Siege of Gundabad RPG

[Firefoot]

Adranel was caught completely off guard at the attack of the Orcs. She had been deep in thought, considering her place among these people. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, she figured that she would be leaving the army as well as Sjorging, Gelding, and Beluf. She had aligned herself with them out of necessity, and she remained with they and the army both out of curiosity and for protection and companionship, certainly not because of friendship. Though Gelding had come to appreciate her presence (largely due to her archery skills), she and Beluf were distinctly uncomfortable in each other’s presence and nothing had changed between Sjorging and herself. Already she was distancing herself from them somewhat, even leaving them this morning before they were up to take a walk around and generally keeping to herself as they marched.

So when the Orcs had attacked, Adranel was unprepared and caught in the middle of the melee. She first felt fear. Last time she had encountered Orcs they had taken away everything, and this encounter dragged out a new perspective on the sack of her village. Previously, she had known grief and anger, but never fear. Even aside from being afraid, she knew that she had to get out of there - she had no skill with hand-to-hand combat, nor did she have a weapon for it. Her bow would be no good as it was, and she would be defenseless. She pushed and shoved her way through the ranks of soldiers, and was soon clear, since the army was small, and they were spreading their ranks. She ignored her throbbing side, already hurting from the past few hours’ march and redoubled in her rush to be free of the fight.

There was a small, wooded rise nearby and Adranel hastened up it. It gave her an excellent view of the battle, providing for clear shots. They were clear at first, anyhow, and she was able to shoot several Orcs, emptying about a third of her quiver, each arrow exacting payment for a loved one lost. For Father. For Allagon. For Balder. For Hergon. The list continued for as many arrows as she shot. Her aim was cold and calculating as she found grim revenge on the Orcs that had destroyed her life as she knew it. Soon, however, the Gondorians and the Orcs mixed together in a confused jumble of weapons and blood, frustrating her as her shots became fewer when she had a harder time picking out targets.

To her surprise, she found that the Gondorian army was slowly overpowering the Orcs, even though their force was less than three-quarters the size of that of the Orcs. They were skilled fighters, she admitted grudgingly. That did not mean their problems were over - far from it. After this, the small army would be decreased, and when it came to blows with the main force of Gundabad the odds would be even slimmer. This thought severely dampened her spirit of victory as the final Orcs were cut down and all that remained were the elated soldiers standing amid the bloody carnage of battle. She picked out Beluf, Gelding, and Sjorging among the soldiers, seemingly unharmed.

Adranel eased her way down to the field of battle, now giving heed not to pain her side further. By the time she reached the bottom of the slope, she had begun to wonder when they would be moving on. No one else appeared to be thinking this far ahead, still caught up in their triumph. But for Adranel, it was not a victory. It was payment, and she had barely begun to pay the price.

[Novnarwen]

In mere desperation, seeing that chaos broke out amongst the Gondorians, as it seemed that they were under attack, Inemgar ran towards one of the highest trees. Afraid, almost crying, he grabbed the nearest branch and hoisted himself upwards. Halfway up, there was a loud crack, the branch broke, and the poor man fell down. Confused, he rose hurriedly from the ground with the branch still in his hand. He stood looking at it, slightly pained by the fall, feeling it especially in his back as it was already quite numb from the cold night it the snow. What had happened? He wondered at first. Didn't the tree want him to come up? Where was he supposed to hide? Surely, these beings that were running towards them, surrounding them, waving with shiny, oblong and sharp objects, all looking very grim, were some monsters from a distant place, a distant world. But exactly where they had come from was a mystery to Ingemar.

Suddenly, without being warned, an arrow passed him by and hit the tree trunk, just inches from his body. Being fairly surprised by this thing that had come flying through thin air, he turned around briskly. With a loud gasp, he watched one of the monsters looking creatures hit the ground, sighing. Ingemar opened his eyes wide. "Got to sleep, now?" he asked in wonder. He soon discovered however, that he had come to hit the Orc with the branch he was still holding. It was still quite unintelligible for the man of Dale to see that hitting such a creature with the branch had caused such an effect. Realising this at last though, he also understood that he had probably done something wrong; he had harmed another being. He gasped for air, kneeling beside the motionless body. He looked questioningly at it, feeling its breath against his cheek, smelling the stank from its sweaty body and seeing it close at hand. "Must be mooonster," he concluded, about to rise from his kneeling position. All of a sudden, movements that were too fast for the eye to catch distracted him. The Orc had opened his eyes and gained conscience! It was now grabbing Ingemar around his neck, seizing its sword. It roared with laughter or pure evilness, none could tell.

Ingemar stood helplessly, feeling the grasp around his neck only get tighter and tighter. A pointy silvery thing was held threateningly against his chest, and then even he could tell that what was coming was not good. The terror in his eyes, revealed his true feelings. The fear he felt inside made his body tremble terribly, his chest jump up and down as he could hardly breathe. His eyes grew wet, and tears began streaming down his cheek. The Orc was about to strike, when it suddenly stiffened. It stiffened and withered like a flower, when autumn strikes it with a cold November wind. Again, Ingemar fell to the ground, but he was quicker to get to his feet this time.

The whole event had scared him so much, that he had not managed yet to distance himself from it, in the manner of being relieved that he was even alive. He could probably never do it, because he didn’t see the world as most others did. He was still terrified, and he would probably be for a long time ahead.

He bellowed, and leapt to his feet, sprang as fast as he could until he reached another tree. Grasping one of the branches, he climbed it. This time he succeeded. Still shocked, not certain about what had actually happened, only that it had been truly terrifying, he clung to the tree trunk. He shook wildly. He did not dare look down. He didn't dare listen either. He would be safe here, if sat still.

Would he ever come down?