7 Fourth Age: And So Comes A New Year [MP]

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7 Fourth Age: And So Comes A New Year [MP]; [ Open ]
Topic Started: 2 Jan 2009, 06:00 PM (579 Views)
Deleted User	11 Jan 2009, 02:11 AM Post #21
Deleted User	The force of the blow cast Erchirion backwards. He felt the dripping and pooling of blood around his left eye socket and tasted the copper tang in his mouth, but for a moment, there was no pain; only shock. He was alive. In the instant he decided to urge himself back into the fight, the pain descended on him. It was as if his face had been lit on fire. Every nerve ending was throbbing with mortal agony. He fell to the ground again, and found himself covered in some strange smoke that had not been there a moment ago. As if from a great distance, he heard the crowd surging forth into a new, blind panic. A knee collided with his temple, splattering blood across the green grass. Erchirion’s vision narrowed and threatened to go black, but he forced himself to his knees, then his feet. He leaned over and spat out a mouthful of blood; he cleared his vision, leaving red streaks on his fingers and palms. Turning around and around, he saw nothing by the dark smoke his enemy had created. His sword lost somewhere in the chaos, and no enemy in sight, Lothiriel’s name was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted so badly to call out to his sister, to let her know he was alive when he should have died. Instead, different words came from his mouth. “Secure the perimeter!” His voice sounded weaker than usual amid the continuing shrieks and cries of the guests. “No one gets in or out of Emyn Arnen without the personal approval of a Prince of Gondor!” Fighting his way through the crowd, he came again to the place where he had left his sister, Queen Arwen, and Lady Gwenneth. Seeing them all safe, physically at least, greatly relieved him. None had died today, that he could see, and that was some small victory. “I recommend you all retire to a secure room inside the Steward’s House while these visitors are calmed, interviewed, and cleared of suspicions. I will send with you a guard of Swan Knights.” Erchirion could say no more. He was mortally tired, and his legs threatened to collapse beneath him. Weak from combat, bloodied and bruised, he had scarcely managed these two orders he had given. There was a full day of work still ahead: hundreds of guests to interrogate and a whole forest to search for the villain Elf. “And perhaps,” he murmured, “before too long, I will consult a Healer.”
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Deleted User	11 Jan 2009, 06:51 AM Post #22
Deleted User	A fight was not something that should be happening on this glorious occasion, but it was happening none the less. This elf. . it seemed he was tainted by the darkness. She had heard stories of such elves in the Hall of Fire, though tales of that sort were seldom told. Those times rather were saved for merry making. But it seemed that this elf also knew how to fight and had some sort of magic that he seemed to like. But the Prince also knew how to wield a sword. . Though it seemed that he was not getting the good end of the battle. Though everything was moving so quickly. . And it seemed like the fight had no sooner started then it was over and the elf was gone. Arwen often wondered what would possess an elf to turn from the rest of his people and into the darkness. But power could be such a corruptive thing, something that not just men are plagued by. "I think perhaps you should go to the Healer sooner rather than later." Arwen stated, though her voice was calm and held no tone of an order. Orders were not something that she liked to give often, though if he did not go to the Healer, she might change her tone. "Surely there is someone you can trust to take command long enough for you to be checked out."
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Deleted User	11 Jan 2009, 11:21 PM Post #23
Deleted User	Gwenneth, unable to find the child it's mother or father in the midst of chaos, had decided to keep the young girl close. In fact she'd scooped the little lady right up into her arms, kept the childs face pressed against the comfort and soft length of her neck and made her way back to the Queens. She watched in horror as Erchirion had battled it out with a mad man and, to her own surprise, was fighting back the urge to call out for the Prince just as Queen Lothiriel had done. It was something that she had instinctively choked back and forced herself to focus on other things. The child in her arms for example was one and staying close to the royal ladies an equally significant second. Softly she felt the slightly faded thump of her amulet again and wrapped her hand around it protectively as she turned in to the Queens. She stayed with them unwilling to let them stand alone but also, not quite sure what it was her survivalist instincts thought she could do for them if trouble came their way. "Shhhh", she continued to coo to the child. Brushing a hand through her hair as she sobbed softly into Gwenneth's shoulder. Whispering for her mama but to frightened to let go. "The Queen's right." Gwenneth spoke stiffly to the Prince of Dol Amroth, shocking even herself as her tone carried a placid but ice cold edge along her tongue. " Remembering her place, Gwenneth bowed her head head in resignation to Erchirion and shifted the child in her arms to the other side of her torso before continuing. "The people need their Prince well, the sight of blood on you will only further their alarm. Terror is a weapon that, who ever he was, used wisely. Combat it with calculation and wisdom." the lady paused to glance to the two Queens and back to the Prince. "If nothing more, I know a simple remedy that will stop the bleeding and minimize the chances of infection. You'll see the enemy much better with two eyes than one, my Lord."
