Attack on the lonely Mountain

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

The army of Morsereg was a day and a half away, marching strong in the moonlight.

(I'll do actual counts and stuff when they arrive)

[Faron]

Led by Ashuron riding Arken the Wolf, the Elves of Lothlorien hurried towards the Lonely Mountain. They rushed along the banks of the river Anduin. It was a good 2 days distance to travel to approach the mountain from the west.

Forces of Lothlorien led by Ashuron:
Total: 34,000

15,000 Elven Archers
10,000 Elven Infantry
9,000 Elven Cavalry

[Orrë the Wise]

((Please no one post yet until Siranna does unless it is none of my allies posting their comming...))

The weather effected not the Dwarves and Men of Dale and Erebor. They were used to cold, fridgid and sevear climates in the Mountains and a rainstorm hardly slowed them. If anything, the Orcs of Khand would be most effected! Surely rainfall was close to rare in the plains of Mordor and it's southeron allies. How would they take this?

A messenger approached Orre shouting wildly- "Lorien! Lorien comes to our aid! Sir! Scouts report a mustering of Lorien. They come! The Elves come to us! Mirkwood is expected to muster just down the hill, and Gondor soldiers are also expected to come. We can win this!"

The Dwarf-Lord grinned a toothy grin. "YESSSS! Erebor will not fall this day. No, no... TO WARRRRR!" Orre slammed his hammer down on the ground, another dangerous fissure cracked open in the lines of Khand's archers. Many soldiers fell to their deaths below. "Catapult fire!" Someone shouted. Yet still, down the plain the Dwarves persisted.

From the Lonely Mountain itself the Mountain Giants were summoned. With their Mithril armour on, they picked up enormous boulders and hurrled them into the lines of Arnor and Khand while their attention was turned to the reinforcements. Yet, some clever Giants took aim at the catapults. Several fell to the boulder fire quickly. The Archers took their own positions on the mountain as well, and threw their axes into the unexpecting enemy lines. Even with all of the strength of Mordor, Moria, Arnor, Angmar, and Khand, the forces of Gondor, Erebor, Mirkwood and Lorien were far stronger. Numbers do not win battles, this was true, but the advantage the good forces had was astonishing. No! These fools stood no chance.

(Again, please, no one else post.)

[Alcorad]

The hosts of Mordor and Moria were not far behind, marching diligantly around the borders of Lorien. They would arrive at Erebor at the coming of evening.

[~Tom~]

(Actually that was movement not attacks , and Lancir hasnt fired off an arroew yet so they were movements . So really you got first blood and attacked us. so guess what we can go kick ur ass)

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

The army of Angmar arrived, foul cries ringing in the air, 30,000 strong. At their head, Maugrim ran as if the fiery whips of a Balrog were behind him. He was followed by 2,000 Spectral Wargs, 2,000 Duskwraiths, 1,000 Warriors of Carn Dum, 1,000 Warlords of Carn Dum, 1,000 Snow Trolls, 2,000 Spectres, and 1,000 Revenants.

Slightly to the side, Dwar marched with his host. 2,000 Barrow-Wights, 1,500 Snow Trolls, 500 Spiders of Avathar, 3,000 Orcs, and 3,000 Orc Archers.

Akhorahil rode with the Wargs. 2,000 Warg Riders and 2,000 Warg Riding Archers rode up with him, while behind marched another 3,000 Orcs and 1,000 Archers, along with the final 2,000 Revenants.

Behind all of them marched the 200 Catapults, completely manned.

Above all the army robe Morsereg atop his Fell Beast, and Alucard flying beside him. Morsereg drew his sword in the air, shouting to the army below, "Today, we take Erebor! Destroy him, my pets! This mountain shall be destroyed. I want to see none left standing!" The Fell Beast of Morsereg swooped to the ground for him to stand firm infront of his massed army, Alucard standing besides him. Morsereg removed his cloak and shirt, to stand there in his pants with sword in hand. "Let's kill some Dwarves,"

[~Tom~]

After the attack on the Arnorians they retaliated the pulled back there bows and released volley after volley into the Giants causing man to scream in pain as they fell into the ditch. The catapualts then fired the load upon the dwarvern host casuing many craters in there formations casuign some ment o scatter.

