The Great Quest

The obsidian armored figures moved through the trees with a quick and stealthy grace, following the lead of the Nrake as it arrowed in on its target, growing more and more eager every minute.

"We're getting close," it said excitedly. "We will contact them any moment."



Harnauro lifted his head, smelling their opponents closing in. "We'll be trapped if we stay here much longer," he said. "The enemy close in."

"Will we take him with us?" Slythre asked, pointing at the orc.

"He'll slow us up," Elrov said.

"What type of enemies approach?" Slythre asked, fingering the hilt of her dagger.

"The obsidian armored warriors that attacked us in the market place," Harnauro said. "We'll need all the speed we can muster, and I fear that may not even be enough."

"Then let's get started. Lead the way."

Harnauro glanced back, hearing the motion through the trees, and than grabbed the orc and handed him to Faradin. "Take him with you," he said softly, "I will lead them off."

The others looked a bit unhappy with the decision, but Harnauro gave them no time to decide, rushing off into the trees towards their foes.

The others exchanged glances, and then, with grim faces, began rushing off towards the river.


Harnauro darted through the trees, and then came up upon a hill. Looking down from it, he saw the approach of some of the warriors. Not so many to deal with, he thought. Slowly, he drew back his bow, and let loose a number of shots. Two of the warriors, staggered back, looking at the arrows that had blasted with force through their armor in disbelief. Another struck the Nrake in the leg - not killing it, but certainly hindering it, and hopefully preventing it from tracking as well.

A grim smile flickered on his lips, as he strung another arrow. Before he let it loose, however, a sound behind him alerted him to another presence, and he dove aside as a sword slammed to the ground where he had been.

He rose back to his feet, tossing the bow back over his shoulder, and noted he faced three of the warriors, all now wearing dark, fanged visages. He snarled back at them, showing his own teeth, and darted forward, laughing as one expertly twisted their sword into his shoulder.

His laughter cut off as pain flooded through him, and as the other blades sought him out, he barely dodged aside and backwards. As the first sword slid out of his shoulder, he glanced in disbelief at the open wound. Looking back at them, he saw them advance slowly towards him. With no weapon, he would be hard put to take them on, especially if they wielded such incredible weaponry, forged with some dark might.

Harnauro darted forward, startling them backwords, then spun about, fur spreading across his form. As a wolf, he landed on the ground, and as he heard them lunge forward, he sprang away, darting into the woods - but slowly. His injury hindered him slightly, but not as much as he made it look - and he made certain it bled across the ground, and he left a visible path as he ran off - in the exact opposite direction the others went.

Ulrog came round to the jolting feeling of being slung over someone's shoulder. He twitched a little, but was too exausted to do anything else. From scent he could tell that wolf-man's friends had caught him, but he could also tell that wolf-man was heading off in the other direction. At least that was comforting. Ulrog thought about his options. Best to be still for now, until he had his strength back, and the sun had gone down.

"That way," the Nrake said, pointing in the direction of the river. He limped along with them, but he was now slowing their progress. His species were quite hard to kill and their wounds healed quickly, but this dart had driven in deep. He felt pain with each step, but also grew more and more anxious. The distance between the two groups had widened, because of the distraction the wolf had caused. It had taken little effort to convince the armored warriors that this was a ploy to lead them off track, but they had seemed regretful at leaving an enemy who had slain two of their men, if they could be called men.

One of the figures finally walked over and slung the Nrake up onto his back. Then they all picked up their pace, moving with greater speed and closing in on their targets.




The group reached the river and came to a stop.

"We'll have to make rafts if we're to use the river's speed to our advantage," Slythre noted.

"Then we need to hurry," Faradin said. "I just feel a need for haste; I'm not sure whether or not Harnauro managed to hold them off for long, or lead them astray."

"We'll do it as fast as we can," their dwarf companion said as he unslung his axe from his shoulder and set to work on the nearest trees.

