Land of Darkness Discussion Thread [Archive] - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:38 PM

Amanaduial the archer – Silvan Elf

NAME: Raeis (Ray-iss)

AGE: No idea really. Over two hundred, that much she knows.

RACE: Elf (Silvan)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: None, but she fights like a demon with her bare hands, feet, elbows... Also, anything she can pick up. She is, or at least, she was skilled with a range of swords, and is fairly good at using a bow, or a sling.

APPEARANCE: Once, Raeis was a beauty among her people, but that was long ago. Her good looks remain though, in part – her face is high-boned, the structure belying her low birth, and her hair is fine and light brown, flecked generously with gold. Her eyes are dark blue, flecked with lighter blues and white. Her hair is not the wavy, golden abundance it was once though – it was cut short when she was first taken prisoner: having stolen a dagger from one of her guards, she had hacked it off from right close to her scalp. It has grown since then, though, has had plenty of time to do so: it now comes unevenly to approximately just below her ears, but is dirty and unkempt from lack of care. Her skin was always pale, a fine almost alabaster-white, but this is even more accentuated now from lack of sunlight. But despite the lines of pain that are now more obvious on her face, the right side of her face is still beautiful, despite the dark bruise that currently adorns her high-cheek area…but the left is a different matter. A long, thin scar runs all the way down her left side of her face from an inch above her broken eyebrow to her jawbone, crossing her eye and forcing it closed, a vicious, sharp burn made from a heated blade that was pressed against her face. It mars her beauty totally, but she cares little anymore – what does it matter when no one will see it? She stands at about 5 ft 9 and is lean – her muscles have not deteriorated entirely, but beyond them there is virtually nothing else. She is painfully thin and scars, both old and new, cross her body along with bruises, the most obvious the long thin ones that crisscross her back and a long cut running from collarbone to navel. She wears a thin, ragged shirt, the sleeves torn off for practical purposes to leave her arms bare, and a sort of short, ragged skirt.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: In the years since the elf has been imprisoned, Raeis has stopped caring about many things; her appearance for one thing, for what good is it to mourn for her lost beauty when the only ones who will see it are her monstrous captors? In a way, she almost revels in it sometimes, for the ugliness of one side of her face, marring her pureness, puts them off some of their vile sport. She almost managed to block out the physical pain and humiliation which she endures so often, for she has suffered so much that the only respite she gets is to know that she will give them no satisfaction by seeing her pain. But she has not stopped caring about everything. One thing always remains on her mind: escape. It is a wild dream, and one that she barely believes in, but which she wishes for so fervently with every inch of her body and mind that has become something that she would do simply to achieve it, to spite her captors, to cause them some of the beatings she has endured for letting her escape. If she could get out of this cell, she would die spitefully happy – she is past wanting to do much else but feel the sun on her face once more. Indeed, maybe the cell has actually driven her mad: the elf had no-one to talk to for weeks on end quite often, and her own voice was all that stopped her from going entirely insane. That and her thoughts and memories, or what might be memories: she gets confused as to what has actually happened and what is real or not. Reality is, for Raeis, an illusion – if her life in Mirkwood was reality, then this existence cannot possibly be real, but if this life is truly happening, how could she ever have missed the fact it was happening when in Mirkwood? The thoughts and questions as to what is real and what isn’t torment the elf in her silent prison. She is withdrawn and vicious, violent whenever anyone comes too near her (for the only ones that come close are those who want to hurt her) and fights like a cornered wildcat with no regard for herself, only wishing to hurt and deter her opponent. But although the innocent, idealistic persona that she once possessed is obviously destroyed, behind her half-mad, wild exterior there is still probably the softer, gentler being that once lived in Mirkwood, quick to argue, quicker to laugh, ready to love. But what is love now? Is that also an illusion…?

HISTORY: Raeis was born to a hardworking but lowly family Mirkwood, some way from the palace. She lived with her family and worked hard and honestly, carving and sewing with her mother and selling the items they made with her father and two brothers. But she always yearned for something more, sure there must be more to life, and so when she was nearly two hundred she went to work in the palace, with illusions of becoming a fine courtier, close to the king, a loyal advisor to him and friend to the princes… However, such fantasies were soon put straight when she became a maid in the palace. Once again, it was honest hard work, decently paid and not overly hard, but it still left the idealistic young elf to dream about more. But she endured it, gaining promotion and working hard to keep her place and to keep sending the money to her mother. After she had worked there for a few years, her courtship began with another elf who worked in the palace, a chamberlain by the name of Caromanieth (although Raeis cannot even remember her full name, she both cherishes and curses his, burned on her memory with love and regret). He was as idealistic and gentle as she, a dreamer with his head in the clouds but, like her, his feet still on the ground.

But one day, on a sudden whim, the pair decided to search for adventure themselves. It was painfully clear that it was not coming to them, and they both yearned for the ‘more’ that they thought they knew must exist. Within a few days, they were ready to do, eloping together away from Mirkwood and from everything about the old life that they had known, heading South.

But things beyond their control, beyond the control of any, were not stirring further South, and when the pair came to the plains of Rohan, after a few months of happy, blissful, carefree travelling, their life was suddenly shattered. Warg riders. The orcs killed Caromanieth and, in a way, they stole Raeis’s life as well – by taking her prisoner they destroyed everything she had ever and would ever have. Elves were valuable, and they took her back to Mordor in the hope of reward.

Raeis never told them her real name, or her family details – stubborn to the last, she endured many different types of inquisitional torture as they attempted to find out whether they could use the elf-woman as currency, blackmail. Raeis had always been taught to be loyal and faithful, and so she didn’t say a word to help them. All they ever found out from her was the shortened version of her name: Raeis. It was the last word Caromanieth had cried out before he died. ”Raeis, run! Get away, for the sake of…run, Raeis...” Eventually they grew tired of trying to find information from her, but they were not yet tired of her – they kept her alive as a…toy. Something to do. And so her torture continued, both physical and emotional, all sorts of abuse whenever the guards wanted something to do, something to occupy themselves. She fought back, always fought back, at the start anyway…but as she lost track of days and went without company or sunlight for so long, tortured by the thought that her family must think her a callous deserter, she was nearly driven mad, alone and isolated both literally and in her mind…

~*~

Amanaduial’s post

Deep down beneath the tower, in the depths that did not even feel the natural wind through it’s corridors or the run on its hard stone floors, a lone prisoner waited in a cell. Waited, I say, but then, waiting implies hope, and this prisoner has barely any of that left. A lone strand, barely anything at all, remained in her broken and disjointed mind, but it is all she is surviving on.

At the back of the dark cell lay what resembled like a pile of rags, tattered and torn, strewn in a loose pile as if shaken then discarded by some larger-than-life dog. But if you look closer, avoiding the dank smell of rot and blood, both dried and fresh, you would see a body underneath these rags. Another clank from above and the body does not move, and neither does it respond to the drawn-out, agonised scream which is suddenly cut short which floats from high above. The being is barely recognisable now, it’s skin mottled, bruised and torn, it’s limbs broken and disjointed, but one thing is sure. Whatever it once was, the being is dead.

But something in the cell responded.

Near the door, in the darkest, gloomiest corner, something stirred, a brief, sudden movement as a limb spasms and a gasp sounded quietly. One blue eye, old before it’s time, snapped open, and Raeis looked around, her gaze quick and darting. As another rattle, closer this time, sounded from above, and the sound of a man’s voice calls, the elf tried suddenly to move towards the door, but is pulled short suddenly by the ropes binding her wrists above her head to a loop of metal hammered into the wall. Raeis gasped again, painfully struggling once more against the ropes, her legs kicking frantically from the rough stone wall, heedless of the scrapes across her bare ankles, as her nightmare began to come real once more – the nightmare that someone was coming closer and she couldn’t do anything to defend herself. Maybe it was a nightmare…her detached mind drifted through the thought and she ceased for a moment.

Another clank sounded and the elf made up her mind. She was surer than she had been of anything in the past few torturous years – this time, it was real. And despite every instinct that she had developed in that time, she was going to have to do the one thing everything in her mind screamed against.

“H…help.” Her cry was feeble, coming from a throat unused to calling, but, bracing herself, she tried again. “Help…help!”

Suspended by her wrists against the wall, her feet about half an inch off the floor, Raeis twisted around the try to see out of the barred slot in the door. The young elf woman had been tied in this position for several hours, and she guessed it was probably morning: the guards had taken the correct number of watches for it to be a few hours from dawn, not that that meant anything down here. But where was the next? The last monster had gone sometime when Raeis was asleep, and another had not yet come – the always rested their spears in one of the holes into the cell, poking the spear through as if to tease her, knowing that she would gladly take it, throw herself upon it…even if just to see if this existence was real. But this hour…it seemed to have stretched forever. Hearing another clank, Raeis twisted again, the ropes biting into her wrists once more and opening up new wounds, but in her desperation she only spared them a moment, biting her lip.

“Help! Please I…” she trailed off, breathing heavily as she writhed furiously, attempting to get out of the ropes although she knew they were done up tight. It was just another form of torturing the elf, to hang her like this. The other rope, which wound around her neck before passing through the loop above with the one tying her wrists, pulled tight every time she struggled, choking her and making breathing and calling hard. Against all sense, she continued to struggle, coughing and choking against the noose as she called, until eventually she saw a shadow cross the door’s slot. For a moment, she thought the dark figure was an orc, another guard, but as it paused and looked in, she saw bright, blue eyes gleaming in what little light was cast from a guttering lamp. Giving another sharp, dry cough, her throat feeling as though someone had taken a saw to it, she twisted her fingers once more, feebly this time, against the ropes, and looked into the man’s eyes with her one, dark blue one.

“Help…” she whispered.

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:39 PM

alaklondewen – Easterling

NAME: Lyshka (LEESH – ka)

AGE: She knows she is close to twenty years, but whether she has passed the mark yet or not, she is unsure.

RACE: Easterling

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Lyshka has no possessions whatsoever.

APPEARANCE: Lyshka’s long face is framed by short, thick, uneven black hair that one of the men she had worked alongside chopped with a crude knife in return for a blow she administered to his gut after he touched her inappropriately. Her small, dark-brown eyes peer over a short pointed nose with a visible scar across the bridge. Her lips are full and firmly pressed together. Lyshka wears a stern expression and has not smiled since she was a small child.

Lyshka is tall for her gender and her frame is so thin from starvation combined with hard labor that her dark skin appears to be simply stretched over her bones. The filthy, torn rags that cover her body do not hide her flesh and provide no protection from the elements.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Lyshka is tough, but she’s had to be. She’s had to protect herself in the fields of Mordor, and she sports several scars as trophies to her grit. Once there had been the spirit of a loving and beautiful little girl deep inside her heart, but now she was hardened, cold, and eroded.

Every person Lyshka trusted in her life betrayed her and she eventually pushed the pain so far down that she was numb. Numb is how she remained. She trusts no one, especially men for they have done nothing but use her.

HISTORY: Lyshka came from a family that lived with a group of wayfarers that traveled in the southern lands of Middle Earth. Her mother was distant and emotionally detached, and her father made his living through thievery and gambling. One night her father made a bad bet to some Southron soldiers on their way to Mordor. Not being able to pay the men and facing death or torture because of it, Lyshka’s father gave them his little girl to pay his debt. Lyshka was only five years old at the time.

The soldiers abused her and took her to Mordor where she was made to work in the fields in the south. As she grew she gained more attention from men, not only guards but those that worked and housed beside her. She had to learn to fight to protect herself from their advances, although she still lost occasionally to them, especially when they would gang up and several would attack her.

One evening as she made her way back to the stall where she slept, a guard waited for her and as she passed him, he attacked her. Caught off guard, Lyshka tried to fight back but he was too big, too strong. They had struggled for several minutes, when her eyes and hands found his short dagger. Before he knew what was happening, Lyshka stabbed the guard several times until she could push his limp body from hers.

The Orc guards that found her considered killing her on the spot, which in truth she would not have minded, but instead, they decided to send her to Cirith Ungol where she would wait until her turn came to be fed to the beast in the mountains.

~*~

alaklondewen’s post

Lyshka had heard the commotion in the tower, but paid it no heed. Her cell was dark with shadows and the floor was cold as she sat against the wall with her long legs tucked beneath her chin. Her eyes stared blankly into the darkness as her mind simply worked to pass the time quickly so her body would not feel the pain of hunger.

Then, her ears began to pick up on a sound that was unexpected…the jingling of keys and the swinging of the iron doors. The prisoners around her called out and the first sounds of joy she had heard in many years flooded the dungeon. Lyshka slowly pushed herself up with her hands and crept to the door. She peaked through the window, but kept herself hidden in the shadows.

A young man was freeing the other prisoners. One cell at a time he inserted the key, turned it, and let the door fall open. Lyshka watched as he made his way one by one to her cell door. She stepped backward. Only her face was not consumed by the darkness. The man stepped forward, and she heard the shift of the lock. Still, she would not allow hope to rise in her, and she touched the door and studied the young man’s face with suspicion. Sensing her movement, he met her gaze with dull blue eyes, and then he turned from her and continued his task.

Lyshka held her breath as the door slowly opened. She knew nothing of freedom and taking a step toward it was one of the most terrifying actions she ever made.

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:41 PM

Kransha – Dwarf

NAME: Brór Stormhand

AGE: 103

RACE: Dwarf

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: At the moment, nothing, but he fancies himself very good with his fists.

APPEARANCE: Brór has narrow, brown eyes almost hidden between a bulky brow and thick eyebrows. His skin is rough and darkened tan from time spent in the sweltering outdoors, but that only serves to augment his already dark composure. He has a long, bristly black beard, speckled with the first strands of misplaced grey, unkempt hair of the same color which has grown long, reaching to his shoulders now, and a stony face, seemingly capable of only a few expressions. He is relatively sinewy, just as most dwarves are, sturdily built and stands with his head high, even in his current state, reaching a height impressive to some dwarves, roughly five feet and one inch off the ground, but it still not very imposing to higher-headed folk. He wears nothing but an extensive layering of multicolored, tattered rags shoddily slapped together.

PERSONALITY: Once a very jovial, merry, and talkative dwarf, imprisonment somewhat subdued his common nature. Like most dwarves, but more so than some and less so than others, he is stubborn and prideful whenever he gets the chance to be. Despite his irksome obstinacy, Brór is always staunchly loyal when he finds something to be loyal to. He is secretive about what he knows, but tries to discuss as much as he can about the old times with other dwarf prisoners, though he rarely gets a chance to so away from the watchful eyes of orcish captors. When set on a cause, he follows it through to the end, but will sometimes take dreary hiatuses from any goal, especially during his imprisonment in the Tower of Cirith Ungol. He is quick-tempered at times, and does not take insult or scorn lightly, with his fiery temperament and strength to back him up. Bror sometimes acts before thinking, but has done this much less since the date of his arrival at Cirith Ungol.

HISTORY: Brór was born in year 2916 of the Third Age, among the ranks of Durin’s Folk in exile, lorded over by their exiled king, Thorin Oakenshield. He was too young and inexperienced to fight very much, or very well, when the dwarves reclaimed Erebor, but soon became one of the many revered dwarven warriors in the halls of Erebor. He trained himself in the ways of war beside his brethren at the Lonely Mountain.

In 2989, Brór followed Balin from Erebor with a troop of dwarves to retake Khazad-dum. On the route south, a raid by goblins, barely a skirmish, resulted in the capture of Bror and several of his brethren, much to their chagrin. The few dwarf prisoners were taken at first to less well-guarded orcish camps and made to work for them, Since the goblins were an unorganized band, relying on brutality to keep order, one of Brór’s close friends who’d been captured as well began devising a plan, which he indoctrinated the rest of the dwarves and prisoners in the camp into. The prisoners rebelled but the orcs proved more powerful than before and quelled the uprising. All the ringleaders, including Brór’s companion, were brutally tortured and slain in cold blood by the orc forces, but the others were spared. Bror, determined to die with just as much honor as his friend, attempted to rally another uprising shortly after, but it was quelled with more ease.

Realizing Brór’s purpose, the orcs decided it would be best not to kill him. Instead, he and the last dwarves in the camp were taken to the dungeons of Cirith Ungol, where he was again imprisoned. Before his first month, almost all of his brethren had succumbed to the strain of life in the tower. There were not many dwarves in the dungeons, and Brór did not seek to make friends with the men and elves. The dwarf hoped eternally that he could do something so vile that it would provoke the orcs to give him to spider that lurked in the pass nearby, thinking optimistically that he might take the beast with him, but his captors never did. He spent most of his time not working for his captors trying to keep his knowledge of Khuzdul, the tongue of the dwarves, sharp in his mind, as he began to forget as years passed. He spent 19 years in Cirith Ungol, and developed two goals, each an alternative to the other. He resolved to either die fighting the orcs, or somehow manage to escape…

~*~

Kransha’s post

Bror sat, as he always did, leaning in cold and solemn silence against the rough-rocked wall of his cell, the back of his thick skull pounding, a resonating beat thumping like a drum in the back of his head as he sat, his eyes firmly shut with heavy eyelids sealed as if they were sewn together. There was very little light to let in, but the checkered shadows around him let in slim plumes of light whenever they were absent, though Bror had discovered that this was mostly a silhouette drama fabricated by his own mind, which was gnawed at daily by the insect of tedium. Even though that invisible spider was not as lethal as the monstrous being who skulked through the jagged rocks of the pass of Cirith Ungol, its omnipresence in Bror was just as painful.

‘Baruk Khazâd. Khazâd aimênu.’ He chanted slowly in his head, hearing the melodious thunder of the dwarven battle-cry pounding incessantly in his ears, the blast of it increasing as the dragging moments passed, roared by a hundred of his folk at least, a chorus that lingered in the blank corridors just before his eyes, beneath his nose, under his beard, and out of his reach. He breathed deep, the beard hair around his mouth blowing about as a sail would in a calm sea breeze. His eyes beginning to open, his ears quivered sensitively, listening to the murderous, raucous cries that rained down on him from the levels of the tower above.

There were sounds, not that there ever weren’t, but these sounds held a strange feeling in them that wafted like smoke through the rusted bars of Brór’s cell. He lips parted as he began mouthing the words inaudibly to himself, thinking even in his tongue, although he feared he would never need the language again. He knew that no one else in Cirith Ungol knew the words he spoke of save the other few dwarves, and he had long considered attempting to teach it to the other prisoners, just so he would not be alone in the knowledge, but it was a miserably foolish thought and his secretive nature would not allow him even to speak it aloud, coupled with threats from the orcs, who didn’t appreciate their prisoners saying things that they couldn’t understand. One dwarf had made that mistake and paid a most terrible price, but sights such as that no longer haunted Bror.

He managed to shift from his position, inching his way forward through the dank cell that contained him. His eyes widened weakly, his furrowed brow easing up as he looked through the bars and peered out, circumspect, observing his surroundings which he was so familiar with. Sounds of vicious mayhem had been rattling and clanging above him for a long time now, but those sounds had drifted away, out of his hearing, and he suspected that whatever struggle had occurred, it was now over. Suddenly, his keen eyes flitted to a figure scurrying down the damp hallway, busying himself with the unlocking of cells. At first, Bror could not fathom what was going on, as he ceased thinking in Khuzdul and reverted involuntarily back to the tongue so oft used in Cirith Ungol, being the only one that all races within new and were fluent in.

Was it possible? Were the prisoners being freed? Was this some sort of mass feeding session for the spider in the pass? He considered as quickly as he could, his dulled mind sharpening upon the whetstone of spontaneity in the span of an instant. He stepped back from the icy bars, half in shock and half in a pooling mixture of horror and glee, as the man, a black-haired being, lean and with the same look as many human prisoners, but with an odd glint in his eye, unlocked his cell door and hurried off as the barred object that had held Bror in this forsaken place for 19 years swung open, limp and useless, as if it were nothing. Staggering with a weight that had never been before, and another weight removed, Bror walked out, through the threshold, and into the hall.

