Tall Tales

[Guyror]

The scarred and ragged man rested his quill gently against the sheet of vellum in front of him and turned to the shadows… “Ya sure ya want me to write them down?” He spoke into the darkness… “Well if ya be sure tha is what I shall do… Now where ta start… that is tha question”. Slowly the man reached out and dipped his quill into a pot of ink and while steadying the paper with the remains of left arm started to write in a firm and confident script…

To begin one must start with a blank canvas and build up the picture with layers of detail; to begin with this tale shall start with a story from long ago on the day that Eril Flint lost his hand. It is a good a place to start as any, for it was on that day that Eril first met his Captain.

The ice bays of Forochel are a cold and oppressive place; it’s only inhabitants being a few nomadic tribes and a couple of trading posts that with some imagination could be called villages. What our hero Eril was doing here, is a tale for another day, but let us just say that the young Corsair was on his first voyage on the good ship Treachery under the legendary Captain “Mad Dog” McPherson.

One of the dangers that all captains are aware of when it comes to travelling the ice bays is the chance of becoming entrapped in the ice when the seas freeze during the coldest months of the year. Captain Mad was well aware of this danger but he had decided to run the risk in order to complete one final and very profitable run of supplies up to the trading post. Unfortunately the cold northerly winds were fierce this year and the progress north was slow, so as luck would have it, the ship got caught in the great ice sheets and was frozen in for the rest of the winter.

The first few weeks the captain and crew were cheerful and upbeat about the ships predicament but as slowly the winds grew stronger and the rum ran out, a feeling of discontent spread amongst the lower decks. And slowly rumours were spreading of an ill curse upon the ship and her captain, perhaps the cold breath of the ice lady was breathing down on them for risking this final run… Or maybe it was just judgement for the previous raid upon the good men of Eriador… whatever it was the captain came to here of it and quickly suppressed any tales of treason with an iron fist…

However as the last bottle of rum was drunk and the barrels of salt beef were being rationed more and more fiercely, the cold ice did not release its fierce grip and the muttering amongst the crew grew in accordance. So Captain Mad knew that it was no longer time for inaction, but he would have to risk life and limb to get food and hope for his crew.

So during the darkest part of the night, the Captain walked up onto the deck and past the young Corsair on duty… “If ya value ya life young lad… ya seen nothing!” He barked at the sailor as he swung his leg over the side and started to climb down onto the ice sheet. Eril knew then that fate was in a balance, follow his Captain and link there fates as one… or turn a blind eye and leave his fate in the hands of another…

“I aint doin tha Cap’n and ya best hold up… I aint leaving ya to ya fate because that is aint my way”. So grabbing his sword and cloak he gently swung down a rope and landed beside the captain. “So Cap’n what ya doing anyway?” The young lad asked of his captain.

“Hunting Lad… we need food bad if we going ta survive this ‘ere winter… and there aint any left in tha boat… so I be going ta find some…” He gestures out over the frozen sea. “… Somewhere out there… be my… our quarry!” he helps the young man down onto the ice and together the walk out over the ice.

For a few hours they slowly slip and slide out over the ice, finding no signs of life and quickly what clothes the men had become soaked through, but as the sun rises so do there spirits as they start to slowly warm once again. “Over there Cap’n that be a small rise… and I be sure it will grant us a better view”. Eril gestures to a white mound amongst the unforgiving sheets of ice. And so the men slowly walk towards it, but as they get closer they realise the error of their judgement as the white mound slowly moves and a huge head lifts up off the ground.

The bear growled deep in its chest and padded up onto its four huge legs, the creature standing while standing was nearly as tall as two men and the shadow ominously fell across the two men. Looking once again to each other they looked for a place to run or hide… seeing a small crack in the ice they dived towards it and luckily found it to once large enough for them, but not for the bear. The great bear slowly padded up to the crack in the ice and leaning down started to try and claw its way in to reach its prey… The hunters now were the hunted!

A few swipes of a cutlass later and the bear withdrew and lay back down upon the ice watching the crack with a cruel but near intelligent eye. The two men turned once again to each other wondering what could be done, for if they were to stay they would freeze, but to leave the confines of this small crack would mean having to face the huge ice bear. So after a few brief words they waited… and waited…

Too soon the day past and the two men crouched shivering in the confines of the cave, as night approached and the bear had not moved from its guard position they turned to each other… “Well lad… we better do something or this old Cap’n is going ta freeze ‘is monkeys off!” The captain said to Eril through gritted and chattering teeth.

