Caravan (Open RP)

[Chungo]

Dry, cool air flowed up the large nostrils as the oxen inhaled its next breath. It was a simple life for the beast; inhale, exhale, eat, piss and walk. Walking is what the beast was doing now, along with three of its brethren. Unbeknown to the beast, it was doing more than walking, it was pulling.

Over four score wagons, each separated by a good throw of a dagger, rolled single file along the steppe, traversing north. The wagons were similar in appearance, twelve paces long, double the number of paces if you count the neck yoke and tongue, five paces wide, including the wheels; the back wheels a little larger than the front. Depending on the load the wagons were pulled by either oxen or mules.

Hot, wet air flowed out of the large nostrils as the oxen exhaled the breath. The oxen

[Nehemia]

((This is a RP, since you have created the storyline ready, its not open))
There is a group of shady characters following the caravan from the distance, staying behind and moving undetected.
Once we get our chance, There will be no dawn for the caravan, and the treasures they carry shall be ours..

[Chungo]

OOC: Actually its both. I am going to direct the path of the survivors while the main caravan is a free for all.

[Necrash]

OOC: hey there chungo =] you not a lizard on this one cool. Hey what could fly what cant!!!??? I mean what are you alowing on stage!

[Chungo]

OOC: Flying is in, of course. :D
A suggestion would be to limit the height to give those on the ground a chance for range damage.

[Chungo]

Targ slowly parted the blades of grass, looked across the long field as the wagons rolled past. His sister had chosen the ambush site well. The steppe, now covered in tall grass, appeared to be flat. However, that was not the case, the ground rose up and down in small degrees that allowed for stealth. Targ, himself, was on the top of an incline, his clanmates spread out south of him, sitting on their warhogs in small ravines, invisible to those at the wagons, waiting for the signal to attack.

Targ, his sister and a few clanmates spotted the caravan days ago. Targ headed back to their village but not before he gave instructions to his sister and the others to scout to the wagons and to find an ambush spot. Targ drove his warhog hard to get back to the village. He immediately went to the chief to inform him of the caravan and requested to lead a force back to attack the caravan. The chief quickly gave his permission and ordered five scores of Orks to accompany Targ.

Each Ork rode a warhog, wore armor, anything from full plate down to leather armor, and carried multiple weapons. Most had a lance for mounted combat and either a two-handed sword or axe for ground engagements.

Targ knew that the caravan guards still out numbered his clanmates but the goal was not to capture all the wagons. He would allow most of the wagons to pass by before attacking. He would than split the caravan in two, forcing the lead and larger section to leave behind the wagons in the rear. Targ would lead a good three fourths of the Orks to attack the caravan in one spot; three specific wagons. His force would than set up a defensive perimeter preventing the larger section from coming back to help the weaker section. Targ

[Chungo]

Agon’s Crown was a single mountain range that stood on the north eastern edge of the inner sea. The Crowns snow top stretched far above the clouds and could be seen, on cloudless days, as far away as Dalriada. Agon’s Crown was a beautiful sight to be seen but only a few knew a beauty that was far greater. The few who dared to climb its side, to reach its summit and to look across the world.

Zzax was not such a person. In fact the Alfar came up from within Agon’s Crown bowels, rather than climbing its treacherous sides, out of a cave and onto a ledge that rested just above the snow line. Zzax’s passage to this ledge was still a dangerous one, not to be taken lightly, it just wasn’t as perilous as taking the outer route.

Zzax has come to this hidden ledge multiple times to contemplate future paths and this was one of those times. Zzax has been spent a few days on the ledge staring out towards the southeastern part of Agon. This sight wasn’t as breathtaking as the one far above but it still held Zzax in awe, especially for one whose life exists underground.

Zzax has been studying the movement of a line since he first arrived. This line has steadily moved north and now, at this moment, Zzax was able to determine, via a spell what had made the line. The spell produced a huge bubble that floated just in front of him. Looking through the bubble allowed Zzax to look at objects much closer than what they actually were. He was astonished to see that the line which he had been watching was actually scores of wagons traveling one behind the other.

Zzax, with a wicked grin, thought where there are wagons there is wealth. He quickly packed his things, left the ledge and headed into the cave, hurrying to communicate to others about his findings.

[Jeffrey199]

/ooc Flying has been said is in so I can't resist.

Flying high over head in the shape of a small sparrow, Jeffrey scanned the roads searching for the Caravan. The mages guild had decided that if trade could be established between the Mahirims, they might be able to learn the secrets of their moon magics. Somthing the Mages guild has sought rather unsuccessfully for generations. Of course I get stuck with the rube duty Jeffrey thought to himself. His orders were to observe the Caravan and secretly insure that nothing goes wrong.

Remember, if anything goes wrong this time you'll be harvesting newt eyes until your hair falls out! Jeffrey remembered his Master saying. And let me remind you DO NOT GET CAUGHT, this Caravan has been seen unfavorably by most of the population, if its known the mages guild sent help of any kind well, we will only be able to hope their is a Mage's guild left when the public is through with us. Jeffrey tried to argue, however the prospect of getting access to the Mahirms magic was too tempting to pass up for the Arch-Mages.

So far things seemed going great for Jeffrey, a rather large hawk had attacked him 10 minutes into his flight, he was forced to fly into the wind which seemed eager to make his life miserable, and on top of that he was completly lost. He was tempted to zap the vicious monster, force the weather to comply, and teleport to the accursed traders but all of that would involve strong magics that could be traced by anyone with the skills. So he was forced to suck it up and stick to masking his magic and using spells so small even he couldn't tell if he were casting them or not.

Well it could be worse he thought, with a rather gloomy "Tweet, tweet."

[Chungo]

Malap happened to be walking by the Chiefs tent when Targ rushed by him. Malap could feel the excitement bleed off the other Ork. Always one to want to find out what’s going on Malap begin moving his fingers in a pattern of a spell and than pointed to Targs back, mere moments before Targ entered the Chiefs tent. If the guards, standing by tents entrance, were paying attention they would have seen a small ear appear on the mail of Targs lower back.

