Real time is: Sat Sep 13 18:49:40 1997

Elendor time is: Twilight (about 8 PM) on Mersday of Summer - Midsummer 1, 3012

Analdin exits the fort quietly, taking in the scene before him. Eyes dark and observing, his gaze darts about until he finds something to hold his attention.

Osgiliath: Western Ruins - Gondorian Garrison

You step into the camp of the Gondorian garrison on Osgiliath, perhaps expecting that at night it will be peaceful and quiet. The exact opposite is in fact true...a dozen watch-fires are kindled amidst the ruins of the former glory of Osgiliath, and at least as many black-clad men of Minas Tirith patrol the camp, their eyes flitting nervously about them in the darkness. You hear a flapping above you and flinch...suddenly...

...and then blush when you look up and realize that it is only the flapping of the pennons attached to the tops of the tents. As you gaze upwards, your eyes fall on the bright jewel of Earendil's star, far to the west...tracking eastwards, Varda's jewels seem to dim to a grey nothingness hovering above the Ephel Duath, the black wall of rock to the east.








Obvious exits:

West leads to Osgiliath: Western Ruins - Old Merchant Quarter.

North leads to Osgiliath: Northern Ruins - Old Residential Area.

Fortification leads to Osgiliath: Gondorian Fortification - Main Bunker.

East leads to Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Western Section.

Teledunestal nods to Ithilir as he passes his guard post.

Ravenwyr mills about with a dark look, days spent like a trapped animal pacing and limping in anger as he watches the ruins and mutters to himself. He ignores most, speaking to none and has only eyes for one face he seeks.

Ithilir calls to a nearby Squire, and says,"Inform the Knights that we shall ride East ere long, and that they should make ready." He nods to Teledunestal as he passes.

l llachhal

At 6'8", the man before you is somewhat past his youth, his long raven hair with the few flecks of grey tied back with a leather thong. Storm-grey eyes seem to study everything around him, as though by habit. His tanned face, with it's chisled Numenorean lines, and his lithe build and quick careful movements hint at an active life spent outdoors. His tunic is a green, dark and with spots of darker green to it; the pants similar, brown with darker brown patches. They tuck into supple brown leather boots, worn with use and covered with dried mud in places. A suit of well-oiled studded leather armor covers his upper body, and a helm and shield are strapped to his back. Girt about his waist is an ancient sword, it's scabbard well oiled, though the belt it is attached to is worn. Also on the belt are several pouches of various sizes. A polished yew longbow is slung over one shoulder, while strapped to his back is a brown leather quiver, filled with green fletched arrows. Over all is a dark green hooded cloak, a pair of green gauntlets tucked into an inner pocket. The only ornament is the silver clasp of the cloak, in the shape of a star.

Llachhal is IC.

[Ithilir(#26646)] A full company of Knights come from the West. Their shields bright, their lances keen. They stop before Ithilir, and he mounts a large Grey Mare. "We ride at the Prince's Orders. Is all in readiness?" One of the Knights nods to him, and Ithilir says,"Then Forward!"

Ravenwyr pauses to observe the assembling Knights, grim of face. The battered man limps over to listen, having been intent in his own mind's turning. Wyr checks his gear, though he's checked it hundreds of times in the past days out of lack of anything to do. He stays back out of the way of the horses and eyes those others on foot for faces he knows.

l me


Wyr is IC

Standing at 5'10" in height and lean of build, this man has rather bronze swarthy skin and sharp features. Thick, loose and overly long black hair falls down his shoulders and sometimes is blown into his dark grey eyes. It is liberally laced with silvering and his face is badly scarred down one side and across his lips. You would be inclined to judge this man to be in his forties, perhaps.

He is dressed in an off white blousy shirt with laced sleeves and unlaced throat. Snug fitting black pants are tucked into knee high black boots that were once kept shiny but are now scuffed. Dimly chain mail glints over the shirt now... he wears a grim face, hard eyes and tends to pace with anger and a limp when idle. An unusually ornate longsword hangs at his right hip instead of his own plain one. Also of note is that his cane he always carries is missing.

[Ithilir(#26646)] The Company of Knights, 100 strong, head east at an easy trot, followed quickly by the footmen.

Another group of scouts and woodsmen, some in brown cloaks and others in green, come in a group to join those already with Llachhal. All carry longbows and quivers of arrows. Though they seem relaxed next to some of the other forces gathered, all are ready to move at a word. There is some quiet conversation in the group, then Llachal moves a little further into the camp, looking for familiar faces.

Analdin slips between some people, watching closely so no feet are stepped on, and makes his way in Ravenwyr's direction, though stays well behind him.

Teledunestal watches the troops pass out as he comes in off of the watch and readies himself to join the reserve troops within the camp area.

The ex-Commander catches sight of Analdin and nods to that younger man, "Corporal."

Analdin moves up a bit closer, eyes darting about. Hearing Ravenwyr's greeting, he nods in return, "Sir."

Ravenwyr rubs his face, wiping unwashed grit, sweat and hair from his eyes as he watches the first of the men slipping out into the ruins. He mutters, "I hate this place." As night descends around them to mask the stones and muffle odd sounds, faint creeks of leather and jingles of bits can be heard from the Knight's horses preparing to depart. The man looks away from the Corporal to watch the night around them, left hand on his loosened blade. Finally after a long moment of silence, he speaks again, but more to himself, "I have only been back to this cursed place once before... after my capture. I loath it. Many faces no longer living rest here in these stones."

Llachhal waits on the signal to start, yet still looks around for old friends. He spots Ravenwyr, just as a signal is given to move out and there is no time for anything now. He takes another quick glance at an old friend, seldom seen. He passes the signal to move out and with in moments, the group is moving towards the bridge, sliding into the various shadows as they leave the garrison, to enter the area beyond with a silent stealth peculiar to them. All have longbows strung and arrows nocked.

Llachhal walks east and onto the bridge.

Llachhal has left.

Analdin only nods silently, looking about, though most of the time eyes resting on those in the lead.

[Ithilir(#26646)] A few minutes after the Scouts depart, Ithilir gives the command to advance, and the Knights of Dol Amroth head east.

Ithilir walks east and onto the bridge.

Ithilir has left.

Ravenwyr observes the others departing and waits, being lame and unable to walk quickly... he follows, watchful with the rear guard.

You walk onto the bridge, heading towards East Osgiliath.

Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Western Section

Here is the westernmost end of the once great bridge of Osgiliath, which spanned the Anduin in happier times. Once a place of wonder and splendour, with proud homes and palaces built astride the cobblestones, all that remains now are ruins dark and cold. The sound of a rat skittering by may startle you for a moment, but otherwise all is still in the air, and only the smell of decay and rot lingers.

Analdin comes onto the bridge from the west.

