The Great Quest

Vardor dismounted from the bat and walked over to Esroth. "You have taken too long," he said coldly, ignoring the fumbled greetings.

"I'm terribly sorry, uh, my lord. You see, these winged birds take matters such as alliances very seriously, and there's little that can be done to get any of them to . . ."

He gave a strangled gasp as Vardor's hand clasped around his throat. Vardor released him, and the body sank to the ground.

"You've served as much of your purpose as you were capable of, fool," he said quietly. "I will need your contact to work to finish what you began, from now on. Having one of their own kind dealing with this will be helpul to their reasoning."

Ulrog watched as his target fell to the ground. It had been a good shot. For once things were going well. Quickly he went over to her fallen horse and rumaged through the saddle bags. Grinning, he found a coil of rope and went over to his captive and bound her arms and legs. She'd be unconcious for a good while yet, but it didn't hurt to take precautions. The master would be pleased.
Ulrog heard some movement nearby and spun round to see that it was only a hare. That wolf was probably around somewhere. Ulrog could just detect a faint scent. Whatever it was he would have to get moving soon.
The small orc slung the tall bound woman on to his back and began to half carry, half drag her along. Ulrog cursed himself for not thinking this far ahead. It was clear he wasn't going anywhere fast.

Soon, Ulrog realized it was almost hopless to go with this mode of travel. He would tire quickly, and when the woman came to, she'd resist, and that would keep him from taking her anywhere.

After dropping her on the muddy ground, he got a flare of inspiration.

The horse she'd been riding was much larger than her, and his potion wasn't exactly designed to cope with its inner systems. Already it was beginning to stagger to its feet, looking dazed. Quickly Ulrog grabbed the reins and led the horse over to where Ayna lay.

Picking her up, he slung her sideways over the saddle and led the horse by the lead rope. Now they'd be able to move at a much better pace, and keep the distance between themselves and that wolf a little wider.





Therefore, when Ayna came to, the first thing she saw was the ground and the side of the horse.

Funny way to be riding, she thought. Usually I'm upright. But then everything came back in a flood, and she looked sideways, seeing the orc leading the horse. She attempted to struggle against her bonds, but couldn't move either her arms or her legs. They were securely fastened.

"Where are you taking me, and why?" she asked the orc.

It looked back at her. "So you've woken up now, have you? Where and why are not questions that you can expect to have answered."

"No, I suppose they're not," she said in disappointment. "But I'd have thought that orc raiders would kill wandering travelers, not capture them. You were hunting me."

"That's my business," the orc snarled back.

After a moment, she realized what was happening. They had found her afterall. They had discovered that the fake identity was a ruse, and had come after her in the end. All she had to look forward to was torture and questioning of the evil ones. She didn't know if she could endure the pain that they would inflict on her. She would be forced to give up, and Middle Earth would end up like Beleriand; swamped in tragedy and destruction.

With a feeling of horrible forboding, she drifted into silence.

The orc had the same feeling as it looked uncomfortably over its shoulder again. The wolf was getting nearer. And something else . . . elf, probably, had joined it.

Thankfully, he was nearing an orc raiding party which was in league with his master. Combined with them, they might be able to escape and survive. Might.

Elrov walked on, following the path the orc had took with Ayna. Leaning on him was the man, who had still not spoken to him since Elrov had caught up with him. When he had come upon Harnauro, the man had been struggling after the orc, pain and agony evident in his every step. Elrov had tried to converse with him, but the other simply shook his head and went on, finally accepting Elrov's help only after nearly stumbling to the ground.


Harnauro limped on, with the aid of the elf, breathing heavily, a low rumbling in his throat arising every time he though he smelled the orc. Suddenly, he perked up, grabbing onto a nearby tree branch for support, as he glanced from side to side. Yes... the orc was near. His eyes narrowed as he saw the shape of a horse moving along the road in the distance, a figure lashed to its back. He broke free of Elrov, and in a half limping, half loping stride, hurried towards the orc.

As the captain came upon the released convicts, he was taken aback for a moment at their ferocity and hatred. One of them got past his guard, slamming a makeshift stone dagger into his chest. As it shattered upon the armor he wore beneath his garb, he slammed his fist into the man's chest, crushing his ribcage. He flung the wreck at some of his fellows, and then gestured for his men to make short work of the scum. Not even drawing weapons, the false rohirrim waded through the prisoners, snapping necks and breaking arms, and leaving bleeding, broken bodies behind them.

