The Gates of Mirkwood: RPG

[Telcontar_Dunedain]

"I can see why you would find it strange. But us Dunedain often hunt Orcs alone, I would make nothing of it. That is if Lanor can be trusted," replied Anfal.

[Butterbeer]

" Well for sure you Dunedain know what you are about: many's the time i have argued this with old Barliaman at the Pony when i have been back up this way again - and i have no doubt this Harn can take care of himself - but did you see the expression on kalin's face? : he was concerned! and i remember now the words the elf spoke earlier...

“Harn is not so foolish as to face an orc hoard alone,”

Fletch imitated Kalin's clear Elven voice causing Anfal to smile momentarily...

" yet now kalin has gone off all alone . .. does it not worry you Dunedain? And see there Beryn: she is alert and not enamoured of this situation by her look"

"what say you Ranger of the North?"

[Telcontar_Dunedain]

"I very much doubt that Harn is facing the Orc hoard alone, just scouting as was planned. Kalin has probably just gone to check on the situation," said Anfal. "But I say again this all depends on whether or not Lanor is telling the truth. It could well be harmless, it may not be. All we can do is wait and see, and prepare our selves for a good old fashioned fight."

[Butterbeer]

"mmm" fletch was not convinced

Anfal spoke sense but in his heart he did not like this delay... ever and anon into his mind came the picture of Ravenlocks, for him alone it seemed time was of the upmost importance ... yet he could not achieve any rescue alone he knew ...

"So be it! But my heart burns inside me with this delay: my Ravenlocks is even now held hostage by these Foul maggots!"

Fletch span around as a shudder convulsed his body .... he went over to 'supersonic' and reaching into his gear, pulled out a bottle of Mead and his pipe: he was in need of some stress relief: a quick drink would make him all the better to enter into any battle that might ensue..


On a whim he called softly over to Beryn: "will you join me in a quick draught? and you too Anfal my friend? Tis' Ravenlock's favourite ... she will not grudge you a taste!"

Again Fletch tensed up before taking a hearty swig ...

[Earniel]

"A most tempting offer, Friend. I wish, though, it were made at a more suitable time."

Nevertheless Beryn indicated Fletch to sit down beside her. She took the bottle from him and took a small sip. She licked her lips.

"Not a bad batch," she complimented. "Of a better degree than that of the Brown Ale Inn I had last night. Your lady friend has good taste."

She handed Fletch back the bottle with some regret. It was very mead, unfortunately also hardly a good time to kick back and drink to her heart's content.

"And speaking of your lady friend," she said on a softer tone, "you'll be more of use to her sober. I can see you're worried but drinking mead isn't going to solve anything."

Beryn cast a quick glance around the rest of the company.

"But don't tell the Elf I said that last bit," she added with a conspiratorial smile."

[Butterbeer]

Fletch smiled back and took a long swig.

"Don't worry, a couple of sips of this'll do no harm - its this waiting around i don't care for."

Fletch paused and lowering his voice he leaned closer to Beryn

"tell me - did my eyes decieve me just now? - kalin seemed concerned by lanor's news - and you did not seem happy with him shooting off so? Something seems wrong ...."

Fletch trailed off, leaning back and looking around the camp intensely ...

[Earniel]

"Wrong?" Beryn repeated with a raised eye-brow. "Not to my liking, yes. But wrong? Hm, maybe."

Kalin's not happy with Harn scouting around the orc-camp just like that, without any support, and neither am I for that matter," she continued. "Harn no doubt knows things that we don't want the orcs to know. Our number and our present location for that matter."

She shifted her position and leant a little back against the tree. The horses were calmly browsing and their riders were sitting near, eating or cleaning their weapons. Normal wood-sounds surrounded them. Everything seemed in order.

"On the other hand, should you be suffering from some sort of forsight and you feel something's wrong, I'd like to be kept informed if you know anything more substantial."

[Butterbeer]

" Just a gut feeling" replied Fletch with a smile, rubbing his grumbling stomach ... he was hungry!

he paused

"but it's your call what to do next: how long do we sit here and wait?" he asked conversationally - partly wondering about a having a quick bite, partly wanting to now what was going on ....

[Tessar]

Silent as a shadow, Kalin moved about the perimeter of the orcish camp and let his keen elvish eyes scan it, and the surrounding area for Harn. He saw faint signs of the ranger’s passing, although it was clear that Harn meant to leave none, and it comforted Kalin to know that Harn was, at the least, still safe. Perhaps he was starting to become just as worrisome as Harn was.

