You stand very near the eastern flank of Rauros Falls which thunder down from the Emyn Muil plateau above. The water cascades down it's long path, making a roar that drowns out all but the loudest of speech. The falls have cut back northward into the cliff slightly. The sunlight is too bright for your sensitive eyes. It is hard to make out much of anything. Around you, the early morning summer is hot.
The murky sky is overcast and dreary.
Contents:
Mahlruk
Blzebubkh (ME)
Brogunk
Small Orc(#16454Vep)
Mablung
Bralk
Lossaran
Keleir
Uruk Column(#25568Ve)
Obvious exits:
South and East
Steady is the awesome thunder. Surges of water plummeting down into the turbulant pools below them, mists arising into the air above. This rumbling only muffling another of its kind, clouds dark like night sitting above the land. The rocky shores below the falls hold creatures alien to the flowing water. Black as the night, the teeming swarms of uruks continually moving to and fro the pools. Buckets held in grimy hands, shouts and cursing, whips and snapping. Amoung them a few move with weapons ready. On the edge of the flowing water stand small squads of archers, bent wooden bows held, arrows ready before them. A snarl comes from one of the many dark creature. This of the larger breed, crimson coverings showing out against the drab leathers of the army. At the southern end of the camp this Rakarg stands, battle axe in hand. Crimson eyes sunk deep in his face, gazing upon the swiftly churning waters before him. A few soldiers stand near him, vigilant watch upon their faces, none wearing the same crimson as their sub-lieutenant.
Brogunk shifts the weight of his axe, unconcious of his own movements, to the left arm. Foot tapping slowly, keeping with a rythym buried deep in the gurgling water. Frown streched across his face tightly, cracked with gray. The uruks around him chatter mindlessly, more coming, more leaving. All ignored by the Rakarg, a deep revere in him.
Moisture filters through the air as the spray from the Rauros reaches outward to descend gently upon the men of Ithilien who make a cautious approach to the place where the enemy's camp is positioned. Northward, like the damp grey figures about him, Keleir moves alongside the rough current of the mighty river and pauses atop a high outcropping of rocks. Perched there for a moment, his grey eyes scan up the river and then over to one of his companions not far ahead. A signal of the hand tells the rest to draw close and to stay low, the southern end of the camp being just ahead of him. Keleir's bow is in hand before him, a fletched arrow already set loose to the string.
Ducking low, Mablung takes note of the hand signal and moves slowly upon the moit ground beneath him. Glancing back under his arm he watches others follow, then turning his head forward again he follows those before him toward Keleir. Reaching up with his free hand, the ranger tugs at his mask of green cloth.
Hood removed for a brief moment to look about, Lossaran takes notice of Keleir's hand signal and his body seems to melt into the low thicket that dots the area here. He carries no bow as the others do, his spear straight out in his hand instead. Silently he approaches the camp, waiting for the signal to either attack or wait
Blzebubkh stands near the middle of the bustle, his red orbs surveying the scene around him as the lower ranks scurry around, performing those meniel tasks which are below his dignity. Ever quick to lash with his tongue or the sword in his hand at those who fail to meet his standards. His bodyguards stand around or near him, idly
fingering their weapons. Mumbling under his breath at something or other, Blzebubkh wanders in the general direction of Brogunk, doubtless to discuss some aspect of camp life.
At the signal from the Dog, Mahlruk crouches low in the brush and slowly draws his small dagger. Picking and measuring every step, he slowly makes his way from bush to tree, shadow to shadow. Finally, he crests the small hill. Turning about, squinting into the brightening glare of the sun, he attempts to search the surrounding geography, albeit with much difficulty and some semi-lacksidaisicality.
Another signal from one of the men up ahead and the dozens of figures behind him begin to spread out and close in toward where the enemy's camp lies at the foot of the falls. A few take cover behind the brush and bracken that grows erraticly on the terrain that has grown rockier since the marshy outlets of the Entwash to the south. The rest pick their way forward, closing the gap slowly at first and then with a cry that rises above the thunder of water, loose a flight of arrows upon the orcs that swarm about the southern end of the camp.
Lossaran follows Mablung silently, although the falls easily cover any sound he makes; he doesn't even hear the arrows until they pass high over his head and he knows his time to attack is near. He stays close to the Ranger who leads them, spear at the ready.
