The crimson hooded young man was the first through the walls, bolts and spears hurling past him in desperate attempts to bring him down. A smile streaked across his face as the adrenaline pumped through his veins, his heart beating quickly within his chest. Still his aim was steady and true, his crimson feathered, wickedly barbed arrows finding their mark deep within Angmarim flesh. He took aim at the last remaining marksman on the far wall, quickly sidestepping and loosing an arrow as if one fluid motion.
He took up his horn, sounding that the archers had been dealt with, signaling the men to press onto the camp. The roar filled the ruins as Dunadain met with Angmarim, steel singing and shields clashing. Bolts soaring through the air and meeting with their mark.
Cynraede looks around, trying to spot the source of the deadly hail, spotting the group hiding behind a broken wall. He drew an arrow, raising his bow and loosing it quickly in an attempt to gain their attention. He continued to rush towards the men, his bow singing like unto a harp in the midst of the battle. He spotted one of them lean his head out in hopes of seeing their attacker, instead only finding a crimson feathered arrow to his throat.
The young man turned to see if they had made any ground before realizing the man whom he had fought with had been knocked to his feet, and the Angmarim archers seemed to take this opportunity. He forcefully sprinted across the field, standing before the fallen man they called Turgur as he loosed arrow after arrow in hopes of at least keeping their heads down. Cynraede yelled at the man to get up and to stop sleeping on the field as he stood clambering about in his plate armor.
Cynraede turned his attention to more of the archers whom had taken residence over a small hill covered in rubble, raining down their bolts upon the dwindling soldiers. He stayed low, moving quickly towards them and pressing himself up against a wall as he reached for an arrow, quickly finding they had been spent. He braced himself as he laid his bow down, he lept over the stone as he drew his blades and charged at the men.
Bolts flew past him, three dug their crudely shaped teeth deep into his leg and abdomen as he charged on. They tried to reload but realized it was to late, trying to draw their own swords and rushing at the now wounded man. He ducked slightly as he swung a blade towards the midsection of one of the archers, realizing he had made contact by his whimpers as he raised his blade to block a blow from one of his comrades. Cynraede stood between them, sending flurries of slashes and hacks towards them as they tried to block but only managed to knock a couple of them away. The young mans blade sunk deep within the sternum of one of the men, as the other swung his own blade and found Cynraede's leg as it tore though the leather and flesh. He spun around, his arm finding the mans neck as his blade followed and removed his head from his body, tossing it into the fray.
He paused only for a minute, realizing what was happening. In the fray Turgur sat on his knees, his armor penetrated by numerous bolts and a strangely shaped arrow. He watched only for a moment as the olive skinned man approached the armor clad turgur, Cynraede lept from the hill, charging at the new threat.
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The two men exchanged taunting words as the olive skinned man raised his bow, aiming towards Turgurs face as he loosed a wicked toothed grin. Before he could release, Cynraede threw himself from the wall and landed upon the man, trying to push him to the ground as he grabbed onto anything he could. The young man bit down hard on his ear, desperately trying to tear it from his head as they struggled and fought. The man drew a blade and sunk it deep within Cynraede's chest, only causing him to bite down harder before being kicked off.
The two stood for a moment before Cynraede spit blood and matter across the grass, hitting the man opposite at him as he held the place where his ear once was. The crimson hooded man hunkered down, grabbig his blades and preparing for another assault as he hissed through his teeth. "Go now! I will not show you mercy again! Leave this place and rid the world of your filth!"
The man stood only for a moment, staring at the man who crouched protectively in front of the armored man. His blades darkened and his eyes filled with intent, he knew he would not leave this field alive. He stumbled and staggered to try to get away, running as he fled the battlefield.
Cynraede grabbed Turgur, pulling his bulk behind a rock and trying to wake him from his slumber before realizing it was eternal. Tears rolled down his blooded and dirt covered face as he sat on his knees, looking down at the man whom fell beside him. He knew this one was of the order, of which he swore to protect unto his dying breath. The young man searched his body for something he could show the Lady that one of their own had passed, finding a signet ring and a pouch that bore his crest. He stuffed them in a bag, and looked upon the new comer.
He had seen this man once before, whom tried his nerves and mind. It took his strength not to kill him before, but now he knew of whom he served, and would not draw steel nor blood. He stood, and the two exchanged words, he could tell this would not end in them leaving his field.
