River Sirion Road -- Foothills
Thuringwethil skims above the orcs that move in the darkness below. Her head turns from side to side, seeking scents.. movement. Her eyes glow red inthe moonlight, the wings moving slowly up and down to not outdistance those who move on foot below. The moonlight falls on the trees below..shadows shift and quiver as the breeze moves the branches..
Night.. A waxing crescent moon rides in the sky over the western peaks. The scattered copses of trees cast long shadows along the hillside. From a northeasterly direction, a small party on horseback comes, riding in a loose formation..
Andranar reins up his horse, watching the animal's ears and nostrils, then says quietly to the others, "I think we've traveled far enough this night, though it's been light enough.." He glances skyward, "Mayhap we should circle back soon?"
Black shapes dart out of the ground, like spouts of wheat on a farm. Undoubtedly, orcs. Their heads are in many shapes, but all are shadows. They move foward, nimbly jumping over obstacles and dodging to avoid getting into each other's way. Darks shapes also fly overhead, soft noises emitting into the air. The moonlight passes over their dark helms and their wicked scimitars.
Atop her sturdy grey palfrey, Lalwen pulls in short behind Andranar, her eyes piercing through the evening. "Yea, I do not see any reason why we should go further..."
Almar rides on in the small group, and as they stop he makes his horse trot up to the front of the group. "I think it might be best to start back." he glances about shaking his head, still disterbed by the lack of cover. He looks at Andranar, "There is not much to hide behind if trouble comes."
Gilthanas nods to Andranar, as he reins the horse in, as he glances about the darkened area, his voice taking on a unfamiliar tone. "Aye Andranar, I think we should...This type of eve is the one that sets your imagination afire, and makes you think that you see Yrch behind every tree.." He glances around again, a compulsive shiver shaking his body for a brief second, as Lalwen and Almar speak, then he speaks once more, "Indeed, it seems we all agree."
Truungdash moves swiftly but stealthily through the darkness, his eyes darting about before him. He branches off a bit from the other orcs, moving in mostly the same direction though moving off to the side some. The Iron Claw warlord moves along forward, keeping the others in sight off to his right, and creeping along in almost a half-crouch to let his dark armor blend in with the surroundings.
Thuringwethil strokes the air sharply, rising above the trees..tilts her wings and circles..below her she sees movement..and the flash of metal.. in the moonlight. A keening cry sends the bats above her diving..chitterring in reply. She turns back skimming low above the orcs to rise once more..
Andranar nods. "Aye, there's less cover here than in thick woodlands.." He says wryly, "Though that sword cuts both ways.." He looks to Gilthanas, again the hooded head bobs. "We all share that feeling, mellon. And I am not for disregarding such premonitions." His horse stamps the ground agitatedly, and he frowns, leaning to pat the steeds neck.
Lalwen strokes her mounts neck lightly, a pensive look upon her face as she soothes the weary beast, who also seems to agree with the adan. The mare takes skiddish steps backwards, and only the insistent tug upon her tracings keep her from rearing outright. It seems to her eyes that some shadow looms. "Tell me again...Almar, do you know what the scouts said of this place...?" she turns the beast about. "I do not know who is more alert, our animals, or we.."
Almar seems to have a bit of trouble with his mount a moment, but calms it soon. Looking to Lalwen, "No m'lady I do not, but I do know I met a lone orc just a few days ago. It seemed to be cursing about being left behind, so there must be more about." He looks about for what could be upseting the horses . "I think we should be on our guard." and he reaches for, and straps on his shield.
Magyarem's cold eyes stare out into the darknesss, burning coals that represent the hatred of Angband. Creeping softly and blending in among his fellow orcs, the Chieftan of the Shattered Skull slowly draws his scimitar, an action followed by several other orcs, who hold their weapons with a strong and healthy grip. He hisses an order to a small orc before looking for tracks upon the ground.
Gilthanas nods his head faintly, the black and silver cloak he is wearing bouncing faintly, as he speaks, "Indeed M'lady, you speak wise words." He looks about, then turns to Almar, as he buckles up his shield, and nods. "Indeed Almar, you too speak words of wisdom." He quickly lifts his arm, and reaches for his shield, lifting it in the air, looking about the night air with a look of suspicion. "Indeed, we never know what is out there.."
Zurkaal hears his chieftan's call and surries forward, axe in hand, sniffing out the ground before him. He smells nothing yet, although the air tastes a bit too clean for his liking.
High above, Thuringwethil watches the small bats skim the open ground..sees them rise.. as though flowing aside from something.. Her eyes gleam..and her wings work in the darkness, carrying her nearer the spot.. as she glides lower..her shadow races across the trees..leaving darkness behind..
Andranar nods, his expression growing drawn beneath the folds of his hood, watching the unease spread among the horses. Looking over the area he answers, "Signs of their moving had been found earlier as well.." He steps his horse a little further up the path, wheeling the animal, and glancing sidelong into the darkness..
Truungdash creeps along steadily in the night, his trained scout's ears listening for any sounds out of the ordinary. He stops suddenly, turning his head about slowly and thinking he heard something break the stillness of the night. Though still unsure what it could be, he instinctively unslings his bow from his back and creeps along more slowly moving back towards the other orcs.
Lalwen shivers, pushing her own hood away from her face. "The last time I was here, I had to take the head of one of the foul creatures to be able to leave again. I do not like how open we are here.." she flips her cloak back from her hip, and checks her longsword in its settings.
