Kauppa-Kohta

[darkangel76]

Kauppa-Kohta

Kauppa-Kohta (meaning - trade point) is a Lossoth settlement located in the area of Taur Orthon in Forochel. This village is located east of Lake Korkea-Jarvi and is sheltered at the base of a huge, but hostile mountain range. It is also surrounded by woodlands riddled with wolves, elk, wolverines, etc. True to its translated name, trade and service between the Lossoth and Longbeards are prevalent here and it boasts the only road that serves as the gateway into Forochel from Evendim, which leads into the more southerly region of Eriador. Though Kauppa-Kohta is a peaceful village, they are forever at the ready and constantly watchful of more hostile Lossoth faction known as the Suri-Maja.​

 

[darkangel76]

Name (Nickname): Maranwe Winterborne (Maran).
Race: Elf (Noldor).
Attire: Grayish-blue, empire-waisted, long-sleeved dress; dark blue cloak; brown leather boots.
Weapon: Dagger, bow/arrows.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: Anyone.
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

 

Though the horrible sounds had faded, Maranwe could still hear the shrieking screams of her mother the moment the goblins appeared...

An angry mace found its target as it pierced the Maran's mother's body with a mighty crack, breaking flesh and bone as it caused her willowy body to crumple and slump into a heap on the frigid ground. Maran let out a shout the moment her Elf eyes saw the violent vision unfold, but it was immediately stifled by a large hand before a sound had a chance to roll off her full lips. Her brother, Orrin, almost roughly pulled her aside and threw her to the ground. His lips teasingly brushed against her ear as the goblins swarmed, their weapons brandished and glinting in the harsh silvery rays of light that had shone down from the moon overhead in the inky sky.

"You must run, Maran," Orrin whispered. "Run and don't look back." His words were clear and distinct. Gently, a hand stroked Maran's slender neck and brushed her snowy hair in a loving gesture. "Go on to Forochel and do what we set out to do."

Maran shifted suddenly, her gray eyes locking onto her brother's. Almost immediately, she could feel them pricking with tears. She knew what he was doing. He was saying goodbye...

As Maran continued to run, she wished she'd had more time. More time with her parents, her brother. But the goblins had been many and she was their only hope to help their kin now. She needed to see things through, to help them all if it was possible. It was what her family had wanted and why they'd set out on their journey from Rivendell in the first place. Rivendell... how she suddenly missed it. It's warmth, it's song. But now wasn't the time for grieving. That would have to wait.

Frightened, Maran pressed onward, her heart heavy as she found herself hoping she'd manage to lose the goblins that had murdered her family and had been hot on her trail since. Her body was aching and in need of rest, her trek having gone on for a couple of hours at least. Running, panting hard, she glanced upward into the dark starless sky--a bad omen to not see the stars. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and she silently prayed she'd find safety, that somehow she'd live to see dawn.

 

[Rivine]

Name (Nickname): Mithon (Mist)
Race: Human (Dúnedain)
Attire: Mottled/spotted grey seal skin cloak, a sleevless dark brown myskhärka leather jerkin, a grey woolen long sleeved tunic, beige undertunic, seal skin trousers, beige leggings underneath, woolen socks, rabbit fur lined sealskin boots, seal skin gloves.
Weapons: Sigwine, Beruna's Gift, hand axe, dagger and knife.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: DA/Anyone
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Mithon stood stock still, his breath misting slightly as he looked out to the horizon. He was facing south, his eyes fixed upon a column of black smoke which was at least ten miles off if not more. He was not sure of the smoke's cause, but considering how much of it there was he doubted greatly that it's cause was anything good. He continued to study the column, his mind whirling about how he should approach the situation. There had been no doubt that he should investigate the situation, after all it was his duty. But the question was mostly if he should investigate the situation now or later. If he went later then there would undoubtedly be less risk to himself... but someone might be in danger, that was more then enough reason for him to go.

With his bows in his left hand he quickly trotted down the ridge upon which he had been standing. His long legs quickly set themselves into a quick pace. It had been some time since it had snowed thankfully and the layer of snow on the ground was thin and rather hard crusted. It might have been winter here in every season, but the sun was still warm enough to cause the snow to melt even in the coldest season, although that warmth was rarely felt by the people of the Forodwaith.

His long strides quickly ate up miles. The sun was descending even lower, not that he payed that much mind. He had learned long ago how to move in the darkness. It was more or less a requisite skill amongst his people, for in the night it was even harder to detect someone. Not to mention that that was typically when their foes would stray out into the lands of men. But the Forodwaith could barely be called a land of men anymore. It was more of a wilderness, one that barely tolerated the few people that chose to live in it.

