Galthor... There is a scent on the air which I would never mistake..."
The sun vanishes from the horizon, and you are left on the high moors at night.
Daerandil's movements pause as he turns about, eyes glancing from side to side. He stiffens, sinking downwards in a steady descent, boots shifting upon the sodden earth.
Caradhril comes to a halt, standing straight and tall as he scans the terrain, his brow knitting together as darkness closes. His cloak swirls faintly about his feet.
Garjin turns to the rustle of grass behind him to see Bluthguz. "<Uruk> Stop making noise you maggot! If you have any troubles, I will feed you to the next elf I see." Then, as if some sixth sense took over, he stops talking, and turns back to the darkness from where he was looking. Then reaching out and clenching Zaash on the shoulder, he pushes her down and speaks in a hoarse whisper. "<Uruk> They are here!"
He then slowly reaches under his cloak and retracts the feared black mace, and he dons his shield and scans the moor for movement.
Coronach nods once to Dinaloss, his eyes straying to the package she bears. His face then twists into a scowl of anger as he begins to walk foward. No longer does he creep- the elves have been marked, he has decided, and regardless the distance from one party to the other is short. His cloak is still wrapped about him, the better to enable a stealthy approach until the last moment, but now his movements are aimed at covering the soft earth swiftly.
Garjin turns quickly and brings a backhanded blow towards the face of Zaash for her insolence. The King of the Mines then stands, and with his mace drawn, begins to stride with confidence into the muck before him towards the elves, knowing that his minions will follow, or they will perish by his own hand.
Daerandil stands fully upright, seeing that all stealth and obfuscation has been blown clear. As he does so his cloak billows out, damp and heavy yet. His eyes are chilled like the bitter wind. He slowly and steadily draws his blade, the bright flash of ancient steel lending an air of light for but a moment amidst the gloom. His approach then begins, steady and deliberate. As he moves he rolls the shield off his shoulders and grasps it tightly.
Caradhril begins to walk forward, posture proud, yet wary. He keeps apace of his fellows, sword swaying about before him.
Dinaloss casts back her hood and walks slowly forward, still behind the three warriors before her, but she pulls her right arm back slightly, holding the small bladder, as though waiting only for some sign to throw it. The reek of flowers grows, now, a heavy perfume filling the damp air under the rain.
Baerk stand behind Garjin as he makes his way to the elves. He motions for Bluthguz to follow him and stay close. Baerk then keeps his eyes forward and trained on the elves. His axe twitches with the anticipation of battle.
Bluthguz moves forward as Baerk motions him staying close at his side. Knowing how to keep the pace he turns his attiontion to picking a decent path thru muck and looking for anything about to jump him. As picking the path gets harder he turns more of his time towards that.
Caradhril continues his steady, silent march. The dark silhouettes of the Yrch become more apparent with each step and his ageless face becomes a set, grim mask.
While looking to define his enemies, he sees the image of the moon reflected back at him from the silvered shield of one of the elves. Though they appear weak, Garjin knows they have some strength within them, but none to match that of those empowered with the fire of the Demon. Now only moments away from combat, he first smiles again. A brief smile of happiness. In common tongue he speaks to his anticipated foe, "You will soon learn to befriend my lord, in his pits beneath all. He hungers your blood!" He then takes the final steps towards his foe, feet sludging through the muck of the moor.
Baerk walks forward. He looks for the one he wants to kill. He scans all the elves and finds them all suitable for death. The next one to move closer to him shall meet his black axe.
Bluthguz looks back up from picking his path and spots the elves makleing there own approch. Takeing a tighter hold on his axe he looks over the few elves he can see and tries to pick which one he will kill.
Coronach, at last, halts his approach. For one last, lingering moment, all is still. The harsh, crude voice of the orc dies away, the echoes swallowed up my the cold damp air. Then, as if my force of the elflord's will, the moon emerges from behind a cloud and pours his pale light upon the battlefield. It touches Coronach's longsword, and suddenly it is as iff a star had fallen to earth. A fierce fire, pale light and painful to behold, sends stark black shadows spinning out behind every form, and Coronach raises his voice in a terrible, wordless song. Ithilring, his longsword, descends from its mockery of a salute in a swift arc, aimed to cleave armour, flesh and bone.
Coronach attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 8 hp's by Coronach's attack...
...you have 132 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Caradhril smirks faintly at the orc's coarse boasting, seeming to have heard similar words before. He hears the Elf lord's cry and the fall of the blade, and he casts his cold eyes forward, searching for his prey.