The thought brought a tiny smile to the corner of Kalin’s lips, and he followed in Harn’s wake, eventually finding the ranger crouched and mostly covered by his cloak. To any observer it would have appeared almost as if a small shadow had joined with a larger one.

‘You should not trust the woodsman so completely after having only recently met—where has your caution gone?’ Kalin signed to the ranger, his hands difficult to make out in the low twilight, but visible enough for Harn to understand.

‘I thought you were the one who was telling me not to be so grumpy?’ Harn signed back in amusement. Kalin did not appear to appreciate the joke.

‘What do you plan?’ Kalin changed the subject, bringing up the subject at hand.

‘We have to get Eaol and the girl out,’ Harn signed needlessly, ‘But their guard is high. I believe I know which tent Eaol’s in, and I’ve seen the girl. They’re carrying her and waiting for her to regain consciousness—she’s badly wounded.’

‘And our priority?’ Kalin signed hesitantly, unsure if he should bring it up.

There was a pause.

‘Eaol,’ Harn finally signed, his crouched posture now seeming more that of an animal backed into a corner than that of a hunter preparing to strike.

There was another pause, and relief welled up in Kalin. Harn had not lost his sensibilities yet. The girl was Fletch’s responsibility, and unimportant on the one hand. Eaol held information that could bring cities down under a well planned assault. It galled Kalin to think of any life in such a manner, but she was only a mortal. Her time in Middle Earth would be short, and likely uneventful. That thought brought another sting.

Harn was mortal as well, and likely would not directly affect anything more than the girl would in his relatively short life. Would he leave Harn behind to face Seppicor alone if it meant Eaol could escape? It was possible that Harn would think up such a plan.

Shaking the thought away, Kalin made to sign a question to Harn, but realized it was too dark now for his hands to be properly seen. A light touch on his shoulder, and a flicker of movement told the elf that Harn was moving back towards the camp. Kalin moved to follow.

Kalin hoped the ranger wouldn’t think of any plan that was too dangerous.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Alone, now, the assassin watched and waited. The large woman might prove a problem—she was larger, even, than the ranger Harn, and he would be a problem all his own. Seppicor had only said to kill the ranger and the elf, but it seemed nearly every member of the party was deadly.

Without Harn as a leader, though, could the band continue on?

Lanor’s gaze flickered around the camp as night fell like a blanket. Some one had lit a small lantern, and its tiny glow was the only illumination that Beryn would allow. By the pale light, everyone appeared hollow and gaunt. Weak. But weakness was only a perception of the mind at a glance. True weakness could only be learned on the battlefield.

Slipping into the small glow of the lantern, Harn and Kalin appeared in the midst of the company. Harn’s face carried a certain grim energy, while Kalin’s appeared drawn and thoughtful. Neither had a weapon in hand, but they appeared ready to strike at a moments notice, and were poised on the brink of movement at all times. The light flickered across them as well, and cast the same hollow shroud across their bodies.

It was time.

Briefly, Harn explained his plan: Anfal, Fletch, Kalin and Lanor would take up a position north of the camp on a small hill Harn had spotted. When the attack began, they were to take down any archers they saw with their own bows and, if they could, prevent any orcs from forming a defensive ring around the tent where Eaol was being kept. Pansy, Beryn and Harn were to charge the tent and rescue the man and the girl.

“Do you know where Ravenlocks is?” Fletch demanded, fingering a knife at his belt with the nervous energy of a man who needed only a small excuse to draw blade.

“No, but she will not be hard to find,” Kalin reassured the hunter. “You may be certain, too, that we will not leave her behind.” The lie stung Kalin profusely, but there was no indication in his tone or face to indicate the mistruth. He could not promise it in full honesty, but he intended to make sure that it was done if it was at all possible.

“Everyone go and take your positions, we will-“ Harn began, but was interrupted swiftly.

“No,” Lanor rumbled, “I will go with you, not the archers.”

There was a moment’s pause, and the air was suddenly tense and thick. A flicker of emotion passed across Kalin’s face, but was gone the next moment, and Harn appeared surprised before his face settled back to its usual scowl.

“Why?” Kalin asked, his tone calm and neutral, but his eyes hooded.

“I would rather fight straight up than try picking off orcs from a distance, my aim is not that good,” Lanor explained gruffly.