Narhauro slunk through the grass, watching the rafts moving down the river. He truly wished the arrow had slain the lizadr being! Still, he had bought some time, and his companions had gotten crafts onto the river. He could keep up, but thought his presence best if undetected, especially as he could check on the pursuit. Worry filled him, and his more primal self now had a measure of respect for this warriors - he had faced a few, before, but had been at full strength, and with allies. Now that nearly a dozen were still chasing them, the danger was great. Still, nothing left to do but keep watch and keep aware.

The broodlord wandered through the city, towards the palace. Nothing! He had found not a sign of the party, in days of searching. Obviously the Nrake had been correct, and his men would now be tracking them down. Still, they were too far ahead for him to catch up.

He stormed into the sidedoor leading to Sethris' room, and burst into it, startling Sethris, who rolled across the ground and grabbed up a dagger before realizing who it was.

Standing back to his feet, and dusting himself off, Sethris asked dryly, "Can I help you?"

"None of them are in the city!"

"Did the Nrake not say they had left?"

The broodlord hissed, and then said, "I have no other taskss here, and musst get to my men quickly!"

"And am I supposed to be able to help you?" Sethris raised an eyebrow, bordering on amusement.

The broodlord nearly leaping upon him in anger removed that amusement, but fortunately the attack was restrained. "I know that the one you sserve can travel quickly... I would sspeak with your master Vardor!"

Sethris grew cold at the request, not wanting to outright rebuff the request anymore than he wished to incur Vardor's anger. "I will speak with my lord, then," he replied coldly, "but can promise nothing."

The broodlord's lip curled up in disdain, and he snarled, "I will return tommorow, to ssee if he will meet me!" With that, he stormed from the room, and back into the city.

Vardor nodded slightly and Sethris winced, fearing another punishment. He still bore the twin burnmarks on his forhead from his lord's previous lashing out at him, and it was only Vardor's strong control of his magic that kept it from destroying him in that slight gesture. But Vardor didn't waste lives, only used them up to fulfill the purpose he set out for them.

"Very well."

"He would like to join his men, but I believe that he has other things to discuss as well."

"We shall see." Vardor's image faded and the fire became extinguished, disappearing in smoke.

The next day dawned, and as Faradin, Slythre, and the others were keeping ahead of their pursuit, and Mal was soon to be finding himself on a most unexpected, and unwanted journey, the broodlord was entering Sethris's small room.

"Well," he asked, seeing Sethris sitting there, obviously awaiting him, "Iss it settled?"

"My lord would be glad to meet with you," replied the savvy man, "After all, we must keep our allies thinking well of us!"

The broodlord narrowed his eyes, and simply stood and waited to learn more.

"If you will follow me?" Sethris gave a brief and infinitismally small bow, and then walked over to a door behind him. He led him quickly up some rough steps toward the top, going two stories up before stopping and opening one of the side doors.

"This was Lord Vardor's apartments during his stay at Edoras," he said as he led the other inside. "He will be here shortly, if you would care to wait."

The broodlord nodded curtly and brushed past the other, taking a quick surveillance of the room. Although he disliked the idea of being the one to wait, as it could be a trap or anything else, he knew it was his only option if he wanted to establish this contact.

He glanced out the window at the courtyard below, and beyond that at the weakling villagers, going along their normal lives. But now he noticed an edge of fear in their movements. They had not forgotten either the previous slaughter, or the fact that his men were still at large, possibly in the city preparing for another demonstration. The broodlord almost smiled. The complete fools.

"What is it you want?" asked a cold voice from behind the broodlord, almost making him jump.

He turned around, his movements fluid and his face calm. Vardor was standing not far from him, his black cowl almost hiding his face, but not quite. It was tight, cold, and ruthless, but had an air of complete control about it as well. Control of itself and most everything around it. Perhaps that was what the broodlord admired most.

Vardor's eyes lowered down, looking the broodlord straight in the face as he awaited a response.


*I hope I didn't paint your broodlord wrong, but considering what you've posted before, this can't be to much off the mark.*

"We're getting closer," the Nrake said. Its wound was now completely healed, and it was walking on its own. "I can smell her, all of them now, actually."

"Good."

