The Gathering Storm – Winner, Silver Thread Award (Best RP)

Pull out your pack and head on down to the Prancing Pony for some great Role Playing (try to stay in character)!

Postby the mouth of sauron » Mon Feb 26, 2001 10:40 pm

Helazzar reached the muddied tack and found the button the belonged to his son, but it was unneeded, for the hunter had found his prey, resting in the shade of a cliff on the far side of the river. Helazzar studied the group for sometime, there was a captain it seemed in the orc ranks men were there also, and the huge troll, the bigest he had ever seen walked around as it pleased in the full light of day!!, the woman was no where to be seen, no matter her day would come, but most importaint of all was his son, the boy sat with his back against a large rock.<BR><BR>Helazzar knew that the time was now or never, he kept to the forest and back tracked some fifteen hundered yards to a safe crossing point in the river, he crossed over, and keeping to the shadows of the near by cliffs he made his way to the orc camp site.<BR><BR>As he was leaving Kylab sniffed the air something was not right, had he not been in such a foul mood he may have noticed sooner the strang smell, something caught his eye, it was a human moving at blinding speed, in glorious chainmail and two flashing swords... he tore into the ranks of the starteled orcs and men, this would be fun, but to the great trolls suprise only Shagrat survived of the orcs and he fled towards the troll,the surviving humans the few that where left fled into the scrub land, and then strangly the human started to sing...<BR>______________________________________________________________________<BR><BR>Helazzar made his way towards the great monster and started to sing..<BR><BR>"here is the ground where the dead may be found,<BR>the sounds of battle fill the air and some men are filled with glee while others just wish to flee.<BR>Cold hard steel she staires at me, cold hard steel wants to deliver me... to the halls of Mandos the halls of the dead.<BR>I plung her in, that cold hard steel, she bites hard, fast and deep, she greats on bone like steel on stone... <BR>I look into there eyes and see suprise and then they die... I am Helazzar and now I lay you down to lie."<BR><BR>The lone assassin/ranger/master thief, made his way towards the massive creature. Helazzar had killed many trolls in his day, but this one was stronger, tougher and faster than any he had ever faced. The twin blades of Helazzar dance to his song of death, time and again he breached the trolls defences, only to meet stone hard skin, his swords would find their mark and bite in but caused very little damage. They battled for ages and to be sure, the troll found his range from time time, infact with one might blow which Helazzar had only just escaped from Kylabs clawed hand had ripped a link of the strong mithril armor right out and cut throught the rienforced leather into Helazzars flesh. Helazzar heard a guthral orcish voice call out in the common tongue "I have the boy, back off and drop your weapons or the boy dies.." called Shagrat, who had sneaked away and doubled back on the boy. Kylab smiled and broke off the attack, to tell the truth he did not want to fight this halfelf any longer... he was not afraid, but he knew that it would not go well with him the longer the battle lasted, and it would had all been over had Tempest been here with that spirit. Helazzar backed away and laid his swords a roll a way, the ocr then did a very foolish thing, but very orc like... "finish him Kylab" the orc called out, and then he cut the boys neck... the boy died, Kylab screamed in rage at the stupid orc, Helazzar screamed a deathly primal scream, the orc fleed into the scrub land, Kylab broke into a run and lunged at Helazzar, who rolled grabbing both swords, as he came up and Kylabs blow went wide, Helazzars swords flashed out and one scored a hit to the massive trolls groin, Kylab howed in pain but with a stubbeling run made it to the scrub land and pushed on to meet up with the fleeing orc and any surviving humans...<BR>Helazzar went to his sons side and hugged the boy and kissed his forehead, and then made ready to build his sons pyre.<BR><BR>
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Postby Barad-dur » Tue Feb 27, 2001 1:15 am

In the shadows, the spirit dwelled long upon the events that had just passed as he watched the Nazgul and his new pupil depart from the chamber through the door that only those that dwelled upon both worlds could perceive.. The woman had made the right choice, the only choice she had really ever had. Tempest was no fool and she had known that refusal would have meant certain death. One of the Nine was hers now however, and perhaps in due time she might come to wish she had refused, perhaps…<BR><BR>Long in the silence and darkness of the chamber did the spirit brood, his complicated and fathomless mind exploring every realm and avenue of possibility and probability. He had long known that the other eight Ringwraiths had not survived the massive eruption of Orodruin, but he had deliberately obscured the truth from their Lord. The Black Captain’s most recent explosive outburst as he realized that he had been deceived only served to confirm Barad-dur’s belief that he had done the right thing. Now that the wraith had something to preoccupy his mind however, he would be better prepared to deal with the harsh truth.<BR><BR>The harsh truth… Was even the spirit prepared to accept that, he mused to himself? The spirit’s thoughts turned to his adopted identity, that of Barad-dur, the Dark Tower of Mordor, built by Sauron with the power of the One Ring, on that long ago day in the early years of the Second Age of the Sun. It had been a convenient guise thus far, and one that was, at least in part, true. There was more however, so much more. As time passed, his awareness grew and he began to see the whole tapestry of his existence. It was almost as if he were stepping back, regressing, and the further away he went from the end, the closer he became to the beginning. As much as he began to chafe at the limitations imposed by his current fana, he resigned himself to continue with it for as long as it suited his needs.<BR><BR>Only those who lived far away beyond the bent seas could even begin to guess at the dread reality that was only just now beginning to take shape in Middle-Earth. It seemed to the spirit though, that once again the lessons of history would go ignored, the threat unheeded. He had no illusions that he would be opposed, but this time it would be too late. The mistakes of the past would not be repeated, not on his part. For those other fools, brethren of an existence that could of have been but never was, he felt no remorse, no pity. They had dwelt in the Light so long that they had become blinded by its brilliance. They would not see the Shadow creep upon them, and why should they? They believed their past victories absolute, but they couldn’t be more wrong. Let them send their envoys, messengers, heralds, or Istari. Whatever name, form, or purpose they undertook, it would avail them nothing. This time, he would be ready.<BR><BR>Indulging himself with a smile, the spirit turned its attention to the dark obsidian throne, and the faint but distinctively unique presence he felt there.<BR><BR>“Not long now, my friend, not long. Defeated and diminished you may have been, but your role in the fate of the world remains unfinished. Patience…”<BR>
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Postby RedMaw » Tue Feb 27, 2001 8:06 am

Andraug had watched the battle with great interest. With the woman gone, he wanted to see how the troll handled himself with only the orcs at his side. It looked like he, with the help of a sneaky orc, were getting the upper hand. And then the orc made a brutish blunder. What a waste! The boy would soon be cold, and no longer a good meal. Besides, there was a large, hurt, angry troll heading in Andraug’s general direction. He was impressed enough with the troll’s combat prowess to realize that he did not want to be in the creature’s path.<BR>_____________________________________________________________________<BR><BR>Andraug ran, gathering the Wargs around him. He sensed the woman had somehow been whisked away to their final destination. The evil emanating from the spirit was unmistakable and there could be no other conclusion as to where he had taken her. It was time to be on the move again. To Mordor.
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Postby Sauron's_Nagging_Wife » Tue Feb 27, 2001 9:12 am

The mist had all burned off, and the sun was strong overhead. As she walked down the hill, Legrace tossed her blue cloak back off her shoulders so that it hung around her neck by its clasp. <BR><BR>So, the time had come. Everything was happening in front of her, and she would go forward. A strange dread gripped her; still, however, the ache and longing drove her on, relentlessly. <i>Soon</i>, she told herself. <i>I am close.</i><BR><BR>Despite the seriousness of her errand and all that was at stake, an amused smile curved her lips and glittered in her eyes.<BR><BR>With the sun beating down upon her, she made her way down the stark landscape steadily. She had to discover what was going on -- anything was better than not knowing. Even knowing the worst had to be better than this half-living she had endured since the beginning of her long journey.
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Postby nazgul_lord » Tue Feb 27, 2001 11:35 am

