RP: Crimson Sword

[Ransom]

Ransom's head spun as he regained consciousness to a dull scratching noise and short, ragged gasps. He groaned, rolling on his back. His wounds had tapped his strength, and a slow, steady stream still trickled down his leg and pooled in his gauntlet. Wherever he was, it had once been a campsite, and some low flames still flung their light.

Another short breath came from his left. It appeared the 'log' he had triped on. A knight, protected by a dazzeling suit of white armor, had pinned an elf under his chest, forming a rough X. That woman's probably having some trouble breathing. Maybe they can tell me where I am.....

With more than a few gasps of pain, Ransom managed to roll the knight foward, so his body rested across said elf's legs. He sat back down beside the two, resting for a moment while the elf gasped for breath.

[Cimmerian]

Bulvard leapt to his feet, his elegant broadsword in hand, in a flash. He struck at the newcomer with the flat of his blade.
The man, fell to the ground stunned, sprawling. Even as the huge warrior brought down his weapon in a killing blow at the stunned man, Elwyn moved between the two men.

"Stop!" she yelled, her voice trembling. "He is not the enemy," the elf maid's breath came in short gasps.

Bulvard merely loomed over the fallen man, like a brooding giant of slaughter and destruction. All signs of what ailed him, now completely a thing of fading memory.

[Ransom]

A dull metalic noise echoed through the grove, followed by another dull clank as Ransom hit the floor for the fourth time that night. That in and of itself was not a good sign. On the bright side, he had landed next to his sword. And someone between him and the knight.

Breathing hard, he grabbed the sword and jumped to his feet, holding the sword in a Knight's salute. Time seemed to slow, as each of the three slowly looked each other over. It seemed as the next person to speak would seal their fate....

[Elenna]

Elwyn stood between the two bristling men, trying to catch her breath. "This man is not the enemy, Bulvard. He saved me."

"Saved you from what, Elwyn?" Bulvard asked suspiciously. "You aren't in any danger."

Briefly Elwyn told the tale of his waking dream. Bulvard lowered his sword slowly, abashed at hearing what he had done. The stranger did the same, but the tension between them remained. Elwyn turned to the new man.

"I am Elwyn Arienwen, friend. Who are you, and what business brings you to us?"

[Ransom]

"My name is Ransom Deviolana. In the days of my youth I lived near the city of Gondor until the orcs sacked the small village that my parents had dwelt in. Now, I simply wander the land. One of my first employers was the king of this land, and I had thought that a vacation to his lands would do me good. Alas, he has fallen in battle and some of the roudier detizens of the land ambushed me as I slept."

As he talked, Ransom lowered his sword, sensing that the general atmosphere needed a little calming. The wolve's howling seemed to have quited, though only the Valar knew what they were up to.

"Now may I enquire of your strong friend's name? If my eyes do not decieve me, he bears a certain likeness to a Gondorian knight."

[Nevtalathiel]

Tumnaooriel had tried to follow the orders she had been given, but after only a few minutes of riding through the forest, she had slowed down and turned back. She felt she could not leave the group who had fought to rescue her, least of all Bulvard. For some reason unknown to her, the tall man intrigued her and she could not just leave him, especailly when he might be in danger.
Now she could see another man in the clearing and Elwyn standing between him and Bulvard. Moments before she had heard the clash of steel on steel, something which had merely hardened her resolve to return to the group. The other man seemed to be talking, but she could not hear what he said, nor did she care. She leapt from the horse and rushed into the clearing, not worrying for the moment if she was putting herself in danger.
"Bulvard! Are you ok?" was all she could think to say.

[Cimmerian]

The tall, white haired warrior looked up at the one who called his name, his clouded look softening. "Who are you?" he asked, yet at once feeling that he somehow knew her.

"I am Tumnaooriel," the young woman replied. "Have you forgotten all that has transpired for the last few days?"

Bulvard looked at her with slight confusion, then his expression changed to one of surprise. "Yes," he said, as if realizing something vague, "You are the young woman who somewhat resembles my dearly departed wife."

Tumnaooriel sighed, her shoulders sagging with relief. All seemed well with the large man. Elwyn placed a hand on Bulvard's arm, smiling she said, "My tall friend, you weigh more than you look. Come, we have much evil to deter."

"Bulvard!" cried Ransom, "I have heard of your name. Had you not fought in the great wars alongside Thengel the second."

"Aye!" replied Bukvard, turning his grey, soul searching gaze upon the newcomer, "And I ask for your pardon in misjudging you. As you can see there is very little one can trust in these parts."

"Do not mention it, great knight," Ransom laughed, coughing slightly, "I too am well aware of our precarious situation here."

