[Thenamir]

Thenamir waved a "quiet" signal to everyone as he returned to his companions' stopping place, mothioning for them to come closer so that raised voices were not necessary.

"We are in the path of a small troop of orcs heading this way," Thenamir whispered, "evidently to relieve the dead orcs we found before we split up. There are 4, and with bows we could take them, but it may be more advantageous to skirt them altogether."

Dwarin bristled at the suggestion that they should leave any orc alive. "They'll smell our trail once they get down the path, and then they'll be right behind us for sure."

"Point taken, Master Dwarf," Thenamir acknowledged. "Then let us seek cover from which to ambush them. I will remain in sight so that they will come to me on the path. You'll know when to attack." The others looked strangely at Thenamir, but did as he instructed, taking refuge behind nearby scrub brush and larger rocks. Thenamir fumbled in his pack and retrieved the rough leather jerkin bearing the white hand he'd looted from the orcs they'd come across before.

They did not have long to wait. When the orcs came jogging over the rise, they spotted a lone tark standing in the path brandishing a bright sword and chuckling to himself in a pleased sort of way. Dwarin flashed a questioning look to Baranthol, who only shruggged in reply before both turned again to the strange spectacle uinfolding before them. The orcs too looked at each other, before roaring a challenge and tearing forward to face this madman. Thenamir waited until the orcs could hear him plainly, a bit too close for the comfort of those in hiding, before he roared his own challenge, "Would that the simpering wizard in the black tower would send me a real challenge!! Come forward and die as your comrades died at my hand! Do you not smell their blood in the air?" Thenamir paused and breathed a deep draught of the morning air, as if relishing the faint but noticable bitter tang on the breeze.

Wurmazh the leader continued forward a couple of steps before he hrealized he'd lost his cohorts, stopped and sniffing, and then fidgeting nervously. "He is only ONE!!" Wurmazh bellowed, "He can't have taken our mates!"

"Thalmeron Orcslayer I am," Thenamir screamed in retort, "and you will not be my first kills today. Behold!" Thenamir held up the jerkin with the white-hand stain upon it, and a broad laugh was on his lips. "Here is the bloodied trophy I looted from one of your friends, whom you will soon join in death, come and tkae it, if you dare!" He tossed the jerkin to the ground beside Wurmazh, and the others ran up to grab and smell the dried-hide. Wurmazh himself turned to examine it, bending over to pick it up.

"Now!!" Thenamir cried.