The Nazgul Lord led Tempest down the stairs, and out the door to the blasted flats outside. There he turned, and smiled as Tempest looked back and gasped. <BR> "Where...where did it go?" she asked, for to her eyes, the tower was nowhere to be seen. <BR> "It is still there, woman, but hidden from curious eyes. It dwells on another plain of existence, a plain where I dwell, and where, through your ring, you may see as well." The Wraith saw the confusion on her face as she tried to grasp the concept of an unseen world, and of being on two planes of existence at once. "Your first task, and your first test, is to see the tower. I cannot help lead you in this, for in each of us, the use of the ring was different. This is the most crucial task you will face, for you must learn to touch the ring's power within you. All I can tell you is that you must look through the ring for the tower."<BR> Long Tempest stood, staring at the place where she knew the tower should be. Long she tried to reach out to the ring on her finger with her mind. Then, as she was about to give up, the ring on her finger flickered with a faint light, tinged with purple, and she looked again to the tower. <BR> The world faded, and she saw a land of black and white, with colors drab and almost petty in the corners of her vision. There, before her, was the tower. She gasped at the sight of it, majestic and glittering white against a sky of dull orange. With an indrawn breath, she lost the link with the ring. <BR> Tempest whirled around to tell her teacher of her success, but he was nowhere to be found. On the ground where he had stood was his black cloack, crumpled in the dust. "Master," she cried, "where have you gone?" <BR> She was answered only by a howling wind which blew the cloak across the ground. Then, she remembered what he had said about residing in the other world, and tried to focus her mind through the power of the ring again. It was easier this time, and once again she saw to the world with the orange sky. <BR> Tempest looked around, seeking the uncloaked Wraith. She turned from the tower, and saw him. She gasped in shock, and nearly lost her conduit to the plane. For before her stood not a shade, but a man, clothed in majesty as would a king, his face handsome and terrible to behold. His eyes were dark and hard, and seemed to pierce through her very soul. <BR> "Is this...is this who you were before, before you served Sauron?" she asked, trembling in fear and awe. The man nodded, and drew near her. His mouth opened, and his voice boomed with power, much like the voice she had heard in the tower, but less harsh and more noble.<BR> <b>"YES, CHILD, THIS WAS THE FORM OF MY FLESH IN DAYS OF OLD. A GREAT AND POWERFUL NUMENORIAN KING AND MAGE WAS I. BUT EVER DID I HUNGER FOR GREATER POWER, FOR MORE ARCANE KNOWLEDGE. THEN DID SAURON COME TO ME, AND HE GRANTED ME THE POWER AND KNOWLEDGE I MOST DESIRED. THROUGH THE RING, I BECAME MIGHTIER THAN EVER BEFORE. BUT THE NINE RINGS ARE A BRIDGE BETWEEN THE TWO WORLDS, WHICH ALLOW MEN TO GO WHERE THEY WERE NEVER MEANT TO. WHEN YOU LEAVE THIS WORLD, YOU LEAVE A LITTLE PIECE OF YOUR ESSENCE BEHIND, UNITL NOTHING IS LEFT IN OUR WORLD BUT A SHADOW. GREAT IS MY POWER, AND GREAT IS MY KNOLEDGE, BUT NEVER AGAIN WILL MY BODY FEEL THE WARMTH OF THE YELLOW SUN."</b> As if to emmphasize his point, he looked to the vaguely purple orb overhead, which seemed to glow devoid of heat.<BR> Tempest gasped at the thought and cut the link to the next world, and dropped to the ground in relief.
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Postby Nerdanel » Wed Feb 28, 2001 5:08 am

Nerdanel sat on the wide four-posted bed in the spacious guestroom she had been given in the castle. The sun was setting over the hils and the view of it from her high window was magnificent. The room bathed in red light like fire and fresh blood.<BR><BR>They had arrived late in the day and the Steward had not had time to meet with them until tomorrow morning. They had no choice but to enjoy the castle's hospitality for a while. Dinner was scheduled later but it was still a few hours to that.<BR><BR>Nerdanel took from her pack the palantír and unwrapped the cloth that covered it. She would get herself a good image of the lay of the Middle-earth and she would try to find out whether there was in truth something evil gathering in the shadows. The possible premonition she had had earlier still nagged her and she had seen from Inwir's countenance that his urgent message was a worrisome one, even if he hadn't talked about it. Perhaps she should try to see forward in time and find out if there were dark things to be found in the caleidoscope of the possible futures.<BR><BR>Nerdanel raised the dark palantír near to her eyes. Slowly the heart of the crystal started to glow. As the sun passed over the hills a darkness slithered out of the corners of the room, but a flickering ghostly light in the stone kept it from complete victory. The many candles in their ornate golden stands stood unlit like powerless sentinels against the encroaching darkness.
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Postby nazgul_lord » Wed Feb 28, 2001 10:05 pm

The Nazgul allowed Tempest to take a break after her experience, and, recloaking himself, he brought forth the palantir. Tempest looked towards him seated on the ground with the dark orb in his lap. <BR> "What is that there?" she asked, rising from the ground and reseating herself beside the Wraith. <BR> "This is the Ithil stone. One of the seven palantir saved from the destruction of Numenor. It allows the bearer to see the other stones, and, if his will is strong, to see many things hidden from sight. My mastery of the stone is unmatched on Middle Earth. One day, perhaps, you might be strong enough to use it to it's full potential, but I order you to stay away from it for now."<BR> Tempest nodded her head in obedience. She was not easily cowed, but her desire to learn combined with the inluence of the ring made her seem almost docile. <BR> The Nazgul stared into the globe, and searched the land idly. He knew the value of good intelligence in a war, and the palantir granted him the finest intelligence available, and more. His mind wandered over the relm of old Gondor, now complacent in it's mastery of the evil. <i>The fools!</i> he thought. <BR> Suddenly, something strange came to his attention. Someone was using a palantir, but it was not one of the seven. Long had he searched them through his stone, and there was no mistake, <i>this palantir was not of Middle Earth!</i><BR> He cautiously probed it, his sudden apprehension overcome by his need to know. As he neared it, he sensed an alien presence, an Eldar, but not one the like of which he had ever encountered. There was a quality to her, a...yes, the strangeness, the unknown palantir...she must have come from Valinor. <BR> Truly nervous for the first time in ages, he began to withdraw. As he did, the Eldar sensed him. He grabbed at her mind, attempting to crush it. She slipped through his mental grasp deftly, and snapped a cord of her will at him, sending crushing pain through his mind. Through the pain, he managed to send a severing blow of pure malice, then lost contact through the palantir.<BR> "Master, is something wrong?" the voice of Tempest came to him as the pain receded. "You were staring into the stone for over an hour, and five minutes ago, you began grunting, as if in pain."<BR> "Over an...that Eldar scum! How could she have mastered me so? No matter, I was unprepared. That will not be the case next time." <BR> He rose, and strode off to the tower, Tempest trailing behind him. "HE will want to know of this. This is unexpected. I wonder what it heralds."
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Postby Sauron's_Nagging_Wife » Thu Mar 01, 2001 8:10 am

Although the sun still blazed away in the afternoon sky, the air suddenly felt cold. Legrace glanced around her and then stopped altogether. Unexpectedly and directly in front of her was the dark form of the spirit that she sought. She made no move to pull the cloak over her despite the frigid air. There was no need for disguise now, and even if there were, it would have been useless. Examining the black void called Barad-dur she continued forward, for it was examining her, too.<BR><BR>She was tall and carried herself with elegance: a noble lady at full stature, neither impressionable nor lacking in confidence. Striking and bewitching were the black eyes usually full of amusement; now, they were questioning. One expressive arched eyebrow was raised as she regarded the spirit. Her face was exquisite with a sweet, open expression incongruous in her current surroundings. Her uncased and uncoiffed hair was long, thick, and dark red like expensive wine.<BR><BR>Not the delicate loveliness of the queens of the Eldar was her incandescent beauty but something rather different. Despite her gentle movements, there was something smoldering just below the surface, something sensuous and a little wild, a little dangerous. <BR><BR>She sighed as she regarded him. “Please tell me you are not going to try and use those tricks with me,” she said in a lovely but long-suffering voice.<BR><BR>“Tricks?”<BR><BR>She took a step closer and examined him keenly with a frown. “It seems to me that you know me better than I know you. Are you the one who sent the summons?”<BR><BR>The spirit held her gaze. “It was inadvertent.”<BR><BR>Her shoulders slumped and she looked away. “So, I was wrong,” she said aloud to herself. “Yet, I lived again for a short time.” All traces of amusement and liveliness faded. In her misery, Legrace was as a magnificent marble statue carved by some master sculptor.<BR><BR>“Despair does not become you, Legrace,” it said gruffly.<BR><BR>Her head jerked up; she stared. Quickly, she raised her right hand and lightly touched its forehead with her fingertips. Contact was brief. She withdrew the hand and stared at the spirit in amazement, her eyes round. A sweet smile curved her lips, and the merry light returned to her eyes.<BR><BR>”What is your price, lady? You would have never come willingly this early in the game. Yet, now you are here.”<BR><BR>At first, her expression reflected amusement and surprise, then she smiled warmly. “I think that you know what I want.”<BR><BR>“I imagine I do.”<BR><BR>“I am glad to hear it.” She extended her elegant white hand to the spirit wearing a smile that promised a thousand things. “Well met, my friend.”<BR>
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Postby Terry D » Thu Mar 01, 2001 8:18 am

