NPC Guards
Tanthalost, Derek, Amos, & Christofsen
The Orchs
Hulorg, Tirog, Drugnogzd, Burzum, Tuhl, Karla, Tur'Glak & Gufnaff (NPC)
Nagra & Gristnog - Tur'Glak's Warhounds
Dreagoth - A Guar
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Barad Eithel -- Outer Courtyard
High walls and lofty towers cast their long shadows down into the courtyard below. Troops often train here, learning the skills which will protect them against an implaccable foe always more numerous than they. At times, the whole of the fortress gathers here to hear the words of their commanders or of the High King himself...or to muster for battle.
Ringing the courtyard are the grainaries, armouries, smithies, stables, and other buildings which support and provide for the fortress in peace and in war.
A small number of elves and edain, both on foot and mounted. The general dress and manner of the group is that of scouts or warriors, armed and watchful.
To one side, of the shadowed Courtyard, Gilthanas stands, with his sword out, and across his lap. With a quick flick of his wrist, a grindstone runs over the edge of the blade, honing it to a point that reflects the starlight itself. After a moment of this, he stands and looks up at the sky, then begins to slowly walk across the courtyard.
Up on the walls of the fortress, sentries move at their posts. At the junction of the steps leading up sits the Brethilian scout, Kathryn. She seems to be watching the sky as if for rain.
Wearing his chainmail helped by an elf, Moradan is preparing for something... his shield, sword and helmet are at his feet... the courtyard is much more busy then you'd expect, given the hour
Near the shadows of the wall, between gates and stables stands a tall, greycloaked man, engaged in quiet conversation with another man, leather clad.
Andranar says quietly, "Oh? And what have you found then..?"
Dunnelor stands in the shadows and merely gestures a bit with his hand "A small group of yrch was moving northwards.. followed by a gwaur.." he freezes a bit when the word is mentioned "Tis was some while ago and very far south but they must have advanced by now.." he says quitely as he adjust his bow on the back
Gilthanas walks across the courtyard, approaching Moradan, and the Elf who is helping him. He asks, "Friend, can I ask of you, what is happening?" As he speaks, he puts on his helm, and hoists his shield, with his hand, preparing as Moradan is."
Lalwen stands up on the walls, pacing as she looks down over the courtyard. Arm crossed seriously over her chest. Turning swiftly, she looks away over the landscape, peering long into the darkness.
From out of the barracks strolls a tall man, clad in heavy clothes as protection for the weather. He simply exhales deeply and searhes about, looking at all the men and elves gathered..
Moradan finishes to wear his mail and looks at Gil "Well met... rumors that a enemy scout group larger then the usual size has been spotted near..we could be going to investigate and getting ready" he says, tieing teh shield on his back
Gilthanas nods his head towards Moradan, and says, "So, all the soldiers shall be leaving the camp, to go and see if the rumors are true?" As he speaks, he turns towards the tall man, looking to see if he knows him.
Andranar nods, shifting his cloak about his shoulders with a creak of leather and a rustle of wool. He shakes his head once, "That does not bode well, but bless your sharp ears and eyes that we are forewarned.." He glances around the court, picking out figures in the dimnesss, then steps away, "Let us go talk to the captains of this.."
Kathryn stands up, tired of merely watching as everyone prepares. She blows a thin stream of air through the long red wisps falling in her face, and walks across to join Moradan and Gilthanas.
Kenan catches a glimpse of the man who he identifies as Gilthanas, making his way towards him and Moradan.. and to all gathered around.
Dunnelor merely nods as he follows Andranar towards the rest of the group. He takes a deep breath and takes the bow in hand as they reach the others..
Gilthanas turns, and looks at the approaching woman. He waves, and says, "Hello friend..Are you preparing to march with us?" As he speaks, he turns to the man he recognizes as his Captain approaching, and says, "Hello Captain..Will you be marching to the battle with us as well?"
Lalwen continues to look sharply across the darkness, with eyes glowing faintly blue. She calls to one of the noldor beside her, and points, asking something quietly.
Moradan replies to Gil "No, not all the soldiers... just a little company, a reinforced scouting party... we do not know what is going on and we can not send the whole garrison for just rumors"
Kenan nods solemnly to Gilthanas. "That I am.." he simply says, looking at the two men approaching.
