Attack on the lonely Mountain

[Valdrik]

Valdrik smirked in delight of the Elf's tactics. It was so rare to find a truely worthy foe to fight against (He knew just as well as Asuron that one would not be found in the ranks of the stunted dwarves). He let loose of his sword, it doing him no good for any matter as long as the elf held it between his blades, and turned. Yet, he did not turn to avoid the kick, rather he turned straight into it. He tightened his abdomen and crouched as Ash's foot collided with him. The impact would surely leave a bruise, but that would just be somthing to remind him later of a good fight. With Ash's leg now caught in his arms he heaved upwards with all his might in an attempt to throw the Elf upon his back... and free his sword in the process.

[Faron]

Valdrik's heave sent Ashuron hurtling through the air, the fact that Valdrik would let go of his sword had not been one of the predictions he would have made and thus threw off all the presumptions he had been working under. As he flew, he tried to throw the man's sword as far away from their melee as he could, but being as it was trapped between swords, not hands, he could only send it flying about 3 feet behind him. The Elven Lord quickly leaped to his feet and charged forward. However, a stray arrow had wandered into the combat so he had to quickly step back to avoid being stuck by the arrow. Then he started his charge again, but unfortunately he had lost the added benefit force from his leap onto his feet.

[Envin]

The advance upon the Host of the West by the foul brood in Angmar was hindered by the mass of evil athwart their path, and so Aragorn had time enough to loose his Knights and much of his Infantry around the right flank of Lorien and then Arnor and Khand, and so succor the Dwarves of Erebor from the southeast.

In the while, the main of Gondor braced for a heavy assault from Angmar, for the grudge between The Lords Aragorn and Morsereg was an old and a bitter one. Aragorn arrayed his defenses for an assault, and snarling at Angmar the proud men of the West did not falter. The Barbarians were arrayed in the very front, and in their hands were clasped pikes of tremendous girth and length, cruelly sharpened. Behind them at a distance were lined the archers, and they (and the Miners, stationed behind), were even now pouring death into the advancing ranks of Angmar. Right behind the first lines of Barbarians, Aragorn and his Winged Guard lay in wait, filled with the thrill of the hunt this marvelous red day.

(Tony, don't post any more to the Angmar/Gondor battle, will ya? I have to log for a bit but I have more to say...)

[Orrë the Wise]

Orre smirked as they flew over the Mordorian Catapults. He rose his hammer and a fissure appeared on the ground. Not very big, but enough to absorb the ricketty Mordor Catas.

The Dwarven Units, tired from their battle with the Anorians and Khandans, not the catapult fire, marched to the aid of their CLOSE allies to the east. The Dwarven units merged into the Elven ones.

Korr flew up into the air and faced the arial beasts again, ready for more.

[Envin]

Aragorn had left one of his Captains in charge of the assault to the east, and had split the fire of the Miners. Half of them now launched their firey missiles upon the forces of Arnor and Khand, while the other sped the catapults into the advancing Angmar host. And even now from the east, charging at terrifying speed, the Knights of Gondor slammed full tilt into the armies of Khand and Arnor, and as no one but Angmar as yet knew of Gondor's presence, Lancir and Murazor's hosts were taken by complete surprise. For now as the Knight drove a wedge of cavalry betwixt their foes, the footsoldiers came up behind with their stout swords and shields, and laid waste upon the field.

The forces that remained in wait for Angmar were the full strength of the Barbarians, half of the Miners, all of the Archers and Rangers, and a portion of the Knights and Infantry, besides the Winged Guard and the High King himself. The Knights, along with Aragorn and his Guard, waited behind the Barbarians and their pikes, for to rush into Angmar's throat when the collision came. And as the Hosts collided, flames and poisons came from the Archers and the Rangers, and great stones and flaming pots of oil from the Miners.