“Cap’n I have an idea… just ye wait here and I can see what I can do…” Eril slowly crouched down and drew his sabre trying to suppress the shivering, for if he was to do this right he would have to risk everything. The young boy slowly started to climb back out of the crack and sneak slowly up behind the huge near sleeping behemoth; with his sword poised he leapt the final few feet and tried with all his might to plunge the sword deep into the beast’s throat.

Fortunately for the bear his aim was not quite true and the blade dug deep, but did not dig deep enough missed any vital organs or blood vessels and as the great bear roared and dragged itself to its feet Eril’s sword was ripped from his hand. The bear now injured, angry and seeking revenge turned down to look at the young Corsair and tried to swipe at him with its great claws… Eril ducked and weaved trying with all his might to once again reach the relative safety of the ice crack, but he knew that task was impossible.

Suddenly the bear jolted again, as the Captain leapt out of the crack and tried to bring his own sword down and hamstring the great beast, but the fur was too tough and the sinews too strong, so his blade was turned aside. Luckily for Eril he now had a chance and dodging in leapt up onto the back of the huge beast seeking once again for an opportunity to strike… but his sabre… it was still lodged in the throat of the bear. The bear initially did not notice this man upon his back as he slowly wheeled around to finish off the ship’s captain, but soon as Eril struggled more to get a better grip the bear reared up upon its hind legs in order to try and dislodge the foolhardy sailor.

Eril hung on tight with his right hand, as he brought his left around the neck of the beast in order to reach his sabre, but it was then that he knew his mistake for the bear saw the motion and brought its great maw around to bite…

The pain was short lived, for the nerves were partially numbed by the cold, but Eril still cried out as his left hand was ripped from the rest of his arm, he slid off the back of the bear and landed behind it. However as he looked down at the remains of his hand, he say that one of the bear’s great teeth had become lodge between the bones of his forearm. Seeing a chance of perhaps surviving this attack he reached out with his one remaining good hand and pulled the razor sharp fang from his own flesh. A second stab of pain temporarily paralysed him and he blacked out for a short time, but as he came around, he quickly bound his arm in the remains of his cloak and turned to see what had happened to the bear and his Captain.

Slowly backing away and vainly sweeping his sword in great swipes, was Cap’n Mad Dog, he took a brief look over towards Eril and the look was one almost an apology, he started to say something, but a great claw came down hard upon the side of his head and the mighty captain was felled. Eril looked across at his fallen captain, and noticed the bear slowly pacing around his now still body, so he moved with as much stealth as his near frozen body could muster and clutching the bloody tooth in his right hand studied the beast for a point of weakness.

With a sharp lunge, the young pirate struck and the tooth easily pierced the tough hide of the beast… the crude weapon did not do much damage as such but it drew the bear once again around to face its attacker… and it was then that the real strike could occur for as the bear swung around so did Eril’s sabre that was dug deep into the side of its neck. Eril once again rolled in close to the bear and with all his might pressed down again upon the sword, a smile spread across his face as he felt the blade dig deeper and deeper. The bear once again reared up to try and get away from the pain, but in only doing so it made the wound larger and allowed the blood to flow faster.

Eril rolled out of the way of the mortally wounded bear as it staggered around in blind pain and he looked down upon his captain. “Cap’n… ya hear me Cap’n… we ‘ave ta get ya back to tha boat mattie…” But the captain was knocked out cold and bleeding from his right ear.

[Guyror]

Eventually the bears roars grew less and its struggles waned as the great behemoth’s life blood flowed out onto the virgin white snow. Eril turned once again to his captain and searched the horizon for any sign of the ship so he could drag him to safety. But deep down Eril knew that there was no safety there unless they could complete their initial task, and he also knew that they would not do that before the sun would set again and still give him time to return to the boat before they froze.

So Eril once again turned to the great bear and removed the razor sharp fang from between its rear haunches and slit the great beast from gullet to gizzard and let the fetid entrails pour out onto the snow. After a few moments of gruesome work Eril had cleared enough space for the captain and himself and they crawled inside the belly of the beast to use its fading warmth throughout the night.

