To leave Ilanin

[tomcat]

Fengel's shout caused the masked men to startle a bit, but quickly they began to react, rolling around the Éothraim to flank him. Behind the crowd of newcomers, Fengel saw another three marauders run into the square - amongst them was a man named Patrel.

To most folk of Ilanin, the appearance of a man of the Plains-folk - tall, lean and generally blonde of hair - is a far cry from those of the easterners out of Rhûn. The east men tend to be shorter, broader, swarthy of skin, and have jet black hair. Fengel, standing before his troop, was obviously not one of the Sagath that were encamped across the river and making raids onto the plains.

"HOLD!" cried Patrel, as his men readied to attack. The Éothraim warrior standing there was obviously prepared for combat, but he was not their enemy... at least not as Patrel was concerned. Fengel and Dirnhael both felt the tension ease as the masked, Ilanin soldiers relaxed their guard and drew back, allowing Patrel to come to the fore.

The lieutenant of the guard looked at the carnage of the street, pulling down his mask as he did. Patrel had to inquire, "What has happened here?! Fear not... we are not your enemy!"

Durgil, along with all of the soldiers within the hall, saw Korman break. The portly mayor blinked hard at Durgil then looked down, his hands trembling as he did. The will of the Dúnadan had proved stronger than that of the merchant-politician, and Korman could not help but to bow before the bloodline of Westernesse - men who in ages past had stood before the very onslaught of Morgoth.

The mayor proved far less intimidating. What was worse was that his hirelings saw it.

"What would you have me do?!" pleaded the mayor in a high, squeaky voice, trying to make Durgil understand his position. "We are not warriors here! We are trades and craftsmen! I cannot withstand the might of Harizän the Easterling, or his second, whose eyes glow feral red! They are in league with the SHADOW!" Korman fell back into his chair, his voice fading as he pleaded again, "What would you have me do...??"

[sdrotar]

Fengel's shout caused the masked men to startle a bit, but quickly they began to react, rolling around the Éothraim to flank him. Behind the crowd of newcomers, Fengel saw another three marauders run into the square - amongst them was a man named Patrel.

To most folk of Ilanin, the appearance of a man of the Plains-folk - tall, lean and generally blonde of hair - is a far cry from those of the easterners out of Rhûn. The east men tend to be shorter, broader, swarthy of skin, and have jet black hair. Fengel, standing before his troop, was obviously not one of the Sagath that were encamped across the river and making raids onto the plains.

"HOLD!" cried Patrel, as his men readied to attack. The Éothraim warrior standing there was obviously prepared for combat, but he was not their enemy... at least not as Patrel was concerned. Fengel and Dirnhael both felt the tension ease as the masked, Ilanin soldiers relaxed their guard and drew back, allowing Patrel to come to the fore.

The lieutenant of the guard looked at the carnage of the street, pulling down his mask as he did. Patrel had to inquire, "What has happened here?! Fear not... we are not your enemy!"

"Harizan's servant, Koskas, is dead," Dirnhael said, gesturing toward the wolf that lay still at Fengel's feet. "But his fell magic exacted a price; our Elven companion needs care quickly - can you help us?"

[tomcat]

Patrel walked past Fengel to look at the ruined building and the lifeless form that lay amongst the rubble. He also saw the remains of the large warg and the other two Sagath that had aided Koskas in the attack.

"Your work here appears quite efficient. I hope there were none sleeping within the fallen building..." said Patrel. He then looked to where Dirnhael kneeled over Edrahil. "Yes, there is a place that we can take your comrade and get him help... though I am sure that none of the women have tended an Elf. But come..."

With that, Patrel's men assisted the companions in lifting Edrahil and then as group they hastened down the road, weaving through alleys and side-streets, moving south as they did. Finally they approached the back of a two-story structure that sat on the very southern skirt of Ilanin and as a group entered through the fruit cellar doors.

Dirnhael and Fengel were chilled from being saturated with rain, but also from being down in the cellar. The men around them began to remove weapons and masks, stowing them as they did. Patrel signalled the two and led them up to the house above. There the ladies of the house quickly showed them to a room where Edrahil could be laid down. Fengel immediately recognized the house for what it was, but was glad that his friend would be tended. A larger woman smiled at him and spoke, "We will do what we can... we are long experienced in treating the sick and wounded."

Patrel then spoke, "Come with me. You need not worry about your friend this night, he will be taken care of."