“You will stay with myself and the other archers,” Kalin informed Lanor, once again cutting Harn off. “You do not have a say in the matter—your aim seemed fair enough in the village.”

Lanor shrugged, but he was clearly annoyed by the elf’s brusque brush-off.

Shrugging, Harn glanced around the group and let his gaze settle on Fletch. “You will stay with Kalin, and do nothing rash. Do you understand? The safety of your woman will depend on your keeping the orcs off her and our backs.”

[Earniel]

"I give you my word, Fletch, that I will do what is humanely possible to free your Ravenlocks, " Beryn said evenly, "as long as you obey Kalin on that hill."

"Stick to the plan and don't try anything stupid or you'll be gambling with all our lives. And I do not tend to take that kindly. Remember that well, all of you," she said with a last glance at Lanor. "And good luck too."

Beryn turned away and patted the Hobbit's shoulder.

"Come, miss Hogswallop, I trust your frying pan is well polished to rap some dirty orc with it. Let us take our position."

[Butterbeer]

" Fine!" said fletch, serious now
"Agreed."
He slowly assembled his 'tools of the trade' while looking earnestly at Harn and the elf

" ... but when you have your man, this 'Eaol' and are safe away, if by then we do not have my ravenlocks, if necessary i'll go in alone - how could i live else?

Give me a sign on the hill if and when you find her! till then i'll hold my position unless either you two or Beryn say otherwise...

Good luck all!"


Fletch turned away going over brisjkly to his mount 'Strawberry' and unpacked his deadly assortment of tools - those that were too large to carry on himself at all times and could not easily be concealed...

[Earniel]

Moving through tall grass and bushes was not something that came easy to a woman of Beryn's size. But this wasn't the first time she sneaked upon an orc camp, in this form or another. Although usually the camps tended to be a lot smaller, she mused.

But at least there weren't wolves at this camp, which allowed her, the ranger and the hobbit to come close to the camp without alerting the few sentries to their presence.

Harn finally signalled her and Pansy to stop. They were in position, now all they had to do was wait until Kalin's party on the hill were ready.

[Telcontar_Dunedain]

Anfal approached Fletch.
"She'll be fine mate. Harn'll make sure of that," he said picking up his bow and sheating his sword. "All we have to do is pick off their archers. Maybe we'll even get some close contact."

[Butterbeer]

"thanks for your Kind words Anfal" said Fletch checking his throwing knives, his poisened blow-pipe, his throwing stars, his bow and then with lightning speed unsheathing his rapier-like blade ...

winking at the somewhat suprised ranger he uncoiled the shigawire and noticed kalin urgently signalling them to come ..

"best be on our way, friend" whispered Fletch quickly offering Anfal a swig of mead ...

Fletch was suddenly transfixed momentarily by the intense look lanor was suddenly giving him, turning quickly he walked off towards kalin leaving Anfal the mead in his hand and deep in thought ...

[Tessar]

Keen eyes straining against the darkness, Harn crouched and waited for a signal from Kalin. There was an orc on patrol, and he passed close by the three hunters on his round, his lazy scan of the area missing them entirely.

Whizzing out of the darkness, an arrow shaft thudded in between the orc’s eyes and slew him instantly. Without a sound, he crumpled into the high grass and was hidden from sight.

The three companions slipped forward as one and advanced on the camp.

Everything was set.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kalin smoothly laid another arrow against his bow, but did not draw it back.

“Wait until the orcs notice them before you fire,” the elf commanded in a low whisper, “and try to make sure that none of the orcs can form a defensive ring around that large tent. If no orcs move towards the tent, keep them off our companions’ backs.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Like a whisper of wind passing through the grass and towards the tent, the three rescuers moved through the camp and slew the orcish guards.

Then they were in the open.

With a roar, the three companions charged into the camp and surged towards the tent, slaying orcs as they ran and trying to keep the witless guards from reaching their weapons before they could reach Eaol.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


“FIRE!” Kalin cried, whipping the fletching of the arrow back to his cheek before loosing the shaft.

[Telcontar_Dunedain]

Anfal released his arrow and successfully hit an Orc. He was an alright shot for a Ranger, but preferred using his sword. Kalin released another arrow as Anfal reloaded and shot an raising his sword agaisnt Pansy.

[Butterbeer]

"3-1" to the Elf whispered Fletch, smiling now that they were engaging the enemy and sighting his bow

with a screaming whoosh-like sound and an ominous Thud and twang

an arrow quivered in the tree beside him....