Blzebubkh glances around, a frown coming onto his face as he surveys the area. All seems right, but... Shaking his head his tries to put his apprehension aside for now. Still approaching, he observes the small group of uruks that begin to move off toward the nearby hills. I feel as if we are...... his words are cut off as the whistle of arrows begin can be heard in the air. Instinctivly turning in the direction, his keen eyes spot a flash among the brush, in the direction that the arrows came in. Bellowing out orders to the confused uruks around him, he brings his metal shield off his back to hold off the arrows that still come streaking into the camp, striking uruk flesh seemingly indiscriminately. Roaring his fury, he waves his scimitar around his head, forcing fighters in the direction of the agressors.
Mahlruk, hearing the screams of his fellow uruks, throws caution, and his cover, to the wind and, brandishing his knife, runs parallel to the uruk column. His eyes narrow into thin slits as he searches the daytime area for the attacking force. He sprints southward at the origin of the arrows.
Brogunk faces the direction the the smaller orcs began to creep. Eyes scanning into the gray, rocks before laid out before him, upon the river they sit. A movement of the slightest, eyes caught. A mutter to the one crimson clad near him, 'Mmm, reeeda da booos. Gut dir speeermen reeda wit shields 'fore um. No like dee looooks.' Stepping foward now, the Rakarg manages his way slowly amoung the lichen covered croppings. A soft twang can be heard above the great rumbling, short warning for the assailment of arrows flung towards the camp. Above this racket the voice of the Ushataar Krimpatul bellows loudly, though hard to be heard at the northern of camp. "<Uruk> Dogs, grab yer weapons. We got tarks to da south. Archers!" With that the great thrum is returned, black-shafted arrows released in unison, towards the south. The uruk-hai still moves foward, frown sliding into a grin, crawling over the rocks before him.
Keleir rises from the rocky outcrop and lifts the greatbow before him to draw it to the full. The sharp snap of strings and the whistle of arrows are noiseless beneath the roaring drop of the falls and the return volley from the Mordain also goes unheard. One black barbed arrow finds its deadly mark. The greatbow clatters down upon the rocks and Keleir's hands reach up to clutch desperately at his throat where the arrow has pierced through. Blood seeps between those pale, nimble fingers and falls bright red. A brief struggle for breath and the ranger falls forward, life stolen from him. Around him the battle begins.
As the uruk camp rushes into motion, Mablung calls out of the roar loud enough for the men about him to hear, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Looking down as a group of the beasts come toward him and his brothers about, the captain brings his spear into a defensive position and moves away slightly to allow full use of the long weapon. Arrows of both black and green feathers fly, and one such strikes Keleir along with others of the men in green. A loud shout comes from Mablung's position, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"
Blzebubkh raises his jagged blade high in the air, bellowing out a war cry in the harsh language that the uruks use. His heavy shield held out before him, he roars his defiance at the arrows that continue to streak through the air. One such arrow clangs off his shield, but he seems oblivious to the fact. Closing the distance between the two parties, Blzebubkh strides his way over the corpses of those uruks not lucky enough to be missed by the deadly rain of arrows. His bodyguard trail along behind him, as the first few uruks begin to strike blows against the humans that fire upon them. Many dull figures lay motionless in the dirt, but it seems as if the humans are killing more uruks than uruks are killing humans, at least for now.
Drakarg has arrived.
Drakarg steps out of the camp.
Lossaran still stands motionless, eyes still watching the outcrop, not blinking, arrows whizzing by and the clash of steel on steel surrounding him. Finally, grey eyes stained with moisture turn back to the reality of his situation. Pushed forward by one ranger, shouting something in his ear, the scout now hunts, teeth bared and his body noticably taunt with rage. Above the waters of the Rauros, he screams, his spear lashing out at the nearest Orc, namely Blzebubkh. The tip aimed directly at his heart and with all the Gondorian's weight and strength behind it.
Lossaran attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 3 hp's by Lossaran's attack...
...you have 79 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Blzebubkh spots a human, his cruel red orbs narrowing as he spots the easy target. Raising his scimitar, his rushes foward, but his overconfidence is misplaced as the human warrior's longer weapon allows him to get the first strike. Dodging to the side, the uruk recieves a small nick on his sword arm. The wound barely bleeds, serving to do nothing but enrage the uruk even more. Raising his heavy scimitar, he closes into the human warrior, trying to get in closer so the Tark cannot stab at him with the spear. His scimitar flashes back down again, seeking to gash the warrior in the arm.