Analdin has arrived.

Analdin moves further along the bridge, heading east.

Analdin has left.

You move along the bridge, coming ever closer to East Osgiliath.

Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Center Section

Once the center of Osgiliath, shining far above the mighty waters of the Anduin, the center of the bridge has fallen into hideous disrepair. No longer do minarets sparkle into the air with their presence casting dancing shadows onto the water. No more do the pinions flutter, proclaiming with pride the strength of a swelling nation. Instead the mighty towers have been cast down into the waves, their broken corpses hidden among the raised earth and grim, stoney pilons. The bridge itself is functional; large stones weathered and cracked, but still supported by roots neither the hands of time nor those of Eastern hordes have dared to destroy. There is room enough to march an army here, despite the few sorry gaps that leer like broken teeth along the length of the central bridge.








Obvious exits:

East leads to Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Eastern Section.

West leads to Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Western Section.

Llachhal moves with the other scouts into the area of the barricades. They fan out, all low, their movements slow and practiced as they move half fully into the area. Longbows are ready, arrows nocked and they stop before moving to close, awaiting a signal from Llachhal as to the next move.

[Landromir(#10108)] In front of Landromir there lays a bound woman between the orc and the Man, seemingly something being bartered over.

Grishnakh shrugs slightly, the movement rattling the chain of his hauberk. As if idly, he steps toward Landromir still. "Your purposes are your own. I only want to know why I should allow you to leave, rather than take you AND your prize, here, to my Masters."

Landromir smiles and looks to the west, "Look westward fool and you shall know. The hour comes."

[Ithilir(#26646)] A sound as if of thunder approaches, and a few moments later, the Knights of Dol Amroth appear over the road. Their Lances held high, and their shields blue. They draw up at the end of the clearing, and stand, awaiting some signal.

Ravenwyr comes along well behind the others, limping somewhat and taking his time in the darkness, right hand out to the stones around him to guide his balance. The man is with the rearmost guard, watchful and mostly quite for mailed men on foot.

[Oglok(#24420)] The Barricades are in flurry of movement as the new night takes over, Sentries standing along the east side of the barricade. Red eyes searching the darkness...

[(#26555>] Grishnakh hisses at the sudden sound and looks westward. He turns again toward Landromir. "... ... ... If ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... regret ... Begone, ... ... ... ... ... ... ..."

[Ithilir(#26646)] Suddenly, a clear Horn Blows, clear above the din of the assembled Orcs, and as if shot from a bow, the Knight's Chargers spring to the charge.

[Landromir(#10108)] Even as Grishnakh turns to the west Landromir vanishes into the shadows.

Lynnithia tries to struggle but does not cry out. She is dirty, her clothing stained and torn somewhat with mud and travel, her hands bound tightly with rope. Her brazen red hair spills damply upon the earth simular to the color of blood if there were enough light to clearly see it. Her normally fair face is unusually pale with circles beneath her eyes with lack of sleep and fear. She is terribly frightened of the orcs, eyes rolling back sometimes as if she'd faint but she does not.

Analdin comes in with the rearguard, looking about, anger obvious in his eyes. An impatient air hangs about him, and he loosens his sword in its sheath.

Grishnakh turns to Oglok, nearby. "Lieutenant! To the barricades! I will come shortly." With that, he lopes forward, reaching out with a grasping claw for the captive, Lynnithia.

Lynnithia screams and tries to kick the foul and dark creature, terrified. She hears the horns calling and suddenly there is hope, "Help! Men of Gondor, help!" She does not know her husband too comes behind the others.

Oglok swivels his head at the noise and brings the large double bladed axe from his shoulder, hearing the vorazg's command begins to walk towards the barricade, kicking rubble and debries as he walks.

[Ithilir(#26646)] The Knights gather more speed, and as one, their lances drop to the ready. They clear half of the distance to the Orc Barricade in but a few moments.

Analdin runs behind the knights, and, upon hearing a scream, strains to look over the shoulders of the men in front of him. Eyes widening in rage, it takes all his energy not to dash out of position.

Grishnakh snarls, and with a shrug he hefts his shield over his shoulder. One massive, filthy hand he clamps over Lynnithia's mouth. With the other he lifts her easily, holding her in the crook of his elbow.

Ravenwyr picks up some speed as well but still is well behind the others, being too lame to run and keep up. With the noise of shouting and horses hooves, he does not hear Lynn's pleas for help. The man keeps his eyes not for the coming joining of arms but looks to the darkness ever searching for one man.

Llachhal passes a signal that sends those with him splitting into two groups, moving forwards and to the sides to approach the barricade from the sides, almost a flanking move. Still silent, all are soon in position, and as the knights begin to move, each side aims carefully, the men choosing those orcs stading at the barricades, then there is a whoosh as they loose a first volley of arrows only at those targeted.

Lynnithia tries to kick, huge hand over her mouth but she can do little to thwart Grishnakh.

[Oglok(#24420)] Uruks with bows and spears move into positions behind the row of crossed spikes and begin to fire arrows into the night towards where arrows fly at them while others wait for the knights to close to fire their black-fletched arrows...

Brax moves along the bridge from the east.

Brax has arrived.

Brax is an IC Male Uruk (Orc) Mordain

Thalid looks on as massive groups form around him. He sets himself into a stance. Ready for battle at any moment. He looks as he sees so many heros. As he watches poor oh Lynnithia being held captive. It looks too sad and motions toward some of the Alcarondas crew to spread apart. The crew shifts into 2 groups, with daggers and bows in hand.

[Ithilir(#26646)] The Knights stop, just out of arrow range, and rein in their horses. After a moment, one of them dismounts, and carrying a white cloth on his lance, advances a few paces. He calls in a loud booming voice. "Is their one among you that has the Rank to Parlay?"

Grishnakh jogs swiftly eastward into the thickening shadows, carrying his squirming bounty toward the nearest tents and shacks of the uruk encampment. Many orcs run past him, heading the other way. But, swift and improbably silent, already he is lost in the darkness even to them.

The older scarred man bringing up the rear of the scattered group draws the blade given to him from Denethor's own hand, Ice Toungue, the long drink of steel gleeming only a flicker from the all too little light. Ravenwyr stumbles once in the stones, cursing in a southron tongue and keeps moving, eyes shifting to look through the many man and horses to descern what lies ahead to slow the group. Someone mutters near that a woman's scream had been heard near to the front... at this Wyr snaps his head around and picks up almost a run, heading out from the gathered to try and find a path around to see, biting his lower lip.

Landromir creeps out of the ruins and stands before the barricade, his naked sword drawn. Llachhal quickly passes a signal that is repeated from the one group of scouts to those on the other side, to hold positions and not to shoot unless signaled. Or attacked.

Landromir calls out, "Ravenwyr! Come forth Southron and meet the mettle of thine death!"

