Outpost TP - the last battle

Foothills of the Misties - Near Caradhras
The light of illuminates a small circle around you. The landscape about you resolves into only shades of grey and black, as the night envelops the area in it's black claws. The path runs north/south as far as you can make out. Pitch black outlines of mountains to your west indicate the presence of the Misty Mountains, though they are almost indiscernable from this distance. The ground is warm and dry around you, and the air feels warm and fresh. The land strains under the heat of summer, relishing the time spent away from the glare of the sun.
The blue sky is clear on this beautiful day, with only slight wisps of clouds overhead. The dawn summer air is hot and damp.
Contents:
Mugruk
Chukk
Morandil
Thranduil
Nomad
Arok
Huzghash
Bozblot
Lauhul
Glindorel
Z'macht
Rhofalneth
Celyviel
Jhrog
Fearghal
Magog
Tuoak
Unguis
M'giddo
Blak
Mauhur
Pough
Reincus
Erinstar
Zoglaaz
C'zoth
Boundary Stone
Scattered Bedrolls
A black splotch dawns near in the night sky. It moves quickly, the form growing larger and larger. A strong breeze picks up on the ground as the creature soars overhead. The air is sweet, and smells pure. As the figure catches the moonlight, its identity becomes known. Golden feathers glow from its breast, like a suit of golden armor. Broad wings stretched out on each side. This, is a Great Eagle of the North, just as the bird passes, a shrill scree fills the tension-filled air. It echoes off the near by hills, creeping eerily back towards the posts of both Orc and Elf.
The giant figure of the Eagle can be seen, beating its wings as it lowers majestically onto a large boulder, upon the Misties. Its eyes, undoubtedly, locked upon the area. He waits for now, a large silhouette in the distant shadows.
Rhofalneth opens his beak and lets out a shrill scree that echos in every direction.
A shrill scree echoes from above.

Deep in the murk of night, slithering westward and south, a serpentine train of uruk, uruk-hai, and olog trods their fell path homeward. Most of the wicked creatures, slobbering at the maw and frowning deep as the pits of Khazad-Dum, look abnormally apprehensive. Indeed! Their scouts have reported the presence of foes nearbye ... No creature of darkness wants to lose his life in vain! They tread onwards: Clink, clank, clomp - through the gloom they go, as silent as such wretched creatures can be.

Z'macht, an orc chieftain, travels lightly near the back of the foul column. His mouth is set, eyes determined, and his breathing is as ragged as his armore, tarnished and rusting. The Talashakh nudges a nearbye orc and whispers a few words of encouragement. "None shall withstand the might of Moria... If they come between us, we will be the hammer and our sacred mines will be the anvil!"

The sun rises in the east, and hidden behind the stormy clouds she changes night into a day.

CRINK! CLINK! Marching uruks on the move; silence is dead. Ground trampled beneath their boot covered feet, the orcs of Moria march onward and back to the Caves of Khazad-dum. Whips crack, and snaga yelp as the moving horde crashes forward, all manner of life being crushed in their wake. All manner of uruk march forward, their weapons out and ready as the enemies of the FLAME have been reported to be near.
The Senior Guard Huzghash marches stolidly in the middle of the column, his face a block of granite worked by an apprentice sculptor. The Senior Guard moves, spear held in his right hand, and shield on his left. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" Pumping his right fist in the air, Huzghash smirks and his eyes seem to glaze over slightly; the lust for battle already upon him.

The foul darkness of orcish armor opens wide beside Z'macht, and from the maw steps a shape robed in fur. The stars glitter on the mail beneath as Tuoak raises his arms into the cold air, "Yes. Do you smell it on the air? Ash and smoke. The flame fights with us." The Warrior Shaman lowers his head for a moment and then calls into the night, "Snagas! Sing the songs of the flame! Bring fear into their hearts!"

And thne the foul voices of the snagas rise in their horrible song, blades slamming against shields and boots thundering over the rocks. This is the sound of the storm as it gathers..

"Boom Boom..Boom Boom. The drums speak doom! Hear them call of death and maul, under skies that burn and spurn. Your voice is still, your forces mill! All fear the drums!
Flee before us, foes of the flame! The land burned when the drums came! Boom boom! Doom doom!
Hear the call! Your men will fall! For none will stand before us! Orcs laugh and orcs slash and the drums go ever on.
Flee before us, foes of the flame! The land burned when the drums came! Boom boom! Doom doom!"
Amongst the comlumn of orcs, Blak marches, his eyes flitting about for a sign of the enemy. He stands in a part of the column in front of the guards, but not quiet at the front. Half the time he looks around behind him, as though expecting an attack to come from behind rather than in front.

In the dark of the night, Elves move like shadows, their cloaks taking the hue of the surroundings. Black on black, almost invisible, they hurry up the jagged slopes of the foothills, over the rolling valleys and up the next steep slope. They make not a sound, not a clink of mail, not a rattle of arrows in the qiver, but they make good time. In the clear still air, the rattling and stomping guides them better than a lighthouse toward their target, the slithering snake of the orcish column.
Finally, after climbing another slope, the Elven Commander halts his party on the ridge. There they are, the hated enemies, on the slope below. Without a sound, he points forward and unshoulders his bow.

Magog's march amidst the column would be inconspicuous were he not alone amongst the loud army. There is a break before Magog and a break after him, affording the Gothshaka a clear sightline of the surrounding terrain. A wary gaze is cast towards the heights and he halts upon hearing the Eagle's cry, catching the attention of a senior member of the scouts. "Send forth a wave to make sure the terrain is clear. Where there are eagles, there are elves. This is our territory. We will not be hindered upon our return to the mines," Magog intones gruffly. A lazy salute follows and Magog marches onwards, axe bobbing easily by his side.

Black upon black, grime upon ground, the voidforms of the Morian Guards weave their wagging tongues of unlight across the bleakly arid hills; the dush of the shadow-host treading heavily into the trembling earth. A speck of an orc breaks from their ranks for but an instant, and cowing to the ground trills a shrill invocation into the Guard-march's gutter.
The tiny orc uncranes his neck, tumid glower bathed in moonrays. Bozblot springs from his kowtow, and plucks up his weapon; the feral convex of his scimitar lashing back a line of moonray in defiance.

The solid figure of Pough marches steadily onward, surrounded by his fellow orcs. Joining in the horrible chorus with his deep base voice. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" Shaking his axe into the air he cries into the wind. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"

From the South, Glynnis suddenly appears from the shadows... you catch a glimpse of few spectral figures, probably her companions, but when you look closer, they're gone.

Amongst the massive horde of orcs, Zig, marching with the gusto of the Horde. Mace held high in the air, swinging wildly in fervant rage and blood lust; fist pumping crazily as he joins in the chaotic shouting and taunting of the orc army.

The fell voice of the Morian hunting party booms out it's own version of a song as the ground of ten uruk's march off to the sid eof the main group. Mugruk marches at the front of the group, leading the discorded voices, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"

Along one flank of the long, dark train of orc, march the Fighting Uruk-Hai. Many are their numbers, but still fewer than the numerous Morians at their side. Many of the Uruk-Hai look about themselves with a watchful eye, the gloom of the night hampering their keen vision not. Many snaga walk among them, hauling various boxes and crates about in, evident of the orc's long stay. On one side, the archers of the Ravens lope along, on the other march the warriors of the Uruk-Hai.

Along one edge of the troop marches Unguis, war hammer wielded, not trusting the night to conceal them from any marauding pale-skins. Nervous the smith is not, but cautious is he, never one to be caught off guard. His viridian gaze regards all about him, the Morians, the woods, the Fighting Uruk-Hai, the snaga.....the moon itself in its high orbit.

From the South, A faint shadow slips along the edge of the battle, no more than one among many, and heads silently towards the sound of ringing steel to the north.

From the South, Legirion crouches up in the ranks of night-shrouded elves, dark sapphire eyes within the cloak he wears picking out a single form among the Morian host north of his position. Sound and glimmers of reflected moonlight are his guides. The minstrel silently reaches a hand back to pull a slender arrow from the quiver at his back, nocking it in his bow with one smooth gesture. He waits further orders.

C'zoth marches among the hoard, next to the Senior guard, Huzghash. As the songs of war and the glory of the flame, he joins into the songs, singing with all the volume and ferocity he can muster. As he glances toward Caradhras, he sees hope: a deeper shade of black upon the dark mountain, the gate of Moria. He has heard rumors that elves are forward and behind, and that they must fight through them to get to Moria. His harsh voice sings out in the night, "<uruk> Yahow! The whips and thongs of the Moria throng will bite and bash thee elven bone; to Moria, to Moria! The Morians will fight and clash, beat and bash, the elven blood will roll on Stone!To Moria! To Moria!" With that he draws his jagged scimitar and waves it above his head, yelling harshly.

From the South, A swift movement brings Tathren's bow to her hands as she stops along the ridgetop. Unspeaking, as silent as the stars that guide the elven army, she pulls an arrow from her quiver, nocking it and holding her bow at the ready.

Along one flank of the long, dark train of orc, march the Fighting Uruk-Hai. Many are their numbers, but still fewer than the numerous Morians at their side. Many of the Uruk-Hai look about themselves with a watchful eye, the gloom of the night hampering their keen vision not. Many snaga walk among them, hauling various boxes and crates about in, evident of the orc's long stay. On one side, the archers of the Ravens lope along, on the other march the warriors of the Uruk-Hai.
Along one edge of the troop marches Unguis, war hammer wielded, not trusting the night to conceal them from any marauding pale-skins. Nervous the smith is not, but cautious is he, never one to be caught off guard. His viridian gaze regards all about him, the Morians, the woods, the Fighting Uruk-Hai, the snaga.....the moon itself in its high orbit."

The Elves at the ridgetop spread out and hide behind black rocks, following quick and silent commands of Haldir, little more than a few gestures and signs. In a moment, just a few Elves stand beside the Commander. "<Sindarin> It's larger than even I thought", whispers Haldir to the warriors at his side, "<Sindarin> Still, we cannot turn back now". Another quick glance at his forces, everything is ready there. Slowly, Haldir raises his bow, "<Sindarin> Elbereth be with us tonight".

From the South, The wind has been picking up over the past few nights, growing increasingly stronger with each sunset. This night has been no exception. Many trees abound here, causing the wind tunnel effect that's stirring up so much moving wind. Howling can be heard through the trees as the air gets into various cracks and holes of the different species of plant life. Patches of long bladed grass down below run about waist deep to even deeper in some places allowing for animals or other creatures to hide rather effectively. However, the best hiding places would definitely be amid the trees, the branches shrouded in thick leaves and mystery. Each tree seems to hold its own sense of watchfullness, and each shrub it's own sense of protection by the prickers and thorns which abide on most of the bushes.

The leaves of the woods rustle with the wind, hiding things that move about in the forest, be they birds, animals, or something completely different. None-the-less, there are several areas on the ground which are lighted rather well by the light of the stars, despite the fact that the moon isn't about.

Within the wind, along with the occasional howling, can be heard the lulling sound of running water. Just a little ways off is the river Anduin, or Celebrant to the elves. Tonight however, other than with the wind, the usual sound of the river's splatter can't be heard due to the clanging about of the uruk. With the uruk comes many lights, making it look like the stars have descended and made their way to Arda. Amid the confusion, one elf moves with stealth near the middle of the elven pack, and that is Sajara.

Finally, after climbing another slope, the Elven Commander halts his party on the ridge. There they are, the hated enemies, on the slope below. Without a sound, he points forward and unshoulders his bow.'.

Close by the Commander of Lorien's side there moves another, a shadow in the night covered by cloak of silver-grey and cowl of black. As Haldir stops so does he, his eyes set upon the hordes marching. His movements echo that of the elven Commanders' and a great bow of yew is hefted from about his torso, an arrow being strung in a movement almost too quick for normal eyes to see.
The great longbow of the Banneret is drawn to cheek, and he patiently awaits a command to fire, eyes narrowed as he peers about.

Glindorel removes the shield from his arm and slings it into place upon his back.

Glindorel quickly takes a grey-fletched arrow from the quiver upon his back and nocks it to the string in one smooth motion, hardly visible to the eye.

Morandil takes off Studded Leather Shield.

Morandil raises the great yew longbow Alqualindale and sets an arrow to the string.

From within the ranks of the hordes, a creature of massive size strides. This beast is loathsomely vile, it's features twisted with hate and rage, it's eyes aglow with the fervor of bloodlust that has began to grip the horde. A troll this beast is, a mountain one at that. Clad in the pelt of a gigantic bear, this gigantic beast towers easily over even the tallest of orcs, and it's fearsome nature is only reinforced by the gargantuan club that the creature rests upon it's shoulder with a single hand to steady it. The troll walks with purpose, it's black blood boiling for death and destruction especially when the cry of the eagle rings out. Yet, it does not charge yet, despite it's wish to chase after the bird, it remains amongst the horde, it's gaze fixed steadily on the silhoutte of the bird in the distance.