Suddenly a wild-eyed woman burst upon the foursome, brandishing a bloodied sword. "The wargs are on the run." she cried, "Bulvard!" her eyes widened, "You are up... are you well." Then looking suspiciously at ransom, she cried, "Who is this?"

Bulvard looked grimly at his sister, all the remaining clouds cleared in his head and the memories came rushing back. "I am well, Culloth." he replied, "This is Ransom and he is of our beloved Gondor. Ransom, this is my sister Culloth."

" pleased to make you acquain..."

"Well allright," the woman snapped, "let us go and give chase, the warg are getting away?"

"Must he go?" pleaded Tumnaooriel, "He has just recovered from..."

"Silence, you coward" Culloth yelled, much to Ransom and Elwyn's surprise, "My brother does not need coddling from a fawning female. He is a warrior, he wears his battle scars as proudly as anyone. Come, Bulvard."

"I agree," said Elwyn and Ransom shrugged.

A smile creased across the tall warrior's roughened face, his eyes warmed and gave Tumnaooriel a look of reassurance. He then followed his older sister, his broadsowrd in hand. Elwyn and the newcomer followed, leaving Tumnaooriel looking dazed.

Bulvard's mind had now cleared completely. Apparently his connection with Aronja being severed, proved to be a blessing in disguise.
As they approached Gwyn and Harolas, the sun began to climb up on the eastern shore.

[Elenna]

Elwyn sighed happily as she grabbed her spear and jogged off after Bulvard. It seemed that the big warrior had fully recovered and was back to normal.

"I wonder what Tumnaooriel is thinking now," she muttered to herself as she ran. "One minute he is falling asleep in her arms, and the next he doesn't even remember her name."

[Ransom]

Ransom's leg had progressed from a dull pain to sharp, stabbing bursts of pain. Each step, nay, each breath hurt. Was this Culloth woman bloodthirsty? Did she not know that the Warg would quickly flank them? That they enjoyed the hunt?

To his right, Elwyn gave a shout while looking to his right. Too late.

The first warg died in midair, His head nearly severed by a black blade. Someone behind yelled another warning. Ransom felt like he was moving in water, the world seeming to slow. Another wolf jumped at him, only to fall with half a foot of steel poking out of his back. The last memory was a dull thud that knocked him to the ground, followed by the clang of Elwyn's spear as it bit through the wolf and impacted his armor. For the second time, blackness consumed him.

[ August 31, 2002: Message edited by: Ransom ]

[Elenna]

Elwyn leapt lightly over wolf corpses to stand over Ransom. "It seems that I am forever fated to be defending someone," she thought grimly to herself as she cut down a Warg trying to sneak up on her from behind. Elwyn didn't know whether Ransom was dead or merely unconscious, but, new friend as he was, she wouldn't let a Warg touch him while she could still hold a spear.

[Ransom]

I must be in heaven.

Ransom must be forgiven for his mistake, for not many mortal men have awoken to a female elven face gazing down at him. He shall perform much penance later. But in the meanwhile, he felt a stabbing pain as Elwyn bandaged his hand. This definutly wasn't heaven. He lifted his head a little, gazing around the campsite. Culloth paced back and forth, wringing her hands at the delay, Bulvard was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he had gone after Tumnaooriel, or searching for wood. Elwyn had finished bandiging the hand, and now checked if he had woken. He saved her the trouble.

"I owe you a great boon, Elwyn. Twice tonight you have saved me, and you have also cared for me."

[ September 01, 2002: Message edited by: Ransom ]

[Elenna]

Elwyn blushed and smiled. "Sir, I owe you nothing. You have fought bravely and I did no more than is my duty to one such as you."

Ransom struggled to sit up and she pushed him back with a firm but gentle hand.

"Unless you wish to experience the worst dizziness you have ever felt, stay where you are. You did lose quite a lot of blood - it was an hour or so before the fighting ceased and I could tend you."

[Ransom]

Ransom took her advice. The very act of attempting to sit up had sent a wave of dizziness dancing through his head. Elwyn seemed to tower over him as she stood, disappearing for a moment. Ransom took the time to slowly think over his logic for taking a vacation to this area. Most of the reasons involved good food and rest, a perfect illustration of his planning skills. Elwyn returned, holding a canteen. Ransom's mind flickered back to his childhood, when his parents had told him of the Valkyries, the female warriors that took the souls of the slain to heaven. How his mother had scolded his father for filling his mind with 'useless knowledge'.

Now, he could swear that his father had seen...

His musings were interrupted by Elwyn as she slowly poured water into his parched mouth. "Do not drink too quickly, Ransom. Too much will make you sick."

Nodding his thanks, he settled back down, intending to sleep. Oh how he prayed that Bulvard would return soon...