[Orrë the Wise]

Dwarves fell left and right atop the mountain from crossfire, yet the Dwarves of Erebor held fast! The Mountain Giants were doing well, however. In the pouring rain caused by Lancir, the dreadful aim of the Numenorians and the Khandan Orcs worsened! The Mithril Armour the Giants wore protected their sensitive flesh from arrows in the main parts of their body, while the enemy was very rarely able to get a clear shot into the vulnerable areas of the armour. Lancir would have to let up the storm in order for their archers to get a good shot.

These beasts continued to hurl the large boulders into the enemy lines. "Aim for the catapults!" A Dwarf-captain shouted over the commotion. This command was repeated over and over again, and the Giants refocused their attacks on the Anorian Catapults. Now, many fell from rock fire overhead... The Catapults could not withstand the hardcore rolling of an Erebor stone!

Down bellow Orre rose up his hammer, which gleamed serenely. As if by magic, the allied forces around him began to fight harder and had more endurence than ever before! They forced their way through the Anorian and Khand lines, breaching their permiter around the Mountain in this spot.

Wait! What was this? From the air came a defening roar as Korr the Dragon flew into battle, his Mithril Armour shining brilliantly over his vital organ areas. All around the men, Elves, and Orc alike paused to gain in fear of this legendary creature of old. Yet it was the Dwarves who fought on. As used to Korr as they were, his presence did not mean fear, it ment courage! "FIGHT ON, ALLIES OF EREBOR! Korr is here to aid us!" Orre shouted into the frey, slamming his hammer vicously into the skull of an Anorian Soldier.

The Dragon roared in anger at the threat to his ancient homeland and dove in for a kill. He got nearly fifteen. Clutching these Khand orcs in his talons, he flew high up and then dropped them back into the enemy lines. The beast then went in for another, and another, and another, each time catching more and more.

The Mountain Ogres growled loudly, running head-long into the thick of battle. Their enormous swords swung, chopping off two to three, somtimes even four heads clear off the helpless bodies of the enemy units.

The Soldiers on the ground fought on! Brave and boasted from Orre's magik, they were, for they made their way now deep into the enemy lines. "GONDOR COMES!" A scout cried, closely followed by an astonishing cheer in glory from the allies. Together, with everyone, they would win. The darkness was outnumbered by at least ten thousend, and other things were comming into play that would give the forces of light the edge by a huge factor- Korr. He alone would cause many to run, especially Men. No man except for those in Dale and Lake Town had seen one before. With the shouts of good tidings to the forces of good, this would only scatter the enemy forces. Lancir's storm was another. This scryed the vision of all, true, however the attackers would not be able to kill the crucial arial forces on the Lonely Mountain like the Giants. Another factor was the location. Erebor was a rocky terrain. The Dwarves were masters of this area and made it all the more dangerous for the enemies... The Ogres in themselves were a tide-changer. These brutes were worse on foot than any other unit the allies had. No. This battle, however narrow, would be a significant loss to the followers of darkness... Yet, it would be the beginning of a longtime war, Orre knew....

((The factors mentioned above are true. Numbers dont win a battle, yeah, but we outnumber you by over ten thousend. Also, we have all of the proper factors on our side. I am NOT rubbing this in your faces, because you have fought well, I am just saying this for those who just 'skim' over battle posts and are stubborn. If I was you, I honestly would retreat for the better good of force-loss... *please don't begin an arguement either. If you have ANY questions or comments, then by all means PM me.))

[~Tom~]

Murazor roared orders left right and center the fear for there Dark General was far greater then that of a stupid dragon dressed in Mithril . They soon took formation in a wedge shape with spearsd at the fornt sticking out and Archers behind who Sent volley after volley at the Dwarvern lines many would fall from stray arrows that hit there flesh .

From the back of it the Calvary force delt a sufficent blow to the right and left flanks of the dwarved and slowly the Numenorians had them enclosed in a circleular shape with wedges of men going to the center causing the dwarfs to lose hope against the increasing danger of death heading there way .

And to boost Morale there dark general yelled out in a somewhat inspiring tone considering the situatrion " Our allies come to aid us fight on " and with that the Arnorian courage was all renewed and they faught harder and harder and now the dwarfs became a little less confident of there prowess.

