Last Ride of the Heir RPG

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth wiped the sweat out of his eyes and charged at yet another troll. Swinging his sword, he slashed off an arm and cut the creature's throat before it knew what had hit it. He moved on to another troll and killed it swiftly. Stepping around the body, he moved to the next creature. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a body flying through the air. Killing the troll, he turned and gave the still body his full attention. It was Owacyn. A gargantuan troll loomed over him, waving its club. Blood trickled from a wound.

Beroth heard a rage-filled scream and began to sprint towards Owacyn. The troll that threatened to crush him was beginning to wobble, but it was still a large threat. He leapt in front of Owacyn's form and thrust his sword into the troll's neck. Pulling it out, he watched it wheeze and slowly topple over. Beroth turned to Owacyn and touched his shoulder gingerly. Getting no response, he picked him up as gentle as he possibly could and carried him swiftly out of immediate danger. As he ran, one thought resounded through his head: Owacyn, hold on.

[Phervasaion]

Paladir stood behind a tree waiting for the order of Arathorn to attack the trolls, the trolls of which were making a loud noise, crashing smashing so loudly that you could hear it from miles away. Suddenly, Paladir heard the commanding voice of Arathorn not far from him.

“Now men! Forth!” He said while running from behind his cover and into the flank of the trolls. Paladir obeyed and dived out from behind the tree, drew his sword, and charged the enemy down at the front.

“For Arnor, The lost kingdom!!” Shouted the tall Ranger as he ran towards the nearest troll and beheaded it in one swipe. The battle had only really just begun when the cries of Anga echoed across the field. Paladir did not know the fallen Elf very well, but it made him mourn for the loss of their first companion, and who knew who could go down next. Owacyn was grieved for the loss of Anga but it only made him mad, and now he was killing the trolls as if they were no match.

Men, and Elves stood in awe admiring his wrath against the enemy, it seemed that nothing would get in the way of his revenge. Arathorn, Paladir and the other men began to work harder fighting and killing the trolls with surprising ease, and their movements were so fast and smooth that the trolls had no time to dodge or block them.

“This is for Anga you foul beasts!!” Paladir shouted as he chopped the arm of a nearby enemy and then drove his sword through his scaly stomach. “And this is for Imladris!!” He shouted again as he struck yet another troll.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur sighed hard. The battle was drawing so much of his strength away, it was harder to fight than many of the others he had been in, as before, he had never faced a troll with a mace before. Because of that little complication, his only choice was to keep his eyes peeled, rather than on whatever he was fighting, to stay alert. Already, anyone who danced would've been proud of him, with that amount of dodging he had to do.

Not to mention avoiding any misplaced arrows as well. What was it that had been said the day before... something about counting the enemies. He recalled answering Do you count your friends afterwards too?. And how true that was now, as he knew they had lost one... maybe more, though indeed, he hoped not. But there was no time to see whether any others were down, as he had to keep his eyes on the trolls.

After fighting so many, it became easier, it seemed, almost a programmed reaction to the trolls. And yet, he did not feel that he could let himself stop to take a breath, though it was what he needed most. There was no time, there was no way that he could take any such chances. Not now.

Dodging a hammer stroke, and dashing underneath a troll's fist just as he would've been cruched, Hanindur stroked sideways, and slashed at the troll's arm. With that disablement, he was able to thrust his sword into the troll's side, and it fell over sideways, now a habit for him to jump out of the way. But his jump was misguided, and, as the troll's hammer fell back in as a dead weight, he found himself hit from behind by another troll's thrust, just missing his head, but a close enough hit to knock him off his feet.

Hanindur swore in his mind. In the suddenness of the last moment, he had let himself slip up... somewhere. His sword lay just out of reach of his hand, the blow having knocked it aside. There was a choice, whether to just die there, as it seemed inevitable, or to make a dash for the sword, though it was seemingly impossible to get the blade in time to save himself from the final blow.

Ignoring the pain from the blow, he rolled over and grabbed the sword, taking a gamble, and throwing the blade up at the troll's heart.

The chance paid off, cutting through the troll's thick skin, and piercing it's heart, hopefully to the death. It fell over forwards, and Hanindur was lucky not to be crushed by the dead weight falling at him. His sword was in sight, he could've grabbed it, but couldn't make himself move to get the blade.

He stumbled against the ground, and fell forwards, having no control over himself now, the pain from the hammer hitting him too deeply to fight any longer. He knew he wasn't dead, but knew that there was nothing that he could do, as he sat against a dead tree, breathing sharply.

[The Perky Ent]

"You acursed creature!" Arathorn said, looking at Owacyn. He still wasn't moving. Arathorn, his rage filling him, ran under the troll assaulting him. While he was under, he shoved his sword upward. The troll began to scream as he fell to the ground, twitching the entire way. Arathorn quickly pulled out his sword and went to Owacyn. As before, he was motionless.

