The Red Hood [February 3010] (Open)

A scream rose up among the camp as upreared soldiers were raided with poison tipped arrows. Many of the men were caught off guard. They had not expected a attack so soon and a few of them were not wearing there armor. The encampment was designed well, but there was a fatal flaw. There was a hill not to far from where they were station, a hill that could look over the encampment. The old hand who came with the young lord Baranion mentioned it, but the commander would have none of it. This was his, first campaign. He was not going to be second guessed by some old fool, and now they were paying the price for his arrogance.

"By Gandolf's underpants, we are under attack", spat Gwathion as he heard the commotion. The warrior moved to retreat to his tent. He had his arming sword strapped to his waist if a enemy appeared, but he would rather bring out The Beast and show them what they were messing with. As Gwathion turned to get his gear a sudden thump filled his chest. The force of the blow was enough to knock the wind out of him and bring the crimson cloaked warrior to a stop. 

"What the", he started as he looked down and noticed a broken arrow on the ground. Its metal tip was still stuck in the center of his plate armor. With a light touch the arrowhead fell down and joined the rest of its shaft in the dirt, but a clear message was now given. The crimson cloak, was probably going to be the death of him. 

"Gwathion", came a cry. The soldier turned to see there commander, with a group of already armored men moving his way. 

How in the hell did he know my name, thought the soldier, but he left that at bay for a moment. 

"Commander?"

"The enemy is that way, Red Hood, are you retreating from the fight", spat Baranion. The venom in his tone was a clear sign of his own frustration with the situation. This entire ordeal was his fault after all. Not that any of the soldiers knew that. The old hand however let him know it. 

"No sir. I was just ..."

"Then after the enemy then", he demanded. "I need someone to give chase to the orcs while I really the men and prepare for a counter attack."

"Wait just me", question Gwathion? 

"Of course not", stated the old hand before the nobleman could speak. "We will be sending two other soldier with you. Carandir, Calenion, you two back him up." 

"Understood Captain", the both saluted in unison. 

Only two, thought Gwathion. There were at least fifteen archers at the minimum. Still he was not in a position to deny a order. 

"Very well, but let me get my ..."

"We don't have time for foolishness soldier", roared Baranion.

"And I don't have time to die over your hurt pride", shouted Gwathion. It was a bad move, but at this point he did not care. The noble prick was already sending him on a death sentence. 

"Are you refusing to follow orders! Ha, a coward! You though you could hide your fear behind a read cloak and sail your way to status though ..."

"I just need to get my axe! I fight with a Dane Axe! If I am going into a unknown battle against a unknown enemy I want to fight at my best!"

"Yet again you would ..."

"Enough', stated the Old Hand as he walked over to Gwathion's tent and grabbed the axe from his things. It stood out like a sore thumb. "Go boy", he spoke as he tossed the weapon to him, and come back alive."

The commander glared at Gawathion. 

"Come on sir. Baranion, we have far more important things to do than waste time on a common soldier."

"yes you are right", chuckled the commander. "Good luck and goodbye Red Cloak", he stated with venom. Gwathion only furrowed his brow. 

The three soldiers gave chase, to a unknown number of Orcs. They knew there enemy held the advantage and it was clear to Gwathion that the other two soldiers probably had orders to leave him if things went bad. Strategically it would be wise to remove his red cloak and move though the woods in nothing more than simple plate, but Gawathion was not going to have it. The Red cloak was the thing that apparently pissed off the Nobleman. The two were now on bad terms, Gwathion hating him and he hating Gwathion. Gwathion wore it  now just to spite the man. Petty pride vs petty pride. 

"How far did they get ahead", asked Carandir as he looked at some Orc tracks on the ground. Gwathion however closed the vison on his helmet and prepared himself for the possibility of attack. He was not a tracker, nor did he have super smelling, but there was something wrong about the air. He could feel a attack coming. 

The moment was now upon them. Even before the dumb creature announced its attack Gwathion knew the battle had begun. Call it the warriors sense, or maybe it was the tough of the reaper's scythe. Either way Gwathion was not caught off guard by the creatures asssult. The beast leaped from the tree's with a mace. Hagvaraus, why did it have to be a mace. The blow was strong and backed up by the creatures body weight. The force of the attack snapped Carandir neck. Whatever orders he had they were null and void now. As the man's body fell to the ground the other Other Orcs began there own attack, and so did Gwathion.

With the roar of a savage beast Gwathion swung his favored weapon with all the strength in his body. The dane axe, a weapon of Rohan orgins, was not to be underestimated. The mighty axe cleaved into the neck of the goblin kin and severed it's head clean off. The force of the blow sent a shiver down the nearest Orc spine and a flush of adrenaline down Gwathion's own. He was going to die, Gwathion knew it. Just form a glance there were far to many of the beast, for only two people. It was impossible. Still if he was going to go, he might as well take as many of them with him as possible.

