A World of Danger: Part One

[Tessar]

OCC* im in an di was alredy there when irid showd up.

[Mathron]

Tal, his gaze growing ever harder, nods at the mad elf, and hands him a small dagger he kept by his side. "This will do for now, but we shall see how you prove yourself. You seem to have certainly suffered at their hands... and if they have harmed El'nela...."

His voice trails off as he stares into the distance.

---

The stranger shakes his head, and says, "No, I think I shall leave you to your own fun. You should head after them now, while you can. I wish to conclude my business with Sandor, and then I'm sure he can easily catch up to you."

[Lief Erikson]

Erenfor growled irritably and twirled the dagger along the top of his hand. He glared at Tal, but only for a moment. He turned away swiftly as if the other was not even worth spending attention on. "Well, we're going, aren't we? Going to die by the hands of those who crushed the One Again movement. Then the last scraps will be gone from their way, but perhaps we'll take some with us." He laughed in an insane voice, shaking his head. "I am a fool, a fool, a fool . . ."






Shelina frowned at the pair for a moment, but realized there wasn't any way she could force them to change their minds. She'd revealed everything . . . well, almost everything, and the least they could do was do the same for her. Still, there was no way that she could do anything else but obey without destroying her standing in their eyes. And she'd likely need their support.

"Perhaps you should take him to someone who can heal him, anyway," she said, pointing at Arcon. "If it is at all possible. He might turn out helpful, he was assigned the same quest as the one I was given, so he's on our side."

With one parting glance at the pair of them, she moved quickly off, vanishing in the green foliage.

[Mathron]

Tal said, thinking out loud, "Perhaps we should strike in the middle of the night. It is only another hour till nightfall... and they will be surprised, drunk, and asleep by midnight, if they are like most mercanaries. What say you?"

---


The stranger glanced at the body again, then dismissed it with a smirk as Shelina left. Sandor raised an eyebrow.

"You seem to have less value for life than you did when last we spoke."

The man laughed, and said, "I don't value the lives of those like him. I've been serving Melkor because it's been the smart thing to do, but those like him actually think they aren't evil, or serving evil. The fool actually thought he had been wronged; I saw the whole thing, he attacked them, and then seemed surprise when they struck him down."

Arcon, on the ground, tried to say something, but pain flooded through him, and he could not even twitch enough to gather their attention. He heard their words clearly, but his vision was drowning in a sea of red as they kept speaking.

"You do seem more vocal in your objections to those who serve Melkor. Does that include me, as well?"

"Oh, I know your reasons well enough, old friend. And I like you well enough to keep you informed of the way tides are turning. It may soon be in my interests to cut off my dealings with Melkor, and you might wish to do the same."

"You think it is that easy?"

A pause ensued, and then the stranger's voice rose again. "I suppose it is not, for you. I've always simply had an understanding with Melkor, but for those of you who serve him, it may well indeed prove harder. Regardless, keep my words in mind."

The rustle of a cape seemed loud in Arcon's ears as the man turned, presumably to leave.

Sandor asked, "What do you want to do with him?"

"Leave him. He should die within a few minutes, anyway."

Silence fell, and Arcon heard more rustling. He strained, but his body refused to move, and he heard no more. Heart sinking, he realized they had left. As the time dragged on, the pain grew and grew, and eventually his vision faded from red to black, and all sensation went away.




----



Bright light flared. Arcon opened his eyes, in shock. He was in the clearing, but it was now nighttime. His body felt... whole. And a strange, red light was flaring before him.

He blinked, and suddenly the light was a figure standing there, a handsome man with blond hair and black eyes, and a horribly cruel smile that sent shivers down Arcon's spine.

"Wha - Who are you? How did you save me?"

"I did save you," said the man, and his voice was deliciously pleasant and painful at the same time, "And you should reward my aid, if you wish it to remain. My name does not matter - but you will tell me exactly what Malagar and his friend were discussing while you lay dying."

[Tessar]

OCC* ooooooo! chilling!

[Selwythe]

Arcon cautiously touched his left arm, a bloody mess the last time he saw it, and winced. It was bandaged, presumably by this strange man, but it did not obscure the pain shooting from it.

He staggered up to his feet and immediately caught up his fallen sword, although he knew he could not repel this man, not without his full strength, yet he who goes down without a fight but surrenders himself is worse than a he in death, and he steeled himself in a wary position.

