~ Dangerous Shadows ~ (Open)

[Cindralic]

Cindralic sat in the mouth of the cave at the base of the Misty Mountains, his hands gripped around a wooden mug, warmed by the flickering fire two feet from Cindralic’s feet. His eyes looked out into the tundra that lay in front of him. His eyes pierced through the snow, the darkness of the night, looking out into the night, his mind churning; his thoughts troubled. Cindralic was contesting with a greater evil than himself, an evil that had a stronger pull, a stronger will than he to pull all matter of evil beasts and creatures to him. Cindralic couldn’t help but start to think that he was going to need to seduce the world of men as opposed to counting on the orcs and uruk hai for his strength. It seemed that their alliance was to the east. Still, Cindralic had command of many in his territory that had no yet met the call. Cindralic would use them to break the will of man. But how? The realm of Arnor was already hanging by a thread because of the work of the witch king and that was hundreds of years ago. Cindralic ran his hands over his face, drinking the hot black liquid within the mug. He grimaced at the taste. The fire crackled and popped, casting shadows onto the cave walls behind Cindralic. Cindralic turned his gaze from the tundra before him to look at the shadows, watching them dance. He took in a deep breath before taking another sip. Another grimace. Perhaps the answer is not in Arnor but north. There are men there that are usually seduced, easily enticed but things they know nothing about. Who shall I send to persuade them? Not I. I have tailored my features so that I could entice the world of evil, not a world that would remain neutral at first. I need an ambassador. Not an easy request.” Cindralic stood up from the ground, feeling to his waist where his sword Mal’yn hung silently, covered well by his dark garbs and cloaks. Perhaps he needed to journey to Bree. There were men there, women there that could enticed. He needed to be careful to not stray too close to Rivendell. Elrond and the elves there would be able to detect his plans and he could not afford that. He wished no participation whatsoever from his kin. They would only get in the way. Cindralic turned his head as he heard the sound of wolves howling in the distance. Some poor soul was being run down. Too bad for them. Wolves tended to be slower in killing their prey than wargs. Cindralic preferred wargs. Cindralic smirked and turned his head towards the inside of the cave, snapping his fingers. The darkness moved as a large black warg, standing almost as tall as Cindralic walked next to the dark elf. Cindralic placed his hand on the beast’s forehead, running his hands through the mane. Cindralic’s eyes squinted as he looked out into the snow covered ground, looking to the West. Nothing of interest. “How do I ride into Bree with you my pet?” He asked as he looked over at the warg. The beast snarled, growling as Cindralic’s hand ran down the mane a bit more. “Perhaps when the snow clears we shall go. No need to return to Carn Dum just yet. Garthen can control the orcs until I return. Sometimes you need to conjure your own army, create your own servants. Where to begin.” Cindralic muttered to himself, taking another sip from his mug. Another grimace.

[hades]

Well, here she was! She still had no recollection of why she was here; she just knew that she was. Her surroundings were dark, cold and damp. The trees were pine and the smell wasn’t the greatest. Pine needles made for a horrible fire; fire in general wasn’t a smart thing to start when you didn’t know where you were. The rules of the road were unfair, and so were unfriendly people. Even if she wanted to start a fire it would take longer than usual. The wood was wet from the snow that covered everything, very inconvenient. She hadn’t been in Bree but for a few hours before she decided to move on. They had warned her about the cold weather, they had also warned her not to go the place known as Angmar. Perhaps they were right… Ginger didn’t fancy being out in the cold. Her light shirt was meant more for the warmer parts of Middle-Earth. Her leather vest wasn’t much protection, and neither were her pants. The green cloak she wore was the only thing keeping her warm.

The elf rubbed her hands together in an attempt to create warmth. What good would her bow do her if her fingers were frozen? She couldn’t hunt without… Dénor! That was the reason she was in this far! The foolish bird had gone into one of his tantrums again. Although he was loyal enough to sick close, he evaded Ginger, and taunted her by staying just out of reach. The young elf was foolish enough to pursue him this far, so it wasn’t just the fault of the owl. Ginger’s brown eyes scanned the darkness for any sign of the cream color feathers. He would have to come out of his tantrum sooner or later! If he didn’t, he could very well get her (and him) captured, tried and killed. I don’t fancy myself in that position. In her imagination she could see Dénor’s lovely feathers being stuffed into a pillow. Too bad it won’t be under my own head. It might, though, if she ever decided to carry out the vicious empty threats her voice hurled at the bird.

“Dénor?” Ginger called to the darkness, “Dénor where are you?” Wolves howled in the distance, and it was getting later than Ginger wished to be out. Better find a tree to sleep in tonight. Don’t want to become a wolf’s next meal… or a warg’s.

