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The companions all stared at Bandy's shadowed form, each in a bit of awe.

The Hobbit had become more anguished with each passing day since they had departed the Elven realm. He had blamed himself as a burden to all. He had taken blame for the wounds of his companions. Slowly the bright spirit that had buoyed the rest began to fade. Now Bandy had slain the creature in cold-blood. Granted the orc was worthy of such a death, but Arbogast worried at how the Hobbit's seeming innocence must now be shadowed.

The Fire-watcher looked to the others - there was none here to soothe. The heart of the company had always seemed to come from either Bandy - or Esgalwen, and she had been sent south. The thought of the ranger suddenly made Arbogast wonder to her well-being. He hoped she was okay and that the children were safely returned.

The wind was cold as it blew through the hills. It was as if the land was as cruel as the folk that resided within its many miles. Grimbeorn still panted in pain, his wounds having never healed. Rorin who was sometimes pleasant of word and demeanor had become increasingly quiet. The Shadow had taken these lands from men and it was like it now leeched into their beings.

Just to the north, beyond the few hills that they had used to hide was the She-elf Ruithel and a few other captives. There goal was in sight and mission near end. Strangely, it was Essylt that spoke first of their need to move.

"þeir sitja fer os to taka." [They wait for us to reach]

"Alright, it is done then," said Grimbeorn matter-of-factly.  He would shed no tear for the corrupt creature.  Readjusting his grip on Bear Claw, he turned to rush off towards the remaining captives.

Bandy looked at the woman, "wapens, you?"

He held his hand out for his sword back and looked to follow Grimbeorn's lead.

After a moment's consideration, Arbogast raises the Warden's Axe and smites the body of Shukrag, cleaving head from body.  He hefts the ruined head in his hands and follows Bandy and Grimbeorn.

 :ooc: what's the plan?

:ooc: Athletics opposed test [for GM needs]

Grimbeorn
TN opposed athletics 3d


Orcs
TN opposed athletics 3d

Even as Bandy wondered as to their plan, the companions followed after the loping hulk of Grimbeorn. Even wounded, the man created a pace that made it hard for both Bandy and Rorin to maintain, while Arbogast sprinted along like a deer.

It took little time, but Grimbeorn was soon caught up to the two fleeing orcs. They heard the thump of his heavy boots and quickly turned in fear of being run through the back. Steadying themselves, they pulled forth grim blades and held their ground.

---

:ooc: I did this for two reasons:

1) to give you guys an opportunity to catch the fleeing orcs before they could warn their camp.

2) to pass the orcs by and have the lead on them.

I can ret-con the above narrative based on what you guys want to do. If you attack, you have the initiative Matt.

 :ooc: fear fire foes!

:ooc: Taking them on here and now does sound like the sort of thing we do. 

The fire to kill these beasts still ran hot in the Hobbit of the Northfarthing. All of the troubles and suffering of their long journey since leaving the milfort culminated in this moment. By the fire and with his feet up Bandy was still a scholar and inquisitive, now however, with bettle joined he had grown hard like the folk of Wilderland he adventured with.

Bandy grabbed his blade from the woman of the north and made for the encampment. In the deeping gloom and the tall heather the Hobbit soon disappeared from the sight of the big folk.

 :ooc: i'll spend a point of hope to use my art of disappearing and make my way into the Orc camp towards where the elf is bound.

"I'll handle these," says Grimbeorn as attempts the end the flight of these orcs.

 :ooc: Changes stance to perform Double Attack.

 :00:
 :00:

 :ooc: Hope if helpful.

Arbogast lets himself bring up the rear of the company.  Fatigue, darkness and the weight of the severed orc head in his left hand all make running difficult.  Besides which, he feels the need to keep an eye on Essylt.  The Hill-woman, despite demanding a weapon, was conspicuous in her absence from the fight mere seconds ago. 

Rorin, on the other hand, plows forth - an engine of devastation in travel-dulled mail.  He times the swing of his maul as only a seasoned warrior can and aims for the gnarled orcish knees before him... 


:ooc: Rolling for Rorin, who is shifting into Forward stance. 


 :dmg: 10, Edge 9, Injury 18

The sound of shattering bone rings out in the gloom, and an orc topples to the ground. 

The companions ran past the newly fallen orcs, closing the distance to the encampment.

---

:ooc: Attack results

• Grimbeorn needs to spend 1 :vv: to hit with a 19 great success against Orc 5 TN 17, causing 13 END loss [KILL] :csu:

• Rorin hits with a 20 great success against Orc 4 TN 17, causing 16 END loss [KILL]

:ooc:  That fight was delightfully perfunctory. :)

Arbogast's gaze takes in the lone and empty hills about the company.  Grimbeorn and Rorin stand over the ruined and cooling bodies of two orcs, and Essylt warily watches from the rear.  He does not find Bandy, but assumes that the Hobbit is nearby. 