All the while, this man kept his eyes riveted on him, and their blackness seemed like a well which would never end. Arcon matched his gaze in defiance and spoke.

"I thank you for healing me, me who you know not and have no obligation to. I am not one who forgets deeds of kindness but I do not know the unfamiliar name of Malagar and..."

His voice trailed off as his face flared in realisation and wrath.

"I was attacked by wolves. Malagar chased away my assaulters and he tended to me, yet he left me to die. To die..."

He trailed off again, unable to continue, and the flame of hate burned unsuppressible in his heart. He looked around him and realised how this looked like home. The woods, the birds, even the sinister sounds, and not to say this strong red light as a replacement for his cosy fire, but strangely, it came from a living being.

The man stared and replied, "And what of the iron-clad man and the maiden?"

Arcon looked confused and bewildered as he searched his memories for what had happened. So long ago it seemed, and his spirit had hovered at the edge of the Circles of the World. His attackers had left him to die, but they killed too a part of him, a part tainted long ago in the woods north of Edlyn, in the woods of Dor-Lomin when it was fair. Then he remembered, he remembered all too clearly the woman's face.

He turned the hilt of his sword toward the man in a sign of peace and said stoutly with all energy he could muster in his weakness.

"The iron man is a lord of Orcs. The woman is a two-faced whore. And unless my comprehension fails me, you plan to kill Malagar the Cape-Bearer. I have enemies of my own, and you saw them. No more is my employer Vardor of the North, for his servants are finally known to me. I am the hater of Orcs, thieves of the happiness I never had and mindless slaves of the North, join me in my quest."

That said, he used his sword to pierce his finger and a trickle of blood appeared. He licked it and held the finger up at the stranger, another drop of blood glistening in the red light which radiated from this stranger.

*OOC, Hope you don't have AIDS.*

[Tessar]

EEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW! ok now that is just a littel bit grosse! ok yalls i have no idea when or what or where to post! can we get back to the simple hack and slash and kill the orks stuff?

[Irid al'Menie]

Irid nods at Tal.

"It is best to attack an hour or two before sunrise, when their guard is down. They usually don't expect an attack that hour."

Her hand is resting on Runner's head. She now would not fight for Tal, or his sister, but for the wolves. Her revenge for Arcon would come. In fact, it was already there. The same time Arcon and the stranger were talking, a pack was surrounding the glade. They would show a glimps now and then, and howl even when there wasn't moon, but not attack. She just hoped the stranger wouldn't kill the wolves, she had seen his power, send through by one of the wolves.

[Lief Erikson]

"There has been much comotion in the forest, yet you have not reported." The voice was harsh, cold like ice.

"There has been no time," Shelina told him, cringing. "Please, I'll try to continue. Allies have betrayed me and there is a massive hunt throughout the forest making movement near impossible."

"I dislike failure, Fore Dog, and do not believe that simply because of your past you are impossible to replace with another."

"I could take him tonight, sir, except that I cannot find him. I don't know where they are." Please let me have this one last chance. This one last chance. Her thoughts hammered in her mind as she waited for Vardor's response. It was rare that he came himself on these meetings, and her insides roiled in fear. But she hadn't lied, she was incredibly close. And if she could take him, she could.

Vardor was silent for a long moment, a shadow darker than shadows, staring at her and considering. Considering whether he should let her live another second.

Her breath tightened in her chest, and she stared up at him pleadingly.

"Then perhaps I shall give you one last chance. And I shall give you a way to find him more easily." Vardor raised a finger. "But do not fail me again. You wouldn't like to go back to Dalsorle, would you?"

His words shot through her like knives and she could half imagine the smile which surely crossed his face at seeing her sudden panic.

"You shall have your second chance, Fore Dog. But move more hastily. I fear that we haven't much time left. Now go."







Steward peered out from between the leaves of a couple trees, watching the camp closely. Surprisingly, they did have sentries out. But those sentries were few and only on the edge of the camp, allowing their opponents to creep close unobserved. They would bleed for their mistakes tonight. There still were some wolves here, although most, along with Irid, had crept away 'to continue their own hunt', she'd said.

For a moment, Steward caught himself wishing that he was still young. Still capable of fighting in a skirmish of this sort. The odds were greatly slanted against them, but they had the advantage of surprise and skill. Angar and Tal looked more than competent, at any rate. One shouldn't be decieved by Dain's pleasant exterior and behavior either. When roused to battle, he could be as deadly as either of the other two most likely.