Aragorn rushed out onto the field as the front lines of each army met, making straight for the Barrow-Wights as his Guard came behind, and he brought terror unleashed to the Spirits of Carn Dum. He swung his great blade high into the air, and bringing soaring Anduril down he clove three asunder at a stroke. The heads of many more fell in rapid succession, and fear began to clutch at the undead throats of his foes. Now here Anduril caught the brilliant rays of the Sun, and cast them all about the foothills of the Lonely Mountain, and a cheer went up all across the field. For some it was despairing, but for others it brought hope, for now men cried "GONDOR HAS COME!" And as the Barbarians worked upon Angmar with dispatch, their great, throaty song rose high into the air: "For Gondor, and for the King! Bright Anduril shines! We shall match his fire!"

And death flew round about the host of Angmar that day, black blood smoking upon swords and shields, and orcs reeling to the earth. Men screamed great death-screams of war, and orcs shrieked in pain. By now the Knights had charged at full speed into Angmar, and had nearly cloven their vanguard asunder with their sheer speed, and behind them came streaming the Infantry and the Rangers, who had now taken sword. Still the Archers poured arrows into the rear of Angmar, and still the Miners let loose their great engines.

And now as Dindaedel came to the earth, Aragorn cast his eye up to his foe, and with a great sweep cleared a large area of Wights. He bowed low with great ceremony. "Bragol, it does my heart wonders to see thee again! Hast thou been well these days past? Thy steed's neck is in need of some ... lessening!" And as the fell beast swooped down to the field in reckless career, Aragorn leapt on high, and crying out Elendil! he brought down his pale Dwarven steel, and with a sickening crunch and an explosion of blood the head of the beast flew many yards away. The body, founting blood upon the field, collapsed to the ground, and Aragorn grinned at Morsereg as he rose from the wreck.


Figured you can always have another fell beast somewhere - had to do the Eowyn bit.

[Kalas Misolen]

Kalas Sat high on The mountain watching the battle with a group of archers he smiled and raised his sword
"VOLLEY TOWARDS THE GONDORIANS AND HALF INTO THE SKY AT THE DRAGON.
Lower down lancir watched the dwarves fal he aslo watched his army buth e didnt care he kept fighting he wouldn't retreat unless his own life was threatened and surrounded by dwarves he wasn't
"Come my forces make easy work of these hated dwarves"
he yelled as he sliced three dwarves heads off.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg rose, eyes glaring with hatred at Aragorn. "Thorongil," He smirked, walking forward, pushing Orc and Man alike from his path as he walked to the lord of Gondor, until he stood feet from him. "I assume that is not your true name, as Bragol is not mine." A laugh rang from his cold mouth as he drew his sword, locking his cold stony eyes with those of 'Thorongil'.

"Morsereg Dindaedel. The Black Istari, Doomsman of the Valar, and among elves Bragolamarth, the Sudden Doom." He gave the full introduction, bowing slightly, "Pleased to meet you," He mocked, knuckles whitening around his swords hilt.

The Orcs clashed with the men of the West, taking down as many as their foul scimitars could cleave. Roars rang through the air as the Snow Trolls batted away as many as five Gondorians at a time. The Wights, and their other Spectral bretheren, were the trumph cards, however. Taking lives wherever they went, they were truly a force to be reckoned with, afraid of nothing, simply pushing into the Gondorian army. The Revenants killed as they walked, sapping the courage from most of the proud men, while the Duskwraiths fought with vengeance.

"Do you really wish for it to end this way, Thorongil?" He laughed, and then finally he noticed the Gondorian flag, and at last the sword Anduril. "Yes. That's it." A smirk lit his face in a cruel, sadistic manner, "Aragorn Elessar, son of Arathorn, King of Gondor."

Thus, with the firm realization having been set down, the two clashed, swords clanging in the air. As the two mights fought, the true embodiments of evil and of good, all of Arda seemed to come to a halt. Even the Valar, leagues away in Valinor, stopped watching the defenses of Orre, their emissary, or of Alcorad, the servant of Melkor.

