Comments - erminoiz

Do you suspect that these auto-sieges will end up wiping some of the elven factions out very early in the campaign?

It's good to see activity again. I hope these descriptions are good enough.

When fallen under attack by the green elves, precious few are there among the enemy quick enough of eye or wit to spot their assailants' commander. This is because, in typical dark elven mind, these officers do not see much worth in helms chased with gold or horses swathed in the night sky. It is only when the flower-standard of Denethor appears, like a sun amidst the trees, that the wretched ones at last comprehend just who has brought them to ruin.

The king himself no longer endures to guide the Laegrim through these troubled days. Instead his memory is kept not only by a succession of cunning war-leaders, but by the soldiers set to guard them. Mighty bowmen are they, dressed in emerald to a one, and given a crown of leaves to wear such as Denethor would grant his most favored companions. Their armor is made to resemble a closed canopy, for they are just as closely bound to one another. To look upon them is near enough to seeing the king again, and he would beam with pride to know that his own downfall forebode not the silence of free Ossiriand.

These elves stand as a breed apart from all the other sentries who patrol the secret ways of Beleriand. They are not charged with the watch of a single location, nor with reporting the movements of armies, though both lay well within their power. Nay, since Morgoth has darkened and made violate the nature of this world, it falls to the sons of the living to root corruption out, even if it means forfeiting one's eternal life to righteous, ever-seeking violence.

A new movement stirs in Ossiriand beneath the trees, with elves abandoning clan and home to range far beyond. Huntsmanship and war-craft are passed between peers and honed against any evil thing which may be found lurking the forests. Now there are enough of them to form battalions if asked, where they proceed to outmatch all other troops in the warband: Stronger are their bows, sharper their axes, subtler their tread, cooler their wrath. They seem almost a dark reflection of the elite Denethorian guards. It can only be hoped that there will be no need of such “rangers” in the ages to come.

Young elves traveling as part of the great armed bands inevitably find themselves struck by an urge, a sudden need to perform some drastic feat of bravery, skill, or stealth in the presence of their leaders. Should such valor draw enough eyes, they may one day chance to be inducted into the special “picked companies” of the Laiquendi captains. These warriors are granted the boon of an armored doublet, crafted of hard tree bark layered several times upon itself– but even moreso, they gain access to an exclusive cadre in which their talents for warfare shall be coaxed to flourishing.

Full rare is he in Ossiriand, or anywhere else, who still strings his bow with nothing more than hunting and free-shooting in mind. What's more, Denethor's folk have always viewed the archer as most efficient and impressive among fighting men. Yet no matter how many gain the skills of the longbow over time, only a portion of these will ever achieve true mastery over it. Where a soldier sows only death, a master plants the seeds of legend. Nothing is so sweet as to hear an orc whisper of arrows sprouting whole from eye sockets, and of dragons falling asleep mid-flight.

Young elves traveling as part of the great armed bands inevitably find themselves struck by an urge, a sudden need to perform some drastic feat of bravery, skill, or stealth in the presence of their leaders. Should such valor draw enough eyes, they may one day chance to be inducted into the special “picked companies” of the Laiquendi captains. These warriors are granted the boon of an armored doublet, crafted of hard tree bark layered several times upon itself– but even moreso, they gain access to an exclusive cadre in which their talents for warfare shall be coaxed to flourishing.

Despite a fierce and unhindered self-governance, the green elves do in fact heed Elu Thingol of Doriath as their overlord. Since the eve of lord Denethor's demise, their ties with the guarded realm have only grown in strength. It was among the Sindar that Laiquendi spearmen first learned of the thangail, a wall of linked shields where each soldier protects those beside him as well. They were also convinced to take up more conspicuous arms, with shields bearing a golden sigil and spears whose tips glint the red of beaten bronze.

The predecessors to those we call Laiquendi once lived far past the Ered Luin, but they were driven by orcs and things fouler still to cross the mountains alongside their leader, Denethor. He, as the first and last of their kings, was lost to a merciless battle due in part to the ill-readiness of his people for it. The green elves held no ease in their hearts thereafter, and have taken to recent conflicts with a zeal few would have ever expected. These Laegrim now assume guard over the forest eaves, stone-glass blades felling evil wheresoever it can be found.

