The Hills of Evendim RPG

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen stood among the others, blood-soaked, as their enemy closed in around them. Now that there were no more dead corpses around them, it made steering her horse and fighting much easier, though she did not know how long it would be before the ground around them was littered with dead bodies, and who's bodies they would be, but now was not the time to be in doubt: she had to fight, along with the others. The sun was slowly setting to the west of them, and it seemed the battle last into the night.

Gripping tightly at the reins, they came closer. There were cuts here and there on Finëwen, but nothing majour, or at least not yet. The odds hadn't looked too great, but they had made it so far, though there were wounded. Finëwen did not know how much longer they would last, but she would not give up anytime soon. After seeing several torture devices, she could not let her companions come to such a horrible demise and stood her ground.

Then came a round of arrows, Finëwen narrowly dodging them, as she steered her horse. Fortunately, everyone else missed them by only a few hand lengths (and even less) also.

After what seemed a pause, the men charged. Finëwen gripped her sword and the reins tightly, though her knuckles were cut up and bloody. Clinging swords with a charging man, he managed to cut her along the arm, leaving a somewhat deep wound, only before he had Finëwen's own sword jabbed into him. He fell to the ground, littering it. More charged, and Finëwen responded to them also with her sword.