Turgwaith remained silent... The two elves came out one by one and stood in the front of the window of the inn.
Suddenly Albaran started to whispering words to the little man...
He couldn't hear what Albaran was said but he knew the others could.
He saw him broking one of the man's fingers causing blood to run... He didn't like such cruelty...
It's other think to kill someone and other to make him suffer.
Albaran took something out of his pouch... It was a vial but it didn't had water.
It was poison! Poison is worst than to behead someone he thought...
He whispered words to the man but Turgwaith couldn't take it anymore.
" Leave him alone... What were you taught as a ranger? Don't be so cruel...
Leave the poor man... He is not lying." Turgwaith shout getting closer and standing by the side of Albaran.
Albaran gave him a look that it was saying 'How do you know?'
" I know to distinguish liars from sincere people." He shouted angry.
Everyone turned at him with such voice and Albaran got up.
He looked at everyone and now calm he answered " Trust me..."

Sulvan turned to Turgwaith, realising his mistake, "If you feel so strongly about the matter," he smiled. "Then maybe we should just let him live. He put his poison vial away, and yanked the man up to his feet. "Go the,n," but if I ever catch you trying to kill someone again," he finished with a gesture, let go of the man and waited for him to run away or for another companion to stop the wreck in his tracks...

_________________
"I am the Flying Spagetti Monster. Thou shall have no other monsters before me"
-FSM.

"With that dealt with so... Poignantly, I think we should return to business. We are less likely to be heard out hear and I feel it best to keep our task at hand discreet. I am Dwalvyn, consol to Dain and keeper of the Dwarfen annals. Who are my travelling ompanions and from where do you hale?" Dwalvyn asked the fellows outside, knowing he would simply have to introduce himself to the others afterwards.

He was concerned at the ease with which cruelty came to the man with the hidden face, the speed with which ire was risen from the other and the fact that some of the coterie seemed content to remain int he warmth of the inn's ale-fuddled bossom.

Sulvan considered the question, and a plan wa already forming in his head. "I am Albaran, and I confess that I have not been entirely honest with you. As I was undertaking my ranger training, my parents were kiiled during an Easterling Raid, and so I pulled out to bring their killers to justice. After that, I did not feel like the elders would allow me to continue trainingm so I instead attempted to complete my training by closely watching others, my old friends. When I felt I was ready, I asked my old teacher for rangers robes and gears, and he, feeling sympathetic allowed me to do so as long as I did not introduce myself as a true ranger of the North, so that I did not smite the rangers' good name if my temper got the better of me." Sulvan amazed himself at how easily the lies and truths mixed together.

He continued, "Well, you do not really need to hear my life story, but recently I overheard a couple of Black Numenoreans discussins a mission in the North, I reported to the Rangers who were my friends, and they told me about this mission, I asked if I could accompany you to help make up for walking out of my training. They allowed me to do so as long as I told you what I was supposed to tell you riht from, the start, I did not do so because I thought that you may not allow me to help you if I did, and you have my deepest apoligies." Sulvan swelled with fake tears.

"Anyway," he continued," before the rest of you introduce yourselves, there is something I need to tell you. Whilst I was scouting over there and Dwalvyn was the only other beside myself who had left the pub, I noticed a large pack of wargs approaching from the south, they must number at least forty or so. I waited until most of you had finally exited the bar before discussing this with you. There are three courses of action which I propose we should take one of. The first is that we could all go out and attack the wargs by surprise in the open, the second is the coward's choice, which is to flee northwards leaving these poor villagers to fend for themselves, or there is my recommmended course of action, which is to set up extra fortifications here, and prepare for an assult. I believe, however that some of us will need to speak to Hrofgar about this matter, since he is supposedly an expert tactician. Oh and if any of you" he glared at Turgwaith, "do not take my word that there are wargs, feel free to scout for yourself." Even though he knew that there were wargs outside as he had purposefully led them here, Sulvan expected that at least one of his companions would not believe him and assume it is a bluff, all the better if they do check, he thought. He hoped that they could deal with the wargs quickly because Ferny would flee, and Sulvan wanted him close...