Bound up as it is in rivers and trees, the realm of Ossiriand does not play host to countless head of wild horses as do some other lands in the east. This being said, those steeds the green elves can get their hands on are put readily to warlike purpose. Their speed takes the Laegrim predilection for skirmishing and elevates it to near sole dominion over the battlefield. So long as the ground is unobstructed, they are free to shoot into the backs of occupied warriors, lead other cavalry round in futile chases, and slaughter light infantry at axe's edge.

The predecessors to those we call Laiquendi once lived far past the Ered Luin, but they were driven by orcs and things fouler still to cross the mountains alongside their leader, Denethor. He, as the first and last of their kings, was lost to a merciless battle due in part to the ill-readiness of his people for it. The green elves held no ease in their hearts thereafter, and have taken to recent conflicts with a zeal few would have ever expected. These Laegrim now assume guard over the forest eaves, stone-glass blades felling evil wheresoever it can be found.

Captains of the Laiquendi know very well the primacy of archer bands within their own forces. In the course of time, the sheer skill of these bowmen has begun to mount on itself, with an ever-growing number proving able to target gaps in armor or find their marks in the dead of night. They have also taken on a flintier aspect, manifest chiefly in greater willingness to endure the rain of enemy missiles despite their own lack of mail. Indeed, few are there outside of Gondolin and the Girdle who can match the green elves for prowess.

The predecessors to those we call Laiquendi once lived far past the Ered Luin, but they were driven by orcs and things fouler still to cross the mountains alongside their leader, Denethor. He, as the first and last of their kings, was lost to a merciless battle due in part to the ill-readiness of his people for it. The green elves held no ease in their hearts thereafter, and have taken to recent conflicts with a zeal few would have ever expected. These Laegrim now assume guard over the forest eaves, stone-glass blades felling evil wheresoever it can be found.

How many are left in Beleriand who would not lunge at the chance to revenge themselves upon those who have brought their homes to ruin? This desperation fuels the charge of the green elf warbands as they fall upon their chosen prey. Unlike the Sindar, the Laiquendi of old did not regard the stone-bladed axe as a weapon so much as a tool essential to life. Yet full-quick did they find that orc throats sever far more easily than the trunks of trees. Shields are nearly as useful, for they keep an elf from dying as he wrenches his axe back out.

The predecessors to those we call Laiquendi once lived far past the Ered Luin, but they were driven by orcs and things fouler still to cross the mountains alongside their leader, Denethor. He, as the first and last of their kings, was lost to a merciless battle due in part to the ill-readiness of his people for it. The green elves held no ease in their hearts thereafter, and have taken to recent conflicts with a zeal few would have ever expected. These Laegrim now assume guard over the forest eaves, stone-glass blades felling evil wheresoever it can be found.

Many miles have the infantry walked, as their long, weathered coats attest. It remains their prerogative to kill from hiding– they have even chosen to face their shields with moss rather than present flagrant arms to the enemy. Nevertheless, over the course of so many battles, the green elf spearmen have realized that not all charges can be deftly avoided; sometimes the open ground must be held in resolve. Though it shall not soon be forming great pike walls in the style of the cave-dwellers, the Laiquendi army may now stand confidently before any who would oppose it.

The initial Nandor population was formed of those elves who doubled back on the journey towards Aman. Instead, they chose a wandering existence among the wilds far east of the sea, unburdened by the ever-lauded teachings of others. Today, however, many of the Nandor dwell in Ossiriand, under the appellation, “green elves.” With the return of strife to Beleriand, these people shall be forced to take up whatever arms they possess and march as a war party if their freedom is to be preserved.

The bow reigns as king of weapons amongst those who do not deign to linger within stone walls. Indeed, it is the only king left in Ossiriand of late. He who cannot shoot may as well be unable to walk, and the wilderness will see him meet a similar fate in either case. It is therefore no surprise that the captains of the green elves have little trouble gathering archers to their banner. What remains to be seen, though, is whether even their deadly volleys will be enough to turn back the armored might of the far north.

The initial Nandor population was formed of those elves who doubled back on the journey towards Aman. Instead, they chose a wandering existence among the wilds far east of the sea, unburdened by the ever-lauded teachings of others. Today, however, many of the Nandor dwell in Ossiriand, under the appellation, “green elves.” With the return of strife to Beleriand, these people shall be forced to take up whatever arms they possess and march as a war party if their freedom is to be preserved.

