================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Early Evening < About 6:37 PM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 45 Echuir <Stirring>
Moon phase: Waxing Gibbous <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 16 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3040>
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RL time: Sat Jun 09 15:12:29 2007
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Center of Fangorn
You are embarking through the boughs of Fangorn. A path lies here, seemingly made by large and heavy beings as the dirt is packed and smooth. The trees about you have an ominous way about them, making you feel uneasy to be here. The trees themselves seem to make the path, as all other ways are blocked. Continue carefully, for there are things unheardof that live within these woods. The daylight sun beams across the forest of Fangorn, illuminating the paths through the foliage.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
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Early evening falls over the land, and the shadows begin to grow wider as anor's light begins to fade. Deep within the center of Fangorn there is a strange quiet accented by the occasional sound of birds in song which sounds yet falls quickly quiet without echoing. In this quiet setting a small group gathers. Stepping from the camp, one figure peers quietly around the camp. It is only when he draws back his hood is he identifiable to those within his group. "It's so strange here. Not like our own wood, yet equally mysterious." Galharth comments.

Another stands on this path, looking up at a tree whose branches spread like fingers over his head. "Indeed," Maglind says, looking to the clothier.

"But I wish I could see them. The guards in this wood."

Taking a deep breath, inhaling the scents of Fangorn, the clothier smiles as he turns towards the Warden. "Perhaps we will. Niinaeth mentioned the strangeness of their ways." Galharth says as his gaze sweeps over their surroundings. "They might even be staring at us now, and we'd not know."

He shrugs his shoulders and draws his hood further over his brow. "May I join you on patrol?" he asks as he takes a step towards the Northeast.

"Are you sure?" follows Maglind, tree-shadows following closely behind him. "We don't speak their tongue. If we do meet some ..."

The warden draws his cloak together. "We can't stray too far from the camp."

"Not far, but in a circle around the camp." Galharth says, taking a few more steps to the Northeast. "And language is more than a spoken art. I had a cousin who once detailed using hand signals and body motions to communicate with those who could not speak our language." Drawing his cloak back once more, he peers hopefully at the Warden. "Come on, endulge me and teach me some of the ways of the Guard."

"You will learn," replies Maglind with a chuckle, stepping over the roots of a tree. "Come now. Do you speak any Westron?"

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Fangorn Forest
You are embarking through the boughs of Fangorn. A path lies here, seemingly made by large and heavy beings as the dirt is packed and smooth. The trees about you have an ominous way about them, making you feel uneasy to be here. The trees themselves seem to make the path, as all other ways are blocked. Continue carefully, for there are things unheardof that live within these woods. Although the trees become very protective of their land at this time of night, there is just enough of a patch of light from the silverly moon to enable you to see your path clearly.

Contents:
Troll (Temped by Grot)
Leona
Galharth
Maglind
Rhibi
Anguar
Willoweg
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The gentle sound of passage echo amongst the leaning deep wood of Fangorn. The faint sound of the camps outside of the perimeter of the old forest signal her direction as the woman ventures deeper yet. Leona pauses, casting a glance back at the started fires of the Bardings. Turning back around, she lifts her gaze, blinking as she searches each trees 'face'. Frowning slightly, she bites her bottom lips and then starts to move again.

Lifting a hand, she stays a branch from meeting her face. Bending forward, she ducks under a fallen tree, decaying and glittering in the faint light of sunset that yet is able to pierce some of the shaded wood.

Long fingers of a crafter reach out to touch the bark of a nearby tree, "Old life rests, but no different than the lives of our own trees," mutters Galharth. A sound is heard, and the ellon pauses. With a furrowed brow he searches the sounds. Peering back towards their own camp he catches sight of Maglind. "Do you hear something?" He asks softly, "Our own camp is silent, yet there is sound as if a camp lays nearby."

Silence reigns in the Fangorn forest. A gentle breeze plays through the branches, sending them shifting, a soft howl rising every so often as the wind passes a particularly narrow area. Evensong drifts along the currents as birds settle in for the night themselves. In all, it is both peaceful and serene in the Wood of the Ents.

