Last Ride of the Heir RPG

[astarielle]

Elladan, who was still up in the trees raining arrows on the trolls, lept from branch to branch avoiding swings from the trolls below. He had killed around 34 trolls since the beginnning of the foray but spent his last 2 arrows on the troll that tried to kill Arathorn. As his quiver was spent he decided what to do.

He eyed a troll standing with his back to the trees howling with rage. Elladan gracefully made his way unseen to the tree directly behind it. He climbed up until he was directly above the trolls head and drew his sword. With a cry of "Elbereth" Elladan lept from the tree and drove the sword deep into the head of the troll. For a few moments the troll remiained standing giving the elf time to return to the trees before it crahed to the floor.

Almost at once a couple more trolls came crashing through the trees behind him overcome with rage for their fallen comrades. They paused at the edge of the circle searching for the attacker of the troll whom Elladan had killed. "Where is he? I'll eat him whole for breakfast!" The elf heard one say. Elladan remained close in to the trunk of the tree. In one swift movement Elldaan jumped from the tree once more to land on the back of the left-hand troll. He cut the troll's jugular. As the other swung his mace at Elladan, the elf clung on to it and made his way up the arm towards the chest. The troll thrashed about trying to rid himself of the elf but to no avail, he fell dead to the ground in a matter of moments.

[The Perky Ent]

"Glad you could join us Elladan!" Arathorn said, plunging his sword in the back of the leg of a troll. "And let you have all the fun?" Elladan said, thrusting his sword in the trolls other leg. The troll swifly fell to the ground. Owacyn was rapidly killing trolls, much to Arathorn's dismay. Arathorn quickly jumped on the back of a half dead troll and began stabbing rapidly. In a moment, the troll was dead. Once the troll hit the ground, Arathorn ran up to two parallel trolls. He jammed his sword into the stomach of the first troll. He then jumped on a rock, and from the rock , jumped on the sword. On the sword, he pulled out a dagger, jumped, and cut the throat of the second troll. The both fell. Elladan's was shocked, and if it was in his nature to drop his jaw, it would have dropped.

Arathorn only had one flaw in the plan. His sword was in too deep in the troll. He pulled very hard, but the sword wouldn't come from the gut of the troll. Arathorn, finding no alternative, took out his dagger and began cutting a hole in the troll's stomach. It was a long process, due to the thickness of the troll skin. "I'll keep watch!" Elladan said, circling around Arathorn. After a short period of time, Elladan began shouting and ran off. Someone was in need. Arathorn was defensless now. He only hoped no troll would come. But he didn't have very good luck. As the sword became loose, yet not loose enough to pull out, a large troll, armed with a mace, stood right in front of Arathorn.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

As Arathorn looked up at the troll, saw it raise its club, he was motionless...unable to move he knelt there as it roared and started to bring the mace down. Arathorn heard a shout, and recognised it as Owacyn's voice. He came from behind, leaping over Arathorn and landing on the belly of the dead troll. From there he jumped headfirst into the chest of the huge beast. Arathorn heard a gurgle, and saw black blood ooze from the mouth of the troll. Owacyn was hanging onto his sword, which he had rammed into the monster right up to the hilt. The troll thrashed violently, jolting the sword. Owacyn hung on for grim death as it started to swipe at him with its club. He cursed, it wasn't fatally wounded. Summoning all his strength he pulled his body up onto the sword, letting go as he reached the highest point and grabbing onto its head. IT jerked back violently, throwing Owacyn onto its back, though he still clung on.

Arathorn looked on, powerless, his sword still wasn't extricated from the troll's belly, and he had to watch as Owacyn was picked up with a single, huge, hand. Thrown into the air like a rag doll, and then hit with the club as he came down. He flew into a tree, and Arathorn heard a disgusting cracking noise. Screaming in anger, he wrenched the sword from the belly, and swung it up as the troll descended on him...

Black blood squirted onto his armour, and the troll fell forward, its throat cleanly cut. He wanted to run to Owacyn, but he couldn't. Another troll was bearing down on him...

