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Logs

Smoked Kibble-n-Bits

Tags: Kalyrua,  Ssamori,  Yak,  Lorthrain,  Lovella,  Gerik

Short Summary: Isengard Uruk-Hai cross the river Celduin south of the trading town, Iach Celduin. The Men are waiting, the Orcs are sneaking, but no one is ready.
Date (real-life): 2011-12-23
Scene Location: Dale: Southlands
Date (in-game): 3054-10-3
Time of Day: Early Morning
Weather: Clear, mid Autumn

12/23/2011

11:29 PM
Logfile from Elendor.


Rolling Dales
  Vegetation grows lush and wild, fed by the River Celduin which flows through the valley. Here, the river flows from northwest to southeast. A small but still well-defined road appears to follow its entire course while a larger, more heavily traveled road heads north, cutting past the great curve of the river. Many tracks, made by wagons, horses, and humans, suggest that this road probably serves as a major trading route through Rhovanion. Though sparsely populated, this valley is punctuated here and there by the odd farm or homestead, and in the distance can be seen the dark eaves of Mirkwood to the northwest, and the tiny town of Finney which stands to the southeast.
Contents:
Lovella
Magnus
Ssamori
Lorthrain
Kalyrua
Bal'Dyak
Obvious exits:
 North leads to Rolling Dales.
 SouthEast leads to In the Dale-lands, passing by Finney.
 NorthWest leads to Iach Celduin.


[Yak]
 
The growing day brings unwanted slitherings to the eastern shore of the river. Finding a huddle of knotted trees a short shadowed distance down this quiet river ride, the Raven Captain Bal'Dyak paddles and kicks across the current with sudden determination - a large log cradled for floatation under one arm. The sun has risen and the efforts for secrecy are compromised with gleam of helms and armored arms swimming in the water - perhaps a dozen warriors, determined to cross camouflaged, and a safe distance south from the un-tested dwellings of Iach Celduin.

    Grasping at roots, he climbs to land - extending his arm for the next Uruk, who pulls in the next. Greed swells in the Barber's fat chest, a lust shiny and wet upon his tusks. Freeing his bow from place on his back, he dries the string with hungry fingers stroking the length. As he scans the distance north, he begins testing each feathered barb loaded in his quiver.

COMBAT - Wielded: Longbow

[Kalyrua(#27724)]

Floating down the river with the rest of the party, Kalyrua struggles to hold on to one of the logs. Around his neck, he wear a piece of leather tied tight around his thick throat that he keeps glancing at, tiny wires sticking out of it. Grumbling to himself quietly, "the boomers. Mus'nt wet the boomers. Water ain't no good for 'ese boomers." He reaches the shore line and grabs a hold of the nearest thing ashore and hauls himself up on the land. He fumbles before flopping on the shore the tiny circles falling around him. "Blasted!" He shouts and then falls into a fit at his own joke cackling madly. Only when one of the Orcs behind him hushes him does he remember the mission. Grumbling, he gathers up the circles and shoves them into a hidden pocket pulling out his skinning contraption. He whispers, "Should've brought the logspikes. Should." He quietly makes the move towards the Captain keeping low and as quiet as the large orc possibly can, "Boomers."

 

[Ssamori(#28156)]

Behind the raven captain the floating uruks gradually emerge from the water, and as each turns to offer a hand to the next, the numbers on dry land slowly grow. Water pours out from water as they shake themselves off with grunts and the occasional sibilant hiss between prominent incisors.

One uruk seems reluctant to help the next out of the water, and he extends a grimy hand to Ssamori with a mixture of something that's both respect and fear. The disguised she-shaman takes the hand, and leverages herself out of the water with a hiss and an unhappy grumble. The one who helped her up moves quickly away, she she scowls, turning to help the next one behind her out of the water.

Then with a shake of her ill fitting armor, she stomps up behind the barber not far behind Kalyrua. "Boomers." She hisses. "Curious is I if they work on man things."