Dinaloss once more moves forward, still keeping herself hidden as much as possible from view by the tall and proud elves marching before her. But as they begin to close with the orcs, she stops, searching for a target among the orcs. Aloud, she cries out, "Palurien a Orome ai tirmen, kelorch!" and heaves the small, squishy ball toward one of the orcs ahead.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.
Garjin stands immobile as the blade flashes through the wet air. The silvered blade cuts deep into Garjin's shoulder, penetrating the heavy cloak and thick links of mail. The eyes of the beast seem to convert to some animalistic creature, all thoughts of reason or mercy cast aside. His face contorts into a grimace of effort as the heavy mace is brought back over his shoulder, and set in motion towards the chest of the slender elf. "Now you will die before me!" is grunted out as the mace decends.
Bluthguz moves forward quietly towards the male elf searching for signs of pray. Hopeing to move sliently enough the only signs of his movement are the long grasses parting and rejoining as he moves thru them.
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace, but she misses by a handspan.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Coronach parries your attack with his shield!
Baerk moves forward. He saw a she-elf hurl a ball into the air. The thought of some poor disillusioned elf fighting with small squishy ball and hoping to win amuses Baerk to no end. he circles around and hopes to get close enought to swing at the silly elf. The nasty elf smell get worse and worse as Baerk approaches but he is able to with stand the smell because his own body oder covers most of it.
Coronach watches calmly as the orc- no mere snaga, this!- spouts some more invective. To his refined ears it sounds like little more then the braying of an ass, and he treats it as such. More heed, however, does he give to the orc's return stroke. He takes a step back quickly, pulls his sword up to a point at which he can coil and strike again, and lifts his shield. As the heavy blow lands on the steel of his roundshield, he lashes out with his sword, intent to slice at his foe's swordarm.
Coronach attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he misses!
Daerandil rolls to the left, his defence matching the same movement made by his foe. Dropping his shoulder the weapon catches only cloth as he escapes. He continues the movement to the side, though his arm rises swiftly, wrist twisting as he slices a short cruel circle with the tip of his blade, aimed at the exposed wrist of the yrch afore him.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword and badly wounds her!
Dinaloss frowns, as the item she throws hits ground instead of orc, spilling it's squishy contents. The scent of flowers is overpowering, now, for ground flowers and rosewater, honey and lavender run out in a sticky mess over the earth. The gardener reaches into her sack, but cautiously now, watching an orc approach her. Again, she throws, this time aiming for him, though slowly backing up with careful and measured steps.
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace, but she misses by an arm's length.
Caradhril comes to a halt, narrowing his eyes as his gaze pierces through the darkness. His keen blue eyes stray over a dark form moving stealthily through the tall grass and he sneers, bringin his sword and shield to the ready. He calls out in the common tongue, "Not good enough, vermin. Now let us see your cursed face so I may slice it away."
Garjin moves just slightly and avoids yet another slash of the blade, but without thinking spins quickly and squats at the same time, bringing the black ball of steel towards the knees of his opponent. Feeling anger at missing his first blow, Garjin redoubles his efforts, and strikes hard.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Coronach dodges your attack.
Daerandil simply leans back, his eyes watching with relief as the tip of the mace whistles past his nose, missing by a scant hairspan. The smile rising on his lips hints of more than eager battle, but perhaps nervous relief. Blow escaped his hand extends first feinting up in a sudden slash before dropping down, a cruel and sweeping through cut slicing from left shoulder to hip.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword, but Zaash parries the attack with her Mace!
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace and mildly wounds him!
Baerk keeps watching the elf as he approaches. The second ball of, what Baerk would describe as elf vomit, comes directly at him. Baerk raises his shield and the ball hits it in a horible smell. the Chieftain of the Burgapai is on angry for his shield smells of flowers. He runs at the elf now swinging his axe madly at her neck.
Coronach watches as his foe whirls about. A strong maneuver, and credit must be given to the orc for eluding his previous wrist cut, but Coronach is too learned in the art of war to allow so gross an attack to find its mark. He steps backwards, bears up his shield as added insurance, then leaps forward to stab deftly at his opponent's flanks. "Nevrast!" he cries.
Coronach attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 8 hp's by Coronach's attack...