Kathryn laughs nervously to the question, "No...not I. I would be of small use to such a group." She glances at Moradan, and sighs heavily. "I wish I were coming."
Gilthanas nods his head towards his Captain, and again to Moradan, then he turns, watching the Gray cloaked man, and the scout approach.
Andranar approaches Moradan and Kenan with Dunnelor. He nods to them, "Mae govannon, mellyn, Captains.." Then he shakes his head, "No rumor, I think. The gwaur walk the wood this night, so your scouting party would do well to be 'reinforced'." he says, jesting a little perhaps, but not light of tone.
Moradan turns swiftly as he hears a well known voice "Kathy!" he says...then he seems to think about something a while, before maing a step and kisses her on the cheek "Well met" he just adds
Dunnelor stands back a little, letting those of higher ranks discuss things. He look at the several people gathered and he settles down, resting for a while on a log nearby until. Sharpening his arrows he waits to be called forward...
Moradan turns to Andranar "well met, lord Andranar... it's not me the one to say that but "he turns nodding to Lalwen on the walls "To the Lady..."
Gilthanas moves, and stands beside Kenan, placing a hand on his sword, visibly ready to march with the patrol.
The noldo who answers Lalwen peers long as well, and her smacks his fist down onto the battlements, loudly emitting a curse ( to which he is instantly penitant for) and calls a direction. "Motion to the south...look sharp!" Lalwen has already turned and is coming down the stair with a purposeful stride.
Kenan grunts softly and sets his gaze on Andranar, "I am afraid we deal with what we did not expect.. how many were there?" He says, rubbing his chin with his hand.
Kathryn does not seem at all comforted by the gesture, or Moradan's easy speech. "Well met indeed." she looks toward the gate uneasily.
Andranar considers, turning to Dunnelor, "Dunnelor may know better than I.." He then smiles faintly, "It's been some time since we last met, m'lady." He says to Kathryn, "Though it seems to be a poor time for pleasantries.." he says, turning at the call from the wall.
Gilthanas turns to the wall, and looks at Lalwen, then alarmed, half draws his sword. He turns to Kenan, and interupts his conversation, by asking, "Do you have orders Captain?"
Lalwen reaches the base of the steps, and strides for the gate, calling behind her, "Open the gates....and be ready to close them on short notice." she looks around to the groups clustering about, "It is time...they move!"
Dunnelor, from his distance some metres away he gestures calmly five to kenan "But as it is dark I dared not to approach and take exact numbers.." he says and shoot Gil a look when he half-draws the sword. He starts to rise as he hear Lalwn speak..
Kathryn flinches at the call, and leans into Moradan shoulder shortly. Her words are howver genreally directed. "Be careful...come back safe."
Kenan remains looking at the direction of the wall, and nods once again. Leaning to his side, closer to Gilthanas he says soflty, "Muster the men.. not so many, but enough." He nods to Dunnelor and just listens carefully as what is to be done.
Moradan turns too, as he hears the voice of the lady... he turns to look at Kathryn, smiling slightly "I'll be right back" the ones closer could hear, as he kisses her cheecks again "don't worry" then he walks swiftly away, not turning back
Andranar nods to Moradan and Kenan, "It seems we have no time for further questions, and answers are upon us. It seems a time to ready your men.." He tosses his cloak back from his shoulder, and glances towards the wall agian, before stepping off towards the shadow. "Good luck to you all, both staying and going.." He glances once towards the pale figure on the wall.
The gates open at half-width, enough to allow the group passage. Lalwen already steps out of the opening. Kathryn calls after Moradan. "Ha! Easy for you to say, Lomin."
Gilthanas nods to his captain, and steps backwards. He moves closer then selects a few men from behind. He shouts to a few of them, "Tanthalost, Derek, Amos and Christofsen, assemble behind the captain!" As he watches, the men move, and stand behind Kenan, looking towards the Captain for orders.
Kenan nods and motions to leave, "Anon!" He command sharply.
* A short time later the party of scouts and warriors reach a clearing some distance from the fortress...
