Wilderness, Weathertop, & Wild Things RPG

[Envinyatar]

Veryadan

Nothing had come of the noises the Elf had heard. Though, perhaps it was because they had kept the fire burning and took the watch two together while one caught what sleep he could. The sharp light of early morning brought out the tired angles of their faces after the short seeming night. And no strong mugs of tea could drive away the weariness they felt. There was a certain menace in the air they felt, the Elf especially, making their rationed sleep fitful with vague dreams.

Weathertop loomed up across the roadway. The rising sun caught the top rim of it and spread down the eastern side. ‘A favorable sign, don’t you think,’ commented Veryadan, pointing out the light as it rolled down the hill. Aidwain gave the promontory a critical look. ‘Once we’re up there,’ Veryadan continued, nodding toward the plateau, ‘we can take a look-see about. See if we can spot anything that might have made those noises you heard last night.’ He began securing his bedroll and pack to his horse as did the other two of his companions. They rode to the foot of the hill. Then, dismounting, led their horses, single file, along the narrow, rough track they’d spied angling up the southern face of Weathertop.

Save for the skittering of a few ground squirrels making their rounds among the fallen stones of the tower that had once graced the plateau, the hill top was quiet and empty, save for the constant breezes that blew against them. The three companions stood at the remaining center of the old tower and turned slowly round, surveying the countryside. Nothing amiss registered.

‘Might as well make ourselves comfortable,’ Veryadan spoke, breaking the quiet. ‘We were the closest to the meeting place. It will be a little while before the others arrive.’

They took off their belongings from the horses and tethered their mounts a little ways off, near a rocky outcropping that afforded them some relief from the constant wind. Veryadan made himself comfortable on a low, crumbly wall top that had once been part of the tower. He leaned his back against the sun-warmed stones. Osric had found his own place to sit, some distance away and had taken his blade out, wanting to check for any nicks. Aidwain, too seated himself, on one of the rocks. His bow lay near. And he too was inspecting the sharpness of his arrow heads.

A while passed in these make-do occupations as they waited for the others to arrive. The horses began to whinny a little and stamp their hooves on the rock in a restless manner.

‘I’ll see to that,’ Veryadan said, uncurling himself from his comfortable seat. ‘They didn’t get their oats this morning. Perhaps this is a gentle reminder.’

‘Or maybe one of the other groups has drawn near and they are eager to greet the other horses,’ offered Aidwain looking up from his task.

Veryadan made his way to the horses, calling out to them in a soothing voice . . .

[Primrose Bolger]

‘Psst!’ Broga crooked a thick finger at his brother, motioning for him to come nearer. ‘I hear ‘em movin’ about up there.’ The two brothers, with their basalt colored, scaly skin blend in quite well with the rocky face of the hill on the north side. Helpful too was the fact that a small ledge jutted out for a short way along the hill side, blocking the view of anyone looking down from the top.

‘Quiet!’ hissed Grimm. ‘One of them sharp-eared Elves is up there. This is supposed to be a surprise.’ Broga placed his finger over his pursed lips and nodded his head.

The chief had gone over his plan a number of times with those Orcs and Trolls who were to make the first wave of attack. Grimm and his brother would climb up to the northwest end while four Orcs would make their way to the opposite end. The Trolls would arrive first and take care of the horses, distracting the Men and Elf, while the four Orcs would sweep in and surprise them from behind. The other two Trolls and several more Orc groups would add reinforcement as the other groups of men and Elves arrived.

Grimm motioned for his brother to start on up. ‘You sure there’s just the three of them up there?’ Broga asked one last time. ‘Yes, you lackwit! We scouted the area below last night, remember. It was just them three across the road as we could find.’ Broga’s brow furrowed. ‘And they was eatin’ them rabbits, wasn’t they?’ Grim sighed quietly and nodded his head yes. ‘You just take care of their horses, run ‘em off, have a little fun with ‘em. Just watch out for that Elf and his bow.’ It was Broga’s turn now to nod his head. He rubbed his right shoulder with his hand, remembering a particularly painful encounter with a number of Elves and their sharp, hurtful arrows.

