Turn5

An eye for an eye.

<The dawn finally breaks as beams of light streak from far across the serried peaks of the Grey Mountains to touch the tips of the fir woodlands with silver fire. The light of burning roofs dims slightly as the stronger light pushes back the flickering shadows but strangely, the sounds of the village have quieted somewhat as people have either fled their homes or ...worse.>

Taking out her selection of 'keys', Meraina quickly sets to, muttering under her breath.

<She had made it across town (luckily without mishap) to the only other exit apart from the main gates - which were surely controlled by the Szreldor. They seemed to have missed this ancient doorway and for that Meraina was most pleased - pleased until she found the door firmly locked.>

"This blasted town was a mistake. remind me never to set foot here again. It has too many unwelcome guests and is too damm hard to get out of when you want to."

<The Valar in distant Aman must have heard her for with her first choice of likely keys she hears a solid "Click!">

"There!"

With a cry of triumph she puts away her lock-picks, and pulls on the iron rung that serves as the handle. The door creaks but opens, trailing spiderwebs. A cool breeze ruffles her dark hair as she looks out onto the heather-clad land about the settlement. Meraina mounts up and spurs her horse on for freedom, she hopes!

Across the village...

<Heladil leaves the rear door of the Frosted Mug swiftly to catch Arekhel who has disappeared through the dark doors of the stablehouse.>

Arekhel creeps into the shadows not willing to alarm the horses anymore than they already are. In the semi dark she can see the whites around the eyes of two black horses to her left. They snort with the pungent smell of burning seeping in through the wooden slats of the walls and stamp their hoofs in alarm. "Either of these animals might be Saelvach's horse," she thinks.
Heladil's packhorse is here also with some others perhaps owned by Balneg or other people from the village and a larger workhorse in a separate stable towards the rear. "It must be Gwalchmai's," she mumbles, moving further in. There are some brown and dappled riding mounts here also who look near to stampeding but their joint corral is closed and held with a simple loop of rope.

Gwalchmai comes to the tavern door, his axe ready in one hand, and his bag of belongings in the other. Speaking to Heladil in undertones: "Do you see any soldiers?".

The Elf pauses and seems to sniff the sooty breeze. Suddenly, he turns in one fluid movement towards the apple trees and draws his bow tight against his cheek. With a cry of "Arekhel beware!!", he fires the first shaft between the trees then swiftly strings another arrow and continues firing towards the rose bushes nearby.

The two Szreldor creeping towards the stables immediately dive for cover when they are spotted. The Silvan Elf's aim is true and his shaft takes the first man above the eyes. He drops to the ground as the other Szreldor lets out a shout that echoes round the yard. The warrior then leaps to his feet and makes a run for the street away from this wondrous Marksman. Heladil follows him smoothly, his next shot catching the man a glancing blow in the arm but he stumbles on and out of sight.

At that moment, Gwalchmai hears a further shout from inside the tavern as the front door bangs open. A frightened voice exclaims: "They're in here!"
He turns back from the outer door in frustration.

Two Szreldor come bowling through the front door into the commonroom and draw weapons with a snear as they spy the burly Northman dropping his bag and making his shield ready across the room. With a flick of the hand, his axe drops into his palm from its wrist thong and he prepares to fight them.

Stepping forward, the first Szreldor points his bloodied scimitar, speaking to his compatriot. Gwalchmai only detects one common word in their speech - "Beer" but the other warrior laughs through his bushy moustache at the comment.

As they advance, the Northman gives the appearance of being somewhat drunk, warning them: "Back off, you thieving scoundrels," giving one light swing of his axe in the air before him and leaning heavily against a table. The show does little to change the view of the Szreldor however, who advance anyway and the leader steps close and takes a vicious swing at Gwalchmai's head.