[/justify]

[Cindralic]

Those wolves were in fact wargs, a very dangerous creature that were mutated and larger than the typical wolf. They were often ridden by orcs but in this case it seemed that they were an undomesticated pack, hunting in the snow for any elk or slower prey that wouldn’t be able to escape. Attacking a human or an elf was not outside their minds, they had done it before and in the past year their kind had grown to have a great appreciation for human flesh. The wargs had picked up the scent of the she-elf and they intended to take advantage of the fact that she was all alone and without shelter. The frozen tundra did not provide much cover from trees or rocks or even caves until someone got closer to the mountains. That was another dangerous thing because of the cave trolls that lives in the various caves. Few caves in the mountains were left unattended. The pack of wargs began to close in from a distance and would have been seen by keen elf eyes had it not been for the blinding snowfall and pitch blackness of the night. There was no moon or stars to guide a weary traveler to safety or even back to the nearest town, which, in Ginger’s case, was quite far away. A harsh north wind kept the wargs ever keen on her scent as they closed in, circling, they howls alerting all the nearby wargs to her presence.

Cindralic kept his hand on his warg’s neck as he looked down at it, his mouth watering, his teeth bared, growling as his ears were perked, listening to the hunt that was happening a mile or so away. Cindralic chuckled to himself as he looked at the warg, knowing that he wanted to go and hunt. “Silence my pet, there was ways to hunt besides going and simply chasing after whatever you feel like sinking your teeth into.” Cindralic muttered as he went to the back of his cave, walking over to the pile of wood that he had collected. His fire was still crackling and rather hot. It had yet to smolder down to coals. Cindralic liked a hot fire and cared not if attention was drawn to him because of it. Who was really going to sneak up on him in this weather? Cindralic listened as the harsh wind howled around the mouth of the cave, matching the howling of the warg hunt. “We shall see if the warg prey is worthy.” Cindralic smirked as he threw more wood onto the fire, stirring it, poking and prodding until the fire was well over three times as large as it was before. Cindralic looked over at his firewood and nodded. He had enough to keep that going for a half an hour or so. Besides, if the traveler that was being hunted didn’t see or didn’t make it to him by then, they were probably dead. Cindralic looked over at his warg who as pacing the mouth of the cave. Cindralic removed his dark garbs, his shrouds dropped quietly to the cave floor revealing his black leather, his long dark sword, his cold eyes. He didn’t need his coat because the heat of the fire was warming the whole cave very well at this point. “Shall we see who is out there?” Cindralic asked his warg.

[hades]

The sound of the wolves was nearer now. You know that sickening feeling you get when you become a nervous wreck? That basically sums Ginger’s feelings up at this moment. The elf reached for her hunting bow and fitted of her arrows to it. Shiver, unsure if was from the cold, which she was much unprotected from, or her nerves shattering to pieces, she pressed on. The annoying crunch of the snow under light feet couldn’t be heard even to her own ears. The howling of the wind and the howling coming from the hunger beasts confused her mind, so did the snow flurries that kept flying into her face. They seemed to be falling twice as much and double the speed of what had been falling. Pressing on through the cold, horrible snow she thought to herself, Well, if I’m going to die here I might as well die in the cold; but I’ll not become a meal for a hungry animal! That was a laugh. The thought made her smile a bit at her own absurdity. To think, just a few moments ago – before the howls had been carried to her over the wind – she was worried about where her next meal was going to come from. Looking at herself now, she was more concerned about someone else’s meal than her own. Oh yes, and that confounded bird! Where is he?

[/color][/i] Ginger liked hide and go seek, but this was ridiculous!

This wasn't even a game! Whatever was out there, she was going to be ready for it. And it was going to be ready for her, though she didn't think much of her death. There were still things she wanted to do! People she wanted to meet, and places she had only heard existed. And Dénor was going to be with her all way! Honestly, she hated being alone when she was traveling; but she could never find a friend who would be willing to stick with her through thick and thin. Perhaps she was destined to be alone?

Ginger had come to a full stop, panting. Was walking through this really as hard as all that? “I don’t fancy snow and I'm lost in a wilderness unknown to me, myself and I. I’ve lost my only friend, and there is a pack of wolves, hungry no doubt, out there somewhere.” She said aloud to no one at all. Her brown eyes gazed into the pitch black of night. If the snow fell any harder she would be buried up to her head in it in no time at all. “Oh, Dénor where are you?” She called into the black void.

Dénor was around. His large orange eyes glowed strangely into the dark. Everything about Dénor was large, his wing span, his claws – his favorite meal was a nice big buck! Mice were okay, but they were too quick to die. He liked a challenge, but he didn't like a forest with no trees! Especially a cold forest with next to no trees…


[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[Cindralic]

The howling of the harsh wind, the crackling of the fire, the growling of the warg and howling of the wolves outside the cave prevented there from being any peace and quiet in the cave. Cindralic didn’t like peace and quiet. Silence was sickening to Cindralic. He had spent a good bit of time in silence and he had never enjoyed it. When he hid in the caves of the mountains, hiding from the eldar or the others that sought him through the ages, he had his fair share of silence. He enjoyed the noise, the sensations filling his ears as he thought about the world around him. He knew it was a dangerous place out in the tundra after dark. He wondered if the lone traveler in the tundra would survive. They had to fight off wargs, the cold, lack of food. He supposed that water would be easy enough to find if one was willing to melt down some snow. Cindralic chuckled to himself as he thought about his situation contrasting that of the traveler in the snow. Here he was protected from the elements, warm, without fear of wind or warg. He imagined that the hunted party before him would very gladly welcome this cave if they “stumbled” upon it. Cindralic looked down at his weapon, his wonderful blade that in the elven tongue meant, “War started”. It was sort of fitting for someone like Cindralic. He drew it from its sheath and looked at it, following the blade from the top to the bottom, watching as the fire danced in reflections of the blade. “Beautiful.” He muttered to himself as he walked out to the mouth of the cave and smelled the air again. “Ah yes, fear.” He smirked. He had no doubt the traveler was coming to their wit’s end. He wanted that feeling and scent of fear to grow.