From the South, Palan draws his bow from his back, staying silent and covering hi,self with his grey cloak. He draws an arrow and pults in the nock, waiting for furthur orders before nocking it. Many things can be seen to the north, but it is yet hard to see the numbers. He lies in wait...

Throwing his helmed head back once more, the large uruk known as Pough opens his mouth, the purple tattoo separating as cruel broken words fly forth into the nite air. "They knock on deaths door if they challenge us, yes? They perhaps do not see their future lies in death!" Clamping his great teeth together he slams his huge fist against his metal helm, growling and snorting in his anxiety for blood... His first true battle awaits him.

From the South, As one shadow among a black night, Galindrion moves swiftly with no sound with the other elves. His eyes gleaming fire, he pulls his bow from his back, nocks an arrow and scans the advancing yrch for a target.

From within the ranks of the hordes, a creature of massive size strides. This beast is loathsomely vile, it's features twisted with hate and rage, it's eyes aglow with the fervor of bloodlust that has began to grip the horde. A troll this beast is, a mountain one at that. Clad in the pelt of a gigantic bear, this gigantic beast towers easily over even the tallest of orcs, and it's fearsome nature is only reinforced by the gargantuan club that the creature rests upon it's shoulder with a single hand to steady it. The troll walks with purpose, it's black blood boiling for death and destruction especially when the cry of the eagle rings out. Yet, it does not charge yet, despite it's wish to chase after the bird, it remains amongst the horde, it's gaze fixed steadily on the silhoutte of the bird in the distance.

From the South, Mithryn has bow in hand swiftly as she comes to a silent stop. From the ridge she can see the horrific column of creatures and her face becomes a study in concentration. She watches for the next signals, and when they come she takes a position not in a tree but between some rocks from a high vantange. Bowstring to her eye, she waits for the signal, having found one among the many that she owes something to, somewhat personally.

The Shaman falls back through the crowd of swords and spears that glitter in the dark. The horde tramps past him and he stands still until he comes to the side of the King of Moria. Tuoak's smile crosses his face, his teeth seeming like broken mountains rearing from some dark burial ground, his voice coming like the freezing wind of the mountains, "Arr. I smell death on the wind. A glorious smell. Let the ash of the flame bless the King. As long as you stay in the sight of the mountain then you will not fall.."

Z'macht lifts his wooden face to the moonlit sky, silently hating the million stars that sparkle there. He hears the screech of an Eagle. "Vile thing..." he mutters to the orc at his side. A short bow is slung over the uruk's back, and Z'macht reaches a clawed hand over his left shoulder to loosen the tong that holds the weapon on place. "Wise uruks are never caught with their briches down!"

Hard by the line of elven shadows, a figure in ghostly grey crouches in the bracken. Morandil is motionless as a carven image, arrow on the string and death in his gleaming eyes. Only the barbed light glittering on his arrow-point reveals his position.

And in the midst of the wraith-like forms of the Firstborn, there is one who is not of their kindred -- a Man goes with them, tall and swift in the shadows. Yet, he is well nigh as skilled in movement as they, his passage marked by no betraying whisper of sound.

Stopping at the commander's unspoken order then, he pauses beside Glindorel and glances to the skies whence that piercing cry comes. Grey eyes glint in the gloom, and a faint smile glimmers upon his visage:
"<Sindarin> I would rather have the aid of that one."

Even as his eyes search for a target, with a fluid practiced motion Haldir draws an arrow from the quiver and nocks it. The orc snake below seems to have no head or tail, it just vanishes into the night on both sides. Sharp Elven eyes pick out a larger shape among the marching foes, "<Sindarin> That one", he mutters under his breath, and quickly draws the string.

Celebdur unslings his longbow and sets an arrow to the string.

You fire off an arrow at M'giddo...
Your arrow hits M'giddo, mildly wounding him!

From the South, Tarasiriel gazes northward, the grim determination in her beautiful face reflected in the sea of elven faces surrounding her. It is the calm before the storm. . . behind the thin curtain of placid tranquility, one can almost feel the tension in the air.
"<Sindarin> Fight well," she whispers to the Galadhrim beside her. "<Sindarin> and may Elentari smile upon us and guide our arrows true tonight."
Removing a cerulean-fletched arrow from her quiver and nocking it to her bow in a single, fluid motion, Tarasiriel waits for the order to fire.

From the South, Upon the ridge is another shadowy figure with bow ready, his eye searching for a target till they fall on the form of a urk yelling, Karathorn draws an arrow and waits for the command to fire.

Moving yet with the chaotic flow of the orc army, Zig seems to force his way slowly forward, moving toward the front of the Morian vanguard, shouldering his way between and around, moving up, mace still whipping the air.

From the South, Faye fingered her bow, running her hands over it's smooth wood. This, her second battle, found her more relaxed, knowing what was to come. She scanned the yrch, catching sight of her old target. Silently she nocked an arrow to the slender string of her weapon and awaited the order to fire. "<Sindarin> For Lorien," the courier murmured.

From the South, Erynbrant Erynbrant mingled with his fellows says nothing but trembles slightly at the force of orcs below him. His bow drawn and lithe finger upon his quiver, regains his confidnce and smoothly draws a arrow and sights a target, waiting for the order..

Pough's eyes glance about through the eye-slits in his metal helm, the plum tattoo across his lips swisted into an evil sneer...

Magog raises his off-hand even as the Shaman comes beside him, trudging along without making contact. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" The Gothshaka's nostrils flare and his boots continue to grind into the ground. As the first arrow breaches the false calm he bellows forth in the profane tongue of orcs, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" A snarl erupts onto Magog's twisted face and he adds, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"

A cloaked figure, separated from both yrch and elf, silently removes the great bow from its back and nocks an arrow to the string.

The smith of the Fighting Uruk-Hai walks on silently int he deathly black night, the chill wind tossing his cloak about as a plaything. His armor shines not in the night, the black rings of his mail seeming to suck up every gasp of light. Around him many of the orcs are visibly agitated by the scree of the eagle, for they have seen what eagles do to their prey. A skydive without solace is usually the death of one so unlucky. The Uruk-Hai's muscles tighten and relax in a seemingly endless rythm, his shield held loosely out in front, heavy but neccesary....his war hammer at the ready.

As a phantom drifting silently through the shadows, the Herald of Galadriel trails not far behind the Commander of the elves, his fell gaze sweeping across what is to be their battlefield intently. As the first arrow sings out into the night, a slow smile spreads across the features of the darkly clad edhel, and he draws forth his blade with a subtle whisper of steel and promised vengeance. Anseregurth, Long Bloody Death, shall earn its name this day.

Zoglaaz drives forward a wedge of a dozen or so lightly armoured Uruk archers; at the rearguard of the marching warriors. Between muttered curses under his breath at his lot, Zoglaaz barks orders and berates the sloppy bunch; who bear crudely-fashioned bows - either old and worn or hastily made.

Clink, clomp, crash! Orce feet pound th earth as the horde moves. Each ring of armour, each word shouted, every prayer to the FLAME; a sign of impending death, doom, destruction. Nothing is safe from the path of the Morian horde as the plod forward.

Huzghash hears the yelled order of his King, for he is none to far off. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"FLAME bless the King and the horde with him!"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>

From the South, Aglahad draws his own bow as the Commander does, motioning for the archers to do the same. "<Sindarin> Elbereth is with us, Galadhrim. Ready an arrow, and take careful aim. For the Wood." And so, the Veteran motions in the direction of the Enemy hordes. "<Sindarin> Fire!!!! Galadhrim! Fire!!!"

As soon as the first arrow whistles through the air, and fell cries of yrch shatter the night silence, Haldir shoulders his bow, and quickly straps a shield to his arm instead. "<Sindarin> Fire at will, everyone!" he shouts to archers.

From the South, One of the many knight-bachellors raises his longbow silently, staring off into the distance at the gathering forces of light and noise. Keeping an eye on a near by elder of the Order, he looks towards the back of the horde and picks a target. Sajara pulls the arrow back, and fires, letting the arrow do the rest.

From the South, Glynnis wraps herself tighter in her cloak, draws the hood over her head, and ... just vanishes. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a quick movement nearby, but when you look closer, there's nothing there.

From the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Z'macht, lightly wounding him.

M'giddo is unlucky enough to get hit by the first arrow, though it takes a while for him to register that it happened, for he is on the far side of the orcs from where the archer is. The latadurub is engaged in exhorting - well, encouraging - a group of orcs, yelling at them till his eyes bulge. Feeling the sting of the arrow on his leg, he looks down at the wound, suddenly silent.

From the South, Bringing her bow to bear upon a particularly ugly yrch from the enemy, Tarasiriel lets a cerulean-fletched shaft fly at the command to fire. "<Sindarin> Fly true," she whispers.

M'giddo examines the injuries on his own person.

A platoon of jailguards sweep out in one wing from the main-guard. In front of them goes the runtorc Bozblot. From the bulb of his head a wall of pale sheen grows... teeth.

Bozblot's scimitar tooth waggles in spiral above his head... the blade is dropped... the doomchior of the jailguard begins to purr in bulltoad timbre:
Needles and pins, Needles and pins
In his gums and his guts, elf-giblets he wins
Now the runt shrieks above them:
Your long lives are spent, your long backs are bent
In the host of The Flame, you've digged but a dent
The Flame is upon you! Now-lay down and die
In the pits of The Pit you'll wither and fry
In the pits of the pit, you'll lay down and die
Now the jailguard chants:
Needles, Pins, Needles, Pins Now all of them:
White in the night, the Jailor's bite.

Z'macht's heated visage boils into a contorted expression as he hears a Zzzzziip! Thud! "Elves!" he growls with baleful contempt, conjuring the bow on his back with practiced ease. Next comes a long black shaft, oil-feathered and dangerous. This, the Talashakh fits to his bow with a minute 'click'. The orc's nightseeing eyes, accustomed to low light and a life lived in the darkness of Khazad-Dum, search ahead, looked for a 'lightlovin' treehuggin' mean mistreatin'' elf to unload his bow into.

Tuoak's smile grows deeper and more vile as the King bellows out his orders. Now his crimson eyes track toward the depths of the darkness where a light shaft flies through the air, arching with grace toward the forces. He draws forth one of his throwing spears and for a moment lets his eyes close and his voice whisper to the weapon. Then suddenly they open and Tuoak calls out, "We will see! Hail the King and hail the flame!"

From the South, Glynnis suddenly appears from the shadows... you catch a glimpse of few spectral figures, probably her companions, but when you look closer, they're gone.

From the South, Mithryn says a prayer to Elbereth in the milliseconds it takes her to fire her arrow...

From the South, Peering with eyes of fire through the night, Galindrion pulls back the string of his bow and prepares to fire.

From the South, Faye says in Sindarin, "Hearing the order to fire, she quickly pulled the arrow back and fired, whispering one last quick prayer to Elbereth."

From the South, Karathorn places the arrow in his bow and finding the plumb tatooed orc that drawe his attention take aim and fires

From the South, Palan draws the string taut as he picks a target and allows his arrow to fly into the wind.

From the South, Faye launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits M'giddo, lightly wounding him.

Weapons Locker #9117 Naith #35

MGT #12326 Flagged Terrace #270

Border Talan #218 Lawn #376

Mar #63

From the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Huzghash, lightly wounding him.

From the South, Erynbrant looses the arrow carfuly aimed at Blak

From the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it quickly and securely. He aims at his target and draws the bow taut. He looses the arrow into the fray.

From the South, Tathren nods silently, raising her bow and drawing the string. Taking aim at Zig, she murmurs, "<Sindarin> Elbereth be with us all..." and launches the dart.

From the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Zoglaaz, lightly wounding him.

From the South, Palanhenelidh launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Unguis, mildly wounding him.

From the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Legirion turns his head as he scans the grouping ahead. Picking out a target, his bowstring creaks as he pulls the feathered end of his arrow back on the string, taking careful aim on C'zoth. Suddenly, on the urge to fire, he releases his grasp on the arrow's end, watching the slender line arch high into the night-darkened air and descend again with lethal speed.

From the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits C'zoth, moderately wounding him.

Not many paces from the Elven Commander, the lone Man takes an arrow from his quiver, and nocks it. And raising the bow then, he draws back the string -- for an ageless moment he stays thus, frozen save for his eyes.

And then, the bowstring slaps against his bracered forearm, and the arrow is sped silently on its way.

Celebdur launches an arrow...
Celebdur's bowshot hits Unguis, lightly wounding him.

As the first arrow falls and the King's orders are heard, many orcs rush forward looking to engage the hidden enemy. Amongst them, Blak is forced to join in the charge and finds himself running headlong towards the area where the arrows are coming from. Many uruks sprint alongside him, shouting blood-curdling war cries, or just iunitelligible screams. They are headless of the arrows falling amongst them, though many fall as a result.

From the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Blak, badly wounding him.

From the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Zig, badly wounding him.