[ September 02, 2002: Message edited by: Ransom ]

[Nevtalathiel]

After such harsh words from Culloth and the momentary lack of recognition she had recieved from Bulvard, Tumnaooriel felt that she wanted to be alone for a while. Walking away from the group no longer worried her and she felt as if it would please Culloth, who seemed to have taken a sudden dislike to her.
Aware that there were wargs in the vicinity, she walked only a short distance before looking for a suitable tree to climb, choosing one with a stout trunk and a few solid branches at around chest height. After several minutes of scrabbling she was perched on branch which she hoped would be just out of reach of any warg jaws. She would have been unwilling to climb any higher even if she had the stregth to.
She sat and mused over the events of the past days and found herself quietly singing the song Bulvard had sung on the night she had scared him so badly. She still didn't fully understand what was going on and suddenly realised that it scared her. Bulvard's behaviour towards her was erratic; sometimes he was scared of her, sometimes indifferent; sometimes affectionate. What was to stop him suddenly becoming violent? She shivered at the prospect and tried to think of something else.

[Cimmerian]

Bulvard enjoyed himself. The rush of battle, the scent of fear, the howls and screams of agony spurred the great warrior on as his broadsword sang, hewing wargs to shreds.
It had been a long time since he had been in the thick of battle, free of Aronja's hold, it was an exhilirating feeling.

In his bloodthirsty state, Bulvard failed to noticethat his sister was no where in sight, all he focused on was slaying wargs.

Suddenly the howling wargs began to retreat, as the tall, savage-like warrior plowed through them. And then his grey eyes fell upon a small form huddled in a corner, his wild glare softened and he lifted the limp form of Elanor, the witch, into his arms. Looking into her trance-like stare, he felt a certain sense of belonging. Turning around, he strode back toward where the others were, his battle-crazed state of mind relaxing with every step.

[Aosama, the Wandering Star]

Gwyn looked about at her ever-growing group. Culloth was becoming increasingly harder to bear, with her air of authority and command. Harolas had been fighting with her, and fighting well. Calixto had long been missing. At the moment, she was unsure of the where-abouts of Tinrunya and Ain, but had seen Tumnaooriel ride off after harsh words from Culloth. Bulvard seemed to be recuperating, thanks to Elwyn and Elanor. Speaking of Elwyn....

Gwyn approached the red-haired Elf.

"Elwyn," she said abruptly, "I... apologize for my words. I know you are brave. I was mistaken of your fear. But how is Bulvard?"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Elanor stood, her back against a tree, her mind turned away from her body. Her hand was clutched in a vice like grip around her staff, which glowed softly.
A small tendril of the witches mind reached out, oblivious of the chaos happening around her, searching for the wargs.
pain...anger...must fight... Elanor searched through the normal feelings of the creatures, pushing aside the simple predator instincts. She was almost about to give up when a simple word stopped her as she was leaving the mind of the apparent leader.
fear
Elanor froze. This was not an instinct you should find in a mind as wild as a wargs, and it set off alarm bells in her head. Carefully, she went a little deeper...
Magic...follow the magic...bring them to the magic...
Elanors mind flicked back in shock as she heard these words. Bulvard was holding her protectively to his chest, one hand brandishing a sword. Behind him, a stranger flourishing a serated blade was peering over the warriors shoulder.
"Who is this woman....why does he look at her like that...silver eyes like that cannot be natural... The strangers first few suspicious thoughts floated from his alert, curious head into Elanors mind. Even faced with this puzzling flash of events, the witch couldnt be surprised after what she had felt in the wargs mind.
"The wargs!" She gasped. "They are lead by magic. They are bringing us to the source of it. They...they are afraid!"
Bulvards face changed from the almost peaceful expression he had had when watching her to horrified alertness. Elwyn appeared at the strangers shoulder, equally horrified.
"So that is why they havent openly rushed us yet-" She paused and held up a hand. After a second Elanors refreshed senses picked up what the elf had. Footsteps. The chink of some sort of weapon. Rustling of nets. The ring of wargs eyes that surrounded the group was joined by other eyes. Whirling around, the witch flung out her hand gripping the staff, a spell forming on her lips, but she was cut short by a yell from the outsiders. A net was thrown in her direction, covering and tangling her limbs- and her staff. She saw Elwyn go down under the same net before something knocked the back of her head, and darkness fell around her...

[Elenna]

Elwyn fought the tangled ropes of the net like a crazy woman. She didn't worry about herself - only about Bulvard and Ransom.

"They still need me! Culloth and Gwyn can't take care of them. And what of Harolas? I don't even know where he is!" Her fingers split and bled as she clawed at the rough rope.

But all thought ended as she was clubbed down by something heavy. Her blue eyes rolled back in her head and she remembered no more.