Yet, not is always as it appears. For through this calm, a quiver of the ground is heard. Soft at first, distant; as though the very earth itself has breathed a sigh. The sound comes again, however, and again. Slowly, softly; irregular intervals, but one thing is certain: Whatever causes these soft, slowly growing tremors is heading this way.

"They are older," murmurs Maglind, stepping into the shadows of a gnarled trunk. "Stay quiet. Let's hide."

Pausing again, the Barding Captain feels in that moment the quiver of the ground. Her head lifts again and she half smiles. "It might be.." She whispers to herself. Again she takes up her pace and heads towards it, being careful to keep to the brush. Though having met one of the guardians of the wood, she has put most of her caution to the side for the moment, thinking herself safe as she wears no blade to anger the sentients of the wood.

Hugging the tree, melding into its shadow, the clothier peers towards the noise, however faint in the brush ahead. "A human? A female?" He whispers softly as he cranes his neck to gain a better look. Inexperienced as he is, his ability to remain hidden is not so able as the Guards even though he wears the cloak of the Galadhrim.

But that sight is not what worries him. There is something more. A soft rumble, a movement that causes a hint of panic in the Clothier's eyes. His head snaps towards the Guard and he hisses. "Do you feel that?" he says a bit louder than he should.

That which was, is no more. That which brought a calmness born of peace ebs from the forest. Replaced by a sullen breeze, one which carries half whispers of unseen lips. They are being watched. Watched of unseen amber eyes, aged and wise. Curious they are not, guarded, perhaps angered. Ancient willow branches brush the forest floor in time with the mummerings, one come to rest near Maglind's boot with a sharp snap.

"Shh!" hisses Maglind, less gently than he should, and puts out an arm to bar the clothier's way. "Forget the human. If that thing should pass by, flee. Climb a tree."

Light and shadows play with each other, slowly darkening within the forest as the sun sinks lower without. There are two elves ahead of him, Rhibi has been following them - slipping through the trees as silently as one of the dancing shadows. He pats a trunk as he passes with absent-minded affection and memory - he has been here before - and then ghosts to a halt beside Maglind, crouching into the shrubs.

Though Leona carries no weapon as to ensure not to offend the natural dwellers of this place, the figure which approaches harvests no such thoughts in his mind. For, the rumble continues to grow, and soon, pressing between two trees, the figure emerges, coming before the Barding known as Leona.

Tall in stature, immense in girth; muscles knot on every sinew of the stoneskin which comes before the woman. Eyes as black as the soul within peer down at the unfortunate human, even as she takes in the sight of the behemoth before her. A cruel, wicked smile creases twisted lips, revealing yellow teeth beyond.

Another rumble erupts. This time, however, it is not from footfalls, but from the very depths of the being now revealed. For a laugh spews forth, like molten rock from a volcano. Deep, hideous, and malicious in every aspect, it grows to cover the surrounding area as uncaring eyes look down.

"So, you've come to offer yourself as my dinner..." he states softly, chuckling again as fingers grasp tighter to the haft of the massive, wickedly curved battle axe within the Olog-Hai's right hand.

The guard notices neither child nor willow-branch, bright gaze narrowed and fixed on the figure which comes through the trees. Maglind raises his hand; a quick jerk gestures backwards: Away.

Breath holds within the clothiers chest as a well remembered form appears. "Climb a tree? What folk are we to leave a weaponless female to that." Galharth snarls as he checks the position of his armor and draws his sword. "Should we not at least attempt to distract it? Give her time to flee or find something to defend herself with?"

The elves are easily concealed, as for Leona, she is still making her way, albeit slowly towards the rumbling sound. She pauses once more to untangle herself from a few branches before brushing her cloak back over her shoulder. Auburn hair flows free, a few leaves settled amongst it in contrast and speaking of her rather weaving journey. Though as she turns to gaze back at her passage, the sound of trees crunching before her makes her turn swiftly around.

