Search for Rhûn RPG

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The woman’s attack foiled, Hænir pressed in for the kill, but another one of the savages quickly intervened. He swatted aside the man’s attack easily, for the Rhûnian was rash in his assault, and not as well trained as some of the others. With another easy blow Hænir broke the man’s collarbone and sent him reeling into a wall. Once more he turned to the woman, now quickly recovered from her wound. She stood for him, both her weapons at the ready, and the undeniable shine of battle-lust in her eye. Hænir’s own eyes glowed as he rushed her. There was a furious exchange of blows as the woman’s blades danced around his head, and it might have gone ill for Hænir had they not both been suddenly distracted by Bali’s roaring voice, lifted in rage above the general din of battle.

Across the room from where Hænir fought, Bali had been forced into a tight corner, but he waded forward from the constraints of his position, slaying as he went. Their leader seemed to have been driven mad and in his mood he attacked with little concern for defence. Hænir’s soul went cold as he saw a group of the savages move toward him, clearly intending to surround him with their blades. Forgetting the woman, Hænir sprang forward to Bali’s aid, but was met with a wall of opponents. He slew one and thrust the others aside, but the sound of steel cutting air at his back forced him to whirl, just in time to parry the renewed attacks of the warrior woman. He tried in vain to drive her off, but to no avail – no matter what he tried she came at him with greater ferocity. Hænir’s strength was beginning to fail. Despite his successes, the enemy was simply too many, and they had managed to separate the travellers from one another. The sound of chanting brought Hænir’s attention back to where Bali stood and he watched as his leader went down beneath their enemies.

The chant went through the room, being taken up by the other savages, and to Hænir’s surprise they began to retreat, apparently content with the capture of their leader. The travellers pursued their enemies, but they fought an effective rearguard action that held them at bay. Hænir pressed the attack as fiercely as he could but it was useless. Bali had been taken.

[Will Witfoot]

The knives of the savages glittered in the torch light illuminating the cavern, weaving deadly patterns in the air that the adventurers were hard pressed to avoid, and many of their attacks drew blood. Despite attacking with the same ferocity and passion for battle as before, they seemed to be more careful, utilizing complex attacks and feints with a savage cunning.

Gortek deflected a thrust from a Rhûnian's knife with a sweep of his short sword, and doing the unexpected he stepped closer, passing within the man's guard. Before the Rhûnian could react the dwarf jabbed his knee into his groin. As his adversary doubled up with a rictus of pain contorting his face Gortek slit the savage's throat with the long dagger he held in his left hand. A battle was no place for chivalry.

He had been lucky with his easy success, and his luck it seemed was about to turn. One of the savage's companions came for him, and even with several years of fighting experience under his belt Gortek was sorely pressed to avoid having one of the man's blades burry themselves into his eye or breast. It was like trying to combat shadows. His opponent swirled and ducked, avoiding all of Gortek's blows and lashing out viciously with his own weapons, leaving the dwarf dancing in a flurry of blades. Miraculously he emerged from the storm of attacks unscathed, but he had no time to marvel at his fortune before the Rhûnian released another torrent of blistering blows, forcing Gortek to drop to one knee to dodge the blade aimed for his face.

Gortek understood that he could not be the victor in this fight. His favored method had always been speed and skill, and here was an opponent who was his master in both fields. Because of his chosen vocation of fighting, Gortek wore no armour so as to not encumber himself needlessly, a fact which he severely regretted now.
As the savage loomed over him, preparing to administer the killing blow, the dwarf realized that his only chance was to resort to another skill in which he excelled at; fighting dirty. He scooped up a handful of gravel from the cave floor, and as his enemy stepped in with his blades screaming through the air towards his head, Gortek leapt into action. He caught the Rhûnian's knives with his sword, and as the man withdrew his weapons for a renewed attack Gortek cast the small pebbles and rough sand into his face. The moment of blindness this caused to the man was enough, and soon he crashed to the rough stone floor with a short sword sized hole through his breast.