The Ilanin lieutenant led them into a small office where he hung his sword and removed his cloak. He was tall and looked of Éothraim blood with a shock of blonde, albeit wet, hair. His eyes were bright blue and Dirnhael could see that they were true. "Now... who are you, and why have you been seeking me? I have many friends on the street and they told me so. I can only assume that you are three of the four that had been inquiring. Chance meeting that it is, but what is it you want?"

[sdrotar]

The Ilanin lieutenant led them into a small office where he hung his sword and removed his cloak. He was tall and looked of Éothraim blood with a shock of blonde, albeit wet, hair. His eyes were bright blue and Dirnhael could see that they were true. "Now... who are you, and why have you been seeking me? I have many friends on the street and they told me so. I can only assume that you are three of the four that had been inquiring. Chance meeting that it is, but what is it you want?"

"I am Dirnhael, Knight of Arthedain," he said, the honorific still strange upon his tongue. "This is my friend, Fengel of the Eothraim. I, and others with me, were escorting Fengel home when we discovered that his lands had been ransacked by the Sagath and its women taken into slavery. Fengel's sister was one of them - and he liberated her from their camp, which explains why Koskas sought us out. He and I had... a history."

He paused, thinking of the best way to continue. "One of our companions, a Dwarf, has left with his kin. Another, Durgil, a noble of Fornost, was making his way to speak to your mayor again... I did not have much luck with him the last time." He conveniently left out the curse he had lain on the lieutenant's town.

"Another of our friends has joined the Eothraim on the field of battle to prepare for the Sagath's final assault. We came to Ilanin to free Fengel's sister and muster what strength we could from the town to stop the Sagath's advance.

"This is no mere Easterling thrust into Eothraim territory; the Sagath and Harizan are aided by a fearsome figure in black; the Shadow that travels with him is palpable. If they succeed at taking Fengel's people's lands, no village in the area will be safe, including Ilanin. But with men at arms from Ilanin flanking the Sagath as they plan a frontal assault on the Eothraim, they may yet be defeated."

He looked at Patrel; the man seemed just and Dirnhael laid the rest of his cards on the table.

"We need your help; you can protect Ilanin by helping your neighbors - the Eothraim - defeat Harizan and his Sagath rabble. Surely, looking about your city, it is clear that Harizan will not hold to his word, and Ilanin will fall if he is unchecked. The Sagath are on the move as we speak; their wains roll across the plains like distant thunder... time draws short."

[GandalfOfBorg]

"If you truly fear the Shadow, then fight it... stand up for your people and those others who cannot stand up for themselves.  That is what our power is for.  Long years my people have stayed the tide of darkness from wiping out the last vestiges of our legacy and we will never yield.  But it is the lust of power and fear that the Shadow uses to erode our morals and corrupt decent men.  Look at yourself... look at your home... what do you see?  Is this the house of leader of men or a gluttonous sychophant?"

To the room, "War marches from the East and he has made 'peace' with it, but will you?  Can you?  If the Eothraim fall, who will be left to help protect Ilanin from further incursion?  The Shadow knows only what is His and what isn't, there is no place to be neutral and hope this passes you by."  Pointing at the mayor, "This man is weak and corrupt, thinking more to his money purse than the welfare of you and your kin.  I did not come here looking for followers but leaders... a leader who will do the right thing.  Is there such a person?" Durgil says, eying each person left in the room.  "Speak up for time is of the essence.  If none can be found, those willing may join my companions and I in the defense of Ilanin and the Eothraim.  Words are of no further use here; I have done my part."

[tomcat]

[OOC:] Great post Matt! I will follow this stuff up later tonight.

[tomcat]

There was a bond between the Easterling and Koskas. Not so much a psychic link, as a shadow on the man's heart. Harizän had always known when his second was near; how he felt; and his moods, based on how chilled was his inner core. When Fengel's sword pierced Koskas' heart and sent the man-wolf back to the shadows from whence he had come, Harizän knew that he was dead. The cold grasp within him had faded.

It was almost missed. The Sagath warrior thought of it as if his hand or arm were missing - it had been there so long. A moment of doubt entered his mind and for a moment, Harizän looked around wondering what to do. But then his fiery ambition returned.

Around him, in the pouring rain, his men snuffed out the few fires that remained. The marauders had not acheived much, thanks partially to the weather and the haste in which they had performed their attack. Still, it was apparent that his position here was becoming tenable. Harizän did not wish to lose anymore of his assets to partisans who thought they may be making a difference. After all, what could the fat mayor of this town ever hope to achieve by hampering the Sagath. "A burnt ruin of a town," answered the easterling commander, out loud, to his own query.