By elvish reckoning, it was not so long ago that a harrowing number of Laiquendi fell slain at the feet of Morgoth's armies. Their black-stone arrowheads proved of little use against his orcs, who cowered beneath hides of metal. Thus did a new weapon rise to prominence in the years between: A vengeful throwing spear, tipped with a large mass of obsidian that attempts to punch through armor. Many young warriors have since brought low the odd wandering orc with their javelins, and the time has come to put those skills to greater use.

The initial Nandor population was formed of those elves who doubled back on the journey towards Aman. Instead, they chose a wandering existence among the wilds far east of the sea, unburdened by the ever-lauded teachings of others. Today, however, many of the Nandor dwell in Ossiriand, under the appellation, “green elves.” With the return of strife to Beleriand, these people shall be forced to take up whatever arms they possess and march as a war party if their freedom is to be preserved.

The spear proves, as always, perennially useful in the hunting of larger game. Its simplicity breeds a certain ubiquity, requiring only the bare skills of carving wood and knapping stone in its manufacture. Light bucklers have also been cut out to guard in place of iron and steel. In truth, these militia ought to be more protected by the forest-trees they pass through than anything else. May their coming be silent and their work swift, for they will not long endure otherwise.

As darkness drives further and further down from the north, the kin of the western banks feel more keenly than ever the need for strength. From the deep-elves of the north did they learn to weave mail coats out of humble steel wire. From their allies in Nargothrond came the tactic of advancing in orderly phalanx. In their own right, the haven-dwellers even devised a new supplement to the elvish style of helmet: Broad bands were set in place to ward treacherous blows away from the eyes. Such is the steely visage which greets those fool enough to oppose the guards of Eglarest.

The twin havens of the Falas sit blessedly far removed from Angband’s fell clutches. Nevertheless, should there ever come a time when the enemy’s servants mount upon the gates, they will find themselves not only met but ruined by an unflinching host of pikemen. These soldiers are quartered chiefly in Eglarest, hence their name. Their manner of fighting seeks to protect life by denying evil the chance to close distance; pressed by such resistance in the thoroughfares of a settlement, even the mightiest body of warriors will be turned gruelingly back upon itself.

Of all the Sindar in Beleriand, none embrace their Telerin forename so fastly as Cirdan’s own people. However, it would be unwise to presume that the past ways bind them fastly in return. From the deep-elves of the north did they learn to weave mail coats out of humble steel wire. From their cousins in Doriath came the art of crafting the strongest warbows. In their own right, the haven-dwellers even devised a new supplement to the elvish style of helmet: Broad bands were set in place to ward treacherous blows away from the eyes. Thus have these Telerrim warriors taken up a renewed aspect, eager to grind the enemy down.

The bow has seen much favor in the wars of late, allowing as it does for a single elf to kill scores of foes from a safe distance, or else to slay a dragon ere tooth and claw wreak havoc. Lord Cirdan has nevertheless seen fit to reinforce the companies of archers at his disposal, armoring them to the standards of heavy fighting infantry even as their weapons’ reach grows ever longer. This suits them handily, though, because they also share in the Falathrim raider-spirit.

There dwells in the west of Beleriand an elvish nation, who, for their love of the sea, were never to delight in Aman’s radiance. The name of Eglain, “forsaken,” was given them, and it remains unto this day. But great fame have these Sindar won as mariners under arms, guided as they were to victory by the expert hand of the Shipwright and his captains. It is for this very reason that the Falas’ leaders must be jealously protected on the field.

Upon the best warriors of Cirdan’s folk are girt the heavy bow and stout axe with which they guard their lords, paired of course with helms and shields to guard themselves. They close around their captain like the arms of a safe harbor, and will doubtless fight alongside him to their deaths if so enjoined. These elves are therefore among the most war-ready soldiers that the peaceful Falas can muster. Their duty and honor fly as proudly as any noble’s banner.

Outward bound from their twin havens in Eglarest and Brithombar, the ships of the Falathrim have come to rely upon swift-flying javelins for protection as much as they do prayers to Ulmo. They are counted chief among marine arms, and rare is the sea-going elf who has not made himself familiar to their use. A hateful dread weighs deep in any orc captain who must draw his haggard bark near unto a ship of the Teleri. At any moment, his deck shall be slicked by an unerring shower of steel.