Suddenly a roar from the other side of the cavern captivated his attention, and he saw Bali barge through the enemy like a ship through a storm-tossed sea, slaying left and right and killing anything that dared stand in his path. Even as Gortek watched, their leader crashed into the middle of a group of their enemies, who set upon him with such force that not even the battle-frenzied Bali was able to resist it. He was clobbered unconscious, and the beasts let out a howl of glee, withdrawing from the chamber with their companion. Any chance of pursuit was stemmed by a clever rearguard action their enemies executed at the narrow doorway leading out of the chamber. Their leader was in enemy hands.

[Novnarwen]

This time, Dwalin felt more prepared for what came. The Rhuians seemed too, to be aware of the danger in approaching the dwarves, who had given them a hard time just earlier. However, as Dwalin again found himself in the situation of where he felt like he had to be saved to get out of this alive, he got a helping hand from one of the others. As he rose to his feet, his hands knitted around his axe, he thrust his blade into his attacker. But to Dwalin's surprise, the Rhuian hadn't dropped dead. He had frowned with pain, but as soon as Dwalin had turned his back to him, ready to take on another, he felt a hand on his shoulder. The dwarf was completely taken by surprise as he turned, and was stunned. As arisen from the dead, the Rhuian, still, was very much alive. Dwalin wasn't able to think or react, before something hit him in the face. His axe flung out of his hand, and he fell to the ground with a crack. Eyes still open; he could see his blade landing on the ground not very far away; as a matter of fact, only paces away from his head. Rolling onto his back, he faced the Rhuian; who grinned maliciously. Dwalin realised that he had better get the hold of his weapon again, or he would certainly be dead this time. Therefore, he didn't hesitate to roll over on his side to stretch out his hand to get a hold of his weapon again. When just about to take a hold of it, he felt his hand being smashed under a heavy boot. The poor dwarf let out a short shriek, but was nevertheless well aware of his situation: the Rhuian had grabbed the shiny blade just in front of his eyes. He was holding Dwalin by force, using his feet to tread on him, not letting him go. Now, Dwalin's attacker was about to chop the dwarf's head off, with the dwarf's very own axe. Muttering to himself, shaking, Dwalin tried one last time to roll away from the Rhuian's fierce grip. His opponent looked teasingly at him, shrugging. He kicked Dwalin in the face, leaving the little dwarf with absolutely no chance in getting to his feet.

Then without warning, the Rhuian lifted his hand, which held Dwalin's axe firmly, far above his head. Ready to strike, Dwalin's attacker gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, forcing all his energy on the hit that was going to end the dwarf's life. The dwarf himself didn't dare breathe. He only wished that someone would see him, lying on the cold ground waiting to be killed by one of these barbarians. But surely, what could he expect; the others were busy fighting off their own attackers. He hoped at least that they succeeded. Trembling with fear, he could see his own reflection as the blade came dazzling down to meet his face. With a jerk, he put all his last effort to free his hand. Crawling sideways, he saw the blade hit the ground just inches next to him. The metal made a terrible noise, and the sound made Dwalin's ears almost explode. He was just about to turn around as the second hit came thundering down towards him, and made him scream like a new born. As the Rhuian was about to make the third hit, Dwalin seized his chance; he leaped onto his feet, darted into the Rhuian, pushed him over and grabbed a hold of the axe. Dwalin's lust for revenge rose inside of him, and made him red with anger. Not hesitating anymore, he made the Rhuian step backwards, and they both stumbled in a body lying on the ground. Together they fell over, face down, both terrified not to be the fastest one to grab a hold of the axe again.

Just when the dwarf thought he had an advantage, as he had managed to get the axe away from his opponent's firm grip and made the Rhuian crawl away from him, the Rhuian drew his knife. It surprised Dwalin that the Rhuian hadn't thought of this hidden weapon before, when Dwailn had laid helpless on the floor, waiting to die. Realising that he was sweaty all over, he also noticed that a feeling of tiredness had suddenly fallen upon him. He found himself halfway closing his eyes, but heard a call from the other side of the room. With mixed feelings, he opened his eyes just in time to see Bali disappear amongst a crowd of the Rhuians. At the same time, his attacker leapt to his feet. His eyes were filled with hatred, as he came Dwalin's way with a knife in his hand. Dwalin wasn't focusing, but he felt his leg automatically lift from the floor and just kick randomly in the air. Something had darted towards him, but it had been stopped by the gigantic foot of his.

