The Debate

Log file from Akallabeth.

Night falls about the central most square of Umbar. Torches and other forms of lighting
illuminate Ar-Adunakhor square in a great brilliance of light. Many crowd in to it, from all
corners of the city to view the great event which is about to occur here. Some whisper to each other in worried tones over what will occur, others stay silent, and look to the center of the square where already preperations are already finished. Stars shine brightly in the sky, yet bright as well are the faces of the three judges, Arathrion, Miriel and Meregond. Those speaking sit in their places awaiting the moment approaching. All wait in awe and excitement, tension is in the air. All eyes dart towards the center of the square anticipating, and waiting for the start of the Great Debate!
 
In a small raised dais, seated above most of the general audience, sits Meregond and the others who prepare to judge. Meregond himself sips on a large goblet of fine wine, his mail gleaming in the lantern light on either side of the dias. His face is sullen and calm, his eyes glancing about with a cold stare. His slump looks to be one of comfort, though his eyes search the crowd for something specific it seems. No outward emotion is shown.
 
A small group of people is stading on the side of the square,discussing between themselves. Among them is Breanir, talking with another man which stading besides him, while waiting for the debate to start. Occasionally, the young man looks around him, examining the people arriving in the square. His sight always ends up on the small dais, where the judges are sitting. A look of nervousness can be seen on his face.
 
Rikutatis emerges from one of the several streets leading to the great square, clad in dark and wearing a black cowl that almost completely hides his features. He weaves his way through the crowd, not caring to apologize himself to those he pushes aside to open his own forced path. He arrives close to the raised dais where the judges are and offers each and every one of them an exagerated bow, "Hail, fair judges of the contest! Hail Princess of Numenor!"
 
To one side of the dais, Lord Amrukhad sits in the seats reserved for those scheduled to speak. He rests comfortably, watching with interest the people gathering in the square.
 
A figure makes its way down a road, clothed in a large black cloak. The cloth billows with a
slight breeze, but does not open to reveal who dwells beneath it. A hood covers the figure's
head, hanging so low that even the one wearing it has a hard time seeing. As the person walks toward the crowd, he examines his surroundings carefully as to not fall prey to any trap that may await him, for there are some that wish him dead. From beneath his hood, his eyes look upward in the direction of the three that judge the debate, then back at the man who boldy steps inside the ring. Unknown to those around him, he sneers at a thought and proceeds to walk further into the crowd.
 
The heir to the throne of Numenor, the Princess Miriel stands slowly. Her silver gaze seeks out the speaker of the voice. For a long moment she says naught. Then she calls out, her voice clear and strong. "Who greets me? Show yourself..so that I might greet you in return."
 
Sensing the time of the debate approching, Breanir leaves the small group of people and makes his way towards the small dais. Arriving there, he carefully sits down on one of the chairs and gets ready for his speech, while looking upon the people gathered before the dais.
 
At Miriel's request, Rikutatis steps forth, approaching her seat. Instantly, two of the guards move and stand in front of him, crossing their spears close to his chest. At that, Rikutatis laughs mirthfully, but doesn't approach any farther. A slender and pale hand emerges from the robe, pulling aside the cowl to reveal the handsome features of his complexion, "My name is Rikutatis." echoes a voice that is somewhat familar to the princess, "I am a man of Umbar, although I have been in the fair Isle of Numenor before. If you allow me so, princess, I'd like to use the opportunity and tell you that you look even more beautiful than the last time that I saw you in Armenelos." the guards grit their teeth and begin to surround Rikutatis, but the dark man simply smiles and stares at Miriel.
 
One of those seated upon the dais, Arathrion, nephew of Khoropharaz, surveys the scene in front of him with a keen look. His eyes skim lazily over all that is splayed out in front of him, and at times he fixes his gaze and watches a scene or conversation unfold in one part of the crowd. He is clad wholly in fine garments of blue, and seems deep in thought, perhaps of the debate to come. He regards Rikutatis, who has now come so close to the dais, and listens to him speak.

Miriel regards the one named Rikutatis carefully as the guards surround him, but her expression is serious, perhaps even grave as she says. "I confess if we have met, I do not recall, sir." But a flicker of perhaps uncertainty, or maybe unease, can be seen by those closest to her. "I thank you for your pretty speech though and bid you sit and enjoy the Debate to follow. The almost as if she just remembers why she is there she takes a breath and looks away from him.
 
She turns her gaze to Arathrion now and smiles, no trace of the earlier unease in her face.
"Arathrion, the Heir of Lord Khoropharaz, will now present the rules of the debate." She holds out her hands spread with palms out as she turns back to the crowd. "I bid you all, enjoy!"

