I almost fell off my chair laughing, love your depiction of Itty lolololol That, was his secret, now I get him XD
Keep going Merli!! Love your stories
Reading onto "Enter the Burzan"!
I almost fell off my chair laughing, love your depiction of Itty lolololol That, was his secret, now I get him XD
Keep going Merli!! Love your stories
Reading onto "Enter the Burzan"!
A MeM’ers Point Of View
Quick light footsteps beat on the brilliant white cobbled path of Glan Vraig. The sun beat down on the agile Elf with the raven black hair as she pulled to a stop before Glan Vraig’s central water feature. She leaned forward with one hand, scooped a small amount of water and began her private ritual. She blessed the air with a flick of her wrist sending water droplets about her. She blessed the ground, dropping to one knee leaving a wet hand print on the cobbled steps of the fount. Finally she lifted the hand and pressed it to her chest with a blessing to herself “Good hunting”, she said simply. Ellouhollia finished her ceremony and rose with a determined look, ready to embrace the hectic battlefield of the Ettenmoors for another day, when an all too familiar sound of raucous laughter rang through the air.
The day was dreadfully humid and old man Kethean was feeling it. Standing on the slightly raised dais of the resurrection circle the heat of the day seemed to intensify off the brilliant white stone surrounding him. Kethean turned to his friends around him “Now, have I mentioned how much I hate wargs lately”, the old man spoke smoothly and simply with a wry smile on his face. He was answered by laughter, apparently his disdain for wargs was well known amongst his friends.
“Once or twice”, Candolos quipped. He looked down on his little Minstrel buddy Mystikrayne, the tiny guy sitting on a large rock head bowed. “Now why are you looking so down Mystik” Candolos asked. The hobbit looked up at the large guardian trying to force a grin at the always happy giant of a man.
“Don’t beat yourself up bro” Kaha consoled Mystik as he slapped him on the back “We’ll get them next time”. Mystik turned to his other guardian companion, his indentured protector and shield, a look of confusion evident on his face as he listened to the dwarf.
“Just make sure you stick closer to me and Candolos next time”, Durgil added helpfully. Erthothil and Kethean nodded their agreement as Mystik looked around at his fellowship bewildered.
“I…”, he began exacerbated before being cut off from his quickly approaching kinship leader.
“Salutations my friends, how goes the hunt today”? Ellouhollia asked her kin mates.
“Hey Ell”, Candolos answered “Well you’ve got to hear of our latest adventure….”
Candolos looked to his companions, they were all in fine spirits as usual. Trundling along at gentle canter atop their war-steeds they didn’t appear to have a care in the world. Even Kaha bouncing up and down on that over-grown pony looked as comfortable as the rest of them. It had been a long boring day, riding from the steps of Glan Vraig all the way to the slug pits of Gramsfoot and then as far east as the treacherous drake infested Isendeep mine. Unfortunately the hunt had proven fruitless and the steeds were clearly weary and needed rest. They were shaded from the noonday sun by tall trees, only flecks of sunlight managed to penetrate the foliage overhead. Slowly his steed to a walk Candolos called to his group “Only a little further and we will be at the lumber camp. Give the horses a break and stretch our legs.” The troop continued on, conversation and laughing a standard there was never a dull moment with this lot. Even in the midst of Grimwood forest, where giant spiders lurked and trees that could swallow a man whole resided, the MeM kinship was always having a laugh.
“Here we are”, Candolos exclaimed as he caught side of the wooden palisade surrounding Grimwood lumber camp. Candolos lead his friends into the large camp and nodded greeting to the local hunters and woodsmen.
“Candolos”, Seargent-at-arms Aeglas called “Good to see you my friend”. The guardian moved over to the station leader to catch up with him. He always stopped in with Aeglas for a coffee, they knew each other well. Candolos had once aspired to be a famous woodsman, then he cracked his first reaver skull and had been chasing that feeling every day since.
“Aeglas my friend”, Candolos replied “It’s good to see you, but I must say the camp looks in disarray”. Candolos gazed around at the elves and men working through the camp there were stockpiles of logs clogging walkways, men sitting waiting for work to begin while others had too much to handle.
“It’s Tortmund”, Aeglas informed him “Instead of organising the camp he’s off messing with that Alf guys wife. Every time that little hobbit adventures off to Grothum Tortmund swoops in and romances his lady”. It was clear how little Aeglas thought of Tortmund, but misdeeds aside he really was the best at what he did. Candolos’ annoyance was obvious, he’d had just about enough of this from the little hobbit. He promised Aeglas he’d pull Tortmund back to the camp by his ear and plant his boot somewhere else hard enough that Alf’s wife wouldn’t be on his mind for a long time.
Candolos called to his fellowship to saddle up and follow him out. Hoarhallow was a short distance down the dirt road, but the giant spiders were rampant through this area and it was always safer to travel as a group. Candolos lead off letting his kin mates catch up as they could, but as the camp began to wink out of sight behind him a familiar foe waylaid him. Chirontheirish charged out of the bushes throwing his massive uruk frame into Candolos’ large steed. Horse and rider were thrown to the ground, Candolos rolled with the impact and came to his feet as gracefully as possible in heavy armour. He loosed his massive two-handed sword from its sheath across he back, bringing the sword before him. “You are mine uruk”, He yelled at the War-Leader only to notice a stream of young orc reavers and defilers joined Chirontheirish. Candolos quickly changed his tact “TO ME”, He called to his fellows “I have the war-leader, Kethean take out these defilers”. His command was met by a cacophony of noise behind him, he could only pick few words out amongst the creeps roars and free-people crys.
“Get this warg off me” came from one.
“Form up” From another.
“GRRRAAAUUWWWARRRRGHHH” from some…..thing else
“Help” travelled through from the distance.