[Ransom]

Ransom did not like this development. Wargs are one things. Nets and metal weapons are another. He had picked himself up at the arrival of the two woman. Their yells of surprise sent Ransom grabbing for his sword and rising to feet. Elwyn's earlier advice was sound, for waves of dizziness immediatly battered his mind. He dimly saw the net come flying toward him, before a heavy, blunt object impacted.

[Cimmerian]

An ululating war cry split the chaos around them as Bulvard rushed at the assailants, they seemed far more formidable than wargs.
His broadsword in one hand and a foot long blade in the other, the large man, slashed and hacked his way forward. Elanor had slipped away from his grasp and he caught a glimpse of Elwyn as she struggled against a netting thrown over her. Everything seemed to spin, and from the corner of his eye, the tall, white haired warrior saw Ransom stumble and fall to the ground.

Suddenly Culloth was by his side, brandishing a bloodied sword, "What's going on now?" she shouted over the din.

"A newer, more potent evil is..." but before Bulvard could finish a bolt of sheer energy hit the ground before them, lifting and hurling the sister and brother high into the air and over the nearby trees.

Landing with heavy thuds, the two warriors lay on their backs. Then Tumnaooriel suddenly appeared before Bulvard’s eyes.
“Oh no!” she gasped and gently caressed the large warrior's blood stained face. "Please don't be dead."

Culloth sat up with a grunt, “Quick, to arms. Our allies are being taken.” She struggled to her feet even as Tumnaooriel sighed in relief and helped Bulvard up.

[Nevtalathiel]

Releived but still slightly dazed at what had just happened, Tumnaooriel took a deep breath and summoned up all her courage to reply to Culloth, who was already disappearing through the trees, back in the direction she and Bulvard had just flown from.
"I can't fight" she said, as loudly as she could manage, waiting in anxious fear for Culloth's response. There was a pause. "How many people are you fighting, if it is people, is it worth going back, or would it be safer to stay here, or hide, or run away? I know it sounds cowardly, but if we have no chance of winning then..." her voice trailed off under the withering stare Culloth gave her and Tumnaooriel felt herself shrinking back behind Bulvard, more scared of his siter than him.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Elanor leant against a tree in a quiet wood, her eyes closed blissfully. Dappled light played over her eyes and her eyes were damp with water from the lake. A breeze blew past her, blowing a strand of air over her face. She lifted a hand to brush it off...

...at which point she found she could not move her hand.
The witches eyes snapped open and she found herself propped against a small cell wall, her hands bound behind her. In case there were guards she didnt move, simply flicked her eyes sidewards and to her relief she saw she was not alone; Elwyn sat nearby. Stretching out her foot, Elanor prodded her friend gently, and was greeted by a groan from the elf.
"Where in the name of Yavanna are we?" she muttered.
"Believe me, if I knew Id tell you!" Elanor whispered back, relieved that Elwyn seemed alright. "How are you? And how did we get here?"
"Well Id be much better if I wasnt tied with this blasted rope! Otherwise Im-"
"Rope?" Elanor interupted suddenly. That was strange; when the witch had moved her hands around she had been sure...just to make sure she twisted them around and felt the cold bite of metal into her wrists.
"Elwyn?" Elanors voice was tinged with panic as she moved her body around so her friend could see how she was tied. "Elwyn, whats around my wrists?"
The healer seemed puzzled as she answered. "Well...well the strange thing is...I could swear that was gold! Strange...too good for plain old rope?" Her parched voice was tinged with humour but the mortal girl had turned pale in the semi darkness. She leant her head back against the cold wall.
"Gold? No...please by all the gods no..." Gold. The only substance to render a witch completely powerless.
"Elwyn, I fear whoever is holding us here knows far too much about us...and our weaknesses..." She murmered.

[Elenna]

Elwyn writhed furiously, but the rope was tied too tightly. A stream of livid curses came from the elf maid's mouth, causing Elanor to raise her eyebrows.

But Elwyn didn't stop. She needed to get away - she had friends who needed her healing, and here she was, bound like a criminal. Hot tears of pure rage poured down Elwyn's face.

Then Elwyn gasped. Someone was standing over her.

[Cimmerian]

Bulvard and Culloth raced back in the direcion they had been hurled away from, with Tumnaooriel follwing them hurriedly, but not with meek protest. She longed to be with Bulvard, for in him she sensed a feeling of belonging she had never felt anywhere else. But not like this, not in the middle of a war, she bit her lip and ran after the two war torn siblings.

When Bulvard and his sister finally reached the spot where the bulk of the battle took place, to their astonishment, nothing was there. Not even the slain bodies of the warg. Everything had seemingly disappeared and the air clung around them in a blanket of deathly chill.

Tumnaooriel ran up beside Bulvard and put her hands around the vast expanse of his upper arm. Instinctively he put his arm around the woman and held her tightly, though his eyes absently gazed over the forlorn landscape.