Still looking out into the sea of spectators, Meregond quietly sips from his goblet, enjoying
himself thoroughly. His cold glance skims the square ruthlessly, his pale chain armor gleaming upon his large torso with a pompus cry. Hearing the voice of Rikutatis, the militant-clad man turns his head and nods slightly in greeting. His eyes widen as he raises his hand and performs some gesture unseen by anyone else. His face produces a sleek grin, his eyes turning back to the crowd as Miriel announces the beginning.
 
Rikutatis smiles softly, and almost innocently one could say, at Miriel's words. "Aye, my
princess. That is why I'm here. To watch and listen." he bows once more and nods his head
towards Meregond in return of his greeting. -- "Step away from me, commoners!" he now grunts back at the guards surrounding him. Slowly they do as requested, most of them frowning as they move away from Rikutatis. Without further words Rikutatis makes his way back to the crowd and watches the developments of the contest.
 
Still moving through the crowd, the black-cloaked figure quietly makes his way between those that idley watch, having to push a few people as he does. Not bothering to look behind himself, he goes on his way toward the front of the crowd, still watching with an unseen, intent glare. The figure's gaze, from beneath his hood still, follows Rikutatis as he leaves the ring, followed by a slight shake of his head. His arms form an arrowhead in front of his body when he attempts to squeeze between two that stand shoulder to shoulder.

Having heard the princess finish her remarks, and after a more than casual glance at the
dark-clad man at the foot of the dais, Arathrion rises from his seat, when called upon, and
stands before the crowd. He glances over them one last time, perhaps in a way, checking who is listening, and then begins to speak, with great hand gestures and gesticulations. "Greetings all! Welcome to the great debate! One which will surely have not only oratory purposes, but practical ones as well, in deciding the future of our relations with outlying realms. The opinions of the people of Umbar and Numenor should not be kept a secret, they should beproclaimed gloriously, and heard in the same manner! Let those speaking and debating today all stand forth and come to the dais, much I am sure do they have to say. Some have already seated themselves. " He pauses, and looks over the seated debaters, and the judges behind him. Taking a deep breath, he continues, "The guidelines and rules of the debate are as follows. Every debater will begin with some opening remarks, while the other debaters will remain silent and listen. After each has said their piece, each will have an oppurtunity to reply to the other, there is no limitation on how many times, after the opening remarks, one can reply to the other's arguments. The judges.." Arathrion looks once more at the judges seated by him "The judges, Princess Miriel, Lord Meregond and myself, will pay close attention to all remarks, and take them in to account. Once the judges see that the debaters have exhausted their arguments,
and that a decision can be made, they will proclaim the end of the debate, and shortly
following, announce a winner." He takes another breath, adjusting and straightening his
garments. "So, come forth, all who will! Let your voices be heard, and your opinions be known!" He concludes, and sits once more in his seat, waiting for all to step up, and signalling to Lord Amrukhad, the first of the debaters, to begin.
 
Lord Amrukhad stands, waiting for all those wishing to take part in the debate to seat
themselves, then steps forward and clears his throat, nodding politely to the judges and those assembled. "Good evening. As has been mentioned, we are gathered to discuss the words of the dark envoy. Our glorious prince has rightly sent this man away for his insolence, but the question remains of how to deal with his master. The counsel that I put forward is as follows." He pauses for a moment before continuing.
 
"It appears obvious that the man's master fears the Prince Pharazon, that he comes offering such gifts. It must be unnerving for them to have such power sitting on their doorstep. So we have sent them away to show that we have no need of their cringing obeisance. But still there are great riches out beyond the province of Umbar. And who better to work this for us and bring the results to lay at the feet of our Governor than those poor folk who live out there trembling at the might of Numenor. And so, the suggestion I make is that we allow this man to come humbly back and beg forgiveness, then begin to work out details of how they are to provide Pharazon with recompense for protecting this flank of their land." With that, the Lord bows again to the judges and nods to the assembled people before resuming his seat.
 
Taking in Lord Amrukhad's words with a subtle nod, Meregond's eyes flare at the mention of the return of the man Pharazon has encountered. He finishes his goblet of fine wine with a final draught, his eyes ever steady upon the crowd as his ears remain intent upon the words being said. He smooth face remains calm, his head turning slightly to concentrate on something more in the crowd. With a sigh of content, or perhaps nervousness, he leans back in his raised seat and gives a sidelong glance towards Miriel. No outward emotion comes forth again, his lips pert -- eyes poised and hands freely set.
 
Arathrion is unmoving. His eyes betray no inner emotion, and his countenance shows no opinion on the words just uttered. His gaze is deep and grave, as he nods to Lord Amrukhad and signals the next of the debaters to begin.
 
Miriel seated once again, regards her fellow judges, and their reactions with a steady gaze.
Occasionally her gaze strays to the direction the one called Rikutatis chose. She leans close to her lady-in-waiting and whispers something unheard. The woman rises and descends from the dias to the crowd silently.
 
