Eastern Eriador; Weathertop “Clash with Morian Host on Amon Sul”


Rhifaroth Strider Annaiel Gnarsh Garkash (Nob RPC alt)

Naalg Khathra Thari Frarin Grakhu (PRC alt Di)

Kwar Talbinor Hephtur

[Angrenost ZMO(#10954)->Rhifaroth]

--------------------------------Isengard Time-----------------------------

Real time is: Tue Mar 11 18:50:07 2008 - Elendor time is

Late Night on a Clear Summer Highday, Midsummer 1, 3043

The Moon's Phase is: waxing gibbous


Amon Sul

The short, windswept grass tenaciously clings to the top of Amon Sul here, poking up around the ruins of what appears to have once been a great tower. All that is left of it now is a wide ring of eroded foundation stones and a fair number of loose stones scattered about the hilltop. The top of Amon Sul appears peaceful and serene. In all directions below spreads Eriador, this hill offering a spectacular and wide reaching view of the land.


Gnarsh Garkash Strider Annaiel Naalg Khathra Thari Obvious exits: South leads to Weathertop - Southern Base. North leads to Weathertop - Northern Base.


Evening casts the land into twilight, the westering sun already slipping to embrace the distant horizon and bathing the land in growing, cooler shadows of evening. The approaching night is already overly still and warm, humid. A waxing gibbous moon is well up but growing haze suggests a dimness of clarity to the coming night with mist.

Having been absent from the Ranger camp for well more than a week now, a familiar figure has ascended Amon Sul from the south. Thinking he was alone, and having observed a foreboding restlessness in the Morian Host on the road and plain below, Rhifaroth has come to the ruins.

As darkness grows, he stands facing west, having watched the sun slip down beyond the unseen sea far away. The man has not stopped by the camp to speak to anyone. Instead, he has drawn his sword and touched the tip to the earth to stand quietly for a long while. Only after it truly begins to grow dark does he finally lift his head, and his long sword, kiss the blade's cross guard, then sheath it.

Thari is sitting halfway down the hill, south of Rhifaroth. The streaks of gold in the dwarf's beard are slowly snuffed as twilight deepens. The axe-head lies between the dwarf's stout boots, and a bearded chin is rested on the haft.


There is a scrape of a boot upon stone nearby, and it would appear the man of Gondor is not alone. A shadow breaks from the ruins, the meager light of the stars finding little to gleam upon as a heavy cloak masks near all of a tall figure. But perhaps the voice that speaks softly to Rhifaroth may give him a clue as to who tracks him.

"<Sindarin> You're a bold one, friend, I'll give you that..."

[Khathra(#16574)] If this were a film, the camera would switch from the panoramic view of the jagged hill, and zoom down into the stinkin' camp below. Indeed, the Morian camp is making enough ruckus to raise the dead, and catch the attention of everyone from miles around.

There does seem to be a restlessness in the air, as the camp gets ready for it's evening duties. One of such uneasy orcs is the so called Black Guard Captain of the Scouts, Khathra. She was pacing about the gathered orcs, barking orders.

"Get yerselves ready! No Lollygagging!" Her presence may not have been felt since the day they left the mines, but boooy are they feeling it now.


Naalg never liked being assigned to combat patrols. Indeed, the snaga looks rather pitiful in his new equipment. The armor he wears looks to be about twice his size, forcing the Uruk to waddle wherever he goes, keeping one hand on his mail jerkin, trying to keep it up off the ground so he doesn't trip over it. "Why canna I stay wif the fires?" he whines, struggling to sling a quiver of arrows over his shoulder.


At the sound of a familiar man's voice, speaking a language he didn't really expect to hear that voice utter to him, Rhifaroth turns sharply and looks until his own eyes catch the movement of another cloaked man moving amid the ruins.

The Southerner is silent a moment, watching the other man's approach, "<Sindarin> Why say you this?"

Rhifaroth's own attention then slips past the man who comes out of the ruins to speak to him, listening instead to the growing din of the Morian host stirring below, "<Sindarin> They come, tonight."

[Frarin(#31050)] A jangle of mail and the stump of heavy boots announces the arrival of another dwarf not far from Thari. The silver merchant Frarin does not move quietly as he comes to Thari's side, blue war hammer grasped in one hand, but there is an effort to soften his steps. As he comes to the other dwarf's side, he speaks softly, rumbling. "They certainly like to announce themselves, whether by noise or stench."


"<Sindarin> Then it is unwise to stand alone, however brave," answers the tall fellow to Rhifaroth, and Strider's eyes twinkle once as the moon catches them. "<Sindarin> There are others here besides the yrch, that may render aid... we shall need it."

[Grakhu(#31082)] In with the band of orcs is an average-sized orc with animals slung from its belt. It is not thrilled about this turn of events and stays close to its comrades as events unfold.

[Garkash(#32382)] Garkash glowers at Khathra, but wisely says nothing - or at any rate, nothing loud enough for the other to hear. Under his breath, he says quite a lot. His armor is dented and filthy, but in good condition otherwise; though the helmet is rather too large and sunken down over his eyes.

Thari leans forward on the hill and stands. Up the dwarf looks to the approaching Frarin. "At least we've distracted them away from Bree, aye?" Thari says with a thin smile. The deep voice softens. "I wish I were more certain of our allies."


Snorting harshly, gathering spit in the back of his throat, a taller beast spits soundly into the dirt just ahead of his position. "Ready," he hisses under his breath, as he peers at the others gathered in mass. Rolling his shoulder and rubbing a dirty hand under his nose, he snarls eagerly at the preparations. Sliding his black tongue over his lips, the Uruk-Hai checks his armor, and draws his short broadsword.


A left hand reaches up to draw off Rhifaroth's grey hood, opening up his peripheral vision as the darkness gains a foot hold over the world around them. He keeps his own voice low, then pulling his black war bow, "<Sindarin> I did not expect to face them alone." The bow is strung, but his attention seems to be for the sound of Dwarven voices not far from the ruins, "<Sindarin> I have of late, been assisting the Dwarves with their preparations."

But then, he hesitates and looks back at Strider, "<Sindarin> Be careful. There's a man in the area... calls himself Hephtur. A stranger to you, perhaps. He says he will aid us in this fight, but I do not trust him. He bears careful watching. You'll know if you see him. Something ... not right about him. Tall, well geared."

His warning passed, Rhifaroth begins to move through the ruins back towards the south and towards the direction of Frarin's deep rumble.

[Khathra(#16574)] "Well isn't *this* a bloody shame!" Khathra looked over the gathering orcs, frowning rather unhappily. Kicking a passing snaga in the rear, she calls out to the gathering host. "I want a good number of you to stay here... keep an eye on our rear." She looks at the tall hill behind her before continuing, her pace slowing down as she considers things. "They have the upper ground, the cowards. We will lose many..." Her words trail off, before she yells out again. "For every loss I want to pay them back twofold! I want this place RAVAGED!" A few cheers go out from the crowd, but most are reluctant to go either way. "You, you, and you." She points to a few sturdy looking lads. "Take a group and you go left of the hill, and you go right." She hisses a little. "I'll take the front here. On my signal, we'll run up this little outpost here. Is that clear?"

Naalg listens to the plan, grinning a bit, "Good, Den I jus sit down 'ere an shoot up the hill, good for me." he says, clicking his black tongue as he readies his bow, selecting an arrow as he peers upwards at the hill. "Couldn't we jus circle them an attack from all sides? Or have some rocks thrown up there an knock'em down?"

Grakhu positions himself next to Naalg, figuring this is as good a place as any.

[Frarin(#31050)] "Aye, for the time," says Frarin grimly, setting the bottom of his hammer's haft on the the ground as Thari rises. "And do not trouble about our allies," he says. "If our allies prove unfruitful, then the numbers of the dwarves are not greatly diminished." He glances towards the top of the hill where, amidst the ruins, he can make out the dim shadow of an approaching man. "Come Thari, let us move up the hill a bit where the ruins afford a better defense."

[Garkash(#32382)] Run up the outpost. Garkhash gives Khathra a decidedly unhappy look, then sighs loudly. He moves towards her, steps lagging. "Dumb orders," he mutters to a passing snaga; then bares his teeth in a gruesome smile as he stops beside the leader. "Excellent orders, yer brilliancy. 'M b'hind yer all ther way!"

[<#19187>] "<Sindarin> It would perhaps have been better to face them not at all," replies Strider to the southern man, "<Sindarin> without the keen eyes and arrows of the elves. Alas, there is naught we can do now but keep our numbers hidden, and perhaps keep them at bay until the night has passed."

He slips a bow out from under his cloak; tensing the string and nodding towards the mass of uruks. "<Sindarin> Have you espied a leader we can perhaps fire upon and assail their morale?"

The Ranger steps closer then to the dwarves, watching them with a shadowed gaze ere saying gently in the common tongue: 'Hail, friends. I trust you like our night's task as little as I do...'

[Combat(#13388)] Strider wields Longbow.

[Thari(#31038)] "Secrets, always secrets with them," mutters Thari while turning uphill. Up the dwarf walks with a glance behind. "Where's your nephew, Forli's son?"

Thari is glancing behind as Strider speaks and thus casts a startled eye back up on the shadowed man. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it. Kill a few orcs, maybe get to head home tonight! Bring a tale to my father, perhaps!"

[Khathra(#16574)] The she hisses a little at the sounds of dissention. "Keep yer thoughts to yerself! I'm the one here leading you now!" She tilts her head to the side as a snaga speaks up. "Quite yellowbelly of ye to want to stay behind..." A grin, rather evil looking, glances across her face. "No, circling the camp won't do us any good. What if they drop boulders down on us, eh? And what of the camp? Don't want your precious rags to be destroyed by the big bad lighties, do ya?" She aims a kick, but then thinks better of it. "Quit yer snavvelin'!" Her thought is interrupted as another, Garskhash, approaches. "Right behind me? What do you take me FOR!" She stamps her foot down. "No no, you're going in front of me." She whistles loud. "Grab yer gear! Let's move out!"

Naalg finds himself a niiiiice boulder to hide behind, nocking his arrow as he squints up the hill. "Don't tink they got any trolls, can't be throwin boulders at us.... asides... we could just wait for them ta run outta food or somethin......"

[Frarin(#31050)] "At the very center of the ruins, if he remains where he is told," Frarin replies, grumbling for all the world like an exasperated father. Or uncle, as it were. "I cannot prevent Gerin from fighting, but I will do so at least until the assault is carried out in full measure."

He too looks up the hill at Strider's voice, yet another dark shape flitting around the darkness, another of the strange Ranger folk. Frarin's face darkens, even with the night. "What we like of it is little compared to what we will do with it, Master Ranger," he growls low.


