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Post by Gurherdir on Jun 30, 2005 0:46:04 GMT
In accordance with his former master's final command, Gurherdir, the mighty wolf, entered the city of Minas Tirith to spread chaos. As the wolf walked through the city streets, children ran up to pet him, but one growl and a showing of teeth sent them running. The children's parents ushered the children inside and yelled, "Someone call the town guard!" and "There's a stray!" Sliding into a back alley where his black coat would mix with the shadows, the wolf knocked over several kegs of ale, and with a nearby torch, ignited them. It was a small begining, especially for one of the noble and powerful werewolves, but it would do. Every dream had to start somewhere, even dreams of all of middle-earth in chaos.
On second thought, Gurherdir thought, Maybe it would be nice if the local guard came. It would be nice to maul someone. He let out a bark that echoed through the alley.
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Post by Envin on Jun 30, 2005 9:59:12 GMT
Reports of a dark shadows flitting about the city with a bent for destruction soon came to the ears of the City Guard, and sending forth members of the Horsed Knights, with Footsoldiers and Archers in support, they scoured Minas Tirith to find this evil. Not difficult to pursue was he, for a track of death left he behind him as he raged. Soon they came upon him as he attempted to cross a dark courtyard, and there they had him, or thought they had, for the archers clomb onto nearby walls and large crates, aiming their bows at him, while the Knights encircled him, the Footmen in close circle behind.
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Post by Gurherdir on Jun 30, 2005 12:34:38 GMT
The wolf took three deep breaths and then without warning, lunged at the nearest guard. His claws sank deep, right through the unlucky guards armor while his jaws sent the head flying across the courtyard. "Not very filling," the wolf said in the tongue of man as he leaped onto the next one and repeated the process as the guards closed in around him. He leaped from one body to the next, not caring about any injuries he may sustain, although these mere mortals could have no hope of harming him.
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Post by Envin on Jul 1, 2005 9:30:13 GMT
Soon nearly two score noble guards had met with a grisly end at the hands of this fiend, and such was their dire need that champions of the King's Winged Guard were sent for, but even they were no match for Gurherdir in a long-sustained grapple. Ever from behind more men thronged to get at the wolf and avenge their brethren, and, though they injured him, his cold blood felt not the pain, and on and on he fought.
Finally, naught else was left unto the men but to send for perhaps the one man alive who could do damage to this foe. Messages were swiftly sent to the Citadel. The High King would come.
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Post by Gurherdir on Jul 1, 2005 13:16:32 GMT
Gurherdir stood on top of one of these so called "Champion's" of the Winged Guard. Such was the wonder of his rage that he didn't feel a single injury, and if he could feel them, he could have figured out he was far from dead. At last, the High King was coming to fight him, at last someone worthy of being killed by him, or so the stories had said. Once this King was killed, and Gurherdir stole the magical sword that he was said to hold, true chaos would reign over Gondor, and he could move on to the next realm. He dragged one clawed foot across the guard's armor beneath him, and a hellish screech filled the air to accompany the pained moaning of the guards who still held on to life. Music to Gurherdir's ears.
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Post by Envin on Jul 1, 2005 15:43:18 GMT
Many had been the days since in hand had Aragorn taken blade, but the stout sinews of Numenor still burned fiercely within him, and, training oft, had he maintained the hardihood of Elendil his father. Arming himself in his good guise as a Ranger, in the quiet brown and dark green, he laid beneath all a light coat of mail, for e'er had his strength been in speed rather than main force. At his right side he belted the knife which good Celeborn had gifted to him, but at his left there was naught hung, for in his strong hand he bore the blade of Westernesse, Narsil the Reforged - Anduril the Pale.
He wore no crown or circlet, and no ornament save the Ring of his father Barahir, and the Evenstar of his Bride, and girding his loins for battle he set out from the Citadel upon noble Roheryn. Riding swiftly through the City streets, he at the last came to the square wherein waited his foe. Aragorn leapt from his steed, bright blade in hand, and sent Roheryn away. Walking up to where fate stared at him, he spoke thusly:
"Beast, if beast thou be - as I have heard thou may speak in the Common Tongue, what dost thou in this haven of peace and tranquility? Hast my people done aught to thee that thou shouldst assail them so greviously, with such reckless hate? Little enow, I daresay. Recant thee, then, this misled assault, and depart ye forthwith, for an we meet in battle, the Halls of Mandos shall open their arms to receive thee straightway, and in pain unmeasurable shall thy passing be. Choose ye now, for wait I shall not."