Almar breaks away from his searching to look to Lalwen, "We shall hope you will not need to do so again, m'lady." Then looking back to the shadowed hills he scans again for trouble as he wheels his horse around. "If trouble comes we shall do our best to keep you from it." Nudging his horse into a slow trot, he moves forward slightly back up the road.
Gilthanas turns, his gaze shifting to Almar, locking his eyes with the other, as though trying to see if Almar is as worried as he is. He looks about, trying to see any danger, and then speaks, "Andranar, I cannot get rid of the feeling that we are in incredible danger..." He moves a hand to his belt, and sits the hand of the hilt of his longsword, as he looks about once more.
Andranar nods to Almar, and then to Lalwen, "My oath taken in Himring still stands. But just the same, maybe we should be making our way back straightaway." He glances to Gilthanas, his eyes showing a grim agreement, though he says nothing, and as quickly looks away, up the path where the others now ride, and wheels his horse once more to join them..
Lomendaur walks silently, several paces behind Lalwen's horse, hands gripped tight on the spear before him, used currently as a sort of walking staff. He gazes about, eyes keen and squinting, into the darkness.
Truungdash stops his movement once more, confirming once more his suspicion of sounds in the night. This time his eyes can trace towards the source, and he creeps forward ever so slowly until he notices the mounted figures. He grins slightly and quickly looks over towards Magyarem, motioning towards the figures with the tip of his bow. He then takes off to the left, moving away from the main orc group again and isolating himself a ways to the left of the others. He then pulls an arrow from his quiver and knocks his bow, lifting it up and studying the possible targets. Having not a sure shot at any in particular, he lets the shaft fly towards the group, hoping to score a hit in greeting to the mounted ones.
Lalwen looks into the scant brush, "I am glad you feel it your duty to see to my welfare...but I would consider it a great dishonor if any more died protecting me than already have." she hears the hish of an arrow and jerks back on the reigns. "Gentlemen, I believe though we are about to test those oaths..." she whisks her sword free of its scabbard, and turning her horse once more.
Gilthanas turns his horse, grasping the reins, as he shouts a quick word. "Attack!" He kicks the side of the horses flanks, and it moves sideways, as he faces the area where the arrow came from. He raises his shield, and with a fluid motion draws his silver blade from it's sheath, letting it gleam in the moonlight, as he faces the darkness, that seems to have the Yrch concealed within it.
Thuringwethil's keening cry erupts in the darkness..and she dives ..skimming just above the ground, before the orcs..she skirts the edge of the open space..red eyes glow as the scent of human grows stronger.. Her wings rise and fall with smooth motions..the shadow rising and falling with her movement..
Almar is about to reply when the arrows start to fall upon them. Turning his horse as well and taking the reigns in his shield hand, he draws forth his longsword the elvish steel ringing a clear note in the night. Spurring his horse forward as well, he follow Gilthanas toward the oncoming Yrch.
As the arrow whistles through the air, the tall Noldo Lomendaur stands to his full height, wrapping his fingers firmly about the spear, and begins to run, taking long, swift strides, behind the horsemen.
Nearing the horses that still stand together, Thuringwethil backwings.. laying the grass flat..She lands heavily the crooked legs taking the weight of the heavy body..but the wings lift her again..until she hovers just above the ground..blunt snout darting right and left..seeking purchase on flesh and bone. The red eyes glow with a bright hatred, and she gnashes her teeth..
Truungdash begins to draw another arrow, but stops short as he notes his time to fire would be limited due to the speed of his mounted enemies. He slings the bow upon his back and instead draws out the fell scimitar Flesh Cleaver from a sheath at his right side. He crouches and waits a moment, and when he sees the nearest horseman draw fairly near he jumps up and starts running towards it, holding his scimitar up in front of himself near his right shoulder to give him a chance of deflecting the charging attack that could shortly come.
Zurkaal smells the battle is afoot. His axe raised high above his head, he runs heedlessly down the embankment toward the elves whose scent was so noxious.
Andranar nods, his eyes marking the arrows path. "Aye, Lady.." With a jerk, his sword clears it's sheath, and he nudges his horse forward beside Lalwen's. After a glance from hence the arrow came, he scans the upper slope as well. Then his head comes up as the shrill cry of Thuringwethil rends the air..
Gilthanas kicks the flanks of his horse, as he nods to Almar, and shouts, "Care care in battle friend." He moves his horse, in a direct course with the Orch who so recently fired the arrow, and raises his sword in a high arc over his head, slashing it downwards in a vicious arc towards the top of the Orch's head, hoping to end the battle as quickly as possible.
With a screeching snarl, a large orc the shade of midnight charges toward the spear-wielding elf, his disfigured head bowed and slobbering. One arm holds a thonged whip, which he holds at his side, the other pointing a scimitar at his opponent as he charges forward, clawed feet tearing into the ground with each step.
Lalwen holds her mount back away with one hand, the other brandishing her own longsword with a deathly grip. Her eyes catch upon the flying creature that dives at them, and she dismounts, smacking her animal on its flank. It makes for the brush. Looking to Andrnar, she asks with widened eyes, "What is it-?"
Truungdash holds his scimitar steady as the horseman approaches, though at the last second drops into a partial crouch in order to duck under the high swing of the horseman. Even as the horse is passing by, he springs up and turns to his right, then swings in a high arc towards the right side of the man's back, hoping the momentum of the swing will remove him from the saddle.
Thuringwethil darts her head forward..the wings folding forward to reveal the clawed tips, then opening again to drive her forward.. She reaches..her fangs shining in the moonlight.. jaws darting towards the elves before her. Above, clouds of darkness..small bats by the hundreds..dip and dive over the field.