"But that's not all," the Nrake said, a frown creasing its scaled face. "The wolfman is here as well, still. It has been watching us, monitering our progress and most likely preparing a trap. Unless we get to them soon and force the wolfman to act, he will on his own, and at his own time. And the consequences of that could be deadly."

Ayna glanced over her shoulder, wishing for what must be the hundredth time that Harnauro was still with them. Hopefully he had destroyed their pursuers. But these were different from orcs, and had a far more deadly air about them. If Harnauro had died, they all surely would. Except Dania, she thought with a rueful look. She would be brought back and tortured until she gave them what she wanted to know. What they must not have, she added to herself with grim determination, clutching the oar more closely. This Lothlorien they were headed for would hopefully be a haven of safety for their group. And perhaps there she could gather her wits together enough to figure out what to do next. Perhaps she could go to Rivendell, and tell Elrond . . . No. Such an action would perhaps give momentary aid, but those who pursued her now would change their target to him. He'd be able to resist, but for how long? An assassination or theft, anything could happen. She dared not risk it.

She buried her face in her hands. "What hope have I?" she asked herself quietly.

*nope, that is basically just as he would act, or fairly close.*

The broodlord nearly stopped breathing at Vardor's presence, and felt the sword by his side pulse eagerly. It took all his willpower not to betray a reaction, and block his swords hunger from his mind.

He gave a nod of his head to Vardor, a sign of respect, and said, "My men have been sserving for your goals for some time now. At the moment, I ssimply wished to confer with the one behind thiss operation, as I have noted we have become involved in something more than firsst expected. Before we aid any further, I would learn more of what we do."

Vardor considered the broodlord for a moment, weighing him in his mind and wondering how much he could safely tell.

"I can tell none the full scope of my plans, until they are completely and entirely on my side. You have served me well thus far, but until your master makes an alliance, informing me of all his plans as well, mine will largely remain hidden.

"But I will not leave you to rely on this alone, and will tell you a part of my reasons." Vardor sat down on an ornate dark chair and looked out the window for a moment before proceeding. "I began my hunt for Dania a couple months ago, as soon as I learned of her existence. I had searched for some time for the the one who owned the information concealed from me by the Valar. She actually owns that which was long ago hidden, and it has taken me years and years, decades to finally unravel the Valar's secret. Dania owns a magical item, or power, which I must possess. I have uncovered information that she may have hidden it among the eagles, and hence I have begun to use subterfuge in that area, and have launched a massive undercover search.

"Once my quest is achieved, you will benefit greatly, as will your master and all who have allied with me in its completion. I can tell you no more than this, and I hope it will suffice for the time being."

*Just a note - The broodlord and his men would not reveal to anyone they are serving another. They had basically picked up this job working with Vardor as mercenaries. It is possible Vardor could have found this out, if he spent a lot of time tracking their actions, but unlikely. They wouldn't have told him, though. Anyway, back to the story.*

The broodlord's face wrinkles for a moment, into an expression Vardor can't decipher.

Then he resumes his normal features, and says, "Well, then, I will aid your dessignss. I need reach my men, however. I ssent them out while I searched the city, but have found that all those being chased already gone. They have a head start on me, and would ask for ssome... aid... from you." The broodlord is obviously disgruntled at having to ask for assistance, but asks nonetheless, a canny glint in his eye.

Dania tossed her head spasmicly (sp?) in her drugged sleep. In her mind's eye she saw her friends faces, one by one. Each had a mask of perplexion, as if something were just out of their reach. Then, just before the face faded, the expression would turn to something else. Each different. Fear, determination, horror, whistfullness, contentment, even love. Each face had thier own story, and some many, but they moved too fast for Dania to make out...

Vardor raised his hand and laid it on the top of the broodlord's head.

Shades of darkness descended over the broodlord's vision, lifting and twisting him, finally unraveling and lifting away, leaving him standing in the forest among his warriors.

The broodlord drops to the ground, gasping. Pain racked his figure, but he ignored it. He had accomplished what he needed to do. His men looked in surprise at their lord, who staggered back to his feet, though he was a few moments in regaining his breath.