Steward glanced over his shoulder swiftly at the sound of a crackling in the brush. Noiselessly he extended a hand and placed it on Tal's shoulder. "Erenfor's gone."

Tal cursed silently under his breath. "Well there's no time to go collect him now. The attack is about to start."

Steward nodded and glanced around again. It was true. But he could do without the mad elf also weighing on his mind. Tonight's events were desperately important and there were enough unexplained factors lurking the forest already without Erenfor added to them. And armed, now. But suddenly another thought crawled into his mind and his breath tightened. Could it be that . . . ?

He shook his head fiercely. No, it couldn't be, not yet. Not now, not of all times. But his anxiety was redoubled. Slowly, he reached out and touched Tal's arm again. "If you don't mind, I'd like a weapon to."

[Irid al'Menie]

*oh, maybe i wasn't clear, but the wolves surrounding Arcon are another pack then the ones about to attack the camp. I do want to get some action, you know! *

[Tessar]

hey don't forget me!!!!!!

[Mathron]

Tal glanced at Dain, who drew out a short sword - though wicked looking - from his pack, and handed it to Steward.

The dwarf said, "I wouldn't have trusted this to the mad one, but I think you can do it honor and wield it well."

Tal, meanwhile, looked at the boy, and his face softened. "You are brave, to come with us this far. I warn you, this will be very dangerous indeed, and you may well wish to turn back now. We will not hold it against you - but any aid you give is welcome."

Looking back at the others, he draws his weapon, and spins it about before him. "The hour is upon us, and blackness fills the sky. Let us strike."


---


The man laughed at Arcon. "Join you? Fool!"

His voice made Arcon tremble again, and he felt power and pain rush through him, dropping him to his knees as a hoarse cry was ripped from his throat. Visions flashed before his eyes, visions of a dark and shadowy land - the land of death he had glimpsed before his soul had been forcibly brought back.

As the pain raged, he felt the stranger looking through his mind, as though a great eye pierced his thoughts and all he knew. Eventually, the eye withdrew, and he fell the the ground as the pain left him.

"So, it seems Malagar has finally turned. Finally will I be rid of him, though I am displeased it seems my Wolf has turned on me. I shall see to that - as well, you shall see to it for me."

Arcon staggered back to his feet, and stopped in shock. The pain that had been in his limbs before was gone, and indeed, he felt as though he had been reborn stronger and faster than before. What had this stranger done to him??

The man waved his hand and muttered an arcane word, and a dark mist began to appear before him, slowly coalescing into a massive and feral wolf with gleaming red eyes and snarling jaws.

"I know you now, Arcon the Orc-hater. Let Racamorn bear you to where your foes now go to fight, and your drake shall join you there. Serve me well, for I am the greatest Luitenant of the dark lord who shall soon rule over all."

Darkness seemed to wrap in upon the man, and he was suddenly no longer there. In the clearing, Arcon was left alone with the massive wolf, and his own newfound strength. His senses were greater to - he could see the dim shapes of wolves circling the clearing, but they now kept their distance, fearing the dark majesty of his new companion. He smiled in pleasure, and stepped forward, and the wolf, Racamorn, lowered its back as he climbed upon it. While it would be of great pleasure to now hunt the wolves around him, he knew his true enemies awaited him, and he could achieve his vengeance.

----

Shelina scurried through the darkness, knowing she was drawing closer to her goal, when a dark form appeared out of the shadows beside her. She spun, drawing her blade, before she recognized Sandor. Grim eyed, he raised an eyebrow at her drawn weapon, and nodded.

"If you wish my help, I am here. I believe the band you hunt is, in turn, hunting my men, so it is in my interests to certainly help you as well."

[Tessar]

drawing his elvish dagger the boy said "i wont turn back. if i did i would think less of my self for leaving when my help was needed.
i have littel skill with this blade but i will use it as best i can"

still there was a slight trimmer in his voice and he didn't look as confident as he was trying to make him self look but still he was determined.

[Tessar]

OCC* thanks mathron.

[Selwythe]

Arcon rode the wolf and sped away in a direction he did not know. His heart burned with rage. His arm trembled with bloodlust. His eyes shone with a piercing glance. Yet in his fury, he thought a little of this man. He was just another Vardor, and he doubted his intentions, but the enemy of his enemy was a temporary ally. And deep in him, a flame of disgust burned.

He sped along the trees with unbelievable speed and stealth. He rose the horn once more to his lips and blew a long note and a speck appeared in the sky, sign of the drake which thought he was dead.