Almar nods to Gilthanas, and moves to meet a heavaly armored orc that he spots. Slowing his horse, he drops the reigns and guides his mount with his legs. Hearing the bat shreak that he has heard before makes him shudder, but he ignores that now watching the orc before him. Turning the horse, he slashes downwards at the orc's right shoulder.
Andranar gives a glance towards the upper slope again, and jumps from the saddle to land beside Lalwen, sending his horse after hers.. Holding his sword before them wardingly he creases his brow. "A creature of shadow.." He looks towards the creature, "We meet again."
Gilthanas swifts, as the blade slashes towards him, and he leans backwards, the blade missing, yet still causing him to tilt oddly. He falls off the horse, onto the hard ground, as the breath is expelled from his body with audible force. He moves backwards, and stands, his knees bent, his longsword once again up at the ready, as he prepares to face another assualt by the Orch.
Lomendaur leaps forward, spear deftly in hand, and hugged tightly against his right side, as he rushes right back at the oncoming orc, his eyes bright and shining, in the soft moonlight. Footsteps falling softly on the hilly ground, as the elf leaps into the air his cloak flies behind himself, one bent leg out before himself.
Magyarem looks up at the bat as she shrieks, gaining his attention and distracting him. The sword chops into his shoulder full-on, yelling and cursing. Stepping backwards, he growls and brings his sword back. Spitting, he thrusts foward, using in incredible amount of speed and strength to attempt to bring Almar down from his horse.
Lalwen calls, "Is no place is yet sacred, that the nameless enemy must populate the air with his foulness as well as the earth?!" to Andranar, and swipes her weapon through the air attempting to ward off the smaller bats. Looking upon the Thuringwethil though, her blood runs cold with dread.
The orc opposite Lomendaur shrieks, throwing his head back, and the whip-wielding hand into the air, as the elf plows forward. With a flash, and a loud *crack* in the air, the whip's length wrapping about the elf's lower leg.
Almar grits his teeth, for even as he wheels his mount about to dodge the attack, it opens a gash in his boot and blood slowly drips to the ground. His horse rises up on its hind legs slighltly, and using this distraction he twists in his saddle enough to thrust hard at the orc's Magyarem's chest.
Truungdash grins as the man is dropped from his mount to land upon the ground. But without wasting any time, he rushes towards the man who is now waiting in defense on the ground. Upon nearing him the orc raises his scimitar high, then lets it fall in a diagonal arc from left to right which aims to strike the man's left shoulder.
Lomendaur gasps, being pulled through the air closer to the orc, skidding along the dirt several feet before him. The Noldo blinks, raising his spear before him, and thrusts, while simultaneously sitting up, squatting to his feet.
The orc swings his scimitar down swiftly, the blade driving down hard at the elf squatting before him. With an ugly, leering grin, the orc breathes hot, foul breath down at his opponent. "Ready to die, pale one?" Then, the blade finishes its course.
The wings rise high..laying dark shadow across the elf and adan.."Nameless? Soon all will know my name.." the voice high and sharp.. The head darts towards the adan.."Meet again? I do not know your scent..or your sight? We have met?" and the voice raises, a chilling laugh .."If so, we may not meet again.." and her head arts out, striking towards the sword hand..
Gilthanas moves, as the Orch rushes, shifting his shield to block the others blow, as he ducks faintly. A thunk is heard, as the Orch's blade smashes into the leather, and Gilthanas grunts under the impact of the blow. As he rocks on his heels, his blade lashes out once below the shield, aiming for the ankles of the foul Orch.
Magyarem will not fall for a 'distraction trick' again, however, and hops backwards. The longsword of Almar swings by, nearly opening a cut in his stomach. Chuckling, he curses at his foe. "Unknown language --ur xerpge uwll by bwrm.. bi --o bli--.. ww-. y- ... o-dar . -... -yu- T--x o-ll bo h z-ir- p..., y...." Laughing, he slashes at Almar's sword hand, hoping to lop it off.
The scimitar clangs loudly, as it strikes against the elf's spear handle with a loud !clang!, skidding across the elven-forged weapon. The elf pushes back, with great strength, until he is standing before the orc, and each lean against the other heavily. "Not this night, foe. But perhaps-" he sighs, pushing the spear against the orc's chest, "-you will feel this blade in thy heart?"
Andranar nods, "Mayhaps, if he'd name himself lord of the world. But only at night, while the eagles still hold the eyries." He keeps his attention focused on the dark form before him. "You do not see all and learn all then." he nods to her, "Mayhaps, though I'd not thought to hear you admit such." From the corner of his eye he takes in the other combants, though he only stands his ground for now.
Truungdash growls as his scimitar glances off the man's shield. He takes a step back with his right foot to slow his momentum, but his left foot is left in a bad place as the longsword of Gilthanas slashes into his left leg just above his foot. The orc growls and curses loudly, then takes a step forward again with his right foot. He lifts his scimitar slightly above waist level and spins it around in his wrist so that the edge aims to his left, then brings it across his body from right to left in a horizontal slash aimed for the human's left side.
Almar feels the sting of orcish steel on his hand and curses under his breath. No understanding the speach of his foe, he answers, "Unknown language Doi!" He still holds the blade in the stinging hand and looks to the orc with a cool glare. His mount prances to the left a step and again he slashes down with the sword, strikning for the swordarm.
Gilthanas twists to the side, as he sees the scimitar whistling towards himself. He lets out a faint sound of pain, as the blade cuts a thin line across his side, then he steps backs again, slashing once more with the blade upwards, towards the head of the Orch, hoping to disorientate, to gain a momentary advantage against the foul creature.