As the man who is called Strider also walks over towards the Dwarves gathering on the hill just below the summit with him, Rhifaroth listens to that man's reply quietly. "<Sindarin> Aye, but I have friends in Bree, whose children's flesh I would not see fed to this Host, nor their homes burned. I would come, even if I were alone."

To the man's latter question he nods, "<Sindarin> Red cloaked, their General is... a she orc. But if he shows himself, there is also a Warg Leader with an odd marking burned into his back. Writing, mayhap." Before Rhifaroth might make further comment though, he catches Thari's already familiar complaint about his speaking Elvish, which previously got the Dwarf sore at him and Celebros earlier.

Humor tinting his own voice, he makes his next comment also in Westron, ''Master Frarin, Thari.'' he greets quietly.


Nodding as though reassured by the dwarves' words, Strider permits a grim smile and replies, "That is well to hear, kin of Durin. Though all the same, I shall keep them away from you as long as I may before your hammers seek blood..."

He turns to face Rhifaroth, and nods to the ruins that line the edge of the tower; a fine view spilling out over the uruk horde. "Let us try and pick this one out.. and keep that flesh unfed."

This said he slips for cover, and readies an arrow upon his bowstring as his eyes scan the ranks of yrch.


Khathra was in the middle of a word when she blinks incrediously at the words of the snaga. "Perhaps... you were still slumming the pits when the lighties attacked and DESTROYED the High Pass Fortress." A visible wince ripples through the gathered orcs as they make their way to their posts along the hill. "....Run... out... of...food?" She blinks again. "I know the pits aren't known for makin' the brightest bunches but..." Khathra whistles low. "Maybe you should stop speakin' and start listenin'. I don't want to spend no more time out here in this stinkin' wasteland then I need to. We'll roll them over, and then go our merry way, y'hear!" And, as if that was the end of the argument, the She stalks off, beginning the march with the rest of the orcs towards the hill.

[Garkash(#32382)] Despite Khathra's words, Garkash falls eagerly into place! Behind her... One hand fingers his mace, the other shoves the dipping helmet back a little so he can see.

Thari gives a brief nod for Rhifaroth, eyes staying on Strider. "Now you've no need to be trying to keep 'em away from us. We'll do a better job protecting you than the other way around I imagine. You seem a stout sort, you do, but I warrant you've not seen dwarven might in battle before." A bow Thari gives to Strider with a grin before glancing behind at the gathering dark mass.

[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin recognizes the second man's voice and offers a low bow, even if the action is partially obscured by the night. "Hail, Stranger," the dwarf says simply, though there is a sense of appreciation in his tone. He nods then to Strider, and there is perhaps a hint of a smile at Thari's proud words. "When their black hides have had enough of arrows, the dwarves will see to they are kept busy."


Most of what's said is lost in the rumble of dark voices, each craving what they will from the moment. For Gnarsh, the bloodlust has begun, "Lets go, everyone just shut up and listen so we can go already." he hisses while pushing forward slightly. The orange tinge to his eyes flicker with anticipation and again he licks his lips.


It being too dark to see his face, nonetheless Rhifaroth's mouth quirks with a hint of humor at Frarin's name for him. But having become reluctant to hand it out to just everyone who passes through, he merely inclines his head to each of the Dwarves in a brief nod, "I doubt not that you shall make your mountain halls proud tonight." If he might add more, Rhifaroth hesitates, uncertain what to say to Dwarven folk that might be taken as well wishing among their ilk on such an eve. So he adds nothing more.

The sounds below grow stronger, orders being shouted amongst the host below. Drawing an arrow from his own quiver, the Southern Dunadan turns away and like Strider, goes to seek what cover he might find amid the near ruins. If there are yet other allies about, he has not yet see them. It does not bode well.

[Khathra(#16574)] Clank! Bampfh! Omph! The orc host that has been 'chosen' to take the assault upon the 'toothy' hill makes it's slow way along the low lines of the hill, before splitting off into three groups.

"Oy! Where's that rat? Can't trust no one who says they'll stand behind ya, that's for sure." Khathra seems to be talking to no one in particular as the press of unwashed orc bodies begin the climb up the hill. Unfortunately for our bad guys, it seems to be slow going. "Grah! Enemies above AND below. Leave it to poor lowly Khathra to fix it again."

Thari gives a deeper nod of the head to Rhifaroth. "Perhaps even these have emptied from Moria, and we might rest in those halls once more," says the dwarf in a low voice.

Thari turns, gripping the axe now in both hands, shield lowered, and watches the orcs below as they split off.


"Right b'hind ya!" says Garkash almost cheerily. The pleasant night air, the sound of rattling clattering weapons, the thought of hacking and slashing, seems to be brightening his mood a bit.


Keen are the eyes and ears of the Dunedain, a gift from their ancient union with the elven kindreds, and so it is that the harsh cries of Khathra draw Strider's gaze. He studies her in the gentle starlight, perhaps remembering words spoken by his fellow Rhifaroth, and slowly draws back his bowstring.

There is a soft twang in the night, scarcely heard amid the din of the uruk's advance, and a feathered shaft flies through the air towards the Leader.

Strider launches an arrow...

Strider's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.


Having taken the time to make more arrows in the many passing days as the Host made its slow way across the plain, Rhifaroth decides to leave his cover and move back towards the east side of the summit, careful not to pass in front of Strider's line of fire. He was perhaps too far back to see those who are ascending from below.

Keeping low, he finally sees something in the waxing moonlight crossing a grassy patch some distance below himself. He stands, pushes his thick, shorter Southron Narakshi war bow with his left arm to draw his arrow back to his right cheek, then releases it into the darkness.

Almost at once Rhifaroth has drawn a second arrow and moves quickly through the high summer grasses, seeking another target.

Naalg remains where he is, sighting in on the darting figures above, taking careful aim with his bow, "Maybe i'll get a bite...." he says, grinning at another orc archer, "If ya hear a scream, ya gotta bite wif yer arrow." he sniggers, giggling as he lets fly with an arrow.

Naalg launches an arrow...

Naalg's bowshot hits Thari, lightly wounding it.

[Khathra(#16574)] Something flies past Khathra's head. She feels a cool breeze past her for a moment. "Bloody insects never give anyone a moment's peace!" She bats away again, before turning around behind her, seemingly hearing the cheerful words of her would-be 'rearguard'. "Just wait til I get some room to swing! If it's yer knife I find in my back, I'll stew you in your own juices!" Hrmph, that'll teach him!

The host is making it's slow yet steady progress up the hill. It won't be long before they meet up with their opposition. Let's hope there's some awesomeness for this band of orcs when they get there!

Annaiel has connected.

Thari is studying the army below, then turns head to speak to the dwarf nearby. "Frarin, there's--" The air seems to whistle, then buzz. A black streak flies to this noble dwarf and embeds itself in the meaty calf. Thari gives a pained cry and stumbles to the side, shield arm flying out.


A wince, and Strider laments his miss to himself; rueful but unheard words whispering past his lips. Quick as he can, he nocks a second arrow to his bowstring, and draws back as he takes aim. He fires a shot into the vanguard of the uruks, then another, and finally a third into their midst.

For his fourth arrow his eyes fix upon Khathra once more, and this time he takes care as he squints into the night. "Valar guide my dart," he prays, ere he looses it at the female leader.

Strider launches an arrow...

Strider's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Naalg is joined by several other orcs is launching arrows up at the evil light-dwellers. The pained cry from his arrow elicits a wicked shout, "HEE! I GOTS ONE!" he cries, doing a little jig, dancing in a little circle as he celebrates. "Hee, let's see if I get another...." he snickers, drawing another arrow and taking careful, careful aim....

Naalg launches an arrow...

Naalg's bowshot hits Strider, mildly wounding him.

[Khathra(#16574)] The regular flavored chaos of orcs moving anywhere (especially uphill) is now seasoned with the spiceyness of random orc deaths. A cry goes out, as an orc is felled. The she perses her lips. "Get yer hides up this hill! ON THE DOUBLE!" She lets out a shrill whistle and quickens her pace, alongside the others. Soon the ocean of goblin-sea will be crashing upon the defenders... whoever is there, that is.

[Garkash(#32382)] Something sizzles out of the night, slicing a sliver of skin off Garkash's cheek and clanging into the metal that covers his shoulder. He yelps, clapping a hand to his face - then drops it, staring at the blood in his palm. Then he looks up at the top of the hill and lets out a blood-curdling roar.

Kwar reaches the top of the hill from the south side.

Kwar has arrived.


Muttering impatiently, Gnarsh snorts and spits again. The grip on his broadsword tightens and looses as he watches the arrows coming and going. "Only blood bein spilled and it's long distance. A waste, a real waste...." he grumbles as he sneers at the archers. "If ya want to tear up the place it won't get done pluckin arrows back and forth."

As if his mutters are heard, the order is given and the tide comes loose! "Whhhhhaaaa Hooooo! Duckin high won't work, duck down low won't do, let the blood run, here we go!" Charging up the hill, the Uruk-hai looks for a target.


As Naalg's arrow speeds towards Strider, his ears prick and down he ducks -- just in time to save himself from the wicked barb. It crashes into the rock but an inch above his lowered head, only to clatter and graze across his brow as it falls. The man blinks, though the action goes unseen in the dark, and it is with a cautious gaze that he raises once more.

Grey eyes turned silver in the night scan the uruk ranks, and find the goblin archer that has stung him. The Dunadan nocks a fresh arrow to his string, and fires in reply to Naalg.

Strider launches an arrow...

Strider's bowshot hits Naalg, lightly wounding him.


Having quietly stood watching the growing dark mass for some time, Frarin turns with a sober look as Thari begins to speak. But then there is the unmistakable sound of an arrow rapidly cutting the air and suddenly Thari's arm jerks out wildly, a surprised cry ringing out. "Thari!" Frarin grunts, unable to see her wound in the darkness, but reaching out a hand to steady her. No time is there for that, though, for suddenly the heightened cries of the approaching host betray the last few metres of ground is being closed.

"Ready yourself, Thari!" he growls, hefting up his hammer an setting feet equally apart, one slightly behind the other. "Here they come!"


Likewise, Rhifaroth takes cover behind a fallen stone that has long since tumbled down the hill from the summit, where he has a better view of the horde coming up ancient Amon Sul. One after another of his arrows are shot into the darkness below, carefully picking out his targets - trying to make every one of his darts count. There will be no resupply but which his own hands can make later, if there is time another day.

At least some uruks suffer to cry out into the night as the man's arrows find vulnerable marks. But they are coming, so many.

It does not take long before Rhifaroth must ease back, forsaking his brief cover and turning to run back up the short distance, back to the ruins proper to gain more distance. Already half or more of his arrows are spent. He draws another, not saying a word aloud, and takes careful aim again.

An orcish arrow flies out of the night and pierces his cloak. Reluctantly the Southern Dunadan glances about himself for additional cover amid the stones on the summit.