[Lorthrain(#23381)]

As the foul fellowship makes its way up the riverbank, they may well come to curse the bright Daystar above them, for indeed it would appear their progress has not gone unmarked. The town of Iach Celduin, and the garrison dug beneath it have not been idle during these days of draed in the wake of the orcs' maurauding; many forays and scouting parties are abroad in the hills and meadows to keep watch for more of the savage invaders. And it would seem one such party is close at hand; the crest of a hill is all that keeps the gleam of the sunlight upon their armour from giving away their position.

Lorthrain of Girion lies in wait among these soldiers of Dale; a full dozen of the King's Men in tow, and as they lay flat against the grass the nobleman fingers the hilt of his sword. Long moments stretch by as the clamour of the orcs' arrival trickles on the breze to the Bardings' ears, and at length Lorthrain dips his head to another of the men.

"Sergeant Clemont," he breathes. "Take half the men with and circle about the hill to the east. I'll lead a charge along the riverback, and hope to draw them into a flank you might exploit..."


[Yak]
 
His nose trained upright and into the wind, Bal'Dyak's inspection of the land by scent is cut short with the raucous behavior behind him. Repeatedly beating his palm to helmeted head he curses in quieted sizzle of command, "Furgblarnks, ye rabble, they's already watching!" The cooking continues, "Noses still full of little goblin stinkies, fools." A pair of veterans emerge last from the river, many paces north.

    "You got the smellin's better than me, how many yards and which way? Hort's loaners just came ashore that way," he whispers to his advisor Ssamori. A beckoning gesture he gives to Kalyrua, his eyes yet unwavered across the rolling grass lands, and harsh voice hushed, "Ifn's you got them toys ready.. THIS TIME.. might just fear 'em up nice." A drop rolls down his chin, as he fits an arrow to the string.


[Lovella(#27235)]
"Yes, my Lord." Sergeant Clemont's rich baritone replies at barely above a whisper as he turns his head. "At your signal, sir?" There's a glace towards the men prearranged to follow him, and a single nod to ready them for the cue to spring in to action.


[Kalyrua(#27724)]

Kalyrua ambles up behind the Captain, fiddling with his circles. "I's a got 'em, Captain. I made 'ese 'ere boomers just 'is mornin'. Shouldn't be nothin' at all wrong with 'ese 'ere boomers." He comes up near the Captain and sets a couple of the circles on the ground. Turning to one of the orcs behind him he gestures for the man to hand him the torch burning just red hot at the tip. "Goodin' you didn't let that flame go out. Water and boomers. Bad mix, bad." He lights the tip of the circle and hurls it into the air. It lands a couple feet in front of him and he hunkers down with his hands over his ears. He waits a moment before opening just an eye to peek out from between the knobby fingers.

  Nothing.

  He turns to the Captain and points at the circle. Nodding his head real matter-of-factly he speaks out the corner of his mouth, "That boomer there. That's a dud. But just...wait." He walks over to the orc behind him and lights another circle. Once the spark comes to life, he twirls all the way around before hurling it over the side of the hill. Rising on the balls of his feet, he watches the poof of smoke rise. As it reaches into the sky, a smile spreads across his face. He laughs and turns to the Captain, "aha! I boomed it!" before walking back to the pile of circles he had left nearby."

 

[Ssamori(#28156)]

Breathing in deeply, Ssamori's eyes narrow and she snuffles the air, a tongue flicking out as if to taste it. Her tongue slithers back, licking her teeth before disappearing between foul lips. "There... just over the crest or just past it, Barber." She hisses the response near the captain's ear.

She wears a sword at her side like many of the other Uruk warriors, but that is not the weapon she draws. Instead, long dark fingers wrap around the handle of a wickedly long knife that's sheathed on a thick leg. With a tug, she pulls it free of it's sheathe, the blade shining darkly under the glow of the sun.