Lalwen growls low in her throat, listening to Andranar speak, her eyes now blazing with hatred of her own. She turns her blade to catch what moonlight will glint from its surface. "Creature, though it may be as you say, and I will see you no more again, the only ones who will come to know your name will be the worms..." she draws herself upright proudly.
The orc in front of Lomendaur grimaces, his large tusks protruding like crags from his face. "I think not," he growls, pushing the elf away. Then, he lifts his scimitar again, and slices horizontally at the Noldo, twisting his body to pull his weight along with it.
Magyarem instintivly bring up his shild arm to try and block the blow. However, the chieftan finds that he has switched his weapon with his shield! The blade of Almar slices into the orc's arm, and a loud yell is heard throughout the area. The language of the human adds more to his pain, and he hisses. A glob of spittle falls from his mouth as he curses. He leaps at Almar, attemping to slash off his arm and scare his horse.
Truungdash snarls and lets out a harsh, gutteral chuckle as Flesh Cleaver finds its mark at the human's side. He sees the incoming attack in time to raise his buckler into the path of the longsword. He sidesteps right as he swings his left arm outward, the buckler striking the longsword and knocking it away. He then hopes to take advantage of this position by dropping to a half-crouch and hooking his scimitar around towards the side of the human's left knee, hoping to maybe be able to make him lose his balance.
Gilthanas steps backwards, as the Orch's blade swings in, towards his leg. He moves to lift his leg, but is just a moment late, and the dirty blade cuts a faint line across his leg. Grimicing, he ducks, feigning to fall, as he slashes his blade upwards, hoping to work in under the Orch's guard, and slash into it's vulnerable area.
Lomendaur swings his spear in an arc before himself, knocking the scimitar away from any dangerous direction. Then, as the orc continues stampeding towards him from the force of the thrust, the Noldo smith winds his arm tightly about the spear in his hand, and stabs forward with the majority of his strengths, the leather boots on his feet digging into the hard soil.
Thuringwethil's high laugh rises through the night once more.."Worms? They would not like me..but YOU?" The wings rise and fall..letting the head and body drop..towards the elfmaid.. Thur's jaws snap sharply.. "I would stay secret..unknown except as a shadow in your mind.." and she leans, the lips snarling back to reveal white fangs..the head darting forward, reaching towards the elfin shoulder..
Truungdash rises until he is once again standing after his attack, though this doesn't help his position against the incoming longsword slash. The blade slams against his scale armor, pushing the scales into his skin and causing scattered cuts across his chest, though the armor succeeds in cushioning the attack. He snarls and raises his scimitar above his head, then jumps forward and swings it vertically downward, guiding it towards the human's head.
Gilthanas shifts to one side, the blade swinging down to one side of him, as he looks up at the Orch speaking softly, "Are you willing to die for evil?" He continues his momentum shift, and bends his knee, then springs forward, slashing the blade sideways, attempting to hit across the entire stomache of the other creature and wind it.
As Lomendaur's spear punctures the orc's armor, and continues through his chest, the vile orc gasps, gathering in breath with a loud, crackling inhalation. "....aghgh...." He wraps his dark, taloned fingers about the spear-shaft, only holding it without any strength to remove the thing. Stumbling back a step or two, the orc falls flat on his back, blood and spit gurgling up from its gnarled throat.
Truungdash jumps quickly back and spins slightly to his right, letting the longsword pass only an inch in front of his stomach. He turns back to face the human once more, and replies to his speech with only a spouting of curses. He moves his scimitar to about shoulder height, then slashes forward, hoping to strike the human's swordarm.
Finrod comes riding from the direction of the pass, having passed through the Fens. The horses' legs are spattered with grime and the riders look weary from chasing away bugs.
Lomendaur steps toward the orc, turning his grip on the spear to tug greatly on it, trying to pull it out. With only half-succeeding, the Noldo places a foot firmly on the creature's chest, and rips the weapon from the orc swiftly, with a soft *splotch* and the cracking of a rib or two. On the spear's end is some bloody organ, which Lomendaur quickly tosses onto the ground.
Zurkaal watches the battle rage from the side of the hill. Creeping along in a crouch, he surveys the elves, seeking a weak spot at which to swing his axe. He spies a tall elf with flowing black hair, in the midst of pulling his spear from the body of a fallen orc. Enraged, Zurkaal roars and races toward the elf-warrior, axe raised.
Riding slightly behind Finrod, a Guard of his, Keladar, seems the worse for wear, his form is slumped in the saddle even though there seems nothing wrong with him, he seems to perk up slightly at watching the trail they are on.
Gilthanas shifts to one side, as he sees the blade streaking in, but moves too slowly, and it hits his arm, cutting another thin line down the forearm, as he ducks, attempting to get under the guard of the other, as he speaks, "The Evil will do nothing but kill you." He slashes upwards with his bright blade, attempting hit the Orch in the groin, and knock the beast off its offensive.
Finrod stops his progresson down the path with a concerned expression. He says in his sing-song voice, 'There appears to be trouble..." He draws his sword as a precaution and comes around the corner to see the fray.
Finrod draws Giltine from its jeweled sheath, light licking over the shining blade.
Andranar stands with sword in hand, knees bent in a half crouch, holding his position between Lalwen and the great bat-creature.
Following his Lords example Keladar draws his own blade, though not with near the same flourish as Finrod, he instead seems to draw a tool which is used for a purpose, and not something as bright and shiny as the kings sword is made out to be. Following around to see the fray he quickly rides in front of his Lord protectively.