Broga peeked over the top of the hill seeking to find where the horses had been put. He and Grimm inched a little westward then heaved themselves up over the rim of the plateau, just a little way from their objective. Broga grinned as the horses reared up and pawed the air wildly, neighing their disgust and fear at the approach of the Trolls. To Grimm’s great delight, a Ranger had stopped dead in his tracks as the two heaved themselves to their feet and lumbered with club and hammer toward the three wild-eyed horses.

‘Trolls!’ they heard the man shout, noting his two companions scrambling to their feet.

‘Get them oatburners, brother!’ Grimm told his brother, pointing his thumb toward the horses. He thumped his great hammer into the hard-hided palm of his hand. ‘I’m gonna have me some fun with one of them Duneydain boys!’

Osric and Aidwain were rushing to the aid of Veryadan, sword and bow at the ready. Grimm swatted an arrow away from the Elf’s bow and laughed loudly as he advance on the trio, hammer flailing.

From behind the three companions came the harsh sound of Orcish battle cries. The four Orcs had crested the hill and were rushing to battle.

[Alaksoron]

Osric sat against a portion of wall that afforded some makeshft shelter from the wind. He was checking his swordblade. It was a fine Elven make, beautiful yet deadly. His mind drifted to Pelennor Fields, where Alaksoron had lay dying, a Haradrim arrow in his chest. Despite all his skill with medicine, Osric had been unable to help his captain that had quickly become his friend. It had been a triply barbed arrow, jagged and strong enough to break bones. The kind that never came back out.

Alaksoron had been the captain of his Rohirrim regiment. Alaksoron had been a great Elf-friend, and as a result received an Elven sword as a gift for an act of valor. As Alaksoron had lain gasping, Osric crouching helpless beside him, the battle raging around them, he had pressed his fine sword into Osric's hand. He had said nothing, but that had been enough. As Alaksoron breathed his last, Osric Falkur had returned to the battle with renewed vigor, an Elven blade in his hand.

He sat apart from the others, and his thoughts passed to the events of the previous day. He was aware subconsciously of Veryadan getting up to check on the horses. He himself had found nothing yesterday, which irritated him, but the other two had said trolls. Trolls were one of the few things that Osric was afraid of. A troll could easily rip the sturdiest man to shreds. He had seen that, at Pelennor Fields. Idly he wondered why the creatures which possessed obvious advantages in size, which possessed such savage strength, also had the dullest minds.

And it was the word which Osric feared most which jolted him from his thoughts. "Trolls!" Veryadan yelled.

He was up and running before he had time to think, lucky that his sword had already been in his hand. Aidwain was running too, bow in hand, and outpacing him with his long legs. Osric froze when he saw the Trolls, sudden fear gripping him. He heard a savage whoop from behind him, and turned to see four orcs advancing. Here was an enemy he was not so reluctant to encounter.

There was a knife in Osric's free hand quicker than a man could blink, and it was back out of his hand just as quickly. Blood blossomed in an Orc's throat as Osric's knife struck home. He brandished his sword, hoping that Aidwain could keep the trolls off of Veryadan with his arrows. On came the Orcs.

[rutslegolas]

Aidwain sat against a wall of the great tower of Amun Sul,which was now in ruins,he took out some of his arrows and sharpened them with the sharpening stone which Osric had bought,he had sense of foreboding that some one was watching them,he jad not forgot the noises he had heard last night.

In the meanwhile Veryadan had gone to feed the horses ,who were whinning,and suddenely out of nowhere he heard Veryadan shout " Trolls !! " ,without thinking Aidwain immdieately rushed to his feet and fixing an arrow to his bow he shot at one of the trolls,but he swatted the arrow away from the Elf’s bow and laughed loudly as he advance on the trio, hammer flailing.

Out of his eyes corner he could see that four orcs had come from the other side and Osric was fighting with them with his sword and knife,but Aidwain was shooting arrow after arrow at the troll ,but it seemed that they had no effect on the creature,but the trolls were now fighting with Veryadan who already was injured but taking out his sword defended himself,Aidwain could not think of anything to do but fire more arrows on the trolls .......

