The Summons RPG

[Burzdol]

Islist finally couldn't take it any more, "We are leaving, whoever wishs to come, we are leaving now! Goodbye all of you who aren't coming, and I hope you good fortune!"

The ranger drew his sword and yelled clearly, "My rangers, let's ride now as the biird flys!" With that he left with a few rangers and his friend Elleraden. They rode at a quick pace trying get to Aragorn with no more wasted time. As they rode, Islist looked to Elleraden, "Thanks for coming."

[Nerindel]

Sorlas's horse impatiently stamped it's hoof and snorted, "it wont be long now" he whispered, bending forward a little to pat him affectioniatly.

"My rangers, let's ride now as the bird flys!"

"See boy, I said it would not be long" Tëlpetal snorted and without any coaxing they fell in behind Islist and Elleraden.

Sorlas felt a rush of excitement as they started on their mission, he was both proud and honoured to be riding to the aid of the cheiftain and leader of his people. As they Rode He Sang loud and clearly.

"For Gondor and the Dunedain we ride,
For honour and glory we will fight,
Till our foe is defeated
And the lands reunited.

In Aragorn, cheif of the Dunedain,
All hope lies.
When he calls the faithful will ride,
So to Gondor we ride, swift and sure.
To Aid Isildur's heir!"

[maikafanawen]

Dûrvagor kept pace with the rest of the group as they rode towards wherever it was Islist was leading them. Whither that was, he wasn’t sure, nor did he particularly care. Instead he imagined Pernolë flying like a bird, taking Islist’s comment a bit seriously. He chuckled out loud at the thought of his horse trying to build a nest like the avian creatures he had watched earlier.

“For Gondor and the Dunedain we ride,
For honour and glory we will fight,
Till our foe is defeated
And the lands reunited.

In Aragorn, cheif of the Dunedain,
All hope lies.
When he calls the faithful will ride,
So to Gondor we ride, swift and sure.
To Aid Isildur's heir!”, sang Sorlas proudly. Dûrvagor Cormyr knew it also by heart and rode up beside him smiling.

“Catchy little jingle ye’ve got there,” Sorlas raised an eyebrow at the other ranger as he finished his song and adjusted his grip on the reins. “Got a few myself,” Dûrvagor cleared his throat and sang in a strong tenor, though not too loudly,

“Hey ho, Hee ho
Off to the inn will I go!
To get me a drink,
Give the barmaid a wink,
And sit a while to think.

Hey there, hee there!
But what, dear friend, shall I wear?
A gown of satin? A jerkin of brown?
My cuffs turned up? Or upside down?
Or shall I go nude into town?”

“Dûrvagor!” yelled Islist from the front, a slight smile playing on his lips. The ranger ceased his song and bowed his head shamefully, as Sorlas forced a frown.

“I’ll get to the bottom of these chaps,” Dûrvagor whispered to Aravir, one of the rangers here he had only just met. “So help me Eru they’ll go smilin’ to their deaths.” To cover up for his rough mistake, Pernolë’s rider began to hum the tune to the song Sorlas had sung instead of his merry drinking song.

[Himaran]

Elleraden was glad that they were finally off; to him it had seemed that they had tarried for too long in the comfort of their camp. His horse kept close in pace with the others, moving at a quick trot down the road.

Glancing around the darkening woods suspiciously, he lifted out the bow from his pack and readied a shaft in the taunt string. Should an ambush be unleashed upon them, he would be prepared. One could never tell what would happen in Mirkwood.

[Arestevana]

Great. Well, they had a right to be impatient. Cursing under his breath, Tarannon slung his bow across his back and ran to his horse.

He mounted without touching stirrups or pommel, grabbing the reins as his horse shied violently. He yanked the reins again and tried to remain seated. Wheeling back he yelled to the rangers that were still in camp and spurred his mount into a full-fledged gallop, hurrying to catch up with the others. He would have caught up, too, but the horse ran under a low branch, effectively removing his rider. Tarannon cursed again, then remounted and rode off again, this time watching carefully and surpressing his steed's mischief.

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

[Burzdol]

"Elleraden," Islist caleed from his mount.

"Yes?" he returned.

"Since youi're the one who drew up our map, I would like you to keep quiet about where we are going. It is much easier to lead people when they're not trying to tell you to go a different way."

"Ah, I see. So when are we going to set up camp? When we get there, I will tell you how long we will need to ride to get to Aragorn. I will also include time for rest wherever you want me to on the map."

"Okay, but about the first rest spot. You're going to have to wonder like every one else."