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Deleted User	15 Jan 2009, 12:46 AM Post #24
Deleted User	The screams and the shouts of the people of Arda tore the air in thousands of pieces – an almost ironic contrast to the laughter and celebration that had been heard throughout South Ithilien just moments before. The black wings of the crebains covered the sky for a moment and everything went as dark as the feathers of the birds. Their craws pierced straight through the skin right into the bones, spreading an icy feeling throughout the whole body from head to toes. The attack had hit like a lightning from a clear sky and had immediately caused chaos. The high-pitched scream of a child cut air that was already thick with terror like a knife followed by the cry: ”The Lieutenant of Barad-dûr!” Éolýstan found himself in the centre of the tumult, being pushed around from one side to the other. However, he did not move himself. He had found that meeting panic with panic only made the situation even worse. He had seen the object falling to the ground – a hand bearing the Eye of Sauron. His attention had quickly been directed towards elsewhere, though. The words of a mad-man could be heard, rising above the screams: ” You stand here with your titles and your festivities…celebrating something you do not have anymore. You’re not free! You’re not safe! This illness, this hand, oh yes, it’s him!” Éolýstan frowned immediately as he heard the word “illness” being mentioned and he quickly fixed his eyes on the elf that had spoken the “prophecy”. His attention had been caught. As the elf started moving, Éolýstan followed him closely, but then paused when Prince Erchirion of Dol Amroth attempted to arrest the traitor. This was something that he did not wish to get involved in and therefore he took a few steps back. He did not stay to watch the fight to the end, though, as someone somewhere behind him called out his name. He recognised the voice of one of the elderly healers, asking him to follow him to a quickly installed “house of healing” in order to take care of some of the wounded who had been hurt during the tumult. Éolýstan turned his head on last time towards the fight before rushing off to help the other healers in their work.
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Deleted User	16 Jan 2009, 03:57 PM Post #25
Deleted User	Erchirion had planned to delay seeing a Healer as long as possible, but it seemed he had no choice but to bow to Queen Arwen’s wishes. Without giving any order, she had persuaded him to do as she wished. When Lady Gwenneth offered her support to the Queen’s suggestion, Erchirion wondered if she might be concerned for his well-being, no matter how little she seemed to like him. Yet it was not so. Her concern was not for the Prince, but the people whom he led. He could not entirely find fault in that. “Yes, my Queen, my second is Bellion.” Erchirion glanced up to see Bellion already working his way through the crowd, attempting to gain control over the chaos as he went. The Rangers of Ithilien were disappearing into the forest, leaving the soldiers from Minas Tirith and Swan Knights to organize the party guests. Events were proceeding exactly as he had ordered them. He could find no reason to object. “There is no need to trouble yourself, Lady Gwenneth. I thank you for the offer, but I see the Healers have already begun their work. I will visit them before returning to my duties.” Leaving the Queens and Ladies in the charge of Swan Knights, though if these headstrong women would do as he recommended and go inside, he could not say. He would not presume to bark orders at Queens, and he had no wish to make Gwenneth think any lower of him than she already did by dragging her inside. “Healer,” Erchirion called, approaching a man who appeared to be one of the Rohirrim. “Will you see to my wounds quickly so I might resume my protection of the people and Ithilien?”