Malap headed back to his tent, listening to the conversation between the Chief and the Ork. Malap was a recent addition, throught marriage, to the Iron Tusk Tribe. Malap met a rather obese Ork who happen to be the daughter of the Iron Tusk Tribe head weapon smith. Malap quickly proposed to the daughter securing himself to a well-bred family.

Once Malap realized that the conversation was ending he cancelled the spell. Malap walked over to a small table, took out a feather and ink, sat down and wrote on a piece of parchment. Once he finished he was about to put the feather away, thought better of it, grabbed another piece of parchment and wrote some more.

Once finished Malap rolled up the two parchments and headed out of the tent. He moved quickly behind the tent and towards a bird coop, within were a handful of ravens. Tied to a leg of each raven was colored thread. Malap reached in ignoring the cawing and pecks of the ravens and pulled out one with a green thread on its leg. Malap took one of the Parchments tied it onto the other leg and than let the bird fly. Malap reached into the coop once more and pulled out a raven with a red thread. Malap secured the second parchment to this raven and let it fly free.

Malap knew it would take two days for each raven to reach its destination. Malap, with no real loyalty to the Iron Tusk Tribe, smiled at the thought of the wealth that would be headed his way.

[Chungo]

North of the inner sea, deep within the pine forest, rapidly running east on all four legs was a small group of Mahirm. Leaping and bounding ahead of the group, covered in deep black fur that at times shone a beautiful dark purple, was a powerfully built female named Bho’jhala, which translates to ‘flower that stings’ in the common tongue of Agon.

Bho’jhala, with energy abound, flew through the pines, across the sparsely covered ground heading in the direction of the rising sun. Her task was one of most importance; to lead her group east, find the caravan and make contact with its leader as quickly as possible.

Days behind, following her path, were the rest of the warriors of her tribe. Her tribe had recently learned that a caravan full of Mirdains and Dwarves would be passing through the southern part of there territory to trade with their rivals in the western plains. Bho’jhala leader wants to be included in this trade.

If a trade is denied than her tribe would make sure the caravan wouldn’t make it any farther west than the eastern edge of their forest.

If the trade is accepted than her tribe would escort the caravan through the forest and into the plains.

Her leader had also sent communication to other tribes farther north notifying them of the caravan. At the time of Bho'Jhalas departure non of the other tribes had responded.

[Chungo]

OOC: Ok every race now has the opportunity to get involved.

[Chungo]

Drughan, a lean dwarf, in studded leather armor, took no stock in the guards warning as he tried to sit comfortably, without success, on the wooden seat while leading his team of eight oxen. Drughan was lost in thought when he felt, in rapid succession, three hits on his right side and suddenly found that he was lying down, his left cheek pressed against the hardwood of the seat. Drughan sat up, looked down and saw the back end of a bolt sticking out of his right breast and two more of its brethren poking out of his right bicep. He tried to move his right arm but it was pinned against his side.

Drughan, deep in shock, looked around and saw Orks, most in leather, messing with his oxen and one climbing onto the seat, glaring menacing at him and with its right arm raised holding a tomahawk. Drughan shuffled back, attempting to grab a short sword from his belt with his left hand when he felt the wind knocked out of him. This time as he looked down, he saw part of the head of the tomahawk sticking out of the center of his chest and the wooden handle running up to across his shoulder.

Drughan sat staring forward, trying to move but his body was not reacting to his thoughts. Time slowed down as he noticed that his oxen and wagon had veered left, the wagon that was in front of him was now much farther ahead than normal but towards his right. He noticed Orks grabbing a hold of the neck yolk leading his team of oxen, and he could feel and smell the hot putrid breath of the Ork next to him as it kept shoving him closer and closer to the left side of the seat.

Drughan suddenly felt himself floating in the air and than sudden pain across the back of his head and body. He found himself lying on the ground, head in the grass staring at the wheels of his wagon as they came to a stop.

Drughan felt one more blow to the head before all went black.

[Chungo]

A professional wagon driver and a veteran of many skirmishes Lustrial, and older female Mirdain in breastplate, reacted quickly to the Orks as they appeared out of the tall grass and swarmed over the three wagons in front of her.

Lustrial pulled on her reins forcing her four oxen left, with a quick yell urged them to move faster. She passed the wagon directly in front of her in no time; emotions of anger and sadness almost over whelmed her, as her wagon pulled along side of the other wagon, and she saw the multiple bolts sticking out of the dead Mirdain driver.

She had to pull the oxen even more to the left as she approached the second wagon. Her heart jumped as she saw the Mirdain driver jump free of the wagon, nimbly land on the ground, and run her direction. The mirdain passed by her right, disappearing behind the bonnet of her wagon, but not before she glimpsed a bolt sticking out of his right thigh. Lustrial felt the Mirdain grab hold of the back of her wagon and heard him exhale as he climbed into the bed.

Lustrial and her wagon rapidly passed by second wagon, now fully stopped, being overrun by Orks. Lustrial turned her head forward as she approached the third wagon. This wagon had been forced even farther left than the other two. Lustrial worked the reins drawing the oxen and wagon farther west off the caravans path. She would circle around this last wagon and than push the oxen north to catch up to the main caravan.

As her oxen reached, arms distanced, the back left corner of the third wagon she saw the crumpled form of a dwarf fall from the front of the wagon. Lustrial furiously worked her reins but it was too late as her oxen on the right side trampled the dwarf. Lustrial almost threw up as her wagon bounce when her front right wheeled rolled over the non moving dwarfs body. Lustrial did throw up as she felt the recoil of the wagon as the right rear wheel reached the form.

Lustrial, wiped her mouth with her right hand, as the oxen pulled up to along side of the third wagons team of oxen. Lustrial could see, past the wagons bonnet, over the Ork on the wagons seat, more Orks, on warhogs, racing towards the rear of the main caravan.