Son they would be joined by some of the greatest legions Middle Earth had seen , the Numenorians of dark heritage were the best Mordor ahd to offer and they came in a great number, the black tide was all but ready to wash away the dwarvern forces.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

(Angmar's there too LMAO)

Morsereg stood in the rain, while his soldiers just continued to await the battle. They were used to the cold and the harsh weathers of Angmar, the rain was no hinderance to them. "Fear not the Dragon!" Morsereg called to his troops, and with a fell screech he looked above to see his Fell Beast swooping at Korr, scratching first at the creatures eyes before it spiraled under its stomach, scratching there as well.

"Get the dragon," He spoke swiftly to Alucard, who rocketed into the air to engage in a fierce combat with Korr. Morsereg stood firm infront of his army, "Kill them all," He ran straight into the battle, sword gleaming in the moonlight, craftsmanship of Aule. Where he went, heads were parted from their bodies, and Dwarves froze to stone on the spot.

The warriors of Morsereg's army charged in, weapons clashing in the wind, crude armor being struck. Archers lined themselves from the battle, aiming with well-practiced precision, striking their targets as often as possible with their poison-tipped arrows. The Cavalry circled the edges of the battle, running in when was needed. The spiders teamed with the Snow Trolls, for it was how they had been trained. The spiders lurked in the darkness, stabbing Dwarves with their venomous stingers. As the Dwarves fell to the ground, the great Snow Trolls would crush their bodies.

Catapults launched their rocks towards the mountain, towards the Ogres. The forces of Morsereg were truly one to be reckoned with, full of Spectral Demons and the most horrific creatures to have walked Middle-Earth. Morsereg himself was even more of a nightmare, taking the life of every enemy that came his way, to the point where as he walked, statues littered the battlefield.

[Alcorad]

The clouds above Erebor were darkening as they travelled above the Black Tide of Moria and Mordor like a hexed demon of the nether regions taking upon itself a new form to rival the magicks of Orre. The shadows approaching seemed to hum in low voices until at length the hums rose into chants, menacing to the ears and intimidating to those who would dare to attempt to turn Mordor from its course. Behemoth shapes could be made out among the ranks of Goblins, Orcs, and Men. Trolls were among them... and Giants of Various breeds. Alcorad had sent a mighty host forward to eliminate Erebor comprised of sixty thousand in total. For now he would support the second born son in his campaighn against the dwarven mountains for he to had plans for it that could come about much more easily if one who had already come into contact with him and given him their allegance ruled it.

Along the ranks of Mordor there was a low murmur beneath Arda's surface. Something had been summoned forth from the deeps to aid in contending with the great gates of Erebor. Above the great quaking their also was three Fell Beasts for the battle and upon the one at their head sat Alcorad with Theatana and Jadyis at either of his sides. Their abilities would come in handy aswell and with their skill combined with the ferocity of the ancient giants, those great behemoths that were so imputent as to take to the skies would feel the cold sting of their claws.

The ranks of Mordor were split into various factions and at their head were the infantry of the Dark Numenoreans, powerful men with evil hearts and greater malice than many who were so esteemed as to lead an army of orcs. They alone bore more contempt towards the other races of Middle Earth than the Leiutinant of Morgul, Gothmog himself. As they came close they held the Arnorien banner high or at least an imitation and behind them the orcs were heavily armored and their faces hidden by sinister helms, some of Gondorians that had been looted and taken from the slain in ages past.

Alongside the Dark Numenoreans and Orcs rode the Dark Riders of Mordor, more Dark Numenoreans but these were on ferocious Fell Steeds who's abilities in battle were terrifying to behold and their difficulty to tame even moreso. They had been nurtured in the Vale of Fell Steeds and could only be mastered by the most sinister of horsemen for they had once been the mounts of the Nine Black Riders, their entire population now brought about. From their nostrils spouted flames and their hulking bodies were armored to their proportions and upon the armor were fell Morgul Spells, dark runes to ward away any enchantment of westerness placed upon their enemies.

At the opposite side of the Orcs was the Goblin host and they too were arrayed in Mithril armor and sinister helms like those of the orcs that guised their faces behind a veil of radiance, beauty, and deception. They were skilled fighters, swift and nimble to counter the slower speed of the stalky dwarves, and although their strength could not match those of Erebor, the poison laced on their arrows and blades could for even the most minor damage to them would kill them due to the terrible effects of the Alimorka's venom, a deadly cave-dwelling serpent that infested the moist lower chambers of Khazad-dum's mountains.