The two laughed, and a song from behind drifted to them. They couldn't make out the words, but the sound was soothing. The rangers then rode till nightfall, sson they were along a small river. At a seemingly calm spot at the river, they stopped.

"Everyone, this is your new camp. Get some rest. You'll need it," Islist said as he dismounted. The rest of the rangers followed and began to set up for the night.

[Nerindel]

As they stopped for the night, Sorlas dismounted and lead Tëlpetal to the river, he drank his fill then wandered over to graze on the fresh grass not far from the river bank.

Sorlas unstrapped his bed roll and made his way back to the camp, two of the rangers were building a small camp fire, another two were preparing a simple stew.

"I volunteer to take first watch" he said as he throw down his roll next to the yet unlit fire.

Islist nodded and said "we shall watch in pairs two hours a piece"

Sorlas nodded back, then waited to see who his watch partner would be and who would be relieving them once their two hours passed.

[Burzdol]

Islist walked back to Sorlas, "I'll be your partner for the first watch. After that, Elleraden and Durvagor will take over.

Sorlas and Islist walked to the main entrance of the camp. They agreed on sitting on either side to sentry. Each time the wind picked up, they would duck down, then returned to their regular positions. Soon after one of these wind experiences, Sorlas started a song, and the stars came out to accompany the two.

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: Burzdol ]

[Himaran]

Elleraden atteptmed to get to sleep, but it elluded him gracefully. He was totured by mental images, of the group arriving at the White City too late, or of them perishing on the journey. Slamming his fist on the ground, he made a solemn promise not to let the mission fail, even if he lost his own life in the process.

Eventually, he fell asleep, but was soon woken up by Islist. "Your turn for watch, friend." The ranger hurried to his assigned position, chatting with Durvagor as they stood sentry.

"You were up north, weren't you Elleredan?"
"Yes, I patrolled in the Blue Mountains for a time. Hard and bitter country; I prefer the darkest part of Mirkwood from those snow covered peaks."
"Aye, well here you are. Mirkwood."
"Yes, funny how these things work out."

The ranger looked over at the camp, and then back at Durvagor; a hint of a smile covering his face. "Since Islist is asleep, might you have a few more of those excellent songs?"

[Arestevana]

It had been dark for an hour when Tarannon reached camp. He had wasted time tracking the company ahead of him because, for some strange reason, they had never been told where they were headed. Well, the white towre eventually, of course, but nothing in particular. As he approached the new site, he heard a soft song. He followed it.

Tarannon stopped. He groaned mentally, trying to keep an indifferent expression. Islist and Sorlas were keeping watch. He dismounted and approached Islist, bracing himself for the furious rebuke he expected. Late? Yes. Did he deserve it? Definitely. Did he want it? What kind of question is that? Stumbling from exhaustion, the horse nearly dragged it's rider down as well.
"Tarannon?" Islist glanced at him. "Sir?" Tarannon winced. The reply was sarcastic "Welcome to camp." Islist nodded toward the fire and Tarannon walked off, not daring to believe his luck. He removed his horses gear and tethered the animal nearby before rolling out his bedroll. He flopped down on the mat, anxious for sleep. Then he heard Islist's voice from the ranger's post on the edge of camp. "Tarannon! Take third watch." Tarannon sighed and rolled over. Their captain was clever enough to make him wish he'd stayed in Rohan.

About an hour later he woke to see Elleraden walk past, taking up the second guard. A dark figure stood and crossed on the other side of camp, but it was too dark to see who. A low voice began singing. It was quiet, and soon had him asleep again. Not for long, however. It seemed only minutes had gone by before Tarannon felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.
"ungh..." He mumbled groggily.
"That's right!" Durvagor was grinning at him.
"I'm up" Tarannon groaned. "Go to sleep, Durvagor!"
The other man did just that, while Tarannon looked on enviously. Sighing, he paced the edge of camp, watching for any other late comers. Something moved in the woods.
"Hello?" Tarannon peered into the shadows. The something moved again. Not animal. Most definitely not man. That left one possibility...
"Attack!" The shout was enough to wake the entire camp. "Attack!"

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

[Himaran]

Elleraden, half awake already, leaped to his feet as he heard Tarranon's warning shout. He saw six large orcs closing in on the ranger, who slew one with a knife and stood ready with his sword.

Quickly aiming his loaded bow, he released the taunt string. The shaft spun past Tarranon's head and into the throat of an assailant, who dropped to the ground with a faint gurgle of death. Other company members were now fighting, shooting arrows or throwing knives. Elleraden's sword flashed out, on cue with his companions, to meet the oncoming rush of orcs.