And as the first shot is launched, Glindorel follows suit, aiming carefully toward the first orc unluckily caught in his sights. "Elbereth, bless us this night," he murmurs, arm drawn taut, bow held steady despite the pressure.
A calming intake of air does he give, and on the exhale releases his volley into the horde that approaches.

Tuoak brings forth Slayer, The Goblin Defender. Its bladed tip gleams as it reflects the bloody light.

Unguis is not surprised by the arrows as they fall into the orcish host, some strikeing home with a squeal from their prey, others leaving nothing but broken shafts in the earth. Immediately, the Captains of the Uruk-Hai prepare the host for action, sending groups this way and that.
The smith follows the Bear clan towards where the elven archers may be from, but before he gets to far, two arrows strike the smith, one a glancing blow on his side, the other a shot to his shield arm. Nothing major, but perhaps an annoyance.

Glindorel launches an arrow...
Glindorel's bowshot hits Bozblot, lightly wounding him.

The one called Pough charges on with the rest, disolving into the frey.

The band of hunters keeps up it's relentless pace. They are coming up from the back swiftly, passing the slower uruks that carry the tents. They stay off to the side of the main group as they go. The hunters stride is even as they go until the arrows hit. One hunter falls immediately, an arrow stuck in his throat. As he falls Mugruk snarls and pulls out his war hammer as he runs in teh general direction of the elves.

M'giddo looks up after a moment of observing the results of the first arrow to strike him, and laughs. "Nothing but a scratch, boys! Now go get them elves!" Then a second arrow strikes him, lodging in his upper left arm. He spits curses, and gingerly pokes the arrow. Then, gritting his teeth, the latadurub tries to break off the tip of the arrow to be able to pull the rest of the shaft out harmlessly. Since he's doing this one handed out of necessity, though, it's not going to work very well... poor orc.

M'giddo carefully removes an arrow from himself...

As arrow falls upon the orc, many fall, and Blak receives a large wound as one arrow impacts upon his shoulder. It sticks fast there, and he gives out a yell of pain. Halting for a moment, he is almost pushed over by orcs behind him, many still alive and eager to make the elves pay for the damage done already. Blak himself regains his composure, and continues running forward, his shield held up, trying to block any further arrows coming to him.

It is mere seconds after the Banneret releases his arrow that he with draws the bow and slings it across his shoulder. He straps a wooden buckler shield fast to his arm, then draws a long sword from its sheath at his side, it shimmering in the moonlight.

Glindorel unstrings the great longbow in his hand, then straps it to its normal place across his back.

Glindorel straps a finely-wrought wooden shield about his arm.

Glindorel draws a shining blade from its sheath with a cold ringing sound.

Arrows rain down, striking the hide of the troll. Yet, they harm him not. None have pierced the massive brutes scaly pelt, indeed when they strike the scales, the arrows bounce off with the ting of metal on stone. The barrage infuriates the troll though, and it's restraint on it's passions is minimal at most. In fact, the beast suddenly rears back and lets out a roar of pure rage that blasts out upon the surrounding country. As soon as it's battle cry is sounded, the troll surges fowards torwards the source of his ire. The eagle for now is forgotten in lue of the obvious threat ahead. The troll lopes towards where the arrows originate, the orcs before him scrambling to get out of the raging brute's way.

Tuoak's face is then gone. Vanished into the depths of the orcish wave that rushes forward like a black breaker sweeping down on the fools that would build their castles of sand. Tuoak's spear waves in the air as his lips peel back from his gums and a shriek of rage pierces the night
Tuoak shouts, "Arrrhhhh! For the flame!"

Gleaming eyes narrow from within the depths of the cowl as the hooded figure takes aim... at the foul yrch. The arrow sings from the string with but a whispered refrain.

Arrows come down amongst the storming horde and yet it moves onward though Zig finds himself faultering as an arrow burries itself into his left shoulder. He continues to march hastily onward; breaking off the shaft of the arrow as blood slowly trickled from the wound; he then rips the arrow from his shoulder, bellowing an unintelligable cry.

"AAAAAAArghgleaiii!" Megiddo screams through clenched teeth as the arrow comes out of a hole that's now bigger than it made going in, blood streaming down his arm. The orc holds a rag over the double wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He's showing no signs of joining in on the charge, dealing with this injury instead.

Zig carefully removes an arrow from himself...

The runt springs! Humping over the loping hills his metallic mocassins blink beneath the moon. The jailguard is quick to sunder their lines and rise in virulent black-foam, ebbing ore the shores of the utmost left of the host.

One black lash flicks across the moon's curve, and speeds its way into the runtorc's shoulder. Bozblot hacks the shaft to splinters with his scimitar, but the jailguard reaches his position, and thunders past him on either side.

With his shield on his left arm, and the right arm on the hilt of the sword, Haldir again surveys the valley below as if fills with screams, clashes of armor, and the rain of grey feathered arrows above it all. "<Sindarin> They are coming", he glances at the black figures below, crawling stains in the darkness.

From the South, Aglahad watches the flight of the arrows only for an instant, and then barks out more commands to the stand of archers. "<Sindarin> Again! We must support those in the field! Elbereth! Lorien, for the Wood!!! Fire, valiant warriors, fire!"

"Onward, snagas!" Zoglaaz snarls to the small band he commands. "Close 'nuff that your puny bows can reach the treefaeries! On or die!" His reply comes from above, as the long, sizzling shaft of an Elven arrow bears silently on him, its report only the *chink* as it pierces his armour. As he siezes the shaft, and rips it from his flesh and the broken rings of his mail. *Arrgrhh!* he groans gutterally, his ire blisteringly raised. "On on on!!" he barks at his charges,

Zip! ZIP! Thud! An arrow slices across the Senior Guard, removing some skin and allowing a trickle of blood to flow down his arms. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" Huzghash's pace quickens along with that of the horde, taking him off towards the direction of these blasted arrows. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" Legs beginning to pump with more ferocity, Huzghash bangs his spear arm against his shield. CLANG! Numerous Guards fall in behind the Senior, while some still stay their path looking ahead for their melee targets. Huzghash glances over his shoulder quickly, the Guards march to war again; for Moria, for the King, For the FLAME.

Glynnis launches an arrow...
Glynnis's bowshot hits Huzghash, badly wounding him.

From the South, Before the arrow can even hit, another is nocked and ready to be fired off. Sajara's eyes remain on the same orch that takes his arrow and he decides to stay with it, trying to down that orch if he doesn't do anything else. Again, his arrow sails through the air, seeking it's target.

From the South, Legirion reaches back to pull another arrow from the quiver at his back. Eyes still on his previous target, which he had been blessed to hit moderately well, he draws the feathered end of his arrow back on the bowstring aiming once again on C'zoth. With a distant twang, the arrow is loosed to arch with haste through the air and descends upon the Morian host.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it quickly and securely. He aims at his Uruk-Hai target and draws the bow, loosing the arrow as quick as it's drawn.

From the South, Her expression grim in the darkness, Tathren nocks another arrow, draws and releases on command, aiming once more for Zig.

From the South, Mithryn has another arrow nocked before her first one hits her target. At the command, she lets this one fly too.

From the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Z'macht, mildly wounding him.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, A smile quicky appears upon Tarasiriel's crimson lips as she sees her arrow strike her intended target. Whispering her thanks to Elbereth, she draws another cerulean-fletched arrow from her quiver and nocks it to her bow in a single, graceful motion and draws back on the bowstring. At the signal to fire, she lets fly. "<Sindarin> Fly true," she whispers.

From the South, Faye noticed blood on her wrist and wondered for a wild split second if she'd been attacked. Coming to her senses, she realized that the slap of the bowstring from her last shot had cut her arm. Deciding that that had been the reason behind the poor aim of her first shot, she adjusted her grip on her bow and the guard she wore at her wrist before nocking another slender, razor-straight arrow to her bow. Taking careful aim, she drew back and fired once more.

From the South, Palan sees his arrow hit its mark, and draws another arrow, quickly loading it and firing it again, screaming towards his target to the north.

From the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits C'zoth, badly wounding him.

From the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Looking North, Varya spots a target, Chukk. Varya strings an arrow, and sights down the shaft, aiming at Chukk; Varya let's go of the string and lets the arrow fly toward the target.

From the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Burzdug, moderately wounding him.

From the South, Faye launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Bozblot, moderately wounding him.

From the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

C'zoth grimaces as a long silvery shaft flies true into his leg, and sinks nearly to the bone. He curses the Light-lovers loudly and foully, then, with obvious effort, he snaps off the feathered shaft, but the head is still lodged in his leg. Rising again, he bellows out in the language of the uruk the morian battle cry, "<uruk>For the Flame!" With that he joins the Morian charge at the elves, along with the rest of the guards.

From the South, Palanhenelidh launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Erynbrant qucikly draws a white feathered arrow from the neetly adorned quiver on his hip. Knocks it, drawing the longbows string back to the edge of his eye. He sighs heavly releasing all the air from his being, so he can better take aim at Blak, and after the space of a heatbeat lets the smooth string slide from his fingers letting the arrow soar.

From the South, Pulling another arrow from the quiver and fitting it to the string in movements faster than eyes can see, Galindrion breathes deeply. Feeling the wind about him he adjusts his aim and fires into the horde.

From the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Looking North, Varya spots a target, Mugruk. Varya strings an arrow, and sights down the shaft, aiming at Chukk; Varya let's go of the string and lets the arrow fly toward the target.

From the South, As his first arrow find it target Karathorn smiles and take aim again this time at an orc with a spear. He pulls his arrow back and allowing for ther march and let it fly

From the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Zoglaaz wields Black Bow.

Celebdur lowers his longbow and returns his arrow to its quiver.
Celebdur draws on a pair of leather gauntlets.
Celebdur wields Longsword.

Roaring aloud, the large uruk raises his axe as he charges on. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>" Sweat already trickels down his back, saturating his thick dreadlocks, his thick tattooed legs pushing him forward.

The cowled figure smiles grimly as she sees her arrow fly true, and lays aside the great longbow called Tanglin upon seeing the result the loosed arrows have achieved; angry orcs, storming the ambush. She stands, deliberately revealing her position, a dim light from the depths of her cowl glinting off Maeglin as she draws it ringing from its home.

Through the ZIPS and ZINGs of arrows taking flight, another sound comes. Full of bass, and powerful gusts of wind. Orcs turn their head to se a frightening picture, the Great Eagle, once still, now rises off its perch. His sharp talons hand down until he gains height enough where he draws them in. After his figure is again mixed with dark clouds, there is a pause. Nothing more is seen from him. Until....'SCREEE!' The battle cry of an Eagle, ear shattering in its least. The clouds part in his passing, the bird drops, talons first towards the Orcish hordes. His target, the largest creature there; the Troll. The angled wings of the bird, create a gust of wind powerfull enough to blow over many an Orc, and it does, Uruk bodies take to falling and sliding a few feet, as Rhofalneths piercing claws heard for the Ologs shoulders.

Rhofalneth attacks Jhrog with his Eagle Claws and mildly wounds him!

Glynnis wields Longbow.

Looking down the straight and black shaft of his orcish arrow, Z'macht's eyes narrow in concentration, seeking a target. "I suppose I'll have to wait for the fools to show themselves," he says, wrenching back the gut string of his weapon.

Whack! An arrow drives itself into the Talashakh's thigh. He yells into the night and aims in the direction the arrow came from. "Uruks - charge!!!!!! Archers - Fire!!!"

The jailguard sweeps up the runt in their torrent, black lashes of arrow shafts screaming thick into their ranks. Bozblot lopes low between the plethora of pistoning orclegs. A second arrow sinks into his shoulder...

And even before his dart strikes its target, the Man has nocked another one and sent it on its way. And pausing a moment to survey the oncoming host then, softly he murmurs in reply to the Commander; a calm appraisal, "<Sindarin> Indeed. They are swift."

And then, he sets the bow aside and draws his blade with a whisper of steel and a thread of light. Thus he awaits the clash.

Glynnis unwields Longbow.
Glynnis unsheaths the long sword at his side, holding it at a ready position once the blade passes the scabbard.

Z'macht launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!

The air fills with the thunder of orcish screaming and the clashing of steel. Like a swarm of ants they bury the land under them as they rush toward the elves with weapons raised. Hard to make out faces among the foul ones as they burst over the land and come toward the fair ones like one. As if one hammer that sweeps toward the elves...And through the air comes arrows and spears..darkening the sky and blotting out the stars.

Mauhur wields Longbow.

Bozblot says in Uruk, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

The hunter charges at the ranks of the elven lines. His hammer bounces excitedly in his hand as he goes. Arrows rain down around him but none find their mark as he darts towards the elves. Now there is one before him, one with a sword. What luck for the hunter as he raises the hammer and tries to smash the point down through the elf's head.

Mugruk attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer, but Glindorel parries the attack with his Longsword!