Lustrial changed plans knowing she couldn’t cross the stampede of the Orks cavalry and drove her wagon westward. She could feel her oxen pick up speed as the ground she was riding on took a downward slope. She could see even more Orks on Warhogs crossing the caravans’ path heading up the left side towards the rear end of the main caravan. Lustrial figured that she could continue west a bit farther and than head north. The more she headed west, though, the more the ground sloped downwards. Lustrial could see a ridge slowly forming on her right. A few moments later the ground to her right, sloped upwards at to much of an angle for her wagon to climb. Lustrial continued to head west.

Lustrial glanced to her left and noticed the ground rising. Should she head south, she thought. No, continue west and than head north, even with the amount of Orks attacking most of the caravan will escape unscathed. As she drove forward the ground on her left and right continued to rise.

[Delusive]

Delusive rested quietly in a wagon amongst the caravan. He saw little point in conversation, when his life on this world shouldn't exist. His family was slaughtered by orcs. He has learned to live and survive by his strength and sword alone.

For years he searched for the orcs that caused his families death. Upon finding them one year ago, he was sure he would die and take the bastards to hell with him. Fate, it would seem, likes to toy with the mans very soul.

In a final battle against the orc tribe that killed his family, Delusive was nearly killed, and was washing down a river after being knocked unconscious. A family happened to be resting by the river, and fished Delusive out thus saving him from near death. Although he wished for death, he still felt in debt to the family. To return the favor, he promised to protect their five year old daughter on this caravan.

Delusive smiled as the girl used his giant sword as a slide. The swords grip was resting on his right shoulder, and the blade was sitting on some hide towards the rear of the wagon. The little girl would climb onto Delusive's shoulder, and slide down the blade onto the stack of animal hide.

The mother and father were sitting up front, the father driving the wagon. The mother turned and looked back into the wagon to see what was making her daughter laugh.

"Rehyna, please don't bother the man. I'm sure he doesn't enjoy you making his weapon into a toy for your amusement." said the mother.

"But mom!" cried Rehyna.

"I don't mind..." whispered Delusive.

He always said as little as possible. Nothing like the child he was some years back. His fights at sea and battles with orcs, friends made and lost...or betrayed, changed Delusive. Although still as sharp and headstrong as ever, his attitude towards life had diminished. There was little comfort left in his life. In fact, this was the first smile that had crossed his face since his journey at sea when he was but eighteen.

The mother smiled at Delusive and turned back around. The father then spoke up, "I appreciate you agreeing to look after our daughter on this trip. She is everything to us, and these trips are never without some sort of trouble."

Delusive did not answer. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep, but enjoyed the laughter of the little girl and the thought of a peaceful day.

[RavenLord]

woah chungo! slow it down just a notch :D you

[Chungo]

OOC: I wanted to get to this point as quickly as possible. Hopefully, I have introduced enough ways for characters to find out about the caravan and determine a way to forge their character into the story.

At this point, the pace will go very slow to very fast depending on others writings.

[Delusive]

Delusive nosed twinged, the smell of blood was in the air. He quickly grabbed Rehyna from his shoulder and sat her next to him. The mother stuck her head into the wagon and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Blood." was all Delusive said as he sat his sword down and moved toward the back of the wagon. He reached hold of the cloth curtain that hung to shade the back of the wagon, and slowly slid it aside...

[Chungo]

Garana crouched low, in the meter high grass, a few steps away from the wheels of the wagons as they rolled passed her position. The targeted wagon was fast approaching and the tribe had planned well. Garana was one of the tribes’ best scouts and was the one who had found this perfect ambush spot. Her thoughts folded back to a few days ago.

Once Garana had determined the path the caravan would take; she began to crisscrossed this area on foot. She had found the boxed canyon by accident, literally stumbling upon it. She had been walking through the tall grass slowly, not wanting to leave any sort of mark, when saw the grass line was different a few steps ahead. She moved forward, took one step to many and found herself sliding and than rolling down a steep slope. Embarrassed, she rose quickly, looked around to make sure no one saw the incident, even though she knew she was alone.

She backed up and took a look at the slope; it would be a tough climb. She was about to head east, noticing that the slope was slightly more declined farther in that direction, thus easier for her to get back up. Some instinct within her head stopped her. She back further away from the slope and turned east, and confirmed that the slope, north of her position, slowly decreased even farther east. Garana turned to face south and saw another slope but with much less of an incline, than the northern one. Garana turned west and saw that both slopes increased in steepness.

Garana began to walk west studying the terrain as she went. She hadn’t travel far when the slope to the north had gradually formed into a low rock face. Looking farther west she could see the rock face growing taller and to her south it too was slowing forming into a rock face. Garana became excited and quicken her pace and after a few leagues she found herself in a box canyon. Garana roared with delight as she spun in circles.

Garana turned and retraced her steps back, passed the location where she fell and continued east, until the slopes, the south first and the north following, disappeared into the landscape. Garana knew she had found the site her brother, Targ, would use for the ambush.

The targeted wagon team of oxen were almost in front of Garana when she leaped out, startling the right lead oxen. Garana slipped passed it and grabbed the neck yolk and began to push it westward. The team of oxen fought her for a few seconds, but with the driver occupied the beasts soon followed her lead. Garana pulled and pulled leading the oxen and wagon off the path the previous wagons had taken.

Garana smiled as she heard the arrival of Ork cavalry. She bared her teeth as the first of the rear wagons passed her on the west side and rode towards the box canyon. She roared with joy as more of the rear wagons followed the first into the real trap.

[Chungo]

OOC: More fluff.

As the first of the Orks appeared out of the tall grass swarming over the three targeted wagons, Targ signaled his lieutenants. Orks and Warhogs rose over the brow of the slope and charged toward the wagons from the caravans

[Delusive]

OOC: Just a couple of quick questions:

1.) Are the rear three wagons the ones for the main storyline and characters?