Racamorn suddenly stopped. He dismounted and stared long at the red eyes of the hell hound. This was not an ordinary wolf, he thought, not the wolves who were my hunting companions in the woods, not the wolves who attacked me, this was a bloodthirsty hound from the Hells of Iron deep in the north.

No, he closed his eyes, he had seen this wolf before.

Clashes of steel, men shouting in battle cries, women desperately running, many with infants clasped in their arms.

He heard the rustling of trees to his right and knew two people were hurrying along. He knew one weighed heavier than the other, presumably by heavy armour. Yes, this wolf had served him well, but did it always?

Wolves howled in the air as they smelled blood. A Wolf-Rider with a black cape was rampaging, killing civilians. Fire burned unquenchable, houses broke asunder. The Wolf-Rider suddenly stopped and stared, straight at...NO! Darkness radiated from him and his iron armour!

The wolf turned to leave.

The Wolf-Rider bore down on him, a black scimitar shining black in the twilight. His life was going to end, but a fair woman suddenly jumped on him and felled him from the wolf onto the ground, where she tussled uselessly with him. He slashed at her and she fell limp

But still the wolf bore down on...a knife! A knife! How do you use it? Who cares, just throw it! Throw it!

The wolf leaped, its mouth open, revealing its jaws in alarming distance, but a knife flew to meet it, more thrown from talent than luck. The wolf fell back, howling painedly at the knife wedged in its mouth.

"RUN!" the woman who sacrified herself screamed hoarsely at him. "Please, Valar, bless my son for his father was not..."

He gave a loud battle-cry, not caring if his two enemies heard him. He unsheathed his poison-tipped sword and drove it deep into Racamorn's hide. The wolf howled in pain in a familiar manner and kicked him away. It staggered a little before falling, giving the last chilling howl of its life.

Then Arcon picked himself up and went over. He withdrew his sword buried in the wolf's insides and examined the wolf.

At the roof of its mouth was a hole.

He stood up and ran noiselessly towards the footsteps. He did not care what his benefactor thought of this, he had grown to distrust servants of the Dark Lord, for they possessed his skill in stabbing the back. He had just stabbed the back of Racamorn

[Lief Erikson]

*Seems all the wolves are here for is getting beaten up.*

Sandor turned his head slightly as he realized that the pair were not alone.

"Good to have you back," Shelina said, lowering the dagger, "But please don't creep up on me again, you startled me."

"Who is this?" Sandor asked, motioning to the lithe black form behind Shelina.

"Another assistant. It is a good tracker and will lead us directly to Orpholin, and the rest of the company. It is called a Nrake, although doubtless the name means nothing to you."

Sandor and the Nrake studied each other in silence for a moment before Sandor slowly shook his head. "No, no I don't believe I have ever heard of it. But it makes little difference. Lead on, Nrake."

The creature eyed Sandor for a moment longer before turning its scaly body and picking up the pace again deeper into the forest.

But as the wolf howls farther away grew louder, the Nrake began to slow, crouching and sniffling, checking the wind continuously before moving on. Its black armor plating did not glint from the moonlight and it crouched lower still into the tall grasses, one hand touching its sword hilt.

"Not far now," it rasped. "There," it pointed ahead.





Steward fingered the weapon. Yes, perhaps he could do it justice. He had been good, once, although he had used the bow more recently than he'd used one of these.

But no, he wouldn't go there. Painful memories still lurked whenever he went back to his past.

The battle at hand was what was important. He could help some, but he doubted he could take two at once anymore. Not unless much of his old training came back. Even though he'd been constantly travelling for years, he had grown more soft than he'd used to be. And weaker.

Still . . .

He swung the blade in the air, and the motion was precise. Yes, he could still do some harm. And perhaps it was his day to die. His last fight. Save Vardor the nuisance of having to track him down any longer, and possibly save himself a great deal of pain that would come if he was caught.

Perhaps that was the way it would go and perhaps not. But he would fight hard, when it came to it.





A shadow slipped over the ground, dodging nimbly to and fro among the tents, laughing silently to itself. "This is the place," it muttered. "Stupid sentries never will wake from this sleep. And things are not over yet, oh no, we still have much to do before all is over."

"Who are you, what's your rank?" asked an officer who stepped around a tent.

He gurgled in surprise as Erenfor's dagger found his throat. Erenfor laughed silently to himself again. "I am the angel of death come down on this camp. Revenge is mine. The One Again movement shall be revenged tonight."