The ranger came to a sudden stop, his mind trying to catch up with his senses. Had he just heard twigs snapping? He glanced around, his keen eyes scanning the long dead forest for any sign of motion. It was then that he spotted her, moving swiftly between the barren and dead trees. He stood there for a moment, shocked, for he had never thought to see an elf passing through these lands. He had lived her for a handful of years and he could not recall having seen one venture there. Sure there were rumors on occasion, but that was all he considered them. His mind pushed past the fact that was an elf here, moving on to other questions; why was she here? And what was she running from?

He glanced then too the column of smoke, then back to the quickly fleeing form. In an instant he was moving off again, moving at an angle to her that would allow him to intercept her. He ran quickly now, not worried about conserving his energy for a long run, rather just focusing on catching her. He got within earshot and called out to her in Sindarin, his voice gruff and strained due to the running, "Friend! Slow your steps!"

 

[darkangel76]

Name (Nickname): Maranwe Winterborne (Maran).
Race: Elf (Noldor).
Attire: Grayish-blue, empire-waisted, long-sleeved dress; dark blue cloak; brown leather boots.
Weapon: Dagger, bow/arrows.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: Anyone; Mithon.
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Somehow the sky seemed to get darker, the air colder. But that just wasn't possible, spiteful tricks of nature purposefully meant to deceive! As Maran huffed through the darkness, she could feel the fear coursing through her Noldor veins, her blood almost as cold as the ice that surrounded her for what appeared to be miles. Glancing down at her feet, she continued to run--her steps light despite how much she pushed herself--over the snowy ground of Forodwaith. Her body was trembling, shivering in both fright and from the vicious bite in the air as it gnashed at her pale flesh while she ran. Licking her lips, her mind drifted back to her family and how their bodies had been mutilated all those miles back... so much blood, so much screaming...

Maran's eyes began to water as she tried to shake off the fresh memory. She couldn't dwell on it when goblins could still be about. She needed to find safety, something! But there was nothing in this desolate area she found herself in, this place so different from home, from Rivendell. Just then, she heard a shout. Immediately, her gray eyes narrowed into slits and her body went stock still. The voice had been gruff, but not harsh and words... Elven? Blinking, she turned to see who had called out speaking in her native tongue so far away from any haven she'd consider safe.

"Who's there?" Maran called back, but all too soon she caught sight of the man who'd addressed her, her Elf eyes seeing in through the darkness. She clutched herself about her middle, her mind unsure of whether he be friend or enemy still... as she peered at him, he seemed somewhat familiar. Had she seen him before? Surely not, though stranger things had happened in her lifetime. "And how do I know you to be friend?" she then asked.

 

[Rivine]

Name (Nickname): Mithon (Mist)
Race: Human (Dúnedain)
Attire: Mottled/spotted grey seal skin cloak, a sleeveless dark brown myskhärka leather jerkin, a grey woolen long sleeved tunic, beige undertunic, seal skin trousers, beige leggings underneath, woolen socks, rabbit fur lined sealskin boots, seal skin gloves.
Weapons: Sigwine, Beruna's Gift, hand axe, dagger and knife.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: DA/Anyone
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Mithon watched as the elf stilled instantly. One second she was running full out, the next she was unmoving. He slowed his own steps, waiting for her eyes to fall upon him, which they did quickly enough. His eyes fixed on her as well, taking her in. Her attire certainly did not seem to fit the environs that they currently found both of themselves in. Not only was her clothing seemingly not suited for the conditions, it's make was entirely out of place. It seemed rich compared to what Mithon had become used to the past several years. It was not to long ago that he too wore elven made finery, but it seemed a lifetime, another life completely really.

When she spoke, asking who was there, he stopped completely. "I am Mithon, known as Mist by some. I mean you no harm," he told her, his voice calm despite the fact that he was breathing hard. He could not help but think that she was rather diminutive for her kind as he looked at her. Usually he was of a height with most elves, if not shorter, at least when it came to those that inhabited Rivendell. Oh all the elven havens in Middle-earth, Imladris had been the one he had visited most. It only made sense considering that his chieftain had been raised there and that the bulk of his people inhabited the lands known as the Angle that were just south of the haven.