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:43 PM

Durelin – slave of Mordor

NAME: Jordo

AGE: Older than 20

Race: Man of Gondor

GENDER: Male

APPEARANCE: Relatively short and stocky with dark hair and eyes, pale skin and a few freckles around his small nose. He has thick limbs, strong, muscular arms and legs from years of exerting work. His body has adapted to the lifestyle that has been forced upon him. His skin has grown rough and hard, his feet to the greatest extent, resembling those of a hobbit. His hair has been unkempt for too long, and has grown very coarse, but it remains curly and untamed through all abuses. It never grows far past his shoulders, though it has only been cut twice in his life. He is not allowed much in terms of clothing, but even orcs understand the dignity in covering certain parts of the body, thanks to their very few humane attributes. A basic body tunic composed of an unknown material is all that is allowed, and it is considered to be enough. The slaves are actually quite happy with such a small amount of clothing, as the heat from ever burning fires surrounds them as they work, though there is no sunlight. At night, or whenever they sleep, it is fiery and sunless as well, of course. It is always night in Mordor.

PERSONALITY/HISTORY: Born a slave, Jordo knows nothing but fear and obedience. He has lived as all but an animal. His mother tried to nurture the seeds of humanity within him to growth until her death several years ago. He has been told of how humans live and how they should be free, but it is hard for him to believe in even the existence of a human world. There has never been any proof of this, other than the stories his mother would tell. And he never had understood why she told them if they made her so sad.

After years of watching his mother in pain, too proud to cry out until the pain made her forget anything but, Jordo has determined that he must obey. He knows of some of this pain himself, though he refuses to believe that any of it reached the greatness of what his mother withstood. After watching his mother die in the hands of his masters, Jordo is afraid of pain above all else. And the greatest pain, he believes, is found in death. He knows; he has felt it, hasn’t he?

His name even reflects this situation, at least the name he relates with himself. His full name has been lost in the small capacity of his mind and memory. Most of his memories revolve around his mother, and ‘Jordo’ was what his mother had always called him. It is an abbreviation of his real name, but he is not aware of this. He is aware of very little, and even his speech is limited, mainly just because he is out of practice. Since the death of his mother, he has had little contact with real human. She had been one of the strongest of the past generation of slaves, the generation that had known freedom, and many had fallen under an orc sword, whip, or hand, never to rise again, before her. Jordo sees little but orcs and creatures such as himself, and that little is made up of monsters much worse than his taskmasters, as these terrors are taskmaster to them.

Jordo has come to understand that he is there to serve, to do as he is told, and he has made it impossible for himself to disobey. Luckily, though he does not see it as lucky, his mother has done enough to keep disobedience as a thought in his mind. He has ignored this thought for years now, though, and it has begun to fade from being at all a temptation. Jordo has even begun to think of rewards, the few and pitiful ones that are given to those who serve well. But the desire for these ‘treats’ always brings guilt upon him, as the memories of his mother tell him that this is wrong. Jordo has begun to be unsure of what exactly is wrong much less what is right. Truly, he has never been able to – much less had the chance to – seize either concept as truth.

~*~

Durelin’s post

Another scream reverberated in his head, and it shook his mind, thus shaking his entire body in a convulsive shiver. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he had no trouble recognizing that sound of pain, and who felt that pain. It was sad that he knew his mother’s scream just as well as he did her loving voice, but he did not understand this. Jordo knew he felt something, and it was so very uncomfortable. This was painful, in some way – he thought he understood ‘pain’ – but he wondered why he felt pain. Pain was a punishment, and he had been good.

Jordo remained curled up on the ground, listening to the screams for several moments, until a hand touched him softly on the arm. It was cold and rough, blistered and bony, but it still sent warmth running through him, knowing that this was not an orc hand. He pulled his head out from within his arms, and noticed that the world around him had grown silent. There were no more screams. His mother knelt next to him in the dirt and soot, her face showing no signs of pain. And Jordo’s eyes were dry. The world was so silent.

“Mama, I’ll be good, mama! I won’ hurt you mama, I’ll be good! They won’ hurt us, I’ll be so much good!”

“So very good, Jordo.” Her loving voice made him smile, even though she now spoke without her mind, as it was wandering in sadness. “What you do can’t stop them from hurting your mama, and I’d never want it to. You must let them hurt me, Jordo.”

“Never!” he cried, but still his eyes were dry. His mother smiled.

“If you truly mean never, Jordo, they will hurt you so much more.”

“What you mean, mama? Mama?”

There was no answer, and now he looked down at his mother as she lay on the ground. She lay on the ground, silent and still, and yet his eyes were dry. “Mama?” his voice cried out in an horror and a growing anguish that he could not feel.

“You let them hurt you, mama!”

Now the sounds returned to his silent world, though he could not determine what he heard or distinguish any single sound. A warm itchiness tickled at his cheek, and his hand reached up to scratch it. He felt a wetness, and with this feeling so many others returned to his mind, and he cried freely. The knowledge of where he was, and that seeing his mother had had to have been a dream, made his body shake in small sobs.

Metal ground and screeched, and they were the first noticeable sounds yet heard. He was alone, yet he was in the little room he had known all his life: his cell. And so he felt at ease. He dried his eyes. They were coming to get him, it seemed, though it was not time yet for work; he knew that. But he also knew that he had nothing to fear, because he had always been so very good. But it was not an orc that came for him, but a man dressed in the same garb as Jordo. In his hand was a set of keys.

“Come with me!” he whispered urgently, and Jordo was so ready to obey that he was silent as he rose to follow the man.

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:44 PM

Bethberry – slave of Mordor

Race: Southron (from Far, Far Harad)

Gender: Female

Weapon: None but her wits and her training as a protector of her tribe. If she can find one on a dead orc, a bow, but with now crippled arms she might not be able to use it.

Appearance: Her real name is know only to herself, Kashtia Ma’at-Ka-Re. She was called by the orcs in the rudeness of their tongue, Ghâsh’naga but has been renamed by Grash.

She is not emaciated, for the slaves of her labour were fed decently and, even, pampered for a time by other slaves and she would swim daily, obsessively, for long hours, in the perfumed baths available to her once her forearms healed, broken early in her captivity in the malignancy and cruelty of her captors as a means of restricting her resistance. She has a supple and shapely musculature which speak to her past life of athletic prowess, but her arms have mended poorly. Her skin is a burnished, dusky caramel underlaid with rippling shades of dark tea but it is marred by bluish-grey blotches of extensive bruising. Eyes of glowing topaz look out on upon a world with a proud self-possession which suggests the very opposite of vulnerability: an impenetrability despite the abuse she has faced. Indeed, they complement the handsomeness and regal dignity of her facial bone features. Her hair is the colour of dark pools of water at their deepest depth and her earlobes are torn in two, where earrings were brutally ripped from her ears. She is tall for a woman, at least as tall as Grash if not taller and a proud, effortless carriage can still be detected in her movements. However, in her demeanour can be seen a deliberate effort to neglect and even besmirch the features of her beauty: her intricately braided hair is unkempt; the dirt of the cell cakes her legs and feet; her nails are filthy. Her feet bare, she wears a ragged, faded shift of once ornate and splendid colour and pattern, with ripped sleeves and torn edges, as if its tearing was a desecration of her culture and tribe. She wears it nonetheless with a solemn pride.

Personality and History: She was a fiercely independent protector of an ancient tribe in the distant reaches of Far Harad. Her tribe she calls the Amazigh and, if she would speak of it, she is of the city of Makhubela. She is in fact a figure from old mythologies, an Amazon warrior. She is a woman who has known no inferiority or inequality. She has the self-sufficiency of a matriarchal warrior and has developed during her captivity great disgust for the men of northern cultures, and, indeed, for what she sees as the depravity of northern cultures. She rarely speaks, for who would know her language, and she despises the Black Speech which has surrounded her; she reacts with a strangely calm, stoic passivity which in fact represents a profound indifference to her captors and their power over her. She would move swiftly at the opportunity of escape, not simply from the Tower, but from the entire region, to make her way back to her tribe, but the different star patterns of the more northern sky perplex her and she has yet to learn their ways.

She was captured over a year ago by a roving band of marauders from Umbar who had attacked her village seeking treasure and slaves for barter with Mordor, where her unusual form of beauty and status fed the curiosity and contempt of the men of Mordor towards the cultures they wished to colonise and enslave. Her studied indifference and the blemishing of her prime beauty through abuse and neglect and assault has ultimately led her captors to tire of her and so she was sent to the Tower to become a feast for the monster. She has languished in her cell, watching curiously the relative freedom of Grash and listening closely to the patterns of events in the Tower for any signs of how she can escape.

~*~

Bêthberry’s post

The cell was cool, dank, dark. The stone walls sweated and against these she pressed her body, for the coolness and the moisture alleviated the sore swelling of the bruises on her back and limbs. Amid such relief, she dreamed.

Nyumbani unada ye mkulima. Mtu utakuyo ndege. She sang to herself the old words which she had not heard for over fifteen moons save from her own tongue. How often had she recited the story of the hunter who, trapped by the lion, had miraculously turned into a bird and flown away high above the beast. She told herself the story over and over again as she thought of ways to make herself a bird and escape. Caged she was, but she would sing.

~ ~ ~

At first, when she awoke to find herself in chains in the Umbarian camp, she spoke up to the marauders in her tongue and for that she was cuffed about the head, hits that brought back the surging pain in her head which she had felt before blackness swarmed over her mind during the attack. Every time she had spoken the tongue of the Amazigh, her tribe of Far Harad, she had been hit or scorned. Sometimes the brutes of Umbar would throw their garbage at her and taunt her with pidgin imitation of her speech and soon she soon gave up speaking in her tongue aloud. But she refused to use the tongue of Umbar, the words of those who bartered her people as payment for weapons from men even more foul than they. For that reason the jackals of Umbar had begrudgingly fed her, keeping her healthy on the journey out of her land, for her caramel skin and golden eyes and lithe body would bring a high price from the men of Mordor.

She had watched the sky change as they brought her into this strange land until she could no longer tell direction from the stars at night. Part of the time, too, she had been drugged so she could not remember the route. No longer could she smell the scent of the tamarisk tree or of cinnamon in the radiant heat of the savannah. Instead, the air hung heavy with acrid odours and she came to know the scent of sulfur for the first time in her life.

She could remember only too well, however, the indignities and abuse from the hands and bodies of these swilling men who were no better than warthogs. Mordor she would repeat to herself, learning its name and some of the words of their vicious speech, as rough in tongue as the speakers were in attitude and action, but she would never give them the satisfaction of speaking their language to them. She had fought them at first, until they had broken her arms for her defiance and she could no longer fight them off. The snap of her bones breaking had brought back the pain in her head incurred during the attack on Makhubela, her home village. Many things were to bring back that pain and add other wounds. Unable to resist physically, she had taken the pain into herself and given it a name, kwenye darasa, until she had become so intimate with it she could follow its path and would know its duration and could recognise when it would peak. And in binding herself to the pain she took control of it and became utterly indifferent to her captors and their desires. And they tired of her indifference and intransigence and beat her in ways anew. Then they threw her off into this cell, taunting her that she would be fed to a monster blacker than she and more loathsome.

~ ~ ~

Shehemu yakii! Her dream was disrupted by howls of rage and hurt and the clang of steel upon steel from some kind of fracas in the courtyard; her senses became alert as she heard the screeching of the strange watchers and then warily observed the slave Grash run down the hallway. She tensed as if for battle when she saw him, for there was an urgency to his movements she had not seen in him previously, but he ignored the calls of other captives.

She was curious about Grash. He had been startled to see her when she was first brought down to the cells, and stared with undisguised curiosity at her dusky skin. In her tongue she had asked him if her skin was much different from his own tanned hide, yet he had not hit her as the Umbarians had. He spoke in a tongue different from that of the filthy warthogs yet not one she knew. He would speak its words to her occasionally when he came to sweep her cell or bring what food was given to her and she remembered them in her cunning. He had come to call her Darash after overhearing her speak several times to her pain, for she had refused to divulge her real name to him and he had refused to repeat the name the orcs had given her. He smelled different than the foul men of Mordor and she had come to realise that despite his seeming freedom he also was captive.

Then more footsteps sounded outside her cell and she pressed herself even closer to the wall, hoping to disguise herself and perhaps gain an advantage. Yet, instead of one of the foul creatures it was Grash who reappeared. He opened her cell door and called to her, “Darash.” She stood to her full height but without comprehension until he beckoned with his head and grabbed her elbow, drawing her with haste into the hallway. At first she resisted but then she followed him, wary, and yet aware that something had changed, like the sudden hesitation in the air of a dry season storm which would bring release after calamitous drought.

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:46 PM

Aylwen Dreamsong – male Southron

Name: Jeren

Age: around 25

Race: Southron of Khand/Harad

Gender: Male

Weapons: All his weapons were confiscated when he was caught and brought to the tower, which angered Jeren almost as much as being captured in the first place. However, Jeren knows well how to use the bow and a set of arrows, and has a fair hand with any set of daggers set before him. While he never had extensive training with any kind of blade longer than a dagger, Jeren would rather use a broadsword or rapier than go into a fray empty handed. But this silly thinking is what got him caught in the first place, so Jeren is hesitant to ever use a long sword again.

Appearance: Strong and athletic, Jeren has the warrior build of his people. His dark mahogany curls frizz easily, falling just into his eyes and right below his ears. Stony grey eyes sit just about proud cheekbones and a determined, set jaw. He rarely smiles, and at most times there will be a contemplative look upon his brown-tan face. He wears a light tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The shirt has tattered since arriving at the tower, as have the hems of his brown breeches. He used to have a pair of nice, black leather boots, but they were taken upon arrival and deemed as a ‘nice find’ by the guards. Without his shoes, his tribal tattoos are visible all along the outer side of his calves.

Personality: Jeren’s appearance mirrors his persona. He will be strong for others, and will rally others to bring them to the best of their abilities. He is always up for the challenge of being a leader. He will never show outward weakness to others, and tries his best and hardest to hide all inward weaknesses, though he has yet to perfect the latter endeavor. While Jeren will always motivate and be determined for other people, Jeren has a hard time fighting for himself. Jeren feels like if he has no one to disappoint but himself, he does not try as hard. However, when he has people depending on him Jeren rises to the occasion, never wanting to let anyone down. Jeren’s most intense fears are disappointing others and being a failure to them.

History: Jeren comes from a strong warrior clan that roams the borders of Khand, Near Harad, and Mordor. While not a leader of his clan, Jeren led many fighting expeditions in his time of freedom. During the years of the war, Jeren worked as a strategic captain and led some of his and other clans’ best warriors on reconnaissance work, indirectly for the purposes in Sauron’s fight for leadership of Middle Earth. Jeren and his troop traveled as far west as Dol Amroth and as far north as Rhovanion and Rhun working for the forces of Mordor.

On one expedition to the areas near Mirkwood, three of Jeren’s men were caught by the light-footed elven kind. Interrogations revealed plans for an attack on the border of Mirkwood, and plans went awry for the battalions fighting under Sauron as their enemies had been informed and could prepare for battle. After learning of the lost men, the leader of Sauron’s forces at Mirkwood blamed Jeren for the mishap and loss. Jeren was stripped of his title as captain and taken back as a prisoner of Mordor and branded a traitor of their cause.

~*~

Aylwen Dreamsong’s post:

Alone.

Jeren had never been so alone in his life.

In his small, confined imprisonment room Jeren could find little comfort. The dank, dusty stone walls and the little candle that held all light in the room held no warm company. The wooden entryway in the floor that led to a small set of creaky wooden stairs did not offer hope of escape; Jeren knew who – or what – awaited him should he dare to open the decaying slab of wood. Jeren suspected it had been locked anyway. The metal bars on the left wall opened to some other cell, but Jeren had not been in his own room long enough to wonder if any other beings had been held prisoner.

Alone.

Jeren had no company save for the noises of battle outside the tower.

They had been rumbling and shouting for a long while, or so it had seemed to Jeren. None of it gave any hope to Jeren. If the attackers came out victorious, Jeren was likely to be pursued and killed for his days of fighting in league with Sauron. If the attackers were massacred, he would still end up in the high tower as prisoner. He would remain a prisoner in his own King’s castle. Jeren had little pride left in him and no one to fight for. After being deemed a traitor and a piece of scum by those he had fought for and those he had led, Jeren had little motivation to do anything. His own life would never be worth enough to try and save, and he had spent his whole life trying to help others. Jeren sighed as he thought about the past, which had been dedicated to others, then held his breath as he took a good look at the present.

Alone.

Jeren did not know how long he had been in the cell.

His clothes had already begun to tatter, though. At the hems Jeren could see the threads unraveling, releasing the pressure and care woven into breeches he had worn for so many years. Jeren’s thick black curls did not feel as soft or bouncy as they once had, while his face and body burned with the pain of a thousand scrapes and bruises. His dark eyes had long clouded over in misery, losing the sharp black gaze and being replaced with hardened and disheartened anger. Still, no matter how many thoughts brashly ran throughout his mind, he remained alone…

…That is, until someone stuck their head through the little door in the floor.

“I am Grash…follow me!”

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:49 PM

Fordim Hedgethistle – Game Owner

NAME: Grash

AGE: He’s not sure: somewhere in his mid-twenties.

RACE: Men

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: None but his wits (and whatever he can pick up from the corpses of the Tower)

APPEARANCE: Grash is lean to the point of emaciation but sinewy and tough like an old tree that has grown where none thought one could survive. His skin is dark tan from years spent in the sun labouring in Sauron’s fields in the south of Mordor. His hair is black and curly like an Easterling, but his eyes are blue, testimony to the mixed heritage of the slaves who fuel the machine of war in the land of Darkness. He is of average height and physically unprepossessing, but he can be extremely dangerous when cornered or threatened. He never smiles, and it is possible that he has never laughed in his life. By the same token, crying and expressions of sadness or pain are impossible to imagine upon his countenance. He is dressed only in a pair of ragged trousers and a patched shirt through the many holes of which his naked body is clearly visible.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Grash has been a slave his whole life and knows nothing of the outside world. Due to the brutality and the hopelessness of his life he has become fiercely independent, with a will of iron that frequently hurts himself more than it does others. He trusts absolutely nobody, convinced that the world is run by the same rules that have governed his existence from birth. To Grash, life is brutal, short, dirty and bestial; the only way to find meaning in this world is to force it oneself.

HISTORY: Grash was born sometime in the winter just over twenty years ago. He never knew his mother as she died soon after his birth, hard at work – as they always were – in the huge cornfields on the shores of the Sea of Nûrnen. He has spent his entire life in slave compound seventy-two, every day suffering beneath the lash and scorn of the orcs who drive them to and from their labours. In the early days of his manhood, he attempted to make friends amongst the other slaves, but they died so quickly, or were sent to other farms or to dig in the mines, that he gave that up. Grash withdrew into himself ever more, cutting off all possible contact with other people and cultivating the cold and stone-hearted spirit of the hopeless slave that he very nearly became for ever.

One hot day two years ago, however, he watched – as he had a thousand times before – as the orcs who guarded them turned on one of the other slaves. She had been too slow in bringing something, or too quick in walking away, and now four of the monsters were beating her with their whips. To this day Grash could not say what it was about such a familiar sight that made him act, but act he did. Seizing his scythe he ran at the orcs and before they could subdue him he slew two and mortally wounded a third.

He was taken and whipped, then bound in cruel ropes and made to walk all the way to the Tower of Cirith Ungol where he was made to slave in the dungeons for the orcs. Each day he is told that he will be sent into the tunnels to be fed to the monster that dwells there, but he is past caring. A constant stream of prisoners comes from Barad Dûr and passes through the cells that Grash cleans, on their way to the monster’s lair – and all that Grash can do is wish for the day that he too will find solace in death.