Sigmaer , alerted by the sounds of combat, approaches cautiously from the west, peering into the gloom. He keeps to the shadows while gaining stock of the situation.

Ithilir calls out in an even louder voice. "Is there one among you with the Rank, or the Wit to Parley with our Forces?" He takes a further step forward.

Oglok reaching the barricade, and hearing the call of the mounted figure, smirks slightly before calling back, "Parley? For what reason would I want to talk to one of your kind...." trailing off.

Brax scratches his head and scans over the humans.

Ravenwyr stops, breathing hard to listen, still too far back to see the man but hears the hated voice he has been seeking obsessively these past weeks. The man sucks air and moves forward, finally pushing others aside to come forward where he can see. Softly he hisses, "Landromir..."

Landromir calls out again, "Ravenwyr! Come forth Southron and meet the mettle of thine death! My sword yearns for your death!"

Analdin shakes his head hard, and seems to waver over a decision. Finally, resolved look about his face, he moves up closer to the front, getting out of position, so as to see better the things that are happening.

Thalid calls upon the crew members to draw there weapons. He motions for them to get ready. He runs his fingers through his hair, and his cape flying from the breeze. He looks upon everyone, feeling the forces of good around him. His father would be glad if he were here to see this. He barks signals to the crew members again. They do as they are told. Thalid now eyes the oponents again, as battle grows closer and closer.

Ithilir turns to the orc's voice, and espying the foul creature says,"Perhaps it is in your best interest to die this day, orc? But if you and your kind would leave this place alive, you would be wise to parley!"

Landromir laughs and calls, "Ravenwyr, I know thee and you hide from my sword! Know you that your woman - soiled by your foul blood, is hastening to the House of Lamentations! The only way she may purge her soul from your loathsome hands!"

Ravenwyr ignores the others and the fact that a well placed arrow from the orcs could take him down. Instead he has eyes only for Landromir and shouts back as he comes, his limp mostly hidden, "WHERE IS LYNN YOU BASTARD?!" Denethor's blade whispers an unheard song as he cuts the air before him with it in anger.

Landromir laughs and his eyes narrow, "She goes to death! As will you! Come forth craven and meet my sword!"

Thalid says to the gruesome orc "Let her go! We don't need your kind here. This is our land, The Land Of The Men Of Gondor. Remove yourself at once! You are not welcome here."

Oglok laughs, audible even far away, "I have no reason to fear your empty threats tark, If you had the power to throw us from this bridge we would have been gone weeks ago fool..."

Brax smirks at talks.

Llachhal's eyes flash as he hears the challenge. His face turns hard as he waits to signal another volley, awaiting the end of the parley.

Brax trots to the side of Oglok. He stands just behind, listening intently.

Analdin stops not far behind Ithilir. Though he seems out of place amongst the knights assemled there, his face sports a determined yet wild look, and he glares at any that even glance at him.

Ithilir plants the haft of his lance firmly in the ground, it's white flag flutters slowly. "As you see, Orc, our forces are more than yours, we have more than enough to throw you from this bridge, Aye, and further. But it suits our purposes this day to offer you this one chance to escape. I say again, and for the final time, Will you Parley?"

Looking beyond Landromir, the tall straight Gondorian, Ravenwyr seeks any glimps of his beloved wife... but it is too dark and too far has she been taken already. He bares his teeth in his scarred face and comes, "I will kill you, YOU who are Traitor, not I. But you will tell me where she is... jackel."

Sigmaer draws his sword and purposefully joins the men of Dol Amroth.

Landromir casts back his head and laughs long and long, "I shall not tell thee fool! No more words. Draw thine sword and let this parlay end in single combat between us!"

l landromir

This man has a regal look about him. With hawkish nose and flowing long dark hair his sea grey eyes look intent. At his side is a sword in a well polished hilt and his belt is of black leather. His clothing is green in color though his hair be long and dark, swept back only presumed by his long navy blue cape that rests on his shoulders.

Ithilir looks to Ravenwyr, and waits, as if for a signal from the man.

Landromir laughs again, "Already she is beiing purged of her sin. As her nails are extracted and her hair burned and her eyes crushed and blinded as she lingers in slow torment for the evil you have brought to her."

Brax gives a puzzled look at the humans and mutters to Oglok "Humans gonna kill eachover?"

Oglok red eyes gazing from the depths of his helmet pauses a moment then speaks,"You can talk all you want Tark, But it will only be a waste of breath and delay your inevitable death."

It might be there were only two men in all Middle Earth for all the notice Ravenwyr, once Commander of the Citadel Guard, gives to those men assembled now behind him waiting. He walks the short distance out to meet the other man, sword drawn and dressed in hastily borrowed mail. No uniform does he wear but civilian clothes. He grinds his teeth with a hiss, hate hot and driving him. Wyr does not limp very noticeably but he keeps his left side forward, right leg back with the whipping arc of Ice Tounge to cleave Landromir's head if the man is slow to move, hissing even as he steps forward that last step, "You can't even imagine hell... I'll show you!"

attack/8 Landromir

You attack Landromir with your Longsword...

[Combat(#13388)->Ravenwyr] Landromir parries your attack with his Longsword!

[Grishnakh(#26555)] Drums pound rhythmically in the east, a slow beat heralding some new approach. Many of the orcs at the barricades glance back to see, but they seem expectant rather than surprised.

Landromir parries the blow and with stern hate cries, "For Gondor!" He lunges straigh at Ravenwyr's stomach.

Thalid hears war chants and battle cries as he watches in horror.

Landromir attacks you with his Longsword!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 3 hp's by Landromir's attack... have 77 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

Analdin reaches the front, and stops next to Ithilir, though pays him not much attention as he watches the coming battle between Ravenwyr and the other with most of his attention. He takes but a few seconds to glance about every now and then.

Ithilir pulls his lance from the ground, and turns back to the Knights. He walks back slowly and calmly, and remounts Grey Maiden. He tears the white cloth from his lance, and coaches it in his stirrup. It is at this point that Ravenwyr moves on Landromir. The Knight's Horses shy, but are quickly held by their experienced riders. All watch the combat unfold, waiting to see if they will attack.

Sigmaer joins Analdin and Ithilir at the front of the human contingent. He winces as the blows between rivals find their mark.

[Llachhal(#18270)] Several of the scouts shift the positions carefully, as all attention is drawn to the two men, putting themselves in riskier positions to be able to see farther. Enough room is still left for the knights to pass between the two halves of the group.

Brax gives a dull laugh and gestures at the fighting "Humans killing dem selfs."

[Grishnakh(#26555)] Amid the pounding drums to the east, a company of great black orcs can be seen jogging toward the barricades. Above them flies the standard of Mordor, a great black flag emblazoned with the glaring crimson Eye.

