3/14/2008

Celebrant Path, Among the Mellyrn

The path grows lush with tussocks of fine grass, rambling over and around the green earthen knolls of mighty roots beneath the forest floor. To the east, the unending song of the Celebrant rises from somewhere beyond the dense wall of silver boles. To the west, the stirrings of small things whisper in the low undergrowth between the trees.

To the north, to the south, the mellyrn continue as far as the eye can see: immense grey pillars unfathomably tall, their boughs clad in green and silver and studded with silver nuts, the ground beneath them golden with fallen petals and leaves.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
Gildor
Ollie

Gildor shakes his head looking at the troll. The word that he hears affirms that this may not work. The heru sneaks closer to the troll though still hidden behind the trees. "There is no food here, it's all back where you came." the noldo tries this tact a bit more though his eyes shine with anger at this foul thing being so close to the woods.

Ah hah! Clear proof the voice is lying! Ollie's face takes on a look of triumph. "Smells it!" he says. "Smells elfs, sweet elfs." He turns slightly though his eyes remain fixed longingly on the far shore. "Yer uses grey bits with mens," he explains. Troll cookery 101. "Brown bits with deers an' sheeps. Saahl for elfs. Sweet elfs." A dribble of saliva strings down his chin.

"Have it your way." The hidden form of the sea-elf reaches to his back, he finds his bow there pulling it into his hands he readies it quickly moving now at an angle to get a good shot. Gildor stops at the side of another tree he waits a moment but finds an arrow in his quiver putting it to the string he waits a moment but doesn't yet fire at the troll.

A shadow stirs, chased by a beam of light piercing the breezy mellyrn. The grey cloak hides much, covering the intent of deadly sword and bright mail. Only the eyes shine, gazing thoughtfully at the large troll.

Maglind steps lightly by a tree-trunk, listening -- spying on Oliver and stealing his culinary secrets. No doubt.

Oliver is lost in recipes, a glazed look of delight making his small black eyes go vague. "Saahl," he repeats and swallows noisily. "An' grey bits for rabbits. Rabbits is good. Sheeps, sheeps is roastered. With saahl." This seems to spark some memory, for his eyes clear and he looks around the dark woods, forehead wrinkled perplexedly - someone who should be there and is not... He leans to check behind a tree. "Where is yer?"

The only answer to the trolls question is the twang of a bowstring. The heru had already taken aim and pulled back releasing his arrow towards the troll. Gildor doesn't wait for it to hit or not he quickly moves to another tree before peering back at the troll if he has taken notice of the other than he doesn't show it. (hit - mildly wound)

Something stings his forehead, and Oliver lifts a hefty hand to swat it away. There is the smallest droplet of blood smeared over his stony skin. Big mosquito, that one! The troll turns in a circle, staring into the darkness. Then he raises his voice. "HUNGRY!" And waits...

Maglindearly coming face to face with Oliver, for Maglind is behind that tree, the Sinda startles with a small rustle, and scurries away through the thick bushes -- lest he become the next item in the troll's recipe book.

Heartbeat throbbing loud as a drum to elven ears, Maglind watches, and waits: the longsword he carries slips from its hidden scabbard, showing an inch of moonlight.

Gildor the hidden bowman watches the troll from the tree. His eyes narrow a little bit he has noticed the glint and a bit of movement as another in the area. The noldo pulls another arrow quickly to distract the mountain from the other who is closer and in more danger. He puts it to his bow taking aim and firing another bolt. (hit-mild)

This time, the 'mosquito' catches a glint of moonlight as it darts through the night air. And Oliver sees it. He is squinting suspiciously even as the tip of the arrow sticks in his leather jerkin and dangles there. Beady black eyes follow it down, stare for a moment. A fat hand comes up and feels it to be sure. And then - a roar of rage that dwarfs the earlier shout of hunger, like an avalanche dwarfs a child's pebble pile. Oliver grabs his enormous club and turns around, searching the shadows for the one who has dared to attack HIM.

The other shadow, thoroughly deafened by this roar, chooses to appear at this moment. But only for a moment. Maglind dashes like a rabbit for better cover, sword fully drawn; it betrays him like a flare in the night, or a bright pretty garnish on the top of a tantalizing dish...

Another figure appears in the shadows just as a roar sounds through the woods, eyes grow wide, and yet even wider as Galharth catches sight of Maglind racing through the open. Drawing his own weapon, he waits and watches as the Warden draws near to his own position. "If a fight is forced to drive it off, I'll lend my own blade...." he calls out in Sindarin towards the Guard.

Gildor peers around the tree, but the troll has now just become angry and not drawn away from the others. The heru spots the elf and sword dashing away in full view now of the troll. He swings the bow back to it's place on his back finding his shield on one arm he straps it on, his hand on the handle of his sword but doesn't yet wield it, he begins to move towards the troll still trying to be hidden.

Half turning, blade brought halfway up to counter the trunk of a tree, Maglind is swept clean off his feet for a step or two. He finds his back at a mallorn-bole, slamming rather noisily into it.

