Escape from Nurn RPG

[Amanaduial the archer]

Fionel's eyes flickered upwards as the name of Shivana was called. It was not a familiar name to her, but she noticed Desolyn beside her stiffen slightly. She looked up to see the face of the Hunter as she turned to go and sit in the seats prepared for the Hunters; another way of making the slaves feel or seem inferior. But as she turned she flicked her long dark hair back and Fionel also felt herself stiffen slightly. This woman was indeed beautiful, with dark, waist length hair, tanned skin and big dark eyes, but in those eyes, Fionel could see the cruelty that was all too similar to that in Ranchard's eyes. In a flash she recognised this easterling as the one who had viciously murdered a child this morning. The woman looked down across the slaves, a sneer on her face. Fionel noted Desolyn staring back at her, but a lock of hair fell across her own eyes. For a second she felt the impluse to hide behind this, to not look into the eyes of this killer, but immediately she felt ashamed of it. Flicking her hair out of her eyes in a small movement, but with her head still down, she stared back at the woman. Shivana gave a small snort and walked to her place.

The next Hunter to be called was a man called Dorlas. Looking up to the balconies which hung almost over the platform, considered the best seats, and saw the young man on one of them stand, a broad, hard smile on his face. Not a surprise; it was the expression they all wore, a look that told how eager for the kill they were. But as Dorlas was about to descend to the platform, he bent over his wife, who had been sitting with him. He kissed her on the lips, then on the forehead, and squeezed her hand for a second longer before he descended. Now that was something that surprised Fionel; so some of these men and women did have emotions. And weak spots...

"Rhunnaro!" Ekatran called the next name. A small frown creased Fionels features. This wasnt right...she had heard them talking about Rhunnaro in the palace, and knew the man by sight. Indeed, she had said something careless about his situation when she was in the palace...something which had gotten her whipped and thrown out into the fields. There was the same muttering throughout the hall, the same turning of heads. But no one emerged. Something was not right here.

"Rhunnaro!" Ekatran once more called the name. "Come, we all know you are out there! Do you not want to take your place among the Hunters?"

Fionel looked up sharply at the Lord. She had heard the slightly mocking tone in his voice as he had said that, and it seemed by the titterings growing in the audience that she had not been the only one. A slight smile was on Ekatrans face.

"Are you a coward Rhunnaro?"

The gasp which came from Fionels mouth was mirrored by thousands all around the hall. That was the ultimate insult. Fionel glanced at Desolyn, who wore the same expression of surprise and thoughtfullness. She questioned Fionel with her eyes, but the other knew not how to reply. Then there was movement in the hall, and Fionel turned back to see the man she recognised as Rhunnaro stand up, his expression blank, but his fists clenched, she noted. But he was near the front of the hall, on the bottom floor, and was about ten metres from Fionel, so close she could see the anger in his eyes.

"Ah, there he is. Rhunnaro, I call you once again to join the Hunt."

"I will not Hunt this year, my Lord." The easterlings voice was quiet and quite mild.

"What?" Ekatrans reply was just as quiet, but menacing, his expression black. Rhunnaro took a deep breath, and Fionel could see he was shaking.

"I will not-" He started again, but then paused, looking at Fionel. Her eyes were intently on him. For a moment she could see him wondering if he recognised her, then he looked at Desolyn, whose face mirrored her own determination...and her own plea to him. He paused. Was that a nod? Fionel didnt have time to wonder before he nodded more definitely, at Ekatran this time.

"My Lord, I come."

[Envinyatar]

Rhûnnaro had come down to the front of the Hall, taking a seat in the shadows, to read what thoughts played on the faces of the Hunted. He knew already what lay in the minds of the Hunters – the screams of their victims as they begged for death and the feel of their warm blood spilling onto the Hunter’s hands.

Ekatran called his name. In that instant his path was set. He did not stand and come forward. Again, Ekatran called him, and seeing now where he sat he thought to shame him as a coward.

‘I will not hunt the slaves again this year,’ he said. Though spoken low, his words carried in the silent hall. He unclenched his fists, knowing anger would do him no good here. Like a tightly gathered storm, Ekatran’s eyes snapped with sharp menace.

‘What?’ he asked, giving Rhûnnaro the chance to recoup his stand.

A slave’s eyes caught his own, and the torches in the hall flickered wildly for just a moment. The wind horses, even here in this place of darkness, they bring hope . . . and an answer to those who know how to ride them, he thought. The hint of a cold smile lay behind his eyes.

Face set in an unreadable mask, the anger now gone from him, he stepped forward, nodding slightly at Ekatran.

‘My Lord, I come.’ he answered firmly. His thoughts echoing his resolve. Yes, I will hunt this one last time . . .

[ April 11, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Frodess]

Dorlas went to where the others had come, grinning from ear to ear. He stared at the Hunted, plans forming in his mind. He knew that he would be selected again. Who wouldn't select a man with such skills and virility as he?

He awaited the finish of the ceremony, his mind off in the glory of the Hunt and the win.

[kittiewhirl1677]

Lanbriel listened, trying not to hear what she heard. But yes, Ranchard, that horrible lunatic was chosen. This would be harder than she thought. Much harder. Hope was beginning to loosen its hold in her mind.

Next, Rhunnaro was called up. Rhunnaro, surprisingly, didn't come. Lord Ekatran even called him a coward, after which he stood up and said he wasn't going on the hunt. This was very surprising, thought Lanbriel.

The hunt would bring many unexpected surprises, she thought.

[Arien]

Shivana sat patiently next to Ranchard who was now rather annoying her. He kept muttering to himself and rocking back and forth. But she tried to put it out of her mind for as long as she could. The slaves sat on the stone ground the one called Fionel, had dared to stare at her as she walked up. Now Fionel's face was pointed to the floor. Where it belongs! How dare she stare at me, insolent slave. Shivana thought in her mind.

The last two times she had been on the hunt she had choosen the slave she would hunt. Mentally in her mind she looked at each of them. Drained souls. Audacious hearts. Anxious eyes. Fionel was definately going to be one of the one's her egotism would be punished. But there was also that elf. A challenge she thought. Fionel looked at Shivana again and their eyes met.

There was an intense burning in Shivana's eyes, this would be the one she would kill.

[ April 12, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

[Envinyatar]

He returned to his rooms after the choosing was done, slipping quietly through the shadows. For the other Easterlings, this would be a night of raucous camaraderie as they told stories of previous hunts and drank to the success and pleasure of this new one.

His steps brought him quickly to his quarters, and entering, he barred the door securely behind him. Once more he looked over his preparations for tomorrow. From beneath his bed he brought out a small cache of hand weapons he had not thought to bring earler. Now, he slipped them into the pack, hidden beneath the food and water. He nodded to himself, running through his mind the list of items he was taking. All was in readiness.

On his bed laid out in order was all he would need. A methodical man, tomorrow he would pick them up one by one and gird himself for the Hunt.

But until then, until the drums and horns announced the start of it, he would sit here, on the floor, in the unlit room - legs crossed, body held alert. His eyes, unfocused, stared into the depths of the darkness, thoughts flying eastward . . .

Tonight would be for himself alone, and for his thoughts . . . not until tomorrow, at noon, would he give himself to the Hunt . . .

[Amanaduial the archer]

Fionel snuck another look at the Hunters, eyeing them up, seeing which would be a bigger threat. Her eyes swept over them, barely giving them a glance each, until she reached the female whose eyes she had met before. Their gazes clashed, and Fionel realised with a shiver that the Huntress had been watching her before. Once again that instinct came into her mind to look away, to hide, to make herself as small and insignificant as possible, but it was only for a second this time. There was a stronger will in her mind, and she forced herself to meet the Shivana's eyes, and to hold them. The easterling did the same, and Fionel saw her jaw stiffen slightly.

They seemed to keep each others gaze for years, but it was actually only a few second later that the drum began to boom once more, and the pipes once more began to play their haunting melody. But it was only when a whip cracked over her head, then onto her back, that Fionel looked away, distracted from her oponents gaze by the pain. She flinched and started to turn, before she was dragged up by both arms to her feet by the easterling behind her.