Farther along the corridor, they came to the exit, and the slowly reviving forms of the guards. In the distance, many more troops were approaching, having been alarmed by the sounds of the fight. The captain grabbed one of the guards who had been left unconscious, and slammed him up against the wall. "Where are they!?" he cried.

"I.. we tried to stop them... they got away!"
The guard stammered at him, flailing uselessly in the air.

With a snarl, the captain drew his sword and thrust it into the guard, who stared down in disbelief. Tossing the dead man to the ground, he looked at the other guards, who had drawn weapons, and at the approaching soldiers, who outnumbered his men five to one. Lord Thaldsan approached, in their midst, and stared at the dead guard, and the drawn weapons of the false rohirrim.

"What means this?" he called out in puzzlement, and then as he realized what had happened, he cried to his men, "Traitors! They must have aided the prisoners escape!"

The captain laughed, a hideous and wet sound, and then his face twisted and turned into a deformed and repulsive form, features mixed like stirred clay. The true soldiers all stepped as his men, too, changed features, and the captain cried out words in a strange tongue, and his men charged the guards.

A combination of fear and skill drove the 'watchers' past the guards and soldiers, and they wasted no time, simply knocked aside those in their path and fled off into the alleys of the city. Two of their number were cut, and wounded, but none fell, and by the time Lord Thaldsan organized pursuit, there was no sign of them left.

The group were busy trying to foind his way out when a portion of the wall move revealing a secret passage. A hand covert with old tongue of cloth apears and a rough voice great them

-In here quickly before they found us.

*Who is this to? Mal and the rest split up into the city already - is this to only some of them? Or to another group?*

In a small stone room, a man sat, hunched over, and stirring a variety of noxious liquids together. His gaze was focused on the chemicals he mixed, but whenever something else distracted him, his eyes would roam free and relaxed.

During one such distraction, his hand tipped the pot of liquids, and he looked down worriedly as it began to melt a hole in the rock beneath him. "Drat and bebother! I'll have to start over now, won't I?"

The man stood up, revealing a shaggy, unkempt beard, that matched bushy eyebrows beneath a bald head. His eyes were sharp blue, but, while they glinted with an inner light, showed no focus on his surroundings.

He scratched at his beard, looking at the bubbling puddle of green ooze on the ground, when a knocking on his chamber door disturbed him. Spinning about, he squawked, "Who's there??"

The door slowly opened, revealing a man wearing black armor from head to toe, only his eyes peering out from behind an obsidian visor. "Father, I have news."

The old man stared at him blankly, and then slapped at his loose robes, as though a fly had bitten him. "Tarnation! More orcs crawling around here, is it? I didn't want to take over this place, but the last owner had left, you know, had his own business, and I thought the place would be perfect for my work, nice and out of the way, no distractions..."

The other man cut in, saying, "No, not orcs, father. One of our own has returned to us."

The other's eyes brightened. "Joyous day! Happy day! Who has returned, and where has he been?"

"He was sent on one of your missions, to the forest lands. He regrets to inform you of his failure to find what you desired, though some of his brothers have remained behind to continue their search."

"Oh! Oh, that place. I thought they were a while returning. Its of no matter, I sent another already."

Had the face mask not completely covered the other's face, he surely would have shown puzzlement. "You sent another?"

"Yes, yes, one of my pets, should find it easy, bring it back, no trouble at all."

The eyes visible, till then simply glowing slits, widened. "A.. B'rak?"

"Yes, one of them, should be there already, actually. Still, just to be sure, I might send one of my birds. Make sure things go smoothly."

The old man waved his hand, dismissing the matter. "Make sure our returning son is well rewarded for his efforts! And send someone in to clean up this mess!"

The armored form bowed, turning away, saying, "He has been rewarded already, father." As he strode away, he spoke softly under his breath, "The same reward all failures recieve."

*I thought that thing was a B'rak. I just hesitating in making Elrov mentioning its species. He couldn't have known.*

Slythre glanced behind her and smiled to herself. Her pursuers were already drifting far behind in their search, and totally off target.

It still amazed her that they'd actually managed to pull this off. Whoever was in charge of the prison security would surely be in for it for allowing such a fiasco.

After they'd regrouped, escape would be relatively easy. They were finally finished with the wild adventuring, once and for all.

She frowned. But why had Dania and Narsh been imprisoned in the first place? Whoever was in charge of the operation also was connected in some way with the evil creatures who had been hindering and fighting them before. Worthy opponents, she thought to herself. Too difficult to defeat for comfort. And something told her that neither they nor their master would allow things to be finished at that.