Finrod looks through the fight and sees Lalwen, his kin, as well as Andranar. He urges Mithlos forward around the main battle, leaving Keladar to follow as he is able.
Lomendaur sighs, a slight sneer forming on his pale, porcelain features. Lifting the spear before him, his gaze only shifts in time to see an orc barreling toward him, axe raised with the charge. The tall Noldo smith only shakes his head, and takes a rapid step out of the way, turning with a dancer's grace from the orc's path. As the orc continues, Lomendaur raises his spear, stained red with blood by now, and leaps after him, thrusting the blade towards the orc's back thigh.
Almar crys out as the blade cuts into his arm opening a gash on his forearm. Wheeling his mount so his shield faces the orc, he thrusts underneath his shield, trying for the orc's stomach.
Truungdash sidesteps quickly to his left, though this move causes his right thigh to become the target of the human's longsword. The blade slashes into the flesh, carving a line across the front of the thigh to be followed by a small stream of black blood. He growls and does not reply to the edain's words, instead sweeping his scimitar forward in a low vertical arc, aiming the blade to slash the human down his chest.
Thuringwethil's jaws snap just short of the elf's shoulder.. and her head turns as the Noldo riders come in view. "You have sought aid? You fear me so?" and her muzzle dances before the adan..her gaze shiftin to the riders and back.
Magyarem is sandwhiched by two orcs who are flung by an elf. Growling, the cheiftan pushes them away, just in time to see Almar's longsword coming for him. He tries to sidestep but the sword cuts into his arm before he can escape. Yelling out in rage in pain, the orc curses again. "Unknown language Tiaxe -ho-- -u.. p..! -.. fors..-. I -as- t-hl hwto d-iz m-gcud." He stabs out at Almar's back from the side.
Finrod looks at the bat-creature and wrinkles his nose. He calls to Lalwen, "Unknown language Lul-u-! I roq-ifyd -yur na-c-qe-.-I .... id lhqd!" as he rides through the fight, his silver mail gleaming. The sunlight sparkles from his crowned helm.
Gilthanas smiles faintly, as the Orch merely grunts yet again, but is caught off gurad yet again, as a thin line of blood is traced across his chest, from the tip of the Scimitar. "Ah creature, can you but ignore me forever? You will die eventually." He dances to the side, then his blade flicks in once again, aiming for the creatures throat, slashing at the dirty flesh that is visible, hoping to end this battle quickly, and help the others.
Riding up to the side of his Lord, Keladar asks, "Are you sure it is wise riding straight towards that thing?", he has lifted his blade pointing towards the bat, "Atleast let me protect you on your way my Lord, that is what I am here for."
Thrown wildly off balance by his missed blow, Zurkaal stumbles and falls forward slightly just as the elf lunges with his spear. The spear head buries itself deeply into the orc's thigh. Blood erupts like a fountain, covering Zurkaal's boots with an oily black lichor. Roaring, Zurkaal pivot on his wounded leg and uses the momentum to wildly swing his axe around at his foe's legs.
Andranar, keeping his position between Lalwen and Thuringwethil, allows a quick glance in the direction of the incoming riders. 'Luck comes to the blessed.' He says dismissively, then calling to Finrod, "Mithrin Ant halcy-w .. dyi- --t, L--t-" He smiles slightly thru his set expression.
Almar's mount moves forward and the orc blade flashes down on empty air. Turning again to keep his sword to the orc, he lets out a cry and swings an arcing slash at the orc's face.
Magyarem ducks, saving his face from pain. But Almar's longsword slashes into his back, leaving a nasty, bleeding scar. Growling, the orc chieftan shoots up, enraged by his opponent and crazed with the bloodlust of war. Slashing out at Almar's leg, he hopes to pull the human off of his horse.
Lomendaur twists the spear's head, pulling it out just as the orc swings his axe, the wounded creature's blood splashing against the Noldo's pants and upper boots with flashes of bright crimson. The two weapons' blades come within a hair's breadth of clanging loudly, and the elf laughs, devoid of mirth. "Ho, dark one! I will send you back to your master, kindly!" He raises the spear, with momentum, and jabs it back down at the orc's midsection again, his hair blowing behind him in a slight breeze. The elf's eyes are dark and gleaming, and his feet spread slightly for greater balance.
Thuringwethilfans her wings sharply, raising dirt and grass from the ground..swirling about her. "It will be no blessing when you both fall.." the voice lower..and her head darts forward once more.. snatching towards the adans sword arm..
Truungdash leans backwards as the longsword slashes towards his throat, letting the blade pass harmlessly by his skin, though it nearly scores. He continues to ignore the human, choosing rather to concentrate on the fight. This time he steps in with his right foot and stabs towards the human's gut, a rare move for a scimitar but one that is sometimes effective nonetheless.
Finrod rides up next to Andranar, looking at Lalwen with concern. He says to Andranar, "Mithrin - roceevi. a mek-ag- -uarh w... pe -r-hple- xa I cin- mykelv... Hoe -g ki-?" He indicates his aunt.
Gilthanas shifts backwards, as he sees the figure move forward, and stab directly forward. Gil slashes his longsword down, hoping to deflect the blade, but is a moment too late, and it slashes a small cut in his stomach, that blood gushes from, and he kneels, a hand on his stomache, as he stabs upwards with his blade, once again aiming for the groin of the enemy, hoping to stun it, and gain at least a temporary advantage.
Almar cries out at the blade slashes across the other wound in his leg, the blood dripping faster now over the boot. With a glare of rage he urges the horse a step closer now and thrusts at a downward angle, trying for the left shoulder.