Now their eyes rested on the prodigy of Mandos, who had learned everything his master had to offer. Never had there been a more skilled mastery of the arts of Life and Death. As they waited with baited breath, the Doomsman of the Valar clashed with the Lord of Gondor.

[Orrë the Wise]

The Dwarves screamed at eachother in somewhat confusion. The main problem in battles was communication. It was so for everyone. "Regroup!" They shouted. The gates of Erebor creaked open slowly.The Dwarves forced their way through the battlefield, over the countless bodies of Dwarf, Elf, Man, and Orc alike. Battered and war-weary as they all were, they reformed their lines from Catapult fire as best they could.

Over a small fifty-yard patch of land Orre moved in the fissure for an opening, the Dwarves filled in to regroup. Through the open doors came a spill of Mountain Giants and Fire Drakes. Now the enemy would feel the sting of the Lonely Mountain! The Drakes rushed forwards, sprinting through the battle with extreme and highly unnatural speed. They lit a'flame, as instructed, the catapults of Moria and Mordor that they found, since the boulders were made of oil, the fire would spread fast to the entire machine.

Orre whispered once more into the Dragon's ear as Korr got several Khandan arrows lodged in his rear leg. He dropped the Dwarf off at the regrouped area of Erebor forces and flew away from the battle to clean his wounds."To the skies!" Orre shouted. The Archers of Dale sent volley after volley towards Mordors wicked Fell Beasts.

[Envin]

The Knights of Gondor, and her Footsoldiers as well, bore immense tower shields of thickest steel, and a petty volley of arrows would deter them but little. They simply held up their shields above their head and pressed on, swords piercing the necks of Orcs, and lances running through foes upon foes at a time. Now they felt their way cautiously about the northern left flank of Khand and Arnor, dealing death as they sped.

But they and all the rest of those upon the field halted, and glanced to the south, for there came a great boom as the weapons of Morsereg and Aragorn met. At the first stroke, Aragorn gave not his full strength to the swing, and when Morsereg hit Anduril with his full strength, Aragorn summoned his will and pushed the Doomsman backward. He curtsied to Dindaedel. "Thy servant, sir! I know thee to be that fiend Dindaedel, styling himself the Son of Mandos. Think thee that thy father watches thee and protects thee? Mayhap he is. But my father is the father of thine, and only righteousness such as mine shall he reward. Thy father shall not protect thee when Eru forsakes thee, and the door to the Void closes upon thee. Shall we entertain them?"

And he hurled himself at Dindaedel, the soaring sword of his fathers spinning in the air like so much flashing light. Back and forth like blades of grass in a gale flew their strokes, for now Morsereg swung at Aragorn's head and found his blow met, and Aragorn matched him with a quick reposte, but his strike was glanced aside by the swiftness of Dindaedel's arm. And then Morsereg strikes devilishly hard with Aragorn's arm, but rolling forward the King hacks at Morsereg's legs.

And the Barbarians swarm about the field, ever pushing at the hosts of Angmar, and the Knights charge the Snow Trolls and fell many of the foul beasts. The Rangers, sword in hand, slam into the southern flank of Angmar, and the Archers, now that the range work is done, catch up their blades and hurl themselves into the fray. But the Winged Guard proved themselves this day, for wearing and wearing upon the Wights and the Spectral Soldiers with their dazzling combat, they also sing in lusty, loud voices the songs of ancient Arnor, the songs of Bombadil, and lays of forgotten Arthedain, and frighten the Wights horribly.

But in the center of the massive conflict, Aragorn and Morsereg are caught in deadly battle, the wrath and the battle-lust upon them, and fey they seem, consumed by the spirit of war, giving as good as the other takes, meeting stroke for stroke and blade for blade. The blackness of Morsereg's blade is matched by the dazzlingly crystal rays of the Sun that are caught in Anduril's sheen, and through the break in the clouds that Anar reaches to touch the sword the Father of all upon the field gazeth, and who now shall he favour with victory?

