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With a nod from one trio to the other, Durgil led his companions out of the inn. The damp chill pressed on them again, even though it was the mid of June. Dirnhael pondered the weather - rain was certainly common during the Cardolan summer, but he would expect the temperature to be more warm and sticky due to the humidity. The thought did not linger long as he watched Durgil first check on the horses, and then lead them out onto the Iaur Men Formen (North-South Road).

The trio had no specific direction but they had come from the north and seen what was there, and so their boots turned south. They walked side by side down the empty road, the occasional pat of a raindrop tapping on their hoods.

Celdrahil and his two companions stayed behind enjoying the dry common room.

---

:ooc: I do not want to rush into the next scene until I know you guys have finished your 'conversations', so I will give this a little more time to pan out.

 :ooc:I'm good to go.

 :ooc: Carry on

Nain watched as the men went out into the cold wet darkness.  He pondered going with them then decided that his warm bed and ale would be better company this night.

"Good luck with yer hunting gentlemen."  He held his cup high in a toast as they walked into the damp darkness.

The men waved a fare the well to their Dwarf companion, as they walked south along the road. Dirnhael took on a similar gait and suppressed his appearance with his cloak so as to look like any common man that might live or work in the surrounding fields, like his brother, Durgil, beside him. It would be far easier to get answers from passerbys when they appeared to be like them, instead of the aristocracy of Arthedain.


The sky was slate gray until it met the darker browns and lush green of the horizon. The city of Tharbad could be seen in the distance, sitting astride the river that snaked north and south out of view It was a darker smudge against the landscape, its formidable walls still standing to protect those within. Although, now the men knew that death was already within the confines of the city, and it was more terrible a foe than any orc that might present itself.

They passed small homes and fields, businesses, and barns - some were occupied while others stood empty and silent. There was the occasional field hand or farmer that would stand and watch them pass, but for that the road and evening was silent and lonely. Dirnhael could see smoke rising from chimneys within Tharbad and it gave him some ease of mind knowing that life did carry on there, but still all was too sedate.

Conversation was slight between the two Dúnedain nobles, the sound of their voices breaking the stillness, and so they just walked and looked. They took in all the sights, the sounds, and the feel of the land. Gandalf was right - there was something wrong in Cardolan. It reminded Dirnhael of the cold lands of Angmar - a sleeping malevolence was near. They had not realized it, but they had walked almost two miles and the walls of Tharbad could be seen more clearly in the distance - even in the fading daylight.

The city stretched north of them and the men could see where the walls ended. Outside of Tharbad was more buildings, homes and businesses around large squares for trading and selling of goods. There were docks and shipyards along this side of the Gwathlo although no ships or barges were being built anymore. A road broke off to the north and led to a small hamlet that glowed softly further north of the city proper. North of that, the bogs and mires of the marshlands called Nîn-in-Eilph were visible, dark and brooding, where the Glanduin met the Hoarwell.

Movement caught Durgil's eye as two horsemen came riding at an urgent pace down the road that led north, "SWORDS! SWORDS ARE NEEDED! FEAR, FIRE, FOES!"

Dirnhael's hand instinctively reached for Vorandur's grip, then cast Durgil a quick look of concern.
"What is the trouble?" he asked the men with urgency, but without breaking his guise.

Hearing Dirnhael's response, the two riders pulled hard on their reins and brought their animals to a halt. One of the horsemen pointed to the north of the city proper at the small hamlet that glowed with warm lights, "A forced crossing is happening! Orcs and wild men push across the river in boats! All swords and able hands are needed! Lord Guilin sends the call to all able lads - bring your steel or bows, all are necessary."

The other horsemen, a bit older than his peer, upon seeing the two Dúnedain were armed, spoke haughtily, "Get you on now to the river bastion!"

"I think we found our problem, brother.  Go to Tinkerman's," Durgil directed the riders, "and you'll find more that will heed your call."