When she next questioned him, inquiring how she was to know he was a friend, he smiled slightly, still speaking in the elven tongue, "How many of the enemy's servants speak the tongue of your own people?" Then, having faith that he could trust her, he added, "I am also one of the Dúnedain and I was sent here by my chieftain."

 

[darkangel76]

Name (Nickname): Maranwe Winterborne (Maran).
Race: Elf (Noldor).
Attire: Grayish-blue, empire-waisted, long-sleeved dress; dark blue cloak; brown leather boots.
Weapon: Dagger, bow/arrows.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: Anyone; Mithon.
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Maran could feel a heat rise to her cheeks as she listened to the man speak. True, it wasn't often one heard another who was an enemy speak the lilting melody that was Sindarin. The words flowed from the man's mouth, rolling off his tongue as the sound struck at her ears and reminded her of Rivendell, of somewhere happy and warm and safe. He spoke it almost as if it was a second language to him, the tones and inflections so familiar despite the fact that he clearly wasn't her kind. She gave him a curt yet cautious nod, her gray eyes fixed upon him as she gracefully stepped closer to inspect and scrutinize. After all she'd been through, her hackles had been raised, her nerves tattered and frayed, she couldn't help but be somewhat leery.

Slowly, Maran approached Mithon, her thoughts drifting on how quickly she might be able to grab the dagger she had strapped to her thigh or reach for bow slung over her back should the need arise. But as she neared the Dunedain, his features becoming clearer in the moonlight, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity. He'd claimed to have been sent north into Forodwaith by his chieftain. Perhaps she knew of him. Though she'd never gotten involved in politics, she knew the Elves of Rivendell had many ties with such men, working together with them to keep peace and drive out the evil that always seemed to loom in the darkest of corners.

When Maran was near enough, she looked up at Mithon and gave him a small curtsy and smiled. "Not many," she agreed, her breaths still coming hard from her run. "I am Maranwe, winterborne daughter to..." but her voice trailed, faltering slightly as the vision of her family's bodies invaded her mind, causing her to wince. "To Celedwin and Sabriel." Her eyes shifted downward, finding themselves fixed upon the snow as the moonlight reflected harshly off it, casting odd shadow upon her face. "Noldor Elf of Rivendell." By the time she finished speaking, her voice was almost a hushed whisper, her one hand fidgeting with the long strands of snowy white hair that cascaded over a slender shoulder.

Maran looked up at Mithon, her breath catching in her throat as she swallowed down the lump that had formed. She wanted to scream, to cry out, to grieve. She was alone! Her family gone, murdered, left behind for the goblins to defile while she ran away like a coward into the starless night.

"Goblins may be about," Maran then said, barely finding her voice. "I'm not sure if they've followed me here or not, but it might be best to be cautious." Giving Mithon an apologetic look, she added. "I very well may have placed you in danger."

 

[Rivine]

Name (Nickname): Mithon (Mist)
Race: Human (Dúnedain)
Attire: Mottled/spotted grey seal skin cloak, a sleeveless dark brown myskhärka leather jerkin, a grey woolen long sleeved tunic, beige undertunic, seal skin trousers, beige leggings underneath, woolen socks, rabbit fur lined sealskin boots, seal skin gloves.
Weapons: Sigwine, Beruna's Gift, hand axe, dagger and knife.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: DA/Anyone
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Mithon remained still as she approached him, his eyes studying her intently. Her movements were cautious, very much like a deer about to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Something had spooked this woman, that was more then obvious to the ranger that towered nearly a foot over her. He could not help but wonder what he would do if she ran. More then likely he would chase after her and being that she was one of the eldar she was likely far more fleet of foot then her. Besides, if he chased her she very well might act like a cornered animal and decide to attack him. That was an encounter that Mithon very much wanted to avoid.

But all of those thoughts evaporated as she rather suddenly flashed him a smile and curtsied to him. Mithon blinked and stood there for half a second before he remembered his manners and inclined his head to her. When she introduced herself he noticed the faltering in her voice when she came to telling him the name of her parents. That was rather intriguing. "I am pleased to meet you Maranwe. Although I must admit that I had not expected to see one of your people this far north, let along running through the woods."

He could not help but wonder what had brought her north. But, before he had a chance to ask, she spoke once more and what she told him was far from pleasant. Goblins. She thought that there might be goblins pursuing her. The ranger's eyes moved, glancing over her shoulder. In the slight moonlight he could not make out any movement in the direction from whence she had come, nor could he see any tracks from her. Of course the latter observation made sense, considering that she was an elf.