It was a messy start but the fight began to come together, Candolos kept the War-leader busy chasing him throughout the forest preventing him from concentrating on commands his train of orcs unsure of whom to attack without direct orders. Reavers roasted in flaming tar, defilers fell with arrows jutting from their bodies, and even the odd warg sprinted off into the distance fur ablaze. But there were so many of them. The Frantic war-anthem from Mystik stopped abruptly, soon after the reavers were able to break away from the thick tar and blinding lights thrown by Durgil. A yell went through the air and the arrows stopped flying from Kethean. Candolos could see his opening the War-leader’s bare neck was before him, he made to bring down his massive sword but in a blink of an eye Chirontheirish turned and caught the blade on his shield, a massive grin spread across his hideous face. Candolos took a step back, at least ten enemies focused and surrounded him, they moved in quickly and the fighting didn’t last long, the War-leaders laugh echoed throughout.
“And there you have it” Candolos finished. Ellouhollia looked quizzically at her friends. She coughed up a thick hack of tar, really need to lay off the tabac she thought to herself, then commented to her fellows in a hoarse voice “Sounds messy guys”
“Well let me elaborate” Durgil chimed in
As Durgil brought his horse to a gallop to catch up to Candolos he quickly roused his fellows to do the same “Hurry men, Candolos could need us at any moment”. Durgil knew he was really the glue that kept this unit functioning, he always had the ability to keep everyone organised and together. As Durgil turned back to the road ahead he saw a flying Candolos soar through the air to land hard on the ground, the guardian pulled himself clumsily to his feet. As Durgil leapt from his horse he caught sight of an army of young orcs clawing their way out of the tree line.
As he hit the ground he deftly cast a sign of power, a thick glob of tar caught the majority of their foes, and shortly after burst into flames with a quick flick of his powerful staff. He heard a cry from Kethean behind him “Get this warg off me so I can shoot straight”. Durgil start managing the fight before him, desperately throwing light blasts at the mass of orcs to daze their senses. Throwing fireballs toward the warg harassing Kethean, casting signs of power to befuddle the mighty war-leaders senses, Durgil knew if he could keep him busy and confused they stood a chance of surviving this encounter. From behind him he heard a blood curdling scream “GRRRAAAUUWWWARRRRGHHH”, followed by a small cry from Mystik “help”. At that moment an incredibly strong force hit him square in the back knocking him to the ground and his staff out of reach. Mystik’s war-anthem winked out and Durgil knew they were in trouble. As he scrambled for his staff a butcher’s knife cut deep into his outstretched forearm. With a cry he looked up to see several reavers above him weapons bared, then all went black.
Just as confused Ell turned to the rest of the group “Well lay it on me guys, lets analyse this mess and see what we can improve on”.
Kethean loved how their group worked together, each person was responsible for everyone else, a real team. Kethean was lost in his thoughts enjoying the scenery as he cantered along on his old horse, it was really time for him to put the old girl out to pasture, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They’d been through a lot and she’d saved his neck on more than one occasion. A sharp yell from Candolos brought him back into the present “To me”, the call came. Kethean pulled his horse to a stop “Easy now girl” He crooned to her. “Let me get down, I can’t move like I once did”. Kethean slid off his horse and untied his saddle-bag from his horse removing his trusty bow. He tested the string, grabbed his quiver and notched an arrow. He took careful aim at a one-eyed defiler when a familiar warg took a snap at his heels.
Baneoffirehands was ferocious and had enjoyed the taste of Kethean’s flesh many times. Luckily Kethean had perfected a sure-fire way to deal with Bane while still focusing on the task at hand. “Get this Warg off of me”, he yelled to no one in particular and leant forward to balance on one leg. With all the grace of a reaver with his helmet on backwards Kethean started kicking out at Bane with is free leg and started firing off arrows roughly in the direction of the orc mass. The minstrel ballad kept Kethean in the fight, and Bane was clearly getting frustrated with his expert kicking, hopefully he would leave him alone soon. The tide of the battle was starting to turn to their favour when a blood curdling scream broke through the air “GRRRAAAUUWWWARRRRGHHH”. Kethean watched as Kaha went tearing off through the midst of battle, heading pumping up and down spittle flying from his mouth. He knocked Durgil from his feet and continued on without breaking stride heading straight for the mass of orcs. A moment later the war-anthem stopped and Bane was able to break through Kethean’s awesome defences. The warg tore him to the ground and he felt fangs latch onto his neck.
What a boring day, Erthothil thought to himself. They’d been all over the Ettenmoors and hadn’t found a thing. Now Candolos was leading them through Grimwood all for a cup of coffee at Lumber Camp, man that guy drank a lot of coffee. His horse strolled along at the back of the group, he was in no rush for a coffee and decided to hang back a bit to enjoy the forest. Well that and watch Kaha try and sit on that over-grown dog of his he called a war-pony. The stocky dwarf just couldn’t sit atop the thing without bouncing up and down managing to barely hang on. As the fellowship arrived at the lumber camp Erthothil was held up by the sound of a twig breaking over his shoulder. Pulling his horse to a halt he looked towards the noise. There was nothing there, he was probably just hearing things, in fact the entire woods seemed eerily quiet. As Erthothil turned to catch up with the group he saw a horrifying sight. Baneoffirehands flying through the air teeth bared and aimed directly at his face.
Kaha had finally mastered horse riding. It was a momentous day for him, he’d travelled around the entire landscape with only getting throw off twice! He had to admit it though he was glad for the break, and moved into Grimwood lumber camp as quickly as possible grabbing the nearest coffee he could. The footman that was drinking it surely wouldn’t mind sharing. “Hurry Men” Durgil called out, interrupting Kaha’s hard earned coffee. He picked up his sword and shield and started trundling off after his fellow guardian. Kaha saw the fight start before him, he quickly raced to Mystikrayne and hauled him off his pony. “Do your thing Mystik” Kaha reassured the Minstrel “I’ve got your back”.
Kaha knew how important Mystik was to their success, and even though he longed to help Candolos out more directly, keeping predators off their healer was his number one priority.