~*~

FIRST POST FOR GAME

Fordim Hedgethistle‘s post

The sounds of chaos died down from the courtyard above and Grash slowly emerged from his hiding place in the storeroom. Casting furtive glances about for the guards he walked down the dark hallway past the cells, looking neither right nor left at the prisoners. He had long ago ceased to regard the folk who passed through this place as actual beings. Rather, he thought of them as creatures like himself: dead already, without the formality of having their breath stopped or their hearts stilled. A few of the prisoners spoke to him, asking him to free them but he passed on as heedless as wood. He reached the stairs and climbed slowly, his every fibre tensed and reaching outward for signs that his captors were still alive. All he could hear, however, was the unnatural wailing of the Silent Watchers as they screeched their warning to the listening mountains.

He had been climbing these stairs for two years now, and did not need a light to find his way. He soon reached the top and marked without emotion that the door, which was normally locked and barred as tightly as steel, had been left open. He poked his head through the door into the lowering gloom that lay upon this land always and looked about. The courtyard was filled with bodies and body parts. There was no movement. He stepped out of the door and picked his way through the courtyard toward the gate. Once, from somewhere high above, he thought he heard a cry and he fell immediately to the ground for fear of having been seen, but there came no other cry to interrupt the wailing of the Watchers. He continued and soon got to the Gate, but he found his way barred by some unknown and invisible will. It held him back like a huge black hand and try as he might he could not move forward. Finally, panting and gasping with the effort he fell back from the gaze of the watchers, defeated.

The last time Grash had cried he has been but a boy, and a sound whipping at the foul hands of an orc had cured him of that weakness. But this was almost more than he could bear. His guards were dead, and before his very eyes he could see the road that lead to his freedom stretching out, but he could not reach it. Once more he threw himself forward but this violence seemed only to increase the resistance and he fell back into the court once more. As he lay there he thought about the freedom that was so tantalizingly close, and realised that it really was nothing more than an impossible dream. The wailing of the Watchers was sure to bring more orcs soon, and there was already, no doubt, one of the Dark Lord's Screechers already winging toward this place. Grash turned from the gate and crawled back to the cells on his hands and knees. Better to hide in the storeroom again and await the orcs than be caught out here. If he plead ignorance of the events he might escape with only a whipping.

As he slunk into the hallway once more, however, he heard the calls of the prisoners and a new idea occurred to him. Alone and naked as he was, escape was impossible. He knew the ways and paths about Cirith Ungol well, and could easily find a way down from here to the road that lead westward to Minas Morgul. But beyond that he was lost. Even to get to that point alone and unarmed would be impossible…but with the help of other folk, it might just be possible. He sat for a moment and thought this over. He had never in his life considered the possibility that other people might be able to help him, but as hard as that thought might be, in this circumstance it actually made some kind of sense.

His decision suddenly made, Grash rushed down the hall to where he had seen the jailer’s body lying in a bloody heap. He pulled the keys from the beast’s belt and began unlocking the cell doors.

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:53 PM

CHARACTERS: NO FURTHER PLAYERS NEEDED

Six of the race of Men, male or female: (No Dunedain Rangers - as they would certainly never have let themselves be taken alive by the forces of Sauron; it would be nice to have Southrons and Easterlings, or slaves of Mordor in these roles.

1 Southron – Aylwen Dreamsong – Dedicated Player/see above
1 Easterling – alaklondewen - Dedicated Player/see above
1 Southron - Bethberry - Dedicated Player/see above
1 slave of Mordor – Durelin - Dedicated Player/see above

----------------------------------

2 slaves of Mordor – male or female – POSITIONS FILLED

~*~

Two Elves, male or female: (‘Low ranking’ Silvan Elves only - any from among the Noldor or nobility would be far too useful for Sauron to simply cast aside as a treat for Shelob)

1 Silvan Elf – Amanaduial the archer - Dedicated Player/see above

----------------------------------

1 Silvan Elf – male or female – POSITION FILLED

~*~

Three Dwarves, male

1 Dwarf – Kransha - Dedicated Player/see above

----------------------------------

2 male Dwarves – POSITIONS FILLED

__________________________________
__________________________________

Character types which would not belong: Any not listed above

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:53 PM

FIRST POSTS MUST BE SUBMITTED WITH YOUR CHARACTER DESCRIPTION

All character descriptions not accompanied by a First Post will be returned to their writers.

Players will NOT be chosen because they submitted their character earlier than the other players. The Game Owner, Fordim, will read each post and character bio and then make the choice for players accordingly.

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:54 PM

Please use this form for creating your character to post on the discussion thread.

It is a requirement that all potential game players will either have posted in one of the RPG Inns (preferably in The Green Dragon) or have played in an RPG on the Barrow Downs.

Those who have not played before in a Barrow Downs' RPG will be given preference. Final preference, though, will be at the discretion of the Game Owner.
_______________________________________

Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - Which one?

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in?

List them, please:

Please note you may play in only 2 (TWO) Shire games at one time. (The Green Dragon Inn DOES NOT count as a game for this.)

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES/NO – Which one?

_______________________________________

For your character please include:

NAME:

AGE:

RACE:

GENDER:

WEAPONS (No magical, super-hero, mithril weapons. Just good solid Middle-earth weapons and armor only that is appropriate to the race of the character and the time period.):

APPEARANCE:

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: (No half-Elven characters. No mixed-type characters. No super-heroes. No assassins. No one all powerful, martial arts proficient, or having any magical traits. Just regular characters with normal abilities for their races only):

HISTORY:

__________________________________

First post:

PLEASE NOTE:

First posts should take place in your character's cell as he or she listens to the sounds of battle and then is freed by Grash. Your character can reflect on what brought him or her to this sorry pass, think about his or her confinement or dream about his or her past.

----------------------------------

Character Descriptions without a First Post attached will be sent back to the writer. They may be submitted again, once there is a First Post to go with them.

piosenniel

06-21-2004, 12:54 PM

Characters Needed:

1.) 2 slaves of Mordor – race of Men - male or female (No Dunedain Rangers - as they would certainly never have let themselves be taken alive by the forces of Sauron; it would be nice to have Southrons and Easterlings, or slaves of Mordor in these roles.) ALL POSITIONS FILLED

~*~

2.) 1 Silvan Elf - male or female - POSITION FILLED

~*~

3.) 2 Dwarves - male ALL POSITIONS FILLED

piosenniel

06-25-2004, 11:03 AM

POSTED FOR:

Sarin Mithrilanger - (internet access problems)

1) I have never played an RPG at the Barrow Downs.

2)I am not currently involved in any RPG's.

3) Yes, I have posted in The Green Dragon Inn.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Name: Zuromor- Slave of Mordor

Age: Around 20

Race: Man

Gender: Male

Weapons: None at the moment, though after being in Mordor and constantly fighting for survival he has learned to use his body and wits as weapons.

Appearance: A tall man with hair black as the night itself and green eyes. His quick smile and helping hands for other slaves give a kind air to his person. He is well built; his body made hard by the harsh conditions in the slave camps. The rugged labor in Mordor has made him muscular, although the scarce food has left him whipcord thin. Sometimes, the constant hunger makes him feel close to death. His body is covered with old scars and new wounds from the beatings he receives almost daily from the slave handlers. His hair is unkempt - matted and very dirty. His beard is scraggly and filthy, also. His tunic is barely more than a ragged shirt. He has no breeches, only a worn loincloth. His feet are bare.

Personality/History: Born into slavery, bred in the very bowels of the deepest and darkest hells, Zuromor knows only the dark, bleak existence he has in Mordor. His time as a slave has been filled with daily difficulty and despair. He has often dreamt of places he has heard about from the other captured slaves - green hills and beautiful lands that must exist somewhere beyond this wretched world. For his entire life he has been beaten by orcs and tortured – and often just so the orcs would have some entertainment. Soon after he began to mature he began to exercise in his cell as often as he could. He knew the orcs would only torture him until their sick desires and disgusting pleasures became indulged by another sad and pathetic life-form. So he trained in case he would ever be able to kill at least one orc before they slaughtered him. In the end, he vowed, they would not get their pleasures so easily from him.

As if battling for his survival were not enough, he has fallen into thoughts of death - grabbing an orc’s spear through his bars and robbing them of their wishes to beat him and then tearing into his very flesh by killing himself. But he knew his death would mean nothing to him unless he could spill orc blood first.

He waited patiently for that chance.

----------------------------------

Sarin Mithrilanger’s post

Darkness spanned Zuromor’s entire cell once more. It was always dark and gloomy beyond all imagining. He sat in the darkest corner of both his cell and his mind. Dark thoughts came to him, besieged him. In an effort to shake himself away from such things he began to exercise, though he now tired of even thinking of doing such things. The orcs were not without intelligence however and they usually had a guard outside the group of cells his own was in – in case any of the slaves tried something foolish. But this night (or day) was different. There was no guard on watch. This seemed strange to him, but strange things often happened in Mordor.

He was just finishing up his routine when he heard raised voices and odd noises that soon sounded like keys. He approached the cell door and peered down as far as he could. Soon he saw a figure approaching. He sighed and stood in the center of his cell expecting an orc to come and threaten him. But in a matter of moments a man stepped in front of his door and unlocked it.

Zuromor was so shocked he dared not move. The man looked at him for a moment and then waved for him to follow. Zuromor hesitated - freedom seemed like another prison, just bigger. But maybe there is a land where orcs do not roam. He smiled briefly as the thought crossed his mind. He quickly followed this mysterious figure to his first taste of freedom. He was out of his cell and for the first time, there were no orcs around him.

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-25-2004, 02:34 PM

Welcome aboard Sarin! I very much like your character's grim determination to take at least one orc with him before he goes -- perhaps, if he's lucky, he'll get the chance to do something very like that before the end of the game ;)

Game Note -- I have been PMed by two people already about the remaining Dwarf position, so for the time being we should consider that part taken (I have yet to receive bios/posts from those players, though).

So that leaves just the Elf position to fill.

Amanaduial the archer

06-25-2004, 03:38 PM

Hey all,

Wonderful, an excellently dark game. I'm just sticking my head in to say I am here, etc.

- Aman

Novnarwen

06-25-2004, 04:16 PM

Hi! This looks like a very nice game. I would like to apply for the Slave of Mordor. I see now that someone has already applied for the position, but as I had already written half the bio and post, I'll post anyway. (Fordim, I tried PMing you, but I going soon so I will post it here.)

Character Description Form: Applying for the Slave of Mordor

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - Which one?

Yes. I have played in the following: Hunt for the Dragon, Corsairs and Corsets, Breelanders All!, Flight from Rohan and Setting Sails for Valinor.

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in?

List them, please: I’m currently in Defense of the Poros and Search for Rhûn.
_______________________________________

For your character please include:

NAME: Rhând (Raaaan)

AGE: 26

RACE: Southron (Haradrim)

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: None at the moment, but his own cleverness. He used to have quite a collection of knives though, which he was very proud of.

APPEARANCE: His mother was a Gondorian. She was held imprisoned in Near Harad. At the time she was freed, she had nowhere to go as she didn’t know where she came from. She had been a prisoner for many years, but found comfort in a hurried marriage with a tired Haradrim soldier. Their son, Rhând inherited quite a few of the Gondorian features, but was of mind a Haradrim.
- Rhând has dark blond hair. Before he was taken to the Tower as a prisoner, it was short, and neatly cut. Now on the other hand, it's quite long and knitted into a pony-tail. His eyes are brown. The spirit he used to have is lost, but somewhere in there, there is spirit and hatred enough to shine through when the time comes. The months in the Tower has made him weary. Dark rings around his eyes make him look dangerous and grim. In the centre of his grim face, his nose is situated. It is big, and the tip points upwards. It looks crooked, as if belonged to an old man. To tell you the truth, it looks broken; a proof that he has been beaten many a time. Other bruises in his face are also visible, but most he has on his body. When being a free man, serving as a spy and a devoted servant of Sauron, he could afford proper clothes. You see, his jobs paid well. It is quite different now, as he is wearing nothing but filthy rags.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Rhând is clever, humorous and outgoing. Yet he is ignorant, quick to anger, forgetful and quite arrogant.
- Sometimes Rhând is too clever for his own good. He can actually seem quite dumb, because he is so ignorant about so many things. Blame the parents I say, but Rhând would rather not talk about his parents. He has quite a few bad memories, and would not like to share those with any outside his 'inner circle'. The inner circle, which he often talks about either when sleepwalking or when angry, is an unknown mystery. No one, who knows him, understands it. However, Rhând is yet likeable, even though his many flaws. His humour makes people laugh, even though much of his humour is at others' expense. Due to the fact that Rhând can easily bond with people, which has been an extremely good tool over the years, he has difficulties keeping friends. Quite a few times he is bored when being accompanied by the same people over a long period of time. This makes him restless, and arrogant in some ways. Rhând couldn't care less about other's people's wellbeing. This, I would say, is a result of his poor childhood. Rhând found himself too ignored, too little loved, and some of this made him the way he is today.

HISTORY: Born and raised in Near Harad, by the River Harnen. He lived great parts of his childhood with his mother, as his father was constantly gone on raids or whatever it was he was doing. His father came along now and then though, but brought always new women with him. By this, naturally, Rhând felt ignored, but he got used to this way of living. His mother was busy working. Often she was away for days, but brought money, and food at the table as she came home. Nevertheless, Rhând grew used to his empty existence, but started at the age of sixteen to search for something more. As a child, just in his teens, he was an easy prey for the older ones. They took advantage of him, making him do the dirty jobs they didn’t want. Soon however, he found himself going upwards in the "ranks", amongst the part criminal young men. He was clever and in that way useful. Mostly, Rhând stole information and spied, and delivered it eagerly to Sauron’s loyal servants. In this way, he also became known as a traitor of the free men. But as most Haradrim supported Sauron, he was fairly respected amongst his kind. It was only amongst Gondorians and such, he later discovered, that they were quite keen on catching him.

Anyway, “business” went quite well for a while. Information was an easy thing to steal, as it only had to be stored one place; in his head, but not hidden. Rhând even enjoyed giving all the info he got from Gondorians and etc. as they, who had spoken so openly to Rhând, had not the faintest idea that Rhând was passing on the info to their enemy. You see, Rhând had one advantage as also previously mentioned. He didn’t look very much like a Southron. His skin was not so dark as the most of his kind. Therefore, one could believe that he was from the south-western part of Gondor, and in that way he could easily either imitate a Gondorian ambassador to get info or just be there; right place at the right time with his ear well cleaned. For a long time this worked quite well, and Sauron’s loyal servants were happy to greet him whenever he came with new info for example about the Gondorian army's positions and their future plans. But what Rhând didn’t realise, was that a Gondorian ambassador had recognised him on two occasions. Naturally, this caused suspicions, and the ambassador’s suspicions were confirmed as a fellow ambassador suspected the same. As a result of this, Rhând was set up. The Gondorian ambassadors arranged a meeting, of where they pretended that they were seriously discussing tactics. They agreed upon something Rhând cannot quite remember (see under personality: forgetful ;)). However, he can remember that the info he passed on to Sauron's allies was completely wrong and could have led to a disastrous, maybe fatal, outcome. So that was when Rhând was taken by Sauron’s faithful servants and interrogated. As Rhând had passed false information, he was naturally suspected of being in the lead with the Gondorians; therefore, a traitor.

Trying to explain himself that someone had probably set him up, he was brutally tormented and forced to tell a lie, about how he really worked for Gondor. Being too precious to kill in that case, he was sent to the Tower of Cirith Ungol, of where he has been a prisoner for the last thirteen months.
__________________________________

Novnarwen's post:

A four legged oblong thing came sneaking through the closed bars this morning. Yes, for it is believed that it was morning. It ran hurriedly after the smell, of which it had been eager to get closer to for a long time. It was a nasty smell, the smell of rot and dried blood. But this little creature didn't think it horrible at all. It came closer and closer, having its nose sticking up in the air, squeaking, trembling with curiosity. Its long, thick, tail could only just be seen as the dim light crept through the bars and into the square room. The tail made a whispering sound now and then, as it was dragged, quickly, over the stone floor. Suddenly, what it had been waiting for; there were movements in the corner. Its yellow eyes lit up, its mouth twitched and its tail slid more quietly along the floor. Not long now...

In the dark corner of the room, something was indeed moving. A steady movement it was, someone was breathing. Rags and old clothing covered what was beneath.

Finally, it was there! It ran, scraping its sharp nails on the floor, through a hole in the clothing. Sniffing, letting in the stank of rot, dried blood and sweat, it set its teeth into the flesh.

"OUCH!!!"

A voice, so loud that the bricks in the wall trembled, exploded from underneath the rags. The rags moved quickly from the ground, and a pair of feet could be spotted; a man arose. His face was pale and his eyes red and bleary. He was covered in sweat and dirt, this, making him look old and grim. The rings under his eyes showed the number of days, weeks and months he had staid here. His eyes looked desperately around. Cursing like mad, lifting a hand to where he had been bit, he discovered the creature crawling pettily towards the bars again. With gritted teeth and a malicious look in his face, he sprang over. As there was a crack, the man lifted his foot gently and laughed gruffly. "Never bite a sleeping man. Never!"

Rhând sat down, laid his head on the ground and stirred into the dead rat's eyes. The open wound the rat had left him, made him writhe with pain. "Darn you rat!" he said slowly, feeling the pain in his neck die away for a bit. "Where did you come from?" he smirked and paused. "Was it through the bars or was it elsewhere? Is there another way to get out of this hole?" he shuddered, biting his lip. He cursed the rat, the hole of a cell and all the servants of Sauron. How had he ended up here? He knew very well how, but he had difficulties coping with it anyhow. He cursed once more, loudly this time. Offering the dead rat one last look, filled with hatred that is, he rose to his feet and clapped his hands together. Thirteen months inside of this hole, it was too much! He clapped his hands together once more. Clever they are, the free men, he thought to himself. They must have known that he wasn't who he claimed to be, and set him up. He frowned. A year had passed and he didn't even know the truth about what had happened. He wasn't sure whether it was the Gondorians who had set him up or whether it was Sauron's faithful servants. He supposed it was the Gondorians though. "Those foul folk of free men!" He yelled and cursed. He should have known that day, when that ambassador had called him in for a meeting. The ambassador must have already known, Rhând was certain of it. Why else would that filthy Gondorian have smirked so annoyingly at him that day? He clapped once more, jumped up and down, dancing. He broke into a song; which touched every aspect of his life now and what it had been before. He grabbed the dead rat, held it in is tail, and swung it in the air.

Some would call him crazy, but the months locked up in the cell had made him different from what he had been like. From the very first day he had been brought to the Tower, or rather; from the day he had been interrogated, Rhând had been tortured. He usually screamed, asked for mercy or tried again to tell the truth about being set up, but this only made it more enjoyable for his interrogaters. However, as Rhând got to know their ways of tormenting, he was more aware and tried to make friends with his keepers. Sometimes, he found it good fun to learn about their miserable lives, even though they probably never spoke the truth. By doing this, he also made them forget about him, as they all believed he was both crazy and harmless.

"This is good fun," he muttered to himself, still having the rat in his left hand, swinging it back and forwards. But he was interrupted by a terrible uproar. He cast himself to the floor, slightly afraid that they were coming to get him. What was he supposed to tell them today? He wondered. He had already listened to their pathetic lives; he would have to figure out something new, creative. Maybe the torture would stop completely then. He lay down, covered his head with his rags, casting the rat towards the bars. Rhând focused, trying to hear what was going on. There was shouting, no; roars, coming from .... somewhere. Rhând even got the odd feeling of whoever it that was shouting, weren't coming his way. He frowned; almost disappointed that no one was visiting. It was after all quite lonely staying here day after day in this dark hole.

A few minutes had passed, when at last Rhând realised that someone was coming. He cursed, and regretted that he had even thought that some of these nasty, treacherous creatures, could be good company. He curled together on the floor, making himself look small; hoping that whoever came by, would just leave again; thinking that it was just an empty cell. He spent his mucles, in case they would burst into the room and grab him. He felt the bite on his neck burn with pain, and he cursed the inner circle, before letting out a sigh.

"Anyone there?"