[(#24420>] Oglok glances over to the side watching the two humans fighting briefly before looking over the Uruks along the wall and calling out to them, "(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Ravenwyr twists, white teeth bared in his dark Haradrim-ish face, one tooth noticeably missing on one side of the top. Landromir's longsword, good Gondorian steel like his own, licks lightly along his mail to sing of rings cut. Raven does not pause but presses in hatefully, only trainer's grace instincitvely keeping his cool with his flared temper. He spits at Landromir's face, hissing between clenched teeth, "Your touch is the one soiled, not mine. You give the sacrad Tree it's death and I'll give you yours!" He drops Denethor's blade low while his mailed elbow rises to punch for the taller man's chin, steel raised for a belly cut in return...

attack/8 landromir

You attack Landromir with your Longsword...

[Combat(#13388)->Ravenwyr] Landromir dodges your attack.

[Oglok(#24420)] At the Uruk's words the Uruk forces move about as the archers push their way up to the front of the line and put arrows to string, waiting.

Landromir laughs at the feeble blade of Ravenwyr even as he ducks it, "See! My blood is strong and true! Die now quickly lest I give you to the foul orcs as well!" Landromir swings his sword in a high arc to Ravenwyr's head.

Landromir attacks you with his Longsword!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 9 hp's by Landromir's attack... have 68 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

[Ithilir(#26646)] The knights, at a command from Ithilir, raise their lances, and stand ready to charge the Barricade.

Grishnakh, the broad black orc at the head of the newcomers under the standard of the Eye, approaches Oglok directly, his company of big orcs only slowing as they reach the barricades. They remain close by, however, eyeing the ragged assembly of lesser orcs with contempt.

Ravenwyr ducks as well, longsword catching the blow and turning it to skim over his head and away but it slips off of Ice Toungue to bite into his right elbow where the mail does not clad. The slim, darker man grits his teeth, turning his whole body to make his arm go with the blade and slide out and not further the cut... using the motion to circle and make the steel of Raven's borrowed blade leap up for a taste of the taller man's groin if it will! Wyr does not speak now, mouth a slash as he concentrates to keep his footing.

attack/9 landromir

You attack Landromir with your Longsword...

[Combat(#13388)->Ravenwyr] Your attack against Landromir mildly wounds him!

[Landromir(#10108)] Landromir winces in pain but his chain takes most of the blow. However, he is thrown to the ground and their writhes about.

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

Sigmaer sensing the urgency, runs back to the encampment of the men of Gondor. He returns galloping on a black charger, swaying in the unfamiliar seat.

Analdin stands stock still, all attention on the battling men. He seems to not realize that he is in the front line, and could be attacked at any moment, as he watches. Though every few seconds, perhaps out of instinct or just plain paranioa, he glances about.

Llachhal listens to the drums and keeps his eyes on the scout nearest to the barricades, watching for a signal of what is coming. Finally, a number of hand signals are made by the foremost scouts, his hand held low and before the rubble he hides behind. Again are the quick hand signals flashed back and forth as the scout wait for the black orcs to reach the barricades. As they do, the scouts loose a volley over the heads of those nearest the barricades, to hit the rows behind. As the orc arrive, one quick signal and the *twangs* of the bowstrings are heard again.

Grishnakh, having just reached Oglok, ducks his head at once as arrows dart suddenly into the barricades, and he shrugs his shield into place. He snarls questions at Oglok.

Brax follows suit of the mass and raises his shield to cover his head and ducks low.

[(#26555>] Grishnakh says something unintelligible.

Arrows are heard in the night flying through the darkness and over his head but Ravenwyr has eyes only for the man who has fallen before him. Wasting not a breath he comes upon Landromir with strength born of much hate. The ex-Officer keeps his grip on the unfamilar sword and lobs it well over his head. The steel catches the torch light a brief flash before descending fully for the Gondorian's chest! The older man's scarred face is twisted and tense, putting all of his long held fears to death in the embodiment of this man if he can... down Denethor's lent blade comes!

attack/10 Landromir

You recklessly attack Landromir with your Longsword...

[Combat(#13388)->Ravenwyr] Your attack against Landromir mildly wounds him!

[Landromir(#10108)] The sword strikes home and with a hideous streak Landromir's heart is pierced! Nothing he says, but merely slumps to the ground his eyes fixed even in death, upon Ravenwyr with hatred.

[Grishnakh(#26555)] A ragged, guttural cheer goes up from the barricades as the orcs watch a human fall.

[(#26555>] Grishnakh glances westward through the barricades, his bright eyes taking in the gathered humans. "(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Ravenwyr stabs the man not once, but several times, nevermind the man is kindred through his own father's people's blood. He stumbles slightly, his lame leg tiring as he catches a breath to look up, "LYNN!" Wyr manages to collect himself enough to step back and then kick Landromir once in the head with his hate. He then leaves the fallen man's body for the orcs to feast upon. Rafen moves without regard for the barracades intent to find his wife, unmindful of the arrrows and steel waiting, "Lynn!"

Llachhal breathes a sigh of relief himself and his hand flashes. Again the scout loose another volley into the back ranks of the larger newly arrived orcs. Llachhal himself moves a little closer and aims carefully at what could be one of the leaders, the arrow loosed with a swift smooth motion that sends it whistling through the air a moment after the volley itself.

Analdin's eyes widen as he sees Landromir go down, and it takes his entire will to keep him from rushing foreward as he sees Ravenwyr makeing a run for the barricade.

[(#24420>] Oglok turns to Grishnakh as he hears the command and says in Uruk,"(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

[Combat(#13388)] Llachhal launches an arrow...

[Combat(#13388)] Llachhal's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Grishnakh glances aside with a curse as an arrow darts near.

Ithilir sees Landromir fall, and at that moment, blows his silver etched horn. The Knights charge as one.

Thalid shouts "ATTACK!!!" Thalid charges into battle.

[Ithilir(#26646)] A Cry from many voices echoes across the field, "DOL AMROTH!!!!!" The Knights charge the barricade.

Analdin, upon hearing the call to charge, follows the Knights, trying to stay out from beneath any hooves. His dash is toward Ravenwyr, as though he wants to stop the other, but he is too far away, and too many knights and others are in his path. With a curse, he tries to move foreward between the horses, but to no avail.

Grishnakh nods briefly to Oglok, but already the orcs hear the shouted command of the humans. He rises with an angry yell, his eyes glaring tightly at the charging knights and the infantry that follow.

[(#26555>] Grishnakh says something unintelligible.

Brax grips his dark blade tight and holds the shield still high as an arrow or two bounce off it. His face grows more dark and he scowls with hate. He scans out from beneath his cover watching the humans come.