_________________
"I am the Flying Spagetti Monster. Thou shall have no other monsters before me"
-FSM.

Turgwaith ehard carefully Albaran's words and when he finished he answered...
" I know you are not lying... I am going south to watch over the wargs.
If you want to fight come, if not then leave. I am not leaving this village in such peril."
He said and drew his sword. He left them back there and walked south to find the wargs.
He has faced wargs in his life and he know that in the winter they may not be so strong but they are more deadly because of their hunger.
He walked between the streets. The streets he walked when he came. They were empty now. Ligth could be seen from the windows.
The fireplaces were used in the winter.
He arrived at the end of the village and saw from far the wargs. He couldn't shoot them because they would head for his direction.
He sat beside and rock and thought of crawlig in the snow.
He wouldn't be seen as his cloak was white.

Kaldor had exited the bar once Albaron had started his speech, he made an attempt to stop Turgwaith from approaching the wargs.
"Daft sod" He exclaimed as the ranger walked away. "If he wants to take on a whole pack of wargs, then i say let him, as for us, we barricade ourselves in this town, if one of us can alert the local guard they could help us fight the wolves" At this point Kaldor shouted into the bar and summoned the remaining members of the party out into the street, he gave them a brief summary of the situation before noting that "Hrothgar is too badly wounded to give us any real council, but the men of dale are brave and doughty, they will fight off a warg pack with ease, however wargs would not wander so far into society without being led here, the black numenorians that Albaron spoke of are likely the ones who led the wargs here, so be on the look out!"

"As for our positioning, i will stay close to Dwalyn, i am more than used to defending dwarven diplomats and will feel most comfortable fighting alongside him!" Kaldor exclaimed "As for the rest of you, one of you should probably retrieve Turgwraith before he gets himself killed, one of you should alert the town guard and the rest of you should find suitable positions to attack the wargs from. And remember, whoever kills the most wargs gets to lead our expedition on the morrow!"

P.S: Feel free to rp the town guards, there are only two dozen warriors around to defend the village, whom are led by captain Frindol, a grizzled war veteran with a sarcastic attitude to everything. Alternatively the captain of the guard/A soldier of Dale could be rp'ed by someone who wants to join the RP, but isn't sure how to get into the story.

"I see no harm in having a pair of eyes on the foe," Dwalvyn replied. "I agree that we should aid in the defence of this town - especially considering the numbers and the amount of townsguard here. Thank you, Kaldor. I may not be warrior-born, but I have shed my fair share of blood and know the fighting style of Dwarfs and Iron Guard better than that of the Elves and men. Mayhaps the Elves should remain close to each other and the men should round up the local militia, whilst we begin barricading?" Dwalvyn was used to giving his advice and was feeling natural in giving his thoughts to this group, but he worried him that such a large number of wargs seemed to be heading to their location. As he thought that, something else struck his thoughts and he asked it aloud, "Albaron, where did you encounter these Black Numenoreans?"

Hathol stood in the front and said...
" I am sure Turgwaith will be okay as far as we do everything else..." He said to calm his companions.
" Cyllamdir...Please call the guards. I must see what will he do. Anyone other if wants can coem with me."
He went to run but after few steps he turned and looked at them with a look... A sad look.
He run to the south. The road went downwards so he would arrive fast.
He was running holding his bow.
He arrived over the south end of the town.
He watched around but Turgwaith was no where to be found. 'Where could he be?' He thought...
He fell to the floor by chosie as he suddenly saw wargs nearby... They were around 40 and they were walking north towards him, towards the village...