You half-blindly attack Lossaran with your Scimitar...
Your attack against Lossaran lightly wounds him!
The sprinting ridgetop snaga dashes amongst the trees and bushes, rocks and roots. He peers forward and sees an apparent leader in the human band. At least he thinks it is, as he heard the human yell previous orders to his troupe. In his haste and inattention, he stubs his bare right foot on a large rock and tumbles down the side of the hill, coming up short, just in front of the one known as Mablung. Looking up with pain filled eyes, he jabs his dagger, which sliced into his now fairly wounded right leg, upward at the human.
Now approaching the rangers of Gondor, the short uruk-hai moves foward somewhat rapidly over the slipperly rocks. Mist and sweat forming over his leather outfit, darkening it. Uruk fight about him, arrows still occassionally floating overhead, green and black. The waters of the river seem to swirl with black and crimson blood, bodies floating atop. Unlike his many spear wielding companions, the great war axe in Brogunk's hands swipes those that confront him. Blood staining the black blade, the spike atop it. Still the body moves foward, towards one seeming proficient, orcs falling in numbers around him. Mablung, though not known to the uruk, is the one targeted. And then he lets the blade swing, from around the uruk-hai it swings for the upper chest of the Tark. Eye's surging with rage, storming like the air above them, the water below them.
Brogunk attacks Mablung with his Battle Axe, but Mablung parries the attack with his Spear!
Leaping back, Mablung avoids the thrust of the or before him. Though against the slight incline, the ranger manages to hold his footing and not slide forward. Cursing he moves about trying for a better footing. Already above the orcs that gather below him, Brogunk's swing comes by surprise and it is all the ranger can do to bring the spear up and deflect the large axe away from his chest. Bringing the spear heft around, Mablung swings the butt out at Brogunk's head as he follows through in pushing the axe aside.
Mablung attacks Brogunk with his Spear, but he misses by a mile.
Lossaran seems to feel no pain at this moment, even though he now bleeds from his left arm, switching subconciously his spear to his other hand. Glaring the orc with an uncontrollable fury in his eyes, the young scout lashes out again, caring little for his own defense right now. The deadly spear thrusts forward and then up, attempting to lodge the tip into the orc's chin.
Lossaran attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 14 hp's by Lossaran's attack...
...you have 65 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Moving towards the fight by the falls, a few orcs can be seen moving as a unit towards the fighting, all three looking similar in dress and manner, with one exception. The orc in the middle has a more adorned cloak than the others, and is wielding a scimitar, while the others wield bows. Stopping within bowshot, the two archers commence firing, while the third moves in closer, approaching one human and starting to trade blows. This orc, the shaman Drakarg, swings his blade around, thrusts in and fights as though he was a bit mad, getting more cuts then his opponent but still holding his ground.
Moving towards the fight by the falls, a few orcs can be seen moving as a unit towards the fighting, all three looking similar in dress and manner, with one exception. The orc in the middle has a more adorned cloak than the others, and is wielding a scimitar, while the others wield bows. Stopping within bowshot, the two archers commence firing, while the third moves in closer, approaching one human and starting to trade blows. This orc, the shaman Drakarg, swings his blade around, thrusts in and fights as though he was a bit mad, getting more cuts then his opponent but still holding his ground.
Brogunk snarls loudly, fangs of yellow revealed under his thin lips. Eyes locked solely on the tark before him, feet constantly sliding, fighting for control upon the slippery surface. Black arrows seem to continue their pour, the green arrows slowing tapering away. His war axe's blow pulled over, the creature ducks, pulling away. Butt of the spear flailing overhead, the uruk-hai again rises, thrusting foward with the black spike of the massive weapon.
Brogunk attacks Mablung with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a mile.
Mablung half slides and half leaps to the side as the axe passes through the air where the ranger sttod but a second before. Grunting, Mablugn slides to an even level with Brogunk. The head of his spear flashes out first at the orc which first struck with the dagger, but then changes direction and comes around at Brogunk's left arm.
Mablung attacks Brogunk with his Spear and moderately wounds him!