"Face your master, slave." He hissed in her ear. "I will deal with you later."

"You can't." Fionel knew it was a mistake saying those few words, but it was true; an overseer could do nothing to a slave that had been chosen for the Hunt. Wait a minute...an overseer couldnt, but...

"I can do what I like, slave!" He snarled, and it was then that Fionel realised that he was a soldier, rather than just an overseer. Not just any old soldier- from his clothes is was obvious he was of a high position. "Thats right. And you will feel my whip!" He hissed at her, before dragging her away.

Fionel struggled briefly, before being dragged off the platform with the rest of the slaves. But as they were taken away to the room where they would be given a small briefing on where they were to go, the soldier muttered something to the others about having to 'deal' with the 'unruly ones'. Fionel wondered for a second why it was 'ones' rather than one, when she saw another soldier come the same way with a struggling Desolyn. Evidently she hadnt stood for Ekatran either. Fionel was gratified to see the soldier's arm was bleeding slightly, a horse-shoe of red against his pale skin. So Desolyn had bitten him- good for her, but it certainly wasnt going to make it any easier for either of them.

The soldier who had brought Fionel in flicked his whip in the air as if warming it up, while the other held Fionels hands, pressing her against the wall with her arms above her head, so she was unable to defend herself against the whip. With a crack, the whip laid into her back. The slave bit down the cry which sprung to her lips, clenching her teeth. When he whipped her the second time, she felt the blood being drawn on her back, mirrored by the blood that ran down her chin as she bit her lip.

"Wait." The quiet voice came from the doorway, behind Fionel, but the third stroke hit her before the soldier processed the word. The soldier turned, then she heard him gasp.

"Sorry sir." He said stiffly.

"Leave." The male easterling voice was still quiet and calm, and it sounded vaguely familiar to Fionel. But when the man released her and marched quickly away out of the room, she didnt have time to see the mans face before he slipped away. She only saw a pair of brown eyes, but in those eyes there was none of the hate usually seen in easterling eyes when they looked at slaves, instead there was almost...pity. Before she could say anything, he was gone. The second guard hauled both Fionel and Desolyn up, and pushed them each into the single cells where they would spend the night before the hunt. Fionel looked around at the walls that had been the last thing in Nurn seen by so many other slaves before they were led out, blindfolded, quarry for a cruel game. She winced at the pain from the whiplashes, and for the first time wondere whether her insolence had been worth it, for the Hunt would be even harder with this. She was just thankful the man, whoever he was, had intervened before it became too serious. She leant her back tenderly against the wall, and closed her eyes, slipping into an uneasy sleep plagued by the face of Shivana and the desolate cries of the hundreds of doomed slaves who had gone out for the Hunt before her, whose ghosts kept her company in this lonely cell...

[Envinyatar]

‘Fionel.’ That was her name, he thought. He recognized her, from the fields and once he recalled he had seen her serving at Ekatran’s house. No wonder she had been chosen for the hunt. Ekatran wanted to be rid of her.

‘I wonder what she knows of him, having been in close contact with him and his family. Servants often know more about their masters than their masters think they could. She could be useful.’ A fleeting smile came and went on the smooth features of his face.

His mind worked over the slave – late teens he thought, very near his daughter’s age; too thin, as were all the slaves; but the thinness belied strong muscles produced by years of hard work. He wondered what sort of weapon she was skilled with. ‘A long knife would fit in that one’s hands, I think.’

Envinyatar made his way back to his quarters. He opened the pack into which he had placed his cache of weapons. His eyes narrowed as he counted the number and kind in each compartment. Perhaps a few more, he thought. A cushion of steel for his plans . . .

[ April 22, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Arien]

Shivana walked to her room, she would eat, get her things ready and go to sleep. That’s what she always did. Hunters each walked to their separate rooms, Shivana’s was the final one. As she creaked open the door she heard her name being called. It was Kavita.

“Shivana, good luck for tomorrow,” she said ,“ though you do not need it, it will be those slaves who need it.” she paused for a while, “ just remember to come back alive!”

Shivana punched her in the arm, “of course I will. Who do you think I am?” Shivana drew her dagger and pointed it at Kavita’s heart, “how dare you say I will not come back, how dare think that!” she whispered through her breath. Kavita just stood there, her hand on one hip.

“Yeah, ok, whatever,” she said pushing the dagger away, “good luck.” she said as she left the corridor. Kavita knew if it was anyone else Shivana would have killed them. But she was a friend, and Shivana was not about kill a friend especially one as loyal as Kavita.

Shivana watched as Kavita left down the corridor and then she went into her room. There was food there and all she would need for the hunt. She liked to travel light, it was far more easier to live off food in the wild then take a whole pack of food. And even if there was no food she would last longer than any slave would. She filled a large canteen with water and then another small one that slipped into her belt. And another that went into her belt she filled with ale. She took it off and placed it on the side with her cloak and shoes.

She then had a bath, just because she worked with slaves didn’t mean she had to smell like them. After she got ready to sleep she sat by her window. The sky was clear tonight and the stars shone down. She looked down onto the street where a slave was being beat by a new solider. Well she could hardly call it beating more of a gentle hitting on the back. She was getting tired of watching this new boy and decided to show him how it was done. She quickly got dressed and went outside to the street.

“What are you doing?” she asked nearly shouting at him.

“Sorry, he was out of line, telling me I am insolent, sorry!” he said awkwardly.

“Stop apologising fool .” she said taking her dagger from her belt. She shoved it into the slaves heart and he fell instantly to the ground. She pulled her blood soaked dagger out and wiped it on the soliders crisp new uniform.

He stared appauled for a moment. “What should I say happened ?” he asked.

“Happened?… Make something up and make it interesting! And I was not here, if I find out you have ratted me out I will kill you and all you love. Don't doubt me boy, you dare doubt me and I will kill yo now!”

“Yes, ok, yes.”

“Take it away,” she said pointing to the slave, “and you might want to get that cleaned up, you head guard will not be too pleased to find your clothes in a mess.” she said as she walked away pointing at his uniform. She went back to her room and bathed again and cleaned her dagger, and this time she went to her bed. She could not wait until the morning. So she slept peacefully awaiting the hunt.

[ April 22, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

[Mattius]

Ranchard danced into his room, and such a room! Illustrous materials and colours were what the other hunters were used to but Ranchard had spent years in the wild and the earth had been his bed. He saw a full hot bath in the corner of the room and dismissed it, he had given up taking baths a long time ago.

The food was a different matter however and Ranchard began to eat from the table greedily using his hands to shovel it into his mouth. After his meal he wandered over to the balcony and looked out onto the street below, a woman was yelling at a young soldier and a slave was stood near by. Without warning the woman stabbed the slave in the heart and watched him as he dropped dead. Ranchard gave off a manic laugh to himself and watched with pleasent glee as the woman turned around and revealed herself to be the one who was chosen after him for the Hunt. In his primitive mind, Ranchard knew he would get along well with her.

[ April 23, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[kittiewhirl1677]

Lanbriel and most of the other slaves, all except two were led off to different cabins. They were expected to wait there until the hunt began.

Lanbriel knew she would succeed, she had to. Yes, she had a dagger. She would devise a plan with the other slaves, and kill off at least one hunter if not more.

Revenge. Revenge was the second most important thing on Lanbriel's mental list. The first thing on the list was freedom, getting back to her village. The second thing she would do was... The second thing would be a large troop of soldiers from her village coming to Nurn, enslaving them for a change. To see how that would feel.

Someone coughed near her, and Lanbriel's number two on her list abruptly vanished from her head. She suddenly realized that by enslaving these terrible people, she would be no better than them. No. There had to be another way to teach them a lesson.

[ April 27, 2003: Message edited by: kittiewhirl1677 ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Fionel must have slept during that fitful night, for the next thing she knew was the sound of the door being pulled open. She half opened her eyes, expecting to be hit by the daylight, before realising it was still dark. She had only had a few hours sleep then. The slave forced herself to get up before the guards reached her, but they pulled her up anyway. Fionel cried out in surprise as a dirty black cloth was produced and tied around her eyes, completely blocking any light there may have been. As soon as it was tied behind her head and secured, one guard took a more secure hold on her right arm, pulling her ahead. She was unsure of her footing, but the man, or woman more likely, from the gentleness, was careful, not speaking, but making sure she didnt loose her footing. She was led, blind to everything, out of the cell.