[Llachhal(#18270)] The scouts shoot once more, arcing their arrows again over the barricade and into the black orcs back ranks. Those orcs nearest the barricade make it difficult to see what effect the arrows have. This time there is no signal given: all know this may be the last shot before both sides meet in combat.

[Grishnakh(#26555)] The big black orcs under the banner of Barad-dur draw fierce scimitars and stand at the ready behind broad sturdy shields. They stand fast, waiting for the cavalry charge to break itself against the barricades.

[Oglok(#24420)] At the first sign of charge the uruks fire volley after volley of arrows, for the most part at the charging knights, not strong enough to break through the armor it largely is ineffective but an occasional horse and or rider fall to an arrow through a joint or eyepiece in their armor. Then at Grishnakh's command they hurridly scurry away from the wall as the other spear armed uruks move forward and position spears over the barricade...waiting.

Though the man is lame and all too many times wounded in war with the spawn of the black lands soiled of Sauron, Ravenwyr moves purposefully and boldy right up to the barricades and looks to climb over one to reach those beyond. A smaller orc, perhaps a snaga eager to show it's value to it's masters, leaps out at the human. Wyr curses and engages the creature, akward in his position but shortly brings down the pitiful unmailed thing. Wyr's eyes seek the larger beast that took his wife... upon Grishnakh his attention pauses a breath wondering if it was that one. The man decides his other goal is more valuable even if hopeless. Raven manages to pull himself onto a barricade and slip behind stones of the ruin to seek Lynnithia. A spear bearing line of uruks force the man to pause.

Llachhal take his own aim again, trying again for a hit to fell a possible leader. The arrow flies towards the orc with a whistling sound.

Oglok stands still over the barricade, watching the knights approach as he raises his axe above the barricade waiting. Red eyes gleaming with anticipation...

[Combat(#13388)] Llachhal launches an arrow...

[Combat(#13388)] Llachhal's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Analdin watches Ravenwyr dissapear over the barricade, and mutters something to himself. Seeming not willing to take the risk of rushing out in the upen, he draws his sword, and steels himself for the attack.

[Oglok(#24420)] As arrows begin to fall, those Uruks not standing under cover of the barricade and not wary find themselves pincusioned with arrows and quite a few uruks fall to the arrows.

[Ithilir(#26646)] The Knight's charge hits the barricade, and the heavy warhorses fight to push past it. A small path is cut, and several of the Knights make their ways through it. Several horses are caught on lancelike projections on the barricade itself, and their riders are thrown free, several on either side of the Barricade. An orc arrow pierces the visor of one knight, who falls soundlessly. Another is caught by an orc spearman, and falls to be swarmed by the waiting orcs. Ithilir is in the forefront of the battle, and his horse passes the barricade in one great jump. It lands on an orc, killing him instantly, but Ithilir is thrown off. He quickly rises and drawing his sword, attacks the nearest orc.

[Grishnakh(#26555)] As the first man comes heedless into the barricades, he is greeted by a howling mob of orcs. Spears and scimitars shove forward at Ravenwyr, and arrows fly, all driven by hands poorly skilled but strong in hate.

Halting and spitting a wad of phlem to the stony ground, Ravenwyr is checked by the spear towing orcs. He curses them in some words of the black speach he learned during his time among them so that they might know his insults clearly. The man looks to be trapped by four of the creatures but he is desperate and driven to reach Lynnithia. An arrow takes one of the four orcs down, that cuing Wyr to leap forward recklessly with a loud cry, steel licking!

Sigmaer notices that discretion is the better part of valor, and dismounts after the intitial impact at the barricade. He wields his longsword competently,now that he can use his land legs, and works his way towards his fallen coompanion Ithilir.

Ravenwyr uses the confusing and the sudden appearance of war horses among the barricades to force his position through, gaining a wound himself... stagging on he drives to seek the woman. Blades ring around him, shouts of men and neighs of horses. A dark mass of in-human forms seething before him.

Llachhal flashes another signal and most of the bows disappear, only a few of the scouts keeping theirs ready. The rest draw swords or pull free spears and begin to move forward towards the barrier. Llach draws his sword too, fear for his friend spurring him forward more recklessly than normal, but he is followed by four others, all tall, dark-haried and grim. They move to enter the barricade at the same spot as Ravenwyr disappeared into.

[Combat(#13388)] Llachhal unstrings the bow and straps it across his back silently.

Thalid shouts for the company to charge.

[Grishnakh(#26555)] The black-clad uruks of Barad-dur surge forward to the breach as the knights' charge carries them into the barricades. Powerful creatures, and more skilled than most of the slaves of Mordor, they lash into the knights, heavy scimitars hacking against shields, bright armor, and hapless warhorses' flesh.

[Combat(#13388)] Llachhal reaches to his left hip and draws his ancient blade swiftly out of it's battered sheath.

Ithilir looks about himself, and seeing that no Knight is near, wades into the orcs, trying to cut a path towards the largest group of Knights on his side of the Barricade. The Knights are rallying in small groups already, swinging about themselves at the swarming orcs.

Sigmaer waves to his mentor, Ithilir, shouting "Here!!!

Analdin joins the fight, swing his sword perhaps a bit too wildley. Getting into the middle of the fight, or at least as far as he dares go, he whacks at a smaller orc, one perhaps more of his own level, still trying to work his way closer to the barricade.

Smell assaults those who come into the barricades... death resides here among those of Mordor. Partially consumed corpses of fallen men litter the stony ground and disarm some with shock in seeing their breathen so mutilated. Rot and decay cloy the night air, screams and the song of steel an ancient one. Utter chaos and confusion reigns in the faint flickers of all too little torchlight. Ravenwyr eludes another uruk, shorter than many men he hunches himself to look more like one of the foul creatures then one of his own kind. Dark skinned, the man manages to blend in enough to slip through with minimal fighting... heading deeper into the ruins.

Ithilir is attacked by a large orc, and just misses a sweep to the legs from it's cruel scimitar. He dodges swiftly, and brings his longsword down heavily on the orc's shield. The orc riposte's to his head, and Ithilir blocks it with his shield. He feints at the orc's face again, and then with a quick lunge, plunges his sword into the orc's chest. It falls to the ground, gurgling.

Brax attacks Analdin with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.

Grishnakh joins in the fray around the cavalry's breach only briefly. With a savage slash he kills a knight thrown who had been down by his wounded horse, but then he steps back to regard the rest of the battle. Perhaps alone among the orcs he spies a man dashing eastward into the shadows. At once, the orc-captain lopes off in pursuit, but soon the quarry is lost.

You move further east along the bridge.

Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Eastern Section

The many towers and houses that once stood on this section of stout bridge have crumbled inward, leaving only piles of rubble and cracks in the bridge.