Her blood shot eyes watch the old one, Kalyrua, as he demonstrates with his boomers. Her expression... utterly unimpressed by the poof of smoke. Sucking air between her teeth she hisses, "I'm thinkin' the god ain't with the old one right now. Didn't even curse him, Captain. Be swearin' to that."


[Lorthrain(#23381)]

As the 'boomer' hurled by Kalyrua sails over the Bardings' hill, they are already on the move. Lorthtain nods to Sergeat Clemont by way of a signal, and taking up his shield he moves out to the western roll of the hillside, leading his half-dozen out ontot he riverbank. But just then the strange device thrown by the Isendrim lands and begins to smoke, and one of the men pauses to peer at it.

Given leave by Lorthrain with a nod to investigate, the soldier steals forward cautiously, shield raised and brow furrowed. His sword tentatively reaches out to give the device a poke...

And then explosion and thunder fill the air. The hillside shakes, the Bardings jump in their armour and all that remais of the poor man chosen to investigate is a blackened wreck of a body. "By the Dragon..." breathes Lorthrain in alarm. "What in the King's name was that?"

And now his party is exposed.


[Yak]
 
The rumble across the hill, the shock of bass, the char of smoke and stink of burning flesh - clear is the awe in Bal'Dyak's exploding eyes. "Wouldja.. what in.. well I'll be a snaga's broodmate," he declares, and the bewilderment is clear from the watching archers to their north as they rise from their hiding. "That'll get this party started!" he bellows, casting away all discretion. "You heard THAT scream, boys, draw your targets," the order echoes black and wretched Westron, taunting an enemy to appear.


[Lovella(#27235)]

There's a tension in the group that can scarcely be cut with a sword as Sergeat Clemont and the rest of the group stand ready for the command from their Lieutenant. It's given, and like a tightly wound coil, the group springs in to action, weapons and shields gleaming. Lorthrian's men go west, minus one, and the rest following Clemont, move quickly in the opposite direction around the hill in an effort to flank their stinky enemies.


[Kalyrua(#27724)]

 Kalyrua, having turned his back to the commotion, pauses when the rumble rattles the ground beneath him. He turns back around slowly to see the billow of smoke rising up from below. He points a knobby finger at the cloud, before turning to the orc next to him, "Did I do that? Well I..." he trails off his mouth gaping open, the black tongue hanging off the side in consideration. A smile spreads slowly across the face, blending with the wrinkles around the mouth. Then, all at once, the old orc is jumping up and down clapping his hands together. "Ya see 'at! I boomed it!" He runs over to the Captain and taps him on the shoulder with the blood stained pair of tongs. "Ya see' ere, Captain. I told ya I'd get 'em 'ere boomers workin'. Hehe!" He runs back over to the orc he was standing nearest and thrust a leather satchel at him. "We're having human tonight! Smoked and cripsy!" He runs to a stack nearby and gathers up a few odd and ends along with more of the boomers before running to catch up with the Captain, "let's do this! Just the way I like it."

 

[Ssamori(#28156)]
Taking a step back as the ground suddenly shakes with the force of the explosion, Ssamori's eyes widen and she breathes out slowly as she watches the carnage unfold. "That... by the god.... that was the most beautiful thing...." Leaning over to clap her free hand on Kalyrua's shoulder as he thrills with joy at the captain, she suddenly grins broadly, "Will they go all to bits like that every time?"

Shaking herself with a roll of her shoulders, she lifts the long dark blade of the knife as Bal'Dyak gives the order. Taking a knee, she locks gaze with the orc warriors behind her as they knock arrows to bow and draw back. "Choose your targets! Wait for my signal...." The knife remains in the air for a moment as she allows the smoke to clear, and then flashes downwards - a clear command to let black arrows fly. Uruk-hai bows twang in something frighteningly near unison as they heed her command, dark arrows seeking whatever human flesh is most readily visible.


[Lorthrain(#23381)]

The arrows of the Isendrim fall as a vicious black rain upon the helmed heads of the Bardings in Lorthrani's party, and while they bear shields they are yet shaken by the explosion, and one of their number is not swift enough to take guard against the barrage, Down he goes, speared through the neck, but this seems to snap his fellows into focus and harden their resolve.