"You knuckle brained fool!" Sethris nearly shouted at him. "Who cares if they killed a couple Rohirrim! Their the best we have, and you have caused them to be attacked! Shall I report to our master that the only ones who have a chance of hunting down those interloping meddlers have been chased away by you!"

Lord Thaldsan bit back his anger. There was some truth in what this pompous idiot said to him. Vardor would never let this go. No way. If he wasn't such an important tool to him, he'd surely be flayed for this. Dania escaped. One of the all too valuable Nrake hunters dead. All of the enemy who'd entered the city unaccounted for.

Thaldsan looked over at Sethris. "All right, so your saying they didn't really betray us."

"Of course they didn't! It was the Maiar's shadow magic that caused it!"

"You have always had more experience with their kind then I have. All right, just do what you can to smooth this misunderstanding over. Get them back on the job, but tell them not to kill Rohirrim soldiers unless it is absolutely neccessary."

Sethris' lip curled, but he nodded his head. "Very well. But don't think I'm going to tag along repairing the damage that you've done always." He pointed a finger at Thaldsan's face. "Next time, you're on your own, and I'll leave you to the fate that our master will prepare for you. I shall enjoy watching you die in agony."

*Yeah, it was a B'rak - and there is probably no one who has ever heard of it, or the evil guys hunting Mal (save for maybe a few of the powerful Maia) - which is why I avoided naming it as other than 'beast' or 'monster'.*

A score of soldiers marched down the street, and Mal melted into the shadows of a closed doorway, pulling Narsh, still injured, against the wall beside him. The soldiers walked on without notice, and Narsh let out a breath he had been holding.

"We aren't out of this yet," whispered Mal, "but we are close. They will be watching throughout the city, but the one place they won't be able to keep an eye on everything is the marketplace. Once we meet the others there, it should be simple to find a way out."

The elf nodded, eyes glinting with anger as he watched the departing soldiers. Mal gestured to him, and he followed down an alley, and into yet more darkness.

*Hmm, don't quite know much about this Sethris, hope I portray him well - if I fail, mine apologies!*

"Broodlord, where go we now?"

The false captain, now having discarded his uniform, as had his men, was a gruesome sight to behold. His armor, like his mens, was obsidian, but had runes and grinning skulls carved upon it as well. Now revealed strapped to his waist was a glimmering red sword, with a ruby topping the pommel. He took a while before answering, looking back and forth down the alley they stood in. He opened his mouth, and his tongue licked the air as he looked around.

"The one we hunt is still here, I can tasste him. We remain."

"We no longer are welcome by the puny rulerss of thiss land..."

The broodlord turned to look at the one who spoke to him, gazing fiercely at the individual, who bowed his head and took a step back.

"You are not as unwelcome as you believe." The voice came from the head of the alleyway, and the broodlord spun around, sword flying from his scabbard and almost striking down the man who entered, before he recognized him as the contact he had made with the dark force in the city.

He smiled grimly, hissing at the intruder as he said, "Ahhh, Ssethrisss, you call being attacked welcome?"

The man stopped his approach, a bit taken aback, but still confident. "What happened was an accident. The one responsible already greatly regrets his mistake, I assure you."

The broodlord laughed. "Were he one of uss, he would not live to regret failure! But if it iss a mistake, maybe we can sstill work together..."

Sethris smiled at his words. "Of course we can remain in cooperation! You have been wellpaid for your services throughout this time, have you not?"

The broodlord's eyes suddenly grew angry and he took a step forward, startling Sethris back, as he said, "Wellpaid? You think we care for moneyss?? We nearly had them, but your men let them esscape!"

Sethris, confused, and starting to feel a bit frightened near this unpredictable being, responded, "Who do you mean? We have had the elves in captivity for days - you brought them, after all!"

This calmed the broodlord somewhat, and he grew quiet. "Yess... Very well. Still, our nature has been revealed to the soldierss of your city - we shall have to hunt in secrecy."

Breathing deeply, and still cautious, Sethris gave another smile. Putting his hands together beneath his chin, he said, "But of course. And the soldiers are positioned throughout the city, keeping sight of the intruders."

More laughter. "Your soldiers will see nothing that does not wish to be seen. But we have other... ssensses... to track them, and they will not expect our appearance. Fear not - I shall try to keep the elf alive." He laughed again, and then with a gesture, he and his men wrapped capes around them and ran off into the alleys and shadows. Sethris stared after them for a moment, lips pursed, and then slipped away himself.