2.) Is there suppose to be anything special about these three wagons? ei: Items, people, etc. Why are they targeted?

3.) The dwarf that was killed, I assume he was in the last wagon(3)?

4.) You have many characters. Any you willing to part with? (Big sword is thirsty!)

5.) Can I take hold of a few no-name orcs to slaughter, or to make slaughter other no name characters?

That's all I request for now!

[Chungo]

1) The rear wagons are the ones behind the three that were first targeted.

2) The wagons hold resources, items, equipment and etc or anything that you can think of that the elves and dwarfs would trade to the wolfmen.

3) the Dwarf that was killed was in the first of the 3 wagons that were captured.

4) Anyone can be killed, except Targ, the head Ork, and Nik, the other Dwarf driving the wagon. However, they will be killable in the future.

5) Yes!

A big battle is coming up between the rear wagons, who are going to be caught in the box canyon and the Orks. At first only 1/4 the Orks will be there but bit later all of them will arrive.

[Chungo]

A single tear appeared out of his left eye, flowed down the side of his nose, catching on the first of three scars, and followed the scar, down his cheek, towards his ripped ear. The tear was all the emotion Nik could provide, at the moment, for his friend, Drughan, whom Nik spotted, as he followed the four wagons, in front of him, past the three captured wagons, westward across the steppe.

Nik wished he could take a moment to study the Orks, those around the three wagons and the other Orks, the ones on warhogs, as they charged after the rear wagons of the main caravan. However, handling the wagon at such a speed was taking a majority of his attention. As Nik drove the oxen on trying to keep a close distance to the wagon in front of him, he noticed the lead wagon, swerve south for a second, and than change course back westward.

West it is, Nik nodded his head in approval of the actions from the lead driver, it allows us a chance to re-unite with the main caravan.

Nik continued to follow the wagon in front of him and could hear wagons and the occasion yell from a driver in his rear. As they continued westward he noticed a slope beginning to emerge on the north side of the path from the wagons position. A very short time later a slope appeared on their south.

“Udan” Nik yelled.

“Your north side” replied Udan “And no sign of pursuit.” A few heartbeat later, Nik spotted Udan pony’s’ head appear from behind the bonnet of his wagon on his right, followed by Udan and the rest of the pony’s body.

“Ride up the south side slope and stay at the top. It will give you a better view.”

Udan nodded, rode past the oxen, cut between Nik’s team of oxen and behind the rear of the wagon in front of Nik, driving the pony south and headed up the south slope.

As the wagons continued to ride westward, a bad feeling began to gnaw at Niks gut as, both, the north and south slopes begin to increase.

Why do I feel like a Rothe’ being separated from the herd, Nik wondered.

[Jeffrey199]

The ever miserable Jeffrey, finally spotted the caravan on the horizon. Still fluttering in the shape of a sparrow he went in closer for a closer look. How inconvinient jeffrey thought gloomily, noticing 3 wagons already captured. Well at least it looks like most of them will be safe once they get through that cannon. Jeffrey said still trailing well behind the speeding wagons. Now how am I supposed to save them without getting seen, I knew I should have gone on that mission into the Dragon's den instead... With another tweet Jeffrey sped off after the wagon's trying to think of how he would insure that nothing more went wrong with this first trade with the bothersome wolf people. Truthfully he among the other mages were extremely eager to open up trade with them, moon magic has proven most potent throughout the history recorded in the archives.

/ooc Ya the mages guild loves to meddle in the affairs of others, never mind thats the reason we're hated throughout the lands. ^^

[Delusive]

Delusive gritted his teeth. He loved battle and the thought of one day dying in one, but this time was different...this time he had to protect this little girl.

"What do you see?" asked the mother.

"Death! Climb back here. When I go out to fight, you stay here with your daughter."

"And what should I do?" asked the father.

"Stay in line with the other wagons. If the wagons stop, grab a sword and protect your family."

Delusive strapped his daggers around his shoulder and across his chest. He then reached within his waist satchel and pulled out a black piece of cloth. He then tied the cloth around his entire face. The only thing that was left uncovered was his neck and hair. This wasn't a normal piece of cloth, for he could see through it perfectly, but it no one could see through it to his face.

"Why are you wearing that? How will you be able to breathe or see?" asked the little girl.

"I wear it when I fight. I don't want people to see my face in battle."

"It makes you look scary...and weird." she said with a funny looking expression on her face.

Delusive smiled, but the little girl was unable to see it. Delusive grabbed his giant sword by the grip and waited for when the wagons would stop, and for the carnage to begin!

OOC: Chungo, when your group finally get these rear wagons stopped, that's when I'll post again. If you haven't noticed, Delusive is in one of those wagons. Can't wait for the battle, and to see where your leading this story!

[Chungo]

OOC: Giving folks a chance to joined up, so putting any new posts on hold for a day or so.

[Chungo]

The bodies of the two dead drivers were stripped, of all their belongings, and left to rot on the road. Each of the wagons was boarded by a single Ork, now in position at the drivers

[Chungo]

Lustrial suspicions that the Orks had caught them in a trap were coming to fruit. The slopes, north and south, had become rock faces. The further west they drove the higher the rock faces climbed and the narrower the canyon. The canyon that Lustrial and company were following had been heading in a northwestern direction for awhile. The canyon was now at its narrowest; about five wagons at its width, when a slight turned appeared ahead.

Lustrials heart dropped as she reached the turn, the canyon walls spread out about twenty wagons wide and the canyon continued for about an arrow shot before ending in a cliff. A small waterfall fell from the southwestern side into a small pond. The oxen smelling the water increased their pace. Lustrial fought against the oxen and hugged the northern wall to allow the others to follow in with their wagons.

[Chungo]

Fourteen wagons, thirty-seven Mirdains, Humans and dwarves were trapped within the canyon. The old Mirdain guard, who first notified Nik of the missing scouts, had taken charge. A quick plan was discussed and supported. Two scouts on horseback would move eastward back up the path to try and spot the Orks that they highly believed would be arriving soon. Six wagons were to be used as a defensive barrier. The remaining eight wagons were lined up, in the rear of the canyon, in a v-like pattern, as a backup location.