"Where could they all have gone?" Culloth barked.

"Calixto... Gwen... Harolas...Elwyn...and... and sweet Elanor," mumbled Bulvard.

"Aiwn and Ransom as well," whispered Tumnaooriel, holding on to the big warrior for dear life.

"Let go of him, you... you woman," growled Culloth and Tumnaooriel heart skipped a beat.

Bulvard's embrace tightened and her looked down at the trembling woman. Her large eyes looked up at him pleadingly and he drowned in them. "Leave her be, sister Culloth," he said, "She is of no harm to me, she needs our help as much as I need her company." He smiled and a feeling of warmth and love over came Tumnaooriel, melting her fears away for the moment.

Culloth grunted and sifted around the ravaged landscape around them. "Where do we look for them?" she growled to herself.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Elanor pushed her mind out, trying to force them past the tight bands of gold around her wrists. Every time she thought she was getting anywhere, an icy mind shattering blow hit like a whip over her mind.
Exhausted she closed her eyes and stopped trying, the silence only broken by the sound of Elwyn scalding the air with curses. Suddenly her struggles stopped with a gasp. Elanor opened her eyes sharply and looked up to see a tall cloaked figure standing over them, flanked by two others. Its face was obscured by a deep hood, but something other than its lack of identity was missing to the witch. Then she realised- nothing. The complete absence of his thoughts that usually came to Elanor when she met any stranger was obscured not only by the gold, but by a dark void in his mind, and it terrified her to her very soul. The void, deafening in its silence was overwheming, dragging Elanor under-
"Who are you? Where in the name of perdition are we? How dare y-" Elwyns angry tirade was cut off sharply by the sound of flesh on flesh. Looking dazedly over the mortal saw her friend sprawled on the floor, her cheek reddening, biting back tears. The figure drew his hand back into a fold in his cloak.
"You will come with us." The voice that came from the cloak was emotionless and expressionless, as empty as the void. The rope connecting Elanors handcuffs to the wall was severed and one of the sidekicks drew her to shaky feet. Beside her the same was happening to Elwyn, although the elf tried to resist until a blade was withdrawn from the figures belt.
"Where are our companions?" Elanor managed to murmer.
"All four of them, the women, the elf and the man, are also coming to face Him." The empty voice sent shivers down Elanors mind..until she realised what they had said. All four of them. Just four of them. She glanced sharply across at Elwyn and saw he same spark of hope in her eyes. Not seven. Four.
But the man...which man? Elanors mind kept returning to Bulvard- but why? Why not think of Ransom. But the fisrt tall warriors face welled up in Elanors mind and she clung to it, desperatly hoping he was not the one they had. They were dragged out of the cell but the witch was aware of nothing but the image in her mind...

[ September 14, 2002: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Elenna]

Elwyn struggled hard against her bonds, more furious than ever.

"You will NEVER catch Bulvard like this! He could rip you apart with his bare hands!"

"I'm sure he could, if he were able to get close enough, wench. Now stop your caterwauling. He will not like it."

Elwyn replied with a stream of unladylike language. The man grabbed her chin and forced her up to her feet, then cursed as she sank her teeth into his hand and struck at him with her head.

"Don't you EVER lay a hand on me again, you spawn of an orc and a donkey!"

[The Viking Thunder]

Harolas crept around amidst the slain bodies of wargs and orc, retrieving most of his arrows. He had perched himself up on a tree and launched arrow after arrow into the fray below, eahc one on target with telling effect. He had seen, Elwyn and Bulvard struggling in the thick of things. And Elanor succumb into one of her trances. Gwyn and Aiwn fought valiantly side by side. The crazed woman, Culloth, enjoyed herself as she spilled blood. The carnage that went on a few moments ago could turn even the strongest of stomachs. Now, the rotting flesh of the slain would do worse.

Harolas wondered at what could have happened to Calixto, their leader. Could he have been tainted and corrupted by the powers of evil. There was much mystery around these parts and the sooner they found Calixto, the sooner would they all the answers.

Ooc - Who is this mystery villian, is it Calixto?

[Nevtalathiel]

Nothing. Where moments before there had been a raging battle, there was nothing. No wargs, no blood, no attackers, no companions; nothing. It was as if all traces of the battle had simply been removed from the face of the earth, as if there had never been a battle, as it had all been a figment of someone's imagination which had been projected onto the world. Tumnaooriel chewed her lip and surveyed the area in silence, Bulvard and Culloth doing the same, despite Culloth's initial angry outburst. At a closer look, it was clear that the battle had been real. Whoever had been in charge of cleaning up the scene had clearly not paid much attention to detail. There were areas of trampled grass, small cuts in the trunks of trees, a few small crimson spots here and there; nothing which on it's own would have been evidence of a battle, but which together told a story, or part of one.
Hesitantly leaving the protection of Bulvard's srtong arm, Tumnaooriel stepped delicately towards the other side of the clearing, to see if there was anything else which had been left for them to see, if they looked properly. Between two of the trees, both of which had lower branches missing, she thought she could discern a trail, as if something heavy had been hurredly dragged away. Bending down, she could see that the earth was rutted in places and grass and further away larger shrubs had been torn up and dragged along with whatever it was, leaving muddy streaks and gashes in the ground.
"I think I've found something" She said quietly, not taking her eyes of the track in case it too disappeared.

