A World of Danger: Part One

[Selwythe]

*Um, my "enemies" are Shelina and Grim, not Irid and Tal. The two-faced whore is Shelina, the iron man is Grim. And to make this briefer, let's just say Arcon followed them two and the Nrake after killing Ram.*

*Sorry about the confusion, thought it would be obvious if I said that the man was clad in iron but I guess the hint was too subtle.*

[Irid al'Menie]

*ok, sure, but 'my' wolves still gonna hold you up a little. And you are my enemy, that's the reason i send those wolves.*

[Tessar]

tessar was mad with him self. *im NOT going back. that was just a fluke*

[Lief Erikson]

*Selwyth, I think you have some of your history a little mixed up. For one, Folstan had nothing at all to do with the One Again Movement, he probably doesn't even know of its existence. For two, Erenfor didn't show any prowess when fighting with Angar, he got beaten within seconds of his wild attack. Although it can be shown that he's a good fighter from the bodies, that is true. But I don't think Erenfor will even recognize Folstan.*


Erenfor dodged in and out, stabbing swiftly. He didn't know who this ogre of a man was, but frankly he hardly cared. The battle light flared in his eyes, but he was not so skilled now as he'd used to be. Occasionally the madness blotted out his moves, causing skillful strategy to turn into wild blows. But Folstan was no fighter, not at heart.

He turned suddenly and ran, and Erenfor didn't pursue. He simply stood among the corpses and laughed mockingly after the retreating figure.

He stood there for several long moments more, still laughing. The sounds of battle were increasing from behind, at the front of the action where the company was attacking. Company, what company? Whoever it was was on his side, he was sure of that much.

He took a few slow steps toward the action, then turned around again, frowning and shaking his head. No, let them fight their puny wars, it was for him to release the slaves.

The hint of a plan formed in his maddened brain. "How long has it been since I thought of a plan? Three years? Four?" He laughed insanely as he reached the cages in which the prisoners were kept. "No, it was yesterday. Yesterday, when I slew Grim Wolf and Vardor."

He laughed again as he undid the locks of the cage doors. "Strike them from behind, warriors of Doriath. They cannot fight an attack from both sides."

"We aren't warriors," one of the confused slaves told him.

"I know what you are," Erenfor snapped. "Now get to the front. Pick up whatever weapons you can find, but the battle's out there!"

[Selwythe]

*Uh, copied this out of Tater's character bio.
History: Folstan's past is mysterious and shrouded, and will not be disclosed at the present time*

[Lief Erikson]

*Okay, but I'd prefer it if you didn't make that history involve my characters too. Being drastically limited and having cut down my former cast of thousands, I've had to pack quite a bit into each of the ones I've been allowed. So to me, their histories are already written out.

The One Again Movement is also completely thought through, and Folstan wasn't involved in it. Unless he was a mere soldier at the time. In which case he certainly wasn't in any position to betray the movement, or even know of its existence until he was ordered to help put it down.*

[Mathron]

Tal saw one of the orcs circling him fall to wolves, but the others drew closer, and two short, vicious fighters had joined them - dwarves whose hearts were only open to the gold given by the dark lord and his servants.

One of them took a low swipe with his weapon, a vicious scythe, and Tal barely jumped over it - leaving himself open to the others strike with a club that knocked him back.

Suddenly, though shouts rose in the distance, and he heard words to harden his heart. "The slaves are escaping!"

El'nela!

As the scythe swing back at him, he knocked the end of it aside, and slammed his blade home into its wielder. With his other hand, he flipped it up into the three orcs charging him, and spun into the other dwarf, cutting him down before he could recover from his partner's fall.

The orcs finally got through, but now Tal was raging, his soul burning with a cold determination and fire. Soon, all lay on the floor, and he drove farther into the camp.


----


(OOC: Assuming, as these are his enemies, that Arcon did not approach and speak with Sandor or Shelina, and is still stalking them.)