The following morning Eril’s left arm was still paining him, but a tourniquet of bear sinew had at least staunched the bleeding and so he crawled out into the morning light. He placed the razor sharp tooth into the back of his trousers and then turned to the bear and using its entrails as corded ropes he tied them around the legs of the beast and started to drag the huge carcass and its grizzly contents back towards the boat.

It took Eril nearly the rest of the day to once again reach the Treachery, and his greeting was worth the effort for as he staggered back onto the deck and motioned for the ship’s surgeon to see to the still groggy captain he slumped into a deep but comforting darkness…

The old man looked over to the shadows and nodded a few times before once again placing his left arm onto the paper… “I am spent for now, I will tell more another day…”

No noise was returned from the shadows but the old man smiled in gratitude.

[Guyror]

Tall tales – part 2

The scarred man once again looked down at the blank parchment in front of him and shifted it around upon the bench he was working upon. He looked towards the corner of his small room and tried to pierce the shadows with his single eye. “Yes, I know… I should write more, just give me a moment to gather my thoughts.” The man again lifted his quill and dipped it into the small pot of ink, before starting to write again.


The good ship Treachery broke free from its icy embrace in the early spring and the captain headed back south in order to try and replenish lost stock and give the crew some time to heal.

It also took many months for Eril to recover from the loss of his arm, but during this time he was not idle. He spent many weeks whittling away at the bear’s tooth until he could attach a wood and leather handle to its base. No matter how much he used that blade the edge would remain viscously sharp. Eril also spent some time crafting a versatile hook to put on the end of his still numb left wrist. But his losses were all justified by the new respect he had gained from his captain and the crew; they would now look on him as an equal rather than just new blood.

The following summer once the physical wounds had healed Captain McPherson was once again recruiting for a trip down and around to the city of Umbar. The first sailor he came to was Eril, “Ya got ta come with me lad, ya me good luck charm now… and besides I owe ya for me life. I intend ta repay ya as only a good cap’n can… we are going raiding and ya best be ready for some fun and games for we be after them coastal villages of tha ‘orselords.”

Eril could not believe his luck, trading was nothing compared to the reward of raiding. With raiding, both bane and boon are your bed fellows, danger and death against pillaging. It was a difficult choice, but he quickly agreed and his life was once again linked to that of Cap’n Mad.

The good ship Treachery was soon sailing with a full crew out of the pirate’s secret base and into the turbulent seas around the east coast of Harlindon. The sailing was smooth for many weeks and spirits were high, but as they slowly approached their target the crew grew quiet and focused. For a few weeks the raiding was easy, the villages were unprepared and they met little resistance; however as the summer drew to a close and winter started to pull its cloak across the land a change came across the men… they knew something was not right.

It was on the morning of the first day after the harvest moon that they saw her… a low and fast cutter with many sails that could easily out pace the Treachery. The pirates initially laughed at such a small vessel, but as it drew closer they realised that this was no ordinary patrol ship. Standing in the prow was a single silver haired elf, her clothes were simple but something about her spoke of great power. She raised her arms and called in a loud and clear voice… “Corsairs… you have raided for your last time, the retribution of the free people shall now fall upon you… you cannot flee, but if you surrender you will be tried for piracy and some of you may live.”

The crew looked down upon this small vessels and its handful of occupants, then laughed for they felt they could easily beat off any raiding party. The Captain however looked with concern down upon the woman and started giving orders to prepare the ballistas.

Eril being in charge of the fore ballista started to winch the rope back and try to load one of the deadly bolts into the slot. He was too busy to notice that a low chanting had started from the elf and the air was starting feel more cold and heavy than a moment before. Suddenly as the chanting increased great banks of fog rolled in from behind the small cutter and blanketed the sea in all embracing cloud of acrid fog.

The crew looked around wild eyed as cries of witchery and doom spread amongst them. The captain called to his men… “Stand ease men, it be just one of them there elven witches… fill ‘er full of ‘oles and she won’t be singing again! Open Fire!” With that the crossbows hummed and the ballistas released with an audible thud. But the fog had covered the movement of the boat and all the bolts flew wild.

Eril continued to load his ballista trying to listen through the screams and wails for the movement of the boat through the sea around them.