...you have 124 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Daerandil twists, a desperate sliding shift but with his arm pushed away his balance is slightly skewed. The head of the mace bashes into his side, a glancing blow that causes a rush of air from his lungs. Continuing the turn he spins about, moving around the yrch and bringing his blade further downwards, a cutting slice at its right knee.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword and moderately wounds her!
Bluthguz rises out of the grass. He then pulls the hood of his cloak of off his head to revial his helm. In the part of the helm that doesn't cover his head shows a frustrted look on his face. Speaking in common he calls out, "We shall see if you can remove my head or if I shall remove yours." Raiseing his shield to cover his body from about waist to neck he brings his axe high and in a acr aimed at the elves left shoulder.
Bluthguz attacks Caradhril with his Axe, but he misses by an arm's length.
Dinaloss's eyes widen, and she turns about and runs nimbly over rock and brush, tossing blindly two more bladders of flower-grinds behind her. "Get away you foul creature!" she cries, not in Elvish this time. "Run lest you choke on the flowers your kind abhor..." Her tone is unwavering, and her hand holds another ball, ready to throw, but credibility in her bravery is diminished as she flees before the orc.
Garjin snarls loudly, and bares his teeth at his opponent as he steps back a half step to regain his attack. The muck slowing his footwork down, preventing his last attack from striking home, but the speed of the elf is suprising. Perhaps the strikes are not hard, but at this rate the King would bleed to death before landing a fatal blow to the slender maggot. Taking in a great lungfull of the fragrantly foul air, burning his throat, he smiles again and nods. A slight bit of respect is befitting of this foe. This one will die well.
At once, he lunges forward and brings a quick strike down across the hip of the elf.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Coronach parries your attack with his Longsword!
Caradhril laughing harshly, Caradhril spins aside, the orc's axe whistling harmlessly through the air. Angling his sword outward, the Elf warrior completes his spin, bringing his shining blade around in a deadly horizontal arc toward his opponent.
Caradhril attacks Bluthguz with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Zaash grits her teeth as the blow finds her marks. Getting slow, indeed... it glances off her kneecap, seemingly without doing much damage. No blood is drawn... but somehow she moves differently now, limping with each step. "You'll pay for that!" she shouts... uhn. Foul breath. However wounded she might be, she tries a swipe at her opponent's throat.
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace, but she misses by an arm's length.
Mjoknae comes across the moors from the south.
Mjoknae has arrived.
Baerk gives chase to the elf. His axe sways above his head as he runs around after the elf. One of the stench laden balls strikes Baerk on his left boot. Baerk growls and yells , "Garr that was my new boot. It was made from a bear skin. No matter i shall soon have new one made from your worthless hide.
Coronach attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he misses!
Bluthguz grunts as the blade bits into his side. The sounds of cloth cutting and metal on metal can be heard. There is some black blood that stains the cloak before it falls away. Being quick to react he recovers his axe and brings it to bare and the elves side to return the favor.
Bluthguz attacks Caradhril with his Axe, but he misses by a mile.
Coronach glances at you.
Daerandil's backward movements continue, sword and shield placed before him. He stops on his back foot, the sudden change of movement throwing off the yrchs aim. A momentary pause comes upon him as the mace once again sails just past his form. He sinks downwards and then lunges forwards, continuing into a fast slashing cut aimed at the yrchs neck as he continues past.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword, but Zaash parries the attack with her Mace!
Caradhril attacks Bluthguz with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Zaash didn't even see that one coming. She didn't try to parry... perhaps it was just a stroke of luck, but somehow the blade manages to hit her weapon. Imagine that... Racing forward, even now trying to knock the elf off his feet, she swings her mace towards Daerandil's head once more.
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace, but she misses by a mile.
Dinaloss leaps up onto a small boulder, and throws a few more of her quickly diminishing supply of flower-balls. Then her dagger switches to her right hand, and she cries from above, the moon bathing her in a silver light, "Fly, foul creature, fly, ere the revenge of Yavanna fall upon you and all your kind here!" Her skin, a pale white, shines under the moonlight and her eyes glow brightly, fire almost seeming to run up her short but sharp blade.
Mjoknae sighs for a moment and runs her finger along the edge of the black blade, red eyes flickering upon the flames etched into it before restoring it to the position at her side. Reaching behind her, and fiddling around within the cloak for a few moments a bow is produced and brought out in front of her, a harsh sound echoing from it as one of the hobgoblins long dark fingers moves against its smooth surface. Catching sight of one of her allies below, she almost chuckles and ponders attempting to shoot the foe.