The ranger ran the first threw with a knife, and pushed the dying creature into another orc; tripping it. Elleraden dispatched with it on the ground, and swung his head to the side; feeling the wind displacement caused by the orc scimater. The orc's charge carried him past the ranger, and Elleraden ran his sword into the fell beast's back.

[Burzdol]

Islist stood, leaning on his bow. The ranger started laughing at how some of the younger rangers struggled. He yelled out things like, "Keep your haed up!" or, "Turn quicker, next time you'll pay for it!"

He only broke his stance to slay the orcs that overwhelmed the younger ones.

Elleraden soon joined Islist behind the fighting, "The young ones need to learn a little more. This is nothing compared to wargs and Uruks. What should we do?"

"I say we pair a younger one with a veteran, they can train and be like...a...an aprentice. Sound good?"

"Yeah sure."

The two rangers then drew their bows, and started to help in the fight again.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Aravir sat up straight. The cry, "Attack!" pierced the night as the company slept. He could see the others get up and draw their weapons, some with bows. As the first orcs entered the firelight, they were shot down by the archers. Others fell with mortal sword wounds.

Aravir drew his sword. As he did so, he heard a snarl behind him. He turned to see one of the most hideous orcs behind him brandishing a scimitar. It charged and raised its weapon. As Aravir blocked its blow, he saw the it wore orc mail around its chest and arms, but none around the neck. Aravir kicked its feet out from under it and shoved his sword into its neck.

He looked around. It seemed as if everybody was able to handle himself. Nobody was having too much trouble. Seeing a gap in the line, Aravir ran and plugged it. He got there just in time, because two orcs ran for the spot. He finished them off.

Where could this band of orcs come from? he thought. The most likely source he could think of was Dol Goldur. That place should be finished off once and for all.

The orcs seemed to be getting less and less as the company slowly defeated them.

[Arestevana]

At last the invading beasts drew back. Tarannon watched as Islist sent the last few on their way with a rapid volley of arrows. It disturbed him to see them go unharmed, and he had to exert quite a lot of will power to keep from chasing them. Sighing, he turned and began to clean his sword.

When his sword was clean, Tarannon resheathed it and began to hunt for his knife. He had drawn it when the orcs first charged because, he remembered ashamedly, he had not thought to draw his sword when he took up the watch. He saw a glint in the grass. It turned out to be his knife, stuck deep in the chest of a dead orc. He retrieved it, cleaned it, and sheathed it. He had only been in the thick of things for a few moments before backing off, but it had been enough to tell him that he was falling behind on his sword skill. He needed to do some sparring to recover his speed and agility. Ruefully, Tarannon examined a long scratch on his right arm. It was not deep, but stung annoyingly. Luckily it was not poisoned, and his sword arm was uninjured. He walked toward the center of camp to see how the other rangers had fared.

[Nerindel]

Like everybody else Sorlas had leapt to his feet at Tarranon's cry. He had instinctively reached for his sword, when he saw several of the creatures perched in the trees with bows at the ready, seeing Islist with his bow already knocked he called "In the trees" then taking his own bow they started to shot the creatures from their perches.

Just then someone shouted "behind !" as he stole a glance an arrow whizzed passed grazing his left cheek, but landing harmlessly into the dying embers of the camp fire. he raised his bow to return fire, only to see the creature falling from the tree with an arrow through it's neck, he turned to see Islist's satisfied grin, he nodded his thanks then shouted "Duck!" as a large orc came running up behind his leader. As Islist dropped to the ground Sorlas released the arrow he had already knocked, it struck the stunned creature right between the eyes killing it instantly. "Good shot" Islist grinned jovially as he rushed up to make sure his captain was all right.

Sorlas reached his hand to help Istlist back to his feet, the pair shared a laugh then turned and fired volley after volley into their retreating foes.

After the battle the camp regrouped by the fire, Sorlas wandered from one to the other checking that they were not injured miraculous only himself and Tarranon had been injured. He looked at Tarranon's wound "it's just a scratch!" he protested, "As is this but I will still treat it!" he replied pointing to the graze on his cheek. Tarranon relented and put out his arm, Sorlas took a spongy brown root from his herb pouch cut it in half then without warning he squeezed the oozing white sap over the wound, "Arggg! you could have warned me, Had I known the remedy stung more than the wound I would have gone without!" Sorlas merely laughed at his friends retort and handing him the root, he indicated that he should do the same to the graze on his cheek. "Ah ! but it won't be the same, you know what is coming" he joked. Sorlas laughed then closing his eyes and gritting his teeth he wait for the burning sensation that he did indeed knew was coming. He winced visibly as Tarranon squeezed the stinging sap along his cheek.