The good ship Treachery suddenly jerked as if it had struck a reef, but they were miles from the nearest shore. And a great groan went through the wood of her keel as a dark shape moved under the hull. The chanting by now had changed its tone and the wild elf’s voice was filling the ears of the men with piercing tones that shook them to their dark souls. The cries of the men even though they were muffled by the strange acrid fog, reached a new pitch as the boat jarred again and it rolled dangerously to the port side.

Captain Mad cried for order and lashed out at the nearest crewman that was curled into a ball with his hands over his head. “Get ye scabberous dogs on ya feet. If ya cannot shoot that darn elf… we be going down ta feed tha crabs!” Some order was returned to the crew but the hold was tentative.

Eril knew that he would probably only get a single chance with his ballista and was trying to pierce the great fog banks for any sign of the smaller vessel. He continued to shift his weight from one foot to the other, but he was yet to find a clear shot. Suddenly he saw something looming out of the fog… it was a shape far larger than there own vessel and its barnacle covered side twitched with life. The monstrous whale lined it self up once again and moved in to ram the Treachery. A great splintering of wood and horrified cries of men accompanied the tremor when the whale struck.

Eril loosed his ballista and watched the bolt fly true towards the eye of the great beast, but by some witchery the bolt appeared to bounce off the soft flesh of the eye. The other crew saw this as well and a deep fright was quickly spreading, a few souls dived over the side trying to escape death but it was then that another horror emerged. The seas that until now had been quiet and flat erupted into fierce and frenzied movement as thousands of fish moved in to attack them screaming men. The voices soon went quiet as they were pulled beneath the surface, never to again see the light of day.

Eril quickly tried to reload his ballista and with steady progress drew back the heavy rope. But he felt that he would never get a good shot from where he stood. So with a mighty heave he lifted the siege engine out of its socket and walked over to the side of the ship trying to once again see the great whale so he could end this threat once and for all.

The third crash from the whale sent more men tumbling into the water and a few more timbers were starting to crack under the strain. The captain was by now crying in vain for order amongst his crew and he was starting to believe that there was little chance of surviving this encounter.

It was then that Eril caught sight of the small cutter, it was far off the starboard bow and the elven witch was standing high in the prow continuing her keen. The range was too great to reach from where he stood, so Eril hefted the great ballista across his shoulder and started to climb the ropes up to the eagle’s nest near the top of the mast. As he was climbing he looked down upon the rest of the crew and caught the eye of the captain… with a few small hand signals he urged the captain to turn the vessel slightly to the north, so that his view would be clearest.

Captain Mad urged the crew into a final act of courage and with much berating and cursing turned the near crippled Treachery to the north. The great whale tried to stop this somewhat as it rammed the vessels once again from the beneath and threw the crew down onto the deck. As the ship lurched Eril nearly lost his grip upon the ropes but with luck he managed to jam the point of his hook into the mast and did not fall. However as he twisted he felt the great ballista shift upon his shoulder and start to slip, he instinctively let go with his good hand and swung down using his legs as a lever so that he could catch the weapon before it fell.

Now hanging upside down near the top of the mast, hold the great ballista in a single hand he saw clearly for the first time the small vessel and knew that this was his chance…

The shot was long, the wind was variable but he knew that it was this or… the sea churned once again almost as if it knew a new victim would soon be feeding its hungry maw. He took careful aim and with every muscle in his body screaming at him, he let loose and watched as the bolt flew through the air straight and true.

The elven witch only now noticed the treat and she turned her face up to the precariously placed sailor, she started to raise her arms and her voice shifted but it was too late… the bolt impacted into the middle of her chest and threw her back against the mast of the small vessel. The chanting faded away as the elf maiden looked down at the bolt sticking out from the middle of her chest and her head gently slumped down.

As the chant dispersed so did the great banks of fog, and the huge whale dived one more time and with a great splash of water disappeared beneath the waves. The few remaining men upon the smaller vessel quickly turned there vessel for the nearest port and fled.

Eril casually swung down from the rigging and landed lightly upon his feet next to the captain. “That be twice now lad…” The captain laughed as he crawled back onto his feet. Slowly order was restored to the Treachery but she was badly damaged by the witches onslaught and so Captain Mad decided that a short stay in Umbar would be needed.

[Guyror]

As the vessel slowly limped to Umbar, Eril found looked upon the ballista and smiling broadly started to remove bits and pieces so he could more easily carry the great crossbow. “I think I’ll call ya Old Bessie… like tha old harlot in Tharbad… not great ta look at, but sure does knock ya off ya feet when ya get on her bad side!”

