Inez Hull
First Post
In the grey half-light outside the range of your campfire's flickering illumination movement can be heard more than seen as you all wait for a visual confirmation of your attackers. Weapons are drawn and deep breaths taken as the footsteps and creak of armour approach.... and then cease.
A deathly silent pause passes before the night is split by a bloodcurdling battlecry, taken up in unison by the orcs in their foul black tongue. Charging orcs in numbers run screaming into the firelight, followed by the lumbering bulk of a troll bearing the trunk of a small tree for a club. However, you are ready and waiting for them.
As the orcs come bearing in towards the light of the fire and the silhouttes of the company, an arrow flies from the shadows to the side of the camp catching the lead orc completely off guard as it drops instantly dead, one of Arathorn's fletchings marking the arrow protruding from it's eye.
Valandil steps forth as the orcs spread in a wave on your camp. White light blazes from his hands and then transfers to his blade as he traces a sigil on it, stepping to meet the closest orc.
Belegon hefts his mighty blade and moves to engage, a rousing Gondorian battle call on his lips urging all to mind their own defences in their fervour to destroy the hated foe. He meets the charge of an orc with his blade, cutting its legs out from under it as he moves through the line of attackers to engage the troll.
Antroine springs from his quickly found hiding spot, lying prone amongst several of his companions packs and catches a surprised orc through his lungs with a deft thrust of his rapier. He pulls out the bloodied end of his fine sword and stares at it in a daze before the onslaught of orc warriors awakens him to the battle.
The orcs then engage with you en masse, overrunning your makeshift and ill defended campsite. From his position just behind his companions, drawing a bead on the troll with his bow, Breor sees around a dozen orcs maybe more engaging, the brunt of the attack being borne by Valandil and Antroine.
Breor quickly releases his shaft, which flies true but deflects off the stony hide of the troll. He throws down his bow and draws his weapons, looking for a path through to the troll. As he scans the darkened battlefield he spots Grey darting in towards the orcs from the right flank and grins humourlessly as he hears an orc scream in pain.
[OODM: I assumed readied attacks given that the orcs and troll were not fully visible at the start of the round. The orcs reached melee but didn't get to attack due to the distance they covered, and the troll is about 20' behind them. I will not give exact numbers of enemies until the combat settles in, it is dark and the orcs have only just come into view and are to busy trying to kill you to sta y still and be counted.
]
A deathly silent pause passes before the night is split by a bloodcurdling battlecry, taken up in unison by the orcs in their foul black tongue. Charging orcs in numbers run screaming into the firelight, followed by the lumbering bulk of a troll bearing the trunk of a small tree for a club. However, you are ready and waiting for them.
As the orcs come bearing in towards the light of the fire and the silhouttes of the company, an arrow flies from the shadows to the side of the camp catching the lead orc completely off guard as it drops instantly dead, one of Arathorn's fletchings marking the arrow protruding from it's eye.
Valandil steps forth as the orcs spread in a wave on your camp. White light blazes from his hands and then transfers to his blade as he traces a sigil on it, stepping to meet the closest orc.
Belegon hefts his mighty blade and moves to engage, a rousing Gondorian battle call on his lips urging all to mind their own defences in their fervour to destroy the hated foe. He meets the charge of an orc with his blade, cutting its legs out from under it as he moves through the line of attackers to engage the troll.
Antroine springs from his quickly found hiding spot, lying prone amongst several of his companions packs and catches a surprised orc through his lungs with a deft thrust of his rapier. He pulls out the bloodied end of his fine sword and stares at it in a daze before the onslaught of orc warriors awakens him to the battle.
The orcs then engage with you en masse, overrunning your makeshift and ill defended campsite. From his position just behind his companions, drawing a bead on the troll with his bow, Breor sees around a dozen orcs maybe more engaging, the brunt of the attack being borne by Valandil and Antroine.
Breor quickly releases his shaft, which flies true but deflects off the stony hide of the troll. He throws down his bow and draws his weapons, looking for a path through to the troll. As he scans the darkened battlefield he spots Grey darting in towards the orcs from the right flank and grins humourlessly as he hears an orc scream in pain.
[OODM: I assumed readied attacks given that the orcs and troll were not fully visible at the start of the round. The orcs reached melee but didn't get to attack due to the distance they covered, and the troll is about 20' behind them. I will not give exact numbers of enemies until the combat settles in, it is dark and the orcs have only just come into view and are to busy trying to kill you to sta y still and be counted.
]