A voice from the other side of the bars muttered silently. Of course, Rhând heard the whisper quite well, but grew uncertain about what to answer. This did not at all sound like the voice of the orcs who guarded the Tower or any other he had got to know through the torturing. Gritting his teeth, he realised that if it was indeed someone else, something terribly wrong was at hand in the Tower. How could possibly a normal man or woman, who weren't prisoners, walk freely around in the Cirith Ungol? Unless.... they were prisoners, he thought.

Next thing he knew, he was out of the cell, trotting behind a man he had never seen before; named Grash.

*****

That was it. I'm happy to edit if there is anything.

Cheers,
Nova

The Perky Ent

06-25-2004, 04:33 PM

Hello everyone! Today, I will be applying for the position of the jailed dwarf. So, without any further delay, here is Dorim, my dwarf. BTW, good luck Himaran. Now I only wait for your post ;)

Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG before? Yes Which?
Last Hope for Moria
Last Ride of the Heir

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in?
1
List them, please:
Last Ride of the Heir

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES – Which one? Both

_______________________________________

For your character please include:

NAME: Dorim Stonehewer

AGE: 55

RACE: Dwarf

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Currently nothing. However, he needs very few weapons, as his fists are deadly when provoked.

APPEARANCE: Dorim is relatively tall for his race, and has the muscle to back it up. His eyes were once a bright blue, but are now dark and bloodshot. His face is very rough and filled with scratches. He has a large scar ranging from the right side of his brow to the bottom of his cheek. Dorim is clothed in tattered rags, sleeves stopping at the shoulders. Dorim’s bulging muscles are a site, as they always seemed to be flexed. His baldhead has many patches of black on it, and his brown, unclean beard droops down to his chest. His complexion is very dark and unclean, as he is deprived of sanitation. Dorim also has another scar running the length of his left arm. His fit to bust shoulders are a site, as they seem to pop out of his shoulders. Without a smile, Dorim’s face is relatively neutral, giving very little emotion if any. His tattered pants are unevenly ripped at his knees, making his legs and feet even dirtier than his head. Dorim’s body is filled with millions of bruises, scratches, cuts, and blisters, as he doesn’t take very good care of himself and walks barefoot. Although not poise, his posture is very strait and rock like.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Originally a jolly, naive, merry dwarf, it seems that 15 years of imprisonment have broken his spirit. All humor that was in his body is drained, and Dorim’s compassion for others is as soft as the tip of a sword. Like a stereotypical dwarf, his priorities are strictly about himself. Gaining much experience from 15 years of imprisonment, Dorim has learned many things about the Dark Powers of Mordor and their allies. This, in turn, has given him a fearless personality, thinking no force of Mordor or beyond can make him quiver. Dorim’s hatred of Sauron and all his minions are as pure and powerful as the light of the two trees. Sarcasm no longer enjoys him. He now uses his energy for one thing. Revenge. Dorim is incredibly strong, stronger than the average dwarf, yet this is not something that deserves recording. His multiple labors have given him bulging muscles, especially on his arms. Unlike his former personality, Dorim is no longer full of himself. He knows there are far better things to waste time on. Dorim’s only “weakness” is mercy. A lack of it. Imprisonment has made him so stone hard, there is little left of him for mercy. It would take a display of monumentous proportions to make Dorim show mercy. And when it comes to servants of Sauron, mercy is not a word.

HISTORY: Dorim was born in 2964 of the Third Age under the Lonely Mountain. His parents weren’t very rich, and did little to help Dorim’s future. Born in a time of peace for Erebor, Dorim quietly lived there, making a living as the owner of a tavern, making many friends. He became very wealthy, and was soon one of the most popular places to go around Erebor. His parents, however, died soon after his success, seeing their son amount to something they never achieved.

In 3004, when Dorim was twenty, he decided to see the world. He asked his friend Doram to watch over his business while he was gone. Dorim’s original plan was to hike up to the Grey Mountains, then travel down the Anduin, and come back up the same way. He visited Minas Tirith and made numerous amounts of friends. He was almost convinced to live there. Staying for a long time, he learned much of the world. The only thing that stopped Dorim from moving was a message. Dorim was shocked to find out that Doram had lost a large wager and lost Dorim’s tavern. Furious, Dorim quickly continued on his trip, so he could try to save his business. Returning on his journey, Dorim traveled along the Anduin until he reached the Bay of Belfalas. At the beach, Dorim took a flask and filled it with sand. Then he started his journey northward.

As Dorim started back up, he traveled on the eastern side of the river. Moving upward he traveled the wild, and then got on the Harad Road, walking along it for many miles. One day, while walking, a large group of Haradrim was marching south and found Dorim. Dorim fought bravely, but was overcome. In the fight, he lost all his weapons, lying helpless as the Haradrim surrounded him. Without another weapon, he threw his flask of sand at one of the Haradrim. The impact was so strong it knocked him out. Dorim then took a shard of glass and killed the man. Enraged, another Haradrim took his sword and knocked out Dorim. In the process, he face was brutally cut, giving Dorim his scar on the right side of his face.

When Dorim awoke, he found himself in bound, being carried by a group of Haradrim. Apparently, they decided not to kill him and take him prisoner in Harad. There, Dorim was left to rot in a cell, without any care. There, in his cell, Dorim hardened. His soul was crushed, and it seemed his very essence was taken from him. Dorim was nothing but an empty shell. There, he only took in things he heard from the Haradrim guarding his cell. This filled him with a newer, stronger spirit. Although not filled with evil from the Haradrim, he was filled with the strength of their tolerance for goodness. By ten years, Dorim was a rock solid, hard-core fighter.

Then, after ten years, Sauron summoned the group of Haradrim holding Dorim captive. They traveled up to Mordor, taking Dorim with him. There, they decided to enslave the dwarf in Cirith Ungol, along with other prisoners. There, he was tortured, where he got his scar on his arm. After brutal torturing, he was sent to a cell in the Tower. Five years later, his opportune moment has come. The gates of freedom have been opened.
__________________________________

The Perky Ent's post:

The festering odor of orcs emanated through Dorim’s cell. The constant darkness that filled his prison remained its putrid hue. Dorim’s back was firmly against his wall, where no light could reach him. Drops of water dripped from the damp ceiling and landed in front of Dorim’s barefoot feet. Inside his head, nothing passed through Dorim’s mind. No thoughts of heroic escape or fantasies of love. Nothing, as he had nothing to live for. In the last 15 years of his life, he was deprived of purpose. The only things that could move his in-animate body was either if someone opened his cell, or if Sauron decided he was worthless and should be killed. Fortunately for him, fate would choose the first option.

Hearing a giant crash from the ceiling, Dorim didn’t bother to look up. Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t important enough. Soon after, Dorim began hearing even more loud sounds. He could hear people of all races mumbling in their cells. All races of Middle Earth had somehow found their way into the hell that Dorim waked up to every day. Then, as he closed his eyes, Dorim could feel sand from Harad beneath his feet. What little light crept into the cell vanished, as a pillar of light smiled down on Dorim. Behind him, he sensed something, and behind him was a lone Haradrim, holding a dagger. Dorim reached for his ax, finding nothing. The man was facing the other way though, not looking at Dorim. Then, another, larger beam of light came, and revealed a large group of Haradrim in a circle. They all pulled out their daggers, and began to make the circle they were in smaller. Suddenly, there was a shout, and a red bead of light shot upward from the center of the circle. Suddenly, the lone Haradrim dropped to the ground, revealing a dwarf with a piece of glass in his hand. Dorim. Suddenly, one of the men sliced Dorim’s head, and all the lights went out.

Suddenly, Dorim heard something he never thought he would here. The opening of cell doors. There was a confused merriment being flushed through the cells. It flowed past Dorim, having little effect. There were still rumbles in the ceiling, but they were significantly lighter. Suddenly, a dark figure ran to the barred door of his cell. Dorim could faintly hear the jingling of keys. Suddenly, in an instant, the dark figure opened the cell door, and ran. Dorim, if he were still as foolish as he used to be, would have stood there in amazement, pondering the occurrence. Dorim rushed out of his cell, cutting his foot on a rock. It didn’t matter. Freedom was in his grasp.

Looking out of his cell, Dorim noticed several others had been released. The fact that no guards were in sight troubled Dorim. “Maybe it’s a trap?” Dorim thought, wondering why fate had chosen this to happen. Dorim always believed in fate. He thought his capture was meant to be. That like his parents, he wouldn’t be remembered. His pessimistic thought came through Dorim’s mind every time something happened. It was just his way of looking at life. “It must be a trap! It must be! That blasted spider must be hungry!” Dorim thought, starting to back away from the exit. Then, he heard the scream of an orc, and realized something was wrong in the tower of Cirith Ungol. This was no mass feeding. It was freedom.

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-25-2004, 06:53 PM

Yipes -- it's all happening so fast!

Novnarwen -- Your post is truly amazing, but I have already accepted Sarin Mithrilanger's submission for the Slave of Mordor. But do not despair, for I am becoming something of an expert at this whole two people, one role thing, as I already have two people vying for the lone Dwarf position.

Pio -- Would it be possible to accept both Sarin and Nova as Slaves of Mordor (in effect adding a slot to the game), as well as accepting both Himaran and The Perky Ent as Dwarves, and eliminating the second Elf role?

Aman -- As my confirmed Elf would this be acceptable to you? Your character would be rather isolated, surrounded by Slaves, Southrons, and Dwarves, but that might be interesting for you, mightn't it?

Until I get this sorted round with Pio and the abovementioned folk, I'm going to declare the recruitment for the game temporarily suspended.

My apologies for the rather haphazard way in which this is proceeding, but I hate saying no to people who want to play in the game, and it is my first time out as a Game Owner (love the sound of that: G.O. Fordim).

Kransha

06-25-2004, 07:05 PM

G'day, bonjour, hola, strasvitye, and all that. Like Aman, just popping my head in here on this game, which is really shaping up (I dunno what you did, Fordim, but this is drawing more players than most games, which have to eliminate positions rather than add).

Well, t'looks like I might have 2 dwarves rather than 1 at my side. Perky, I definately like your character. Dorim shares a lot of core traits with my own, Bror. Good luck, and to Himaran, who's post is, rather obviously, unavailable for my viewing. Fine job, to all ye who have entered this veritable Land of Darkness (alright, when I say that it just sounds plain silly).

Amanaduial the archer

06-26-2004, 08:14 AM

love the sound of that: G.O. Fordim). Careful, 'G.O', you'll have difficulty fitting through doors soon if your head gets any bigger ;)

Hmm, as to having no other elves...I actually would rather prefer it if there was one other elf, but if you prefer having none, then fine - you're the owner.

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-26-2004, 09:21 AM

Hmmm. . .so that's why all my hats are so tight these days ;)

Aman, ask and ye shall receive: unless Pio objects, I will now reverse direction again (I'm beginning to get quite dizzy) and declare the thread once more OPEN for recruiting, but ONLY for a Silvan Elf to keep Aman company.

I will leave this Elf slot open until Tuesday afternoon, at which point I will put the posts in order, write a new post to set the action after everyone's been released from their cells and send it all off to Pio; with any luck at all we will have the game underway very soon after that.

Thank you all for bearing with me.

Amanaduial the archer

06-26-2004, 01:35 PM

Thank you very much, Master Hedgethistle *bows*

Himaran

06-26-2004, 05:02 PM

Hi everyone,

I finished my bio but I didn't have time to get my first post done. I will post both here tomorrow.

Himaran

CaptainofDespair

06-26-2004, 06:07 PM

CaptainofDespair

Character Description Form: Applying for Silvan Elf Position

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - Which one? No

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? None

List them, please:

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – YES/NO – Which one? Yes. The Green Dragon Inn.

_______________________________________

For your character please include:

NAME: Morgoroth Aranur

AGE: 1,567

RACE: Silvan Elf

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Since his captivity, Morgoroth has wielded no weapon, save for his bare hands.

APPEARANCE: Morgoroth is not the fairest of elves. He had long made a recluse of himself, staying far from his brethren in Mirkwood. His hair is dark, nearly black, and the atmosphere of Mordor has not helped its once glorious sheen. Since his confinement, he has left himself go in that respect. But nevertheless, he is still an elf, tall and lean. But due to the fact that he is more reclusive than the rest of his kind, he has had to fend more for himself, and thus he is slightly more muscular. His face bears sign of his travels, and of his captivity. He bears a small scar behind the left ear, a blow from an orc scimitar, and he has a small gash above his right eyebrow.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Morgoroth is one of many strengths, and many weaknesses. He is a strong elf, both in body and mind. He has not let his physical prowess deteriorate due to his imprisionment, and most certainly not his mind. He often makes excerises out of nothing, in primitive attempts to keep his body fit. He reminisces of the days of old, singing softly of the battles with Morgoth, and keeping the lore of the day fresh in his mind. High and noble he is, and seeks to stay a path of righteousness, preparing to do his part against the evils of Middle-Earth. He will do anything for the cause of freedom, even if it means his own death.

But for all his strength, he is flawed. His belief that the cause of all that is good must be upheld, makes him extremely impetuous. Through this, he ends up thrusting himself into situations he cannot use his blade to free himself from. He is also a merciful soul. Should an enemy repent their hateful ways before his blade can fall on their necks, he will free them, and give them safe passage. Even in his dungeon cell, this has not changed. Though he knows the Orcs must die, any evil Man who he comes across that repents, will be given freedom.

HISTORY: Morgoroth was born on a beautiful spring morning in T.A 1452 in Mirkwood. His mother gave him the name Morgoroth due to the darkness of the hair upon his head. She could see from the moment he was born, that he would become a warrior. The fire in his eyes, even at that moment, was burning brighter in him even more than that of his father, who had died fighting alongside the Last Alliance in the Siege of Barad-dur.

For years Morgoroth was seen as a distant child. He kept to himself around other children, and he seemed along interested in the machinations of war. He spent much of his time around the Elders of the Halls. He would sit patiently for hours, listening to them discuss the past, and present. It was here he learned of the evils of Gorthaur the Cruel. He wondered why one so great, would turn to such ways, and he continued to inquire more about his evil.

As he grew older, Morgoroth seemed to become more and more reclusive. He no longer went out, save for those dire times when his presence was required on the borders, defending Mirkwood from the Necromancer of Dol Guldur. Instead, he would sit for hours, studying the history of his people, and learning more of Sauron.

Finally, one autumn morn, at the age of 719 he left the home of his mother, and armed only with the blade of his father, he struck out to find his place in the world. He traveled through many differently lands in the East. During his travels, he encountered many folk, both good and evil. From these peoples, he learned much of the happenings in the world at large.

He was fascinated by the Easterling peoples, but seeing that many shunned him, he sought to live a distant life from them, but still close enough to study their ways. And so for two centuries, he lived as a nomad, wandering from region to region, studying the people he encountered.

But now, a change had come over these people whom he had spent so much time amongst. They became more war-like, more savage. Morgoroth quickly learned that Sauron had arisen again, and was using the Easterlings as part of his war machine. He detested this, and he despised Sauron. And so he left his wandering life, and journeyed to the Ash Mountains on the Northern Border of Mordor. Upon viewing that which was the Black Lands, he could not perceive why any would choose such a location as their homeland. The atmosphere itslef was a bane on him. It hung over him like a heavy fog. For a time, he could barely manage to breath in the clouded, volcanic air of Mordor. And so he thought it wise to rest himself, so that his journey back home to Mirkwood would be made easier. He moved little during the day, and went out only at night to hunt for any prey he could find. It was on one of these expeditions that he was captured. Seeing as he was an elf, the Orcs knew better than to kill him. So, they took him to Cirith Gorgor. He remained confined there for a brief time, until word from Barad-dur came that he was to be taken to Cirith Ungol. And there he was taken, and held as a prisoner for 18 long years.

__________________________________

CaptainofDespair's post:

Morgoroth awoke in his cold, dank cell on a dark morning. His unusually long captivity in Cirith Ungol had made him aware of everything that went on in Mordor. He had learned to tell, just from the sounds an orc made while moving, what was going on. He was kept alone, segregated from the other prisoners. This was ordered out of caution on the Tower Guards' part. He was dangerous, not because he could free himself, but because his calming allure, and his intermittent singing, would act as a bolster to the captive population, and might allow for a rebellion.

But this day felt strange to him, for he perceived many new guard detachments being sent farther down into the Tower. He wondered what was going on down the depths of the dungeon. He could make out the faint sounds of screaming prisoners.

"Most likely they are being beaten or tortured", he muttered to himself. "They won't last long."

Suddenly, the horrid shrieking stopped. A another detachment of orcs went scurrying down the hall past his cell. Two of the guards stopped outside his door, and began conversing in their gutteral language. Morgoroth had managed to decipher some of which the orcs had said. One of them had, before the two had moved on down the hall, spoken of a small uprising on the third cell block. A few slaves had freed themselves, and were now in the process of holding of the orc contingents sent down to quell their revolt. A thought crossed Morgoroth's mind at that moment.

"Hmm...maybe this one will succeed where the others have failed..." He paused for a moment, and then continued where he left off from. "However unlikely it may be." He chuckled softly to himself. "And if the revolt has lucky on its side, the Orcs will kill each other over some paltry trinkets taken from a haul elsewhere."

Again, screams were heard reverberating from the lower levels. The orcs were dead no doubt, and many had probably turned to killing each other. The captains of the tower had never seen eye to eye, so even in a small rebellion, if they had some previous conflict, they would not aid one another. What seemed like an hour passed by quickly, and now, a hurried scampering of feet echoed up the hall, slowly making its way nearer to his cell. Morgoroth could hear the hushed mumbling of voices a few feet outside his wooden door. Slowly, he heard the clanging of keys approach. The movement hastened, as the being on the other side of the doorway searched frantically for the right key. At last, they found it, and inserted it into the lock. The mechanisms within the lock could be heard moving, as the key was twisted in its place. Silence then pervaded the area. But the thud of the lock hitting the stone floor interupted the aura of serenity that had overcome the Elf in that instant. The door was then flung open by a mysterious man standing the doorway. Morgoroth knew he was no orc, or mannish guard, but a prisoner of the Tower, awaiting his fate with Shelob. The figure quickly left, leaving Morgoroth to make his own exit from the cell. He gracefully got up from his hay-covered, stone slab bed, and bolted out the door.

Himaran

06-27-2004, 09:14 AM

Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES
Which ones? The Hobbit’s Gift, The Road to Erebor, Quest for the Ainereg, Sailing Away, The Summons, In the Shadow of the Star, Flight from Rohan, Resettling the Lost Kingdom, The Ambassador’s Son, Search for Rhun.

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? One. Search for Rhun finishes in two days, but Resettling the Lost Kingdom is not quite done.

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? –
YES, both.

_______________________________________

For your character please include:

NAME: Dwali - he cannot remember his last name.

AGE: 43, young for a dwarf.

RACE: Dwarf

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Dwali carried only a steel axe with him on his travels, but it was taken from him after his capture. Although he lacks experience in hand to hand combat, he is deadly with a knife; and after stealing one from a guard (who was slightly too close to the cell door) Dwali hid it in his cell. Perhaps it will eventually come to good use.

APPEARANCE:

Dwali is of average height for a dwarf and fairly thin. His eyes, once a piercing green hue, have slow decayed into a dark grey; which now display nothing but emptiness and sorrow. Numerous scars cover his strong frame, as he underwent particularly painful torture after he refused to give information to his captors. His hands, always slightly out of proportion with the rest of his body, now look anything but normal on his skinny wrists. Although several years of travelling had rewarded him with a muscular body, the young dwarfs appendages have lost their luster from lack of food and exercise. Dwali's clothing is better than most in the prison, as he has been their a shorter time. His brown tunic and pants have several tears, but are far from tattered rags.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

Hate is all that Dwali has known for his entire existance. The day that he returned to his camp as a child and found the mangled bodies of his two parents, a seething passion was woken in his heart; one of rage and anger. The dwarf is still young, and his emotions flunctuate; sometimes he can be quiet and thoughtful immediately before flying into a loud tirade while attacking animals and even trees with his weapon. He does not understand suffering or death, nor does he even know who he hates. The dwarf wants revenge to the point that it has become a general mindset in his life; one not directed at any single being. Spending three years in a dungeon has somewhat improved his behavior, and calmed him to the a point near sanity, but his new personality is one of sarcasm and pessimism. He believes that his and every other being's death is imminent, causing him to be virtually fearless of darkness and death.