"Why are you doing this?" She murmered to her guide. Another guard heard and struck her head, almost making her loose her balance, caught completely unaware as she was.

"Don't talk slave, or we'll gag you as well." His voice was harsh, but Fionel could hear how tired he was. So he wasnt one of the Hunters then, for they would all be as eager as hounds before a hunt.

Fionel tried to keep track of where she was as she was led along. Up one, two, three, four steps....down a stone corridor...right...left...right again...

It was impossible. Fionel didn't know the buildings in Nurn well anyway, and guessed they were leading her a more complicated way anyway and was soon she was utterly lost. So that was what the blindfold was for- she now had no idea of where she was, and, depending on where the slaves were allowed to set off for the Hunt, would probably have lost her bearings completely.

Eventually she felt the night air on her face, but also a little warmth, although no light penetrated the opaque blindfold. The sun must be coming up then, or would be soon. For that was when the quarry would set off; at sunrise, with no horses or weapons and only a little food. And six hours later, the Hunters would follow, on horseback... The thought and the hopelessness of what she was up against made Fionel shiver. How had she ever thought she would be able to get away? It was impossible...

The sound of voices made Fionel's head turn instinctively, although of course it was no use. As she identified the excited voices, she started to turn pale; easterlings. It seemed half of Nurn had turned up, even at this early hour, to see them off. She felt another prescence near her, right beside her left arm, but couldnt identify who it was before the voice spoke.

"Hey, watch it!"

She flicked through her memory for the vaguely familiar voice, before coming up with the owner of the voice: the nanny, the girl who looked after those easterling children, although she couldnt quite remember her name, only the child's voice, calling after her. What was it- High? Hay?Something like that. So the other slaves were here as well.

She felt grass underneath her thin soled shoes, and a bundle was pushed into her hands, which she almost dropped. Her food supply, it had to be by the feel of it. But it felt so little... Ekatrans voice now made her sit up, suddenly feeling vulnerable, blind as she was. His voice was muffled, and she couldnt quite hear what he was saying. She was breathing faster now, panicking, realising how hopeless this was, and she felt like she would faint, felt like when they set her off to run, she couldnt be able to stay upright, let alone run....

Then the blindfold was whipped off.

[ April 26, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Haven had not gotten any sleep, or very little sleep, that night in her temporary cell. She eventually stopped trying to do so, and just sat in the dank cell waiting for the morning to come. Haven was still in shock of her being picked. Every year she had watched the slaves get chosen for the hunt, and every year Haven had not been chosen. It never even crossed her mind that she should or would be chosen.

Sometime before dawn, two guards burst into Haven’s cell. Before she could say anything and before the guards even said anything, one of the easterlings flicked a dusty black scrap of fabric from his pocket. The man blindfolded Haven and grabbed her arm, shoving her out of the cell. Darkness swept Haven, but it didn’t bother her; she had played blindfolded games often with Jamilah and Jovanna.

Haven let her steps loudly ring down the corridors she was being led along until the clip-clop of her pounding feet was muffled by the ground outside. Haven lost track of wherever the guards were leading her, and ultimately decided that she didn’t care where she was going.

A dull roar became louder and louder as the guards neared their destination. The people of Nurn had excitedly showed up to watch the prey scramble off, only to be caught and killed. Haven’s head turned every which way as she tried to keep track of every sound she heard, and one annoyed guard used the palm of his hand to smack Haven on the back of her head.

“Hey, watch it!” was all Haven could reply with, for she was used to the leniency of the palace nobles, not the harsh ways of the outdoor overseers. Haven was shoved into a spot in between two people, probably fellow slaves. Before Haven had time to say something or blurt out a question, something was shoved into her hands. What is this? She wondered, but didn’t bother to guess.

Seconds later, someone roughly ripped the blindfold from Haven’s eyes, and Haven stumbled back as into her vision came several hundreds of Easterlings and Slaves alike in a great mass of viewers. In a line carefully made straight in front of Lord Ekatran, were the chosen ones. The first girl who had been called stood next to Haven, though Haven didn’t even think to remember her name. Haven was good with remembering faces, not names. The woman on her other side was an elf, which surprised Haven a little.

“You are the quarry for the great hunters of my kind,” Lord Ekatran spoke loudly enough to overcome the splitting sound of the crowd. The people fell silent as he began to speak, and watched with the awe and wonder that captivated them each and every year at the sendoff. After his calming of the people, Ekatran strolled down the line of slaves, looking at each one carefully, remembering what they look like.

“These are the chosen, my great hunters. They will accompany me on my hunt, and you will be their quarry, and mine,” Ekatran continued, in a booming voice that almost sent Haven stumbling.

“You have served well, and you are chosen now to be our prey. Run as you might, you will not escape your doom.” Ekatran began to bore Haven, but the girl seriously began to wonder if that meant it was time to run.

“You have six hours!” Ekatran bellowed, and at this the overseer behind him or her shoved each slave forward.

“I guess this means we go?” Haven wondered aloud, looking confused towards the other slaves.

[ April 27, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Ekatran finished his speech with a flourish. Fionel had known what was coming beforehand, and had gone down into the read position to be able to get off quickly. But now she wasnt so sure. The other slaves were looking around in confusion, wondering whether they should go, beginning to group together like hens, to the amusement of the people of Nurn.

"Run!"

"Nah, if they dont run, it will be easier for the hunters to catch them!"

"Exactly- they want their sport! And so do we- run, slaves! This is gonna be the fastest Hunt in history!"

"Go on, idiots, even you should be able to get it into your brains that you have to go now!"

"The flag will be raised in a second, then they can really go."

The second to last voice made Fionel turn, although she wasnt sure why. Looking for the owner of the voice, she met the cocky, arrogant gaze of Shivana, the easterling woman who had challenged her with her eyes before. She met the gaze, holding it, but Shivana's grin only grew wider. A shiver ran down Fionel's spine: in those eyes, beside the eagerness, the readyness to chase, the arrogance...was something deeper. Animal even. And once again Fionel felt afraid.

"Fionel!" Desolyn's voice made Fionel look around, just as the countdown started. She got herself once more into a ready position. After three, the flag rose, and Desolyn was first off, running over the dry grass. Fionel sprung up after her, grabbing the girl beside her as she went: she had been looking around, as if searching for something, and for a moment Fionel saw a deep longing in her eyes. Haven, that was her name. Oh, the irony...

Haven pulled her arm away, but Fionel clung on, trying to make her run. Fionel thought she could see tears in the girls eyes as she replied, desperately. "I cant see them! Jamilah and Jovanna..."

"Come on, Hay, this isn't the time for you to be playing Nursemaid any more."

The girl glared back at her, angry, but was also surprised. "Hay?" She whispered.

Fionel felt sorry for her once more, over the resentment against this pet slave of Ekatran's palace, but there wasnt time. This girl was about her age, she looked younger even, maybe because of her easy life in the palace, but Fionel felt somehow responsible for her, and she was determined to get her away. "I will not have casualties this soon! Come on, Haven!"

The girl seemed to snap out of it, and she began to run as well; they would run until they were out of sight at least, then they would be able to rest. Fionel looked back, making sure all the slaves had gone, and indeed the last, an elf, ran by her other side...but as she was looking back, she once more met the eyes of Shivana. The Hunter was watching her, and as Fionel looked at her, she licked her lips, a hungry, feral expression on her face.

The animal in Fionel took over then. Haven was off already. Turning fast, Fionel ran as hard as she could, her mind just filled with one word: Run, run, RUN...

[kittiewhirl1677]

Lanbriel was woken by the voice of a guard. She had a few hours of sleep, unlike the other slaves. She knew she had one good ability: she was able to quench down her anxieties very far, to almost get rid of them. She was very happy she fell asleep, because she knew she would need it.

