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#13110925 Mar 06, 2017 at 04:33 PM
25 Posts
Allabeth surveys the cave before answering the other elf’s question. “If we ride hard we can make it across. To where I know not. There is no force assembled within reach that can stop this horde.” As she speaks, shadows cover her features, Arohir having kicked dirt over the fire. “But if we can contain this flood to this foul land of Angmar then we must. As we are we will need a significant advantage over our foe.”
Looking to the inhabitants of the cave, she assesses each of them with keen eyes, trying to gauge their capability. Finally, Ulfban. Seeing the devastation, the spirit had had on her fëa, Allabeth whispers something, barely audible to all but Ramield, whom is closest. “Cé i Vala restafëalda” The phrase comes, the ancient language of the Blessed Realm. “May the Valar save your spirit.”
“She has been marred by some fell evil. Perhaps the same evil that now stains the sky and poisons the rain? The evil driving this army of beasts?” This question would be directed at Ramield, the elf who seemed to be the leader of this small group.
Before an answer can come though, a distant howl rents the air. Yet despite the distance, it is all too close. “We can talk on the ride. You came tracking this spirit, what is the plan?” Allabeth would stand before the younger elf, awaiting an answer. In her eyes, Ramield would see the sorrow that fills this woman. Three ages of war, loss, and grief, but also light. Hidden deep is the light of the trees, distant memories from a childhood long ago.
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#13123374 Mar 12, 2017 at 02:01 AM
High Nine of...
53 Posts
Ramield picked up the weathered woman, cradling her in the concealing cloak as she carried her over to Gwaenor. The plan, as the elleth asked, was Rivendell, but first an escape from this life-parched northern waste. She felt the girl’s thoughts, but directed her words to her fellow elf maiden. “The few ideas I have require speed, and will likely need to be changed mid flight.” With Gaellant’s help, she mounted Gwaenor and situated Ulfban’s slumped body in front of her in the saddle. The other three needed no more que that it was time to do the same, gravitating toward their own steeds while Ramield checked to see that Ulfban’s restraints were still secure and strong. Satisfied, she leaned the woman’s head back against her shoulder and turned Gwaenor to face Allabeth. “To the southwest, there were two great clefts in the cliff border of the mountains, and farther, past the Ramas, a sharp hill against its face, an encampment held by the hillmen. Either would make a good place to stand, as the narrow passages would be the needle’s eye through which a hoard could not pass all at once.”

She looked off to the south. “Even so, it is not the approaching maelstrom I am most concerned about, but the fell spirit you rightly discerned, that malevolent will that rides upon that storm, seeking to inundate the land.” A protective hand wrapped around Ulfban as Ramield prepared to take off at a gallop. “But first, it seeks its prize.”
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#13123395 Mar 12, 2017 at 02:26 AM
Knight
49 Posts
She was being carried. Did Ramield hear her? Maybe... maybe not. Strength of will was what was required to open ones thoughts to another. And though she was certain Ramield was capable of it, she was unsure of herself.
With that thought her mind collapsed in on itself, suddenly waylaid by doubts. Was she not strong enough? Would she be overcome by the spirit of the wolf? Would her friends die protecting her?
Mind time is a funny thing. For what seemed like an eternity, an age of the world, she pondered these questions and more. Once her eyes rolled open and she saw a thin blur of light, what passed for sunrise in Angmar. Finally she summoned all her will and, with a voice light as a scent on the breeze whispered to her benefactor, her sister.
As they set off across the barren landscape the Sindarin words whispered gently from parched lips. "Leave me Ramield. You must leave me."
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#13126262 Mar 13, 2017 at 02:39 PM
25 Posts
Allabeth watches as the other elf maid carries the young, wounded woman from the cave. Her gaze fixes onto Ulfban once more, examining her again. “It's prize? This woman? What does it want with a specific mortal for there are many. There is nothing special about her.” Allabeths tone is blunt and matter of fact. This woman was ordinary, the same as any other female edain. As she speaks, she strides to her tall horse and hops up into the saddle in one fluid motion. “Tell me this tale another time for we must leave. If, as you say, the spirit wants this woman then we can use her to lure the pack to a trap and keep it from rampaging south.”
Like clouds over the moon Allabeth covers her pale features behind a dark helm, pulling it over her head and tucking her hair within. Limlhinn whinnies, stomping her hooves into the hard ground as another howl rends the air around them. A few whispered words from her rider calms her.
“I know these clefts you speak of. The closest is infested with Naugrim and their homes. Though I have no love for them they are doughty fighters, and their people have aided the Eldar in the fight against the darkness before. We must hope these do the same.”
The blade of her ancient spear glints in the pale light peeking through dark clouds as Allabeth steadies it under her arm. She shifts her shield, readjusting it as she turns to Ramield. “We shall go there. The defences of the Naugrim will aid more than another place.” With that she turns away, guiding Limlhinn to the front of the group. Facing east, she awaits a response from Ramield as the storm comes ever closer.
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#13138178 Mar 19, 2017 at 12:50 AM
High Nine of...
53 Posts
Ramield sighed. She could tell Ulfban’s intent, but she would not entertain the idea. With all the ground they had gained, leaving Ulfban on her own against what was coming would be both wrongful and laying the path for the Ulf Mutter spirit to fight the coming battle on its terms. This would not end by the sacrifice of one woman; no pack that large or power that enraged would stop at having gained back one piece of ground that was lost.
Not only this, but if what she had gleaned from Ulfban’s feelings was correct, the woman would not only be gambling with fate, but would be throwing away both her life and her spirit, destined to forever roam the darkness of the unknown void.
With a nod to the elleth, she directed the others into a formation: Landion brought up the rear while the two Rangers were on either side of her, positioned at an angle to the spear wielder’s horse. “I will explain what I can on why this spirit might seek her later. For now, we should ride.”
Gwaenor lept into action at Ramield’s signal. Padded paws and hardened hooves; which might outpace the other might determine their fates for them.
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#13138454 Mar 19, 2017 at 04:39 AM · Edited 9 months ago
Knight
49 Posts
Ulf Mutter roared in fury, they were stealing her clay. She could feel it, the connection between her and the woman permanent now. She felt, oddly, as though a portion of their spirits had exchanged places, as though she were there with the woman and the woman here with her. How could such a thing happen? She didn’t know. She only knew that after an age of the world she now had a gender, and that the corpse to be was hers.