Mithon's eyes drifted back to hers and he spoke to her, his tone soft, yet confident, "I cannot see any tracks that you might have left and goblins are not known for their tracking skills. Only if they had wargs with them could they have tracked you more then likely." He was silent for a moment, then added, "Besides, it would not be the first time I have had to fight ilk like that." The ranger then asked her out of curiosity, "What has brought you north?"

 

[darkangel76]

Name (Nickname): Maranwe Winterborne (Maran).
Race: Elf (Noldor).
Attire: Grayish-blue, empire-waisted, long-sleeved dress; dark blue cloak; brown leather boots.
Weapon: Dagger, bow/arrows.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: Anyone; Mithon.
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Maran's breaths had begun to slow slightly, but her senses were still on full alert. The memory of the massacre was still fresh in her mind, the vision of her parents' and brother's bodies as they lay in pools of crimson in the hard packed snow. Her body shuddered and the urge to leave the area grew strong. Though Mithon had assured her he'd been unable to see the tracks of goblins, she couldn't help but feel uneasy and worry. She was her family's last hope of investigating the troubles of the north, of reuniting with their kin in Lindon. There was much work to be done and due to the oaths she'd silently taken, she had to see them through.

"Word has reached Rivendell that there is trouble in Lindon," Maran began. Her Elf eyes darted back and forth, glancing at shadows as worry consumed her. "A 'poisonous' magic from the north is harming my kin, our friends," her head shook as her gray eyes glistened with unshed tears. "So, my family set out to Forodwaith to investigate the potential cause."

Maran paused a moment, her mind drifting as she thought of her brother, Orrin. It was he who'd suggested that they head north first in hopes to find answers so that they might better help the Elves of Lindon. She took a deep, yet shaky breath, her hands trembling as she stood there. How she missed him. How she missed them all!

"I need to find out what is causing my kin to become ill. Whatever it is, the source is in Forodwaith, likely Forochel." Maran looked at Mithon, her face a bit frantic beneath the calm facade she tried to portray. "But we were attacked a few miles from here. My parents, my brother... they are dead."

 

[Rivine]

Name (Nickname): Mithon (Mist)
Race: Human (Dúnedain)
Attire: Mottled/spotted grey seal skin cloak, a sleevless dark brown myskhärka leather jerkin, a grey woolen long sleeved tunic, beige undertunic, seal skin trousers, beige leggings underneath, woolen socks, rabbit fur lined sealskin boots, seal skin gloves.
Weapons: Sigwine, Beruna's Gift, hand axe, dagger and knife.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: DA/Anyone
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Mithon noticed that the elf's breathing was not as ragged as it had been when he had gotten her to stop. That was certainly a good sign. He focused on her intently s she answered his question about why she was in the north, nodding occasionally as he digested the new information. So the elves had word of some mysterious poison affecting there kindred. Mithon certainly had not heard of anything until now, but then he did not have ay contact with the elves that inhabited Lindon. His main focus had been the people inhabiting Forodwaith, people that the elves of Lindon really had not done much to help in his mind. "Well this is the first I have heard of such a thing," he told her ever so softly.

The ranger noticed her shaky breathing and her now trembling hands. He was about to ask if everything was alright whan she poke again. He nodded in answer to the statement that the source of the poison was likely in Forochel. But he froze completely when she next said that her party had been attacked and her family had been slain. Now that, that was indeed something that would need to be addressed. He wondered how goblins could have found and overcome a party of elves... but then again Maran did not look like the most adept of warriors. Perhaps that had been the case with their entire party.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he spoke to her, "I am sorry for your loss. But it would best if we could get you somewhere out of the elements right now." He reached up and unclasped his cloak, removing it easily enough before he approached her and gently slid it around her shoulders. The ranger towered over her, more then a head taller then her. Mithon stood there, holding the cloak around her as he looked down at her and spoke softly, "I will get you to the nearest village. From there I can see to it that you can make your way north. I think in the morning I can come back and see if anyone else escaped as you did," he told her softly. He knew it was not much, but it was what he could offer her at the moment.

 

[Serenity]

Nairë
Race:Silvan Elf
Attire: Brown leather boots, dark green leggings and shirt, brown tunic, and a dark green cloak.
Weapon: Elven knife Elven bow
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts)
Tagging: DA/Rivine/ Anyone
Time:TA 3018, March 1, evening.

