Book I - The Forging of a Fellowship

[Trogdor]

Faladril shakes his head. "We may not get to Draig if the townspeople think us a threat," he says in a low tone. "We should try and calm them."

And so the elf hops nimbly onto a barrel and begins to speak in a strong, friendly voice. "<Dunael>Not spies," he says, "<Dunael>but friends. We are servants of King Elessar and come in the name of peace. As you know, the Dúnedain and Rhorirrim are no friends of the Daen Iontis. We would welcome the opportunity to help you fight off the Daen Iontis if you will have our sword, axe, and bow at your side!"

"<Dunael>Will you have our aid?"

Action

Try to use Persuade (Charm) to diffuse the situation.

[Vardaen]

The fighting continues, if the three remain much longer among the woman, there won't be any fighting left to be had. thetn Faladril jumps up on a barrel and calls out to the women. Some of them listen, others continue their cat calls and shouts. A few of them laugh at the Elf, but a few step forward. "<Dunael> If you are going to help, then help already!"

From the gate runs in a woman, she has in her arms a dead child. The young girl was caught in the raid, slain by the attackers, and her mother is inconsolable with grief screaming and crying. Clearly the fighting is brutal, quick, and much closer to the tiny hamlet's center than maybe the group realizes.

[TetNak]

Seeing the injured child, Hwindsul turns and begins to run toward the fighting. "Come! Innocents shall not be harmed." The Ranger begins running as fast as possible, attempting to close the gap into the fighting as quickly as possible.

[Shurijo]

Borir looks up at the elf as the human sprints off, 'œWell?' he asks. 'œThey ain't goblins, but if they be killing kids, then they'll have to speak wit me axe.'

The dwarf takes off running after Hwindsul. Even though Borir's legs are much shorter than the man's, he does do a decent job of keeping up with him for a while.

[Trogdor]

"We shall defend this town as if it were our own," Faladril says, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow. "For the glory of Dunland," he shouts, and rushes to find a high point to pick off the invaders.

[Vardaen]

The three race out of the gates of the watchtower, a bit behind the times, but they choose to act now. The three race out of the and into the streets. Turning north, following the noise, they moves through the square of the town where women, children and sheep are fleeing fearful of the raiders. They move down a street, going to other way as the main traffic of Dunlendings, and come out from between two buildings on the edge of the top of the hill.

Looking down from the edge of the town, which controls the crown of the hill, you see the steep sloping hill that does down into pastures and about three small farm houses and fields. The fields and pastures have various wooden fences, and low stone walls that criss cross one another creating a patchwork of colors and shapes. Halfway up the hill are a score of men dressed in dark wools and leathers bearing a design on them that you can't make out from here. They have formed a wall of swords, short board swords, some with wicked looking barbs or saw tooth edges. Many of them also bare iron rimmed shields. Against them those of The Dinnien are arrayed wielding simple spears and a few wooden shields. The field of battle is bloody, many men of the Hill are already laying dead or wounded on the ground. Scattered at the top of the hill, where you are now, are a few bows, discarded by the watchguards in favor of their spears now. Far off, retreating into the wilds beyond the north of town a dozen figures can be seen escaping with their prizes, mostly sheep. With them is a white haired rider on horseback.

Draig's voice is heard shouting, "<Dunael> For Clan Madoc! For The Dinnien! For Dunland!" He is attempting to rally his meager troups, but they are out numbered and under equiped. The tide is about to turn against the Madoc, as two more of their already diminishing milita falters under the brutal attacks of the sword wielding Daen Iontis raiders.

OOC

I will allow everyone a nice flavor post (feel free to draw weapons/shields, etc) Afterwards I'll start combat.

PLEASE bare with me on this since I really never did this before so please post in your spoilers all powers and feats and stuff to make this smoother.

I'll get a map up soon as well.

Daen Iontis: 19 Men (Swords/Shields/Leather Armor)
The Madoc: 9 Men (Spears/Half With Wooden Shields)
Fian Draig: (Spear/Shield)

The retreating men are considerably far off at this point, even for a shot from Faladril (consider it extreme range). Your delay in action has allowed them to reach this easily escapable location.

[TetNak]

Hwindsul, longbow in hand, begins charing forward toward the battle. While running, he attempts to make sure who he needs to fire upon, as it might seem relatively difficult to determine who the raiders are and who the defenders are. Also, he pulls an arrow from his quiver, getting himself ready to fire when they get into range.

[Shurijo]

Borir raises his axe in his hand and shouts out, <Khazdul>'œBaruk Khazâd! (Axes of the Dwarves!). He picks up speed like a large rolling stone coming off the top of the Lonely Mountain. As he runs, a piece of lamb falls from his pocket and he remarks to the companions, 'œLeave '˜dat. I'll be back fer it.'

[Vardaen]

Faladril and Hwindsul quickly come into range with their respective bows. The Elf fires first, a twang of the bow, and an arrow zips down the hill striking one of the raiders square in the chest. The man is thrown back several feet skidding to a halt when he slams into a parked wagon. The Ranger fires, slightly slower, but not much, and his arrow also bits home, digging into the shoulder of a man that is hoisting his sword up, ready to stab into a fallen villager. The force of the arrow spins the man around sending him to the ground in terrible pain. Borir charges forward, his short legs, and shorter reach with his axe makes it so the dwarf will have to spend several critical seconds charging down hill before joining the fight.


The melee continues, spear men strike while attempting to fend off the swords of the attackers. Many of the wild men of Dunland are whooping and hollaring in battle excitment. Sword strikes spear shaft, and spear strikes shield. Two of the Daen Iontis are stabbed with spears, one in the leg, another in the belly, a lucky shot. The villagers don't fare as well, as the swordsmen, both better equiped and better trained, hack through their foes like a famer in a wheatfield. Three more of the villagers perish.
Fighting among them is Druce. The older man spins his spear around blocking one sword, while a second stabs him in the side of the knee. The man, like most of the milita, is double teamed at this point. The sword cuts into his leg and he staggers and falls. He lifts his spear, trying to block another incoming blow, but the sword hacks into the spear shaft and shatters it in half. Laying on the ground, bleeding from his leg the older Dunlending looks in trouble.

Draig is hitting the battle, his own spear striking swiftly and with such accuracy, that he kills two men before they even realize they are under attack. He strikes in low, under a shield held just too high. The spear punches out the back of the man. As he drops to both knees, grabbing for the spear in his belly, he drops his sword. The Fian Draig grabs up the weapon with a quick scoop and hacks an arm off another raider right next to him, leaving his spear in the belly of the first man. "Madoc!!!!"

[Shurijo]

Borir runs as fast as he dwarven legs can carry him. He is still a bit away from the battle, but he will make for certain that the battle isn't over until he arrives. 'œSave some fer me!' he shouts as they continue onwards towards the field of battle.