As the ship pulled into the docks of Umbar, Eril stood now at the prow with the Old Bessie slung over his back and had started to gain the swagger of a great Corsair.


The scarred man, once again put down his quill as the story had ended. He looked over what was written and corrected a few things before pushing the parchment across the table. “Tha be all I can write for now… I am spent… tales take it out of you…” The man once again turned to the shadows and nodded. “I will write more… aye… I just need time to remember.”

[Guyror]

Tall Tales – Chapter 3

The bent figure once again looked down at the table in front of him, knowing that he would soon have to write more, what had he deserved to have such a fate he thought. A wry smile contorted his face as he realised that the answer to that particular question was easy… Many things! He chuckled quietly to himself as he slowly lifted a quill once again.

“I shall be writing now of a few more recent things, things that will tell ya more of the world as Eril did see it.” He twisted around behind him, as if he had heard some sound, but nothing was there just dark shadows. “I will not speak of that yet… no not yet. But soon, I promise…”


Eril the corsair stood amongst a throng of people moving slowly amongst the beauty of Orthanc, he was watching a particular merchant with a rather fat purse. But as he was just moving in to make his move, a hand held him back. “That one is not yours to take… old man.” Eril glanced down to the hand that held his own and brushed it aside with a swipe of his hook. He then looked up to the owner of the hand; it was a middle aged man who you would not look twice at; however something about his manner made Eril pause.

“Ya best ‘ave a damn good reason why ya stopping me mate, and none of this cause he be mine.” Eril angrily moved off the main street running through Orthanc and made his way into a quiet and dark alleyway. The man followed quietly and calmly.

“It is best not to bite off the hand that feeds you old man… that is why. And also you are needed… “He makes a motion to the dark alleys and towards the hidden ways under the city. “Your wanted ‘mate’!” The last emphasis told Eril that this man knew of him, and as such he was at the advantage for now.

The two men slunk quietly through the back streets and quieter corners of Orthanc until they reached a dead end alleyway. They both looked at each other and slowly walked up to a heavy door. When knocking it was briskly opened by a huge brute of a man, he hissed something in a threatening voice, but when he looked closely at the two shapes, calmed and let them in.

The door opened up into a small room, with only a single chair and a set of rickety old stairs leading down. The guard slammed the door shut, once the two were inside and threw the bolts back into place; he then slumped back into his chair and soon started to snore once again.

“Good ta see that the door be so well guarded, eh mate?” Eril amusing said once they were out of ear shot of the sleeping guard. His companion just smiled and waited.

“I heard that! You scabberous dog! If you weren’t needed down right now, I would throw you out and beat you an inch of your worthless life!” The guard cried out with his eyes still shut and then slowly the breathing returned to a snore. Eril crookedly smiled and started down the stairs.

“Well then lad, wha be tha urgency eh? I only just got in town, so why all tha hurry?” Eril spoke over his shoulder as he slowly wound his way down into the dark.

“A new recruit appears to need your particular skills; something about some ‘Great Hunt’ I can tell you no more. The names Kang, old man, in case you were ever going to ask.”

This final comment brought a smile to Eril face and then he replied with not a moment’s hesitation. “Nah lad, ya just tha messenger, it aint as if ya someone important.” This brought a grimace to Kang’s face and he ground his teeth together in frustration.

Finally they reached the lower levels of Orthanc and the stench of the furnaces filled the air. Larger shapes lumbered around in the shadows and the cries of tortured souls filled the air. The two men were about to stride out into the first chamber when an even darker shadow loomed up in front of them.

“Over dere.. now!” The twisted face of the Uruk-hai distorted the sound somewhat but they knew not to disobey so followed his guidance and strode out purposefully into the dark and twisted realm of Saruman the White. As the two men made there way across the chamber a collection of young Olog’s started to jeer and call to them, the pathetic creatures were barely old enough to call adults, but Eril gave them a firm stare and they quickly shut up.

On the far side of the chamber was a pair of men, one huddled up under a great cloak, the other was talking quietly to him. As Eril and Kang approached, the second man moved away and left the cloaked stranger alone. “Ya wanted me… eh? Ya ‘eard that the great Eril be in town, and ya wanted ta see me aye?” Smiled Eril to the dark figure, the jest fell upon deaf ears, and a cold emotionless voice echoed back.