Collecting his axe at last, still laying on the floor, he was able to turn his head and see the last of the Rhuians retreat. The last ones disappeared through the opening of the tunnel, as he got to his feet. "Bali!" he screamed, but as he darted afterwards a strong hand grabbed him around his arm. Dwalin looked questioningly at Hænir, whose sweat ran down his forehead and whose face was bruised. "Aren't we going after him?" Dwalin looked around, seeing all the other dwarves alive. He sighed with relief. At least they were alive. Dwalin needed all of them when he was going after Bali.

[Saraphim]

Nephil was the one to be pulled from battle this time, but only because he did not know that they were retreating once more.

Corith had pulled him away from his battle with the Quendi, a battle that had succeeded in draining Nephil's strength.

As the survivors ran from the room, Nephil supported by Corith, he thought over what had happened.

"I never had a chance to think," he said to his cousin, "I had to keep moving. It is so fast. So fast. The small ones are strong, but slow. And the ones... that are like us... are strong, but slower than we are. But that Quendi..."

"Quiet," said Corith, setting him down when they reached another room," Rest. I'll be back."

It took a moment for Nephil to get his bearings, but after he recieved a bowl of water he was refreshed a bit and could look around. A noise at the far edge of the cave made him stand painfully up and walk over.

One of the small warriors had been captured! it was in the process of being bound, which was not an easy thing to do and took quite a number of Rhunians to accomplish.

A sound behind him and he knew Maulka was there. He turned to talk to her, but her eyes widened when she saw him.

"Oh my..." she said, "What happened to you?"

Nephil looked down on himself. He was covered from foot to chest with shallow gashes, which had been made by the Quendi's sword.

Nephil drew one of his knives and looked at his reflection in the polished metal.

Great cuts scarred his face, one coming dangerously close to his eye.

His leather armor was in tatters, and his hair tie was missing.

"You fought the Quendi?" asked Maulka.

Nephil nodded," and I'm surprised I got off this lucky," he said.

He turned back to thier captive. Those who had bound him, though successful, were now nursing bruises. No one seemed to want to get near him.

Nephil dropped to his knees in front of the bound warrior. In a loud clear voice, he said, "Who are you? Of what manner of creature are you? And, above all, why do you tresspass in our home?"

Nephil waited, hoping it could understand him.

[Himaran]

His head hurt and his hands were bound, but Bali was putting up a good fight. The dwarf had savagely kicked out at his captures upon waking; and although they still surrounded him, the Rhunians were keeping their distance. He stood, enemies that could end his life instantly on all sides, with an air of confidence and authority. Perhaps it was this that kept them from disposing of him immediately.

Suddenly, the other natives backed away slightly. A rather large male warrior stepped forth, staring at Bali with almost a questioning look. Then he spoke, not in the common tongue, but in a language to which the captured traveler was quite familer. They were Easterlings! The words had decayed over time, but now Bali could make out their distinct race. How they had become such great fighters, however, remained a mystery.

The native before him said in a calm and commanding tone, "Who are you? Of what manner of creature are you? And, above all, why do you tresspass in our home?"

Bali decided to comply. There was a very slim chance of his survival anyway, so why not make a friend before he was beaten and cooked alive? Just like in the old stories...

"I, good sir, am a dwarf. I live far away from here in a mountain; a cave of sorts. I and my company meant not to harm you or your land. We were on... a very important mission from my master." The dwarf made a firm decision not to mention treasure; that, if anything, would spell his certain doom.

The Rhunian was quiet for a moment. "A dwarf. Just like in the stories. But I care not about your race. What of the Quendi? The great warrior, the invincible one?"

Bali chuckled inwardly. So they thought that the lone elf was invincible. He was a good fighter, to be sure, but far from undefeatable. But why not let them think that? Obviously, this race knew something of the outside world.