Clinging desperately to his warg, Kwar curses softly as low bushes and branches scratch at him as he proceeds up the hill with a small patrol of other wargs.

"Shoulda stayed in camp," he mutters and then curses once more as his warg makes a big leap to the right.

Finally, the patrol crests the hill close to the fighting, and all draw their weapons in preparation to do battle with the light lovers.

Kwar pats his helmet and pulls the great axe from the sling on his back. Screaming the

Morghash warcry he heads for a small hairy figure at the edge of the fighting.

[Garkash(#32382)] Garkash speeds up, swinging his mace back and forth in preparation for reaching someone to hit. He is nearly at the top now, and going at a good speed.

Naalg cheers, "Oye! I got a bit of one! Lookit that one! He really got i-" he yelps, his voice cut short as an arrow buries itself into his shoulder, "YARGH!" he cries, stumbling backwards, squealing in pain as he looks to his impaled shoulder, growling a bit as he looks up at the hill, "They got me! Oh the pain! The agony! I can see the Flame!"

[Khathra(#16574)] There's a pause as time slows down for a moment, the din from the hordes making their way up to the ruins of the hill quiet down, as if an observer of the carnage was pulled away to watch it from above. Then the time reel speeds up and there's a crash of harsh cries as the first few outlying orcs meet those at the top of the hill.

The she orc is a little farther down, a little winded from the climb, and, as her faithful (or less so) troops crest the hill, she slinks into the darkness, her skills as a scout taking over now. "Won't let no lighties get to me, no sir!"

Khathra has disconnected.


"Not bad!" Thari speaks in a tight voice. The dwarf hunches down while watching the orcs and yanks the arrow out with a gasp. Away it is cast as night-darkened blood drains down the boot.

Thari glances up. "Ah damn!" The dwarf straightens to face Kwar and his band. "Stupid orcs!" the shorter dwarf shouts. "All of you useless beasts alive without letting me have that red-cloaked bastard! C'mere and let me axe off your FACES!" The axe is swished emphatically.


It doesn't take long before Rhifaroth has either used up the last of his own arrows, or the distance is growing too short to spare more shots. He throws his black bow over his head and puts his left arm through it, leaving it strung, even as he reaches around behind himself under his cloak for his small Rohirric shield.

With a jerk, his long sword comes free of its scabbard and rings softly amid the chaos with the sound of steel released. Grim of face, moonlight plays subtly across his scarred and tattooed face as he leaps over the stone he stood behind, blade in hand to meet the wave of foes that crest the summit.

Tonight, there is no song upon his lips, grey eyes bright for the fight, no darkness of spirit dogging him into battle this eve. His blade lifts as a figure looms up before him out of the night.


Kwar's warg bears down on the hairy one in front of him - it's jaws slavering thin streams of drool as it bounds in her direction. The rest of the troop fanout, one heading for the tattooed man.

Now and then an eerie keening sound can be heard from the wargs as they begin to whine in anticipation of the meal to come.

"How about I axe off yer head!" Kwar shouts as he hears what is a female voice emanating from the hairy blob in front of him. The great axe hovers in the air for a moment and then descends in a sweeping motion for the neck of the female dwarf.

Kwar attacks Thari with his War Hammer and moderately wounds it!

[Garkash(#32382)] The orc crests the hill and looks around, hot bloodthirsty eyes landing on a tall dark figure. He howls again and charges, swinging his mace in a circle over his head before bringing crashing down towards the man's head.

Garkash attacks Strider with his Mace and mildly wounds him!


In the middle of chaos, a deep throated snarl rises up as Gnarsh catches sight of a man. "Swwwwweeeet human, tasty bits. We're going to have a little fun." he hisses in common. Laughing deeply, almost in a manic tone as his head lowers so that his eyes gleam out from under his helm. Rushing forward, the Uruk-Hai lifts his blade and swings it downwards, aiming to draw blood.

Gnarsh attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 24 hp's by Gnarsh's attack...

...you have 58 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


Standing straight and tall at just over six feet, this ash-grey creature is heavily muscled. From a distance, it seems almost human in stature. Thin lips, nicked by scars, are often drawn tightly in a sneer, which exposes sharply pointed, yellow teeth. Hazy white eyes set a background for orange-yellow orbs with black, cat-like, pupils. On this creatures long and angular face, a heavy brow bone and high,wide cheekbones dominate his features. In the center of his face, is a large flat nose with flared nostrils. Atop his head, jutting out like spider legs are tightly matted and oiled dreadlocks. This creatures limbs are long and muscular. From broad muscular shoulders and chest, to his highly defined stomach muscles, he radiates power and strength. He wears leather breeches, black boots, and a leather vest.


Short Broadsword

Chain Mail Armor

Studded Leather Shield

Metal Helmet

Thari whips up the shield and the warg-rider's axe crashes off of it, only to thunk the shoulder instead. There is a great jingle as the ringmail is dug into Thari's flesh. The dwarf grunts low and whips a small camping-axe at Kwar's midsection.

Thari attacks Kwar with its Axe, but it misses by a long shot.


Garkash's mace comes flying in towards Strider's head, and catches the Dunadan unawares it would seem. Busy watchng the advance of the host in general, his eyes seems to miss the approach of the lone uruk, and it is only in the nick of time that he spins about to meet the threat.

The mace sweeps into his hands, swatting away his bow to send it rattling upon the stone floor of the ruines tower. Strider backs away at once, shaking his hands to free them of the sting they must feel, and he is quick to reach for the hilt of his sword. Drawing his blade; two-thirds of a longsword he watches his foe warily.

Naalg curses as he stands, grumbling as he puts aside his bow, drawing his scimitar and picking up a wooden shield from a dead orc. The Snaga grumbles, "Ah am tired of dis!" he cries, scrambling up the incline towards the melee, wheezing a bit as his scrawny muscles flex and shift as he moves.


Rhifaroth's blade comes up from low to meet Gnarsh's as that creature greets him in the first wave. But the moonlight is tricky, and less favorable to men's eyes than to uruk-hai perhaps. The block is partly missed and his own blade fails to stop the broad sword that hungers for man-flesh.

Teeth are bared as Gnarsh's blade skips from his own to bite into his already battered studded leather jerkin's breast on the left side. Rhifaroth twists, bringing his own right side forward and his left side back away from the stroke. His own elbow goes out to jab at the creature's close face even as he draws the blade back to try and slice out the uruk-hai's very eyes! But it is very dark...

You blindly attack Gnarsh with your Longsword...


Gnarsh dodges your attack.

[Frarin(#31050)] Soon the tide of black is upon the dwarves and Frarin's hammer has no trouble finding his foes. Round it goes, the mallet crashing into black armour and black hide alike. From the press of orcs emerges one astride a slavering warg and, before Frarin can react, the mounted Kwar has swung a blow towards Thari. "Let's bring you down off that pedestal," the other dwarves growls into his beard. The haft of his war hammer knocks a short orc aside, but then Frarin is swinging the mallet up and towards Kwar's midsection.


The impact of Kwar's battle axe on the hairy one's shield reverberates up his arm and almost unseats him from the warg. Luckily, the beast has been schooled in war, and soon it wheels around to confront the female dorf once more. Its eyes are blazing red, as it first trots then begins a loping charge.

Kwar pulls the warg to the left this time, hoping to disable the dwarf with a major strike to her weapon's arm.

Kwar attacks Thari with his War Hammer and lightly wounds it!

[Garkash(#32382)] Garkash's eyes gleam feverishly. "What is yer?" he sneers, as the man holds his sword but doesn't do anything with it. "Scared?" He cackles and makes funny noises with his mouth, dancing back and forth as if possessed, and jabbing his mace towards Strider.

Garkash attacks Strider with his Mace and mildly wounds him!

Frarin attacks Kwar with his War Hammer, but he misses by a handspan.

Naalg joins the group. He sees Kwar taking on two stunties, moving over to assist the axe-wielding orc, fixating on the Dwarf with the longer beard. "Avast!" he shouts, "I'll teach you ta swing atta orc wif that lil hammer!" he barks, taking a wild swing at Frarin, merely trying to drive the longbeard away with a flailing scimitar.

Naalg attacks Frarin with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!


Once again Garkash enjoys success with his mace, catching Strider in the side as his weapon slips past the man's guard. But there it meets with the tough leather of the Dunadan's clothing, and the jab earns little more than a grunt of discomfort from him.

Slipping forth with fleet feet he narrows his gaze upon his foe and slices up with his blade for the uruk's chin; his steel making his reply in place of his tongue.

Strider attacks Garkash with his Longsword, but Garkash parries the attack with his Mace!

[Garkash(#32382)] "Cowwaaaard!" shrieks Garkash, laughing wildly. "Coowwwwaaa-oooph!" There is a horrific clash as the wicked slicing blade slams into his mace, nearly ripping it from his grasp. And there is a glitter of dark hatred as the orc slithers backwards a few steps, taking a fresh grip and eying the man for a weakness.

[Thari(#31038)] Kwar's axe catches Thari beneath the elbow and forces the dwarf's arm up briefly. A chunk of flesh is suddenly missing, red dwarven blood spraying briefly up at Thari's hair. The dwarf backpedals for a step or two, limping hard, then takes a step forward to bring down the axe in a weak overhand strike at Kwar's face, struggling to bypass the warg. Nary a glance is spared for Frarin in this moment.

Thari attacks Kwar with its Axe, but it misses by a long shot.


Inhaling deeply, the Uruk-Hai leans slightly forward. A black tongue licks out. "I smell your blood, hu-mon." Gnarsh hisses, ending his words with a smack of his lips. Laughing as he's knocked back by Rhifaroth's elbow, the move affords him the chance to lean back to avoid the stab to his eyes.

Growling lustfully, the Uruk-hai swings down and forward as if to slice open a leg. "Let the blood flow!" he calls out with his strike.

Gnarsh attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 35 hp's by Gnarsh's attack...

...you have 23 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

[Frarin(#31050)] The scrawny snaga's scimitar, wildly waved though it may be, catches Frarin off guard. As the dwarf raises his hammer for a second strike, the wicked curved blades bites into his left arm, drawing a deep jagged line from wrist to mid forearm. Frarin cries out with anger as the blade hits and Kwar is temporarily forgotten.

The dwarf rounds on Naalg, swinging the mallet of his hammer with the momentem of his turn, aiming at the slave's over-sized head.

Frarin attacks Naalg with his War Hammer, but he misses by an arm's length.


Even as the battle is joined, Strider is given the chance to glance about as Garkash pauses. Little time indeed, but enough for the Dunadan to call out in the fair words of the Eldar. "<Sindarin> Rhifaroth... how do you fare?" he cries, ere he draws breath and fixes his eyes upon Garkash.

Two steps to the right, one to the left and he sends his blade out in a bid to fool the orc and slash at his weaponhand.