"Sore already have we hurt them, my friends.  Surely they will have marked the disappearance of so many.  Fear will now be our ally, rather than theirs."  He raises the severed orc-head.  "Let us keep our foes in its thrall as long as we may." 


:ooc: We may be able to bluff our way through the rest of this encounter without the need for further bloodshed, but we'll need a decent Awe skill to pull it off.  What I'm thinking is that we have Grimbeorn call out to them from the darkness, while Bandy sneaks behind them with the head - he can roll it into their camp if they seem less than receptive to our opening arguments. 

:ooc: I have kind of been waiting to see if you guys would post a formulated plan on the last attack, but Paul is the only one chiming in.

I am going to post tomorrow and build on your thoughts in my narrative, Paul.

:ooc: Qui tacet concenti videtur! 

 :ooc:  Grimbeorn isn't much for the planning especially if it has to with eliminating orcs.
 To him there is only one way to deal with them.

 :ooc: Bandy's plan was to sneak in and free the Elf from the stake. Do we have any idea on how many there are?

I think a great warrior like Arbogast hurling the head like a discus would have more impact than rolling the head in. I too think killing as many of them as possible is always good. I'm pretty Son of Feanor when it comes to Orcs.

 :ooc: also, Rorin is a bad ass.

:ooc: Agreed.  Arbogast only has a Body of 2, so he's not going to be that impressive a thrower.  On the other hand, he's already carrying the head.  So I'm fine with being the head-tosser if need be. 

 :ooc: doug can we get an idea of the main camp and layout

:ooc: I am putting together my next post and will have all that stuff up for you guys. I would say it will be tonight, but I don't want to let you guys down so go with tomorrow for sure.

If something happens, though, and I get it all done tonight...well then cool!

:ooc: Tom, there's a nice tactical map at the end of 'The Search - Part 5'.  It's not quite up to date, since we've done in many of the enemies that appear on it, but it's there.

The companions moved through the dark with only the clump of their boots to note their passing. The hill that was their objective loomed before them, its crown haloed by the light from the orc camp's fire. There were cruel voices barking out and echoing between the hills, but nothing moved in the shadows.

Grimbeorn led Arbogast and Rorin up the hill, the Fire-watcher clutching the head of Shûkrag. They climbed it at angles, switching back and forth, that allowed quick ascent but was easier for the wounded Beorning. Once more they attained the summit and looked down upon the encampment. What was once an organized group of enemy soldiers was now a cluster of bickering goblins.

The companions watched as a small group of the creatures wrestled and fought one another, biting and slashing with bent blades and clawed hands. Another group barked out their strange words as they stood before Ruithel, apparently not knowing what to do with the Elf. All the while, it appeared as if the She-elf egged on their contempt and disarray.

Arbogast peered out into the night that cloaked the outer edges of the small valley and wondered where their diminutive companion had gone.

Bandy moved from shadow to shadow and entered the valley. The goblins were scattered about, but all were engaged in arguments between themselves. His goal was the stake in the center of the camp. If he could cut the bindings, Ruithel would be free and they all could make their escape.

Surely these craven goblins would fear them and give no pursuit. If Arbogast was to throw the head of their leader into their midst, he was confident that they would break and flee into the night. The Hobbit made no sound as he moved, and skillfully found places of concealment. She was there...before him. If the goblins would only take their fight somewhere else!

On the crest of the hill, Arbogast looks to Grimbeorn and Rorin.  All three are bloody and tired, but the end of their long hunt is at last well within reach. 

Drawing deep on what reserves of strength remain, the Fire-watcher draws back his arm.  Then, with a twist of his body he casts the head as far as he can into the mob of goblins. 


:ooc: I'm guessing this will be an Athletics roll, which doesn't bode especially well. 

The Halfling picked his way forward, and though he was beset on all sides he also knew that, save Rorin, his friends already bore the marks of several battles. He hoped to snatch victory from the night terrors without further harm to his friends. The Elf seemed to be the key to the whole affair and hopefully her freedom would turn the tables in their favor.

Bandy moved silently through the tall grass towards the stake. The spring smell of the heather reminded him of the far away North Farthing. The skills at being quiet and unseen the Hobbit had learned as a child were not put to a more life threatening application. He was prepared to suffer and inflict great violence to see the elf free. The darkness also aided the Hobbit and he was soon by the stake, blade sawing at the thongs that bound her feet.

The Hobbit whispered, "I am Bandy the Hobbit, we have come to rescue you."

The ropes unwrapped a bit as the Hobbit cut.

"I have a bow and a sword, if I free you do you think you can make a run for it?"