The fight was going well, no one had fallen yet, although Erthothil was nowhere to be seen. Kethean had started picking off reavers and defilers while Durgil was keeping most of their combatants immobilized. That was until he arrived. Kaha could see him in the distance, his mortal enemy. Rage blinded him “Guido” he hissed through gritted teeth and then the yell escaped from him as he sprinted off to meet his foe “GRRRAAAUUWWWARRRRGHHH”. Nothing else mattered sound ceased to exist everything else in his way was knocked flying out of the way. He came upon the defiler and brought down his axe with a satisfying thunk, lodging the entire head deep into the defiler’s skull. His enemy vanquished Kaha turned the body over ready to cut off a trophy when an unfamiliar orc face stared back at him. “Oops”, Kaha exclaimed. He looked around him his senses coming back. The fight was over as Chirontheirish pointed a massive finger at Kaha “Finish him”.
Mystik was racing towards Candolos when a heavy handed Kaha ripped him off his pony. “I’ve got your back” The dwarf told him. Mystik nodded his appreciation and leapt into action, starting a ballad of the highest strength bolstering Candolos’ strength. He caught a warg attacking Kethean and starting splitting his powers between the two fighters. He was singing his heart out, taxed to his absolute limit when a scream erupted from Kaha “GRRRAAAUUWWWARRRRGHHH” the dwarf took off into the midst of the battle. Mystik was already stretched, running from Kethean’s side to Candolos’ now he had to try and get to Kaha as well. As he took off a huge reaver emerged before him.
The massive orc Shagger had been watching from the tree-line waiting for an opportunity, he brought his cleaver down shattering Mystik’s lute. “Help”, Mystik cried in vain as he back into two more menacing enemies. He turned to see Skmuzy the warg and Notlobster the spider. Notlobster fired first, a paralysing toxin covered him, Skmuzy launched next, then Shagger moved in to finish the job.
Ellouhollia was rolling on the ground laughing by the end of the stories “What a mess” she managed to say in between gasps. The fellowship all burst into laughter again. Kaha slapped his minstrel friend on the back again “Like I said Mystik, don’t beat yourself up about it”.
May I commend you Merlinros. From what I read (between coffees, wry smiles, mirth and much merriment) this transcript would seem to be a completely accurate and detailed presentation of Kin activities on the night in question. I Approve! /swordsalute.
Have I told you how much I really hate Wargs?
Make sure you add the last fights to your story Merlin cuz let`s face it,pvp is balanced we(creeps) just suck at it.
Last edited by 1nTruDeR; May 10 2013 at 06:43 PM.
As for the fights, you had 7 initially, 100m from your rez, with us pinned between the rez and your OP. Burzan, Dirty Orc, Slimelord, Grandfa, Rogals, Darkwolfshadow and another warg I think it was Pulgozo. We had Merlin Laeron Adinthor and Leoscribe. We only won the first because we rushed you and didn't let you get organised, then continued to finish off the recentely rezzed/people running back. 1 Fight that lasted about 5 mins and you probably died 5 times in because you are always near the top of the priority list.
You reorganised rushed us and destroyed us in about 30seconds.
Then you flipped another OP so you had 3...., we picked up Murdoch. We had one more drawn out fight where freeps won quite convinclingly. It was late for me so I went to bed, and the group picked up Rizoel, nothing that happened after that had anyhting to do with me.
If those 3 fights have made you QQ, then get over it. We did our best to make them fun fights and were aggressive sitting next to your rez against larger numbers.
If an anonymous tell is whats made you QQ, then get over it. I think anyone thats been pvp'ing long enough has put up with them. I've had heaps telling me what a fail RK I am, around 10 different people doing it. Your easily one of the best pvp'ers on the server Burz.
If you want to have a go at me in future, please do it in game or make a new thread. This little reply took me about an hour to write because I kept writing it than deleting it because I didn't want to add to the QQ in this thread. In the end my own petty annoyance won out. Right now I am finishing a story, I will add it later today to try get the thread back on track.
I guess you`re right,and I appologise for ruining your thread.I never rage posted before but the disparity between creeps and freeps now is just stupid.I didnt mean to atack you,its just that the pvp I loved became a really bad joke.Anyway I`m taking a break from pvp,I dont know when or if I`ll be back.Looking forward reading your new stories.
Last edited by 1nTruDeR; May 12 2013 at 05:50 AM.
A stroll to the wrong side of Bear Valley
A warn to the reader: this is not a happy ending story...
As que sunday went by, so did this brave-ish warden called Fearghus. His brand new rank made him all the more confident as he wondered around, despite the warns of "creep zerg out" that every herald would gravely pronouce.
He strode around Tirith Raw, as that nothing could scare him out. But as soon as he realized the creep zerg had their wargs aware of his scent, that valley he decided to quickly descend!
A quick stop to warn the others was enough to get him dismounted. Hypnotica bit the mighty steed's legs and showed the warden he should've taken heed.
"Oh! Nice! I like when I dont have to chase around", thought the warden as those teeth kept scratching him about... the second mouth he did not expect as another warg popped out.
"hmmm... this is about to get interesting", confident he got up, as he reached half morale.
A third set of teeth got him on the tushy, "Three??? That's alri....." and that was the end of that warden.
Sitting behind the keyboard, Rafael couldn't stop thinking: "I hope those three wargs die of food poisoning"
Good night, Crickhollow! Have a great week =)
Let The Moors Tremble – Part 1
An ominous feeling had fallen over the Ettenmoors. Black and grey thunderclouds loomed overhead rumbling away. Arcs of lightning shot back and forth through the clouds, dazzling flashes laced the thick cover. The awe-inspiring sight was obscured from man and beast though. A torrent of rain fell like a wall, making it impossible to see more than a foot into the distance. The lightning flashes ebbed through the tirade of rain as nothing more than fuzzy globs. The clap of thunder was an almost welcome disruption to the deafening patter of rain throwing up mud as it crashed against the earth. The constant downpour only added to the dread that had besmirched the landscape. The tension however, had started bubbling to the surface and like the rain, it was about to break.