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg smirked as he matched Aragorn blow for blow, worrying not now for his army. This battle alone mattered to him as the two swapped strikes, blocked no matter the swing.

"My father protects me not, does he?" A sole laugh rang through the air as Aragorn swung mightily at Morsereg's head. He merely rose his arm, grabbing the sword in his grip. As a steady flow of blood splashed against the ground, he pushed Anduril from his grip, revealing a bloody hand. Unhindered, he swung at Aragorn, the blow which was quickly blocked. "My father shall always protect me, fool. As I left Valinor, he cursed me. Now it is only my own blade that shall kill me," He jumped backwards, away from Aragorn for a moment.

"Are you familiar with my brother, Alcorad?" Ducking underneath another swing of Aragorn's sword, he dealt a bash from his elbow into the mighty king's stomach before rising and slashing towards his head. "Do not for a second compare our battle prowess," He shook his head, forever calm, even in the midst of battle, "For I outleague him in more ways than you can possibly imagine."

[Alcorad]

Orre's hosts were rash and bold for they had neglected many aspects of Mordor's defenses and fallen directly into the traps set by Shranka. As the dwarves joined the fray of wargs and elves, the Black Cavalry of Mordor trampled through their ranks with the hulking bodies of their steeds, delivering death like a pleague. Polearms were thrust forth into the necks of the dwarven warriors. Eyes were gouged, bodies impaled, and head cleaved from dwarven shoulders. Fire all the while was snorted from the skeletal beasts' nostrils striking fear and hesitation into those that would oppose them. While the stout forms of the dwarves.

Chaos was unleashed among the third ranks of the Mordorian hosts as Orre's fissure travelled across the lines and curved here and there, taking catapults, orcs, and trolls into its wake. It closed around them and crushed their bodies soaking the ground in black blood but even still the drums of Mordor roared on and volley after volley mixed with the continuous projectile fire being delivered from the catapults. The sky was dark and red for the flaming boulders fired from the plated catapults had stained the sky with fire.

"Line formation!" Shranka shouted as the smaller fire drikes spread into the pikes of Mordor's front lines, allowing their speed to get the best of them and their wit to fall from their sleeves. Many were speared on the spot in the neck and in their sides, meeting the cold fate of steel pushing into their softer skin and ripping their vital organs apart. While some did manage to breach the lines of pikes, their fire was to no avail against the iron plated catapults. They would have to do much more than that. As they blew intense flames many were burned alive, falling to the ground in agony, dying on the ground. The hosts of Mordor could not attend to the wounded for their lives did not matter. Those who died would simply be replaced. During the time that the Drakes' speed lessened as they dispersed their flames and were caught among the crowded ranks of the orcs, they were pleagued with poisoned arrows, vibrant red blood seeping from their skin as their bodies fell limp to the ground. The order had been given. The hosts dispersed and the behemoths of the Morian and Mordorian forces were sent forth to contend with those of Erebor. The Olog-hai matched with the ogres while Moria's own Stone Giants, Mountain Giants, and Cave trolls rushed ahead to hinder the Mountain Giants that had been transported to Erebor while the famed archers of Arnor and the skillful warriors of Khand fired arrow after arrow into the Mountain Giants' hide.

The battle that took place in the air raged onward, Fell Beasts encircling the enemy dragon swiftly, using both sides of Archer fire to their advantage. While some arrows fit into the creases in their mithril armor bringing about a storm of black blood upon the lines below, many also peppered Korr, even those of the dwarves for the Fell Beasts agility bested that of Korr's although the dragon had the power. As the volley of the dwarves came nigh, the Fell Beasts of As Korr descended Theatana, Murazor, Alucard, and Jadyis dispersed returning to take the battle unto the armies of Erebor instead of Korr and Orre themselves.

