The Chetwood
The trees of the Chetwood stand like silent guardians of the forest. The undergrowth that flourishes between the trunks adds an eerie wall against any intrusion into the dark heart of the wood. Many of the trees here are smaller in stature than their brethren further into the forest, though, perhaps a sign that logging once took place here. The night is alive with the sounds of insects, and here and there, fireflies blink on and off in the darkness beyond your light's domain. Your light throws erie shadows through the trees. Great amounts of underbrush clog what could otherwise be paths through the small trees. An owl hoots defiantly at the light source, and the bushes are alive with rustling as small animals scurry to escape the revealing light. Up above, the light filtering down from the full moon is weak by comparison. The effect of the light is twofold... The immediate area is quite visible, but the shadows that the light does not reach become much darker, and completely conceal the forest's denizens, except where the occasional pair of eyes glow, watching...

Contents:
Sulfaroth
Large black warg
Huntress
Sty
Hunter
Galrohad
Nauthcel
Annaiel
Lucy
Lominhur
Krithakt
Lugobgund
Obvious exits:
North, East, and South

The lands of Chetwood, Staddle, and Bree had suffered several days without rain. The ground is hard and dry, dust kicking up with each movement or wind. The grass wilts in the light of day, and the hot nights barely give any relief to the local flora. The sun sets slowly, and as the light gives way to dark, sounds from within Chetwood spark to life. Within a thick gathering of trees, movement. Drums, the clanking of armor, snapping of teeth, and rumbling of danger.

A large hand reaches up, tugging down a thick branch of a tree facing the pathway south. Lucy's protruding eyes squint, glancing behind her for a moment. "Queen wait no more.." she announces, letting go of the branch before her full form steps out into the moonlight. Club in hand, she motions behind her, inviting whatever nightmares lie in the darkness to join her.

More quiet, and less visible than the trolls, are a number of orcs. Possibly a small band in total, wetting dark lips with savage tongues and blades already in hand. Somewhere at their fore is a particularly large one with pitch black flex, yellow eyes glinting in the darkness. Krithrakt grinds his teeth together as he stays back with the other orcs, well out of the way of any stomping troll feet.

"Now remembers, lads," he hisses back to the others. "Stay where she -can't- grab you up, lest y'want t'be maggot meat." Obviously, a few of the uruks aren't quite fool enough to wish a repeat of the shepherding village.

A hunched orc sniffs the ground near Lucy, and moves forward in front of her, his black eye shifting carelessly around in his head independant of the rest of his face. The rustle of sound accompanies his movements for he knows little about moving silently, instead he lifts up a large mace in one hand and shakes it, "Gets our eating on!" he bellows and then lowers the muscled arm again as he bears a grin to the Troll Queen, thick spittle dripping from his maw onto his feet.

Skulking in the dark underbrush of the Chetwood, something foul and twisted approaches. Keeping to the shadows cast by the moonlight, the creature cannot be seen, until abruptly a horrid face appears, thrust out of a thick prickly bush.

"The Queen hungers for man-flesh, yessss?" he says in a gutteral whisper, half question and half statement. "Let's find a farmhouse and be done with it... I want my belly full, yes... But I want ot keep my head attached to my shoulders."

Emerging from the shrubbery, Bohtocks pulls the rusty short-sword, almost more of a cleaver, from his belt and smiles wickedly, approaching the others, albeit with a nervous look toward Lucy.

From a bit behind lucy towers another troll he sniffs the air for a bit and looks on. He takes a few more steps the ground shaking under his feet. He nods his overly round rock lookin head to the queen "Sty go with serve good!" he says thise continuing to walk a club is huffed over his shoulder and sways mencingly behind him.

As the vile creatures of the night move towards the quiet homes of Bree, sets of ashen eyes watch them. In the shadows of the trees and bushes of the countryside, Rangers of the North keep vigilant watch over the enemy. Some wield longbows while others have drawn longswords tensely awaiting the signal to attack. For, the gazes of the Dunedain have turned to the one leading the defensive front - Nauthcel the Constant. From his hiding place, the Ranger steps forth placing himself in the way of the enemies path some hundred-fifty meters away. In one hand, the Dunadan grasps his longsword Lothwin while in the other he hold a torch. As he plants himself in the middle of the path, between two hidden piles of dead twigs and brush, the Constant raises his voice in challenge. "Evil ones of the Yfel, you shall not pass," his voice booms. "Into this peaceful land, you shall not bring turmoil."

Stealing through the night, swift and sure are those who would oppose the would-be-queen. Her menace having caught the attention of those that would keep the road safe. Those who call the light of day their ally, but use the darkness so well. Boots ride the edge of silence, the soft swoosh of a cloak against undergrowth the only sound as a lone figure seeks out those already there. Hood throw back to reveal the feminine trail of her jaw, bow in hand, a quiver full; the ranger trails after her companion, both late to the fight.

But it is not long till she hears Nauthcel's call out to the fiends. Looking to the back of Lominhur's head, she moves forward, joining him now. Slowly the fire comes into view and she readies an arrow, not drawing back, just knocking it into place. "So it starts." She states, watching, waiting as she stops to wait for a position to find once all starts.

As the leader of the line steps forward, the fellow Ranger Talbinor stays back in the trees, no blade yet in his hand lest the glitter of light off his blade betray him to those who would put him away. Despite the cool night temperatures, Talbinor lifts his left hand to his forehead, wiping away some persperation and Dunedan grime from the mucked-up flesh of his forehead, and flicking a small lock of hair away from his eye.

The senior Ranger's declaration to the dark ones draws Talbinor forward slightly, although he remains in the shadow and under cover. Half-crouching behind a tree, Talbinor looks between Nauthcel and out in the direction of the enemy, tongue flickering over his lips slowly and breath very carefully, very deliberately controlled.

Nodding to Annaiel's words, Lominhur takes the time to reach back and squeeze her shoulder ere he looks westward anew. His blade, Balanrod sits in one hand, a shiled in the other and he watches the scene with intent. The hint of torchlight might pick out a gleam on his chest, but with the threat from the other Rangers so apparent, it would be a wary foe indeed who looks his way.

Lucy had stepped out a few paces, turning to watch as the others spill out to join her. The voice brings pause to her action, and slowly the mountainous form turns to peer around her. She sniffs the air once.. twice. Turning fully around and taking another step out. "Who come t'stop Lucy? Who come t'see th'Queen?" She bellows, grinning menacingly, fingers curling around the base of her club, pulling it slowly from its hold. "Bring triboot ..." she begins, "And Queen not kill.. not eat.. not smash." A troll trying to bargain? "Food ... triboot ..." she repeats, taking another testing step. Lucy hefts Thunker.

Behind the troll queen there are menacing snickers in the darkness, the band of orcs betrayed by glinting eyes and what light reflects from dull blades. Krithrakt chuckles deep in his throat, eyes narrowing and lip curling maliciously. Sulfurous yellow eyes set upon the lone ranger before his kin with deadly intent as the black orc slinks closer to the Queen. He still stays well out of her massive arm reach, however, obviously intent on not being used as a ballistic.

"There's yer dinner," he hisses aside, low to the other orc, and words partially a growl. "Jus' make sure it dun't chop yer 'ead off first. I ain't gunna be savin' yer skin." Bohtocks looks from Lucy to the Dunedain and back again, his grotesque face contorted into a grimace as he seems to consider what she's said. It doesn't take him long to reach a conclusion, however, for he hefts his rusty cleaver and takes an anticipatory step forward, calling to the other orcs in a voice loud enough to carry to the Rangers too.

"Just what I likes, boys... Meat that delivers itself. Mind you keep your hands off the wench, though... I like the look of her. I bet I'll like the taste of her better yet!" He laughs cruelly, lifting his blade to run his black tongue along its rusty surface, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

"Those who had brought down the the 'King' challenge you now. We come not to barter but to bring a halt to the destruction you inflict upon both land and Free Peoples." The grey gaze of Nauthcel remains set on the approaching foes, determined and confident, while the torch that he bore is tossed to the side. For a moment, he is basked in only silver moonlight before the kindle catches and begins to devour dead foliage. At this sign, the other pile is lit turning the once dark pathway into a brightly glowing trail. The signal is sent that the time to fight is now. The Constant patiently awaits the attack of the enemy, his blade held forth and appearing as a flame in the bonfire light.

Riding up the road from Bree Galrohad sits on his horse with his eyes closed not holding the reins the horse walking freely as he will. Every now and then his pipe glows as he takes a draw and leaves a trail of smoke behind him. Galrohad rides along in the quiet country side enjoying the night air. Clippity clop, clippity clop the horses hooves sound in the hard packed dirt of the road way kicking up dust as he moves up the road.

Suddenly harsh voices are heard ahead of him some distance away and the horse stops, Galrohad listening as more harsh voices are heard. Galrohad sighs and sits listening the night silent close to him, waiting.

As the brush is claimed by the torch, Annaiel lifts from her haunches. Now she can see some of hte orcs that rest near the 'queen'. She sights down her arrow, the bowstring whining in complaint as the brings the fletching to her cheek. Tilting her head slightly she aims for Bohtocks, only slightly to his right. Fingers flex a moment, the string twinging in it's last drawed inch before the rangeress let's it fly

As the sound of her string releases, a hum added to the rush of her arrow, she is already setting another to her string, aiming down it as well, pulling back to aim for Bohtock's left, perhaps for him if he decides to enter the arrow's path.

All the while, Lominhur is stalking his way around the group of foul creatures; slipping from shadow to shadow as he makes his way through the foliage. As the arrow flies out from Annaeil he tenses and watches with intent to see if any of the yrch are left alone by their reactions.

With a grunt, Talbinor reaches over his shoulder and pulls his longbow off his belt as Nauthcel's words ring in his ears, bow settled in his left hand before the right goes back over his shoulder to draw forth one arrow from his quiver. Frowning thoughtfully at the arrow in the darkess, Talbinor quickly runs his lips over the feathers to straighten them out, before nocking the arrow and rawing the bow up.

Talbinor pauses for a moment, standing out from behind his tree and sighting down the arrow, but no satisfactory targets leap out at him from this range, through the woods, in the darkness, and he lowers the bow and returns to a crouch. Still, he looks out, bow and arrow both in hand, pensively waiting for his chance. COMBAT - Wielded: Longbow

Sty continues his stride though he is not overly bright he hears the voices his nose up in the air he scans trying to see them first. This hunk of rock brings the club off his shoulder and holds it now infront of more of a ready place in case he needs to use it. He looks to lucy to see "You seem em?" he asks in his grunting like voice?

