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Manôphazân · 05-13-2004, 05:52 PM

Lan’Kâsh allowed his anger to swell up inside him like a towering wave of fury until it crashed against his silent, iron will and washed away like the ocean tide. In seconds he went from a red-hot anger to an icy cold resolve. Against orders, he would destroy the Gondorians immediately, disregarding his intended purpose of drawing a larger force of Wingers to the valley. Much of the Army of Harnen lurked just over the horizon, expecting the northerners to expose themselves in force at the Poros, but Lan’kâsh could delay no longer. His honor demanded action.

Gathering his own soldiers about him, he moved quickly to the tent where the Gondorian had been kept. Looking down from his horse, he saw Jinan gathering his men into a semblance of order. The rescuers of the northern officer had chosen to attack at the exact position where these untrained farmers had stood guard, and their ranks had been sorely reduced. Less than 30 men were able to still fight, and Jinan looked shaken, his nose bleeding profusely as he shouted orders.

As usual, Frôzhal was nowhere to be seen and most likely lurking in the trees. The lieutenant made a mental note to himself to kick the cowardly boy in the face the next time he saw him. Fortunately, there was a competent man leading his group, so Lan’kâsh could concentrate on the upcoming battle and forget about the disappearing corporal.

He shouted for everyone to form on Jinan’s group, which he ordered into skirmish formation. The soldier was an angry and arrogant young man, to the point of insubordination, but he followed orders, even when did not agree with them. With luck, he would outlive his naivete and look back one day to realize that corporals are seldom told the whole story, and their opinions are irrelevant.

“Forward, march” he shouted, spurring his horse forward and falling into place beside Gimilzôr. They rode for a while in silence by the great hulking catapults being pulled by teams of draft horses.

“These machines slow us down,” Gimilzôr complained. He scratched at an ugly wound just above his left ear.

Lan’kâsh agreed, “Yes, but the settlement is not far now. We outnumber the enemy and will overpower them easily with these contraptions.” He did not care much for the great, clumsy weapons, but he did understand their usefulness. “By tomorrow we will tearing down the walls of Poros with these machines. There will be no more heroic actions from the Gondorians. At least none that will succeed.”

“Do you think they will fight?”

“I do. They have seen the force we have and will seek to evacuate their families, but they know they cannot escape us, so their soldiers will fight.” He took a long drink from his water bottle. “I hope to see the officer again. He will fight.”

05-13-2004, 05:52 PM	#62
Manôphazân Pile O'Bones Join Date: Jan 2004 Location: Ohio Posts: 24	Lan'kâsh Lan’Kâsh allowed his anger to swell up inside him like a towering wave of fury until it crashed against his silent, iron will and washed away like the ocean tide. In seconds he went from a red-hot anger to an icy cold resolve. Against orders, he would destroy the Gondorians immediately, disregarding his intended purpose of drawing a larger force of Wingers to the valley. Much of the Army of Harnen lurked just over the horizon, expecting the northerners to expose themselves in force at the Poros, but Lan’kâsh could delay no longer. His honor demanded action. Gathering his own soldiers about him, he moved quickly to the tent where the Gondorian had been kept. Looking down from his horse, he saw Jinan gathering his men into a semblance of order. The rescuers of the northern officer had chosen to attack at the exact position where these untrained farmers had stood guard, and their ranks had been sorely reduced. Less than 30 men were able to still fight, and Jinan looked shaken, his nose bleeding profusely as he shouted orders. As usual, Frôzhal was nowhere to be seen and most likely lurking in the trees. The lieutenant made a mental note to himself to kick the cowardly boy in the face the next time he saw him. Fortunately, there was a competent man leading his group, so Lan’kâsh could concentrate on the upcoming battle and forget about the disappearing corporal. He shouted for everyone to form on Jinan’s group, which he ordered into skirmish formation. The soldier was an angry and arrogant young man, to the point of insubordination, but he followed orders, even when did not agree with them. With luck, he would outlive his naivete and look back one day to realize that corporals are seldom told the whole story, and their opinions are irrelevant. “Forward, march” he shouted, spurring his horse forward and falling into place beside Gimilzôr. They rode for a while in silence by the great hulking catapults being pulled by teams of draft horses. “These machines slow us down,” Gimilzôr complained. He scratched at an ugly wound just above his left ear. Lan’kâsh agreed, “Yes, but the settlement is not far now. We outnumber the enemy and will overpower them easily with these contraptions.” He did not care much for the great, clumsy weapons, but he did understand their usefulness. “By tomorrow we will tearing down the walls of Poros with these machines. There will be no more heroic actions from the Gondorians. At least none that will succeed.” “Do you think they will fight?” “I do. They have seen the force we have and will seek to evacuate their families, but they know they cannot escape us, so their soldiers will fight.” He took a long drink from his water bottle. “I hope to see the officer again. He will fight.”