Northwest of the Crossroads
Large trees stand here, perfect for hinding behind. The sky is grey and overcast. The only sound is a crow cawing in the trees above. You peer through the trees, at the cross roads to the southeast.

From The Crossroads, Boromir appears from around a tree...

From The Crossroads, Amidst the tumult of the downpour, the air suddenly falls incredibly still: silence reigns for a spit second, as hairs rise on the back of uruk necks. And then it shatters with an unspeakable force, as the next stroke from heaven falls amidst the band from the black lands, and several are killed in the flash!

"The sword is a close-range weapon, and there's not much I can do here..", says Fanathir quietly, following the dunedain.

From The Crossroads, Fanathir appears from around a tree...

From The Crossroads, Ratkor and the unit of woodsuruks seemingly unare of the chaos attribute it to rushing ot keep things from getting flooded. An assulat of the rain if you will. They move to a doused fire that is low on wood and begin to unload thier burden that will surely need drying before it is of use.

From The Crossroads, Arnafel appears from around a tree...

Keleir readies another arrow to the bow, sparing little time in marking the path of one he has just released at the woman. Hands cold from the rain and chill of the morning, he blows hard on them once before setting the arrow to the string. Hearing the shout from the Captain, he nods to himself and follows the man with his eye and glancing anxiously to the left and the right of him to make sure none approach unawares.

From The Crossroads, Boromir steps out from the cover of the trees, not hiding now but showing the woman and her charge the way to safety. Raising his ancient horn to his lips he let's loose a might blast, "Hroooom!! Hroooom!!!" Letting the horn drop again to his side he raises his sword and crys, "For Gondor! Gondor and Dol Amroth!"

From The Crossroads, Grazzt reaches the guards on the west road, he pauses peering out along its length for signs of approaching Gondorians, he curses when none become apparent and turns looking around in the driving rain for signs of the attackers

From The Crossroads, Jalorian appears from around a tree...

You creep up to the trees and slip into the circle...
From The Crossroads, Analdin appears from around a tree...
The Crossroads
A ring of trees of vast size, very ancient and still towering high though their tops are gaunt and broken, as if tempest and lightning blast have swept across them but failed to kill them or shake their fathomless roots. In the center of the circle towers a huge sitting figure, solumn as the great stone kings of Argonath, looking over the roads running through the trees. Indeed, roads stretch off in all 4 directions: East towards Minas Ithil and West towards Minas Anor; North towards the Morannon and South along the S.Ithilien Road...which one you choose is up to you, but choose wisely, for one small mistake in these parts could cost you your life.

Even Krifnerik, despite his reputation of passive indifference, cringes towards the flooding ground with this last thunder clap, closing his eyes as he tries to cope with the pain to his ears. He relunctantly stands up, keeping his priorities straight as he continues in vane to earch over the rai nmists, seeing few things but uruks scattering to and fro. "Ready your arms!", he again bellows atop his lungs, trying his best to prepare what troops can hear him in this mass of confusion.

Nikera makes her way slowly through the camp, the rain hampering as well as it is helping. As the distance from the prison grows larger, the strain of carrying the man with her takes its toll as he is now more dragged then carried. Seeing the man step out of the trees she turns her efforts in that direction, slashing at one more of the foul uruks as they seek to stop the escape of the prisoners

Arnafel follows close behind the Steward's son, silent, his face grim, as he braces himself for the assault that must surely follow.

Furthang peers through the storm and makes out the huge figure of the warlord, and heads in that direction, yelling and screaming as he goes. The strom deafening his screams.

Ver-beeg glances to the west as he can barely hear the load blast from a ranger's horn and looks back to his guards and yells "Hold Fast!! let them come to you!!" he then glances back to the west and frowns as he can't make anything out, not even the tree line that he knows in only 50 yards away from him.

Analdin follows Boromir into the clearing with the silence he has kept for some while now. Vigilant eyes take in that before him, and he draws his sword from his sheath carefully, at the ready .

Arrows arch out from withing the grove of trees that Boromir and a few others have stepped from. Not enough numbers to instill fear on their foes, but enough perhaps to slow pursuit.

Jalorian enters, sword drawn and a defiant sneer upon his lips as he awaits Bormir's signal

Keleir appears from around a tree...
Keleir has arrived.

Fanathir runs towards the women, carrying the prince, with his sword still unwielded, "Hurry woman!!", he shouts, "and if your burden is too heavy, pass it onto me.. but hurry for the sake of the Valar!"

Veerzadug stops, completely still as all quiet reigns for one split second, his vision returning slowly as he looks to the nw, then another blast and the storm resumes, blinding him with light once more. The dogs behind him remain with him, a miracle at the best as he moves slowly to the north, north-west, struggling against the wind and downpour.

Ratkor is thrown to the ground with the last blast of what appears to be lighting striking the crossroads army. Over his left shoulder many arrows plumet some finding thier mark in his unit caught unawares. Sloshing in the mud he riases to his feet and tries toorganize his force.

Arnafel sees that the Prince's unknown rescuer is in dire strats, and runs forward in a crouch, reaching the woman at the same time as the Scout, standing beside them with drawn sword, seeking to deter any of the foul yrch who might come their way.

Nikera stops as the man reaches her and lets him take her burden from her. On close notice it is obvious that she herself will not go much farther. Panting heavily she looks at the man, "Get him fom this place..before they capture him yt again.."

Mithrandir has arrived from behind the trees...
Mithrandir has arrived.

Arnafel turns to the Scout and shouts to him to be heard over the thunder, "Take her and the Prince and get thee from here! We will cover thy retreat!"

The sound of a single horseman can be heard coming from the south. The beast, tall and black as night, a grand stallion carries its rider at a trot. But soon its master kicks it into a gait.

The single rider, clad in green his raven hair fluttering upon his shoulders, a soldier of Gondor. And in his hands he holds no reigns, but rather a greatbow of yew and drawn back is the string and nocked is a green arrow and the warrior calls out, his commanding voice carrying afar, "Ware! Ware! I am Faramir! son of Denethor from the house of Hurin and my kin you have and now comes your Doom!" and then with voices bellowing high come the Rangers of Ithilien, three hundred strong!!