_________________
"The stars are veiled.Something stirs in the East. A sleepless malice."-Legolas, The Return of the King

Sulvan watched Hathol go, the fools'll get themselves killed, he thought, but all the better. Then he answered Dwalvyn's question, "If my geography is correct, several leagues East of here, heading in a South Westerly direction, for them to have reached here, they must have taken a long detour, catching and driving the wargs forward and redoubling North, They must have been taking a long route for them to only have reached us now." Then, he looked around, "I will run across the villlage, warning everyone I meet, then I will double back with some volunteers and we will erect stakes pointing towards the wargs, preventing them from being able to atttack us without climbing over their own dead, we can then shoot them, I do not know where I will find spikes, but I am sure someone in the village does, if any of you wish to join me, please follow quickly."

With that, Sulvan ran across town, stopping first behing the pub were he caught Ferny by the scruff of his neck, "No you are not fleeing, if you want that reward, he hissed, "I want you to warn our paymasters, tell them not to withdraw the wargs only not to fight themmselves, and tell them not to expect the wards to return, but say no more, then return to me at once."

With that taken care of, he began running across tthe village, screaming at the top of his lungs; "Wargs. We are undert attack. Archers on the roofs, able bodied men to me, bring whatever large metal or wooden spiky instrunents that you can find and join us at the Southern entrance!" He repeated the message several time, and, without looking to see how many were following him...

_________________
"I am the Flying Spagetti Monster. Thou shall have no other monsters before me"
-FSM.

'It is foolish', he mumbled when he saw Hathol running to the south. He hesitated for a moment, but then he remembered Hathol's words. Cyllamdir ran to the headquerters of the Guard. He had long legs and he was able to move fast.

'Defend the Southern gate!', he shouted while panting heavily. 'Wargs are on the move, they may not enter the town!'

The guard's captain immediately called all guards to him, and Cyllamdir estimated their numbers on about two dozen. Not much, but surely enough to defend the town from the wargs.

'You should put up a blockade and shoot the wargs from the walls. But be quick!'

The captain observed Cyllamdir for a moment, not entirely sure if he should believe him. But then he whispered the words 'Marshall at the gate' to one of his lieutenants. They went to the southern entrance at once.

Cyllamdir heaved a sigh of relief: this was done. Why did Turgwaith and Hathol go outside the gate? It seemed foolish to Cyllamdir. Did they want to prove themselves? He was worried about them, so he climbed the wall and tried to find them somewhere. In the distance he saw Hathol as he ran even further into the distance. Turgwaith was nowhere to be seen. Then he heard the voice of Albaron behind him. He was trying to rally all the people to the walls. That looked like a more effective way of defending the town from the wargs...

He looked around without knowing what to do. Then he ran down to the entrance of the Red Menace. He grabbed his bow and white-feathered arrows as well as his ornate elven blade he had left there, and put on his vambraces. Then he moved back to the gate with a grim look on his face.

_________________
The love of Arda was set in your hearts by Ilúvatar, and he does not plant to no purpose.

While the defenses were being prepared in the center of the town, Hathol found himself in a suddenly empty part of town, all the houses in his vicinity were abandoned long ago, and the wargs were not appoaching as fast as he had perceived, they had began to slowly circle the outskirts of the town, and began heading to the east. Once the wargs had scattered Hathol deemed it safe to rise to his feet, but as he did so he felt a stinging pain in his ribcage and found himself collapsing to the floor, a dark figure wielding a huge claymore approached him, he tried to scramble away but the figure clenched his ankles and stabbed deep into Hathol's leg with a keen dagger he had kept hidden from view. Hathol delivered a kick with his healthy leg straight into the mans stomach, the pain from the dagger lodged in his leg stung and blood flew out like a river.

Hathol was not dead, but was in too much pain to move. As he approached him Hathol studied the man, only now did he have time to process that the man stood nearly twice as large as he was, and every inch of his body was covered in thick, black steel. The man's face was largely concealed by his segmented helmet but a few shreds of humanity could be seen through the helm, Hathol's keen eyes were knowledgeable and managed to process a single thought successfully before the man raised his blade for a the kill: "A Black Numenorian!"