Bandy heard no reply from Ruithel. It took a moment for him to comprehend that all sound had stopped - the goblins cacophony was now gone.

The head of Shûkrag had sailed through a perfect arc. Arbogast had aimed for the area between the two groups of goblins and it landed with a thump, only to roll a meter or so and end upright with the dead orc's mouth hanging open.

Both groups of goblins saw the head land, along with the Elf, and they all now stared in silence. The lone orc in the group scanned the hillsides in wonder as to where it had come from and then the noise started again - but greater. The goblins skittered and chittered about, making quick arguments as to what to do.

"Ack! They slayed him! There must be many warriors about! Maybe it is Dwarves!"

"It's an army of Dwarves out of their holds in the Grey mountains!" another cried.

"Garn! There are no maggot Dwarves in the narrows!"

"Stay if you'd like but I am not going to be dying on any Shakutarbik axe!"

And then they were scattering towards the north and the darkness that lay outside the light from the fire. The lone orc bellowed at them and lashed out his thonged whip, but the smaller yrks did not heed his orders. They cried and cursed, but they ran.

Ruithel felt her hands suddenly free and blood rushed back into them. She next felt her legs freed of the post and she turned to see the small Hobbit, and Bandy saw her smile. In all of the horror that was this land, Ruithel bestowed upon him the most pleasant of smiles.

"Oh my friend!" she said. "You have come! I knew that my words would make it to someone." Suddenly her face changed. The Elf stood back up, tall and slender like an unbent reed. She looked back down to Bandy and her face was grim. Beyond her, coming back south out of the darkness, but not heeding anyone or thing in the camp came the pack of goblins. All of them ran at full speed back south, to whatever shadows that might be there.

Ruithel continued, "I know not your name, but you may wish to run. Something dark approaches and it is beyond you, my dear savior! Perhaps it is beyond even me!"

Darkness lay over the Vales of Gundabad, but the shadow that trotted down the Orc-road was darker still.

He had forgotten his name. He was once Ren the Fire-king and he had ruled all of Chey. That was before the interest of Sauron had been stirred. Now he was a Nazgûl in service to his masters and he answered to no names, though some still called him Ren the Unclean.

The wraith was on an errand of his lieutenant, the Witch-king, and he had spent many years now hidden within the bowels of Carn Dûm readying and rebuilding that fortress of old. It was Ren that had ordered the taking of slaves - as many as possible - to help in the quarries and forges of his master's former kingdom. At times, the Ring-wraith surveyed his domain, riding far abroad to make sure that the servants of the Dark Lord were doing his bidding and not entertaining their own goals.

So it was this fateful night, as Bandy freed the Elf Ranger, that Ren the Unclean came into the now abandoned Orc encampment. Only the slaves within the northern pen were left, along with Ruithel and the Hobbit. Above them, atop the hill, the other companions felt horror grip their hearts as the Nazgûl appeared.

Like a wave of terror, the Ring-wraith gave out a shrill cry of challenge and Bandy fell to his knees. He did not know, but his companions were also affected so.

Only Ruithel stood before the darkness, unbent.

The unearthly shriek rings out, echoing in the darkness as if possessed of its own twisted life.  Upon the hill, Arbogast feels his heart race and his palms grow slick with sweat.  He falls to his knees, barely registering the tears that begin to cut channels in the grime that encrusts his face.  Dimly, he sees Bandy do the same, and at this, a memory stirs of vulture-like heads graven blasphemously into dark stone and set about the gate of Dol Guldur. 

All at once, the Fire-watcher feels a moment of stark clarity, and in the space between panicked heartbeats is certain that the fear which besets him is a deceit of the Enemy, and not the reaction of his own heart.  Every instinct tells him to drop his axe and shield and run heedless into the gloom that lies about the Vales of Gundabad, but he does not - cannot! - abandon his friends in such a shameful fashion. 

His breath rasping in his lungs, he forces himself to his feet, and thence down the slope towards foe, fear and fire. 


:ooc: This may call for a Valor roll, in which case:

:ooc: I'll spend a Hope if necessary.  Unlike before, this calls for it. 

Thoughts and memories unbidden came to Grimbeorn's mind as the shadow and darkness took form below.  A fear that he hadn't known before or since the task at Dol Guldur (stupid autocorrect) clawed at his heart and mind, yet he resisted as best he could for this was no time to allow darkness to swallow him.  In the dimness though, a small bright light shone and he was awed by it.  "It must be her," he thought.

 :ooc: A Valor test for Grimbeorn as well....
 :00: (http://rpg.avioc.org/boards/Themes/default/images/dice_warn.gif) This dice roll has been tampered with!
Valor -  1d12 : 9, total 9
Rolled 4d6 : 2, 1, 5, 1, total 9
Hope if necessary.