The howls continued as the wargs continued to follow the woman who was now mobile as opposed to being a simple stationary kill. This just increased their desire to hunt. The pack of wargs numbered fourteen in all and they hadn’t eaten in quite some time. The wargs continued to run after the young woman, several running on ahead of her in the shadow of the mountain she was somewhat beneath. Several wargs moved up from behind to test her. They could smell elf. Elves meant weapons. Still, it was time to test the resolve of this particular piece of prey. Three wargs come bounding down from the snow from behind Ginger and slightly to her left, spreading out just a bit, their cold yellow eyes was their only give away in the pitch blackness of night. Their eyes were not blinded by the snow, they thirst for blood was not deterred by the cold. It was only encouraged by their hunger and by they desire for flesh. The three bore down on her with relentless speed, the first of the pack leapt forward from behind in an attempt to go for the young woman’s throat. If, by some chance she was able to escape the these three, they would come sequentially, hurting, biting, getting bits and pieces of her to bleed until she was exhausted. Then, once she collapsed and could no longer continue…they would feast. It was their way.

[cassiopeia]

The cold was biting into Casswyn's flesh as she sat astride the her powerful black mare, Uvaer. The young woman was furious with herself. She had travelled north to Bree in search of work, finding a few jobs to tide her over for a time. Then Casswyn had grown bold, she had decided to travel further north into the wilds; to explore, to travel roads she had never seen before and, more sensibly, to hunt and to bring her spoils back to sell. It had started off well enough and Casswyn had enjoyed the sense of adventure that had come with her exploration. Then things had taken an unexpected turn for the worse. Whilst walking alongside Uvaer, giving her mare a much deserved rest from her burden, a branch had suddenly fallen from a tree and the loud crash had startled the highly-strung Uvaer. Had Casswyn been mounted she would have been able to control and calm the mare but, on foot, she had no hope of halting such a large, determined and tempestuous beast. In fact, Casswyn still had the burns on her left palm and fingers where she had tried, and failed, to keep a hold of the reins.

With a loud whinny, Uvaer had bolted as though the very hounds of hell were on her heels and Casswyn had had no choice left but to pursue her mare on foot. Uvaer carried in her saddlebags all of Casswyn's earthly belongings but, more than that, Casswyn would never abandon her mount, her one companion. Certainly not here, not in this dangerous corner of the world of all places. It had taken many hours to track the mare down, Casswyn losing her bearings in the process, but eventually she found Uvaer sweating and shaking, showing the whites of her eyes in panic and fear. Even now Casswyn could feel the mare coiled tight beneath her, ready to bolt at any given second – but now Casswyn feared that the hounds of hell were actually on their heels.

The howls in the distance seemed to be growing closer but Casswyn wasn't convinced the wargs had actually caught her scent. Since finding Uvaer, Casswyn had remained almost permanently in the saddle - it simply wasn't worth the risk dismounting for a prolonged period only to have Uvaer spook again. If she did, it would surely be a death sentence to Casswyn, who would most likely die of exposure or starvation before finding any civilisation... Casswyn sighed quietly to herself, reining in her imagination. She had to hold it together if she was going to get out of this alive and, if she did, this ought to be a lesson to her! Adventure was all very well but it was no good at all if it cost her her life in such dire circumstances.

Casswyn had to make a decision. She had remained in this one spot for some hours now, hoping the warg pack would move away - if she were to kick Uvaer on there was too much of a chance of them hearing Uvaer's hoof beats. But they were getting closer all the time. It was at this moment that Casswyn thought she heard a female voice carry on the wind. Inclining her head slightly, she considered the possibility that her time in the wilderness was driving her to madness. Surely there could be no other souls out here? But hark, there was the voice again!

Casswyn made her decision. Sitting in the spot slowly freezing to death was not an option. She squeezed slightly with her heels, gently and without the aid of her voice so that Uvaer would not use this command as an excuse to break into a flat-out run, they moved off in a fast walk - Casswyn steering her mount in the direction the voice seemed to come from. It had better not have been her imagination. Now that she was moving Casswyn feared she would not have another opportunity to stop this night.