"We need to retreat", spoke Calenion as he ducked behind a tree. A Orc mace slammed into the bark where his head had once been. A swift stab of his longsword pierced though the creatures thin neck armor and sent its body flopping into the ground.

"There is no point, they have us surround", grunted Gwathion as he swung his mighty axe at a orc. The creature hopped back to get out the way of the attack, but he had forgotten that his brothers were behind him. The axe bit took him in the chest. The force of the blow caved in his inferior armor and sent him to a violent end.

As Gwathion pulled back to strike again a Orc mace struck him in his shoulder. The force cause him to take a step back.

With a beastly roar the Orc swung its weapon at the man at arms head. Gwathion, quick to react, deflected the incoming attack by grabbing the creatures arm with with his free hand. With a swift leg Gwathion brought up his knee. The metal knee pad slammed into the creature groin sending it doubling over in pain. Holding onto its' mace Gwathion tossed it at the nearest Orc. The beast deflected the blow, but the man at arms was able to regain control over his dane axe and deflect its oddly shape sword with the half of his axe. The metal plate that had been added near the head of the axe served as a great defense for his weapon.

"Take as many down as you can", he roared as he slammed the butt of his axe into the expose nose of the orc. He then pulled back on his axe and slammed it into the shoulder blade of a incoming attacker.

While Gwathion and Calenion struggled against the Orc horde the men of Gondor had come up the rear. Just as planned, thought the Old Hand as he saw the beast swarming in the open. If they had followed with the entire unit they would have been ambushed easily in the forest, however Orcs were notoriously bloodthirsty. There was no way they were going to ignore the fresh lambs sent to there slaughter.

"Alright men, Charge", ordered commander Baranion as he allowed the Old Captain to lead the men in battle. He, being the most important person in the army, stayed back with his honor guard and directed the men in there attack against the Orc swine.

"Come one", roared Gwathion behind the shield of his helmet. The warrior swung his mighty two handed axe with all of his might. The axe head glanced off a enemies armor as the Orc practically dived backwards to escape its deadly edge. Another beast rushed into take advantage of the opening, but the fearsome man at arms brought his weapon back around faster than it had predicted. The bit of the axe caught it in the shoulder blade. The inferior armor of the Orc gave way and the axe sunk into its corrupted flesh.

As Gwathion struggled so did Calenion. The warrior fought valiantly with his longsword. However in the mist of the battle a Orc slipped in with his knife and took the warrior between the plates of his armor. Calenion retaliated with a fearsome swing, but the creature had already retreated. Another Orc rushed to do battle, and the warrior retaliated with another powerful blow. The attack slammed against the creatures shield and the force opened up his opponents guard. However a sudden sting took the fight from the warrior.

Calenion cried out as a wave of severe pain shot though his body.

"Calenion", hollered Gwathion as he moved to come to his fellow warriors aid. A Orc blocked his path. The beast attacked with it's blade, but Gwathion blocked the strike with the pole of his axe. He then pressed his body forward throwing the creature off balance. With a mighty swing Gwathion turned around and cleaved his axe into the leg of a on coming Orc.

“Why fight?” One of the grey-skinned uruk hissed. The creature took a swing at Gwathion's arm and managed to get a decent hit on the back of his elbow. The force of the blow broke his grip and caused the knight to let loss his Dane Axe.

"He is disarmed", shouted one of the beast as it rushed in to finish the job. The creature raised it's club high to take the kill. Gwathion quickly drew his arming sword from his belt. In a high pitch clan Gwathion blocked the blow with his back up weapon. The edge of the sword damaged by the blunted head of the mace, but it mattered not, Gawathion was alive.

Taking a deep breath Gwathion brought his elbow around and slammed the metal plate into the jaw of the creature. The steel meet the Orc's bone and sent a shattering shock wave down the length of its jaw.

"Don't", started the man at arms as he stabbed the sword in the creature's throat. His words however were taken from him by a swift blow to the head. A dull ring filled his mind as his body fell to the ground. What happened, thought the warrior as his body went limp. A dull sensation reverted though his limbs, so he knew he was alive, but the blow to the helm had knocked the sense out of him.

As Gwathion struggled against the beast his battalion pressed on though the woods. The Orc arrows rained on them like water, but the men at arms were ready for the attack. Armed with heater shields and arming swords they pressed forward against the Orc assault.

"Take out those archers', cried the captain as two Gondor Soldiers readied bows and fired back into the trees. One of the archers took a arrow to the throat and collapsed to the ground dead. With a scowl on his face the Old hand tossed a javaline into the darkness of the trees. His toss was true and a orc archer fell from the trees and flopped to the ground.