Strider attacks Garkash with his Longsword, but Garkash parries the attack with his Mace!


Another shadow skirts the edge of the ruins, fitted with ebon tresses and silence as well. Though fleet of foot it is not without a spark of light that this tall figure breaks the night. Standing further back, the light grows, a torch let and leaned upon the side of one of the sides of the ruined walls. The strain of a bow string is heard next, downing on one knee, just past the flame to clear her vision, Annaiel watches the hai that engages the southron.

Drawing back with a sureness born of experience, the Sparrow sets the point of her arrow upon the misshapen once-elf. Narrowing her eyes, she releases, hoping to hit him with the aid of the torch that burns brighter with each passing moment.

Naalg lets out a whiney "EEP!" as he sees that mallet descend on his skull. The Snaga snatches to the side, squealing with surprise as that Mallet hits the stone he had been standing on, "No no! No mushy brain!" he retorts, flicking his scimitar out towards Frarin once more, as if poking the mean bear will have any effect other than enraging it anymore...

Naalg attacks Frarin with his Scimitar, but Frarin parries the attack with his War Hammer!

Annaiel launches an arrow...

Annaiel's bowshot hits Gnarsh, mildly wounding him.


Kwar has the satisfaction of feeling his axe bite into his prey, but gasps as one of the hairy ones goes after him with a mallet. He squeaks shrilly, and leans over to the other side causing the mallet to whiz by his stomach.

"Now where did she go?" he mutters as he wheels the warg around for another attack. It seems he has lost track of her in the melee for a moment. However, he does spot the even hairier Frarin and eagerly kicks his mount in that direction. This time the axe is sent on an upward arc towards the Dorf's helmet.

Kwar attacks Frarin with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!

[Garkash(#32382)] The mace weaves a strange, sinuous pattern - up, down, up, around, down... but the pattern goes awry; knocked out of balance by the gleaming sword. The sword does not injure Garkash, but his own mace bangs into his shin and he howls - far out of proportion to the bruise he has received, and made reckless by rage, leaps into Strider's reach, swinging a great blow towards the man's middle.

Garkash attacks Strider with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.


Indeed, Gnarsh the tall, thickly muscled Uruk-Hai can smell the man's blood already. Rhifaroth has never seen a creature quite like this one before, so fast and man-like, not so much like an orc at all! He is a seasoned combat veteran himself, but the Valor have not looked kindly upon him these past months.

Gnarsh's black blade licks forth and opens up Rhifaroth's left thigh deeply from hip to nearly knee. His own blade again too slow, though he's quick enough for most. Involuntarily he cries out, a muffled sound twisted in his throat - as much surprise at having missed blocking again as the shock of parting flesh not covered even by leather. He does not hear Strider's call.

Rhifaroth does not call out for help, though the man tries to fall back, trying to escape further into the ruins. If the Morian host has ringed Amon Sul, there can be no escape to the north.

Rhifaroth's own blade licks out once more, this time making for a thrust directly at the Uruk-Hai's breast!

You attack Gnarsh with your Longsword...


Gnarsh dodges your attack.

Thari's eyes, however, never fall away from Kwar and his mount. The shorter dwarf stumps after that orc, weaving around other battle pairs and growling with each step on the wounded leg. Standing nobly behind Kwar, Thari grips the axe with both hands and swings it hard at his back.

Thari attacks Kwar with its Axe, but it misses by an arm's length.

[+LOOK] Rhifaroth(#27282) glances at you.


STATUS: IC (1s idle)

Wyr is IC

From this man's shoulders falls a greenish-hued grey, hooded cloak. A long sword resides just below his left hip and a quiver case with black bow is worn over the man's back for a right handed draw.

Standing about 6'4", this man is fairly broad in chest and shoulders. Unruly black hair falls loosely. His eyes are a clear pale grey with faint creases from much squinting into distances. Cheekbones and the sides of his throat bare strange, faded line and dot patterns that resemble writing. A red puckered slash bisects his face from his scalp, just left of center to his right brow. Barely skipping the eye, it cuts down his face to mid-right jaw.

A light brown shirt with long sleeves and a mended studded leather jerkin garb this man. Charcoal grey pants are tucked into brown leather boots - much of his attire showing signs of travel and mending. Leather bracers bind each of his wrists. The backs of his calloused hands bare the same faded tattoo markings as his face. Upon the smallest finger of his left hand this man wears a thick banded, heavy gold ring with a smooth, teardrop shaped rich blue stone.

Species: Human

Sex: Male

Health: Poor

Weapons: Wyr's Long Sword <Longsword>

Armor: Wyr's Studded Leather <Studded Leather Armor>; Wyr's Bolted Shield <Studded Leather Shield>

Other Visible Equipment: Wyr's Studded Helm <Studded Leather Helmet>


The rage of Garkash lends strength to his swing, but the howl alerts the Ranger and he has the time to slip to the left and to the side of the strike. The air is mauled by the mace but Strider escapes its wrath -- too close for a slice of his own in reply however.

Quick as a flash he punches forth the pommel of his sword aimed at the orc's windpipe before he slinks back a pace or two. No reply given by Rhifaroth, Strider moves as best he can in the Southron's direction; eyes ever upon Garkash.

Strider attacks Garkash with his Longsword and badly wounds him!

[Frarin(#31050)] Up flies Frarin's blue hammer and the snaga's blade is clashed aside, given not the satisfaction of flesh that it seeks. "Very well," the dwarf growls, a strange humour entering his voice, "no mushy head. How about a mushy -" But his words are cut short as Kwar rounds on him and the old healer's axe slams into the side of Frarin's head. The blade does not break the chain mail coif, but blood suddenly oozes from between the iron rings and Frarin stumbles to the side, shaking his head to recover from the blow.

When he looks up next, his eyes take a moment to refocus, but when they do, they land again on the undersized Naalg, closer at hand than the warg and rider. Blood still spilling forth from beneath the coif and coating Frarin's right cheek, the dwarf gives a cry and lunges forward, mallet flying for Naalg's midsection.

Frarin attacks Naalg with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!

[Garkash(#32382)] Garkash is still laughing, a high shrill sound with something of a bloody madness in it. He swings his mace over his head, preparing to slam it down at the man's head once more, when the sword he wasn't watching misses his throat by a inch and sinks into his shoulder. Blood gushes up, running down his side as the blade bites to bone, and laughter turns into a shriek. His injured arm falls gripless from the mace, but the orc continues his downward swing, one-handed now.

Garkash attacks Strider with his Mace, but he misses by an arm's length.

Naalg would cry out, but the crushing blow to his chest sort of makes that difficult. All that is managed is a little, "Oof!" as the breath is knocked from his frail body. Struggled attempts at breath are added to flaring red eyes as the Snaga is truly upset, slashing down with his scimitar, aimed at the Dwarf's head as he uses his other arm to clutch at his badly bruised tummy.

Naalg attacks Frarin with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!


So intent is Kwar on disabling Frarin, and so happy that his axe has actually made contact, he fails to notice the stealthy approach of Thari behind him. It is only by great good luck that his warg turns quickly, lowering its head to rend a corpse on the ground as it passes. Thus it is that the healer once more miraculously escapes being cleft by the female dorfs axe.

Having ripped a sizeable chunk of meat from what ever corpse it passed, Kwar's warg now stands in the midst of battle wolfing down the chunks. As hard as he tries to kick it, it will not move. Desperately, he whacks it on the neck with the handle of his axe.

[Garkash(#32382)] Garkash is still laughing, a high shrill sound with something of a bloody madness in it. He swings his mace over his head, preparing to slam it down at the man's head once more, when the sword he wasn't watching misses his throat by a inch and slams into his shoulder. Laughter turns into a shriek, and his injured arm falls gripless from the mace, stunned to numbness by the blow; but the orc continues his downward swing, one-handed now.


Orange eyes narrow as Rhifaroth cries out, and the flicker of yellow seem to glow as blood flows. Breathing heavily, Gnarsh steps forward, drawing his left hand forward, he grasps the wound and squeezes tightly, trailing his dirty fingers through the human's leg wound. Drawing away a bloodied hand he lustfully licks the droplets of red. Lifting his blade as if to finish the deed, an arrow clips the Uruk-Hai's hand as he begins the strike.

Howling in anger, he turns in the direction from where the arrow had come. Anger is in his roar as he spies the archer. "I will have you!" He screams out as he charges towards Annaiel.

ARB: Gnarsh has "passed" on his turn to attack.

Thari begins to laugh, head lowered, eyes affixed on Kwar's back. "Leave the dwarf alone!" Thari calls to the warg-rider while trying to chop again at his spine. "He's too tough for ye!"

Thari attacks Kwar with its Axe, but it misses by an arm's length.


One handed, Garkash fares less well than before, for Strider is able to back away far enough to evade the blow once more. The mace-head passes before him, slamming into the stone and a deft flick of his blade is the answer. "Rhifaroth!" he cries again, as his sword is sent raking down the knuckles of Garkash's weaponhand. Once again he backs away, warily drawing closer to the Gondorian's side.

Strider attacks Garkash with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.


Time is not with her and the sparrow is quick to fit another arrow as swiftly as she may. Alabaster fingers draw back, straining the bow as she sights down upon the hai that charges her, a foot slipping back in a bid to ready herself to move out of his attack.

Annaiel's silvery gaze locks with his, then leaves, aiming past the tip of the arrow. Sighting down upon the uruk, she steadies with a breath and releases, meaning to strike him straight on. Twang - whoosh.

The arrow streaks towards it's target and the rangeress is already moving to secure herself some obstacle between herself and the charging orc.

Annaiel launches an arrow...

Annaiel's bowshot hits Gnarsh, mildly wounding him.

[Garkash(#32382)] Battle-rage has possession. Still shrieking, though surely his arm is so numb as to feel no pain, Garkash presses his attack, even though the heavy mace droops as he tries to hold it with only one hand instead of two. A slashing horizontal swing that dips to the level of the ranger's knees.

[Frarin(#31050)] Out licks the curved blade again, catching Frarin not on the head, but across the left hand. The dwarf hefts his hammer up to deflect the blow and, in doing so, Naalg's scimitar slices cleanly into the outer skin of the hand, a short cut but deep, almost to the bone. Blood dribbles down Frarin's left hand, mingling with the blood already drawn from the long slash across his arm, and soon the red of his tunic is even darker than before.

"Argh, you brute!" Frarin growls, releasing his left hand from the shaft of his hammer and pressing it against his thigh to stem the flow of blood. But that does not stay a counter-attack, for the dwarf twists the hammer in his one hand and sends the long spike soaring towards Naalg's left thigh.

Garkash attacks Strider with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.

Frarin attacks Naalg with his War Hammer, but Naalg parries the attack with his Scimitar!


