Hunt for the Palantíri RPG

[Taralphiel]

Freyn listened to Alahseey speak her case, and nodded along with it. Truth she spoke of their long friendship. Freyn had always respected her position, and he knew well she was a strong and dependable leader.

"Can you do that Freyn? I ask you to do nothing dishonorable, nor to break your pledge to the Elf, but merely to speak out on my behalf so that the truth may be heard....."

Freyn knew something had been bothering him about the Company members. He felt that there was danger, apart from what Nature had already dealt.

"Aye, I see something amiss, Alahseey, and so I will do this for you. I also fear this same threat upon our Company, and I will keep my guard tonight, and as long as I must before it is all over..."

[Kitanna]

Nilak continued to advance across the ice. He knocked down a few Lossoth and even one or two Elves with his harpoon. The tip was stained with the blood of men who had not been so very different from him and life. Nilak tried not to think about it. This was just like all those boats he'd help sink in the shore. No different.

Nilak was suddenly hit from behind. Another Lossoth body slammed him, knocking him to the ground facedown. The snow stung his face and he tried to get to his feet. Whoever knocked him down wasn't very strong so Nilak was able to push him off and get back to his feet.

The other Lossoth was still sitting in the snow. Weaponless. He reached out and grabbed Nilak by the leg and attempted to sink his teeth in. The Lossoth was so desperate he was resorting to biting Nilak. Luckily his boots would block out the attempt. Nilak drew out his dagger and ran it through the other Lossoth's chest.

He made a gurgling sound and spit up blood on Nilak's boots and all over the ice. He sat there twitching by Nilak's feet and trying to say something. Nilak took pity on him and decided to end his suffering. He lifted his harpoon high and drove into the other's chest.

[Orofaniel]

The drowsiness made him dizzy as he lay still. He was drifting away. The dreams were all over and he found it hard seperating them. What was real and what fantasy? He couldn't stay on one path only; it was as if he had no control at all. Sighing in his endless sleep he lay there. Around him followed a battle, a bloody battle between the Corsairs and the Elves. He knew this because he was somewhat conscious, but at the same time he was dead to the world. He could feel the warming heath around his throat as he had great difficulties breathing. He struggled against the fever that was about to come over him. He had been in the icy water for a long time and this was the result.

Suddenly, he could hear Annû’s and Carandû’s voice. The words were not easy to understand, but at least he heard the voices of those friendly creatures. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't let him. Another struggle followed. Two faint shapes were standing in front of him, fighting like heroes against the horrible Corsairs that wanted to see the Elven brothers' blood flow on the ice. The brothers wanted the opposite - he could tell by their way of fighting. As he saw how the Corsairs attacked them, he felt like he was suffocation. He would lie there and watch them fall without doing anything. He struggled again, trying to move his cold body. It worked. His hands clenched to the solid ground, fighting himself up in a sitting position. His vision however, was still faint and he still felt like he was burning up inside.

"Behind you Galhardir!" A voice cried. Galhardir turned, and it seemed like an eternity before he noticed what was coming towards him. A sword was going to strike him right down if he didn't move quickly. His thoughts weren't clear, nor was his vision, so what was he going to do? Fumbeling on all four, he managed to seize a club just in time before it was to late. He hewed it through the air and hit the man that was coming for him. He fell to the ground with a great sound, and found himself now on Galhardir's level. As the Corsair yet again tried to get a hold of his sword, one of the elven brothers then managed to force an attack. The Corsair got up, and fought back; leaving Galhardir was out of danger – for now, at least. Thinking of Annû and Carandû as his good friends as they had saved him from the enemy, Galhardir fell again to the ground as he fainted.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Sprinting down to the ice to take his place beside the other fighters, Luindal had only a moment to dwell upon the strange scene that had taken place between Alahseey and Hilde. The tiny shreads of rope on the axe blade seemingly confirmed Hilde's accusation. Yet Luindal wondered if this was the whole story: perhaps something more was going on than first seemed apparent . Something niggled uncomfortably at the back of his mind, but he had no specific objections to offer, only a vague feeling of discomfort.