At the mention of the Dark envoy, a voice calls out from the crowd, "Attack them!" If one were to be close to the voice's source, they might note it has come from where the cloaked figure stands, having paused briefly to speak and to get through the two ahead of him.
The man takes a few more steps forth, listening for any reaction and brings his hands to his
hood, gripping the lower part which hangs to prevent it from being pulled back, or from the
breeze blowing it from atop his head.
 
Rikutatis listens to everything said rather quietly, a faint smile curving the corners of his
lips. His gaze though, remains focused on Miriel most of the time, a disturbing and unsettling look in his deep blue eyes as he regards her. As her lady-in-waiting descends the dais and heads towards the crowd, he watches her quietly.
 
Arathrion looks up, with some considerable alarm at the shout from the crowd. He skims the crowd, and looks for reactions, not sure whether to let this pass by, or let things continue. For now, he says nothing, and listens...
 
Breanir quietly sits in his chair as Amrukhad, prepares to give his speach. He carefully
listens to the words of the noble Lord, as he thinks about his own speech. As he sees the current speaker finishing and regaining his seat, Breanir slowly gets up and looks at the crowd. After a short pause he turns to face the judges and politely bows his head, before turning again to face the people gathered before him.
 
Taking a deep breath, the young lord begins, "Good evening fair people of Umbar, as the good Lord Amrukhad mentioned we are here today to discuss our future position with the master of the dark envoy. As a diplomat, I feel that diplomacy and forging alliances with the other powers of this land is our best course of action..."He slightly pauses looking at the reaction of the crowd before continuing, "...but we have to be carefull with who we deal, let us not forget our history, either by choice or by time, for great lessons can be learned from it. I say we can not trust Him, and no negotiations should be taken, for he would certainly betray us." Turning to face the judges, Breanir respectfully bows before taking his seat.
 
Shifting slightly in his seat, Meregond's eyes bore invisible holes through the young man,
Breanir. He remains silent, however, and returns a small and subtle nod to Breanir as he
concludes his speech. Meregond's eyes begin to roam again, searching the crowd uneasily. His low-toned, rolling voice mutters aloud, "Soon...soon..."
 
After thinking aloud, Meregond turns his head to Miriel akwardly to catch her facial
expressions. His face is yet unmoved by any words, his eyes going back to the crowd.
 
As if feeling someone watching, Miriel turns to her side and catches Meregond wathcing her. She tilts her head, holding his gaze silently, almost like a challenge, though she speaks not as well.
 
Arathrion looks at the lull that has taken it's course around him. Slowly he speaks, "If all
have said what they want...debaters..." He gazes at the two who have spoken "May reply to one another now."

Rikutatis steps forth once more, raising his hand high in the air, "I wish to speak!" he calls out, not caring about whose turn it is.
 
Amrukhad pauses in standing, and resumes his seat, awaiting the words of Rikutatis with
patience.

Her eyelock with Meregond prematurely broken by that voice. Miriel stands gracefully. "Let him speak." Is all she says before seating herself again.
 
Within the crowd, the deep blue of Kalthar's cloak is a dark patch. Yet it is not sure this one goes for the dark envoy.. Indeed it seems the youth hasn't yet choosen his side at all, as his face remains expressionless while his eyes turn to each speaker.
 
Bothering not to wait for Arathrion to speak, nor to listen, the voice calls out again,
"T'would be not wise to agree with the dark one!" The voice seems firm, but full of reason, and the one who speaks is still unnoticed for now. The cloak-bearing figure makes his way forth still, bothering not to look at any who stare at him now.
 
Rikutatis offers a nod of his head and faint smile to Miriel before rising onto the inner ring
of the judges again. "Fellow Umbarians. Friends of Numenor. The words of the young diplomat can only mean woe to our kin! Aye, woe! Listen to your words, lad. Have you no respect for the policies of the Dunedain? Lord Amrukhad speaks nothing but the truth. He is wise and he can see the numerous benefits of the alliance. We have the power to crush the lord of Mordor if he tries anything. His fear will prevent him from doing so though. As Lord Amrukhad said, what other reason would he have to sent forth a humble emissary who offers nothing but gifts and land in exchange of peace. They are afraid of Lord Pharazon, the new governor of Umbar. Afraid, I repeat for all of you to hear! Accept his gifts, I say. And allow him to crawl by our knees. Let us open trading and diplomatic relations with Mordor. We will only have benefits from that. We are the true Lords of Middle-earth, so let's start acting as such."
 
Breanir frowns as he listens at the comments of Rikutatis but keeps quite, awaiting his turn. Occasionally he looks at the judges before returning his attantion to the speaker.
 