It seems as if the warg has bitten off more than it can chew, for right in the middle of battle it begins to make hoarse choking sounds. It still will not move despite Kwar's increasingly desperate attempts at kicking and whacking it. His eyes open wide as he sees Thari bearing down on him but there is little he can do. By now the warg's sides are heaving as it attempts to loose the meal it just ate in a hurry. Suddenly, with a harsh croaking sound the chunks of meat fly out of its mouth in Thari's direction!


Strider continues to backtrack, stepping neatly to the right as Garkash's mace fires out anew, but before he can retaliate the press of uruks finally makes itself felt to the Dunadan. Three of the mountain goblins spring forth to hack at him with jagged blades, and it is all the man can do to fend them off. Two strikes parried away, a third leaving a gash in his cloak he battles on -- dropping one of his assailants even as the others beat him back.

His back to Garkash, the Ranger is in danger of being surrounded.

Talbinor has connected.

[Garkash(#32382)] Garkash snarls as he misses AGAIN, and swings the mace so hard he swings himself around in a circle, and barely is able to hold on to it. Fury congests his face, turning it an ugly purple in the darkness.

Garkash attacks Strider with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.


Splat splatter! Thari, axe raised, is hit with a brief shower of soggy corpse-meat. "By Mahal's own steaming hammer!" the dwarf swears, taking a step back, shaking off the wounded, bloody arms, shaking a head to clear any debris from the gorgeous silky (if somewhat short) beard. The ruddy face is pinched in disgust.


Trying to back off, blade forward now only to block or parry as he is able, Rhifaroth is unable to move back quickly as the creature moves in, grabbing at his leg. Breathing hard, the man grabbles briefly with the Uruk-hai and makes a blow with the pommel of his blade for Gnarsh's thick head crowned with dark, twisted locks. But the creature's clawed hand digs into his leg wound savagely.

His own teeth bared in his tattooed face, Rhifaroth manages to break free of the Uruk-hai's grip, or is thrust back even as Gnarsh licks his hand and raises his own blade to make another strike at the badly wounded man.

But the stones of the ruin are scattered and many in the darkness. His left leg and breast slicked with his own blood, the Southern Dunadan hears his name called by Strider even as his injured leg gives out beneath him and falls amid the ruins. The steel of his blade rings against stone as an arrow clips Gnarsh and brings much needed distraction. Somewhere his bow string was cut and fell into the darkness. Dazed and hurting, Rhifaroth tries to to gain some cover.


You forego your chance to attack.

Naalg squeals in fright, using his curved blade to deflect Frarin's mighty orc-bapper. The Snaga reels back slightly, balancing precariously on a slab of stone, fighting with Frarin, taking a few wide swings as he tries to steady himself, "Have at you!" he cries, thrusting forward with his blade aimed at Frarin's belly.


By now the sweat gleams upon the brow of Strider as he whirls about, parrying a strike here and wincing as another catches his knee. But ever is he moving, ducking and stepping as best he can to stay alive; broken blade slicing out with wrath. Thus does he evade Garkash's mace more by luck than judgement, the heavy head battering into one of the orc's fellows with a sickening crunch.

The moment of confusion as it writes itself across the yrch's faces is all Strider needs, and with a desperate hack he sends his sword down as though to hew away Garkash's remaining good hand.

Naalg attacks Frarin with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!

Strider attacks Garkash with his Longsword and severely wounds him!


After getting rid of its impromptu meal, Kwar's warg stands heaving for another moment and then makes a dive forward after Thari - after all she is wearing most of the delicious meal that it just threw up.

Kwar smiles maliciously as the warg seems to come into control once more.

"Thought ye'd escape, ya lil maggot," he growls and then is jounced half out of the saddle as the warg lands stiff legged in front of the female dorf.

Kwar reaches forward and swings his axe in an upward motion. A very weak swing, considering the position he is in.

Kwar attacks Thari with his War Hammer and moderately wounds it!


As the human weakly strikes his head, it sounds as a bell in the dark, and yet the Uruk-hai's changed focus remains upon Annaiel. Three steps forward, and an arrow strikes Gnarsh in the chest. The impact causes a misstep, but rather than do much harm, it causes rage. The slower steps speed up, and he opens his mouth wide as he unleases a fearsome roar. Lifting his blade as he nears the archer, he aims to strike the bow from her hands.

Gnarsh attacks Annaiel with his Short Broadsword and mildly wounds her!

[Frarin(#31050)] Naalg's blade hits again, but lightly this time, licking out and slicing across Frarin's stomach. The tunic is torn and the blow will likely leave a bruise, but the chain mail holds true. The dwarf takes advantage of the outstretched arm, however. Taking his hammer in boths hands one, even with the left arm now almost entirely red with blood, Frarin grunts with effort as he swings the mallet of his hammer at Naalg's left elbow.

Frarin attacks Naalg with his War Hammer and lightly wounds him!


Freeing the bow from her hands he does not and Annaiel takes the blow of his sword, glancing off her shoulder. Turning with it, the impact will leave a bruise, but not much more. Gold glitters within those ebon curls, striking out against the midnight color like the inky darkness now shattered by the light of her torch, still settled against the side of the ruins.

Skirting the edge of the top of Amon Sul, she finds footing and clips her bow to her back, settled into a slight haunch as her hands are now free of it, meaning to take up her sword next, the hilt grabbed, yet unpulled. The sparrow's gaze keeps upon the orc, measuring his strength and finding reason to hesitate in direct combat with the creature.


Hand nothing. Garkash was twisting with the weight of his blow when the sword hits him. He stands for a few vital dangerous moments, gaping down at where his arm used to be. Blood spurts from the stump just below his elbow. The only good thing about the whole mess is that it wasn't his good arm after all, and thus, he still holds his mace. Not completely defenseless.. yet. Then he looks up, and the madness is gone from his eyes, leaving behind a cold purpose that blots out fear. "Get you!" he snarls. "We'll get you, light lover, maggot!" His eyes flicker to the other orcs who fight nearby, some behind the ranger and perhaps drawing nearer.

[Thari(#31038)] The upward motion of Kwar's swing clocks Thari on the hair-padded chin. The dwarf's head jerks back for a moment. Down it goes, and a step is taken aside. From this spot, the dwarf swipes at Kwar's midsection.

Thari attacks Kwar with its Axe and moderately wounds him!


A grim stare is all the reply Aragorn makes to Garkash; gazing upon the orc for the length of a breath ere the fray takes him anew. The other goblin beside him keeps him busy, even as others approach, and so the Dunadan wheels about all the more.

Pants of effort follow each swing of his blade, and not least the stab he sends Garkash's way amid the flurry of blows. Out his broken blade lunges, seeking to make an end of the mace-holding menace.

Strider attacks Garkash with his Longsword and mortally wounds him!

Naalg growls a bit as his elbow gets bapped. "Bwagh!" he cries, scooting backwards a bit. He rubs at his elbow, moaning a little as he loots to Frarin, his eyes narrowing, "That.... hurt.... that... REALLY-REALLY-REALLY HURT!" he shouts, full of rage as he takes another flailing swing at the stunty, merely aiming to land a blow anywhere on the dwarf, driven on by the throbbing pain in his chest and arm.

Naalg attacks Frarin with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!


Panting for breath where he lays, for a moment Rhifaroth is too dizzy from shock or blood loss to even try to get up. But the man hasn't lost his head or his senses. Battle continues to rage in the ruins and all over Amon Sul in the night.

Lifting his head, keeping a hand on his long sword, the Southerner garbed in Ranger grey eases himself further into a pile of fallen stones and drags his small pack from under himself.

In the darkness Rhifaroth gets his pack open and manages to drag out the bandages he kept from before. Working with both hands he begins to try and bind up his leg wound to stop some of the bleeding. If need be, it might help him regain his feet. Grey eyes glance up, keeping watch for new foes that might fall upon him, trying to see what is going on around him with the others. There is a flicker of torchlight but it is not enough.


Around the edges of the melee, an orc skirts rapidly, scimitar clutched firmly in his right hand. His eyes fall upon one of the dwarves and light up like a child at Christmas: the scimitar is lifted and the orc darts forward, like an eel, the very picture of homicidal excitement until a longsword passes through his neck and he falls over as if he had been run over by a troll.

Talbinor steps forward, Duceber glittering, smoking with blood in the cool night sky, grey eyes sweeping about for an additional quarry. Seeing a figure bent over in injury, Talbinor darts forward with his sword in hand towards the struggling Gondorian - however, more than one orc stands in his path. And, dancing off to the side to avoid potential accident, Talbinor begins swinging, steel clashing against steel as he tries to fight his way through.


"An that's how its done!" Kwar exclaims in delight as the blow he didn't expect to land knocks the dwarf flying. Thus it is that he is completely unprepared for her retaliation stroke from the side. "Gonna eat yer brains...OOOOF!" His singing chant is cut short by a powerful blow to the stomach. Winded, he flops down on the neck of his warg desperately trying to catch his breath. It's a good thing his battle axe is attached to his wrist by a thong or he would've dropped it.


Nostrils flare, and the Uruk-Hai draws in a deep breath, and as his blow glances off the target, he reaches out as if to grasp hair. Missing completely, he does manage to spatter blood from his left hand upon her. "Come bleed for me," he whispers between sharpened teeth as he takes a step forward to face off against the she-human. Reaching up he grasps the arrow still stuck in his armor and he snaps it off, and tosses it to the ground. Using brute strength, Gnarsh lunges forward as if to stab at Annaiel's stomach.

Gnarsh attacks Annaiel with his Short Broadsword and mildly wounds her!

[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin skips back a step as the scimitar whips out again, this time catching the dwarf across the shoulder. But the wildly flailing blade is not wielded with enough force to damage the hauberk beneath. Another rip to the shabby red tunic, another bruise, but Frarin is not put off. The skip back, however, does hint at something mildly wrong with the dwarf, for he stumbles unnaturally as he seeks to quickly reverse his step and lunge forward again. Perhaps the blow to the head is bothering him more than the blood along the right side of his face would betray.

Whether accident or injury, however, the stumble does not stop Frarin's spur forward. The spike of the hammer whips out again, this time aiming for Naalg's left hip.

Frarin attacks Naalg with his War Hammer, but he misses by an arm's length.

[Garkash(#32382)] Breathing harshly, the pain beginning to take hold - as well as loss of blood - Garkash is slow to lift his mace again. Slow to get it up to defend himself; slower still to try and attack again. The weapon is rising but too late. The other's sword bites above it, stabbing deep into the orc's gut. The force of the blow pushes him off-balance as well. In a last-ditch effort, he drags his mace up, but it grows heavier by the second. The weight pulls him sideways and finally, he falls, eyes still pinned to Strider. Still trying to lift the mace and attack once more. Just once more. Blood gushes out, sliming the rocks and everything nearby. Including, perhaps, a human who crouches in those rocks, hiding from sight - and hidden all the better now, for a dying orc between himself and prying eyes.

