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.
Lomendaur steps out from the barracks, pulling his hair back behind his head. He lightly wipes his face, and begins toward the approach, away from the main courtyard opening. One hand grips a satchel at his side, the other hanging loose.
Night.. The small hours before dawn. The wind howls around the towers of the fortress, as if battering at the walls and the men and elves who bravely stand watch on the battlements. A small group comes from the main hall, cloaked and robed against the cold, going to the wall. They carry on a discussion in muted tones as they walk. "..what they found..""When the storm breaks..""..must ready..men..""..and not yet light.."
Lalwen leans against the stone of the wall looking down into the courtyard, and listens, and watches, semi-placidly. Her eyes are sharp, and glow with apprehension.
Teigril nears the fire..and seeing Dunnelor, she moves quickly towards him..kneeling to speak quietly...
Lomendaur stops when reaching the fortress gates, leaning against the wall beside them to gaze out towards the direction of Mithrim. He folds his arms across his chest, the ends of his cloak whipping about his ankles.
Galdor nods to others as their conversation dwindles and they make their seperate ways. He stands, looking out over the dark, snow covered valley for a time, drawing his cloak more tightly around his shoulders, and then moves along the wall towards Lalwen. "Greetings, lady. Some weather we are having, eh?" He says, his words casual, but his tone reserved and formal.
Dunnelor raises slowly on an elbow to see who approaches him. His white teeth can be seen as he smiles widely "..my lady tis been some time" he says as he holds his other hand on his arm/shoulder.
Lomendaur bows his head slightly, and gathers his cloak about himself as he returns toward the courtyard. He heads for the armory building, stopping near an elf-smith busy at work, and kneels down beside him.
Andranar steps into the darkness as the council along the wall disperses, making his way to the courtyard and passing among the men. He nods to Lomendaur as he passes, "Mae govannen." and approaches the scout and the healer. "Good eve, or morn..though the mood is grim. How fare you?"
Lalwen apparently finds no peace in standing up on the wall, so instead she dirfts slowly back down into the courtyard, thinking quietly as she watches the others.
Khimlis enters the courtyard as he unwraps a cloth bandage around his arm. The wind blowing his hair into his face, hideing his expression.
Teigril looks up.."Mlord..tis dark indeed..the storm and wind. She steps nearer the fire.. looking up at the walls.. "You expect trouble?" her eyes worried..
One of the watchmen nod to Galdor, and points across the whitened field before the fortress, towards the dark treeline beyond. The edain nods, and moves from the wall towards the main keep, pausing to speak to one of the captains as he goes..
The two elf-smiths talk, pointing to various weaponry and armor on their persons and on the ground before them.
Teigril sits beside Dunnelor on the pad..pulling her feet beneath the folds of her skirt.. Arms about her knees she watches as the activity increases..
Andranar nods finally, his mind aparently elsewhere.. "Aye, the yrk have gathered on the eastern slopes.. they will be coming soon.." he frowns, shrugging his cloak over his shoulders, and glancing at the warriors that assemble. "I pray we will not need your skills overmuch, Lady." he nods to Dunnelor, "Good luck, scout. I will try to find you both again before the batte is joined. Now I must find another warrior.."
Teigril nods.."I shall be here..and prepared, m'lord.." her eyes darkening as she thinks of the aftermath.. "You will not be in this one." she says, gently checking the wound..that Dunnelor has..
Gilthanas steps out of the barracks, the freshly rose moon casting its silver glare upon him. The light catches his eyes, making him seem a much fiercer creature then he truly is. As he walks out, he lowers a hand to his blade, seeing all the people assembled, as though ready to march off to war.
Khimlis kneels trying to examine his old wound in the chilling wind. He shivers as he pulls out a clean shred of cloth and prepares to rewrap his wound.
Dunnelor grins badly as he tries to rise, he mumbles a curse as he fumbles a bit for his bow "..but I can stand.. I can fight" he says with some agitation at his state. Then his expression fades and turns into a faint smile as he jest "But then, alas, I have you for my protection and then I could not be safer.." he smiles faintly and winces a bit as the wound starts to bleed again.