Seperated from the rest coming from a bit further south were the Spiderlings of Moria, Spider Riders of Moria, and Warg Riders of the Black Land. They had mustered under the orders of the Dark Captain Anorgash, one of Alcorad's most feircome servants. His black eyes scanned the horizon, the veil of Alcorad's sorceries already engulfing the light of day and bringing darkness upon the plain. As the battle began to come into the fray he would send the spider riders onto the craggy mountain walls of Erebor and send the Wargs to pick off the incoming enemy cavalry. It would be a day to be remembered. The day the true might of Mordor would be revealed.

The central host made their way the rear ranks of Morsereg, the great drummer trolls of the Hills Armored with sharp scythes at the bottom of their beaters and alongside them the Stone Giants and Mountain Giants, and alongside them the Olog-hai and Half-Troll Marauders. The Behemoths were mixed with the orcs and goblins, designated to the factions that suited them best, the steady beat of Mordorian war drums bringing many arms up high and a loud clamor of swords and sheild. Nay, these were not orc rabble, these were of Alcorad's breed and desighns and they would not be bested so easily.

He had come. Alcorad circled overhead upon his beast surveying the surroundings with his crimson eyes. It was as he did so that he spotted Korr and even then he recognized him as the dragon in the distance, the one whome had born Orre away from Mordor. "The runt of a greater breed." he spat in contempt. "Such a feeble specimen of Melkor's desighns shall not undo the guardian of Barad-dur let alone my ancient beasts of the days long past. Let the Dragon come. Jadyis and Theatana shall dispatch him while I tend to Orre. If the little dragon is here then so is his little master."

Even still the Mordorian ranks poured on now into those that would break the gates of Erebor for amongst the ranks of the Orc Pikemen that lined the rims of the Orc and Goblin hosts, there were Catapults three lines behind them and alongside them there were sappers. Alcorad was planning something. There was a way to break down the Gate of Erebor and given the correct persicion and the correct timing, he could do it. Saruman's sorceries would serve him well as they had served Saruman well at the battle of the Hornburg but even still to no avail. Alcorad on the other hand was no fool and there was no white Istari to hinder him. Only some foolish dwarf with a big head and an ego to match.

(btw please dont say the enemies spells were used against them and not you... thats just wrong. other than that YAY)

[Faron]

Approaching from the west, the Army of the Golden Wood moved in swiftly, archers drawing their bows as they approached and warriors drawing blades.

"We'll start by being cautious," Ashuron said to one of his captains while they charged forward upon their mounts, "Line the close combatants up front with the archers behind, but do not move in close enough for melee yet. We want to draw the enemies attacks long enough to get a messanger to or from the Lord of the Mountain to find out what's really going on here." The captain bowed as best he could from atop a horse and turned around, proceeding to inform all the others. "... and if the Valar are benevolent this day, our allies will arrive soon," the Lord of Lorien added. By the time they had neared the mountain, the elves had formed the planned ranks.

The Elves stood silent as their Lord stood before them. "I could stand here and make a long-winded speech to inspire you to great deeds of valor in combat," Ashuron roared to his audience, "but that would be pointless. You are Elves of Lothlorien. Go. Fight. Win. After we've protected these Dwarves from their invaders, our boarders should be safe," and then the next part Ashuron added with a laugh, "Just don't mistake a Dwarf for a stone and try to climb on it. They don't like that I'm told." The Hosts of Lorien roared with laughter.

From atop his wolf mount, Ashuron drew his longbow. As he took aim at the armies that surrounded the mountain, Ashuron muttered a silent prayer and ended with, "For the peace of Middle-earth," and released his arrow. At once, every Archer of Lorien released their arrows as well, sending them hurtling towards the mass of enemies. And thus Lorien joined the fray.

OOC: Could someone draw up a map of where everyone's armies are in relation to the Mountain? I'm a little confused.

[Orrë the Wise]

Red=Arnor, Black=Angmar, Olive=Erebor, Orange= Khand, Yellow=Lorien, Dark Red=Gondor. I left Mirkwood out because apparently Siranna won't be joining us. She posts but not to my threads, and Lancir and Murazor said they circled the mountain... There is no way so they are stationary now. And stop saying you beat back my men, Murazor. >.<; It's annoying. You aren't a dark lord and that surely isn't enough to cause fear in the armies. And Alcorad, you havent broken my lines. You came near last and arent in the front. ^-^))

Korr roared as the Fell Beast went for his eyes, yet a swift jerk away caused him to miss. The Mithril Armour protected his underside as it now went for his stomach. The Dragon let out a breath of fire that encircled the clumsy Fell Beast and grabbed at it's exposed underneck. It then dove back into the frey below, dragging it's claws along the front lines of the Snow Trolls from Angmar, slashing and goring many.