Her heart climbs to her throat and the visage she is greeted with, is not at all the one she had hoped for. Drawinga swift breath, she finds her senses after he speaks. She had seen trolls before, but not like this one. In the dying light, her chances look more grim.

Reaching to her gack, she moves, fluidly despite the thrumming in her chest. Ducking back behind some of the trees, she readies her bow, grasping at an arrow as she tries to gain space of what she guesses is his weapon.

Leona wields her long bow with a slight flourish

Rhibi's slight form tenses and an expression of pure hatred hardens on his young face. "Kill it!" he murmurs with the wind, "We must kill it!"

"Quiet!" the warden answers sharply as the sound of a snapping branch. "How can you walk out and defeat him with a sword? Stay here, or go warn the camp. We will shoot from the shadows."

The laugh is met with a matching rumble, one of thunder. Sounding from above, below, and yet no where. The branches of the willow sweep the floor in hurried measure, born of a wind all unto its own. It is not concern for those present, only a desire to see his forest left to be. Silent and alone. The ent does not make the issues of the travelers his own, does not wish to be involved, yet oddly the childs appearance only causes the deep thunder to increase. The voice of child pulling it would seem to be pulling the ancient roots from the ground, a single branch quick toward his backside.

At the sight of the woman hiding behind a tree, the behemoth laughs even harder. "Think that will protect you?" he calls, his voice booming over the swiftly darkening night. "Fool!" he cries, hefting his axe, and seemingly unaware of the rumbling as it grows; or uncaring.

His own voice seems to match the thunder as it grows, laughter and mockery full upon the great Olog-Hai's lips. Stepping forth but a couple steps, he easily comes within reach of the tree which now hides the female, and it is a swift movement to bring his axe sweeping across, aimed to cleave directly through the tree, and into the woman on the opposing side who dared attempt to use it for cover.

Not truly hiding, it is never good to stay in one place when dealing with trolls. Shiftong on her feet, she has her arrow ready and just as she is about to shoot one off and continue on towards the east, the fell swing meets with the tree. There is a cry that leaves her throat in dismay. Her bow is lost as she is sent flying backwards and tumbling across the ground. The mighty tree who also feel prey to the troll's axe falls down near her, one of its branches pinning the unforunate barding along her right side and legs.

Unmoving, she lays there a moment, breath knocked from her and disoriented.

Weaponless? As Galharth watches from the shadows, he visible relaxes as the human draws her bow. As he turns again towards Maglind, he frowns. "Rhibi? Oh no...." the clothier mouths as he watches the childs words form. The world again rumbles, and the sounds around them are conflicting. "I can not defeat it, but we can't run."

The sound of a nearby tree falling before the Olog-Hai's axe causes the ellon to duck quickly in response. "It won't rest when finished with her."

Turning towards the distruction, he catches sight of the woman down. Grinding his teeth, he rushes forward, stooping and picking up a rock as he goes. "Leave her!" he calls out in Sindarin.

The boy, slim and slight as a twig, reaches for his own small bow. He has it at his shoulder, an arrow fitted (obeying Maglind, see!) to shoot when something thwacks into his rear-end and he is sent somersaulting through the air. Mouth and eyes both open wide, Rhibi's hands tighten on his weapons - and, fantastically, he attempts to aim and shoot. It is perhaps unsurprising that the arrow hits nothing but the ground.

"Oh, fools," grates Maglind between his teeth, rushing too into the open. As he runs, he puts arrow to string, calling in the elven-tongue: "Go away!"

He is on the other side, putting the troll directly between himself and the fallen tree -- though it is unclear to whom he shouts.

A hurried wind brought of willow boughs brings forth a gust of warm air, draining what life Fangorn gave. The thundering now increasing to a growl of that which is not human. It is clear, there is far more present this day than human, elves and troll. Yet what? The ground quivers, a rushing of leaves. What path had been taken by those who entered is now blocked. Another leading away from his precious forest opened. Fangorn begins to come to life.