The two heralds gave a nod and spurred their mounts forward at a pace. Durgil turned back to see Dirnhael already jogging forward down the road and he too, ran to catch up.

The dark of evening was starting to fall over the land and shadows grew around the two men. Down by the river, it was easy to see activity as torch lights sprang up and many moved about from one place to another, lighting more torches. The two Dúnedain wondered at the head count of allies they would try to assist, and who might be against them. They had faced both orcs and hillmen in the not too distant past, and they had been able to claim victory but not always without cost.

Back at the inn, the quartet of companions were just starting their third cup of Tinkerman's fine honey-brown ale when the sound of hooves and shouting were heard outside. The innkeep looked up from where he stood near his kitchen and then quickly moved to his door. The door opened revealing the small lad that tended his stables, "Watch men, sir!"

"Eh?" replied the man, wondering what was going on.

From outside the door, the companions heard the herald's call, "SWORDS! TO ARMS! All that can are needed at the river bastion! We were told there were strong arms and true men here!"

As they got closer, Durgil contemplated on strategy.  "I'll find the captain and see what we can do about organizing the lot.  You get to the lines and work at rallying the men.  By the time the others arrive, I'll rejoin you if possible."

"Make haste," Dirnhael said with a smile as he reached for the shield on his back, "I may not leave any for you."

After Durgil departed, Dirnhael picked up his pace as he continued toward the fray, his smile fading into a grim facade.

Durgil ran the remaining distance to where a burnt out building sat, its wooden frame like a shadowy skeleton into the darkening sky, and in front of it, near the river, was a rampart built of odd pieces of timber and stone. The Dúnadan realized it was the foundation of a home or business that had once looked over the river, but now was itself a reinforced ruin. From where he stood, the muddy edge of the river stretched another twenty yards until the water. It would make for terrible ground to combat upon, the mud sucking on the defenders boots as they tried to move.

Instead, the defenders were milling about the rampart striking torches wherever they could to increase the light. There were many men, young lads, and even a few shield maidens that stood at the ready, but all looked nervous. Amidst them all was a tall, fair, and golden-haired man that exuded the confidence that any leader would. He had a great yew bow in his hand and a quiver hung at his waist, across his back was a broad bladed sword. Durgil knew this had to be the man Guilin that the messengers had spoke.


Dirnhael had gone down closer to the shore to find 'the lines' that Durgil had spoken of, only to realize the defenses were further up the shore. He could see the torches sputtering and the light stole his night vision whenever he peered in their direction. By the shore, there were men milling about, too, but they were busy reaching into a barrel and grabbing small handfuls of metal barbs only to throw them out into the water, or along the shore. The Dúnadan looked closely at them and they appeared to be the likes of a child's toy, but Dirnhael knew differently - they were caltrops and whomever had had them fashioned knew a thing of combat and defense. They would give any attacker a bad time when they tried to come ashore.

Looking out towards the river, it was dark - darker than the land - save where the river horizon met the still lighter sky. Dirnhael could see the dark shapes of rafts loaded with many folk, long poles directing them as they let the river's flow carry them to western shore. There was a sudden flash of movement into the sky, as if a hundred small insects flew about. The Dúnadan knew what he saw and only had the briefest moment to yell, as he brought his shield up over himself.

"WARE! ARROWS!"

Dirnhael heard the thunk of an arrow hitting his shield, but he also heard the slap of them sinking into the mud and water, or the meaty chunk of them piercing flesh. Next came the screams and the knight knew he must get these people away from the shore.

Celdrahil was up in a single bound.

"Boy, get the horses! Barkeep, if I could impress you to aid him so we might make more haste?"

The knight barely hesitated to speak as he went for the door and made his way to the watchmen.

Celdrahil stepped into the dark night all evidence of drinking gone. "Why, have you raised the hue and cry, what threat causes you to ride into the night alerting the countryside?"

"Men of Cardolan," Dirnhael exclaimed, "we must fall back! The wet shore will slow our attackers; we must find higher and drier ground!"
He looked around for something suitable, hoping he could find a rally point that would give them an advantage.
"I am Dirnhael, Knight of Fornost, and raised in the home of Celephain; rally to me!"