[Mad Baggins]

Beroth wiped the sweat out of his eyes and charged at yet another troll. Swinging his sword, he slashed off an arm and cut the creature's throat before it knew what had hit it. He moved on to another troll and killed it swiftly. Stepping around the body, he moved to the next creature. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a body flying through the air. Killing the troll, he turned and gave the still body his full attention. It was Owacyn. A gargantuan troll loomed over him, waving its club. Blood trickled from a wound.

Beroth heard a rage-filled scream and began to sprint towards Owacyn. The troll that threatened to crush him was beginning to wobble, but it was still a large threat. He leapt in front of Owacyn's form and thrust his sword into the troll's neck. Pulling it out, he watched it wheeze and slowly topple over. Beroth turned to Owacyn and touched his shoulder gingerly. Getting no response, he picked him up as gentle as he possibly could and carried him swiftly out of immediate danger. As he ran, one thought resounded through his head: Owacyn, hold on.

[Phervasaion]

Paladir stood behind a tree waiting for the order of Arathorn to attack the trolls, the trolls of which were making a loud noise, crashing smashing so loudly that you could hear it from miles away. Suddenly, Paladir heard the commanding voice of Arathorn not far from him.

“Now men! Forth!” He said while running from behind his cover and into the flank of the trolls. Paladir obeyed and dived out from behind the tree, drew his sword, and charged the enemy down at the front.

“For Arnor, The lost kingdom!!” Shouted the tall Ranger as he ran towards the nearest troll and beheaded it in one swipe. The battle had only really just begun when the cries of Anga echoed across the field. Paladir did not know the fallen Elf very well, but it made him mourn for the loss of their first companion, and who knew who could go down next. Owacyn was grieved for the loss of Anga but it only made him mad, and now he was killing the trolls as if they were no match.

Men, and Elves stood in awe admiring his wrath against the enemy, it seemed that nothing would get in the way of his revenge. Arathorn, Paladir and the other men began to work harder fighting and killing the trolls with surprising ease, and their movements were so fast and smooth that the trolls had no time to dodge or block them.

“This is for Anga you foul beasts!!” Paladir shouted as he chopped the arm of a nearby enemy and then drove his sword through his scaly stomach. “And this is for Imladris!!” He shouted again as he struck yet another troll.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur sighed hard. The battle was drawing so much of his strength away, it was harder to fight than many of the others he had been in, as before, he had never faced a troll with a mace before. Because of that little complication, his only choice was to keep his eyes peeled, rather than on whatever he was fighting, to stay alert. Already, anyone who danced would've been proud of him, with that amount of dodging he had to do.

Not to mention avoiding any misplaced arrows as well. What was it that had been said the day before... something about counting the enemies. He recalled answering Do you count your friends afterwards too?. And how true that was now, as he knew they had lost one... maybe more, though indeed, he hoped not. But there was no time to see whether any others were down, as he had to keep his eyes on the trolls.

After fighting so many, it became easier, it seemed, almost a programmed reaction to the trolls. And yet, he did not feel that he could let himself stop to take a breath, though it was what he needed most. There was no time, there was no way that he could take any such chances. Not now.

Dodging a hammer stroke, and dashing underneath a troll's fist just as he would've been cruched, Hanindur stroked sideways, and slashed at the troll's arm. With that disablement, he was able to thrust his sword into the troll's side, and it fell over sideways, now a habit for him to jump out of the way. But his jump was misguided, and, as the troll's hammer fell back in as a dead weight, he found himself hit from behind by another troll's thrust, just missing his head, but a close enough hit to knock him off his feet.

Hanindur swore in his mind. In the suddenness of the last moment, he had let himself slip up... somewhere. His sword lay just out of reach of his hand, the blow having knocked it aside. There was a choice, whether to just die there, as it seemed inevitable, or to make a dash for the sword, though it was seemingly impossible to get the blade in time to save himself from the final blow.

Ignoring the pain from the blow, he rolled over and grabbed the sword, taking a gamble, and throwing the blade up at the troll's heart.

The chance paid off, cutting through the troll's thick skin, and piercing it's heart, hopefully to the death. It fell over forwards, and Hanindur was lucky not to be crushed by the dead weight falling at him. His sword was in sight, he could've grabbed it, but couldn't make himself move to get the blade.