Unmarked Wagon

Obvious exits:

East leads to Osgiliath: Eastern Ruins - Broken Streets.

West leads to Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Center Section.

Slipping through, those foul creatures roused thickening to battle behind him, Ravenwyr escapes to the quieter section of bridge behind the baricades where hide tents and trenches are set up... an orc camp. Hardly a thing stirrs here as the slim man makes quickly to engage a guard left behind to watch one of the larger tent structures. Slaying the beast with effort, the lame man scuffles inside to seek. Nothing but supplies greet the human's curses until a meek voice rises frightened, "Who is there?!"

Ravenwyr immeadiately abandons the casks and suplies to leave the tent. In the trench below is Lynn, bound, muddy and terribly frightened. Seeing him she cries out his name but he says nothing, stumbling down to grab her up and cut her bonds, "Up! Go! I'm right behind you!" She shoves her hard out of the pit, struggling up the damp earth himself.

Lynnithia halts at once to throw her thin arms around her husband, ignoring his orders for one long breath to hug him and hold Raven tightly. Then he pries her hands away, turning her and bending to scoop up a dirty hide, "Conceal yourself and let us go quickly while they are distracted." The two of them hurry back to the west and across the crumbling bridge.

You continue across the bridge, heading west.

Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Center Section

Once the center of Osgiliath, shining far above the mighty waters of the Anduin, the center of the bridge has fallen into hideous disrepair. No longer do minarets sparkle into the air with their presence casting dancing shadows onto the water. No more do the pinions flutter, proclaiming with pride the strength of a swelling nation. Instead the mighty towers have been cast down into the waves, their broken corpses hidden among the raised earth and grim, stoney pilons. The bridge itself is functional; large stones weathered and cracked, but still supported by roots neither the hands of time nor those of Eastern hordes have dared to destroy. There is room enough to march an army here, despite the few sorry gaps that leer like broken teeth along the length of the central bridge.












Obvious exits:

East leads to Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Eastern Section.

West leads to Osgiliath: The Great Bridge - Western Section.

Brax flinches back as his blood flies. He grunts and forces himself forward for a hard strike. He brings his blade low for the guts of the human

Thalid slices an orc's arm and then suddenly is clubbed from behind by one of his own men. The man says "Sorry I didn't know it was you Sir." The man is then killed by an orc.

Brax attacks Analdin with his Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

Llachhal slips through the mass of fighting as a small group. As they pick the most open routes between the groups of knights and orcs fighting, they are just large enough to be able to cut down the one or two orcs that come at them. They draw closer to the barricade, nearly to the opening, when they run into a group of three orcs, one of them a large black orc with a hideous sneer. Working as a unit, the group of five manages to dispatch the two small slave orcs, then surround the larger.

With five against only himself, the larger orc is soon laying dead on the ground, though Llachhel and the others carry small wounds from this first encounter. An opening before them at the right moment lets them slip through the opening and into the barricade, where they form almost a small wedge. The attack comes quickly on them and they are hard put to hold itoff . For the next small time, they move forward no more, glad only not to be pushed back out again. Llachhal's eyes dart here and there, searching for Ravenwyr, but not finding him

Imrahil charges into the ranks of orcs and death surrounds him as all who come near him meet his sword and die swift deaths foundering into a sea of black blood. "Gondor! Gondor!" He cries. The stern Prince holds up his sword and it flashes wildly.

Analdin flinches as the blade slices along his front, but managed to jump back before it cut all the way through him. Front of his tabard starting to turn slightly red from the trickle of blood coming out, he brings an attack against the orc, swinging low towards it's legs.

Lynnithia staggers, her bonds cut and a heavy dark hide thrown over her head and shoulders to drag behind her on the ground... concealing her identity from the seething orcs embattled around them. Only her scent would give her away among them if the filthy beasts were not otherwise occupied. Behind her comes her husband, right hand under the hide to hold her elbow and guide the woman. He too remains somewhat hunched, long bright blade held low to evade the light if he can. They pause behind the throng, escape seemingly blocked ahead of them. Wyr's eyes skim the mass of creatures for an opening.

Thalid cuts an orc in the neck. He then jumps up with a chop to it's head, killing it instantly.

Ithilir looks up as he hears the Horns of the Prince's Knights. A smile crosses his face, and he renews his attack, trying to make it to the Prince's Line. He hews at orcs right and left, occasionally taking a riposte to the shield or sword. One orc, larger than most, holds him off for several vital moments, but finally, Ithilir's sword pierces his eye, and enters the brain behind. He pulls his sword from the dead orc's head, and continues his movement. Seeing a free space, he moves several precious yards closer to the Prince. Still most of the battle separates them.

Oglok bearing upon the group of knights from the side quickly raises his axe hacks upward at one of the horses under sides, heavy axe ripping through the mail skirt hanging downward, obviously not intended to stop such an angle of attack and the horse falls, towards the orc and almost catches Oglok beneath his weight as the orc jumps back trying to rip his axe from the corpse as the knight that was mounted on it falls to the ground beside him and likewise trys to find his weapon...

[Grishnakh(#26555)] The pulse of low drums has picked up rapidly now in the east, with rhythms repeating madly. From the sprawling camps come whole new companies of orcs, squat black creatures with fierce gleaming eyes who croak and bark curses and taunts as they charge.

Brax tries to ignore the human batting him with his fists and ducks back in time to be missed by the blade of Analdin. He brings his own in hard for a deep stab.

Brax attacks Analdin with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.

Sigmaer spits one of the two snagas on the point of his longsword. Foul black blood spurts as he yanks the blade out of the unfortunate goblin. Just in time, he raises his guard to ward off another thrust from the persistent Mordain Pike-Orc. Hearing the horn of the Prince, he becomes enraged, severing limbs with reckless abandon.

[Ithilir(#26646)] The Knights who had initially charged the Barricade make a fierce lunge through the Uruk line, intent on reaching their Prince. They hack on all sides,and slowly return near the Barricade. They are held off by a strong force there, and seem to be stopped.

Analdin jumps to the right, barely dodging the stab of the orc, though it manages to come awful close to grazing his side. Anger flowing now, he brings his sword down hard.

Analdin attacks Brax with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!

Ravenwyr is slammed into by an orc from behind as they draw nearer to the front rows of barricades. The rushing beast had been ignoring the man as though it were merely a snaga in the way. Wyr straightens and hacks at the creature, pushing Lynn from him, "Run! Make for the woodsmen or a horse!"

Brax is held by Thalid long enough to get cut. He throws hard to get Thalid off and returns with a swipe for Analdins head.

Brax attacks Analdin with his Scimitar and badly wounds him!

Ithilir fights his way through the Orc line, almost to the Barricade now. He rejoins the Knights, and spying an empty saddle, springs up, and raising his Sword, cries,"To the Prince Men! We shall charge to the Prince!" He kicks his horse hard, and leads a charge against the strong Uruk force still holding the Barricade.