A solid clunk is heard as the point of Lossaran's spear slams heavily into Blzebubkh's helmet. While the uruk managed to fend the blow somewhat, he didnt deflect the spear enough to keep it from smashing into his head with jarring force. Growling menacingly, the uruk shrugs off the blow, his blade flashing through the air toward the human again, slicing sideways across Lossaran's gut, seeking to spill out the bright red blood.
You half-blindly attack Lossaran with your Scimitar...
Lossaran dodges your attack.
Lossaran's body is almost fluidic as he slides to the left, spinning to avoid a lunge presented by the enemy with which he fights. Using his own momentum to his advantage he jabs at the Uruk's side, hoping to catch his flank unattended. Rage still forms on his face as he puts all the force he can muster into his attack.
Lossaran attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 5 hp's by Lossaran's attack...
...you have 60 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Rocks underfoot keep his stance unbalanced. Axe stabbing air, feet slipping, Brogunk finds no time to fall into a more defensive postion before the spear of Mablung spins outward at him. Into the left bicep it digs, slicing cleanly into the arm. Black blood flowing from the wound. Enough force is the blow, knocking his balance out. Backwards he falls into a shallow puddle of water, rocks under absorbing most of the blow. Midnight axe groping in the ait as he falls.
Blzebubkh stiffens somewhat as the spear slices into his side. Luckily his ring mail managed to halt most of the blow, and the wound he has recieved is hardly more than a bad scratch. Blood begins to seep from the wound, a thick black blood, which seems to coagulate almost instantaneously. Blzebubkh rage is rising, his hatred of this elusive human warrior rising in a red wave, threatening to overcome his sensibilities. Raising his voice in a bellowing war cry, his jagged scimitar blade flies through the air, seeking to pierce the human's body and force the life to depart from it.
You half-blindly attack Lossaran with your Scimitar...
Lossaran dodges your attack.
Mablung makes a move to follow Brogunk down, yet is stopped as another orc passes before him in front of the fallen. Black barbed spear just passing by Mablung's chest, the ranger strikes at the newest foe, and down does he fall, and more black blood soaks the ground beneath the ranger. Taking the brief second of silence to glance around he turns his attention back to Brogunk.
An arrow thunks into the chest of the human that Drakarg was fighting, putting an abrupt end to that fight as the human falls screaming into the pond below the falls, not quite dead from the arrow, but very dead after the fall. Turning back to the main fight, the shaman sees another human, this one fighting with an uruk-hai. Deciding that the best target is an occupied target, the shaman moves towards the human as fast as he can without slipping and, bringing his scimitar up, tries to get a stab into the human's back as he is not looking.
Drakarg attacks Mablung with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!
Still floating around the Orc like a fly to small to catch, Lossaran strikes little blows, continually pushing and prodding the creature with his spear. Then, screaming something, his rage louder than the rage of the falling water that sets the background to this skirmish. He strikes now, steel tip aimed for the stomach, hoping to get under the armour and find the soft flesh hiding beneath.
Lossaran attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 3 hp's by Lossaran's attack...
...you have 57 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Using axe and hand for leverage, the creature pulls himself from his prone position. Blood washed away from the wound, still more comes. Harsh laughter falls from his maw, gaze upon the tark that drew blood. Through a small passage of rocks he travels, eyes in eyes with the man of Gondor. "Mmmmm, eyetkeen of Gooonder. Da Eye weeels dat oo DIE!!!" his voice ending in scream, leaping foward with the axe coming down in line with the tark's head.
Brogunk attacks Mablung with his Battle Axe, but Mablung parries the attack with his Spear!
Blzeubkh catches the point of Lossaran's spear on the black hilt of his cruel scimitar, wincing as the blade digs into his fingers. Stepping back, he sets himself, shield in front of him and scimitar in hand. Getting a handle on his temper, he notices that more and more urukish reinforcements are throwing themself into the fight. Blzebubkh pushes foward at the human once again, seeking to kill this human himself, not wanting to share his kill with any of the lowly uruks that filter into the fight. Scimitar flies out and the uruk flicks his wrist, sending the point of the jagged blade at the human's heart.
You half-blindly attack Lossaran with your Scimitar...
Lossaran parries your attack with his shield!
A new flow of uruks begins entering the fraw. Armed with scimitars and spears, the creatures of darkness spread into the rocky crags, teaming on the rangers before them. Arrows lessened in number still fly from the orcish bows, loosing orcs as well as tarks to their numerous shots.