"The Quendi is indeed invincible."

A collective gasp echoed throughout the chamber. The Rhunian stepped forward, a grimace on his face. "You lie! He is flesh like the rest of us."

Bali kept a remarkably straight face, given the humor of the situation. "Nay! He is of a lost race, one from across the great sea. He is a child of a god; you have seen his speed and strength, and the ease with which he slays us mortal beings. I cannot kill him... and neither can you."

[Novnarwen]

"We have to go after him! He would have done the same for us!"

Dwalin found himself waving desperately with his arms. As everyone turned their attention to Dwalin, the dwarf took his time and looked seriously at each and every of them. Many of them were bruised, and were covered in blood. Their faces were covered in dirt and sweat, and only the elf looked almost like normal. They were exhausted, and with their grimaces, Dwalin knew that they were thinking the same as him; Bali could be dead already, and what was the point in going after him then? It would suit them no good to burst into the Rhuian's new resort in the state they were in; they were tired and their backs were sore. After being in battles, such as this one, Dwalin reckoned they all needed a couple of days to fully recover. As the original leader of the quest though, he felt a certain responsibility, now that Bali was gone. He couldn't let his brother, and companion, to a certain death. Surely, if Bali wasn't dead already, he would certainly be soon; if none went after him. Even though the thoughts of Bali being dead made him utterly miserable, he couldn't stop trying to convince the others; that was his job.

"Bali is depending on us. Only we have the power to save his life. We can either go after him and find him.... Or we can turn our backs on him, pretend that he isn't gone, and leave him with these barbarians, which will certainly be his death." He coughed gently, as if he wasn't trying to get them all to feel bad about themselves for not taking a stand yet, but to realise the facts in this situation. He put up the grimmest face he could ever dream of, and continued to stare at them.

No one said anything. It was completely silent, only Nerin found himself stumbling and falling to the ground. He sighed as he rose to his feet again, red faced, and disgusted by the look of the dead Rhuian who had caused his fall.

As a couple of minutes passed, the dwarf couldn't take it anymore. The silence was unbearable, and it made him angry that no one had said anything yet. Didn’t they care? Didn't they care at all for Bali? What Dwalin came to realise annoyed him the most, was that after all Bali had done for them, they didn't seem a bit grateful for what he had done. Narrowing his eyes, uncertain about what to do, he made his move towards the tunnel door. "I will go! If that means I will have to go alone, I will." With a determined tone in his voice, he didn't offer the others another look before he paced sternly out of the opening. He could only hope that he would hear footsteps following him.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Dwalin’s panicked appeals for help did not fall on deaf ears, for even as the young Dwarf cast about him in a near frenzy, Hænir was already moving about the room examining the bodies of the fallen. His practised eye noted the manner and shape of what little armour the savages wore, and he committed to memory where it was weakest. He stooped time and again to examine their weapons, picking them up and balancing them in his palm, assessing how they would best be used in battle. He saw that most of them had multiple blades hidden in small sheathes and pouches about their body, but that most of them chose to keep their knives in cunningly hidden leather sheathes that they hid in their sleeves. As he looked at corpse after corpse he began to note that for all the differences in their clothing and arms there was a single motif that was repeated again and again. Stamped in the leather of their shirts, engraved on the blades of their weapons and even tattooed into their skin, was the stylized image of a glowing sphere of light, with many shafts of radiance spilling outward from it. He had no idea what it meant, but he carefully filed the image away for further study.

So intensely was he focused upon the search of the dead that he did not notice the ringing silence of the hall until it was broken by the furious ringing of Dwalin’s heels upon the stone. The young Dwarf’s last words echoed through Hænir’s mind, and as Dwalin disappeared into the darkness of the passage down which the Rhûnians had taken Bali, Hænir sprang up from where he was crouching over the dead and rushed across the hall crying, “Why do you all stand there amazed and dumb? Bali has been taken by a cruel and savage folk; we have seen what they do with their prisoners! We cannot, nay we will not let him be taken!”

His grip on his axe tightened as he flew down the passageway behind Dwalin, and from behind he heard the sounds of the others start to follow.