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piosenniel · 01-07-2003, 09:57 PM

Carchmoroth and Dúgoroth watched as the smaller group went out to hunt the two-legged trackers in the Weather Hills. It had only been a small party of trackers, and Carchmoroth expected Dûrêl and her five Wolves to deal with them in a swift and deadly fashion.

The two remaining Wargs were going after the larger group of hunters. And with them would be fifteen Wolves. Down through the grasslands south of the North Downs they came, passing Deadman’s Dike and heading straight for Chetwood Forest. The foolish two-leggeds would try to track them from their last kill, ignorant that they were being tracked themselves.

From the dense cover of the trees, they watched as the group left Combe, gathering farmers along the way. On silent paws they traveled on both sides of the dirt road that lead from there to Archet.

Carchmoroth motioned for Dúrel to take eight of the Wolves and go on ahead, to where the small path to the east intersected the main road. Carchmoroth led his Wolves to the point of the angle where the two roads intersected, keeping them well under the covers of dense brush. Dúrel’s group was just across the widening of the road, diagonal to Carchmoroth’s group.

The hunting party, led by Gaddy, arrived at the crossroads. He called a halt to their march, wanting to give them a few last minute instructions. They gathered in a tight crowd about him, listening to him talk, their attention focused on his words.

With a low growl from Carchmoroth, the Wolves on both sides of the crossroads charged the group as if it were a herd of sheep. They ran in, heads low, biting and nipping at the legs of the people on the outside of the group, cutting them out from the herd to do them further damage.

Chaos reigned among the two-leggeds, caught by surprise. And several of them fell victim to the Wolves’ “attack and separate” maneuvers. Once the group was scattered and many in panic, the two Wargs emerged from the opposite sides of the road and began the killing in earnest.

They had no love for these creatures who had taken land from the pack, and they meant to kill as many as they might, if not all. Yellow eyes blazing in the filtered light of the forest, they charged them again and again, urging their Wolves on - to bite and slash and bring down as many as they could.

Soon the grim arena was filled with the cries of the dying and the injured, while the two leggeds rallied against the pack as best they could . . .

[ January 08, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

01-07-2003, 09:57 PM	#87
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Carchmoroth and Dúgoroth watched as the smaller group went out to hunt the two-legged trackers in the Weather Hills. It had only been a small party of trackers, and Carchmoroth expected Dûrêl and her five Wolves to deal with them in a swift and deadly fashion. The two remaining Wargs were going after the larger group of hunters. And with them would be fifteen Wolves. Down through the grasslands south of the North Downs they came, passing Deadman’s Dike and heading straight for Chetwood Forest. The foolish two-leggeds would try to track them from their last kill, ignorant that they were being tracked themselves. From the dense cover of the trees, they watched as the group left Combe, gathering farmers along the way. On silent paws they traveled on both sides of the dirt road that lead from there to Archet. Carchmoroth motioned for Dúrel to take eight of the Wolves and go on ahead, to where the small path to the east intersected the main road. Carchmoroth led his Wolves to the point of the angle where the two roads intersected, keeping them well under the covers of dense brush. Dúrel’s group was just across the widening of the road, diagonal to Carchmoroth’s group. The hunting party, led by Gaddy, arrived at the crossroads. He called a halt to their march, wanting to give them a few last minute instructions. They gathered in a tight crowd about him, listening to him talk, their attention focused on his words. With a low growl from Carchmoroth, the Wolves on both sides of the crossroads charged the group as if it were a herd of sheep. They ran in, heads low, biting and nipping at the legs of the people on the outside of the group, cutting them out from the herd to do them further damage. Chaos reigned among the two-leggeds, caught by surprise. And several of them fell victim to the Wolves’ “attack and separate” maneuvers. Once the group was scattered and many in panic, the two Wargs emerged from the opposite sides of the road and began the killing in earnest. They had no love for these creatures who had taken land from the pack, and they meant to kill as many as they might, if not all. Yellow eyes blazing in the filtered light of the forest, they charged them again and again, urging their Wolves on - to bite and slash and bring down as many as they could. Soon the grim arena was filled with the cries of the dying and the injured, while the two leggeds rallied against the pack as best they could . . . [ January 08, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.