Sitting up in his stirrups Galrohad gazes down the road with the sight given to the Rangers. Way off in the distance he sees figures moving about. Large figures and smaller about it and he sees more movement in the brush to the sides. He takes a deep breath to try to calm his rapidly beating heart and then hears familiar voices and he sits back on the horse and takes another puff of the pipe realizing he is not alone to face this horde.

After several moments Galrohad makes his decision. He dismounts and waves the horse off. His horse trots back down the road a short distance and then turns reluctant to leave. At a sign from Galrohad the horse tosses his head and winnies loudly and then gallops off down the road in the direction they had just come. Galrohad stands watching to make sure the horse is gone and then turns and fades into the brush on the side of the road slowly and carefully making his way toward the gathering.

An orc immediately to Bohtocks' right makes a gurgling gasp, dropping to the ground after a moment, a Dunedain arrow lodged in its throat. This seems to be taken as the cue for the nearby orcs to sidle away, to seek cover or find a safer approach to the Dunedain.

Bohtocks curses loudly, vilely and creatively, as he hurls himself away from the dead orc and shuffles forward toward the cover of a cedar tree not far from the pair of trolls. Having gained at least a hint of cover, he shouts loudly into the woods, "Come out and fight, wench! I like to play with my food before I eat..."

The taunting does not draw Annaiel closer, merely tells her where her target is. Letting her arrow loose to fly towards one of the retreating orcs, she goes low again, shifting foot over foot, from tree to tree as she places his call as best she can. Thus does she lift slightly, sliding up the back of the tree.

Positioned so, she turns slightly and peers out, the corner of her eyes searching for her enemy as she afixes another arrow. She has thus, in effect, drawn closer to the troll and her minions, closer to Nauthcel, but still in a good position to retreat if need be. The archer's brace gives her little room to flext her wrist, but she does so, drawing a breath to slow her adrenaline. Ebon hair flows free about her face, held back only by a few wrappings of leather loosely about her the crown of her head.

She then turns to the opposite side of the tree, searching slowly with her cobalt grey hues.

A snarl tears from Krithrakt's lips as one orc falls dead, and the others move more towards cover. He himself hesitates, leering hungrily into the area where the rangers hide. Yet it seems he would rather take a safer path, making his way towards thicker brush along with the rest of his foul kindred. Then, slowly, under cover like that of the rangers' they begin to slink forward, vegetation rustling here or there with a movement.

Lucy's head falls back, a sickening wet laugh burbles up from her stomach. As her chin falls, angry eyes glare toward Nauthcel. "You.. kill.. Grubbie.." nostrils flare, and her twisted features flicker with the glowing light of the fires. A glance over her shoulder, "They killed King... we kill 'em for King!"

A large hand flies out and knocks against Sty's large chest. She motions in the direction of Nauthcel, the fires, and beyond. "Food... smelled 'em..." She settles eyes upon Nauthcel again and roars, thick legs setting forward as the club is reared above her head.

As Bohtocks searches for a place to hide, he may well rue his choice for a sniff sounds behind him. Breaking from the cover of the trees comes Lominhur; sword raised high into the night air. He steps forth and slices down his blade in an attempt to hew the goblin's arm clean away and throws his weight after in a bid to send his foe sprawling.

Bohtocks throws himself back and down, bringing his cleaver up barely in time to deflect a life-ending blow. He scrambles away with surprising agility, however, ducking around the bole of the tree and making a few testing feints with his blade toward the abdomen of his opponent. As he keeps the trunk of the tree mostly between them, he jeers at Lominhur and calls, "You smell like a meal I once had... Did I eat anyone you know?"

"You may taste my father's steel," growls Lominhur as he circles around the tree looking for an opening. "Though it may not be to your liking." This said he slips forward a sudden pace or two; his sword stabbing forth in search of Bohtocks' ribcage.

Galrohad continues to make his way stelthily down the side of the road using what cover he can find, crouching often to look about and stopping to listen as he moves forward. He scans ahead of him looking for both friend and foe not wanting to draw fire from either until he is ready. He moves with the old long practiced skill of a hunter moving in on it's prey. As Galrohad moves closer he stops using some brush as cover. Now he can see by the light of the fire the two lines. Turning so to put his sword in the shadow he pulls it from it's sheath and holds it low to the ground to avoid any reflection. He starts moving again to get into position to reveal himself.

As the sounds of battle rage, Talbinor closes his eyes firmly, shoulders trembling just slightly as he holds his crouch around battle cries and the sounds of steel scything through the air, not to mention the heckling between Dunedan and foul thing. One long, deep, very un-Rangerly breath from Talbinor, and then he leaps up, arrow in hand.

Attracted by the sounds of trollspeech, Talbinor looks up towards Lucy - the easiest target one is ever likely to have in light like this. The string is released and the arrow flies towards the Queen of the Trollshaws, or at least in the general direction - the range is still fairly great, and Talbinor immediately shuffles sidelong towards her as soon as the arrow is away.

Her gaze is thus drawn to Lucy, moving towards the lone ranger, Nauthcel. Narrowing her gaze, she raises her bow, drawing the fletching once more to her cheek and narrowing her gaze. A steadying breath is taken and she aims for the head, hoping to catch one of her eyes.

"Hold oh queen." She says, as if encouraging her arrow to do so. Thus with a finaly reassurance, the Dunadan lets the arrow go. Is sings, flying and pressing through a few low lying leaves, sending them fluttering to the ground.

Annaiel launches an arrow...

Annaiel's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

More of the orcs have found their way through the brush towards the rangers, and several leap up with battlecries, certainly in search of warm blood and Man's flesh. They lunge forwards, fire glinting with a feral dance in their eyes. And behind them, somewhat more cautious though still certainly just as bloodthirsty, comes Krithrakt. The large orc yells with a cackle as he finds one of the less hidden rangers, scimitar flashing through the night. "C'mere y'pink-flesh. I promise I's makit quick after ya squeal some!"

You fire off an arrow at Lucy...

Your arrow flies wide of Lucy, doing no harm.

Galrohad unwields Longsword 5.

As Lucy raises the club, Nauthcel places himself into motion taking long strides towards the lumbering beast. Lothwin is brought above his head in mimicry of the club with only a few strides needing to be taken for the Dunadan to reach the troll. The well-crafted blade is brought down in a long slash towards the trunkish, mildly scarred leg.

Nauthcel attacks Lucy with his Longsword and mildly wounds her!

Bohtocks laughs cruelly, dancing back out of reach of the sword thrust, again moving quickly to keep the tree trunk between himself and the Dunedain. "Perhaps it was your father's bones I gnawed," taunts the orc as he peers around the bole of the tree. "Though I would prefer yon wench to feed on, I won't turn down such an inviting meal as you."

The orc makes another clumsy few thrusts with his cleaver, and indeed it seems as though the creature is making no real effort to score a hit on the Dunedain, content to evade and be evaded indefinitely. Yet appearances can be deceptive. The orc swings his blade again toward Lominhur's belly, almost casually, and almost certain to be easily blocked by the man. But it is followed by an aggressive push by the orc, throwing his weight into the sword-swing, and at the same time he leaps bodily toward his foe, free arm grasping. Gwaihir steps into his white Ferrari and jams it into first gear. The rear wheels spin and he's off and all that can be heard is the sound of the Miami Vice music fading into the distance along with his tail lights er...feathers. Gwaihir has left.

The feints of Bohtocks are not so sly as to throw Lominhur off his guard entirely, but nevertheless they require him to make a deft escape indeed. Jumping back a pace in the nick of time the Ranger evades the cleaver by the width of a leaf and is unprepared for the further rush.

Shoved by Bohtocks' shoulder he stumbles and sinks to one knee gracelessly and only a sharp roll to the left keeps the cruel fingers from finding his throat. Lominhur send his blade up in a fearsome arc, though as he scrambles to his feet and backs away it seems his strike is more to keep the orc at bay that to wound him.

Arrows soar, crisscrossing just over the Troll's large frame. The fires ahead make Lucy squint, a hand coming up to try and shield some of the light from her eyes. She continues, hoping that she could at least step on him! Her pace is stalled by the pinch of steel against her leg. Twisting, putting back to the light of the flames, she spies the sword and Nauthcel as they pass. A smile twists to her lips, and she lunges toward him, bringing the club down hard in a sweep toward his middle.

Lucy attacks Nauthcel with her Club, but she misses by an arm's length.

Another arrow is readied, the black oil colored sheen upon the fletchings gleaming in the firelight as she steps out in the open to get a better angle upon Lucy. Annaiel fits her fingers close, drawing just that last inch as her muscles strain. Movement catches her gaze, distracting her for but an instance before she focuses again. Stealing her breath, she aims and it is the twang of her bowstring again that heralds the flight of her arrow.

With that she is already moving to get a good angle, closer to the troll to be of more aid. Though as ebon tresses fly past her shoulders, she watches for more orcs, perhaps a surprise attack as her free left hand rests upon the hilt of a dagger upon her belt.

Annaiel launches an arrow...
Annaiel's bowshot hits Lucy, mildly wounding her.

Bohtocks continues to press forward, his own blade moving only in an effort to counter the Dunedain's sword, to clear his way forward. Again he all but leaps toward Lominhur, grasping toward the man in the evil semblance of a cruel embrace. "Don't be afraid," he cries, grunting and wheezing from the effort of pushing forward toward his foe. "I don't bite... unless I'm hungry. Though I am working up quite an appetite now..."

But this time Lominhur is warier than before, and the orc's charge seems expected. In a flurry of feet he slips to one side; hacking downwards as he goes at Bohtocks' leading knee. He says naught in reply to the taunts as he spins about an instant after the strike, indeed he merely glares coldly into the eyes of his adversary.

From out of the corner of his eye, Talbinor sees Annaiel's arrow fly, his eyes looking towards her even as his right hand yanks another precious arrow from his quiver. Lifting his eyebrow as he nocks the arrow, the young Ranger smiles sidelong as he lifts the bow up again towards Lucy as her club fails to paste Nauthcel.

"Well, -one- of us has to get her..." Talbinor mumbles under his breath as he drops to one knee, steadying himself as the arrow flies towards the large, deadly troll, bow lifted up again as, still in a half-crouch, he jogs on a slant closer and closer to her and Nauthcel's melee battle.

You fire off an arrow at Lucy...

Your arrow hits Lucy, mildly wounding her!

As the club is brought horizonal towards Nauthcel, the Ranger leaps back out of the way. With firm footing found in the dry ground, the Constant lunges forward, his blade being brought down in an over-head slash. The metal is a blur as an attempt is made to create a long gash in the creature's leg.