Shrouded by rainfall two horseback travellers trudged along the Hoardale river bank, unaware of the watchful eyes following their every step. The rain seeped through sodden cloaks and saturated packs, cascading onto their powerful war-steeds, running down their strong legs to hooves that were barely pulling out of the thick mud under-foot and continuing the slow walk ever forward. The normally light-hearted Candolos felt the chill right to his bone, he’d dragged his little hobbit buddy Poppyetta out into the torrential rain three days ago, something telling him he needed to be out there. That feeling had died however, drowned in the tonnes of water that had pelted down from above and buried by the immense boredom of not seeing another soul for three straight days. He looked to his side, picking out the rough silhouette of his companion. Poppy looked as down-trodden as he felt, on the short pony, head and shoulders slumped forward her fatigue was obvious. “Poppy”, Candolos yelled over the roaring rain “I think it’s time we turned back, no one else is stupid enough to be out in this”. Candolos thought he saw a slight shake of the head from the little minstrel, she hadn’t wanted to venture out in the first place and for the first two days of the trek was very vocal about it. As the two turned their mounts around they were greeted by the unwelcome sight of three dark figures approaching them, a large orc and two wargs.
Candolos dismounted with a grin urging his minstrel friend to do the same. He unbound his sword and brought it before him, to his side Poppyetta pulled out a lute from under her cloak, plunking at the strings hoping to produce some form of battle music despite the drenched cords. As Candolos was readying to give the command to engage the familiar sound of steal rasping against steal came from the orc, as the beast produced a gleaming blade that caught the light from the flashes above almost like a beacon amidst the storm. As if sensing the battle about to commence, the rainfall broke slightly revealing the duo’s foes. The wargs Pillin and Pulgozo approached quickly in unison their movements mirroring each other, but behind them came a true terror. Burzan eyed Candolos with utter contempt, the massive orc carrying a blade unlike anything the guardian had seen before. Something wasn’t right, the easy confidence that Burzan moved with and the eagerness the often cowardly wargs displayed. Candolos made the quick decision to get Poppyetta out of there “Run Poppy, get out of here, I’ll hold these lot off”, he forced his usual laugh into the call even though he felt no merriment. Poppy gave him a sidelong glance but obviously bought his false confidence and listened to him. She took off as quick as her little hobbit legs would take her disappearing into the dense rain. With a forced smile Candolos turned back to his aggressors “Let’s have at it then” he roared.
The rain continued to slow as the seemingly impenetrable cloud cover finally allowed the first rays of sunlight to shine through. The brilliant white stonework of Glan Vraig caught the light immediately, as if the outpost itself came to life. Scouts and guardsmen began their patrols for the first time in days, their booted feet sloshing through deep puddles and trouncing streaks of mud across the brilliant pathways. Aervoth was sitting in the great hall of Glan Vraig enjoying a hot meal as the storm broke. The window to his right let the light shine through onto his wooden table. “It’s about time”, he exclaimed as he downed the rest of his ale tankard in a single gulp and pulled himself from his table to leave. To his left he saw Farriel doing much the same, just as eager to be back to the hunt, before Merlin and Rastorn urged her to sit back down and finish the meal. Nodding to his friends and shouldering past the eager green recruits Aervoth headed out into the misty rain that still fell, rebelling against the breaking sun. He’d been cooped up too long. He bid a stable-boy to fetch his steed Bull-Headed from his confines and continued his march to the Glan Vraig steps. As he stared out onto a miserable landscape just starting to come to life his attention was caught by heavy panting to his side. Aervoth turned to see his friend Candolos struggling to walk away from the resurrection circle, the poor guy had been out there for three straight days and was clearly exhausted. “Candolos how are you fairing my man”, Aervoth called in greeting his concern obvious. Candolos turned to him the paleness of his face striking the champion for the first time. “What’s wrong man, you look awful”, Aervoth stated. Candolos visibly swayed before answering him.
“I don’t know Aerv, I feel awful”, Candolos began “I ran into Burzan and the P-brothers. Burz had this sword man it was awesome yet terrifying. Every time he hit me with it I felt my strength sapping away”. Aervoth responded with a knowing smile, the poor guy had run into Burzan when he was already delirious from hunger and lack of sleep. He called a steward over to escort Candolos to the great inn before he continued down the steps of Glan Vraig to meet up with his steed. Third Marshal Aervoth slipped his heavy cloak on over his armour and rode into the misty rain, his horse kicking up mud as they went. Aervoth had felt like a caged bear during the course of the storm now it was time for him unleash his frustration on any that rose before him.
The little bird chirped, a lone peaceful beauty before the terrible orc camp near Tirith Raw. The sun had come out completely now, the clouds escaping from the heat of its rays. The misty rain had ceased and only the deep puddles remained, surrounded by thick mud. Light footsteps traversed around the puddles, leaving barely a mark on the mud with the fleetness of movement. Beardzilla was a master of stealth, hooded in a dark cloak with near skin tight leggings and tunic his movements were always lithe and unheard. All that gave Beardzilla away was the massive grey beard that protruded from his chin, currently caked in mud though even this was well camouflaged. He snuck by the peaceful bird without making a sound, heading to wood barricaded orc camp. The entire Ettenmoors was alive with activity and Beardzilla was revelling in it, too often his days were spent sneaking about finding creeps. Today however, he was having more trouble getting back into hiding before the next wave of foes came through. A second pair of near silent footsteps leapt over puddles and landed deftly beside, Beardzilla. The burglar looked down at the new arrival, the hobbit Frankfurd returned the look with a knowing nod and the two moved towards orc camp in perfect unison.