"Owacyn? Owacyn! Get up! You might not realize it now, but this isn't the best time to sleep." Arathorn said, pulling Owacyn to his feet. Owacyn gave out a small cough and mumbled what sounded like "yes sir!" Arathorn's stamana was getting worse and worse as the trolls kept comming. The elves were handling themselves pretty well, but the men were starting to loose focus. Suddenly, Owacyn's eyes bulged. He screamed "Watch out!", but it was too late. Arathorn, standing on the head of a dead troll, was already in mid-air by then.

A troll had come from behind and pounded its full weight on the dead troll's stomach, forcing a tornado of air through the mouth. A million thoughts were pouring through Arathorn's mind as he was airborn. His primary one was, "How do I get out of this?". As he began his descent, he realized he had two options. He could either try to land on a tree, or land in the middle of a upward facing ax. His choice was obvious. At once, Arathorn began leaning twords a slumping tree. In the process, he cought half of the branch he tried to catch, stopping the impact. However, he did, nevertheless, let go of the branch, falling ten feet.

The impact was heard all around the ring, and everyone stopped. Arathorn lay next to Owacyn. They shared one thing in common. They both weren't moving.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir was begining to run low on energy, but the enemy had not. The remaining trolls had gone battle mad and were hitting anything that moved, weather friend or foe.

A slice to the back of the knees brought down another troll, followed by an arrow to the head. Elrohir stood up from the dead hulk, wiping grime and sweat from his face.

He noticed Arathorn and Owacyn lying off to the side, and a jolt of fear shot through him. Another troll was standing over them, trying to get unstuck from a tree root that had mercifully caught on his foot.

Elrohir took advantage of the troll's predicament and threw his sword, imbedding it into the back of its neck. It roared in pain and anger, ripping it's foot free and turning to face Elrohir. The elf calmly loaded an arrow onto his bow, waiting for the troll to get close enough.

Then, too fast to follow, the shaft drove itself into the troll's throat, followed by another in the forehead. It dropped the arm it had been holding up, ready to rid Elrohir of his life, and crashed to the ground.

Elrohir ran over to Arathorn and Owacyn. He heard Elladan come up behind him.

"Check Owacyn," he said simply, checking Arathorn's pulse, only to find the Dunadan's hand grip his wrist.

A weak smile crossed his face, and Elrohir reflected it. Relief flooded him, and doubled when he heard Elladan confirm Owacyn was alive as well.

"You two rest," said Elrohir. As if they had any choice in the matter. "The rest of these filthy spawns of evil will not take too long to dispatch."

A grim smile crossed his face as he pulled his sword from the dead troll and entered back into the battle.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn would have cried out in pain if he had been able to take air into his lungs and then expel it again with any degree of regularity. He felt like he'd broken every rib in his chest, and he slumped down against the tree. He drifted into unconciousness, dreaming the same dream he'd dreampt back at the feast at Rivendell. He awoke with as much of a start as his broken body could manage and he saw Arathorn above him, cradling his head in his hands. "This is no time to be sleeping, Owacyn." he tried to sound as formal as possible, but his "Yes sir!" was laced with blood which he coughed onto Arathorn's armour. As he looked up, he saw the massive beast behind them raise its club menacingly. "Watch out!" he spat out with still more blood. He wasn't quick enough. He watcher in subdued horror as Arathorn was propelled into the sky by the blast of air. He saw him try to grab a branch, but it snapped in his hands and he landed on his head next to Owacyn. Owacyn swore as loudly as he could. Arathorn was still breathing, but it was erratic.

He looked up again to see the troll advancing on him, but then to see one of the brothers, he could not tell which through his misty eyes, slay it with extraordinary precision. He heard someone say "Check Owacyn". As two fingers were placed on his neck he coughed more blood onto his chest. "He's alive!" came the relieved reply. "You're damn right I'm alive!" he spat out. "You don't think I'd go dying on you do you?". Elrohir smiled warmly as he saw Owacyn pushing himself up using the tree. He regained his feet slowly and painfully, and even when he was up he nearly fell as he let go of the tree.

"You'd better stay out of the fighting..." Elrohir whispered into his ear. Owacyn nodded appreciatively and started to limp towards the camp. A cry caught his attention as he moved and he turned his head to see Elrohir knocked over by a troll with a vast mace. Elrohir was clearly in pain, clutching his arm in a fetal position. Owacyn grimly took his boww off his back. It was nearly ruined, but the string remained intact. Slowly he put an arrow to the string, drawing it back with great effort to his cheek. Letting it fly he saw it leave the bow completely before the bow snapped under the released tension. The arrow flew into the trolls throat and it gurgled disgustingly before starting to sway. Elrohir managed to roll out of the way of the falling troll just before it would have crushed him.