Galdor comes from the doors of the keep at a brisk stride, almost a run.. His attendant thanes dash to keep up, one handing the lord his helm at the last moment. Galdor shakes his head, clapping the cap to his head, and signals the penant bearer to unfurl the banner. His voice rings in the courtyard, "The yrk have been spotted fromthe walls, waiting for the storm to lay! Now is the time to show our mettle, and drive them from the slopes by day! Be strong, and do not falter!"
Lalwen looks up from her place near the inner bailey, and curses softly, and runs to near Galdor, "How many...how close?"
Gilthanas looks up to his prince, and moves closer, to standing nearer the group of men, soon to depart to battle.
Khimlis remains still before reacting. He looks over to the other elves and follows their que.
Lomendaur looks up, standing tall. He picks up a spear before his companion, and begins toward Lalwen. The other elf follows suit, arming himself and slipping into a leather jacket.
Galdor frowns. "From the reports of our scouts, they have gathered en masse in a warband. Large, though nothing like we faced in the fens of serech. Your brother and I have spoken of this, and would fall on them while we can to avoid another siege."
Lalwen motions to the elven contingent of the courtyard, and summons a page. "Go to the king...alert him." she turns abruptly, and stalks for the gate. "Open!" she directs those at its portcullis wheel.
Men dash across the court, and shots are raised as one shield mate searches for his bretheren amidst the chaos. Horses whinney, weapons and armor clash and ring, as hte company of Barad Eithel gathers for battle.
Gilthanas stands tall, and looks about the chaos, looking for his Captain, as he begins to march along with the group of men.
Khimlis quickly trots over to the elves gathered around Lalwen. His face is stern as he plows through the courtyard.
Lomendaur runs toward the armory, returning moments later with a small group of armed elves, clad not in the garb of the Royal Army. They form a block, moving to the side of those gathering.
Galdor nods to the man who hands him his horse, swinging into the saddle and drawing his sword. "Now we go unto battle. Lecho Calad! Drego Morn!" He cries, and the cry is taken up by the edain, first by the thanes on horseback behind Galdor, and then spreading thur the rankds as sword is beaten to shield. "LE-CHO CAL-AD! DRE-GO MORN!"
Lalwen says in Mithrin, "We go-..! Hold the fortress!"
Gilthanas clashes his sword onto his shield, chanting the cry his prince began. "Let us march to victory, let us march to glory!" he shouts to the men in rank behind him.
From the corner of your eye you can see then man on the stretcher mover towards a building, resting a bit on a staff. He smiles and nods to the prince and his men then he is dissapeared..
Galdor nods from beneath the helm, "Good luck then, Lady!" He cries over the din, "I will feast in victory with your brother come evening, or he may mourn my passing." he vows grimly, and then claps spur to horse and is gone from the court.
Barad Eithel -- Approach
Barad Eithel, the Tower of the Well, stands proudly to the north. Graceful sweeps of grey mountain stone, joined so perfectly that no joint or crevice can be seen, rise up in great ramparts topped with parapets and arrow slots. Behind the high walls are several towers which reach up higher still with one rising up much taller than all the rest so that it seems to pierce the sky; upon its topmost spire, blue and silver banners ride upon the wind.
To the west of Barad Eithel lies the cobalt blue loveliness that is Eithel Sirion, partly surrounded by the high mountain peaks of the Ered Wethrin further off. Eastward, foothills sink towards wide plains, and the outworks of Barad Eithel extend some distance in that direction. Southward lies a road, and beyond that the foothills sweep onwards with the Sirion threading its way southeastward to join with the far-distant Rivil.
Lalwen slows to the side of the force, counting the rows, and arms with a deadly serious expression.