Garjin notes the powerful move of his opponent, and simply smiles and continues his forward rush closing in too much for the elven blade to strike home. Instead the hilt simply strikes the shoulder plate of the King's armor. Now close enough to bite, Garjin simply smiles and allows his rancid breath to flow over his yellowed rotting teeth into the elf's face. "Now, is the time things will change..." in a whispered voice. Instead of bringing a full strike though, the Uruk simply drives the haft of his mace directly towards the eye of the elf hoping to crash it deep into his face.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Your attack against Coronach mildly wounds him!
Daerandil starts to laugh, a light mocking chuckle that ripples from his throat. His feet begin to move, almost as if he were dancing with his foe, ancient blade flicking out and weaving a shimmering web of steel afore its face. With the point whispering its deadly song he spins once, dropping downm low. The movement carrying his blade in a fast slash, cutting across the side of the yrchs thigh.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword, but Zaash parries the attack with her shield!
Bluthguz falls back from the elfen blade as the tip of it slices his left arm pit. His left arm then falls limp by his side as his shield falls out of his hand and onto the ground. He then recovers and brings his axe to bare in a short swing that should make it also partly cover the loss of his shield.
Bluthguz attacks Caradhril with his Axe, but he misses by a long shot.
Bluthguz puts down Leather Shield.
Bluthguz removes Leather Shield.
Baerk ducks under a few of the ball of elf puke. He closes in on her as she gets on the rock. Her pathetic warning and puny dagger only make Baerk laugh. He swings his axe at her lower legs so that she will fall.
Caradhril leaps aside, dodging the short swing of the orc's weapon. He smiles crookedly, calling out, "Have you lost the ability to land a blow, vermin?" To demonstrated that he has not, he braces against one foot and lunges, sending the point of his blade toward the orc's chest.
Caradhril attacks Bluthguz with his Longsword, but Bluthguz parries the attack with his Axe!
Coronach grits his teeth as both the breath- foul, putrid and reminiscent of a sluaghterhouse- and the mace strike home. Coronach is too quick to be blinded, however, and he turns his head to take the blow on his cheek and the side of his helm. As the blunt weapon connects the elflord drops like a sack of potatoes. Any hope of victory, however, is swiftly shattered as the warrior whirls, down opn his bootheel, and lashes out at Garjin's knee. He then backpeddles rapidly to a more respectable distance. His face is already developing a beauty of a shiner.
Coronach attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he misses!
Mjoknae pulls a red feathered arrow from behind her, gently fingering the only remaining arrow before realizing that she has to make these two count. Muttering quietly to herself, "I need to speak to the smith's when we return to the camp.. Bloody supply routes and such just don't seem to include the goblins," spitting, "Wretched men." Pulling the arrow back, anger beginning to fill her eyes as she sees the attack upon Zaash continue, "Wretched elven men to say the least." A powerful arm guides the now taught arrow to point directly at the opponent before hissing, "I hope you enjoy the sting of a female's pierce, for you will soon have the bitter taste of defeat within your mouth." Slightly sweaty fingers release the arrow and a *twang* resounds through the area as the black arrow flies forth.
Mjoknae's bowshot hits Daerandil, mildly wounding him.
Bluthguz allows himself a small breef smile as he moves his axe and blocks the sword of his attacker. He then quickly moves and frees his axe lowering it for another swing. This one is aimed low at the left kneecap of the elf with hopes mameing his at the knee.
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace, but Daerandil parries the attack with his shield!
Bluthguz attacks Caradhril with his Axe, but he misses by a hair.
Caradhril attacks Bluthguz with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.
Garjin allows the elven warrior to step back but he presses his attack to match, hoping to take advantage of the close in-fighting for which he is known. Nearly jumping towards the retreating elf, he manages to avoid the brunt of the blade, allowing only the slowest part of the sword to hit his leg, which is deflected with the heavy mail.
Now again nearly on top of the elf, the King brings a towering blow down upon the head of his foe.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Coronach dodges your attack.
Bluthguz grones in pain as the sword comes down on his helm bounces off and slices into the left shoulder again. He shakes his head and stagers backwards some before recovering from the blow. He then brings his axe around in a half aimed swing at the elfes left shoulder.
Bluthguz attacks Caradhril with his Axe and moderately wounds him!