Thari watches Kwar double over, then allows silver-grey eyes to flash past him, searching elsewhere on the battlefield. Quickly now the short dwarf limps past the warg rider, toward Frarin and his foe.

Alas! Thari's wounded foot lands on a round stone, and the stronger one then stumbles on another bit of ruin jutting out, hidden by shadows and night. The dwarf falls, rolls down the steep hill. There is the sound of disturbed bushes somewhere below a moment after Thari disappears.


This blow finds even less of the Sparrow exposed. Her hand remains on her hilt as his lunch forth barely brushes the side of her armor. "Your blade is not sharp or fast enough it seems...to do as you wish." The rangeress replies. She taunts him no further and withdraws Badhron from his worn sheath.

Freeing it, she continues the flow of her blade, seeking for his neck, her intentions swift and without mercy. "You do not belong her.." She says, the flaming torch flickering and growling with hunger at its holder beside them, casting their dance into playful shadows who do less harm.

Annaiel attacks Gnarsh with her Longsword, but she misses by an arm's length.

Naalg makes a hip-thrusting motion, managing to evade Frarin's Hammer with a sensual, albeit provocative manouver. It does keep the mallet from hitting him, which elicits a wicked laugh from the wounded Snaga, "Aha! Foolish Dwarfdog! You are no match for the power of zee Flame!" he cries. Elboldened by his recent success, the Orc tries a more calculated attack, swinging at Frarin's head, seeing if he can put a dent in that helmet.


One minute the she dorf is there and then another she's gone. He blinks stupidly into the blackness of the place where she had been, and then is summarily whirled around as the warg-with-a-mind-of-its-own decides to seek new prey on the battlefield.

Naalg attacks Frarin with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!


The wildly leaping warg is just plain out of control now, and it is all Kwar can do but to hang on. Finally, the beast grows tired and stops to feed on one of the many wounded. The healer looks anxiously around, knowing that he is a sitting duck if the warg continues to misbehave.

Monty has connected.


As Garkash falls, so too do the spirits of those orcs closest to Strider; their eyes watching one of their champions die and their feet backing away a pace or two. The Ranger removes his blade from his slain foe's gut and wastes not the moment of pause. He pants with effort as he charges the orcs, and while only one falls outright, the slashes of his blade and the fire kindled in his eyes causes them to offer little resistance.

A trail of ichor and howling bodies is left in his wake as he carves through their numbers, until he stands guard alone over Garkash's corpse -- not to mention whatever it may be hiding.


Lowering his head slightly so that his eyes blaze with lust for the blood scented in the air, Gnarsh laughs. Again his nostrils flicker and his teeth are bared in anticipation. "Slow spilling blood is to be savored," Stepping back with ease, and turning to avoid the strike aimed by the female, the Hai quickly lashes back, bringing his blade forward and down as if to cut from shoulder to hip.

Gnarsh attacks Annaiel with his Short Broadsword and moderately wounds her!


Something looms up near to him, staggering towards Rhifaroth where he lays on his back in the stones of the ruin. His hands leave off the emergency binding of his leg wound, there already being a good deal of blood. Tattooed, bloody hand reaches for his long sword he has laid upon himself to free up his hands.

But Garkash's body falls upon him! Rhifoarth's long blade is pinned between orc body and his own. Black orcish blood spills freely and hot over himself as the creature's weight settles onto both man and stone.

Dragging his right hand free, Rhifaroth manages to draw up his right leg and make a grab for his boot-knife sheathed there. Gasping for breath himself, the man reaches the small blade for the orc's throat to be sure the thing is dead, his own left arm pinned below Garkash. Whatever struggle or twitching the thing was making, he puts an end to it. After a moment, Rhifaroth lays his own head back against the old stone beneath him, sucking for breath and unable to push the orc's body to free himself.

[Frarin(#31050)] The clink of metal on metal rings as Naalg's scimitar makes contact with Frarin's chain mail coif, but it has not the satisfying clang of a hard hit. Even if the blow is light, however, it seems to cause the dwarf a great deal of pain, for it connects with the same side of his head as Kwar's blow just moments before. Frarin grimaces, his eyes screwing up in pain as the blade hits. More blood oozes up between the iron rings.

Teeth grinding together, Frarin heaves a heavy breath and attempts to shake the little snaga off by bringing the mallet of his hammer around from the left, seeking to strike Naalg's right right hip.

Frarin attacks Naalg with his War Hammer and lightly wounds him!

[Talbinor(#24201)] Talbinor leaps backwards nimbly as his orc rushes at him. More sword clashes ring out, Talbinor blocking one blow with the flat of his blade then ducking away from two more. With his right arm curled up uselessly over his body, the Ranger is very careful on defense, not wishing to see himself caught by something he couldn't react to. When the orc swings, Talbinor steps back, and then the orc swings again.

Too hard! The scimitar buries in the soft earth for the fraction of a second Talbinor needs, and his sword comes down towards the orc's head. Frantically, the orc jerks out of the way and catches the flat of the blade instead: there is a loud ringing sound and the orc stumbles backwards, clutching his head in pain, scimitar left where it fell. Talbinor strides forth but the orc quickly grabs a spear from a fallen comrade, jabs forth, and the dance begins anew.


Finding that her eyes are not able the path of his sword, the fire flashing to blind her momentarily as she does, she blinks and moves too late. The uruk's blade dives in for her trying to turn, she finds the sword digging into her right shoulder. Gasping, she grits her teeth, she steps away before the fowl blade can dive deeper.

Red bleeds through the brown shirt, staining it and glittering in the same light that allows her to see and once to shoot the arrows that drew his attention. Annaiel does not back down, gripping her blade and pulling free her shield, whippin it over her left shoulder. Lifting it, she makes a thrust outward towards Gnarsh.

Annaiel attacks Gnarsh with her Longsword and lightly wounds him!

Naalg lets out another yelp of pain as that Hammer bumps his hip, bruising his black flesh a little blacker with the blow. "Owwie!" he yips, immediately favoring his other leg as he returns with another quickstrike, aimed at Frarin's arm as he takes a tenative step backwards, his feet tottering on the edge of the slab of rock.

Naalg attacks Frarin with his Scimitar, but Frarin parries the attack with his War Hammer!

[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin's hammer flies up and hits the snaga's scimitar aside with a clang, but he doesn't pause to enjoy the deflected blow. Perhaps he notices Naalg's precarious position atop the slab of rock, perhaps it is simply easier to rumble forward than attempt to balance an outstretched strike with Frarin as weary as he appears. Whatever the reason, the dwarf lunges heavily forward, swinging the spike of his hammer down and towards Naalg's shin, simultaneously aiming to ram his shoulder into the snaga's gut and throw him from the rock.

Frarin attacks Naalg with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!


Licking his lips now that blood is drawn, the Uruk-hai is taken aback as the female's weapon strikes his left ribs, piercing through his armor. Black blood oozes to cover the tip of the blade, and yet it's a light wound that shows no hint of slowing him. "Play time's over pretty hu-mon," he hisses out. Lifting his blade to the left, he now swings it forward and around as if to decapitate Annaiel's head from her shoulders.

Gnarsh attacks Annaiel with his Short Broadsword and badly wounds her!


It takes some time before Kwar manages to suck enough air into his vacant lungs so that he can raise his head above the dank fur of the warg. Angered now, he jerks upward on the reins half expecting his mount to continue ignoring his commands. Much to his astonishment, the warg's battle training takes over and the beast's head turns in the direction of the battle proper....to fix on one man in the middle of a pile of corpses. Without being bidden, it charges taking Kwar with it.

"Aieee,,,,,ahhhhaiee," he screams, parially out of fear and partially because the Morghash war cry comes naturally to his lips. As the warg pounces down on Strider, Kwar raises his battle axe and arcs it down on the ranger's head.

Kwar attacks Strider with his War Hammer, but he misses by a handspan.


Thrown? Maybe, pushed? Definetely. The Snaga's yelp is cut short as the heavy dwarf shoulder slams into his gut. The Orc's little arms flail as he is pitched over the lip of the rock, sending him rolling down the hill like a bowling ball, his head hitting every rock on the way down, heralded with an, "Ouch!" or an "Oww!" or "OOF!" as he hits each rock, pin-balling his way between the rocks as he rolls down the hill.


Back up. Forward. The orc jabs his spear towards Talbinor's ribs, but the Ranger is too quick and the orc too unused to his weapon. One blow severs the head of the spear from the staff, and the orc brings up the wooden stick like a quarterstaff as if expecting it to protect him. The second slash proves him incorrect, and the orc collapses with a neat sandwich-shaped cut through his collarless neck.

The Ranger rushes forth, towards the fray, and towards one of the larger creatures that has one of his comrades on the ropes. A quick dart to the left to avoid an Orc hurdling through the air and Talbinor is before Gnarsh. There is no cry of anger, no fancy battle-yell; the lefthander just darts in and takes a swing for the Uruk-hai's midsection.

Talbinor attacks Gnarsh with his Longsword, but Gnarsh parries the attack with his Short Broadsword!


The teeth of a warg are enough to engage even the stoutest of warriors, and so it is that Strider's reflexes are sorely tested by the dual threat of the beast and its rider. Here he dodges a bite, only to receive a scratch of claw upon his arm; there he is pressed back, and only just evades the anger of Kwar's hammer.

A man can only do so much, and as he is pressed back he slices out with his broken blade; seeking the wild heart of the warg first and foremost.


The pinned man who's down, laying amid the fallen stones of the old ruins with the battle raging on all around him, tries once more to push Garkash's limp body off of himself. But Rhifaroth hasn't the strength left. His own breathing ragged, he turns his head to try and see, but there is nothing more he can do.

There are only dark, unclear shapes moving all around himself.

Somewhere in the west through the thickening mist of the muggy summer's night, the waxing gibbous moon hangs.


Shield nor sword blocks the blow and even as she tries, her injured right arm does not give her strength of movement. Annaiel's blade is slow to react and in doing so the uruk, strong and immune to the pain, no even gaining strength from it, comes down strong upon the rangeress.

Bow and arrow are her allies, and the heavy steel in her hand does not respond. The orc's blade flies true and scores a hit deep upon her back as she tries to turn away.

She cries out as he cuts through her leathers and cloak, nearly breaking her bow, though the blade misses. She goes to one knee, watching the rushing form of Talbinor, vaguely recognizing him.

Pushing herself up with a breadth of distraction. Turning with sword in hand, she adds to her comrade's attack, seeking an opening even as her attack weakens with the warm flow of her life's blood.

Annaiel attacks Gnarsh with her Longsword, but she misses by a long shot.


As warg and rider pass Strider, Kwar again falls forward over his warg's neck as the blow he sent meets air and he overbalances. Unable to halt the forward rush of his warg, he grimly clings onto its fur and does his level best to turn it. In this he is aided by the appearance of another riderless warg that attempts to take a bite out of his.