Sandor suddenly stopped, looking into the trees. They could see the camp, now, in the distance, and hear the sounds of battle ringing out. That was not why he paused - a bulky, looming shape stepped out of the trees.

Shelina froze, her hand dropping to her weapon. The figure was massive, nearly 8 feet tall, and had a leering, cruel face. One eye spun, looking at nothing in particular, while the other was cold and hard. In one hand, he held a large metal club.

"Kur," Sandor exclaimed, with both recognition and surprise, "What are you doing here? The camp is under attack, and I left you in charge."

Lowering his weapon, the half ogre stepped closer. "Well, suh, so it seems..."

Suddenly, with speed belying his strength, his club slammed into Sandor before the Wolf could draw his weapon, and knocked him backwards into a tree. Watching and hiding, Arcon frowned - he wanted revenge, but wanted to deliver it himself.

Kur's voice rang out. "Ya see, the bosses thought ye'd done enuf. Always leaving th' camp, and bein' careless. Some as think ye simply ignored that slave revolt a while back, if not for th' help of a boss man. And now we hear ya plannin' treason. Ye gone weak and soft, so I git to do ya in, and th' camp be Kur's band now!"

Sandor rose back to his feet, and spoke softly, "Girl, if ye wish to finish your business, see to it now. I'll deal with this one. As for you, Kur, I shall show you the meaning of strength."

Shelina glanced back and forth, and then took off towards the camp. She did not have the time for private affairs if she wished to please her master. In the darkness, Arcon followered her, aware of his own stalkers, the wolves of Irid's pack.

As they left, Grim Wolf grew cold and still, his blade gleaming in his hand. Kur, chuckling, stepped closer, swinging his club.

"Ah used t' fear ya, hur, but now Ah know ye just as much a weak 'ooman like t'others. Kur will show ya how strong he is!"

The club whistled at the Wolf, who easily flew under it. It slammed into a small tree, snapping the trunk and sending splinters flying. The Wolf, meanwhile, slid around Kur as the half-ogre quickly turned, his club sinking into the ground as Sandor jumped back.

"Do you know the first target a wolf goes for, Kur?"

The mercenary grunted, and charged forward - and dropped to the ground, bewildered, as his legs stopped supporting him. He glanced back to see the small cut along the back of his leg, and looked back at Grim Wolf - to see a blade hovering right above his head.

"I guess not." Kur barely had time to register the word's meanings before the blade sank deep, and ended his life.


---


Far to the north, beneath cold mountains and buried in dark shadows, in corridors lit by dank and musty torches that lined the walls, a man sauntered across the hallways.

Malagar planned to pick up the few items he left here, and quickly take himself away from this doomed dungeon. For one of the few times in his life, his plans would not go as he wished them.

As he walked down one slightly larger corridor - though with no real side doors or ways - he suddenly sensed two presences behind him. He glanced back, to see two large, bulky shapes filling the corridor behind him - shapes of darkness, lit only by the blades of flame held in their hands.

Instantly glancing back forward, two more appeared in front of him, leaving no doubt to his situation. He hurled himself into the shadows lining the wall - and, to his surprise, bounced back, as the darkness denied him entry. At the end of the corridor, a handsome figure materialized.

"Going somewhere, Malagar?"

Mal looked at the man with a smile, and responded calmly, "I go where I go on our lord's bidding, and he would be most upset if you detained me."

A chilling laugh left the other. "I think not. I told him of your treason, and he is most upset with you."

Mal began to feel slightly ill. "I know not what lies you speak of, though perhaps you merely misunderstood my ploys to deal with our foes..."

"Your silver tongue won't save you now. It will be to the pits with you, and we shall carve your power from you as we carve your flesh off your back. Enjoy being able to speak while you still can!"

Before the sentence finished, Mal dashed forward, a dark blade appearing in his hand almost faster than thought. One of the shapes before him lunger, and he flipped up and over its blade, his own weapon slicing along its side. As the Balrog gave a shriek, and dropped to the ground with a cry of pure pain, Mal almost felt he would get away.