________________________________________________________________

Nairë had taken her time in deciding to travel into Forodwaith. It wasn't something she took lightly. Her knowledge of the region was not favourable towards a journey. She had spent the last couple centuries avoiding battles. It was the reason she fled from Mirkwood to the more peaceful Rivendell and taken up healing. And now fate seemed to have set its own path for her. When her cousin fell ill the decision had been made. She would leave Lindon and travel to Forochel, and hopefully find the heart of the poisonous magic affecting her people.

It was how she came to find herself in the dead forest on the outskirts of Kauppa-Kohta. Her heart grieved for the death of the trees and forest life that the long cold of Forodwaiths never ending winter had brought. She had little time to spend on those thoughts as a large column of smoke billowed out into the slowly darkening sky. She needed to put space between whatever, or whoever had made that smoke, and so she began to lightly jog as daylight slowly faded into night and the cold wind bit at her exposed face and neck.

It seemed like an eternity that she ran, stopping suddenly as voices reached her keen ears. Her blue-grey eyes narrowed before she bolted forward. She hadn't recognized the mans voice. But Maran's soft voice had reached her ears and she didn't stop to wonder what her friend was doing in Forodwaith, fore she had heard the sorrow in her voice as well.

“Maran!” Nairë's sharp cry echoed into the night as she came within sight of the two, taking in the strange scene.

The man was drapping his cloak around Maran's slim shoulders, as the small elf looked up at him.

 

[AlphaWolfQuin]

Name (Nickname):Anueth
Race:Elf
Attire:Wool sweater, Pants, Leather boots, full armor
Weapon:One Handed Sword ,Bow
Location:Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts)
Tagging:Anyone
Time:TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Name (Nickname):Nauron
Race:Elf
Attire:Wool sweater, Pants, Leather boots, full armor
Weapon:One Handed Sword ,Bow
Location:Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts)
Tagging:Anyone
Time:TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Nauron trudged through the snow alongside his sister. They had traveled for a while but neither of them were tired due to the rest they had gotten a few hours before they had arrived. The air was cold and the moon was bright in the sky. The two were silent for the moment simply taking in their surroundings as they walked. Nauron glanced over at Anueth at points to see if she was alright, damn near every time he did and she'd notice he'd receive a look. He knew his over protectiveness bothered her at points and she felt as if he seen her as weak but that was far from the truth, Nauron just worried about his sister and wanted to keep her safe.

"Let me know if you need to stop at any point to rest" ,Nauron told Anueth, breaking the silence as he looked up to the sky for a moment.

"I'm fine brother, please do not worry about me so much" ,Anueth replied simply. She turned and gave Nauron a smile then patted him on the shoulder, "I am well rested and the sooner we arrive to our destination the better".

Nauron let out a chuckle at his sister's response then turned to look at her, a smile on his face. Just as he was about to speak he heard voices in the distance, his smile faded into a look of curiosity mixed with alertness. Anueth looked to her brother as she heard the voices as well, she looked to him and nodded before the two began walking in the direction in which they heard the voices come from.

As they walked closer the voices got a bit louder and Nauron could hear, bits and pieces of what the two people were talking about. -There was an attack....people died- Nauron thought to himself as he listened, his curiosity piqued and instead of stopping to simply listen he continued walking, Anueth close to his side. As they approached the two Nauron noticed the man wrap his cloak around the woman's shoulders. He then stopped and turned sharply to look as he heard another woman's voice shout out, both he and Anueth watched as the woman approached the other two and began walking again.

"Pardon me, I don't mean to intrude on the conversation but I over heard something about an attack" ,he stated simply. "My sister Anueth and I have come from Lindon, we have set out to investigate and try to fix a bit of....problems that have been going on" ,he explained. His grey eyes scanned the three others in the area, the two females were elves, while the man was a human.

 

[Karameida]

Uinen Alatar
Nickname: En
Race: Maiar
Attire: Flowing sapphire and silver colored robes that accentuate her body.
Weapon: Full length Staff and Dagger
Location: Kauppa-Kohta Outskirts
Tagging: Everyone
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.
​

---

"Of course it had to be Goblins." She thought angrily as she ran from the group of Goblins that were in pursuit of her. Her robes allowed her quite a bit of free movement but still, there was always the risk of the fabric getting tangled around her legs and if that happened she'd be as good as dead. With that thought firmly in mind she grabbed fistfuls of the fabric with her free hand and hiked them up to her knees and with a groan ran a little faster. Of course if she had thought things through thoroughly from the start she really wouldn't have been in this situation to begin with. But she hadn't been thinking about it, hadn't been paying attention and it had caused her to walk right into the middle of a group of Goblins mid-raid. So what does she do? Never mind the magic she could of used to deal with it, no she uses her dagger to knife the one who'd came at her in the chest. And better yet, what did she do when the second one came at her? Completely ignored her staff and knifed the second one in the throat. "Brilliant as always En." she thought scathingly. By the time the knife had left the second ones throat there was no way she could use her magic, her only option had been to run. And so here she was. On a lonely road, in the middle of the cursed winter-lands of Forodwaith, at night. "Just...brilliant" she thought mentally cursing and kicking herself.