“I need a guide. You will guide me to the mountains corsair; I have to hunt a great beast. Your skills are needed for that, not for making unnecessary jibes.”

Eril turned to Kang next to him and winked, “we got a right stuck up one ‘ere, eh lad!” They both smiled before turning back to the dark figure. “What be ya name lad? And ya needing extra help is it just me?”

“Ynzakher the Foul is my name, and that rabble of Olog’s is also coming to act as meat for the grinder. Now prepare yourself we leave within the hour.”

Eril once again looked to Kang and they set about getting things ready for the journey into the mountains. “He be foul alright, foul mouthed and stinks worse than a goblin’s armpit” muttered Kang as they prepared great packs of rope and climbing gear. The time passed quickly as the two men completed there chores, but they were ready when Ynzakher came back to them, followed by a rag tag rabble of half bred, under fed Olog’s.

“So then guide, you ready to lead us on this great hunt?” The cold man spoke with about as much feeling as a walking corpse.

“Well mate, it be depending upon what we ‘unting and for who… as ya see my services aint cheap and I do ‘ave other engagements ya know.” Eril looked over to Kang and made a few crude gestures before turning back to Ynzakher.

“I hunt a great white wyrm, it is rumoured to be up amongst the outer horn of the mountains to the north west of here. Amongst the Moria range, you will take us there and I do this for...” he slowly lifts his head and looks up to the ceiling “… the white wizard.”

“Well why the ‘ell did ya not tell me earlier mate, I would of packed me winter woollies…” Eril winked at Ynzakher, then placed the final few things into the packs and motioned for the olog’s to lift them. “Careful lads, there be something in there that aint wanting much shaking…” Eril turned to Kang and said in a hushed tone, “a little surprise of me own mate.”

The journey out of Orthanc was as uneventful as you can get with three ologs, and three men. But the back streets and sewers were deserted as the night laid its heavy cloak across the city. Once outside amongst the dark woods travel was faster and by morning they had reached the borders of Rohan. Ynzakher, rode proud on the back of his horse, the Olog’s ran beside him like yapping puppies. Eril and Kang however stayed slightly away from the rest, keeping quietly to the shadows.

As dawn approached a dark wood was found for the Olog’s to rest away from the piercing sunshine, and the three men sat down to talk. “So mate, I been meaning ta ask ya” eril looked over toward Ynzakher and then continued, “Why tha foul?” The dark man looked once again to Eril and with slow movements pulled back his hood, the sight beneath made Kang quickly loose what food they had eaten and he moved away to find some fresh air. The man’s face was twisted and made up mainly of open sores and pustules. The skin was pallid and his eyes were dull as if the life was drawn from them.

“Well mate? Why tha foul? I seen worse amongst the brothels of Tharbad, and ya ‘ad ta pay ta see her as well! Aint that right Kang…” The sounds of gagging grew louder but in the moments of respite a groan which could have been agreement was heard. Ynzakher then drew back up his hood and moved away from the two men to sit quietly and think.

“He weren’t tha bad mate…” Eril comforted Kang as he continued to wretch, “I should get ya ta meet Old Bessie… now that is one ta make ya stomach turn”

The following evening, they set off once again and spent most of the day leading up from the low lands of Rohan through scrubland to the hills at the base of the mountains. Again they stopped for the night and Eril provided fresh venison for the olog’s to feed upon. The contented sounds of snapping bones and rending flesh, told him that they would be held off from attacking the rest of the men for another night at least.

During the following day, while Eril was watching the road near the campsite, a troop of Rohirrim riders made there way slowly up the trail. Eril knew that the outriders would more than likely spot their campsite, so hoisting Bessie up onto his shoulder made quickly made his way over to the other side of the trail. As he looked down up the troop he quickly counted fify in number, so with little concern he started to crank Bessie and when ready took careful aim, and let loose. The first bolt passed straight through the lead rider and pinned the still twitching body to a tree beside the road. This had gained there attention somewhat and the riders whipped there horses into a gallop and came head long up the trail towards where Eril was hiding.

[Guyror]

Eril nimbly lept over the rock he was hiding behind and started to climb up the next, once upon the top again, he heaved with all his might and started the great stone tumbling down the side of the hill. As the avalanche built the riders were close pressed and unable to avoid the deluge of stones and earth. Near half there number were struck by the landslide and the sounds of snapping bones and screaming horses filled in the mid day air.