The spires of mighty peaks rise up, piercing the sky with their grandeur, their heights crowned with snow for much of the year. Forests of Pines, Elms, and Alders cover the lower flanks and foothills, their deep greens and browns providing contrast to the rocky greys and frozen, glittering whites above.
Directly to the north, sheltered hard against the rising spires of stone and ice, the glimmering blue of a mountain lake can be seen. It is small, but its waters dazzle the eyes like the sparkling of a sapphire whenever the sun shines down on it, and so deep as to seem to have sprung up from the very heart of the lofty peaks which all but surround it.
Just to the east of Eithel Sirion lies a mighty fortress of stone and iron; strong and proud it seems, with blue and silver banners flying from the topmost spire. Further to the east, the foothills of the Ered Wethrin drop down towards grassy plains that stretch out endlessly like a vast green sea.
Orc soldiers comes in from the southeast...
Hulorg steps out of the midst of the orc-band, their ranks closing behind him.
The guards march forward, branching off, as their Captain steps back, out of the fight. Gilthanas raises a hand, and they stop, and he looks towards Lalwen, for an order.
Dunnelor seems to be moving a bit away from the others with his bow in hand, but he holds and finds some cover among some rocks. His sharp eyes are set on the main group, waiting for some command or order.
Lalwen waits at the fore, looking over the short rise for the enemy. She has strung her longbow as well, her intent to fight advertised. "Our enemy comes yonder..we shall hear them in a second. Be on the watch..we do not want to be flanked."
Moradan stands at the Lady's side..as he hears her talking, he unties his shield and readies his sword too
Dunnelor draws up his bow and pulls the string slowly, aiming at nearest enemy.
Tanthalost cocks his head, listening to Lalwen. He looks to Gilthanas, who nods slightly. With a grin, he takes Derek, and steps to the side of the group, carefully watching the side, making sure that the
In this deepest part of night, the wind has picked up, whipping up through Sirion's vale, bringing the howls of wolves with it, up from the south. The pale Moon is hid behind dark clouds that brood over the night-shrouded slopes of Ered Wethrin. Through the thickest part of the wood, comes a small band of shadows, hunched low to the ground, plodding along with the faint creaking of their raiment, trying to keep their footsteps silent.
Tanthalost looks deep into the brush, as though seeing movement. He says a word to Derek, who quickly enters the brush, quietly, hoping to see if enemies are creeping towards them.
A small rock kicks free from the dirt as Tirog's booted foot swings forward, scuffing the dirt and ripping up a bit of vegetation in the process. Walking with bow in hand he looks briefly to his compainions before gazing back to the fore with a low growl of displeasure.
A grey shadow of a man moves towards the shelter of some trees and rocks, crouching, a bit to the side of the scout with a bow. He sets a finger to his lips and then raises it to the air, before raising his own bow, a vague bit of dark movement amidst the other darkness.
Lalwen looks over the assembled of their company once more. "Do not stray far from the main group. Archers, keep up as long as you can, to the rear. The rest..are you at readiness?"
A small group of three strong, well-armed orcs. Wicked-looking, crooked blades are at their sides, with small, round shields strapped to their arms. Clad in polished leather armour they are indeed an imposing sight. Their stern, slanting eyes glance everywhere, taking in every detail. Most noticeable are the red Skull-tattoos that are on each head, which some also wear as badges on their gear.
Gilthanas nods his head, towards Lalwen, and turns to the other guards, speaking, "You two, stay close to the main group of us..I know you've not fought before, but just keep your head, and you'll be fine."
Moradan smiles, his hearth pumping fast feeling the battle in the air "Sure, my Lady"
Drug steps carefully among the dead leaves and branches, moving with a rolling gait as he moves forward in a shuffling manner, his form moving like a shoadow from tree to tree in the back of the creeping shadows, only a faint glimmer of red eyes tell who he is.
A silent shadow lurks the forest, death itself stalking the night. As the wind brings the quiet howls of far away wolves to the ears of the humans, and those of the Orchs as well, a sudden howl breaks out through the woods. Loud and peircing, the high note echoes pure and full of hatred through the Vail. After a few second, it cuts off aburptly, leaving the woods quiet once more.