[hades]

She wasn’t going to cry, that was beyond her. Though there were many sad things in the world to weep over. Ginger didn’t think it was very important to cry over losing a friend, but she has been known to be wrong before. The cold wind had blown across her face so much now, that she could hardly feel it. The idea of a warm fire seemed so far away, only but a memory now. Perhaps her cheeks would fall off first, then her ears! Perhaps then… the sound of paws in the snow made her nerves come to life. Ginger knew she was no longer shaking from the cold; but from the fear. How many are there? She wondered. The longest knife she had was about as big as one of the knives that the butcher used when he was cutting the delicate parts of a deer, or a whatever. A sword was one of the precious things she had rejected for the company of a giant owl who always flew into the craziest mood swings! I guess a sword would come in handy about now. Ginger wasn’t without learning; she could wield a sword with the best of them, though she chose not to. Stupid.

Ginger’s ears detected the sound of many creatures moving all about her. Then, her eyes saw little yellow lights glowing in the darkness all about her. Trapped! Ginger wasn’t the best shot in the dark, and immediately the hand that was holding the arrow to her bow reached for her knives. The arrow fell to the snow, and turning the elf let out a terrified shriek as a warg came out of the darkness. Falling back into the snow, Ginger watched everything move in slow motion. The Warg came at her, its’ teeth gleamed an awful yellow color in the dim light provided by the snow, and she could smell its’ breath. The yellow eyes were bent on her and paid no attention to anything else. The knife in her hand wouldn’t be enough to save her. She held it out anyway, the only thing she could do was hold it out and hope for the best.

Without warning there was a screech of furry and a large bundle of claws and feathers. The warg let out a howl of rage and pain as the claws of the large bird racked its’ ugly mug. When Ginger’s mind registered this everything picked up to its normal speed. Dénor was attacking the warg, his claws and feathers splattered with blood. His screeching was never a pretty sound, but neither was the howling of the warg as it tried to claw at her beloved feathered friend. Ginger’s ears picked up the sound of another on her right and on her left. Three… great! I can handle three... I think. Quickly bending down she picked up her bow and laced an arrow to it just as the second warg came leaping her way. She might not have been the best bowman in Middle Earth, but at close range she could hit just about anything! Which is, almost, exactly what happened; when the warg’s eyes were too close for comfort is when she loosed her arrow. The warg let out a yelp and fell to the ground. To be sure it was dead she pulled out on of her knives and thrust it into the creature’s forehead.

She struggled for a bit to pull it out and when she finally did, she looked up and there was the third warg. Dénor nowhere to be found, but she could hear his screeches not far off. Good, he’s still alive, because in a few moments… I won’t be! but so was the animal he was wrestling with. Both she and the warg before her were still. Their eyes met and they stayed locked the entire time the warg moved closer. She backed away and it advanced…

Dénor, in the mean time, had managed to claw at the eyes of the leader warg, or at least the one that had attacked first. His feathers were bloodied and his orange eyes were filled furry. He didn’t like wargs, he didn’t like wolves. He was top predator as far as he was concerned! Of course it didn’t help that Dénor had an ego. The eyes and nose were things to attack; they would damage his sense of smell and sight. Now if it would just run off into the wild where it came from Dénor would hold it as a victory, it would also feed his ego. But there was another sound, a sound not of warg or people, but a sound Dénor hated the most! The sound of hoof beats in the snow…

[Cindralic]

Screams were comforting. Howls were a little more concerning and why the hell was their screeching? What was out there; an oversized peacock? Cindralic looked over at his warg whose ears perked up when he heard the screech of the bird and howling of the wargs. Cindralic and warg both knew what those two sounds meant. Now what in the world was a traveler, and based on the scream, a woman, doing alone in the night with a giant bird of prey? Now that was a good question wasn’t it? Another gust of wind brought the sounds of the battle into the cave and Cindralic listened intently. “Maybe she will make it after all. It sounds like she took a few down. There are always more though.” He chuckled as he went over to his warg, running his hands over the beast’s back, warming his hands with the fur. “Should we go have a look?” He asked as he looked over at the roaring fire. He wondered if they would make it to him. Probably not at this rate unless she got some more help from her bird friends or something. Women couldn’t survive out in that sort of climate. The warg growled a little bit, its body lurching forward, wanting to go help its kin in the fight and in the hunt. “Patience my pretty, they will come.” He told the warg, gripping its fur tightly, letting it know to settle down. Cindralic looked out into the night, listening to the war that was happening outside. It was a test between the nature of man and the nature of beast. In this day in age there was no telling which side would be victorious.

The wargs were not at all pleased with the fact that this woman had killed one of their pack, and some bird had gotten a second. The third was a little messed up due to a surprise air show but he wasn't going to back down. With one great howl he called for back up, content to stay in front of the woman, lurking, keeping her a bay. The wargs didn’t want to keep up the pace if they were just going to be taken down one at a time by this woman. The wargs converged. There were still eleven of them and one woman. The bird could only fight one at a time and so their numbers were still favorable. They came from all sides but something detoured them as they grew closer. The scent of a horse and rider filled their nostrils. What bigger game was coming towards them? Six of the wargs broke off towards the newcomer while the other five continued on towards the woman. She wouldn’t be able to take all five would she? Maybe with that stupid bird. The six other moves towards the horse and rider in no particular style or pattern, just a full out ride towards the fresh warm meat that filled their nostrils. They would eat well tonight. Wargs would not be denied when hungry and in this tundra, two humans a horse were rare and a delicacy to come by. They would be eaten if they didn’t know how to defend themselves. The wargs continued to howl as the hunt was on for the new prey while the other five surrounded Ginger. The first attack from the front while a second attack from the back. They were done playing games.