The guard kicked her in the side, and withstanding but wincing from the pain, Lanbriel managed to get up. From some pocket the guard revealed a black cloth, and as quickly as he had revealed it-he had tied it around her eyes. He had blindfolded her.

Another guard came over and pushed her to the door. Then, the first guard took her and pulled her by the arm to the loud noises of the crowd ahead.

They took the most mazed turns and paths, so Lanbriel, however hard she tried, could not keep track of their road. They finally arrived at their destination, Lanbriel could tell because of all the noise. She was led over to the center of the crowd; she assumed that was where all the slaves were lined up. Then, she was put into a line with the other slaves.

Suddenly, a guard whipped her blindfold off. Lanbriel whined on the inside because the guard just "happened" to hurt her ear in the process. Then, Lord Ekatran started to speak.

“You are the quarry for the great hunters of my kind,” He said, then walked up and down the line of slaves, overlooking each face.
“These are the chosen, my great hunters. They will accompany me on my hunt, and you will be their quarry, and mine. You have served well, and you are chosen now to be our prey. Run as you might, you will not escape your doom.”

Then, as if the greatest winds in all Middle Earth gathered up inside, his deep voice toned: “You have six hours!” And the flag was raised.

Lanbriel was pushed off then. She started running, running off, outrunning the other slaves. She closed her mind and saw her one destination in her eyes: freedom.

[Orual]

"...You have six hours!"

Despite her attempts at calm, Dôranna's heart was racing. She could hear her blood pounding in her temples, and her breath came quick and shallow. Her ice-blue eyes swept over the crowd, bloodthirsty and eager for the Hunt to begin, and she swallowed hard. It was easy enough to be defiant when it was only one Easterling being faced, but these thousands...she twisted a lock of blonde hair around her finger, and touched her already-sunburnt nose regretfully.

The jeers of the crowd put Dôranna into a cold sweat. How could they be so eager to see her die? Shivana's voice made her scowl. Of course they couldn't go yet. The flag was not down. She took a deep breath and tried to quell her anger.

"I guess this means we go?" asked Haven, beside her. Dôranna glanced at her, then concentrated on finding the best position from which to run. Her light shoes would do well for speed, but already the hard ground made her feet hurt. She could not think about that. These six hours could be the most important in her life.

The flag went down, and Dôranna was off.

[Envinyatar]

An Elf, five young women, and a crippled man. Rhûnnaro shook his head at this group. They would need all the favors the gods could grant to escape with their lives. He wondered who would pick up the lead for them. All had been slaves so long that even now, with death staring them in the face, they looked about as if to find an overseer to tell them what to do.

He fingered the light coil of rope that hung across his chest. The smoothness of its tight weave pushed his thoughts to memories of his wife and children. His wife’s cheek was smooth to his lips as he bent down from his horse to kiss her in farewell. And the soft fingers of his sons and daughter played against his palm as they reached up softly to say good-bye, their brown eyes entreating him not to go.

Rhûnaro pulled himself back to the present, and watched the expressions on the faces of this year’s hunters. Not much different than other years. There was a feral gleam in their eyes, and he half expected them to lick their lips in anticipation of the blood yet to be spilled. He wondered if the Dark Lord picked servants such as these whom he could keep glutted with promises of carnage and wanton viciousness because they were so easily placed under his thumb by the desire for such license.

The flag whipped down, cutting the clear morning air.

He stood at the far outskirts of the slavering crowd of Easterlings, watching as the slaves ran toward him helter-skelter to the outskirts of the town. His hand slipped to his belt and he drew out something small. He whistled sharply, catching the attention for a brief moment of the short haired, grey eyed girl who led the pack. He tipped his chin up as she neared, flipping the object in a tight arc to her.

She caught it deftly, and ran on . . .

[Beruthiel]

Santiara had only slept for a short while the whole night and before she knew what was happening, guards pushed her out of the cell and blindfolded her. She was led down through what seemed to be a maze, turning left and right until she felt dizzy.

Finally they brought her to where the other slaves were and Lord Ekratran made his speech. She felt like spitting in his face, the way he spoke aggrivated her. Pronouncing each word so slowly and precisely as though he thought the slaves wouldn't understand.
"...You have six hours!"

The slaves huddled together and she heard the crowd laugh and shout at them. The others were muttering quickly, their voices filled with fear. Santiara herself was shaking and she couldn't get words to come out of her mouth as she stared at the crowd of Easterlings.

The flag went down and they were off. Running as fast as she could, trying to forget the aches and pains all over her body. She wore no shoes and her feet pounded on the hard ground, hurting them so badly she had to hold back her tears. The only thing that kept her going was the one word that was imprinted in her mind, Freedom...

[ April 27, 2003: Message edited by: Beruthiel ]

[kittiewhirl1677]

Lanbriel ran on in the dark. The only thing that forced her on was her stronger-than-ever will for freedom. At the head of the misshaped line, she saw the one called Fionel. Lanbriel herself was not far behind, and she noticed that as Fionel ran, a hunter passed her a small object. It was too dark to tell what the object was, so Lanbriel ran on pretending not to notice.

She saw all the slaves running around her, all rushing, all tiring themselves out. They were trying to get as far away from that wreched place as possible. Lanbriel knew that soon, many would find themselves too tired, hungry, and weak to keep going. This is why she was running slower than usual. If she ran on instinct, she would be far ahead of the others. But she knew, she knew that soon instinct would be the only thing between life and death.

She just had to keep up this pace. She had to control her freedom-longing legs... She knew she would make it.

[ April 28, 2003: Message edited by: kittiewhirl1677 ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

With every step Fionel took, she expected to be called back, for the Hunters to be chasing them already, to be tricked an trapped like a cornered rabbit. Her heart was thudding noisily in her ears, not from the running, but from the idea of running- running away from Nurn. And getting away.

It was only when she had passed the flag bearer that she looked back. She had by now passed the others in the group, or 'herd' as the easterlings called the quarry for the Hunt- the easterlings called them a herd, but among the slaves, they were known as a pack. Turning, she looked back at the towers of the city, above the usual, low slung buildings; somewhere back there would be the rest of the slaves, who would be waking in about an hour to begin another day of their endless, hard, useless existence. But not Fionel. She turned around again, but as she did so, her eye caught a movement, a quick movement of one hand of an easterling man. Expecting a whip, despite the strict prohibitance of anyone physically harming the slaves as the had the head start- not that anyone would really object, but it was thought of as spoiling the sport- Fionel met his eyes. The man tipped his chin up and flipped the object he held in his hand towards her, making it spin in the air.

Fionel caught the small object easily, looking at the man for a moment with a question on her face. But there was no time. He simply nodded to her, and, accepting this though puzzling over it, she ran on.

***

The exhileration and adrenaline rush was had died down after they had run for over an hour and a half, but was not completely gone, understandably. Fionel cursed herself silently- she hadnt paced herself, and it was she who had been leading the pack. Behind her, she could hear ragged breath. They had slowed down now- before they had been running on the adrenaline rush, and its incredible what a chance like this will do for your speed. But they were tiring, all of them, and Fionel couldnt pretend she wasnt in pain herself, her back aching. She guessed Desolyn must be feeling the same, and they werent the only ones. Haven seemed to be having the hardest time though. Evidently playing nursemaid hadnt put much emphasis on running, fast and for a long period like this. Fionel slowed to a slow jog, turning and holding up one hand with one finger up to the group behind her, sub conciously using the movement the overseers used in Nurn to signal that they should stop. She saw a look of resentment cross Desolyn's face, and for a moment the other looked like she was about to argue, but even the fiery Desolyn was tired.

Fionel managed to get her breath back enough to form a sentence. "We'll stop for a while, about 15 minutes- it's all we can spare."

As she said this, they all stopped, slowing to a walk, though there was no talking from the tired slaves. Fionel sighed as she surveyed them. An Elf, five women, including herself, and a crippled man. Then she turned and walked a few metres away, sitting gratefully in the dust. She had wanted this stop for another reason- to look at the object, which she had clutched protectively in her hand since it had been thrown to her by the mysterious easterling. She clicked her fingers as she remembered who he was- the easterling picked for the Hunt who hadnt come, the Hunter who had claimed he 'didnt want to hunt.' He had come up, but Fionel remembered the feeling she had had when their eyes met then, as if he was a fellow feeler...No, he was an easterling. But she also remembered the figure who had come to Fionel and Desolyn when they were being whipped, and who had stopped that. Could it be that much of a coincidence, two easterlings like this? She doubted it.