Coronach rolls to his side with the speed of thought. The motion was begun as the orc nearly-leapt at him, and was completed ere the monstrous creature regained his footing to strike. The mace slams down towards the ground, and an instant later Ithilring joins it in its fell arc. Coronach, upon his feet again, lashes out at the arms of Garjin, and again he lifts his beautiful voice to cry out, "Coronach na Imladrisen! Nevrast! Nevrast!"
Coronach attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he misses!
Caradhril grunts as the axe cuts a gash in his left shoulder and he turns away from the blow. He narrows his glittering blue eyes at his opponent and hisses, "Your weapon is now stained with my blood.. you will be lucky to leave the field with your life." He brings his sword about to aim a cut at the orc's arm.
Caradhril attacks Bluthguz with his Longsword, but Bluthguz parries the attack with his Axe!
Zaash seems to have gathered enough energy to actually try to evade the incoming blade, and she even manages to succeed in the attempt. Encouraged by this sudden change of luck, she charges forward. "You will not be missed," she growls out through clenched teeth, and thrusts her weapon towards her enemy's face.
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace and mildly wounds him!
Dinaloss leaps off the rock, as the axe seeks her thigh, toward the orc. She lightly touches the shoulder of the orc with her boots, before quickly continuing on to land easily on her feet at his back. She seems to be favouring her right leg, grazed perhaps by the axe as she leapt, but taking advantage of her position she darts forward with her dagger, seeking to dissuade the orc of the idea she is easy prey.
Daerandil tilts his head, the mace clanging off the side of his helm. He takes two steps back blade and shield rising in defence as he recovers for a moment. The setting his feet he lifts himself higher, towering over his foe as his Hir's voice is met with his own. He calls in a loud ringing tone, full of hope, joy and boiling anger. "Nevrast, Nevrast" Exultation done he charges forwards, shield set afore him and blade pointed downwards, barely floating above the ground. E'en as he passes his foe it whistles upwards, an unexpected slash across the yrchs right thigh.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword and badly wounds her!
Bluthguz still dizzy moves back some and happens to move his axe in such a manner to block the blow from the elf. With another shake of his head he draws his axe back and starts it back towards the elf in a swing going for the right arm.
Garjin's forcefull blow actually throws the King off of balance, allowing the blade to fall behind his lowered head. It continues to cut through the flowing cloak behind him. Now with water flowing directly upon his unprotected back, some of the blood begins to wash away into the mire. This time being forced to take a moment to refocus his attack. Taking just a moment, he then begins his advance again, his heavy mace held before him as he stalks his prey.
Bluthguz attacks Caradhril with his Axe, but Caradhril parries the attack with his Longsword!
Mjoknae reaches around behind herself and pulls the last arrow, eyeing it in mild annoyance as she finally realizes that she might actually have to go down and get into the actual fray. A grimace quickly creeps onto her face as the hobgoblin spins the shaft around in her fingers. Lowering it down again and placing it against the bow-string before pulling it slightly, and then more heavily as the string becomes taught, and then aiming once more at Daerandil, and then releasing the black shaft as it flies towards its target with a twang, "Soar my remaining arrow and pierce the elf between the eyes.. The flame guides all, the flame guides you to my target!"
Mjoknae's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.
Caradhril twists about and deflects the axe blow away from him with his blade, trying to knock the orc's weapon wide. He thrusts his sword toward the orc's torso, seeking to pierce the creature's innards.
Caradhril attacks Bluthguz with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace, but she misses by a mile.
Baerk watches in awe as the surprisingly agile elf leaps over him. He tries to spin around quickly enough to stop any attack. He is too slow for the dagger comes from behind and catches him where his chain mail droops around his neck. the wound is very painful for it hit close to the spine. He grasps at the blade, with his shield hand, and almost brains himself with the shield, as he turns swinging his axe at the face of the elf.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.
Coronach continues to back away as garjin advances in wrath. He looks right, then left, ensuring that he is not leaving a space in the skirmish line. Then, just as he steps backwards he explodes into motion, pusing off his back leg and driving forwards to meet Garjin. His sword lashes out, but no crude slash is this: he drives the point forward at the orcish king's abdomen, then rips it back, already pulling it upwards in a fast high-parry.
Coronach attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he misses!
Mjoknae spins the bow around in her hand and twisting around behind her replaces the bow in some leather straps on her back. Pulling them tightly, and then sliding the cloak over them the hobgoblin reaches for the scimitar at her side, and bringing it out in a position to attack her foes begins to walk directly towards Zaash in a very slow pace, waiting for the she-Uruk to decide she has had enough of her male play toy and seeming to enjoy every moment of the conflict. Her tongue creeps out and runs along the black lips, almost being able to taste the blood and she fights her hand back from reaching out to it.