Then two whips caught his back legs, dropping him to the ground. As he swiped at the balrog before him, another blade caught his own, and knocked it aside, where it fell to the floor beside the writhing body of the wounded balrog - which shriveled as shadows snaked across it and consumed its form.

Mal looked up into the face of the handsome man, who smiled darkly. "Killing one of our lord's great minions will cost you dearly, and only seals your fate, Shadowmaster."

As the balrogs grabbed him and lifted him to his feet, he smiled back, glaring darkly at the other man. "You may have me in your power now, Sauron, but you'll be a long time waiting if you expect to make me scream."

Sauron smiled back. "You'll be in our care for a long, long time, and, in the end, we will break even you. For now, I will make sure your little friend is dealt with."

The sorcerer turned his back, and vanished away as Mal tried to lunge forward and out of the balrog's grasp. As he vanished, Mal heard him recite the last words of a spell - and as he felt it settle on him, consciousness fled away into a long, silent, blackness.

[Tessar]

tessar saw a dwarf *that must be dain* he thought the boy ran towards the evil dwarf not knowing it was not dain. "dani!" he called as he drew near. dain saw him running towards the evil dwarf "NO! THATS NOT ME!!" he yelled but it was to late the boy alredy stoode by the dwarf. he turned around confused at hearing dains voice behined him, "die thou evil elf!" yelled the dwarf swinging at him. tessar just maneged to get below the swing in time then as he came up he did a spining kick which cout the dwarf in the neck (it was a tall dwarf ) and the dwarf was suprised at how hard it was. tessar maneged to get a bit of a fireball and threw it at the dwarf but all it did was make the dwarf madder. tessar quickly cast a simple thunder spell and zaped the dwarf who was rather shocked (get it? ) whill the dwarf was still to shocked to move (hehe) tessar unsheathed his blade and knoked the dwarf out with the handle. *IM not going to kill him* he thought *ill let the others do that*

OCC* you may have notesed that whill im making him do magic its not very powerful. is this ok?

[Mathron]

OOC: Sure, it seems to be working fine.

[Selwythe]

*Sorry if I interfered in your storylines in any way. Of course he will be a bit player, most likely a bad guy who was a spy in the movement. Me, I prefer to think of unclear and non-concrete storylines (drafts) so that I can twist them this way and that when they cannot be implemented due to others' postings and their interference in mine and my interference in others, and have done so numerous times earlier, so I apologise for the clash. I prefer to do this as the other way will seem to me more like writing a story on my own *

*Don't worry, I'm sure Folstan won't affect what you plan. He's a bit player, extra. What I planned for my characters is jeopardised seriously too, I guess I'll have to change the rough sketch again, sigh.*

[Selwythe]

Arcon crept noiselessly after Shelina, a blowpipe wedged in his mouth. He withdrew a dart from his pouch and loaded it. Its green tip showed that this dart, unlike the one he had shot her with days ago, was designed to kill.

---------------------------

Folstan ran into the woods, panting desperately for breath. Sandor had left Kur in charge and Kur in turn had temporarily entrusted the camp to his care to look for Sandor and within an hour, he had lost it. He needed reinforcements, he needed Kur, he needed Sandor.

"The slaves are escaping!"

He shuddered.

[Lief Erikson]

Steward staggered backward, sweat running down his forehead. His bony hands ached as he held the sword hilt and he wished for the hundredth time that the thing had a better grip. It had an excellent blade and was well balanced, but the it slid around in sweaty hands. Maybe dwarvish hands had natural assets to holding such a weapon.

He snorted a ragged laugh through weazes. Or maybe this was simply the reason why they usually used axes.

He sat down on a fallen log to catch his breath. Tal, Angar and Irid seemed to be doing well enough without him anyway. Especially now that these slaves were throwing themselves at the enemy from behind. There was something else going on, further within the camp which was disrupting them and distracting their attention.