Lorthrain's sword rises high into the smoke-filled sky as he roars: "For the King!" and he takes off into a charge, streaking along the riverbank in the hopes of joining battle. His companions follow suit, hacking at the archers with their blades as they draw near, and the Girion lord bears down upon Bal'Dyak himself; his blade lashing out in a bid to test the armour of Isengard.


Lorthrain attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

Aaargh! Your training and strength fail you as Lorthrain's attack knocks the bow from your hand!

[Gerik]

Gerik has been in the middle of the group and likely quiet for a while, though he is not idle moving along with the others. The kinsman of Karath reaches to his side hand on the hilt of his weapon it's brought out to be ready should it be needed. He continues onward warily, eyes are full of concentration, and perhaps a bit of gladness at having a chance at this.

[Combat(#13388)] Gerik unsheathes a mighty sword, and its blade slices the air it yearns for the battle to come.


[Yak]
 
The unchained fervor about the Raven Captain grows with the morning - the plan for testing the men of Dale has succeeded, and all secrecy is cast away. Towards the voices of men Bal'Dyak leads Isengard's charge, planting his feet upon a stone at hilltop. His bow readies before his fierce gaze arrow upon the string, in time to meet opponent face to face, but too late to fire.

    The human's blade rends the air and carves a gash through his armor and into bow-arm. Down goes the black arc of wood, and as he jumps backwards into murderous stance, out whips jagged blade of the Fighting Uruk-Hai.

COMBAT - Wielded: Short Broadsword
 
You forego your chance to attack.


[Ssamori(#28156)]

As the Bardings charge, the she-shaman takes command. Her shouts sharply cut through the sound of the charge ordering the uruk-hai behind her. "Draw weapons and engage, scum!" She steps backwards as the twelve warriors at her behest surge forward to engage the bardings.

One particularly nasty specimen with corded muscles charges Gerik with a deafening roar, swinging a double handed sword in a sweeping downwards arc as he bears down on the man.

"Old one!" Sssamori continues backing away from the front of the line and gestures the elder orc towards her, "Try another one. I want to see that beautiful performance once more."


[Kalyrua(#27724)]

Kalyrua follows the Captain down the hill and into the action. He pauses for just a moment and beckons the three or four orcs who carry satchels like his, except for the one with a the still blazing, if not smoldering branch of fire. "Try to keep that lit as long as possible, ya 'ear. We don't have very many of 'ese 'ere boomers so use 'em sparin'ly but let's blow some of these humans up."

  The command is then given from the shaman, he nods once quick and forceful before he pulls a small branch from a foreign orfice and touches it to the smoldering fire. He turns and heads back to the outskirts of the action, leaving his commadries with a stack of their own boomers. He lights one and hurls it, aiming for just in front of a group of men hand to his eyes to watch his display unfold.

 

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

As the battle is joined, Lorthrain's men crash into the line of the invaders, and thick and fast come the strikes as the warriors of Dale trade blows with their foes. And the Girion lord himself smiles grimly to see his initial success, though as Bal'Dyak takes up a blade of his own the Barding is given pause.

Training takes over, a groove writ into his brow as he circles with the brtue of an orc before him, ere like the strike of a vipe his sword stabs out; thrusting toward Bal'Dyak's chest in search of the fiend's black heart.

Lorthrain attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!


[Yak]
 
"Tasty tasty man flesh," taunts the Barber, "c'mon 'n do yerz dammed best!" Left foot, right, left foot, right, the tall and armored Uruk tests his opponents will and gaze. Zip and flash the man's sword darts tip towards his innards, and he cackles as it's fury finds the lightest purchase on his side. "Bloods, black, bloods, yer gettin' me nice and ripe fer tastin' yers!" he speaks measuredly, regathering his steps - waving his blade.

    And at last swinging with venom.