[Carnëiach]

OCC: Aman here

Elanor was dragged oblivious down the long corridors, barely noticing even Elwyns rage in her turned in world. The silence...the absence of thoughts...the void...

A pair of double doors were thrust open and the witch was thrown to the floor, although it was almost a relief, as it was cushioned with thick lustrous white carpet. Beside her Elwyn was complaining loudly about this treatment and hurling insults so spectacular at the guards that Elanor had to smile. However as a pair of doors near the far end of the hall were thrown open with a flourish even Elwyns tirade paused, with a small mutter of, "So whos this new clown?"
"Oh a clown? Shame on you elf, to speak of your, what was it again- oh yes, brave and honourable leader like that?" The voice tsked and let for a small chuckle that was completely devoid of any humour.
Elanors smile froze and reality rushed back like ice water. She recognized that voice as she recognised any voice she ever heard, even though the thoughts werent accompanying it.
Are we all ready? The journey shall be long and we do not have a fixed date to return. his first words came back to the witch accutely. Barely breathing she looked up slowly to see an elf lounging in a huge chair (a throne?). His sharp features curved into a smile as he looked piercingly at the witch.
"Ah, the great witch returns to us. Not so bold with gold around your wrists eh?"
"Calixto!" Elanor breathed.

[Elenna]

Elwyn responded to Calixto with another spectacularly long insult which made the guards' jaws drop with shock.

Calixto gestured and the guards forced Elwyn to her feet. "Come, pretty one, you should show more respect to your leader."

Then he reeled backwards as Elwyn spit in his face. He cuffed her hard across the face, and when she continued to stare back at him defiantly, he struck her hard on the jaw. The elf-maid's head snapped back, and Elanor gasped as Elwyn collapsed bonelessly, completely unconscious.

[Carnëiach]

Elanor flinched, shocked, as the one they had called their leader struck her friend on hard on the jaw. Elwyns teeth clicked together and her eyes rolled back into her head. A thin trickle of blood spilled from a small cut on her chin where one of Calixtos elaborate rings had cut it.
He looked with disdain at his ring, with the elven blood on it. His glance flicked to Elanor and he stepped towards her. She steeled herself not to give in and move away. She stared at the floor, concentrating although she knew it was useless with the gold binding her.
"Aww, do not look away witch. I have other things planned for you than your rather insolent friend. Come, look me in the face."
Elanor continued to glare at the floor. Maybe if she could use Elwyns strong feelings...
"Look at me witch!" His voice was more forceful. Elanor drew on it, mustering its pitiful strength...
His hand touched her shoulder, and she threw back the power at him. A spark. A simple spark. She slumped with disappointment- all that had happened was that Calixto had twitched slightly...and made him alot angrier. His strong thin fingers grasped her chin and he forced her head upwards, digging them in so hard so bit her lip to stop herself reacting. She went from one extreme to the other and stared deep into his eyes, the vivid green depths of hers meeting the dark blue of his. For a moment he stayed like this before leaning within an inch of her face and whispering to her.
"Your power is strong, I know this. But you will join with me and give me it, and belive me it shall be far better if you do this willingly!" His voice was like a crystl knife and for a moment Elanor was too terrified to do anything. She would have given anything to attack him like Bulvard, or yell and spit like Elwyn. But she could do nothing. He smiled, stroking the side of her face with his free hand briefly.
"You shall be my source of power."
He released her and she slumped slightly, before the guards once more dragged them to their feet and took them both, dragging the unconcious Elwyn, back to the cell. Quietly, Elanor prayed for Bulvard and Culloth to come and free her from the traitor...

[ September 19, 2002: Message edited by: Carnëiach ]

[Cimmerian]

Bulvard stood still, a faint sound had alerted his war-honed hearing. They were follwing the faint trail that Tumnaooriel had spotted. Culloth grumbled at the sheer absurdity of following such a trail.

"Hush!" Bulvard whispered, "There is someone here."

"You have elvish hearing now?" Culloth said curtly and Tumnaooriel stared at the woman in exasperation, nothing pleased this one, she thought.