"Keep the formation tight", he ordered as he picked up the dead archers bow and quiver. A arrow hit a brave soldier right in the eye slit of his helm. His body fell to the wast side and gave a grim testament to the situation they were in.

"I see them", shouted a soldier as his eye bore witness to Gwathion's crimson hood among the orcs. The commander looked with disdane as he noticed the only figure in shinning armor standing was the one cloaked in red.

It was then that the old hand saw the mace catch the warrior from behind. His steel helm held firm, but the shock must have jarred his body. Gwathion fell on the battlefield and the Orcs moved to swarm in.

"Damn it", shouted the old hand as he let loss a arrow. The bolt of wood and iron slammed into the neck of a ill prepared Orc warrior. His untimely death caused the others to take pause and turn toward the soldiers of Gondor charging in. There armor glistening in what light that remained.

"Hagvaros", cursed Gwathion inside of his head. He was never unconscious, but he might as well had been. His body was dazed from the blow and before he could recover the Orcs had gathered him up. At first he thought they were going to finish him off, but they seemed to have some kind of plans for him. Strangely enough they were retreating. The battle with soldiers was going in there favor, but then again it could easily had turned around. The Orcs seemed as if they did not want to actually fight. They just wanted to strike and then retreat, cowards. Still that did not change his situation. The Orcs were moving, fast at that. Eventually they settled to a pace and began to talk among each other, the situation was turning grim.

Gwathion willed his fingers a bit. Good, he thought in his mind. His body was responding again. He thanked his uncle for making such a great helm form him. If he had gotten hit over the head with a lesser helmet he would probably be dead by now. Considering the situation he was probably going to die soon. The Orcs began speaking of man flesh and the lash, but Gwathion could care less. Whatever they had planned for him, he was not going to let it just happen. The warrior however took a moment to consider what options he had left. His arming sword was removed from his belt and his battle axe was now with him. Filthy savages, they could have at least realized the value in such a item and brought it along. Still that would have not done him any real good anyway. Thinking back the only thing Gwathion had left on him was his Misericorde or dagger of mercy. It was not his weapon of choice, nor was it truly designed to be a stand alone weapon, but it would have to do.

As the Orcs talked Gwathion saw a opportunity. They were moving on a step hill. At the moment the Orcs thought he was unconscious, that meant they did not expect a fight. A few of them moved to secure his hands. It was the only moment Gwathion would have. In a sudden fit of motion Gwation jerked his body hard to the right. His weight tilted toward the Orc on his right side throwing the filthy warrior off balance and making him stumble backwards. Turning into a gator roll Gwathion went down the side of the hill, hard. With a groan he hit the ground. Most of the force was absorbed by his armor, but he still felt the plop of the fall. Even still he did not allow himself the opportunity to sulk in the pain. He needed to move, and fast. The Orcs would not be long.

Standing up, Gwathion unstrapped the chin strap from his helmet and removed the metal case from his face. He was going to need to breath and the helm would cut off the flow of air. As he removed the helm a Orc came rushing at him. It screamed something, but Gwathion did not know black speech. Gwathion gave a coy smile as he tossed the helmet toward the creatures face , which it easily deflected, but in that moment the man at arms rushed in and drew the dagger from his belt. With a quick stab to the creature's throat Gwathion sent the Orc down in its own blood.

"Kill the pinkskin", screamed another Orc as it rushed forward with its blade held high. Gwathion scooped up the slain Orc's sword, that oddly shaped weapon, and took off toward the forest. The assailing Orc's blade glanced off his shoulder pad, but the soldier of Gondor pressed forward, ignoring the dull pain that came with the blow. At this point he could only prey that the Orcs had tired themselves out while retreating then he would be running in his armor.

As Gwathion ran for his life commander Baranion lead his troops in a futile pursuit. They had lost sight of the Orcs a hour ago, but the old hand insisted that they continue to pursue them. For all Baranion could care the crimson cloaked fool could die and become Orc soup. However the Old hand had a different perspective. He made it clear that if they returned back to Gondor without even searching for there comrade that Baranion would never command again. He not only sent one of his soldiers off to there doom off nothing more than petty pride, but also refused to rescue said soldier when they were captured. It would be a damning report, one Baranion career would never recover. As a result Baranion and ten of his men were making there way though the forest. The rest were marching to the nearest outpost and waiting for orders to return.

"They went this way", spoke The Old Hand as he touched the grown. His skilled eyes measured the path though the darkening night. Torches were lit, which he knew gave the enemy a advantage, but the other soldiers had not been trained as a ranger like he was. They could not move under the cover of dark. Even if they did not have the torches the Orcs would still see them before they saw them. It was a mute point.