He gives a rather squeaky cry. Ribs hurt when sandwiched between wooden club and metal rings.

Pulling at his side, Maglind gasps a reply to the voice from the shadows, "<Sindarin> Stay."

Gildor glances back seeing the strike to the warden hit. He removes his cloak letting the moonlight fall and reflect on the cireclt and jewl on his forehead he only than wields his sword into the night sky. The noldo dashes out, and strikes for the back of the trolls leg. "I told you to leave!" he calls out.

Gildor attacks Ollie with his Bare Hands, but Ollie parries the attack with his Club!

Gildor attacks Ollie with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

Galharth gasps as the club comes down upon Maglind. "NO!" he cries out as he takes a step forward. At the Warden's gasped command of stay, the tailor does just that. Now standing in the open, his longsword flickers as it catches starlight, and anger burns in his eyes.

The grip on the crafters weapon is tight, but he stays put for the moment as he watches the sea elf launch forward in an attack. "I can help Maglind! He will not be driven off with so few."

The troll's howl of rage takes on a tinge of pain, though the cut down the back of his calf is neither large nor deep. Still, it is bleeding and no doubt stings. He whirls around smashing his club towards whatever has cut him; whatever it is, he cannot see as yet. But he swings the club low and in a swift circle, and perhaps something not quite fast enough will be caught.

Ollie attacks Gildor with his Club, but Gildor parries the attack with his shield!

"Silly Galharth," Maglind answers, breath clearing as the club-shaped bruise begins to numb, "you'll ruin your clothes."

Lingering only to smile sheepishly at the shadows, the marchwarden rushes forward, pointed sword parting the air before him, aiming at the vital, deadly region of Oliver's heel.

Maglind attacks Ollie with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Oliver steps back as his club clangs into a long and wickedly bright sword; sending the elf at the other end staggering back a little also. Steps back onto a very sharp and evil stone; or so it feels like, and bruises his heel. All these irritating flickering little creatures. The troll slams his club into the ground and shouts, "STOPS!"

The Tailor opens his mouth, and there it remains for several moments. "Ruin my clothes?" he asks flatly in disbelief. Stunned, Galharth watches as the Warden attacks the troll's heel. "What are you doing? It'll only make him angry."

At that moment, the land rumbles at the striking of the club against the ground, and it seems that all within the world rock and roll slightly. Charging forth, the clothier lifts his own blade and aims to strike the giant's knee. Between heel and knee, certainly it'll want to leave! "Go away! There is no food here, nor is there friendly folk. Go bad from wince you came!"

Galharth attacks Ollie with his Longsword...
Ollie dodges Galharth's attack.

Disbelief might be the name best used for Nioniel's expression as she stumbles into the scene of yet another run-in with the troll, Ollie. Gasping in horror, she watches three elves fall to with him and shudders. Things don't look good to the inexperienced elleth for her friends, and so she runs forward. Staying more or less behind the troll, she drops the hem of her skirt, gathers up her courage and shouts fiercely in elvish, "You great, ugly beast! Leave them be!"

Little flickering things. They dance back and forth around him, in and out, around... Oliver ignores them all, picking up his foot gently and holding it in one mammoth hand, swaying back and forth precariously. Galharth's sword slices through air just below his foot - where his knee had been only moments before, and the troll swats at him irritably. "Stops," he rumbles again. "Ollie's hungry!"

Ollie attacks Galharth with his Bare Hands!...
...and he misses!

"We stops if you leave," Maglind attempts to explain, still clutching his side. "There are no elfs to be had."

The guard tries to prove this point by stabbing the tip of the longsword at Ollie's other foot.

Maglind attacks Ollie with his Longsword, but he misses by a hair.

"Be careful Nioniel!" the Craftsmaster calls as he ducks quickly as a sudden breeze swings over his head. The breeze, made by a giant hand holds the most earthy, and pungent scents! Not pausing to think, Galharth quickly moves so to avoid a potential second blow. "If you're hungry, then go look for food across the mountain! Big fat rabbits, deer, and I'm sure potatoes or apples. Nothing but a couple stringy elves and barren trees! Go on, go back home! I'm sure dinner is waiting!" the Tailor yells impatiently. As the Warden strikes the Troll's feet, the crafter manuvers to find a spot to attack that might prod the giant beast up the mountain path. Finding himself facing the rear, it seems too good a target to pass up. Rushing forth, he aims to stab the Giant in the rear so to prod him up the mountain.

Galharth attack's Ollie with his Longsword...
Ollie dodges Galharth's attack.

Staggering back in shock, seeing the Tailor just barely missed by Ollie's enormous, crushing hands, Nioniel stares at the monstrous troll, wide-eyed and frightened. However, she finally comes to her senses long enough to withdraw from a pouch slung across her shoulder, a very dangerous looking ... pair of sewing shears? Biting her lip briefly as both Galharth and Maglind attack, she holds them tightly in her hand before crying out, "W-what do I do now?"