With elegant fingertips, each painted the most delicate hues of golden yellow, a young woman turned the pages of a leathery book. Reading, reflecting, then finally she closed it with a dull thud. Her eyes, gray with introspection, glistened with moist concentration. Her distinctive, elven features were caressed with the hood of her golden robe.<BR><BR>She then walked to a case and with an effort, raised its lid. Inside, an thick manuscript nestled within cobwebs. Her uncertain fingertips brushed aside the eerie, gauze covering. She lifted the leathered book and placed it on her reading table. The lovely woman used a scarf and patiently brushed the book’s cover, as dust, and filmy laces of a spider’s web disappeared. With care she opened it, then, smoothed out the crinkled pages. <BR><BR>A second woman crept silently beside her. Her robes were darker, trimmed with crimson. The young acolyte was startled as the elderly woman sneezed. “What is it, that you are searching for, my child?” As if with apprehension, the elder used weak fingers to turn the pages of the tome. She paused, then pointed a bony finger at the jaundiced parchment. Her voice cracked, as if with strain. “Banalfees?” the mother’s voice was more than tinged with age, “those are the fees which a feud lord imposes on his serfs for the use of his mill, oven, wine press, or similar facilities. It some times includes a fish catch or the proceeds from a rabbit warren…” she paused. “Sister, you are still not troubling over the freedom? He is imprisoned and will remain safe, while he is so.”<BR><BR>“No, Serene Mother, it is not the King’s edict I am concerned about. My father is doomed by a more dangerous curse. The Dark Elves seek him. He carries a burden that reaches far into the past. My father and his brother were responsible for keeping watch. Instead of duty they wrote a song. It was in the night that evil crept and passed through, and slew many kinsmen and captains. The Dark Elves found my uncle. He is no more. They will do the same to my father.”<BR><BR>“Peace, child, for longer than an hundred lives, your father dwells in the shame of one misdeed. After the deaths of Aredhel and Eol, Gondolin had peace. Why cannot your family rest?”<BR><BR>“Peace! There is no quiet in my father’s soul, nor mine, evermore. The time of Morgoth destroyed all hope for my family. The doom of the Elves would fall upon my kin with a far heavier hand. One winter's night, Elves of Darkness, took revenge upon my uncle. Soon, they will have my father.”<BR><BR>“Rosalee,” the old woman placed a withered touch atop her elven acolyte’s hand. “Rosalee...”<BR><BR>“No, Serene Mother, you do not understand. These Dark Elves have the magic to rob of us. Their bane is not death, it is far worse,.. with their Stroke, they can Separate. Asunder, from all elven kind for evermore, we will be. For, I was there that night. The song was for me. I had brought my father and uncle a meal that night. They wrote, then sang for me. And to their doom, their shame, I am bound. The Dark Elves seek me...” <BR><BR>The elven maiden removed her hand from beneath the Gondorian Healer’s grip. She reached for her neck. Her elegant fingers clasped a locket, their golden nails traced the image of a flower embossed with jewels.<BR><BR>....<BR><BR>Trace felt troubled. He could not remove the image of a flower from his mind. Upon the periphery of awareness, he could discern delicately painted fingertips. They glimmered, golden, resting upon the bed of a single, jeweled, flower....
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Postby asaris » Thu Mar 01, 2001 10:35 am

Tamarack sat near the campfire, reading the message through once more, the message he had gotten from Benoit a week ago:<BR><BR><i>Tamarack, I require your aid for a scouting mission. You will captain the team, which will consist of the following: Elohir, an elven ranger; Asairian, my captain; and Richard and Michael, two other members of my bodyguard.</i><BR><BR>When he recieved the message, he knew not what to expect. It was certainly no ordinary scouting mission; Benoit would not have requested his aid for that. But to Mordor? That was not at all expected. It was surely a wasteland; why would they be sent there? Benoit mentioned the rumors the Shelob was more active of late, with a caution not to engage her, but that was not much of a reason for suspicion. The spider's activity pattern had always been cyclical. No, there must be something else...<BR><BR>They were to go to Barak-Dacil, the tower of victory, scout it out, and return. And yet, also to avoid Shelob, the dark spider that still haunted the only clear pass. But yet, it was not the only pass. Elohir knew of a pass to the south; it was a difficult crossing, but unguarded. It had been discovered some years after the beginning of the fourth age, and was apparently opened by the activity of Mount Doom at the end of the war. They would cross there, go north to Barak-Dacil, and return to Minas Anor to report to Benoit. The only difficulty, other than the mountainous pass, were the wandering bandits and orcs that still plagued the regions nearest to Mordor. But for these hardened warriors, none of this was a threat, and once they entered the abandoned wasteland of Mordor, there would certainly be no trouble at all. Just then a muffled curse came from one of the sleeping bodies. "Quiet, will you? Some of us are trying to sleep!" Tamarack had apparently been thinking out loud again.
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Postby Tempest » Thu Mar 01, 2001 10:48 am

Tempest wandered a little behind the Nazgul lord as he made his way back toward Barad-dur. Ever since her last encounter with the hidden realm, she had felt somewhat distracted, her thoughts straying to the many tales she had heard in her youth of the ring-wraiths and their terror. <BR><BR>Absently she played with the ring on her slender hand. A part of her, the still human part, almost regretted taking it, for she feared the prospect of losing her form in this realm, and becoming a shadow. Still, the unquestionable power flowed through her body and she was aware of the unimaginable possibilities opened before her. What would Kylab think when she told him? She almost laughed. He would never believe it.<BR><BR>Suddenly, the thought of Kylab snapped her back to reality. She stopped short in her tracks, trying to remember where she had last left her party. Then, with a quick step, she reached the Nazgul lord's side and asked in a strangely reproachful tone, <i>"What of those I was traveling with? They will wonder at my disappearance, and they will be lost without my direction!"</i>
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Postby soviet_sauron » Thu Mar 01, 2001 1:09 pm

The duke and his deputy rode threw the sands, hood on their head. They rode to the north.<BR>"The evil is geting stronger as we continue in our journey to Mordor".<BR>"Yes, Thangon, my lord" said the deputy. "I can feel the dreadful spirit of the Nazgul Lord gaining power". The deputy was a power addict himself. He wanted to be king of Harad himself but Thangon's men were too loyal. <BR><BR>The night fell down on the wilderness of the south as they found an inn to sleep within it. The inn was called "Snake's Barrel". A painting of a white tree was above the sign and didn't looked belong to this place. They could see an erased painting of a sword and a snake beneath it. <BR>"Another mark which the Tark king left in my country" thought Thangon.<BR>They enterd the inn. The innkeeper was a wide, short, muscular man. He talked with one of the clients. 5 table were strewn in the room and 1 of them was surrounded by gondorian people who felt very easy in this enemy country. they laugh and talked in a loud and noisy voice. The other guests looked at them with suspicion. <BR><BR>"People of Harad-" said Thangon, "Will you let those western scum to dictate our way of life?". He stopped, giving them some time to think. The gondorian men looked at him with scorn and one of them said : "Middle Earth,includes Harad and the Hardrim are part of the king's kingdom and belongs to him, to him only.<BR>"That wasn't a smart thing to say..." said the sarcastic deputy.<BR>"Ha! is this a threat? I won't advice you to say such a things inside the borders of the king's kingdom and i-"<BR>His words were interrupted as he fell backward, a knife stuck in his back.<BR>The 5 gondorians stood up, hands on hilts. Thangon stormed on one of them, and smashed his skull. two other Gondorians died as the innkeeper stab them in the back. The other two, an experienced warriors attacked Thangon and his deputy but they had no chance agianst 15 of the desert people. <BR>______________________________________________________________________<BR><BR>"Well said, foreigner" said the innkeeper, "Now take off your hood so we will be able to see who are you".<BR>Thangon and his deputy took off their hook.<BR>Whispers were heard in the room - "The duke", "Our leader", "A brave man indeed" but some of the men who worked for the "king" said nothing. "The storm is rising as we speak. I'm on my way to our neighbor, Mordor. A long time passed since there was powerful master to Barad Dur, but now, there is a new evil in the land of shadows and he will lead us to a victory! to Jihad! we will revenge the tall men of the west for what loss the brought upon us in the war of the rings".<BR>______________________________________________________________________<BR><BR>The duke and his deputy went up to there rooms, with the voices of the people behind them: "<b>The red snake will sting the white tree!</b>".
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Postby Barad-dur » Thu Mar 01, 2001 9:02 pm