And so saying Aragorn took the ancient stance of Hasso attack, the Red Style that was favored among the hardy warriors of old Beleriand, and from the fullers down fair Anduril the sun shone red.
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Post by Gurherdir on Jul 1, 2005 15:52:32 GMT
"The Halls of Mandos have no claim on a werewolf of the Great Melkor, but upon mortals such as yourself," the wolf said, and without warning leaped straight at his opponent, claws flashing madly in the air. The jaws of the wolf opened wide, and the saliva dripped forth in anticipation. A good meal at last.
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Post by Envin on Jul 1, 2005 17:37:16 GMT
"Then thy fate is sealed, foul spawn of Morgoth thrice accursed, no longer worthy of the name Melkor." Aragorn replied thus to Gurherdir, and spat upon the ground before him as the wolf came for him. Braced for attack with raundon was Aragorn, and as Gurherdir leapt for him he quickly rolled aside to the left, his right arm swinging behind him as the wolf passed overhead. The pale blade of Anduril sang in the noontide sun, and soared right for the exposed back of his foe as Aragorn evaded his grasp. There was a spattering of acclamation from the Host in observe, and Aragorn came out of his roll springing to his feet. He turned to face Gurherdir with his blade in a defensive posture, taunting him to come for him.
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Post by Gurherdir on Jul 1, 2005 17:44:17 GMT
Gurherdir let the sword strike his back and focused his anger, giving himself more energy. He savagely leaped at the King, burying one of his teeth deep within the mortal's left arm. "You're reign is finished I think," he said, having a little trouble talking on account of his tooth in the arm, "and the reign of chaos is about to begin!"
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Post by vanya on Jul 1, 2005 17:56:05 GMT
A firy arrow swirred through the air and striped the furr of the wolf. "Backoff creature of the night and keep your teeth away from him or the next arrow wount fail you!" a fair voice said calmly. Arwen stood on the top of a wall and hold her bow in her hands, ready to shoot again.
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Post by Gurherdir on Jul 1, 2005 18:00:40 GMT
The wolf withdrew his tooth from the King's arm. "It's amazing how one stray spark can start a bonfire, isn't it?" he asked, and wasn't speaking in metaphore either! Out of a back alley, the fire he had started earlier grew to epic size, engulfing the nearest building.
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Post by Envin on Jul 1, 2005 18:02:53 GMT
But the King of Gondor was not a mere mortal, and fear rarely was his quality. And the speed of Numenor still coursed through his veins. Swiftly ran his thought, and like lightning he kicked the stout beast away, his heavy boot taking the breath from Gurherdir that he must needs retire a space regain himself. In the while, Aragorn thrust Anduril sharply into the ground, and swept from his sheath the blade of Celeborn at his side. Regarding naught for the pain, he sliced into his arm and took a hefty chunk of flesh from where the wolf had bitten him, and such was the sight-blinding speed of young Estel that barely ere the poison coursed through his bloodstream it was removed. But now he was wounded sore and bleeding, and Gurherdir began to regain his composure and circle the King. Aragorn cut his sleeve from his shirt and made it into a bandage about the wound, though not tight enough to lose the arm for loss of blood. He snarled and gritted his teeth against the sheer pain, throwing his knife straight for the wolf's eye, and snatching Anduril he spun about to face Gurherdir's advance.
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Post by vanya on Jul 1, 2005 18:03:29 GMT
Arwen fired directly with the burning arrow at the creature and burried it deep into his furr.
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Post by Gurherdir on Jul 1, 2005 18:06:29 GMT
Gurherdir let loose a wild howl and the blade that was thrown grazed the side of his jaw. He leaped forward, intending to bowl the man over.
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Post by Envin on Jul 1, 2005 18:18:36 GMT
The City guard who were not ordered to maintain a tight circle about the combatants met with men of the town who came bearing buckets and thick blankets, and soon the fire was near controlled. Aragorn smiled amid the struggle, for in the leap of the wolf he might use his strength against him. As Gurherdir came for him from on high, Aragorn allowed himself to fall backward, but held Anduril upward to his full length, and even as evil Shelob was impaled by Samwise, Gurherdir sank of his own volition and his own weight upon the gleaming Dwarven blade. Many feet of steel flew through his frame, exploding organs and spewing blood across the courtyard, and Gurherdir howled, a horrid sound to hear, and the Guard stopt its ears. But Aragorn's teeth remained tightly clenched, and with a quick turn requiring much effort - for Gurherdir was heavy - he angled Anduril to the left and crawled from beneath the beast as he withdrew his blade, smoking black in foul blood.
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