He stood up, clutching his arm, which was bloodied, and walked over to Owacyn, his sword trailing along the ground. He smiled and slapped Owacyn on the shoulder. He coughed again. Smiling he drew another arrow...

[Mad Baggins]

The intensity of the battle had not waned, and Beroth was feeling his limbs begin to slow with weariness. His heart was pounding and he was breathing in short, sharp gasps. He wiped an arm across his forehead and it came away coated in sweat and blood. Running to and fro in the midst of the fray, he killed yet another troll. Then another, and then another...

The battle was long, so very long. Where are all these trolls coming from? Beroth wondered. They were seemingly popping out of nowhere. Dodging the trolls that were lumbering about, swinging their clubs and maces was a cumbersome and dangerous task.

Beroth leapt over a corpse and confronted an enormously obese troll. It roared and swiped at him with a paw. He sidestepped and then danced back in to deliver a fatal blow with his sword.

Time for a different approach, he mused, running for a tree. Sheathing his sword, he grabbed a branch and swung up into the crotch of the tree. He took out his bow and whipped an arrow from his quiver. The arrow sang through the air, straight and true, and found its mark: the eye of a troll. It bellowed in agony and pawed at its face. Before it could pluck out the arrow Beroth had sent two more, one into its other eye and the last into its throat. The troll moaned and crashed to the ground.

Smiling, Beroth snatched another arrow and sent it on its way.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur was quiet for a moment, after Paldir finished speaking. "Yes," he said lowly, and hoarsly. "May we hope that they will find a better life after death. And I suppose," he added, "that one could consiter it luck, that there were merely two slain in battle of out team, but nevertheless, their absence will be felt, harshly." He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, not really feeling the tiredness upon him, for there was also a harsh restlessness as well. "Uneventful watch?"

"Aye," Paldir answered, "though the open spaces give one a sense of insecurity, in a manner."

Hanindur nodded. "Well, friend, I suppose I had bess try at least, and get some rest before my watch," he stated, though sleep was not really upon him, more a sense of unease... probably a leftover sense from the battle that had just taken place. He found himself staring at the horizon, where the sun had gone down a mere two hours ago, while he had wondered in restlessness, and thoughts. Too many thoughts, as to how close he had came to losing his life, as to the loss of two members of their party.

They were not pleasent memories that filled his mind, and they hurt too, as it was never well for another to lose their life, non deserved to die in battle, though an honorable death, nevertheless. He walked away from Paldir slowly, in thought, as he left the other to his watch, and tried to pull himself to sleep.

Hopefully the remaining watches would be as quiet as the one at the moment.

[astarielle]

The air inside Angmar was stuffy and putrid. A foul stench eminated from the inner chambers of the abandoned Kingdom. Moss clung desperately to the slimey stone walls, now crumbling with years of decay. All in all it was not a very nice place to be, a stark comparison to the light and fairness of Rivendell. The darkness seemed to grow thicker as the group made their way along the tunnel, by the time they split the dark was almost tangible.

The three elves, following commands from Arathorn, made their way up some stairs. Elladan lead the small group keeping his sword free in his right hand and the other hand against the wall. They climbed slowly and waited for the light of Arathorn's torch to disappear in to the growing darkness. Elladan raised his hand, barely visible to Elrohir at the back of the group, signalling to stop. With a sideways incline of his head Elladan signalled that they should make their way down into the depths of the forebodding place. "If any evil does still linger in this place, it will shun the light and therefore remain in the shadows below" he said quietly not wishing to disturb the air and signal their presence to anything that my be lurking in the vacinity. The light footedness of the elves meant they travelled along in relative silence.

[The Perky Ent]

Climbing down the stairs, Arathorn held his torch tight. If it fell, it would be a long way down. Looking around, Arathorn could tell that, as run down as the place looked, it wasn't empty. Hearing a scratching noice, Arathorn looked back at Owacyn, who had also looked behind him. Thinking nothing of it, Arathorn continued down the black sharp stairs to the dungeons of Carn Dum.

After about an hour of walking down the steps, Arathorn could see the bottom. It was smooth, even black marble, similar to that of Isengard. At the bottom, Arathorn could also see a small canal running through the middle, and continuing for miles. Halfway in the middle of the canal, there was a small, crumbling, bridge, which connected both sides. "Quiet men!" Arathorn said, looking behind him as he stepped onto the ground. "Shadows must not even know our presence!" As the men rested on the ground, Hanindur saw something very strange. "What is that light on the stairs?" He said, pointing to a soft, red light slowly comming down. Then, spontaniously, the elves jumped off the stairs onto the ground. "You really didn't think we'd let you have all the fun, did you?" Elladan said, greeting the men. Elrohir and Eldin followed close behind. "I figured as much" Arathorn said, taking a close look at the stairs, making sure it was just them. Arathorn wouldn't risk anything. That is, anything if he knew about it.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir kept his grey eyes open, searching the shadows for movement, and his ears tuned to every sound. An arrow was nocked on his bow, and his sword was loose in its sheath.