The spirit took in the woman’s smile with an impassive expression upon his featureless face. The end result would have been unnerving to a mere mortal, but such was not the creature that stood before him now. Barad-dur smiled inwardly. She believed that she understood what was happening; yet her knowledge was imperfect and there were some truths that even she did not suspect of. Her coming had been unforeseen, the summons inadvertent and involuntary, but now that she was here, the entity was not altogether surprised or even displeased. Like everything else, he would turn this to his advantage.<BR><BR>“Yes, I understand well enough what you want,” the spirit spoke in a low tone. <BR><BR>As he spoke, his form shifted and blurred as it lost its focus and coherence, the very light of the sun seemingly drawn into the void that marked the spirit’s essence. Slowly at first but quickly gaining momentum, a startling change came over the spirit’s appearance. Gone was the creature of darkness with shining eyes of pure white brilliance. In its place stood a remarkable looking Eldar male, a beautifully regal and elegant face framed by shoulder length golden hair that fell down in waves from the finely chiselled features. His body was supple yet muscular, set upon a frame that was tall even for the Eldar of the West.<BR><BR>Legrace’s eyebrows arched upwards as she regarded the virile male before her who was, at the moment, somewhat lacking in clothing. The sound of dry swallowing and a quick remoistening of suddenly dry lips was more than enough to make the elf smile bemusedly. Now he knew he had indeed unnerved her, a feat not easy by any means. Regarding her with eyes the colour of startling blue, the elf spoke in a rich and vibrant voice that carried a faint yet discernable echoing quality to it.<BR><BR>“I trust you find this form more pleasing? Or should I say, more… amusing?” the spirit of Barad-dur remarked, knowing full well the answer.<BR><BR>Recovering from her momentary loss of composure, Legrace narrowed her eyes and pushed outward with her senses towards the figure of the elf. Yes, it was definitely there, if only more masked than before, the icy emanation of unnatural cold and, if one stared at those blue orbs for long, one could perceive a strange and disturbing whitish light behind them.<BR><BR>“I said no tricks!” she replied in an injured tone, although there was little conviction behind her words. Truth be told, she was more than a little uncomfortable at this new form before her, its pleasantness having everything to do with said discomfort. With some regret, she watched as fine and expensive attire magically coalesced around the naked form.<BR><BR>“No tricks, my dear” Barad-dur said, allowing a small amount of reproachful hurt to slip into his tone. “ I wish merely to appear fair to one so mindful of beauty such as yourself.”<BR><BR>Now she knew she was being mocked, and the knowledge filled her with a brief moment of white-hot rage. ‘HOW DARE HE?’ she fumed. Calming herself quickly, she realized that he would indeed dare… that and much more. A deep part of her being trembled with anticipation mingled with fear at the prospect. There was something ancient and familiar about whoever this spirit was that awakened long forgotten emotions within her. She would have to be extremely careful around this one.<BR><BR>A familiar feeling prickled at the back of his consciousness. The Lord of the Nazgul had entered the Dark Tower in Mordor and bore news that would demand his immediate attention. Not only that, he still had to find Shagrat. Through the power of his heightened senses, he had observed the orc captain’s foolish blunder near the Falls of Rauros and his subsequent escape from the enraged human hunter. The creature had not survived these many years by making too many mistakes however. A few more hours running in fear would do him good. Barad-dur had more important matters to attend to just now than to chase down a lone orc. Time enough for that later.<BR><BR>Turning to Legrace, the spirit in elven form bowed gracefully from the waist and extended a hand.<BR><BR>“My Lady, allow me the honour of escorting you,” he invited.<BR><BR>“Where are we going?” she asked, somewhat confused.<BR><BR>“Why, home of course,” came the reply.<BR>
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Postby the mouth of sauron » Thu Mar 01, 2001 9:59 pm

The cobbeled road was in fair repiar, showing that The king of west had not forgotten completely those that had fought for Sauron. Every now and then The Mouth of Sauron and his escort would pass hard travelers of the sand regions of Harad, they were aproaching two such men now, how were talking in excited but hushed voices... The He spoke with some power... "Tell me my good friends what news could be worth hidding from one so high in your favour?" They two Haradrim looked at the dark man whom they felt that they had knowen all there lives, yet had just meet, and they were ashamed in their faces and in their hearts for having kept this secret from their long time and trusted friend..."it's the Duke sir, duke Thangon, some say he is on the move to set us free from the scum of the west, and some say that he is comming this way, I have heard master that he is in an Inn not far from here..." said one man, and the other nodded in awe..."Then I forgive you for trying to keep this secret from me, and in return my beloved friends I give you these" and with a flick of the wrist a few gold coins left The Mouth of Saurons hand. The two men were over come by the bliss of being called beloved friends of the master, that for a moment the left the coins where they lay, the men then quickly picked up the coins and pulled out their ownly weapons two wicked looking hunting knives.."master these are yours.." they said together, He smiled at them "then lead me to the Duke" <BR>"Master what will you do if the dukes men try to harm you?" said one of the men, silence followed and then He spoke"the question my friends is what would you do?" the other man spoke "We would slay them, no one must harm you." He smiled at them again "all is well my friends, the duke and I shall see eye to eye." The Mouth of Sauron with the champion of Harad followed the two travelers who loved their master!!<BR>______________________________________________________________________<BR><BR>Helazzar steped back as the tinder caught alight and the bigger braches started to burn, soon the fire would consume the boy and then it would be time for the hunter to consume the the hunted.
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Postby nazgul_lord » Fri Mar 02, 2001 10:18 pm

The Nazgul turned to answer her question, "I do not know what has become of your companions. I was not responsible for your being brought here, nor, as you know, altogether pleased. However, we adapt. The darkness must ever change its face." Turning once more to the tower, he began walking when Tempest spoke again.<BR> "Who...that is, who was the one who wore this ring before me?" Tempest held up the hand on which she wore the ring. The Wraith took a step towards her and brought his fingers to the gem. <BR> "Yes, yes. His essence is long gone, but I recognize it still. He was one of my brothers even before he wore this ring, in a manner of speaking. We were both Numenorians. You picked well, woman."<BR> Her question answered, she walked beside him as they entered the tower. They climbed the stairs to the throne room, and entered. The Morgul King could not feel the presence of the spirit, however, and paced across the room in his irritation. <BR> Without warning, the door opened, and into the room glided an fair featured elf and a woman of ageless beauty. The elf he immediately recognized as the spirit. Still, there was an essence of familiarity with the woman as well. She was no mere mortal, to be sure, but no Eldar wench either. He cursed the fragmentation of his powers and his memory following his 'death', and knew the answer would come to him in time.
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Postby Nerdanel » Sat Mar 03, 2001 2:08 am

The city of Annúminas was in flames. Orc bands roamed the streets, looting and murdering with abandon. The screams of the dying women and children filled the air.<BR><BR>...A flow of weary refugees passed through the city gates. On the side grim-faced men were making arrows.<BR><BR>...A pitched battle of men against men was fought on the walls. For a long time the defenders were able to hold their ground. Finally their dark-skinned opponents who had a red serpent in their flag broke through.<BR><BR>...Annúminas rested peacefully in an early morning. Then a clarion rang, and a large army set out from the city gates, going to assist their threatened friends and allies far away.<BR><BR>...An unnatural darkness hung over the land. The city was taken, but the defenders still held the castle. The army massed around it was large and varied, consisting of both Orcs and different kinds of Men. The dreaded flag of the Red Eye flew over them. Suddenly a small dark figure in the front of the armies raised a hand, and the castle was hit by a livid lightning from the dark heavens.<BR><BR>Nerdanel knew by now that a war was extremely likely if not inevitable. Any or none of the events she had seen testified could come to happen depending on what people around Middle-earth chose, but she needed to find out what was the ultimate cause behind them. Even she could recognize the sign of the Red Eye. Sources she trusted had told her Sauron was defeated forever, but from the last vision she suspected some other powerful evil was behind this all. She moved her mind towards Mordor.<BR><BR>Suddenly she became aware of another palantír, and the person using that became aware of her also. She dodged deftly the mental attack the other leveled at her, and for a brief while she saw to the other person's dark mind.<BR><BR>Then the other person - or <i>being?</i> she know not for sure - collected himself and she felt the pain of being thrust forcefully out. The palantír fell from her hands to the floor. Nerdanel sat in the darkness that filled now completely her room. She had learned much but she had yet to sort it all in her head. She was still thinking when a maid came to notify her of the start of the dinner.
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Postby Barad-dur » Sat Mar 03, 2001 4:30 am