The growl grows, and Grot realizes it is not him. However, a chuckle is loosed even as the elves break forth, and eyes sweep the are. He is surrounded, but that seems not to concern the behemoth. One is down, one is toppling to the earth, and two, he has seen before, and the grin spreading upon his lips, and the knowing look he gives the clothier and warrior tells them he does.

Turning about, abandoning the woman for the time, the Olog-Hai turns his attention upon the one named Maglind; the one he did not strike last they met. Axe held tightly, a deep chuckle erupting from the very depths of the creature, Grot leaves the fallen tree to do it's work with the Barding, even as his axe sweeps forth, once again aimed at a lesser creature: Maglind.

Grot attacks Maglind with his Battle Axe and badly wounds him!

The warden of Lorien opens his mouth to shout a warning, the arrow springing from his bow even as the troll swings.

The axe knocks him down, shearing easily through cloak and leather and flesh. He falls flat upon his back, a muted cry forcing through his mouth. Blood glisters dark in the shadow of Fangorn.

It is a repeated word, half whispered, one which runs violently through Fangorn. "OUT!" Still the ent does not move from his place. Bending and twisting in the wind, he lays a branch near the fallen elf, one posed to snatch the flying one. The top of the massive tree coming toward the trolls head, a flurry of long branchs sent in an attempt to block the trolls view. The soil beneath the ancient roots begging to crumble and move.. To move or not to move, that is the question.

Staring at the Olog-Hai's towering form, the clothier groans slightly. The groan emitted sounds much like a strained wimper. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he mutters to himself in Sindarin as he skirts around the turning beast. Perhaps he speaks of himself? Rushing towards the human's side, he juggles the position of his sword, allowing room to gently scoop the woman into his arms at the instant Grot strikes out at Maglind. The sound alone causes the clothier to stumbles a few steps.

Moving away from the battle, the human is lowered beside a few rocks, well hidden behind a bush. "Be safe human," he whispers in his own tongue as he steps away from Leona.

Departing from the now hidden human, Galharth rushes forth hoping to distract the beast from doing further damage. He opens his mouth to call out again, but a sound rings through he wood, and the ellon peers about in wonder.

Rhibi watches, upside down at that moment, as Grot's axe cuts into Maglind, and he cries out - a shrill unmusical howl of rage and hatred. And then his momentum is abruptly cut off as something snatches him from the sky. He dangles, mid-air, and squirms, trying to see what has caught him, what is happening below, where Galharth is and if Maglind still lives.. "Galharth!" he cries in melodic Sindarin. "Maglind is hurt!"

Beneath a screen of willow-branches, Maglind shudders deeply and rolls on his side, leaving a dark mark on the ground. Clutching his bow tightly, he raises both hands to his head and stops his ears.

You paged Anguar with 'Well no worry. Everyone along the way has been warned to RP combat only. We don't want ya'll hurt and want to give you a chance to gain some training.'.

Towering over the crumpled form of Maglind, Grot laughs in triumph. Few can stand against his might, and the Overlord of Dol Guldur knows this well. Yet, at the cry of unknown origin, the creature of Mordor turns a gaze about, searching for some explanation of where this bellow had arisen.

Finding none, laughter echoes even louder from his lips. "Make me!" he cries, his voice rising above any of the smaller being's, and soon eyes fall upon Galharth. Silently, without a word, Grot begins stalking forward, aimed at the new elf.

The branch holding the child begins to curve upward, allow the child a place to hide if he should chose to do so. The other lain near Maglind, wraps around the elf and likewise curves upward, tucking the elf deep into the nest of boughs. Long covered through the years with thorny vine.

At last Willoweg choose, the ent moves. Massive feet come upward from deep with in the earth, turning the soil aside. One massive step and he stands now behind the troll leaning foward to howl in the creatures ear, his long limbs coming toward trolls midsection. "Out!"

Eyes grow wide as Maglind and Rhibi are both lifted into a tree. Galharth's mouth opens in wonder as roots lift from the ground, but that wonder does not fully capture the ellon's attention as the Olog-Hai remains. "Away!" he calls out in common tongue, calling forth one of the words learned after the last encounter with the beast.

