Last Ride of the Heir RPG

[Saraphim]

Despite the revelry of the night before, the spirits of the elves and men had dropped well below Elrohir's tolerance level. All were talking in hushed voices of certain doom.

"This simply will not do," said Elrohir loudly, causeing everyone to look aroound at the disturbance. he stepped to the front of the group.

"Listen to me, my comrades. This talk cannot go on. It will bring us down to cowardace and shame, two things that do not belong in a battle party," the elvesa and rangers looked around at each other, surprised at Elrohir's speech.

He continued, "My lords, If it is woven into our fates to perish this day, then so it shall be. No words or actions will prevent it. But shall we march into battle singing the praises of doom? Or will we fight to the tune of life, and love of those we would protect and serve?"

Those gathered were now utterly silent, listening to the elf's words.

"If it one thing I cannot abide, it is sadness without a cause," said Elrohir quietly. Then, louder, "If at the end of this mission, our friends lie dead, we may feel anguish and pain. But not until! No, my comrades. Do not let the fear of death hinder your courage. Without that, we are certainly doomed."
Elrohir finshed, eyes aflame, and waited to hear what they would say.

[bilbo_baggins]

Hearing Elrohir's speech lifted Anga's spirits beyond the glum that had settled on all, a premonition not easily rid of. But, as he had said, it was not the time nor place for such behavior. He felt a little ashamed of himself and hoped he would be worthy of forgiveness.

Continueing to walk, Anga thought things through. He had to make some connection with another of the party, or he would be rather lonely. Of course, he had always been a loner, hadn't he? No, Anga thought viciously, don't think those things! But the evil personification of his doubts did not relent. You are nothing, it continued, nothing but a worthless lump of flesh. Even the gift of immortality is wasted on such as you. Why do you not cease to exist? It would be so much simpler. The voice droned on, and for once in his life, Angakemion had no-one to turn to.

With sweat breaking on his brow, he tried to plod ahead. Gazing at the passing scenery stilled his thoughts. The wind in the trees, blowing gently. The same cool zephyr passing through their company, sweetly refreshing them.

The promise of a fight also helped him. He mentally went through a half-dozen exercises he would practise tonight. Sharpening his skills, every movement at a time. He hoped that by the time they reached orcs, he would be more than ready to face them.

[The Perky Ent]

As the men and elves left Rivendell, Arathorn kept a steady pace in front of everyone. As he walked, Arathorn realized just how green Imladris was. Everywhere he looked, trees, flowers, and shrubs. It truly was, in Arathorn’s opinion, a blessed land. It was a pearl in a dead clam, Arathorn thought. “Arnor is in ruins, the Angle isn’t exactly a palace, and Bree is a insult to my fathers great work. Lindon is empty and The Shire is a secluded mystery. The West is in a decline.” Arathorn said, although everyone was either too far behind or arguing to hear him. Giving a sigh, Arathorn continued his walk.

After a considerable time of walking, Elrohir ran up to Arathorn with great energy. “So Arathorn, we are to walk the East Road until we see orcs? It doesn’t seem promising! Thought we haven’t done this in a while, my bow, along with my brother’s, haven’t be gathering dust all this time.” Elrohir said, as he loaded his bow and fired it into the air. All the men and elves noticed at once, but didn’t see that Elrohir fired it.

At once, Elladan ran up with his bow drawn. “Where are they? I wish to use my bow before the day is out!” Elladan said, eyes darting around. Angakemion, along with Hanidur, came right after Elladan, swords clasped. “Put away your swords men. There is no orcs. Elrohir was just…uh…demonstrating his skill. Yes…um…I bet that he couldn’t land an arrow in that tree over there,” Arathorn said, pointing to a tree far away. “And he did, so…now he’s won the bet!” Arathorn said, giving Elrohir a piece of gold. Elrohir was blushing. Arathorn was a great man, he thought. “He just saved your hide Elrohir, pay him back!” Elrohir thought, trying to quickly improvise. “Yes, I won. However…uh…my arrow bounced off in the wind. So, Arathorn deserves his money back!” Elrohir said, giving the gold back.

After Elrohir’s embarrassing incident, the party was quite for a while. Slowly, the bright red sun became level with the horizon. Then, as the sun began to set, and the moon began to rise, Eldín started making uproar. “What is it Eldín?” Elladan said, wondering why he was making a commotion. At once, Eldín pointed a pale finger out into the horizon. “I see nothing!” Arathorn said, tightening his eyes. “Nor can I! Elf, what is it you see” Hanindur said. Suddenly, Elladan and Elrohir gave a great laugh. “The Trollshaws! Our first landmark!” Elladan said, running off. The others quickly followed.