:00: Unit Leadership +8

Durgil moved as quickly as he could to meet with Guilin.  "Sir, I am Durgil, a ranger of the North.  My friends and I have come to help.  What is there to be done?"

Nain stood, knocking his chair over in his rush. 

"Mithrandir was none to loose in his timing when he sent us on our journey."

HE walked out to the front of the inn and waited for the horses and for the watchmen to explain themselves.

Celdrahil was not like his companions, Durgil and Dirnhael, who had done their best to subdue their markings. No, the Gondorian wore his crest with pride and it was emblazoned upon his breast plate. The watchmen were not learned in the many houses of nobility for what remained of those in Arnor, let alone those of Gondor, but it was easy to see a man of status.

With wide eyes, the older herald spoke, "My Lord, it was your servants who sent us here saying there were men of strength within." For who else could the two common men have been save this knight's squires, or pages. "There is a crossing of the river - orcs and wild men! We have been sent by Guilin to muster any capable to defend and stave off the attack."

At the river, Guilin looked at Durgil, "Well Durgil, Ranger of the North, your aid could not have come more timely." He pointed, "See you the dark barges that use the river current to cross to our shores? Each is loaded with the wild men and orcs of the Gibbet King! This is his third attempt at sacking our small town and bringing more terror into the hearts of our people. Tharbad suffers under the weight of sickness and disorder, in these dark times, and it is now that the evil out of the north throws his army at us. I see you are armed with steel of fine make and you hide an inner bearing - are you a man of rank? Do you hold some command with these Rangers of the North?"

Those around Dirnhael did not see him at first, only heard his commanding voice, and some felt his presence. He was a knight, a noble, and a Dúnadan of renown - yes, within his own realm far away - but that strength of self was recognized by these simple farmers, peasants, and swordsmen. No longer subdued by cloak and guise, Dirnhael was seen for what he was, even in the fading light, and the folk around him rallied to his call. One lad pointed, "There Mi'Lord! There is the river bastion where Lord Guilin prepares our defense. He wished us to first fill the water line with these terrible devices." The boy showed one of the jack-shaped caltrops, its barb grey and keen in the night. "Do we finish this or follow your command?"

The task was all but done, yet there were still some to disperse. Dirnhael knew it was futile to worry about this defense when arrows now rained down and many cried out from their wounds.

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:ooc: I have added your character positions to the map. The river's edge is only 60 feet from where the improvised fortification sits above the riverbed.

Durgil can estimate Guilin has forty swords and twenty archers; there are no horsemen to speak of and a rider would have trouble in the muddy ground anyway.

Dirnhael can see roughly twenty folk around him on the river bank; eight are wounded and need some sort of aid to get up to the fortification.

"A keen sight and queer conversation on the edge of battle," thinks Durgil.

The Dunadan responds, "I have some pull in their rank, yes, but these are your people and I will follow you and give counsel as I can.  My brother through blood and bond has gone to the banks to be of service there as he can and I have other companions likely to join us shortly.  What is your plan?"

"Aye, these are my people, but I need to know if I give unto you command of a group of them you have the skill to see them safely through and the job done." He stared long at Durgil and saw in him what he needed, "My plan... what plan I can make of this is to draw the enemy onto our shore and to this fortified wall to engage. If I can hold them here and keep them from rampaging into the town, then you - whom I will give command of a rank of stout men with axes - can came at them from their northern flank, whilst another comes from the south. We will box them in and destroy them on the shore. I have already seen to the disbursal of caltrops along the shore which should hinder them mightily!"

"My life would be forfeit if I fail for I would fall with them, sir."  Taking a moment to think, Durgil responds.  "That's as good a plan as any... what shall be the sign to attack?"