Holding his sword before him, he holds his position a fair distance away, clearly more cautious due to experience.

High in the Ent's boughs, Maglind squirms and whimpers like a child: a useless bow dangles in his grasp, cloak rends among the thorns, blood freely stains the bark.

Rhibi has no desire to be hidden, and he scrambles up to stand on the swaying branch. One hand grips a limb tightly, and he leans forward to shout at the troll. "I will kill you! Your foul feet shall never torment this ground again!" It is a pity he knows only elvish. Daringly, the child balances on the branch and draws his bow again - only to nearly fall, grabbing for the branch to save himself, as it moves under his feet.

Laughing at the wide eyed aspect of Galharth, Grot is nonetheless taken aback by the shout so close behnid him. Standing straight, the tree limbs encoil about his midsection, and the mighty Olog-Hai howls in rage. Attempting to spin about and break free of the grasp, the behemoth does little but try to pull away, and turn to face whatever comes at him from behind.

The child must be dealt with, lest he fall. Willoweg twist his head to face the child, blinking wide amber eyes. Perhaps he can scare the child into sitting down, perhaps not, yet he must try. With his boughs wrapped abuot the trolls midsection, he begins to shake the creature, jerking his boughs forward and back, "OUT...OUT!" Still he continues, using his knee, directed at the trolls backside. "BE GONE."

Taking a step back, drawing back out of the larger creatures range. Another step is taken back as Galharth looks up towards the injured Warden. Fear and dread flicker in the ellons eyes at the instant he trips over a root. Falling back, he mutters softly "We're dead...." just as his head strikes a rock, knocking him out.

Stumbling through the trees, and endless prodruding roots, Anguar finally reaches the rest of the camp, breathless and wide eyed. His breath catches as he sees an Olog-Hai, struggling in the midst of branch-limbs. finally, after regaining control of himself he he steps forward and sees Galharth go down. Anguar quickly runs to his side.

The large eyes bring Rhibi to a halt, his own eyes wide and filled with memories. "You..." he whispers - unaware that this is quite unlikely to be the same Ent he had seen once before. And for a brief moment, he forgets about the troll behind him entirely, reaching to touch the bark with gentle fingers. But the branch trembles and he slips, and sits down, not entirely voluntarily, and wraps his legs tightly around his perch.

Wedged between two branches, hanging upside down, Maglind whimpers once more and falls limp.

Shaken by something of great strength, Grot finds himself at a loss. After a moment, however, he finally breaks free of the branches and stumbles forward, away from the Ent.

Spinning about, axe raised, his eyes search about for his assailant, only to find... a tree. Yet this is no ordinary tree, for it is no longer planted into the ground, nor is it swaying solely from the wind. It moves on it's own accord!

This wonder passes over Grot for a moment, before a great grin spreads upon the Olog-Hai's features. "A challenge..." he rumbles low, deep voice spewing forth. A chuckle is given, and then the axe descends, aimed for the midsection of the moving tree before him.

Anguar quickly pulls his bow infront of him, notching an arrow, he holds and waits for a threat to recieve it.

Grot attacks Willoweg with his Battle Axe and badly wounds him!

Silence is that comes from the ent as he is hit by the axe. He steadies himself, eyes narrow, and one massive foot comes upward as he prepared to flee with those wounded. Perhaps, until those same wisened eyes fall upon one of his own the troll has destroyed. It is here the sounds release from the ent. An inhuman cry of pain, sorrow and anger as the foot falls directly toward the creature.

Willoweg attacks Grot with his Ent Hands and mildly wounds him!

CHUNK!

The axe delves in, and bites deep, and the Olog-Hai laughs in triumph. A great gash has been rent into the creature, yet no cry comes from the odd creature before him. However, instead of run, it turns about and kicks the creature of darkness in the upper leg.

Stumbling a little, Grot laughs, shaking his head. "Is that all you can do?" he asks with more than a little amusement in his tone. "I've met elves that can hit harder than that." Lowering the axe to his side, the Olog-Hai juts out his chin, looking the other directly. "Go on. Have another try."