Six of the thirty-seven were non-combatants, either too young or too old to hold a weapon. Nine of the remaining thirty-one had never held a weapon but each was provided a spear and a dagger and would act as the reserve. Twenty-two had been trained and had combat experience. Out of the twenty-two exactly half were guards of the caravan, which left eleven, claiming experience. Nik was one of the eleven.

[Bakkrosa]

Bakkrosa watched that Delusive fellow hop out of the wagon, after talking to that annoying family for a while. He had seen many like Delusive in the past, the "I've got nothing to live for" type. They always acted like nothing mattered to them, but let someone touch their heartstrings, and poof, they were out in the fray. Bakkrosa was merchant from a small Mercian village on the coast, and always liked to be in view of the ocean... there was something about that openness that made you feel less uneasy. So when they entered the canyon, Bakkrosa began to get uneasy. When he heard shouts ring out, he contemplated briefly getting out of the cart, but decided against it. The goods he was carrying were too important to leave unguarded.

[Delusive]

Delusive stepped out of the wagon and rested his huge sword on his shoulder. Rehyna's father approached Delusive, sword and shield in hand.

"Protect your family." was all Delusive said as he walked away from the wagon. He approached the rest of the warriors gathering for the upcoming encounter.

"Is there a plan?"

Delusive listened as one of the men explained the numbers and who were to fight, and who were the last line of defence.

"So be it. Let's get this over with!"

[Chungo]

OOC: I will be posting again tomorrow, 5/23.

[ShadowDemen]

By the time the wagons had finaly stopped, ShadowDemen had already gotten all of his equipment; two short swords at his side, a longsword slung across his back, a few scrolls of various spells, and a dozen shurikens placed in different spots on his body.


Cheerfully, he hopped off his caravan, saying to himself, "I knew we would be attacked! Finally, I get to have fun." Unsheathing his longsword, he moved toward the front, and impatiently waited for the orcks' assault.

[Chungo]

OCC: Glad you could make it ShadowDemen.

Udan, edged his pony forward, slowly worked his way northward back to the ravine. This was the third time he was forced away from the edge, out of eyeshot of the wagons, as he tried to follow the ravines western path. The ground rose and fell constantly, whereas before it was just a slow incline. The grass was giving way to encroachment of Aleppo pine trees.

Ahead the trail, Udan was following, danced between to large boulders. Udan dropped off his pony, move up past the ponies left shoulder, grab the reins and looped them around the branch of a short pine tree. Udan paused staring at the tree for a few seconds, now that tree must have been the runt of the litter, he thought.

Udan left the pony, squeezed between the two boulders, and caught sight of the ravine ahead. Udan move towards the edge and looked down, into the canyon below. Udan could see the trail; flatten grass, left by the wagons.

Udan muttered to himself about losing sight of the wagons. He was about to head back to the pony when he heard a light rumbling from the eastern direction. He turned his head and looked down the canyon and saw coming around a bend, Orks on warhogs. Out of habit, Udan watched the Orks as they passed below him, counting their numbers, almost thirty he thought.

Udan gazed at the Orks, as they rode west, until they disappeared around a crook. Udan stood up, brushed the dust off, walked back to the two boulders and squeezed himself back to the other side. As he reached the pony, he passed it on the right side, reached into a satchel and pulled out a horn. Udan brought out the horn, placed it to his mouths and blew; 2 quick burst followed by one long burst. Udan returned the horn, walked around the pony, remove the reins off the branch, and finally climb back on the pony’s back. Udan, turned his mount, than urged it onward in a southwestern direction.

[Chungo]

“Call the two scouts back” yelled Nik towards the silver haired Mirdain guard, as he heard the signal, two sharp and one long blast, off in the eastward distance. “Orks will be here faster than you can cook an egg.”

The Mirdain guard studied Nik for a second before replying.
“That was your friend, who rode south just before the slopes began to spread their webs around us.”

Nik nodded as answered.
“We might not be as trapped as they think” Nik than looked up and scrutinize the upper edges of the cliff wall for a few breaths before facing the Mirdain once more. “Though plenty of fighting ahead.”

Nik turned, ignoring the old guard, headed to the back camp. Once at the camp, he quickly found his supplies, reached down, wrapped his right hand and arm around a small barrel and lifted it up. Nik, with his left hand, remove the cork and rested it on the top of the barrel. Nik began a small chant, moved his left hand in intricate pattern over the hole of the barrel.

Nik completed his chant, looked around until he found a stool, and kicked at it until it was upright. Nik put the barrel on the stool and than move back and forth among his belongs. He spotted the bag he wanted, move towards it, reached down and picked it up, and walked back to the barrel. Nik placed the bag down on the ground besides the stool, reached into it and pulled out a mug. Nik than lifted the barrel again with his right arm and hand and poured some of the contents into his mug.

Nik lifted the mug up to his mouth and gulped down the ale, not stopping until the mug was dry.

“Nothing better before a fight” he muttered, out loud, to himself.

Nik dropped the mug to the ground, moved over to his pile of weapons, picked up a composite short bow, quiver full of arrows, threw both over his shoulder, patted his belt to check on his dwarven waraxes and than reached down and removed a few items from his backpack; a few sunrods, smokesticks, couple of thunderstones and than stopped, frowning. He quickly returned the items to the backpack, hiked the backpack above his left elbow and finally reached down with his right hand and picked up his dwarven warspike.

Nik left the camp and walked towards the six wagons, the camps first defensive position, as he saw the return of the two scouts and the guards reposition the wagons. Nik moved up to his wagon, the second wagon from the right, and threw his warspike and backpack in the bed. Nik looked under the wagon, spotting the spikes on the other side facing away from him; he nodded his head in admiration of the old guards plan. Nik straighten, moved to the front wheel, stepped on one of the spokes with his right foot, taking his right hand he grabbed hold of the wagons sideboard, propelled himself over the edge and into the bed. Nik maneuvered his warspike and backpack, lifted a tower shield and standing next to the sideboard, lean against it and stared eastward.