Drakarg steps back as the human moves around, bringing his guard back up. The shaman is annoyed that he could not get much damage done in his last attack, so he tries again, bringing his scimitar over his head, letting out a war cry and aiming for the human's head.
Drakarg attacks Mablung with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.
Lossaran, on instinct, raises his shield to block the blow of his enemy, growling low as he narrows his eyes in hatred. His deadly spear, fueled by blind anger, stabs again, thrusting in the place where it was so rudely stopped a moment ago. He cries out in Sindarin, words coming out as more exclamations than anything else.
Lossaran attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 10 hp's by Lossaran's attack...
...you have 47 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Halvorn comes up from the south.
Halvorn has arrived.
Brogunk falls to the right as he leaps foward, ill-aimed axe swing far from mark. But the reactions of the tark are unaccounted, spear catching the beast in the shoulder as he comes closer to the ground. Through the mail it does little, black blood not pouring, but exhaustion written upon the Rakarg's face shows through, sweat dripping from brow. One foot catching ground, the other dropping to the knee, balance is formed. Enough so to let the creature swing the battle axe out at the tark's knees.
Brogunk attacks Mablung with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a mile.
Mablung slips to the side and chuckles softly as the scimitar flashes down beside him and continues in it's downward path. Stepping aside even further he tries to place Brogunk between himself and Drakarg. Leaping back, he avoids the axe's head again and slips in the mud. Falling down he slides to a halt near the river bank. Reaching around he grabs his shield and pulls it in front of him with one hand as a defence while down, and his spear across as another.
Mablung puts on Studded Leather Shield.
Blzebubkh pushes down hard with his blade as it clangs noisily into the humans quickly raised shield. His force, however, pushes the uruk off balance, and Blzebub takes another spear wound in his side, enlarging the wound already there, changing the trickle of blood to a steady flow. Growling his disbelief, one of the urukish reinforcements singles in on his prey, flailing at Lossaran with a wicked looking axe. Unwilling to share his fight, he however realises he is taking the worst of this duel, and prehaps a little help may be welcome. Using the other uruk as a diversion, the Rakarg swings his heavy scimitar once again, trying to bite into the humans side.
You half-blindly attack Lossaran with your Scimitar...
Lossaran dodges your attack.
The grasses that border the Rauros part thinly; the rustling sound that one would hear as three Rangers speed from the South is muted by the enormous Falls. Swiftly, the three figures bound forward with the man in front, Halvorn, pushing forward. With a signal he indicates his planned direction, and in moments the Ranger draws near Mablung. With his sword held high, the afternoon sun dances upon the shaft breifly before it falls toward the left shoulder of Brogunk.
Halvorn attacks Brogunk with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.
Standing up, the Rakarg looks down upon his oppenent, now near the riverbank. Moving towards that direction, Brogunk pulls back, a whoosh of air sliding past his shoulder. Grin flashing to frown, the uruk-hai swings his midnight axe round, foward moving, the gut of halvorn near the mark.
Brogunk attacks Halvorn with his Battle Axe and badly wounds him!
Lossaran seems almost transparent as two Orcs attempt to strike him. First dodging a smaller one and then jumping back to avoid the scimitar of the second. Glaring from one to the other for a second he decides to maneouver around Blzebubkh so that the larger Uruk is in front of the smaller one and therefore a shield to the smaller, less injured creature. Lossaran strikes quickly, knowing he will soon be outnumbered and overwhelmed, hoping to end the life of his opponent now. The strike goes for the orcs neck..
Lossaran attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 8 hp's by Lossaran's attack...
...you have 39 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Drakarg moves down the hill after the human, cursing at his miss and the human's movements. As he approaches, the shaman brings his scimitar up, not attacking yet but standing at guard, as though waiting for something
Blzebubkh ignores the spear arching in toward him, and it gouges through his shoulder armor, slicing into the dark flesh beneath. Bellowing his blood lust across the entire battlefield, his hears a crashing noise behind him - the uruk dog helping him to attack Lossaran has fallen, a black-fletched arrow protuding from his back. Cursing his misfortune, Blzebubkh realises that his fate rests in only his hands as he begings to hack with more desperation at the human's steady defenses.
You half-blindly attack Lossaran with your Scimitar...
Lossaran dodges your attack.