HISTORY:

Dwali devoted five years of his life to hunting down the orc band which destroyed his family, and became a skillful tracker and warrior in the process. But after savagely killing every member of the orcish party and retrieving his parent's few stolen possessions, he did not find the rest his inner soul so longed for. The dwarf became a drifter and a wanderer, without knowledge of his relatives or of current events. Nor did he care about such things; for in his mind the act of loving something was but a weakness. Thus it was that Dwali continued south; and he past though many lands over many years. Eventualy he came to Gondor, but
decided to avoid it and instead passed through Ithilien. It was there, on the eastern edge of that great forest, that he was captured by a scouting party from Morder. All the dwarf can remember after that fateful day is darkness. The all-encompasing blackness of stone, dungeons, and death.

__________________________________

Himaran's post

Dwali sat in the back of his small cell, listening to the sounds of battle coming from all directions. Such a horrid clamor did not bother, nay, even affect him; for it could only mean that some worse evil was approaching. Perhaps it is finally time to die. Time to leave this world of darkness... and enter another. Relaxing against the cold stone in a relatively calm fashion, Dwali contemplated what was to come.
Maybe it was the great spider they had spoken of, Shelob, or another rival orc army. Then the thought that it was a force from Gondor flickered through his mind, but the dwarf tried to ignore it. The mind is deceitful. It leads to hope, and hope slowly turns to reality. He shifted his postion, trying to find a comfortable spot on the rough prison wall.

And reality... is darkness. And death.

Although only a prisoner in Morder for three years, Dwali spent much of his time brooding in the inky blackness of his underground cell. He had been tortured for information about his race after arriving at the tower, but had since been left alone to guess his painful end; fed on scraps more putrid than orc fare. The dwarf's personality, already frayed since the murder of his parents, had molded into one of pessimism, sarcasm, and an assurance that his death was imminent. But on that particular day, Dwali's demise was not to be.

As the screams and clangs of metal began to fade, another sound caught the dwarf's keen ears. It was that of a key turning in a lock, and a rusty door swinging open. And then realization dawned -- it was his door! Dwali stood quickly, trying to recognize his rescuer (or murderer, more likely). It was a young man, but his other features were hidden by the darkness of the cavern. "You are free," he wispered. "Follow me, there are others."

Ignoring the nagging thought that it could be a trap, Dwali stepped out of his chamber. It was probably all some sort of trick, and he would soon be beaten and returned to his tiny prison; but even to be out for a few minutes would be worth it. Then he stopped, and hurried back inside. The dwarf felt around the bottom of the wall, hands digging and feeling about in a frantic manner. Then his left hand hit cold steel, and he pulled it out gingerly. There, it a hidden crack, was the knife he had stolen from a nearby guard over a year before. Perhaps it would be of some use afterall.

_____________________

Hope this works! And thanks for being patient.

Himaran

The Perky Ent

06-27-2004, 09:35 AM

Fordim - I fixed the small problem. Hope it helps. If I need to fix it more, say the word.

piosenniel

06-27-2004, 09:38 AM

CHARACTERS/PLAYERS:

Slave of Mordor - Fordim Hedgethistle
Slave of Mordor – Durelin
Slave of Mordor – Sarin Mithrilanger
Slave of Mordor – Novnarwen
Southron – Aylwen Dreamsong
Southron - Bethberry
Easterling – alaklondewen
~*~

Silvan Elf – Amanaduial the archer
Silvan Elf - CaptainofDespair
~*~

Dwarf – Kransha
Dwarf – The Perky Ent
Dwarf – Himaran

piosenniel

06-27-2004, 09:39 AM

NO FURTHER PLAYERS NEEDED

Fordim, the Game Owner, will be looking over the last bios/posts for any edits needed.

Thanks, everyone, for your consideration and patience.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fordim

Once youv've sorted through all your posts and gotten the edits you want from the players - can you please arrange a list for them, in order by PLAYER NAME, - then I'll get them up on the game and open it for you.

Please just put your list and your next post here on the DT - it's easier that way for me.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-27-2004, 09:09 PM

Thank you all for getting the game off to such a good start with those wonderful posts. I was hoping that this would be a character-driven story and it looks like it will be. There are some very interesting dynamics at play here already.

Oh, I should say formally, I suppose, that CaptainofDespair's bio and post is accepted for play. Also, welcome to the Downs CoD.

I will get right on the ordering of posts and the first-post-after-everyone's-been-freed and have that by early tomorrow morning (EDT), so we can look forward to starting the game within 24 hours (if I understand from Pio how this works). Just so you all know how it will begin:

Grash will explain to everyone that the orcs have killed each other, but that the front gate is barred by the Silent Watchers, so they're going to have to risk the Tunnel. . . (insert foreboding music here). But before we plunge into that, our characters will poke about the Tower a bit and gather what weapons, armour and provisions they can. Grash will suggest that the group break up into smaller parties to speed along the search, so start thinking now about who your character would want to band/bond with from the outset. (I would suggest that it would make psychological sense for the races to band together at this point: Elves, Dwarves and Men; although, perhaps gender would be a bigger factor? However you want to work it all is fine with me.)

Once more, thank you all for your interest in playing this game, and for the great posts. I'm really looking forward to this (just in case you can't tell). There are a couple of treats in store for us that will, I hope, make it an enjoyable experience.

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-28-2004, 09:51 AM

Pio, could you put up the first posts in the following order:

Fordim Hedgethistle
Bêthberry
Amanaduial the Archer
Alaklondewen
Durelin
Aylwen
Sarin Mithrilanger
Novnarwen
The Perky Ent
Kransha
CaptainofDespair
Himaran

And after these, could you include the following post:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Grash led them down the dark passage toward the storeroom at its end. They were a motley collection of folk and they were still adjusting to their sudden and unexpected freedom. Some were clearly joyous at their release, while others merely looked about them as though in a daze. All bore some mark of torment or abuse, and if Grash were capable of human feeling he would have been heartbroken by the pitiable state of them all. There was not a whole shirt or unrent garment amongst them: they were starved, exhausted, naked and entirely unarmed in the dungeons of their torturers. And yet they were free. Free – Grash let the word roll about in his mind, like a tasty morsel of meat about his tongue, tasting and relishing it. He had never known freedom, and was as yet unsure of its flavour. He felt it was sweet, but when he looked about him at where he was and who he had to rely on, his mouth went sour with the forethought of failure. Once more he thought about running away and hiding, and telling the orcs that the prisoners had freed themselves, but he knew they would never believe him. He had no choice now, but to continue with his plan of escape.

Reaching the end of the passageway, he led them through the low arch to the right of the Underdoor, behind which lurked the nameless terror that consumed all who dared venture into its lair. Never had Grash passed that door without a shiver, knowing that it was his fate one day to go through it, prodded on by the jeering insults and sharpened knives of orcs. He saw many amongst this ragged group glare at the door with similar feelings of horror.

When they were gathered in the storeroom, Grash turned to speak. At first, however, his heart failed, for in all his life he had never spoken to a group. Indeed, in the last three years the only speaking he had done had been to respond as curtly as possible to the rough commands of his captors. When he looked about him he saw the eyes of the prisoners glinting in the half-dark of the room, all of them looking to him for guidance and escape. Grash, hardened as he was by the long terrors of a life spent in servitude to the cruelest of masters, was afraid. He swallowed twice, though his mouth was dry, and began to outline his plan. “Krâzduk dakka, nit grankúl.” The instant he spoke he could see that few if any of them understood a word of what he said. It occurred to him for the first time that perhaps they did not speak the Black Speech of Mordor, which had been his tongue since birth. He switched into the Common Speech that the orcs used when speaking with members of other tribes. “Food,” he said, pointing at the sacks and casks that lay about. “Water,” and he indicated the small cistern. “We take some with us. From here, in skins and bags. Grik, need weapons, armour, clothes. Search bodies and find these things; try to look like orcs.” He saw that they understood him, as uncouth as his speech might be. He gestured at the group, making motions with his hands as though he were trying to part them. “In groups,” he said. “We look in groups. Two or three; go above into courtyard, fraz Tower. Then meet here, and leave…through Door.”

There was a slight murmur as they took this in, and Grash could see that his plan was not being taken very well. One of the Dwarves stepped forward. He was sinewy and tough, like all Dwarves, but this one was darker than most, even after his years in the Tower. Grash had heard orcs speaking of him once, and they had said that he had been prisoner here for nineteen years. “Why must we go out through that door?” he demanded. “The beast which lurks there will destroy us all!” There were sounds of assent from the rest.

Grash tried to explain. “Gate closed by terrible creatures of stone. Cannot go out, cannot get past great wall that cannot be seen. You go to gate, you see.” He pointed out through the arch of the storeroom, toward the Door. “Only way, only way out. You come with me through there, or go back to cell now and wait for orcs to return.”

The male Elf spoke, then. Grash was awed by the two Elves, for he had never seen one until he had come to the Tower, and all that he had heard of them had been from the orcs who ruled his life. He knew more than to trust the word of an orc, but still he was somewhat afraid of the Elves – afraid that they might kill him and take his blood so they could live forever. “Why must we find weapons?” he asked. “Where are the others rebels? Surely they are armed, to have killed so many orcs.”

“No, no,” Grash said, shaking his head. “No others. No rebels. Orcs killed orcs, fought each other. Some ran away, will soon bring others. Other orcs and maybe,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “maybe even, Screechers – Screechers of the Dark Lord.” He shivered at the thought. “Hurry, hurry,” he said, “look for weapons, look for clothes. Go in groups, but come back soon; orcs coming, be here soon. We must be gone before they find us.”

Novnarwen

06-28-2004, 09:58 AM

Hi!

Thanks for accpeting my character. :D

I'm really looking forwards to this game. It looks great! ;)

Short note: Pio, I have done some few edits in my post. So the one which is up now, is the one which should be in the game. Thanks! ;)

Cheers,
Nova

(Yes, I can delete this one afterwards...)

piosenniel

06-28-2004, 10:19 AM

The Game is now open for play! :D

Have fun!

~*~ Pio

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From Fordim:

Grash will explain to everyone that the orcs have killed each other, but that the front gate is barred by the Silent Watchers, so they're going to have to risk the Tunnel. . . (insert foreboding music here).

But before we plunge into that, our characters will poke about the Tower a bit and gather what weapons, armour and provisions they can.

Grash will suggest that the group break up into smaller parties to speed along the search, so start thinking now about who your character would want to band/bond with from the outset. (I would suggest that it would make psychological sense for the races to band together at this point: Elves, Dwarves and Men; although, perhaps gender would be a bigger factor? However you want to work it all is fine with me.)

Amanaduial the archer

06-28-2004, 02:12 PM

I have posted on the game thread. CaptainofDespair - I have somewhat attached myself to your character (a little) in this post and used him to some extent: if this alright with you? If I have misrepresented him or you are not happy with this, let me know :)

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-28-2004, 02:16 PM

More notes from your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man (get it? get it? leading you all into Shelob's Lair. . . :D )

I've just read through all the posts once more and noted that the issue of language is going to be a bit tricky -- who can speak what language, etc. We should all be fairly attentive to that in our opening posts on the game thread: who can speak which langauges etc.

CaptainofDespair

06-28-2004, 02:28 PM

Aye, it's alright. I have no qualms about anyone using my character in minor ways.

The Perky Ent

06-28-2004, 04:38 PM

Awesome! This is soo kewl! :D I'll get a post up ASAP!

Durelin

06-28-2004, 06:56 PM

Aman and Captain of Despair - Jordo has fallen under your spell! ;) Do with him as you will. And I do hope I am not intruding...

-Durelin :D

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-28-2004, 07:22 PM

This is actually a response to a PM from Alak about how I was coming up with the Black Speech lingo for Grash -- I thought that it might be a good idea to answer it on the DT just in case there were others wanting to use the B.S. and who desired to strive for some kind of consistency.

There is not, so far as I know, any source of the B.S. other than the two lines of the Ring verse that Gandalf gives us in the "Council of Elrond" so I'm making it up as I go. The only 'rules' I follow are lots of g's and k's and z's -- hard consonants, and unpleasant sounds. I have perforce invented some words so far though:

Krâzduk dakka, nit grankúl -- probably means something like "There is water (dakka?) and food (krazduk?) here; let's take (grankul?) some (nit?)"

grik -- also

fraz -- maybe

I'm not going to do too much of the Black Speech directly as it's really hard to come up with good sounding words -- but perhaps we can come up with a brief lexicon by the end of the game! :eek: :D

Bêthberry

06-29-2004, 12:38 AM

A wonderful crew of motley characters and an exciting game as well! I'm pleased to be gaming here with you.

My second post sets up some expectations that my character, a warrior who has not been cowed by her imprisonment, will seek an alliance with the other woman, Lyshka, but first she has a score to settle with this swinish Haradrim whose people sold her and others of her people into slavery. Aylwen, win Darash over or risk a first skirmish of disagreement! Or, Grash, solve the disagreement before challenges are laid.

Edit: I 'solved' the Black Speech dilemma by deciding that my character would refuse to speak the words of her captors. Fordim, in my first post, I imply that Grash knows Westron and has spoken it to Darash at times and in fact refused to use the Orc's name for her. Yet your most recent post suggests he does not know Westron well. Do you want me to change my first post? Let me know and I will forward the changes to Pio.

piosenniel

06-29-2004, 02:01 AM

Here are some reliable reference links for the Black Speech:

Ardalambion (http://www.uib.no/people/hnohf/orkish.htm)

A Second Opinion on the Black Speech (http://www.uib.no/people/hnohf/blackspeech.htm)

~*~ Pio

alaklondewen

06-29-2004, 08:45 AM

Bêthberry, I'm glad we are on the same page with the alliance of our characters. Lyshka will not trust any man for a very long time. I had started my post last night, so I edited and brought it to a close at the same point where Darash has stopped.

Pio, the links are awesome. Helpful and interesting...thanks. :)

Himaran

06-29-2004, 12:45 PM

Kransha - it appears that your character is attempting to befriend Dwali and Dorim. If we are supposed to pair up and search for necessary items, than why not all three dwarves go together. Dwarven kind are known to be suspicious of other races, or at least favoring their own race.

After you (or Perky Ent) confirm this, I will fill in my save and have the three dwarves converse and head out. It seems that all three are pessimistic - should get along quite well!

By the way, Fordim, awesome game! Its always nice to work with a group of talented writers.

Himaran

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-29-2004, 12:57 PM

Himaran -- Unless I'm very much mistaken, Kransha's post already has the three Dwarves out in the courtyard picking amongst the corpses looking for weapons and armour. I agree with you (and apparently Kransha) that the three Dwarves would stick together like this.

If you object to having your character moved out to the courtyard in this way, let me know and we can perhaps have Kransha edit(?). For my money, I think that this development fits with the story so far -- so if you don't object to Kransha's post, then feel free to go ahead and post a reply to Bror's introduction, and then give us a bit of a description of the Dwarves' conversation and what they manage to find in the courtyard.

BTW -- yes, this looks like it might be a very good game, doesn't it. It's like Billy Martin always used to say, "it all comes down to the talent in the field." I'm just happy that I haven't had to 'prod' people to post yet! ;) )

Himaran

06-29-2004, 01:04 PM

Fordim - Ah. Aha. I didn't notice the mention of the courtyard. I have to get off now, but I will fill in the save tonight or tomorrow morning.

Kransha, Perky Ent: Its all cool, then!

Kransha

06-29-2004, 02:16 PM

'Ullo, 'ullo, 'ullo, just reporting in. I was called away on business this morning, when I posted, and could not clarify in the Discussion Thread my post. Yes, Fordim's analysis is correct. I had to crack open my battered copy of The Return of the King to remind myself of the geography of Cirith Ungol. Based on that, Dwali, Bror, and Dorim have ascended to the second of the three levels of the tower, searching for weapons, armor, etc. They may head back down to the courtyard, but I assumed that it would be alright for some to explore the other sections, since many orcs were slain higher up, thus leaving more behind (if it's all down with Fordim, so to speak).

Perky, Himaran, yes, it's all good. The dwarves, who will obviously dislike the elves and are suspicious of the men, can revel together. All three, as I've noticed, share common pessimism. Many others seem like they might have some hope. I suggest (Fordim, forgive me for manufacturing another hardship for our band), that we dwarfy fellows become a bit more obstinate now that we have numbers. From what I see, Dorim and Dwali are both much colder and more serious after their stay in the tower. Bror can, of course, relate to this, so there is the proposition of a simple comradery (very exclusive conradery) between the trio.

piosenniel

06-29-2004, 02:40 PM

Here's a map from Fonstad's Atlas at The Council of Elrond site:

Map of Cirith Ungol (http://www.councilofelrond.com/modules.php?op=modload&name=My_eGallery&file=index&do=showpic&pid=5616&orderby=)

The Perky Ent

06-29-2004, 03:50 PM

Kransha and Himaran, yeah, let's get the dwarves paired up. Dorim would prefer dwarves to others. However, don't get him too attached because Dorim doesn't do that anymore ;)

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-29-2004, 03:55 PM

Hmmm. . .so Grash is a bit sexist, apparently. By Eru, I did not see that coming.

Have fun with that Alak and Bethberry, but try not to hurt Grash -- he is your saviour after all. One might almost call him your knight in shining armour *swoon*

(OK, I'm really going to pay for that one.)

Amanaduial the archer

06-29-2004, 03:56 PM

Fordim - how long do you think we will be staying as we are? Will we be doing a quick shufti as soon as we get food?

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-29-2004, 04:07 PM

Good question. . .hmmmm. . .my first real poser as a Game Owner (still love the sound of that).

I had thought that we might use the better part of the first week of the game to get familiar and poke about the Tower so there is no plan to shift ahead soon. The immediate plan is for us to establish some of these interesting conflicts. In a few days (is it OK to leave it that unfixed in stone?) we will move through the Under-Door and into Shelob's Lair. If a week is too long to hang about in the Tower, let me know and we will head out sooner than that.

The one thing we need to work in, to keep it all canonical so that Pio and Child do not do me any harm, is to have some mention of the main gate collapsing (remember when that happened when Frodo and Sam escaped?) I was thinking that as the last of the group comes into the cellars once more we'd hear a crash and then look out to see the arch in ruins.

Note to everyone, though -- Nobody's allowed to see Sam and Frodo running about, or to interact with them in any way. The Mods would definitely have something to say about that!

Aylwen Dreamsong

06-30-2004, 07:50 AM

Hey everyone! (Bonjour?:D)

Yes, Aylwen does live.

I have just returned this morning from my wonderful trip to Québec, and I am working as quickly and efficiently as I can on catching up!

Wow, a great crew of writers indeed! ;)

-Aylwen

Sarin Mithrilanger

06-30-2004, 12:39 PM

Fordim- I'm curious, I know we are searching for food and supplies but I think I remember Grash saying to "look like orcs". So are we going to undress the orcs?

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-30-2004, 01:00 PM

Undress 'em, find their closets, raid their dirty laundry -- whatever: the point is to get some clothes and armour and do our level best to look like orcs.

Novnarwen

06-30-2004, 01:13 PM

Short question:

Sarin - Why doesn't your character, in particular, trust Rhând?

Rhând will be very careful to get everyone to trust him, but I don't he will have too much problems getting this. First of all because he looks like a Gondorian, which means he is not a servant of Sauron. Second: because he speaks Westron/The Common Speech, which would also imply that he is not at all a Southron.

I have no problems with the fact that your character doesn't trust him, but I would be glad if you told me why. If you did, I could be more able to write for Rhând in a way that suits your characters and maybe Rhând can get your character on to his side.