Something in the camp is certainly disrupting the old man's attention, the Nrake thought as it moved closer, else it would notice him if he was so good a tracker as Shelina claimed. Shelina and he were nearly reached their target, he could tell by the smell. Shelina was becoming more anxious, but she had little reason. The man was not the best of fighters, that was obvious. He was bone weary and old. The Nrake could have taken fifty of them himself.

But his keen senses soon detected the scent of orcish blood on the old man's weapon. Perhaps the man's appearance belied his actual skills.

Uncertainty filtered slowly into the Nrake, but it reached for a black cord looped around its belt and tied the end into a tight knot. A thick one too, about the size of a clenched fist.






Fool woman, staring at the camp, Arcon thought as he edged closer into the brush. Fool Vardor, to take such a person as an agent. I'll show them all.

Memory and hate twisted his mind as he raised the blowpipe.






The Nrake suddenly realized, and everything happened at once. The old man was a trap, and they'd walked into it like blind fools!

His sense of smell detected Arcon behind them, even up to the very scent of the poison on the weapon and the Nrake twisted his new weapon, flailing out with the cord at the scent.

The knotted cord caught Arcon full in the face, nearly causing him to choke on his own dart. He spat it out quickly, hoping not to have been infected by the poison. The blowpipe disappeared in the scrub of the bushes and Arcon raised his hand to his head, cursing.

Steward twisted around, his sword out again. What was going on? The mad elf, perhaps?

He just had time to see the shape of a figure leap aside from behind a tree and a muffled yelp. The moonlight glinted off of drawn metal and he raised his own blade. "Who are you!" he called out.





Arcon tasted blood running down from his lip. But for the most part, the blow would probably simply leave a bad bruise.

His sword was now in his hand and he was preparing to go out and butcher the woman. The cursed lass had hit him! With a rope!

He leapt out from behind the tree, rushing in the location he'd heard the yelp of fear come from. That voice however . . . that had not been Shelina. Must have been one of the company.

He leapt behind another tree, glaring through the darkness for the female. He would not announce his position with words, though, however much he wanted her to be aware of who it was who was killing her.

[Tessar]

Liefffffffffff!!!! you ALWAYS forget me!!!
oh well (sniff) its not so bad (sniff sniff) im ust to it from you (sob)
lol but no really c'mon do you ignore me on perpuse or not?

[Lief Erikson]

*(Looks down imperiously) I'm still mad at you for turning my favorite mad elf into a strangling villain. (Raises his nose into the air, where the birds fly and more exalted beings lurk)

I forget only those who do not concern me. *

[Selwythe]

Folstan hurriedly shuffled, his head lowered to the ground. Therefore did he not see Steward until it was too late and when he did, he jumped back in horror. He knew right away that he was definitely not his servant, more probably one of the attackers.

But he saw the frail frame of this old man and his fatigue and his perverse mind was oiled again. He unsheathed his ferociously black sword, an unfitting weapon for him, and grinned sinisterly.

"Aye, old one. Pardon me for it is ever the sickly and old who are the casualties of war. Make way for the young and reckless to earn..."

The old man found a good grip of his sword in his anger and struck at Folstan. Folstan brought his sword up to parry it, but the sheer venom of that blow left him lying on the ground, with a cut and shocked eyes.

"Aye! Mercy mercy! I am naught but a servant in this uncouth camp, forced therein by threats and blackmail," he yelped shrilly like an injured wolf.

The old man looked disapprovingly at him. He turned around and walked towards the camp. Folstan, seeing his opportunity, got up and retrieved his sword which he had dropped. He ran at the old man. He saw the danger coming, but his reflexes had slowed along with age and he found himself unable to avoid the blow.

But it never hit him. A dart suddenly materialised from a tree and struck Folstan's arm, forcing him to drop his sword mid-stroke. A green-robed man, almost invisible in the foliage of the forest, jumped down and ran to Folstan. He grabbed his neck and withdrew the dart before pointing it threateningly at Folstan. A drop of poison trickled from the dart onto his skin, causing him searing pain.

