Just a few miles North of the bridge, the road forks, at the
foot of a small hill. West lies the road to Pelargir, North the old road winds
its way through Ithilien to Osgiliath.
The hill is crowned with the remains of an ancient watch
tower, so old that none living can recall its name, now fallen into ruin, just
a few piles of old stone work, jutting from the turf like the worn teeth of an old
dog.
The Orcs drag Melathor to the top and bind his arms. They
are hungry and it’s all Skarrik can do to stop them killing the man and tearing
him into pieces.
“Stop that” he roars” I know what you pushdug maggits are
thinking! Now, get a fire going and do the job properly!”
As
the hapless Orcs are gathering fire wood Khabaal approaches Skarrik
Art thou preparing a camp fire Ape? An excellent scheme, for the night draweth in” he says
“Yeh sort of thing” mutters the chief Orc
“Keep
the prisoner well, I will come and talk with him presently. He may know things
of import, it wouldst be strange indeed if I cannot loosen his tongue”
Khabaal’s grin spreads across his face. Skarrik frowns and then realises the
intent of the Easterlings words. A similar smile grows on his face and soon they
are both lost in great guffaws of evil mocking laughter
The
Orcs have been reinforced by a Morgul Stalker, Snikkh, even the other Orcs
avoid this corrupted creature. He sits gnawing at something and muttering
unintelligibly
The
Southrons have been joined by a Mumakrim. One of those elite troops that ride
the howdahs of the mighty Mumakil and have performed that daring feat, the Leap
of Faith, jumping from the howdah of one Mumak to
that of another, the feat that earns him his golden Cummerbund. Akhim Dahn is no doubt on some secret mission
of his own
The Good Guys approach the hill. Faredor leads his men to the
right and the Northern Road. Baragund goes left towards the Pelargir road. The
three archers of Morthond climb a small hillock to gain a better view.
Faredor keeps his close combat, shielded men with him
ready for an assault, his war band now has three men equipped with bows and
these he sends to positions where they can cover the main assault.
Faredor
sends Ilynmar, knight of Minas Tirith to accompany Baragund’s company
Mared
looses an arrow and hits Dhalmud, who uses Fate to save from the wound
The Evil side spreads out finding
defensive positions. Melathor has three guards, they are taking no chances with
the big man!
Navid the Variag is knocked from
his horse by an arrow fired by Dunhold. He doesn’t get up
Bladruth the ranger from the Black
Root Valley shoots and takes out Mula the Jakhala.
Khalid replies with his composite
bow and hits Bladruth, who smiles as he disdainfully pulls out the short black arrow,
then, the smile fades as the poison kicks in and he slumps to the ground
“For
Gondor” cries Faredor “For Gondor!” call his men as they begin the climb
“We have something for Gondor”
replies Xephon “Yeh we got sumfink for ya!” take up the Orcs
“Come and get it!” they shout
raucously
Jihalakhan fires his short,
powerful composite bow at Dunhold, who is partially protected by a bush, rolls
6 for the “in the way” roll, 6 to hit his target and 6 to wound, Dunhold folds.
666 the magic number
“Gondor….Gondor…Gondor”
Evil win initiative Faredor would
On the other side of the hill Baragund diverts his men away
from the straight line up the hill and goes directly to the wall
Into the fray! The Evil team charge into Faredor and his
men….
…and drives them down the hill. The duel rolls are drawn,
die roll goes in favour of evil but with the highest to wound roll being 3
there are no casualties from this combat
Bluthor shoots Boko and wounds him
Mablud calmly climbs the wall and is in the enemy’s camp,
but apart from the bound Melathor, he is alone
On the other side of the hill, a similar story is being told. Baragund’s initial
feint has failed and now he must attack the wall
“For Gondor and her satrapies, dominions and associated
Fiefdoms” Is very long war cry so they all shout for their own Fief
The Southrons and Orcs whoop and screech and roar
Ilynmar thunders into Navid the Variag but his horse
stumbles on the rocky hill side and Navid chops him down with a vicious stroke
from his razor-sharp scimitar.
A confused scrap ensues during which Baragund is cut down by
Hakim Dahn, Garulf falls before the rampant Navid and Deanor is wounded by
Khabaal
Faredor attacks again, Mablud charges to his aid but in
turn, is charged by Jihalakhan who stabs him from behind Ackergob stabs him in
his leg, with a second serious leg wound Mablud swiftly expires
Dhalmud and Xephon take out Horred and Blurgil
Skarrik chops down Faredor and both Good Companies have to start
rolling Break Tests.
As most of the Good
guys fail their break test the game soon comes to an end
Another victory for Evil
“Now for dinner!” cries Snikkh, pointing at the hapless
Melathor and in the uproar that follows as the Evil men argue for torture and
the Orcs argue for supper, Melathor quietly makes his escape
So, a rather easy win for the Evil side but what happens
next? Melathor has not been rescued, nor has he been killed so the game is a
draw which means that Melathor escapes but must miss the next game, presumably
finding his way back to the Company.
The ratings are; Khabaal’s crew 179, Gang of Fiefs 155(129
with missing Melathor), Gorgor Hai 144 Faredor’s Company 99.
Khabaal has four influence points and decides to keep them
as does Skarrik
Baragund has 9 influence points, he buys a rallying horn and
blowing it loud and hard results in Sir Barahil of the Household knights of
Prince Imrahil riding up on his magnificent armoured steed.
Faredor also gets a rallying horn and blowing it calls Tobon
warrior of Minas Tirith armed with spear and shield
The Good companies have no choice but to withdraw and hope
that the powers that be are sending a force to stop this incursion into
Ithilien.
Khabaal stands atop the highest point of the hill gazing to
the South as the sun eases into the sky, lighting the plains far away he
catches the glint of steel or brass, gleaming in the rays of the new day. His
ears catch the distant sound wafted on the breeze of the brash braying of
horns. Across his face a cruel smile grows….