Last Hope for Moria RPG

[Orofaniel]

Lugnush liked the thought of a real Orc battle, and ran off to gather some Orcs that were ready to kill. "’urry!" Lugnush cried trying to sounds a bit bossy. It worked because the Orcs were now storming towards him. "Let's make it painful..." One of them said evilly. The others laughed brutally while thinking about this. "Let’s break their filthy necks, and then lets...chop 'em! All of 'em!" He continued, now seeming proud over his own proposal. Lugnush didn't think this was a bad suggestion either so he decided that this was the way they were going to do it.

"Let’s do just that," Lugnush said, while he felt a sudden satisfaction.

"Take your weapons…. and only use 'em for killin'.." Lugnush said finally, trying to sound funny. The others growled and picked up their weapons. "..and, we'll do it as this Orc 'ere said earlier.." Lugnush continued pointing at the Orc that come with the brilliant suggestion. "Aye!" They replied in choir. "Then march on you filthy Orcs!" Lugnush commanded. He felt powerful and this delightened him. The Orcs were soon walking while humming merrily; ”Chop chop chop..”

It didn't take long to kill the Orcs that had turned their backs on Nazklash. Much blood had been spilt from both sides, but none that Lugnush had set out to kill had survived, which was a good sign indeed.

When it was finished, Lugnush ordered some of the remaining Orcs to clean up the mess; the rest of them followed Lugnush back to Nazklash. On the way over to Nazklash they were shouting about victory and about the extraordinary battle. Never had Lugnush been prouder; here he was leading the great warriors of the battle into the hall. They were under his command - or they were, until Nazklash told them to "sod off".

"It's done," Lugnush said smiling at Nazklash. Nazklash however, didn't seem as happy as Lugnush would have thought, but it didn't really matter. "Good...good..." Nazklash said now, nodding sternly.

[Imladris]

Ori drove his axe blade into the belly of an orc. Black blood, with a dead bluish tint to it, spilled from his insides, staining the shining silver blade. What looked like large twisted worms began to seep from his torn stomach and Ori averted eyes to the orc’s face.

His eyes were a sickly yellow, the black pupil a diamond shape. His fingers, adorned with talon-like nails, scrabbled at his belly, pushing the worms back in. Blood specked foam dripped from his yellowed fangs as he barred them at Ori, his limbs gathering for a final spring like the wargs at the Lonely Mountain would prepare to tear the throats of men. Ori shuddered and, with a quick swing, lopped the orc’s head from his neck.

The orcs were tumbling from the broken gates and sprinting across the rocks. Balin, with a mighty roar, swung his axe right and left. Orcs fell beneath his arm like wheat felling before a farmer’s sickle.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Malí was terrified. She had her hand axes, but she didn't know how to use them! Of course she scolded herself, reminding herself that it was her decision to go along on the adventure. Still, Malí didn't know what to do and watched, jaw dropped, as the other dwarves attacked the orcs.

In her mind Malí calculated how many orcs there were, and at the rate the other dwarves were fighting how long it would take for all the orcs to be taken care of. Too long, Malí decided, and did her best with her axes. She clumsily chopped and hacked randomly, hitting air most of the time. On a rare and joyously surprised occasion she would nick an orc, perhaps give a small flesh wound, but Malí was unable to deliver fatal blows to any orc. I wish I could be more of a help around here... Malí thought frantically as she hopped away in time to avoid a crazed orc.

[Will Witfoot]

Alrik met the slash of an orc scimitar with the blade of his axe. Spark's flew as steel forged by the finest craftsmen in the world collided with the black iron the spawn of Morgoth used for their ill-made weapons. The two enemies glared at each other with a savage wrath, red orbs of evil matching the dwarf's steel-blue eyes for hatred.
With a mighty roar Alrik pushed aside the orcs weapon, exploiting the gap in his opponents guard and caving in his head with his axe-blade. Without pause he charged his next chosen target.

In the brief moment that separated one kill from the next, he looked around to see how his comrades were doing. The carnage was utter, entrails and blood making the very face of the mountain slippery as a riverbed. The dwarves, driven by years of hatred, had formed a vedge of steel which broke through the orc mob time and again like a ship crashing through the waves. Even the beardlings were proving their mettle, and he could see no-one in need of his help. Then he glanced to his right.
The lassie, Malí, was barely holding her own against a large orc armed with a wicked-looking mace. Acting without pause, Alrik began to hack his way towards the young dwarf maiden.