"It's you," Arcon stared surprisedly at Folstan, the man with unfriendly motives whom he had chased away from the inn at Edlynn.

Arcon regained his composure and tightened his hold on his neck.

"Speak now, lest your life ends abrupt. Where is Shelina?"

"Who?!"

"Shelina! Do not deceive me, for you know her!"

"Who's Shelina? Him?"

Folstan pointed to a puzzled Steward. Arcon turned around and Folstan made a run for it.

Arcon glanced impatiently at the figure of Folstan. This meddler had taken up too much of his time. Shelina had to be putting more and more distance between him and her.

He turned to leave but Steward stopped him.

"May I know the name of he who saved me from a fatal blow?"

Arcon turned momentarily and stared coldly. He turned and sped into the forest and was quickly cloaked in its foliage. Shelina was the utmost hate in his mind and he had too an ally to counter her servant which had attacked him: a speck grew larger in the sky.

[Tessar]

ohhhhhhh you liked that wacko sick-in-the-head-mad elf?

oh I'm sooooooooooo sorry FINE!!! IGNORE ME!!!! SEE IF I CARE!!!!!!! (sob) lol

ok look I'm sorry i messed up you little elfy thing now will you please STOP IGNORING ME??????

Tesseract12

[Lief Erikson]

*Hey, I wasn't 100% serious, and I haven't been ignoring you on purpose.

It's just that I usually create highly developed plots which take quite some time to unravel. Your character so far has avoided becoming seriously linked with them and he doesn't really concern my characters yet. Let's see, which characters have I shown so far?

Steward: Perhaps he could show the boy some interest, but right now hardly seems the time.
Vardor: Hardly likely to pay the boy any attention whatsoever.
Shelina: Also unlikely, she's too concerned with her mission to befriend an elf boy. Besides, at present she isn't even a member of the company.
Erenfor: He's only interested in two people right now, Vardor and El'nela.

Oh, Selwyth, could you remind me of something? I forget why Arcon is so angry at Shelina.*


He's after Shelina, Steward thought in surprise as he moved away from the forest. Another surprise . . . What would the woman be doing out here? Hunting him?

He touched his sword hilt. It was the most likely possibility.

He shook his head sadly as he returned to the camp. That it had come to this was grieving. She had been such a beautiful child, so friendly and cheerful. For all to have come to this.

This happens where the Dark Lord's hand stretches out to touch the weak.

He stepped over bodies and listened to the rage of the battle now taking place near the center of the camp. That was where it raged hottest, at any rate. There were at least half a dozen bodies strewn over the ground here, and he'd gladly wager there were more further in.

He wiped his own sword blade on the jerkin of a dead orc and hesitated. Reaching down, he pulled a black scarf from around the throat of the same orc and laid it out on his hand. Then, he closed it over the sword hilt. There, now that was one problem solved. Perhaps now it was time to return to the fray. He still had skill in these weary bones, if not the strength anymore, and he thought could well be a match for any one orc. Especially since his appearance was against him. He'd long learned to take any advantage he could in the battlefield. This one would strain all skill to its limits, however.






The Nrake stared off into the trees, looking for Arcon. He'd been careless enough to let his opponent see him; it would have been better if he thought himself against the girl alone.

He breathed in several long breaths, scenting the air carefully. Now that he'd already recieved a whiff of Arcon's scent, he could track the man anywhere. Right now, however, he wasn't using those skills to hunt but to evade.

"Come, it is safe now," he told Shelina. She crouched low in the bushes behind him, but she trusted his judgement. Both stood and he edged carefully through the wood, moving from tree to tree with graceful ease.

All was quiet, and Arcon still was far enough away.

Soon, they reached the edge of the camp. For a moment he considered going back into the forest to kill Arcon, it was never good to leave an enemy at your back, but he discarded the idea. They were closer now than they'd been in a long time to their quarry and the scent of him was too strong on his nostrils. We may live to pay for the mistake, he thought to himself grimly, but if we're going to make it we'd best take the momentary advantage it gives.