Elves are natural riders, wanting neither saddle nor spur. Thus from the ranks of the martial sailors have a few been chosen to fill the role of light cavalry in Falas' militias. Before the battle, they must discern the enemy's whereabouts; during the battle, they must harry his flanks; and when the battle is done, they must chase him down. The art of the horseman is still something of a novelty on these western shores, but the sea elves have never found themselves lacking in battle-valor or willingness to confront a problem.

Outward bound from their twin havens in Eglarest and Brithombar, the ships of the Falathrim have come to rely upon swift-flying javelins for protection as much as they do prayers to Ulmo. They are counted chief among marine arms, and rare is the sea-going elf who has not made himself familiar to their use. A hateful dread weighs deep in any orc captain who must draw his haggard bark near unto a ship of the Teleri. At any moment, his deck shall be slicked by an unerring shower of steel.

The tides of war have washed relentlessly over the Falathrim, both on sea and on land. Even the fighting mariners have grown more dire in their ways, abandoning the spear for a ruthless dirk to strike where the foe is most vulnerable. Some have collected better shields or pieces of armor along the campaign trail, but the principle of speed above all still holds. Let the enemy know: Scant are the warriors who can maintain their composure when subjected to a mariner’s darts.

When Cirdan’s folk marched to face the Enemy, they did not go ill-equipped. Brazenly did their coats of scale glitter, and proud shone the brims of their helms. These warriors represent the sea elves’ tacking into the gale of war at last. Militias formed in ad hoc defense now prepare to storm hostile lands, to take and give life in support of all that is good. At the forefront of this rising martial tide can be heard a roar of charging hooves– the Falathrim riders.

The western coasts are blessed with many a gift worth envying, but abundant pasturage was never one of them. Regardless, Lord Cirdan has seen fit to gather up a body of armored cavalry with which he might sweep away opposing forces like so much jetsam. They do not regard themselves as knights in the haughty manner of the Noldor, but long still are their spears, and full brave are their hearts. Only the most stouthearted of the evil ones can hope to endure their advance, and in that case the riders will simply recede before bearing down again.

Taking some inspiration from Numenohtar's description.

When Cirdan’s folk marched to face the Enemy, they did not go ill-equipped. Brazenly did their coats of scale glitter, and proud shone the brims of their helms. These warriors represent the sea elves’ tacking into the gale of war at last. Militias formed in ad hoc defense now prepare to storm hostile lands, to take and give life in support of all that is good. But every such campaign needs an anchor, a way to hold what is gained. This burden is gladly borne by the doughty halberdiers.

Just as a warfleet presents its foes with a veritable forest of masts, so too do the infantry present a forest of pikeshafts. In place of gleaming pennants shine heads of steel, wrought to sever and pierce from a dispassionate distance. Such is their determination that the enemy would be far better served assailing them with arrows than trying to overcome their arms directly. To see these footmen on the horizon is to be assured of one thing: The Falathrim shall hold.

When Cirdan’s folk marched to face the Enemy, they did not go ill-equipped. Brazenly did their coats of scale glitter, and proud shone the brims of their helms. These warriors represent the sea elves’ tacking into the gale of war at last. Militias formed in ad hoc defense now prepare to storm hostile lands, to take and give life in support of all that is good. And like the rising wind, this host of Teleri brings with it a deathly cloud, loosed by skillful archer companies.

Bowmanship has been an art dearly held throughout all the days of the Falathrim. Whether patrolling the haven walls or standing upon a rolling deck, the watchful presence of the archer was ever-felt among them. This time of war has seen said presence redoubled with shield and metal surcoat, affording the soldiers greater ability to endure their foes’ efforts. No longer need they fear the crush of steel and iron, though their place is still far outside the enemy’s grasp.

When Cirdan’s folk marched to face the Enemy, they did not go ill-equipped. Brazenly did their coats of scale glitter, and proud shone the brims of their helms. These warriors represent the sea elves’ tacking into the gale of war at last. Militias formed in ad hoc defense now prepare to storm hostile lands, to take and give life in support of all that is good. Now, surging forth from the havenmaster’s lines come the mighty Falathrim infantry.

Like tempest-thunder is their approach. Telerin smiths have taken the wood-chopping hatchet and given a beard to its blade, perfect for rending orcflesh. Though their armor covers less than Noldor mail, the protection it grants alongside a heater shield gives these axemen the staying power to engage in direct frontal assault. As such it is become their duty to wade in amongst the servants of Morgoth, hewing and warding as they go, ’til the darkness is finally quelled.