Furthang falls in with the other guard who surround the warlord. His grip upon his spear tightening as he listens and looks for the tarks. His vision hampered by the storm, he places himself within earshot of the warlord.

Faramir has arrived from behind the trees...
Faramir has arrived.

Again a flight of arrows comes from the grove of trees, their aim reduced by the storm. Several find their marks, dropping orcs in writhing pain about the muddy ground.

Jalorian rushes now to the man who holds the prince, sword held at the ready to defend both high and low from attack by the foul spawn that had held his Lord's son captive

Carecyn comes within the circle from the west, the ravens caw menacingly at him.
Carecyn has arrived.

Byringlor has arrived from behind the trees...
Byringlor has arrived.

Placing the hands of the half-dead man over his shoulders, Fanathir loads the prince to his back, unable now to use any weapon, "Squire!!", he almost chrashes at Arnafel as he turns and runs away, "help this woman in any possible way you can!" And as Faramir's shout is heard he stops to see his Captain for a bit shouting his name in the air, but then runs towards the conceiling trees to the northwest, still with Elphir hanging behind him.

Keleir broaches the ring of trees surrounding the northwest side of the encampment, accompanied by a dozen other like-clad scouts, all with their bows lifted, nocked and raised towards the enemy. Passing the sighted tip of the dart across several of the black figures, Keleir lays it upon one that seeks to hew down a man of Gondor. Loosing it towards it, he missle hisses foward through the mist of rain.

At the sight of his brother Boromir raises his sword high again, his rain swept hair partially obscuring his face he crys, "Faramir! Come now to your brother's aid! Side by side we shall hold them off while the son of our Uncle is carried away!"

And as steam draws from the black stallions nostrils its rider lifts his bow and looks to the foul host mustered at the great junction of roads before him and with a whisper upon the air of "Orome!" his green fletched arrow is let loose!

Grazzt turns away from the guards looking to his north as horn blast followed be shouts of men slowly drift towards him, he growls out to the guard close by, "follow" before striding forth axe in hand heading towards the camp, and humans

Faramir launches an arrow...
Faramir's bowshot hits Grazzt, mildly wounding him.

Ratkor seeing his uruks are as ready as they are going to be and losing more to missle fire by the moment, gesitates no more and calls for a charge to the North west in hopes of closing with some of these dratted archers.

Ver-beeg yells out to his guards "Ring the wagon with a Axewall, let no one come near it!! Hold it till I give you the order to stand down!1" he then looks to the west and adds "I'm going to get some of this useless flesh into action!!" he then walks into the rain and begins to force every uruk me comes arcoss to grab a weapon and begin to move west toward the sound of the horn.

A man clad in all green steps out from behind a tree to the south, sword in hand and cloak drawn tight against the wind and rain. This man of the woods, shouts out to another man close to him and the spread apart as they enter the clearing, the other man lets loose his arrow and reloads and taking aim again.

Furthang follows the warlord with the other guards. Finding it hard keeping up with him as he slips and stumbles in the mud. Cursing the the atrks for picking this foul moment to ambush as he goes.

Nikera struggles to follow the other humans as they make their retreat to the safety of the woods beyond the camp. Glancing over her shoulder for a moment she watches as the fight continues. As she makes her way one if the following Uruk falls to the ground an arrow in its through

The next bolt of fire from above slashes across the skies, taking itself deep into one of the mighty and ancient trees which stand about the crossroads. Flame rushes the course of the bark, slashing to earth in its blaze and causing the tree to blow apart as if from a single, horrible blow. Burning shrapnel falls among the massed uruk: and the fires offer backlight to the great statue in the midst of the crossroads. Upon its mighty shoulders stands a single figure, terrible in his bearing, eyes flashing as the thunderbolts themselves: old, wild, grey.

Krifnerik crosses his eyebrows, stayling a long while in the same place as he attempts to organize the mass of troops into fighting power, though his shouting seems to do little good. He quickly turns and begins to tramp through the rain towards the southern ends of camp marked by Barad-dur banner, hesitantly moving along his way to keep from tripping over a tree stump or some such, his vision impaired badly. "Inspector's guards, gather by my tent!", he shouts over his breath in an attempt to summon those more capable of following his orders, lingering next to a thick tree to take cover next to as he searches the distance without cause.

With his sword at the ready, Analdin keeps close eye on Fanathir's and Arnafel's actions for not much longer before taking action as well, "Squire, Sergeant, do what must needs be done, and be wary of your backs. My blade will protect you as best I can." With that, he places himself at the best position for protecting the two, though it is obvious he is not alone in this task.

Jalorian steps between a slinking yrch and the fleeing Nikera, sword at the ready

Boromir steps backwards toward the copse of trees again as the prince is half carried, half lead to safety. His glance drifts towards Faramir, in obvious concern for his own brother now. In a loud voice, one that carries as loud as his horn across the din of the camp he cries, "Faramir! Come to me! "

Arnafel nods and grasps the woman by the shoulder, his sword in his other hand as he near drags her towards safety. A orc comes in his way, only to be hewed down instantly. Arnafel sees a lone Scout, and shouts to him, "Take her to safety!" He relinquishes his hold on Nikera as the Scout approaches, and then turns back to stand with Analdin.

Another volley of arrows from the scouts standing back from the Gondorian's main force rises into the storm clouded sky, reaching their pinnacle and then dropping back down in a slow lazy manner upon the forces of yrch. Keleir jars slightly at the continuing crashes of thunder and bright flashes of light, but continues in his steady procession of nocking arrows to the waxed string of the bow held in his white knuckled hand, noting briefly the approach of the Captain who bears a limp body.

Grazzt lets out a savage snarl as an arrows brushes past his arm, drawing a thin line of black blood, he bellows out a curse, hastening his stride as more humans appear, eager ly hefting his axe as he begins to draw closer to them not noticing the orc disarra

Jalorian engages the ax-armed orc, keeping protected the opposite side from Analdin and bravely does he fight, slaying the brute and turning to see how the other man fares when his eyes widen and blood spills from his lips, another axe burried deeply in his spine.