The cursed light-lovers shaft connects with C'zoth's left arm, and he stumbles as the Arrowhead connects with bone, but with a roar, he hacks the shaft off with his scimitar and continues charging towards the direction of where the cursed arrows are coming from. "<uruk>For the flame! For Moria!!" he screams as arrows ZIP! and ZING! all about him, finding fellow uruks everywhere, many dropping to the ground, never to move again.

Having bellowed forth orders, Magog lurches into action. His thick hands grip down at his fierce axe and wrest it into position before his burly chest. "If you knock down an elf," the King counsels at the top of his lungs, "Stop and slit its throat. They will not be dragging off any wounded so close to our Halls!" Tightening his hands on his weapon, Magog commences a slow lurch towards the line of melee elves, oblivious of the hail of arrows about him. Every so often, the Gothshaka flicks his head aside to dodge an elven gnat.

Blak sees the elvish line approaching fast, already orcish warriors have charged up to the line and started fighting hand to hand. Blak though tries to move away from the main battle line, making his way around to the right flank, hoping to get past the melee fighters and amongst the vulnerable archers. He winces as he runs, the arrow obviously causing him pain as he runs, but it's better than those that have died from projectiles already.

Pough roars into the night as he charges on next to Bozblot. "Yes! We shall have something better than slop for dinner tomorrow!"

Tuoak suddenly drops low and lets the tide break about him. The small uruk seems to hesitate only a moment, his nose flapping at the air as the forces rush past him. Then suddenly he jumps atop a large rock that juts from the ground, his eyes staring over the forces set against them. And they fall on a target. Slayer is cocked in his arm, and then with a foul word it is thrown...

Finally, after climbing another slope, the Elven Commander halts his party on the ridge. There they are, the hated enemies, on the slope below. Without a sound, he points forward and unshoulders his bow.'.

Unguis ignores the arrow sticking in his side, merely bothering to idely snap off one end of it before racing off towards the Raven archers to cover their flank. Some elves can faintly be seen, most are still hidden in the brush. The smith rushes not after the elves foolhardily, but decides it would be better to give the archers melee cover. Who knows what ruse the elves plan? He watches the archers knock arrows and take aim to fire, and then shifts his gaze to the eagle and the troll, and then to the terrain about them.

Bozblot carefully removes an arrow from himself...

Pale blue glow lits Haldir's fingers as soon as his arm begins to draw the sword from its scabbard. Fiercly, the blade sends streaks of light toward the blask spots crawling up the slope, but the elf just shakes his head, "<Sindarin> For once, I don't need *you* to warn me about their presence"

Zoglaaz and his band, now culled to thirteen, presses onwards, leaping and climbing over the fallen before them. "Now, here!" he shrieks, "Avenge Moria, let loose upon the fiends!" The group drop down for cover, and almost as one, let loose a hail of arrows.

Zoglaaz launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!

Zig moves onward, though his charge may have slowed only slightly, his mace waving crazily above his head and he once again moves to the front of the vanguard. The mace comes down to an attack position and then forward the orc rushes, eyes fixed upon Erinstar; "You will now die," he cries in the common tongue, no matter how foul it may be. His mace comes sweeping down at Erinstar's shoulder.

Zig attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but Erinstar parries the attack with his Longsword!

Tuoak throws a spear...
Tuoak's spear flies wide, doing no harm.
Tuoak removes Slayer.

Bozblot wields Scimitar.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor staggers as an arrow catches his breath from him and he sinks against the tree he rests in, painfully writhing his legs as he pulls the cursed shaft from his shoulder.

Tuoak draws Biter from a leather case lashed to his back.

Not the brightest of creatures, the foe the troll chose to abandon in favor of easier prey decides it is time to strike. But the troll is not entirely caught off guard. The roar of the wind broadcasts the eagles approach, and as orcish bodies fly past the turning troll, it's talons strike hard into it's shoulder. Yet, it's shoulder is not quite pierced through. The resulting wound is nothing more then a bloody scratch and a few missing scales. But this infuriates the troll to no end. Raising his free arm up, he attempts to bat away the seeking talons of the eagle while at the same time, he swings the club that was on his shoulder in an downward arc meant to knock the eagle to the ground.

Jhrog attacks Rhofalneth with his Club and badly wounds him!

And so it is that the orc Mugruk's hammer crashes toward Glindorel's head, but it is to no avail. The Banneret's blade is raised in time, and the clash of metal upon metal is loud as the two weapons meet. "<Sindarin> 'Tis a pretty thing, is it not?" he questions in the elvish tongue. "<Sindarin> Yet even more beautiful is my blade when cleaving the heads of your kin."
He quickly pushes off from his foe, then returns the favor with a downward sweeping blow meant to disembowel Mugruk.

Glindorel attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

Huzghash shouts in Uruk, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"GRRRAAAAAR!"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"For their archers! Guards! For the archers!"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING>"

Silver light flares in Erinstar's eyes as the first of the charging horde comes to bear, his gleaming blade rising sharply to meet them. In simple, though heavily accented common, the noble elf replies, "Not by your hand." The ring of steel is heard to punctuate his words, as he easily swats his opponent's weapon aside, and makes to stab for the Uruk's now-exposed arm.

Erinstar attacks Zig with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

Burzdug jogs along in the throng of guards behind Huzghash, a scimitar brandished high over head. He has called to himself a small troop of some half-dozen uruk who jog behind him in a ragged wedge. The whiteskin archers are their target and they follow Huzghash without question.

His blade sweeping out like a glitter of stars, Morandil strides forward to meet the onrushing foe. "<Sindarin> Stand fast, cousins," he calls to the other Firstborn; his fair elven voice sounds strange in the din and fury of battle. "<Sindarin> They seek death, and they shall find it!"

The jailguard descends, the black wall of its high wave swoops up doombreeze in its hard, wide lean. Vile, trenchant black-foam, the crest of Bozblot's platoon runs up to the elf-sand shores of archers in hedonistic ardor.

Morandil draws forth the ancient elvenblade Hirilmacil with a deadly sigh of steel.

From the South, Aglahad motions again, scowling as the enemy fire now is returned. Arrows whizz by the Veteran, but he pays no heed. Not at all. Behind the rows of archers he prowls, his voice magnified seemingly. It might just be the heat of the moment. "<Sindarin> Fire now!!! Galadhrim! Do not let Evil prevail! Aid our comrades!! FIRE!!! For the Wood!!!"

Glynnis stands, deliberately revealing her position, hand removing the hood from her head as she calls out in a clear ringing voice, "<Sindarin> I, Glinineilesteleste, of House Cultasare, do swear to serve the Lady Galadriel and the Golden Wood, through fire or flood, attack or seige, against treacherous friend and dark enemy, until I depart this place for the Halls of Mandos or the Undying Lands. My word is my bond, my word is my life. So have I spoken, so let it be. By my honor, my Lady and the Two Trees!" She raises her sword as she speaks, light from the gems now glowing brightly upon her brow flashing up the blade.

From the South, A smile quicky appears upon Tarasiriel's crimson lips as she sees her arrow strike her intended target. She quickly draws another arrow from her quiver and nocks it to her bow in a single, fluid motion and draws back on the bowstring. At the signal to fire, she lets the cerulean-fletched shaft fly.

From the South, Varya watches his arrow fly wide. Varya watches at Mugruk engages in melee with his target, he decides not to take the chance, and aims at Lauhul, sighting down the shaft at his heart.

From the South, Once more his arrow sticks into the orch for a moment, but it seems that this one is persistant, luckily for Sajara, so is he. Another nocked arrow, another pull back, another arrow sailing through the wind to its target. It all seems to be normal for this elf. As soon as his arrow leaves, one quickly inbeds itself in his abdomen. He falls backwards slightly and sighs, ripping the shaft of the arrow so that it remains in him but doesn't hinder his fighting. The knight-bachellor quickly remembers his training and scrambles to his feet.

C'zoth's eyes blaze with fury and hatredat the elves as he follows close behind the Senior guard despite his wounded leg. Twirling his Scimitar over his head, he then lowers it and points it at the archers. "<uruk>For the Flame!" he screams, anger and hatred in his harsh cry.

From the South, Faye let a wry grin decorate her face as she saw her shaft fly true. The courier's eyes shone with the strange light of battle, something she could not have imagined a few months before. But the season had changed, and she had changed with it. She was no longer the elf she was before. Smiling at that thought, she let loose another arrow.

From the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Karathorn watchs his target jump upon a rock and throw his spear and he chuckles, "<Sindarin> What a fool and go ahead and make your self an easy target." He reaches back and takes another arrow from his quiver notches it and brings his bow to aim and pulling back on his bowstring lets the arrow fly.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it quickly and securely. He aims at the cursed Uruk-Hai who wounded him with the fell arrow and draws Morwinyon taut, loosing the arrow quickly.

From the South, Palan draws back the string containing yet another arrow, but it is for a new target. Hoping to take out some of the orch archers, he turns to see where an arrow flew from and fires.

From the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Z'macht, mildly wounding him.

From the South, Faye launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Glindorel, badly wounding him.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Zoglaaz, mildly wounding him.

Perhaps unnoticed by those now in pitched fray, from the west appear what seem to be reinforcement for the orcs. They are two-score and with great bows seemingly to large for orcs, but indeed, these are not common orcs, these are Uruk-Hai.
A moment they pause ere engaging, their Captain's eyes flickering over the scene to survey it, and ultimately to the south his eyes turn, for here is where the strong bows of the Fighting Uruk-Hai may be turned with greatest effect now. So they stay to the west of the closely joined battle, and their bows sing out as well, for they may let loose shaft at greater distance than the shorter bows of their Morian allies. Bows creak and unflex, black shafts arc high, following the Morian arrows, but from a different angle, from the northwest...

From the South, Palanhenelidh launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Zoglaaz, mildly wounding him.

From the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Tuoak, lightly wounding him.

From the South, Taking aim now for Bozblot, Tathren draws her bow and lets fly.

With his mace turned away by elven blade, Zig twists his face in anger and pain as his left arm swings in his attack. As the elf retaliates, he turns to the side and pulls back his arm, dodging the blade. Zig's mace is soon to follow, coming for the sword wielding arm of Erinstar.

From the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Zig attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.

Horvak moves through the rear of the Morian line. He roars his support, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" The troll swings his axe around his head encouraging the orcs to fight on...or face him.

From the South, Erynbrant curses the wiasted arrows, and resolves to make then ring true in Blak. Knocking another arrow he fires at his target now rushing in from the left

From the South, Tensing now, she nocks another arrow. A quick glance to her side allows her to locate Sajara when he is hit. With a tightened jaw she pushes aside any worry for him and seeks to hit her target again, once she re-locates him. A grimace shows her irritation that her distraction made her lose sight of her opponent.

From the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Nocking another arrow in a swift motion, Galindrion peers through the darkness seeking a target under the Uruk's lights. He pulls the string back, breathes, and fires.

From the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Huzghash, badly wounding him.

From the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Blak, lightly wounding him.

From the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Legirion lifts a hand to reach for another arrow in the quiver at his back, sapphire eyes glittering with a determined light. Again, an arrow is nocked, drawn, and fired in one smooth motion, sending that sharp arrow descending upon C'zoth.

From the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits C'zoth, badly wounding him.

The hunter must be off for the arrow distract him as he goes for the elf. It leaves his open for the elf's attack. Mugruk's chainmail holds together keeping him from dying as the sword cuts him. "Not bad, but it won't save you." The uruk swings his war hammer in a wide arc at the elf's hip.

Mugruk attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and lightly wounds him!

Tuoak hisses in pain as his position atop the rock gives him away. A arrow cuts through the night and digs into his shoulder, cutting through his mail and bringing forth a stream of blood. Yet now his second spear is drawn. The second of three weapons handed down through the halls of Moria and at last coming to the hands of this warrior Shaman. Again his eyes press closed and he turns and hurls the spear toward the elf that stung him. And from his hip comes the third weapon. Smiter the axe..

Mauhur launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Mauhur's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Tuoak throws a spear through the exit heading South...
From the South, Zoiks! A spear comes hurtling in!
Tuoak removes Biter.

Blak finds himself among the group of guards charging the archers, and as another volley of arrows flies through the air towards them, orcs fall down, many dead. One arrow grazes off Blak's helmet, it's a good thing it was there, and that he has a thick head. Still, the uruks continues to charge forward, approaching the ground where the elvish archers are firing.

Haveing struck his target, the Great eagle spreads his wings to push off, however, the trolls club swing is brought up in time to strike the Great Bird in the chest! A spray of feathers hits the air as Rhofalneth is batted away. A mangled scree emited from his beak. Stunned for a moment, the only reaction the Eagle has, is to kick out with his powerfull talons. Also, does he attempt to take lift with his wings. The Wind of Manwe picking up, in attempts to fill the Northerners wings.

Rhofalneth attacks Jhrog with his Eagle Claws and mildly wounds him!