Lore-masters and Rune-keepers struggled to control streaks of lightning and fire as the sky filled with chaos. The burglar pair of Frank and Beard moved through quickly but cautiously trying not to be uncovered by the waves of fire. Atop the orc camp parapets blackarrows fired volley after volley into the assaulting free-people. Beard watched as skirmishers and trackers went down by the dozen just as footmen and guardsmen fell trying to force their way into the camp. The powerful reavers Hawkdriver, Shagger and the often confused Ittybitty were destroying anyone that came too close to the camp. Saldrin and Laeron moved in, the formidable duo attacking the reaver trio relentlessly. The hefty defiler Slanginrocks was casting gourds at his reavers from the safety of the camp, rejuvenating the deadly fighters. Hawkdriver and Ittybitty moved in on them, with the help of the blackarrows raining arrows down from above they slowly forced the hunter and minstrel back. The rune-keeper Swyyper moved in, forming an inferno of flame ready to torch the blackarrows atop the parapet. Shagger turned and charged deadly blades bared and held into the air, he leapt at the rune-keeper and brought the blades down, one through each shoulder cleaving the arms sheer off. With a kick to her chest he sent her body flying through the air, leaving her to writhe on the ground, now useless in the battle. Frank and Beard seized the opportunity, quickly skirting between the now spread out reavers to take out the secluded defiler. Slanginrocks had both his hands clutched to his staff waving the gnarled piece of wood above his head, his fat arms unknowingly protecting his throat. Beardzilla started flicking hand signals to Frank, “Me stab back, you stab front”. It was a simple plan but effective, Slanginrocks was a hard beast to take down, but hopefully the joint attack would be enough. Frankfurd signed back “No, trust me, be ready” with a wink he moved in. Beard hated vague plans, relying on people always worried him, but Frank was one of the few he did trust, he readied himself and waited. Frankfurd slipped in behind the large defiler, still unnoticed, with a quick flip of his wrist his dagger flashed through the air and cut away the defiler’s loincloth revealing the beasts tiny secret to the world. Utterly shocked Slanginrocks dropped his staff, and clutched his parts, Beardzilla moved in instantly, dagger striking through the defiler’s neck. The two burglars left the embarrassed defiler to bleed out as they began taking apart those remaining in the orc camp one by one.
Aervoth raced towards orc camp. He had been all around the Ettenmoors fighting battle after battle and constantly coming away the victor, few could stand before him in man to man combat. He jumped from the steed Bull-headed and raced along the orc camp palisade, garnering a lot of attention from the trackers and skirmishers standing guard. With a trail of a skinny orcs behind him Aervoth engaged the three reavers protecting the front of orc camp. Saldrin and Laeron pushed with renewed vigour as Aervoth joined the fray. The reavers were pushed further and further into the camp, as the blackarrow fire was slowly failing. Aervoth caught sight of a beard dancing above the parapet and knew the sneaky burglar was inside causing havoc. The free-people began pushing inside the camp and soon they stood facing scrawny orc skirmishers and the massive trio. As Aervoth was about to rush the reavers a sickening feeling came over him, a dread gnawing at his back. He risked a glance over his shoulder and caught sight of Burzan standing in the orc camp entry, hand clasped around a rusty hammer and a massive shining sword.
Burzan moved impossibly quick, he beheaded an unknown hunter to his left, spun and split a young captain through his midriff and finished stabbing a lore-master through the heart. Laeron and Saldrin turned to take on Burzan as Aervoth quickly went on the defensive desperately trying to hang on as Ittybitty, Hawkdriver and Shagger charged him together. Beardzilla and Frankfurd intercepted Hawkdriver, moving to dispatch him quickly. Burzan took Laeron and Saldrin by himself, supremely confident. Laeron sang protective ballards and throwing up magical shields and healing auras, but Burzan’s ferocity was too much, Laeron died quickly his defences gaining him little time. Burzan whipped his massive head around to fix his gaze on Saldrin’s, spittle flying from his orcish mouth, yellow teeth bared and bloodlust in his eyes. With a huge effort the reaver heaved his rusted Mallet at the hunter disrupting the elf’s’ bow draw. Saldrin dove to the side rolled and came up on one knee drawing his bow swiftly. Burzan was upon him though in a blink of an eye. He speared his gleaming blade through the elf and roared into his quickly paling face as the life ebbed from his eyes. Done with the hunter Burzan found Aervoth, desperately holding on against the dual onslaught of Ittybitty and Shagger, panting heavily the orc cried out in a guttural bellow “Aervoth is MINE”.
Frankurd pulled his dagger out of Hawkdriver’s corpse and surveyed what was left of the battlefield. Leading away from orc camp was utter devastation, Burzan had cut a line directly through the sieging free-people to get to the camp. In the confusion sown by the High-Chieftain, Kitwen had rallied her brood of spiders to flank the remaining free-people while a pair of wargs took out key components of the free-people command. Frank, Beard and Aervoth were all that remained, and Burzan only had eyes for the champion swordsman. The two burglars faded into the shadows, formulating a way they could still win this. Frank watched Burzan call the two other reavers off Aervoth with snarling threats and dangerously aggressive swings of that mighty sword. Ittybitty looked ready launch at Burzan when something more appealing caught his eye, a puddle “Bitty” Itty asked as he ran off to talk to his reflection. Shagger simply shrugged and fetched one of Swyyper’s fallen arms to chew on as he watched the fight. Aervoth didn’t wait for Burzan to ready himself, he was going to take any opportunity possible, swinging his massive sword at the reaver’s exposed neck. Burzan turned, pure luck seemingly saving his life as the sword skimmed off his shoulder. Burzan didn’t even flinch, he brought his sword around slicing deep into Aervoth’s side. Frank signalled to Beard that they needed to leave, there was no hope of success here, they moved quickly the sound of Burzan finishing Aervoth off behind them. As Frank crested the palisade he risked a look back, only to see Burzan dragging Aervoth’s near lifeless body by the hair.