The cry of the elder brother makes it to Faramirs ears, but knowing he is cut between the northern group and the host he looks to instead cause as much trouble as he can. Lifting his Greatbow once more as well as his voice, the younger calls long and loud, "GONDOR!!" And in response the men of Ithilien cry out, their hearts lifted and their blades fell in their hands. With their Captain in the lead they strike hard upon their foes.

Nikera goes with the scout, willingly unable to stand let alone resist the rescuers or aid in the fighting. Slipping once, the steadying hand of the scout catches her before she falls and lifts her onto his shoulder not placing her down again until the safety of the trees is reached

Jalorian drops to his knees, staring as his sword falls from useless hands

Furthang follows the warlord into battle, his spear at the ready. The hulking frame and the storm add to the confused state. As yet he cannot make out any targets but is sure that the warlord can smell the blood of a tark, so stumbling onward he goes.

Ver-beeg ducks for a moment at the sound of a new roll of thunder and then shouts at the uruks as they beging to scatter "Blast you snaga!! get your wits about you!! you are under attack!! Are you going to show weakness before this unskilled tarks!?! No get your weapons and fight!! or by the Eye I will kill you where you stand!!!" he then smashes then flat end of his weapon on a nearby uruk and trys to gain some order in the uruk troops where he is.

The bow of Faramir creaks as he pulls the bowstring back to his cheek, his fingers biting into the soft flesh. Then with held breath and gleaming eyes the arrow is let fly to find a target in the throng.

Boromir steps foward as Jalorian, the knight from Imrahil's own court is cut down. But the sheer numbers of the approaching orcs stays him. Shouting again at the men behind him to flee, taking the prince with them he gathers by force of will those men still near by, intent on holding the ground as long as possible.

Ratkor leads his slippery and slow charge towards the NW and seeing some tarks ahead rushes and slips the last few feet finding himself before Analdin. His ax in both hands raised high he swings wildly at at the Gondorian's chest.

Faramir launches an arrow...
Faramir's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Ratkor attacks you with his Axe!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

Krifnerik stumbles away fro mthe tree that covers him towards a small gathering of grey clad spear wielding uruks that were lucky enough to hear the black clad archer's summons. He nods his head, spekaing loudly to the group's captain in an attempt to overbear the muffling of the rain. "Come with me and we'll take cover, perhaps we can set up an archer line somewhere.", and at that he begins leading the group of ten or so through the rain, trudging through the mud in the direction of Ver-beeg's wagon.

Engaged in combat with an axe wielding orc, Galain steps to and fro half concentrating on keeping his balance and avoiding the heavy swings of the axe. After exchanging blows and swings Galain quickly avoids a downward hack and plunges his sword into the orcs neck spraying both him and the dead orch's body in blood.

Jalorian pales as his lifeblood runs freely and meets Boromir's eyes with a brave smile, seeing the Prince freed. The light slips from his emerald eyes and he crumples forward.

Right within the terrible storm stands the grim figure, atop the shoulders of the great statue: and as the flash of lightning and the horror of the fires sweep the land beneath him, his countenance is given light. Shadows dance and play across his cragged brows and blazing eyes; stern he stands amidst the tempest.

Though Arnafel and a couple other men, Analdin takes brunt of an attack, espicially as one orc comes up swinging his axe before him. The Guardsman, unprepared for the blow, takes a startled step back as the axe rakes across the armor of his chest, knocking the air out of him at the least. Anger rises in his eyes, and he mutters a curse, repaying the orc for the blow with a tightly controlled swing to his shoulder.

You attack Ratkor with your Longsword...
Ratkor dodges your attack.

Fanathir, carrying the body of the prince of swans, gets blinded with that sudden flood of lightnings, misses a huge rock and stumbles over it, the weight of the prince making the sergeants head sinks deep in the mud. Cursing loudly as he stands up, he looks at the stiff body lying next to him, he spits next to him and sets the burden onto his back again. Legs of the prince make tracks in the muddy soil as they flee towards the northwestern forests, with rain and remaining gondorians keeping them safe and unnoticed. As he walks by a knight of Dol Amroth he shouts to him loudly, "Jalorien!!", trying to kick him to get the attention, "inform the sons of denethor that their cousin is out of the circle.. we can now retreat, tell them to come to CA.. go now!"

Grazzt advances quickly upon the foe, his strides taking him towards the mounted man as another arrow bounces off his stoney skin, he growls out the command attack to his guards as small skirmishes break out as orcs begin to arrive

Jalorian makes not a sound though it seems even that as his heart beats its last, he would fight for his Prince. Then a sigh is heard between lightning flash and the Knight lays still.

Ratkor ducks at the swings of Analdin's blade and proves t obe quicker than the harsh sea steel. While low he calls, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Swining low with his timber axe he tries to fell Analdin as he would a great tree.

The Ranger company spilt in two, to the fore rush the swordsmen and to the rear hold the archers. The long line of greatbows are drawn and fired sending a hail of green arrows into the Orc host. And alongside the footmen rides Faramir upon his black strider, seeing them near the enemy he returns his longbow to his shoulder and begins to ready blade and shield for closer quarters.

Ratkor attacks you with his Axe!...
...and he misses!

Furthang dodges yet another tark arrow, as he barly makes out a figure in the trees. Running and cursing the tarks in his native uruk tounge, as he follows the warlord into battle.

Sirion comes within the circle from the west, the ravens caw menacingly at him.
Sirion has arrived.

Ver-beeg looks to his right and hisses as he hear the air split and the fast moveing from that can only be a arrow fly past his head. He then takes a step back and yells to his left, seemingly back to his Guards "Tarks with bows to your right!! 20 to 50 yards, stay on guard and have Yegmo set up the blockers!!" he then gos e back to to trying to rally the uruks near him.

Faramir slips his bow over his shoulder and rests it across his back.

Boromir sees the hulking brute head towards his younger brother. Heedless of his own danger he reaches down and picks up a stone from the ground. Launching it at the troll he shouts, "Don't be running away now! "

Keleir mutters under his breath at the unnatural strength of the storm overhead and the depleting supply of arrows in the case on his back. Soaked to the skin from the steady rain, he brushes the wet hair away from his eyes with the back of his sleeve and sets his sights forward once more. The men on either side of him call out to one another, marking one creature or another as their intended choice and he draws back on his own weapon, aiming the bolt up into the sky to send it up and over the men of Gondor and into the ranks of the camp.