You attack Lorthrain with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Bal'Dyak]
Your attack against Lorthrain moderately wounds him!


[Lorthrain(#23381)]

A grunt of pain leaves Lorthrain's lips as the heavy blade of Bal'Dyak returns his strike, and the iron of Isengard vies with the armour of Dale for mastery. The armour yet holds, but the nobleman does not escape harm, for as the rings of chain deflect the blade it slice along his forearm and draws a gash of red blood for the orc's reward.

Wincing, gritting his teeth Lorthrain backs away a hasty pace, hacking down with his own sword in a bid to hew away his foe's swordarm at the wrist.


Lorthrain attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he misses!


[Yak]
 
Nostrils flare at the fresh scent within his taste, and eyes lock with dread upon a feast worth sharing. The Shaman shall have broken curses, and the blooded sword shall worship another taste. Poor is his Westron, and lost the will to banter with man-meat.

    Snatching upwards, Bal'Dyak strikes broadsword again.


You attack Lorthrain with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Bal'Dyak]
Your attack against Lorthrain moderately wounds him!


[Lovella(#27235)]

"For the King!" Sergeant Clemont echoes from the flank as he forges on and into the fray. There's a moment to turn back and check on his men, and then his world is tinted with red as blood seeps from within the his helm, down his face, likely stemming from the dent that's now in it, thanks to a foe. It might be a small dent, and a tiny trickle of blood, but it's enough to daze poor Clemont, allowing for one of the men of his group to take over.


[Ssamori(#28156)]

Up and down the line, the uruk-hai warriors meet the Bardings blow for blow, sweat and blood of men and uruk mixing as blades flash under the sunlight. Ssamori stands with the older orc, Kalyrua as they both watch the field... and the spot where the older orc threw his last 'boomer'. "Issa Dud ya thinks?"

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

Once more is there the ring of iron upon steel above the din of the greater battle as Bal'Dyak strikes Lorthrain anew, though it seems the Barding takes less harm than before; all the same a measure of wind is squeezed through his lips and a fresnh wince of pain scrunches upon his features. But the nobleman of Dale is not bested yet, and his retreat halts abrutply; suddenly Lorthrain darts forward in a bid to pass by the orc's side, shield held high as a precaution..

Up slices his blade in vengeance as he passes, lashing for the tender flesh of the brute's throat as though seekign an end to the duel.


Lorthrain attacks you with his Longsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!


[Kalyrua(#27724)]

Kalyrua sighs, "Blasted, not blasted." He waits impatiently for the boomer to make it's massive booming noise but to not avail. He turns to the shaman, shrugs, and says, "Round three!" He lights the fuse of the boomer and as it makes it's ssst noise and the sparks fly off of it, he launches it again into the closest group of troops.

 
[Yak]
 
The duel's end is challenged but not found, as a dangerous cut sprays the sign of a hit upon the Uruk's neck. Bal'Dyak's laughter explodes in brutality, rumbling and spurting as he parries his way a pair of paces backwards - turning his head to angle the splash as decorations for his opponent's gear.

    Fury and fate, for the Hand, both of his fully willed towards Lorthrain.


You attack Lorthrain with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Bal'Dyak]
Your attack against Lorthrain mildly wounds him!


[Lorthrain(#23381)]

The fighting is now thick and fierce, with both red blood and black staining the grass beneath the trample of iron shoes, and the din of battle rises to an angry clamour as a result. But as Kalyrua's newest 'boomer' flies into the midst of the melee, it takes only seconds for a wayward step to disturb it, and once again is the air rent with the sound of explosion.

Up rises a ball of fire, casting bodies this way and that, both orc and man alike as the force of the blast sears over the fighting, and more than one limb is torn asunder from its bearins to litter the hillside and the river with a grusome legacy.

And Lorthrain, struck anew by Bal'Dyak is rattled all the more by the explosion, and staggers back a teetering pace or two as the ground shakes. "By the Dragon!" he cries. "Fall back, Men of Dale! This devilry is beyond us! Retreat!"