She wondered how someone as smart as herself had lived as long as she had. "Oh. Right. Almost forgot about the bit where I spent a good portion of my life in the Undying Lands. Don't really deal with this kind of thing there.." she thought glumly.

She could hear them screeching behind her and moaned to herself. They sounded close, much closer than she had originally thought. She considered chancing a glance backwards just to see but denied that thought before it had even finished fully forming in her mind. "The last thing I need to do is look backwards and run straight into a wall...or trip over a stick or something..." she thought shivering. Her dire situation was further worsened by the fact that no stars glittered in the skies to lead her to safety. Everything was left in an inky blackness that somehow seemed sinister. "Just the kind of night for a wizard to get her throat slashed..." she thought stifling a shudder. As if everything else wasn't bad enough, now her imagination was running rampant predicting the many and various ways she was possibly going to die at any moment. "Of all the rotten luck...." she thought clenching her jaw. Her breathing was coming in short ragged gasps and her chest was heaving with each labored breath. Her sides hurt and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep running for much longer.

Moving her head to one side she cast about looking for a place she could hide, she didn't even notice when she rounded a corner flying straight into a group of people. Didn't notice until she ran straight into one of them full force. She vaguely registered the sound of a muffled thud as she stumbled back a little bit dazed from the impact. Blinking she shook her head and took a few cautious steps forward, the ground felt....weird. She didn't look down but instead looked at the crowd of people. "You shouldn't linger here. I'm being chased by a group of Gob--" her explanation was cut short when she heard the yell of Goblins behind her. Turning slowly she faced the monsters that had chased her. They had just rounded the corner and had stopped, at least for the moment. She took a step backwards, -odd, the ground really felt weird.- releasing her grip on her robes they fell back in place around her ankles. Her free hand went to the dagger sheathed in her belt and withdrew it, blood still clung to the blade as she brandished both it and her staff.

She took another step back and nearly fell. Glancing down she squinted and realized why it felt so odd, she wasn't standing on the ground, she was stepping on a person. Looking around her at the rest of the people she realized that four of them were elves she glanced down again and knew whoever she was standing on wasn't an elf. Probably human. "Uh...oops." she said. Struggling to stay upright she stepped on him a few more times before succeeding -if awkwardly- in getting off of him. "Sorry for the interruption..." she murmured glad the hood of her cloak shielded her face and the blush that burned her cheeks.

The moment of confusion that had brought the Goblins to a stop was fleeting and before long they were shaking their fists and charging in waving their weapons about. Uinen reacted using both her dagger and magic to keep them away from her. She hopped at least some of the others knew how to fight, she might be able to manage on her own but it would have been a huge relief if someone else joined the fray.

 

[Rave]

Name: Luthíen
Race: Elf (Noldor).
Attire: Light Chain-Metal enchanted Armor, Snow-White colored.
Weapon: Longbow, Iron Arrows. Two White Gold Daggers.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: Anyone, Maranwe.
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

"It's really bloody cold up here." Luthien thought to himself as he braved the frozen winter that was Forodwaith. This place literally sucked, and nothing about it reminded him of home. Though, he figured that was the point. It wasn't like Sauron and his pets wanted to make everything beautiful but to turn it into different kinds of Hell. This was a pretty good blueprint to go off of, as places didn't come any colder and harsher than this. Still, he had a reason to be here and a bit of cold weather wasn't going to stop him from reaching his goal. The thought had him let out a small sigh, his breath visible in the cold air, flowing past his face as he walked down the frozen road. Luthien, being the man that he was, had volunteered to come out to the North once the effects were being felt all the way in Rivendell, but his Great Grandfather needed him elsewhere. There weren't many people that could say no to Elrond, and Luthien wasn't one of them. He respected his Great Grandfather, as many elves did, but he did not approve of his decision to keep Luthien away from the north while sending his best friend's entire family up there instead.