Arathrion looks about, nodding to Rikutatis. "Do any have any replies to anything that has been said here?"
 
The princess looks grave but says naught. Her place as a judge prevents her comments about the matters at hand. Her gaze lights on Rikutatus mostly, but occasionally it strays to Meregond speculative, measuring.
 
In response to Amrukhad's words, the voice calls back growing ever closer, "I say we bother /not/ with them, for they are evil...It would serve us best to ignore their request or simply deny it!" The figure makes its way to the near-front of the crowd, peering out from beneath the hood of the cloak. Unseen, he glances at Miriel, Amrukhad, then Meregond; his eyes stopping upon Meregond. "They are as evil as Him!" he says again, most likely having been noticed by now by the crowd.

Rikutatis turns on his back abruptly and hisses back at the cloaked figure, "Show yourself, you coward! Let us see the face behind the stupid voice!"
 
Breanir stands up without taking his eyes off Rikutakis, "Nay, I say, no relations should be formed with the foul land of Mordor. Aye! We /are/ more powerfull then the Dark Lord and /yes/ he does fear our good Prince Pharazon, we should take this advantage and strike quickly and hard at their heart. I do not love war, but they are other means of defeating a more powerful opponent then with weapons. Let us not give them the chance. Let not our pride cloud our judgement. The dark envoy's words where as sweet to the ears of men as his lord's, let history show us the way, and our wisdom control our action. Attack him I say!"
 
Arathrion glances at his fellow judges, then at the crowd, which now seems to be growing
somewhat concerned at the unexpected events happening here. He rises from his seat "Quiet! Quiet!" He shouts to the crowd. "Let the debaters speak." Then he adds, in an obviously more concerned tone. "Those who are not amongst the debaters, are requested to remain silent. Lest they reveal themselves and their identities immediately." A grave look of worry has fallen upon Arathrion's face.
 
Amrukhad is frowing a little as he stands, his eyes following the dark figure of Rikutatis and peering at the one who yells from the crowd. He nods slightly, but his expression is troubled. "I appreciate the support, good sir, but I spoke of no alliance. Still, what one calls the arrangement is immaterial. Let the dark one think of himself as an ally if it pleases him. Ignoring him would serve no purpose, for he is there and must be dealt with, and attack would simply drain the resources of Numenor." He turns and looks back at Breanir. "As the good Breanir reminds us, we should not forget our history. But, we must also take into consideration the changes that happen with the years. The people of old were deceived, it is true. But now we are stronger and more knowledgeable. We know with whom we have to deal and we can take precautions. We must not let fear of the past prevent us from taking the surest steps for the future. The power of Numenor and its leaders such as the Princess..." he bows to Miriel, "...and the new governor of Umbar, are such that we need not have concern for that which Breanir and this other gentleman fear."
 
Leaning up from his comfortable position, Meregond eyes the unseen man. He stands now, getting a better look at the usurping crowd shooting out opinions and disregard. Eyeing him with an intense glare, his face nods in assurance to his own thoughts. Turning to Arathrion, then to Miriel, he gives them a look of desperation, or uncertain thought. Turning his back to his fellow judges at length, Meregond gives a gesture to the crowd, seen by all, but understood by one. His eyes gleam with a cold grey hue, his long, flowing cloak blows in the light breeze. He remains silent, but intentive on the crowd and debaters.
 
Heeding to Amrukhad's words, the figure pushes his way to the front of the crowd. He lets go of his hood, using his hands to push those aside that stand in his way. "Show myself I shall...but reveal myself I shant!" The figure steps out from within the crowd, his cloak falling upon his legs as he comes to a halt. "I wish to keep Numenor away from the evil way's of the Dark One, for it is my homeland and I wish it not to corrupt!" If Miriel were to listen closely, she might be able to recognize the man's voice, but the hood dubs some of his speach, muffeling it slightly when he speaks. He stands bold, his hood still draped over his head, with his hand planted firmly at his side.

Miriel's gaze goes from one speaker to the next. To Rikutatis, then to Breanir, Arathrion,
Amrukhad, all in the space of moments, her gaze touhces all. No evident emotion is present on her face. Years of royal upbringing keep whatever she feels well hidden most of the time. She knows the eyes of the crowd are upon her. At the hooded one's words however she titls her head, her silver circlet cathing the sunlight as her head moves. There her gaze lingers longest.
 
Breanir looks at the stranger and listens to the heavy words he speaks. He then turns to look at Meregond before turning again towards the cloaked figured, "Corruption? Those are heavy accusations you have brought before us. Has the voice of the Dark One consumed the mind of our poeple? Explain yourself!" he says without looking away.
 