A well placed hobnailed boot on the second warg's nose discourages it, and Kwar manages to force his mount into a galloping run at the Dunedain.

Kwar rides low over the withers of his beast, his war hammer winding up for smashing blow to Strider's upper body.

Strider pages: This is getting sillier and sillier.

Kwar attacks Strider with his War Hammer, but he misses by a handspan.

[Frarin(#31050)] The scrawny snaga is gone is a second, leaving Frarin breathing heavily as eyes pry the dark bushes for signs of his returning quarry. But Naalg does not reappear and leaves in his wake only a chorus of cries as he bounces down the hill. Frarin turns back towards the top of the hill, perhaps searching for some sign of the forgotten Thari. But the other dwarf is not to be seen, whereas the brute upon his warg is. Teeth still grinding together, Frarin shakes his head again to steady his steps towards Kwar as the mounted uruk attacks the strange Ranger.

Frarin nears the warg and rider, coming from behind Kwar and hacking aside other uruks in his path. Then, when the dwarf is finally close enough, the spike of his hammer flies up, cutting a straight path for the old healer's back.

Frarin attacks Kwar with his War Hammer, but he misses by a mile.


Fortune is indeed upon the side of evil, for a strike from no where clashes harshly against Gnarsh's Broadsword. Steel rings out against steel, and the Uruk-hai grunts with effort to push back the new attack. Sharp teeth bite into his lip, and he spits a mix of saliva and black blood towards this new opponent.

Looking over his shoulder to savor the stike upon the female, yellow eyes blaze as he takes in the sight of rich sweet blood before he turns his attention to the newest threat. Roaring loudly, with his mouth extended so that his teeth are fully bared, he launches forward with his weapon raised. Nearing Talbinor, he swings downwards as if to cut into the human's shoulder.

Gnarsh attacks Talbinor with his Short Broadsword and moderately wounds him!


The charge of Kwar's mount is a savage thing to face, but the Dunadan has little option as the beast bears down upon him. Standing still for long moments he waits until it is almost upon him, ere he slips and pivots away to the left. The beast caroons past him, Kwar with it, and the rider is Strider's target as he stabs his skyward.

Strider attacks Kwar with his Longsword and terribly wounds him!


With his blade ringing back off the Uruk-hai's, Talbinor barely has enough time to wince and turn against the inevitable counter-attack. He takes the blow to the shoulder but it's his useless right shoulder: he cringes, blood comes out of a newly opened wound, but when the Ranger backs away, Duceber still in hand, he looks little worse for wear.

"So that's how we're going to do it, is it?" the Ranger asks, small smile appearing on his face. A quick, side-long glance to Annaiel, and then Talbinor takes a swift step forward, ducks pre-emptively, and thrusts firmly towards the Uruk-hai's armoured torso.

Talbinor attacks Gnarsh with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.


Badhron falls short of his intended target, the blade slipping into the earth to keep the rangeress up. She tests her wound, rolling her shoulder as she winces, the right side of her back cut deeply and her right arm slick with blood from the side of it as well. The sound of steel upon steel is like a chorus of unknown power and she pushes herself up, the strike upon Talbinor witnessed.

"You were fighting me!" She proclaims, trying to draw the attention away, even if it may be futil. Her booted foot grinds hard upon the ground, her body pulling its weight into the failling shoulder, powering the strike.

Annaiel attacks Gnarsh with her Longsword, but she misses by a mile.


Kwar screams as his war hammer meets air and the ranger's longsword penetrates his side. A spurt of ebon blood leaves him in no doubt about the seriousness of his wound. When one of the short hairy ones appears as if by magic as he and his mount move forward past the ranger, he has no strength to battle or duck, but by great good fortune the dwarf misses his mark.

Kwar's eyes begin to lose their focus, his only desire now is to escape the battle, and to this effect he wacks the warg on the flank with his war hammer, startling it into a renewed run. Unfortunately, it is not towards safety but straight back at the ranger. Realizing the mistake too late, all the healer can do is raise his war hammer and strike weakly downward while passing.

Kwar attacks Strider with his War Hammer, but he misses by a long shot.

[Hephtur(#1434)] The cries of battle, the death and the blood of this clash between the Morian host and the assembled men and dwarves has not gone unwitnessed.

Stooped behind an ancient ruined pillar of this once mighty fortress is Hephtur, who has been lurking in the shadows. Waiting, ever waiting for the moment to announce his arrival.

It has come. He steps out from behind the ruin he has been lurking in and begins to march towards the scene of battle. He carries his battle axe in both hands, his chest poised outward and his usual spiked hair covered now with a helm. His movements are sturdy and yet still bizarrely predatorial. And so Hephtur emerges, and then halts - and simply stands there, his presence announced but his intentions a mystery.


Strider ducks the blow as Kwar goes; weak as it was, but the speed of the beast is great indeed. No time to slice out at the orc in reply the Ranger gives a last ditch effort at hacking at the warg's hindlegs; perhaps seeking to hamstring the beast ere it can escape.

[Frarin(#31050)] As the Ranger strikes at the wargs legs, Frarin renews his attack on its rider. Quickly stalling the swing of his hammer as it flies past Kwar, the dwarf turns its direction and aims it back at the uruk. This time the mallet leads the swing, soaring fast for Kwar's abdomen.

Frarin attacks Kwar with his War Hammer and severely wounds him!


And so the Ranger's longsword connects with Kwar's warg. Just the back leg, but it is enough to completely cleave off the bottom half of the back leg. The beast roars in anger and attempts to spin on three legs, clumsily falling to one side and opening its rider up to a sneak attack by the dwarf he attempted to kill earlier.

Kwar weakly flails out blindly with the war hammer as he is tossed past Frarin.

Kwar attacks Frarin with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!


"We let you bleed out," Gnarsh hisses as he steps away from the swing of the human's sword. "Then we feast upon your still fresh carcasses." Snarling as would a warg, the hatred and anger that boils into the Uruk-hai's expression. "Die...." He calls out as he swings his blade once more, making the pass from the ground upwards to the opposite shoulder.

Landing the blow or not, the Hai turns in time to miss the attack from the female. "Not down, not forgotten." he snarls as he moves out of her weapons path. "Wait your turn." he snarls as he looks back to see what damage his blow might have had upon the male.

Gnarsh attacks Talbinor with his Short Broadsword and moderately wounds him!


Again, Talbinor must twist to avoid the Uruk-hai's blow, and again he doesn't -quite- make it, the blade scoring past his armour, along his armpit, and scoring past the shoulder of his that actually works. Talbinor lets out a cry of pain, falling to the ground, though his grip on his sword remains steady in spite of the light spray of blood that lands on his grimy cheek.

Without further ado or ceremony, Talbinor twists like a snake on the ground and jabs, once again, towards the Uruk-hai, this time not even bothering to stand.

Talbinor attacks Gnarsh with his Longsword, but Gnarsh parries the attack with his shield!


Finding her sword no measure against this foe, she falls back a few paces and lowers to one knee, gritting her teeth as her blood continues to run from her right shoulder and back. Sheathing her sword with some difficulty, she lays her shield down. "Hold him, Restless.." She whispers to her friend.

Pulling her bow swiftly from her shoulder, its weight familiar to her, she sets an arrow its string. Despite the tense raw pain of her wounds, she takes a moment, drawing back as the torche's flames flicker and dance over the shape of Gnarsh, though she seems to have some trouble.


As Frarin and Kwar trade blows, the claws of the warg seem to worry Stride all the more, and seeing his moment he darts forward. The longsword, missing its tip and final third stabs forth at the beast, searching for the wide gullet in a bid to open it up and rid the land of the snarling menace.

[Hephtur(#1434)] Hephtur's steel eyes survey the battlefield with continued curiousity, but he is suddenly his attention is focused on the lone Uruk-hai who wrecks havoc on the battle field. Hephtur grunts loudly - an almost inhuman grunt - and begins to surge towards Gnarsh with surprising speed. As he charges his axe comes over his head, dodging other dances of battle and centering his energy on Gnarsh. As he approaches he seems to ignore the Ranger with whom the Uruk-hai struggles with, and simply swings his axe cruelly at the body of the great orc.

Hephtur attacks Gnarsh with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds him!

[Frarin(#31050)] Frarin skips back a step as Kwar's warg spins in pain at its missing leg, but again that former blow to the head seems to trouble the dwarf, for his step in clumsy and distracted eyes go to the ground so as to regain his footing. The action costs Frarin, however, for even Kwar's weak strike manages to make contact with the dwarf, catching him at the base of the neck. Iron rings are driven into the flesh there and a few from the chain mail coif are even dislodged, driving Frarin temporarily back.

Again the dwarf's teeth grit together and an unintelligible growl rumbles forth from his chest. Charging once again, Frarin swings the spike of his blue hammer up and around, aiming for Kwar's chest.

Frarin attacks Kwar with his War Hammer, but Kwar parries the attack with his War Hammer!


The snarling menace that was Kwar's warg snaps viciously at the Ranger as he approaches. Its jewel bright eyes glare fiercely at its tormentor as it lunges forward trying to gain a crushing hold on Strider. Hampered as it is by its missing leg, it can only try to pull itself around to awkwardly keep facing the Ranger. Its last lunge is its undoing for the keen longsword forces its way into dense hair of its neck and opens the carotid artery. Ebon blood sprays out in a fountain and the beast roars ang gurgles, shaking its head in a vain attempt to dislodge the sword.

Kwar lies crumpled in a heap some distance away and is barely able to raise his hammer in self protection. It is enough, however to stave off Frarin's attack for the moment. He desperately pokes upward at his tormenter, knowing that it is only a matter of time before he blacks out.

Kwar attacks Frarin with his War Hammer and badly wounds him!


COMBAT: Your health improves.


Missing the jab from the downed human, Gnarsh holds his weapon up as if to bring it down for a kill. This moment passes, and in fact all seems to fade into a single blinding moment of pain as an axe comes down against his shoulder. Howling in pain and anger, the Uruk-hai turns with intent to continue the battle with this latest opponent.

Eyes grow wide, and a broadsword raised falters as fear flickers in the beasts yellowing eyes. Does an army come? Is there some sight that turns a battling demon to a whimpering kitten? Nothing is said as the now injured Hai steps back and turns. Running now from the fight, he quickly slips into darkness and is lost.


As the warg perishes at last, Strider's clothing is awash with blood from the beast's wounds, and it is only with a grunt of effort that he finally wrenches free his blade from its throat. Taking in a pant or two as his eyes dart around him, the Ranger sees the plight of Frarin -- a light rasp signaling his attention.

Even as the uruks watch this fresh duel with glowing eyes, the Dunadan charges to the dwarf's aid, and with a powerful lunge he sends the shortened longsword in search of the orc's black heart.