Barad-dur and Legrace arrived in Sauron’s ancient throne room to find the Lord of the Nazgul pacing impatiently around the chamber. In the shadows of the room, the spirit sensed the expectant presence of the warrior woman, Tempest.<BR>The wraith looked up sharply at their entrance, his displeasure at having had to wait evident by his restlessness and scowling expression. The spirit paid little heed to this, being accustomed to the Ringwraith’s infamous impatience. Of far more interest to him was the faint but distinct flicker of recognition that flashed between the Witch-King and Legrace. The look was brief however and the Lord of Morgul turned his mind to the present task to lock stares with the spirit, who for some unfathomable reason now bore the outer appearance of an elf.<BR><BR>“You have called, and I have come. I trust you have news of import?” Barad-dur asked.<BR><BR>“Indeed I have. I have felt the probing mind of another through the Ithil Stone. It was an ancient and wise consciousness and it had the pervasive stink of the Eldar about it,” the wraith replied.<BR><BR>“That is not altogether unexpected. The Orthanc Stone is in the north and the elves and Dunedain there make regular use of it to communicate with Gondor. Once already they have tried to scry into Mordor,” the spirit replied with a dismissive gesture. Sensing the wraith’s growing unease, Barad-dur narrowed his gaze as he stared at him. <BR><BR>“What are you not telling me?” the entity queried in a dangerously low voice.<BR><BR>The Lord of the Nazgul wished he were elsewhere at that moment. From the shadows near the base of the throne dais, he saw Tempest suddenly tense as if readying herself for something. At Barad-dur’s side, Legrace regarded him curiously. Knowing full well that deception would not work in his favour at all, the wraith plunged forward with the truth.<BR><BR>“The stone I felt… was not one of the Seven. The mind behind it was strong and it strove with me for dominance. I fear that it… succeeded, if only temporarily,” the Witch-King blurted.<BR><BR>“How long?” the spirit asked after a long moment of silence.<BR><BR>Not understanding the question at first, the Ringwraith stared blankly.<BR><BR>“HOW LONG?” Barad-dur thundered, his voice carrying with it an undeniable compulsion that made the wraith wince with pain as he hastened to answer.<BR><BR>“Over an hour!” the Black Captain quickly stated.<BR><BR>The words had barely left his lips when he felt an invisible tugging force. Before he could think to react, his dark cloak flew open and the palantir that he carried within its folds jumped into the air as if alive. Instead of falling to the ground however, the dark globe hurtled through the air of the chamber and came to rest abruptly in the outstretched elven hand of Barad-dur. The spirit’s eyes closed and his brow furrowed in concentration as a faint greenish light flickered within the depths of the stone. <BR>Scant moments after, his eyes flew open again as white light blazed forth from them, its radiance washing over the throne room and sending the shadows scurrying into hiding. The beautiful elven face became a distorted mask of rage, as skin stretched impossibly while attempting to contain the boiling energies building up beneath. His entire form shaking with disbelieving rage, the elven guise dissolved at last, the features melting away like hot wax under an open flame. With a thunderous blast that shook the adamant foundations of the Dark Tower, a concussive wave of darkness and raw hatred blasted outward from the spirit. Tempest felt her feet leave the floor as the shock wave washed over her while she attempted to dive behind the obsidian steps of the dais. A fraction of a second too late, the terrible force picked her up and catapulted her, head over heels across the room to smash against the far wall. Her head hit the cold, unyielding stone with a crack, and she slid to the ground as she lost consciousness.<BR>The Lord of the Nazgul barely had time to raise one arm to shield his face as the energy passed through his immortal flesh like an unstoppable tidal wave of destruction. Driven back by the sudden fury of the onslaught, the wraith stumbled backwards, finally dropping to one knee and tucking his head down. Never had the Ringwraith felt such undying hatred coupled with such destructive power, not even during the moment when he lay fatally wounded at the feet of the Dark Lord, and his Master had at last realized the enemy’s plan as the One Ring revealed itself in the Sammath Naur in the hands of the cursed Baggins.<BR>Only Legrace withstood the display of force unscathed, the only outward sign of its passing upon her being a slight ruffling of her long hair, as if through a brisk breeze. The shocked look in her eyes betrayed her calm demeanour, however.<BR><BR>“HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? THE FOOLS OF THE WEST HAVE FORBIDDEN TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE LAND! WHAT IS FEANOR’S WHORE DOING HERE?” the spirit shouted, his voice echoing a hundred times from the walls of the chamber. Turning his blindingly fiery gaze upon the crouched wraith, the entity took a step forward and made an abrupt motion with one hand. The Witch-King felt himself lifted upwards by that unseen force and was jerked roughly to his feet.<BR><BR>“ON YOUR FEET, WRETCH! I WARNED YOU OF THE DANGERS OF THE PALANTIR. PRAY FOR YOUR SAKE, THAT THE DAUGHTER OF MAHTAN HAS NOT GUESSED YOUR MIND. I GIVE YOU ONE CHANCE TO REDEEM YOURSELF. FIND HER AND BRING HER BEFORE ME. DO NOT FAIL ME IN THIS, OR I PROMISE YOU THAT YOU SHALL BEG ME A THOUSAND TIMES TO END YOUR MISERABLE EXISTENCE BEFORE I AM DONE WITH YOU,” the spirit’s voice threatened.<BR><BR>Shaking with indignation, the Ringwraith wrestled between defiance and obedience. Before he could voice his opinion though, a fiery image lit the air above the dark throne behind him. Turning to look at it, the wraith’s eyes widened in disbelief.<BR><BR>Floating in midair was the ghostly apparition of an enormous band of luminous gold. As he watched, fiery script began to appear around the ring. In awe and fear, he read the words that had been forever etched into his memory long ago:<BR><BR>‘Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul,<BR> Ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzum ishi krimpatul.’<BR><BR>Feeling his ring flare in response, the wraith knew he had no choice. He must obey, and he must succeed, for he had no doubt that the entity would make good on its terrible promise if he failed.<BR>
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Postby Sauron's_Nagging_Wife » Sat Mar 03, 2001 12:53 pm

<i>Home</i>, she thought as she gazed up at the shadowy silhouette of the Tower. It was an odd, startling idea. Home had never been a place for her; rather, it had been a presence, a dwelling with someone. Thinking of it made her so sad that she forced it from her mind. Despite everything, this spirit could not deliver to her what she most wanted. No one could, nothing could. She had to wait.<BR><BR>She cast a surreptitious glance at the golden elf prince beside her. By the Flame, it had known her indefensible weakness! How could a spirit that had existed only as long as the tower of Barad-dur know of this elf? Easy: <i>it couldn’t</i>. There was more here than she understood, and this spirit was masquerading as less than he actually was; however, that was of no concern to her.<BR><BR>Why had it assumed the guise it had? Never had she seen a fairer creature than the elf prince of old whose form it now embodied -- never, save one. He had departed ere she had grown tired of him, and in the tumult that followed, she had felt rage and grief and panic for the first time. Although the memory of the ensuing row still made her laugh, the whole situation had been one of the unhappiest times in her life. This spirit that claimed to be Barad-dur must have known everything to have chosen that form--<BR><BR>However, she did not think it was trying to torture her. Such a method would hardly work with anyone, especially not her. No, it wanted some aid from her in its dark plans. It had assumed the form that was most likely to please and persuade her, and maybe to manipulate her, but it had not realized how strongly the memory would affect her. She had no qualms about helping; indeed, it might prove most diverting if it could really deliver that which she had long awaited. <BR><BR>She didn’t like the thought of being manipulated, but that, too, could be diverting if this dangerous creature were only thinking of his of gains and advantages. She gazed on the fair face and fine form that stirred her to such a degree. Obviously, it knew her well, it must know that she would cooperate if her prizes, which she had been promised of old, were delivered to her undamaged. She smiled in delight as she thought of her reward. Yes, she could learn to cooperate as long as this strange entity did not go too far.<BR><BR>She leaned over and inhaled deeply of his scent. It did not match the one in her memory. That was good, at least, but did little to ease her disquiet. How distracting it was in this form!<BR><BR>He glanced at her with a frown. She suspected what he was thinking. “I have no interest in your secrets,” she told him. “But you are very much like him.”<BR><BR>“Good,” said the entity caressing her with those amazing eyes and making her shiver, then it continued into the Tower.<BR><BR>Still wrapped in her thoughts, she followed him to the throne room. There was the Morgul Lord, as expected, looking at her with some frustrated recognition. With him was a blonde female warrior emanating a strange and familiar feeling. Legrace turned her attention to the woman. Of course! She had one of the Nine rings! Legrace had to laugh. Was the woman as humorless as the other Nazgul? It would be a pity in one so beautiful. The woman had a strength and toughness of mind and body that would make her a fearsome enemy indeed. Perhaps this apprentice would soon astound her master.<BR><BR>What happened next was unnerving: the truth about the Nazgul’s folly with the Seeing Stone. At first, she merely observed how the spirit handled that situation. She knew of rage and had experienced it herself, and she had seen hatred and darkness although she herself was a bit too apathetic for these emotions. Now, however, she was shocked at the raw power that she witnessed. It reminded her of something from long, long ago… but no, that was impossible, she knew beyond a doubt. Still, she was confused and uneasy. No one had never directed such rage <i>against</i> her. She shivered as she wondered how she would stand up to it if someone did.<BR><BR>There was a strange and unnatural stillness for a long time afterward. She had to admit that such an explosion was necessary for some to handle slaves. The Nazgul Lord would not be easy for anyone to dominate, and she could sense his hatred towards and fear of the entity that called itself Barad-dur.<BR><BR>Still, she was not a coward, and she wondered if this mysterious and dangerous creature had a weakness: an uncontrollable temper. To test the possibility, she went to the Nazgul Lord and smiled at him as if nothing untoward had happened. “My presence is no doubt familiar to you, yet I do not think you have seen me above once or twice.”<BR><BR>Unable to control the riot of black hatred inside him, he sneered at her. The happy and sweet countenence was hateful to him; however, the strength of her enchantment affected even him, if only a little. He rejoiced in his dark power; still, he felt some old emotion that he could not immediately name and did not like. “I remember,” he bluffed.<BR><BR>“Enough, lady,” the icy voice of Barad-dur brooked no disagreement. “You waste our time here.”<BR><BR>She glanced over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. Then, she turned back to the Lord of the Nazgul. With a hypnotically slow, elegant motion, she extended her hand to him. “Well met, King of Angmar.”<BR><BR>He reached to take her hand and bow, however, he saw her ring, then, with the luminous blue stone. He stared up into her face. He <i>had</i> seen her, he <i>did</i> know her. But from where? Then, he pushed the thoughts from his mind. He had a difficult job to do and could not afford distractions.<BR><BR>Then, a curious thing happened. The lady went to the dark spirit and inclined her head. “Will you show me this new King of Gondor in the Stone?”<BR>
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Postby Inwir_Draunimion » Sat Mar 03, 2001 10:35 pm