Once done he thanked Tarranon and put the unused piece of root back in his pouch, "The wound should not need dressing but you should keep an eye in it. Smiling he moved off to find Islist to see if they would be moving out right away, He did not fancy staying to long, with them being this near to Dol Guldur, the orcs that had escaped would surely come back with reinforcements.

[Tarien Ithil]

Rinoas helped Sorlas as he tended to Tarannon.
Afterwards, he vanished into the trees to explore.
His quiver of arrows and bow was strapped to his back.

Suddenly, he heard the shrill cry of the eagle. The eagle he'd seen circling them earlier.
He squinted up into the sky. This eagle was suspicious.
It cried again, then swooped down.
Without a thought, Rinoas ran back to the others.
"Islist! Isilist!" he shouted.
"Islist, a strange bird of prey, black as the night, is circling above us."

[maikafanawen]

Dûrvagor didn’t have a problem fighting. His moves were swift and agile with his sword. Without his sword he was a maladroit. He couldn’t throw a knife or arch, but with a sword, he was practically invincible.

When the orcs retreated he checked himself for any sort of cut or wound for poison. The only injury he found was a cut on his finger he had gotten when sliding his sword back into its scabbard. His hand had slipped and the blade cut his finger. The ranger wiped it on his tunic and went to put on his jerkin and pull on his boots.

When the cry came he had been sleeping, just having finished with his watch and had to fight in his pants and untucked tunic with his hair down and around his face. Now he pulled his light brown hair into a ponytail, tying it with a strip of leather and laced up the front of his jerkin. His boots over his arm, he walked towards the fire to see how everyone else was doing.

"Islist! Isilist!" shouted Rinoas, running back to the camp from wherever he had been. "Islist, a strange bird of prey, black as the night, is circling above us."

“You don’t say?” said Dûrvagor mockingly, following him over to Islist. Rinoas shot him a threatening look and the ranger backed out of ear shot, packing his things. They were sure to leave after the attack. The further they were from Dol Guldor, the better. Then suddenly a thought hit him. The horses!!

[ June 13, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Himaran]

Elleraden looked with disgust at the broken shaft of one of his arrows. It had snapped against an orc's chest-plate, though slaying it in the process. Tossing it on the ground, the ranger retrieved his other shafts and cleaned them carefully; after which he washed the dark blood off of his sword and knife.

As he walked into the middle of the camp, Durvagor suddenly yelled out; "The horses, the horses! They're gone!"

Elleraden looked around quickly. Durvagor was right; they had been frightened off by the orc raid. For all the rangers knew, their steeds were a mile away; deep in Mirkwood. Elleraden swore under his breath, realizing the hopelessness of their situation. Not only were they now stuck in Mirkwood forest, far from civilization, without a fast means of transportation, but much of their food and other supplies had been carried off by the horses in their flight.

He looked around the rest of the group, who stood silently in the center of the camp. All eyes turned to Islist, and Elleraden uttered the phrase which everyone felt and thought. "What do we do now, sir."

[Arestevana]

Tarannon froze as Durvagor's words reached him. He turned sharply, not wanting to believe it. However, he seemed to have no choice. The horses were gone.

He rushed over to the spot where they had been tethered, saw the frayed ropes and snapped pickets. He avoided stepping on the earth; surely Islist would want to track them, as he was much more experienced in that area. Tarannon shook his head, taking back that last thought. The horses would be long gone by now. Lost in the woods they would become easy prey for any wandering beasts. He glanced back at the other rangers, then turned his gaze to their leader. Elleraden seemed to read his mind as he asked "What do we do now, sir?"

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

[maikafanawen]

“Well,” said Dûrvagor, tying his blanket the bottom of his pack. “Guess we go find them eh? No use moping around thinking about it. What’s a small trek in the woods?” Islist shook his head and glanced in the direction their mounts had retreated.

Dûrvagor spoke again, “Pernolë’s not much of a horse, I’ll admit, but he’s the only horse I got and I’d kinda like ‘im back." No one said anything. "Well Islist?” Taking orders from a twenty-three year old was starting to wear on Dûrvagor. But after all, he was Grod’s son, and Dûrvagor respected his father, so the ranger waited for what Islist had to say.

[Himaran]

Elleraden could sense the uncomfortable tension within the group, and stepped in to answer Durvagor's question. "Good ranger, we would all like to have our horses back. I cared deeply for my steed, who traveled with me for many years. But it would be nothing short of suicide to try to find them in Mirkwood; this close to Dol Guldor. We can do nothing but go on."

Islist nodded, taking control once again. "Yes, we will go on. Pack your things! We are leaving the camp immediately, and marching full speed until dark. The sun will rise soon, and we will be able to go quicker."