Nauthcel attacks Lucy with his Longsword and mildly wounds her!

Orcs continue towards the rangers, engaging in battle as they will. Krithakt, meanwhile, has pursued a course towards Annaiel as she seems intent upon the troll. Bohtock's claimed meal or not, the black orc seems more intent upon just clearing out any where he may. If he revels a bit in it, so what? With a howl he leaps forwards, taking a bound towards the lady ranger's back, scimitar biting out towards her bow-wielding shoulder.

Bohtocks squeals in pain as Lominhur's sword cuts into the flesh of his knee, and the orc staggers for a moment, wavering in confusion and near-panic. But his panic serves him well, for he hastily swings his cleaver toward the ranger's swordarm, grasps toward the same arm with his own free hand, attempting to outright seize the ranger's arm and thereby neutralize his attack.

No blood does Bohtocks' earn, for Lominhur parries aside the blow, but his fingers do find purchase as they grasp for him. The Ranger finds himself with an orc's hand wrapped around his wrist, and a low feral growl seeps from his lips. His leather shield is brought about at once towards the yrch's foul face; hoping it seems to bash him aside and release the Dunadan's arm.

Eye concentrating ahead and to her sides, not considering a back attack, Annaiel can only faintly hear the closer footsteps amongst the chaos. She turns, mid-stride, whirling in place upon one foot as eyes widen. The deadly scimitars gleam and the orcs shape takes a fiery edge with the fire as his background. She lets herself fall back, the only way for her to move in her current position.

Landing she rolls to the side, lifting to her feet and pressing her back to a tree as she grips her bow.

A hunter (named Hunter, oddly enough) is passing through the woods, seemingly having come from the direction of Bree. The sounds of thrashing and fighting grow louder, so he creeps forward to investigate, hiding among some bushes.

Seeing the battle joined Galrohad raises to his feet. He scans the brush between the battle and himself and then starts out running sword held high. Taking long strides he covers the ground rather quickly and shouts "Elendil" as he joins the fight. He takes the head off one Orc and wounds another as he runs past aiming for the Troll. Arching his sword he makes a thrust with his bloody sword at Lucy trying to cut into her legs to slow her down, misses and follows through with the flat side rather to sting than to cut he whacks at Bohtocks hand.

Krithakt stumbles forwards as the lady-ranger whirls aside, managing to end up with a mouthful of dirt. He hisses out a curse and spits as he scrabbles back to his bowlegs, hunkering low like a wolf on the prowl, now. Yellow eyes glint viciously as he raises their dark pupils towards her face. "C'mere, pretty wench...y'won't be botherin' the queen anymore t'night." He lunges forwards again with a growl, though this time the blade remains down and back, free hand instead seeking out Annaiel's throat.

The club swings, missing the target by a larger margin than the Queen would ever admit to. She growls, a step forward is taken and met by another sting of pain from Nauthcel's sword. Arrows fly again, but these strike true. One strikes Lucy's head, dangerously close to her eye. The other sticks into her shoulder, waggling with each movement of the large trunk-like appendage. Her free hand raises, plucking the arrow from her face.. black oozing blood trickles down her face as she focuses on Nauthcel again. No more words from the Queen, the club is raised and swept foward again toward his middle.

Lucy attacks Nauthcel with her Club, but Nauthcel parries the attack with his Longsword!

Dropping his cleaver, Bohtocks now wraps himself around Lominhur's arm, wriggling and shifting up toward his shoulder, and clinging for dear life. He whimpers slightly from the pain of being battered by the Dunedain's shield, but doesn't dislodge or relax his grip in the slightest, all too aware that to do so now would mean death.

Throwing his weight around, in an attempt to bring Lominhur off balance, the orc tries to give Galrohad no clear target to strike at, without risking hitting the other man. Leaning forward, he tries to find purchase for his teeth to bite at the Dunedain, finding his way around the man's armor.

Her dagger is out with the moment given to her. Annaiel grips it as the arm reaches for her throat, she slashes at the open check of the orc. Her other hand still grips her bow and she seeks to drive the dagger into the chest of the orc next as she reverses the blade, ignoring the hand as she tries to render his scimitars useless in close combat.

The dunadan's eyes have gone cold and she meets the hideous creatures sneer. "Come closer and let me show you how I bite." she says with a hiss.

Lominhur growls and thrashes as best he may to rid himself of this most unwelcome advance, but Bohtocks appears to have grabbed on tight. As Galrohad arrives he slips his shield up between him and the orc's gnashing jaws, if he can, and cries out, "I will try to hold him still. Seek his spine!"

This said the Dunadan balks one of his knees, ever evading the needle-like teeth and hoping to curl the yrch over him to expose his back.

Annaiel's dagger finds itself a new sheath within the sinew and muscle of Krithakt's shoulder, and the pitch orc releases a howl of pain. Yet his hand remains upon her throat, squeezing now even as scimitar is abandoned. That clawed extremity freed, he brings it up, attempting to grapple her wrist with the dagger. "I gots sharper teeth," the orc hisses back, peeling back tar-colored gums from the mass of filed, yellow fangs.

Not getting the response he wanted Galrohad pivots, repositions the sword. Seeing the motion of Lominhur and hearing what he said he attempts to get at the back of the Orc. With the skill of a master swordsman he makes a quick thrust trying to be careful not to put too much power into that thrust incase it goes wide.

As the hand clenches over her throat, she abandons her bow to the ground in turn. Annaiel grips at the wrist that is squeezing her airways slowly shut. Gasping, she twists her wrist, trying to slide the dagger free and nick his skin as well. Fingernails upon the wrist that holds her neck dig in, trying to bite down as she draws a deep breath, or tries.

Gritting her teeth, her left arm tenses and tries to turn yet again, aiming to strike as soon as she can free her hand. But the maw is watched, head tilting back to try to relieve some of the pressure and allow air to flow into her lungs.

While Nauthcel does his world's strongest man impression, Talbinor scowls softly as, again out of the corner of his eye, his comrade in long-distance violent communication is engaged. A third arrow is plucked from Talbinor's quiver, again nocked to the bow, the Ranger rolling his shoulder slightly to stretch out muscles already worked from string-pulling.

Another quick exhale, and Talbinor lifts up the bow, pulls back, and fires at Lucy once more. The instant the arrow is away Talbinor slings the bow back across his back left hand a bit too idly groping for the hilt of his longsword as the shaft flies.

You fire off an arrow at Lucy...

Your arrow hits Lucy, mildly wounding her!

As the club once again swings towards Nauthcel, Lothwin is used to redirect the large weapon. The Constant then quickly spins with the momentum given by the opponent's attack bringing the blade in a horizonal double-handed swing aimed for the calf of the troll.

Nauthcel attacks Lucy with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.

Bohtocks continues to writhe, knowing his vulnerability all too well, but sensing some on Lominhur's part as well. His arms locked tight around the Dunedain's sword arm, he brings up his legs to try to wrap around the man as well.

The orc feels a terrible pain in his side, as a thrust from Galrohad pierces his jerkin and grazes his torso; sensing his doom if the other manages to repeat this move, he shimmies further up Lominhur's arm, and attempts to get his teeth into the unprotected skin at the back of the man's neck, where it would be difficult to block with a shield.

Hunter, watching the fighting, pulls out his bow and sets an arrow to the string. His eye is on one of the trolls. He mumbles something softly to himself and pulls back on the arrow, aiming carefully.

Despite the keen bowshot from Talbinor, the arrow manages to hit Lucy's arm.. then fall lifeless to the ground. The thick trollskin covering her shapely figure serves the Queen well! Lucy continues her attempts to strike Nauthcel, laughing hoarsly as the sword is swung .. and misses. The club is wrenched, the wood splintering beneath her grip as she brings the club down hard, aiming for the human's shoulder.

Lucy attacks Nauthcel with her Club, but she misses by a handspan.

And this time, a full snarl turned upon his foe, Lominhur seeks no escape but rather sends his forehead forth to batter against Bohtocks' nose. "Remove yourself, filth!" he roars and attempts to prise the orc away long enough to give Galrohad a clearer target.

Orcs are a viscious sort, and Krithakt would seem rather intent on tasting blood this night. Preferably not his own. Claws left bare by his gloves, he digs at Annaiel's neck with them, intent on drawing perhaps a little too much blood. It is an awkward position, however, left hand to her throat while the right tries to fend of Annaiel's left. And thus he loses his grip as she turns, dagger biting a line of black ichor into the skin. He releases to his detriment, and manages to take another spearing. This time, it is to his shoulder and he snarls in pain, throathold loosening slightly.

"Jus' can't e'er die, can'y?" Krithakt snarls viciously, forgetting about the dagger for a moment as his face lunges forwards, those filed teeth seeking purchase in soft neck skin.

Though Nauthcel misses his previous mark, he is able to side-step the club stroke and place him along side Lucy. Thus, the Ranger is in position to slice through the muscles of the knee. In another double-handed grip, a diagonal arc is traced with the blade from back to front along the troll's leg.

Nauthcel attacks Lucy with his Longsword, but Lucy parries the attack with her Club!

A gasp leaves Annaiel as the sudden pressure is lessened. She tries to squirm free, her lungs filling with air and limbs finding strength again. Pulling the blade free, she aims for his neck as he lunges towards her throat. Gritting her teeth, she drives the blade towards the stinking skin even as teeth graze her skin. A scream rises from her as suddenly her knee lifts with his closeness and aims to hit where it will count.

Blood trickles down her skin, disappearing down her chest and smearing against cloak and armor.

The other troll takes swings at those around him at first though is simply being a nusince. Sty looks to the side for a moment and sees the man with bow and arrow aimed at him. The look on his face becomes crafty if possible and he slings his club over his shoulder again making his way over to him. "You know be stingin Sty with that!" he says as he comes with in range his arms swing quickly like a baseball bat the size of a tree trunk he atempts to bat the man away.

Finally, out comes Duceber, Talbinor's blade of choice, steel sweeping from its scabbard as the young Ranger steps forward to relieve the beleaguered Nauthcel in a more tangible way than bits of wood with metal points on the end ever could against mighty troll hide. Now too close for archery to be the most potent of weapons, Talbinor sweeps through the dark woods to close the remaining distance to the Queen of the Trollshaws.

Weaving around trees, Talbinor comes out to the side of the Queen, sword in hand, a nervous smile on his face and flagrantly faked bluster in his step. "Oy, peabrain," he cries in a most un-Dunadan-like manner. "I hope my colleague hasn't already given you too much sport," his eyes flash with a slight smile to the so-far unmarred Nauthcel.