Inwir watched the evening fires in the fields to the south. The harvesters worked late into the evening this time of year and the fires aided their work. 'And,' thought Inwir,'it's rather beautiful.'<BR><BR>He had been sitting in the window seat for an hour now, watching the surrounding countryside, the people of Annuminas going about their business, the servants of the keep bustling down the corridors and occasional men-at-arms who would nod and smile at him as they passed. Many had been at least partially trained by Inwir, but he was not an officer of their army, and so was not accorded a formal salute. Inwir sighed as the stars drew his attention. He remembered a time when the stars could hold his attention for a decade. A time when the world did not move so fast, when he and his wife could talk for days, walking in the gardens of Nienna. Their children they would take for visits to the Vanyar and the Teleri, so that that they might better know their peoples. Grace was commonplace and there was no need to fight. For anything. At all. Ever.<BR><BR>'At some point,' Inwir thought, 'my life became about nothing but fighting.' <BR><BR>The hate that the events of two ages ago had given birth to was still the driving force in his life. His drive to remain in Middle-earth had also cost him any hope of being happy here. He had friends, scattered throughout the lands, but nothing more...substantial. How could he. He had proven himself unfit in his eyes to ever again hold in his hands the responsibility of a family. He had squandered that precious gift long ago. His naivete and bravado had cost all those closest to him their lives. Never again.<BR><BR>He knew why he thought these old thoughts again. It was not the return of the normal demons, but the return of a bright light into his life. Nerdanel had been more than a simple playmate. They'd been closer, the two that always had to be on the same side in contests of teams, that conspired together in harmless little schemes against others, that would always defend the other in debates. And then, Inwir began to spend much of his free time with Lindedhel as Nerdanel began to warm to her fathers pupil, Feanor, and the events of that time took them their separate paths. Over the centuries he had thought of Nerdanel and the image of peace and joy her memory gave him. And now she was here. Inwir was sure only that he was unsure of the future. His talents lie not in prestidigitation but in the more martial pursuits. But he did know enough to recognize the shifting landscape that had become his life. Things were moving, not just for himself he knew, but for all Middle-earth.<BR><BR>Inwir looked down the wide hallway towards the entrance to the feast hall. Servants and guests passed to and fro through the tall doorway and Inwir decided to finally leave his quiet windowseat and once again put on the mantle of formality that was expected of the Captain of the Grey Havens. He rose and walked towards the busy hall where he could hear the festive sounds of laughter and conversation. The feast was not to begin for a while, yet many had already taken up seating. Inwir passed trough the archway and scanned the crowd for the Captain of the Guard of Annuminas. Thebin of Lossanarch was a grizzled veteran of the Gondorin army, outspoken, sometimes haughty, wiry and tough as old leather, good companionship on a journey, stalwart and seemingly fearless in battle. His soldiers joked nervously that their commander was invincible because he already considered himself a dead man during battle. But he was not fey nor given to sacrificing his men unduly. He was a soldier first and did what must be done. Inwir trusted and respected him and wanted to speak with him tonight since he must wait until morning to hold council with Ancalime, the Steward of Annuminas.<BR><BR>Inwir walked to the side of the dais where his place was set, occasionally nodding to officials and officers of the realm, and found Gelmir, waiting behind the tables in a small chair.<BR><BR>"What say you old friend?" said Inwir. "Are you here to complain like an old horse about our departure tomorrow after councils or because the help here have again mistaken you as my servant?" Inwir smiled wryly at Gelmir as the sergeant rose from his seat.<BR><BR>"Mi'lord," Gelmir replied, "it amazes me that your jests have lost none of their sheen...........even after seven thousand years." He looked over the gathering crowd and said to Inwir in low tones, "Nay, I wish I could jest in return but I must report to you of Nerdanels' swoon, told to me by her chambermaid."<BR><BR>Inwir stiffened and began to speak. "Hold Lord of Rashness," said Gelmir. "She is well now and resting. She will join you later. And no, I do not know the reason of her episode. Practice patience mi'lord. Or is that a virtue forever lost to you." <BR><BR>Inwir actually looked sheepish for a moment, then replied, "I was merely concerned for her safety 'old friend'. Let us sit and await her arrival. Have you seen the Captain Thebin? I would speak with him tonight, before the Steward returns from her inspections in the morning."<BR><BR>"Not since our arrival sir," replied Gelmir.<BR><BR>"Well let's try to get through the evening without too much discomfort, shall we?" said Inwir as he slid back the heavy oak chair and sat down.<BR><BR>"And have you seen Tintall and his companions?" asked Inwir.<BR><BR>"Ah yes, on that count I can be of assistance," he replied. "They have chosen to remain in their chambers until the councils are held in the morning. Why, I do not know. A somber bunch if you ask me."<BR><BR>"A noble and dedicated troop, if you ask ME," Inwir shot back. "Oh, just eat your mutton or duck, or whatever you choose."<BR><BR>"What relief," said Gelmir. "The testy Captain I know so well is back so quickly!"<BR><BR>Inwir, ignoring the last quip, watched the entrance for signs of Thebin. He was shocked, as were many in the room, when he saw the last person in Middle-earth he thought would come to the feast tonight walk through the entry. He had only ever met the youngest child of Elessar and Arwen Undomiel once, long ago. Ancalime seldom spoke of her sister Gilraen. No one spoke of Gilraen overmuch. Many feared her, and those wise enough not to simply did not understand her power. She walked into the center of the hall, all eyes by now leveled on her. It was silent in the hall, a harsh counterbalance to only moments before. Suddenly, all could hear a soft mumbling coming from Gilraen as she slowly rocked to and fro, remaining in one spot. <BR><BR>Inwir rose as he began to make out some of the words. "..... .rthaur........wench ........s-she's ..she's.. abomination ......zgul female canine...ahhhhhhh.. nerdanelnerdanelnerdanelnerdanelberdanel ......"<BR><BR>He was moving before he realised it, towards the door of the feasthall and on to Nerdanels chambers.
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Postby the mouth of sauron » Sat Mar 03, 2001 11:12 pm

Duke Thangon made his way out of the front door of the Snake barrel Inn to get some fresh air while his companions slept. There was a chill in the air, he was about to go back in when a group made of two horse men and two on foot, turned a corner and made their way towards him... The duke paid all of them no mind, except the regal looking figure upon one of the horses, he moved his had to his sword and at that moment his hand feel to his side as The Mouth of Sauron spoke to him.<BR>"Nay, put thy hand from your mighty blade Duke Thangon" the voice commanded, "I have glad tidings for you are in high favor in Mordor, but first I must have news of what I can expect in Harad, Umbar and Khand and other such places... come now, I am your friend and am also in high favor, will you not invite me in so that we make talk as brothers in the warm?"<BR>The Duke was no fool and he was also a man of great power in his own right, and even though his mind screamed at him to ask this stranger, who now seemed like an older brother, how he knew all of these things, but from the out set his will had given in to the power of the Mouth of Sauron..."yes master, you should not stay out in the cold, come in and warm your self and I will tell you all that you want to know.." pleaded Thangon... "Yes I know you will... my friend" said the Mouth of Sauron as he smiled and followed the Duke, The champion of Harad followed after his master, the other two were happy to guard their masters horse out side.<BR>
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Postby nazgul_lord » Sun Mar 04, 2001 12:13 am