It was time. Koskas was dead. He would have no more advice from him - and Harizän questioned whether it had ever been good. Koskas had always seemed to want to torment those around him, whether friend or foe. He would sacrifice a dozen men for the slightest of gains and always took pleasure in it. Still, Harizän's true master - the Keeper of the Hill of Sorcery, Khamûl - wanted results... and so, it was time.

"Prepare the wagons to move. We shall leave now and find and crush the Éothraim, then once done, we shall return to this place and burn it to the ground." Harizän grunted, "Empty the camp and do it rapidly. Let no one hinder you and any that try... slay them."

With the order given, Harizän proceeded to his own wain, to observe its preparations.

"I am more than willing to aid you," said Patrel. "We have already made an excursion against the Easterlings this night... though the weather has hindered it. But I only have so many men that will follow me. The other soldiers of this city are in the pocket of the merchant-mayor. Let us hope your friend has better luck..."

Some of the soldiers looked down from Durgil's gaze. Few others stared back at him when he glanced at them and the Dúnadan could sense a change. There was a new feeling of pride in the room; a desire to follow one with true strength of leadership.

It was a non-ranked soldier that spoke first, "There is already one amongst us who leads against the Sagath... his name is Patrel." To this, another soldier with the colors of an honor guard replied, "He has been relieved of duty for this... though t'would seem that he holds the best interest for Ilanin. I am Reyvold and I rank amongst the few commanders of the Ilanin Guard - by my word, you shall have our swords!"

"But... but..." was the weak reply from Korman, but it was drowned out as a cry went up from the soldiers within the Hall of Ulvanin. Reyvold looked to his fellows, "Come... there is work to be done."

With that, Reyvold led Durgil to the garrison house within the mayoral mansion, all the while the young noble perceiving that this man and his fellows would answer to any call that he might make.


[OOC:] Okay... it is going on 1 in the morning now (in game); the rain is still pouring over the town, and you guys are separated by about two and a half miles (from where the mansion is to the north, and where Patrel's secret hideout is on the southside of town.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Durgil followed the man out, his mission accomplished.  Apparently it was late in the night for once they made it to the garrison's common room, the young man swooned for a moment and caught himself.  "Whoa," he murmured, shaking his head.  "The hour must be late; I would take to fighting a man with swords over words any day.  Sir Reyvold, I would ask that you send your swiftest runner to the town and retrieve my companions so plans can be made with haste.  They sought to confront the enemy in the city at the same time we were seeking the very Patrel you mentioned earlier.  If you're lucky you may find both.  I, for one, must sit down and rest, the sprint to the manor's gates was no simple task."

[tomcat]

The morning grew older but the sun had yet to show herself. Though he was weary of bone and bruise, Dirnhael could not get to sleep for fear of his friend lying in the other room, tended by the women of the house. The Dúnadan either paced in the sitting room, or sat before the hearth - all the while Fengel being there but having nothing to offer. The two finally began to doze when Patrel came to fetch them.

"Dirnhael, Fengel!" both started awake. "A runner has come from the mayoral mansion, Ulvanin. It would seem that though the mayor has not been convinced, your companion Durgil has allied the rest of the Ilanin guard. We have a strength of numbers now!"

That said, the young lieutenant ran from the room to organize his own men, excited about what the new day would bring.



[OOC:] If the companions do not take any sleep, they will be affected by weariness penalties as well as any wound penalties now suffered.

[GandalfOfBorg]

OOC: If it did take so long to find the others, Durgil would've likely fallen asleep where he sat waiting for news of their arrival.

[tomcat]

[OOC:] I went with that assumption Matt... that works. I will get the new thread up tomorrow, but you guys feel free to RP anything you want to on this one.

[sdrotar]

This news brightened Dirnhael's spirits. Durgil was not only well, but had been successful, and now Dirnhael might even have a small army to lead. There was little he could do for Edrahil - the Elf was being treated with care - but the morning may bring something he could do for Fengel's people and Thermon... if he could keep his eyes open.

He realized how weary he was. The stress of Edrahil's injury and his battle with Koskas - not including having a building land on him - finally caught up with him. His soreness and stress melted away as he closed his eyes and finally fell asleep for whatever time he could.

[Palandil]

Fengel could see in Dirnhael's face what he himself felt in his heart.  Finally a break through in this town's uncaring attitude toward his people.  He was truly encouraged that this may just end well.  He wanted to get up and follow the bringer of such good news and lend any aid that he could.  His body however did not.  As he found himself absentmindedly staring at Dirnhael, thinking on the events to come with the morning light, the weariness overcame the mighty knight.  And again he felt the same feeling as Dirnhael, that of utter exhaustion, and his eyes too fell closed.