What she held in her hand was a piece of paper, weighted with a small, bone paperknife to give it weight and folded several times, now soggy from her sweaty palm. She unfolded it once, and as she did, she caught sight of words, written carefully and neatly, in the common tongue.

I will follow you.
You are not alone.

Fionel almost laughed as she read the first line, almost threw down the bit of paper and tore it into shreds. So he was a flaming Hunter- well, of course he was going to be ruddy well following them! He didnt really have a choice! But the second line...

"You're hurt."

The voice made Fionel jump up like a scalded shock, instinctively holding out the knife in front of her.

"Where in perdition did you get that from?" The woman behind her exclaimed, but quite quietly; not a fool then. Fionel lowered the knife almost guiltily, looking around t make sure no one had heard, then glared angrily at the woman. Her gaze was met by an intensly curious, dark green one.

"You were looking?" She demanded.

"You're back is bleeding, Fionel. Seriously." The woman's voice was quiet, but she had the grace to look a little guilty. Fionel could feel the blood on her back, and had no doubt that her top would soon turn red from the faded dust colour that it was now, but she wouldnt be deterred from her main point.

"Thats irrelevant to this conversation!" She too kept her voice low, so to others it would look like they were just talking. She had the knife hidden by now. "You looked?"

"I didnt see, if its a help. Listen, I saw Rhunnaro throw it to you, and I-"

"Rhunnaro? That was his name!" Fionel clicked her fingers, then turned back to the girl, who was looking a little confused. "Never mind. Its...it doesnt seem to be very important."

"You havent opened it yet."

"Not that you would know, as you havent looked, obviously." Fionel grinned, and the other looked more sheepish. She held out her hand. "Fionel. I dont believe we've been properly introduced."

The other took it. "Lanbriel."

They shook, then both turned back to the piece of paper. Glancing once more at Lanbriel, with whom she already felt fellow feeling, she unfolded it fully. She gasped, then her smile widened even further.

What she held was a map.

"Yes...." She murmered.

[kittiewhirl1677]

"A...a map? Why would an easterling want to give you a map?"

Fionel shrugged, apparently not wanting to be very forward about her reply. Lanbriel understood that Fionel must know something about that other Easterling, something she didn't want to share, not just yet. But from what she had seen, she knew that the slaves still had a chance for survival...

Lanbriel turned away, and took a long look around. Nurn was now a small dot in the distance.

"Wow, if we keep going like this in a few minutes, we'll be very, very far away from Nurn."

"Not that far from the hunters following on their horses."
Fionel replied.

Lanbriel sighed and looked at the sky. She wished that soon, she would be up there, in the clouds, relaxing, not worried about anything, not running away to save her desperate life...

[Brinniel]

Desolyn crouched over and stared at the map, deep in thought. The question Lanbriel had asked repeated in her head again and again. Why would an Easterling give Fionel a map? Did he actually want to help or was this some sort of trick?

She argued with herself on this matter for some time before making her decision. They had to take advantage of this map. That, or be caught.

"We can't keep running like this," Desolyn said aloud suddenly. She had not spoken since they had started running, and all the other slaves turned their heads to her; many had just noticed her presence. "The Easterlings will come on horseback and catch up with us quickly. Those who are weaker and cannot run, like Turos here, will not stand a chance. And even those who are stronger and faster will eventually tire, and then meet their doom. We cannot run."
Fionel looked at Desolyn and nodded. "I agree with you there. Running will do us no good. That is what the Easterlings want us to do."
"Well, what do we do, then?" asked someone.
Fionel stared back down at the map. "I'm not sure," she said blankly. "I'm thinking..."
"I have plan," Desolyn interrupted.
"Oh no," Lanbriel groaned. "Not another one your plans. Your plans always fail."
Desolyn glared at her. "Why would you say that?"
"Because you have attempted to escape Nurn six times and have not once succeeded. Who says you'll be successful this time?"
Desolyn wanted to argue, but she resisted. She knew Lanbriel was not trying to be rude, but she was just frightened. They all were. "Well, do you want to hear my idea or not?" she sighed.
"I am willing to hear whatever you have to say," said the elf quietly.
"Aye," Haven agreed. "I will have to second that."
"Alright then," Desolyn nodded. "I was thinking about what Fionel said. The Easterlings want us to run and they expect us to. But what if...what if we did what the Easterlings least expected?"
"You want us to resist?" someone asked.
"That's crazy!" Lanbriel said. "The Easterlings are ten times stronger than us. We will all be killed in a second."
"Not necessarily," Des continued. "Not if we use the map."
Blank stares came from all directions. But in the corner of her eye, Des could see Fionel smile.

[Envinyatar]

He slipped quietly away from the crowd once the runners had passed and made his way down an alley between two of the dingy clapboard buildings. Chokyi had a small place tucked away at the end of the passageway, behind a tall grey fence, whose outer face was cracked and peeling. Rhûnnaro paused in the shadows afforded by a twisted tree that struggled for life each season in the brief sunlight of this wooden canyon.

Pushing his slender form against the fence, he quieted his breath, listening intently for the sound of any footsteps following. There were none, only the sound of the breeze rattling the dry leaves of the tree’s sere crown. He slid along the surface of the fence, and slipped through the barely opened gate.

He was expected. At a word from the one legged man sitting in the chair on the veranda the wolf-hound at the entry way barely raised his head to him, though his yellow eyes followed Rhûnnaro’s every move closely. Chokyi motioned Rhûnnaro to come up and sit with him, as Tenzin, Chokyi’s son, barred the gate.

‘Bring our guest some sweet-grass tea, son of my heart.’ Tenzin smiled at his father, and bowed his head slightly to Rhûnnaro. ‘And a plate of thick dates and those honeyed figs, my little falcon.’

Tenzin and Rhûnnaro exchanged smiles at the request. Tenzin was anything but little. A tall, slender man of twenty now, his thick black hair in a long plait down his back. He would make a fine son in law, he thought to himself, watching the young man’s deft movements as he prepared the tea. Polite, respectful, a strong spirit.

As if reading his guest’s mind, Chokyi remarked, ‘That one has a strong spirit, does he not?’ He leaned in close to Rhûnnaro, observing him with shrewd eyes. ‘You have a daughter his age, or so I recall.’

Having heard his father’s question, Tenzin averted his eyes from Rhûnnaro as he served him his tea, then placed the plate of dates and figs between the two. Rhûnnaro smiled, acknowledging the truth of Chokyi’s statements, then changed the subject to avoid further embarrassment to the young man.

‘Today is the day of the Hunt,’ he began. ‘Were you able to acquire what I needed?’

Chokyi sat back in his chair and laced his fingers across the top of his ample girth. He was one of the procurers of goods not readily available at the shops in Nurn, or more precisely, goods whose purchase need be kept from common knowledge, and especially from those in positions of authority. He was also a countryman of Rhûnnaro’s, and so doubly bound to secrecy.

‘I do have them,’ he said, ‘but we have not discussed the price yet.’

Rhûnnaro slid a small bag of gold coins across the table. ‘There is ample payment here, enough to keep you at ease for a long time.’ He sat back, waiting for the receipt of the merchandise to finalize the deal. A look of surprise, replaced by a frown, met the return of the gold to him by Chokyi.

‘What’s this?’ he asked. ‘You ask for more gold?’ His eyes narrowed at the merchant.

Chokyi leaned forward and put his hand gently on Rhûnnaro’s arm. ‘Not gold in payment, countryman.’ He motioned with a nod of his head toward Tenzin. ‘My son. I wish for you to take him with you. Home. To Rhûn.’

There was an uneasy silence, broken by a cry from Tenzin. ‘But this is my home, father. With you.’