But much to Hathol's delight the Numenorian was stopped by an unfortunate distraction, a handful of militia charged down the road carrying a spiked barricade, they could not make out what was going on infront of them but they hailed the numenorian over to them, unknowing that he was a servant of the enemy.

"Mate, get off the street, wargs are attacking, get outta here!" Called out one of the villagers to the Numenorian, there was no response.
"Hurry, we need to barricade this road off!" Another added
"There is no need for a barricade, the enemy is already here" Announced the Numenorian in a deep, chilling voice as he proceeded to murder the villagers one by one with his mighty blade, before returning to Hathol to finish the job, but the elf was no longer lying in the street and there was no trail of blood, the elf had escaped, alive, so the numenorian made off and vanished into the shadows of the streets.

Dwalvyn had dispeensed with the discussions as well and stepped into the inn, allowing his booming voice and stern face to grab the attention of the patrons. "Men, it is time to stop drenching your thirsts and start spilling blood. There is a warg attack coming this way and is on your doorstep. I endeavour to aid in the defence, but we need your aid also. Those who can fight should get your armaments now. Those that are sober should head to the Southern gate and those who have enjoyed their ale and wine should take up positions around the other entrances. ovve now or your families will not live to nag you for your drinking!" he exclaimed and promptly stomped back out. He nodded to Kaldor, allowing him to now they were on the move. They headed to the Southern gateway and he pulled his walking axe from his side and his warcrown from his belt, hidden within the folds of his cloak.

"May the furry beasts die in the way they torment others," came a spat curse from his clenched jaw.

The wargs came to a moment of attack... Drived by hunger they went towards the city... But not to the south but to the east instead...
Hathol was hiding behind a rock waiting them to come but they came around the rock he was at... They didn't saw him...
The wargs were few metres away when an arrow brought silence. A warg fell to the snow dead hit on the side...
Hathol looked away and so did the wargs...
Some metres far, near some trees stood Turgwaith with his bow pointing the wargs... He ahd crawled up to there where the wargs first stood...
'Right time.' Some of the wargs around ten turned and started to running towards him. The other went towards the village probably had belief into the others to finish and eat the ranger.
He was shooting arrows at them and managed to kill another two before they arrive.
He brought his bow back and went to the trees. It was like a small forest.
Silence followed as the wargs tried to smell him. Then he charged and finished another one behind a tree.
Some of them jumped to get on him but they were slashed before they could succed.
One, two but the third warg pushed him on the ground.
He started struggling and use his sword to wound them. He stugglign in the snow to finish of the warg on him and each time he did another one took his place.
He didin't know how much our it took but when he was finished he got up.
He had scratches all over his body... One to each hand ,two on his left feet and one to his right. Another oen was at his elft side but the most painful was the one on his right cheek.
Wargs in close combat were hard enemies but by movign fast he could finish them. He had killed 9 so the other 30 must ahve went to town.
He left the trees and went as fast as he could towards the village.

Having escaped the numenorian Hathol wanted to help Turgwaith... Hathol since he was a child amde easily bonds and didn't want any of his companions dead...
He run out of the south agte and went to a big boulder on the southeast of the city. He remained hidden there.
But the wargs instead of goign south were going to the east.
They passed near him but then they stopped. For a moment he thought he was finished but then a warg fell to the snow making it red from it's blood...
Far away Turgwaith with snow all over his body was standing... He had shoot the warg... Exactly ten wargs run to him while the other run towards the gate...
Hathol killed one warg with an arrow helping Turgwaith... Another warg left Turgwaith and came towards him...
But with a slash of the elven blade it fell dead... He run to help Turgwaith but more wargs approached him... He ahd his elven blade ready...
He managed to kille two with no promblem but the third one bit him on his elbow...
The armour reduced the pain and Hathol stabebd the warg on the head...
Turgwaith came runnign with scratches all over his body...
" Let's aid the others..." Hathol shout and they both went running to slay more wargs... But they lost time and they wouldn't be alone this time...