The men and elves march to the plains outside, the feet and hooves stomping the ground as they march away. Kenan walks by the end, making his way to the center where the guards of Dor-lomin are assembled. Their face look worried, but they simply salute their captain and look on.. look on to face whatever evil lays beyond. Continuing his way forward, Kenan watches Gilthanas and approaches him.
Gilthanas turns, as he spots the man he was looking for. He salutes quickly, and speaks, "Captain, I wish you fare well in the coming battle..As a friend, and as my commander."
Galdor rides thru the company towards the front lines, shouting encouragement to the men. He nears Lalwen, "It seems your honourable edain guard cannot make the field today. My men and I will aid you and yours as we can."
Khimlis tactfully moves to the front assuming his place among the shields. The Mithrim pride showing in his eyes as he examines the surroundings.
Kenan smiles, and returns your salute with a nod. "And I you, Gilthanas.. promise me we will meet again?" He simply asks, a trace of uneasiness in his voice.
East of Ered Wethrin -- Eithel Sirion
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.
With a relatively small band about him, the Skull Lieutenant stops in the midst of the road. Tilting back his head he snuffles at the air as if something disturbs him. Growling to one of his sergeants, "Aye, you're right, Slug, we should've set out much sooner... but by the sounds of it, things go well enough... we may arrive in time yet..."
Reghat pauses, as the Lt. stops.. the bats above wheeling high, and dropping down over the column. She nods to the small orc with the symbol..and he stops, resting the pole's end on the ground.. She peers forward..the group of chosen behind her moving ..shifting, anxious to move on..
The lines of human and elven troops move across the field, trampling and packing the snow as they pass. Here and there a hores whickers, a man shouts, a horn calls thru the night. They draw themselves up, apprehensively, at the edge of the field, watching the approaching mass of fell creatures thru the dimming gale. A mounted man, flanked by horsemen bearing a great horn and a banner emblazoned with a swan and a constelation raises his hand, peering thru the wind.
Then the wind ceases.
Drugnogzd stands impatiently with his squad, he holds his scimitar in hand, his eyes scanning ahead for the enemy, seeming to feel that blood will flow he licks his lips in anticipation.
Gilthanas looks across the field, at the Yrch, facing him. Spotting the Orch he has fought before, he draws his sword, and points it at the Orch, not doing anything but watching impassively yet. After a moment of this, he lowers his sword, into a more defensive position.
Grarg breaks off from the knot of Skull warriors he is with and bolts over to where Hulorg is standing. He gives a fierce growl to the orch Slug that Hulorg was speaking to earlier, his tusks jutting upward from his jaw as he snaps at the scout. However, he suddenly forgets the existance of Slug as he remembers his task at hand and he speaks to Hulorg in hushed tones. He seems to be quite animated about whatever he is speaking of though, as he points northward with his scimitar and snarls.
Galdor is the first from the lines of the army of light, drawing his sword and charging down across the field in a flurry of snow, heedless of arrow or foe. His cloak billows out behind him like a wave.. The horns bellow out and the army begins it's charge..
Reghat looks back once more..seeing her troops spread behind her..the chant rising from them low..mixing with the wind.. She growls deep in her throat and takes the mace from the belt at her waist.. "The blood of the whiteskins will feed the land.." and she shifts to watch the group ..the bats sweeping across and then around her, so she seems to dissapear into the cloud...
Drugnogzd turns his head as he scans the surruonding field, his head turning from left to right, then it stops, turning back, his eyes fix upon his hated foe, squinting he opens his mouth and seems to mouth some words, then, disregarding the order of orchs he steps out of his column, holding the sword up in a salute to Gilthanas.
Gilthanas looks towards the Prince charging, and hears the horn sound its deep blow. He raises his sword, and runs behind the prince, angling towards the Yrch he previously wounded, with bloodlust flashing in his eyes. As he runs, he quickly salutes, and then hurries, to close the gap.