‘You know what the healer said Tenzin; I will not last the summer. Our clan will take you in.’ He looked carefully at Rhûnnaro. ‘And if your luck holds, this good man’s daughter will take you for her husband. He placed his hand on his son’s. ‘Have we struck bargain, then, Rhûnnaro?’

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Not necessarily," Des continued. "Not if we use the map."

Fionel smiled slightly. So Desolyn had a plan, well, more than the rest of them. She opened her mouth to ask Desolyn for details, before something struck her.

"How long have we been here?" She asked suddenly. The others looked at her.

"About half an hour. Wh- Oh." Haven's eyes suddenly grew wide. Fionel nodded, standing.

"We need to get going again. We cant stay, and soon they will be off. If we head West North West, roughly the direction we're going now, we can cross the mountains and head for-"

"What?" Desolyn cut in now. "You would run again? There is no need to run from them!"

"Desolyn, I know you have a plan, but if we run, we may have a chance!"

"What chance? Fionel, you and I were both field workers, and are both strong- others here are not! We dont have a chance if we run in this way- they call us a herd, like a mindless herd of cows, but we are not! We are not." Her voice had been rising, but now she calmed down again, her voice quiet as she said the last sentence. Fionel sighed, and dropped her head back, letting it rest there, her eyes closed, then brought it back up to look at Desolyn. The woman's eyes were burning; Des had determination of steel, and if she had a plan, it was all they had.

Fionel sighed, then chanced a smile. "Tell everyone what you have in mind, Des. We can make this work- we've got to."

[kittiewhirl1677]

Lanbriel stood, watching Fionel and Desolyn argue. When they mentioned that they were standing around for half an hour, Lanbriel gasped and a few slaves glanced at her. She stared down at the ground, thinking that whatever plan Desolyn had would probably fail in the end. They had no chance. At all. Or... did they?

Lanbriel finally decided that if there was a chance, she would have to listen to the other girl's plan, even if she had doubts.

[Envinyatar]

The farewells between father and son were brief. Rhûnnaro stepped back from the verandah as the son embraced his father for the last time, and spoke low to him. The father nodded his head slowly, as Tenzin made his promises, then kissed him on each cheek and stepped back. Both their eyes were dry. The time for tears would be later, for each alone when time did not press in on them and privacy was afforded by more fortunate occasion.

Chokyi bid his son pack his bag and bedroll and make ready to go. ‘Leave us for a little while, son of my heart. There are things I need to speak of with Rhûnnaro.’ Tenzin bowed and withdrew, leaving the older men to their words.

‘I have no brother left in Rhûn. Only two sisters.’ He spoke their names to Rhûnnaro and the description of where they lived. Rhûnnaro in turn repeated the instructions word for word, until he had gotten them firmly set in his mind. ‘I will name you my spirit-brother,’ continued Chokyi. ‘You will be Tenzin’s father-uncle and look after him. I will look to you to represent him to your daughter.’

He sighed and winced a little as a brief spasm of pain gripped him. It eased as he readjusted himself in his chair. ‘He is an honorable young man, with many fine qualities. But then you will come to find that out as he travels with you.’ He reached across the table, to where Rhûnnaro sat once again, and clasped his wrist. ‘Bring him safe to the land of the wind-horses, my friend. Let him grow up a man of Rhûn, and not some stunted, half-man, such as these we find ourselves among.’ Rhûnnaro nodded his head ‘yes’, and clasped the other man’s hand tightly.

Tenzin returned, his bedroll secured to his bulging pack. At his belt hung a long-knife and a large pouch. He bent to kiss his father good-bye one last time. From round his neck, Chokyi took the slender cord that held the small, carved green stone pony. ‘Look for me in the Spring, my little falcon – when the wind ripples through the green tipped grasses on the high plains.’ He placed the necklace over his son’s head and tucked it beneath his shirt. Just over his heart it hung. ‘Listen closely, then, and I will whisper to you what I have learned since you left.’

He placed his hand over Tenzin’s heart then thrust up his chin, pointing to where Rhûnnaro now stood by the gate. ‘Leave, Tenzin. The serving girl will look after me.’ He waved his son on, murmuring under his breath. ‘Go now. Do not look back. I will be there before you.’

Rhûnnaro and Tenzin made their way quickly down the alleyway and back to the older man’s quarters. They loaded up Rhûnnaro’s horse and one he found for Tenzin’s use. The two large rolls of merchandise from Chokyi, wrapped in soft hides and tied with cords, were secured to Rhûnnaro’s horse, just behind the saddle.

‘I will call you simply, Boy, as we travel together. There is no need for anyone to know your true name. And you will call me only Rhûnnaro, and make no mention of your father.’ He mounted up, and bade Tenzin do so also. ‘You will be my servant. Keep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth shut, unless there is need to speak with me, and then only in private if you can. Act simple Let them jeer at you for your dull mind, if need be.’

He led the two of them out to where the Hunters were to gather. ‘They are nothing but ghosts, pass through them like a swift wind.’

Tenzin slumped in his saddle, head bowed down. He loosed his hair, and shook it round his head, so that it fell in unkempt tangles before his eyes. His mouth went slack, his expression dull. His gaze seemed fixed stupidly on the ground over which his horse trod. Yet from beneath the seeming riot of his hair, his sharp eyes took in all as they passed.

[Brinniel]

Desolyn studied the map carefully. Her thoughts were all jumbled together and she wasn't sure how exactly she would explain this plan of her's without confusion. But finally Desolyn spoke.

"We are heading northwest. Is that right?" she asked Fionel, pointing to the map.
The girl nodded in response.
"I see," Desolyn continued. "We'll need to change directions then."
"Why would we do that?" Haven asked. "Going northwest will be faster. It's the best path."
"Not necessarily," Des replied. "Northwest is the direction the hunters expect us to take. They'll search that direction first. Besides, no direction is faster when we have to cross the Ephel Duath."
"Well, what direction do you propose we go then?" Fionel asked.
"West. And perhaps slightly south too. When we reach the edge of the mountains we will stop and prepare for the hunters to come."
"And then what will we do?" asked Lanbriel. "Attack them? With what? Rocks?" The girl folded her arms, looking rather irritated.
"We don't need weapons to fight back at the Easterlings," Desolyn said. "All we need is something that they don't have: intelligence. We can trick them; set traps."
"What kind of traps?" Haven asked.
Des shook her head. "I don't know. That's the part of the plan I don't have yet. I'd have to see our surroundings first."
Desolyn's response caused Lanbriel to frown even more.
"I don't know this will work, Des," Fionel said. "The hunters are all good trackers. They will find out quickly that we have changed directions."
"Not if we cover up our tracks," Des responded. She looked over at the elf who stood quietly. "Perhaps our only elf can help us with that if she is light-footed enough."
The elf looked at the girl in surprise. "Me?" she asked.
Des nodded.
"It still wouldn't work," Lanbriel argued. "They'll track our scent."
"That's what dirt is for," Desolyn said. "So, what do you all say? Do we use the plan or not?"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Fionel regarded Desolyn for a moment. The sun was rising ever higher in the sky and it seemed that every second would bring the attack of the easterlings closer to them. Then she nodded to Desolyn.

"Go on then, Des. Im behind you. Who else is with us?"

The group all seemed to agree, although Fionel was not sure whether she saw more than a little rebelliousness in their eyes. That could be a problem, but later...

"It may not be as hard as may be thought to set these traps- bear in mind they will be set for horses, not for men, who would be right up close and may inspect the ground a little more closely on foot. Pitfalls maybe- they do not have to be very deep, just enough to spook a horse, and narrow enough so that when the horse tries to wrench its foot back out, it may get it stuck and panic even more, possibly even unseating his rider and injuring the Hunter or horse, or maybe even both." Fionel smiled. She could see this coming together. "But is there much point in having us all going to set these traps together, with a few people wandering aimlessly? Maybe we could actually have the chance to get some people straight off, possibly even away, if they were quick about it. If anyone is seriously injured, they may be able to go by a different route, while stronger and more daring people here may be able to set the traps- I for one will do that- then get away in...." She paused, inspecting the map once more, and her flare faltered suddenly. "Hang on a minute- where else will we be able to go?"