_________________
"The stars are veiled.Something stirs in the East. A sleepless malice."-Legolas, The Return of the King

After Sulvan, had brough men with a barricade, they were told be a stranger to turn away, the men believing it to be a Numenorean followed his command. Sulvan knew that this was in fact, Tuor the black-hearted, that wretch Tom Ferny had fled instead of delivering the message. Sulvan told the men around him, "knock your arrows, prepare to fire!" Then slipped out from their midst. Sulvan decided to see if Turgwaithor Hathol were still alive and whether to finish them off himself. When he saw the two runnning, unscaved, killing wargs, he knocked an arrow in his own bow and loosed several arrows at the pair, meaning to end their lives swifter than the dwarves had killed hias own parents, should some of the arrows hit wargs, it did not matter to him for he wanted to make it seem as if they were his targets, he was so careful, that only he himself could tell who were his real targets, he noticed both of the companions go down, buut Sulvan was not certain that he had actually killed them for one of them was only hit by an arrow on his left shoulder and did not see what happened to the other, but Sulvan hoped that he had at least knocked them unconscious. Then on the pretext of coming to their aid, he ran forwards drawing his sword...

_________________
"I am the Flying Spagetti Monster. Thou shall have no other monsters before me"
-FSM.

Dwalvyn arrived at the Southern gate to see the men of the town preparing to fire and saw one of the travelling companions run out of into the open. "Stand your ground, men. Hold until I give you the mark!" he shouted, before pointing to the nearest man with few arrows and adding, "Grab that quiver. You'll need all the feathers you can get, lad." He hoped the men would pay heed to his instructions, unlike his travelling companion. The foolish man could run out and get himself killed if he wanted, but he wouldn't have the defenders of the stead doing the same. The safest way for them to deal with the wargs would be to shoot them before they arrived. Any that got through would obviously have to be dealt with, but the fewer arriving the easier (or rather less difficult) it would be. Still, good Dwarfen axes were prepared for the mass of muscle, fur and anger that would be heading in.

EDIT: ((OOC: added in a little to reflect the arrows being thrown down.))

Heading as fast as they could to the rest of the wargs Turgwaith along Hathol were shot...
Many were the arrows but most missed and they as reflex fell to the ground...
'Wargs doesn't have arrows...' Turgwaith thought and saw the arrows coming from the wall of the city...
A dark figure wanted to finish them... The last arrow was going for Hathol's head...
" Tir-ed..." Turgwaith shout and pushed Hathol out of the way...
An arrow came down to Turgwaith's left shoulder... He fell to the snow alive but unconsious...

After Turgwaith fell to the floor Hathol watched if he was alive...
He was still breathing... He got his blade and stand up...
He looked to the direcion that the arrows came from...
No one was there...
Probably because of the cold snow Turgwaith awaoke almost moments later...
He got out the arrow that was not so deep into his flesh...
Of course Hathol saw him being in pain and helped him to get up..
" This arrow is not of elf... Have you seen this arrows again?" Hathol asked and Turgwaith nodded.
" From where is it?" He asked to learn who wanted to kill them...

_________________
"The stars are veiled.Something stirs in the East. A sleepless malice."-Legolas, The Return of the King

Vrâsghul watched the attack in anger. So openly, so badly planned...
Behind him, the poor messanger was still trying to breath. But he won't last any longer... So will Tuor.
The damn morgul rat should have asked his permission to come here. He, and only he was marshal of the Dol Guldor Realm in abscence of their Undying Masters. Mordor will agree with his actions. This attack proves Tuor's unfit for a task this important.
A silent scream sounded, and Vrâsghul smiled. The little snaga behind finally embraced his death.
Go, He wisperd to the shadows next to him, find me this... Sulvan

_________________
We must forgive our enemies...
But not before they are hanged

Kaldor stood firm besides his companion at the south gate, he unsheathed a pair of dwarvish daggers and twirled them a few times until he felt comfortable with them in his hands.
"It's been a while since i've had any real fighting, i might be a bit rusty" He whispered to Dwalyn
By now there were a good thirty or so armed men at the gate, twenty of whom were not trained soldiers, Kaldor didn't like the odds of them surviving. He wished Sulvan hadn't ordered the men onto the walls to shoot the wargs, he always felt more safe with more men on the ground, even if their absence gave his side greater bowfire.