Quote from: tomcat on May 14, 2014, 05:01 PM
Those around Dirnhael did not see him at first, only heard his commanding voice, and some felt his presence. He was a knight, a noble, and a Dúnadan of renown - yes, within his own realm far away - but that strength of self was recognized by these simple farmers, peasants, and swordsmen. No longer subdued by cloak and guise, Dirnhael was seen for what he was, even in the fading light, and the folk around him rallied to his call. One lad pointed, "There Mi'Lord! There is the river bastion where Lord Guilin prepares our defense. He wished us to first fill the water line with these terrible devices." The boy showed one of the jack-shaped caltrops, its barb grey and keen in the night. "Do we finish this or follow your command?"

The task was all but done, yet there were still some to disperse. Dirnhael knew it was futile to worry about this defense when arrows now rained down and many cried out from their wounds.

"See to the wounded, and fall back to the bastion," he shouted. "Even in the dark, their archers can aim at the shore. Your lord did not send you out to die."

"And if he did," Dirnhael thought, "he and I will have an unpleasant discussion."

"A hale soldier is worth infinitely more than a handful of spikes. Leave what you must. Quickly!"

"We shall do all we can to make us the most inviting of targets. If the Gibbet King thinks we are mustered here, and here alone, he will try and destroy us where we stand. Thus will he no longer fret with trying to put people on this shore and this side of the city. Soon, Tharbad will fall completely - its people trapped inside, hungry and diseased." Guilin pointed at three of the warriors that stood near, "Eran, you and your brothers will take twenty of your best axemen and you will be under the command of Durgil, here, Ranger of the North." To the Dúnadan, "Lead these men into the town through the burnt out buildings and circle around north until you are in position to press an attack on their flank. The only signal shall be your eyes that show the bulk of the barges landed and the enemy pressed on us. Like I said, we will be busy trying to hold them in place and making sure they take the prize."

At the waterfront, Dirnhael led the remaining twenty odd lads back towards the river bastion, as arrows continued to fall amongst them. By the time he had them out of bow range, there were fourteen still alive. Their task done with the caltrops, the men and boys began to collect the weapons they had. Dirnhael went around the rudimentary defense and found Durgil speaking with another man in the center of the defense.

Out over the water, cruel songs and harsh voices carried towards the defenders. Guilin called out, "DO NOT LET THEM BREAK YOU WITH WORDS, LADS! IT IS OUR ARMS AND OUR STEEL THEY MUST CONFRONT, AND THEY ARE SURELY GREATER THAN ANY TONGUE!"

Still, the barges creaked closer, the lapping of the river signalling their distance. From the bastion, the men could see the first barge light with the flare from torches, as the invaders sparked the fueled sticks. Once done, the wild men began to hurl the burning torches across the short distance of water and onto the riverbank to provide them light for where they would land.

Guilin looked on in awe. He spoke to Durgil and those close to him, "Interesting. T'is a new tactic we have not seen, for usually the flares ruin the orcs cursed night eyes."

"If we make it through then maybe we can solve the riddle together.  Until the last dog is driven off!  See here, sir, my brother approaches!"  To the group of men gathered, "Quickly men, for Tharbad!"  And he follows them into the ruins nearby to get into position.

Celdrahil nodded to the two heralds.

"I and those who are with me will ride immediately to your aid. Will you ride with us or do you carry the word further?"

As Celdrahil spoke he could see the horses making ready to ride.

In a few short moments the companions were ready to Set forth. The sight of the noble was then further augmented by an elf and a dwarf.

"The foe of all of our peoples now assails Tharbad. I intend to ride to the cities defense and let fate guide me as to the point of the battle I am needed most. Join me friends. Let us make a spectacle to awaken fear in their hearts."

Swinging into the saddle the knight of the south had his lance ready and his other arm carried a shield. Within the light of the moon the silver embossed shield seemed to glow of its own accord, and within his hand the silver horn flamed like a torch. Breathing deeply the horn sounded, deep and long. The horses unused to the sound bucked under their riders. In the distance the defenders heard the clarion call echo.