[cassiopeia]

Casswyn had heard the human shriek and avian screeches and, with the click of her tongue, she and Uvaer picked up the pace. Casswyn was grateful in this moment for the sheer size and strength of Uvaer as the mare found no trouble cutting a path in the snow. The big black horse was brighter now, content to be on the move, though she was still coiled tight and she champed on her bit in agitation. The howls were getting closer still and it would only be moments until Casswyn became most grateful for another two of her mare's qualities - speed and agility. Casswyn cursed under her breath, sickened of the situation and furious for letting herself get into it, but she would sooner be damned than die here. Getting to the woman that had screamed (had that even been real?) was perhaps her only chance. That or riding through the night in the vain hopes of happening across civilisation, which was much too risky a game to play. Uvaer was sure-footed but if she was bone-achingly weary there was too much chance she would stumble and then there was the likely chance they might only find themselves further out, heading the wrong direction. No, this was a problem best dealt with head-on.

The young rider drew her sword just before she caught sight of glowing eyes of the first warg. For a moment, fear prickled her heart and Casswyn gave a little whimper, but as the ferocious beast began to charge her Casswyn instead tried to feed off her own fury – she would not die today! She refused to! Squaring her jaw Casswyn, with a big kick, sent Uvaer into a fast canter. The loyal steed made its way towards the wolf-like animal, setting her discomposure aside now that she had seen what lurked in the darkness. With horses it always seemed to be that way, above all else they feared the unknown.

As a Rohirrim particularly gifted in horsemanship Casswyn was truly in her element on horse back and so she knew what was to be done. At the last possible second, Casswyn moved her right foot back and kicked her mare behind the girth whilst giving the left rein a tug (which were still gathered in her left hand while she gripped her sword in her right). Uvaer knew the command and swerved sharply left, just as the warg pounced forward to take a bite of her flesh. In reward of its efforts, Casswyn swung her blade fiercely, cutting the creature's throat to the bone.

Breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through her veins, Casswyn did not have time to celebrate, as she noticed now a second warg had been following close behind the first. A series of rather creative cuss words flew through her mind. Though Casswyn did not actively plan it, she switched her blade and reins, charged the vile creature and repeated her previous manoeuvre in mirror image. And so another warg fell. Being weaker in her left hand, Casswyn felt a strange pity in noticing that the wound was not so deep as the first warg's. The creature was incapacitated, yes, but would die more slowly, bleeding out in the snow to the chorus of its comrades' howls. That will be the healer in you, lass, or at least your big, foolish heart, Casswyn thought to herself. After all, they were loathsome beasts and they had attacked her first! Casswyn would have no qualms felling every last one in order to survive.

Reining in her thoughts, Casswyn focused on the path ahead - yet more wargs! Casswyn did not count them, she knew there to be perhaps three or four, and there was no room for her to drive Uvaer between them. Well, that could be remedied. Swapping her blade back to her right hand she guided Uvaer around in the direction they had just come from, the wargs predictably giving chase. Casswyn took the mare full circle so that they were now ploughing in their original direction, fast but not at top speed – her mare might need her reserves for them to make an escape later. Casswyn squinted in the darkness, she could not be far from where the voice had come from now.

[hades]

This is taking way too long… The wargs seemed to be thinking the same. If Ginger had tried to count the pairs of glowing yellow eyes in the darkness, she would have thought herself surrounded and doomed to die. But I am… The wargs dark shapes were darker than the night, and just barely visible to her elvin eyes. The warg in front of her let out a howl and above the wind Ginger could hear the sound of more racing through the snow. She didn’t yet hear the thud of horse’s hooves, the adrenalin racing through her only gave her enough to focus on what was in front of her and close by. Her hand clutched her knife; the warg was up to something. All animals had that same look in their eye when they were planning something. She had seen it often in the large round eyes of Dénor. She took another step back in the snow, her feet numb. Oh, to be warm and snug by a fire! It was more of a dream than a thought, Wait, haven’t I already thought that? She wondered before snapping back to the warg in front of her. The creature climbed over its’ dead pack member.

Surrounded and aware of it, Ginger prepared herself for the worse. If they all came at her once, she was done, if they came at her one at a time she could handle it. Unfortunately both parties knew that the later wasn’t a choice. Timed perfectly one attacked from the front and one from the back! Turning to her right she managed to dodge the first warg, driving her knife into its head. The second took hold of her cloak and pulled, dragging Ginger into the snow. Frantically she tried to slip out of it, her numb fingers tried to pull at the fastener that held it together. I’ll have to invest in a slip on! There were certainly a lot of thing she would have to invest in if she came out of this alive!