"There, the Lady Gwyn. She is injured!" Bulvard cried. The three of them ran to where the warrior woman of Rohan lay very still.
As they approached her, another tall and slim figure came up noiselessly from the other side.
Both Bulvard and Culloth drew their swords instantly but held their ground when Tumnaooriel cried, "It's Harolas."

"Aye, my friends." replied the elf, "And I had known it was you all along. Had it not been so, you would be long dead by now."

"Enough talk, let us tend to this woman now."
Tumnaooriel took charge, much to Culloth's surprise.

As the elf and Gondorian siblings stood guard, the beautiful woman, with a mysterious background, tended to the lady of Rohan.

[Ransom]

9-24-02

Ransom slowly opened his eyes. What memories he retained of his previous activities echoed throughout his head, greatly aggravating a pounding headache. He remembered the hours of fighting, followed by a precious few minutes of rest. Of course, this did not do much to explain his current situation.

He sat up and stretched. It felt good to move, despite the pain that flared as he stood. He took a few minutes to examine his surroundings. His cell was bare, save for the mattress of straw that he had woken on top of. The cellblock itself was shaped like a circle, with the cells lining the exterior. Ransom could not see any other occupants, and the room was dead silent. In the center of the room, their jailors had assembled a pile of gear, including Ransom’s armor and his sword.

Ransom smiled. Whoever his captors were, they did not know the history of his sword.

Ancalagon was aptly named. Forged by a powerful renegade dwarf, part of the great dragon’s spirit burned within the sword. In any instance, the sword would return to the owner who quenched its thirst for blood. Said sword owed Ransom a large boon.

Moving in front of the lock on his cell, he spoke softly to his sword. “Ancalagon, remember our bargain. Return to my grasp and I shall satisfy your lust for blood two times over.”

The sword, evidently, liked the bargain, slamming through the rough iron lock on the cell. Ransom smiled. Woe be to his captors.

[Carnëiach]

"Oh come, you thrice damned rope! Break already!"
Elanor muttered furiuously under her breath,cursing the rope, Calixto, his minions, gold, and the world in general. Her hands were sticky with blood and her sweat had run into the cuts, stinging them and doing nothing to improve her mood. The mortal had managed, with alot of trouble and not a little pain, to hitch the rope holding together the two gold bands over the bracket they had previously been tied to, twisted it around and was now rubbing furiously, apparently to no avail.
The human girl had no idea how long she had been at it, and was trying to cover the urge to cry from pain and frustration with curses. Whats more, with her hands tied in this fashion she could do nothing for Elwyn, lying sprawled on the floor, the blood which had trickled from her mouth already starting to congeal. Casting a worried glance at the elf and resumed her rubbing with renewed vigour.
"Come on Yavanna, Aule, Manwë...all you gods, i promise I will worship you forever if this bleeding rope will break. Come on, come on...yes!"
She let her breath out in a hiss as she felt the last few strands almost break. Pulling her hands away from the bracket, she snapped the last few fibres with great satisfaction. She slumped against the wall, eyes closed, breathing heavily as feeling flooded back into her finger. Not good. Now she could feel every, single, milimetre of shattered and chapped skin. Gritting her teeth she forced herself to concentrate, trying not to let her thoughts disappear into the void. task in hand...right...
"Ok Elwyn, for my all new, improved hands, you neeed to wake up...ah well, i never really liked my skin anyway." Quietly she stepped towards the prostrate elf and started work on waking her up as gently, but quickly as possible, praying that there were no guards outside.

[Elenna]

Elwyn groaned and coughed, sitting up slowly. "My head hurts... What in Varda's name happened? Where are the others?"

"I don't know - we've been captured, remember?"

"Not really."

"Calixto has captured us. Ransom too. I have just unbound my hands, but I don't know how we could possibly be rescued now."

Elwyn swore and stood upright. "Calixto? Now I remember. That filthy son of a..."

"Cursing won't help."

Elwyn sat down again, muttering to herself. It seemed like there was no way out of this situation. Unbidden the fair elven face of Harolas came into her mind. "And the last thing I ever did was slap him and shout at him. I wonder if I shall ever see him again."

[Nevtalathiel]

Something about the sight of blood stirred emotions deep within Tumnaooriel. She was at home with blood. "Once," she thought, "I was a healer." and with the thought came a realisation that she had left that life behind and now scarcely remembered it, save when she was actively reminded. It was true, she had been a nurse; caring for the sick and injured of the village in which she lived. Until the child had died. It had not been her fault, it wasn't the wounds, it had been something deeper, something over which she had no power, It had not been her fault!
Tumnaooriel was drawn back to the present and found that her breath was shaky and her fingers trembled.
"Water" she said brusquely in an attempt to overcome the lump in her throat.
"What do you know of this? I doubt you have even gone far enough from your home to have witnessed so much as a scraped knee!" Culloth barked.
"Do not question me now." Tumnaooriel replied surprising even herself with her boldness and the sharpness of her voice. "You know your trade I know mine When there is a battle, I will follow your instructions, but when someone is wounded you will let me care for them to the best of my ability. I am certian it is better than yours! I need water and any clean material which can be spared."
Ignoring Culloth's grumbles, Tumnaooriel knelt beside Gwyn and began to clean her wounds.