Dinaloss seizes the blade as the orc turns, pulling it from the wound, and brings it to bear once more. But the axe is swung with a mighty force, and the gardener can but use her dagger and mail-clad shoulder to turn the blade of it as best she can. The power behind the strike, however, flings her back to land with a dull thud against the ground, and she but barely retains her blade still. She rises as quickly as she can, but favouring her right side, now, switching the dagger to her left hand, holding it before herself pointed at the orc.
Bluthguz tries to pull his axe back after haveing it almost ripped out of his hands by the elf. Still recovering it he grunts at the sword punctures his belly. The sowrd comes back out bring with it black blood the stains the sword and Bluthguz's cloak. He then brings his axe about aimed at the sword arm of the elf.
Bluthguz attacks Caradhril with his Axe, but Caradhril parries the attack with his shield!
Zaash is no longer advancing, her enthusiasm all spent. No, she starts to back away, still facing her foe. As he charges, and misses, she sees her chance to get a shot in. A quick jab, the intent being to remain as defensive as possible.
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace, but she misses by a handspan.
Caradhril twists about and the axe glances off his shield with a dissonant clang. Blood seeps slowly from his own wound, staining his grey cloak. He brings back his sword and aims a slice at the orc's head.
Caradhril attacks Bluthguz with his Longsword and badly wounds him!
Garjin's cautions advance allows him plenty of time to interpose his shield into the fray, deflecting the blade. Garjin notes from the corner of his eyes that the blade did indeed pierce the shield. With his wielding arm, he quickly draws his arm over his head, and with his muscles rippling, he brings the lethat weapon down upon his foe.
Daerandil spins faster this time, breaking his attack as he simply slashes back. the sudden turn again throwing the yrchs aim off. His blade dances a sweeping melange of cut and thrust ending in a darting downwards blow at the already battered yrchs arm.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Coronach dodges your attack.
Baerk smiles as his axe strikes elf flesh. He watches the elf get to her feet before he moves in to attack. He drops his axe low as if he isn't going to attack but ram himself onto the dagger. Just before he is about to impale himself on the dagger he swings the axe up at the wrist holding the dagger. Hoping the axe does the job he continues his all out charge.
Bluthguz grones as the blade hits the side of his head. He then staggers backwards dizzy and falls backwards over a rock behind him. Landing on the rock with a thump the air is knocked out of him as he tries to catch his breath and clear his head of dizzyness.
Caradhril watches his opponent stagger and fall, and he smiles grimly, humorlessly. The Elf warrior moves to stand before the fallen orc and slowly raises his sword. The blade hangs high in the dark air, then comes soaring down toward the orc.
Dinaloss's dagger arm moves up just ahead of the axe-strike, and she springs back, tripping on some small rocks. Again she tumbles down, but this time she remains there for a minute, grabbing the stones and throwing them at her advancing foe, before once again rising to meet him. "I warn you a last time," she murmurs to the orc, her skin lighting again to a brilliance not possible beneath the moon alone. "Run."
Zaash attacks Daerandil with her Mace, but Daerandil parries the attack with his Longsword!
Daerandil's eyes rise in a sudden flare of light, the bright white gleam more than a match for the dull, malevolent red afore him. His helm is no mask for the wash of brightness that lightens his countenance. His right arm smoothly moves forward, leg following as if attached by a cord or twine. His tall form more than enough to execute the long lunge. His wrists twists in a neat circular parry, taking the yrchs mace and pushing it away. Threat discouraged he pauses moving closer before lashing out with a sudden slice towards the shoulder of his foe. Even as the blade moves forwards his left leg flies back and he starts to withdraw.
Daerandil attacks Zaash with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.
Coronach attacks Baerk with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Caradhril regards his fallen opponent, bloody sword tip swaying just under the orc's chin. Then he takes several steps back and swings about to take in the rest of the melee.
Baerk simply laughs at the woman elf on the ground. "What are you going to do Cry all over me?" Baerk moves in closer to the rising elf. He pulls his axe up over his head and is about to make her the one armed gardener when a mighty stroke knocks him down. As Baerk struggles to get up he notices that his left lower arm is missing and his shield is holding it. Baerk manages to get to his feet as the black blood flows freely from his arm. Baerk tries to swing as best he can through the pain at the one who removed his arm.