Strider attacks Kwar with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

[Hephtur(#1434)] Hephtur switfly retracts his now blood stained axe blade and nods in satisfaction as the Uruk-hai flees. As Gnarsh disappears into the abyss, he turns to the Ranger Talbinor and takes a cautious step toward him. He simply stands there, breathing heavily with a lowered axe.


When the axe strikes the Uruk-hai, Talbinor hardly seems to notice it. Indeed, the clash of his sword against his foe's shield shivers his injured arm still further and his longsword nearly - nearly - drops from his grip, though the Ranger keeps his grasp, still rearing back for another strike until the Uruk-hai is halfway through the forest.

Then he stands, and regards his peculiar saviour with an expression somewhere between surprise and concern that his arms are both going to fall off. He looks at Hephtur for a moment, returning the half-orc's gaze, and though he doesn't lift his blade to attack it remains ready by his side.

<Isengard> Gnarsh would love to go back and read some of the poses I missed since I was actually trying to keep up with all my disconnects.


One blow. One blow struck and by an odd sight indeed. Tilting her head, the Sparrow eases the tension on her bow, she lets it drop to her side, arrow remaining locked upon the tring. Held tightly in her hand, she stands, eyeing the 'man' newly joined to the battle for a long moment.

It is short lived, very short. She stands then, pushing up and taking her shield upon her left arm once more. Annaiel moves towards Talbinor, a questioning gaze sent to him as she hurries, the battle still going on about them, though weakened. "Restless! Rhifaroth is here, I saw him...but I see him no longer." She says, pain held in tight check as she winces, her blood painting her back. She does not yet see the remarkability of Hephtur yet, gazing upon her comrade instead and then outward, searching, her weapon ready.


Kwar's consciousness flickers on an off - first the blackness and then - he sees a light and turns to grasp for it. "Th-the Flame!" he gasps. His other hands slides wetly through the slimy black blood that has drenched his clothes and mail. It feels for the wound and encounters a ropy surprise. His entrails are escaping from his body, but the knowlege of this does not seem to be important, for the light is there. "The Flame, the Flame," he gasps again weakly and turns on his side to capture it. Thus it is that Strider's blade misses his black heart.

[Frarin(#31050)] A desperate poke from Kwar, perhaps, but a successful one. Rather, a /very/ successful one. Frarin lunges after the dismounted uruk and, by some bad fortunate, is simultaneously shoved from behind. A tiny snaga, dying apparently from some crucial blow to the stomach, runs blindly into the dwarf's back and Frarin is forced forward, doubling the power with which Kwar's axe rips mercilessly into midsection.

The blade catches the dwarf just below the ribcage, dislodging the iron rings of his chain mail hauberk and cutting a deep gash into his abdomen. A grunt and a growl is all Frarin manages, the blow having winded him, and he presses his right forearm against his stomach as blood darkens the tunic. Bent nearly double, Frarin lashes out angrily, letting gravity lend power to his hammer as the long spike soars straight down toward's Kwar's head.

Frarin attacks Kwar with his War Hammer, but he misses by a mile.

[Hephtur(#1434)] Hephtur comes to stand but a foot away from the Ranger Talbinor and bends over quickly to grab the sword of the injured Ranger. Examining it briefly, he offers the hilt to Talbinor without expression. "There are vermin to kill." He says flatly, his voice a low hiss, almost a growl.


Temporarily revitalized, Kwar branishes his war hammer in no particular direction. Perhaps, he is out of his head with pain, for it is obviously the dying effort of a reluctant warrior.

Kwar attacks Frarin with his War Hammer and badly wounds him!


The whirling, bleeding dervish that is Kwar holds Strider's gaze as yet, and with this fresh strike the Dunadan grits his teeth and shakes raven locks in disapproval. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he spits in the crude, vulgar tongue of the goblins, and slices out with his sword anew.

The blade sears the air, looking to hew the foul uruk's head from his shoulders.

Kwar collapses to the ground, defeated by Strider!

[Combat(#13388)] Kwar's weapon "Skull Cruncher" falls to the ground...


There was of course no hope that the healer was going to be goint back to the mines of MOria, but as the black glitter fades from his eyes and the cherished war hammer drops from his lifeless hands, a fangy smile can be briefly seen on the head that flies upward, then bounces along across the battlefield to land at Farar's feet.


Taking the offered sword, Talbinor nods at the foul creature which offers it to him. "Well-spoken," he replies in his quiet Common, although he doesn't mention what vermin he thinks are about.

Then, careful not to let Hephtur see his back -too- quickly, Talbinor rushes forward. His legs, at least, work, and the Restless one is soon back into the fray, his sword no longer lifted quite so high, his footwork no longer quite so brilliant, but his eyes looking like tempered steel and his skill seeing him through.

COMBAT: Your health improves.

[Frarin(#31050)] Luck seems on Kwar's side again as the dying uruk strikes blindly, for the stumbling Frarin has not the quickness to skip away from the wild axe this time. Still doubled over, the blade sinks without mercy into the dwarf's left calf, even as the old healer is decapitated at Frarin's side. But no eye does he have for Kwar's fate now, for the blow to his leg sweeps Frarin's leg out from under him.

The dwarf crashes to the stony foundation of the old tower, remaining propped up on his good leg just long enough to see the twisted head of Kwar roll in front of him. But if Frarin registers the uruk's defeat, he makes no sign of it. With a last grunt and heavy breath, the dwarf collapses entirely, blue war hammer still grasped tightly in one hand. And there he remains for the time, lying bleeding upon his back, beside Kwar's decapitated body, and his eyes seem only able to glare wearily at the stars above.


The man by the dwarf's side watches Kwar's headless corpse fall, hard-eyed and covered in the gore of battle, but all too soon he turns his gaze to the dwarf and stoops at once. He reaches for the khazad's hand, grasping tight and heaving with what strength he has left even as the orcs around them gape on at the death of their warg captain. 'Come on, my brave friend..' he says with effort, 'we must get out of here while they are still stunned...'

He raises his head at something then, turning to face Annaiel's cry out over the tower, and he calls back in reply: "<Sindarin> The Southerner is alive, if damaged, Sparrow! Restless, you and she must get him away quickly..."


Wordless, Annaiel watches her kin move on, her eyes flitting about then to try to find the southron herself. Biting at her lip, she murmurs something softly, giving a faint look to Hephtur. The rangeress does not idle long for goblins still roam the ruins of Amon Sul. The call from Strider gives her pause and she thus turns, looking over her shoulder. Nodding to his words, she moves then, to the area she saw Rhifaroth last; purpose in her step.

She starts to shift through the fallen, some of them faint shapes as she steps further away from where she left her torch burning to aid her allies. The Sparrow keeps her bow and places her shield upon her back.

It is then she spots the blanketed body of her friend. Swiftly at his side, the healer is upon her knees, working to free him of his putrid covering, assessing his wounds with care. If left to be, the Dunadan sees to his well being before seeking the help to carry him away from what battles remain.

[Hephtur(#1434)] Hephtur watches the actions of the healer Annaiel intently. When it becomes clear whom she is atending to, he quickly jogs over to her. "The man of the tattoos must live." He says, ever bluntly. He places his blood stained axe in his hilt and pushes the body of the orc off of the mangled Rhifaroth.

[Frarin(#31050)] Light seems to dance before Frarin's eyes, or are those stars? Fire? Whatever it is, it is soon blotted out as the shape of the Ranger whose name Frarin knows not bends to heft the dwarf to his feet. Frarin looks almost sleepy as he drags his feet beneath him, still pressing his right arm against the gash in his stomach. But a ragged glance around and the dwarf seems to make an effort to pull himself up. Still leaning heavily on the Ranger, Frarin attempts to lean also upon his hammer, using the half to support himself.


As the foreigner arrives at her side, the Sparrow can not help but look up to him, ebon brows furrowing at his words. "Of course, he will." She assures him, watching the body of Garkash lifted like a feather. Her lips part as it does, hands left empty where she had tried to do the same, but failed. "Thank you.." She intones, though a bit uncertain. There is not time for second guessing gifts of chance and she notes the grievous wound to his leg. Cloth is torn free of her pouch at her side, and the linen strips are field wrapped, swift, tight and without hesitation.

Once done, she looks up to Hephtur then, having no choice. "I need your help, I can not carry him.” She instructs, motioning with her hand.


"Must we -really- retrieve him?" Talbinor murmurs, softly to himself, blood drenching his cloak on both shoulders. But, with one more orc driven away with a wound to the leg, Talbinor sheathes his sword and jogs slowly towards the fallen Gondorian. Doing his duty.

[Hephtur(#1434)]  Hephtur seems weary of mention of moving east, but nonetheles lifts the unconscious Rhifaroth and slings him up over his shoulder with a grunt. "We should move quickly while the vermin are in a panic," he says and begins to trod eastwardly.
"I'll help you, but I ain't interested in dealing with any pointed ear folk." Suddenly emotion is injected into his tone as he utters the last sentence. His steels eyes scan all around him, ready for any sort of orcish ambush.
Moving with Frarin if he can, Strider makes for the northern edge of the tower, where a thin stair as yet leads down to the plains. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he bids Talbinor and Annaiel, giving Hephtur a keen glance of interest but with little time to do aught else. He turns back to the dwarf and says in a quiet, firm tone:
'Left, then right, then left again, my friend. Your legs and I will get you safely away...'
        "Then I will ask them to wear hats or hoods... for now we have to worry over him, not who we shall meet." Annaiel states rather briskly, keeping her bow at ready even as Talbinor starts to come up from behind them. She turns then, quickly pausing in her step to raise her bow, readying. Upon sighting
down on her kin, she relaxes and lowers her bow, nodding to him as she moves a bit labored now to keep up with Hephtur.
	Near the stairs they meet up with Strider, his words receiving another nod, "So it shall be, to the Chetwood." She says, gazing up at the Rhifaroth toting figure, "No pointed ears there." She moves then, motioning for him to go first as she follows, making sure to cover their retreat, staying near the
Restless at the tail end of their departure.
        "To the Chetwood," Talbinor agrees as the Rangers gather, not showing a lot of concern for the Gondorian over the shoulder of the one he was previously sosuspicious of. "As good a place to lick our wounds as any." Sparing a glance around at his fellow warriors, Talbinor presses his lips together briefly, and then he, too, melts into the forest.
[Frarin] Perhaps the myth of that stubborn dwarven pride really is just as true as they say, or perhaps the patient words commanding Frarin's every step are enough. The reason really doesn't matter, because Frarin wearily places foot in front of foot, and as he moves, he seems to gain some semblance of stability.
With the Ranger's help, the dwarf manages to descend the north side of the hill at a semi-quick pace. And behind man and dwarf come others equally wounded and seeking escape. But, as always, too many are left behind.