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Saurreg · 01-17-2005, 08:56 AM

Belegorn

The huge leather clad uruk crashed heavily onto its knees and a soft wet gurgling sound emitted from its throat. With a yell, Belegorn drove his sword swiftly through its broad back, penetrated the flimsy armor and did not stop until he felt the distinctive crack of a shattered vertebrate giving way. The acting commander of the rearguard then drew his blade back up and kicked the hulking carcass of his fallen foe aside. Wiping the stinging hot sweat from around his eyes with the back of his hand, Belegorn looked around and cursed.

In the excitement of the charge, the first line of the rearguard – the newest and most inexperienced men of the regiment was doomed. Led by an enthusiastic lieutenant of old aristocracy but modest ability, the line overextended and gaps formed between bands of fighting men. The enterprising uruks exploited the points of weakness by spearheading through the widening gaps in hefty numbers, encircling the men of the first line and crashing heavily into the second line – the tougher third year veterans. The young soldiers of the first line fought desperately like lions, but with their cohesion broken, most senior sergeants and the line lieutenant killed, they panicked and dissolved into a rout.

The men of the second line were equally ill prepared for the ferocity of the huge orcs and confusion then became chaotic and was further augmented by the arrival of the remnants of the first line, who rush terror-stricken in all directions to escape. It was almost too much for the men of the second line to take and they started giving way…

Belegorn turned towards the regimental archers at the rear and barked a curt set of orders. Fearing that the second line was about to follow suite first and rout, he and the flag bearer darted towards it and found that a crisis was in the making, for the men of the second line were so closely huddled together that their shields overlapped and each man was unable even to unsheathe his sword to fight. Individuals in the rear were already slinking away while many of the senior sergeants were also incapacitated. The uruks were decimating the men in the front – easily overpowering the defenseless men with their great strength.

Swearing vehemently, Belegorn grabbed the shield of one of the guardsmen in the rear and shoved his way to the front, urging the men to spread out and give themselves room to fight. He bellowed out the names the sergeants of the line and of the men he recognized to advance and reform the line.

“Nicanor! Iarminuial! Esgalelin! Reform the line! Attack!”

As Belegorn reached the front, an uruk attempted to smite him with his black blood-dripping scimitar. Belegorn raised his shield and absorbed the blow before thrusting his own blade into the groin of the enemy. He stole a quick glance to his rear and saw that the flag bearer was still with him and sigh a relief.

It was up to the archers now, and they did not fail him.

A skillfully discharged volley of arrows arced across the second line and as ordered by Belegorn, the archers let them down amidst the mass of uruks. With their second echelon cut down by the merciless missiles, the uruks at the front lost their momentum and stopped. Belegorn dashed towards the closest uruk and let his trusty blade find the orc’s head with a loud roar. The sharp Dúnedain sword met its mark and cleaved the uruk’s head in half.

Turning towards the men to his rear, Belegorn harangued them, nodding towards the stunned host of orcs,

“You miserable wretches! Aren’t you ashamed to let your lieutenant be beaten by mere animals?”

An emboldened orc charged towards Belegorn and attempted to kill him with a thrust of his scimitar. Belegorn skillfully parried the blow and delivered a lateral backhand swipe with his sword arm and took of the miserable creature’s head. Black steaming ichor gushed forth from the severed neck.

“While? What are you waiting for?”

Several of the senior sergeants had responded to Belegorn and came up to him. Belegorn then turned towards the orcs and charged, yelling with all his breath. The movement forward was a catalyst for the necessary courage and momentum of the rearguard. With a roar the men of the second line swept past Belegorn and the flag bearer and charged towards the enemy. With concentrated local superiority, the rearguard slaughtered the uruks.

Belegorn waited for the second line to scatter the uruks before signaling to the flag bearer to wave the pennon and the trumpeters to sound the halt and withdraw – he had no intention to lead the regiment into mass suicide. The first lieutenant then turned towards the third line – the supreme elite of the regiment, and signaled to them to part ranks and allow the second line to withdraw unmolested. It was his intent to withdraw the entire regiment by this leap-frog maneuver.

For now, the reputation of the rearguard as the best of Arthedain was safe. But just barely.