[Aosama, the Wandering Star]

Gwyn moaned, her spirit desperate. There was a darkness in her mind, a shadow, a dark cloud threatening to engulf her and her companions. Tumnaooriel's calm voice was the only sound she heard in that fell blackness....

[Carnëiach]

Elanor felt in her sleeves to the straps that held her sais...
"Yes!" She hissed in relief as she felt the smooth metal under her fingers. The sharp, thin ends of the sais would make perfect lock picks.
"Elwyn, is your sword still there."
"No, but I saw one of the filthy guards with it, smugly tucked in his belt, son of a... well yeah anyway..." She faded off, taking a deep breath as she bit off the end of her curse. "Cursing wont help anyone." She muttered. Elanor smiled at her and crept towards the door. Looking out she was relived to see that guards everywhere were the same; theyd sneaked off to the barracks room no doubt, to play a game of dice.
"Well, I never thought Id be glad to see skivers!" Elwyn had joined her and the pair smiled at each other, enjoying the moment of light heartedness.
Slipping one of the fine points of her weapon into the lock she twisted around slightly for a moment, when the lock gave a small click. Smiling slyly the witch withdrew her weapon and laughed.
"Not even a double mechanism. A hobbit child could have found their way out of that one." She noted Elwyns surprised look and laughed. "Hey, Im not entirley useless without magic you know! After you." She swept an overdramatic bow and pulled open the door, wincing as it creaked on the rusty hinges.
"Now...barracks room..." They walked down the corridor, their feet echoing on the floor. Suddenly Elwyn stopped, her elven hearing picking something up, and pressed herself against the wall, with Elanor following her example, although she felt deaf without her magic heightened senses. Two guards swaggered past, laughing, obviously drunk, not noticing the pair in the shadows. When their footsteps had died off, the mortal witch smiled at her friend.
"A little more caution now maybe."
Elwyn wasnt fully listening. "When I find the idiot with my sword, the sword shall bleeding well find its way to the fools heart!" She muttered darkly.

[Ransom]

Ransom fastened the final clasp on his new suit of armor and marveled at his new find. His captors had taken his armor for booty, leaving Ransom in a bit of a jam. However, careful and painstaking searching of the pile of weapons had turned up two wonderful finds.

The first was his new armor. The plate mail was pitch black and almost seemed to meld in to the darkness. Flesh hooks, spikes, and blades protruded from the armor only increased the dark atmosphere. Skulls of various sizes covered elbows, shoulders, and knees. The armor even came with a scabbard for Ancalagon. And finally, the helm. It was in the shape of a skull, bleached white and black. Truly beautiful.

Meanwhile, Ancalagon had found a friend. The dark blade resembled halberd in many ways. The blade was about one and a half feet long and four and a half inches wide, shaped somewhat like a sharp butter knife. The pikestaff was a mere four and a half feet long and forged of the same metal as the armor. A large, upside-down obisdon skull capped the end of the haft. Truly a weapon to be proud of. Ransom took some time to examine the runes on the shaft. They glowed slightly red, mirroring the runes on his sword. Perhaps that crazy dwarf had made more than one weapon.

Ransom quietly walked to the door and raised the halberd over his head. The orcs in the guardroom were rudely awakened from their drunken sleep by the sound crash of the door as it fell to the ground. To call the next few minutes a battle would be a grave insult to martial warriors everywhere.

Ransom lifted the visor of the helm, surveying the destruction and the happy pulsing light his halberd emitted and smiled. Jailbreak.

[The Viking Thunder]

Harolas stood away from where Tumnaooriel tried healing Gwyn. He was not very comfortable around healers and leeches. Instead the young elf sat himself down and mended the wear and tear on his arrows. Bulvard and his ill tempered sister stood over the woman Tumnaooriel. Gwyn appeared to be recovering. There was no sign of Elanor, the witch or of the others. Harolas wasn't sure of which side the newcomer Ransom was on. There was also no sign of Elwyn.

Harolas caressed his cheek, where Elwyn had slapped him. He smiled to himself. She was definitely a maiden with a mind of her own. It would be a challenge to try and woo her. Back home in Mirkwood, wooing elven maidens was mere child's play for the handsome young elf prince. Yet this Elwyn was made of different, more arrogant stock. As he lost himself in his musings, his deft fingers quickly mended the damage his arrows had sustained during the battle.