Agrawaen, the noble steed of the knight, felt the need of his master and knew well the sound of the horn. With a sudden call of his own the horse screamed and surged down the road.

:ooc: I am putting some simple mass combat rules together - kind of like we did a LONG time ago when we had the battle of Barad Eldanar. I will have some things going here by tomorrow.

Nain kicked his horse in pursuit of the Gondorian.  Stoic in his thoughts as he mentally prepared himself for battle, He didn't even take time to curse the crazed man riding like a banshee into the fight.

Edrahil and Fengel mounted and followed in pursuit of Celdrahil. The two messengers, having realized that they had ridden as far as they could so as to bring aid in time, spurred their own horses to follow the Company.

It was not long before they saw the gray-black outline of the river under the fading light of dusk. The torches were glowing where the defenders readied and the Gondorian pushed his horse the harder. They came to the road the branched north off of the Iaur Men Formen and quickly followed down its length. Even at this distance, the companions could see the dark shapes of the rafts making their crossing - Edrahil counted twenty before the river bastion grew large before them. Within the broken structure of the house, men and boys, as well as women could be seen bolstering the defense. The four friends immediately saw one of their own - Dirnhael - standing in the center talking to one of the townsfolk.

Durgil had run off as Dirnhael had approached, but now he found himself face to face with the commander of this ragtag band of defenders. Guilin looked him over and saw the nobility and bearing as he had seen in the younger lad. He spoke, "To your companion I just bestowed command over twenty of my able warriors. I hope my decision was not unwise, but you both seem more than you present. Would you, too, be able to lead men and help me to bring our battle plan together?"

Dirnhael nodded to the man, "I will see it done."

Guilin quickly explained his plan to draw the enemy to his defense and then have Durgil and Dirnhael attack from both the north and south, thus boxing them in with the river. The goal was to create a kill zone that no orc or wild man would escape. Twenty more men were chosen from amongst the ranks and assigned to Dirnhael's command. The Dúnadan looked them over and saw they ranged from old men to young lads still green in years. He did not like what he was being given - the lives of such innocence - and he knew it would trouble him for every loss. "Then I must see that as few as possible are slain," he thought to himself.

Dirnhael turned to move his group south when he espied Celdrahil riding up the road to where the river bastion lay. He quickly ran to his friends, "I am glad to see you! We have enemies crossing the river and little with which to hold them off!" Seeing them all dismount, Dirnhael went over the plan as it was and looked to his friends - all of whom had been learned in the ways of war - to see if any saw a flaw in what Guilin proposed.

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:ooc: I added a better map of the small town outside Tharbad. The box in front of the defense represents where Guilin wishes to pin the enemy. The arrows show directions of Dirnhael and Durgil's flanking attacks.

Celdrahil saw the slick mud of the shore and dismounted his horse knowing that it would be foolish to attempt to ride into his foes. With the accustomed grace of long practice and the agility of his race he was on the ground and sword out in moments. Part of warfare was intimidation and the Dunedan Prince intended to sow fearin his foes. The silver horn he bore blew long and hard again to the terror of his foes and the encouragement of his companions.

"Men of Tharbad! Draw your swords, and let us set upon our foes like fire in sun dried grass!"

Nain dismounted behind the elf and followed suit.  Axe in hand he was a grim portrait of the death that awaited the attackers on the muddy river bank.  He muttered mostly to himself but he knew that the elf could hear him easily enough.

"This is gonna be ugly business my friend.  These humans look like they barely know which end of the sword to hold"

Quote from: Stefan on Jun 02, 2014, 04:30 AM
Nain dismounted behind the elf and followed suit.  Axe in hand he was a grim portrait of the death that awaited the attackers on the muddy river bank.  He muttered mostly to himself but he knew that the elf could hear him easily enough.

"This is gonna be ugly business my friend.  These humans look like they barely know which end of the sword to hold"

"Then we can set a fine example," Dirnhael replied. His eyes narrowed as he steeled himself for battle.