The Morgul Lord boiled with barely contained rage. It was a mighty river, roaring beneath his outward calm. But he did not release it, because there was fear as well. The spirit's outburst of raw power was not directed at him, but he quailed at the memory of it. Too, the vision of the One disturbed him, and he burned to know just who or what was this shade whose orders he must now obey. Finally, as an insect buzzing in the back of his mind, he sought for the woman's identity. <BR> While Barad-dur used the Ithil stone to show his guest the boy-king, the Wraith turned to attend to the unconscious Tempest. She was slumped on the ground, not far from the dais of the black throne. He lifted her body in order to lay her straight on the ground. Her skull had been cracked by the impact and she bled profusely. The Morgul King cursed to himself. Mumbling an incantation, he called on magics he had not used in untold centuries. A healing spell flowed through her body, but she cried out in great pain, for it was tainted with his dark power. <BR> She regained consciousness, and the Nazgul stood to face the spirit. As his gaze fell upon it, he burned anew to release his power, but knew that it would be all but futile. He walked to the two, and spoke, trying to keep from his voice the inner hatred and, perhaps more damning, fear.<BR> "I will do your bidding, Barad-dur. However, I ask you for two things, that I might more swiftly complete my quest. First, that I might take my...charming apprentice with me. Perhaps she will learn something. On the way, I will teach her to walk uncloaked by flesh. <BR> "Second, I ask that you once again entrust me with the palantir. I think the Eldar female canine is in the Tower of the Sun, but without the Ithil stone, I will be unable to find her should she go forth from that place. I will, of course, go even if you do not grant these things, as you have left me no choice, but perhaps this mission is important enough to let me work my way. My...former Master tied my hands but once, and it may have cost him the war."<BR> The Nazgul stared into Barad-dur's glowing eyes as he awaited an answer.
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Postby Barad-dur » Sun Mar 04, 2001 6:03 am

Barad-dur gazed absently at the floor while he indulged Legrace with a look at the image of King Eldarion, the son of Elessar. He pondered what to do at this latest turn of events. Nerdanel must have obtained some kind of special permission from the Valar in order to be allowed to travel to Middle-Earth. Whatever the reason behind her coming, it could not have had anything to do with him, at least not initially. No, she had to be here for another reason and he needed to find out why. She must not be allowed to learn more than whatever knowledge she had already gained through her palantir. <BR>A persistent feeling began to tug at his consciousness just then and he focused his attention on the Ithil Stone in his hand. Within the depths of the palantir, he watched the young monarch suddenly look up from the parchment he was reading and look about him with a look of confusion on his face. After a brief moment, the king shook his head and returned to his reading. Time to end this, the spirit concluded.<BR><BR>“Enough!” he stated flatly, as he closed the connection with his mind. The image lost focus and the stone grew dark. Legrace looked up, disappointment in her eyes.<BR><BR>“Why such a short time? I was only just beginning to familiarize myself with his handsome features,” Legrace pouted in an injured tone.<BR><BR>Barad-dur sneered at the woman before him. “Your perusal was becoming so intense that he began to feel your scrutinizing mind. I can guess what you’re thinking and the answer is no. He is already wise beyond his years and though inexperienced, he commands the undying loyalty of much of the land. He is closely watched by those who love and protect him, and they can prove troublesome yet. Do not force my hand by opening up the game too soon. Besides, it won’t be long now until you shall have something, or someone, to keep you busy. Patience, my lady”<BR><BR>He felt the Nazgul Lord’s burning gaze upon him at that moment and turned to face the wraith. He listened as the Witch-King made his requests, all the while tasting the fear and hatred that emanated from the creature like a sweet wine. He was much calmer now than he had been a short while ago, realizing that there was little to be accomplished by giving in to emotions he had long ago forsaken. Those same emotions had once been his downfall, and he was determined not to let it happen a second time. He would need to exercise greater control over himself from now on. Nevertheless, he resigned himself to the fact that the wilful wraith would have to be reminded of his place from time to time.<BR><BR>“You may take Tempest with you if you wish. I can think of no one better suited to teaching her the way of the Ulairi than the First of the Nine. I would in return make a request of you: she is concerned about the fate of her troll friend and her other companions. The troll could prove valuable to us for there are few of his kind left in this world. Allow her some time to see to their whereabouts and welfare. Your mission is urgent but this matter should take little time. If you should happen across the human hunter that slaughtered half of her force, I want him to die horribly,” the spirit replied.<BR><BR>“As for the Ithil Stone, you may have it once again. I trust you have learned your lesson and will exercise greater caution henceforth. You assumption about the woman’s location is mistaken. She is not within the Tower of the Sun, but much farther north and west, in the lands where you once waged war as the King of Angmar. Seek for her there, and remember that you must not be seen. Go to Carach Angren in Udun and avail yourself of two black steeds kept there by the Mouth of Sauron for his use. Succeed in your task and the winged Fell Beast that you asked for shall be here upon your return.”<BR><BR>Mollified by Barad-dur’s acquiescence of his terms, the Ringwraith nodded his understanding as the fires of rage cooled within him. He had a task to perform and he would show this spirit yet why he had been Sauron’s most trusted and loyal captain. Beckoning for Tempest to follow him, the Lord of the Nazgul left the chamber without any further words.<BR>
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Postby Inwir_Draunimion » Sun Mar 04, 2001 12:57 pm

<BR>As Inwir passed through the doors of the feasthall he glanced back into the room and saw several officials gathering around Gilraen. One placed his cloak over her shoulders, covering the sheer nightgown she had been wandering about the keep in.<BR><BR>Picking up his pace to a run, Inwir rounded a corner and nearly ran into Nerdanel and her chambermaid. Startled, he came to a halt and asked, "Is all well Nerdanel? I had heard from Gelmir..."<BR><BR>The maid responded as Nerdanel, looking somewhat pale, glared at her. "I told her to rest in chambers, begging mi'lords pardon, sir. She'd have none of it. Quite a shock she seemed to hav.."<BR><BR>"Nonsense Inwir," interrupted Nerdanel. "I'm feeling fine now. Areth, I appreciate your concern, but please, can we keep this between the two of us. I trust Inwir with my life, but there may be others, even here in Annuminas that are not to be trusted. Your word?"<BR><BR>The old maid nodded slightly and smiled at Nerdanel, and then she turned and shuffled down the corridor.<BR><BR>Nerdanel then turned to Inwir and asked, "And where are you off to in such a hurry? Did not Gelmir tell you I was fine and would be joining you at the feast?"<BR><BR>"Yes, the message I received, but something else happened," he replied. He was loathe to tell her of the events in the feasthall but realized he must. He recalled as much of what Giraen had said as he could and watched for reactions from Nerdanel. She walked over and sat in the same windowseat that Inwir had occupied earlier. Turning her gaze from the lights of Annuminas, she looked at Inwir and said, "I've something to tell you." She then began to recount the visions of horror and doom she had seen since their arrival in the capital. <BR><BR>When she was finished she said, "I know not what avenue we are on presently, but all are frought with danger and death. How do we choose? How do even know when we'll be presented with the choice? Forgive me old friend, but I am somewhat new to prescience and I have yet to understand it fully. And there is more...." She then recounted the struggle she had had with the unknown assailant through the Palantir. She seemed frustrated and worried, but not afraid and Inwir knew that aside from having his friend by his side he also had a wise and stalwart companion for the trials ahead.<BR><BR>Pacing to and fro in front of Nerdanel and the window, Inwir finally said, "I've been treating this as a holiday so far. That is done. We shall all act from now on as if we are directly threatened at all times. Would you please promise me something Nerdanel? I know of your confidence with the Palantir, but could you refrain from using it without myself or Tintall present? Simply as a safety measure?"<BR><BR>Nerdanel looked up at her old friend and gave a slight nod, but said also, "Even though I believe it unecessary. Do you forget that I would sometimes aid Feanor and watch him create within his workshops? None know more of the substance of the Palantir than I in all of Arda."<BR><BR>"I merely suggest that we proceed with the utmost caution from now on," said Inwir. "Who did you encounter within the stone? Do you have any idea?"<BR><BR>"Whoever it was," she replied, "they were wholly malevolent. I think I surprised them. And they were to the east."<BR><BR>"Well," he said as he reached for her hand and helped her to rise from the windowseat, "so much for feasting. Tonight we shall sup in our respective chambers. I sleep to the left of your suite and Tintall is to your right. If you have need of anything please call upon us." Nerdanels' visage had been becoming more and more stern as Inwir spoke and finally she whirled on him and said, "Do not forget, Inwir 'Draunimion', that I am an Eldar also, and one with great reserve of power. Do not faun upon me as if I were some maiden in distress. Watch YOURSELF this night!" And with that she stormed off towards her quarters, leaving a bewildered Inwir scratching his head in confusion.<BR><BR>"Ah well," he thought, "I'm sure with a few weeks of thought I shall understand what I did wrong. Now to find Thebin." And with that he strode down the corridor towards the western side of the keep, and the armouries.<BR>
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Postby Tempest » Sun Mar 04, 2001 2:07 pm