*That was a fine character for Sethris. I can't post now, though. My sister has school to do, so I'll post in the morning.*

"Hello Snaga!"
Ulrog hated that name. He hated it almost as much as...
"Snotty nosed tracker!"
He watched as some of his lager cousins approached. Unlike him they were of one of the larger mountain breeds. They wore some armour and carried curved swords.
"What's that you've got then Snaga?", the lead orc asked, looking at the horse and Anya. He was a bit larger than the rest and carried an axe.
"The one the boss was after. The one you fighters couldn't get!", Ulrog sneered back at him.
"You watch that toungue of yours Snaga", the orc replied, giving his axe a bit of a shake.
A sly smile crossed Ulrog's face.
"Sorry chief. You know, there's another the boss is after. Following me. Too tough for me to handle. Thought you lot might make a better go of it."
"Right you are Snaga. Fighting's not for you and your little snotty nose", he looked over at the other orcs who laughed on cue.
Just as this happened a large man burst into the clearing. Ulrog looked at him in suprise. The man's scent was almost exactly the same as that of the wolf.
"Right then lads! Let's show Snaga how it's done!"
The largest orc led the others in a charge towards the man. Ulrog pulled the reigns and set off again, as quickly as he could. Hopefully that lot would slow the wolf-man down long enough for him to get the start he needed.

At the sight of enemies, some of Harnauro's weakness fell away. He felt as though he was moving lethargically, still, but what seemed as slow to him was easily fast enough to match the orcs.

They laughed wickedly at his approach, and the chief stepped forward, prepared to deal with this lone, injured, human. As Harnauro stepped in range, the orc, in one fluid motion, slammed his rusty blade into the mans chest, directly into his heart.

Harnauro's hand lashed out, ripping open the orcs throat.

The other orcs gave a cry, but still confident in numbers, and thinking the blade sliding harmlessly from his check a trick of the light, charged him, two breaking off in glee at the sight of an elf coming to a halt as he entered the clearing.

Harnauro's mind was filled with rage, and he felt the bloodlist begin to overtake him. Still though, not enough of his nature had returned for him to assume his other form, and he would have to deal with these filth with only skill. Snatching the blade from one of them, and ripping it from their hands, he swung it around, disembowling the orc behind him.

He felt more orcs draw their blades across his back as he beheaded the sword's owner, but gave it no thought, his wounds reclosing as soon as the blades went past. He hardly was in danger, unlest the orcs had looted some powerful weaponry - and most such weapons were elf-forged, and would burn the hands of orcen wielders.

A spin around took him past the two orcs behind him, but only killing one, as his rusty scavenged blade snapped off as it sank into the firsts belly. Baring teeth, he leapt forward and snapped his head into the second's face feeling the orc's nose shatter, and hearing the snap of its neck. Shaking bloody remnants from his face, Harnauro looked around. A few orcs were fleeing into the woods, and two more were attacking the elf, who was managing to hold them off. Harnauro tensed, wanting to hunt the fleeing forms, but shook it away, and a few long strides brought him to the elf. He slammed one elbow into the back of an orc, dropping it to the ground with its spine broken, and as the other spun about, he grabbed its own sword and sunk it into its chest, to the hilt.

Ignoring whatever the elf was saying, Harnauro turned about. The battle had revitalized him, but now the scent of orcs was thick, almost overpowering! With the fleeing of some of the orcs, he couldn't tell which way the one with the girl had fled! With a snarl on his lips, he walked into the woods and began hunting the first orc scent. One of them would be the right one.

The creature moved slowly across the ground. Few indeed of his kind were out here; he was one of the last. He raised his head towards the sky and drew in a deep breath through his nose. Instantly his whole body tingled with the different scents, and his mind flared to life on one area, blocking out all distractions. Focusing to a point.

The Nrake's eyes narrowed and he took a hesitant step forward. Then the hunter instinct took complete control of his body, and he leapt forwards into the undergrowth, whipping towards the target.

Sethris had no doubt that they were right; those fool soldiers under Thaldsan's command were attuned to nothing. But it was still good to have them here. When the real hunters attacked, the soldiers would be able to see, and their numbers would at the very least be helpful a distraction.

He glanced around briefly towards the different sides of the street. Now that this was patched up, things were almost entirely shifting back to on schedule. Although Dania's escape had almost completely stopped his plans, as soon as she was recaptured, everything would be back in place. The Valley of Ethrilien was ripe for the taking, and the key would soon fit the lock.