Garjin takes advantage of his opponents back, and supresses his desire to emit a horrible battlecry. Instead he simply approaches quickly and lethally behind the elf, and attacks with every bit of his strength, foregoing any and all defense he puts his all into the attack. The King of Moria merely whispers to himself "Now is the time..." as he drops the entire weight of his mace upon the elven lord.
Baerk attacks Coronach with his Bare Hands, but he misses by a mile.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Your attack against Coronach mildly wounds him!
Baerk attacks Coronach with his Axe and mildly wounds him!
Mjoknae's scimitar seems to glow, though its nothing more than the etched flames. With the attacks still continuing upon Zaash the hobgoblin breaks her stance upon the ground and charges forward to the elf yelling an ancient war cry in the dark speech. Some say the pen is mightier than the sword, but in the case of this hobgoblin a new means of working out differences has been chosen, and the blade lashes out for the elfs face, seeking to spill blood and bring a meal to its master. This accented by the growling coming from her stomach, expecting a meal of some sort no doubt. Her mind still battling that urge to reach out and taste the blood and keeping focused, thus the red eyes jump down to the blade and then to the elf's face.
Mjoknae attacks Daerandil with her Scimitar, but Daerandil parries the attack with his shield!
Daerandil's swift retreat continues, his blade pointed out and then turned towards the new opponent. He pulls further back from his first foe. As his back foot moves and pulls him out of danger, his outstretched shield meets and turns the slash from the wicked blade. A slight spark as metal meets metal. Danger met he steps closer, defence turned to attack. His shield sliding out to guard against any reposte, his blade simply sliding forwards in a low thrust ained at his foes stomach.
Coronach turns and varely gets his shield up to ward off the worst of the orc-king's blow. He staggers backwards under the force of the impact, but this spares him much of the strength of Baerk's well-timed counterstrike. He grimaces mightily, whirls about in a blindingly swift motion, and leaps out from beneath Garjin and towards Baerk. Again his sword snaps out, seeking orcflesh. this time, however, he pays more heed to the mighty foe so close behind.
Coronach attacks Baerk with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Mjoknae practically bends over in half in an attempt to miss the blade, though unsuccessful as the elf draws a line of black across her stomach. Small drops of blood begin to trickle down, though nothing which would hinder her combat for the moment. The blade is swung around in her hand once, and breathing rather heavily, trying to blow the wonderful scent of her breath into the face of her opponent and lunging forward with her blade. The hobgoblin seems to be intent with getting a cut on the enemies face, perhaps a symbol for him and his kind to remember the power of a she-Uruk, and the power of the flame.
Mjoknae attacks Daerandil with her Scimitar and moderately wounds him!
Daerandil attacks Mjoknae with his Longsword and lightly wounds her!
Zaash heads south across the trackless moors.
Garjin smiles grimly, and seems very pleased. With the fresh scent of blood in the air, fouled only by the flowery fragrance. Bringing his mace up again, he strikes at the elf-lord and this time trying to take advantage of his Uruk's floundering. Striking up a battlecry, as one of the flowery objects explodes upon his shield, he strikes hard at the elf's back.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Coronach dodges your attack.
Baerk winces as the second elf strikes him again. He watches for his king to be ready for an attack on the elf. Baerk then swings one handed at the elf. As he does so his left arm swings around limply. As it does black blood sprays the area around the chieftain. The sight of his own blood soaking elves makes Baerk smile.
Baerk attacks Coronach with his Axe, but he misses by a mile.
Mjoknae begins to step back slightly, not retreating of course. The blow of the elf sending a pain up her arm, another streak of blackness being drawn onto her body. Trying to decide what to do next, the action of attack is chosen and the hobgoblin leaps towards the enemy with her scimitar, attempting to slice his throat this time, "Die, and become my meal!" she hisses, waiting for the warm splatter of blood to once again light up her face, the tounge seemingly creeping out again to wait for the beverage, and spit begining to collect in her cheeks from the anticipation of elf flesh.
Mjoknae attacks Daerandil with her Scimitar, but she misses by a long shot.
Coronach slithers through the blows of both orcs like a snake, his feet moving as swiftly as they might if he were dancing a reel or jig. His cloak billows outwards as he spins, turning the savage movement, born of economy of motion and desperate need, into a gracefull pirouette. And, oops! It also helps conceal a vicious cut of his sword as Coronach attempts to reach out and slice someone as he spins.