Mablung uses his spear to prop himself up, now dripping from sweat and water from the falls. "They come in stronger force, their main camp shall be upon us!" Rushing straiht toward Drakarg, he holds his spear out like a lance and aims at the man's head even as he calls out, "To the south! Loose them within the woods!"
Mablung attacks Drakarg with his Spear and severely wounds him!
Halvorn stumbles forward promptly, the whoosh of air from his attempt able to chill a fever. The man pivots swiftly, but perhaps with pressing vigor, just as the axe of Brogunk introduces itself to his stomach. Halvorn's knees buckle like soft alabaster beneath him. Spilling blood rapidly, h has but enough strength to roll out of the Orc's fury.
Brogunk turns from his fallen foe. Blood, sweat, mist, all mixing into the rocks now. Bodies lay littered about uruks pursuing tarks rapidly. With a great heave of breath the creature calls out, "<Uruk> Dushgoi pursue!" Interrupted he watchs a Shaman speared, adrenaline pumping, his legs take on power. Stabbing forward at Mablung's chest yet again.
Brogunk attacks Mablung with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a long shot.
Lossaran seems to be like the air and all weapons pass around him as he ducks and dodges the orc's increasingly erratic blade. The more enraged Blzebubkh gets, the less out-of-control the scout becomes. With a finessed spin of his spear he fakes to the left and then thrusts upwards hoping the shield of the creature will fall away from his torso, leaving it open for attack. Straight into the hard ringmail of the orc's chest does Lossaran aim, with all the force he can muster.
Lossaran attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 4 hp's by Lossaran's attack...
...you have 35 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Drakarg is surprised by the human's sudden charge, even more surprised when the -hai he thought was behind him doesn't appear, and still even more surprised when the spear stabs right into his right eye. Fortunately, he is not too surprised to move away just enough to avoid having his head completely skewered. He is definately not too surprised to scream in pain as his eye is destroyed. Swinging wildly, the shaman flails his scimitar around, hoping to catch the human one last time.
Drakarg attacks Mablung with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!
Though his path takes him east, Mablung halts and stands over Halvorn. "Up lad, tis no time to rest!" His words are uttered just as an axe flashes by him. Blinking slightly he seems to freeze as the head passes before him. The scimitar of the scewered orc catches him lightly on the arm, enough to draw blood. Pulling hard on his spear, Mablung swings out at the orc which struck Halvorn, swinging at the beast's legs.
Lossaran glances at you.
Mablung attacks Brogunk with his Spear and moderately wounds him
Once again Lossaran easily evades the swinging blade of Blzebubkh. His wild swing leaving him open, and the human takes advantage of the lapse, the spear forcing up through the uruks defence and banging at his chest. The uruk is extremely lucky - the spear point seems to have impacted on an extra hard ring in Blzebubkh's mail, and fails to penetrate into the urukish flesh. Neverless, the blow still stings, and Blzebubkh beckons toward his bodyguard, who are watching the combat, after their own close-combat foes departed. Not willing to but in, in case of their leader's wrath, two of the now swarm foward, eager to prove to their leader that they are the better fighter. The Rakarg himself does not cease his attack, swinging again and again at the elusive human.
You half-blindly attack Lossaran with your Scimitar...
Lossaran dodges your attack.
The shadow of a man falls over Halvorn. Quickly, he whips his head to spy the figure. Fortunately the hems of green and brown are noticed by Halvorn, for a sweeping of the knees he was indeed prepared to issue. Shaking his head he utters something unintelligible, along with perhaps a few curses - these mainly concern the Orc's arse and whatnot. In any case, the bleeding ebbs Halvorn's strength and he rises only to pursue the safety Southward.
Lossaran looks around, quickly about to be swarmed by more than his fair share of orcs. Continuing to move about in a sporadic and spontaneous fashion, the young scout, barely out of his teens, seems far to swift. However, the sweat pours down his face and he is slowing. In any case, there is really no where to run, nor does he perhaps wish to, seeing only his enemy and nothing else. Rage still registers in his eyes and face as he again pummels on his opponent with his spear tip, throwing his shield forward in defence. Again to the neck does the spear extend to pierce...
Lossaran attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he misses!
The waves of battle seem to slow. Rangers fleeing into the forests south, some uruks giving chase, others nursing wounds. A small mass of black skinned creatures seems to greet the rangers still around, Mablung and Halvorn. Brogunk's leap is caught off guard, a thump as the muscle covering hard bone cracks into the black spear. Tripping the creature foward, axe blade coming in motion to the side and away before the creature crashes into a puddle of muddish blood.
