It's truly been fantastic! I mostly game over Discord these days, if anyone wants to add me (Long John Furby#8308).
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Cereidh looks about herself in surprise, almost chagrin. "... I wonder how much she really knew of the decision that she just made?"
"At least spit and vinegar enough," Cereidh says hoarsely, a little embarrassed, a little angry, voice mostly rough from sleep. She does not need to advance to level her mighty bow once she straightens and retrieves it from her shoulder.
Cereidh scrambles back out of her bedding, eyes wide and gleaming darkly like the fox's: she stares at the ghostly apparitions as if she can't quite believe her eyes even after all of the events of their adventures so far.
As they gather their strength all and set out again, Cereidh remains quiet, as absorbed in movement as a hunting hound - but she now wears an exquisitely crafted flower crown and seems a little bit smug about it.
Cereidh puffs and pants open-mouthed and wolfish as she lopes along, focused on the ground before her. As they take a moment to breathe atop a hill, she looks at the distance still to cover. "The Shadow has no reluctance to spoil wild places," she says, "but visibility is good. I think we're in more danger of being caught by our pursuers than we are of coming unawares open danger hiding in these hills. I vote we press on."
"We may have run a hundred leagues," Cereidh jokes.
I'd be entirely happy to welcome back an old player : ) Cereidh's vote is for Bree but I'm happy with either.
"I should like to rest at the Pony first," Cereidh says with an exhausted sigh, frequently glancing back with melancholy resignation towards where the Dunedain perhaps still fights. "But briefly. But the Shadow will not yet try to overtake us there."
As Thorgrim has closed with Scrag, Cereidh steps back to return Bregghar to bear.
Cereidh drops Bregghar across her shoulder and snarls, drawing her broadsword. Her eyes flick only briefly to the rest of the party; not beseeching. The only way past these orcs is through, so their hands are forced. "Big guy, you're big enough to make a barricade for your mindless siblings all on your own," she snarls at Scrag, and closes with him.
Cereidh's pushing to decline the infinite opponents and take the better part of valor, but we shall see what the party decides :P
Cereidh hopes that greater experience will lend her arrows more luck than Thorgrim's had.
Cereidh narrows her eyes in bemusement at the rest of her party. "Of course your suggestions are brave, and come from a hatred of the Shadow and its servants. But this is not our home, although it was once a home of the light. We are not seasoned orc-hunters, not like Talandil." She nods towards the Dunedain. "And if should we die here, the stones might sing it, Nocticide might sing it to whatever hero recovers it - the light's recovery of this place will be sung far longer should anyone at all return alive to report the depth of its current tragedy to those of my people elder and wiser. I shall stay and fight if that is what we choose to do - but I think Talandil speaks with wisdom."
"Perhaps we might consider flight ourselves?" Cereidh says breathlessy. [/b]"We've earned it."[/b] This does not stop her in her work, however.
Cereidh tags along, in agreement.
"Don't tempt fate," Cereidh tells Thorgrim.
Cereidh shoots the orc blowing his horn.
Cereidh glances sidelong at Thorgrim, guessing that here the Browning would be the accelerant to their fight, and steps back beside Thorgrim, drawing her bowstring.
"My vote is for keeping on. We can always circle back, but should something worse be warned of us ... Well, we can't ask it to wait for us." Cereidh gives Thorgrim a quick look, but quickly decides her lover is still hale and capable of looking after himself.
Cereidh considers the chance of simply losing her arrows and embarrassing herself, but follows Ingold's lead.
Cereidh glances sidelong at Ingold, and the swiftest of his response; and then at Thorgrim, and the living battle-lust in his eyes. She shrugs, and draws, and fires, one arrow each at two of the remaining orcs.
Cereidh rallies to Thorgrim's defense.
Cereidh shoots into the mass of goblins menacing Doderic, one arrow each to two different goblins.
Cereidh handily sidesteps the burning oil, but yowls in pain at the spear that catches her in the leg.
There's nothing for it, though. She retaliates against the orc that attacked her.
Cereidh agrees with Ingold, and sets her arrows after the goblin runner lucky enough to be spared for just a moment by Ingold. Or is it lucky? She is a fell and swift fighter herself, offering what little mercy she thinks these animals deserve with the full strength of her drawing-arm.
"Keep this tunnel's mouth clear for me," Cereidh says calmly, continuing to fire at orcs from where she stands.
"Well," Cereidh breathes in that breathless carrying battlefield whisper she uses, "Light is as Light does, I suppose." She draws a bead on one of the orcs that Ingold has not - and fires.
Cereidh leans further back into Thorgrim, saying in the lowest barest whisper, "Sleeping orc." Then she strikes, for the twang of a bow is quiet, and she can see the outline of her victim from where she stands.
Cereidh presses her shoulder into Thorgrim's to tell him to halt as she peers into the gloom.
Cereidh pauses half a moment to let Thorgrim draw close to her shoulder, to say lowly, "I would not cheat Nocticide so,", before venturing ahead again, hand still around Thorgrim's.
While unenthused by the work, Cereidh throws her main strength behind helping Thorgrim.
Cereidh startles and looks behind herself. "The sleeping Princess, perhaps?"
Cereidh sits with her back to the pedestal in the center of the room and tugs at the strands in her hair with frustration. Despite the gory wound at her shoulder, Ingold's healing has done her good, and she appears to still be whole. "Far be it for me to go charging off without you," she says, but seems relieved at the proposal. "I shall simply sit here and catch my breath."
"Ugh," Cereidh says, with feeling, before bending to tug at one of the legs, thankful for her leather gloves. "Spiteful and unpleasant even in death. Well, it's spread that particular curse. I could stand to slay something else right now."
Cereidh is not shy of stealing valor from Thorgrim in her ire.
Cereidh shakes on her slender legs like a colt with fury and frustrated adrenaline, but she has been wielding a bow for longer any Man has lived, and she puts all of her into her shoulder as she draws her bow. "Eat Light, you bloated shame to this entire miserable place!"
Gotcha, so I'm on the bench until the round turns over.
So I've pulled free. How much of my round did that take?
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