Kenan narrows his eyes and scans the orchs afar. Unsheathing his sword he raises it high into the air, looking steadily at the man carrying the emblem of the House of Hador. He cocks his head to one side and speaks to the men of Dor-lomin near, "Await for the signal men..." as he says this the low sound of the horn blares in the air, the men and elves charging forward with their weapons and shields waving menacingly.
Khimlis follows the edain waving his fellow elves to keep up.
The elves rush down the field, alongside that of the men. They cry and sing, raising their weapons above their heads as they charge. Behind, a small group of elves dressed differently from those of the Army follow, cheering.
Drugnogzd lifts his half-shield and breaks into a run towards Gilthanas, his hated enemy, his scimitar flashing from the reflected light fiven off by the snow, his eyes glow read as he nears the Adan, hungering for his blood.
Gilthanas slows his run, as he nears closer to the Orch. He drops down, into a more defensive position, and yells across the battlefield, "You are a resilient little scum aren't you? Always coming back for more?" As he yells he slows to almost a complete stop, waiting for the Orch to charge him.
Reghat sees the light on the raised sword..the banners..and her chant rises..the keening a weird wild shriek... She nods to the small orc.and the Prophet's symbol moves forward with her..the band behind chanting..the sound growing in volume as they near Kenan's party...
Stopping up in his tracks, Hulorg surveys the charging group of elves and men with cold, unrevealing eyes. Glancing to the orch at his side he nods, "Aye, you shall be my shield-bearer. You have the honour of running at my flank, the spear-head, the first to clash," he speaks to Grarg, his mannerisms seem too calm and unhurried, that he sits at the board instead of standing on the field of battle. Handing his heavy shield to Grarg to bear, he hefts a wicked-looking, double-bladed great axe.
The orcs around him already becoming disorganised, Hulorg barks a few orders to stay in the formation of a wedge, he then proceeds to jog forward at a slow, steady pace.
Drugnogzd grins slightly at the adans words, his eyes glint at the pleasure of seeing the Adan's blood, "I will kill you in the end...", he says in the Adan's tongue as he charges in, his scimitar flashing as it descends in a tight arc towards gilthanas' head.
Khimlis slows up as he singels out a smaller orch in the fray. He carefully inspects him from a distance before charging at a trot.
Galdor's charge leads him straight at the point of the orcish formation, his blade held easy in his hand. His expression is unreadable beneath the rim of his helm, but his eyes burn...
Gilthanas steps backwards, just a moment too late. The blade slices a slight cut along the front of his chest. He speaks, "So..It seems you are learning from our previous encounters.." As he speaks, he ducks low, and springs forward, propelling himself with his leg muscles, stabbing at the Orchs stomache, with a quick jab.
The small group of Dor-lomin guards, clad in heavy dark armor, continue to dash through the field. Midway, they scatter to different places.. each one engaging a foul beast. Kenan scans Reghat, the now orch stands looking upon him menacingly. He raises his sword in a belligerent manner, closing in to the orch.. close enough to engage in a deadly melee.The small elvish group by the army break off beside them, running toward the orcs with swords and spears at the ready. Lomendaur is at the lead, silent and grim.
Grarg takes the shield from Hulorg and straps it onto his arm, working its weight around and he gives a quick nod to Hulorg. He moves off to the right of Hulorg a few paces and awaits his command to move forward as he spits off to the side and his eyes begin to blaze with bloodlust.
Drugnogzd runs past Gilthanas, as he does so he feels a slight sting in his right side as Gilthanas' sword makes a shallow cut, he turns around, sword leading, "You will bleed", he says promising, his scimitar slashing towards Gilthanas' swordarm.
Reghat chuckles..and ugly sound as the Adan captain approaches..she waves her chosen to engage the men of Dor-Lomin and they move quickly around her..leaving her to stand facing Kenan..her mace before her.. She swings it wide to the side..and around towards his left side.. her voice rising in a shriek as she does so..
Khimlis continues his dead aim at the orch . He lts up his pace to a walk as he watches it wield a shield.