As the last light of the sun slowly dimmed, Arathorn reached the Trollshaws. Finally, they would get to the hunt. Before the trees, Arathorn stopped the men and elves for a speech. “Now listen!” Arathorn said with a stern face. “We are here to hunt orcs! Let us not be tormented with trolls. They aren’t exactly flowers in the meadow. Let us be cautious!” And as soon as Arathorn had said those words, and arrow flew past his head. And in the darkness behind the trees, he could see illuminated eyes. Orcs. At once, Arathorn ran into the forest, sword drawn. Almost instantly, the others followed. As they ran through the forest, over mud and branches, Arathorn suddenly realized he couldn’t find the orcs. “Where are you?” Arathorn said, sword waiting to strike. To the right of him, he could hear a stomping sound. Then a crunching sound, and silence. As Arathorn followed the sounds, he came into a clearing. He had found the orcs. They were dead. “We are too late! They have been taken!” Owacyn shouted. “What was their cause of death?” Paladir asked, as he and the rest moved into the center of the clearing where the orcs lay. “It seems,” Elrohir said, “that they were beat to death.” Arathorn gave a curious look over his shoulder. “But that means…” And as Arathorn turned around, he saw a ring of trolls surround the men.

[Saraphim]

Elrohir was surprisingly unruffled, given his situation. Underneath his tactical, battle-ready mind, he knew that after the battle had ended, he would replay it in his mind, and remember how many times he came to within a breath of dying.

But it was with eerie calm that Elrohir loaded his bow and shot, the arrow hitting its mark in the eye of one of the trolls.

Another arrow went through the other eye, felling the beast, and creating a opening point to escape from the ring of approaching trolls. That one came from Elladan, who nodded to Elrohir.

He knew what to do. Swift as he could manage, Elrohir had used the fallen troll to give him a boost up to a tree, where he used his vantage point to shoot arrow after arrow, aiding the elves and rangers. In a matter of moments, more of his comrades were with him shooting from the canopy.

Then, the moment came. Elrohir reached into the quiver at his waist, only to find it empty.

A wave of fear washed over him, but was abated when he saw Elladan below him, battling for his life with a great brute of a troll. Drawing his sword from his back sheath, he leapt down from the tree, and used the momentum to aid in his swing, slicing the great head from its putrid neck.

Elrohir landed kneeling on the troll's back, sword still in the follow-through position. Elladan helped him from his knees, thanking him.

"But there is no time for words, brother," said Elladan quickly, "Our friends are still deep in the fray!"

[Mad Baggins]

"Trolls!" shouted Beroth, feeling his heart leap into his throat. He drew an arrow from his quiver, fitting it to his bowstring, and let it fly. The arrow found its target, the soft neck-flesh of one of the trolls. Beroth smiled grimly and shot another arrow, this one lodging itself in the eye of a troll. He shot arrow after arrow, nearly all of them hitting their mark. When he found his quiver empty, he smoothly put away his bow, not letting his fear show to the others. He unsheathed his great sword and charged at a troll, dodging the others' arrows and swords.

"You have met your doom at last, foul creature!" he cried, leaping and swinging his sword. He thrusted upward quickly and stabbed through the creature's neck, felling it. As it dropped, Beroth narrowly missed being crushed by its massive weight. Sprinting away, he picked out another troll and descended upon it, piercing its foot with his sword.

The beast bellowed in anger and pain, swiping at him with its great arms. Beroth leapt back, holding up his weapon, and charged again. He stabbed at the troll's neck again but missed, stumbling forward. He was nearly trampled to death when the beast stepped forward, but at the last moment he leapt back again and stabbed, this time piercing through the lower chin. It gave a gurgling cry, then collapsed before Beroth. He exhaled in relief and turned back to the battle.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

A good deal of time it had taken to walk to the Troll Shaws. And when they had gotten there, all the orcs they had ran into had been dead. And not just dead, but pounded to death. By something large and heavy. Hanindur was aware of someone saying: "But that means..." But he was too busy nocking an arrow to the string to notice anything else that was said as the realization came to grounds-- they were surrounded by trolls! He faintly heard the wizz of a well shot arrow against the air, and one troll fell over. Hanindur assumed that was one of the elf's shots, but this was no time to be worrying about who got the most kills, when their lives were in danger.

He pulled back, and let fly the arrow towards the nearest troll, silently praying that it would catch the creature between the eyes.

It didn't.

Silently cursing, and hoping that he wasn't too foolish to continue on against the maddened monster, he dropped his hands to his side, and pulled out his dagger, throwing it with as much strength as he could muster, without having another arrow on the string. The metal blade hit, and pierced, destracting the troll long enough for Hanindur to get another arrow on his bow, and fire. He was aware of another arrow, this time from above, also striking the troll, and, with the combined fire, the troll dropped with a strange howl in it's throat, as it fell over, dead.

If that had been the only troll, Hanindur would've relaxed, but there were too many to waste time now. He drew his sword, not even taking the time to reclaim his dagger, still imbeded in the head of the fallen troll, and slashed hard at a partly wounded troll, injured by the arrows shot by those with bows, and very angered.

He had fallen into the heart of the battle now, a battle not only to kill the trolls, but to hopefully keep his companions alive as well.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Owacyn fired an arrow at the first troll, it took it in the eye. It howled in pain, and swiped at Owacyn, who ducked, rolled and came to a kneeling position. Firing another arrow Owacyn ran forwards, jumping up and swinging the sword down in a huge arc, it took the creature in the forehead, and stuck there. The troll moaned and collapsed, Owacyn was thrown by the fall, but recovered his footing just in time for a second troll to catch him in the chest with a huge punch.

Arathorn looked to the side, momentarily pausing in combat as Owacyn hurtled off the ground, he crashed into a tree trunk and fell to the ground, not trying to stop himself with his arms...