[Primrose Bolger]

The foul Elf’s arrows were irritating Broga no end. Several of them had nicked the horses he was after and sent them rearing and slashing at him as they’d been driven to the edge of the hill. He’d managed to swing his club at one of the beasts, knocking the horse across his broad chest. Breath knocked from him, the horse struggled with his footing. His back hooves scrabbled against the loose rock at the edge of the hill but could find no purchase. With a scream, the horse pitched over the lip of the plateau. The two others, seeing the Troll was distracted, whinnied loudly and tore off around him on each side.

Grimm, in the meantime had landed a few blows near the Ranger, but the man was fast on his feet. And that sword of his – Grimm had forgotten how hard those blades could bite. Already he’d several slices on his legs and forearms that were dripping with blood. And the Elven archer’s arrows, bit into the tender folds between the scales on his hide, like a swarm of irritating gnats. ‘Brother,’ he yelled. ‘Give us a hand!’

Broga left off his attempts at wrangling and lumbered over to Grimm’s side. He could see that one of the Orcs had already been done in by the other man with the sword. Two of the three Orcs were pressing in on the man, harrying him with their own jagged blades. The third Orc had zig-zagged around and was angling toward the Ranger.

The two Trolls began moving toward the Elf swinging at him with club and hammer . . .

[Envinyatar]

Veryadan could see he’d gotten a number of good blows in at the Troll. The creature was bleeding both from the cuts from his blade and from the places where the arrows had imbedded. Only one of the Troll’s hammer blows had come near him. It had glanced off his left arm as he’d jumped away from it, leaving the arm numb from the elbow down, but still intact – no bones broken.

He saw the horses running wildly away from the second Troll and heard the loud sickening thuds and the scream as one of them plunged over the side. The Trolls had joined forces, then, their new objective seeming to be Aidwain. Veryadan turned, intending to stand together with his companion. Running quickly round the horse marauding Troll, he aimed a blow at the back of the creature’s knee. As the Troll raised his arm to deliver a blow with his club, Veryadan brought the point of his blade up, intending to bury it in the vulnerable area between the scales that protected the creature’s armpit. He dodged in quickly toward the Troll, the tip of his blade pushing in against the tough hide.

The searing pain came as a surprise. Veryadan’s breath came in gasps as he sought to master it. The lone Orc had circled round him, and arcing his jagged blade in a two handed grip cut the Ranger deeply on his flank. Aidwain had by this time brought down the Orc with a deeply driven arrow. Veryadan’s sword slipped from his grasp as he clutched his bleeding side. He staggered back from the Troll whose leering face now looked down on him with a sort of feral glee. The foul creature swept his club round about, catching Veryadan hard on his upper arm. The force of the brutal blow threw the Ranger a short ways away, his body landing in a crumpled, bloodied heap on the rock strewn ground.

[Alaksoron]

Peripherally Osric was aware of Veryadan crumpling from a blow by that massive troll warclub. He knew he would have to take some real action now. Even with an excellent Elven bow, Aidwain could never handle a pair of trolls alone. Falkur wanted badly to help the others, but the Orcs he was facing were no clumsy fighters. Even he, with his unrivaled sword skill, was having a hard time of it.

One of the cursed jagged blades had already bitten into his left knuckle, and his coat was splattered with blood, almost none of it his. He scored a blow on one of the Uruks across the shoulder, and the wicked orc-sword dropped from his hand. He turned to face the other, which was attempting to circle around behind him. He lunged forward and slashed with all his strength.

Falkur's slender blade landed across the neck where the armor was weak, cutting deep. With a bloody gurgle, the ugly creature fell. Osric felt a sharp pain in his calf, and turned to see the other Orc, already wounded, slashing with a kopis. He feinted a slash at the Orc's shoulder, and he fell for it. A quick thrust at the stomach, the blade driven clean through, and it was all over.

Osric turned and limped toward Aidwain, realizing his sword would do him no more good against the trolls than it had Veryadan. He pulled his own bow from his shoulders and fitted an arrow to the string.