Faramir calmly unsheaths his Longsword, the ring of steel carries to your ears as he holds it at the ready.

Analdin spares only an occasion glance over his shoulder, eyes searching for a moment to catch sight of those he tries to protect. However, his attention is not spared from the fight long enough to jump back and away from the axe blow before it tears a nice hole in his newly mended talbard. Humor mixes with the anger in his eyes, and his blaed is swung smoothly once more, a downward slice aimed for the top of the orc's left shoulder.

You attack Ratkor with your Longsword...
Your attack against Ratkor badly wounds him!

Grazzt merely laughs as a stone bounces of his scaley leg, he turns to face the thrower his voice low as he rasps out, "you die first den hooman" raising his axe as he speaks he steps forward towards Boromir bringing his axe down quickly in a powerful strike

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds him!

Gaining closer to the knight Fanathir realises his blindness made him mistake a man for another, but as the battle rages on, and the breathing of the prince grows quicker he hurries and gets lost in the northern woods.

Fanathir has sliped away, behind some trees...
Fanathir has left.

Faramir and his men meet the first of the scattered Orcs, many hundred mustered afore the caravans and it seems the thunder strikes again, but it is the clash of steel! Sword on Helm, spear and shield. And upon the black stallion Faramirs blade lashes out, hewing back and forth and sending snagas sprawling before him, the fire in his eyes only matched by the wrath in his heart!

Carecyn grumbles softly to himself as an arrow flys by his head. Turning to glance at the line of fellow rangers he grins slightly. The grin turn to a face of pure hate and surprise as a spear jabs into his armour but is deflected away for the most part. Galain swings his sword across his body but misses the spear-wielding orc. Again the tall ranger is engaged in close fighting this time not easily won, but won never the less as Galains sword is buried deep into the chest of the orc, both red and black blood mingling into the soil being washed away by the downpour, the fallen orc and tall ranger illuminated by the fires.

Krifnerik curses inaudiblly to himself as he happens upon the line moving out of camp, trying t oget a good glance at the numbers without his eyes being stamped with rain drops. He s hakes his head, and waves his pale scimitar forward in a sign of advance to his grey clad spear wielding uruks behind him, and with them he runs forward, setting the grip of his scimitar in both hands as he charges and raises his blade over his right shoulder, stopping just befor one of the linesmen to slash a barely aimed downwards stroke at the other's shoulder. His spear wielding guards mesh in against the others in a battle-like melee, though the numbers are few among the total opponents involved.

Krifnerik attacks Arnafel with his Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

Boromir raises his shield up in an attempt to deflect the blow from splitting his body. Slipping in the wet mud he misjudges the mark, taking the full weight of the blow. His shield is driven into his chest, driving him backwards. Cursing softly at the blow he shakes off it's affects and lunges forward, slicing at the beasts leg.

Boromir attacks Grazzt with his Large Longsword, but Grazzt parries the attack with his Battle Axe!

Ratkor Cringes as the steel of Analdin's sword bites firmly into his shoulder cutting past many green scales like so much cake. slidding back from the grevious wound a stream of dark crimson watered by the rain replaces Analadin's sword in his shoulder. With a mighty cry in pain and anger he reacts, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" and jumps to Analdin's right trying ot get a swing in at his left midsection.

Ratkor attacks you with his Axe!...
...and you block his attack with your shield!

Fanathir pages Boromir, Faramir, Keleir, Analdin, and Arnafel: i'm going to take elphir slowly to Cair Andros and heal him there...

Ah! The sun! Glorious in morning, than the moon more mindful. And thither away in the west that sun glints upon the arms of a man. There you see upon a mighty horse a man bent sorely with age. His hair is white and flowing, and his body is mailed in sparkling chain. He looks to the east with a wizzened glance and he grasps his sword. He holds it aloft and then the voice comes, the voice of Sirion son of Tirion of the House Isilrim, reknowned among the knights of Gondor, "The light shall shine again! Forth to war and wreck! Death!"

Furthang watches as the warlord turns to face another tark. His gaze is firmly fixed on the atop the horse, as tarks and uruks smash together in battle around him. The rider sees his approach

Grazzt grunts swinging his axe in a downward mark brushing the humans blow to the side, he growls beginning to taunt his opponent, "you die quickly human" he says bringing his axe back cutting it across to the body of the human

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe and lightly wounds him!

As he smoothly raising his shield to block Ratkor's blow, a touch of a smile lights on Analdin's face, "Close there, friend," he mutters wryly as the blow jars his arm. However, he comes back quickly with a tight swing at the orc's midsection, a swing which, when near the body, is turned down instead for a nice slice at the orc's legs.

Sirion the Elder digs his spurs into his warhorse and urges himself westward, eyes sharp and sword singing - perhaps - or perhaps it is a mere fabrication of the senses bent by the unopposable will of the ancient warrior, hale, yet still old in the reckoning of his kin. Yet no fear shines in his eyes - only death.

You attack Ratkor with your Longsword...
Your attack against Ratkor moderately wounds him!

Furthang lunges towards the rider, at the last moment he dips his spear and drives it at the the horses neck area.

Arnafel holds the line with the others as the company of uruks approaches and smashes int them. He winces as one of them slips though his guard and swings at him with a cruelly curved scimitar, the blade slicing through his leather armor and opening a gash along his vhest. He stumbles back, then turns to face the orc squarely, his own blade darting toward's the orc's chest in retaliation.

Ver-beeg hisses as he makes it to the treeline and looks back to the camp and hisses "Where did they get too now?!?!" he then looks to the woods and frowns as he knows he is in a bad state as he has moved out of the haveing someone at his back and begins to starts backing up and yells back "Uruks of Mordor To me!!!

Arnafel attacks Krifnerik with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.

Boromir's shield again moves to block the blow, this time a chunk of the metal flys off at the shock of the blow. The man's courage and pride stay undeminished though and knowing that each minute he stands facing the troll gives his cousin a better chance of escape. Seeking more to delay then the doubtful victory at arms he again brings his ancient blade against the steely hide of the troll.