As he surveyed the situation, and had one of his men explain what went on, he debated within himself... but upon learning how far they were to the city, and how closely behind those followed, he decided to keep on. Let the other matter wait.

Right now, let the goal be to catch those ahead of them.

The Nrake came to a stop when they reached the river. He peered out over the water for a moment, and then suddenly stretched out a hand, pointing a finger outwards. "There," he said, barely able to contain his excitement.

The broodlord followed his gaze and saw the group being carried along the river, barely a quarter mile away but traveling fast. But certainly not too fast.

"We can catch them in a matter of minutes," one of his warriors said.

"We'll have to get past and cut them off," the broodlord said, but the Nrake was already off, trotting through the undergrowth at a speed just a notch less great than running.

Quickly the others followed, catching up and moving at an equal speed.

And a pair of gleaming wolf eyes watched them from a nearby thicket. Harnauro monitered their progress a little way, glanced up at the rafts and ducked back into the trees.

As he drew closer with his men, the broodlord began to grow worried. He didn't sense the one they sought! In the darkening twilight, their shapes were but shadows on the raft, even to his enhanced eyes, but still, he did not feel the shadow man.

That angered him. But he was commited now, and perhaps he was mistaken.

---

Harnauro knew he did not have much time before the warriors took the boat by surprise - he had to give them warning, and hopefully even turn the ambush upon them. Still, he was worried, especially after they were rejoined by this new one, who was apparently more powerful than the rest.

He glanced towards the raft, and hoped the capable warriors on board would be enough to turn the fight in their favor.

In a split second, he made his choice, and rose from where he was trailing behind the warriors, shifting into human shape and drawing his bow in one fluid motion. Within moments, arrows were flying towards the warriors backs, as he gave a great shout into the air!

---

At the sound, Faradin spun about on board the raft, and his eyes widened as he saw figures rising up alongside the bank, though still a good bit back. Farther down, another figure stood, shooting arrows at them. A number of the warriors charged towards him, but the majority now abandoned stealth and rushed the boat. "Ware!" cried Faradin, as he drew his own weapon and prepared for thier approach.

Slythre wished again that she had more daggers to call upon as she pulled harder at the oar. They'd be cut off, she was sure of it. The enemy had almost reached them now, swimming strongly out toward the rafts. Elrov drew his blade and moved to the edge of the raft, preparing to stab at any who got within range. Ayna moved to the back of the raft, followed by Slythre who finally released the oar and drew her dagger. Elrov's arm stabbed out, slashing and swinging with vicious speed.

He would have been no match for these warriors, though, if it weren't for the water. Fighting came naturally to them, and they could normally have killed him with ease, but fighting while they struggled to remain afloat was another matter. And now Faradin, Narsh and Gungar had also joined the fray, keeping them back with long sweeps of their weapons.

Dark blood spattered through the water and one of them slipped, headless, into its depths. Gungar pulled back his axe and swung again, forcing one of them to duck backwards.




The Nrake lunged through the water, plowing a steady course with his strong arms and soon catching up with the others. He looked into the raft at his target and then glanced at the defenders, searching for a weak point in their positioning.

Ducking underwater, he swam underneath the raft like a fish, coming up on the other side. Then, grasping the edge of the raft, he heaved himself upwards, tipping the raft perilously. He was up. Dania gave a startled cry and drew her dagger, but the Nrake was already leaping forwards.

Its hands closed around Ayna's throat and it yanked her towards the water with, dragging her halfway off the raft.

Gungar twisted around and swung his axe, cutting it deep into the Nrake's side and almost tearing it loose from Ayna. The Nrake held on with vicious determination, ignoring the fact that it was on the verge of being split in half.

Ayna was on her knees now, holding the hand that gripped her neck with both of hers, trying in vain to tear it free.

Slythre and Dania closed in with their daggers, stabbing it repeatedly from both sides and finally forcing it to accept its fate. The hand released Ayna and the Nrake's body collapsed into the water.