“Whoever joining me in me wagon, better hop on up, cause the Orks be here.” Nik roared, as the first of the Orks appeared in the distance, and than loosened the bow from his back. Now with bow in hand, Nik grabbed for his first arrow, a huge smile on his face.

OOC: Next post I will be introducing a few new Orks, all of whom will gladly die for their cause. Remember Targ will be arriving a little later with the rest of the Orks.

[Chungo]

[Chungo]

OOC: Up to you guys; You can write you own battle, between yourself and your opponent, or I can write for your opponent.

Saliva dripped heavily off Troaks lower lip, below both of his lower tusks, and into the wind, as he rode towards the wagons, a few warhogs behind the lead Ork, Garana. Troak was proud of his position in this charge, a position of respect. He was seen as one of the better warriors and hopes this battle would confirm, no, strengthen his reputation.

Troak had been studying the enemy carefully as he approached and spotted a human, without benefit of armor, wielding a huge sword, larger than any he had seen before. This was his target. As the others before him, he led with his dagger and, once in position, jumped, with sword in hand, towards the swordsman.

[Chungo]

Brekek was the smallest Ork in the troop but his anger and his skill with weapons provided him with a lot of respect. Unlike the others who carried one large weapon, Brekek was agile and talented enough to wield two weapons at once. His choice of weapons was an axe, similar to a tomahawk in appearance, in his right hand and a cutlass; he had taken off of his first kill, a pirate, in his left.

Brekek was the tenth Ork behind the leader and had his dagger, ready to throw, in his left hand and in his right; he was holding the reins and his axe. As the others picked out their targets, signified by the throw of the dagger, Brekek saw a human, dressed in black, standing in a relaxed manner as if he was out for a stroll. The human had a hint of what appeared to be chain armor on his arms and legs, (OCC: Just going off your picture in your signature ShadowDemen. Might be plate but he is to far away to distinguish the difference.) while his hands were empty of any weapon.

Even though his hands held nothing, Brekek could see, now that he was closer, the hilts of swords protruding out of sheathes, belt level, at both hips, and one peeking out from behind his shoulder. Brekek, with a flip of his wrist, tossed his dagger towards the human, whom he suspected may even catch and return. As the dagger left his hand Brekek relieved the cutlass from his sheathe.

[Chungo]

OOC: Still time for others to join up on either side!
Jeffery, I can always throw an Ork shaman in the mix for you; if you want.
Bakkrosa dont know if you are going to be up front fighting or protecting your gear in the back; let me know.

[Bakkrosa]

Bakkrosa could hear the orcs shifting positions outside the wagon. This was not supposed to happen. This was not in the Plan. He sighed deeply and put his pack back on. It was the only thing he had with him, and it weighed quite a bit, but he carried it easily for a man of his size. He moved to the door of the cart, just as an Orkish arrow landed by his hand. He sighed. It was going to be one of those days. Carefully, he took out his tinderbox. With a curt nod to the family sitting in the cart, he set one of their bags on fire. The father began to yell a protest, but Bakkrosa quickly hit him in the forehead, knowcking him out. He repeated the swift motion on the mother and daughter as well, and hopped out of the now smoking cart. He ran toward the fromt of the wagon chain, screaming and waving his arms "Fire! Fire! They'll all die! Help them!"

[Chungo]

OOC: FYI, there are two groups of wagons. One group, six in total was stripped of items, their bonnet and moved in a defensive position at the front mouth of the box canyon. These six are being attacked by orks.

Another group of wagons, eight in total, were moved to the back edge of the wagons. All non-combantants are with the eight in the back and are safe at the moment from any attacks.

By Bakkrosa's writing and what I stated above and my previous posts, he lit one of the wagons, in the back of the camp with the non-combatants, on fire.

Nice addition to the chaos Bakkrosa, I enjoyed it.

*******************************

Mirdain, human and dwarf alike, from the non-combatants rushed over to the wagon to pull the girl and her family free.

The old Mirdain guard in charge, turn when he heard the word fire and saw a little smoke coming from one of the wagons. He stepped back and told two of the reserves to go back and help put the wagon out. He than motioned to one of the reservest to watch from a distance and let him know of anything out of the ordinary happens. He than turned around and let loose an arrow at an Ork on one of the wagons.


One of the reservist (OOC: spelling correct?) ran, gathered the remaining non-combatants, those not helping the family to pull the wagon away from the others and into the pond, hopeing to put it out by rolling it under the waterfall. The other reservist approached the man who yelled fire. "What happen, what did you see?"

[Delusive]

Delusive saw the dagger of an orc flying towards him. He quickly lowered the sword from his shoulder, blocking the dagger with ease. He then looked up to see the owner of the dagger bearing down on him.

Delusive smiled and thought to himself, finally I can feed the rage within me once more.

Delusive quickly swung his sword in an upward motion, meeting blades with the orc. This swing was strong and never stopped until the sword rested on the opposite side it had started from. The strike was not fatal, for the blade never met with the flesh, but the impact and force was enough to send the orc flying back.

Wether it actually hurt or not was unclear, but Delusive was certain that it would enrage an orc as large as this one.

"Is that all you've got? If so, then you're already dead!" Delusive yelled from underneath his covered face. There was no way for the orc to see the expression on Delusive's face, but if he had it would only enrage him even more because...Delusive was smiling!

[ShadowDemen]

OOC: Don't base my appearences on my sig too much. I just thought it looked cool. Oh, and techicaly my longsword is already unsheathed, but I guess I'll ignore that fact.


IC: As the orks came closer, one had apparently decided ShadowDemen to be an easy kill, and let loose a dagger aimed for the assassin's chest. With a small step to his right, he dodged the dagger completely. "Amateurs." Removing two shurikens from behind his twin swords, he tossed both at the beast the ork was riding. At the same time, he began to chant, getting ready for his spell.[/I]

[Chungo]

OOC: oops, sorry missed that part, Shadowdemen.