Merlin couldn’t concentrate on his meal any longer. Glan Vraig was a twitter with word of the great battle at orc camp. A siege the likes that had never been seen, great feats of bravery were being told among the fresh recruits, singing and drinking were rampant. Commander Farriel was bright red with anger “You told me no one would go out with all the puddles Merlin” Farriel accused. Merlin could almost see the steam rising off of her. He replied with a shrug and an excuse “It’s never as good as the greenies say Farriel.They probably just stared at Orc Camp for a few hours while Zomar fired some volleys at them from the safety of the parapet”. Frankly the only reason Merlin didn’t head out with the rest of them was because of a splitting headache. He and Rastorn had taken to the drink heavily during the floods, and neither had felt capable of keeping up with Farriel when the clouds broke. With an exacerbated sigh Merlin rose from his comfy chair and followed Farriel out of the great hall. The rune-keeper saw much of what he’d expected, a lot of fresh faces full of vigour and also relief that the fight was over, and a lot of grizzled veterans muttering to each other about missed opportunities. Two things stuck out though, the talk of Burzan was by far too wide spread, he was a deadly foe but the stories they were painting made him sound like a small army. The second was the paleness and obvious weakness in many of the soldiers around Glan Vraig. The odd mixes of emotions were a lot to take in, and Merlin was having a hard time making sense of it all. A crowd suddenly started forming at the Glan Vraig stairs, accompanied by hushed whispers. Merlin pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Hey, easy on the arms”, came the all too familiar screech of his daughter, funny Merlin couldn’t remember Swyyper ever having a problem with her arms before. As he reached the front of the crowd Merlin saw what the ruckus was about. Burzan was standing before the stairs with a hoarde of creeps behind him, roaring challenges to any who dared. A wry smile spread across Merlin’s face, all these new recruits petrified of Burzan. This was a chance for him to put a stop to the snickering behind his back, he’d earned his promotion and now it was time to show the free-people why. Merlin stepped forward out of Glan Vraig and hoped luck was with him this day. “Burzan”, Merlin called readying himself for a challenge. He paused however, Burzan looked bigger, stronger and well meaner than normal. He was holding a massive sword above his head, big enough to be a two-hander for any man, elf or dwarf. The sword was glistening in the sunlight, and reflecting in the puddles that still decorated the landscape, the hilt was a deep midnight black and within a swirl of blood red pulsed. The rune-keeper was second guessing himself now, what on Middle-Earth had he gotten himself into this time. Thankfully fate intervened “Stand down Commander”, came a bellowing command. Silence hushed the chattering crowd and the monster hoarde as Second-Marshal Thorfinn walked down the glistening staircase.
Merlin quickly melded back into the crowd, doing his best to look frustrated at the direct command. He was just grateful his head would remain attached to his shoulders today. Merlin watched as Thorfinn drew his sword slowly and bowed, Burzan roared and charged, the clang of steel on steel rang through the air, the duel had begun. Merlin never found sword fights as entertaining as most other people. Why would you want to watch people poke each other with sharp sticks when you could battle with the elements themself? Yet this fight, this was interesting. Thorfinn moved with an easy almost casual grace, seemingly generating all of his force from subtle body shifts and incredible balance. Each block was perfect, each thrust of his blade was perfect and he never left an opening. Burzan was ferocious, each blow thrown with precision and force. Defense was nearly non-existant just a relentless beast powering forward battering down his foe.
Thorfinn lost the casualness from his movements, a stern look crossing his face, Burzan was moving too quick for him to get a decent thrust through and he was starting to tire. The massive reaver swung his rusty sword in a great sideways arc hoping for Thorfinn to block so he could spear him with his gleaming blade. Thorfinn stepped into the orc, taking the hilt of the rusty sword on his pauldron, he blocked the thrust with his oen blade and rolled off it, scoring a deep cut to the side of Burzan’s neck. Thorfinn moved swiftly gliding past the shocked reaver, he dropped a hand to his belt removed a short sword and slashed deep through his foe’s hamstring. The crowd were riveted by the fight, Burzan turned furiously howling in anger and pain, and Thorfinn readied himself for another engagement it was only then that people noticed heavy almost laboured breaths coming from the second-marshal. Burzan’s forearm pulsed, he gripped the black hilt of his gleaming blade the almost indiscernible redness from the hilt becoming an aura rapping around the reaver’s forearm then his whole body. He launched with new found ferocity, his movements quicker, stronger and more determined. Thorfinn’s confidence began to wane, then evaporated as Burzan knocked the Champion off balance with the pure magnitude of a perfectly blocked blow. The reaver didn’t pause he didn’t allow breaks in the exchanges, he struck again and again as Thorfinn desperately tried to regain his balance. The champion was still managing to slide his blade off the massive blows occasionally, scoring hits on the reaver but nothing slowed down the animal. Thorfinn was in trouble and he knew it, he had to gamble, he was just waiting for his moment. It came, an overhand swing from Burzan’s rusted sword teamed with a straight thrust to Thorfinn’s mid-section. The Champion stepped into the thrust attempting to drive his own blade straight through the reaver’s exposed neck while taking a devastating wound but hopefully not mortal to his side. His blade met skin biting into the reaver’s throat, but as Burzan’s thrust took him, it physically threw him back, the force was amazing and Thorfinn’s blade fell short of finishing the fight. Burzan didn’t waste his time he struck again and again, leaving Thorfinn’s body before him. The reaver roared to the heavens and marched off.
The entire free-people army turned in utter silence, as Thorfinn revived in the Glan Vraig resurrection circle. They had never witnessed such a tremendous fight before, but Thorfinn had lost, it seemed unfathomable. A pale Thorfinn stalked from the circle, disbelief and disgust on his face. He ripped away his second-marshal cloak threw it on the ground his sword following with a loud clang. “I’m done”, he said simply and walked away from the gawking crowd, leaving them in their stunned silence.
~To Be Continued
That was pretty epic, I had no clue you were such a word smith Merl. I haven't read through the entire thread but I have read and thoroughly enjoyed that last story. Thanks for posting it. Sure do miss the moors and hope the action is even half as good as the works of fiction, Burz sounds like a total beast, which holds true to memory. Hopefully you tribe guys are still kicking &&& and taking names.
Lol Shag, the password won't do me much good until I replace the computer. Last time I logged in and was grouped with you guys all of a sudden the game crashed, windows soon followed and smoke began to rise from the laptop. As it turns out melted motherboards and graphics chipsets don't run the game very well or boot up at all for that matter lol. Replacing it with a new desktop soon.
Thorfin, seems I missed out on the one time in lotro history that creeps supposedly had it easy, just my luck haha.
Either way, if you do decide to hop on I'd be happy to see a familiar maw ./howl
Balanced sounds nice, I could have went for that, the warg didnt seem all that exciting, buffing escape while leaving the killin abilities about the same is pretty much the opposite of what I would want. Oh well hopefully I will get back up and running early enough to get my aud maxed out just intime for a new season so I don't fall too far behind. By the way if my posts look insane, I blame my iPhone and he non-mobile optimized lotro forums.