This is of course only a suggestion, but as Rhând (;)) is intrested in having everybody trusting him, he would do everything to suck up.

NOTE: Langauge; Rhând speaks both the lanaguage of the Harad and the Common Speech. To all freed prisoners he will speak in the Common Speech.

Will try to have a new post up soon.

Cheers,
Nova

Himaran

06-30-2004, 04:52 PM

Kransha and Perky Ent

I agree with both of you; the dwarves, thoroughly pessimistic but still holding onto their fighting spirit, should share a sort of comradery that is a step or so short from friendship. Dwali, at least, has given up on friendship, as it only leads to regret and a feeling of loss when one dies.

Anyways, onto the Plot:

In my post, all three dwarves pick up orc clothing and armor; Dwali has a stout axe and a short knife, but I left out what sort of weapons you two picked up. That can be described in one of your next posts. The trio returned to the meeting place with there supplies.

Sarin Mithrilanger

06-30-2004, 07:29 PM

Novnarwen- Well in my post I wrote that Zuromor shrugged it off as being weary of company since he's never had it. He has no other reason not to trust him, but at this point he doesn't trust amyone except Grash. He somewhat trusts Grash due to the fact that Grash freed him.

Fordim- Should I edit my post to better describe Zuromor's personal feelings?

Fordim Hedgethistle

06-30-2004, 07:58 PM

Sarin -- if you would like to edit, then by all means do, but I think that you've answered Nova's question. If you want to expand on Zuromor's personal feelings, then feel free to add a new post and take the little party of Slave-Men out into the courtyard.

Dwarves -- You'll note you've just been presented with a plot twist. Feel free do deal with Lurg as you see fit, but please let him escape alive, as he may be showing up again later. . . ;)

EDIT -- The first version of the post had Lurg coming face to face with the Dwarves in the courtyard, but I've moved it to inside the Tower, as the Elves are still out in the courtyard and the Slaves will soon be out there too. For the moment, I think the Dwarves can handle the orc. After he gets away though, he will run through the courtyard, so if any of the Elves or Men wish to have a crack at him, let me know and get yourselves in position by the gate!

Novnarwen

07-01-2004, 03:31 AM

Sarin - Sounds good!

I must ask you to edit your last post however. (I know, I know.. I'm really a pain...) It's all my fault, I should have put up a note. But I don't want anyone to know that Rhând's real name is Rhând. Several reasons; it's a Haradrim name, which wouldn't fit when he is pretending to be a Gondorian. Second, because Rhând personally would never give his real name to anyone he didn't know properly.

His name, alias, will be Aldor. (This is originally a name from Rohan, Aldor the Old=Brego's son, which could maybe be Rhând's downfall, if a clever prisoner figures this out at the end...) :D

Yet again, I'm sorry!! :( *asks for forgiveness*

Cheers,
Nova

EDIT: I've filled my save. I have said that Rhând gave a false name to Zuromor, and that he believes that Rhând's name is Aldor. I brought Jeren too. Hope the post was alright. If not, then just tell and I'll edit. :)

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-01-2004, 07:57 AM

Himaran -- Neatly done with the orc; just be sure not to 'finish him off' so to speak: The Perky Ent or Kransha may want to get in on the action.

Aylwen -- Jeren seems to have been left behind, and/or evaporated on us. My fault, I should have carried him along a bit better in your absence (glad to see that you apparently enjoyed your visit to la belle province).

Sarin and Nova -- Re the above note to Aylwen, I think we should have Jeren with us in the courtyard so, Sarin, could you edit your post to include Jeren with the group of male slaves?

Everyone -- As I've said, this is my first time round in this role, so I would be very interested in hearing from you all (via PM) how it's going. Am I overmanaging the game? Not giving enough clues, twists, etc? Should we be going more quickly, or are we slipping along too fast? I realise that the game's only two days old, but I would like to get a feel for the dynamics earlier rather than later.

Aylwen Dreamsong

07-01-2004, 08:45 AM

Aylwen -- Jeren seems to have been left behind, and/or evaporated on us. My fault, I should have carried him along a bit better in your absence (glad to see that you apparently enjoyed your visit to la belle province).

Sarin and Nova -- Re the above note to Aylwen, I think we should have Jeren with us in the courtyard so, Sarin, could you edit your post to include Jeren with the group of male slaves?

Yes...I'm working on a post that should be up rather soon for Jeren. I'll try to catch him up a little bit after my untimely absence.

-Aylwen :)

Himaran

07-01-2004, 12:58 PM

Kransha, Perky Ent:

Lurg, our new orc nemisis, recovered from Dwali's unexpected attack and left my character unconcious. Now its your turn - sadly, Fordim won't let us kill him.... yet.

Himaran

Kransha

07-01-2004, 02:25 PM

Alrighty then, Himaran and Perky. I will soon have a post up. If Perky Ent doesn't mind, I will have Bror, with much assistance from Dorim, of course, drive off Lurg, and then encourage Dorim to follow as he takes unconscious Dwali. Then, if you want some action, Perky, you may have it, or the orc may simply run out into the courtyard, with us dwarves on his odiferous tail.

Himaran

07-01-2004, 04:18 PM

Kransha and Perky Ent:

Dwali recovered, and although slightly embarassed, is fine. It is up to you, Kransha, if we go after Dorim and Lurg. Perhaps Dorim will return before it is necessary, with information that Lurg escaped.

Kransha

07-01-2004, 04:44 PM

Himaran, just one minor proposal. Bror was, with Dwali, pursuing Dorim and Lurg. So, I assume he was stopped in your post. Feel free to include Bror proposing that the two follow, since they were already following Dorim. I really cannot think of much of a context for some post besides having Bror state that, so perhaps you could just make the tiny addition to your own post, including Bror and Dwali resuming the pursuit of Dorim and Lurg (pardon if that's a bit confusing).

BTW, this game seems to be going well, and I know find myself hoping that, now that the dwarves are in cahoots, relations (hostile relations, that is), might begin with the elves and men, who, 'unfortunately', must be associated with.

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-01-2004, 09:51 PM

All right, Lurg is making his break for it, and is fair game for any and all who wish to take a crack at him. Contrary to what Grash is saying, however, please make sure that Lurg survives and flees out through the front gate (which is, remember, barred to us by the Will of the Silent Watchers).

Bêthberry

07-02-2004, 08:01 AM

Hmm. This game moves at great speed! Nova and I were cross posting, but I think there is enough coherency between the posts and little contradiction. Still, if anything needs to be changed, let me know, Nova or Fordim, and will make the changes. I have left room for others to have a shot at the orc.

Am I correct in assuming the Gate is there in the courtyard? or is it just another door?

Alak, do you want to do some planning for our characters via PM? I was not sure how much to attribute to your character in my previous post; I will add or remove details if you have any suggestions. Aylwen, Darash will take some time to accept any Haradrim, and, Nova, I suspect that at some point Darash will find Rhand's other side. I have some ideas how this will happen, but I don't want to share them with you right now, for fear of ruining the fun. :D

I tried for a post with brevity to imply speed and that meant I did not refer to many other characters. Fellow gamers, if you want me to add a mention of your characters, in order to set them up for your post, let me know and I will add what details you wish. Fordim, I hope a belly wound is not serious enough to do in Lurg. And I hope Darash's actions have been sufficient to suggest to Grash that she knows a few tricks out of the kitchen. heh heh

Novnarwen

07-02-2004, 08:39 AM

and, Nova, I suspect that at some point Darash will find Rhand's other side. I have some ideas how this will happen, but I don't want to share them with you right now, for fear of ruining the fun.

o.0 Then, Rhând/Aldor will have to watch himself. You know, Bêthberry, you have just made me very curious about what you have in mind. But yes, it would certainly ruin the fun if I and Rhând/Aldor knew what you were up to. :p (PS! It shouldn't happen too soon, as Rhând might want to try something himself..)

Anyway, I am not sure I'll be able to post the following days. I might be able to pop in now and then and check the thread/PMs, but I think posting can be difficult. I will however try to post, but I don't know whether it will be possible. In that case, I would like for you to bring Rhând/Aldor along and set up saves for me if needed. ;)

Cheers,
Nova

Note: If there is anything in my post which needs editings, just tell me and I'll do it! ;)

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-02-2004, 09:56 AM

Great Posts all. I'm almost beginning to feel sorry for Lurg, however, with his accumulation of hurts -- fortunately for him (and me) orcs are very durable.

The game is moving quickly, isn't it. (Too quickly??) I was thinking that whoever posts next could deal with Lurg by having him escape through the arch (which, to answer your query Bb is in the Courtyard right in front of us -- we can all see the road but we cannot get past the Watchers: if anyone wants to try, though, and have a bit of fun writing about that, by all means do. It might be interesting to see how an Elf would react to their presence. . .)

I want to get us all into Shelob's Lair by early next week (Monday or Tuesday) so with Lurg's escape we should all start moving into the storeroom once more. Once everyone is there, Grash will explain his plan and we can all react to it, discuss it, whatever.

Durelin, CaptainofDespair and Aman -- I had thought that Jordo was with the Elves, but he seems to have disappeared from their company. . .

Durelin

07-02-2004, 03:25 PM

Fordim - I have spoken to CaptainofDespair, and it is worked out. Jordo is still afraid to let himself be seen by the elves. But that will change soon...

-Durelin :D

Amanaduial the archer

07-02-2004, 03:28 PM

Ah! Oh...oh dear...um...

I kind of just revealed Jordo. Is this alright? Durelin, have a read - is this alright? I apologise, I was trying to make things fit a little more in response to Fordim...

Durelin

07-02-2004, 03:31 PM

No, no, this is fine. It was just the CaptainofDespair and I had agreed upon this simply so that he did not have to edit his post. Jordo's 'entrance' can occur in any way. :D

Your post is fine! (And helps me out alot...)

-Durelin :D

alaklondewen

07-02-2004, 09:27 PM

I was unable to post today and will be unable in the morning (most likely), so I've placed a SAVE on the game thread so that Lyshka is not lost in the action.

Nova, I think it would be interesting to come up with some conflict between Rhand and the women...what do you think? I may pm you with an idea or two. ;)

This game is going very well thus far. I'm already reading on the edge of my seat looking forward to more.

~Alak

Himaran

07-04-2004, 07:14 AM

Kransha:
Brór and Dwali have returned to the meeting place. Dorim is still somewhere out looking for the orc which just escaped in Sarin's last post.

Himaran

alaklondewen

07-04-2004, 10:41 AM

Bethberry, would you mind slipping this into the end of your post #29? I would really appreciate it. :)

EDIT: HAVE PLACED THIS POST FOR YOU -- PIO

~*~*~*~

alaklondewn's post - Lyshka

Lyshka understood naught of the other woman’s words, but she saw strength and pride in her eyes. The Easterling would keep close to her as they would prove to be quite a challenge to overcome together. Following the other woman, Lyshka stepped out into the courtyard and witnessed the remains of the bloody scene.

Corpses littered the dusty ground, and the Easterling walked slowly through them winding her way around their bodies. Many were face down, knives protruding from their blood soaked backs. Others whose faces were shown…wore eternal expressions of anguish. Lyshka was not saddened by the scene, nor was she sick. She was more curious than anything. Taking her bare toe, she nudged one body just to be sure the hideous creature was not faking death and would pounce on her from behind and slash her throat. The Orc lay still, however, its expression remained unchanging.

Kneeling, Lyshka examined its clothing and searched for a weapon. A short broad blade still lay in its hand, and she pried it free to hold in her own palm. The knife was heavy in hand, but the handle fit well. Rising, the Easterling tossed the knife side to side, hand to hand, to get a better feel. She lunged forward and jabbed the empty air, then quickly threw a glance over her shoulder at the other woman…ensuring her actions were not seen.

The woman then searched for clothing. She quickly found a thick leather vest that tied at the breast. The garment was bulky on her small frame, but was satisfactory in length. A large gash had opened the lower back of the vest, but it covered her nicely. As nicely as any Orc garment could do.

Peeling the dark leggings from another body, Lyshka was soon in Orcish attire and ready for more action.

~*~*~*~

EDIT: My SAVE is filled. It is short, but I feel I was able to do much more in the above post to keep her active. I'm looking forward to what is to come. :)

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-05-2004, 08:04 AM

Once again let me say it -- great posts everyone! :)

Grash has begun to marshall people back into the cellars as he (and I) would like to get the company out of the Tower sometime relatively soon. That having been said, there is no mad rush here.

Elves and Co ('Co.' means Durelin ;) ): I like the current developments with your characters, but could you wrap this up within the next couple posts and have everyone return to the cellars? You can either have Grash and Aldor find you all and bring you down, or you can return on your own and meet the two Men as they come up the stairs looking for you. Either way is fine with me.

Nova -- We appear to be cross-posting in the game; I went ahead and put up my post, but will edit it as needed when yours is ready.

Everybody else -- You don't have to wait around on your typing hands for the rest of us to get back; we still need to gather up food and water, so perhaps you could give us a description of what sort of orc-fare we will have to live on for the next while? It might also be nice to see what the Dwarves and humans think of each other.

Novnarwen

07-05-2004, 08:17 AM

Nova -- We appear to be cross-posting in the game; I went ahead and put up my post, but will edit it as needed when yours is ready.

Yes, we did seem to cross post. However, as I hadn't finished mine at the time you posted, I just made the end so that it would fit with yours.. Or at least I think so. Anyway, I am, too, happy to edit if there is anything. :) Also, I'm very happy for Grash, thinking that Rhând might be good after all. :D

Alak - A conflict would be rather neat. But at the time, Rhând will not be willing to confront anyone unless someone (in this case your character and Bêth's(?)) have something to threaten him with. Anyway, currently I have very limited computer access, so I don't know if I have time for much planning right now. But I'm very interested in what you have in mind, so I'll be PMing you when I have my computer back.

Reminder; I will not be able to post before Friday again. (If I'm lucky, I'll manage Thursday!)

Cheers,
Nova

Sarin Mithrilanger

07-05-2004, 11:17 AM

Fordim- In your post Zuromor states that he lost his blade and needs another,but Zuromor still has the orc sword from before and had thrown a dagger that protruded from a corpse.

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-05-2004, 11:55 AM

Sarin -- I have edited my post accordingly.

Himaran

07-07-2004, 04:40 AM

Just a note: I think that by this time in the story, the gate would have collapsed. If Sam and Frodo had spent too much time in the tower, they would have surely bumped into one of our escaping characters; which would be thoroughly unacceptable by moderating standards. In my next posts, two dwarves are in a cellar - can I mention that they hear a low tremble above them?

Himaran

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-07-2004, 04:47 AM

Himaran: rumble away, as I agree the gate is ready to come down. Just as soon as Grash can get those pesky Elves (and Co.) into the cellars, Frodo and Sam will make their escape and the arch will collapse.

The Perky Ent

07-07-2004, 06:49 PM

Everyone - Sorry I haven't posted. I have been away from a computer for medical reasons. I should, however, have computer access by Monday. I am still playing. Just give me time!

-Perky

Bêthberry

07-08-2004, 06:08 AM

Well, I'm not sure if we were supposed to wait for Himaran to finish his post about the collapse or for Fordim to round up all the wandering dwarves and elves. So, I went ahead and posted any way. :p

I'll be happy to add things about collapses, etc, if need be. I was quite vague about who exactly is with Lyshkya and Darash as I am not sure just where everyone is.

I guess I'm just itchin' to see a spider's lair. *chomps a bit on the bit at being slowed down and offers carrots to others*

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-08-2004, 07:35 AM

I hope nobody minds that I've put in a rather Draconian post to get us on our way. As always, happy to put in any edits that are needed.

At any rate, the Special Treat referred to above is that we are actually going to confront Shelob herself. As you all know, I'm sure, she was pretty badly wounded by Sam so she'll be spitting angry. What's more, the mods (all hail the wisdom and benevolence of Pio and Child) have actually given us the go ahead to, and I quote, "finish her off".

I, for one, am tremendously excited about this.

At any event, this is how the next little bit of the adventure is going to proceed. I will give everyone until Monday to post about the journey into the tunnel. There should be lots to do: your feelings about Grash's plan, your feelings about each other, hatching plots, having confrontations, sense of foreboding danger, whatever (think The Green Dragon Inn at Cirith Ungol). I would hope that at the very least we will get some wonderfully atmospheric descriptions of Shelob's Lair!

Then on Monday, the Lady herself will show up, at which point we will all have to fight for our very lives -- and, I hope, for the lives of each other.

Himaran

07-08-2004, 07:40 AM

Amazing.... we are about to write an extension of JRR's literature - and kill one of his character. How exciting!

Dwarves found some food - i will now mention the rumble, and then my post is finally done...

Great post btw, Fordim!

Himaran

Durelin

07-08-2004, 02:49 PM

Aman - I was foolish and did not put up a save while I was writing my post, and you posted before I was able to finish....but, the astounding thing is, I believe my post still works with yours... Except that it must go before yours. Would you mind placing the post below at the beginning of your post? Thank you, it is much appreciated. :D And please let me know if I need to change anything.

~

“Some get eaten, some do not..." those words were all Jordo's brain could handle for many moments after they were spoken. And the man who spoke them were all his eyes could see. He stared at this man named Grash, the one whom he had obeyed when the creaking of metal had announced his freedom. But now his eyes could not acknowledge the man as someone to be obeyed. His mind cringed in terror as it realized what his eyes were doing. They were defying! Only his soul was interested in what was seen. His mind disregarded it as foolishness, and a dangerous foolishness, at that. But then the movement around him brought his eyes away, and he felt his mind relax, though it remained on the alert.

He watched Grash enter this tunnel, somehow ignoring his own words completely, and entering this pit of darkness - a pit of darkness even standing so close to the fires of Mordor - which he may not exit, which no one was guaranteed to exit. Jordo of course could not see this as something to admire, if courage it was. But he would not see courage or any other trait in someone, either. Another man followed him immediately, carrying a torch. Jordo almost followed this man, carrying precious light, but then he looked at those he stood with, who he found security in obeying.

The male elf spoke in a voice that made Jordo flinch, wanting the elf to command him so that he could show that he would be good. He felt as if all the spite in Morgoroth's voice was directed to him, and it frightened him to no end. Even that man Grash did not frighten him as much as this elf with the dark hair. He missed the elf's first words, but the rest were enough. They stung him like no orc whip had ever done, choked him like no ash ridden air ever had, and chilled him so deeply, deeper than any screams of the dying. "The Tunnel awaits us, and She will welcome our presence. We should not...disappoint Her." She...he wanted to scream at the knowledge that he found in his mind, memories of orc's speaking about a 'she' who was more than a nuisance even to orc kind.

Morgoroth entered and Jordo of course followed, almost bumping into Raeis as he did. He quickly muttered an apology, and looked up from the ground into the female elf's eyes only to see her smile at him. He smiled back, recognizing those eyes. But then the recognition faded as he saw himself back in his cell, alone. Raeis was making her way into the Tunnel now, as well, and so Jordo followed. In his first few steps he already had the feeling that something was watching him, and he felt little better knowing that others were slowly finding their own reasons to enter the Tunnel.

~

-Durelin

Amanaduial the archer

07-08-2004, 02:58 PM

But of course, Durelin - sorry about that, it's irritating when that happens.

I'll go and edit your post in now :)

Novnarwen

07-08-2004, 03:13 PM

I was just about to fill my save, when Aman posted. I don't think mine was appropriate to be above yours (and Durelin's) , so I just deleted it and posted after Aman. Confusing? Ehm... sorry. Not your fault, though, I should have filled it sooner... :p

Anyway, another mistake I made today... Eeeek. I was about to post after Fordim's last post. But then halfway through, I was delayed when I was grabbing something to bite and *WHOOPS* two people had posted! So, I was wondering if you Fordim could just paste my short little post up at the bottom (or top) of your last reply?