Still riding beside his Lord, Keladar positions himself between him and the bat-creature, his sword held in a guard position, his attention fixed on the bat and not his Lord, "Begone evil creature.", he says towards the bat, not expecting any reply, but keeping his Lord guarded.
Andranar's attention is much divided at the moment between his charge, the bat creature, and the elf-lord riding towards them. With a grim grin he salutes slightly with his sword, "Mithrin I'd ..- -o ce-d ih-d th iwu nwg--v.- I- ce... --hd -s ... neid-- nya.. Well -neu..-. an. ealdinx g-i...-- theega I'p- ne tejere dh co... thw- ...- lon... t-an n-hd ba.." He says quickly, as they near.
Thuringwethil draws her head back..then keens..the high note sharp and long.. she swings her wing forward..driving towards the elf nearest.. "Begone.. I say to you.."
This time, Magyarem brings up the right arm-- his shield arm. Almar's longsword slams against the cold metal of the shield. Cackling, Magyarem slashes at Almar's chest, trying to push him back.
Finrod nods, "Mithrin Yek, My gwo-- -ill ualt -vb dye--..... R--e bugg -u tuo t.....-." He shouts over the din.
Truungdash ducks slightly as he pulls his scimitar back after the successful thrust. But the longsword stabs clean, and slips between a pair of scales to jab into the lower side of his stomach about an inch. The orc growls fiercely and curses at the human, as he grabs his stomach with his left hand for a moment. Seeing the black blood upon his hand only makes his more angry, and he jumps towards the human, raising his scimitar high but slashing it horizontally from right to left towards the human's neck, hoping to separate head from body.
Zurkaal rolls to the right side as the elf brings down his spear, but not quickly enough -- the head slashes partly through his side, half of the head slicing through to scrape a rib, embedding itself partly in the ground. Zurkaal grabs the spear and, using it as leverage, violently pushes the blade out of his flesh. Still holding onto the spears' shaft with one hand, he clusily attempts to bury his axe head into the torso of the elf.
Keladar moving his sword up to meet the creature he seems not to fear, yet his sword is held akward as he does not know how to meet this foe, and thus, is at a disadvantage as the bat dives towards him. For a better use he grips his sword with both hands and hold it aloft towards the bat.
Gilthanas tilts his body, staying on a knee as the sword crashes down towards him and he raises the shield to block. As the scimitar smashes into the leather shield, Gilthanas' entire body quivers, and his arm flexes, absorbing the impact. He does not move as the blade slides off, but slashes upwards again, aiming at the underside of the Orch once more.
Almar leans back and the blade passes harmlessly by. Leaning forward again he brings his sword up again, and sweeps it down on the retreating sword arm. Even as he attacks he starts to bring up his shield again, and begins to wheel the horse once more.
Lomendaur jumps back, still holding onto the spear himself, his feet shifting back a foot, as the axe head scratches his side, slicing against the armor, and lightly bruising the skin underneath. The elf inhales deeply, tugging hard on the spear. Attempting to wrench it out, Lomendaur spins in a circle, feet close together.
Finrod looks over as his guard takes a terrible wound and quickly urges Mithlos onward, though the horse looks none-too-sure of the bat creature.
Magyarem hops to the side, avoiding Almar's attack. Running behind him and his horse, spitting at its feet as he does so. Growling, he leaps up and attempts to slice off Almar's head from behind.
At the bats attack Keladar swings his blade to meet it, but as he has underestimated the speed of his foe the hit bites into his chest and he is thrown backwards, his grip upon his sword loosening as one hand slip off and the sword dragging, as he goes back over the horse and land heavily upon the ground with a thud and then his last hand open and his sword slip out of it, as yet he does not move.
Truungdash growls as his attack is blocked by the human's shield. He grimaces in pain as suddenly the longsword scores again, this time at his waist near the left side. He growls loudly, eyes full of rage and hatred as they glare at his enemy. He drops his scimitar down to a lower height, then brings it in an upwards arc aimed for the armpit of the human's swordarm.
Thuringwethil's eyes glow red, the scent of blood feeding her anger.. Her head whips back and forth.. from Andranar to the Elven lord.. and she draws her wings back.. moving backwards..a step or two to give more room...
Andranar nods grimly as the creature tears into the small flank of defenders gathered here. He shoots a glance at Keladar, and then to Finrod.. Then, with a reluctant necessity, he begins to back away, keeping himself between Lalwen and the werebat.. glancing to the side for any other attack and moving towards the brush where the horses bolted.. "Mithrin It j-meq a... dh r-t... ... -havi o-r foll--s, but I -hve go-rm di j-ar. oiw, Led-, and ty-t . ui-- ti."
Finrod jumps off Mithlos' back and kneels next to his guard, feeling his chest for a heartbeat. He still has his own sword in hand to fend off the creature if it attacks. He says, "Keladar? Keladar...?"
Almar feels the orc blade bite into his back and he leans forward under the blow. Cursing his slowness he forces the horse to turn about yet again. With only a loud grunt to shoe the effort in his blow, he slashes downward in a slash across Magyarem's chest at an angle.
Gilthanas steps backwards, as the blade slashes once again towards his swordarm, and cuts deep into the flesh, and he lets out a faint scream. He mutters under his breath to the other, "We will meet again foul beast," as he slowly steps backwards, the blade rising once again to a defensive position, and he inches towards his horse.
Zurkaal pulls back on the spear, hoping to rip it from the elf's hands, but his grip holds the shaft like the roots of a tall oak. All at once, Zurkaal screams, lets go of the spear, and jumps back, swinging wildly at the elf, more to ward off an incoming blow than to strike.
