8/28/2008

================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dawn < About 6:24 AM >
IC day is: Orithil <Moon-day>
IC date is: 11 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: Waxing Gibbous <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 20 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3044>
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RL time: Thu Aug 28 15:08:04 2008
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High Pass, Summit

The pass continues across what seems to be the very summit of the mountains about you. Cliffs fall away at your feet everywhere, dropping hundreds of feet and spelling certain demise with one false step. This treacherous journey has your nerves on edge and your mind reeling. You will be glad to see it finally over. Not even the grey and damp tangled briars of the lower slopes can survive on these cold and windblown peaks.

Lighting splinters on the mountain peaks brightening the stormy day, thunder explodes overhead, the noise cracking a nearby cliff! Thunderstorm rages in full force above the mountains, the gale howling and screaming, presenting a biting and stinging hail. The late night autumn air is warm and brisk.

Contents:
Diggory
Cecilia
Galharth
Mobeorn
Thorhur
Maglind

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The rain is still pounding down on the mountain, making travel slow and keeping watch rather difficult. Visibility is very limited, and the rocky passage is slippery and dangerous. Cecilia has finally grown tired of the endless rain, and after climbing through a more difficult section of the path with some of the first scouts, she's moved to take shelted against some large rocks, trying to keep her pack of healing supplies out of the direct downpour. The young woman is crouched, watching the weather-obscured shapes help others along.

The weather is indeed mighty on this, the high pass. In the distance, the clattering of giants throwing stones can be heard, echoing through the cavernous chasms of the Hithaeglir, mightiest of mountain-ranges.

Amid all the noise--the cacaphony of rain and thunder--one more stands out, more nearby than the distant thundering stones.

*DOOOOOOUUUUUUUM*

Cecilia stays off to the side, trusting the guides, her people's warriors, to keep alert. The healer fingers her bow as the crashing of stones seems to be getting closer, itching to arm the weapon but not wanting to soak the bowstring with rain. She jumps at a particularly loud crash, and sets down her pack, daring to peek around the large rocks she's seeking protection beneath.

Darkness and rain. A particularly large and distant stone is highlighted by a flash of sheet lightning, and then another flash!

And the shape, the stone, what appeared to be a fixture of the very mountainside, it is gone! Then, from above, another cacaphonous DOOOOOOOOOM!

Was it just the thunder?

Cecilia cringes at the large crash, the noise hurting her ears as it echoes among the peeks. Someone calls something in Eothrik, voice muffled in the rain, and the girl answers. Then she rubs her arms, leaning back against the safety of the stone again, holding her bow close.

Above Cecilia, though she surely does not yet know it, is a massive clump of what appears to be rather agile countryside, replete with dry and brittle grasses sprouting from what could only be called a head, and down its, er, back. Its face, however, is the most hideous! Red fangs, bright and murderous colorus, and malice in each eye.

Perhaps the event which lends strongest inclination to Cecilia that a giant of the mountains is above her position is the large boulder which is hurled to block the path of the Beorning folk.

Moving along the muddied path, narrowly avoiding the growing streams of water cascading down and around the rock formations, the elven tailor draws the hood of his cloak down further over his brow. "Though nature sings, and there is beauty in all that can be heard, I'd be glad to watch and listen to this song from the comforts of a protected talan."

Pausing his step to glance towards the nearest figure, by chance the Beorning Healer Cecilia, he opens his mouth to say something, but falls silent as he catches movement. Shock is the first reaction, indecision is the next, and finally the ellon is taken to action as he calls out "MOVE!"

Cecilia glances towards Galharth when his shape grows sharper in the blinding rain, the elf closer than the others. She looks confused by his shocked expression, then he yells for her to move and she searches around sharply, then gives a cry of surprise as she jumps away from the falling boulder. Her retreat puts her further from her allies, but the rock could have killed her. One danger at a time.