***

Unexpectedly, a new chance for him to convince Grash was presented to Rhând. The skinny Haradrim had watched the elves (and one man) carefully as he and Grash had approached them. Two elves, both proud and some would say fair, had stood before them and looked hesitatingly at the two men for a moment. Not till after Grash had told them that they should go and meet the others, had they gone. But during those few seconds they had stood still, the look in their eyes could not be wrongly interpreted. It was clear that the elves were most hesitant towards both Rhând and Grash. Instantly, it struck the Haradrim that he could use this. It would be easy; Grash had looked the elves into their eyes himself and knew exactly how they felt.

The minute the opportunity became obvious to Rhând, he seized it. Glad that he had got another chance so soon, he restrained himself from storming to Grash’s side and tell him what he had on his mind. He made his move, putting up a serious face. He made Grash slow down for a moment, looked around being certain that not the elves were listening. Choosing his words with care, he expressed his uncertainty when it came to elves in general. "I can see that you do not trust the Ageless Ones," Rhând said, with a tone that implied that he completely understood Grash's feelings, but had clearly seen the doubt in his eyes just earlier. Discovering, to his satisfaction, that Grash seemed to listen, he hoped that he had managed to make the other freed prisoner doubt the elves even more. It would certainly pay off one day.

Seconds later, they had gone through the courtyard. Rhând walked a few paces behind Grash now. If he was going to pull this through, he would have to be on the surface a silent man, who spoke little, but acted well. Underneath the facade, he would have to be the good friend of the leader, who Rhând guessed would be Grash, of whom he would trick and cheat. This way, he could control Grash, and through Grash he would be able to control the other ones who trusted Grash. The Elves, even though they were sceptical now, would soon be outnumbered when the dwarves turned against them. Deep in thought, still feeling quite ill after running after the orc and collapsing, he was greatly surprised when the sound of what seemed like an earthquake disturbed him. Looking around, alarmingly, he found himself trembling. The whole ground trembled.

**

Would you please?

Thanks in advance

Cheers,
Nova

EDIT: Thanks Fordim. And yes, it did seem to fit there! :) Thanks!

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-08-2004, 03:19 PM

Done and done, Nova. I actually put your post in the middle of my own, as it seemed to fit best there.

Aylwen Dreamsong

07-09-2004, 07:40 PM

Hey everyone,

I haven't posted recently, for which I apologize! I should get a post for dear ol' Jeren up before the night is through.

-Aylwen

Novnarwen

07-10-2004, 11:03 AM

I will not be able to post for a few days. There is something wrong with my Internet connection, and it will probably take a few days to fix it. I know that the prisoners will be meeting Shelob on Monday, but I will probably not be able to post then. So, would someone pease leave me a save or something, which I can fill when my Internet box is fixed?

By the way . . . Rhând, when meeting Shelob, will eagerly try to make it difficult for the male elf to survive . . . :p

Thanks in advance,
Nova :)

The Perky Ent

07-11-2004, 03:20 PM

Everyone, I'm back at my computer. I will make a post ASAP, so please bear with me. I'll have an update as soon as I can, which should be, soon. ;) thanks for not kicking me off

-Perky

Amanaduial the archer

07-11-2004, 05:25 PM

...and in comes Shelob *evil* I have introduced her 'coming' in a way in this last post. Prepare for the attack...

*Rubs hands together gleefully*

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-11-2004, 05:57 PM

My vote for most atmospheric Lair-Post goes to Aman!

That having been said, don't anyone get carried away and have Shelob come at the group quite yet. . . (Yeah, I'm looking at you Kransha and Himaran :D )

Never fear, she'll be making her appearance, but she's got some plans to make, some webs to spin, and some traps to lay first.

Be afraid, be very afraid.

Aylwen Dreamsong

07-11-2004, 06:40 PM

My vote for most atmospheric Lair-Post goes to Aman!

What does she win? ;)

So...who's going to die? It's been the topic of thought for several posts now! Will it be the Dwarves? The Elves? The women? The MEN?

The suspense is killing me! :eek:

-Aylwen

CaptainofDespair

07-11-2004, 06:52 PM

Hmm...good question...who is going to die?

Certainly not I...for I have plans for my Elf...;)

Oh well...we shall see, very soon.

alaklondewen

07-11-2004, 09:29 PM

My SAVE is filled. I do need to apologize for my lack of regular posting. I just started a new job, and I've been working a lot of extra hours.

I'm really excited about the scene to come. I'm terrified of spiders, so I may need therapy after this. ;) I'll have to use my psych classes to get me through...*mumbles something about desensitization*

Bêthberry

07-12-2004, 06:55 AM

I've been caught cross-posting. My post needs to come after Aman and Sarin's but before Captain of Despair's, I think. My character asks Grash for advice about the monster as part of a strategy for defense.

Fordim, is Darash' question to Grash okay with your planned attack for Shelob? I hope I haven't put you off your post.

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-12-2004, 07:03 AM

OK -- I've just moved my post beneath Bethberry's and will edit it to make a more seamless transition momentarily, but first. . .

The attack is underway, and I wanted to be clear on the geography of what's going on.

The company is in a long narrow passage with no branches, turns or outlets: there is only forward or back. With the little nasties coming on us, you have three choices: stand and fight, run back the way you came, or run forward.

If you go back, however, you will find the passage blocked by a new web that is impenetrable by weapons and the little beasties wil soon find you.

If you go on, you will find yourself in a huge cavern with many branching tunnels leading off from it, but all of them are likewise blocked. The cavern is full of dried bones and skins and the air is almost unbreathable for the reek. Again, the little beasties will eventually pursue you down there as well. Shelob is hanging back for a bit to see how this turns out so we won't be seeing her again for a little bit.

But don't worry, She is still coming. . .

The Perky Ent

07-12-2004, 06:09 PM

Fordim, question, what's the best way to put my posts together. Would it be better to do short posts dealing with each event I've missed, or do one ginormous post with it all. Either way doesn't matter. Preferably, I'd like short posts, but it's your call Fordim.

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-12-2004, 07:07 PM

Greetings Perky.

We've been carrying your character along pretty well to this point, so I think that you could probably just join in right here without a need to do "catch up." If you really want to go back and do posts for earlier events, however, it would probably be best to post them to the discussion thread and then perhaps we could prevail upon the mods to insert them earlier (?) or I could paste them into some of my earlier posts.

To be honest, however, I would rather see you just start posting on the current scene -- that way all your energies can go to moving along the current plot rather than developing stuff that's relatively 'over and done with'.

The Perky Ent

07-12-2004, 07:22 PM

Yay! Now I don't have to go through 69 posts. (69! :D) Sure, I'll just start off right here. If it matters, here's my catch up post that goes up to about post 27. If you don't need it, i'll delete it. It basically restates the same ole stuff, so I really don't mind it you drop it. Here it is Dorim strided across the cells slowly. The stench and light slowed him down. As Dorim walked, he noticed people in front of him and behind. Of the tired, dirty prisoners, Dorim noticed two that standed out. They were dwarves. As Dorim began to climb up the stairs, he glanced at them, but then turned his face back. A weapon would be much more important than friendship. “This forsaken place is rank with orc stench, even after they are gone” Dorim said in a disgusted voice, looking down at the bodies of dead orcs. “It is the stench of death, not of orcs.” A dwarf next to Dorim said. Dorim hated being contradicted, and therefore wasn’t so keen on the dwarf, whos name happened to be Brór. “Death and orcs share the same jagged blade.” Dorim retorted, in the same flat tone as Brór. Feeling no reason to continue the conversation further, Dorim looked over the dead body of an orc. It was still twitching. Without a moment to consider what he was doing, Dorim heaved the orc onto it’s back, and shoved the knife inbedding in his back even deeper. Although the orc was still twitching, Dorim took no notice and began searching the orc for weapons. Finding none, Dorim took the only one he could find, and ripped the blade from the orcs back out and clutched it in his hand.

“It would seem not,” the third dwarf said. “if one blade hascrushed the other here.” Dorim gave a small nod, and took what rages he had to clean off the blood from the knife, delighted that he had a weapon. As Dorim looked down at the festering orcs on the ground, Brór and the young dwarf began talking. “Dwali” Dorim heard the young dwarf say. “So Dorim, Brór, and Dwali are the dwarves of Mordor” Dorim said, looking at the two. “Then you must be… Dorim. Come, let’s find some blades.” Dwali said, as the three began to traverse the courtyard close together. Then, they began to go their separate ways, looking for weapons. Dorim could see many armed orcs, but none with the equiptment he needed. Then, seeing two dead Uruk captains, Dorim gave a shout. “These will do” Dorim said, stripping the orcs of everything they had. Greatful for the goods he was now wearing, Dorim looked around again to see how the others were doing. Yeah, basically restating everything!

Kransha

07-12-2004, 08:18 PM

Alas, I have not been posting in this Discussion Thread regularly enough, Fordim and Co. so forgive me, if you would. I have not yet, in this RPG, had time to put a great, great effort into any single post (for shame, fie on me!). But, now, at last and at length, I have a worth-while post submitted to the game. I hope it is, as said, worth the while.

Bror, my argumentative dwarf, has gone a bit kamikaze, but I don't plan on letting him die now. I've placed a hook at his battle site, and baited it well. If any one of you aquatic fellows or gals would like to grab that bait, feel free, for I've left it open for most, but one in particular. If no one takes the hint (which might well happen, since I post so confusingly), I'll think of some ingenious way for Bror to escape the little beasties. But, I know y'all are smarter than that, so...

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-12-2004, 08:49 PM

Perky Ent -- I have pasted your post into my own at #22; I think it works there but let me know.

Kransha -- Wonderful post. I certainly hope that somebody saves Bror from his own foolishness!

CaptainofDespair

07-12-2004, 09:46 PM

It's great working with you all. Wonderful storyline going on. Finally, it will be getting interesting. :)

As for poor Bror...I think Morg has found his heart of hearts... : :p

Himaran

07-13-2004, 03:19 PM

Fordim,

I am very sorry to announce that my computer crashed two days ago, and thus I have no useable internet access at home. It may be a full week until the problem is fixed. As soon as it is, I will begin posting regularly again.

Himaran

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-13-2004, 03:21 PM

All right Himaran, we shall be sure to carry your character along without too much damage coming to him. . . ;)

alaklondewen

07-14-2004, 07:14 PM

I just want to apologize for not filling my SAVE on time. My little town was hit by a series of really bad storms yesterday, and the entire town suffered a blackout for close to 19 hours. Anyway, power is on now, so I'm working and it will be filled in very soon. :)

~ Alak

The Perky Ent

07-14-2004, 08:30 PM

Alright Fordim! I'll read up on Kransha and Hilmaran's posts, and well as info in the DT concerning where we are now and get a post up!

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-15-2004, 06:31 AM

My apologies in advance, but I will probably be able to post only sporadically over the next week or so, as my town has been placed under a state of emergency after we got quite a bit of flooding. I have about 5 ft of water in my basement, and one of our trees came down, but everyone is safe.

At any rate, I will be back -- if sodden!

Keep posting away, however -- you're a great group of writers who I'm sure can survive my sporadic attention.

Durelin

07-15-2004, 03:33 PM

I just realized my post might need a little explanation...just a little. :D Jordo is unconscious...I hope someone will find him. If not... ;)

I would also like to let you know, Fordim, that I will be pretty much absent as well. For five days, I will be on vacation, and I leave tomorrow. I will have access to a computer and will post as often as I can. But this will not be too often, I'm afraid.

Thanks Fordim!

-Durelin :D

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-16-2004, 03:14 PM

Great posts everyone -- keep them coming!

I am only checking in very briefly (the tree is gone from my roof and the water is out of my basement, but there is a LOT of damage that needs to be repaired, and a LOT of our belongings to be replaced :( :eek: ).

At any event -- please keep up with the battle against the little beasties. On Monday (or maybe Tuesday) I will be back into full BD swing at which point She Herself will make Her official entrance into the story.

*insert foreboding music here*

Off to my basement (where are those gumboots, anyway. . .?) ;)

Bêthberry

07-17-2004, 11:44 AM

Good luck with the cleanup, Fordim. I have been following the news reports and was aghast to hear that officials had even asked people not to drain their basements yet because the flooding is so extensive and may threaten the water supply. I hope at least none of your books were stored in the basement. At least I gather your computer was not!

Everyone,

I have taken a rather large step in my latest post, #81 I think. I deleted my save from yesterday as what I wanted to do was too complex to fit in with the posts some of you had made. I hope what I have done is okay. Here's a bit of background.

The element sulphur has been known since ancient times. Its name comes from the Sanskrit, sulvere and is known in the Bible as brimstone.

Assyrian texts from 700-600 BC refer to deposits of sulphur along riversides and in the 9th century BC Homer (the poet, not Simpson, ;) ) called it "pest-averting sulphur." I have thus assumed that it would be known to Darash's tribe.

Sulphur is found in volcanoes and hot springs in its natural state. It is not soluble in water. It burns in air to form sulphur dioxide. It is of course found in acid rain.

In high concentrations it causes death by respiratory paralysis. I assumed that the nasty little critters would be more vulnerable more quickly to its smoke than us.

I assumed also that this form of defense would be a way to bring at least some of us together into a more unified action. Please everyone and anyone feel free to take up where I have left off. I don't foresee than any of us will die from the fumes.

Raid the gourd Darash left on the ground. She is carrying another gourd with her but I'm not sure if she will use this means of defense against Shelob. :p :D

Mwahaha and have fun.

Aylwen Dreamsong

07-18-2004, 10:16 PM

Just a note --

I've been busy the last few days, with family visiting and track meets lasting for more than 15 hours ( :mad: ), so I put up a save for Jeren for me to fill in by tomorrow so I can get his reaction to the tunnel attack in. :D

-Aylwen

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-18-2004, 10:30 PM

I'm back baby!

Good luck with the cleanup, Fordim. I have been following the news reports and was aghast to hear that officials had even asked people not to drain their basements yet because the flooding is so extensive and may threaten the water supply. I hope at least none of your books were stored in the basement. At least I gather your computer was not!

My basement is indeed drained, although we have not yet been able to get a crew out here to clean it up, so the house is beginning to smell a bit, shall we say, ripe. . . Sad to say that I did have a rather large store of books in the basement, most of which are now lost (I only managed to salvage two boxes).

This is all right, as I have too many books anyway. At least my well loved, dog eared copy of LotR is up here in my office, safe and sound.

At any event -- the game!

This is to let you all know that at some point tomorrow morning (EDT), SHE will make her formal entrance. So if you have any last posts/thoughts on the attack in the tunnel, get them up now!

BTW - I love the ingenious ideas you've all come up with to fight off the beasties. I will warn you now, however, that a few rocks and some foul smoke ain't going to do nothing to Shelob but make her even more angry!! :eek:

Novnarwen

07-19-2004, 07:23 AM

I've just posted.

Rhând might want to steal some of that yellow surverah, to use when he has had enough of the other prisoners.

Let me know if my latests posts needs editing. (I filled my save, last post oage 2, yesterday..)

Cheers,
Nova

(PS! I'm sorry about your basement, Fordim. :confused: Hope it'll be alright! Glad you are back though. :))

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-19-2004, 07:30 AM

She's here! She's here!!

OK, so now you all get to fight Shelob. Feel free to post about the battle however you wish -- get involved in fighting her, try to get away, cower against the all in terror, whatever.

There are, however, certain things that we should all take note of:

First, there is nowhere to hide in this chamber. It is her trap and she's crafted ti well -- all tunnels are blocked by webs that cannot be broken through, all crannies are too small to protect you.

Second, please remember the description of Shelob given us by Tolkien and do her full justice. She's not just a big spider, but one of the primary evil beings of M-E. Her hide is impenetrable by any kind of weapon we have, so hack away but it won't do any good. Sulphur will make her mad, but hey -- give it a shot! Fire is not her favourite thing, but our little torches will only hurt and annoy.

She has but two vulnerable points: her eyes and the wound given her by Sam. Please do not be too free with these, however, as she will be very careful to protect both. She has a lot of eyes, anyway, so even if we take out a few she'll still be able to see. If (and it's a big if) someone can get close enough to her belly to exploit the wound there, we might be able to do some damage, but it won't be enough to kill her (at least, not right off the bat).

So fight fight fight, but there's no way in Mordor we're going to be able to kill her quite yet. . .

(But don't worry, we're going to get out of here. . .somehow ;) )

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-19-2004, 10:32 PM

Nice post Bethberry. This more properly belongs in a PM, but I've noticed this cropping up in a few posts so far, so please Bb don't feel as though I'm singling you out. . . (although even if I did, I'm sure you could stick up for yourself mightily ;) ).

Nova has thrown us all a bit of a curve ball since her character Rhand is going by the name Aldor -- so please, all, refer to him as Aldor and think of him as a Gondorian.

I'm sure he'll show his true colours eventually, though. . .(?)

Bêthberry

07-20-2004, 08:06 AM

Eeks, yes, it was midnight when I wrote and I wondered who the heck was Aldor. Anyhow, I have as per instructions from our mighty G.O. changed the name and called him a Gondorian. Hmmm. Maybe I will make that the arrogant Gondorian? ;)

Amanaduial the archer

07-20-2004, 09:05 AM

Fordim, O Mighty Cap'n G.O. - Just a reminder of what I told you before the game opened: as of Friday, I will be absent for a week and a day, and very probably unable to post. Sorry 'bout that, cap'n (;))

EDIT: *evil laughter*

Novnarwen

07-20-2004, 11:31 AM

I've filled my save.

I'll be away for a week from tomorrow morning. I will have computer access the last part of the week. It will still be very limited, so I'm not sure wheter I'll be able to post much. :)

Cheers,
Nova

Sarin Mithrilanger

07-20-2004, 02:06 PM

I've been going through personal events recently and have not been posting regularly, but I will be able to now. Sorry for my short posts few and far between.

Durelin

07-22-2004, 12:17 PM

Vacation time is over, much to my relief, and so I will be back posting. As you might have noticed, while on vacation, I had less access to a computer than expected. Thank you for dragging Jordo along for me in my neglect of him...

Forgive me, it was not of my intent!

-Durelin :D

Himaran

07-23-2004, 05:14 AM

Hey! My computer is finally purged of viruses and reformatted, so i once again have internet access. I will try to fill in both remaining saves today, and then post regularly. I have a lot of reading to do.

Himaran

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-23-2004, 06:13 AM

Welcome back Himaran. I well know the agony of a virusy computer :(

And welcome back also to Durelin. I hope you enjoyed your vacation despite the shocking lack of computer access.

See you in about a week Aman *sob* :( Mayphap you will post a few lines on the game thread before aband. . .erm. . .absenting yourself for a while?

*gentle nudge*

That was for everyone else. Shelob's here, large as life and twice as nasty. Don't be afraid to get in there and mix things up a bit with her.

Amanaduial the archer

07-23-2004, 06:20 AM

Twice as nasty as life? Dear me, now that is nasty...

Ah, you are a hard taskmaster, Fordim - I posted but three days ago! Slavemaster! ;) Joking, joking - I intended to post again before I went, if possible. Is there any particular way in which you want us to go about it?

Kransha

07-23-2004, 07:54 PM

Oy.

Alrighty, I have a post up, and its quite a post (not blowing my own horn here, simply relating length, though I do have a very big horn to blow if I truly wanted to, on loan from the Hornburg). I now it's lengthy, but must be read, for it holds some crucial points that must be looked to.

I controlled Raeis, Zurumor, Dwali, Dorim, and, of course, Bror. Inform me of any and all errors posthaste. Dorim has been...well, to put it simply, put out. He's still kicking, but very barely, and I doubt medicine can save him. This is all per Fordim's request, so worry not. Bror, on the other hand, is also in a near-death state, but saveable. The floor is open to anyone, and that means anyone who wants to jump in.

Anybody who decides to a) go up against the now very annoyed spider, b) grab Bror and run off, or c) grab Bror and Dorim may. If someone hauls Bror to safety but not Dorim, that's fine, since Dorim is mortally injured and unconscious, thus on death's door, but it would be a heartless endeavor, and Bror would sure be mad when he woke up. Of course, half the escapees are heartless, and Bror would be too, but perhaps those bonds of rivalry have been broken. Have the chains of segregation truly been shattered?

