P
Pryd.Kaylin
Guest
The party leaped and stroad accross the mountainous land that opposed them at every turn. The scenery was quite astounding, and had the groups mission not been so urgent they would have stopped to gasp at the view.
They had been on the run from a group of trolls for about half an hour and had so far eluded them. It had been a close thing mind, at one point one of the trolls had almost killed the withered form of Kaylin as it charged them down. Only a quick reaction on the part of Randar had deflected the blow.
Now ahead of them lay Odin's Gate, and with it the final dash for freedom. It was also the most closely guarded, and if anything this would be where a trap was set to recapture the run down elf.
As they came to the end of the small patch of furs they had been in, the lead elf Jarakin signaled for two of the party to scout ahead. Even a small group could take them by suprise at the gates, with their numerous spots where assasins could secrete themselves.
After about ten minutes of the scouts being gone Jarakin ordered everyone up and ready to move. Getting Kaylin back was important, he had been inside Midgard, and he had escaped. He knew the weaknesses of the border.
With a hand signal from their leader the party moved silently out of the small patch of furs and quickly down the left side of a gravelled road. Many times he had come along this way, many times the rangers had ended conflicts before they had begun by secreting themselves in the sparse trees to either side of the road and ambushing their enemies.
As the group moved quietly along the road they moved into a diamond formation, with their long lost companion in the middle. They moved with a military precision, one that had been honed into them over they many years of fighting their enemies.
Ahead lay the gates, the last bastion of power that the Midgardians had before the front with Hibernia and her blessed keeps. Of the scouts there was no sign, the gates lay closed, the suggestion of death was foreboding. The red stains on the door were a constant memory of battles fought, won and lost at this most perilous of places.
One of the Firbolgs drew his sword at a sound he imagined would come from ahead, even though it would offer no protection against a fast archer attack, but the mere feel of it comforted the giant. Several others also drew their weapons at the sight of a fellow doing likewise.
The first arrow was barely noticed, the form of an elf crumbled behind Jarakin into a small heap on the ground. It had come from out of nowhere and struck the head of the nearest group member, killing him in an instant.
The second flew into the chest of one of the Firbolgs, he collapsed to his knees, but managed to stand again, just in time to be caught by a third which hit his arm and spun him to the ground. He tried to pick himself up once more, pushed with all his might on his remaining good arm but failed at the last and collapsed never to rise again.
Then came the roar of thunder as a large force of men came charging down from the gate at the dwindling elven force. Highlanders and Avalonians alike charged in weapons drawn, spilling the blood of elves and firbolgs equally.
Jarakin grabbed the scruff of Kaylins jerkin and flung him aside, bringing his staff to the fore to protect against his attackers. If he were to go down, he would make damned sure they didnt take his friend before him.
The Albion force finished the last of the Elves, Firbolgs and Celts, then they turned to the last two Elves. A huge looking hulk of a man clad all in platemail, save for his face which remained unadorned with armor approached.
With a swift blow he thre Jarakin's staff aside and threw a punch accross the Elf's face, forcing him to the ground.
"Who is your friend little elf? Who is this that you would put your life ahead of his?"
Jarakin remained silent.
"Let me tell you something elf, out here it is survival of the fittest, and to me he doesnt appear fit. Hell hes not even worthy of serving me food! So tell me, why put your life ahead of his?"
He moved past Jarakin to stand beside the now trembling form of Kaylin.
"Can you speak elf?"
Jarakin lifted his staff and brought it down over the big man's head, knocking him to his knees. His companions acted swiftly, punching and kicking Jarakin to the ground again.
The leader of the men stood up slowly and glowered at his assailant, "For that I will have your head foolish elf!" He drew his sword and signaled for his men to hold Jarakin ready, he strode up to his side and lifted his sword high.
What came next suprised all of the Albion force into complete stupidity, as the previously trembling Elf removed a long shard of metal from the back of their leader, the large man fell to his knees, then flat on his face dead. Kaylin spun unleashing with his shard he had carefully removed from a prison bar, spilling the guts of the nearest avalonian over the road.
The next lost his arm to a series of repeted strokes by the now enraged Elf. He likewise collapsed to the ground, dead from shock.
One of the Highlanders drew his sword and swung, but was soon relieved of his weapon and then run through the throat with it. He too fell to the ground, blood spurting from the grevious wound in his neck.
The fifth was ready though, and spun his swort slightly flinging the shard from the Elf's hands. A quick kick to the torso knocked Kaylin to the floor, following up he raised his sword high, ready to strike. As the sword began to fall, and Kaylin watched his fate descend on him the Highlander was knocked off his feet and into the air, his dead body landed a few feet away amongst his still living companions, who now looked terrified.
The sound of sweet songs could be heard, as the gates were pushed aside, and a contingent of Rangers, Bards and Hero's raced to the aide of the waylayed Elves. At the head of the troupe ran Randar, sword raised and ready for a fight.
The humans seeing themselves outnumbered and harried by the superior Elven and Lurikeen archers turned and ran. The hero's and Ranger's continued the pursuit while the rest of the Hibernians picked up Jarakin and Kaylin and escorted them speedily back to the gates, and the saftey of Hibernian soil.