Some fifty paces south and east of where the Men converse quietly with the Noldo, the small band of shadows stops. The column thins itself out among the dense trees as one figure trots back to speak to another in a low, guttural tongue, "I smell it, sir," the small creature whispers, "The air is thick with it.."
Derek slowly creeps through the brush, not hearing Tanthalost call faintly for him to return to the group. He moves slowly, but steadily. With a faint jerk, he spots what looks to be a shadow moving. He steps closer, foolishly not drawing his blade, or raising his shield yet.
Tirog's black tongue darts out to wet his flat, ragged lips as he pauses with the others. Crouching low in the dark shadow of a tree he surveys the forest ahead while testing the tauntness of his bowstring and then the fletching of his black arrow.
Moradan rises hia head to Lalwen as he hears the Owl "My lady.. that was not a wolf..and was damn near"
The peak of the greycloaked mans hood bobs slightly, first at some faint noise to the south, and then at the sound of the wolf howl. A finger moves from the cloak, and gestures slightly towards the noises, carefully, methodicaly.
Drugnogzd slowly creeps up behind the other orchs, hanging back slightly, the darkened blade of his sword in his hand, he softly settles down in a low stance, the creak of leather barely audible.
Lalwen shudders slowly. "They are closer than we thought. And no...that was a guar, Moradan. We are in for a sore fight...there will be much blood spilled. Let us hope it is mostly theirs.."
Dunnelor sneaks silently in the forest and he seems to curse for himself as he sees the man ahead (derek) advance so fast towards the orcs. He stops to listen for sounds but he can only hear the wind and the blowing of trees. He starts to climb a tree slowly, but firmly.
Derek advances, accidently stepping into a spot of bright moonlight, revealing his position.
A very broad orc, short with large arms speaks above a low growl to his scouts, "Of course, fool, you think I have no nose on my face... drat the cursed whiteskins, they are very near... oh yes... if you are so smart, Guffnaf, then I shall send you on ahead, yes that is what I shall do..." the orc-captain chuckles to himself in a low, harsh voice.
Drugnogzd draws into the shade of a nearby tree his nose wrinlked as the scnet of Adan is almost overpowering, he keeps still as he pushes his back to the tree, searching the area slowly.
Beneath the shadow of the hood, brows knit as a man below backlights himself on a moonlit ridge. Fingers move, settling an arrow to the bowstring from the quarrels held lightly in his left hand with the bow shaft.
Tirog's red eyes flash slightly as the figure of the man draws into a spot of moonlight. Without a pause he smoothly draws back the string of his bow and with a soft exhale he lets go of the string and sends the arrow hurtling towards Derek.
The arrow streaks through the night, plunging into Dereks shoulder. He falls to the ground, silently, and without movement, seeming to be dead. After a moment, he stirs, but collapses again unconsious, without even making a sound falling.
With a long, crooked finger, the orc-captain beckons the Drugnogzd, "You, Grunt," he calls in a low voice, "You cover Guffnaf's wretched hide.." but his words are cut short by the twang of a bow string, he curses, "Ah so the hunt's up," he growls, sidling behind a thick pine for cover against elf-arrows, dropping low to the ground, wicked blade clutched in his gnarled fist.
As the arrow launches from the bow of Tirog, an arrow of a different kind launches itself from the cover of the Forest. Dreagoth, eyes blazing with madness and fire, speeds towards the figure of Lalwen, her fair face iluminated by the mlight. His legs are a blurr as another howl rips from his throat.
Tanthalost turns, then spots the Dor-Lomin scout creeping through the brushes. He slowly approaches Gilthanas, and whispers a few words into his ear, then draws his sword, and stands beside the other Adan, along with the other Guards.
Moradan turns swiftly as teh bushes moves closely.. his eyes widens as he sees an orc running toward Lalwen..without even thinking about it, he move to put himself between the two, using himself as a shield
The cloaked man's breathing slows, barely audible as he cocks his head, listening into the night. Then the howl of the guar breaks the stilness, echoing strangely in the mans ears as the the dark shape breaks the trees. The bow raises, draw and then empty, another arrow nocked into place before the first has left the air.