For the next few hours, he had little time to think about either of the women. His own hands were full: making sure that his wounded were conveyed to a place of safety, darting in and out to reinforce the small groups that were battling the Corsairs, and going hand to hand in combat with individual Corsairs. Throughout the entire afternoon, Luindal made a point to notice where the Corsair sea captain was fighting. Despite his growing dislike of the man, he could not help but admire an opponent who so craftily used every means at his disposal. The holes in the ice, like the rocks in front of the door of the cavern, had clearly not gotten there by accident.

Several times, Luindal attempted to force the Corsair captain to come out and directly engage him. But the man was maddeningly allusive, and seemed to enjoy playing a cat and mouse game. Luindal could have sworn that the fellow was enjoying poking fun at his earnestness. If he hadn't known otherwise, Luindal would have said that the Corsair leader almost seemed to know him, his likes and dislikes and what strategy he would be most likely to adopt. They seemed to be acting out an old, familiar dance, a fact that infuriated Luindal even more.

Luindal's desire to strike a personal blow at Marreth had at least two motivations. First, without their leader, the Corsairs would be much less effective and might decide to leave the Bay; at the very least, the group should dissolve in warring factions. Yet, there was another element as well: a personal sense that this fellow had played him for an innocent, that he'd had enough of this upstart and would like to strike a blow that would push the smirk off Marreth's face, and avenge the suffererings of his own men.

Luindal had decided to give chase to the Captain with the intent of engaging him one-on-one when the white bear came stumbling through the lines, his long tongue lolling from his great maw and his chest heaving with exertion, "Luindal, we've many wounded. And the men are tired. We can not go on like this. Call a retreat. Our job is to seize the Stones, not to engage in bloody combat down to the death of the final man. I do not think the Corsairs will follow, for they are close to exhaustion themselves. There is a way off the beach under the shelter of those scrub evergreens that will give us cover to get away."

For an instant, Luindal opened his mouth to object: he wanted to chase after his wily opponent and teach him a lesson, not go running off to his ship. Then he thought twice and shook his head, "You are right. These Corsairs make us forget why we are here." Luindal raised the horn to his mouth and sounded the three long notes to regroup and retreat. He watched as men and Elves pulled back from the fray and slowly made their way down towards the southern portion of the shore. He started trotting in that direction beside his friend Rôg and glanced back once over his shoulder. He could have sworn that Marreth was laughing at him....

[Regin Hardhammer]

The combat that afternoon had been harsh, but the men fought with vigor and out of a sense of allegiance to their beloved Captain. Marreth fought alongside them, his brown cloak billowing out behind him as he dashed from one end of the shore to the other, engaging various Elves in hand to hand combat. He had killed or wounded three of them already, although he had fought many more.

Marreth was careful to be constantly moving so as to make himself a harder target for anyone wanting to pick him off. Despite Marreth’s intense hatred of the Elvish warriors and their appearance of being too soft, he had to admit that they were dauntless fighters and very well trained. His own crew was growing weary from the dense and unrelenting combat: several had died and many more were wounded. Marreth did not want to tell his men to retreat, fearing that it might convey weakness to the other side. But if a break in the fighting did not come soon, he felt he had little other choice.

Marreth had just finished skewering the head of another Elf with his rapier when three long, dulcet notes rang through the air, and Luindal’s party began to scamper towards shore. “Bloody cowards,” Marreth roared out to his crew, “Mates, we pounded them like an angry storm thrashing a frigate. But we are tired, and I hardly think that we have any need to finish them off. They have learned never to meddle with Captain Marreth and his crew.”

Despite his bold words, Marreth was very glad that Luindal had decided to retreat first, allowing the Captain to save face. In actuality, the battle had likely been a draw, and Marreth did not see how one side would have been able to gain any sort of clear advantage.

Smiling as he watched the Elves retreat, Marreth froze when Luindal sprinted past him. This meddlesome Elf was the chief obstacle that prevented the Corsairs from obtaining the Palantiri. And, although he was reluctant to admit it, Luindal had proven a shrewd and able adversary. Shivering with excitement, Marreth imagined the Elvish party retreating with the corpse of their dead leader. Now was the prime opportunity to eliminate this threat once and for all.