Coronach attacks Baerk with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!
Daerandil steps to the side, his blade crossing his body as he does so. It slices in a long drawn out cut across the yrchs midrift. The movement carries him clear of the desperate attack, in fact it is more the foes healong rush that lends force to his own cut.
Dinaloss attacks you with her Dagger!...
...and she misses!
Daerandil attacks Mjoknae with his Longsword and moderately wounds her!
Baerk falls back as he is struck with the sword of the elf. A deep sence of forboding comes over the Burgapai Chieftain as he lays sprawled out on the ground. This elf is not going to be easy to kill. Baerk gathers up enough intestinal fortitude and stands again. Now he is angry. Baerk watches as he King is slashed at by the woman elf. Quickly Baerk moves to his king but as he goes he tries to slice the elf who removed his arm.
Baerk attacks Coronach with his Axe, but he misses by a long shot.
Garjin now feels beset upon by hordes of the wriggling maggots, though only one causes him concern. Trying to decide whether to strike down one of the lesser elves or continue to go after the stronger one, Garjin wheels around and with a wide arc to force back all of the others, he strikes at Coronach who still seems to be more concerned with Baerk. Vowing next to strike the object of affection of the elves, for now he is content with downing his foe. As the heavy mace slides through the blackness like dark from a shadow, a faint whistling is heard as the air flows between the deadly spikes.
Mjoknae decides this situation isn't going to yield a meal and begins to withdraw, her direction carrying her off towards the north. Though the hobgoblin does leave one thing behind, and her tongue retracts into her mouth, moving around for a moment as it gathers the saliva and forces it against the front of her yellow teeth. The black lips part, and with the quick push of her tongue she launches the spit towards her enemy and then turns to quickly depart.
Coronach attacks Baerk with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.
Baerk watches as the elf attacks him again. The blade goes by him and does no damage. The Chieftain decides to take a parting shot at the elf before he returns to his camp.
Baerk attacks Coronach with his Axe, but he misses by a long shot.
Garjin now feels beset upon by hordes of the wriggling maggots, though only one causes him concern. Trying to decide whether to strike down one of the lesser elves or continue to go after the stronger one, Garjin wheels around and with a wide arc to force back all of the others, he strikes at Coronach who still seems to be more concerned with Baerk. Vowing next to strike the object of affection of the elves, for now he is content with downing his foe. As the heavy mace slides through the blackness like dark from a shadow, a faint whistling is heard as the air flows between the deadly spikes.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Coronach parries your attack with his Longsword!
Daerandil's cloak receives the indignity of the spittle and gunk. Though he does not let the assault stand. Instead he spins about, face bright with glee as the two defeated yrch continue to withdraw. He sees the danger and swiftly rushes to the aid of Dinaloss.
Baerk turns and heads back to the Morian camp. On the way he stops to pick up his shield and the rest of his tattered arm. After he lenghtens the distance between him and the elves he turns to watch them leave.
Bluthguz picks up Leather Shield.
Coronach attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and you parry his attack with your Mace!
Dinaloss frowns, then, watching the elflord finish in his fray, but when he approaches, she merely shakes her head slowly, and turns away. Over her shoulder, she mutters just loudly enough for him to hear, "Why not? Doing the same for you earned me those words." Then she moves on her way, hurrying back to the safety of the valley and the respite of Elrond's house.
Garjin is ready for nearly anything, but with all of his own people retreating, and the odds against him piling up quickly, he is less and less pleased with the situation. Though everyone survived, the combat was poor. His men should have routed the feeble maggots. The punch was fully unsuspected, and though it strikes the side of his helm, no true damage was inflicted. His appearance none diminished, he takes one final swing towards the offending elf as he flees the field. This one at Coronach's face, but more to get him on his way than to finish the fight. There would be another day to fight this one, and he would surely go down then.
You attack Coronach with your Mace...
Your attack against Coronach mildly wounds him!
Coronach receives one final reminder of the skill of his foe. He too ducks the worst of the blow, but the reverberation of the mace ringing off his helm sings out like a bell. He grits his teeth, shakes his head, and continues his withdraw...after ensuring that Garjin _really_ has no intention to continue this affair.
Garjin seems to be content to allow the rest of the elves to flee the field, as his own horde has departed, and leaving the King to stand alone upon the bloodied battlefield.
Coronach steps into a shadow, gathers his grey cloak around him, and is gone.
Coronach has left.
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