She could see them; through the woman’s eyes she could see them. Another Golug bitch had joined them, the one who had been killing her children. The pack was halfway to the lake, but their quarry was rounding the northern shore already. She had asked so much of her children in the last weeks and they were nearing exhaustion. Even their respite at Maethad hadn’t been enough to heal them fully.

From western Angmar came the echoing howls of the vicious Scara, coming from far away they had been slow to heed the call. Rampaging and howling up the eastern shore of the lake they came. Some, slower than their cousins, had barely reached the southern tip of Duvuinen. These she sent back the way they had come. Only a few dozen in all they were, nevertheless, enough to slow the fleeing company. If only they could reach them. Snarling and furious they turned aside and began to crawl up the western shores of the lake.

Ulf Mutter boomed and howled; the trap was set. In the real, a cold wind teased and tousled the fleeing party. Ulf mutters furthest tendrils, sent ahead to whisper fear into their ears. Thunder crashed and Wargs howled. The end was nigh…
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#13141824 Mar 20, 2017 at 08:13 PM
25 Posts
“Noro! Noro!” Allabeth cries, and Limlhinn bolts into action, powerful silver limbs pushing against the ground as the chase begins. Galloping frim the cave, Allabeth leads the small band South along the edge of the wide, rancid lake. Limlhinn’s long silver mane streams back as she gallops through the early morning. The storm is to their left, advancing over the lake like some evil infection through veins. Clouds reach around the North of the lake behind them and follows quickly.
Riding on the storm they proceed South hugging the lake as the howls of the wolf pack fill the air around them. The day progressed, the sun just managing to peek out over the clouds just after noon. The party welcomes the light, thin, pale, and cold as it is. On they ride, pushing the horses to their limits as the sun edges towards the western horizon.
The clouds continue to move south and westward, and as the sun disappears far to the west the clouds fill the sky at last, banishing those rays of hope and life. So, surrounded by darkness and the chilling howls of wolves and wargs on a hunt in the dead night, they press on. No moon shines above them, nor any stars, only the deep, black night. A flash of lightning fills the land with its pale light for an instant, accompanied by a deafening boom of thunder. An acrid rain begins to fall, unhealthy and vile.
In these conditions, even the elves struggled to see far. However shortly before midnight, with a flash of lightning Allabeth sights them in the distance. “Wargs!” she cries in Sindarin over a crash of thunder, “Not even four miles ahead!”
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#13150748 Mar 24, 2017 at 10:52 PM
High Nine of...
53 Posts
Ramield nodded to Allabeth. “Feria phingel!” she called to the others. The rangers and other elf drew their bows. Gaellant felt behind herself, checking her quiver. Arohir’s focus was ahead, his steadfast gaze roaming the horizon. Her own arms occupied, she felt for the sword on her saddle. The rhythm of Gwaenor’s hooves was steady and strong as ever despite the trials of Angmar in the last couple days. She whispered her thanks to him for his endurance.