The ascent to the towers proved nothing more than dust, so Elrohir followed his brother down the steps to meet the men in the lower levels. He could feel Eldin close behind him, just as wary.

They were nearly down the stairs, Elrohir began to hear things from the chamber below.

"That cannot be the men?" he asked, incredulous at thier noise.

"The Dunadain are still men, I suppose," said Elrohir, using elven grace to avoid a crumbling step, "Shall we give them a good scare? Just to keep them on thier toes?"

Elladan smiled wickedly, "I wouldn't dream of doing anything else."

[The Perky Ent]

"Well! We're all here! Let's get started! There's nothing on this side, so let's cross the bridge and see what we find" Arathorn said, getting up and starting to walk. The others followed. As they approached the bridge, Eldin looked back for a second, sencing something. However, he quickly ignored it and continued. Crossing the bridge was a little difficult. There were many holes in it, and it wasn't very strong. It was a long drop to the bottom, and the group wasnt' fond on jumped into brown, dirty rapid water. So, they slowly crossed the bridge, and made it to the other side.

On the other side, there were many rooms, all going into different directions. At the end of the hall, there were two large wooden doors. Arathorn took one glace at them and said, "Well, we know where to start!" They slowly walked over to the doors and looked up at them. They were big enough to fit a family of eagles. Taking a deep breath, Arathorn slammed on the door, and it slowly opened. Inside, there were a bright light, which revealed treasure greater than that of Smaug's. But that wasn't what concerned Arathorn. Inside, there were orcs. Tens of thousands of orcs. The entire fellowship was quite. No one moved. Then, one orc looked at the doorway, and screamed "Intruders! Get them!"

Suddenly, a vast army of orcs began running out of the bright hallway at them. They didn't have time to breath. Immediatly, they began running for the bridge. Although they had a head start, the orcs were getting closer. "I told you this was bad!" Owacyn said, running for his life. Arathorn didn't have time to react, as he was trying to cross the broken bridge as fast as he could. Once everyone had crossed, Arathorn went back to the other side, kicked very hardly at the beginning of the bridge, and it collapsed, leaving only half the bridge left. The orcs couldn't cross.

Several orcs tried to jump, but then landed in the water. Learning from the experience, the other orcs could do nothing but yell at the travelers. "The stairs!" Elladan said, running to them. But something was wrong. Suddenly, Eldin realized why he had looked. He had smelled something. Orc. A bright light was moving slowly down the stairs, all the time screaming in the Black Speech. "We're trapped!" Hanindur said, running back twords the bridge. "Orcs are everywhere! There's no where to go!" Elrohir said. "There is one option!" Arathorn said, looking at the bridge. "We jump!" "Your crazy!" Paladir said, looking at the orcs on the stairs, who were getting closer by the second. "We have no other option!" Elladan said, running to the bridge. Then, he found a large hole, climbed down so he was hanging on, and let go. In an instant, Elladan had fallen into the roaring rapids of the canal. Realizing the only option, Elrohir followed his brother and jumped. After that, Owacyn, Paladir and Hanindur jumped. Leaving only Arathorn and Eldin.

"Let's go!" Arathorn said, grabbign Eldin and running to the bridge. "You first!" Arathorn said to Eldin. Eldin shook his head, and told Arathorn to go. Without wasting a moment, Arathorn jumped down the hole, into the canal, leaving Eldin. By the time, Eldin started for the canal, the orcs from the stairs had already reached the ground and were running twords Eldin. Then, just as Eldin jumped over the hole, about to fall in, a orc archer cocked his bow, and fired. Eldin never even reached the canal. His lifeless corps lay of the bridge, and the orcs took it. Eldin was gone.

Rushing through the canal, Arathorn tried to hold his breath as he was pulled down by the current. Underwater, he could see the others in front of him, but the current was too rough to look back. After several minutes, Arathorn ran out of air, and began to drown. Fortunatly for him, 10 feet ahead was a waterfall. It flung Arathorn, and the rest into a lake in the middle of a tall, large room. Emerging from the surface, Arathorn gasped for air, and got back onto land. There he found the others, all gasping for breath. Everyone, except Eldin. Looking around the large, dark room, Arathorn laid down on his back and said, "We are safe here...for now"