Eril now wanting to press his advantage, once again brought Bessie up to bare and sighted a rohirrim with a ornate helm. The officer did not stand a chance as the great ballista fired and the bolt flew straight, it passed through the man’s head which then burst like an over ripe melon, and before his body had time to slump to the floor, the bolt had again hit a second man in the trunk and leg, pinning him to his now injured horse. Without any leadership, and seeing more than half there number incapacitated within just a few moments, the surviving riders withdrew back down the hill to regroup.

This rebate gave Eril time to prepare the first of his little surprises, and sneaking back to camp took a few small clay fars from one of the packs of the sleeping Olog’s. He placed them again carefully upon the trail in at specific points, and retreated once again back up to his rocky overhang. Almost as soon as he was comfortable and ready, the men dismounted from there horses and made a more steady approach up the hill. However as soon as they had reached the first of the clay jars, Eril opened fire, but his bolt missed. Only to cleanly strike the jar which then erupted into a huge ball of flame that engulfed the first group of five men. They did not have time to scream as the flames covered them from head to foot and the burning oil drew the air from there lungs. The rohirrim now started to run up the slope, but the next bolt set off another and another jar of burning oil. Thick clouds of smoke hung across the trail and Eril used these to slip once again away from the sight of slaughter and leave the cries of the dying to there comrades.

Eril stealthily made his way down to the horses of the surviving group and searched their saddlebags for anything of value or interest. Upon finding some sealed papers and documents slipped back into the shadows and returned to the campsite. By the time he reached it, Kang was peering out from behind a rock trying to see through the thick choking smoke and the Olog’s were baying smelling blood upon the air. There was no sight of Ynzakher.

The thick smoke blocked the sun out enough to prevent it harming the Olog’s so they were let loose upon the few surviving rohirrim and their horses. No survivors left the trail that day to report upon what was found, but the next patrol did find the half burnt and half eaten remains of there lost patrol.

That evening with the Olog’s once again well fed upon the flesh of both the men and there horses. They continued up into the low mountains and towards the southern end of the Moria range. The temperature quickly dropped and the only person not suffer from it was the dark figure of Ynzakher, he almost appeared to lavish in the suffering of the others. But little was said between the travellers as all effort was needed in finding clear footing and even Kang was silenced as he struggle to find the breath to breathe.

The following morning as they reached the first of the lower passes into the Moria range, Eril scouted around to find a secure place to hide for the night, and after clearing out a wolf den, they lit a low fire and fed well upon freshly cooked meat.

As the group rested in the cave, Eril carefully left his companions and went in search of tracks and trails to lead to where this great white wyrm was hiding. He crossed many paths and climbed high into the mountains before finally finding sight of the great creature’s trail. A broken tree with a mountain goat half eaten near the base, many would of missed the tell tale signs, and confused this with a bear attack, but the tree had been broken from above and the goat had died from a broken back as a great weight landed down on it from above.

Making his way back to the wolf den, Eril spotted a great shadow passing over one of the higher peaks and making note of its direction quickly pressed on. When he did eventually reach the den, the rest of the group were ready and waiting for him.

“It be about another days travel into tha mountain’s lads, and it be near the peak of that there mountain…” He motions to one of the higher peaks and smiles as he hears Kang groan. “It aint that bad mate… it could be worse ya could be sharing dinner with tha Olog’s tonight.”

This thought made Kang grimace once again and his complaints quickly stopped. As the group made there way up higher into the mountains the breathing became difficult even for the stalwart olog’s. But few complaints were heard as they diligently climbed.

As morning drew in, they reached there target a great cave, high amongst the peaks of the Moria range. Here a great white wyrm held its lair and preyed upon the surrounding denizens. Ynzakher, now tried hard to encourage the olog’s to enter the cave, but even these great beasts were humbled by the size of the entranceway. After a few kicks and curses in dark tongues the creatures started to gourd themselves up ready for battle. Kang slipped out his bow and started to check the fletching of the arrows. Looking over Eril just laughed, “Ya think them little darts will ‘urt that thing? It ‘as a ‘ide as tough as steel… ya best get some bandages and keep them olog’s standing mate!” Eril continued to load his ballista and raiding the olog’s packs drew out his remaining surprises; four more clay pots containing the exploding oil, and a small vial of dark liquid. Eril carefully dripped a few drops of the dark liquid onto the tip of his ballista bolt and placed the cork back into the top of the glass jar. He then picked up the jars and taking all headed into the cavern.