Another loud screeching noise floated close by. Ginger gave another shrill shriek as she watched another warg fly at her from the dark. This one had yellow teeth and extremely bad breath. Ginger reached for another knife and held it out for the beast to fall on it. The long sharp claws scratched at her arms, tearing cloths and skin, causing her to bleed. The warg landed on her knife, thrusting the ivory handle into her gut. Pain was all she felt, plus the weight of the dead warg on top of her. Stunned, Ginger struggled to catch her breath.

Dénor had finished his job on the first warg. It went howling away into the darkness, sure it wasn’t dead, but it was definitely marred for life. The large owl turned his sights on what was going on. His friend and master were once again surrounded. It was his duty to protect her! Using the breeze he gained height quickly and darted towards the brute that had his master by the cloak. His face was next!! He let out another screech, his claws aimed for the eyes. Hissing and screeching he took scratched at the same senses as the other; but this time he also dared to aim for the tongue. His movements were swift even as the brute shook its’ ugly maw to try and shake him off. Tired of the front, he pushed to the ears of the rotten beast. Digging his long sharp claws in as deep as he could, he flapped up.

Two more wargs were now dead, and a second was having his ears ripped to shreds. Two completely undamaged remained. Ginger was about to shout for help in vain when her keep elf ears picked up the sound of heavy hoof beats vibrating though the ground. Several people would ride a horse in this weather, but how could she ever guess which race? In her dreams, Ginger spoke strange tongues all the time, and she saw faces she had never seen before in her life – or that is what she thought. “HELP!” She called in Rohirrim. It was the language freshest in her mind, aside from that of common speech. She hopped she could be heard. The pain in her arms was now numbed by the cold; the drool of the dead warg was starting to seep into her hair and she was being crushed by the weight.

[Cindralic]

Howling and screams, screeches and cries filled the air was once again. Ever screech and howl sent a cool shiver down his spine with pleasure. He loved the sensation. He was a little bit twisted that way. This would be when most people would have a monologue about the disturbed childhood, how they were beaten as kid or how they hated their parents. It was true that Cindralic never knew his father, he was killed in the first age in the service of Morgoth. Cindralic had been raised by one of the servants of Morgoth who had escaped the battle of Gondolin and took it up as his goal to race the boy. His adopted father had no love of humans or elves or anything good in the land. Cindralic had learned to grow from things like pain and that he could be stronger the less he cared and the less emotion he showed or felt. Cindralic moved next to the fire, extremely close to the fire, letting the hurt climb all over his body. He removed the black garb that served as his shirt and cast it aside into darkness of the cave, letting the hot fire rush over his body as he drew ever closer. He ran his hands through his long dark hair and pulled it back before he looked out into the shadows again. “I must say that I am growing tired of waiting. I am patient but I am also, well, hungry.” He told his warg as he reached down for his black curved sword, making sure he still had it at his waist as he mounted his warg, still shirtless. He smirked as he leaned into his warg, his body parallel to the warg as he pulled and clutched the warg’s hair. “Go hunting my pretty.” He told the warg and with a great growl the warg leapt out of the cave, leaving the fire still leaping in the cave. He would be back to enjoy the burns. The cold was a new sensation to him, one that he had long endured in this place. His palace at Carn Dum was not known for its warmness or for its commodities but for the blackness in which Cindralic resided. He didn’t need all the luxuries that so many people endured in their royal palaces. The snow made it difficult to see, even with his elven eyes but he had sound to hunt by and it was an ever increasing nose as he dashed into the tundra. The warg’s sense of blood and the hunt drove it run faster, even with a rider. He was much bigger than a normal warg, bred by Cindralic himself. This warg was ready to fight whatever elf was out there. Cindralic let one of his hands glide down from grasping the warg, letting it feel the cold steel of his weapon. Beautiful…

(The wargs are up to you)

[cassiopeia]

Casswyn did not travel a straight path, instead guiding Uvaer in curves, with occasional, sharp and sudden turns thrown in for good measure – but all the while keeping her focus on the direction the voice had come from. The result was that the wargs had fallen a little behind. With each sharp turn Casswyn made they either slid, slowing right down, or were forced to loop around after their quarry, forcing them to cover more ground than she. The distance between them was not enough for them to call off the hunt but it was enough, at least, for Casswyn to lose sight of them in the darkness and to give her some moments to breathe and to think. She should almost be there now and, coming up to the final stretch, Casswyn murmured a command to Uvaer. The black mare's ears twitched, indicating that she had heard, and then came the surge of speed that, even after all these years, still took Casswyn's breath away. Casswyn flattened herself against her steed's neck as Uvaer stretched her body, forcing herself into the powerful gallop that was the envy of many riders in Rohan. The snow flakes that struck Casswyn's face pricked her skin like needles, so great was there speed, and the rider put her trust in the horse to see what she could not – the way ahead.