As the great demon-beast breaks out from the trees, a cackle of harsh laughter can be heard from the underbrush, "Hah, you see that lads, let's have at them," Hulorg growls, driving the scouts before him as he charges behind the wake of the Gaur, intent on bathing his blade in blood.
Frow the tree is a slight twang heard as Dunnelor fires his arrow at the exposed orc. It flies swiftly through the darkness and descends upon its victim..
Tirog's eyebrow lifts as he hears the sound of another bow string in the dark forest. His night eyes catch the faint movement of a branch and after a brief pause to aim for what looks like a figure in a tree he lets go of the string with a snap.
Drugnogzd slowly turns around the tree to follow his captain at a more slow pace, to get a good bearing of the battlefield, owever, his eyes catch the light reflecting off Gilthanas' tunic, his eyes flame a bright red, and his tongue slowly flickers forth, licking his lips as he changes course to barrel forward at Gilthanas. his blackened scimitar held high and a ragged battlecry sounding from his throat, his sword flash towards Gilthanas in a downward chop.
Gilthanas twists, as the Orch runs towards him. He steps to one side, and the scimitar whistles throught the air, missing him, but just barely. He responds, by stepping in, and swinging his own Longsword, in a horrible arch, from left to right, trying to catch the Orch's side, and slice it open.
Arrows rain down upon the great wolf like rain in a thunderstorm, the orchs seemingly forgotten as the fell-beast springs out into the open. Few of the arrows actrually strike the Gaur, though two do lodge themselves firmly in the crazed beast's side. Dreagoth pays no heed, his nostrils full of the smell of Human. Finally, the massive monster launches himself into the air a half dozen feet in front of Moradan and the lady elf, fangs barred, acid-like saliva running from the muzzle. The dagger-like teeth seek Moradan's blood, his throat the obvious target.
Another arrow on the string and gone, aimed towards the line of the charging orcs. The mans hands do their reloading trick, as his eyes narrow, seeking targets in the night. Moradan is swift enough to avoid his teeth on his trouath, but not enough to avoid his arm being hit by the guar' claw... gramacing, he tries to not loose balance and strikes right back, lowering his sword on teh beast's back
Drugnogzd snarls as his movement carry him past Gilthanas as the cursed one steps aside, his snarl turn into a little yelp as Gilthanas' blade slices through his armor and draws blood, he turns around, his scimitar leading, seeking Gilthanas' blood, madness glimmering in his eyes as he strikes at a hated foe.
Tanthalost sees his friend get attacked, and runs, not towards the Orch attacking his friend, but farther, deep into the Yrch camp, screaming a battle cry, as he rushes in, brandishing his sword, unknowingly, but still quite dangerously.
Gilthanas twists, as the blade hits his bicep, drawing a thin line of blood. He grins, as though embracing the pain, and steps forward again, swinging the blade down, hard, then twisting it, attempting to hamstring the Orch, and make it's pain unbearable. As he attacks he screams, "The Yrch killed my family, just as I will kill you!"
Hot on the heels of the Gaur, Hulorg suddenly feels a biting pain in his shoulder as he changes direction in an instant, running at the supposed location of the archer that buried the shaft in his flesh.
The mannish line of warriors stans unsteadily among the trees, some already engaged in combat, a few men wavering and falling back, a few rushing from cover..The sound of bowstrings and the whistle of arrows are now lost amidst the cries and clamor of the battle.
Dunnelor fires another arrow but now towards one of the orcs in the back. The one that shot Derek. After he has fired he slips down from the tree and then he looks at the wounded man with the arrow in his shoulder, lying some distance away.. Then he starts to make his towards Derek, careful not to expose himself..
The wolf easily dodges away from the off-balanced blow, claws stained red with Moradan's blood. The flaming orange eyes seem to peirce his opponents, leaking hatred and evil. Flexing his powerfull back legs, he lunges at the broadsword wielding being in front of him, fangs aching for blood, trying to tear a hole in Moradan's stomach.
Lalwen gives a sharp yell at the monster tears at Moradan, and with a nocked aroow, pulls the taut string far back, to her ears, and aims deftly, and with a mumbled prayer looses.
Derek groans, and manages to roll over. He looks up, towards the nearing scout, and says quietly, "Friend..I will live, but others will not, if you do not continue to help by shooting arrows." As he speaks, he gasps, and puts a hand to the shaft protruding from his shoulder.