Lynnithia does as she is told, shock making her slow to respond. She is not paniced though and keeps low, her small form covered by the thick oily hide masking her so that her bright hair is unseen in the dimness. The woman's breath is choked as a creature comes into her path but even as it reaches to strike at her, an arrow take it in the back!

Sigmaer takes an blow to the calf from behind, nearly felling him on the breach.

Grishnakh turns again, watching the battle and shouting orders, sending new platoons after the scouts who have broken through. But his attention wanders often to the east. Soon, this vigilance pays off. With a squint, he spies a man near the orcs' erstwhile captive, not far off. The orc rushes toward them, his powerful legs carrying him swiftly near. He looms in a dangerous crouch before them, his pose daring man or woman to attempt to flee past.

Imrahil slams into the orcs his sword glistening black with orc blood. High is raised the Ship and Swan and the trumpets blow wildly.

[Llachhal(#18270)] The small group of scouts fight desparately, hoping that the knights will soon join them. Llachhal whistles loudly, then repeats it twice more, his blade flashing ahead of him as his brothers guard each to his side. He takes a nasty wound to the left biceps but it stops him not, his eyes still stealing moments to search for his friend. Finally in desparation, he calls out loudly, "Wyr, to me!"

Oglok jerking his axe free of the corpse of the horse finally turns to find the Knight regaining his feet and hacks downward at him, only to be blocked with a large clang as the knight raises his blade to parry the blow...the knight's arm is knocked back but his arm holds back the blow, as the knight gains his feet and stumbles backwards to get some space between the two.

Analdin gives a shout of pain as the scimitar comes crashing down into his head, hitting him heard in the helm. Blood begins to flow out from under his helmet, and he manages to stumble back a number of paces, closer to the Gondorian line, before falling.

Brax growls at his foe as he falls. he shakes to throw the pain of his wound and turns off tward the next human close to him.

[Grishnakh(#26555)] The new companies of orcs surge forward from the East, rushing along the stained stony streets between Ravenwyr and Llachhlan. The orcs' attention is riveted on the scouts, both by orders and by the deadly arrows which begin to take their number down, orc by anonymous orc.

Ravenwyr is occupied and does not see Grishnakh coming through the knots of dark bodies wresting with death around him. The beast he engages takes his concentration to keep his feet while fighting, intent to cut a path for Lynnithia to safty, even at the cost of his own life if need be.

Sigmaer grunts in pain as the axe blow catches the cold steel of his chainmail. He ducks, causing the orc in front of him to decapitate the orc behind Sigmaer with a wide, flailing stroke.

Grishnakh looms before Lynnithia, with an angry hiss emerging from his heavy helm. "Stay, woman! Come further and I will gladly bear you back to Mordor as corpse, rather than slave."

Oglok steps forward persuing the knight as he backpedals, only to fall to the ground as he is stabbed in the back by one of the Black orcs who steps over the dying figure and continues onward. At that oglok looks around for the Figure that had spoken to him earlier.....

The concealed woman is blocked again by Grishnakh from her flight towards the men of Gondor. Lynn gasps, stepping back as a slim length of steel is taken from the sheath Wyr had pressed into her hands. She knows enough to keep the raven headed boot knife hidden under the thick hide and from the creature's sight. Keeping her ground she waits, watching.

[Ithilir(#26646)] Ithilir and the Knights with him begin to cut through the barricade, moving nearer still to the Prince. A small breach is opened again, and the Knights charge through the hole. Ithilir, the last to pass it, halts a moment, and suddenly a black arrow appears in the neck of his horse. It rears violently, and falls over on it's side. He is caught under it, by one leg, and fights to free himself.

Behind Lynnithia, Ravenwyr drops the orc that meant to still his progress. He turns to follow after his wife but finds her all too near and facing a huge beast of an orc. The man's scarred face hisses, "Back, Lynn!" Denthor's blade snakes forward in the halfblood's left hand, eyes on Grishnakh.

l grishnakh

You see a short crooked-legged creature, very broad and with long arms that hang almost to the ground. His great black head looms on powerful shoulders, and slanted eyes shine as with a bright but sickly fire in his hideous face. A twisted mouth sneers with cruel humor, and foul breath reeks. His long hairy arms boast great hands with hard cold fingers, terrifyingly strong; but for all his low bulk he is quick and silent, moving like an evil shadow in the night. His voice is soft but evil, cunning and filled with easy mockery. A single device adorns his hauberk and shield, simple and sinister: a great red Eye glares from a field of pure black, as the Dark Lord watches the lands of his black ambition. This is His trusted messenger, Grishnakh, captain of the black orcs of Mordor. Pale wise eyes gleam with malice.


Metal Helmet Chain Mail Armor Round Metal Shield Scimitar

Sigmaer limps towards Ithilir, struggling to make it intaact to the Knight of Belfalas. He wearily fends of several half-hearted strokes of persuing Snagas, but they soon turn their attention to the mounted knights.

Grishnakh nods slowly and takes a step toward Lynnithia. Whether he is distracted by rage or by some dark lust, he seems to pay little heed to the battle which rages behind him to the west. Within the shadows of his helm, a hideous smile gleams in the dim light of moon and distant torch. But then he hisses angrily again as Ravenwyr steps forward.

Brax charges along visciously chopping those he encounters. He crosses Imrahil and swipes at him as he closes.

Brax attacks Imrahil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.

[Llachhal(#18270)] One of the scouts goes down, a blade having found his heart. The four left move closer togeher, back to back, again trying to work as a unit to hit and down an orc together. But more come at them, and again they are stopped. All now are wounded, some more seriously than others. As Llach begins to despair, the fruits of his whistled signal reaches him. Four more scouts reach them to reinforce, though five started out. Finally Llach spots Wyr and the larger group moves again, though slowly. He loses sight of him again but keeps his group moving in that direction.

Oglok pushing his way from the side towards the gap watches the knights push forward slightly, and he spots what he searches for, as he sees Ithilir regaining his feet. and begins to walk towards him, removeing the head from a human man-at-arms as he walks...

[Ithilir(#26646)] The horse spasms once, in it's death throe as the orc poison works it's way through it's system. Ithilir seizes his opportunity, and rolls clear of the heavy body. He grabs his sword, and looks about him, seeing that he is still on the wrong side of the Barricade. He sees Sigmaer appear, surrounded by snagas, and charging at them, causes momentary confusion. He grabs Sigmaer by the shoulder, and pushes him towards the newly breached Barricade. "Now, Squire, if you love Dol Amroth, GO TO THE PRINCE!!" He turns to cut at the approaching orcs, offering Sigmaer a moment of time.