And while loathe he seems to leave the Isendrim Captin still standing, the Girion lord himself retreats warily as an example to his soldiers.

ARB: Lorthrain has "passed" on his turn to attack.


[Gerik]

Gerik reaches for his back a shield being found he quickly moves it to arm. The young man turns now striding with purpose. The corporal steps aside just intime to avoid the blow before nodding to those with him. "Fight." a simple command as if they would do anything else. It's with this that he dashes forward and returns the strike with one of his own.

[Ssamori(#28156)]

Blocking the young corporal's strike, the uruk-hai snarls in his face, gnashing his teeth as spittle slides down. It's just then that the large explosion goes off, and the force is enough to knock the uruk-hai backwards off his feet and away from Gerik.

[Ssamori(#28156)]

Ssamori hoots with laughter and lifts her arms in the air, brandishing the knife above her head as the explosion rips through humans and uruk-hai alike. Slapping Kalyrua on the back with her free hand, her blood shot eyes positively sparkle with glee as debris rains down and the humans begin their retreat. "By the Hand... GLORIOUS." And she laughs loudly again as she licks her lips.


[Kalyrua(#27724)]

Kalyrua is found on the outskirts of the action beaming with pride at his creation. Not caring a thing about what's going on around him, he marvels at the destruction caused by his boomer. The light of the explosion reflecting in the blood of his eyes, he stands like a child seeing fireworks for the first time. Coming to his senses, he notices the shaman, "Told ya c'uldn't promise w'uldn't hurt none 'ur own but I sure put a hurtin' on them humans wouldn't ya say?" And with that he heads off into the bodies to scour for fresh pieces of flesh, divinely cooked.


[Gerik]

Gerik steps back in preperation for the counter attack, and a good thing as the blast throws shrapnel at him, he covers best he can but is still cut and scratched anywhere exposed. He hears the call for retreat and nods. "Rally, to the lord of Girion." His voice booms over the battle and he begins a cautious retreat as well.

[Yak]
 
"Lookin' likes a'me that this line was an easy one to break," salutes Bal'Dyak as he collects his wits and shocked eyes, finding Ssamori. "They won't see all yer buildin's walkin over their bridge until they .. see'm!" he declares slapping Kalyrua's shoulder with pride.

    "We'll sets up a new camp here, and fake our retreat when the mornings are ripened fat with blood," he snarls, placing a knee lowered to the dirt, tracing crude strategies with his hungry sword.


[Lorthrain(#23381)]

As the Bardings continues their retreat, only half of those who hid behind the hill yet breathe, and two of their numer are shakey on their legs. Lorthrain steals to Gerik's side, left alone to withdraw by the orcs, and his eyes seek that of the Karath kisman. "Let us be swift to return to Iach Celduin, Corporal; we must muster a response to this foray as soon as me can... Are you hurt, or can you lead the men home?"


[Gerik(#30871)]

"A few cuts and scrapes, I am fit enough. I agree we need a force to return are you able to travel?" He moves back now down the path taking count of the men left in some kind of shape for later. Gerik continues however even as he speaks.


[Ssamori(#28156)]

With most of the uruk-hai lying dead on the field from the explosions and such, Ssamori watches the retreat of the humans with sharp eyes as she approaches the raven captain. Looking after Kalyrua as he begins his impromptu feast on the battlefield, the shaman takes a visual account of the casualties, "About sixty ... seventy percent fatality, barber, with the boomers for us. But... worth the blood cost. Many men died, too." Lifting a hand, she grips a piece of shrapnel in the captain's arm and pulls it out with a yank. "Be thinking it time for some other things as well, barber. Methinks a rematch is not long away."

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

"Aye, I am well, Corporal," nods Lorthrain with a sober nod. "Much of the same. Lead on, my friend, and I shall guard the rear." And with that the Bardings withdraw further to the north.


Date added: 2011-12-27 01:06:27    Hits: 89
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