Board Thread:Middle Earth Roleplays/@comment-26184570-20151202042359/@comment-26444332-20151206044342

(Just another Yrch attack)

With the hiss-thwack distinct to an arrow being fired Coaxotl leaps to one side, narrowly avoiding being skewered on the end of an Orc-shaft. All around them Orcs of the mountains begin to rush forwards in the early morning mists, the tangled twisting trees all around marking the north-eastern borders of Fangorn nearby.

"I knew those two destroying the camps was a bad idea!" yells Edacnik as he leaps into the air, a flash of burning red light illuminating him from within as he shifts to his draconic form. He lands back on all fours, scales reflecting the harsh red-orange light of the torches the Orcs are carrying. The drake roars in anger and spews forth fire, only to be kicked in the ribs by Galad.

"Don't mess with the trees!" the half-insane Maia screams, pointing at the growth all around them. Edacnik quickly stops, realizing that breathing fire right next to the ancient forest of the Ents might not be such a good idea. Instead he begins to lash about with claw, tail, and fang, killing dozens among the seemingly limitless hordes.

Calok draws his greatsword with a flourish and begins laying about with it, cutting down any that come within reach. Hithfaeril rears back, flashing hooves a menace to friend and foe alike as she desperately tries to avoid the pikes the Orcs are stabbing at her. With a mighty Tauredain war-cry Coaxotl leaps out of the dim mists to tackle two of the Orcs to the ground, kneeling to absorb the fall as he stabs them through the chest with his daggers.

Itallië draws her daggers and spins through a tightly packed group of the orcs, blood mixing with the mist around her to form a haunting red filter for light to flow. She looks over to Galad, and sighs before returning to her grim work.

Galad himself stands there, pondering for all of a split second his chances of survival, kill/maim ratio, and what his course of action would be as a few Orcs break away from the main attack on Edacnik to charge at him. He moves fluidly to one side, hands clasped behind his back, as the first Orc barrels past.

"Olé!" he cries, and flashes a red sheet into existence. He taunts the Orc with it, causing it to bellow in rage and charge forward again, spear held high. Again he spins out of the way, pulling the sheet out of the Orc's line of sight to reveal another rushing at him, pike raised. With screams of agony both impale each other. A third rushes at him, sword raised, but this time Galad smoothly plucks an elegant poniard out of the air and rams it through the yrch's heart, killing it instantly. He looks to the trees, his keen sight picking out numerous grey shadows running fleet-footed through them.

"The cavalry has arrived!" the crazed Maia yells to the others as several dozen Galadhrim wardens, led by Faenor, leap from the trees and into the fray. With their help they drive the host of the enemy away from dragon-Edacnik, slightly bloodied from all the pricks to his hide but none the worse for wear.

"Pelinel! Drive them from the field!" Faenor calls, shooting an Orc through the head and twisting around to stab an Orc with a dagger even as Itallië does the same. One warden with silver-hair nods and beckons for the others to follow, continuing to drive back the now-demoralized Orcs.

"Why did you leave?" Galad asked, handing him a cup of hemp tea.

"To look ahead." Faenor responds to Galad as he gratefully accepts the drink.

"And why did you come back?" the Maia asks, already thinking of the answer.

"Looking behind." Faenor responds.