ShadowDemen and Delusive,
Do you want me to write for your opponent or do you want to do it yourselves? Either way is fine with me.

[ShadowDemen]

Please write for my opponent, I'm not good at controling both sides at once.

[Delusive]

OOC:

Same here. I might throw in the occasional direction, like how Delusive knocked the orc back with the sword, but I always leave the reaction open to the characters creator...and I never wound them unless they choose to be wounded. I look forward to the outcome.

[Jeffrey199]

/OOC Sorry I was away for a bit.

Catching up to the battle raging ahead Jeffrey decided he had to do somthing, perching himself on top of a boulder and began to think. A difficult task considering the sounds of battle raging all around him, still few pay much attention to a harmless bird. Jeffrey could still use some lesser spells in this form, spells he can cast without words... however the price is using more energy up, and the more energy a mage uses the easier a spell is to sense he couldn't give himself away, the mages guild was in enough hot water.

On the verge of beating his head against the boulder he was perched on Jeffrey had it! Or rather was on it... Several orcs were still down below, maybe he could slow them down. Using magic carfully he began to rock push the boulder, too much magic and he would be sensed so he couldn't just lift it he would instead just push it enough to let gravity do it's thing, and unless a particularly strong wizard were standing right ontop of him sensing the magic wasn't likely... anyone who noticed the boulder moving would just think someone in the battle had done it. With a slight strain on his energy the boulder began to roll right for the six wagons the orcs were using to cut off any escape. I am going to see this trade go through! Jeffrey thought as he took off into the air.

[Chungo]

OOC: Thursdays (US EST) take up alot of my time, so most often I wont post. I will post tomorrow, Friday, for everyone.

[Chungo]

Troak jumped off of his warhog and onto the wagon, bending his legs down as his feet touched the wood in the wagon bed. He straighten his legs, as he held his hands, up above his right shoulder, holding the hilt of his two handed sword. Troak brought his sword down diagonally, his hands moving towards his left knee.

Troak hadnt given his opponent any respect, and felt it as the human brought his great sword across, intercepting Troaks. The two weapons clashed, sparks flew, and Troak was sent spinning back into the sideboard, his momentum cause him to fall over the edge, out of the wagon and onto the ground.

Troak heard the human speak in another language but knew from its tone that it was a taunt. Troak roared, stood up and was about to climb up the wagon, but a shadow passed over him as another Ork, jumping off of its warhog took his place on the wagon.

Troak watched as one of his clansmate, a female, swung her battle axe from left to right towards the human.

[Chungo]

Brekek eyes followed his dagger towards the human, who swung his right shoulder forward, twisting his waist, forcing his left shoulder to disappear behind his right, allowing his dagger to pass. The human straighten, his left arm flying forward, quickly followed by his right.

Brekek saw two circular objects spinning, top to bottom, low, towards him and his mount. Brekek straighten his left arm, slashed down with his cutlass, in front of his left knee, catching the lead object, deflecting it towards the rock face. The second object struck his mount in the left shoulder, in a glance, he could see the blade was star shaped, in construction, with inch long arms and muttered "Amateur" ; a small bladed weapon like that couldnt penetrate the two-inch hide of a warhog.

Brekek glanced up with a sneer on his face, which disappeared as he saw the human began moving his arms in a mystical dance. As he and his mount closed the gap, Brekek readied himself for his jump.

[Chungo]

A shadow was what saved the Ork and his mount. The Ork, instinctively pulled hard right on his reins, his mount quickly, pulled up and right, as a large boulder hit the ground. The Ork continued his mount forward but wasnt at a correct angle to come along side of the wagons. The Ork urged his mount forward, passing the fight on his left, stopping its mount, a spear length from the sixth wagon.

The Ork dismounted and saw that his change in direction was followed by the remaining Orks behind him. He reached over his shoulder grabbed his weapon and walked towards the wagon. Once again the other Orks followed his direction.

[ShadowDemen]

OOC: For those who don't know, these are shurikens:
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e111/Shadowdemen/shuriken_3t.jpg
I'm doing this because it seems like Chungo just said the ones I threw were circular. Those are morning stars, A.K.A "ninja stars".

[Chungo]

OOC: Yeah, I messed up there. I was thinking throwing stars.

[Chungo]

OOC: Here I googled shruikens.
http://www.extremely-sharp.com/es/catalog/othshuriken.html

It appears alot of folks see throwing stars and shurikens as the same. So I dont feel as bad as I did before.

[ShadowDemen]

As the ork and his mount grew closer, ShadowDemen finally finished his spell.

"Hope he likes being able to see his ancestors again." With a smile, he extended his right arm towards the ork, and fired his curse, which would make the ork actually see the undead form of his family. "I love being a necromancer."

[Delusive]

Delusive was caught off guard by the female orc. The blade of her axe sliced through his black leather tunic, ripping open the flesh that was his chest. Delusive jumped back and was once again ready for battle.

Delusive's heart was racing, the heat of battle always made his blood flow. Blood was staining his tunic red, and the site of it made Delusive's soul rage. It had been some time since the berserker within him was released.

Delusive's size began to grow, muscles becoming ever more visible. If not for the mask covering his face, the red eyes of the berserker would have shown bright. The magic within the mask was special, allowing Delusive to retain his self awareness during the berserk state. Also, with the amulet that once belonged to his father, now faceted to his giant sword, he is able to release the berserker form at any time he chooses.

"Come at me!" he yelled, squaring his stance. "Both of you will taste my steel and feed its hunger!"

[Chungo]

Brekek leaped off the back of the warhog, spun and landed, like a cat, on the wagon, in front of the human, who proceded to finished his spell and extended his arm.

Brekek blinked, blinked again, and the human began to fade, as other figures began to appear around him.