Seeing the elven skirmishers near at hand, Unguis rushes towards them with a small group of other Uruk-Hai near him. Fell is his warcry piercing the night, fell is the red-gemed war hammer at it calls for pale-skin blood. Sheild is raised out in fornt of him, to ward against arrows, and eyes scan for a target. Then, he notices a crying elf with drawn blade, and rushes forward to meet the foe, war hammer raised easily above right shoulder, ready to cruch bone, shield a rempart of defense

As C'zoth roars his allegiance to the flame, a sudden sharp sears his hip, and he looks down, to see a sharp shaft protruding from it. He snaps the shaft off with his bare hand, then continues forward again, slower now due too his wounded hip.

Seeing battle erupt before his eyes, Z'macht even seems to feel the ground shake. Before him, Ologs rush forward, the orcs of Moria charge, and the great Talashakh ob Khazad-Dum loosens his feared axe! "Skai!" the Talashakh sneers, fitting another arrow to his horried bow. "Follow orders! Follow orders unless you enjoy sitting on a pike outside my quarters!" Zip! Zoom! Zap! Z'macht sees orcs around him him fall, elven arrows sprouting from their torn flesh like saplings of Lorien from the fertile earth. One unfortunate uruk, to the cheiftain's left, crumbles to his knees squealing: an arrow protruding from his eye. Z'macht smiles wickedly as an arrow thuds into his armor, barely noticable. He crrreeeeeaks back his catgut string and gives more orders: "Archers: Let loose the fury of the Demon!!!!!"

As the first wave of the yrch crashes upon the Elven line, Haldir leaps into action. "<Sindarin> Hold the line", shouts he to the warriors at his side, and charges to meet the oncoming rush of black figures. The blue glow blurs in a streak of pale light, so swift is his charge, and before the eye can blink he stands on front of a foe, the first one to climb the slope. Like a lightning bolt from his hand, strikes the ancient sword.

Zoglaaz drags up the remnants of the band he was charged with, shoving them toward a muddy pitch where greater, though inadequate cover is afforded. "Another round, then you be on yer own, maggots!" he shouts, leaning upon his shield.

Tuoak pulls a wicked goblin-axe free from his belt, light glinting off of vulgar uruk runes etched in the steel.

You attack Jhrog with your Longsword...
Your attack against Jhrog mildly wounds him!

Zoglaaz launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Z'macht launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!
Z'macht's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

ZIp! Thud! Another arrow crashes into the form of the Senior Guard, a deeper gash exposing scross his thigh. Black blood now flowing freely from his few wounds, Huzghash plods forward; unheeding of the pain. A Guard falls to the ground next to him, arrow sticking out of his forhead, blood gushing down around it. Yet, the Senior Guard charges on, getting closer and closer to those elven archers.

For his part, the Man does not spring forth to meet the enemy. There are brave gestures from him; no ringing words. Blade in hand, he awaits the foe in silence, standing in the line -- indeed, many near him already trade blows with the orcs.

And glancing aside for a fleeting moment then, he calls mildly to Glynnis, "<Sindarin> You would perhaps serve your Lady better if you did not make yourself a prize for every creature here."

Zoglaaz calls for one more volley, now abandoning the Uruk archers but with one more exchange...

It is not the hammer of Mugruk which hurts the Banneret of Lorien, nay. It is the arrow which flies in from the south. Its edge cuts through his mail coat and into his left shoulder, leaving a large gash which inadvertently causes him to lurch forward and into Mugruk's blow. He grits his teeth at the pain and stumbles back a pace, though he quickly steadies himself and offers a jabbing blow to the orc's midsection again.

Zoglaaz launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!

Catching site of one he has seen before, Pough makes his way through the horde, finding himself next to Zig the large Uruk attacks at the nearby helf, grasping his axe with both hands. As he swings it is in a downward motion, aimed at Legirions chest, a loud shout accompanying the attack.

Glindorel attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Zoglaaz unwields Black Bow.

Burzdug hunkers low as he runs with the Horde's Guard, raising a chant. "<Uruk>Flame above! Flame Below! Flame to the Left! Flame to the Right! Run Lightlover, Run!"

Zoglaaz puts on Metal Shield.

Among the gibbering horde of yrch, one in particular catches Morandil's keen eye; a cruel-looking fighter with a hammer. And so the Knight-Warden steps forward to meet his foe, effortlessly bringing his blade around in a flash of cold silver aimed straight at the creature's heart...

Morandil attacks Unguis with his Longsword and badly wounds him!

From the west, the Uruk-Hai Captain Mauhur engages the elves with bow now, yet they are not the only of this fell folk. Having drawn up behind the larger host of the Morians, the heavily armored Fighting Uruk-Hai sweep around now to flank the elven forces, their short, heavy blades driven by powerful arms and cunning skill..they seek death for the enemy and a glut of slaughter for their steel..

Z'macht growls and fetches another arrow from his quiver. Looking down, he notices an elven shaft painfully lodged in his thigh. He grimaces and tries to break off the shaft.

Though Magog does not exert himself tremendously, he is soon well amidst his horde, his eyes shifting targets with the regularity of elven arrowfire. Soon, the Orc-King's run has placed him behind the first wave of attackers, which seeks to simply overwhelm the line and continue onwards to the archers. Halting behind the cover of a rotting tree, Magog grins malevolently at the elves foolish enough to engage in hand-to-hand combat, searching for weaknesses - places where his axe could cleave a decisive rent in the defensive line. Removing a hand from his axe momentarily, the Gothshaka pushes the remnants of the tree beside him down onto the ground, the decaying trunk tearing at the base. Magog moves closer to the fray, ready to reinforce any who might challenge the first wave of attackers.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor staggers and falls, catching himself with one arm and clutching his bow in the other. He hangs for a moment, then drops into a branch lower than the one he chose for combat. With a quick hand he pulls forth from his thigh a shaft of black, with snarled teeth that damage him even more upon pulling it out. He seems to nod, falling silently against the tree. After a moment, he draws himself to a sitting position, willing himself to fire again.

His attack missing by a long shot, Pough quickly turns and continues the charge, pulling back next to Bozblot.

Mugruk chuckles slightly as the elf is struck by one of his fellow's arrows and the hunter's hammer. In a slightly foolhard move the hunter charges in as the elf attacks, allowing the elf's blade to cut him slightly on the side of the belly. As the elf's blade slices meat the orc's hammer is brought down with all his strength at the elf's head.

Mugruk attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!

The runt's jailguard splays its ranks out in all angles, racing to the south. The jailors' helms gleam not with ornate feathers and fuzz, but with plumes of uric-umbrage sweat.

Bozblot lets the hovell of elven footmen pan into his periphery, speeding with the guards to the hive of arrow-fire.

Z'macht carefully removes an arrow from himself...

The troll runs along the back of the Morian lines. He rallies the warriors to a greater degree of frenzy as he roars "Moria! Moria! Moria!"

Tuoak crouches atop the rock, his axe glittering in his hands. Foul points of light glance about the battefield as the Shaman chooses his target. Yet his voice can be weapon enough. A obscene shout rips free from his chest, as cruel and bitter as any poisoned barb, "Ho ho my lads! You'll never see your children again! You'll never see your fadder again! But we won't just kill you. Oh no. We'll make you beg to serve the flame! And you will serve it! You'll end up killing your babies for us! Just so we will stop with our lashes! Ho ho!"

With little regard for any other threat, the troll is focused entirely on his original prey. So intent is the troll upon warding off the talons of this big bird, that when the bird strikes him again, even harder and drawing yet another nasty gash, the troll does not notice the elf that sneaks in close. He takes notice though when the elf's blade strikes his flesh, twisting his torso about with a fearsome howl, his club flying about in the same motion towards the elf.

Jhrog attacks you with his Club!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

From the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it as quickly and securely as he can, through the pain in his leg and shoulder. He aims at the cursed Uruk-Hai and draws Morwinyon taut, loosing the arrow quickly, albeit unsteadily.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Zoglaaz, moderately wounding him.

Erinstar dances back from the swing intended to maim him, a wicked smile dancing across his lips as he calls out once more in his own dialect of Westron, "Mayhap a chill you shall bring me, swing you any harder?" With that, he ducks forward once more, lashing out at the lower left leg of the Orc who stands before him.

Erinstar attacks Zig with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!

Unguis is to arrogant in his rush, his rage tacking the better of his senses. He has not the time to avoid the longsword, only to slightly deflect it with his shield, the blade stings badly as it drinks of orcish ichor. The smith's torso now wears a nasyt gash in the left side, opening an older would from an earlier battle with this same elf, although the smith notices not. Howling in rage Unguis dodges a little to the right of Morandil, shield warding against the longsword, attempting to rend the thing useless. THe blunt spike of the war hammer crashes down from top right, aimed to smash the elf's left shoulder to splinters.

Unguis attacks Morandil with his War Hammer, but Morandil parries the attack with his shield!

From the South, Ducking low for cover, Talon makes his way quickly and deftly to a place behind a pile of rocks, where Palanhenelidh lies. Moving swiftly and expertly, he begins to assess the elf's wounds.

From the South, Talon examines the injuries on Palanhenelidh.
From the South, Talon carefully removes an arrow from Palanhenelidh...

Keeping their distance from the mele with subtle shifts of their position, the Uruk-Hai with Mauhur line up and loose their shafts with fluid order. Not straight lines are these forty, but staggered, each able to shoot without great fear of hitting their fellows. Unobstructed is their view southward, for they are not entangled by the mele, nor behind it, and once more at a roared order from Mauhur, the long bows bend and like a small thicket their miniature spears fly through the air in a widening cluster as wind plays at the fletching. Apex is reached, and down they fly, whistling through the night, hoping to find elven flesh and in the dark pierce it bitterly.

From the South, Sajara examines the injuries on his own person.

Once again finding his mace's attack to no avail, Irt tries to avoid Erinstar's oncoming strike, twisting his upper body, but alas, the attack comes to his legs and he is struck. Blood begins to trickle from the fresh cut upon his left leg. Weight shifted to the right leg, Zig lashes out with his mace at Erinstar's midsection.

Zig attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but Erinstar parries the attack with his shield!

Mugruk's attack must have been too violent to be held in pace, for it does not do the damage the orc intended. The hammer that glances off the tip of Glindorel's metal helm simply causes him to shake his head slightly, and inadvertehtly brings him into closer quarters. As the two are forced closer to each other, he attempts to stab his sword into Mugruk's gullet and end this fight quickly.

Glindorel attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!

As his blade strikes home, Morandil's eyes widen; this orch is known to him! The foul creature gives the elf-knight little time for reflection though, and only instinct permits Morandil to parry the hammer strike of Unguis. He spins away, letting his enemy's momentum work against him, and aims a second slash at the creature...

Morandil attacks Unguis with his Longsword and severely wounds him!

Spotting another hammerer, Pough makes his way toward him, forgetting his companions for now. He now finds himself next to Zig, swinging his axe with both hands at the one called Erinstar. His keen red eyes seeming to flare ever briter through his the eye-slits in his elm. His feet planted fermly apart, Poughs axe roars towards Erinstar.

From the South, A squire enters the area with his bow ready and a stern face on. He has faced the yrch force before, and didn't fare well then. He is Hoping that his arrows will be more true this time. He approaces the leader of the archers bow ready.

As if hoisting a single splinter of shimmering mountain lake, Bozblot turns his scimitar-wrist in mellifluos puppetry. The runt orc spins, and runs up beneath the elf known as Morandil's own swordgleam.

Bozblot hacks at the elf's thigh-meat.

Bozblot attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.

Then Tuoak is moving. The orc warrior's legs carry him from the rock and then allow himself to be swept up in the tide of rushing orcs. All around him bodies fall, and he jumps and leaps over the fallen before him. Until at last the way breaks before him and the fair light of Erinstar glows before him. Yet his axe will have none of it. Smiter slashes through the underdark and hisses toward the elf's neck..

Pough returns from beyond Middle-earth.

Pough attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but he misses by a long shot.

Tuoak attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but he misses by a handspan.

From the South, Palan holds another arrow, ready for the command. He drops it though as an arrow pierces his chest. The arrow holds fast, and Palan dares not touch it, remembering the last attempt of such a thing. Instead, he calls to a healer. An aid immediately rushes over and removes the arrow, but blood is still coming out. Palan decides to get it looked at and makes for the nearest healing area.

Magog spots one of the famed Uruk-hai, one of the mighty greater orcs of Isengard receiving a thrashing out of the corner of his eye. Spitting forth a thick blob of phlegm, Magog slowly moves up behind Unguis, his gaze firmly affixed on Morandil, "Go charge the archers," the Gothshaka calls at the Southern orc in a tongue all can hear nearby, "This is real work for real fighters. Go do something useful." Magog's axe swings into place and he readies to dance with the nearest elf.

"Gahhh!" The Hunter lets out a howl of pain as the elf's sword bites his flesh. This time his leg is deeply wounded and black blood starts to flow out. If he were an whimpy elf he would be done now but he is not, he is an Orc of the worst kind. In these close quarters the orc tries to smash the elf's face in with his hammer.