[Nerindel]

When Dûrvagor had alerted the group that the horses had gone, he immediatly looked up suprised, Tëlpetal was not easily spooked. He got up and walked over to were the horses had been teathered, he crouched down to the ground examining the many jumbled hoof prints. As he found what he was looking for he heard Aravir come up behind him. "What is it? Friend" he asked.

Sorlas lifted the three black shafted arrows he had just found, up so Aravir could see them, "Oh! no" he sighed heavily, thinking that not only were the horses missing they were injured too. Sorlas shook his head and turn the shafts around. Aravir's eye's widened with suprise "there's no tips!" he exclaimed taking the arrows from Sorlas's hand and examining them himself. "And no blood" Sorlas added as Aravir smelt the shaft for signs of horse blood.

"So they never intended to kill the horses, I don't understand" Aravir said looking again at the arrows he held, a puzzeled expression crossed his face.

"When I first saw the orc archers in the trees I thought their target was us, I was wrong they meant all along to spook the horses the battle was a diversion, they want us on foot for some reason." Sorlas told him "You think they have word of our journey!" Aravir concluded, Sorlas nodded grimly.

Then looking at the tracks again he suddenly burst into a smile "Look! Look!" he cried to Aravir. The older ranger got down on the ground to see what had excited Sorlas but all he could see was hoof prints, but as they moved forwards following the track's it became quite clear that two horses had took lead of the others, Aravir turned his head eyeing his younger friend "Your horse?" Sorlas was grinning from ear to ear "Yes and one other, he will lead them home" "And where is home?" Aravir asked cocking an eyebrow. North he said pointing out the trail, we've been at Grod's camp for five months, so he'll head for there!"

The two men then got up and wiped the dust from their clothes, "We should tell Islist what we have discovered" Sorlas said, he picked up the arrows he'd found and walk confidently over to the others to tell them what they had learnt.

[maikafanawen]

Dûrvagor, his mouth slightly open in surprise, listened as Aravir and Sorlas told the group the opportune fate of the horses.

“There is one thing I will say,” the rangers turned towards him. “It sure wasn’t Pernolë leading. It probably took a great deal of ninnies and neighs to convince him that the orcs were not trying to kill them.” Eyes were rolled in exasperation. “But,” Dûrvagor continued, “why would the horses go all the way back home. Wouldn’t they just wait somewhere for us to find them?”

Sorlas shook his head, “I’d bet that the orcs chased them far enough so that they would have no other choice but to go home.” Dûrvagor shrugged, still confused, and they picked up what little things they had, following Islist from camp.

Luckily, Dûrvagor still had a few things. He had his sword, and pack that held his cloak for damper, cooler weathers, gloves, and some dried fruit and nuts. Missing were his clothes and a book of herb lore he kept with him. Adjusting his shoulders and sighing at the slight misfortune of walking, he followed, keeping up with the group.

[Himaran]

Sorlas shared the information he had with Islist and Elleraden. Islist sat in deep thought, speaking at length.

"The orcs may merely have wanted our food, or us for food. But as close as we are to Dol Guldor, I think that what you have discovered is too much of a coincidence. The orcs wanted us on foot, definantly. They want us to move slowly, so they can track our movements and prepare an ambush. Like I said, we cannot linger here any longer!"

The group completed their packing, and was soon marching again; the sun peaking over the trees. Meanwhile, a skinny tree-orc shimmied down from his perch, carrying a drawing of the company and its members, along with information regarding its numbers and supplies. It slipped to the south west, bound for Dol Guldor.

[Burzdol]

Islist led half of the party one way as Elleraden led the other the other way.

"Any orc we find, we quewstion then kill. Any questions?" Islist asked his smaller party.

"Can't we just kill 'em upon sight? It's easier than tryn' to catch one of them," Durvagor said.

"How about we kill you instead? That would be easy, too. It's not like we have to catch you either, you're right here," Islist raised his bow. The ranger pulled the string and aimed at Durvagor. Just before he shot, he moved the bow up and a cry came from the nearby tree. An orc fell with a large "thump" on the ground. The thing squealed like a pig. The small party walked to the crying orc. They started to question it but soon got fed up. Islist drew his sword and stabbed the orc's right arm. After more whimpering and no talking spalls, Islist stabbed the left arm. The orc still subdued the pain. The ranger then stabbed its left leg, followed by the right. Still, no information.

"For the love of Aragorn," Durvagor said and the killed the orc with a swift thrust to the neck.

"Let's get going now that you ruined our only source," Islist sadi as he left with a smirk.