"Son of a coward!" Rikutatis grunts and calls back to the cloaked figure. "Malicious wench! Infidel! Heathan! Your intent is solely the one to start a war and see the lives of many being lost as the result." he hisses and pulls out a wicked dagger of twisted blade, "You are an insult to the fair and proud Dunedain, O' bearer of chaos and commotion!" and with that he leaps against him, teeth gritted.
 
Kalthar starts trying to move within the crowd towards the debaters, and... fighters! Pushing people around, in a minute he reaches them. Arathrion looks about at the chaotic scene unfolding before him. He wipes a few drops of perspiration off his forehead, shouts out loud, and stands to his full height. In a loud, commanding voice he shouts "ORDER! I CALL THIS DEBATE TO ORDER! GUARDS! Sieze both of them and lead them away. This can not be here. This debate WILL continue, and WILL NOT be obstructed by
senseless acts of violence." He looks over what occurs in front of him. And looks ready to join in himself, if the need should arise.
 
As the royal guards run to siege Rikutatis, Meregond leaps forward, drawing his well-forged sword with lightning reflexes. Dashing past Arathrion and Miriel, almost shoving them aside and over the dias, Meregond hacks down upon the back of the slower guard, blood seeting from the deep wound just below the neck. He yells out, his demanding and intimidating voice ringing now with a foul cry, "End him! End him!" He now persues the other guard with a dripping blade of deep crimson.
 
Rushing over to Miriel, Shayla looks in a rather fright state. She manages to however come fourth with a few shaken but firm words, "What's going on here? Oh dear..." She looks over to the chaos that has arisen and trys to hide her face and keep out of the middle of the enraged men.
 
Amrukhad starts to his feet as the guards rush for Rikutatis, and a group of his own men push forward and surround him. They draw no weapons for the moment, but are grim-faced and prepared for trouble.
 
The cloaked figure quickly snaps back, "I need /not/ explain why I wish to prevent my Land from harm, nor shall I. I will, however, stronly urge you to consider the ways of the Dark One before your decision is made." He turns himself around quickly, causing his cloak to flail outward and around his body till it bundles on his side, then slides down over his legs. To those that caught a glimpse, the figure's clothing could be seen, mostly armour of a sort accompanied by a brilliant silver locket. Moments after, though, Rikutatis reveals his weapon and leaps at him, catching him off guard. With the best reflexes possible, he reaches a hand for the weapon but misses. The blade whizzes through the air and pierces into the left shoulder of the figure, causing him to jerk his head back in pain as he stumbles. The hood flies back, off the head of the man, to reveal...Beltaur!
 
      The Princess' Royal Guardsman continues to stumble backward, finally tripping and falling as Rikutatis follows. But before he lands, he weakly turns his head toward Meregond who has just killed a guard and attempts to yell, "Evil...murder!" His voice stops when he makes a harsh impact on the ground, knocking any and all air out of his lungs.

Looking past the couple of heads that bar Shayla's clear line of sight, she manages to see the tussle between the two moments. If it had not been for the silver locket, Shayla might have never noticed. Letting out a scream, almost shrilling, but more or less worried and filled with tears, Shayla rips through the crowd, trying to get at the man that has just fallen a few moments ago. Her heart pounds with fear and she continues to cry his name the whole time, "Beltaur... Beltaur!"
 
Arathrion now does more than just shout. He pulls aside his cloak, revealing a longsword which he unsheathes and holds in his hand. He then goes to near to the princess and says to her. "Princess Miriel, this place is no longer safe for you, and your guards, I fear, are not fit or can not be trusted to protect you. I bid you come with me, and I shall take you to a place of safekeeping." He watches the chaos unfold, with near tears in his eyes, from the ruin and havoc.
 
Miriel , glancing to Shayla momentarily distracted, Miriel grasps her arm to try to pull her in back of her, but the girl rips away from her hold as the remaining guards on the dias converge on the princess. Her voice shouts over the crowd. "Stop this now. Azragan Meregond! I demand Rikutatis be seized and held! Look to Beltaur, Shayla." She turns and hearing Arathrion, nods slowly. "Indeed we shall go with you, Arathrion. I would than the Prince were here......"
 
Running with a speed full and determined, Meregond comes upon the other royal guard. His armor encumbers him slightly, though his massive prowess is tough indeed to match. The royal guard turns, his face strained and ready to fight. However, before the pour soul can even wield his blade, a great swing emits from Meregond's battle-trained arms. With the sound of cracking bone and ripping flesh, off goes the head of the haughty man before Meregond. Blood sprays in a wide array, Meregond thriving on the action. His eyes are truely throbing with red hatred, his true self is hidden no more.
 
After the fall of the second guard, Meregond rushes towards Rikutatis and Beltuar, a collision course with Shayla. The petrified crowd parts in the wake of Meregond, his sword close to his side and shield upon his left arm. He calls out, aiming his voice to all, "Evil are the words that Beltaur uttters, and he will pay dearly for them!" His eyes narrow as he comes closer, no one seeming to be willing to stop him.
 