The beast lets out a roar! (After all, what fun is the hunt without theatrics?) With arms raised, the massive mace in his palm can be seen, and he LEAPS! As the boulder crashes down, aiming to land directly before it, to shock the beo-folk. Divide them. The beast, bearing a fearsome mask, swings his mace out into the caravan as he lands, letting out a shout with volume to match the force of the blow.

Diving to the right as the boulder passes too close, the scent of mud and damp rock wizzes by with a bang and a woosh of moving air. Falling against a pile of rocks, the Tailor is barely able to keep his footing in the slippery mud. While dirtied clothing is first and foremost on the craftmaster, the roar that comes on the tail of the boulder keeps all thoughts focused on the here and now.

"Disburse and RUN!" he calls out, long enough to look over his shoulder to see a goodly number of both elves and Beornings doing just that. Some runing to ready for a fight, others to avoid it. As for the Tailor, he seems hesitant, but quickly draws his blade and holds his place.

Cecilia is on the opposite side of the boulder, and when the troll jumps in, roaring wildly, the girl sucks in a horrified breath. It's between her and her kin, and any thoughts of bravely attacking it's flank are distant. No, the young healer runs to hide on the other side of the rocky overhang that she was so recently sheltering beneath. Her supplies are left behind, but she still holds her bow and her quiver is on her back.

A bolt of laughter coincides with a crash of lightning, and the rain surges to full power. Torrential sheets of hard water spatter the face. The high-gusting wind stings the the eyes, fills the ears with howls. But this is the realm of the Troll.

The behemoth turns to the lone tailor, and speaks in loud, clear Westron.

' Little Albai!
where are your friends? '

Laughter sends a visible shiver down the Tailor's spine, but he continues to hold his ground. Is this a view of a fool or that of a hero? By observation alone, there is no hint as to what brings this silver haired ellon to stubbornly stand his ground. His jaw tenses in resolve and he holds his blade up in challenge. "My friends lie within the shadows, lurking to bring you down. Attack me and the trap will snap closed!" He calls back with a firm voice that echos against the rocks amidst the sound of heavy rain.

Cecilia struggles to calm herself, unable to hear her own heavy breathing over the rain and thunder. The immediate danger has passed, and she stuffs her hand into a deep pocket on the inside of her coat. The string is damp, but not sodden. She props her bow on the ground, then pushes down on the end, bending it enough to hook on the string. She can hear Galharth's words of defiance.. so heroic!

Once she has the bow strung, she pulls an arrow from her quiver and very slowly creeps back around the rocks, trying to stay concealed. She blinks against the rain, trying to make out the form of the troll that blends so well in the darkness.

The Troll does not move his gaze. Instead, he steps forward, stooped forward so his arms are stretched outfront. In particular, that deadly mace.


' I don't believe you, little treat.
I cannot smell their tender meat,
But on you I would have but a chew or perhaps two,
But nary would there be a feast! '


' Take me to your kindred, steal me to their lot,
I'll eat them instead of you and give you what they've got! '

Scampering back and up the hill, moving over rocks like a goat might, the Tailor seems to be moving off the path. Is he leading this stoney beast into a trap? Is the intent to clear the path so others might run away? Or could is the ellon moving with some blind instinct to get away? Alas, Galharth's expression is now one as unmoving as the rock and stone all around him.

' Believe or disbelieve! Trap or Not!
I'll lead so that you might follow.
Come away, come here, chase me, catch me
Let us dance away atop the rocks!

Looking up the mountain, his gaze seems to focus upon something and he nods once. Is someone above?

The beast follows the elf, indeed, but swings out at him with that brutal mace, trying to bring him back down to the path in the torrential rain.

' No tricks little elf!
You'll have a kiss wit' my ol' mace,
I'll strike ye hard upon the face,
It won't be good for your health! '

Diggory attacks Galharth with his Mace!...
...and he misses!

Cecilia can't hear Galharth's words over the rain and thunder, but she does see him climb higher up the mountain, onto the rocks. She nocks an arrow to her bowstring, a small voice in her head reminding her that the Beornings are here to see the elves safely through the pass and not the other way around. She draws back on her longbow, having no experience with trolls beyond stories she's heard. The string is wet, but maybe she'll be lucky and hit.