All pretense of acting flees in a moment as the Northman's sturdy shield comes up to block the blow, but his axe finds its mark on the other warriors chest. The man staggers back, winded by the blow.
Surprised by the speed of the counterstrike, the other Szreldor dives in but Gwalchmai sidesteps and the warriors weapon hits the table, springing from his grasp. Taking the opportunity presented, the Northman slices at his foe's thigh drawing blood and the man staggers backwards holding his weapon hand to the wound.
As he does so, a dull 'thunk' from behind preceeds a Dwarven crossbow quarrel which finds its mark in the side of the wounded Szreldor. He gargles a cry as he falls backwards, sending a table crashing to the floor as Froin, the Dwarf looks on, amazed at his own skill. He shrugs at the Mercenary.

As Gwalchmai watches the man's demise in surprise, the other Szreldor (unawares) leaps forward as his head clears from the first blow and gashes a long wound beneath the hard leather of Gwalchmai's chestplate. The Northman groans as blood spills onto his breeches and the Szreldor stabs in once more to finish him off. The wound is perhaps not as bad as it first seems luckily for Gwalchmai is still able to get his shieldarm in to deflect the blow and swings low to chop at the man's thigh. They trade further while Gwalchmai's wound seeps crimson until the Northman succeeds in breaking through the other's gaurd and deals him a stunning blow across the ribs. There is a dull crack as the man's bone breaks and he gasps, falling back.

The Northman stands up to his full height, wincing in pain as he gingerly holds his hand over the wound in his belly and moves towards the injured man, now on his knees on the floor.

In broken Arhunerin the Szreldor pleads: "Please, don't kill me. I... I surrender! You have proved you are a better warrior than I. I submit to you my weapon and my life."
With that he throws his sword and shield to the ground and bends in strange fashion with forehead touching the wooden floor in supplication.

Outside in the yard...

As Arekhel approaches, the horses neigh fearfully as the sound of a falling beam in the next house along booms out, shaking the thin wall of the stablehouse. At the same moment she hears Heladil's warning shout.

Coming to a decision, she quickly lets loose the two blacks and then flings open the corral door for the brown horses. Shooing them towards the open stable door, she catches hold of the rope fastened around the muzzle of one of the dappled browns but the animal wishes to follow its fellows and bucks in her grasp, pulling the Elven woman along. She stumbles but catches her feet and soothes the animal's flank making it halt and not wishing to wait longer, Arekhel swings onto it's back.

The other horses are fleeing into the yard away from the wild woman who is shouting at them from behind and so she follows their flight into the yard; noticing firstly that two Szreldor are running round the side of the building in answer to their compatriot's shout and secondly, it is very difficult to control a nervous horse without the balance of a saddle.

Her mount springs forward after the other horses, directly towards the onrushing warriors. Arekhel tries to target one with her sling but misses badly and so tries to halt the beast before she is in range of their weapons. The Szreldor succeed in stopping a few of the animals from fleeing, who thus mill around between the enemies. Arekhel's mount pulls up short but tosses its head, backing into a large bush by the tavern wall. The Szreldor drive the horses back towards Arekhel and Heladil, who now appears at the corner of the building, bow in hand.

Meanwhile towards the center of the village...

Cursing the fact that his luck has deserted him at a crucial moment, Saelvach uses his momentum in sprawling forward to execute a neat roll and return to a standing position. Turning, he notes his opponent, recovering from the shock of being bowled over, is also attempting to rise while pulling up his trews with one hand and scrabbling for his blade with the other. Seizing the momentary advantage Saelvach takes a step closer to the Szreldor. It then occurs to him that perhaps his stumble over a loose cobblestone isn't such ill-fortune after all, as he suddenly realises there could be information to be gleaned as to the purpose of the raid on Buhr Criocha, if he can persuade this one to talk.

A mixture of surprise and relief floods over the gambler as the cursing figure over to the left turns out to be the dwarf Boldor. Saelvach shifts position realising that in the meantime the woman has fled and seeing the flicker of fear in the eyes of the Szreldor as he realises what would have been a few moments of pleasure now has him confronting two armed foes in a state of undress, Saelvach moves close to block Boldors intent and half raises his sword to the man's throat. A humourless grin spreads over his face as he growls, "Looks like the rules of this game have just changed."