The Mountain Giants atop the Lonely Mountain continued to hammer their boulders into the Anorian and Khand Catapults, surely there was no more by now! Angmar and those of Mordor would have to handle this now... But alas! At the sides and back they were, while Lancir and Murazor's usless men toppled over one another as cannon fire overhead bombarded their meak ranks.

Orre pointed his hammer at the tremmor he built around Erebor those many weeks ago. It was nearly filled with water, but it began to move! It inched forward with haste, taking with it dozens of Murazor's men. Then, as if nothing happened, it slunk back into place. The Dwarf-Maiar stopped to take a breather, and then continued to fight.

Lorien! The Elves had entered the battle. Orre made his way accross the battlefeild towards the captain of these men. "Lord Ashuron! Take out the armies of Mordor and Moria in the rear as they march up the battlefeild. Angmar comes from the west, and those are now the ones to worry about." He nodded gruffly, patted the Elf kindly on the shoulder in thanks, and then sprinted back into the battle, leaping over a dismembered Anorian Soldier. A scout was sent out to inform Lord Aragorn that Murazor was now in the head of the Arnor's Army. Arathorn was a deciever!

The Mountain Ogres were intrusted into position to handle the bulky parts of Angmar's army such as the remaining Trolls. They were accompanied by the Cave Trolls, also heavily armoured and raring to go. These brutes smashed into the fresh legions of the Witch King, hammering back the lines, if only for the beginning of their fight together. The Ogres were twice as big as Angmar's best Olog-Hai, and it made them all the easier to kill. The Trolls went at it together in brutal and gorey ways. Clubbs thunked on heads, Trolls grunted with anger...

But what was this? Orre flew into battle. Yes! Flew! Atop Korr he came, plundering the lines of Angmar's back catapults. The Dragon took another go at the catapults before slashing into the fresh flesh of the ghosty-type spirits near the middle. Then Korr flew up high, looking around for the object of his desire... There it was! Alcorad. It dove into the Beast from above, gorring at it's unprotected areas and breathing a heavy load of fire into it's face. Orre swung his hammer into the beast's stomach as hard as he could. "Devils of Melkor! Here you shall die today!"

[Envin]

After many a long day of hard marching, the Host of the West had finally entered Wilderland, and continuing swiftly north and east they came nigh unto the River Running. There they halted, while the scouts and the Rangers made their way carefully forward. The Host was still massed in the trees not far from old Laketown, and such was the concentration of the enemy that the presence of Gondor’s army was not detected. Aragorn snorted, the scent of coppery blood high in the air. At least we shall have some surprise on them, thought he. He began to array his forces. Barbarians would lead the charge with their pikes, behind the Winged Guard, elite warriors who bred terror in foes, and he himself at the front. The Archers would stand behind the charging Host and loose their arrows and darts as the Barbarians traveled the ground, and the Miners would array themselves behind all, and fill the enemy ranks with death. Aragorn knew where his charge would take him: straight into the mass of Barrow-Wights, for alone in Middle-earth could he hold them at bay, and in the press of them he knew he would attract the attention of Morsereg.* Aragorn had a mind to loose the Knights and the Infantry upon one of the nearby flanks the enemy, but awaited the lay of the land from the scouts ahead.

*Hint, hint – Tony.

[~Tom~]

Murazors sword started to give off a faint red glow , until finally it burst into a beauty of fire that danced round the sword . And he started to cut his way through dwarfs and beast as his power was forced intot he sword which was now strong enough to cut through even the finest armour .
Although his blade was strong with the fire of his furnace heart it now made him stick out more and cause dwarfs to flee from the terrorfying blade which was powered by some dark magic from the depts of darkness . He wore know armour thinking it was but no use to him nut he wore a grand black cloak which was finely crafted .

He looked up confident the dwarfs ahd fled from his and was fighting his army . He oculd make out different shapes in the air chasing each other often trying to force one down back to the ground below which would mean certain death.