Rhibi flinches as the tree howls, and he scrambles around on his precarious perch to see what is happening in the darkening forest below him. Both legs wrap tightly around the branch and his face turns to stone as he sees the troll still there. He reaches once more for his small bow, fits an arrow to it and aims at the creature.

Rhibi launches an arrow...
Rhibi's bowshot hits Grot, mildly wounding him.

The ents howl is answered from the forest. It is not a mere echo, rather a language..ancient and unknown. What had been a simple tremble of the ground, turns toward a fierce rumble. The ground shaking and churning. The ent looks down upon the kick to his leg and smiles, as he brushes the kick off as a mere bug then leans foward to place his face directly in front of the troll and snorts through a moss covered nose. As he allows his thorn covered branches to swipe at the creature again.

Willoweg attacks Grot with his Ent Hands and mildly wounds him!

Another swipe is given, and Grot takes it with a chuckle, standing straight up once more. Though all around him, trees begin to press inwards, Grot seems not immediately to notice. "Pathetic." he calls to the Ent in his path, laughing cruelly as his axe once more is brought back in the somewhat more cramped quarters.

Looking upon the freak of nature, Grot calls, "Pray to whatever Gods you worship, for today, your Doom stares you in the face." And with this said, the axe once more cleaves forward, striking for the same place he struck last.

Grot attacks Willoweg with his Battle Axe and badly wounds him!

His arrow strikes home, but Mia was right. The puny strike is so small the troll doesn't even seem to notice it. But Rhibi sets his mouth and shoots again. The impossibility of success is no reason to not try.

Rhibi launches an arrow...
Rhibi's bowshot hits Grot, mildly wounding him.

Anguar stands up, steadying his balance and widening his stance. He looks at the beating the Olog-Hai is giving and against his better judgment to stay alive he fires...

The forest answered. What had lain behind the troll, now closes in. The single voice of earlier now becomes many. What life had lain in Fangorn this eve is drawn away as the earth shakes. Here oak meets with willow, willow with yet another and together they begin to press toward the troll. Willoweg feels the pain of the axe cutting deep into him, yet he does not speak, he will not give the creature his pain. A single step is taken.

Willoweg attacks Grot with his Ent Hands and mildly wounds him!

Deep in the Ent's thorny grasp, Maglind stirs, disoriented and clouded with pain. Another blow, and the warden clings to the branches, eyes wide like that of a child in a tree being cut down.

Three arrows now bounce off his stone hide, raising little attention from the Olog-Hai. Barely able to move, however, as the trees press inwards, suffocatingly close, Grot cannot raise his axe to assail this adversary any longer. Growling, eyes ablaze with unholy fury, the creature of the night uses his entire strength to press back and away from the Ent, in the direction of the edge of the forest. "I'll be back!" he roars, though still he pushes on his way, leaving the woman, elves, and ent all behind.

As the creature flees, Willoweg turns his attention to those gathered. His eyes traveling from Maglind with concern to the child, "Where?" A single word spoken in Sindarin to the child as he reaches down gathering Galaharth in his hand, the other reaching toward the woman hidden in the bushes. He takes notice of the remaining elf and bends to allow him access to his boughs. His words for Rhibi, "Show...me.....child."

"Where?" Rhibi asks, his attention on the retreating troll. "DIE!" he shouts after it. "Oh. You mean where is the camp? That way." A small hand lifts and points - southwest.

Lifting his head ever so slightly, Maglind gestures with a bloodied hand. "Between ... those ..." He blinks once, twice. The tree-trunks where they hid are no longer gone: they have moved.

Slumping between the branches, he sighs, mind confused by pain and moving foliage.

"thank you Rhibi" Anguar bows, and turns his attention to the massive tree, Willoweg, before him. "thankyou, You proved a vital asset to our survival today," He raised his voice so the rest of the camp members could hear him "my friends, I'm Going back to the camp, this...adventure, was a nice difference from everyday life" He smiled as he walked in the direction of the camp, pushing bracks away, and stepping over logs.