Mugruk attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer, but he misses by an arm's length.

The Senior Guard glares out ahead, eyes sifting throught the deluge of melee combat that still lies before him. Turning swiftly, Huzghash signals for a few of his Guards to follow him as he heads off towards an elf, an elf he has seen twice before: Erinstar. Barreling forward HUzghash dodges aside an elf and the reaches the melee with Erinstar. Many an orc already surrounding the beleagured elf, Huzghash spots himself an opening anddives forward, spear leading the way in his attack at the elf's mid-section.

Now haveing enough time to stand, the Great Eagle lifts his wings, the strong sweet breeze filling his feathers quickly as he hops off the earth. He lets loose another scree on his upwards passage. Again he touches the dark cloudline, dissapearing from view. His hoofing wings beat the winds, churning the clouds and makeing for a frighting overview. Then he drops, eyes filled with fiery pasion, claws already stained with trollish blood. This time, instead of falling straight down, Rhofalneth falls short, the andgles his wings to more of a swooping attack on the stone beast. His pierceing talons ready to touch troll back. The great wind sends those Orcs fighting near sprawling, and a few elves as well. The Northern Bird has one goal, the hunt.

Huzghash attacks Erinstar with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

Rhofalneth attacks Jhrog with his Eagle Claws, but he misses by a mile.

Rhofalneth opens his beak and lets out a shrill scree that echos in every direction.

A shrill scree echoes from above.

C'zoth roars, following the lead of Bozblot on his attack of Morandil. He charges forward; scimitar held in front of him, he then twirls it over his head and attempts to slice Morandil's midsection. "<uruk>For the flame!" he screams.

C'zoth attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.

The return attack comes quicker than the Commander expected, and the strong swipe of the club knocks him off his feet. He rolls over his shoulder and quickly gets up on one knee, and, even before fully raising on his feet, with a quick flick of his arm he sends the sword in an arc to slice across the olog's fingers gripping the club, before the beast subdues its inertia.

You attack Jhrog with your Longsword...
Jhrog parries your attack with his Club!

Burzdug breaks off from his wedge of guards as he sees the runt jailor head toward an enemy. "Save the tender bits for me, Bozblot!" he shouts as he breaks off and heads into the melee. Perhaps fate or even the Flame have control of him as his motion takes him directly at Glindorel.

Following after the guards, towards the hottest part of the battle, Blak looks for someone to smite with his heavy mace. Pushing past orc and elf, he spies a elf already under attack form many uruks. Eager to attack where the numbers are on his side, Blak runs forward and lets his mace down in a smashing arc towards Morandil's head.

Glynnis moves lightly down the hill, sword flashing and cloak billowing behind as she makes a beeline for one of the more entrapped of her comrades. She grits he teeth and swings silently, aiming to take the beast's foul head off.

Blak attacks Morandil with his Mace, but Morandil parries the attack with his shield!

Again, Unguis is not quick enough to avoid the blade of the longsword, and the Hammer Cult smith recieves another griveous wound to his shield arm. The Uruk-Hai is clearly outmatched, and he notices not the Morian attacking the elf he is embattled with. The Smith decides that discretion it the better part of valor, and he decides to go after other prey. He leaves the hated pale-skin to fend off the Morians, and with one last howl of rage the Uruk-Hai limps off to the other side of the fight.

The mountainous form of the king envelopes tiny Bozblot in shadow. The runt quickly darts beneath his ruler's legspan, and renews with ferver the hunt of the archers.

"Not that one, hoof it to the needle-nest with me!" comes the Jailor's shriek to Burzdug, peircing through the battle's deafening din.

From the South, Aglahad angrily scowls at those leaving; he is never one to retreat unless dragged from the field. Again he motions for a volley. "<Sindarin> Fire, Galadhrim!!! Fire, fire!!! Elbereth!! We must prevail!!!"

From the South, Yet unscathed, Tathren nocks yet another arrow, her aim steady as she awaits the order to fire. Drawing her bow, she holds her breath... and looses the arrow into the fray.

From the South, Watching as his arrow fly wide, Varya prepares another arrow in one smooth fluid motion. Varya's green eyes pierce the darkness, searching for a target, he spots C'zoth, aims at his heart, and let's his arrow fly. Hoping and praying that it hits.

From the South, This elf isn't like most elves. He is getting to be an elder and has learned the sound of an arrow flying through the air. This time, as an arrow heads for his shoulders, he is lucky enough to see the arrow too and get out of the way. Taking another arrow from his quiver, he stays level headed, nocks it, sights his target, and loosens the string. Woosh goes the arrow, not exactly the same sound as the yrch's, but close enough.

From the South, Faye cringed as she watched her shaft hit another elf. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and nocked another arrow. Another breath, and she drew back and fired at a new target before fading into the distance, shooting no longer.

From the South, Seeing her arrow miss its intended target, Tarasiriel bites her lip in frustration as she nocks another cerulean-fletched arrow to her bow. "<Sindarin> Fly true," she whispers, and lets fly at her target, a particularly ugly yrch running towards the Knight-Banneret.

From the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits C'zoth, moderately wounding him.

From the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Z'macht, lightly wounding him.

From the South, Mithryn moves atop the rock, which may not be a particularly grand idea, but it does afford her a better view. She locates her target .. aha! .. exactly the one she was hoping for. She lets loose an arrow with a shout... "<Sindarin> Reviathenin!"

From the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Burzdug, badly wounding him.

From the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Glynnis attacks Magog with her Longsword, but Magog parries the attack with his Battle Axe!

From the South, Galindrion moves with purposed strides to the front of the archers. "<Sindarin> Elbereth bless my bow and take my mark!" he screams as he nocks an arrow and in one swift motion looses it.

From the South, Maegnas the elf next the Aglahad, nocks and releases an arrow at a random target

From the South, Earil-Nioldor draws another arrow, notching it as quickly and securely as he can, through the pain in his leg and shoulder. He aims at the cursed Uruk-Hai and draws Morwinyon taut, loosing the arrow quickly, albeit unsteadily.

From the South, Faye launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Zoglaaz, lightly wounding him.

From the South, Maegnas Takes his great longbow off his back and while placing it in his hands he draws a arrow from his quiver in one quick motion, notching the arrow upon the string

From the South, Maegnas launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits M'giddo, mildly wounding him.

From the South, Karathorn says in Sindarin, "//The spear of the cursed Yrch finds home in the thigh of Karathorn as he removes the spear, he says "That flith," as blood goes every where. Though he is ready by the next order of a volley and draw another and take aim at the Yrch that that commands there archers and lets fly."

From the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Mithryn takes Faye.

Mauhur launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!

A clash of metal, a glimmer of sparks, and the Man sends an orc reeling with his parry -- only for the creature to be swiftly slain by an elf. Thus, his blade unblooded yet, he turns; and his gaze chances a beleaguered elf. Running silently -- yet with haste -- he makes his way thither then.

Glindorel quickly moves his head out of the way of Mugruk's hammer, and then hops back to put distance between himself and his foe. His breathing comes in heavy pants now under the exertion of battle, and with a quick flashing out of his blade he swings it high across Mugruk's face, keeping his shield in front of him for good defense.

Glindorel attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!

From the South, Earil-Nioldor falls from the tree, limp body crashing into the forest floor below.

Horvak spits on the ground as he observes a lone troll battling not only an eagle but an elf. The troll knows what to do. Adjusting his girdle, he begins to lope his way forward toward his fellow troll. He swings his axe in a low angle back and gorth before his as he cleaves his way through his own warriors to reach his fellow troll.

From the South, The spear of the cursed Yrch finds home in the thigh of Karathorn as he removes the spear, he says "<Sindarin> That flith," as blood goes every where. Though he is ready by the next order of a volley and draw another and take aim at the Yrch that that commands there archers and lets fly.

From the South, Legirion raises a hand to retrieve another arrow from the quiver at his back. In his melodic, tremulous voice, naturally pacing words so as to take full advantage of the simple beauty of language, he sings a quiet, "<Sindarin> Strike for the purity of Lorien, Dumiriel. Would that I had not the need to make you sing today..." Eyes flashing with righteous anger, he prepares himself. The arrow is nocked at his bow, the string creaking when drawn, and after a pause, fired. The arrow flashes through the air like a silver, slender bolt, arcing through the night air upon Mauhur.

From the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Mauhur, lightly wounding him.

Rolling aside from mace and axe alike, the Herald of Galadriel finds himself only too close to yet another of the foul yrch. He makes to step back once more as another pair of blows are turned towards him, yet only escapes one, the other glancing off his tunic with the sound of metal upon metal. A handful of rings fly, and the Elf-lord growls his annoyance, before redoubling his attacks upon the first of his assailants.

The elf is one quick rodent, ain't he? Indeed, they're like cats, always on their feet it seems. This is a problem the troll intends to rectify quickly, especially since this elf is persistant, it's sword battering uselessly at the stone-clad grip the troll has on it's club. And the eagle, it's approach is noted to, for when it attacks, the troll is ready. Dunking under and behind the seeking talons of the eagle, the troll quickly counterattacks in a vicious upward swipe at the great bird's feathered underbelly.

Jhrog attacks Rhofalneth with his Club and badly wounds him!

Erinstar attacks Zig with his Longsword, but Zig parries the attack with his Mace!

Magog's failure to attack Morandil immediately proves a blessing in disguise as Morandil is attacked by what appears to be an entire legion of orcs. The burly orc's axe raises to parry Glynnis' sword, the clatter louder than the elf itself. "<Sindarin> I *** cut out your ****** for you if *** don't want to talk, wench," Magog bellows in an uncommon tongue as the rush of combat is upon him. His verbal assault is as always matched by a physical one. Pulling his axe far back, a whoosh of air sounds as Magog brings his weapon forwards horizontally, perhaps to cleave Glynnis in two at the waist.

His eyes still watering from the elven shaft lodged painfully in his thigh, Z'macht nocks an oily uruk shaft to his short bow and draws the weapon to full length. Thwack! The Talashakh feels another projection dive into his flesh - ripping and tearig. Blood flows forth from this wound, however, and apparently sours Z'macht on the idea of standing still and shooting his now. Nay! He feels much more comfortable with his mace in hand, feet firmly planted! Z'macht lets his last arrow go and then goes about loosening his mace from his belt.

Magog attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe, but Glynnis parries the attack with her Longsword!

Z'macht launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!

Z'macht wields Mace.

From the South, Earil-Nioldor wakes on the ground, a broken black shaft sticking out of his chest. He begins to crawl on his back, backwards from the scene of battle.

Z'macht puts on Wooden Shield.

Zoglaaz lowers his shield, his beaded eyes glaring at the worn metal sheathing that have been punctured by numerous arrows, even before he could wield his blade in battle. Out again, comes his small bow, yet now he retraces his steps, darting as he can from incoming bow-fire.

From the South, After Maegnas releases his arrow, which does nothing to anyone, he turns to Earil. "Someone help him, he cannot fight anymore!" he screams over the cry of battle

Almost as hastily as he had launched his own attack, Zig finds himself on the defensive, retracting his mace only to send it forth again to thrwart Erinstar's attack. That accomplished, he brings the mace quickly forward toward the elf's head.

Zig attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.

Roaring aloud, the great Pough watches his axe attack miss. Planting his feet again he swings, his dark axe blade aimed at Erinstars kneck, swinging across from right to left.

Tuoak hisses with glee as the return attack does not fall on him. Instead his lips part and spit flies from his lips toward the elven warrior. For this a battle of two strong. The elf and the Slayer of the flame. The unholy warrior. Tuoak drops low into a combat stance and lashes out low toward the tendon's in the back of Erinstar's knee.

Pough attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but Erinstar parries the attack with his Longsword!

The Senior Guard looks gleefully as his spear darts in and draws blood from the elf. Smirking slightly, Huzghash withdraws his now bloody spear and shifts his body for another attack on the elf. Rolling his right shoulder downward slightly, Huzghash sends his spear arm shooting forward;bloodied tip gleaming as the spear shoots forth for the elf's chest.

Huzghash attacks Erinstar with his Spear, but Erinstar parries the attack with his Longsword!

Tuoak attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but Erinstar parries the attack with his Longsword!

The hunter is not doing well for the flame must frown upon him this day. Mugruk takes another deep wound that draws back blood but this one makes him mad. The uruk lets out a bellow that comes up from his toes and blasts from his mouth as he attack the elf's body.

Mugruk attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!

From the South, Seeing that Indor Sajara is low on arrows, Tarasiriel passes some of her cerulean-fletched shafts to him. "<Sindarin> Use them well, and may Elbereth guide them true."

The enemy before Morandil turns craven and runs... only to be replaced by three others. Beset from all sides, the elf relies once more on instinct centuries of training. He slashes at the nearest orc, Bozblot.

Morandil attacks Bozblot with his Longsword and badly wounds him!