"Do not hide from your doom within the ranks of your lackies or I shall rip you from the embrace of the hand the feeds you and deliver you to the cold snares of death! Come to me and let us do battle on foot!" The dwarves had suffered many casualties regrouping. Orre was being to bold... he couldn't hold this up forever.

[Orrë the Wise]

The battle that took place in the air raged onward, Fell Beasts encircling the enemy dragon swiftly, using both sides of Archer fire to their advantage. While some arrows fit into the creases in their mithril armor bringing about a storm of black blood upon the lines below, many also peppered Korr, even those of the dwarves for the Fell Beasts agility bested that of Korr's although the dragon had the power. As the volley of the dwarves came nigh, the Fell Beasts of Theatana, Alcorad, and Jadyis lured the archer fire in front of Korr and dived away at the last moment, causing a majority of the dwarven fire to pepper friendly units. "Come down and fight me on foot away from your dragon, Orre!" Alcorad shouted in a bloodlust bringing his beast about around the dragon.

((You yell at me for not reading in the PM yet you post this? Read my past post.))

Orre smashed his hammer into the knees of a Mordorian Troll, which roared in agony and fell to it's crippled death place on the ground. Death was everywhere.... Many Dwarves had fallen this day on the plains of Erebor, and many more were falling by the minute. The Mountain Giants and Trolls, along with the Ogres were tolding their own positions tightly, battling in vain against the equally-strong and willing Moria beasts.

The Fire Drakes, having done their job, and an awsome one at that, retreated back into the Mountain and the gate closed shut behind them.

The Dwarven and Dale Infantry held up their sheilds as the horsemen came upon them, yet still many were slaughtered. The Calvalry attack finally slowed and the Archers were ordered to fire. "Aim for the horses!" They shouted to one another, releasing vollies of arrows towards the horses.

[Alcorad]

The constant opening and closing of the gate had allowed some of the Arnorien and Easterling warriors within the inner sanctum of Erebor. The Giants and Trolls lept away from their counterparts and dove in with newfound strength, kicking down with their legs and attempting to trip many of the trolls. Battle was raging and locked, never ceasing for a moment.

As the cavalry charged through the ranks of dwarves and men, they were hit with volley after volley of arrows. They lifted their horse sheilds at them as if shooing away some pesky swarm of insects although these were far more deadly than the pesky knats of Gorgoroth. Many of the horsemen fell to their doom amongst the ranks of Erebor but still the majority of the cavalry made their way across the ranks of the dwarf and man circling back in for another assult and trampling into the lines a second time, meeting archer fire as they came from the men of Dale.

[Orrë the Wise]

The enemy that managed to get within the Gates of Erebor found only death. Bioling Oil buckets were dumped over them from above, and several archers took aim before firing.

The Mountain Giants, Ogres, and Trolls of Erebor fought on, alongside Orre as he lept through and slashed out at enemies that dared come near him.

Still the Mordorian Cavalry trampled through the lines of the Dwarves, yet the Archers of Dale and the Axemen threw their vollies even stronger at them as they passed, eager to kill what threatened their friends and allies.

The horn of the Dwarves sounded over the battlefield, calling for their Lorien Allies... Anything....The horn blew again as the Dwarves of Erebor inched backwards slowly, towards the gate not more than ever. Soon, it seemed, the Mountain was at their backs, but they fought on still! This would add as extra protection. The horn blew yet again for any ally that could aid them.

[Valdrik]

Valdrik had hoped his sword would fall closer to him, but the Elf had indeed been sly and sent it flying, thus, putting himself inbetween Valdrik and his blade. Varldrik readied his shield, preparing himself to fend off the Elf's oncomming attack, but then, as Ashuron hesitated to dodge the arrow Valdrik grabbed a near by dwarf and tossed it straight at Ash's head. This bought him enough time to make a dash and pluck his sword from the ground.