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

Leaping to another outcrop of rocks, narrowly missing the swing of the Troll's mace, Galharth rushes back towards the large beast. Hoping from rock to rock, balanced as a delicate bird though his cloak and robes are heavily soaked with the rain, the Craftmaster laughs at the Trolls words.

' Tell me your name oh bulky one,
Let your name be the memory of sung in years to come
While squirrels often try to bring me down,
Could you, a crafty troll, be the one to win the day?

As the Tailor passes by the Troll, he swings his blade, aiming to bring ruin to the creatures mask. As the elf swings, a grunt of effort rings out. Well before the strike hits, he seems already moving to clear the distance between the two.

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

From the shadows, a hooded figure emerges. The rain and darkness distort his features. Sounds of a scuffle have aroused him, and now he appears with longbow raised. He does not fit an arrow yet. Crystal blue eyes peer out from the hood, surveying the situation carefully.

The arrow that was meant for the troll flies wide. The troll cackles as he is poked with the elven blade. He takes the mace in both hands now, and viscerally strikes at Galharth, attempting to smite the very stone beneath the spry craftsmaster. Apparently, he ignores the elf's request. His attention has yet to be turned upon Cecilia, if he is even aware of her presence, nor that of the newcomer to the battle.

Diggory attacks Galharth with his Mace!...
...and he misses!

Cecilia frowns when her arrows flies wide and reaches for another. She nocks it to the string and tugs a few times, trying to get a better feel for the damp weapon. She gasps when the mace crashes down at the elf, letting out a sigh of relief when Galharth dances away. With more determination, the Beorning healer draws back the longbow and shoots at Diggory again.

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

The strike of steel on the stone of the troll's skin brings a moment of disappointment into the Tailor's expression. That expression, however, quickly passes as the mace comes swinging down. "Ah, you're a shy one! Too shy to have your name sung by elves!" Galharth calls out as he leaps back, coming down onto a new perch as the stone of his last is smashed into shards of protesting stone. "Alas, poor thing, perhaps the bite of arrows, sharp and pointy, all aimed for tender spots....but do give me your name!"

As the Craftmaster speaks, he hops from rock group to the next, carefully moving from the front of the massive beast, clearly attempting to get behind. "Tell me of your mask!" he calls out as he suddenly moves forward, raising his blade and bringing it down with a heavy swing. Again he tries to dislodge the Troll's mask.

Galharth attack Diggory with his Longsword...
Galharth attack against Diggory mildly wounds him!

The mystery archer has seen enough.

The rain whips his cloak in all directions, but he manages to fit an arrow nimbly and raise his longbow. Squinting towards the Troll, he releases the arrow towards the beasts' eyes.

Thorhur launches an arrow...
Thorhur's bowshot hits Diggory, mildly wounding him.

*Thok!* An arrow embeds itself in the troll's mask, just as galharth strikes it: but it is made of some thick oak or ancient mahogany, and the blade merely cuts chips away.

The beast draws its weapon from the crater where it lays, having missed the nimble albai. Swinging his mace around his palm, the behemoth monster re-establishes his grip and leaps forward at Galharth, grunting, "Dig'ry!" As the mace comes down with the force of his falling body! *WHUMP!*

Diggory attacks Galharth with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

It's too dark and she can't see what's going on. Cecilia frowns in frustration as she misses again. She moves further from her hiding place, knocking a third arrow. She draws back the bowstring and lets fly a third shot at the large, hulking beast, then quickly backs up to press against the stone of the mountain. She looks down, her pack is still laying on the wet ground. She has a torch within! The healer kneels down to begin rifling it out.