The ice cave was huge; the ceiling was higher than the masts of four ships and it had great icicles hanging from the roof. But what drew Kang’s eyes and those of the Olog’s was the centre of the cave. One was looking at the great pile of gold, the other the huge wyrm lying atop it. The olog’s charged forward in an uncontrolled berserk manner, and the great wyrm lifted an eyelid to watch them get closer. At the last moment it opened its jaws and breathed a great cloud of super frozen vapour, the olog’s charge was slowed considerably as one slipped and fell; however the rest continued one oblivious to the cold. The wyrm then stood and started snapping at the olog’s with its jaws and slashing with its claws.

Kang kept mainly to the back ground, but did shoot some pathetic arrows at the beast, if only to distract it for a second or two. As the great beast fought with the wall of olog flesh, Eril started to climb the walls of the ice cavern and place the four clay jars near the base of one of the great icicles. Far beneath him the battle raged, but he was determined in his task, for he knew that the great beast would not be harmed by the young olog’s and their attempts did nothing but annoy the beast. So finally when Eril had placed the last of the jars and was sliding back down to the floor of the cavern he started to load Bessie with the special bolt. The dark liquid still glistened upon the tip as he lifted the bolt up and took careful aim.

As he pulled the trigger a moment of quiet fell upon the group, all but one of the olog’s was clutching heavy wounds and the last one was cowering in a corner wimpering loudly. Kang was trying hard to remain hidden and Ynzakher was no where to be seen. The bolt flew towards the great wyrm and it struck it upon the chest, it hit with great force as the dark liquid exploded upon impact driving the great barb into the chest of the creature. This wound had drawn the attention of the wyrm, which now slowly moved its way towards Eril, who was frantically trying to reload his ballista.

Just as the great wyrm was drawing close and Eril could smell the creature’s fetid breath he lifted Old Bessie up and took steady aim. However just before he fired the wyrm took another great breath in and blew a super frozen cloud of crystals at where Eril stood. He had to dive away with great agility to prevent him getting injured, and as he rolled to the side brought Bessie up and fired the next bolt towards the jars on the roof.

The explosion that erupted rocked the cavern to its core and great chunks of ice fell down from above all over the companions as they dived for cover. The great icicle fell slowly from the roof and landed upon the white wyrm; however what was intended as a mortal wound was not. The ice chunk had fallen slightly to the side and landed piercing the creature’s left wing and snapping the bones in its foreleg. It was surely injured but not slain.

Eril now looked up at the great beast, and knew that he had but one chance to survive this day, so he reached down to his side and pulled out the small vial of dark liquid. This he then attempted to tie to the end of one of his bolts. While doing this the great wyrm was lashing wildly at the olog’s that had once again found there feet and were moving in to what they perceived as an easy kill.

Finally the vial was well attached the bolt load and the ballista aimed, but Eril could not get a clean shot, for by now the olog’s were too close and he did not wish to anger the white wizard by killing some of his own. However seeing how the battle was faring, if he did not act the olog’s would be dead anyway. So he fired.

[Guyror]

When the survivors crawled out of the cave into the early morning light, nothing much remained of the great wyrm, its head and half its torso was now missing. The olog’s by some miracle had survived however all of them were bleeding heavily and it would appear that more than one of them was temporarily deaf. Kang was also struggling to get out of the cave, but he appeared to be heavily laden with sacks of gold. Ynzakher, now also returned and he entered the cave, only to return a few moments later with a small vial covered in a dark red liquid. “I have all I need, I will make my way back to Orthanc now, and you can keep what you can carry.” He clapped his hands and the staggering Olog’s fell into line behind him, and left the mountain back towards Orthanc.

Eril and Kang looked back at the cavern and seeing the roof slowly falling in, decided that it was time to leave before other scavengers were drawn to the area.


The man put down his quill and stretched his aching back, he read once again what he had written and nodded. “That be as good as I can remember, it be one of many tales I ‘eard.” The silence from the shadows lasted a moment and then the man once again stood and rolling the parchment placed it diligently upon a shelf. “I will write more… when I can. For now I am too tired… and my eye be strained.”