The elven huntress called to Allabeth. “We will have to charge through as best we can. If we are delayed here, more will be upon us.” She pulled her sword free, and lightning flashed, reflected off the blade, arrow tips, and spear, their clean gleam soon to be sullied with blood.
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#13152119 Mar 25, 2017 at 07:51 PM
Knight
49 Posts
The Scara knew their job; they were to slow the elves, nothing more. Both Golug bitches had proven themselves more than capable against smaller packs. But against the flood nothing could stand. The best way to slow them was to attack their mounts. As they ran they yammered to each-other, what was the best way? Fourteen in all they felt there were enough of them to do the job; they would split into four units of three, and one of two. The pair would direct the attack; the triplets would do what they do best.

Attack the legs; bite, bite, bite. The one elf rode an enormous and powerful warhorse, a kind they had never encountered before. One rode a fairy beast, light and swift but frail. The rest were mounted on nothing special. They would be the first to go down, easy to spook with howl and fang.

Fear was strong on the wind. They had been spotted. Scenting as they ran the pack identified five, five living, and another… a strange scent that was somehow familiar, yet not. Not alive, and not dead, motherly and powerful, yet weak and frail as well. It was an odd scent, and it bothered them.

Shrugging it off, they howled, short and loud. The hunters had their prey. Spreading out they slowed for the chase. The horses would run, as they always did. This was a race of stamina, not speed. And the Scara from the deadly wastes were built for it…
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#13153550 Mar 26, 2017 at 05:30 PM
25 Posts
Couching her spear under her arm, Allabeth prepares to charge through the wargs. Whispering to Limlhinn quietly, she instructs the great steed on her task, to ride down the wargs, trample and crush them beneath her hooves.
Calling to the rest of the group, she calls instructions to them. “Form a tight group around the centre! Do not spread out and let them get to the bait!” She watches as the wargs begin to spread out, the vile beasts preparing to try and surround them. “Focus on the sides! I will deal with those to the front!” Comes another order from her.
The group draws nearer to the advancing wargs, the land lit up by regular lightning strikes. Allabeth adjusts her spear, ready for the impact of battle as they thunder over the flat land towards their foes. Unleashing a battle cry, “Hithfaeron!” she crashes into the wargs attacking the front of the group. Listening to the twang of bows behind her and howl, cry, and yelp of wolves, she pulls back her spear to strike another foe.
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#13172247 Apr 05, 2017 at 01:45 AM
High Nine of...
53 Posts
Nearing the southern tip of the lake, their only option was to break through the wolves; there was no turning back now. Even if they managed to outrun this pack, the other, larger one would undoubtedly be awaiting them in the other direction. An arrow flew past Ramield as the first of the wolves came within Landion’s range, followed by two more before the rangers began firing. “Concentrate your fire on the eastmost group! Our objective lies that way, and if we can break through and outpace them, we can reach the outpost and safety.” Holding her sword low, the prepared to stab any of the beasts that came near Gwaenor.
Their formation tightened as the wolves spread out, the two on her sides within arms reach. When Gaellant nodded to Ramield and she back, she could see the trepidation but also the fierce will in the woman’s eyes. The hooves of the five steeds thundered together as the living battering ram bore down on the approaching wolves.

