"Hmmph. Fine. Choose to whom you wish to bend knee if that is your desire, mortals. I care not. But do not expect me to pay heed to the orders of some pseudo-nobility son of a-..... Did anyone else notice the lack of ambiance? It's as if the woods of died."
A familiar feeling crept over Valinor, the chilling feel of malicious eyes peering from unknown areas. Any soul who's ever walked the field of battle knew this sensation, this was the feeling known to most fallen soldiers, the feeling of paranoia before the ambush. The tree's own life force emitted an annoying amount of light as Valinor tried to spot anything beyond them, blocking his spectral vision. A single dark blot appeared, marking it's presence with an arrow bouncing off of his helmet. Several other arrows followed suit, all in a faster repetition than any single orc could fire. Thirteen or fourteen arrows, impacting Valinor's upper body with enough force to plant him smartly on his back while knocking his helm off. An orc screeched from the trees above, dropping down for the killing blow. Upon landing on Valinor, orc became confused with why the armor appeared empty, only to have the surprise of it's now-shortened life. A black mist bellowed from the neck of the armor, enveloping the creatures face in the ethereal darkness as Valinor impaled the orc with his blade.
The assault on this gathering had begun, as many a lightly armed orc scrambled to the battle. One such minor cretin leaped at him with it's crudely made machete, though years of encounters with these foul beasts allowed Valinor to easily parry the blow. A step to the side and a swift strike to the back of the creature's blade forced the orc to over-swing it's attack, leaving it wide open to the counter attack. A precise slash across the spine did the job efficiently, having no need to embellish the attack for such a gathering. Using the tip of his sword to retrieve his helm, Valinor flicked his headpiece back in back, held there by his ghostly form. Now with the orcish advantage exhausted, he strode to meet his foes. Flicks and wisps of shadow wafted from under his cloak and his black, formless face. Few things were truly so dreadful as to freeze an orc in place, and Valinor quickly became one of them. His mere gaze was enough to instill terror into the loathsome cretins, causing them to stall their charge upon him. Of course, that just meant the first attack was his to claim. And he did so with all the wrath this fallen Gondorian had withheld throughout the Age.
"As All Of Your Fell Kind Will Soon Learn, I'm A Lot Scarier Than You Are...."
A quick flick of his wrist caused his bastard sword to nip the forearm of his attackers, building momentum for his strikes to follow. Valinor brought his sword tip across the belly of the wounded orc, before spinning for the slash at it's companion's throat. Arcing his sword arm wide around, bring it up forcefully and sending yet another orc's rended body flailing through the air. Now flaunting a fair bit of his skill, Valinor spun his back towards the next charging enemy, flipping his sword backwards into an "ice pick" style and stabbing the orc through it's gut. Mid-stab, Valinor kicked a sneering beasty at his front while his dislodged his sword. He loomed over the now-panicking creatures, blade in hand and sinister grin on his ephemeral face. Valinor brought the blade up wood-chopping style, but before he could end the orc, an arrow shot straight through the side of it's head. His shadows flaring angrily for being denied his kill, it didn't take long to spot the source. Liliana, dispatching several more orcs in a similar fashion, bore only a smirk in Valinor's general direction.
Damn Elves......