Tempest stood her ground and did not follow her new lord. It took several moments for him to realize that she was not behind him, and he turned an impatient gaze toward her. <BR><BR>Her face betrayed nothing of raging anger that had suddenly pricked her heart, expect for perhaps her eyes, which shone like smoldering coals amidst the shadows. Though she bore the ring, her allegiance to the Nazgul lord was fresh, and she was tired of being treated as a child, as one who knew nothing of the world. Had she not already proven her strength one countless encounters with the elves? The sword at her side began to burn an unearthly shade of blue. Long ago it was forged in the same fire as the one ring, by the same hands that fashioned the circle of gold that sealed Sauron's fate. Its name was Fury, for it gave power to those who used it in hatred and malice.<BR><BR>In a quiet, but lethal voice, Tempest spoke. <i>"Do not think that I will be an easy disciple. Do not take my allegiance for granted. I will not be cast around so carelessly, as one uses a mere slave. Do not make the same mistake of the Eldar in dealing with me. Evil has many faces, some fair, some not. Even Nazgul lords can perish at the hands of a mortal."</i> <BR><BR>She did not know why she said this, for she did not wish to arouse his anger, but at the same time, something within her balked at being treated as inferior. There was yet inside her a dark seed of power that sought to be released, to grow, and yield a crop of power that would make her enemies pale to see it.
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Postby Terry D » Sun Mar 04, 2001 3:53 pm

Starlight glimmered with evervescence. The ebony expanse of night sky overspread fulfillment, to oblivion and beyond. Trace had been dream-sleeping, among his half-elven reverie, for some time now. Escale had let him rest. The wanderer was far older than the Savant, yet, he appeared so much the younger. Escale considered this for a few moments, then his concentration faltered, then lingered among the stars.<BR><BR>They had come to camp on this grassy hillside of southern Rohan near the setting of day. In twilight they had made a small fire and rested in the cool night air. They had not come here by chance. Escale wanted to visit the "Wishing Stone". Trace had left it to esoteric companion to discover a way to reach the mysterious figures of horse and flower. Escale intimated that an an answer lay hidden in the veil of the ancient stone. And it was...<BR><BR>Escale had meditated for moments on the elegance of starlight. His senses were invigorated by the clear, cool night air. The stone, niched in a garden of grass, loomed skyward as a pointing finger. The Savant focused on the dark grooves and smooth patches of the stone. It was very old, it knew things others merely glympsed.<BR><BR>As Escale's meditations went from star to stone a vision climaxed in his mind's eye. There was a woman, of elven ancestry. A troubled woman, she was standing over a book. Her grey eyes were transfixed with some terror she had failed to deny. The woman traced several golden tipped fingers over her lips. She screamed in silence... the vision disappeared... "So, this is the flower? Wake! Wake, sleepudraughts!"<BR><BR>Trace lurched to an elbow, elven sleep evaporated into intense alertness. "What?"<BR><BR>"We must be of to Gondor. Your flower awaits you there...."
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Postby nazgul_lord » Sun Mar 04, 2001 11:27 pm

Rage. Rage at the Eldar who fought him through the Ithil Stone. Rage at Barad-dur, the shadowy entity whose power he could not oppose. Rage at the Elessar, who Death had now taken beyond his reach. Rage at the halfling who killed his brothers, and left him masterless. Rage at the golden haired maiden who struck him down on the fields of Pellenor. Now, rage at this woman, at her insolence, and at her ignorance. <BR> This was the anger, the fury, which fueled the Nazgul Lord's actions. The woman, Tempest, stared at him with cold, steely eyes. She did, indeed, have great potential, he thought to himself, but there was no need for her to hear that yet. The Wraith <i>shifted</i>, and was behind Tempest before she saw him move. <BR> "Yesss, thou art a strong woman, art thou not? Thou hast slain many of the damned Eldar, and ye carry a blade of great power. Yet thou now walk as a child. Long ago, ye gave thy soul over to the Shadow, but little dost thou realize what thou hast just given over. Thy soul is ours, and now thy flesh shall follow." He moved his hand to wrap around her neck, and released a small flow of power through his fingers. <BR> Tempest shuddered, teeth grit, but did not cry out. She was a warrior, and she would show this shade the sort of warrior she was. <BR> Spinning, she lifted Fury and drove it through the Nazgul's arm. She cried out in pain, and the sword fell from her hand. The Wraith chuckled dryly, and pointed the arm which her sword passed through at her.<BR> "Thou art not the first to raise thy sword to me, but surely thy attempt was the most futile. Thy ring bond thee to me, and furthermore, thy heart is filled with darkness. Shadow feeds shadow, and does not strike it down."<BR> To himself, the Morgul King wondered what would have happened had she not been wearing the ring. The sword was no ordinary blade, and well he remembered what happened the last time he was struck with a sword of power. <BR> "Come," he said, walking from the room, "I leave the choice to thee. Thou mayest journey with me, and I shall teach you such things that thy mind has never concieved. Or, remain here, but I think that yon spirit will be far less patient a teacher."<BR>
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Postby nazgul_lord » Sun Mar 04, 2001 11:28 pm

Rage. Rage at the Eldar who fought him through the Ithil Stone. Rage at Barad-dur, the shadowy entity whose power he could not oppose. Rage at the Elessar, who Death had now taken beyond his reach. Rage at the halfling who killed his brothers, and left him masterless. Rage at the golden haired maiden who struck him down on the fields of Pelennor. Now, rage at this woman, at her insolence, and at her ignorance. <BR> This was the anger, the fury, which fueled the Nazgul Lord's actions. The woman, Tempest, stared at him with cold, steely eyes. She did, indeed, have great potential, he thought to himself, but there was no need for her to hear that yet. The Wraith <i>shifted</i>, and was behind Tempest before she saw him move. <BR> "Yesss, thou art a strong woman, art thou not? Thou hast slain many of the damned Eldar, and ye carry a blade of great power. Yet thou now walk as a child. Long ago, ye gave thy soul over to the Shadow, but little dost thou realize what thou hast just given over. Thy soul is ours, and now thy flesh shall follow." He moved his hand to wrap around her neck, and released a small flow of power through his fingers. <BR> Tempest shuddered, teeth grit, but did not cry out. She was a warrior, and she would show this shade the sort of warrior she was. <BR> Spinning, she lifted Fury and drove it through the Nazgul's arm. She cried out in pain, and the sword fell from her hand. The Wraith chuckled dryly, and pointed the arm which her sword passed through at her.<BR> "Thou art not the first to raise thy sword to me, but surely thy attempt was the most futile. Thy ring bond thee to me, and furthermore, thy heart is filled with darkness. Shadow feeds shadow, and does not strike it down."<BR> To himself, the Morgul King wondered what would have happened had she not been wearing the ring. The sword was no ordinary blade, and well he remembered what happened the last time he was struck with a sword of power. <BR> "Come," he said, walking from the room, "I leave the choice to thee. Thou mayest journey with me, and I shall teach you such things that thy mind has never concieved. Or, remain here, but I think that yon spirit will be far less patient a teacher."<BR>
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Postby Sauron's_Nagging_Wife » Mon Mar 05, 2001 8:25 am

With the departure of the Nazgul, Legrace turned and regarded the black throne. "I should like to go to the Tower of the Sun and look upon this man with my own eyes," she remarked with a slight touch of regret. "And although I think it would be easier to get near him now, at the beginning, I will not. It will not make much difference in the end. Unlike yon incompetent Wraith, I can be relied on to do what I say I will."<BR><BR>She slowly went to the dais and up beside the throne, then turned to him. "Don‘t force <i>your</i> hand indeed? What care I for <i>your</i> hand, <i>your</i> plans and secrets? What do any of us care? Those disobediant Wraiths are ready to ambush each other – and you as well, if they had a chance of success. Such insolence was not permitted in the time of Sauron."<BR><BR>She waited, prepared for his anger, but he merely regarded her coldly. <i>Well, how else would such a creature be expected to regard anyone?</i>, she asked herself sarcastically as she leaned against the side of the throne.<BR><BR>"You are too used to speaking to servants. I am not a thrall, and I do not obey you. If obedience is what you require, you will be disappointed in me. I have no wish to hinder you, but you can imagine that I would cause you some difficulties if I did. Yes, if you have so much trouble with one Ringwraith, I might be able to wreak a little havoc." She smiled at the thought, then grew somber again. "Yet, I will not. I have no reason to."<BR><BR>She leaned her cheek against the coolness of the obsidian and closed her eyes wearilly. "I will wait. I am used to waiting; I am good at it. Tell me if you require my aid. Until then, or until I have some diversion, I shall remain in my misery."<BR>
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Postby RedMaw » Mon Mar 05, 2001 10:43 am

Andraug was pleased. His pack now numbered over thirty. As they drew closer to Mordor, he encountered various warg packs which he integrated into his own. Unfortunately, as their numbers increased, it also increased the chance they would be spotted.<BR><BR>He thought amusedly about the troll and the one remaining orc from the vanished woman's band. Let them follow us for a change...
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Postby Tempest » Mon Mar 05, 2001 11:46 am

Tempest sheathed her sword and followed, although the light in her eyes did not diminish. She glanced back as she departed, aware for the first time of the other woman in the room. She tilted her head slightly and her forehead furrowed in concentration. Hmmm...something stirred in her mind about that face....<BR><BR>Well, whatever it was, it was gone now. Probably just another affect of the ring. She hastened her step to meet those of the Nazgul lord, and the two went on in silence, both absorbed in their own dark thoughts.
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