Unwielded: Longbow
COMBAT - Wielded: Duceber (Longsword)

A mistake made, and one that would cost this orc dearly. As Annaiel's dagger bites true a stream of inky blood bursts after it, spurting hot out of the orc's neck as he attempts to shriek. Part out of the pain from his neck; and part from the fact that he just took a knee to tender parts. It however only makes its entrance into the world as a gurgle. Desperately, the orc releases Annaiel, now more intent on escaping as he lurches to the side for his scimitar, hands weakly scabbering for the hilt.

Another narrow miss from the sword of Nauthcel. Lucy crouches, roaring angrily toward the Ranger as she skulks forward another step. Talbinor's words are met with only a reply, "Lucy get you next!" The club is gripped in both hands, she raises it high above her head and brings it crashing down toward Nauthcel's head/shoulder.

Lucy attacks Nauthcel with her Club and moderately wounds him!

Galrohad stands back for a moment and then takes his sword and concentrating he cuts side ways at the Orcs midsection trying to cut deep enough to do some damage and at least to cause great pain.

Hunter releases his arrow, aiming for the troll's head, just as Sty swings at him with the club. He jumps back quickly, though, trying to avoid certain death. "Kazoo!" he yells in extreme frustration.

Bohtocks's nose, visibly and obviously broken many times before, begins to bleed from the pounding it takes from Lominhur's blow, but still the orc clings on. However, at last his teeth find purchase in the Dunedain's flesh, and he triumphantly bites down, tasting blood and perhaps victory...

Unfortunately, this taste of success is all too brief. While Bohtocks indeed comes away with a mouth dripping blood, and more of Lominhur's flesh than the Dunedain would have liked... The bite was shallow, and not in the least crippling. Moreover, the orc becomes careless having scored this point, and is not able to dodge Galrohad's blade, which bites deeply into his side. Gasping in pain, he reflexively lets go of his grip and hurtles off of the Dunedain to which he had clung so tightly.

Released, her free hand lifts to her neck, feeling the slickness of her own blood as the orc's black life fluid wetting her own. Annaiel turns then, meaning to stop the orc from reaching is blade. The dagger still in hand is then brought down brutally and swiftly to stab into the back of his neck, aiming to stop all further movement.

The rangeress goes to one knee and then stays there. Gasping for breath, her chest heaving as pain rides along her nerve edges.

Krithakt has indeed been stopped in movement, now lying in a pool of blood which spreads beneath him like a growing shadow. There are more orcs in the forest this night, however. And it would be well known they have a knack for smelling blood. Drawn by the sounds of battle there, as well as the coppery scent of man-blood, there is a rustling in the trees.

Sty is hit by the arrow in what could be called his shoulder it is mearly a sting to him. He howls though more about missing. Though this is cut short as the troll tilts his head "Ka-zoo? You calling me names?" the voice almost sounding hurt he snarls though and making another swing this time over the head as to pound the man into the ground like a tent post.

Lominhur tumbles away at once as he is released, and sinks once more to his knee. Putting his shield upon the ground a moment his hand flies up to take a measure of the damage down, wincing and wheezing all the while from the pain. Holding the crimson tide in check for the most part with his fingers, he nonetheless gains a slick red glove ere he scoops up his shield anew and rises to his feet. His gaze burns as he looks back to Bohtocks.

The troll club is able to make contact with Nauthcel but not to the fullest extent. The Ranger raises his shield up, allowing it to absorb the blunt as well as propel him a few feet away from the creature; that will be one ugly bruise. But, the pain only sends more adrenaline through the Constant as he regains his footing. A jab is made for the hamstring of the Olog though with not as much force as before.

Previously frozen in her actions, something seems to click behind those brown eyes as her fellow hunter stands to be pounded into dust by the viciousness of Sty's club. An arm dart back over her shoulder, picking an arrow up from her quiver and setting it to the bow that she has been sqeezing in her hands before. Poor aim, yet she manages to discharge an arrow in Sty's general direction.

The troll club is able to make contact with Nauthcel but not to the fullest extent. The Ranger raises his shield up, allowing it to absorb the blunt as well as propel him a few feet away from the creature; that will be one ugly bruise. But, the pain only sends more adrenaline through the Constant as he regains his footing. A lunging jab is made for the hamstring of the Olog, his arm stretching out as far as possible.

Nauthcel attacks Lucy with his Longsword and mildly wounds her!

Talbinor's bravado takes a hit almost as strong as the one Nauthcel just endured, a cringe darting across his young face for an instant and his sword dipping just a bit in his hand until it is clear that the other Ranger is largely unhurt. Blade flicks back up to the ready position, legs traversing Talbinor from left to right a bit as he waits for Nauthcel to make his move.

The instant the move for the hamstring is made Talbinor darts forward recklessly, Talbinor ducking pre-emptively and thrusting furiously for where the kidney would be on a being that could be said for certain to have kidneys, the Ranger exposing himself perhaps a bit too much in his first taste of personal combat on the day.

"Yes!" shouts Hunter as his arrow hits the target, though not in the spot desired. Shocked at the troll's ability to speak, he blinks rapidly. "You are bad! Very bad!" he says lamely, trying to cover for his fear and excitement. "I have never had the fortune to hunt something as magnificent as this," he thinks to himself. "Let us not waste the opportunity." He pulls another arrow and shoots at the trolls head again.

You attack Lucy with your Longsword...

Your attack against Lucy mildly wounds her!

Claiming her bow again, she wipes her hand upon her cloak and sheathes her dagger. Annaiel grimaces as she cranes her neck upward to address some of the rustling and decides to back up and find a new position. Turning, the ranger makes swift ground coverage, bow still in hand now as she makes to find a clear spot to fire upon Lucy.

Her alertness however is doubled, after her last run in.

Galrohad catches the movement of more orcs in the brush and waylays one of them as they come running into the clear. He makes a wide arc and slices into the chest armor of an orc and then using his shield he fends off the attack of another. He turns to survey the battle.

Bohtocks, wounded terribly by his struggles with Lominhur and the successful swordthrusts from Galrohad, staggers away from the pair of Rangers, though slowly and bleeding from several wounds. Seeing the rage in Lominhur's eyes, the orc squeals in fear and turns around to try to run away, but trips and falls... directly into one of the bonfires the Dunedain kindled to light the night.

Bohtocks thrashes and twists, but his jerkin is caught on one of the branches burning in the brush, and he does not succeed in freeing himself. Instead, he sends embers and burning brush scattering into the tinder-dry forest all around, while his sickening screams fill the night as the fire begins to sear his flesh.

Knocking an arrow, she finally claims a place almost completely opposite of where she had been, but closer now to Lominhur and Galrohad. As two engage Lucy in melee, the fletching finds her cheek again. "Be true..." She wishes to the arrow before she aims, going to strike the stunt of an ear that is the 'queens' hearing. Narrowing her gaze, she takes aim and then releases to let the arrow fly free.

Annaiel launches an arrow...
Annaiel's bowshot hits Lucy, mildly wounding her.

While Galrohad is turning another orc leaps out from the brush. Rather than slashing with its sword, the curved blade is thrust out towards the ranger's middle. It snarls, glaring with its wide, cat green eyes. "Bring yer neck down 'ere man so's I k'in 'ack it!"

Meanwhile, it seems that two more yrchish have come to claim the wounded lady-ranger. They prowl forwards like a pair of wolves on the hunt, chattering to each other in sly tones. "Looks like someone's alreadey tasted 'er, Datz. But 'e's left plenty for us. Th'dirty worm-meat."

The other laughs, a dry, keening sound as his fiery red eyes lay down upon Annaiel. "Left quite a'bit, 'e did. Looks like sh'wants t'fight, though."

As Bohtocks writhes and shrieks into the night, Lominhur steps grimly forth and watches him burn a moment or two. But, either through mercy or choosing not to take any chances he hacks down at the fire-ridden creature's neck in a bid to put an end to him.

Ducking under the arching swing of one orc which takes the head off the orc that was leaning in to thrust at Galrohad, he comes up with a thrust which runs clear through the orc in front of him. He misses the hammer swing of another orc that glances off Galrohads shield and catches him on the side of the head. Galrohad staggers back dazed with his shield up in front of him as the hammer comes back down for a followup swing.

The bow is swiftly placed within it's holder upon her back as she eyes the two incoming orcs. Both sneering at her. Annaiel narrows her gaze and pulls her sword forth, Badhron ringing as the firelight catches and shimmers along it's length, "For my husband..." She says to them, holding the sword out before her, readying her stance and awaiting them, daring them to come closer as she sidesteps. Blood still trickles from her bite wound upon her neck. Annaiel destrings the longbow, Deluross, replacing it back into its strap upon her back. Annaiel draws the longsword, Badhron with stifled ring.

A wickedly pleased smile appears on Lucy's face as the club strikes its target. The celebration is short lived as the Ranger strikes toward her hamstring. The stinging pain of his sword is coupled with yet another arrow from Annaiel striking the Queen's head.. this time the tip sinks into the fatted flesh near (what one would assume to be) Lucy's ear. The Queen stumbles back, greeting Talbinor's sword. The metal sinks into her back, and she roars, twirling then to glare at Talbinor. "You... die now!" The club is swung above her head and brought down in a hammered motion toward his shoulder.

Is hit with a second arrow from the mans bow though striking true it mearly falls back onto the ground. The mass of stone looks to his club as if it betrayed him missing again. He is determind though. He takes a step to the side again swiging the club at the man. Sty "You'll be pounded." he says as his club moves.

Lucy attacks you with her Club!...
...and she hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 20 hp's by Lucy's attack... ...you have 68 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

"Awww...you's husband?" the nearer of the two orcs, the one with the firelit eyes, chortles at her. It is not altogether a nice sound, nor is it friendly. "Don't worrey prettey lady, y's be seein' 'im soon. Afta we's done with yer!" His comrad snarls softly, lips drawing back in a whicked grin. Neither advances just yet, seeming more interested in the staredown.

Turning aside from the smoking corpse of Bohtocks, Lominhur espies Galrohad in the thick of it. A final wince and a press of his fingers to the wound in his neck, and the Ranger charges forth to lend his aid to the healing Dunadan. "My thanks!" he cries as he cuts away an orc creeping up on Galrohad and plants himself with his back against the other. "My blade owes yours heavily, friend."