He stumbled against the ground, and fell forwards, having no control over himself now, the pain from the hammer hitting him too deeply to fight any longer. He knew he wasn't dead, but knew that there was nothing that he could do, as he sat against a dead tree, breathing sharply.

[The Perky Ent]

"You acursed creature!" Arathorn said, looking at Owacyn. He still wasn't moving. Arathorn, his rage filling him, ran under the troll assaulting him. While he was under, he shoved his sword upward. The troll began to scream as he fell to the ground, twitching the entire way. Arathorn quickly pulled out his sword and went to Owacyn. As before, he was motionless.

"Owacyn? Owacyn! Get up! You might not realize it now, but this isn't the best time to sleep." Arathorn said, pulling Owacyn to his feet. Owacyn gave out a small cough and mumbled what sounded like "yes sir!" Arathorn's stamana was getting worse and worse as the trolls kept comming. The elves were handling themselves pretty well, but the men were starting to loose focus. Suddenly, Owacyn's eyes bulged. He screamed "Watch out!", but it was too late. Arathorn, standing on the head of a dead troll, was already in mid-air by then.

A troll had come from behind and pounded its full weight on the dead troll's stomach, forcing a tornado of air through the mouth. A million thoughts were pouring through Arathorn's mind as he was airborn. His primary one was, "How do I get out of this?". As he began his descent, he realized he had two options. He could either try to land on a tree, or land in the middle of a upward facing ax. His choice was obvious. At once, Arathorn began leaning twords a slumping tree. In the process, he cought half of the branch he tried to catch, stopping the impact. However, he did, nevertheless, let go of the branch, falling ten feet.

The impact was heard all around the ring, and everyone stopped. Arathorn lay next to Owacyn. They shared one thing in common. They both weren't moving.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Hanindur was quiet for a moment, after Paldir finished speaking. "Yes," he said lowly, and hoarsly. "May we hope that they will find a better life after death. And I suppose," he added, "that one could consiter it luck, that there were merely two slain in battle of out team, but nevertheless, their absence will be felt, harshly." He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, not really feeling the tiredness upon him, for there was also a harsh restlessness as well. "Uneventful watch?"

"Aye," Paldir answered, "though the open spaces give one a sense of insecurity, in a manner."

Hanindur nodded. "Well, friend, I suppose I had bess try at least, and get some rest before my watch," he stated, though sleep was not really upon him, more a sense of unease... probably a leftover sense from the battle that had just taken place. He found himself staring at the horizon, where the sun had gone down a mere two hours ago, while he had wondered in restlessness, and thoughts. Too many thoughts, as to how close he had came to losing his life, as to the loss of two members of their party.

They were not pleasent memories that filled his mind, and they hurt too, as it was never well for another to lose their life, non deserved to die in battle, though an honorable death, nevertheless. He walked away from Paldir slowly, in thought, as he left the other to his watch, and tried to pull himself to sleep.

Hopefully the remaining watches would be as quiet as the one at the moment.

[astarielle]

The air inside Angmar was stuffy and putrid. A foul stench eminated from the inner chambers of the abandoned Kingdom. Moss clung desperately to the slimey stone walls, now crumbling with years of decay. All in all it was not a very nice place to be, a stark comparison to the light and fairness of Rivendell. The darkness seemed to grow thicker as the group made their way along the tunnel, by the time they split the dark was almost tangible.

The three elves, following commands from Arathorn, made their way up some stairs. Elladan lead the small group keeping his sword free in his right hand and the other hand against the wall. They climbed slowly and waited for the light of Arathorn's torch to disappear in to the growing darkness. Elladan raised his hand, barely visible to Elrohir at the back of the group, signalling to stop. With a sideways incline of his head Elladan signalled that they should make their way down into the depths of the forebodding place. "If any evil does still linger in this place, it will shun the light and therefore remain in the shadows below" he said quietly not wishing to disturb the air and signal their presence to anything that my be lurking in the vacinity. The light footedness of the elves meant they travelled along in relative silence.