They had been on the run from a group of trolls for about half an hour and had so far eluded them. It had been a close thing mind, at one point one of the trolls had almost killed the withered form of Kaylin as it charged them down. Only a quick reaction on the part of Randar had deflected the blow.
Now ahead of them lay Odin's Gate, and with it the final dash for freedom. It was also the most closely guarded, and if anything this would be where a trap was set to recapture the run down elf.
As they came to the end of the small patch of furs they had been in, the lead elf Jarakin signaled for two of the party to scout ahead. Even a small group could take them by suprise at the gates, with their numerous spots where assasins could secrete themselves.
After about ten minutes of the scouts being gone Jarakin ordered everyone up and ready to move. Getting Kaylin back was important, he had been inside Midgard, and he had escaped. He knew the weaknesses of the border.
With a hand signal from their leader the party moved silently out of the small patch of furs and quickly down the left side of a gravelled road. Many times he had come along this way, many times the rangers had ended conflicts before they had begun by secreting themselves in the sparse trees to either side of the road and ambushing their enemies.
As the group moved quietly along the road they moved into a diamond formation, with their long lost companion in the middle. They moved with a military precision, one that had been honed into them over they many years of fighting their enemies.
Ahead lay the gates, the last bastion of power that the Midgardians had before the front with Hibernia and her blessed keeps. Of the scouts there was no sign, the gates lay closed, the suggestion of death was foreboding. The red stains on the door were a constant memory of battles fought, won and lost at this most perilous of places.
One of the Firbolgs drew his sword at a sound he imagined would come from ahead, even though it would offer no protection against a fast archer attack, but the mere feel of it comforted the giant. Several others also drew their weapons at the sight of a fellow doing likewise.
The first arrow was barely noticed, the form of an elf crumbled behind Jarakin into a small heap on the ground. It had come from out of nowhere and struck the head of the nearest group member, killing him in an instant.
The second flew into the chest of one of the Firbolgs, he collapsed to his knees, but managed to stand again, just in time to be caught by a third which hit his arm and spun him to the ground. He tried to pick himself up once more, pushed with all his might on his remaining good arm but failed at the last and collapsed never to rise again.
Then came the roar of thunder as a large force of men came charging down from the gate at the dwindling elven force. Highlanders and Avalonians alike charged in weapons drawn, spilling the blood of elves and firbolgs equally.
Jarakin grabbed the scruff of Kaylins jerkin and flung him aside, bringing his staff to the fore to protect against his attackers. If he were to go down, he would make damned sure they didnt take his friend before him.
The Albion force finished the last of the Elves, Firbolgs and Celts, then they turned to the last two Elves. A huge looking hulk of a man clad all in platemail, save for his face which remained unadorned with armor approached.
With a swift blow he thre Jarakin's staff aside and threw a punch accross the Elf's face, forcing him to the ground.
"Who is your friend little elf? Who is this that you would put your life ahead of his?"
Jarakin remained silent.
"Let me tell you something elf, out here it is survival of the fittest, and to me he doesnt appear fit. Hell hes not even worthy of serving me food! So tell me, why put your life ahead of his?"
He moved past Jarakin to stand beside the now trembling form of Kaylin.
"Can you speak elf?"
Jarakin lifted his staff and brought it down over the big man's head, knocking him to his knees. His companions acted swiftly, punching and kicking Jarakin to the ground again.
The leader of the men stood up slowly and glowered at his assailant, "For that I will have your head foolish elf!" He drew his sword and signaled for his men to hold Jarakin ready, he strode up to his side and lifted his sword high.
What came next suprised all of the Albion force into complete stupidity, as the previously trembling Elf removed a long shard of metal from the back of their leader, the large man fell to his knees, then flat on his face dead. Kaylin spun unleashing with his shard he had carefully removed from a prison bar, spilling the guts of the nearest avalonian over the road.
The next lost his arm to a series of repeted strokes by the now enraged Elf. He likewise collapsed to the ground, dead from shock.
One of the Highlanders drew his sword and swung, but was soon relieved of his weapon and then run through the throat with it. He too fell to the ground, blood spurting from the grevious wound in his neck.
The fifth was ready though, and spun his swort slightly flinging the shard from the Elf's hands. A quick kick to the torso knocked Kaylin to the floor, following up he raised his sword high, ready to strike. As the sword began to fall, and Kaylin watched his fate descend on him the Highlander was knocked off his feet and into the air, his dead body landed a few feet away amongst his still living companions, who now looked terrified.
The sound of sweet songs could be heard, as the gates were pushed aside, and a contingent of Rangers, Bards and Hero's raced to the aide of the waylayed Elves. At the head of the troupe ran Randar, sword raised and ready for a fight.
The humans seeing themselves outnumbered and harried by the superior Elven and Lurikeen archers turned and ran. The hero's and Ranger's continued the pursuit while the rest of the Hibernians picked up Jarakin and Kaylin and escorted them speedily back to the gates, and the saftey of Hibernian soil.
