Fellowship of the Dice

Varuthil nods at Radagast's request. "As the Woodmen may have told you, I am skilled healer. I would be happy to take care of the wounded who fall in the battle, as well dealing death to the orcs attacking us."

"I'm not sure what help I'll be in a battle," Pipkin adds. "But I'll do everything that I can."

Aerth may not be the largest fan of King Thranduil and the elves of Mirkwood, but one thing is clear, having their host here gives them a great defense against any coming of orc. Unless the enemy's army is large, Aerth does not think they stand a chance against the combined might of the elves and men of Woodland hall. He leans back against the wall look out from Woodland Hall, his shepherd's bow in his hand. The half-elf waits impatiently for the black shapes to move closer under the darkness of night.

Borir waits for the battle. He's anxious to fight against the orcs and show the host of elves how a dwarf fights.

Radagast responds to your questions and worries, "Do not worry, you know your talents, and when the time comes I expect you will put them to use. Men will need supplies, and the more eyes on things the better Master Pipkin, I am sure you will be of help. Do not sell yourself short, I heard of your encounter with the spider spawn last year." He smiles at the Hobbit and then is gone to take his place in the line.

The air is thick, and hot, and everyone is still. Men are worried, women try to contain their fear, and everyone knows that tonight people will die. It is hard to handle, and many just wish it would start already and be over. Those people get their wish.

Some time before midnight the howls of orcs and goblins splits the night air. A great host of orcs charge into the clearings around Woodland Hall and race to the walls that appear undefended. Screaming and howling like mad men the orcs start to climb, and the ambush is sprung. Flaming arrows launch from the walls and into the hay bales all around the town lighting up the night. From the trees elves rain arrows down on the attackers pinning them between the woodmen on the walls and the flames behind them.

You stay in reserve moving inside the wall aiding with supplies of arrows, or helping wounded to escape to the triage centers. The host of King Thranduil helps to even the fight, but the orcs and goblins are legion, there are more among the attacking hordes than you would have thought possible. Men fight and die. Screams, war cries, the clash of arms, and the moan of the injured seems to last forever. The frontal assault appears a stalemate for now.

However as the battle rages on at the main assault point the orcs have outflanked the Woodmen. A small group has managed to kill the guards at the gate and are scaling it one by one. The orcs drop down over the pallisade cutting down the few men there that weren't already killed in the initial archery volley. Just under a dozen orcs are now inside the wall, but as luck would have it you've spotted them! (All of you but Borir, who is focused on the fighting near the front wishing he was there with his axe).

If some one doesn't stop them the Orcs could cause true havok among the Woodmen's rear and flanks...

Varuthil head snaps around as the orcs land on the ground near the gate. She draws her bow and coldly studies them, drawing on her reading of great battles to mentally dissect their moves and what actions they would be most likely to take in these circumstances.

Varuthil head snaps around, she zeroes in on the Orcs counting them one by one as they drop down into the village interior. She mental dissects their moves in a few moments. She delays actually a bit too long perhaps, and one more Orc appears from over the fence.

Upon seeing the orcs dropping down over the wall, "Oh no!" Glancing left, then right, Wren takes to the shadows created by a nearby building and the town wall. Strafing along, careful not to be noticed he takes cover behind a straw bale that is not ablaze and readies an arrow. You orcs think you have gained the upper hand, I think not...

Wren watches the Orcs climb over the wall and hurries to put himself behind a few bales of hay that didn't make it over the wall. They provide only minimum protection and the shadows don't hide anyone from the night sighted orcs.

Aerth hops up onto the ramparts, hoping to get a good vantage of the orcs coming over. There, he quickly places an arrow onto the string, hoping to shoot down onto the orcs without having any allies imped his view.