The Szreldor warrior slowly replaces his scimitar on the ground, gulping carefully as the tip of Saelvach's blade presses a dimple into his neck. "Feeling lucky?" the gambler continues, his dark eyes glinting beneath the brim of his ever-present trail hat. "Well even if you do, the moment I step aside my friend here is going to knock you so flat you'll have to take your boots off to piss.....Ain't that right old-timer?"
The other only grunts, staring intently at the cowering figure as if the fever-fire in his burning eyes could flay the Szreldor alive.

"Only one thing's going to save you now, my friend, and that's you telling us why in Morgoth's name your kind are intent on turning this village into a grave?"

"Speak! Or I will happily smear you across this wall, rapist!" says Boldor, leaning against it with one hand. He grin's a toothy grin at the warrior who in the increasing light appears to be quite young.
To prove their point, Saelvach presses down slightly on his sword blade and the tip moves a fraction across the man's neck. The Szreldor's face twitches and sweat trickles down his cheek.

"Ah, we... we have order's from Uldor to... to take prisoners. Only the women and the... older children. We were told to...gha, use all necessary force. It's Loruss' way."

At the edge of the village...

Relg looks around for signs of the Szreldor. There appear to be none close by at present so he turns to Raddish and says: "Well, Raddish Smallfold, I see no danger for you outside the village so far. I'd suggest you should try to reach the trees. There, wait for us. We'll be back, soon."

"Well, I guess your right in that," says Raddish, looking to Billy for support. The other Hobbit seems wary of the large warriors before him and stays by the postern door. He retains one hand inside his cloak but has re-sheathed his shortsword. "I don't know but I need to leave this place," he says. "Ok, we'll take your advice for what its worth."
The Hobbit pushes away from the wall and sidesteps around the two Gargath until he is out of reach when he turns and begins to run for the line of surrounding trees.

Raddish is left by the door and is about to leave when Relg asks one further question: "Tell me little man, have you seen a common stable or something else of interest to these hunting dogs in this village. Where is the inn? It might have been the first target for them."

Raddish answers, pulling himself up to full height: "There is only one tavern in the town and it is named the Frosted Mug. Balneg is the owner and he also has store for many horses. It lies yonder towards the main gate. Now if you kind gentlemen will excuse me...?" With that, the Hobbit Ambassador takes his leave and with a slight nod to the man named Relg, he too hurriedly flees for the protection of the woods.

Relg watches them go then turns to takes a look at the village and estimates the location of important buildings.

<The village is built on a slight rising of the ground between two swift flowing burns. The settlement lies in a circular pattern around a central rocky outcrop upon which the Lord's keephouse is situated. It is the tallest building in Buhr Criocha and is likely to be surrounded by the most important buildings such as the Assembly Room, the Garrison and the homes of the village leaders. However, in the dawn light, a large stone building rises slightly above the others towards the southern wall and Relg guesses this to be the tavern spoken of by the Hobbit.>

Waving Coru forward with bow drawn, the Gargath enter the village silently and pass down a narrow street towards the central thoroughfare.

Far to the south...

Lochan jumps down carefully from his horse and smiles faintly to Valdo.
"Rarely has a dawn come so welcome and been as precious as this one is." He glances at the eastern horizon and shouts in his own dialect "Thankyou dawn!". But then he sems to get a grip on the situation about him, and the bodies that lie still nearby. "I fear that it may have come too late for the others".
He starts to run as quickly as his wounds allow back towards the cart, calling back to Valdo,"Let us see if there is anything we can do for the others".

Valdo doesn't answer or move but kneels leaning against his broadsword, staring at the slowly congealing goblin blood on the corpse before him. He faintly shakes his head.

Lochan however, suddenly pulls up short. The cart and oxen are still there but the coffin has disappeared. An obvious trail through the mud shows where it has been dragged - off round the side of the road and into the trees. It's been taken!

Cursing, the young Ranger turns to deal with the most important option, to save some lives.

End of Turn 5.