But taking out the Elvish leader meant much more to Marreth than simply a practical matter of getting rid of the intruder. Marreth’s insides bubbled with steaming anger against the leader. This hatred arose not only from the fact that Luindal had wounded or killed several of his beloved crewmembers, but also on account of his own father driven to madness and murdered by the Elf’s Gondorian allies after they summoned the living dead. In Marreth's mind, Luindal was becoming the symbol of everything that had given him trouble and was responsible for the death of this own beloved father.

Marreth snatched a longbow off the back of a crewmate and steadied his arm as he darted forward and aimed for the vile creature’s heart. Deftly, he plucked the drawstring, hurling the arrow through the air towards the leader. He drew back his arm and let the arrow fly straight and true. But, by chance, a gust of wind came from nowhere and pushed the arrow sideways, so that it grazed the side of Luindal's arm. The Elf looked up, dazed and confused, and saw Marreth’s scowling face. Before Luindal could return fire, Marreth dashed away, cursing the vile wind that had knocked the arrow from its path. Despite the disappointment, Marreth was not unhappy. He consoled himself with the fact that he had wounded and sent a clear message to Luindal. The Elvish leader should take heed of the signal that Marreth had given him: he was in grave danger of losing his life.....

Shouting out to his own men to pull back, Marreth led the Corsairs towards the shore oppsite the one where Luindal and his crew had headed.

[Arry]

Not all the Elves had retreated. The small group of wounded, which the two brothers alongside Elwë and Andtuariel were protecting, were just being helped to their feet as the main body of Elves and Lossoth allies followed after the Captain. Annû heard the horn call that signaled the troops to pull back. He knelt down and hoisted one of the wounded up, putting the man’s arm across his shoulders. Elwë and his sister had already helped the rest of the wounded up and had turned to guide them toward the southern part of the shore.

‘Come, brother,’ Annû said, putting his hand on Carandû’s arm. ‘Let us make haste to join the others. These men need the services of the healer.’

‘Start toward where the rest of our group is headed,’ returned Carandû. Not taking his eyes off something in the distance, he shrugged off his brother’s hand and waved him on.

His gaze was on the one who had just shot at Luindal. ‘Foul men of Harad,’ he muttered. ‘Bedfellows still to Mordor’s shadow,’ he cursed, seeing the shaft graze his Captain’s arm.

The Elven warriors of Rivendell trained long in the uses of their weapons. And by the time he had been sent to escort the Lady Celebrian to the Havens, Carandû was already a master of the bow. He nocked an arrow quickly and drew back his longbow, murmuring a plea to Manwë as he did so.

'O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Firstborn in their need!

His shaft flew true and would have pinned the Southron dog between the shoulder blades, save for the quick jog to the left the Corsair captain made as he sidestepped a small group of dead men that lay in his way. Instead, Carandû saw the shaft nick the man’s right shoulder, then fall to the ground as the Corsair yanked it from him.

Face impassive, Carandû gazed a short time at the Corsair, then turned quickly on his heel and returned to help his brother and the others bring the wounded to safety.

[piosenniel]

Rôg hastened to his friend’s side. Luindal had grabbed his arm as the arrow grazed it, his gaze turning toward the Corsair’s leering face. ‘Don’t stand there like some great Eldar strawman target! Come on now!’ Rôg grasped onto the Elf’s uninjured arm and hurried him along.

Soon they found themselves at a forested area along the southern part of the beach along with the other survivors. Rôg called for one of the healers to come over and look to the captain’s injury. Luindal waved the woman away saying he wanted the others seen to first. ‘Oh, and what will we do when you fall ill from your wound and there is no captain to guide us in through the remainder of this task?’ The healer raised her brow and pointed to the Captain’s arm, indicating he should push up his sleeve and let the wound be seen to. Luindal acquiesced as Rôg reminded him the longer he kept the healer waiting, the longer it would take for others to be treated.

He left the captain in the care of the healer and wandered about beneath the trees. Elwë and Andtuariel had just helped the wounded men they’d brought in to sit down and had begun cleansing their wounds. Annû was busy gathering wood for several small fire pits that a number of the Elves had quickly cleared. Soon, Rôg hoped, there would be hot water for tea and something to eat. Carandû, his brother said, had gone off to bring the reindeer down with the supplies of food and the extra blankets.