Boromir attacks Grazzt with his Large Longsword, but Grazzt parries the attack with his Battle Axe!

Nikera watches helplessly as the battle rages before her. Resting lightly against a tree, the woman remains on her feet though it is evident if the tree was not there she would not yet remain on her feet. Lifting her right hand to shield her eyes she searches the battle field

The black stallion rears as several charging Orcs cause it too backpedal, but for a kick in the ribs it as quickly holds it place. Faramir keeps control of the mount, his shield arm holding the reigns pulling them tight, his blade flashing from the lightening as it darts forth.

Grazzt chuckles again, a low sinister chuckle as he knocks aside the humans blow with the flat of his axe blade, he steps a short little step backward before jabbing forward with the end of his axe, hoping to impale the human on the spike on the axe's end

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe, but Boromir parries the attack with his Large Longsword!

Sirion pushes into the fray and calls to his squire, "Have heart Arnafel! Remember the Prince's words! Beyond darkness our hopes lay and only through darkness shall it come!" Yet now that very son of Tirion, as if doomed by some larger fate sees now the mighty Captain Boromir. He cries, "Boromir! Nay! It shall not be so!" Turning his war horse (the horse itself is chained and secured in the fashion of the warriors of old) he gallops at full toward Boromir.

Faramir attacks Furthang with his Longsword and severely wounds him!

The storm breaks as quickly as it came, and it fades into nothing as surely as it arose from nothing. The clouds vanish, leaving the sun alone to pierce the canopy and warm the earth: that and the fires which rage around statue. But the ancient figure turns from the shoulder of that great monolith, unseen in all the day's fine chaos: and where his steps take him, none may clearly say... for he vanishes behind the head, and is not seen again.

Ratkor is clipped in the legs by Analdin's sword. His left leg goes out from under him and falling backwards scrambles in the muck to cler away from the great Tark swordsman. His crab like walk moves him quickly trying ot lengthen the distance between he and his foe. Thinking he has enough time he tries to regain his footing.

Krifnerik turns his torso in an instincitve and well drilled dodge of Arnafel's thrust, the longsword jabbing right past his side as he musters another blow to be dealt. Setting in a more skill-worthy stance than his previous charge, he sets his feet in place, left foot forward and right foot back, to give him manuverability and balance. His pale, long and strangely lack of a curved scimitar lashes out again at Krifnerik's human opponent, this time with only his right hand swinging for a slash at the other's gut horizonatlly while his left hand sways back for balance.

Boromir's own weapon comes between himself and the thrusting point of the axe. Steping to the side of the mighty weapon as it passes him he stabs with the point of his blade into the vitals of the troll, his strength trying to force the point between a scale.

Krifnerik attacks Arnafel with his Scimitar and badly wounds him!

Boromir attacks Grazzt with his Large Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Carecyn wipes pulls his blade out of the orcs body and slides it across the orcs rags of clothing to clean it quickly and turns to see another orc charging. Unable to fully comeup into a good stance Carecyn is knocked back by the force of the orcs scimitar, loosing his balance the ranger slides back but uses his shield to keep his footing and not fall all the way to the ground. He speaks in a foreign tounge to the orc and leaps forward sword swinging at the orcs chest, instead of striking its mark the sword is turned aside by the orcs shield. In return Carecyn recives a cut across the face as he barely manages to save his head by falling back. As the orc presses his attack Carecyn smashes his shield into the orcs leg felling the foul beast. In one fluid motion Carecyn rises to his feet and archs his blade down into the orcs chest through armour and all.

Grazzt stumbles forward as his axe blow if forced wide, he grunts in pain as the sword point forces its way thru a scale drawing a line of black blood, regaining his balance he hisses down upon the human, "Iz will feast upon you" as he brings his axe down agai

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe, but Boromir parries the attack with his shield!

Ver-beeg hears the rubble of a one of the beasts that the tarks ride and seems to be passing closeby. He then swings out with his weapon and hopes that he might hit the the rider and beast as it passes by, <the beast being rode by faramir>.

Sirion spurns his horse and laughs, "Is there no foe upon this field who is not afraid of me? Is there none who shall challenge Sirion the son of Tirion?"

Ver-beeg attacks Faramir with his Battle Axe, but Faramir parries the attack with his Longsword!

Furthang leaves himself exposed as his jab attack misses the horse. As it rears up he plants his spear upright in the ground directly under the horse as it stands. Comming down he cannot see if his attack on the horse is successfull or not as a longsword slashes him in the side. The force of the horse comming down and the open wound at his side cause him to fall back

Even as the battle rages about him, no huge campaign but quite enough to cause something of a noise, Analdin seems to have no ear for the din of the battle. Eyes only for the orc rising before him, struck down by his blow, a sneer comes to his face and passes his lips, "Would you like me to end you quickly?" A twinkle of good humor shows in his eyes, but not near enough to belie his words. With that, the Guardsman once more swings his blade downward on a course to catch the orc full in the chest.

You attack Ratkor with your Longsword...
Your attack against Ratkor badly wounds him!

Arnafel raises his sword in acknowledgement of Lord Sirion's words, his eyes remaining fixed on the foul yrch who he faces in battle. His hair, wet from the rain, falls over his brow, and he shakes from his eyes quickly, and yet not quickly enough, for the other's sweeping blade strikes again, cutting through his armor once again, opening another, far deeper wound across his stomach. His cry of pain is muffled by the sounds of battle around him. And yet, he regains himself, and into the fray once more he leaps, his blade sweeping down towards his opponenents knees in an attempt to cripple him.

Arnafel attacks Krifnerik with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.

Keleir releases the last of the arrows he carries when he hears a bellowed shout from the ring of trees behind him, calling for aid. Shouldering the bow, he motions to the man nearest to him, showing him that he means to leave for the direction in which they came to which his fellow nods without turning to look directly at him. Saying a final word, he glances towards the clash of orc and Man, and then departs swiftly to the northwest, fading in amongst the grey trees.

Keleir has sliped away, behind some trees...
Keleir has left.