All was silent in Gramsfoot as the young warleader Zakat arrived. Though young he was already scarred from many fights, and proud of many victories. Most of his victories were due to his 2 friends the warg skmuzy who was always kind and helpful but often MIA, and the bad tempered but powerful reaver shagger. The 3 had roamed the ettenmoors many times slaughtering scores of the free people even now Zakat looked upon his new title of black dog, a gift from the gods of ezmode and considered all he had done. The more he stood and thought, the more discontent he became, he began to think of other warleaders. There was the commander Trahai leader of many minions who had won many battles, but Zakat ignored that thought. He did not want to become trapped in the leadership or raids all the time. He next thought of another powerful warleader.. Chirontheirish, this warleader took it upon himself to lead and train the greenies in Saurons army. Zakat considered this for a second it has some appeal, but then he thought of the greatest warleader of all.. Chiron! the king. Leader of many victories and also 1 who had taken on some of the greatest of the free peoples 1 on 1. "YES! I will be as great as Chiron" the warleader whispered to himself. then he set off.
After a long journey Zakat arrived in Grothum home of that miserable excuse for a servant of Sauron the goblins. The warleader ignored them as he stalked through their town, he was not here for these weaklings he was here to kill free people who preyed on them. Suddenly he heard the twang of a bowstring and the guttural shout of a dwarf. He raised his head and sniffed, eyes on fire he exclaimed "Regond and Kaha!" He sprinted around a corner to see the hunter finishing off 1 goblin while kaha was smacking 2 other with his ax. Zakat did not hesitate as he hurled himself at Regond screaming foul curses at him in black speech and smashing him about the head with his heavy shield he could see Regond faltering. Kaha was attacking from behind but the warleader barely heeded his attacks. Regond rallied and with a mighty cry he stunned the warleader and ran to a safe distance. He began to shoot arrow after arrow into Zakat, Zakat was feeling his strength get lower so with a harsh cry of command he healed himself to full strength. charged regond and with some more powerful blows to the head he caused the hunter to crumple to the ground. Kaha was still attacking and Zakat now turned his attention to the hated dwarf, his ferocity caused threw Kaha off balance. Kaha tried to catch his breath, he pledged with all he was to the free peoples, he even relied on his warriors heart to win him the battle but the warleader could not be stopped. Zakat pressed his advantage but was stunned. then with a well timed stagger Kaha had him limping with a injured leg. The tenacious dwarf then used all his strength to ignore his wounds and sprint for safety. Zakat followed as best he could but simply could not catch the dwarf, he stopped to rest on the path but was interrupted by a arrow in the shoulder. As he leapt to his feet he saw that both Kaha and Regond were back and this time surprise was on their side. With a roar Zakat engaged the duo for the second time. once again Regond went down and Kaha ran in the direction of OR. Zakat had tired of the dwarf running so he named his banner to insult the stoic dwarf. A 3rd time they engaged him, this time Zakat dropped low. but he just managed to defeat regond and heal up. Kaha was still fighting him when a hunter appeared.. a totally new hunter to this area. Knowing he would be a easier kill then the quickfooted guard zakat jumped off the cliff after the hunter. Upon landing he knew he had injured a leg, he roared in anger because he was sure the hunter had escaped, but upon looking around he noticed the hunter killing a bear not realizing his danger. Zakat hobbled over and dispatched the hunter in a matter of seconds, he shouted to the heavens " I am as strong as Chiron!"
Overconfident from his victories the warleader marched towards TR. He was nearly there when across his field of vision he saw a mighty champion, Thorfinn! He remembered seeing Chiron engage this man in a mighty battle and he was sure he could do the same. Zakat attacked thorfinn screaming "I am as great as Chiron! die weak manflesh." Thorfinn couldn't quite suppress a grin at this overeager uruk, but he prepared for battle nonetheless. Zakat fought hard but soon his confidence gave way to terror, his shouts fell on deaf ears, his shield was being brushed off as a feather, and his own morale was slipping away faster then he dreamed possible. Desperately he blew all his heals to try and stay in the fight, but almost contemptuously the champion blew threw the extra morale. With a final deft strike to the neck Zakat lay defeated at Thorfinn's feet. The champion looked down and said "Nice try kid." He mounted his purple steed and rode off.
Zakat stood with head down in the gramsfoot rez circle for a long time. Finally he looked up and said, "I am no Chiron, I have alot of work to do yet." Having learned this important lesson the mighty uruk hefted his heavy shield and headed back to the battle. --- I suck at writing but was worth a try :P if only to get merli back to work -_-
Caught Between a Rock and a Quagmirre
High in the sky, the noonday Sun shone down on the rugged Ettenmoors landscape. Sparse clouds offered little protection from the glaring light, plant life wilted and the rocky surfaces blazed with heat. Few of the lands inhabitants were battling the temperature, instead choosing to hide in whatever shade they could. However, one little bird soared through the sky, its feathers glistened in the sunlight. It passed over the western Tol Ascarnen bridge, seeing a small encampment of free people below huddle around the rune-keeper Merlin as he hopelessly attempted to summon some ice to break the heat. The bird continued on unconcerned with the dealings of people. It flew higher to soar over the massive Tol Ascarnen keep, and only heard the faintest of rumblings from within, the guttural sounds of creeps deep in an argument. An awful howl rang out of the keep and a lifeless black arrow tumbled out of the shade to collapse on the ground, a large arrow jutting from its neck. No, this wasn’t a safe place for the bird to wait out the heat, with a beat of its wings it soared ever higher and into the distance, soon hopefully its rock would cool enough so it could perch again.
Quagmirre laughed with relief, his bow arm could still feel the snap from his bowstring. The pain was always satisfying though, he knew each snap he felt on his forearm was nothing compared to the arrow he’d just let loose. Gabascus was evidence of that, lying lifeless on the Tol Ascarnen lawn. “Now that his yammering is over”, Quag roared to his hoarde as he gestured at Gabascus “Lets get back to my plan to deal with those Free-People”. The large Blackarrow trudged back and forth, formulating his plan. He was a tactician through and through, imagination, skill and execution were what separated his ability to lead from other creeps. He again looked over at Gabascus, yes he definitely had the execution part down pat. Quagmirre was in a foul mood today though, it stunk crowded in the keep listening to the greenies inane blather, he needed to get this fight over with quickly. “Scouts”, Quagmirre roared “How many do they have over there”. Knuffle made her way forward “I counted six Merlin, Iriddian, Terom, Rastorn, Golrath and Aervoth. They were arguing sir, I think if we move quickly we can….”.