"Its a spell. You saw him cast a spell." He thought to himself. The figures began to take form, the form of his parents and their siblings, long dead.

"Fight it." He began to chant it in his mind. "Fight it."

The spell still took hold, images of his dead relatives still began to appear, the world around him began to fade away; except for the human who cast the spell, Brekek remained focused on him.

Brekek roared at the sights in front of him both real and unreal.

[Chungo]

Troak, still unable to climb aboard the wagon, studied his opponent, as the female Ork attack sliced through his cloth and flesh. The attack just enrage his opponent. A berserker, Troak thought, just like me.

The female Ork shifted her right foot forward as she made an upward swing, the head of the axe rushed from her right knee up to the middle of the humans chest.

[Jeffrey199]

Necromancy Jeffrey thought... from overhead still masking his own magic. Taking note of the necromancer's power Jeffrey doubled his efforts to hide his magic. While unlikly that the necromancer could sense Jeffrey's living magic, Jeffrey liked to be cautious.

Circling overhead Jeffrey watched the combatants and whereveer he saw an opening to help turn the tide of a battle he took it. An arrow shot high into the air by mistake seemed to find an orks head, and that ork charging the tired warrior seemed dazed and sluggish. Another ork seemed to stumble right in front of another's Warhog leading to serious injuries on both parties and a rampaging Boar running through the orkish ranks. Always hiding his magic... never more than what would appear as bad luck Jeffrey acted as the guardian angel, or sparrow, for the caravan.

/ooc If you find yourself in a pinch, and hope somthing unlikly will befall your opponent you can just blame me, as long as I'm not revealed just yet.

[Delusive]

The female orc leashed out at Delusive once more. A powerful attack from her axe moved from the ground to the sky, aimed directly at Delusive's chest.

He quickly reacted and held his giant sword, grip in the left hand and blade in the right, to sheild the attack. The impact was powerful, but did exactly as Delusive planned.

The strength of the female orc lifted Delusive high into the air, but he quickly took his sword in both hands and began to fall back to earth, his sword slicing straight for the orcs head!

"Die!!!"

[Chungo]

OOC: I am assuming your swords is moving in a downward motion, rather than from one side to another

The Ork turn her right shoulder back as she position her left foot behind her right. She spun the haft, twisting the head of the axe, as her hands move to the left and than right across her body, bring the head of the axe barrelling into the side of the human's sword.

[Delusive]

As Delusive was about to reach his mark, the female orc slammed her axe into his sword, causing him to miss. But he was prepared for such a move.

Delusive released his grip from the sword and quickly pulled out a dagger. He and the female orc collided with the ground. Delusive now on top slid the blade against the orcs neck. He then looked up to the other orc, still just watching the battle, and motioned him to join in.

"Come at me! I want to test my strength on the both of you at once."

Delusive then leaped to the side, sheething his dagger and taking up his sword in one fluid motion. He then rested the tip of his sword in the ground and tightened his mask.

Once the mask was secure he removed the sword from the ground and prepared for the next charge!

[Chungo]

OOC: A reminder, you are on a wagon, in a bed, 4 ft by 12 ft, with sideboards that run 2ft high. In the wagon, are you and a couple of other defenders along with 1 Ork per each defender. Troak wants to climb aboard but unfortunately there is no fighting room.

Here is a picture of what the wagons probably look like, just remove the bonnetts:

http://www.endoftheoregontrail.org/wagons.html

I will be posting a little later today, dont worry one of the other defenders is about to drop and you will now have two Orks against you.

[Delusive]

OOC:

Apparently I missed something, but I never meant for my character to be on a wagon. I don't get into the details that well. I thought Delusive was standing behind the wagons. I thought when Troak attacked he leaped off the wagon torwards Delusive on the ground. I then thought he sent Troak flying back across the wagon. Again, my mistake. That's also why Delusive has been rushing forwards and to the side, there is no way he can fight in close spaces. Plus Delusive fights solo, no one else would be fighting along side him! IF they are, it would have to be a hell of a distance, considering his sword is over 6 feet in length.

We may have to alter where our fight is taking place!

[Chungo]

OOC: Yeah, I figured after reading your last post that you might not think you were in the wagon. The Orks, one per defender, have been jumping off their mounts backs, leading with a dagger, onto the wagons. You can finish off the female, after her next move, in the wagon and than from there jump off the wagon. It was my plan for the defenders to win the first engagement. I will be posting Niks fight with the lead Ork, Garana, in a bit.

Future:
Garanas brother will be showing up soon with about 75 Orks.
Orks will eventually overwhelm the defenders.
There will be one chance to escape.
If you dont escape you will become a prisoner and than a slave (unless you escape).
If you escape with the rest, a small party of Orks will be chasing the survivors, as they attempt to reach the main caravan.

[Chungo]

OOC: Oops forgot I was suppose to post next. At work at the moment I will get something on by tonight.

[Chungo]

OOC: Sorry guys, due to real life I am having difficultings getting online.

[Bakkrosa]

This was better than he could have imagined. Both sides seemed to have forgotten about him between the fire and the battle, and he had scrambled all the way to the top of the ravine without being seen. The cart was still burning merrily, smoke pouring out of both sides and flames licking up any... inconvenient clues that might have been left behind. He felt sorry for the family in the cart, in a vague sort of way, but they wouldn't be awake for hours. He'd be long gone.

Flush with his success, Bakkrosa turned and walked straight into a Mahirim scout. It took him a few seconds to calculate exactly what was going on, but soon the semi-roar from the scout congealed his thought process. A swift move- swifter than a man of his size should be capable of- brought Bakkrosa's Orkish dagger in between the ribs of the scout, just below the heart. A gentle twist brought the Mahirim to his knees, and a slight shift ended the scout.

He mopped his brow. This should change things significantly.

He hauled the scout behind him, barking in his heavily accented Mahirim for assistance. Imagine how a Mahirim would respond to seeing their dead scout with an Ork's knife in his ribs...