Boromir has gotten in too close for the beasts weapon to work as it should. Bringing his shield up over his head he angles the blow so that the axe head strikes the ground, a shower of sparks fills the air as his shield, absorbs another blow. Seeing that he has found a spot in the troll's armed hide that might be weakening he again stabs upwards.

Boromir attacks Grazzt with his Large Longsword, but Grazzt parries the attack with his Battle Axe!

The air about Faramirs ear is suddenly spent with a great clash of arms, his blade swung out to meet a deadly Axe. His mount neighs loudly as unnoticed a spear is broke under its great chest, the tip still stuck in its left side.

Looking to the foul Orc wielding the great axe, he turns his mount and his own blade now lashes forth, a blur raised in the dull cloud blocked sunlight, but still gleaming in his hands and down the fell blade falls.

Krifnerik snarls and jumps back defensivly from Arnafel's low swing, his scimitar idley rejoining with his left hand for a double grip, though it lowers, pointing to the ground, and in retaliation Krifnerik sends his foot out in a swift butt at the human's own knee, almost as if to break the other's leg with enough power.

Faramir attacks Ver-beeg with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.

Krifnerik puts away his scimitar.

Krifnerik attacks Arnafel with his Bare Hands, but he misses by a handspan.

Ratkor leaps back and to the right, but not fast enough to avoid connecting with Analdin's sword. with his axe men fareing no better around him he calls, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" as he turns to flee towards the center of the crossroads. His steps slosh greatly as he gains in distance from the Tark.

Krifnerik wields his scimitar.

Sirion sighs and sits still upon his horse. He idly plays with his gauntlets making sure they are secure.

Several of the tents begin to smoulder, unnoticed perhaps in the tumult.

Furthang drops back as his broken spear protrudes from the horses neck. Stumbling around in the mud he eyes a fallen uruk. Laying near him is another spear which he picks up. he nurses a wound at his side as he heads back to the rider. Blood flows freely from the wounded side.

As the orc turns tail and runs, Analdin only shrugs lightly, glancing at those fighting around him, looking for an opening to use his blade on another of the enemy. The silver of his sword drips blood, but he makes no move to clean it, for to do so would mean leaving his back exposed for some time.

Grazzt steps aside as his axe blow crashs into the ground spinning as he does so to face his opponent again bringing his own axe up knocking aside the humans sword before he strikes again bringing his axe down quickly towar shoulder of the human

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds him!

Ver-beeg is barely able to see the ride that he attacked trun in the rain storm, and guesses that is trying to trun for a counter attack. He then ducks low and swings out at the under belly of the tark's beast and hopes that his axe's blade is able to cut upen the belly of the beast and the lower leg of it's rider.

Ver-beeg attacks Faramir with his Battle Axe, but he misses by an arm's length.

Arnafel curses softly as his blow misses, then steps aside leisurely, avoiding the other's kick with ease as he strikes again, his sword sweeping down at the orc's shoulder, the blow now weaker for the blood has been flowing constantly from his wounds.

Arnafel attacks Krifnerik with his Longsword, but Krifnerik parries the attack with his Scimitar!

Boromir steps forward closer to the troll's body, braving being stepped on to avoid the axe head. Almost this works, for instead of the axehead crushing into his skull he is struck by the haft of the axe upon his left shoulder. His shield arm drooping downwards, numbed by the blow he nonetheless keeps his own attacks up. Slashing this time at the foot of the creature.

Boromir attacks Grazzt with his Large Longsword and mildly wounds him!

The black stallion mangages to move enough to avoid a deadly blow, but still its side is slashed and Faramir frowns, through gritted teeth he spits before the enemy, "Curse you!" and with a high swing that sends his blade thorugh the air above the helm of his foe he drops it hard and fast, driving the blade edge with fury!

Faramir attacks Ver-beeg with his Longsword, but Ver-beeg parries the attack with his Battle Axe!

Carecyn moves his gaunleted hand to his face which still bleeds freely. Turning to view his captain he spots the spear wielding uruk which has already once attempted to run Faramir's horse through. Making his way quickly over toward the uruk he shouts out "Do ye dare try your luck against one with a sword, or fare ye well enough with an animal?" He widens his stance to gain a better footing.

Grazzt growls as his foot his slashed by the humans blow, he withdraws it quickly stepping back to gain some room between them before he brings his axe blow up, in a big slow powerful stroke towards the skull of hte human hoping to finish it all now

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe, but he misses by an arm's length.

Furthang returns to the melee, and notices that Ver-beeg has engaeged the horse rider. Furthang then charges once more keeping his curses silent as he aims once again at the horses exposed underside. His focused charge leaves him exposed as he unnoticily passes a tark.

Krifnerik stumbles forward with his missed kick, his knee bending to catch himself from falling in the mud. In a swift movement, he turns his torso with his arms to swing his pale blade at the human's attack, deflecting arnafel's weapon with a hard shock of steel just in time before receiving what could have been a rather unwanted wound. Following through with surprising speed, Krifnerik twists the blade around and uses the force repelled from his heavy parry to swing up and left

Krifnerik attacks Arnafel with his Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

Boromir ducks under the blow, driving forward again, his only hope to keep close enough so that the creatures own huge size works against him. He steps almost under the very legs of the troll, thrusting upwards at the massive thigh that is almost at eye level.

Boromir attacks Grazzt with his Large Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

Ver-beeg brings his war-axe back quicly and is able to block the tark's attack and forces it to the right and into the beast. He then truns his weapon and trusts forward with it, and trys to impail the tark's leg to it's beast, and knows all to well that if he misses he will dig his weapon deeply into the beasts side.

Carecyn laughs deeply and moves closer to his captains side still away from the two orcs, then making up his mind and moving toward Furthang he calls out again "Is it then that ye care to remain a foe of an animal and not the fore of my blade? Come foul one, praytell." He shouts out over the roar then looks at the other orc, the one engaged with Faramir and steps away from him closer to the other.

Ver-beeg attacks Faramir with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a mile.

A painful wail can be heard as the black stallion is felled. Faramir atop the once great horse is thrown and lands firmly on the wet ground. Unable to do much else he just tries to get to his feet as quickly as he can.

Grazzt wary of the human getting beneath his guard again steps back quickly as the human ducks under stepping away from teh humans blow, he chuckles, again, "you slow and stoopid human" before bringing his axe downagain faster this time towards the humans head

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe, but Boromir parries the attack with his shield!