[maikafanawen]

“Oh for the love of Aragorn,” said Dûrvagor, killing the orc with a swift, merciful thrust to the neck.

“Let's get going now that you’ve ruined our only source," Islist said as he left with a smirk.

“Only source?” said Dûrvagor, looking up to see Islist turn his back. “What in the—you were torturing him! That is illegal. Do you see what you hold in your hand?” He ran up and kicked the ranger’s sheath with his toe. “That’s a weapon. It takes lives. I can’t tell what you’re more proud of! Wielding that sword for your king, or wielding it for the pleasure it brings you to see your rival die, or in the last case, suffer?” Dûrvagor shook his head. Islist didn’t answer.

Dûrvagor fumed, his patience, usually immeasurable, was growing short. Words swarmed in his head. Words he’d like to scream at the neophyte ranger. Listen here little boy. I don’t know what exactly you have in mind but let’s get a few things strait. As much of a hot shot you think you are, save it for someone who cares, understand? That little trick with the bow: touchy, if you’re a fool in Gondor for the solstice festivals not if you’re answering a call from Lord Aragorn. Further more, I’d like to point out that a ranger never torments another being, no matter how evil it is. This being made clear I trust we shall encounter no further problems? Mm? Instead he shouldered his pack and kept his words inside.

The orc’s blood was spilled on the ground and Dûrvagor could not help but feel a bit sorry for his manner of death. Torture was cruelty no matter who it was inflicted upon and no matter who did it. Dûrvagor hoped that Islist would see someday. He didn’t much feel like walking with the group. When he got angry, which was rare, his face got flushed and his mind jumbled. He wasn’t quick or witty, and a terrible socialist. Instead, he walked in the middle of the company, head bent, trying to calm down.

[Nerindel]

Sorlas too was astounded by their captains treatment of the creature, he felt no love for their race but he would never lower himself to the evils of torture!

He had watched carefully the encounter between Islist and the Usually cheerful Dûrvagor, he saw a spark of anger in the usually calm mans eyes, to the injustice he had witnessed, though he did not speak of it openly. Sorlas nodded his head in new found respect for the usually flamboyant ranger, The man he thought of as the jester of the group, had a seriousness to him after all!

With the return of Ellerden and his group Dûrvagor fell into line at the centre of the reunited band of rangers, to collect his thoughts. Sorlas decided he would take the rear guard. He let the others pass him by then he fell in behind them. As he walked backwards watching their rear, he could feel the presence of Herevion and Rinoas to his left and right hidden among the trees doing the same. He gripped his bow ready for what ever the orcs had planned for them....

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Arestevana]

Tarannon watched Sorlas fall to the back of the group. Herevion and Rinoas walked in the trees to either side, copleting an effective rear-guard. They held swords or bows ready, covering the entire company. Tarannon walked behind even them, not caring for the danger. They had not noticed him, for he could be silent when he wanted to, and nearly invisible. He needed to be alone.

Islist’s torture of the captive spy frightened him: not because the cruelty had been rarely found in thir leader, but because he recognized it in himself. He could not say that he would have spared the creature, or even have killed it on sight. To his mind came unbidden the memory of the small house on the Westfold where he was born. He saw the flames grasping at dry timbers, saw the licking greedily at the thatched roof. He heard the screams—

The ranger shook his head, banishing the vivid images. He clenched his fist until the nails drew blood from the palm. Drawing his sword, he imagined dark blood running through the deep gutter, spilling onto the hard earth, staining the grass crimson. Shaking his head again, he moved to sheathe the blade. To his horror, he found that he could not.

Tarannon knew what was wrong. His war-wrath had not risen at the camp attack. Now the death of the spy had evoked the memories that brought a near-insane battle fury rushing through his veins. If he could not contain it, his companions were in danger. For long moments he fought the rage, finally controlling it. He sheathed his sword and with an effort slowed his breath.
“Seregsul,” He muttered. Though surpressed, it would return; and soon.

Tarannon moved, unnoticed, back amidst the marching group. Immediately, he noticed something that he had missed while walking behind. The rangers were silent. They stared mainly at the ground or straight ahead, and avoided meeting eachother’s eyes. Their expressions were tense and reserved. He noticed Durvagor walking in the middle of the company, his head bent, obviously fighting some personal battle. Tarannon avoided speaking, not sure he could handle a stressful conversation. Luckily, with no one else wanting to even think about talk, that was not even challenging.

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

[GaladrieloftheOlden]

Herevion, observing the others with interest, could tell that many were angry, or disgusted, or quiet for other reasons. He, himself, merely kept silence because that was his usual state. He did not care for orcs, and it seemed that torture should be below the rangers, but he had not actively intervened. He did not care nearly enough.