Keladar moves his legs and arms feebly, his eyes flutter but does not open as he mumbles softly, incoherrently in acknowledgement that he is alive, but not well. His chest heaves greatly and he coughs harshly, his spittle mixed with blood.
If Lalwen retreats with Andranar reluctantly, she move back none the less, closing the gap between the pair and their mounts.
Thuringwethil's snout raises..her tongue tastes at the air..and then she fans the air once more.. "Lord..you call yourself..but not my lord, I think? Rise..face me if you would. That one is gone..driven to the ground by the darkness within me.." and she slashes towards Finrod with the wintip..metal like claws ring as she does so..
Almar has the advantage in height as he slashes down at Magyarem. Growling, he takes the slash to the chest, seeing no other alternative. Wincing, he yells out in pain as the sword hits. Staggering backwards, he blindly slashes out at his foe.
Finrod picks up his guard carefully, but with great swiftness, and sets him back up on his horse. He tells the horse to return Keladar to Ethel Sirion, the nearest tower, for treatment and the horse bolts off with its load.
Truungdash chuckles at the retreating human. He doesn't follow, but calls out, "Had enough already? Flee from the might of the Iron Claws!" He takes several steps away himself, and glances around at the battle, studying the scene now that he has a chance.
Lomendaur finishes the spin, and pulls back easily on his spear as the orc lets go. He raises the weapon, ready to strike again, as the fiend's axe head slices through his thigh, shallow but bleeding nonetheless. The elf sighs, exhaling with an angered hiss. "For that, you'll pay, evil one!" He steps back, twisting the spear in his grip, before he strikes like a wasp, spear cutting the air, heading towards the orc's side.
Gilthanas moves towards his horse, getting atop it, as it looks about the battle field and prances about. He takes a hold of the reins, and puts a hand to the cut in his stomache, and taps the flanks of the horse lightly, and it bolts to the edge of the battlefield, in the general direction of Eithel Sirion.
Almar curses as his leg is hit a third time and his boot is open now, the blood a steady slow moving stream. Urging the horse forward as his foe staggers back, he turns the horse so his shield it to the orc. Twisting his torso he again chops down hard to smite the orc upon the head if he can.
Finrod turns, but too late. The bat's claws sink through his mail into his left shoulder. His face twists in pain, but his clear eyes flash with the light of Valinor. He says, "Begone you foul demon!" as he brings his sword around with his right arm, aiming for the creature's wing. He coughs at the stench.
Andranar urges Lalwen towards her horse, and catches at the reins of his own mount with his free hand, still backstepping.. Looking over the field of battle, his brow creases. He glances to the east, and the lines in his brow lessen, if only a little. He now pulls his horse beside him, and speaks softly to the animal as his foot gropes for the stirrup..
Thuringwethil's teeth chitter sharply..and then the mouth opens wide..the fangs bright in he moonlight.. as she draws her wings back and away from the shining metal.. Darting her head forward..she snaps at the elfs wrist..
Magyarem ducks, moving over to the side in one, swift movement. Sneering, he laughs, mocking Almar with his ugly, terrible voice. Spitting at the human's face, he slashes out at Almar's thigh, still laughing.
Finrod pulls his hand away from the fangs that bite. He is too close for his sword to be very effective, feeling tied up around the wings. He tries to stab into the body with the point, even drawing some blood might make the bat back off from him so he could get a good swing at it.
Zurkaal stumbles and nearly falls, as his wounded leg makes contact with the rocks behind him. He steadies himself as best he can, holding his axe, two handed in front of him, to face the charge of the oncoming foe. The heavy spear sings as it is thrust forward, delving again into the place in Zurkaal's side where it stuck before. Staggering backwards under the blow, Zurkaal pushes himself off the silver head. He snarls at the elf as he balances himself, raising his axe in defiance. "Think you can kill me so easily with your pin pricks?" He gasps, blood spewing from his mouth as he brings his axe down on his foe's head.
The sharp point punctures the soft belly...and Thuringwethil shrieeks..anger and pain in the sound. She backwings..moving several paces back..head darting forward..eyes glowing..
Almar reels the horse about just in time to avoid the blow, and then sees he is one of a few standing aginst a rising tide of Yrch. He calls to the others, "Fall back, we fly for now." and points to the gathering of horses on the road with his sword. Spuring his horse forward it leaps past the orc beside him, and he blocks as best he can while passing.
Finrod looks in amazement at the dark blood smoking on the tip of his silvery sword. He looks at the creature again, debating whether to attack or flee. Blood seeps from his shoulder, but it is not bad. He holds the point of his sword at the bat and says in a steady voice, "Begone to your dank hole lest I free your head from that hideous body!" Perhaps a threat will save him the trouble of fighting...
Andranar is in the saddle by now, sword still in hand. He looks east, and then to Lalwen, and then to Gilthanas he says quickly, "Mithrin Gy a-d qho.... - hill fe beound -ou. D- mit v-....-" Then he spurs his horse, forcing the animal to leap and turn, wheeling it back towards those remaining at a fast pace. "Mithrin Beck do --y losi-" He rides towards Keladar's mount..
Truungdash looks about the battlefield and notices one of the orcs getting knocked around too much for his liking. He growls and heads off in the direction of the dueling human and Zurkaal, moving swiftly but still having a ways to go before reaching them.
Magyarem slashes out at Almar's back one last time as he departs, hoping to slash quick enough in time to do more damage to his opponent.