:'s eyes gleam in anger, the jewels upon her brow flaring as if in sympathetic answer. "<Sindarin> Sully not a fair tongue with your filthy mouth, maggot!" She swings again, parrying his axe and twisting her wrist to get inside the creature's guard and slice his belly wide.

Glynnis attacks Magog with her Longsword, but she misses by an arm's length.

C'zoth groans with pain again, the fourth plunging into his black skin, right in the thigh, almost touching bone. He roars with fury and frustration: he was getting cut down by the foul shafts of the light-lovers! Not bothering to even try to break off the arrow, he pauses for a moment in his attack on Morandil; taking a knee and attempting to regain his strength.

His blade raised high as he comes in toward Glindorel, Burzdug takes an arrow in the shoulder, its force tearing flesh and leather armor as it twists the uruk guard out of the direction of his attack. Black blood runs from the wound when Burzdug reaches back and breaks off the arrow, leaving a half a foot of elf-wood sticking out his shoulder.

Narrowing his cruel eyes, as wicked as the flames that spurt from the vile pits of Moria, Z'macht wields his fell mace, caked with dried blood, and begins to stomp his way into the fray. "Come so that I may brain thee!" he roars, a sadistic smile smothered across his most horrid face. The beast's steps begin to quicken, eventually morphing into something between a run and a warg-trot. "Tonight the Hammer of the Black Pit makes its presence known!!!"

His attack having been stopped by a shield block, Blak's arms vibrates from the shock. His opponent strikes out at an orc, and hits, but luckily for Blak it wasn't him. Still, he recognises the one who was hit, and with snarl on his face, yells out, "Die worm!" before swinging his mace at Morandil once more, this time aiming for his side.

Blak attacks Morandil with his Mace, but Morandil parries the attack with his shield!

Haldir is by now firmly on his feet, and he seises the moment as the troll is once again distracted by the eagle. An eagle feather spirals in the air and sticks in Commander's hair, just as he leaps toward the troll again. From the ditance, barely close enough to reach the beast with the point of the sword, he stabs forward and up, into the scale-covered belly.

From the South, Aglahad is readying his blade, it seems. Drawing it forth, he points in the direction of the frenzied battle. "<Sindarin> Fire, Galadhrim!! Once again!!! For Lorien!!!!!"

You attack Jhrog with your Longsword...
Your attack against Jhrog mildly wounds him!

From the South, Varya watches his arrow hit C'zoth, Varya quickly and fluidly strings another arrow on the bow, he uses his peripheal vision to see how the battle is going, and readies his arrow. He sees that Zoglaaz is standing in the open, a easy target, he sights at his heart. Letting the arrow fly, he prays that it will hit.

From the South, Sajara feels another pin-prick as again an arrow sticks fast, this time into his right shoulder. He spins slightly with the motion of it, but otherwise stands his ground. This is now when Tarasiriel gives him several arrows. He nods and growls as he breaks off the tip of his arrow, "<Sindarin> Thou shalt pay for that orch!" With a renewed fire in his eyes, Sajara nocks one of his newer arrows and lets it fire off into the air, though it isn't as true as it should be with his arrow stuck into him as it is.

From the South, Diinenbrant held ready, an arrow nocked and drawn, Tathren again awaits the call to fire. With her Champion's cry, the Indiri looses her dart once more.

From the South, A smile quicky appears upon Tarasiriel's crimson lips as she sees her arrow strike her intended target. Whispering her thanks to Elbereth, she draws another cerulean-fletched arrow from her quiver and nocks it to her bow in a single, graceful motion and draws back on the bowstring. At the signal to fire, she lets fly.

From the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Burzdug, severely wounding him.

From the South, Sajara launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Z'macht, mildly wounding him.

From the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Jhrog, mildly wounding him.

The runtorc Bozblot's face prunes into hitself, his nob nose burrowing up into his sinuses as he feels cold metal splice the line of rings on his back. Bozblot crutches over backwards, and nearer Morandil's stance. The small orc tries to dig his Scimitar point into the elf's vitals from below.

Bozblot attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a long shot.

From the South, Mithryn is moving towards Sajara, frowning but keeping her eyes on her target. As she reaches Sajara's side she lets her arrow fly...

From the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Mauhur, lightly wounding him.

Magog belches forth a confident laugh, his breath coming out in a hot, pestilent cloud. "<Sindarin> These Southrons **** a **** that is only half ** the likeness of ****. Perhaps Moria will as well when I am done with you." A bring red tongue licks at Magog's filthy lips as he appends his words. His eyes gleam as he dodges Glynnis' blow and retorts with his own, a jagged downward sweep aimed at the elf's knees.

Magog attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds her!

And then, his swift steps have borne the Man unscathed through the press of battle to the elf's side. He gives no warning, no battle-cry or call of encouragement -- save a single word to the elf:
"<Sindarin> Hold."
And then, his blade sweeps down from on high towards the spear-wielding orc's head!

Like a rain of unseen death fall the long arrows of the Fighting Uruk-Hai's Raven clan among the elves, and no few strike true. Finally they seem to be spotted, for sparcely do shafts appear in the darkness in feeble reply. One finds the archer Captain and Mauhur's lip twitches as pain registers on his left arm, but he spares no time to check it, for now, as it does not seem to hinder the use of his bow. Again the bow creaks heavily and again the bows clatter as more arrows arc into the night to fall among the elves, and evenso another prick feels Mauhur, and this too he ignores, for now, painful, yes, but will it stop this Uruk-Hai in his wrath? Nay.

Celebdur attacks Huzghash with his Longsword and badly wounds him!

The weak swing of Mugruk serves only to bring forth a little chuckle from Glindorel's lips, though it is a grim one indeed in the heat of battle. Now the fray is full upon him as the elvish lines make an attempt to hold their ground. "You shall not have your bounty easily," he mutters with a grimace of pain.

Not waiting for his first foe to recover, an outnumbered Morandil presses his furious attack; this time against the second orch, Blak. "<Sindarin> Taste steel, scum of the darkness," he whispers, driving the point of his sword at the fell monster.

Mauhur launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!

Morandil attacks Blak with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

From the South, Karathorn eyes shin bring with fire and rage as he miss his target thought bring his bow forth again he vows, "<Sindarin> I shall not miss again," He takes aim at the foul leader of the archers and lets the arrow fly at Zoglaaz

From the South, Maegnas nocks another arrow and luanches it at the yrch emeny towords the north "This is for Lithorien!!! <Sindarin> Elbereth!"

From the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Erynbrant , noticing the archer Zoglaaz for the first time as Earil-Nioldor falls, fires to avenge his now fallen brothern. Knocking another arrow, firing slowly and deliberatly at Zoglaaz. Leaving Blak to meet the fury of the Elven troopers he has now reached.

From the South, His eyes piercing the dark, bright and quick like his silver-shafted arrows, Galindrion stands silently next to a large tree. He points his bow down past the melee, towards a large uruk, pulls the string back and looses his shot.

And then the sword of the Banneret flies once again toward Mugruk in a sweeping yet well-defensed arc.

From the South, Maegnas launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Magog, mildly wounding him.

From the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits M'giddo, lightly wounding him.

Glindorel attacks Mugruk with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

From the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

C'zoth rising again;half blind with rage, C'zoth charges Morandil again with his scimitar, angry and frustrated at the loss and death of so many good ladz' around, he roars as he hopes to scewer the cursed light-lover with his scimitar.

The Eagle, missing the massive troll soars past, one to meet the blunt side of a club. The trollish blow knocks the great bird upwards, his wings folding under the weight. Sent higher into the sky, it would almost appear the Northerner would spread his wings and be off into the cloud-cover. But none such thing happens, his wings do -not- open and he does -not- fly, instead, after he hits a high point, he comes tumbleing back down. His featherd body smacks off the trodden ground. He manages a soft scream before rolling to his feet. His wing obviously injured as he hops at the troll. Rhofalneths feathers are ruffles and torn, a thin stream of red blood rolls down his golden chest. "You are just game, troll!" He hops up, spreading his wings, though he dosn't really take off, as much as use the lift in a kicking motion at the Troll. His talons aimed for his thick skinned throat.

Rhofalneth attacks Jhrog with his Eagle Claws and lightly wounds him!

C'zoth attacks Morandil with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!

Glynnis hisses as the axe bites the unprotected flesh of her lower arm, teeth gritting. She pushes the axe away with a snarl twisting her fair features, slicing the edge of her long blade against the axearm of her opponent.

From the South, Legirion back to pull another arrow from the quiver at his back. Eyes still on his previous target, he draws the arrow on the bowstring aiming for Mauhur. Twang! And the arrow is loosed down upon the host.

From the South, Aglahad wields Kalancrist.

From the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Glynnis attacks Magog with her Longsword, but Magog parries the attack with his Battle Axe!

Still crouched low between the arch of Morandil's crotchspan, the runt aims another upwards thrust for the spry elf's netherregions.

"Cuts him Big-Blak, Lil'boz will tap his juices..." comes the jeers in 'common' from the jailor's tiny beak.

Burzdug's turn back toward Glindorel is stung again by a cursed arrow sinking in scant inches from the first and just as deep. Busied now by arrows and growing weakness, the uruk guard reaches back to break the second arrow in a grimace of pain before turning back to Glindorel.

Bozblot attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.

Pough's eyes flash with anger...

Blak's attack is blocked by a shield once more, and while another volley of arrows passes over the fighter's heads, the elf attacks him. Blak only just manages to jump back out the way of Morandil's sword, but then quickly takes a step forward again. Holding his shield as high as possible with his wounded shoulder, he watches his opponent for a moment before swinging. Blak's muscles flex as the handle of the weapon is gripped tightly, and it moves quickly toward's Morandil's shoulder.

Ducking easily beneath the graceless mace, Erinstar swiftly then turns a half-face to one side with his blade to bear. Turning the lancing spearhead aside with his shield, he counters the remaining assaults with the singing elven steel he bears, deflecting each to either side of his person with uncanny grace and agility before lunging forward and making his riposte.

Blak attacks Morandil with his Mace, but he misses by a mile.

Erinstar attacks Zig with his Longsword and badly wounds him!

The troll lopes forward at an increasingly faster and faster pace. "Jhrog, I come. Jhrog, my troll we shall fight the bird together and picks his bones for meat!" Horvak swings his axe high above his head in a broad circle. He roars, "Ologs!! Ologs to me!!" And still the troll trundles forward getting closer and closer to the elf and the eagle beseiging one of the troll's stone warriors.

"Good. I have yet to meat an elf that could fight!" The hunter grins a toothy smile at the elf, his teeth blackened with bits of rotten meat stuck in them. A gush of rancid breath bursts out at the elf as his sword lightly grazes the uruk. With a snort, Mugruk swings his hammer up and the underside of the elf's head.

Mugruk attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and moderately wounds him!

Magog's mouth drips a droplet of saliva as a random arrow strikes him upon the shoulder. A light toss of his swart head and all is well again. Back to his grim business Magog turns, raising his fearsome implement of battle up once more to ward off a would-be blow from Glynnis. "Orcs of Moria," he roars, baring his yellowed fangs, "Attack their archers! The line will not hold!" Magog's bulk moves forward and with it his axe. This time, the blow is far more hazardous, going for Glynnis' neck.

Magog attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe and lightly wounds her!

Though the steel of his enemy cuts through leather and mail, Morandil's expression is not so much pained as it is scornful. Cowards, to swarm their enemies like so many ants. He weaves with preternatural quickness, dodging blow and thrust, and then he slashes with his blade...

Morandil attacks Blak with his Longsword, but Blak parries the attack with his Mace!

"GRAaaa..." The senior guard yells out as an unseen enemy laces his back wide open with its sword. His spear lunge saving his head, Huzghash wheels around to face his attacker. "You..Die now!" His words seem laboured now as he speaks and shoots his spear hand out for another attack. This time the spear dives in towards the man, metal tip still gleaming with elf-blood. Righ leg shooting forward to add a bit of extra power to his stab, Huzghash watches, eyes painfilled, as his spear goes forth to kill.

Tuoak's sneer widens as the elfs blade again cuts through the foul air and again does not find his flesh. His fangs glitter in the faint light of the elven stars, yet what stands beneath them is not holy to Varda but to something far more foul. "The flame.." Tuoak growls as he hears the bellowing of the King. Yet this elf still stands in path. His axe lashes out toward his shoulder, a attempt to strike him from his path.

Huzghash attacks Celebdur with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

Zoglaaz moves amongs the pits and heaps of orc corpses, fallen in the wake of the larger melee assault. Catching his breath, first, he scans the treeline about the river. It's into a copse of Mallorn he fires a black bolt, towards a foe he barely sees in shadow.

Tuoak attacks Erinstar with his Axe, but he misses by a mile.

Watching his mace go helplessly above the elf's head, Zig finds himself disregarding Erinstar's sword; and he pays dearly. The blade stabs through his armor and through his hide, burying itself in his bowels. He steps back, pulling himself off the sword, blood freely oozing forth. He opens his mouth as if to yell, but instead his mace tears unlovingly through the air, coming down toward Erinstar's shoulder.