Erenfor left the dagger in the man's throat and took his sword instead.

Madness clouded his brain, yet a part of it ticked again into motion. The madness leapt into the nearest tent and the elf slashed the inhabitant to pieces. Slicing a partition of the tent fabric away, the elf leapt out again and moved to the next tent. Screams rent the air, but the orcish guards that rushed Erenfor were quickly sliced apart, finding themselves outmatched by their opponent.

"I am a warrior of Doriath! None can stand against me!"

His insane screams of laughter was a strange accompanyment to the screams of pain coming from those who died at the end of his blade.

[Selwythe]

The mad elf's screams were checked as he froze, glaring at the man who just stepped out of the next tent. He was stooped and wore a black cloak, and looked human but had an Orcish air around him. He unsheathed his black sword.

"Mad elf...I never thought you would come this far. I took flight from the inn to be near my allies, and yet you and your foolish companions come forth. BEGONE from the camp which I am temporarily in charge of!"

Then the man assumed a combat stance. He had seen this elf fight before, in a clearing in the woods days ago against a Dark Elf, and he was aware of his prowess, if the dead orcs and men around him were not already proof. And he had seen him too years ago, when his name was notorious and vile.

Erenfor stared at him, his madness suddenly pacified but flared again in anarchy.

"Folstan," he named the man and spat, "traitor of the One Again movement. Yes, I remember. You betrayed the location of the Edain resistance in Hisilome. This shall be blood well spilt."

Then Erenfor leapt at him with his sword and the clash of steel upon steel resounded throughout the clearing.

*Not too sure if I got Hisilome correct. It was used in HoME for the land near Dor-Lomin and was Elvish but I can't remember what they changed it to in Silmarillion.*

[Irid al'Menie]

"He's here!" Irid hissed, her teeth visible in a snarl. She ordered the pack gathered around Arcon, always following him, to try and stop him from coming here. But if he tried to kill, they had to let him go. They only had to circle around him. The pack of wolves here with her ran forward the moment Tal gave the signal. One of the sentries died without knowing what happened. His last vision was that of wolves running towards him. Another sentrie had already drawn his sword, and wanted to call, but he didn't get a change to do so. Then they moved deeper into the camp.

[Tessar]

tessar held back, he didnt want to fight but knew he had too. when suddenly from behined him he hurd a twig snap he wheld around and saw a hidden ork (OCC* it is orks right?) tessar was to scared to move for a moment but when the ork lept at him he jumpt up realy high in the air using some of his levitat skill. he ment to come down on the orks back and stab him but as soon as he landed he was swiped off and slamed in to a tree. he held back a screem of pain *why hasent the ork set up a cry yet?* he wanderd *well if hes not telling ehter am i* he got back up and after geting slamed around a bit he decided to throw caushen to the wind *if non of my freands can help me then i have to do sompthing brfor i get killed!* summoning up all of his strength eh tryed to make a fireball. but he couldent *IM ABOUT TO BE KILED BECAUS OF A LACK OF MAGIC EXPERENC* he thought in a panic

the orc grabbed him.

OCC* ok now tings are getting good! a littel help anyone?

[Irid al'Menie]

Irid heard a scream and swirled around. The elvenboy was getting crushed by a very ugly orc. She lept forward, and cut on of the arms off from the orc. The orc was in pain, but didn't release the boy yet.

"Oh, come on. You're big, fat and ugly, and it's not nice to crush little boys!"

With these words she stabs her sword through his side. He falls down, dragging the boy with him. But he falls backwards, and the boy lands right on him.

"Well, lad. You might want to take some cover. It's very brave of you to be willing to fight, but i don't think you have enough experience with your little toy." She says, pointing to the dagger. "We can't save you every time one of these fellows comes out to get you."

She turns around and sees Tal surrounded by a bunch of orcs.

"Great, Operation Save number two."

She asks the wolves to take care of two of them, and attacks another one. Two orcs immediatly turn to her. She knows two fighters usually just are trouble for both eachother. She repels one of the attackers, who then stands right in front of the other one just striking with his sword. This means the end of one of them. The other is taken care of in a moment. Then a band of obscure looking men comes towards her.

"You know," she says to Tal, "They really don't know how to wash themselves."

She leaps in their middle, the wolves surround them. She starts decapitating some of them, but the others react almost immediatly, and she gets a cut in the arm.