Then, suddenly, there was something up ahead. Casswyn sat back and pulled Uvaer back into a brisk trot. It was then that she heard the cry for help, in her native tongue, and, only a moment later, the dreadful sound of warg paws in the snow. Two wargs were racing towards her, distracted for the moment from their original prey. Casswyn did not hesitate, she kicked Uvaer on, injuring the first warg on the way and killing the second with a downward thrust of her blade that severed its spine. Arriving amongst the dead wargs that had been killed by Ginger, Casswyn leapt from her saddle, releasing Uvaer's reins and trusting, praying, the beast would not bolt. For once, the mare seemed to realise the dire situation they were in for, although she danced nervously on the spot, rising up on her hind legs on occasion, she did not flee. And then Casswyn saw her, a fair Elf trapped beneath one of the vile beasts, her eyes round with fear and pain. Friend or foe, Casswyn had no way of telling and, in that moment, the young woman could not have cared less. She was certain that to leave the Elf behind was to let her die and Casswyn refused to have that on her conscience.

“My name is Casswyn Láidir,” the words tumbled out of her mouth in a flurry, her fear apparent, “I will do all I can to help you.”

Casswyn was about to assist the Elf, to get her out from beaneath that disgusting carcass, when the injured warg returned. Casswyn would have to fight it on foot, though it was certainly not her forté. She squared her shoulders and her jaw just as the beast began to run towards her, a monstrous wound running right across its face, its blood dripping onto the snow. Casswyn gave a small cry, the creature was coming so fast and she was so small. If only she had remained on Uvaer! By some good fortune, whether the creature was blinded by blood or greed, it seemed to have chosen Uvaer over Casswyn and it changed direction, heading instead for the mare that stood a little ways behind and to the side of Casswyn. As it went to charge past, Casswyn swung her blade in desperation, carving a large tract into the beast's flank. It howled with pain, falling into the snow, before rising and settling its eyes on the young rider. It had underestimated her and for that she was sure to pay. It surged forward, its jaws wide open. Casswyn could smell its foul breath, could even count its teeth if she had the desire to, and so all she could do was raise her sword wildly, crying out in anger. The point of her blade went into the beast's open mouth, sinking into the back of its throat and out the back of its neck. As it fell, dead, it took Casswyn with it, and its dagger-like teeth tore her tunic and sliced the flesh of her arm. Besides that, however, Casswyn was blessedly unharmed.

Breathing heavily, scarcely daring to belief her good fortune thus far, Casswyn strode quickly over to the Elf, glancing over her shoulder as she did so. The wargs that had been pursuing her could not be far behind.

“There are another four I fear,” Casswyn panted as she pushed hard against the fallen beast, gasping as the effort forced her wound open further and spilling her blood onto the churned-up snow. Still, her efforts were rewarded as it allowed the Elf room to pry herself free from where she had been pinned. As the Elf gathered herself, Casswyn ran her eyes over her newly-found companion's injuries. They were painful and messy but the Elf was not in immediate mortal danger. Like Casswyn's own, the wounds would need to be cleaned and tended to as quickly as possible – warg bites and scratches had a nasty tendency to get badly infected. Making her way brisly back to Uvaer, Casswyn grasped the reins and practically dragged the mare to the Elf's side – the mare's nostrils flared and her eyes rolled at the scent of her mistress's blood.

“We would do best to ride, I think, if you are fit to,” Casswyn murmured distractedly as a hundred thoughts and ideas flashed through her mind. Combat on foot made the rider deeply uncomfortable and surely the Elf would have a bow. They could ride and pick off the wargs one by one, by sword and by arrow. Together, they just might be able to survive this.

-

(OOC: I wrote this in a terrible hurry, I'm afraid, so if there's anything you want me to change please just let me know.)

[hades]

Ginger waited, listening. The screeches of Dénor faded and all her attention went to the approach of the horse. It had picked up speed considerably. Relief swelled inside of Ginger; but the expression wasn’t strong enough to change her facial features. She was still scared and every time she tried to move pain would shoot through her arms. If she had shed tears she didn’t feel them. Her face was numb, like the rest of her body. The warm body of the warg on top of her was the only warmth she had felt the entire time being out in the cold and snow. But even that was starting to ebb away. Suddenly a face appeared above hers. “My name is Casswyn Láidir, I will do all I can to help you.” Ginger had no problems with that. She, like Casswyn, wasn’t worried about friend or foe for the moment. The elf was sure she would find out soon enough! Her next concern was Dénor, the owl didn’t like strangers. Just as the girl was about to help her get out from under the wretched beast, she was distracted. Don’t these creatures ever give up? She thought, tired of the repeating scenario.

[/color]

Ginger closed her eyes and listening as Casswyn killed the other warg, hopefully the last one. “There are another four I fear,” That was just wonderful! Four more to kill and then maybe it would all be over! She suddenly felt the weight of the warg being pushed off her. Ginger did everything she could to help push it off. Once it was off, Ginger crawled to her feet. Taking hold of the ivory handled knife she pulled it out of the warg and put it back in her belt, she did this to the other as well. One, two three… on her left hip, four… five… She was missing one! Panic filled her and she peered into the snow looking for her missing knife. “Yes, riding sounds good…” Ginger replied, not caring. If she lost one of her knives for good she would never forgive herself. She didn’t know why, she knew that she wouldn’t. In the mean time, Ginger picked up her bow and attempted to retrieve her third arrow from the first warg she had killed.