The tall Noldo Lomendaur ducks his head, quickly, as the orc's wild blade hisses over his dark hair, chipping a piece of the blunt tip of his spear. The elf reels back, suddenly, and swings the spear in an arc. With a laugh, and a loud sigh, the elf springs into the air, his cloak flapping behind him, thrusting the spear-blade up at an angle, hoping to stick the orc head-on.
Thuringwethil sees the dark blood trickling down her fur..and the orcs and elve..men as well..taking to horse .. She snarls, "I am not finished..but we shall meet another time.."and shrieking..wings raising and dropping to lift her from the ground..she darts over Finrod..the wind of her wings rushing down..the groups of bats above her dropping to follow in her path..
Almar cries out loudly as the blade digs deep into his thigh, and it torn free savagely from the running horse. He sheaths his sword and takes the reigns now, leaning forward to help keep from falling. As he arrives at the road, his leg looksa bloody mess. He removes his shield and tries to slow the bleeding with a leather thong tied midway up the thigh.
In a weak gesture of defiance, Zurkaal throws up the head of his axe in between himself and the oncoming spear. Blue sparks fly as the silver head crashes into the black steel of Zurkaal's axe. Pushing the spear off to the left, Zurkaal immediately brings the axe back around toward the his foe's side, eagerly anticipating the bright elven blood that will decorate his weapon.
Finrod watches the bats fly off and retrieves his horse. He hears Almar cry out and has a moments recognition of the voice. He heads toward the sound, finding him upon the ground.
Andranar leans low in the saddle now, his sword clutced in his right hand with the reins.. His free hand reach to snag the reins of Keladar's horse.. With a word, he rises in the saddle, giving a slight gesture to Almar and pointing northwest.. With a nod to Finrod he now rides, Keladar's horse in tow towards Lomendaur.. "Mithrin Thmw de -e uud hf -eru- f--h.. snata..!"
"Almar!" the king cries, kneeling at his side. His eyes look over the leg and a frown mars his fair face.
The axe of Zurkaal echoes a loud, harsh *CLANG* as it rings against the elf's shield, strapped tight against his left arm. The blade digs a small notch into the round shield, though, and Lomendaur kicks against the rock Zurkaal leans against, moving several feet back. He shakes off the axe, turning his head slightly to espy the retreating edain from the corner of his eye. The Noldo looks back at his opponent, and sneers slightly, his Elven features still smooth and beautiful. "When next we meet, you'll roast in a bonfire, filthy orc!" The Noldo cries out, sharply, and turns about to run with the others.
Zurkaal brandishes his axe and spits toward the elf. "Go ahead and run from me, you bleedin' cowar ...." He gasps and spits again; he spits blood. He falls back, grimacing with every step, until finally, he collapses in mid-field. He mumbles incoherently, "I was hardly scratched you ..." He blacks out.
Truungdash approaches Zurkaal and watches as the elf runs away. He grins towards the orc, "Well done Skull. I was going to come join you in slashing the elf up, but it seems you did a fine job of that yourself. Let us away from here before they send reinforcements." With that he runs from the area, not looking back to check the scene as he leaves.
Thuringwethil circles above the field of battle, the bats behind her dropping below and climbing above..creating huge shadows below them. Red eyes peer down, seeking the orcs that traveled with her.. as they move back into the brush and trees, she turns winging above them and away..
Zurkaal rouses himself at Truungdash's words and stands, though with difficulty. Backing away from the elves, he retreats.
Andranar swings the rein of the horse in train towards Lomendaur as he nears, Keladar's form limp across the saddle. Letting loose of that horse and trusting to the elfs ability to claim the animal he wheels his horse about again, his sword trading hands again. "Mithrin Ridh- Rit.!" He calls to Lomendaur and Finrod, and presumably Almar, with a glance that Gilthanas and Lalwen have already corssed the ridge above.
Finrod does not leave the side of the human, ever-protective of any from Dorthonion, like a father would be. He waves the others to continue and cries, "Mithrin I whll falloy. ..!"
Almar looks down to the caller and his eyes go wide when he sees Finrod looking at his leg. "M'lord, it is good to see you even if the situation is not the best. Things go ill for us here, and I am not doing well myself right now." His color is a bit pale, but he still seems good enough to ride.
Lomendaur runs swiftly, taking harder strides as he approaches the horse. Keeping his spear tucked under his left arm, held tight by that shield-hand, the elf jumps, swinging one leg over the horse, the unconscious human before him. Lomendaur pats the horse's neck firmly, and calls out loudly. "Mithrin Wi r-d., ea ridu!"
Andranar gives one final survey of the field in the grey and growing light. He nods and spurs his horse away to join Finrod and Almar, and then to follow the path Lalwen and Gilthanas took.
Lomendaur squeezes his legs gently against the horse, his free hand resting on Keladar's back, as the elf lies over the saddle. With a sigh, Lomendaur sets his jaw sternly and follows the others, though at a slightly slower pace.
Finrod says to Almar, "You will ride with me..." And he simply picks up the human and sets him deftly on Mithlos, jumping up behind him and holding onto his chest. He urges Mithlos to follow the others.
The one now riderless horse falling into line with the rest of the small band, the group dissapears over the hill in the gathering light..
__RP__Name_____________Sex_Species_Culture____ Ic Magyarem (M) Orch Angband Ic Almar (M) Adan Dorthonion Ic Zurkaal (M) Orch Angband Ic Finrod (M) Quende Nargothrond Ic Keladar (M) Quende Nargothrond Ic Andranar (M) Adan Dor-lomin Ic Thuringwethil (F) Maia Angband Ic ShNar-gRu (M) Orch Angband Ic Lomendaur (M) Quende Mithrim
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