Pressing her lips firmly together, she side steps again and then with a sudden burst of speed forward, Badhron is brought from her lower left in an shot upward to the others right shoulder. Going for the one on the left, "THe next blood you will taste is your own...die you beasts of darkness." She cries, anger, pain, and focus within her strike as the blade turns and glints in different glares of the firelight.

"We shall see who owes who in the end. The battle is far from over." He catches the strike that Talbinor takes and yells, "To Talbinor." He moves between him and the Troll and swipes his sword at her legs in an attempt to draw off her attention.

The orc that Annaiel aims for is not quite agile enough to avoid the Dunadan's wrath. He is skewered, quite effectively, the blade biting deep into his belly just beneath the ribacage. The tip hits out the other side. His fellow, however, not yet badly harmed and it is this one who leaps. A battlecry from the orc's mouth splits the air as he lunges for Annaiel, the blade coming down in a vertical slash at her side.

Galrohad attacks Lucy with his Longsword and mildly wounds her!

Flying with the confidence of a poor aim, her arrow seems to not even come close to the target. However, having laid one to her bow's string now seems to have triggered the same enthusiasm in the Huntress as in her fellow hunter. This time her eyes squint for long, aiming directly for the troll's eye. She waits... waits... then off it goes, this time promising to actually do some damage.

Nodding to Galrohad's words, Lominhur follows in his wake as he too charges to Talbinor's aid. As the older Ranger attacks one of Lucy's legs, the younger moves to strike at the other and he plunges Balanrod, his blade down in a bid to slice her hamstring.

Lominhur attacks Lucy with his Longsword, but Lucy parries the attack with her Club!

Not quite die -now-, but awfully close. Talbinor's aggressive thrust causes him to pay the price as the club catches him between the shoulder and the collar-bone, causing the Ranger to crumple like a piece of tin, the sound of damage to bone echoing even above the whack of the wood and tearing a cry from the Ranger's lips. As Talbinor collapses, it is immediately clear that his right shoulder is at least dislocated.

Grunting furiously, Talbinor at least maintains the sense to stagger into a squatting but still decent defensive posture, sword held up and eyes fixed on the Queen of the Trollshows through his pained squint. Duceber leaps out to try and tickle the Queen's shin, an unconvincing attack from a presently unconvincing warrior, and straight out of the school of defending with at least a token attack to keep Lucy distracted.

You attack Lucy with your Longsword...

Lucy dodges your attack.

Hunter glances to Huntress as she lets her arrow fly, but because his attention is diverted from his attacker, he doesn't see till almost too late the club coming down upon his head. All he can do is fall back, but the club crushes his right foot into the ground. Bones pop, break, and shatter loudly, and blood flies around, too. The bow falls from his hand as he goes into shock.

After his blade pierces the thick hide, Nauthcel attempts to keep himself behind the troll shifting positions as she turns. From between Lucy's legs, the hard pummel is able to be seen leading the Constant to stab at the Olog's back at a much swifter pace. As his kin join him, the Dunadan shouts, "Retreat if you must. There shall be more battle later." But, he does not heed his own words keeping Queen as his focus.

Nauthcel attacks Lucy with his Longsword and mildly wounds her!

He finnaly hits striking a good blow also another arrow hit, not in it's intended spot but strikes and sticks but he swipes it out. Sty turns towards the other who just shot. He bounds towards her this time. He doesnt swing the club but uses it as a giant billiard stick thrusting it forward at the human with great force.

Unable to block the other's strike as she skewers his comrade, Annaiel feels the bite of his blade despite her attempt to sidestep. Badhron pulls clear of the orcs ribcage and she grips at her hip where unprotected skin felt the touch of the orcish blade. Cringing, she backs up and lifts her swords to swing clean for his shoulders. "Try once more and you shall wish you had not.." she states, blood drying on her neck as she heaves her muscles into her shot.

Ducking to the side as the Dunadan's blow fans through the air, the orc gives a snarl. "Y'wish y'never be hinderin' us, woman!" he spits in a vehement manner, raising up his own dull blade to block any blows. Rather than leaving himself open for another attack, the beast with the fiery eyes starts sauntering forwards with blade up to defend, intent on getting in closer.

"You chose to confront me, flee your queen and let us have her. Then you are free from both your oppressor and death..at least for this eve!" Annaiel fling her words even as she pulls the momentum of her blow around, following it to keep it going and aim for a score upon the orc's him as he draws closer, sword held high to block her's that is no longer up, leaving herself up.

"Noooooo!" The scream of desperation rings out and mingles in with the other sounds of the battle - the cling of swords, the cries of pain and shouts of commands and encouragement. "Nooo!" moves from the huntress lips once again, but this time in a whimper.

Nimble fingers hurry to her quiver for yet another arrow, yet her eyes widen with absolute terror as she notices that her act of distraction has made her the prime attention of the troll - and he is approaching. With every ounce of survival instinct the Huntress has, she turns around and flees for her life.

Steel clashes against steel with a metallic ring as the orc blocks Annaiel's blow, just barely. Both blades are still forced into his hip, possibly not hard enough to leave a bruise. Yet it is a near thing. He snarls and presses his scimitar to her longsword, forcing muscle behind the blade to bring it back up--then shove it in return towards Annaiel.

"Queen want TRIIIBOOOOT!" Lucy's voice rings out over the crashing sounds of battle, club raised high above her head. The firelight glints brightly against the swords now surrounding and slicing toward her. The strikes from Lominhur and Talbinor miss by a slim margin, while Nauthcel and Galrohad strike true. The Queen stumbles back again, slamming into Sty and nearly toppling over. She whirls, shoving hard against the other troll's shoulder. "You got in Lucy's way!" she growls, staring now at the orcs still fighting and those who had fallen. "NO Triboot!!.. Fires! Arrows! Swords!" She turns toward the humans and hisses again, roaring and slamming her club hard into the earth.

She shakes a bit as her slender frame, not as muscled, attempts to hold the blade there and fails. She is thrown back a step or two, off balance. One hand leaves her blade in an attempt to weigh herself and catch her fall before she hits her back-end. Annaiel is successful in this, both feet planting anew, but at what cost as her right hand holds the blade down, leaving her open and still slightly off balance. As Lucy drives her club into the earth, the dunadan's precarious stance shatters and Annaiel sidesteps to stay upright, being this close to the troll.

But while he flinches at the terrible blow to the land, Lominhur is undeterred by Lucy's fury. "Get back to your hole!" he demands as he slips to her left and digs his blade at her foot; seeking to relieve her of a toe or two.

Lominhur attacks Lucy with his Longsword, but Lucy parries the attack with her Club!

But the orc is not ready to go back to -his- hole yet. Finally the brute leaps forwards, whirling out his scimitar in a savage fan in attempt to cut open Annaiel's side. The momentum of his bound, however, is still carrying him forwards directly for the lady-ranger, even as the scimitar comes back and out of the way.

There is a meager attempt to block with her sword. The scimitar rings as it touches Annaiel's but it is only the tip. It steals some of the strength from the blow and but leaves the sword ringing in her hands. The tip of his blade digs into her side and she lets out a cry as she hits the ground on her left shoulder. Wincing as it jolts the wound to her throat, she rolls to her back, readying her sword before her.

As Lominhur attacks once again Galrohad falls to one knee to quickly look at Talbinor. He quickly reaches into his pouch and takes out a vial and gives it to him. "One drop only for the pain." He then comes back up to his feet and with a roar he rushes Lucy thrusting for her knee knowing as a healer where the most vulnerable places are.

Galrohad attacks Lucy with his Longsword and mildly wounds her!

Sty watches as his target scurries away he begins to turn back but is bumped and almost falls over "Err i'll get yer tri-boot." he says and than he rushes back towards his first target. "Gimme tri-boot or i'll smash." he calls out to the hunter his club held at ready but it doesnt swing yet.

Talbinor is not only not intimidated by Lucy's display, he is relieved, crawling away a bit without further mauling and lolling onto his side for a moment, breaths coming raggedly from his lungs before the young Ranger wearily pulls himself to his feet like an old man tipped out of the rocking chair by nasty children. Galrohad's offer of the vial is vaguely waved off - after all, Talbinor has one arm in any kind of condition to accept it and it's holding a longsword.

Straightening up, Talbinor takes a one-armed ready position, looking levelly at Lucy but wobbling just a bit on his feet. "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty," he mumbles under his breath, too quietly to likely be heard in the tumult of battle, "but -my- liege would like me to deliver a tribute to you..." Voice trailing off, Talbinor takes a breath and darts in, capitalising on the other attack to stab toward Lucy's waist on her front left-hand side.

You attack Lucy with your Longsword...

Your attack against Lucy mildly wounds her!

"Tri-boot?" Hunter asks the troll in fear. His foot is a bloody pulp, and he seems to be fading quickly from loss of blood. Pieces of bone lie scattered about.

Slash after stab, the Ranger Nauthcel continues to attack the troll relentlessly. As Lucy becomes infuriated, the Constant takes up a position, once again, behind her, and, using the full reach of his arms, attempts to swipe his longsword across the muscles in the back of the knees. This maneuver is performed as Galrohad stabs from the front.

The orc too rises up, rather than rolling as agilely as the female ranger. Lips drawing back in a hideous, savage smile he follows this with a snarl, then lunges again. This time he brings his sword up and towards her chest, while his free hand reaches out for her thigh or knee in attempt to foul her feet more.

Claiming the sword hilt again with both hands, Annaiel blocks the blow, grunting slightly to keep it at bay. She falters for a moment, trying to sidestep his grab, lifting her foot to kick at him instead and sidestepping thereafter if she can. The Dunadan tosses hair from her face with a flick of her head, eyes never leaving her adversary.

Nauthcel attacks Lucy with his Longsword and lightly wounds her!

There is a crack in the air as Annaiel's foot connects with the orc's face. He shrieks in pain and anger, blood dribbling from his once pointy nose. Then out from his mouth spews a tooth and the beast snarls. He's back on his feet again, hunkering lower this time and bounding at Anniel, feinting at her chest then bringing the sword back across to slash into the ranger's sword. Meanwhile one of his own feet comes up to slam into the woman's knee.

Even as he rushes, Annaiel tries to compensate, moving to the balls of her feet. Ready to dodge, she does, blade still striking his blade. Hoping he will carry through, she suddenly sees her mistake. His foot slams into the inside of her left knee, making her collapse almost instantly from the sudden weakness that suffuses the limb. But she still gets off a strike, sweeping her blade low, still on one knee towards his waist.

The terror installed by the orc, has the Huntress running away for more than just a fleeting second. Instead, she runs and runs.. A glance over her shoulder allows her to realize that she no longer is pursued and she halts in her steps, turning around and swiftly heading back to the battle again. Her cheeks grow wet in tears - both from fear but mostly for the loss she may very well have suffered - the hunter.