Sethris' smile made the soldiers guarding the gates cast worried looks at each other.

Evron looked down at the map of the city. It still seemed incredible to him. The prisons, a highly guarded section of the city, broken into! High security prisoners rescued! And, to cap it off, not a single person was killed, except those who were slain by the group of people that followed after, disguised as Rohirrim. And the descriptions! These were the very same people he himself had escorted in.

Lord Thaldsan had punished him for that. Of course.

Grimacing, Evron glanced out the window of the tower, towards the city below. They were out there, somewhere. But they'd rescued prisoners who he believed to be innocent. And he just couldn't make himself believe that elves, men and rangers were all in league with the enemies of the realm.

He looked again at the map. Where would they be? Where would they hide?

He looked at the section of broken down alleys in the poor section of the city. It could be there. A very dangerous area, but very easy to hide a few vagabonds in. Except that for the right price, just about any of them would be willing to betray the fugitives to the law.

No, it would have to be somewhere else. Did they have an accomplise who had a house waiting to recieve them? How many were there, and where?

Evron sighed and let the map curl up on itself. It was impossible to tell.

Perhaps a walk in the marketplace would help clear his foggy brain. Picking up his sword, he buckled it on and went out the door.

The fight was still visible as the horse jerked back into the woods, let at a fast pace by her small captor. They were getting close to their destination, which by now she had guessed. And those who pursued in the hopes of rescuing would not know where she was. A couple minutes later, she gave out a scream, echoing around the forest.

Cursing, the orc whirled around, slapping his hand over her mouth and stifling the sound. Then, he quickly tore a strip of cloth from her own sleeve and gagged her with it.




But it was too late. Where they were hunting, Harnauro and Elrov shifted their gaze in the direction of the sound, and picked up the pace.

Elrov raised his bloody sword blade, and the look of anger and determination increased. They were close. That rotten orc would not give them the slip again.

The broodlord stalked through the city, following the traces of the wounded elf. They had carried him captive for days, and his taste was familiar to them. Daylight had come, but he and his men now wore the visages and garb of a merchant and guard. The broodlord walked with a steady pace, his cloak trailing behind (the previous owner no longer had need of it - corpses seldom do.)

As he and his men entered the swirling mass of people that formed the marketplaces, smells and sounds drowned his search, bringing an angry grimace to his face. He signaled for his men to fan out behind him, infiltrating silently into the crowd, and searching in all directions. As he looked about, he nearly passed over a form standing in the shadows of one booth, and then his gaze darted back to it, seeing that a slim female shape stood next to it. A grin tugged at his mouth as he recognized the female elf. Either, alone, he would have dismissed, but they must have started to regroup.

The others of their band would soon regroup, and indeed, as the thought drifted through his mind, he saw a dark shape drifting gracefully through the crowd, towards the ranger and elf. A harsh laugh erupted from his throat, and he saw that the closest exit for the one they sought was blocked by his men. He fingered the ruby on his sword, strapped to his waist. The man had dark magics, but his blade would afford him some protection... and if they could take another captive again, as a hostage.

As he pondered, he saw the ranger and elf start to head across the market, towards the shadow man, and he knew he had to act before they got away. Throwing secrecy to the wings and dropping his encumbering cloak aside, he charged forward, drawing his blade, and hurling aside any citizens in his way.

His men drew weapons, and began to viciously slice and slam their way through the crowd. Without mercy they cut down any of the innocent populace in their path, letting out eerie cries and, within moments, all in the square were panicking, and fleeing from them.


Mal turned about at the start of the commotion, seeing a black armored form coming towards him, a gleaming red sword blazing in the air, red with its own power and the blood already upon it. His eyes widened as he saw more of the 'watchers' circling around him, and his friends, and with a mass of people between them and the exit from the marketplace. They would have to scatter again!

He yelled out for Faradin to get Dania out of the city, hoping the others were close enough to hear, and then drew dagger and short sword, intending to lead off the ones after him. He charged straight towards the leader of these foes, making as though to engage with him, and at the last moment, veered towards the side, trying to get to a place he could get up a wall and away into a side streets.

A glance upward showed the sun was at full height, and his powers were at their weakest. He dodged under the blade of one of them, having only time to trip the foe, but not fell them, and then dived through a hole between the two of them, coming up on the otherside, and charging towards the exit they had entered from, directly opposite where his friends would, hopefully escape.