Dénor had once again fulfilled his goal. The warg he had been attacking raced off, its’ senses impaired like the other. Turning back to Ginger he saw her looking around frantically for something. Hopping through the snow he picked up the sound of his claws clicking with something metallic. Looking down he kicked it out of the snow with his talons. Immediately his orange eyes recognized the ivory handle. Clutching it in his talons he took to the cold breeze.

Having found everything she had lost, accept the knife, she looked Casswyn up and down. She was rugged looking and tired. The only wound she observed was the one on her arm. Looking behind her Ginger saw the mare, “Dénor!” She exclaimed, looking around for the bright orange eyes of her friend. Relief filled her when she noticed them glowing above a dead warg. He hooted a greeting and Ginger smiled. “If we’re going to go we had better leave now before more appear.” She replied to Casswyn's murmur. The total count of arrows she had was now three. “Oh, yes, I’m Ginger Dúnhere, and the orange eyes are Dénor.”

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Cindralic]

The night was beautiful for a ride, especially for Cindralic’s type. He didn’t care if the elements could have killed him or that it wasn’t the smartest thing, to go head first into the darkness with creatures of death lingered. Cindralic didn’t mind the creatures of death because he knew that they were subject to him and if they weren’t he had the skills to kill them. At the very least, they would be subject to his warg, who was bigger and stronger and would command the others if the situation merited. Cindralic kept his head low against the neck of the warg, his grasp was strong and firm, his body moving with the great beast to hardly slow it at all. Cindralic, although he was a larger elf, standing nearly a foot taller than most, could make himself almost weightless. His steeds did not mind such an ability. Cindralic had only brought his dark sword with him on this venture, no bow or daggers, just the weapon that had been handed down to him by his deceased father. Cindralic knew that he was nearing the area where there had been the battles and it looked like there were quite a few things going on. He saw tracks of a horse going in circles, the wargs obviously following those tracks. He also saw the blood from the wargs. Then the voices fell on his ears and Cindralic was a bit surprised to hear another voice in the darkness. It was a woman as well. Perhaps it had been just the first that had cried out while the second stayed quiet. It would seem that if the women had a horse then they might have an escape route. That would be entertaining. He didn’t mind a long horse race but he didn’t feel like being out in the night for that long. No, at this point he had other plans but he was going to need to use the night and the attack from the wargs to his advantage. Capturing one elf was easy, especially in the middle of the night. Capturing two was another matter entirely. He was going to need every ounce of his stealth and skill but he was fairly certain he could pull off such a feat. In the pitch black and with the commotion of the battle, Cindarlic found himself several yards from the battle without being visible, even for elf eyes. Cindralic dismounted from his great grey warg and he kept on one side, facing away from the two elves. “Go my dear. Tear the horse apart, bring the rest.” He told his beast in a whisper as to not be heard. It helped that he was upwind and sound wasn’t going to carry towards the elves at all. With a great growl and a large bound the warg leapt towards the battle. He let out a loud howl, louder and greater than those of any of the previous wargs this night. The other four seemed to rally to him, moving towards the two women. Cindralic’s warg moved around, coming up from the rear towards the dark horse, it’s eyes having no problem seeing in the dark as it leapt towards the horse. Cindralic planned to take away their escape route, take away their hope. The injured woman would be his first victim. He could smell her.

[cassiopeia]

Casswyn nodded as the Elf introduced herself and her avian companion, a distracted smile lighting her face even in this dire situation. If they lived long enough, they might learn more of each other later on, but in meantime their survival came first and foremost. Casswyn was just preparing to mount Uvaer when a monstrous grey warg lunged at her horse's rear.

“No!” Casswyn screamed, it was a horrified, pained sound and she could feel the blood draining from her face as a new fear clenched her heart. Casswyn gripped her sword tightly, the hilt already bearing tracks of her blood, but she was too many paces away to be of any use in the immediate moment. Fortune proved on their side once more, however, as the nervous and flighty mare had sensed the vile beast behind her. Just as the warg leapt, Uvaer bucked her muscular hind legs out in a powerful motion, squealing in fear as she did so. Her hooves landed a spectacular blow on the warg's skull, causing an awful sound to reverberate through the icy air. The kick was not enough to kill the warg but it certainly stunned it for the moment. This bought Casswyn precious seconds, for she was already running towards her equine companion, her expression one of grave concern. Casswyn knew her mare well enough to know what was about to follow and so she quickly sheathed her sword for the moment.

As Casswyn expected, the great black mare was about to flee when Casswyn reached her, just in time to tangle a desperate hand in Uvaer's long mane. As the beast bolted, the young rider dragged herself the considerable distance into the mare's saddle and, once seated, she pulled hard on the reins, once more bringing the fiery mare alongside Ginger. Casswyn extended her intact arm to the Elf, in order to assist her. Casswyn had little experience of Elves and was not sure the Elf would even require her help mounting Uvaer, but the offer came automatically. In any case, she had been unable to bring the mare to complete halt and even now Uvaer ploughed onwards in an unsteady trot, her head held high as she fought Casswyn's command to stop. They needed to flee, and fast!