Annaiel's blade bites, and deep. A hiss of pain ushers past the orc's dangerous fangs as blood spills out, but his innards do not yet spill upon the forest floor. Bringing his sword in he thrusts at her chest in a feint, then wheels it up for an overhanded blow towards the woman's skull.

She raises her sword, swinging it up and twisting her wrist, but as he feints, she dives forward. Ebon waves are shorn short at her right temple by his strike. Annaiel then thrusts the tip of her blade forward with her dive, aiming it to his gut and meaning to make his end painful. "Feel the cold touch of death, and no not the shores my husband sees." Her grip is tight upon the hilt of her sword, hoping to drive him back into the ground as well.

The only sound which escapes the orc now is a startled, "Gurrrk." He is indeed driven back, the lady-ranger having an advantage of height in addition to speed and surprise. His blade still comes down, but it only nicks into her shoulder. Not dead yet, the creature instead starts up an ear-splitting shriek, wriggling like a bug impaled upon a needle. Legs thrash out, aiming to kick anything nearby he might possibly.

The sound of battle echoes through the dense woods that form The Chetword and sparks penetrate the darkness as they ricochet off of metal and hide alike. Above these battle sounds an ear piercing howl suddenly fills the night air followed by a disturbing wheezing sound that rapidly gets louder and louder.

Appearing as if out of nowhere, a black body flies into the melee, all fangs and slather besetting the nearest human it encounters. Snarling and biting it starts to attack those that are attacking the hapless olog hoping to attract attention away from it. Then, the earth begins to tremble and crashing out of the trees and undergrowth from whence the warg emerged a massive olog appears. Rarely is one unlucky enough to encounter a troll of this size in this day and age and its two beady little eyes quickly scan the battle for a likely foe.

Tough jerked around and kicked by the dying throws of the orc skewered on her blade, Annaiel holds fast. Finding her dagger, she leans the weight of her body in agianst her hilt. Then drawing the smaller blade forward, she throws it end over end towards the orc's throat. "Die.." She states, coldness in her voice even as the black figure, all fur and fangs nearly crashes into her, but instead upon the ranger near her. Gasping, her eyes widen and she pulls Badhron free, backing up a step as the blade now gleams with black blood.

And as if on cue, from an adjacent angle from the massive Troll comes a tall black orc, his helm shining darkly against the light of the stars and a dark coat of shimmering metal clanking against his chest. Gripped tightly in both hands is a long mace, the head a spiked ball of iron which leads the way as he charges forward with a bellow in westron, "Blood for the Darkblood!" his strides taking him toward Annaiel.

As Annaiel's blade is drawn from the creature's neck a fountain of blood spurts out towards the rangeress's face. And, gurgling out his last breaths, so ends another orc this eve. Pain from all sides, and blood begins trickling from several wounds all at once. Lucy's howl echos into the night as her club swings down and around, hoping to knock back her attackers. Her free hand picks up a hapless orc and flings him toward Talbinor. Her hand reaches for more orcs but they scatter from her reach. The Queen's pace slows, another stumbled step back away from the humans and the bonfires.

The arrival of Lagzadaeus brings a low, rumbling laugh from the Queen. "Yes!! Now.. Queen will get triiibooooot!!" Lucy takes another step back ..

"I will never pay tribute to you beasts!" screams Hunter in agony. He pulls out a skinning knife in order to defend himself against the troll, though it is unlikely that it will do any good.

As saliva drips from its fang filled maw the black warg momentarily rests its weight on its massive hind quarters before launching itself at the back of pale-skinned human whose bloodied sword has just taken the life of another noble yrch

She is quick to pull her bow, a weapon she is familiar with as she drives Badhron into the ground. Nocking an arrow swiftly, meaning to drive past Lagzadaeus's armor before he reaches her. Fletching to cheek, she aims and then releases, this time not taking her liberaty of calming her breathing. She is already restrapping her bow and lifting her sword to her hands.

The Dunadan narrows her gaze and readies her blade, "I will fell you as I have your kin." she boasts.

Annaiel resheaths the gleaming blade of Badhron.
Annaiel readies Deluross, the wood of the bow straining as it is strung
Annaiel launches an arrow...
Annaiel's bowshot hits Lagzadaeus, moderately wounding him.

Annaiel destrings the longbow, Deluross, replacing it back into its strap upon her back.

The night grows suddenly dark, the moons light extinguished in the blink of an eye. Winds stir, fanning the forest blaze and chasing the flames hither and thither. And out of the dark a terrible screech erupts. Feral and angry, a raptor's cry; suddenly an eagle of enormous dimentions descends on the scene.

Sulfaroth - Windhunter - the avian sweeps over the scene and the fire flurries furiously.

Annaiel draws the longsword, Badhron with stifled ring.

Large black warg casts a cruel glare at Annaiel and, with bloody saliva dripping from its fang filled maw, launches a vicious attack at Annaiel with a flurry of bites and claw tipped swipes. Large black warg's attack misses Annaiel.

Oh, great. Like Talbinor has ever had anything good come out of having an orc thrown at him except for that one time. Quite thoroughly distracted, Talbinor swings his sword one-handed at the flying orc, stepping aside and letting steel fly for neck and head. It's like an arrow you have to kill, and the exhausted and wounded Ranger groans as he does his job.

Stumbling back a little bit, Talbinor puts his sword into the ground as a crutch, blinking once or twice and shaking his head to try and clear his worried mind. "Going to have to do better than that," the Ranger mumbles, glaring at Lucy but not yet able to attack, his injured arm preventing him coming effectively at Lucy from the left and thus requiring him to circle.

Even as Annaiel draws the sword from the ground, she black furred mass turns it's attention to her, her eyes widen. She pulls her shield from her back, not able to strap it firmly, she sidesteps and lifts to block herself. forgetting the black armored orc for fear of claws and teeth at the moment.

As the Queen begins to retreat a little, Lominhur seems about to press the attack, but then he shudders as the warg bursts into view. This is nothing to the quake that runs through his body as the monstrous figure of Lugobgund hoves into the scene and it takes him the briefest of moments to size up the gigantic olog.

But as the eagle alights upon the scene the young Ranger seems to take heart and he raises his sword once more in challenge. His eye follow the charge of the warg towards Annaiel, and with a cry of wrath he gives chase. "Leave her be!" he demands of the beast and stabs out in search of the furry flesh.

Lominhur attacks Large black warg with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

The large black warg lets out a spine chilling howl as Lominhur attacks it.

Perhaps the sounds of lengthening battle had drawn another from the forest, though it would be odd for one of the trackers to be this far. Yet he is there, stepping out of the forest now and from the fray, bearing with him a brand that he shoves into one of the bonfires before holding it aloft. Orange light spills over his hood, but bears nothing to the visage beneath. Hoisting the lit brand back, he swings it forwards, aiming not at any of the smaller targets, but rather the large, cloth-covered back of Lucy and her satchels full of hair.

The large hunk of a troll growls as the man refuses to pay. "You'll pay triboot." Sty says again louder this time he does swing the weapon down on the wounded hunter trying to smash him flat.

The arrow flies straight and directly into Lagzadaeus's stomach. There is a sucking sound as it sticks fast and blood seeps around the wound. But the orc doesn't pause in his stride, instead using one hand to reach down and yank on the arrow from his stomach and brings it up to his nose, inhaling the scent of his own blood as he bellows and leaps forward, swinging his mace in a wide downward arc toward the Ranger's neck.

Lagzadaeus attacks Annaiel with his Mace and moderately wounds her!

The sounds of enemy reinforcements causes Nauthcel to pause but a moment before he continues his attack. The flailing arms of the troll do not affect him as he dives below their reach and places himself between the legs of the Olog. The blade is then brought in an arc from inner calf to inner calf, an attempt to increase the amount of dripping blood.

Nauthcel attacks Lucy with his Longsword, but Lucy parries the attack with her Club!

Distracted by the warg, she then turns to the new howl, finding her feet at the same time. The female Dunadan tries to swing her shield up in time and does not make it. Her armored inner shoulder feels the brunt of the blow. Grunting, it nearly sends her to her knees, stealing the feeling from her shield arm. She tries to grip it but feels it fall to her side.

Annaiel thus attacks, using his momentum against him to step to his side and swing a strike for his chest, aiming to score beneath his sword arm.

Annaiel attacks Lagzadaeus with her Longsword, but she misses by a long shot.

With spittle and snot blending and congealing at its thick top lip, the massive troll shakes its head in furry trying to clear its nasal passages and in doing so sprays all those close by with a dense green liquid. Letting out a deep gutteral growl, the olog brings its massive warhammer from where it rests on the floor to its side and beats it against the big black shield on its left arm. Casting its vacant gaze across the melee it brings the warhammer through a swift arc at the left side of the human who just attacked its warg companion.

Lugobgund attacks Lominhur with his War Hammer and badly wounds him!

Roaring with success Lagzadaeus drives down his opponent with his blow and then his red eye widens as the counter attack comes rapidly. But not fast enough to catch the nimble orc. He leaps backward as the blade stabs through the air in front of him. But then he makes a leap inward again to strike at the kneeling Annaiel. A two-handed swing from her left toward her arms, taking a deep powerful swing as he lands before her.

Lagzadaeus attacks Annaiel with his Mace and lightly wounds her!

Quick steps have brough her back to the scene and just in time it seems. The huntress rushes forward, her hands on the bow, but as the club is raised by the Troll, using her bow is not an option. It falls from her hands as she takes a firm grip under her fellow Hunter's armpits and janks him somewhat back with the force of her bodyweight, almost falling over herself in process.

The aerial reinforcement swoops and dives, his great wings catching the air like sails and sending the wind blowing as though Manwe himself were riding. Once over the raging battle is enough, and Sulfaroth dives! Like a hammer towards the anvil, the Windhunter drops from the sky. And his terrible talons stretch for the black warg.

Sulfaroth attacks Large black warg with his Eagle Claws, but he misses by a hair.

The large black warg lets out a spine chilling howl as Sulfaroth attacks it.

Deep and powerful indeed, for even as she moves to roll out of his way, Annaiel feels the bite against her back, though a grazing one. Coming up a short distance away, the Dunadan rushes back in. Her sword raised and shield at ready, she snakes a blow towards his neck, hoping to lop it from his shoulders and bypass his black armor, "Flee.." She protests, even as her old wounds start to bother her. Gritting her teeth, the female does not back down, only pushing her attack as three different feathers in color and style dance to the back behind her right ear.