Rikutatis laughs wickedly as his attack places himself upon Beltaur and his dagger sinks into his flesh. Crimson blood now stains his face and hands, what gives him a fell and evil
appearance. The dagger remains where it is, and he rises to his feet, "Feel the posion that
will slowly run through your blood and deteriorate your weak body, fool! Die slowly and think about me as you do!" he then turns to regard Meregond as he assaults the guards with a malicious smile upon his lips. "Go ahead, Meregond! Finish him!" he motions to Beltaur.
 
As Meregond strats running off, Breanir follows him off the dais. Arriving at the injured
guard, the young man stops for a moment to inspect him. Noticing the deep wound, Breanir turns towards the judges and shakes his head. Hearing the voice of the cloacked man, he turns his head towards his direction. A look of surprised appears on Breanir's face, as he recognises Beltaur. Kneeling there, the young man does not move, until his thoughts are desturbed by Shayla runing towards the fight. He quickly leaps forward trying to stop her but by the time he caught up to her, he was close to the fight. Looking around him, Breanir takes his dagger out of its sheath, thinking of his next move.
 
The Noble, clad in blue, signals to Miriel to follow him, staying close to her, longsword
drawn, he leads her by empty passages, ever-progressing, out of the center of the square. "MOVE AWAY!" he shouts. "This princess is coming through!" He signals for her to stay close to him and follow.
 
Seeing Rikutatis in the fight, Shayla, out of dispair and grief runs and dives for the man. She doesn't wield no weapon or proceed to harm the man, only grabs on to his back and trys to desperately pull him off and push him aside, but her womanly attempts are futile. Tears raged down her cheek as she tries her best attempt.
 
Kalthar finally reaches the scene of murder. The talk about poison makes him think twice about what he is about to do, yet he only hesitates for an instant, before he start running toward Rikutatis, weapon less, as he hopes to tackle him down from behing, seizing him at waist height... As he runs, his too large cloak is disturbing, and indeed makes some noise.
 
Having fell to the ground, and hard, with a dagger sheathed in his shoulder, Beltaur grabs at the weapon attempting to rid his body of its steel. His power fades from his body as he
strains, pulling the item from himself, and he yells out, "Meregond!!!!" His voice echoes
through the square as he lay nearly still in a small pool of his own blood. He jitters slightly
as the blade is removed and he throws it aside, then weakly rolls over to his side. With a
forced movement, he gets to his knees, then raises to his feet with his hand over his gushing wound. "Fight like man and not dog, wretched heathen!" he yells at Meregond, unable to see clearly through his teary eyes that now sting. He throws his wounded arm to the side, revealing his body as the cloak slings over his shoulder. His hand reaches from his wound to the longsword at his side before it is drawn, his hand shaking as he does.
 
Miriel hesitates and glances back to Beltaur's plight, but then allows herself to be led by the noble, worry clear in her face.
 
Rikutatis spins on his heels and slaps Shayla hard in the face, "Be gone, woman! Or I shall
slay you as well!" he then turns towards Kalthar, a wicked grin twisting his blood stained lips. He licks the blood from his upper lip and stands in a defensive position, closed fists patiently awaiting for Kalthar's approach, "Come child. I shall find pleasure in killing you with my bare hands."
 
With a crying and painful scream, Shayla is tossed aside as the man's slap connects perfectly with her right cheek. A little red in the face, Shayla pushes off the pain and attempt to still help her dying love. Jumping back up to her feet, she charges the man from behind as he faces Kalthar; again, jumping to his back, but only this time she bears her claws and rakes them evilly across the man's face.
 
In the general confusion following the breakdown of the debate, the grim seamen forming a wall of bodies around the Lord Amrukhad begin to move slowly but steadily away from the flash of weapons, shuffling their lord to safety. As more of his men reach him from the edge of the square, Amrukhad gives them brief instructions and they move quickly to pursue the fleeing Meregond, drawing short swords as they run.
 
Among the crowd that was listenning, stood a adan some of the now bloody and bloodied knew well. In the turmoil, that followed, Marzon watched and endured madness. Then, all was a bit confused, and a royal guard was agressed now a head rolls...
 
Meanwhile the sailor started to move toward them, obvious as most of men and women he knew were there, nows he is close to the broken escort of lady Miriel and her sole guard. Facing the naked blade of this last, he says to them ere this last slices through him, something lost in the noise, he shouts again "Flee!"
 