Furthang watches the great beast as it falls, trying to remove his spear he notices to late as a tark swings at his exposed frame.

Keeping his eyes well on the battle, Analdin uses his sword another orc, a foolhardy spear-weidling orc who made an attack on the Guardsman. Though his attention remains on his own small duel, he does manage to glance around at his companions, gauging their success and, perhaps, whether they may need assistance.

The shock of the two blades meeting runs up Arnafel's arm to his shoulder. He draws his blade back, his attack foiled again, then jerks his head away sharply as the orc stikes at him once again. The blade grazes the side of his neck, drawing blood, but doing no serious injury. His own blade sweeps in a horizontal slash towards the orc's chest.

Arnafel attacks Krifnerik with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

Within the abandoned camp, the old figure of an aged man potters about. The tents nearest him are burning, but now his hands are fiddling with some pouches of powder that he is setting about the barrels of ale...

As the Orcs blade remains lodged in the side of the once and still great stallion, Carecyn swings out at the uruk in rage at the sight of the felled animal. His sword aimed at the exposed side of the uruk.

Boromir brings his battered shield between the axehead and it's goal once again. The once fine shield now no more then scrap. But still it's forger would be proud to know that it is strong enough to withstand a trolls blow. The weapon is shifted just enough to pass over his head as Angring again tests itself against the hide of the troll torso.

Boromir attacks Grazzt with his Large Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Carecyn attacks Furthang with his Longsword and terribly wounds him!

Ver-beeg chuckles maddly as the rider is tossed from it's beast, and then takes the moment to drive his war-axe into the head of the beast and spliys it's skull intwo, then quickly removes his weapon from the beasts head and turns to face Faramir to see it he stands of not.

Grazzt lets out a loud growl as the blade bites deeply into his hide, he steps away one clawed hand wiping away the black blood flowing from the wound before he snarls, angry now bringing his axe down quicker now not playing games with the human any more

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe and badly wounds him!

Even as the Orc looks to Faramir he is in motion, hoping at first to save the beast from the unneeded blow he moves now to reek vengenace upon the slayer. With his blade swung in a desperate move to strike, his defenses are lower for the moment, seeking only to fell the foul creature.

Faramir attacks Ver-beeg with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

The aged figure, ignored in the melee, finishes setting the little bags of powder about the barrels and kegs of ale. With a smile, he steps off for a ways and settles against the statue where earlier he had taken residence to observe the storm.

A moment passes...

Some smoke begins to rise from the bags of powder...

BOOM!!!!

Mardahk comes up from the east.
Mardahk has arrived.

Krifnerik grunts slightly with exertion as he leans his torso back in an act of pure flexibility, though perhaps the wrong judgement for what sort of dodgeing would be required was made as Krifnerik finds the long blade opening a scratch just above the bottom of his ribcage. Breaking a few links of his ringmail and causing flesh wound, no real damage is done other than the blood that seeps down his chest under his already rain soaked shirt. He bends forward again, springing another slash after the momentum has carried his blade back, and straight on with both arms' force at Arnafel's midsection and sternum.

Green clad men fighting all about their Captain flinch, some even turn to run but manage to hold their place as the explosion goes off.

Boromir finally the shield gives way under the hammer like strokes of the Troll's axe. Splitting in two it falls from his arm, serving only with it's last strength to keep Boromir's head from being similierly cloven in two. As he staggers backwards he is stunned by the loud explosion nearby.

Krifnerik attacks Arnafel with his Scimitar and badly wounds him!

Sirion's horse rears at the noise! He immediately turns the horse and heads headlong in a wild direction.

Faramir squints as the flare lifts before him and for the first time he sees the sillouette of the great Troll and the smaller foe it hovers over and his mind races for he is sure it would be only Boromir who stands before it and sudden fear wracks his heart!

Ver-beeg hisses faintly as the tark's weapon hit's him in the mid chest and tanks his luckly starts to fine Mordor workmanship. he then quickly swings out with his weapon and trys to slash the humans legs with this pass. Just after he swings he glances back to see what the blast was that rocks the camp, this leaves him somewhat upon for a counter attack.

Ver-beeg attacks Faramir with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a handspan.

Furthang 's exposed side feels the wrath of a tark who appears less than imprresed with the orc who felled the beast. Unable to pull his spear from the beast, a blade cuts deeper into his already wounded side, a deep gash from under his torn apart leather armor reveals a mass of blood and mud and a n open view of the uruks insides. Trying to stop his inners from pouring out he attempts to retraet away from the tark. His will to survive is the only thing that can carry him away

As the fell Axe of the Hai is swung wide, prehaps due to the meddling of the Istari Faramir finds his courage once more and lifting his voice he calls upon the Orc in a glutteral tongue, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" And with that his blade is sent forth, swordtip aimed direct, his arm at length as he drives the weapon again.

Faramir furiously attacks Ver-beeg with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

Smoke billows through the camp, a result of the enormous explosion, but as it recedes a group of new figures materializes, form the east. Clad in a black military uniform, the growing number of figures can be plainly identified as human, and a few are very tall, with hard, grey eyes. Their leader, sword in hand, regards the camp's assailants with arrogance. Though his men are few, he seems confident, and nods, saying quietly, "Kill them."

Boromir staggers backwards further, into a drifting wall of foul smelling smoke. Rising his horn to his lips he blows a note not often heard from hit, the call to retreat. Hroooooo! Hroooo! Keeping a fair distance between himself and the troll who is pressing after him he crys out, "We have stayed long enough! Back! Back to the camp!" He himself does not flee pell mell from the scene of battle, but waits to allow the others to free themselves from their foes.

So it is that the fallen sons of Numenor enter the fray, and a sudden rage seems to overtake them: Bereft of their kingdom, the lands which are rightfully theirs, by their cousins of weak blood from Gondor, they advance with the fell purpose of overcoming the attack or dying in the attempt.

The whistling winds pick up a bit, perhaps a memento of the fierce tempest that so recently swept the crossroads. Tickling the earth, drawing the smoke high in circling trails, these winds also pick at the robes of an ancient figure, who steps from his residence to stand astride the path of the new-come men.