Annaiel attacks Lagzadaeus with her Longsword, but she misses by a handspan.

Squaring off as he is against the warg, Lominhur is woefully unaware of the advance of Lugobgund. The olog's hammer batters into his side and lifts him clean from his feet with a clash of armour. Aawy he tumbles, a good twenty feet at least ere he rolls to a panting, wheezing halt. The man's eyes scrunch tightly as he slowly pulls himself up to a crouching position and long, painful moments pass by as he finally regains his breath.

His hands still hold his sword and his shield however, and at length he rises to his feet; awkard though his footing is and laboured are his steps as he turns about to face the melee anew.

Hunter gasps in relief as Huntress pulls him back just before the club finshes its descent. "Thank the Night Mother!" he says, still holding his dagger tightly in his right hand, ready to stab at the tribute-demanding troll if necessary.

Dodging the swift slash of the Human's blade, the warg quickly turns on its foe just as the blade of its master's warhammer crushes its enemy. Turning its yellow gaze on its new foe the warg lets out a howl that sends shivers down one's spine and raises the hairs on the back of ones neck. Suddenly the air is filled with the beating of massive wings and the down draft causes its black pelt to shimmer in the starlight as talons try unsuccessfully to rake the warg's back. With blinding speed and ungodly dexterity the warg leaps into the air and tries to snap at its new airborn attacker.

The orc Lagzadaeus watches as his targetted Ranger rolls away from what should have been a bone-crunching strike. And then she has the nerve to attack him again! "Fool! Your blood is mine!" he shouts in return, side-stepping her swing and taking a jab at her stomach with his mace, the heavy ball of the weapon propelled toward her like a battering ram.

Lagzadaeus attacks Annaiel with his Mace and moderately wounds her!

Galrohad springs to his feet after a brief rest and runs to the side of the road where the brush is on fire. He scoops up a flaming brand and runs toward Lucy with it and casts it at her hoping to catch her on fire. After he throws the brand he ducks down and waits to see what will happen.

Large black warg casts a cruel glare at Sulfaroth and, with bloody saliva dripping from its fang filled maw, launches a vicious attack at Sulfaroth with a flurry of bites and claw tipped swipes. Large black warg moderately wounds him!

Galrohad attacks Lucy with his Longsword and mildly wounds her!

With Lucy seemingly about to enjoy a conflagration and other Rangers in distress, Talbinor groans and lopes awkwardly across the battlefield, right arm hanging like a piece of carrion but brain and legs starting to come back as he jaunts to the aid of his fellow rangers, his eyes firmly set upon the more recently arriving troll even as his body is less firm.

"Elendil!" Talbinor yells, sword lifted into the air for a moment as the young Ranger charges to Lominhur's aid, cutting to the right at the last moment as he comes up on Lugobgund and takes a ducking sidewise swipe at the troll's hamstring, already trying to peel off in withdrawl as he delivers the blow.

You attack Lugobgund with your Longsword...

Your attack against Lugobgund mildly wounds him!

Lucy feels the strike, and heat! FIRE! A TORCH! She feels the satchel at her waist loosen. She howls, fingers grasping for the satchel as she turns.. barely missing the strike from Nauthcel. She glares toward the cloaked figure, looking then from him, to Nauthcel, and the Eagle. "TRIIBOOOOT" she wails, "Get TRIBOOT! Then back! BAAACK!" She takes another step back, threatening those nearby with a swing of her club

Stepping in too close, the mace meets her leather covered stomach. It sends her backward, a good few feet, stealing her breath as well. Annaiel lands upon her back, sword falling from her grip to clatter to the ground somewhere in the dark. Gasping, she rolls to her front, getting to all four slowly, shield still held as she starts to get to her feet, clutching at her stomach as she gasps to fill her lungs. Annaiel resheaths the gleaming blade of Badhron.

Sword ringing out from its sheath, it is now that the hooded elf Celebrinthar actually fully enters the fray. While Lucy's back is turned to him, the elven-make longsword is drawn up and strikes out in attempt to cut open a hole in her side as he passes. Legs taking long, almost frantic strides, however, the elf makes the mistake of turning his back on Lucy as he bounds to the aid of the rangers.

Lagzadaeus marches forward, his bootless feet pounding the ground as if the weight of his evil and menace insults the very ground upon which he walks. He approaches the downed Ranger and lets out a deep barking laugh, "You maggot," he says in a deep growl, his mace switching to just one hand as his right hand reaches down to grip the Ranger by her hair, a deep hocking sound coming from within the orc's black throat.

An angry hiss escapes Sulfaroth's hooked beak as the Warg's teeth bite home on his feathered leg. Wings beat frantically, battering the ground with their force, to stay in the air. And as he hovers, the Windhunter swipes out again with his uninjured foot, long talons raking again towards the Warg which now has drawn his blood.

Sulfaroth attacks Large black warg with his Eagle Claws, but he misses by a handspan.

The large black warg lets out a spine chilling howl as Sulfaroth attacks it. The club strike misses and he again snarls droping the club for the moment he reaches out grabing up both of them in his hands lifting them up. "Queen lucy I got triboot!" he calls over to her waving his hands with the two humans in them. Sty waits to see what will be come of them but holds them to make sure they dont get away.

Hearing him stride towards her, it matters not as she is finally starting to painfully fill her lungs. The sharp tug of her hair draws a cry from her and to her knees she falls, head jerked back at an odd angle. She lifts hands, in attempt to fend him off, trying to bash her shield into him arm but not getting quite the angle she wants. Annaiel flouders as finally the pain in her stomach blossoms as oxygen fills her finally.

Annaiel attacks Lagzadaeus with her Bare Hands, but Lagzadaeus parries the attack with his Mace! As its human foe is cast like a twig through the air from the crushing blow of its warhammer, the massive olog lets out a mighty howl and beats its weapon once again across its shield. Reveling in the success of its attack the olog fails to notice the attack of the dirty, dark-haired, human who successfuly scratches its thick hide with tiny blade. As if nothing had happened the Olog turns on its new foe and once again with amazing swiftness brings its massive warhammer down on the left side of the human, simultaneously spraying its foe with thick mucus from its flattend nose as it breathes heavily from the exertion.

Relief sits in his eyes somewhat as he sees Lugobgund turn his attentions elsewhere, and Lominhur seems ready to charge while the troll's back is turned, but the sound of Lagzadeus and Annaiel's duel seems to reach his ears. He advances, none too nimbly but with a gaze full of purpose as he attempts to lend aid to the female Ranger. His sword lashes out in a bid to hew away the orc's foul head, even as the brute takes hold. "Unhand her!" roars he as he swings.

Lominhur attacks Lagzadaeus with his Longsword and badly wounds him!

Lugobgund attacks you with his War Hammer!... ...and he hits! Ouch!

After throwing the flaming brands at Lucy Galrohad circles toward Lugobgund and strikes with his sword for the knees. He makes a wide sweeping swing stepping in between him and Talbinor.

Galrohad furiously attacks Lugobgund with his Longsword and mildly wounds him!

Upon Lucy moving away from him, Nauthcel takes the moment to pass his gaze over the scene. Before him, he sees that the tide of the battle has changed due to the new arrivals. From his lips, a high pitched whistle carries over the battlefield - the call for retreat. Slowly the Constant backs away from his foe, weapon still between him and the Olog.

The orc jabs his mace into Annaiel's hand, driving the feeble blow away from him as he spits down onto her head. But even as he does so, a piercing slash cuts through the chain around his neck and spills black blood down his back. Feeling the hot flow of his life course down his back Lagzadaeus spins, hefting his mace and takes another two-handed swing at his attacker, the mace heading toward Lominhur's right side.

For the second time tonight, Talbinor's bones crunch sickeningly, and just when the young Ranger has gotten his balance back, he takes an even more painful blow courtesy the war hammer of the other troll. There is no fancy defensive offense out of Talbinor this time, the hammer catching him flush and sending the Ranger stumbling back, eyes glassing over and vacant as he falls into a bush.

The vanquished Dunadan is not dead, but that situation might change awfully quickly for Talbinor without care. From his bush, the wounded Ranger has little choice but to try and crawl away silently, attempting to make his escape even before the battle leader sounds the retreat, his role as anything more than beating fodder done for the day.

Lagzadaeus attacks Lominhur with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.

Hunter begins screaming at the top of his lungs as the troll picks him up in its huge hands. This, coupled with a smashed foot, causes him to start gasping for air as he begins to black out.

Talbinor flees from Lugobgund.

Lucy's eyes light up (if a troll's eyes can..) as Sty shows the prizes. Lucy stalks toward him, eyes upon the hunter and huntress trapped within his grasp. "TRIIIBOOOOOT" she cries... hands reaching out and grabbing the top-halves of the humans. A weary eye turns toward the eagle ... athe orcs.. the trool.. "BACK!! QUEEN HAS TRIBOOT!!! BAAACK!" she howls, her grip tightening as she tries to pull them from Sty's grip.

Her hand crushed by the weight of the mace, she cries out and cringes. But the release of her hair comes in a duet with a familiar voice. Getting slowly to her feet, she doesn't dare look for her sword at this time. Annaiel instead pulls Deluross, her bow out to help aid the escape. "Rush!" She cries, the pain in her middle still nearly doubling her as she tries to ignore it. Fitting an arrow,she back up, aiming to retreat to the bushes as she aims and releases, the arrow flying towards the back of Lagzadaeus.

Annaiel readies Deluross, the wood of the bow straining as it is strung Annaiel launches an arrow...
Annaiel's bowshot hits Lagzadaeus, moderately wounding him.

As the call for retreat echoes out into the night, Lominhur is busy with his new foe and it is with a rasp of pain that he darts aside Lagzadaeus' mace. "Anna!" he cries out, circling with the uruk. "You are hurt! Get gone and I will be with you soon after!" This said his hand twitches as her arrow is launched and he slips forward with his blade raised; perhaps hoping to catch the orc distracted as he slices out towards the beast's belly.

Lominhur attacks Lagzadaeus with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

Galrohad crouches down and runs over to the side of the road again where the fire is burning and grabs up another fire brand hoping to cause enough distraction that the Hunters can escape and throws another firebrand at Lucy. He ducks back beside the fire hoping that it will offer some sort of protection.

Accompanying the cries of the Hunter, Huntress takes the a possibly higher tone in her screams. Being tugged between the hands of the two orcs is enough to quiet the Breeland woman down. If not for the pain, then for spending the last of her time saying the last of her prayers.