Men and elves scatter out across the field to join the battle with the yrch, crashing their foes singly or in numbers. The din of battle confuses the senses, and everywhere the clash of bodies and weaponry can be heard amidst the foul drumming of the yrch, the trumpets of men, and the fair voices of the elves...
Gilthanas steps back again, but a moment too late once again. The blade touches his arm, cutting a faint line across the front of it. With a scream, he moves it, swinging it shoulder height, hoping to slice the evil things head from it's shoulders.
Hulorg barks a few more orders in a strange tongue and his pace quickens, the armor of the orcs behind him begins to creak and jostle, the sound mixing together into one loud rush of metal and arms. Leading the spear-like formation, Hulorg holds the great axe across his body with both hands. His glaring eyes sighting past his nose-guard at the tall Man that leads the rush of humans. With a low growl he rushes forward, the clash is imminent.
Drugnogzd ducks his head to his left as the sword whistles towards it, allthough not quick enough he is spared the decapitation by his quick reflexes, only letting the sword draw a line across his throat, doing minor damage, snarling he bends on one knee and thrusts his scimitar out at the stomach of his foe, disembowelment in mind.
Kenan easily deflects the orch's attack with his shield, pushing the mace aside. Having the sword already in the air, he simply strikes down in a wide arch to Reghat's right shoulder...
The bats above Reghat swoop out over the field ahead..a darkening cloud wherever they go.. wings brushing agains the faces of foes..and the swirling cloud turns back towards where Reghat faces Kenan..The chosen about her clash..the sounds of metal and leather as both sides meet..and sword and scimitar do their work..
Gilthanas pulls his stomache back, but the Scimitar manages to cut his chest a slight bit. He steps forward, after feeling the pain, and slashes his sword down from over his head, aiming for the top of the kneeling Orchs head.
Reghat steps to the side..moving quickly for her build..and the sword slices only air.. She quickly adjusts the balance of the mace..and raising it high..brings it down towards Kenan's right shoulder..
Grarg begins to trot forward in pace with Hulorg, his eyes glowing brighter with anticipation as his steel shod boots tear into the ground and his armor creaks with his forward advance. Steaming jets of breath shoot out of his nostrils as he begins to move faster, a loud growling shriek coming from him as he begins to close on Khimlis, his scimitar flashing as he raises it upward, fifteen feet separating them.
Galdor's voice shouts, "
Drugnogzd moves to the side of the sword, letting it catch the tip of his left ear instead of having it buried in the middle of his head, he doesnt pay it attention as he rises and slashes upwards at Gilthanas' head, aiming for the throat.
Lomendaur rushes down a number of feet near Gilthanas, and begins attacking oncoming yrch. The elves behind him fan out to face the assault, steel blazing and blood flying.
Khimlis rushes to the side to try and turhe orch and get him off stride. He holds his sword in a defence position while looks for an easy opening in the beasts defense.
Gilthanas steps back, the scimitar nearly parting his head from his shoulders. He heaves a sigh at the closeness of the blow, and slashes his sword viciously side to side, at the height of the others shoulder, hoping to cripple or maim.
Kenan grunts as he tries to dodge the blow stepping to one side, but obiously failing. The mace manages to pierce his armor, but he quickly ignores the hit and once again swings his sword to the dark robed orch aiming to her rib cage...
Reghat sees from the corner of her eye..the small orc..still near..the Prophet's symbol high..and her voice raises yet..the keening wail a challenge..the Chosen move forward..eyes blazing as they slash atthe Dor-lomin guards..
Drugnogzd growls as he feels the sword catch his right shoulder, taking off a nice sized part of his shoulder, showing the white bone underneath, he growls and steps back a little, before he tries the same tactic on Gilthanas, swining his scimitar from side to side.
Reghat' keening falters..a moment only..as the sword strikes the armor..a trickle of black blood beginning to show..then she glares..and stepping in closer..brings the mace sharply up towards Kenan's face.. her black eyes glitter inthe hood..