He straitened his scabbard, dropping back to the end of the line with two others. He watched all around, but nothing seemed to be suspicious. A bit quieter than usual, perhaps. But it could be expected in these evil parts. Walking was a bit of a nuisance, but he did not much care that his horse was gone. He could walk as far as any other, and Thoron was not always needed. It mattered only how far Aragorn was.

He thought back for a moment to the battle, and was almost momentarily sick. It was his weakness. He had fought coolly, collectedly, as he did everything, receiving only a few shallow cuts. But it was not that... he never stopped others from killing, but himself... he did not mind at the moment of battle, ever. But now it made him feel, have feelings, and he did not like it. He was guarded because he had made himself guarded. He would need to work, for to help Lord Aragorn, he would have to stop feeling again...

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: GaladrieloftheOlden ]

[Burzdol]

Islist knew Durvagor was frustrated at his manner towards the orc. Soon he could tell that the ranger was about to say something to prove he was smarter, but Islist spoke first, "I know you may not like the way I killed that orc, but my motives run deeper than you will ever know. If the same thing ever happened to you, you would do the same to the foul beasts."

"And what was that, O great leader?" Durvagor shot back smugly.

"My mother was tortured before my eyes by these things. She was eaten alive in front of my own eyes. Now, my father is dying from more of them. And you think that we should feel sorry for them?" Islist yelled at the other ranger.

From then on, they walked in silence. The rangers only spoke to the dying orcs to try to pry out information.

[Himaran]

Elleraden walked alongside Islist as the party continued. They had regrouped upon hearing orc crys, which Islist had explained to him as a sentry which they had slain. The ranger knew that there was more to the story than merely what he had been told, but he worried about it little. Elleraden knew that he would get the full tale from one of the other rangers at a later time and date.

Looking around the group, the ranger realized that something was wrong. Everyone kept their eyes forward, or on the ground. No one spoke. There was tension enough in the air to walk on it, that was certain. But the ranger merely kept his thoughts to himself, and continued marching.

Meanwhile, several miles away, the black gate of Dol Guldor opened, letting forth a stream of vile, black armored creatures. Orcs and wargs, Uruk Hai, Mirkwood wolves, and even two monstrous trolls. They dashed into the forest, following a scout which had spotted the company several days back. Their orders: destroy the company down to the last ranger, and bring their weapons and supplies back to Dol Guldor.

The rangers continued marching south, oblivious to the fact that a virtual horde of enemy forces was bearing in on their postion...

[Earendil Halfelven]

Aravir walked quietly. He hadn't said much. He enjoyed watching the others argue with eachother. But he became alarmed when Islist pointed his arrow at Durvagor. At that point, his opinion of Islist changed somewhat. However, he didn't really care that he had tortured the orc. It was an animal that had received a taste of its own medicine.

He knew that being too close Dol Goldur meant that they were in a lot of danger. Sauron would definately try to stop the Dúnedain from answering Aragorn's call. After they defeated the orc party, Aravir knew that Dol Goldur would muster a more formidable company against them.

He didn't feel that his arrows were going to be of much use here in the forest. They were too many trees and brush in the way. You'd waste time finding a target among all the greenery. Instead, he drew his sword, and kept it in front of him. Aravir did not look at the ground. Instead, he strained his ears to hear the slightest sound. He felt that something was already on its way.

[maikafanawen]

Dûrvagor instantly regretted any harsh words he had shot or thought to shoot at Islist. If what he said was true, than Dûrvagor decided never again to interfere. The horror of what the young ranger had seen was almost too awful to be true. He didn’t want to believe it. He’d try not to. In his forty plus years alive, he’d never experienced such terror and this man had seen the worst imaginable before his twentieth year.

Although, Dûrvagor reasoned, that doesn’t account for his ill manner towards the rest of his companions. Still feeling a bit apprehensive towards Islist, he turned his gaze towards the sky and took a deep breath. He sensed something: the foul stench of orcs, lots of them. Or maybe just the stench of the orc Isli—er—I killed. Yeah...that's it. But he was wrong.

[ June 18, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Tarien Ithil]

Rinoas wiped his sword on the grass. It was smeared with black orc blood from teh the orcs he'd slain earlier.

He crossed over to Tarnnon's tent. He was there, shapening his sword.

"Hello," said Rinoas to his friend.

Hello!" answered Tarannon. Come on in and see my sword. It's slain over one hundred orcs in its time!"

Rinoas was awed by this but decided to change the subject.