Brogunk attacks Mablung with his Battle Axe, but Mablung parries the attack with his Spear!
Mablung brings spear up and again the axe of Brogunk is forced aside the ranger. His feet backpeddling away from the group with Halvorn fleeing behind with other rangers, Mablung strikes out lightly at Brogunk's chest in an attempt to keep him at bay.
Mablung attacks Brogunk with his Spear and moderately wounds him!
Drakarg recovers from the shock of losing an eye, and quickly tears some of his shirt up to make a crude bandage, in order to stop the bleeding. The right side of the shaman's face is a bloody mess, and the efforts of the shaman are not enough to stop the bleeding entirely. Just as he is slipping from consciousness, a figure wearing the cloak of the shaman bends over and applies a proper field bandage to the wound, then starts to work on the bleeding, as another in a similar cloak watches for any humans who would approach.
Blzebubkh seems to to be more confident now as the odds stack up further and further in his favour. Working in concert, the three trained uruks work in toward Lossaran, coming at him from three sides. Hacking out with axe and scimitar, it seems inevitible that the brave young ranger will succumb to this determined assault. The latest spear-strike has gone astray, prehaps due to the ranger's preoccupation with defence now, holding the three uruks at bay. With less pressure on him, Blzebubkh can now concentrate on his strike, sending a controlled and powerful swing at the humans side.
You half-blindly attack Lossaran with your Scimitar...
Lossaran dodges your attack.
Squads of uruks begin scouring the crags, finishing off stragglers, ploundering corpses. Amoung them one comes near the crimson clad Rakarg. Now once crimson leather stained to blacks and humans blood and much of mud. Another blow delivered to his chest, standing up as he pulls back. Four small orcs step before him, spears pointed towards Mablung, they charge the human, leaving the sub-lieutenant behind them.
Lossaran fends off three now, ducking one only to find another swing low and forcing him to use his shield. On automatic now, the scout seems to care little as he takes blow after blow to his body and shield. He is focused only on Blzebubkh, the look of pure hatred sitting in his eyes. Even as his enemy misses yet again he is lunging forward, his spear thrusting hard at the creatures lower torso.
Lossaran attacks you with his Spear!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 13 hp's by Lossaran's attack...
...you have 22 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Blzebubkh has had enough of this fight. He must not become too weak, lest a lower ranking uruk spot his weakness and finish him off. Motion with his hand, he sends the rest of his bodyguard into the melee, and the well-trained uruks repond, pushing hard at the ranger to try to move him away from their commander. Blzebubkh himself falls back, one hand snaking down to his left boot as he pulls a throwing dagger from it. Lining up his throw, he aims for the human who caused him so much pain, releasing the dagger with a well practiced flick from his wrist.
COMBAT - Wielded: Throwing Dagger
You half-blindly throw your dagger at Lossaran...
Your dagger flies wide of Lossaran, doing no harm.
Your weapon lies now upon the ground at his feet.
Again Mablung calls out, "Fall back, they shall feel this sting for days, yet let us not waste our own selves further! Back!" He calls again and strikes one last time with his spear to hold another orc at bay then flees, only he and another, Loassaran hold the rear of the rangers flight.
Lossaran suddenly looks about him, noticing for the first time that he is nearly alone. Having suffered little he quickly ducks and avoids the oncoming attack from the orc's thrown dagger. Unable to reach the Uruk, he dashes off into the forests to the south. Stopping suddenly, he looks over the the outcropping not to far away. Seeing no way to reach his friend he mouths a name to the wind, the word lost in the noise of the falls. Then, as silently as he came, he quickly disappears into the forest to join the other woodsmen.
Blzebubkh howls his fury to the sky now that he see's his mortal enemy fleeing from him. He will remember this day forever, the Tark's face etched in his memory - woe to him if they ever cross paths again. For now, he vents his frustration by pulling yet another dagger from his belt, hurling this one after the first at the back of the fleeing ranger.
COMBAT - Wielded: Jagged-Edged Dagger
You half-blindly throw your dagger at Lossaran...
Your dagger hits Lossaran, mildly wounding him!
A tiny ting sound comes from the forest where Blzebubkh threw his dagger, its blade obviously hitting Lossaran's shield before he has finally melted into the trees.