They ran across the open grass swiftly, ducking into the camp and hiding behind a tent. This would take the place of the trees, he decided as he continued his hunt. Which steadily drew closer to the battle's center, he realized worriedly.

[Mathron]

"Where is she?" bellowed Tal through the camp, "By Melkor's black heart, where is El'nela!?" The mercenaries he screamed at scrambled to get out of his way, for in his fury, he fought like a man possessed, ignoring any wounds and ever charging the foe. He cornered one of them, a deep eyed short man, and slapped the man's weapon away. Tal's blade touched the man's throat, as the elf asked, "Where is my sister!?!?"

The man stuttered in fear and confusion, before losing his life.

Tal spun about, looking for more foes. He saw more running from him, trying to flee the camp, and Tal, and the wolves, and the disaster the mercenaries faced this day. Breathing heavily, eyes wide and filled with rage, he crashed through the camp, screaming his question as he ran.

"She isn't here, lad."

He turned at the voice, weapon raised, till he saw he faced only an old elven woman. He stared at for a moment, before he realized he knew her name - Shaerin, an elf from his village. Another captive. The elder elf stared back at him with calm eyes.

"What?"

"They took her away. She tried to get us free, but was caught, along with some others, and sent to prisons. I don't know where, Tal.... I'm sorry."


-----


Tessar ran through the village, clutching his knife, and trying to find orcs to fight. He could kill them without mercy, but he didn't want to have to strike down a human, or face one of the evil dwarves again. He saw wolves running amidst the tents, and then nearly stumbled over a short, burly form.

He lifted his knife before he recognized Dain. "There you be, boy," said the dwarf, "We be almost done with this lot. See if ye can find the others, and how they fare."

Tessar nodded, quickly, and ran off again.

Dain turned, and saw Erenfor staring at him with a strange grin on his face.

"I've won," said the mad elf, cackling, "I've freed the slaves!"

The dwarf slowly nodded, and said, "Our foes here have fallen... put down your blade, friend."

Erenfor stared back at him, looking almost as if he didn't understand, and Dain waited to see what he would do.


---


Sandor stalked through the bushes, angry and confused. He had, if not trusted Kur, trusted the position he had in the camp, and in his service to his superiors. He had never questioned his missions, nor failed at his tasks. So why had they, apparently, sided with Kur against him?

A commotion in the bush ahead cut off his stream of thought. Drawing his blade, he blended into the trees and crept closer. The girl, Shelina, was facing off the man... that Mal had left to die? Not only was it the same man, but he was healed, somehow, and crouched over another, fallen figure - Folstan, one of the band's captains. An old man stood in the clearing as well, a short sword in his hand, looking back and forth at the other two in puzzlement, and a strange lizard creature stood there, as well.

Sandor frowned. He didn't know who to trust anymore. The strangely healed man was surely his foe, after having been left to die. The girl and Folstan, he had worked with before - but it seemed he was no longer in the good graces of Melkor's forces, and that would set him against them, however much he didn't wish to fight them. And the other two were a mystery, though he didn't like the look of the strange creature.

He glanced up, on instinct, and saw a form circling above, and slowly drifting downward. A drake. A small one, but dangerous indeed. Had it been sent after him? As he wondered, his blade quivered, and he quickly ran up into the top of the tree he hid behind. When the drake came down searching for him, he would be waiting.

[Tessar]

Oh you were kidding?

okeday yousa point well takin

[Lief Erikson]

"The blade never falls," Erenfor gibbered, "Not until the last of them is dead, and there is still one more to fall. Vardor. Kill him, and peace will take us all. He is the only one who knows where El'nela is, if she's alive, and we have to kill him now. As soon as we can. Question the slaves and find out which direction they were going. The hunt never ends!"

He pushed the blade under his belt and tapped the hilt with his hand. "There is much left to do," he said in a voice which sounded almost sane. "We are only people, yet it is upon ordinary people that the greatest tasks in the world come upon, more often then not."