Loosing quickly Fletch's arrow wasn't quite true, the Orc archer being hit in the thigh, but falling down all the same...

[Earniel]

Beryn was rather enjoying herself, she had been itching to teach the orcs a lesson since they so quickly (and rather unpolitely) had fled the Inn after abducting Eaol. So she did not hold back on her way to the tent.

Her staff came down with such force on the shoulder of the orc in front of her, that - even though he had been wearing mail - he would still be picking up the pieces of his shoulder blade tomorrow. Another quick thud with the wooden staff and he was lying on the ground.

Harn was only two paces before her, making his way to the tent. Near behind her Beryn could hear Pansy's shouts of 'Shire! Shire!' and the occasional, oddly musical 'boiiing' as the Hobbit's frying pan made another victim. The orcs seemed a little unsure what to think of the miniature figure that wreaked such vengence with a cooking utensil.

[Tessar]

“Move, move, move!” Harn urged his companions to greater speed, his own sword spinning and stabbing in a deadly blur—hardly seeming to pause as Harn downed orc after orc, his skills heightened by desperation and adrenaline.

It wasn’t enough.

With an angry snarl on his face, Seppicor stepped out of the Torture Tent and his gaze fell on the companions. At first surprised, and then angry, the wizard took a step back and his eyes widened crazily as he threw his hands up into the air, hands clawed as he began shrieking a spell.

“MOVE!” Harn roared, unable to increase his own pace, but surging forward with all his might towards the wizard.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Shoot Seppicor!” Kalin cried urgently, turning his aim towards the sorcerer and firing off several arrows in rapid succession.

In imitation of Kalin, the archers put their sites on Seppicor and loosed a volley of arrows—each aiming true.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Out of the corner of his eye, Harn saw the arrows coming and roared in triumph. Seppicor could not dodge them all!

He had severely underestimated the sorcerer.

As the first arrow struck Seppicor, it seemed to glance off his skin. The following hail of arrows never even made it that far, and shattered apart at two paces as if struck by a great, invisible hand.

“DON’T GO NEAR HIM!” Harn yelled in horror, reversing his previous orders as he snapped off a powerful kick that launched an orc directly towards the wizard. Four paces away from Seppicor, the orc was torn apart and his blood splattered wildly in every direction—except towards Seppicor.

Now protected, the wizard turned his sites on the archers. With a mad cackle, he threw one gnarled hand towards the sky and screamed a second spell, veins on his temple throbbing, and the grass beneath his feet beginning to ripple as if touched by an ethereal wind.

Directly above the archers, thunder rumbled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“RUN!” Kalin cried, grabbing Anfal’s cloak and diving sideways—dragging the ranger with him as he tumbled away.

Lanor and Fletch tumbled away as a second, mighty roll of thunder shook the hilltop with its noise and power. The air seemed to charge, and every member of the party felt the hairs on the back of their necks raise. A second later, lightning smote the hill top once, and then again, white light dancing wildly across it and the following concussion-blast sending all four of the archers tumbling and spinning away.

[Earniel]

When Beryn saw the wizard exitting the tent she berated herself for having forgotten nearly all about him. Orcs were one thing, wizards quite another and far less her cup of mead. She hadn't had time to ask the Elf about this wizard as she had planned to, and Beryn wasn't quite prepared to enter a fight she might not be able to win.

So when Seppicor started to scream something that was undoubtedly some evil spell, Beryn veered off to the right, instead of going straight to the tent. She knew enough about wizards than to stay right in front of them. In Beryn's opinion there was a word for people who did that and the word was 'sitting duck'.

The Beorning almost carelessly knocked over an orc that hadn't been expecting her sudden change of trajectory. She made her way around a cart while meeting no opposition worth the mention. She had almost reached the side of the tent.

Suddenly an orc, seemingly of a larger breed than most of the hord, came running at her, swinging a nastly looking scimitar. His battle-cry was almost drowned out by the noice in front of the tent. Beryn heard thunder roll and briefly wondered just what was happening over there since the front of the tent was now outside her view. But she had more pressing matters to think of. This charging orc for starters.

She caught the orc's wrist in a bone-crushing grip and pulled orc and scimitar down in a wide arch. The blade slit through the fabric of the tent, creating a wide tear.

The wizard might be barring the tent's entrance, Beryn mused as she disposed of the scimitar's most unfortunate last owner, but tents can have as much entrances as one can make.