"Wargs! Wargs in the mist, they are coming, get into position!" The man on the top of the gatehouse announced, in response to his cry a few men fled from the crude spearwall that had been formed. As they ran their footsteps filled the otherwise silent with an air of fear, but the sound of their feet was soon drowned out by the stampede and snarl of the approaching wargs, everyone averted their eyes to the gate, it was only made out of wood and would not hold for long against them. The pounding drew nearer and nearer until suddenly it halted. The men on the walls drew their bows and began firing below them, they were relatively comfortable that the wargs could not climb to them. Then, without warning, one of the archers vanished from sight, he screamed so loud that the whole town was filled with his pain, a great hulking spider climbed into his place and took its place on the wall.

"Spiders!!" A few men screamed, but before anyone else had time to flee the wooden great crashed open as a huge warg, twice the size of the rest, emerged from the gate, followed by a horde of wargs. He was a beast made of pure muscle and his fur was axe-shaft thick. A mad melee began taking place. One of the men in the front line hastily threw his spear into the great warg but when the spear impacted the creature did not budge, but it leaped into the man, grabbed him by the leg and threw him through the gate, as he flew into the pack of rabid creatures his body was instantly tore up and scattered across the floor while his blood was showered across the pack.

It took Kaldor a few moments to join the frenzy, his brain was telling him to run away but he knew his duty. He eyed a man who had been grounded by a warg and was scrabbling away in haste, Kaldor ran as fast as he could into position and threw one of his daggers right into the animal's chest, the creature was not yet slain though, it recoiled and turned it's gaze to Kaldor who has now fully ready for a fight. The warg eyed Kaldor and hastily began to charge at him, driven by a mad hunger, the creature approached faster and faster so Kaldor had to think fast! He chraged as fast as he could towards the beast then barrel rolled into the creatures legs. The creature took a harsh tumble and as it attempted to regain its footing Kaldor hastily swung his dagger right into the creatures back leg, chopping it clean off, he then retrieved his throwing dagger and finished the creature off.

The fighting was thick and many wargs had been slain, but 8 more wolves rejoined the pack, they had been wounded earlier by an elf and a ranger but their wounds were not great enough to rend them incapable of fighting, infact they had actually been driven into a mad frenzy by their pain. Things were not looking good for the citizens of Dale, the men on the walls were being picked off by the spiders and had no way to retreat because the land below the walls was infested with wargs. The defenders had been pushed back into the central town square, and their number was few. The children and women were safely locked in the town castle but even the castle would not hold without it's defenders.

Hathol and Turgwraith both felt a firm slap and then a cold rush of water before they regained conciousness, they were met by the famous face of king brand of dale.
"Greetings travellers, me and my escort were just returning from our journey into mirkwood, what mioght you tow being doing out here?" Asked the king.
Turgwraith rose from his lying down position and took a good look around, he was in a chariot, more accurately, the kings chariot! Behind him marched hundreds of soldiers, that answered the questions regarding where on earth all the guards were! Something did not feel right though, he felt for his scabbard only to find there was nothing there, he looked up and saw the king eyeing him.
"I apologize for revoking your weapons, but how could i know you weren't assassins? You will have them back once we reach Dale!" Answered the king, Turgwraith was not as discrete as he had liked to think
"So then, what were you doing passed out in the clearing covered in scratch marks, and why on earth was your elf friend walking around with a dagger in his leg"
Turgwraith looked to Hathol, he didn't look well, but someone had applied a crude dressing to his ankle.
"Don't worry about your friend, i'll have my best men work on him once we reach dale!"