Zig attacks Erinstar with his Mace, but he misses by an arm's length.

Glynnis jerks her head out of the way in time to avoid losing it, but gets a nasty slice on her shoulder for her trouble. She exhales sharply through her nose, taking advantage of the risky manuever and the opening its left, and swings for the great yrch's side with a backhanded sweep of her blade.

Zoglaaz takes off Metal Shield.

The uruk archers, it seems, have been reduced to little more than a band of loose and undisciplined hooligans. Their leader, a portly orc with deepset eyes and chubby cheeks, give a feeble command in a high pitched voice. "Fire!" he says, his command drifting aimlessly. The sky fills with black arrow, but it is unlikely any will find their mark.

Zoglaaz wields Black Bow.

Glynnis attacks Magog with her Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Zoglaaz launches an arrow through the exit heading South...
From the South, Yikes! An arrow!

As uruks pour down upon their elvish opponents, Blak grins, seeing other orcs also trying to kill his own target. Blocking the light-lover's attack with his own weapon, Blak lets his immensly strong arms swing once more. The mace seemingly on its way towards Morandil's side again. At the last moment however, Blak alters the course of his weapon, instead directing it down at the elf's knee.

Blak attacks Morandil with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.

The allure of Morandil's long legs seduces the scimitar-scythe of the runt. And he watches as its cruel curve draws near the Quendi's calf, to coo it, and woo it, and rub up against it, and... "Hack your stumps off nasty! See how springy you is then!" Bozblot cleaves for Morandil's ankle.

Bozblot attacks Morandil with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!

It is with a fell smile that Magog presents his exposed flank to Glynnis and makes no effort to ward off her blow, which comes to a near halt upon making contact with his mail. "You had best run," he counsels in a contemptuous Westron. "My army and I are invisible when the presence of the Flame is near." The orc's words rumble with both viguor and faith. Taking advantage of his lack of defense, the Gothshaka's mighty blade once more rushes forwards, vertically honing in on Glynnis' chest.

Magog attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a hair.

Ducking his way through the sudden hail storm of elven bow-fire, Z'macht spots Huzghash, his fellow Morghash and Master Guard, fighting amongst the rabble. The chieftain, in a flurry of battle-lust and fear of his Master, springs to his comrade's side, attacking a common foe with all his strength.

Z'macht attacks Celebdur with his Mace and badly wounds him!

Whirling in a flurry of grey and silver, Morandil evades more heavy-handed strikes. Another blow impacts him, and the elf grimaces in pain; it does not deter his onslaught, however. He wastes neither time nor energy in responding to the gibberish the orchs shout. Instead, he speaks with the steel of his sword, aimed at the creature Bozblot.

From the South, Aglahad has his blade in hand, and now barks out the orders once again. "<Sindarin> Elves!!! Fire again!!! Do not let your resolve waver! FIRE!!!! Lorien!!!!"

Pough's attack is parried and deflected and the surprised Pough stumbles backward. With a final curse he pludges off into the frey even further, looking for an elf with possibly lesser skills in fighting...

Glynnis laughs merrily, eyes filled with battle-flame, and she begins to sing the cursed name of Elbereth in her tongue as she darts out of the way of the huge axe. She pivots and strikes with the point of her blade, aiming for the great belly of the beast.

Morandil attacks Bozblot with his Longsword and severely wounds him!

Glynnis attacks Magog with her Longsword, but she misses by an arm's length.

From the South, Maegnas nocks another arrow and launches it at the yrch emeny towords the north "<Sindarin> For Elbereth!"

The troll is fully in the throes of battle rage, it swings and it howls. It's foes, dance about him, one on ground, the other from on high. And as if in unison, despite the grievious blows dealt to it's feathered frame, the eagle and the elf attack together. The elf strikes a glancing strike across the abdomen of the troll, drawing it's attention in a moment not to lucky for the troll. But it's neck is quite thick, and as arrows bounce for the most part off his hide, except for one stuck between scales, the troll barely has room to avoid the blow, a long shallow gash and row of chipped scales cross from the side of the troll's throat to it's shoulder attesting to the eagles attack. This is painful, though not mortal, and it drives the troll to further reaches of hate and rage. Howling again it's malice, the troll steps back, it's club raised high. But that lapse is not even a second, for the troll surges ahead again, the club now held in both hands swinging around like a bat at the elf.

From the South, Varya sees that his arrow flies wide of his target, and swiftly draws another arrow from his quiver. He aims at the leader of the archers, and fires at Zoglaaz's heart. His green eyes burning with rage, he sees the near-perfect shot, Varya unlooses his arrow.

From the South, Legirion breathes a disappointed sound, watching his arrow fly astray and hitting the ground without purchase of yrch blood. He draws another arrow from his quiver, lifting his voice in song to encourage the other archers as he nocks it. Drawing the bow and arrow, he takes aim on the same orch he had fired upon before. Do not miss twice, he admonishes himself, as he sings the praises of the Lorien host's cause. Firing, he watches the arrow arc high, then descend quickly towards his target. He prays for success.

From the South, Pain overwhelms Tarasiriel as a yrch arrow buries itself in her side. It takes a moment for her vision to swim back into focus. Biting her lip, she tries to ignore the pain, and with a shaky hand, she reaches for an arrow and nocks it to her bow. Taking a moment to steady her aim, she singles out her target, draws the bowstring, and lets the cerulean-fletched shaft fly.

From the South, Maegnas launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Burzdug, badly wounding him.

From the South, Galindrion says in Sindarin, "@emit Gathering the light of his stars with every breath, Galindrion's heart burns with fire for his comrades. "By Elbereth, By the Lady, by all powers of good in Arda may my arrow send you to your doom in the pits of hell!" he screams while putting another arrow to the string, and firing smoothly over the melee."

Jhrog attacks you with his Club!...
...and he misses!

C'zoth circles back again after last attack, pleased at the taste of blood his Scimitar is getting. He roars again,"<uruk>For the Flame!" Then with his scimitar above his head, he swings with all his might at the Elf's legs, hoping to lop then off.

From the South, Tarasiriel launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Burzdug collapses to the ground, defeated by Tarasiriel!
Burzdug's weapon "Scimitar" falls to the ground...
The bowshot hits Burzdug, fatally wounding him.

From the South, Once assured her mellon is relatively well, in spite of the 2 arrows, she again lets loose an arrow, trying to take out one of the worst - or best - enemy archers. Mithryn fires at Mauhur once more...

Mauhur's eyes flicker towards the combined force of the Morians and his blade-wielding kin. Indeed, from that direction few black shafts rise to meet those elven ones from the south. Mauhur's Raven archers have been effective indeed, but perhaps he cares little for them now becomming the center of attention, himself having felt the sting of two darts already. Scowling, he tosses the bow aside and produces an axe. It is not the same half-serrated axe he's been known to carry, but perhaps this other simple affair will do, with the spike on the back of the head and a simple crushing wedge for the head. A keening cry he gives, and two-score great bows are stowed, the black flights of arrows from the Fighting Uruk-Hai halted as they leap into runs, these all scouts among their folk, and swift runners indeed. Aside from their Captain, they carry short, wide blades, manuverable in close quarters, and devastating in their quick chops. These now move swiftly, un-impeded by the other elves locked in combat with the other orcs, and so they advance like a flight of carrion birds towards their foe

From the South, Legirion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Mauhur, lightly wounding him.

From the South, Varya launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Zoglaaz, mildly wounding him.

From the South, Another volley called, and Tathren nocks an arrow, letting fly without hesitation.

From the South, Mithryn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Karathorn curses as he misses yet again thought as his atended target finds it way on a dead Mallorn tree and smiles, "<Sindarin> Die descrator."

The Banneret of Lorien swoons as the blast of breath catches him full in the face, yet hops back, the hammer of Mugruk finding little of his flesh, yet enough to bring forth a grunt of pain even so. he utter as he again swings his blade toward Mugruk, it heading full for his chest. His blade sings silver in a blinding arc.

Mauhur picks up a Axe.
Mauhur wields Shield Breaker.

From the South, Galindrion launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits M'giddo, lightly wounding him.

Mauhur picks up a blacksteel bracer.
Mauhur buckles a thick black bracer large enough to pass as a buckler to his left forarm.

Mauhur removes Longbow.
Mauhur puts down a Longbow.

From the South, Tathren launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

From the South, Karathorn launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
The bowshot hits Zoglaaz, moderately wounding him.

From the South, Sajara nocks another bow, his first two wounds starting to go numb as his mind returns to his duty at hand. Once more as per his training, he lets an arrow into the air.

C'zoth attacks Morandil with his Scimitar, but he misses by an arm's length.

The Banneret of Lorien swoons as the blast of breath catches him full in the face, yet hops back, the hammer of Mugruk finding little of his flesh, yet enough to bring forth a grunt of pain even so. "Elbereth! Gilthoniel!" he cries as he again swings his blade toward Mugruk, it heading full for his chest. His blade sings silver in a blinding arc.

Glindorel yells out a cry to Elbereth. His suddenly looks taller, more formidable, stronger...

Glindorel attacks Mugruk with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.

From the South, Sajara launches an arrow...

From the South, Out of the bow of Zoglaaz an arrow fires for Erynbrant's heart but being watchful and swift he throws himself out of the way of the heavy bolt fired at him. Its barbed tips do indeed connect though, but tearing lightly at his flesh.

From the South, Beside Tarasiriel, Earil-Nioldor lays wounded, pierced by a number of orcish arrows. Quickly slinging her bow over her shoulder, she hurries over to the squire and helps him to get to the Field Hospital (pose out).

M'giddo has yet to do anything even remotely resembling charging the orcs, still dealing with the leaking hole in his arm. Now another arrow hits him, in the leg. He sighs, curses a lot, and moves to extract it, hopefully with more success than the last tone.

M'giddo carefully removes an arrow from himself...

With orcs falling around him from arrows and swords, Blak's grin starts to dissapate. As the orc next to him is given a bad cut from the elf they are both attacking, Blak just screams, "Stand still you pansy so bash in your brain!" With that, he swings his mace high, and though the elf is much taller than him, tries to smash it into Morandil's face.

Blak attacks Morandil with his Mace and badly wounds him!

A jeering laugh escapes the lips of the lightfooted Herald as he withdraws his darkly-stained blade from Zig's gut and simply sidesteps the counterattack. Swinging his shield in once more to deflect the second blow almost casually, he remains intent upon his first and now wounded target. The air singing with its passage, Anseregurth leaps forth once more as if posessing a life itself in its quest for blood...

The arrows pour forth and Glynnis attacks once more, yet Magog escapes unharmed, truly blessed perhaps, here just to the East of the Moutain. Nodding his head slightly to the side, the King growls, "The Redhorn is so named because elven blood has stained it. And there is more to come..." Both a threat and a promise. As if felling a tree, Magog's next stroke emerges regular and methodical, but also ferocious. Towards Glynnis' thighs it zooms, hoping to smash through both flesh and bone.

Zoglaaz carefully removes an arrow from himself...

From the South, Cursing the scratch Erybrant snatches an arrow from the ground on which he flung himself firing again at the orc who he has now draw the attention of

Magog attacks Glynnis with his Battle Axe and severely wounds her!

From the South, Erynbrant launches an arrow through the exit heading North...
Yikes! An arrow!
Whew...the arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Erinstar attacks Zig with his Longsword, but Zig parries the attack with his Mace!

The runt's nobby nose now digs its way full into his sinuses, a rotund mole squirming into its burrow with flabby fat feat. The meat of Bozblot's shield arm is sundered from its bonebraces, and the shield flops to the ground. The wide, dimpled disc of the symbal shield is quick to fill with blood, as Bozblot's arm urps its syrup into it.

The hunter steps aside the elf's sword as he makes a daring move. The uruk spins to his left, leaving his left side open to attack but he gets great amounts of momentum with his war hammer as it comes around. The hammer is aimed at the side of the elf's head as he shouts, "Die now!"

Mugruk attacks Glindorel with his War Hammer and badly wounds him!

Morandil's strike finds cruel orch flesh, and his bright sword cuts as sight swathe through his enemies. Speed, blinding speed; but it is not enough to evade the mace of one foe, Blak. Aimed for Morandil's face, the blow instead finds his shoulder, and the elf gasps in pain. He is weary, but he will not back down, and he aims a retaliatory strike...

Morandil attacks C'zoth with his Longsword and fatally wounds him!

From the South, Aglahad gives pause as the hordes of reinforcements arrive to bolster the orc attack. He turns to the archers and signals back to the wood. "<Sindarin> Flee, Archers! Do not worry! We cannot stand against this! I shall cover your retreat! Back to Lorien!!"

M'giddo fails in this effort, and lets out a vegetation-charring oath as he pulls out the arrow, a few bits of flesh still attached.

Once again, Zig's mace is unsuccesful and he finds himself on the defensive, parrying Erinstar's attack again.