A large, empty circle is formed on the outside of the violent action. People stand and stare in pure amazement, some fear their lives and flee from the scene -- others dare not to interfere in the wrath of the evil which is obviously at hand. As Rikutatis beats down the woman from his back, Kalthar only comes near to his accomplice. Focuses more on the challenger, Beltaur, Meregond grins wickedly. Only five remain in the circle, the great crowd stands a good distance between them. Kalthar and Rikutatis prepare to duel, as do Beltaur and Meregond -- Shayla prone on the stone ground and weaponless.
 
With a morbid laugh, as if kept in his soul for many years, Meregond lets the seething chortle flow throughout the square. He says in decleration to all, "He will pay tribute, He will provide wealth and comfort, He is all things. He is my power!" The sounds of beating boots echo behind Meregond, the strong man knowing he has little time left to strike. With a sudden charge of enchanted power and evil intent, Meregond -- the former Azgaran, known for his good will and contribution to Numenor -- charges Beltaur. He sword swings high behind his shoulder and then thrusts outward towards the weaker man's chest; his heart is what seems to be in target.
 
Now the guards sent at Miriel's behest reach the scene. Men fall back as they come towards Rikutatis. One trys to help Beltaur stand, while the other three stand swords drawn on the evil man. The captain says loudly. "Hold, you or die!"

A flash of steel hit by the light of the torches, sweeps through the air,as a small dagger
approches Rikutatis upper body.

Meregond attacks Beltaur with his Longsword but Beltaur parries with his Spear!
 
As Rikutatis turns toward him, Kalthar stops, as he hoped to attack with surprise on his side. Once again, he hesitates, but seeing the man holds no weapon, he again starts running forward, bending his chest downward, hoping to tackle Rikutatis down, by pushing him and grabinng him at waist height.
 
Arathrion and Miriel reach a spot at the end of the crowd, where several of the royal guard stand. He escorts Miriel to them , ignoring all in their path, content only on reaching thedestination. He then shows miriel to the guards, somewhat roughly, and then says "Hopefully you will be safe here, Princess. Forgive me, but there is something I must do." With that he runs and disappears in to the raging throng, leaving Miriel alone with the guards.
 
Beltaur wipes his eyes quick enough to see his attacker swing his weapon at him. A strained frown comes across his face as he brings his sword sideways at Meregond's blade, deflecting it succesfully when he does. His body staggers to the side but his left arm remains limp at his side. Fighting with one hand seems slightly difficult for the man, especially since he has been not only stabbed, but poisoned as well. Sweat pours from his forehead as the dirty liquid from the dagger seems to kick in, making him shake his head for a moment before he screams, "Death come to thee!" before drawing his weapon back, then arcs is out widely as he swings at opening on Meregond's side from his failed attack.
 
As Meregond moves in to strike Beltaur, the Uinendili sent by Amrukhad close in behind him, spreading to give each other room to maneuver and to close off avenues of escape. They advance quickly but cautiously to support the guardsmen.
 
Everything happens too fast. Shayla is upon Rik's back scratching his face, even while a second man, Breanir, is attacking him with a dagger. With the reflexes of a night stalker, Rikutatis quickly grabs Shayla's hands within his own and turns around, what causes Breanir's dagger to hit Shayla's side instead of himself. The woman is then dropped on the ground and left to bleed there. Three guards now surround Rikutatis and Kalthar runs towards him. Not having much else to do, Rikutatis cackles wickedly, "Not today! Not now! But I will see you again, fools!" and with that he speaks dark words in an unknown and gutteral language, his own voice sounding dark and terrible. As soon as he is over, dark smoke is quickly rising all around the scene, to cloud everyone's view. No one but Meregond can notice Rik's form as he runs to grab the other's hand and drag him away from the square.
 
As the steel blade easily slides into Shayla, a look of horror and shock crosses her face.
Then, as the man lets her go, she slips loose, the dagger sliding out from her side as Shayla
dropd to the ground. She coughs a little, her face red as she crawls along the ground, holding her hand tightly in place at her side to slow the bleeding. As she gets at least a little clear from the fight, she rolls on to her back, her breath heavy and sputtery. Sighing as she looks over to the fight. Wanting to get up and help, but unable to.
 
Breanir can be seen standing a few steps away next to a dead guard, in the direction the dagger came from. As Breanir picks up the dead guard's sword, he sees the dagger tears into the flesh of Shayla, deep enough so only its hilt can be seen, decorated with a silver star on a blue gem. Dropping the sword on the ground, Breanir starts running towards the injured woman, going right through the dark smoke.
 
Arathrion's absence is finally accounted for. He returns to the scene of violence several
minutes later, with a band of 75 or so armed men behind him. These are of the personaly guard and army of Lord Khoropharaz, mixed with the local Umbar guard, who have joined up with them. Arathrion calls "Clear out of the square! All clear out of the square or you will be hurt!"With that, the large armed group waits a few moments, and then does the unthinkable. They take bows, and shower the square with arrows, an ever-continuing, ongoing shower of sharp deadly arrows, which hit all in their path, who are unguarded in the square. Yet soon the truly shocking occurs. Some of the arrows fired, are lit with flame, so as to caure more damage. Arathrion continues to shout "Clear out of the square!"
 