Imrahil turns on his steed and sets his steely glance upon him. Blocking the blow with his shield he lifts his sword on high and lets it come crashing down...

Imrahil attacks Brax with his Longsword and severely wounds him!

Lynnithia backs away obediantly, numb and frightened terribly. She keeps the small knife hidden, not trusting to it's little protection against this thing. Fright makes her heart ach to be free of it's confines with her quick breath. Desperately she seeks sight of the green of the woodsmen or a near horseman...

Grishnakh's pale, bright eyes narrow in hatred as he regards Ravenwyr. The man would seem to overshadow him, being at least a full foot taller than the broad orc of Mordor, but Grishnakh does not seem cowed. He lifts the blade of his scimitar toward Ravenwyr in a gesture. "Down, Tark. I know you, and I would do well in my Master's Eye to bring you back to Lugburz."

Sigmaer seizes the opportunity to break free, and makes his best speed towards the Prince. He sreams "Death to the Lidless Eye!" in a hoarse voice tinged with determination.

Brax staggers bad from the blow. He wildly swipes at his foe and he falls tward the ground.

Brax attacks Imrahil with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!

Imrahil takes the blow on his side but it is not heavy for his mail is proof against it. Hearing the cries of Ithilir he would turn but now his anger whelms and he slams his sword toward Brax.

Imrahil attacks Brax with his Longsword and mortally wounds him!

Sigmaer Arrives at his prince's side, and takes an underhanded swipe at the offending cur who wounded his prince.

Brax gets wacked HARD and slumps down.

Coming before Grishnakh, placing himself physically between his life's love and the thing that to him has alway haunted his footsteps, the slim dark skinned man licks his lips as he sees the bright Eye of Mordor upon the beast. Hearing it's words tightens his bowels in ways he'd almost forgotten, the fear crisp and smothering. He hisses between clenched teeth at the thing, "I don't serve your master willingly." Although the beast is shorter then he and larger than many of it's kind, the man does not underestimate the creature. "I won't bow again." Wyr brings his blade up, "Lynn! Go now!" With it he lunges forward to swing for Grishnakh's head!

Analdin, though barely consious, lifts his wounded head long enough to see his former attacker terribly wounded by the prince not too far away. With a groan, he falls face flat on the ground, blood streaking down from under his helm.

attack/8 Grishnakh

Imrahil turns his steed and now turns to Sigmaer, 'Squire! Hasten forth! We ride to Ithilir! Raise the pennants and let our swords sing!"

You attack Grishnakh with your Longsword...

[Combat(#13388)->Ravenwyr] Grishnakh dodges your attack.

Brax moves like a low slug, leaving a thick line of blood as he crawls to an area out of the fray. He tries several times to stand, blade still in hand before passing out. He is then carted off be his fellows.

Lynnithia does as she is told at her husband's order. She keeps the knife in hand and the thick leather hide as shield for what little protection it might give. She runs, not trying to slink and hide this time, looking and catching sight of Llachhal in green.

[Imrahil(#10108)] The Prince rides into the waves of orcs and he slays and slays and the blood boils as if a sea.

Oglok following Ithilir, and seeing him go into battle against other Uruks strides more quickly, closing the space in a matter of seconds, Ithilir's back being turned and vulnerable could be hacked at with almost assured success but strangely he steps to the side and walks around the Human allowing himself to be seen......

Sigmaer finds himself isolated among a sea of mordish vermin. His horsemanship actually improves as his mind becomes occupied with the rhythms of hand-to-hand combat.

Ithilir notices an orc appear out of the corner of his eye, and moves slightly to the opposite side to keep them both in sight. The Orc he has been fighting moves as well, and trips over the expelled contents of a horse's bowels. It slips, and as it falls, Ithilir cuts it deeply across the throat. He then turns to his new opponent.

[Llachhal(#18270)] Working together, still back to back, all facing outwards, the scouts continue to move forward, gaining a little more ground. The way in front clears long enough for Llach to catch a glimpse of a tableu: Wyr, a frightened woman and the back of the orc facing her. The another orc comes at him, more move beyond them and the glimpse is gone. Another scout goes down, two others wounded badly. Again Llach is hit, a shallow stab wound to his right side. A few words are heard, though not their meaning, and the scouts move tighter together again and with the help of the man next to him, they dispatch the orc that wounded Llach and the groups macks a sudden forward movement as opposition fades for a moment. Ahead of him, actually quite close, is the woman, whom Llach now recognizes. As she runs towards him, he barks one word and they surge toward her, Llachhal reaching out to take hold of her and draw her into the relative safety in their midst.

Grishnakh lurches aside with a snarl, bringing his shield up to ward off Ravenwyr's thrust. He spins to intercept Lynnithia, but the tall man before him presses too closely. He lopes to the side, as if to draw Ravenwyr after him again. "Serve you do, and serve you shall, Tark and traitor to Tarks. I am messenger to Him who rules us both. I know your Name, man of west and south. It is time for you to come again to your rightful Lord."

Sigmaer notices Analdin between the kicking his of the commandeered charger. The stallion rears, crushing to puny goblins as the hoofs return to earth. Sigmaer falls from the saddle, springing up just in time to ward a club strike to Analdin's head.

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

[Grishnakh(#26555)] Orcs again rush near to Llachhal and the scouts, howling in anger and hatred. They wear the death's-head moon of Minas Morgul, and they carry spears and knives and broad shields.

[Imrahil(#10108)] The Prince presses into the orc host with his sword brandishing fiercly.

Ravenwyr bares his teeth and hisses as he moves, "To Mordor... to Mordor you shall NOT take me again!" The man keeps his left side presented to the beast, bad leg back as he can. His only shield is the bright steel Denethor himself gave to his hand. He can spare no glance for Lynn and keeps his mind on this threat and follows after this hated enimy of old. Again Ice Tounge licks forward, a fiet to Grishnakh's chest but drops suddenly to whip against the inside of the thing's left thigh.

attack/8 Grishnakh

You attack Grishnakh with your Longsword...

[Combat(#13388)->Ravenwyr] Grishnakh dodges your attack.

[Imrahil(#10108)] The knights press in fiercely and they chant songs of war as they fight.

Oglok totally ignoring the other Orc's death, speaks saying, "So, I suppose you think you can back up your words..." and steps forward powerfully muscled forearms flexing as he hacks at the Human, torch-light glinting off the large axe as it comes forward hacking at the side and stomach of Ithilir.

Sigmaer 's flask gets pilfered by a runt of a goblin, and Sig gets visibly pissed.

Lynnithia almost cries out in her overwelming relief at reaching Llachhal and the other human men. Tears streak her dirty face, gruesome hide kept pulled over her richly colored hair for concealment. She goes with them a few steps then turns, "But Raven! Don't leave him!"