[kittiewhirl1677]

Lanbriel stood among the confusion. Desolyn's plan, she thought was crazy. Actually, the idea of running away was twice as crazy. Desolyn's plan may have not had a chance, but it gave the slaves something to do, something to lay their hopes on. While on the other hand, running away would make them frightened and much more vulnerable.

"I guess I see now. There is a certain... potential in your plan." Lanbriel nodded finally.

"I don't guarantee it's going to work, but it has a better chance of succeeding than just... just running away." Desolyn replied, trying to reassure the girl as much as she could.

"Yes, but one problem." Lanbriel continued. "The hunters you know, they could set traps too. I mean, your first thought about this would probably be something like 'They wouldn't want to set a trap! They would just simply catch us and kill us with their knives and swords.' But then again, if they figure out we're using traps, they could set up a backfire. Something like that."

"I guess I see your point, but we all realized that the moment I told you the plan!" Desolyn pointed out.

"Yes, but I thought maybe if we first decide on how to rid them of their weapons, they'll slowly start coming down to a level of defencelessness just like ours. Then we rid them of their horses, and the rest is obvious."

Lanbriel looked for understanding faces among the group of slaves, but most of the slaves were still decyphering her message, slowly, in their head.

Yes, she sometimes had a kind of manner to blabber or just spill it all out in one shot, and it would take a second time to explain it. She just hoped that she didn't have to take a second shot at this. They didn't have the time.

[Gorothlammothiel]

Lord Ekatran stood still and silent. His eyes focused on a distant object which none of the others cared to look upon. They sat and stood around, though not as silent as he.

Final preparations for the hunt were being made. Each of the hunters had equipped themselves. Kherug with blade, bow and spear, Shivana with her daggers. Dorlas and Ranchard had equally equipped themselves with a variety of weapons. As his horse was brought to him Ekatran looked down to the sword at his side as he secured his bow on his back. Taking the reign from the slave he turned his attention to those who would be accompanying him. Dorlas, who was no newcomer to the tradition stood ready whilst Ranchard sat eagerly waiting for the hunt to begin.

It was Shivana who broke the silence, directing her question to the group in hope of an answer. "Which way are we to travel?" Rhunnaro turned. "North-east, they will head in that direction" Shivana repeated the given answer in a whisper "North-east"

"They wil not head that way" interupted Dorlas without raising his head or gaze. Shivana shot a glare. "The slaves have more intelligence than you would give them credit for. North-east would be the first choice but they will expect that would also be our path." continued Dorlas. Rhunnaro seemed angered at this comment, "And why do you suggest they would expect that of us, Dorlas?" he fired back.

"Because he has hunted before." Ekatran stood behind Rhunnaro and Ranchard having approached them without making a sound. They turned quickly. Ekatran looked to the sky and the high red sun. "Noon approaches" he stated as he mounted his steed. Turning and grinning to Dorlas, "Let the hunt begin. We head west."

[Mattius]

Ranchard laughed to himself and licked his lips in anticipation. At last, he thought to himself, decades of waiting and now it was his turn. He grabbed his horses' reins and threw himself onto the animal leaving it whimpering under his massive weight.

The others did not look as excited or at least hid their feelings better. Ranchard wore a sinister smile, one he was well known for, and played with his blades, cutting his arms here and there to make sure they were sharp enough. He licked up his blood that trickled down his hands.

"Let the hunt begin. We head west," spoke their obvious leader. The others fell in line behind him as they began a fast trot, second by second gaining ground on the slaves.

[ May 08, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Haven ran a quivering hand through her tangled black hair. Beads and colorful threads were woven into the curls, curtesy of Jamilah and Jovanna. Haven couldn't stand the waiting anymore. She had never truly wanted to leave her home in the palace. Of course, there had always been the issue of the treating of slaves...but that didn't effect Haven with Jamilah and Jovanna. The little girls were like...shields against the more cruel of the easterling people. That was the barrier between Haven and the field workers. And yet field workers were now her companions.

I want to go home! Haven whined to herself. At least in the palace she was safe from death. Out here on the Hunt it was death by murder or death by lack of supplies. Haven had never kept close watch of the Hunt, but she certainly would have heard tell if ever some slave had made it out of the Hunt alive. Haven didn't like the idea of not having a choice. Wait! What am I thinking?

Haven began to pace around as the slight arguments and the planning continued. She looked up at the sun more than once in her search for calm. Haven never found any trace of calmness in her when she was under stress, she merely began to snap at people like she had done the day before with the toddler Malha.

"We've been here too long," Haven breathed suddenly, after what seemed like long minutes of non-stop pacing. No one had heard her, and Haven raised her voice. "We have been here for far too long! Almost an hour! We don't have enough time. If setting up traps is our plan, I will help with that."

Haven didn't see any point in running anymore. It was do or die at that point, and the slaves wouldn't let each other down. Haven saw little risk in helping out with the traps, for there was no where for Haven to go anyway. If she lived, she wouldn't be able to go back to her mildly comfortable life with Kara and her family, and there was nothing else in Middle-Earth for her.

"We should get moving. What is our plan then?" Haven asked, hoping for a clear explanation after having tuned out during her pacing.

[Envinyatar]

‘West, it is then,’ said Rhûnnaro as he mounted his horse. He looked to where the sun now stood in the sky, His brow furrowed, wondering if the girl had taken the time yet to look at what he'd thrown her.

‘Come, Boy,’ he barked at Tenzing, who fumbled at the straps to his packs as he tried to adjust them more securely to the back of his saddle. The packs fell to the ground, and precious moments were lost as Tenzing stumbled about repacking and relashing them. The other Hunters did not wait for them, but hurried on behind Ekatran.

The two fell farther behind as Rhûnnaro continued to chastise the younger man for his slowness. Tenzing winced and slackened his mount's pace even further as the barrage of the older man’s words hit him.

[Arien]

Shivana mounted her horse delicately. She steadied him, while she tied her long hair out of her face. When she had done this she checked that she was all equipped and ready to go. Daggers, food, water……anything else?……No.. She gently pulled the reins of the horse and followed behind the other in a fast gallop. Ekatran was leading them and the rest of the company pursued him obediently from behind. Ranchard was just ahead of her behind Ekatran and the rest behind her apart from that man and his boy, she could not see them any more.

So they were travelling West, if the slaves go too far which Shivana doubted it would be too hard to take the horses over the mountain range. Anyway, she hated to have to ride, she always preferred to run. She could sprit swiftly across the plains and could run for long distances without tiring. It was her deadliest weapon, the slaves would never know what hit them. But she was tied to the horse and if she did not use it she could be put off the hunt as easily as she had been put on. Gladly would others take her place.

They sped on , the wind blew in her face and hair. Her eyes were filled with passion as the glare of the morning sun hit them, she could feel the kill. She could not wait.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Fionel came back at a walking pace from setting one of the three traps now out, horse pits- about a metre deep, about half that wide, with an uneven bottom, almost guaranteed to break a horse's leg. As she came back, she heard Haven speak. Fionel took note of Haven's words and, although she still felt a little resentment against this cosy palace worker, she agreed. Quickening her pace to almost a jog, she arrived with them. Desolyn and Santiara, who had dug the other two traps, had already just arrived.

"She is right."

Desolyn looked at her, surprised and a little irritated. "No...no, we won't run, we need to set the traps."

"We've set a few, quite well spaced, the hunters no doubt will sprawl out, and unless the ride in single file, if they ride this way, at least one of the horses will be saying goodbye to their leg." She spread her hands and sighed. "I don't want to be ever running either. But they will set off in about three hours. We need to at least get a little more distance between us and them."

"For how long?" Now it was the man Turos who spoke up. "We cant all keep going forever, and I'm well aware that I will not be able to- damn leg."

Fionel shrugged, her face still hopeless, but she would have her way.