So evidently it is from pain, as her head falls to the side and all of her limbs relax swept into unconciousness.

Galrohad furiously attacks Lucy with his Longsword and mildly wounds her!

It takes Celebrinthar a short time, but he manages to rig up another brand. This time rather than doing anything crafty with it he makes towards Lugobgund and calls out in a loud voice. "Foul beast born of treachery!" the hooded elf calls out, voice ringing over the forest and echoing from the trees. No doubt he has heard the call for retreat, but uninjured as he is, the elf does not back down. "Over here!"

A snarl accompanies the arrow which strikes his arm and flies clean through. Blood flows hotly over his arms but it only enrages him more. He knows the peasant which attacks him by bow and this one who attacks him by steel are both deserving his wrath. But he focuses on the male with the sword. And he steps back from the slice and as the blade swings clear he steps forward and swings his mace upward toward the Ranger Lominhur's chin.

Lagzadaeus attacks Lominhur with his Mace and badly wounds him!

Once again the Eagle swoops low to try and inflict punishment on the sleek back warg that drew blood from its feathered body. But the result is the same as talons rake thin air as the warg moves with lightening speed to avoid the latest attack. Snarling in fury, the warg reels back on its haunches and launches a vicious attack on the beautiful eagle as it tries to regain a safe height.

Lugobgund attacks Sulfaroth with his War Hammer and lightly wounds him!

Unwilling to leave him, she edges to a better spot and takes aim again. Annaiel fits an arrow, pulling it taunt and taking aim for the chest of her foe, hoping to skewer him through his spine and through. She female ranger takes a moment, steadying and then lets fly her arrow. Eyes then fix on Lominhur, worry drawn within them even as she steps back out. Annaiel launches an arrow...
Annaiel's bowshot hits Lagzadaeus, moderately wounding him.

The orc's aim is true, but some instinct jerks Lominhur's head aside at the last or else the mace would surely have torn his head from his shoulders. As it is he takes a hefty blow to the cheek and staggers back as he struggles to keep his balance. Regaining his wits a moment or two later he eyes his foe anew. As Annaiel's arrow speeds into the fray once more he steps forth anew; his blade slicing down at Lagzadaeus' foreleg.

Lominhur attacks Lagzadaeus with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!

The other troll beams proudly for a moment as the queen is pleased. Sty is a good subject. Though the order to retreat is given by the queen and he takes off still holding the two unfortunately he is disorientd and runs the wrong way only realizing this as a sickening poping and ripping noise is heard. He looks into his hands and appears to only be holding the bottom half of each of the hunters. He looks up to the queen with the "oops." face if ever there was this look on a troll. He turns and rushes back towards the queen to flee the same way. He disapears into the night still holding the two halves.

As Lominhur attacks from one side Galrohad circles around to the other. He crouches low and swings with a sweeping arch up and under the chin guard of Lagzadaeus trying to get underneath the armor.

Galrohad furiously attacks Lagzadaeus with his Longsword and moderately wounds him!

The warg finds purchase in its aerial foe once more, but only briefly. A pair of feathers follow the black beast down, pulled loose from their rightful home. The Windhunter sweeps into the air, his feathers glint an angry red in the light of the blaze.

For a few still moments he rises, then swiftly dips and strikes again towards the warg, an ear-rending screech accompanying the diving attack.

Sulfaroth attacks Large black warg with his Eagle Claws and moderately wounds him!

The large black warg lets out a spine chilling howl as Sulfaroth attacks it.

ANOTHER TORCH! Her satchel falls, forgotten and mangled onto the ground as she tugs at the 'tribute' that Sty has managed to gather. The two humans are POPPED in two as Sty tries to run while she still held on. She growls, another strike of sword sends yet another stream of black blood trickling down her body.. She stumbles back again, shoving Sty as he begins running into the RIGHT direction.. 'BACK!!! ORCSES... TROOOL.. BAAAACK!!!' Lucy glares at the humans standing all too close to her, howling madly and swinging one last time toward her final attacker, Galrohad.

Lucy attacks Galrohad with her Club and moderately wounds him!

The gaze of the Constant turns from the retreating troll towards the tall contesting with his kin. Towards the evil being he bounds, blade held high as he approaches the skirmish. This battle may still go either way depending on the tactics of the attackers.

The pleasure of once again finding solid human flesh come into sickening contact with its mighty warhammer registers briefly across the face of the massive olog. But as the fragile human is cast from its feet and into the nearby brush another pin prick penetrates its thick grey hide causing it to turn slowly to search for the new annoyance. However, its turn is too slow and all the olog sees is the back of the human as it rushes off to attack its brethren

Hearing the call from its fellow troll and seeing her back slowly into the dark trees of the Chetwood, the massive olog lets out an ear piercing whine moves off in the same direction.

In response to the whine, or was it a whistle, the fell warg rushes off at a blinding speed in the direction that the two trolls are heading. Too soon did it ignore its airborne foe and as the warg slips into the underbrush, its back gets racked by razor sharp talons. A reminder of its night's foray that it will wear for many moons to come.

Galrohad brings up his shield to fend off most of the trolls attack but his arm is crushed against his body and injured badly. He staggers backward and into the fire but rolls and comes up standing on the other side of the fire with his sword held up at the ready.

Beset now on all sides Lagzadaeus takes another blow, this one to his ear, slicing a part off as he dodges away from it into a roll. Scowling at the humans he spits onto the ground, this time the spittle is filled with his own blood, "Scum!" he curses as he runs from them, toward his Queen and the other trolls, "Wait! Wait!"

Lagzadaeus tries to flee from Annaiel, but he fails!

As Lagzadaeus tries to claim his freedom from battle, Annaiel claims another arrow, setting it upon him. She aims not for his top but for his legs, hoping to down him with a blow and have them finish him off. Cool blue grey eyes afix on him, the string drawn tight and finally she lets fly. Annaiel launches an arrow...
Annaiel's bowshot hits Galrohad, mildly wounding him.

Lugobgund tries to flee from Lominhur, but he fails!

Lucy tries to flee from Galrohad, but she fails!

Brand still in hand, the cloaked elf does not give chase to the servants of darkness. Instead a frown etches his shadowed visage and he paces slowly forwards, towards the rangers, orange light dancing from the flames. "Is anyone in need of assistance?" he asks coolly from beneath his hood, the light not reaching the shadow therein.

Galrohad still staggering from the hit by Lucy finds himself in the way of an arrow as it pierces deep within his shield and cuts his hand. He bends down and snaps it off smashing the shield to the ground. He comes back up as the trolls fade into the trees and he gives a great sigh that once again they had preveiled.

As the arrow flies into Galrohad, Lominhur casts his gaze about and sees the other Rangers falling back. "Come!" he urges Galrohad ere he looks to Annaiel. "Let us away while we can, and finish them another night!"

Lagzadaeus strikes out behind the trolls but soon swarms around to the side and vanishes into the forests, heading east.

Missing her shot and watching it strike a fellow, her face pales. Annaiel nods though, moving after the others and gazes to Galrohad. Sorries for later, now they flee. The female Dunadan leaves behind her sword, though for now it is of no importance.

Quietly as he's certain the rangers are away, Celebrinthar soon, too, leaves into the forests.

Galrohad turns as he sees his the other rangers leaving he follows them down the road to the south.

But Lominhur's eyes do not miss the gleam of steel in the grass, and he collects Annaiel's blade ere he too retrearts back into the woods.

Fury burns in the black eyes of Sulfaroth. He hisses angrily, his wicked beak clacking loudly in the night as he sweeps back and forth over the disappearing uruk and trolls. Yet as the fight winds suddenly down, the Eagle does not linger. With a piercing glance at the remaining Dunadan, he beats the air with giant wings, and rises again into the night.

The yrch flees before the Ranger Nauthcel is able to reach him. As he comes up next to Lominhur, he speaks in a tired breath. "Take all those injured to the north. There, you will find a small cabin where I grew up." After speaking these words, the Constant disappears into the foliage in the direction of those fleeing.

Nodding to his fellow's words, Lominhur too finds his breath coming in pants and he glances to Annaiel. With his shield strapped to his back and both hands bearing swords he offers hers with a smile. "I thought you might like this," says he ere nodding northwards. "Come, let us find Talbinor and bear him to the cabin." This said he begins to search the nearby foliage; keeping an eye on Galrohad also to ensure he does not become seperated from the others.

As Celebrinthar passes by the satchel left by the troll he drops the remaining brand in his hand, tipping it lit-end first into the depths. He doesn't bother to take a look, instead continuing on his way.

Taking the sword after restrapping her shield to her back, Annaiel nods, turning the blade in her hand. The normal sheen dulled by the drying blood of orcs. The rangeress lifts her gaze, eyes scanning the darkened wood to try and take sight of their missing kin.

The sounds of retreat have drawn Talbinor back to the former battlefield - not that he had far to go, the wounded Ranger not making good time. He staggers back into the combatant area of the Chetwood, eyes seeming loose in their sockets and jaw slightly agape, his one good arm wrapped loosely around his chest.

If the trolls still held the field, Talbinor's absentmindedness and general detachment might be enough to get him killed. But they do not, and as he staggers hollowly through the open there is no immediate danger of him being assaulted by anything more vicious than a tree he might walk into.

"Talbinor!" hisses Lominhur as loudly as he dares. "There you are. How injured are you? Can you walk? There is a cabin we should make for, so the leader of our attack has told me... there we can tend your wounds, and mine."

Annaiel breaks off from the group, moving to intercept the injured ranger. Her brows furrow as she takes in Talbinor's state, "This way, Talbinor.." she says softly and offers her arm. "To the cabin." The female ranger waits, her own wounds protesting but starting to ease from their bleeding.

If you can call what Talbinor is doing walking, the answer to the second question is self-evident. The answer to the first comes after a few seconds, when Talbinor, having proceeded on seemingly quite unaware of Lominhur, suddenly blinks and looks up, rather belatedly, at the younger Ranger, then back down at his useless arm, then back up.

"I... I..." Talbinor's voice fades off a bit, jaw slightly agape, pupils dilated oddly. "Last time I was hit that hard, I ddn't have to wake up for several hours." He laughs loosely, as if he finds that funny for some reason. "I... cabin..." he blinks once or twice, glancing around slightly. "Where did you say it was?"

Moments later, Nauthcel silently reappears from the foliage though he no longer bears his weapon nor wears his shield. As the question is raised by the injured one, the Constant answers. "It is to the north, in the area no known as Deadman's Dike." The Ranger gestures into the darkness as if the small structure could be seen from where they stand.