With yelps and howls they collided. The charge inevitably slowed, as the back of a wolf is not the surest footing for the hoof of a horse. Blades flashed and Ramield felt the heat of the bodies that swarmed and those that fell. The tight formation offered her little opportunity to lend her blade, however, it did taste the blood of those that found a way to dart between the horses. Suddenly, Arohir’s horse reared in distress, leaving an opening for another wolf to leap at Gwaenor’s throat. It was its throat that was pierced, however, as Ramield’s blade sank point first into it’s neck, sending a spray of blood at her. In the instant that it fell, Ramield released her embedded blade, opting instead to grab the tunic of her falling comrade. Arohir clung to her saddle with one hand, her arm with the other, struggling with all his might to pull himself up behind her.
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#13193094 Apr 15, 2017 at 07:52 PM
Knight
49 Posts
An arrow, more arrows, the Scara hated arrows. It was… cheating. Spear and blade flashed as a few of their number went down, one Tark already sagging in his saddle, struggling to remain upright. “Stop the bows!” came the bark.
Swift feet bore down on the two bows that were readily seen, a Tark woman and a Golug. The targets were not those riders, but their steeds instead. Snarling and yammering they simply got in the way and tangled the horse’s legs. Sure they may have to take a hoof here and there but quick snaps and raking paws opened the bellies of two horses. Down they went, their riders losing their hated bows in the process.
Quickly the lead pair snatched them up, crunching on hard wood as they ran on. The pack fled to regroup. Two riders down, one maybe wounded. The Tarks and Golugs would have to stop to help their fellows. The Scara had dwindled from fourteen to ten.
Pausing for a moment on a small rise they surveyed their work. Now the in close fighting would begin…
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#13206411 Apr 23, 2017 at 01:54 PM
25 Posts
Allabeth watches the warg pack retreat and takes the moment to look back. She see's the two downed riders being pulled up onto the horse of their comrades and nods to them. "We keep riding! Do not let them slow us!" She cries as she pulls back a little to ride level with Ramield.
"They cannot dismount any more of us!" She calls over the thunder of hooves and the howls of wargs, with one eye on their foes. "If we can distract them do you think you can make it to the Naugrim with the mortal?"
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#13243245 May 13, 2017 at 02:20 PM
High Nine of...
53 Posts
Ramield looked over her shoulder at the regrouping wargs as she helped Arohir into the saddle behind her. Landion, likewise unhorsed, bounded over to Gaellant with a pained expression. The steed he had left behind was lamed, white bone showing through gaping bite marks in its legs. Its terrified cries of distress were piercing, echoing off the stone cliffs ahead and back over the wasteland; but while they were sorrowing, the five knew it was already as dead.

The other elf’s call turned her head. She looked down at the girl in her arms and to their path ahead as they rode. “I have no doubt of that, but this is no position for you to make a stand, where your enemy can easily surround you. Best we all ride as fast as our steeds can carry us, force our enemy through the eye of a needle to awaiting swords and spears.”
Arohir spoke low over her shoulder. “And I will not have one of my people left in that kind of danger when a fortified position is just ahead…”