"I agree. We need to keep going forward. There's no way to go back, after all." Haven had spoken up this time. Fionel smiled slightly at her, but she wondered about the last few words. There's no way to go back...Would the girl want to? Fionel once more took in Haven; her skin paler than the rest of them, her hair longer, braided and beaded. She had looked after the children in the palace- there was a distinct difference between palace slaves and field workers. Indeed, Fionel had heard many a joke among those she worked with that the field slaves may as well bow to 'Ekatran's pets', and even as she stood there, in the middle of a group, she was still alone, isolated. There was such a chasm between Haven and the rest...but it wasnt unbridgeable. Hatred for Ekatran had flashed in Haven's eyes when she was called, only quelled for the children who she cared for- the children of the enemy, children who would grow up to be just like their mothers and fathers. The children of Nurn didnt really see the slaves as people- the guttersnipes had thrown stones and mud at Fionel as she walked through the city in the time when she worked in the palace, and those in the palace sneered at her, whispered and giggling meanly about Fionel's clothing and appearance. But none of it really meant anything to them- the palace children didnt see a girl their age or a few years older, they saw another piece of furniture. The gutter children saw a target, just a part of their game, like the stones they threw and the chipped glass marbles they played with.

But she wasnt completely invisible was she? And one girl had found that out, when Fionel had finally snapped at her. Glancing once more at Haven, Fionel wondered if she too had met the little brat who had got her thrown back to the fields.

"Fionel?"

Fionel almost jumped as she heard her name said by the elven girl, her voice hesitant and soft, like quiet music to the ears. "Hmm?"

"We're going." Desolyn answered this time. She didnt look happy, but she didnt look resentful either. It seemed she must have seen the sense in running, for a while, but the others also wore the same expression- they all still held faith in Desolyn's plan. The had to. "We will run." She now addressed the whole group. "Not too fast, say a jog, so you can keep going for longer. We will go for about two hours, then we will rest once more."

Fionel nodded. "Fine, great. I suggest we run in pairs, so you have someone to keep to speed with. We arent just a mindless herd like they think." She ended with a small side smile.

They were small murmers of agreement, and then everyone started to shuffle into place. Fionel and Desolyn originally ended up together. Fionel smiled at Desolyn, glad, like a school child who has been picked to be on a team, then her smile faded slightly. She glanced back, the other following her gaze. Her voice was low when she spoke. "No, we cannot go together. You and I both know we are some of the strongest in this group, Des, and we need to lead them, helping them keep up as well. There are others who may not be able to keep going as well, for whatever reason."

Des's eyes strayed to Manituros. She nodded. "Do you want to take the front or the back?"

Fionel had her eyes on the one who she had picked as her own partner, still alone. "I will lead, if thats alright with you."

Des nodded, spreading a hand forward with a smile. "Be my guest."

Fionel returned the smile, gratified, then turned back and walked to the one who she had chosen. She grinned at her warmly, wanting to dispell any bad feeling or anxiety. "Running with anyone, Hay?"

[Beruthiel]

Santiara sighed in relief, finally the group was moving again. She didn't like the idea of standing around waiting for the hunters to catch up with them. The traps had been set and hopefully would slow the hunters down a bit. Time seemed to slip away like water and every second she turned back towards Nurn in fear of the sound of galloping hoofs.

Santiara did believe that Desolyn's plan would work, she didn't really have much of a choice and she had remained quiet while the everyone else had discussed it. She honestly didn't think they'd have much of a chance if they had simply tried to run away from the hunters.

The slaves were splitting into pairs, Des had gone with Turos and Fionel was talking to Haven. She noticed Dôranna and Lanbriel were still left, meaning one of them would have to run alone.

Thinking it over quickly she walked over to them. "Dôranna, Lanbriel. I don't think I've really introduced myself, I'm Santiara." She said. "We'll be running soon and were supposed to be in pairs but I think we can all run as a three can't we?"

[ May 12, 2003: Message edited by: Beruthiel ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Running with anyone, Hay?"

Haven winced at the nickname. She'd never hear it from Jamilah or Jovanna again. Haven...Hay...smiled grimly at Fionel as she considered what to say.

"I don't run very fast," was all Haven could say, warning the other girl of her speed. Sure, Haven had spent long hours chasing children around the palace halls...but that was nothing compared to the runnning they had done even in the short time that morning.

"No matter. We can pace each other. I'll make sure you don't fall behind, and your rate can keep me from going to fast and tiring myself out. That's what having partners is for." Fionel replied decidedly, and turned to see if the rest of the group was ready. Desolyn had paired with Turos, and apparently Lanbriel, Santiara, and Dôranna would be running together in a group of three.

"Everyone knows where we're headed?" Desolyn asked, and everyone nodded. "Don't go too fast, you'll tire yourselves out. Don't go too slow, the hunters are leaving soon. Just...run."

With that, the groups began their jog. Some groups were faster than others. Desolyn and Turos were brought up the rear of the group of slaves, Desolyn running slowly so as not to rush Turos with his leg. The group of three ran a bit faster than Desolyn and Turos, at a steady pace that would be easily kept. Fionel and Haven ran as quickly as they could but still running at a jog, since Haven had rested and wouldn't tire for a while.

Varda help us. Haven thought grimly as the group made its way across the dusty, short grasslands of Nurn.

[Amanaduial the archer]

A grim look of determination had settled across Haven's face. She didnt run very fast, true, but she could still keep up at a moderate jog, which was all they needed.

Fionel glanced at the girl. She had seen her almost seem to wince when Fionel had called her Hay. Another mistake. They ran on in silence, as did the others, Fionel and Haven at the front, Doranna, Santiara and Lanbriel behind them, with Desolyn and Turos at the back. The conversation was not extensive, as it used up valuable energy, but there still seemed to be a much better atmosphere between the threesome than between Fionel and Haven. Fionel sighed. She had resented Haven at the start, but she couldnt hold a grudge against her, just because she was fortunate to have held a more luxurious job. Besides, they did have some things in common...

"I'm sorry for calling you Hay, Haven." Fionel said finally. Haven looked at her surprised, and almost stumbled. Her eyes seemed incredibly sad for a moment.

"No...no, its...never mind." Haven sighed and once more they lapsed into silence, but this time with both struggling to find a subject. Eru, this is going to be a long journey...

[kittiewhirl1677]

A slave named Santiara approached Lanbriel, asking her if she, and the elf Doranna wanted to run as a threesome. Lanbriel nodded cheerfully.

"Sure, I don't think anyone will mind if there's one threesome among us all."

They soon started running, keeping a steady pace. Lanbriel kept telling herself, not too slow, not too fast. It was all she could do from either dropping for a long, pleasant rest or speeding up as if to win a hundred mile marathon.

Doranna and Santiara didn't talk much at the start, but Lanbriel understood why the silence was kept. They needed so much energy to concentrate on their current job, that talking was just going to throw all that energy away. Still, Lanbriel felt that the air between the group was too silent, and that some conversation was needed.

"So," the girl asked, "Were you two surprised to get chosen? Or was it something that was sure to happen?"

Lanbriel tried to sound friendly, and smiled, as the girls thought through the sudden question.

[Envinyatar]

‘I think that skink travels faster than we do.’ Tenzing smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the bright afternoon sun. Rhûnnaro sat astride his plodding horse, his eyes following the zig-zag trail of the little lizard. It paused for a moment in its rapid striding, its long, tapered tail lashing back and forth as it paused to taste the scents the hot breeze brought it. Soon it was gone, a blur of blue-black streaked with long, golden stripes, seeking shelter and protection.

They had dropped far behind the line of other hunters. Rhûnnaro pulled his much folded map from the inner pocket of his vest. He brought his mount alongside Tenzing's and pointed to a spot in the Shadow Mountains where there was a narrow pass, just southwest of the two hunters' present position. ‘We can cross here, then go north here and east to our homeland.’ His slim brown finger traced the route.

Tenzing’s eyes widened as he watched the line traced through Minas Tirith. ‘Will we be welcomed there?’

‘I cannot say for certain. It is a port city, and has traded much with places not too far distant from Rhûn. They have a taste for Dorwinion wines I have heard. If need be we can pass ourselves off as traders from the Sea of Rhun, seeking to establish new trade contacts in Gondor.’

Rhûnnaro, motioning for Tenzing to follow, turned his horse in the direction of the pass and picked up his speed.