“Did I ask for your opinion maggot” Quagmirre interjected “Ok we have” he held up his hand, so he could more easily count to five. “We have five over there, five there, another five there, ahh and five more in the back ok so we have about twelve, I like those odds. Now listen up maggots, here is what we are going to do”.
The Chieftan outlined his daring plan, he knew few would risk it. Why leave the safety of the keep, it was absurd. But Quag knew it could be done, and he was going to prove it. “Alright we are going to head out the east door and swim around the back of Tol Ascarnen, this will create confusion. From there we head up the long grass ramp to Lugazag. We will then jog down and flank the free-people and kill Merlin then the rest”. The throng of creeps roared in anticipation, the bloodlust taking over with several of them. The young reaver Igank spoke up “But Quagmirre, won’t we be tired from all the running and swimming”. Quagmirre glowered at the reaver, how this young upstart dare question him. But he would keep his cool “Yo Igank, we are creeps we can handle it. This is what we need to do to Flank them”. The mass of creeps cheered again. “But Quag,” Igank began again “Why do we need to flank them, if we just charge at them right now they will scatter and we can massacre them, we have the numbers”. Some mutterings started amongst the reavers, charging headlong into battle made sense to them. Quagmirre had his loyalist though and they roared at Igank to keep quiet, Leeroyjenkinss pushing himself to the forefront, holding his blades up threatening Igank if the reaver continued. Quagmirre intervened quickly he was a skilled diplomat “Why flank? Why flank? Oh my God, if you don’t know why we flank, why am I even bothering explaining to you, we are going to flank them and win”! Igank made to question the reason they had to go out the east door instead of the west, but Leeroyjenkinss held a rusty cleaver to his throat “Don’t Worry Quag”, Leeroy called “You know you can count on me, I’ll keep this one in line”. Quagmirre simply rolled his eyes, it was time to put his plan into action.
At a quick jog the mass of creeps ran for the east door, Quagmirre risked a glance behind him, looks like they’d only lost one or two of the greenies for now. Not bad, he’d often lost half his raid during this little manoeuvre, and would find them whimpering upstairs in a closest days later, completely lost. The raid then braved the water, two drowned quickly, the fact they couldn’t swim forgotten during the bloodlust. The youngest of the reavers Mauzok did his best to keep up, but a rogue Norbog jumped him, dragging the squealing reaver to its nest to feed its family. The long jog up the Lugazag ramp was next, and even Quagmirre had to admit, he was feeling the weariness from the heat of the day and the pace of the travel. Finally they came to a stand of trees, that overlooked the Free-Peoples encampment. The Blackarrow called a halt to the raid more than half of them had survived the journey, luck was with him today. Quag picked the closest tree he could and called the others to line-up behind him so he could survey the battlefield.
“Terom”, Merlin yelled “I’m just asking you to go scout, please”. Merlin was exacerbated, this argument had been going for a while and was getting nowhere fast. He’d even tried bribery, trying to summon something cool for them all to drink, but had failed in the attempt. “Ahh Merlin”, Terom replied equally frustrated “Maybe you haven’t heard but I don’t take orders from you anymore. I AM A COMMANDER”. This had been going for a while, the two commanders trying to stare each other down. The rune-keeper hated being defied in front of his peers, and the burglar refused to take commands from an Elf of equal rank. Every new point Merlin would come up with would meet the same response from Terom “I AM A COMMANDER” with the occasion “Now get me a green goat” thrown in just to mess with him. Aervoth had, had enough “Terom go scout, we can talk about the goat when we get back to Glan Vraig”. Terom looked to the Third Marshall and sighed heavily “Fine”. He turned to leave the camp when an unsettling sight caught his eye. “There they are”, Terom said pointing up the hill “, they are trying that tree stealth thing again. I don’t know why they never pick a big tree”. The Free-People turned as one ready to face their attackers.
“Ok they are down the hill” Quagmirre began “They are looking this way, so we won’t move yet, don’t worry the tree is keeping us hidden. Now Architect I need you to run in first, gather up all the Free-People, try and intimidate them with your best battle shouts. That will rattle them so we don’t have to fight them all at once. Murkatop you are next, get in there after Architect, shout your heart out keep them scattered. Defilers, plenty of healing gourds on me. What do you think Shaphealz, can you give me a number crunch, whats our possibility of winning this”.
“Give me a second Quag” The wise defiler said as he poked his head out from behind the tree. “I would say a ninety nine point nine nine…aahhh repeating of course chance of success”.
“Alright that sounds pretty good” Quagmirre responded. Leeroyjenkinss bounded to his feet, the bloodlust upon him “Okay lets do this, Leeeeeeroo……” the reavers cry choked off mid scream as one of Quag’s arrows exploded from his neck.
“God I hate that guy, I knew he was going to do that” Quagmirre looked up and saw the Free-People staring at the convulsing form of Leeroy “Dammit Leeroy, GO LOUD CREEPS GO LOUD”.
The raid of creeps charged out, cries of die Merlin die were screamed. The runekeeper fell flattened by the mass, a few managing to get in a quick corpse jump before continuing on. Fifteen creeps remained against the five remaining freeps, it was quick, and it was messy. An Arrow found Terom, spearing him through the chest. Weavers, rapped Iriddian in webs, leaving the buxom beauty helpess for the fight, all she could manage was the occasional “Lame” as the battle ensued around her. Rastorn, threw some tar to the ground and brought it aflame in a desperate attempt to buy time, a few singed wargs took off into the distance, but the mass of reavers quickly overwhelmed the Loremaster. Aervoth and Golrath dropped last, cleaving bits and pieces from random creeps as they fell.
The creeps hollered at the now afternoon sun. Everyone congratulated Quagmirre on a successfully orchestrated flank. “So now what” Igank asked his fearless leader eagerly. “I dunno” Quagmirre responded “Lets go back to Tol Ascarnen”.
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