Ramield’s eyes scanned the cliffs, looking for any shadow that would be the telltale sign of a gap. She prayed the remaining horses had the strength to endure to that point. Without a sword and with her arm occupied with Ulfban, rendering her unable to use her bow, she had only her knives and would have to rely on Arohir to defend Gwaenor, herself, and Ulfban should the beasts catch them again.
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#13247065 May 15, 2017 at 07:17 PM · Edited 6 months ago
Knight
49 Posts
Ulfban hovered over the fierce, brief battle. Her near lifeless form limp as a rag doll in Ramield's arms. She didn't know who the new elf maid was, but her spirit burnt hot and
bright in the shadow. She was fierce, and hardened, an eternal life nearly spent with anger and sorrow.
The Wargs were regrouping. There were so many of them, this little party stood no chance of surviving the race. The Scara were built for stamina, and this was their country, they could run tireless for hours. But the horses, even the great beast of Rohan and the light hoofed elf mount were already beginning to tire. This was not their country and the land, the water, the very air itself was poison to them.
This could not happen; these men and women, most of whom she couldn't recall, and one of whom she'd never met nor even heard tale of, could not be allowed to perish for her. She knew what she must do, but she was afraid to do it. Death did not scare Ulfban, she was not the ignorant Bree lander she appeared to be, Ulfban knew of the gift. No, her fear was to be trapped in Middle Earth, her Fea a slave to a will not her own...
Pausing for only a moment the Wargs surged again. Ignore the screaming horses that lay bleeding in the dust they surrounded the small party and began to work the horses fear. It took for only one of them to die to learn the safe range. Just far enough to avoid sword and spear. Still though, they had to dart in, nip the flanks, steer the mounts. The great steed in the middle was unreachable, and apparently knew no fear anyway. The slim fairy mount was quick, calm, and steady. But the other, the Tark horse rolled its eyes and fought its rider. Slowly, ever so slowly, taking cuts and scrapes, shallow jabs and quick wounds as their toll, the Wargs began to turn the horses. Mostly ignoring the riders, working always in two's or threes they darted in and out, purposefully giving way to the east, to the lake. Purposefully driving from the west, always they pushed the riders towards the deadly mud that would entangle and break a horses thin limbs far faster than they could. They carried no riders, and were at home, comfortable in the blasted land. Built for stamina they relentlessly drove the riders towards their deaths...
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#13283099 Jun 05, 2017 at 05:27 AM
25 Posts
Allabeth nods to Ramield, short and curt. With another cry in the elder language, she puts on a burst of speed to charge down an oncoming warg. Light hooves kick up dust as they charge towards the mass of fur, teeth and claws. Slicing the blade of her spear along a joint of a powerful leg, she injures the beast and it falls to be trampled beneath the hooves of the four remaining horses in their group. She looks about, finding very few wargs about her and sees them targeting the two lesser beasts, and she knows their plan. Guide these two creatures and their riders to the death in the swamps before returning for their prize.
She pulls from her position, charging round the group in a loop jabbing and slicing at the limbs, throats, and faces of the foul beasts. As she loops around the group, pushing Limlhinn to the limit of her speed to make it around the group, clearing the area of wargs for a moment as she cries to the horses in the ancient language. “Come! Follow me to safety! Do not be led to Death!”
With a fierce whinny, Limlhinn returns to her place at the front of the charge, and confidently surges forward, heading due South.
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#13318797 Jun 26, 2017 at 04:37 AM
High Nine of...
53 Posts
It seemed hopeless: they couldn’t outrun the wolves and they couldn’t get down to fight without having their legs snapped at the first. They were so close to their goal, the shelter they sought, the potential fortification. But, if they couldn’t make it alive, it afforded them nothing. Her mind raced. There was one thing they wanted, and so that was the one thing she would threaten to deny them.
Without warning, she reared up, wheeling Gwaenor around, hoping his hooves might land on some wolves head. She felt Arohir cling to stay in place, yelping in surprise at the sudden move. When they landed, Ramield’s knife was at Ulfban’s throat. “Heca, nastoni! Stand aside, lest you lose that which you seek.” She slowly looked about at the swarming wolves, her steely, resolute gaze passing over each one.
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#13318920 Jun 26, 2017 at 07:15 AM
Knight
49 Posts
It was as though a deafening thunderclap had stunned them. The Scara suddenly went stiff, growling and bristling in their places. The very air seemed to hold its breath, as the running battle came to a sudden and immediate stop.
Clinging tenuously to life Ulfban felt suffocated, the breathless air frozen, unmoving in her lungs. Gathering her will once again, perhaps for the last time, she murmured quietly to her friend and protector, the one who held a knife to her throat. “Ramield, leave me.”
And suddenly the spell was broken, her small voice allowing the Scara to shake themselves free. Slowly they began to circle the remaining horses, snapping at the wild Elf who always strove to break out. They knew not who the brittle one was, hanging limp in another's arms. They only knew they had to slow, or stop them.
For a moment the little battlefield was tense, still, and dangerous. Then a terrible howl rent the air. High, screeching, and furious, it had only been heard twice before, once outside Hookworth, and again after the battle of Mor Maudhúl. As the screaming howl ended the air began to move again. Whispering quietly it slowly grew in power as the spirit ridden storm swept down from the north. Coming close on its heels the pack, howling and yammering. Still hours off they came nonetheless, furious and enraged, bloodthirsty and powerful.
Heartened by the attention from their mother the Scara began to close in, blocking the way south. Boldly, one of the leaders spoke to the small party in the harsh language of Goblins. “Stop. Here.”
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#13321666 Jun 27, 2017 at 06:58 PM
25 Posts
Allabeth stops Limlhinn, turning in a tight circle to look at Ramield with her knife at Ulfban’s throat. She almost asks what she's doing or if she’s mad, till she realises the wargs had stopped to. She sits up straight, pointing her spear at any of the hideous beasts that dared to come near her as she tries to come up with a plan to get out of this situation. The screech rents the air, and she was troubled. Such a spirit did not scare her nor cow her spirit, for she gad fought older and more deadly foes before, but the great pack that would surely follow would crush their party in seconds.
“Now what? Wait for that spirit to arrive with her horde?” She asks quietly of Ramield, moving up beside her as she surveys the encircling Scara. Limlhinn moves nervously, sensing her riders unease and is ready to spring into a gallop again should it be needed. Then the warg speaks in the tongue of goblins and she glares at it, not deigning to respond. “I hope you have a plan.” She whispers to the elf woman beside her.
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#13392166 Aug 12, 2017 at 01:20 AM
High Nine of...
53 Posts
“This was the plan.” She whispers back. “I was planning on them realizing their objective was in danger, on them giving us some leeway. However, either they don’t know, or they don’t care.” Her hand held steady while her eyes panned about her, assessing the wolves. She raised her voice so they could hear her now. “It is up to them how this ends. Either they stop us here, and their master never gets her prize, or we stop a little way ahead with everything and everyone intact. They know we can’t keep going forever.”
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