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

There is a thundering that suddenly shudders the ground here, rocks and loose stones skittering down from the rocky slopes around here. A roar shakes the ground as well, and then as if from out of nowhere comes the huge form of a brown bear, flanks dripping with rainwater. The bear is too late to save the elf from a wound at the hand of the troll, but nonetheless it leaps from a high precipice, trying to jump onto the troll or rake claws through its back to try to distract it from its elven prey.

Brown_bear attacks Diggory with his Beijabar Fists and lightly wounds him!
A low roll of thunder sounds about the valley walls, its initial crash reverberting a terrible roar in the low ravine. The rain driving hard, the sound of rapid hoofbeats upon the moist earth deadened by the overhead peel. From behind a low rise a dim light glimmers through the darkness, soft bells sounding clearly through the air above the din. A great white horse cresting the tip, set atop its bare back a figure of gold and silver aglow against the clouded night. The ring of unsheathed steel sings sharply in the air as the weapon held aloft shines. "Quendi, cailcerin!" A voice as deep and terrible as the thunder calls, his mount rising up and legs striking the air. "Elendil!" the elvish rider cries and urging the steed on he charges, singing sword sweeping as he rides.

Blood is drawn from stone: Black, foul blood poors down, washed away by the rain. Roaring, the troll does indeed turn from Galharth, buth only to rap its mace menacingly upon the nose of the thing, and then it stoops, attempting to pick Galharth up in its massive hand.

' Away, away old bear!
There is no treat for you here!
leave me to mine or I'll turn unto you,
After he's dead and I'll eat your heart, too! '

Diggory attacks Brown_bear with his Mace, but Brown_bear parries the attack with his Beijabar Fists!

Celemir furiously attacks Diggory with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Arrows pluck harshly at the troll in a growing fight. The sound of one finding a spot to lodge itself in the creatures mask comes at the exact instant the ellon's own strike nips at the strangely crafted headgear. Distracted attention ill serves the Craftmaster, for he pauses too long when the Troll leaps forth, swinging the deadly mace. Leaping with intent to move down hill, the mace strikes his shoulder mid leap. The ellon's cloak parts company with the elf, with the grey cloak crumbling into a lump as the strike sends Galharth flying down the mountainside.

In the darkness a still form crumples into the shadows a good distance from the fight. Alas, the talkative crafter is a long distance out of the fight.

The archer sees that his arrow has indeed hit the troll. Then he sees the mace hit Galharth. Turning, he runs into the shadows for help...for it appears the tailor needs it.

Oh! The bear! Cecilia calls out a cheer, her courage greatly restored by the sight of the attacking creature. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" She's not yet found a torch in her pack, but suddenly a bright elf rides in on a horse. That gives the young woman pause, her gray eyes blinking through the heavy rain. Then she searches for Galharth. His cloak is in Diggory's hand, but where is the elf? 'Galharth?!'

The troll swings its mighty mace, but this bear is crafty, a huge paw reaching up to grab at the mace and swing its deadly edge away from the bear. At the same time, the bear leaps forward, though in this wet ground it loses its footing and goes tumbling down a nearby slope into a small canyon of sorts. That'll take it some time to work its way out of--the bear heading downhill to find another path.

Roaring out, the Troll dances with the bear, and as it tumbles down the cliffside, he recovers, grasping the cloak of the elf. He growls, standing up and swinging the mace at the first creature he sees--poor Celemir!

Diggory attacks Celemir with his Mace and severely wounds him!

Celemir ducks low to the horse's profile as his blade slashes and slices against the troll, his resonant battlecry sounding through the ravine as the dark mountain of beast and glowing eldar battle, his final cut brings him to the fullest extent of his reach, and rearing up to turn the horse he rises back for balance. This is his undoing; Diggory's blow striking the silvan in the side, a sickening squelch and crunch of tearing flesh and cracking bones mingles with the song of bells and the elf is thrown from his mount, tumbling to the ground beside his cloak blending with the loosend mud. A spit of blood and a pained groan made through gritted teeth bring the elven warrior to his feet, shaken but not yet defeated, his shield raised high and blade yet clapsed closely in hand. "Go back..." he wheezes in the common tongue, drawing breath as he glows with the firey rage of the Eldar in war. "The Host rides, you are undone. Go back to your shadows!"