"You may not interfere in this," pronounces the man, grey and stern... and if he seems old, he is yet hale and strong, and some great force resides within his eyes.

Carecyn shouts as the uruk he has just struck flees away at a hurry, still graspingat his side. Covering his eyes as the explosion goes off and shakes the camp, Carecyn looks toward his captain Faramir. As the large uruk which is engaged in a close melee with him misses Carecyn moves up toward the side of the two men, still keeping his distance.

Arnafel stumbles forward as his blow strikes home, carried off balance by the momentum of his swing. He tries to recover, but the sudden explosion distracts him, and he turns back too late, for the next blow opens his already bleeding wound further and sinks deep ino his flesh. He falls to the ground with a groan, his blade still firmly clutched in his hand. Another soldier of Gondor stands over him for a moment, defending him, but only a moment later his dead body falls, its head severed. Arnafel's rage gives him strength, and he staggers to his feet, striking for the other's head yet again.

Arnafel furiously attacks Krifnerik with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

Sirion turns his horse and rides off the field, the twinkling of his mail diminishing in the distance.

Sirion goes west.
Sirion has left.

The horn of Boromir sounds over the din of the battle, and catches the ear of Analdin easily. Hearing the Captain-General's words, the Guardsman begins to fall back, beating off small attacks as he does so, stepping carefully backwards but not running straight away either.

Ver-beeg hisses as the tark's blade cuts into his upper left arm. He then smiles as the tark trys to speek to him in some poor and forgotten touge of the uruk langage and yells back in comman "It is you that shoulf flee, tark, I have killed more bowerfull tarks that you. He then swings his weapon in a wide arc and aim a blow at faramir's mid chest, but seems to be trying to force him back a step.

Grazzt growls again as the attacking force begins to flee, however he presses on after the human before him, stepping forward striking quickly with his axe hoping to kill at least one before the humans vanish back into the wooods

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe and lightly wounds him!

Ver-beeg attacks Faramir with his Battle Axe, but Faramir parries the attack with his Longsword!

Faramir does not stand alone, for with him is his Rangers and they are of the southern dunedain. Tall and grim and thier blades cut the enemy down before them, with their Captain near their hearts are strong and their voices lift above the din, "Faramir! Gondor!"

The withdraw of the Gondorian forces only serves to anger the human forces of Barad-dur further, and they quicken their pace in attempt to overtake the enemy. At their head is the tall Inquisitor, eyes flashing, sword raised and ready to strike - If only he could get close enough.

As Boromir's horn and call for retreat reaches his ears Carecyn backs away from the fight swiftly, but keeping an eye on his captain and the other uruk. As the uruks last swing misses Faramir the ranger Carecyn disapears into the woods surrounding the area, gone from view, but never the less keeping a watch on the retreat.

Boromir backpedals away from the troll as it press it's attack, his mail absorbing much of the damage from the glancing blow. Careful to not allow himself to be trapped, or angered enoguh that he forgets his own orders he thrusts his blade forward, trying to keep the troll at least a pace away from him.

Boromir attacks Grazzt with his Large Longsword, but Grazzt parries the attack with his Battle Axe!

Krifnerik ducks in shock at the sounds of explosion, cowering under his blade ready to eflect an attack as if he expected a mighty warhammer to crush him where he bends down. Pausing long enough not to take action as Arnafel is down, he springs back up again, only to have his opponent's blade slice into his shoulder on his way up, creating a second, just as mild gash as the first one across his ribs. His ringmail slumps slightly as the support upon his shoulders is somewhat severed, though not seriously. Giving himself some room, Krifnerik simply slashes his blade upwards from down left towards arnafel's upper left, both trying to inflict painful wounds and force the other back so that he may recompose himself.

Krifnerik attacks Arnafel with his Scimitar and badly wounds him!

Grazzt advances on the retreating human his axe coming down easily knocking aside the humans blow, "you are dead human, your forces they run now, you left behind" he swings his axe down again bringing it down in a crashing blow towards the human

Grazzt attacks Boromir with his Battle Axe and lightly wounds him!

Faramirs blade is angled across the path of the Hai's and as his ears hear the horns blow he knows time is running short. But looking to his opponent, the hated glare in his grey eyes he fails to withdraw promtly. The blade of his family slashing out again as his voice rises, "Rally! Rally! men of Ithilien!"

Faramir attacks Ver-beeg with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

The aged figure draws forth a handful of stones from the earth, and he tosses them carelessly before the advancing Black Numenorian guard. Each pebble, white and mud-encrusted, flies to land before the men... and then, with a great flash, they blaze hot and terrible! The flash drives aside the oncoming guard, and leaves the Inquisitor facing the wizard alone.

"I have said you will not intervene," repeats the old one, drawing his back high and straight. "Go back to your Master, and tell him what you have seen."

Carecyn steps back into view a final time at the words of his captain. Looking about the clearing, Carecyn plunges his sword into the back of a weary uruk which wandered too close to the outer ring of trees. Keeping his eyes upon Faramir he awaits another uruk or call for retreat.

Ver-beeg side steps the the tark's attack then yells "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he then swings hs axe in a wide arc and trys to cut the legs out from under Faramir so he can not flee.

As the remaining Gondorian forces pull out, Analdin finally turns from the combat with them and makes his way quickly into the woods, though his gaze is continually worried upon the battle behind his back.

Ver-beeg attacks Faramir with his Battle Axe and mildly wounds him!

One amongst the Rangers lifts a horn to his lips and blows the long high note of Faramir, calling them that remain, two thirds of their original number to come forth and ready their retreat.

Furthang looks over his shoulder as he hears the sounds of the horn. the tarks a ppear to be retreating from his direct area. He stumbles back toward the great warlords quarters. His both hands now upon his side trying to prevent him opening up as he runs away.

Boromir, in trying to keep away from the troll almost slips on the blood soaked ground. The axehead skims off his mail again, striking his left arm. He steps back further, not even bothering to keep his sword between himself and the troll any more. Finally seeing his men makeing their way out of the battle he too turns and flees, not wasting false valour.

Westward you go...
On the way to the Crossroads...