Now, Now Orrin, Mara, and their parents were lost and un-heard from. The thought further chased away any smile that dared creep upon his face, and the weight of the thought was suddenly heavy on his heart. The worst should be assumed, or so he was told. The likelihood that they had survived was slim to none, and frankly he was told that this wouldn't be much of a rescue mission, but a recovery of bodies and inspection of the North. "Oh ye of little faith." Luthien mumbled to himself, deep down hoping and praying against all odds that logic wasn't the case here. He couldn't face that fact, he wouldn't live with himself if there were no survivors, if Orrin was...No, he brushed the thought from his head and kept marching forward, knowing it would do him no good. He would find them, and he would drag their asses back home and away from this mess.

That, is when he happened upon a stumbling buffoon who nearly tripped on her own robes as she ran from some chasing Goblins. For a moment, he was as taken back as the group of people she just slammed in as he watched her run into them. He was still out of their sight, but he could see everything that was happening. For a second, he looked at them like they were a bunch of blithering idiots, before he realized that the Goblins weren't as amused as he was. The group was outnumbered, and they were the first people he saw in a good few days of travelling. At least he could get directions from them.

At that, he quietly snuck up behind the Goblins as they charged at the group with their wooden maces and weapons. He drew his bow, and loaded four arrows between his fingers before pulling the string as far back as he could. Snap. He let go, and the enchanted arrows darted off and pierced four Goblins straight in the back without them even knowing about it. It was then that he let out a loud war cry, and charged forward towards the remaining Goblin and quickly yanking out his dagger, slicing it's throat before the group of people could react. Only once all the Goblins were dead, did he put his weapons away finally and turn to face the group.

"Well, you all sure know how to be stealthy. Especially you." He motioned towards the robed Maiar, before scanning the group with his eyes lightly. "You all really need to take better care of your s--"

He paused, as his eyes caught a figure that...no, it was impossible, he wouldn't be this lucky.

 

[darkangel76]

Name (Nickname): Maranwe Winterborne (Maran).
Race: Elf (Noldor).
Attire: Grayish-blue, empire-waisted, long-sleeved dress; dark blue cloak; brown leather boots.
Weapon: Dagger, bow/arrows.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: Anyone; Mithon, Naire, Nauron, Anueth, Uinen, Luthien.
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Maran nodded at Mithon's words as he gently began to place his cloak about her shoulders. She appreciated the kindness given the horrors she'd been through earlier that night. Glancing up at the sky, she longed to see the stars and made a silent wish that the clouds would somehow hasten their way across the inky black sky so that they could shine down upon them as the winds blew harsher, colder. A shiver ran along her spine as her thoughts drifted, wondering if the orcs were far behind or ever pursuing. Truly, could she be that lucky? After all, her family had fallen and so easily.

Swallowing hard, Maran pursed her lips, another bitter breeze caressing her face as the seconds rolled on. Tugging on the cloak, she heard a voice. Her Elven ears perked up at the familiar sound, a voice she hadn't heard for some time due to the treacherous journey she'd embarked upon with her family. As she twisted her head, she saw a familiar form come into focus--Naire... sister. True, the Elf wasn't her true sister by birth, but she was the closest thing she had to a true sister and now with her parents and brother gone... Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought upon her family, desecrated and butchered by such vile beasts! With shaking hands, she reached out, a bittersweet smile playing upon her lips.

"Naire!" Maran called out as Naire approached. She hugged her sister-friend tightly, weeping against her softly--almost silently--for a few moments. But she pulled herself together, not wanting to burden her friend. Not yet when they all could possibly be in danger. "Gi suilon. Have you traveled all this way on your own?"

Maran wondered if her friend had traveling companions much like herself, even if her own had been her family, or if she'd taken on the journey alone. The journey was treacherous, fraught with many dangers. But fighting and survival skills differed from person to person and no doubt her friend had tales to tell. As she was about to ask more, her thoughts were interrupted as more Elven kind appeared from the shadows. Truly this was a night of nights! Again, Maran looked up into that cold, starless sky. To think Elves from Lindon had ventured up into the Forodwaith... truly something was wrong, something dark and sinister.

"Le suilon," Maran said to the newly arrived male Elf. She then turned and nodded to the one he'd addressed as Anueth. "My name is Maranwe Winterborne. I hail from the haven of Rivendell." She raised a hand to push at her snowy hair and smiled, her face brightening slightly at being near her own kind. She then looked to Naire and Mithon for a moment. "We have received word from Lindon," she continued, but again, her words were cut off. Just as she was about to say more, Mithon was suddenly on the hard ground and a mysteriously robed woman was on top of him.