01-17-2005, 08:56 AM	#20
Saurreg Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Oct 2002 Location: In self imposed exile... Posts: 465	Belegorn The huge leather clad uruk crashed heavily onto its knees and a soft wet gurgling sound emitted from its throat. With a yell, Belegorn drove his sword swiftly through its broad back, penetrated the flimsy armor and did not stop until he felt the distinctive crack of a shattered vertebrate giving way. The acting commander of the rearguard then drew his blade back up and kicked the hulking carcass of his fallen foe aside. Wiping the stinging hot sweat from around his eyes with the back of his hand, Belegorn looked around and cursed. In the excitement of the charge, the first line of the rearguard – the newest and most inexperienced men of the regiment was doomed. Led by an enthusiastic lieutenant of old aristocracy but modest ability, the line overextended and gaps formed between bands of fighting men. The enterprising uruks exploited the points of weakness by spearheading through the widening gaps in hefty numbers, encircling the men of the first line and crashing heavily into the second line – the tougher third year veterans. The young soldiers of the first line fought desperately like lions, but with their cohesion broken, most senior sergeants and the line lieutenant killed, they panicked and dissolved into a rout. The men of the second line were equally ill prepared for the ferocity of the huge orcs and confusion then became chaotic and was further augmented by the arrival of the remnants of the first line, who rush terror-stricken in all directions to escape. It was almost too much for the men of the second line to take and they started giving way… Belegorn turned towards the regimental archers at the rear and barked a curt set of orders. Fearing that the second line was about to follow suite first and rout, he and the flag bearer darted towards it and found that a crisis was in the making, for the men of the second line were so closely huddled together that their shields overlapped and each man was unable even to unsheathe his sword to fight. Individuals in the rear were already slinking away while many of the senior sergeants were also incapacitated. The uruks were decimating the men in the front – easily overpowering the defenseless men with their great strength. Swearing vehemently, Belegorn grabbed the shield of one of the guardsmen in the rear and shoved his way to the front, urging the men to spread out and give themselves room to fight. He bellowed out the names the sergeants of the line and of the men he recognized to advance and reform the line. “Nicanor! Iarminuial! Esgalelin! Reform the line! Attack!” As Belegorn reached the front, an uruk attempted to smite him with his black blood-dripping scimitar. Belegorn raised his shield and absorbed the blow before thrusting his own blade into the groin of the enemy. He stole a quick glance to his rear and saw that the flag bearer was still with him and sigh a relief. It was up to the archers now, and they did not fail him. A skillfully discharged volley of arrows arced across the second line and as ordered by Belegorn, the archers let them down amidst the mass of uruks. With their second echelon cut down by the merciless missiles, the uruks at the front lost their momentum and stopped. Belegorn dashed towards the closest uruk and let his trusty blade find the orc’s head with a loud roar. The sharp Dúnedain sword met its mark and cleaved the uruk’s head in half. Turning towards the men to his rear, Belegorn harangued them, nodding towards the stunned host of orcs, “You miserable wretches! Aren’t you ashamed to let your lieutenant be beaten by mere animals?” An emboldened orc charged towards Belegorn and attempted to kill him with a thrust of his scimitar. Belegorn skillfully parried the blow and delivered a lateral backhand swipe with his sword arm and took of the miserable creature’s head. Black steaming ichor gushed forth from the severed neck. “While? What are you waiting for?” Several of the senior sergeants had responded to Belegorn and came up to him. Belegorn then turned towards the orcs and charged, yelling with all his breath. The movement forward was a catalyst for the necessary courage and momentum of the rearguard. With a roar the men of the second line swept past Belegorn and the flag bearer and charged towards the enemy. With concentrated local superiority, the rearguard slaughtered the uruks. Belegorn waited for the second line to scatter the uruks before signaling to the flag bearer to wave the pennon and the trumpeters to sound the halt and withdraw – he had no intention to lead the regiment into mass suicide. The first lieutenant then turned towards the third line – the supreme elite of the regiment, and signaled to them to part ranks and allow the second line to withdraw unmolested. It was his intent to withdraw the entire regiment by this leap-frog maneuver. For now, the reputation of the rearguard as the best of Arthedain was safe. But just barely.