Celemir attacks Diggory with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.

Cecilia is of the mind that Mobeorn is invincible.. and when the bear topples down a slope and away from the battle that sudden boost of confidence washes away with the rain, leaving the Beorning girl feeling more exposed again. Celemir gets slammed with the mace and the healer gapes in alarm, her eyes wide. She gives up on the search for a torch and pulls another arrow from her quiver, nocking and shooting at the troll.

Cecilia launches an arrow...
Cecilia's bowshot hits Celemir, severely wounding him.

The troll is, for the moment, distracted by his split-second decision to slay the horse--after all, they make good eats! He leaps at the creature, swinging his mace down not just once but three times, each more fierce than the last. Landing, he looks up to see Celemir shot by his kindred, and lets out a boistrous laugh.

' Tasty Little Albai!
Where are your friends?
Take me to them,
And I'll eat them up instead. '

' Tell me where they are now,
Or it'll be the end of you!
Bring me to your friends m'treat,
Or I'll cook ye in a stew! '

The elvish warrior may've counted on the troll, perhaps even on the massive blow he sustained. But he had not thought for a moment to look for Beorning arrows. The shaft strikes him deep; lodging in his shoulder the heavy shield falling to slump against the moistend earth, and a cry of pain rising from his throat as the great glow about him diminishes for a moment, the elf finding purchase against his shield and struggling to show little ill for the dehabilitating wound. "Look to the West..." he rasps in thunderous tones. "There, you will find your sport..." a definant draw scarcely marking agony and exhaustion. "And your doom." His gaze falters upon the great mountain of the troll, peircing the gloom and finding Cecilia along the arrows flight. Words without movement sound clear across the vale. "Fly, you fool!"

Long distance to Aeglirhaeron: Galharth grins. Sucks to be a wanting Tailor then. Maybe I'll see you in Beorning... or I'll catch it when I get back home IC

First, it's horror that crosses the young woman's face, the sheer shock of what she did sending a sickening chill through her. Then she's struck with complete indecision. The elf tells her to flee, but the troll will surely kill him! Still, Cecilia hasn't hit him with an arrow yet and Mobeorn and Galharth are both missing. She stands frozen in the rain, obviously torn and uncertain what action to take. "West! Over the mountain! As he said!" She calls, trying to support Celemir's words, then the girl backs up, seeking the shelter of the rocks again.

Growling, the Troll lumbers closer to the elf as he speaks, and then, as he clances to Cecilia, he cackles, then, and then he smiles beneath the mask.

'There, I see your friend, now,
Hiding in the rocks!
I'll bring her to her end now,
And give 'er head a knock! '

' I'll take your horse and lady,
I'll eat them for my own,
And if you try to stop me, albai,
I'll strip ye to your bones! '

And with that, the Troll bounds toward Cecilia, growling low.

The troll turns and Cecilia's eyes grow wider, if that's even possible. She gives a high pitched squeak of fear, then runs around behind the rocks, trying to hide before the beast catches up.

The great fire of wrath is rekindled in Celemir's heart, as the troll issues his threat. The golden glow about him rising brightly as strength fills his tired limbs; fea afire and the light of the Eldar filling his face. "You have failed, olog; dark and foul!" his voice peeling through the rain and thunder. "Find only dust and shadows to feed you now!" Hoping that this cry shall be enough to let Cecilia take flight; Celemir drops back, his quick pace fueled by strength anew and the cloak of Lorien, its magic weave, drawn close about him as he drops just out of view.

Another roar resounds through the summit of the pass now as the bear finally makes it back up from the canyon where he had fallen. Without hesitation or, perhaps, thought for its own safety, it charges with its full weight toward the troll, seeking to knock it down. A foolish wish.

Brown_bear attacks Diggory with his Beijabar Fists, but he misses by a mile.


-Fade to black-