Home. A large wobble of - can it be?? - a tear glistens in Oliver's small beady eyes. "Can' go cross," he says mournfully, ignoring entirely a small fluttering creature that squeaks something in a vile sounding tongue. He sets his injured foot back down gingerly, and takes a great step forward, towards the river, thus missing both Maglind's stab at his foot, and Galharth's at his rear. "Hungry," he says mournfully. "Waters splashes all over."

"<Sindarin> Stay out of his reach," Maglind advises, chasing breathlessly after the seemingly homesick creature. Entirely unsympathetic, he attempts to prod Oliver in the right direction with the long, slender blade, shouting frantically, "You're going in the wrong direction! Home is that way! West!"

Maglind attacks Ollie with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Flanking the Giant's other side, he mimics the Warden's herding attempt. Jabbing his own long sword into Ollie's massive arms, he tried to get the big beast to turn back towards the mountains. "The other way! That way you'll find no food!"

Galharth attacks Ollie with his Longsword...
Galharth's attack against Ollie mildly wounds him!

From both sides, something pokes at the troll. It is hardly enough to even bother with; barely enough to dent his skin and scratch it. And Oliver doesn't bother. He shuffles closer to the water, looking at it with loathing, and sighs deeply. This horrible nasty forest, and he can't even get any elfs for a snack, and there is no way home!

Still looking a little horrified at the shears in her hand, Nioniel glances up as Maglind shouts and seems taken aback. How does one stay out of a gigantic trolls reach? It seems prudent to remain close to him where hes less capable of bashing your head in ... and so she remains. Suddenly, any resolve to attack the beast wavers and she looks to Galharth: "What if he /cant/ get across the river..." But even as the words leave her lips, her foot catches on her own cloak hem and she goes sprawling; her sewing shears aimed right for Ollies already beleaguered heel.

Nioniel attacks Ollie with her Dagger and mildly wounds him!

Maglind pulls back for a moment, gazing up at Oliver with a mien worn thin by frustration. "<Sindarin> I don't think it's working, Galharth," the ellon says, wiping a slight trickle of blood from his lip (largely due to the shouting).

Yet, slightly heartened by the inadvertent attack of the Seamstress, Maglind grows angry again. "Follow me and go home! Or else the water will rise around you!" he yells in brief Westron, racing in front of the pillar-like knees, scissoring at the stone shins.

Maglind attacks Ollie with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.

There is another one of those pesky biting flies nipping at his heel. Oliver absently lifts his foot, bringing it back down with the clear intent to squash the pest. But Maglind's words do have an effect this time, for as soon as he has done so, he hurriedly lifts it again, to step backwards, a little ways from the edge of the river. "Don' like," he grumbles. "Nasty waters." Looking cautiously upstream and then down - no sign of rising water yet - he leans forward.... touches the surface with one forefinger, and jerks it away, looking at it with deep suspicion. Can it be... CLEAN? Horrors.

Ollie attacks Nioniel with his Bare Hands, but he misses by a mile.

"Then he can go North, or over the Mountain, or even further south, so long as it's away from here." Galharth replies back to the Seamstress. Pausing a moment, he catches sight of the elleth go down. "Nioniel! Get up and get back! That thing is dangerous!" He winces as Ollie lifts his pricked foot and puts it back down, narrowly missing the elleth.

Turning towards Maglind, the Clothier nods. "Try leading, and I'll prod from behind." he calls out in sindarin.

Prodding the giant once more with the tip of his longsword, the Tailor yells, "Follow him for your food, and to get away from the pretty clean water. Time to go home large one."

Galharth attacks Ollie with his Longsword...
Galharth's attack against Ollie mildly wounds him!

"What if," the guard shouts frantically, replying to Galharth with a dropping wink, "the Elves make it rain?! You would be washed, washed away!"

"Follow me," Maglind whispers conspiratorially, "and we'll flee to the high mountains, where it's safe."

The mean longsword snakes toward Oliver's belly, and Maglind begins to backpedal quickly. Very quickly.

Maglind attacks Ollie with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Utterly horrified at stabbing the troll by accident, Nioniels voice catches mid-cry. However, horror grows greater as she looks up to see the enormous foot of the beast poised to crush her ... and she cowers like a frightened rabbit ... that is, until she realizes that hes missed her! Struggling to her feet, suddenly emboldened by her close call, she holds her shears out fiercely once more, and replies to Galharth, "Ill not leave you to fight him alone. Ill stand with you!" She catches her breath and cries at the beast (though of course he couldnt understand her) "Get you gone! Go home! A little water would do you good!"

Galharth jabs him from behind - it is not painful, but it is annoying. And Oliver twists around to swat at him. Leaving his back open to be poked AGAIN. He swings back around, eyes landing on the elf who flees before him, and he gives chase. Another squeaks shrilly nearby and he winces, covering one ear with a great palm.

Ollie attacks Galharth with his Bare Hands!...
...and he misses!

Maglind flees headlong through the forest, sword dangling from his hand. His path seems wild, but perhaps he does know where he is going, for he laughs -- leading poor Oliver on a merry, circular chase.