The Hobbit first thought that the elf meant the goblins. They were a threat, but a small matter. Perhaps she thought him small and weak, but he had stood in the shield wall at the Mountain-Hall and done good service.

Then however, he felt the chill. Not of the wind, but of that cold dark like that which he had felt in the barrows. The fingers of this cold were older and sharper. The Hobbit too thought of Dol Guldor and the darkness and calamity that had gripped them there.

Bandy was trully senseless in that moment, both fight and flight fled from him and he gripped the earth and post in his hands while tears squeezed out between closed eyes.

Valour

 :ooc: i'll follow up when You let us know if the valour rolls accomplish anything.

:ooc: Rorin's Fear test

TN 18 valour 4d


Ruithel's Fear test

TN 14 valour 4d

:ooc: Thing of Terror results...

• Rorin rolls a 16; he spends 1 :vv: for a success (but is required to roll again each round until a Great or Extraordinary success is achieved)

• Ruithel is of Sindarin birth (not Silvan) and she is not plagued by things Unseen. That said, this is a Nazgûl and I am going to demand the roll at a lesser TN, which she succeeds with a Great Success

• Bandy rolls an 11; even with a :vv: he fails and thus is now Daunted - he may spend no more hope while the Nazgûl is present

• Grimbeorn rolls a 14; he spends 1 :vv: for a success (but is required to roll again each round until a Great or Extraordinary success is achieved)

• Arbogast rolls a 15; he spends 1 :vv: for a success (but is required to roll again each round until a Great or Extraordinary success is achieved)

ALL PC sheets :csu:

The shape atop the horse spurred forward towards the small stockade, where a number of slaves were tied, and looked within. The small group of chattel swooned from pure fear, some collapsing into oblivious unconsciousness.

Arbogast could see the poor beast on which Ren the Unclean sat - it was bred in the horrible pits of the Dark Lord so as it might endure such a rider. The creature was gaunt and its eyes were wild with terror and craze. Blood dripped from its flanks where its cruel master spurred it, and its hooves were cracked and split. The Fire-watcher felt utter pity for the animal, even as he girded his heart to oppose the wraith. Arbogast was pleased to see that both Rorin and Grimbeorn were undaunted, too, and they were moving forward with him, down the hill to the valley below.

Bandy was bent low to the ground. He could not look up. The terror that was before him was greater than anything he had ever known and he begged within his mind for it to pass them by and leave them all unmolested. The Hobbit began to sob knowing that that was an impossibility.

Only Ruithel stood tall and opposing to the Nazgûl. Even after weeks of torture at the hands of the foul orcs, her spirit was unbroken and she would not allow even this creature of the Dark Lord to bring her low. She was Sindarin, of Thingol's folk long ago, and she had seen the end of the Beleriand. Like many others, she had fled to the shores of Falas when the terrible forces of Morgoth stormed into the once protected lands of Doriath. The Veil of Melian had been lost with Thingol's death and her departure, and the Elves suffered anew at the hands of their ancient Enemy.

Ruithel had remained in Middle-earth and moved west when the world was broken, at last to come to reside under the eaves of Greenwood the Great, which reminded her most of her homeland lost.

Now the Elf stood once more against the Shadow. Ren spurred forward again, leaving the slaves behind in their torment. A hissing voice spoke, "You are mine, She-Elf! Long have I awaited a prize like you! You will know suffering and pain, but will be the well-spring of many new breeds of orc!"

"I have suffered all that I will at the hands of your Master's folk, and will suffer them no more. It is you that will be gone, foul Dwimmerlaik!" Ruithel cried back in defiance. Her voice and words seemed to break through a cloud to Bandy's mind and the Hobbit felt...hope. Though he could still not muster any to help himself or his friends.

"I will have you, Elf!" hissed Ren the Unclean, and he charged.

Ruithel ran quickly to the fire and lifted a burning brand from it and held it before her. "Come forward and take me, if you can, foul thing!" She then called to Bandy, who groveled upon the ground feeling sick to his stomach, and becoming worse as the Shape came closer. "My brave Hobbit, if you can do naught else, seek the Orc's spoils from their captives. Certainly amongst those things you shall find my bow!"

Even as she said the words, Ren was upon her and his vile mount tried to run her down.

:ooc: I am opening a new combat thread, but feel free to complete any dialogue or narrative you would like to here.

Ruithel's words rang true to Grimbeorn and he was able to muster the resolve to sprint down the hill where he and others stood to her aid.  Seeing her run to retrieve the fiery brand, the Beorning feared he might be too late to intercede on a coming blow.

 :ooc: my roll was a 15

:ooc: Bandy is WEARY - so only the 4 counts.

 :ooc:  :( damn, ok.