The dark smoke continues to rise and spread across the scene. One looking closely can notice the faint shapes of wicked and dark shadows crawling through the smoke as ghostly creatures surrounding their prey.
 
Kalthar is still running when smoke appears in front of him, and as he finally goes for the
tackle, springing forward to where Rikutatis is supposed to be, there is nothing ... and,
fatally, he falls down, forward, on all his length. As his head hits the ground, a few bruises
form on his face, and when he sits back on his feet, coughing because of the dark smoke, he shouts, "Coward! Where have you flown, traitor!"
 
With his shot rejected by the percise parrying of Beltaur's sword, Meregond's face grows ever grim and uncouth to look upon. The sound of the square is overwhelming as shouts arise from all sides; shouts of terror, shouts of 'Flee' or more bold voices yelling, "Fiends! Capture him! Kill him!" The human voices are overwhelming. Without much time to recover from his full-strengthed blow, Meregond catches himself with Beltaur's blade digging into his left side, the sound of chain links being spliced open. Dark, darker than usual, blood pours from the thin opening in the gleaming mail, the guards behind Meregond just arriving.
 
As Rikutatis utters words only known by few, the gutteral language sounds foul and
blood-curling, a great smoke flying into the air. The smoke veils Rikutatis and Meregond fully, almost physically altering their position. Silouettes make their way through the evil fumes, the sound of far-off moaning and torment is audible to those near at hand. The smoke remains for several minutes before clearning...all that's left of the two men is midnight blue cloak and the dark red blood of Meregond.
 
Arrows continue to shower the square completely. Forcing any still left in it to either leave
it, or severely risk being hit by an arrow or being burned to death.
 
Screams rise from the square as the black smoke and rain of arrows combine to create utter chaos. People flee in all directions, some burned or bleeding and others simply terrified. The Uinendili raise their shields in defence against the arrows, but the smoke defeats their intent and they begin a hasty retreat.
 
 
Arathrion is now screaming at the top of his lungs. "The arrows will not stop!! LEAVE THE SQUARE NOW, EVERYONE!" He rushes forth, and shoves several people away himself, longsword in hand. Staring from time to time at the place where Rikutatis and Meregond were before.
 
Carefully, Breanir pulls the dagger out of Shayla's side, and rips a piece of his clothes to
use as a bandage. As he finishes to tie the wound, the young man looks at Sheyla, "I am sorry my lady, I did not see you..." as he finishes his words, his eyes widened. Breanir slowly looks down on his chest, too see a small metal point coming out. Slowly the young man falls over Shayla, his breath becomes uneven and slowly faints away, until it is barely noticeable.
 
The inevitable happens. One of the blazing arrows hits one of the wooden carvings which
surrounds the square, this lights the one adjacent to it, and together they start a great ball
of flame, which quickly spreads around the square.
 
With her breath weak and her pupils going wide, Shayla continues to breath and try to maintain her life with what she can. She smiles as the man comes to help her, but her eyes soon widen with more horror as a small metal spike pertrudes from the man's chest. Closing her eyes, Shayla lies still, a couple words being muttered from beneath her breath as she crosses her fingers in a hopeful desperation.
 
The Guardsman holds his own with an amazing strike to Meregond's side, giving him a little more sense of morality. Almost instinctively he pulls his weapon back to prevent further unattended attacks, before he says, "Die!" His eyes clench and tears dibble from his eyes before he drops his sword, Meregond having fled by now. Beltaur drops to his knees in pain, bringing his hand up to his shoulder to stop the bleeding. He spins around as he falls, landing on his rear in a sitting position, and leans on his elbow while still holding his wound. Moments later, finally hearing the screams of "Arrows!", he looks around to see the men firing arrows into the crowd. "By the Go..." his words are ended as an arrow zips through the air and pierces his right shoulder. His body shots to the ground and his right arm goes limp, leaving him laying upon the ground with to hindered arms and too little an amount of strength to move.
 
As the square empties of people, and the showers of arrows finally slow, and minimize, and
eventually stop, Arathrion looks around the scene. Numerous dead bodies lay on the ground, smoke rises from the raging fires, mixing with the evil smoke of enchantments. Blood and gore are thrown everywhere, and the streets around the square are filled with fleeing and injured crowds. As fires engulf what's left of Ar-Adunakhor Square, Arathrion steps back, and lets the men who set the fire, make failing attempts to put it out. He shakes his head sadly, and sinks it into his hands and cries out loud. "What has become of this place? What has happened? "