The Dor-lomin guard's shouts are heard nearby where Kenan is, as they fight bravely with the orchs. Some already fallen and bloodied, they keep fighting knowing that if they suceed the orchs will leave perhaps forever..
Gilthanas looks down, as though astounded that the Orch could touch him with its filthy blade. He moves closer, slashing towards the Orch's swordarm, hoping to force it drop it's blade.
It is a sea of swords and blood, churning and angry as the tide of battle sweeps across the field, the white snow turning to crimson and black as the blood of enemies is shed. Above, the stars watch, gleaming and glowing as if in helpless observation.
Whatever the move by Khimlis intended, falls short of its task as Grarg lets out an animalistic howl and whips his sword around over his head, spittle spraying from his mouth as he then snaps his sword around in a hard horizontal arc, aimed at the ribs of Khimlis
Drugnogzd smiles a little as gilthanas' sword slice his biceps, not the least bit aknowledging the wound as he has now entered battlerage, he merely pulls his arm back, pumping blood out as the sword is wrenched out, his smile seems impossibly huge as he slashes downward, towards Gilthanas' arm, hoping to slice it off.
Lomendaur stabs an onrushing orc in the heart with his spear, straining pull it from the wound. He shouts, raising the weapon above his head before turning to face another foe. Nearby, a Quendi screams and falls, sliced in two by a large, growling Orc.
Clang! The loud sound of metal with metal echos the plains, as Reghat's mace hits Kenan's metal helmet. Pushing the orch with his shield to an arm's lenght distance, he swings his sword in a quick sharp arch, back again to the orch's side...
Gilthanas watches his sword sink into the others arm, and steps backwards, the scimitar cutting a glittering arc through the air, slicing the blue tunic that Gilthanas wears, but nothing underneath. As the blade finishes its swing, he steps in, slashing from the ground up, aiming at the Orchs groin area.
A battle rages, above and below. Below between the forces of hithlum and the servants of the dark enemy, above between the light of the sun as it rises, attempting to pierce the heavy winter storm clouds.
Reghat starts to chuckle..the sound of the mace against metal..then stumbles as she is pushed away..as she rights herself..the sword finds it's mark..deepening the cut..and she moves back..to give more room..for a wide swing of the mace..bringing it back and up..to strike towards Kenan's right shoulder..
As the faintest bit of pale light cracks the dark grey clouds of the eastern horizon, the great black banner of a cracked red Skull is hefted in the midst of the surging band of yrch. Hulorg remains at their forefront, his strong legs pounding him forward on an intercept course for the tall Lord on the great horse. Bringing his weapon back, Hulorg closes the distance between himself and the Man. Paying no attention to the human though, he sweeps the long-handles axe out in a great horizontal arc, slashing at the forelocks of his horse as he tries to duck by the left side of the capering beast.
Drugnogzd steps back from the blow, yet when he feels the blade pierce he cocks his head, then he blinks, and growls, before he lifts his shield and pushes it towards Gilthanas, pushing at him.
Gilthanas steps backwards, the pushes shield missing by a mere hair. He sidesteps, stepping to the side, of the Orch who pushed his shield at him, and he brings his sword down, in a vicious chop at the wrist holding the shield, that is now extended out into the space where Gilthanas stood a moment ago.
Kenan pivots around in a semi-circle as the mace passes by hitting only but air. Using the circular momentum he swings his gleaming sword to the orch's weapon's arm, cursing at her as he attacks..
Drugnogzd keeps his sword out and manages to parry the foes attack, locking blades he holds it there for a while, "We must continue this some other day enemy mine", he says with a guttural chuckle and slowly dissapears into the mass of combat and screaming, making his way back.
Khimlis feelt the scimitar knick his side as he tries to dodge the swing. Not feeling any pain he retaliate. He swings low trying to catch part of the leg.
Reghat glares at the human..and at her mace..as the sword slices against her upper arm..opening a slash..she slips the mace a moment..then raising her keening cry..once more she draws the mace to the side..a wide arc it makes ..coming towards Kenan's midsection..
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