Deleted User


Deleted User	16 Jan 2009, 04:43 PM Post #26
Deleted User	She had ran, to begin with, and probably would have carried on running it it weren’t for many different issues. For one, she felt so guilty for giving into fear and running in the first place, for two, she had no idea where exactly to run and for third, she had bumped into one of the injured. The Swan Knight who had gotten a weird shaped knife stuck in his collarbone. “Here. Wait a second. Please.” Firm hands pushed against his good shoulder and she smiled lightly. “Just for a minute” The knife was pulled out with some care, and whilst her hand pressed against the wound, her eyes looked over the design of the strange weapon before looking back to the male. “Just, keep this on it and go find a healer with the right equipment. The wound is deep and collarbones are always dangerous to leave untreated, and then you can’t help anyone.” She held up the knife and peered at it thoughtfully before bowing respectfully at the man and smiling. “Please follow me” She supposed she wasn’t as bad as she thought she was, being within public and acting like she should. Minus the not-wearing-shoes and fleeing the crowds, still, nearing what she assumed was the medical area for those who had been hurt during the chaos. Letting the Knight go off towards one of the free healers, she bopwed again. “Please take care!” When the pressure was lifted off of her, Lyda found herself relaxing to a point she could barely stand. She still wanted to run and hide, but she had something to do first. Looking around wildly, the young female carefully stepped through the single house of healing looking for who she needed, pausing a little when her eyes caught sight of the Prince. “My Lord?” she called, carefully approaching, her bright gaze widening at the wound for a moment before she dropped to the ground and she bowed. “I pulled this out of one of your knights…I..it might be of interest and advantage to you…” With that said, her left hand opened, and there, within her palm was the intricated, strange bladed throwing knife.
Deleted User


Deleted User	22 Jan 2009, 03:01 PM Post #27
Deleted User	Erchirion remained still while the Healers daubed away the blood from his face and revealed a wide slash running from chin to temple. The blade had only just missed his eye, which the Prince now closed and gave a prayer of thanks to Ulmo. As the needle worked across his face to stitch up the wound, he heard the panicked roar of the crowd slowly die away into a frightened buzz. It was nearly half an hour later when he was permitted to leave the makeshift House of Healing. Bellion and the Swan Knights, along with the soldiers from Minas Tirith, had convinced the guests to remain seated on the field, called forward one-by-one to have statements taken. Many had been released and were steadily streaming down the hill leading to the river and towards Minas Tirith. Others had been sent into the pavilion. Erchirion’s work lay inside, interrogating the suspects and judging their guilt or innocence. The Prince glanced down at his sister’s Lady-in-Waiting when she approached. She did look like the girl who had been hiding in the bushes. On any other day, Erchirion would have had words with her about it, for he wanted Lothiriel protected at all times, but today, her love of foliage was the last thing on his mind. “Yes!” he said, shocked by the girl’s bravery in removing the knife and keeping it close to her. “It will prove most useful in the coming days. You have my thanks and my friendship, Lyda, for aiding my Knight and bringing me this weapon. Come with me.” Erchirion led the girl over to the Queens and Lady Gwenneth. He was steadier on his feet now, though every inch of his skin felt as if a fire seeped from this wound on his face. He had not looked in the mirror, though he had seen similar injuries in battle and knew how ghastly the black stitches appeared. “My Ladies, now I must insist that you find a secure room within the Steward’s House. King Elessar and King Eomer would never forgive me for allowing harm, or even the possibility of harm, to befall you, and their Majesties are the very last men in Middle-earth I want to anger.” Erchirion glanced over his shoulder at the pavilion tent, where another man was being led inside with soldiers flanking him. Within the tent, he would find himself shackled to a chair until one of the Princes of the realm, either Erchirion or Faramir, pronounced him innocent or guilty. If innocent, he would leave unharmed with apology. If guilty, a dark prison cell in Minas Tirith and a trial for high treason awaited him. “There is grim work to be done,” Erchirion continued. “I would have you spared of it altogether, and I am confident the Kings of Gondor and the Mark would have that too.”
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