"So what do you think of this journey? A bit strange, if you ask me. That eagle is bothering me and robbing me of my sleep," he said.

Tarannon appeared to be thinking.
"Did you tell Islist?" he asked.
"Yes," said Rinoas.

Then he heard the shrill cry again.
The horses stirred. Rinoas and Tarannon emerged from the tent to see. The eagle was soaring up above and then vanished into the clouds.

It was all very puzzeling.

Rinoas wandered from the tent, followed by Tarannon. Then suddenly, Rinoas tripped and then something was on him, a knife at his throat. A goblin was clawing at his neck, rasping.

"Help," Rinoas cried. Tarannon fought the goblin but soon cries of others echoed around them.

[Arestevana]

"Help!"
As soon as Tarannon heard his friend's yell, he was on his feet, sword ringing from it's sheath. He ran toward the scuffle, horrified to see an orc attacking Rinoas. The ranger was fending the creature off as best he could, but had no time to reach his own blade. "Duck," Tarannon suggested. Rinoas did so, and the orc was neatly dispatched with a thrust through the head.

The first orc was followed immediately by another, as Rinoas went for his bow rather than his sword. Tarannon followed the other's lead, pinning two orcs to a tree with a single well-placed arrow. He could see no more, but expected that they were watching from the thicker trees around them. Tarannon hurried back to the others, wondering what they were going to do.

[ June 28, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

[Tarien Ithil]

"Oliphaunt!" yelled Rinoas as the huge creature stumbled through the trees.

He was amazed that these orcs had captured such a creature.

The beast tossed its great head about, trampling the trees around it.

Rinoas and Tarannon froze then quickly Tarannon regained himself and shot an arrow at the head of the oliphaunt. It bounced off harmlessly.

"Come, quickly and make haste!" yelled Rinoas. "We cannont face the beast alone!"

"Islist!" shouted Tarannon. The two rangers dashed through the trees blindly, followed closely by their foes.

"Quick, Tarannon!" Rinoas yelled as they ran. "They're right behind us!"

[Arestevana]

They joined the other rangers gathering around Islist. Out of the corner of his eye, Tarannon noticed an orc creeping down the side of a hill. He turned, drawing his bow.

Horrified, he saw Herevion laying on the ground at the orcs feet. With a shout Tarannon loosed the arrow, which took the orc through the head, killing in instantly. He watched Herevion rise, turning back to listen to Islist when he saw that he was alright. They began to march again, slowly drawing nearer to the forest's edge.

[ June 28, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

[Burzdol]

Islist strode before the rest in his party and started to speak, "Everyone. Durvagor has found the trail of the orcs that stole our horses. I am sorry to say that two of the horses were found dead, eaten, on that trail. We must now get our horses back. Who's with me?"

The whole company cheered or yelled battle cries. Soon they all ran down the trail and started to gain on the robber orcs.

[Burzdol]

The ranger company came to a large grove of trees, where Islist halted them. In front of the grove was the orc party that still had the horses.

"Okay. Elleraden, Durvagor, and I will get the horses. Everyone else, distract them and draw them away from the horses. We'll do the rest," Islist said as he crouched low to the ground.

The three ran into the grove as the rest of the group ran for the orc party. Soon the three rangers heard clashing steel, screams, and war cries.

"Now, let's go!" Islist yelled as they ran into the camp. They quickly ran back out with the horses by their reins.

Elleraden yelled as he ran, "Retreat! All rangers retreat!"

[Nerindel]

Islists plan was working as they fought with the surprised orcs he saw Islist,Elleraden and Dûrvagor out of the corner of his eye leading the horses to safety, he was relieved to see that Telpetal was among them.

The orc he was battling swung it's crude sword to meet his the sudden ring nearly deafened him, as they locked Sorlas kicked out and sent the orc sprawling to the ground, fumbling desperately to find the sword that had flown from it's hand.

"Retreat, Rangers Retreat!" he heard Elleraden cry. he kicked the sword further from the sprawling orcs grasping hand then ran after the others.

They ran without stopping for some time he could still hear a few orcs following in the distance. As they slowed to a stop he burst out laughing slapping Tarannon on the back "Did you see their faces" he laughed remembering the look on the stunned orc's faces as they had charged into their midst...

As he looked around he could see that they had finally made it to the eaves of the forest and the desolate, treeless brownlands now streched before them, this land was a sore reminder to all of them of what they were still to face. the land had been ruined during the last war between Sauron and the Last Alliance at the end of the second age and it had never truely recovered. Recounting his history, he sighed heavily, then he grimly trudged over to see how his horse was and what if anything had survived in Telpetal's panniers.

[ June 27, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]