Drugnogzd guffaws at Gilthanas' words, his scimitar coming down in a block, yet his block is not completely succesfull as the blade of his foe draws a line across his left leg, a glancing blow, Drug seems unperturped by it and swings his sword up from the block, towards Gilthanas' face, "Not likely cursed one, you will be the feast which I will dine upon", he growls in the Adan's tongue.
Moradan offs as the guars hits him right in the stomach..dodging enough to avoid the deadly fangs again, he's knocked away by the impact, being much lighter then his opponent.. still, he held his sword toward teh beast while he jumped, hoping he would have impaled himself on his weapon
A loud clamor of metal on metal and shouts begins to pierce the eraly morning air, already tainted with the cries of warriors, as a fresh line of brightly clad soldiers surge from the west pass led by the tall form of Hador and his mighty blade raised high. The stampede of men pour into the field though their numbers are less than helpful and soon tehy crash into the scattered black ranks of yrch, the mighty lord of Dor-lomin not slowing his pace in the collision...
The cloaked man launches a few more arrows down over the orcish line, into the warriors that have not yet closed yet. He nods once as a few of the warriors rush up the slope towards his position in the rocks, though that is the only sign of concern he gives, methodically nocking arrow to string in sucession, as if he were an island amidst a rough sea.
Tirog grunts in supprise as fire is returned from the bushy branches of the tree, the dark shadows in which he crouched not enough as the arrow grazes across the links of chain protecting he shoulder. Drawing back he prepares for another shot and when the fellow steps in the same light that Derek had, he lets go of the string. So doing he pushes himself from the tree and discards the bow as he reaches for the mace at his belt.
Gilthanas raises his shield, and the Orch's scimitar bites deep into the leather, coliding with the wood underneath it. He growls, and then chuckles, as he realizes what the Orch is speaking of. "Scum, I do not wish to make your death slow, but with words such as those, I will be forced to." As he growls the words, he lunges forward, making a stabbing motion, towards the Orch's gut.
Drugnogzd twists around in a circle, his sword being ripped out of the shield as Drug uses it to lead, yet as he twists he feels Gilthanas' sword slice, barely, at his side, while he grimaces for a second the injury is lost as battlelust takes over his actions and he wildly swings at Gilthanas, his movements furios.
Hulorg bursts out from behind a tree, received another arrow low on his chest that breaks the metal links. With a terrifying howl of rage, Hulorg pounds himself forward on his thick legs, closing the distance between himself and the archer in a matter of seconds, he slashes at the cloaked man with his scimitar, striking wildly at his right arm.
Gilthanas slides backwards, the scimitar cutting an Arc through the air, directly in front of the blue Mithrim tunic he wears. He backs up a step, then ducks slightly, before lunging in. He raises his sword to his side, allowing his momentum to attempt to slice open the Orch's gullet.
Dunnelor curses slightly as the black arrow rips along his chest. He stands back behind a tree, firing his arrow at Tirog then he step in the full light and quickly slides down beside Derek, picking his up fast and then starting to move back again towards the trees...
Hador brings his sword down heavy onto the back of an orch's shoulder as the rest of his two-dozen heavily armored soldiers push their phalanx against the wall of the monsters. The lord turns to another as his first victim falls, and rears his tall Helm to the creature, a frightening sight of Dwarven smithwork, as his blade swings widely for the orc's side!
As the fangs of Dreagoth tear at the Human's flesh, two spurts of blood flow from his black haired body. Moradan's frantic deffense is enough to slice Dreagoth neatly along his ribs, while Lalwen's arrow slams into the Gaur's back. The Hatred seems unperturbed by these wounds, as he quickly bounds away from Moradan, sprinitng quickly towards Lalwen. His jaws are spread wide, pained with the joy of having telven blood so close at hand.
Tur'Glak creeps in from the east, the battle being circumvented by the old dogmaster...the baying of the hounds kept low by the handlers, who's whips are the sole voice speaking. Tur'Glak himself heads on over to seek out Moradan....seeing him on the ground and vulnerable, he takes a leash of dogs and closes.