Maran felt her cheeks grow warm, undoubtedly pink as she watched the scene unfold before her very eyes. Biting down on her lip, she shifted a bit toward Naire, feeling it might be a bit safer to be closer to her sister-friend. At least for the time being. Watching, waiting, she sucked in a sharp breath and watched this new person as she stumbled slightly atop the large Dunedain. Her cheeks growing warmer still, she found her blood suddenly turning cold as a chill washed over her entire body, engulfing her like a death shroud.

Goblins.

The word had been clear as it passed over the robed woman's lips. She'd seen them, was running from them. And that meant... Suddenly, Maran turned to look up and she could see skulking shadows in the distance. While they'd been conversing, hoping for the best, the goblins had come upon them all! Trembling with fear, she felt her body freeze with terror, her mind swirling with morbid images of her mutilated family as those beasts ripped them to shreds and worse. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her heart thumping hard beneath her breast as she stood there feeling both helpless and hopeless. She reached for her dagger though her skills were only mediocre at best. Her true talents were in healing, not fighting or battle.

Choking on a sob, Maran noticed another figure dart through the area. This new arrival was another of her kind... another Elf. Truly, this was a night of nights if so many of her kind were suddenly in Forodwaith! Peering into the darkness, she watched him skillfully slay a goblin, then two... three. He definitely knew what he was doing and his movements reminded her of someone, of her brother. It was uncanny, unnerving... As things began to settle, she looked out into the darkness and snow, her steely eyes focusing on the shape of the new Elf that had appeared from the shadows.

Just then, Maran's eyes went wide, her breath hitching as it caught in her throat. "Can it be...?" she whispered, her words nearly inaudible. "Luthien?" she spoke, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "Are you really here in Forodwaith?"

 

[darkangel76]

Name (Nickname): Maranwe Winterborne (Maran).
Race: Elf (Noldor).
Attire: Grayish-blue, empire-waisted, long-sleeved dress; dark blue cloak; brown leather boots.
Weapon: Dagger, bow/arrows.
Location: Kauppa-Kohta (outskirts).
Tagging: Anyone; Mithon, Naire, Nauron, Anueth, Uinen, Luthien.
Time: TA 3018, March 1, evening.

---

Maran glanced at the people surrounding her--mostly those of her own kind, so strange for being so far north--and swallowed hard. It was like a dream to be so far from the safety of Rivendell and see the familiar faces of two she knew from the past, two she hadn't seen for quite some time--one she thought of as her sister and the other who made her think on her recently slain brother. As her thoughts drifted to that horrific and gruesome memory, she could feel her heart begin to pound, the panic settling in. Gasping, her steely eyes darted back and forth at the misshapen bodies strewn about upon the freshly fallen snow. A stark contrast of black on white, darkness clashing with the purity of goodness and light.

Trembling both from the cold and out of fear, Maran worried that they hadn't seen the last of the goblins. Her ears perked up and she could swear she heard a rustle of movement in the darker shadows cast by the spindly brush that surrounded them all. She clutched at her arms, her mind reeling with grief and terror. Suddenly, she heard the word... clear as the night she recalled during her last one in Rivendell before setting out to the frozen harshness that awaited her in Forodwaith.

Run! Run!

Maran heard it clearly, though she wasn't sure if it was another nearby--friend or new acquaintance or a voice within the darkest recesses of her mind. But she heard it. Glancing up into the starless sky, a whipping wind moved through the area, blowing her snowy hair across her porcelain cheeks. Furiously, she brushed it away and without further hesitation, she gave everyone a curt nod, her slender fingers clutching tightly at the filmy blue skirt she wore and she set out into a dead run. The extra cloak given her fell to the ground, but the one she bore remained, billowing behind her as she ran, her steps light and leaving no tracks in the snow. Her eyes peered out into the distance, pricking with tears as she ran through the bitter cold of night, terror coursing through her veins as she hoped to find shelter, some kind of safety away from whatever it might be that lurked in these frozen wilds.

Maran had no idea if anyone followed, though if they did, she could only hope they all made it to safety. As her legs continued to move, she saw in the distance the soft glow of firelight--a settlement. And amidst it all stood what appeared to be a sturdy structure--an inn.

(Maranwe exits to Pynti-Peldot)