An orc jumped onto his path, wielding a crude axe and screaming incoherent challenges in its evil tongue. Alrik sidestepped slightly, moving away from the point of impact, and chopped through the back of his opponents knee, hamstringing it. As the creature toppled to its knees he chopped downwards, splitting its spine lengthwise. The orc flopped wildly in a final burst of energy and slipped to the ground.

Before he could resume his charge towards young Malí's opponent, he felt something barge into himself and his axe was sent slipping from his grasp. A weight fell upon him and he could smell the fetid breath of his assailant. Grappling with the orc, he tried to desperately reach for his blade.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Certainly the fear on Malí's face was evident when a huge orc came fumbling towards her. However, the look of relief and appreciation soon took over as Alrik so kindly stepped over to intervene. This look was also replaced by another as Alrik became lodged underneath an orc with his weapon cast away from his grasp. Malí thought quickly, debating inwardly whether running would be a good thing to do at a time like this.

Instead, Malí cried out as menacingly as she could and dove for Alrik's weapon. She raised the ax up over Alrik and his assailant, and when Alrik was not in her view and all she would see was the back of the orc, Malí slammed down the ax and lodged it deep into the orc's back. The thing squirmed for a moment, and then fell limp on top of Alrik. Malí helped the dwarf shove the orc off him, and helped Alrik to his feet. For once, I did something right besides solving an equation! Malí thought.

Alrik smiled momentarily and withdrew his ax from the large orc. "Thank ye, lassie." He said, patting Malí's shoulder. Dazed, Malí replied, "No, thank you!" Malí was glad to be alive, more than anything else.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Having heard the sound of arms clashing from the gates of Moria, Flói rushed to his comrades' aid. Orcs poured out from the gate, in an attempt to drive them back from the gates. Not a chance. He grasped his axe tighter.

The Orcs seemed to avoid him, going instead for his companions. He stood in the midst of the battle a little miffed. An Orc passed close by.

"Hey!" he shouted to the Orc, "get your ugly face in here!"

The Orc turned to his direction, and saw the gleam in Flói's axe. He faltered, and started to run. The Dwarf gave chase.

As they approached Durin's stone, he felt that his prey was not alone. Out of the rocks a troll jumped suddenly. Flói had narrowly missed the bulk of the monster bearing him down to the ground. With his foe slow to get up, Flói raised his axe, and, with all his might, clove its head asunder. Black blood gushed from the severed neck, and he was glad. Then he heard a sound that resembled the wind rushing, and felt a sharp pain in his chest . He turned around.

The Orc had a bow in hand, and an arrow had been loosed upon him. Flói fell silently to the ground, his eyes last looking upon Mirror Mere.

[Will Witfoot]

Alrik grasped his fathers axe once more and scanned his surroundings for a suitable target. There were plenty of those to go around, certainly, but he really should not leave the lass, Malí, alone. He made a snap decision.

"Stay with me!". He shouted so that she could hear him over the din of battle. Acting without a moments pause he shoulder-charged the nearest orc, sending it sprawling to the ground and proceeding to hack appart it's prone form. The lassie was right on his heels.
That was good. Now he could guard her, and he had someone to guard his back and shout a warning if a foe were to try and take him unawares.
Another orc came for him, trying to spear him with it's curved scimitar. Froth bubbled from the creatures lips, indicating a battle-frenzy bordering on madness.

He swung his axe in a horizontal arc, deflecting the blade from himself, and rammed the top of his axe-blade into his assailants face. The orc tottered backwards with blood pouring from it's broken nose. A powerful blow from Alrik's axe split the creature open from throat to groin.
He saw the much-depleted mob of orcs beginning to loose heart from the vantom slaughter wreaked upon them by the vengefull dwarves. The battle was still in the balance though, for if they gave their foe enough time to rally their troops and organize suitable resistance it was very likely that the dwarves would be the ones driven from Moria. The fight needed to be solved quickly.

He gave a deep, guttural roar through his war-mask, causing a couple of his opponents to flinch back. Deciding to make good use of this weakness Alrik charged.