I love suspense. ;)

CaptainofDespair

07-23-2004, 09:50 PM

Well, I have made my post. It's rather late, so I might not be 'all there', so please forgive any mistakes I made, and I will edit them out as soon as possible.

My plan for Shelob has unfolded, and I have succeeded in not only tearing apart her legs, but enraging her beyond belief. So when she comes a calling soon, beware. :)

The Perky Ent

07-23-2004, 10:48 PM

Yes, Dorim is inches from seeing the light. I wish I could continue, but I can't. But this put's things into perspective. This isn't one of those stories where a small band of inexperienced travelers conquer extreme evil. It's not like the hobbits would have made it all the way without the rest of the fellowship. My mortal injury shows that Shelob still has some spunk ;)

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-24-2004, 07:19 AM

CaptainofDespair: Quite a dramatic post, and an ingenious idea by Morgoroth to fell Shelob. Still, I think that perhaps ripping out four legs is a bit much, even for an Elf of Morgoroth's undoubted might. Could I perhaps ask that you edit the post down to just one leg being taken out of the old girl? Perhaps the leg that has already been wounded by Sam (the one without its claw)? Thanks.

And one more note: the company is no longer in a passage or a tunnel but in a huge chamber that stretches away in a circle on all sides. Let's say it's about the size of a small football field (that is, American football, NFL style -- not the more spacious and enjoyable CFL sized field, or the real football (soccer) ;) )

Perky: Thanks for writing with the game to this point, and I'm sorry you have to pull out. I quite agree with your comments about Dorim's death!

Everyone: The current battle with Shelob will continue until Monday morning EDT when there shall be a bit of new development. So get in there and swing away!

Himaran

07-24-2004, 03:21 PM

Fordim: I put in a post which leads into a possible counter-attack on the dwarves & co. by Shelob. Could you place your post about Grash and Aldor saving them below mine? I think you put it in while i was writing or something.

Thanks,
Himaran

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-24-2004, 03:28 PM

Himaran -- yes, sorry about the cross-posting.

Actually, I think it best if I ask you to edit your post rather than me simply moving mine down as there are a couple of wrinkles in yours that need ironing out.

First, Bror is unconscious after his encounter with Shelob but you have him talking with Dwal.

Second, the company is not in a tunnel anymore but a large round cavern from which there is no escape. You can't run, and you can't hide! :eek:

Third, Dorim is already dead (although it's entirely likely that Dwali just doesn't know that yet)

And fourth (pick pick pick :D ) the company is and cannot be running away (see point two, above) so they are already undertaking the counter attack that you suggest.

Sorry to be such a spoil-sport (or is that a spoil-poster?) and I'm sorry if it seems like I'm criticising: I'm really not -- things are happening pretty quick right now and it's a bit hard to keep it all straight, so I'm doing my best to keep people on track without being a dictator about it (and oooooh I do so love to dictate!)

Himaran

07-24-2004, 04:21 PM

Fordim:

Its not a problem at all. Your comments put me back in perspective, and gave me the material I needed to enhance a short post. I took everything into account and rewrote it, adding a great deal in the process.

Besides, I deserve to get corrected, after all the grief I gave you and the others in Rhun. :p Thanks for getting me back on track!

BTW: Only one save left to fill - I'm almost caught up.

Himaran

Himaran

07-25-2004, 04:43 PM

Sarin: Dwali came to your aid, but is now stuck up in a nitch... thirty feet from the ground. Perhaps, if you wish to continue the battle, Shelob could sort of clamber up there... She's still got Zuromor on her back, but wants to go after the dwarf, as he presents an accessible target.

Himaran

EDIT: sorry about the double post - didn't realize that no one had posted. Doesn't anyone have anything interesting to say?? :confused:

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-25-2004, 11:54 PM

All right -- on to the next stage of the story!

I apologise for the long post, but something as dramatic as the passing of Shelob, I felt, deserved a bit of a full treatment.

At any rate, looking onward.

The company is now on a ledge high up the inside walls of Mordor. We're not far from Cirith Ungol but it's out of sight. For those of you with good maps of Mordor, we're just about directly above the bridge that the road to Minas Morgul uses to cross the Morgai.

It's my hope that we might be able to slow things down bit now (in terms of the action, not the posting!) and have a bit of a 'rest'. It's been roughly 24 hours since the prisoners escaped so I think they're due for some food and water (if any survived the encounter with Shelob that is! ;) ), as well as rest. There's also a lot for the company to discuss. In addition to all the interesting plot threads that have begun already (and please please please pursue these!) we need to figure out:

1) where to go and what to do next?

2) what do do about the unconscious Bror.

3) what to do with Dorim's body.

If anyone wants to scout around a bit, you will find that the ledge to the north peters out and ends at a very long drop down. To the south it goes down and becomes kind of a path that seems to lead toward the Morgul Road. . .

One last thing -- if anyone wants to get in a last post with Shelob, just PM it to me and I will paste it into the beginning of my post.

Aylwen Dreamsong

07-26-2004, 09:51 AM

Hey everyone,

I had a couple things to mention here, and one is that my save just before Shelob's end has been filled. The other I have already PMed Fordim about, and that is vacation time. I will be unable to post basically from tomorrow, Tuesday July 27 until Tuesday August 3.

And, as I mentioned to Fordim, you may do as you wish with Jeren, so long as he lives and keeps at least one leg. ;)

-Aylwen

The Perky Ent

07-26-2004, 10:08 AM

I've been saved! I've been saved! I've been saved...but mortally wounded. Thanks a lot! How's that for ironic :D

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-26-2004, 10:23 AM

According to your blog, Aylwen, you're listening to No Doubt's 'best of' collection. . .?

"Walking in the Spider Webs" indeed! ;) (But it's not really my fault, is it?)

Pick up!

PS Apologies (and condolences) to all non-No Doubt fans.

PPS Gwen Stefani Rules!

PPPS Just to make this game related so Pio won't delete it: Grash is wearing mismatched socks beneath his armour.

Hey everyone,

I had a couple things to mention here, and one is that my save just before Shelob's end has been filled. The other I have already PMed Fordim about, and that is vacation time. I will be unable to post basically from tomorrow, Tuesday July 27 until Tuesday August 3.

And, as I mentioned to Fordim, you may do as you wish with Jeren, so long as he lives and keeps at least one leg. ;)

-Aylwen

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-26-2004, 06:38 PM

I should just add this note as an edit to my last post, but I really do feel that this deserves a post of its very own.

As I was cruising the Downs and patiently awaiting new posts for the game (gentle nudge gentle nudge) I happened upon the archives.

An entirely cool place that you should all visit if you haven't already (and I'm sure that you all have: I am such a newbie).

At any rate, I found the game thread and realised that it was very friendly for copying and pasting into a word document, which I did. I then formatted it like a proper manuscript and was stunned to see that the game is already over 200 pages long (double spaced) -- that's a whopping great 65 000 words, people! And we're still a week away from the halfway point.

It will be a modestly sized novel by the time we're done (assuming we keep up this torrid pace).

I just wante to share that and to say 'rah 'rah for all the wonderful posts and writers in this game. I cannot wait to see how it turns out. . .

Himaran

07-26-2004, 07:51 PM

Well, we are certainly at a crossroads...

I would assume that after the terror of Shelob, the company would not be eager to re-enter the tunnels. So... would they make for Minas Morgul? Suicide. Scale the mountains? Suicide. Hm... where else could they go? After all, none of them are exactly familiar with the passages of Mordor.

Himaran

CaptainofDespair

07-26-2004, 07:59 PM

Hmm...good question. I would like to know as well. :D

I would assume we would have to trek near Morgul, since that is the main way, pretty much the only way, into Ithilien from that side of Mordor.

Bêthberry

07-26-2004, 07:59 PM

Fordim, this was a very clever, very fitting end for Shelob. A superb bit of plotting, inspired.

What do we do now for an encore, though? :eek: :D

And since we are on the subject of vacations, at least Aman's and Aylwen's, let's moved down the alphabet to Bethberry's. I will be away--really away--from August 7 to the 23, in the UK. There will be a laptop near me and likely some hotel access, so I hope to be able to keep up with maybe a post a week. Does Oxford house any unpublished papesr of Tolkien's?

Darash has some wounds from the spiny leg hairs to tend to, but I will come up with more than that for a next post. I hope. ;)

Kransha

07-26-2004, 08:18 PM

O Captain, My Captain, a fitting end for our spidery confrontation.

Good luck to all those heading to vacation, and some intertemporal good wishes to those who have already been. My summer, as yet, has just been permanently freed up. I am now officially a bum, so I'll have plenty of time to post. All my commitments are gone (Huzzah!).

Bror, for thine information, will probably rise from unconsciousness soon, but he is grievously hurt. Spider venom runs in his veins and will make it inevitably harder for him to do anything. Of course, he'll surely still be eager to get those orcs, but his power is still diminished. If we head the way of Morgul, what might we encounter there? The Ringwraiths might still be occupied at Pelennor (what's the date again?), or, if not, Minas Morgul did house their armies. Might they return to it before the final fight at Morannon? What of the orcs on Gorgoroth plateau? Shall our heroic adventurers be trapped by the forces of darkness? Shall they fall before they reach freedom? Shall I keep forgetting canon and acting like a melodramatic soap-opera narrator?

P.S. Fordim, the quote in your signature; Hamlet? It seems almost too apt.

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-27-2004, 05:59 AM

Fordim, the quote in your signature; Hamlet? It seems almost too apt.

Kransha wins the gold boot for correctly identifying the siggy, and a bonus for noting the aptness (aptocity? aptnitude?) of the sentiment to LotR. Tolkien is a great artist but Shakespeare pretty much said it all first!

So many interesting questions about how to proceed, and none of them asked in the game thread. . .

For what it's worth, I agree that to go back into the tunnels would be suicide what with Shelob's spawn about. But perhaps others think this is preferable to the Morgul Vale, which is the only way I can think of. . .

Perhaps Grash might know of a secret way through the mountains that they can follow. ;) If he does, it's probably extremely dangerous and simply swarming with orcs, though.

At any event, to locate ourselves: it is now mid-day of the 16th of March, the prisoners having made their escape on the morning of the 15th. To the north of us, Frodo and Sam are trying to find a way out of the Morgai. To the west, the battle of the Pelennor has been won, the Witch-King has been slain, and Aragorn and the commanders of the free peoples are taking counsel with Gandalf.

What I suggest for the game is that the company stay put for the rest of this day and night, and then again for tomorrow (the 17th) as they will only travel at night when in the open. This means for the next little bit (a week in the real world?) our posts can be more character-driven as we work through the questions and tensions in the wake of our encounter with Shelob.

On the night of the 17th, we will work our way down to the beginning of the Morgul Vale and then lie low again for the day of the 18th. That night we will go into the pass and try to sneak out of Mordor that way. Now, those of you who are familiar with Appendix B in LotR will know that Aragorn leads his army from Minas Tirith on the 18th, so there's a good chance that the new Nazgul leader will be marching his army through that same pass to join Sauron's forces at the Morannon :eek: ).

At any rate, that's a quick look ahead. For the time being, tend to the wounded, air your greivances, knit up new friendships, think of our failure to escape, debate our next steps, eat some food and drink some water. . .

OH! And by the way. . .remember Lurg? He's still lurking about somewhere. Heh heh.

Novnarwen

07-27-2004, 07:34 AM

Hello!

Sorry for not posting the last week. (God, I feel bad!). Been busy, and away. But now, I'm sort of back. Anyway, here are two short 'catch-up-posts'. I hope they will help on my conscience! :D

This should probably be placed at the bottom of Fordim's reply #95.

Rhând

Seeing the two dwarves lying on the cold ground, the young Haradrim swallowed. Grash had already headed over, and was now grabbing Brór by the arms and dragging him towards a safe corner in the cavern. Rhând went unwillingly, and fairly hesitant, to take the other. He took the dwarf's hands, eyes filled with disgust, immediately understanding that something was wrong. The petty little creature was covered in blood, and his pale face revealed his fate.

"You darned fool!" Frowning, Rhând looked at the dwarf shaking with anger. Again, it seemed like an impossible task to earn his freedom and again serve Him. Already, there was one man down. And realising that only one night hadn't passed since they had escaped, he sighed miserably. Was it possible to go on for days in this land without the whole lot of them getting killed? The thought of returning to Him with only two or three prisoners out of twelve in total, didn't sound very promising. On the other hand, would this dwarf really be missed? By the look of him, Rhând guessed that he was of no worth, but still it bothered him. "Breathe you disgraceful hound!" he muttered. It became clear to him, however, that he had more concerns. The dwarf was one thing, but he was dead and nothing could be done about it. Then another thing bothered him even more: the women. He would have to focus on them now. First priority, he thought. They knew he had taken suverah, and that he hadn't used it to overcome Shelob. Surely, they had to be suspicious when it came to his behaviour and especially why he didn't use it against the monster. He would have to take care of them as soon as they escaped the spider, before they told anyone else.

Rising from his position, he trudged over to Grash's side, eager to know what had become of Brór. "One more dead fool and my chances will be ruined," he said under his breath as he settled himself down with Grash.

"Bring other Dwarf!” Grash looked at Rhând, or Aldor as he knew him, and pointed at the other dwarf. Stupid twit, Rhând thought to himself, turning his attention to the body again.

With great effort he managed to press forwards that Dorim was dead. He tried to look into Grash's eyes, but it was hopelss.The whole thing, Rhând realised, was so ironic that he was just about to break into a great laughter. If it hadn't been for the cloth, which still was tied to his face, the other prisoner would have seen the gigantic smile of his.

***

This one should be placed under, above (wherever you want it basically,) in Bethberry's reply # 100.

Rhând - *** THIS ONE HAS BEEN PLACED ON THE GAME *** - PIO

He turned his attention to the battle. The Spider had in fact been much larger than he had first expected, but he admired her greatness. In his childhood, he had heard of Shelob's mother, Ungoliant. What a great creature it had been. Her disgraceful offspring, Shelob, was, in Rhând’s opinion, almost greater. Of course, this was only because he stood nearly face to face to Shelob, meanwhile he had only heard of her mother, Ungoliant.

Feeling both excited, and nervous, he grabbed his sword. Drawing it out of the sheath, he nodded at Grash, who still knelt by the petty dwarves, saying:" I'm ready, if she comes." A feeling of satisfaction made him giggle with delight. If this didn't make, at least, Grash certain of Rhând's devotion to the prisoners escape, what would? A man with bad intentions would not sacrifice himself in this way. However, knowing that Shelob was indeed busy with her other preys, some of the other prisoners, Rhând felt quite safe where he stood pretending to be brave. The dim light didn't allow him to get a proper look of what was going on. He heard cries of pain and of despair, but also eager cries which came from prisoners who were up for a good fight with the spider. Focusing, his gaze wandering around and at the same time listening eagerly to the battle, he finally spotted one of the women: Darash.

The woman was mainly trying to get to Shelob's legs. Rhând hoped she failed. For a minute or so, he even pictured Darash lying at the ground screaming with pain and horror when Shelob ended her life. One threat would be eliminated by this, he figured, and everything would again be simple, or at least simpler than how things were now. He didn't care much of what his Master would say now. If the women knew and were suspicious towards his behaviour, what else was there to do than kill them? It would only be easier for him if Shelob took care of Darash. His only remaining problem would be this Lyshkia, but he supposed it would be quite entertaining to end her life. Yes, Shelob could be very useful if only she could wipe Darash out of the game. Giggling, still following the battle, he crossed his fingers and hoped that his wish would come true.

Come on... Come on now... Almost, almost.. Shaking and trembling with excitement, feeling the tension in his body increase, he watched the woman stumble. For every step she took, she grew nearer and nearer death. How exciting, he thought to himself thrilled by how the situation seemed to develop. "Now! Come on!" he whispered seeing Darash being thrown to the ground. The climax had been reached; it was only for Shelob to end it. A few seconds passed, Darash lay on the ground and Shelob approached. Rhând waited impatiently for Darash to draw her last breath.

"Darn you Lyshkia!" His body seemed to explode. Seconds before his wish had been granted to him, this other fool of a woman had appeared. She was now fighting valiantly against the gigantic spider. Soon, Darash got to her feet as well, and together the two women aimed for the spider's legs. He cursed his bad luck. So near . . he thought being unsatisfied. He sighed.

Darash caught his eye, as he cursed for the second time. Was she expecting his aid, or had she seen him while he was waiting anxiously for Shelob to kill her?

**

Hope they were alright. If not, then just give me a note and I'll edit.

Thanks in advance,
Nova

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-27-2004, 09:52 AM

Nova: I've pasted your post into mine at #95. Mayhap the next time she's through here Bethberry will put your other addition below hers?? :D

Alternately, perhaps Pio might notice this first and insert your post into the appropriate space.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EDIT: Nova's second post has been placed on the game - below Bethberry's

~*~ Pio

Fordim Hedgethistle

07-27-2004, 01:48 PM

Thank you much Pio, you never cease to amaze.

CaptainofDespair: as always, a nice post, but there's one odd geographical oddity in it: the company is on the eastern edge of the Mountains of Shadow so they can only look east to the plains of Gorgoroth, north toward the gap of Udun and south into the vasty distance. . .so Minas Morgul (which is to the west, and thus behind the mountains) is not visible from where we are. Could I ask you to edit out the wonderfully atmospheric description of the evil city (but don't lose it, since we might just be passing that way eventually. . .)

If I might make one suggestion: Morgoroth has the keen eyes of his race, so from where we are currently, he should be able to get a good look at Barad Dur!

Himaran and Kransha: you're not going to make Morgoroth carry Dorim all the way out of Mordor, are you??

CaptainofDespair

07-27-2004, 02:14 PM

Ack...that is an oddity...one I was not aware of. I will delete the post, and edit it later...:P

Edit: Well, I posted the editted version. Hopefully it still conveys what I originally planned it to.

Durelin

07-27-2004, 03:09 PM

Well, finally, I have posted once again. Jordo disappeared for some time, but...well, he's not very loud, it's possible that he was there the whole time...

I deserve a good killing for this RPG being so devoid of posts from me.

Aman - I hope you don't mind me having Raeis be concerned with Jordo. He's not much to be concerned with, but... :D

-Durelin

Kransha

07-27-2004, 05:36 PM

Ok, my save, she is filled.

Bror has come to terms, some terms, with Dorim's sad demise, pondered it a bit, and talked (or is talking) with Morgoroth. CaptainOfDespair, tell me if I need to edit my edit and I will gladly oblige. Bror is still the same hard, pessimistic Dwarf he was, but softened now by some friendship. Unfortunately, Dorim's death has desensitized him even more and, despite the spider poison in his veins, he's out for blood, or will be whenever a hapless orc comes along.

P.S. Fearless Leader Fordim: Bror has settled the matter of Dorim. The dwarf will be left where he lies, some Dwarven prayers only to protect him. Otherwise, we can only hope that he stays where he is...not that he has anywhere to go.

The Perky Ent

07-29-2004, 10:53 AM

He kicked the bucket! Very sad. Good post BTW, Kransha. One can only hope those dwarven prayers can protect my body...although after the ring is destoryed and lava goes everywhere, I can't make any promisses. Dorim has been put to rest, and as such, so have I in this RPG. Though the body is gone, the spirit remains...wait, there's the lava again ;) It was a pleasure writing with y'all, even if it was very short. Thank you very much for your time :D

- Perky

PS: As a matter of fact, Kransha, Dorim has a haircut next thursday, so he does have somewhere to go ;) See all y'all around the downs!

Himaran

07-31-2004, 05:13 PM

Bror has come to terms, some terms, with Dorim's sad demise, pondered it a bit, and talked (or is talking) with Morgoroth. CaptainOfDespair, tell me if I need to edit my edit and I will gladly oblige. Bror is still the same hard, pessimistic Dwarf he was, but softened now by some friendship. Unfortunately, Dorim's death has desensitized him even more and, despite the spider poison in his veins, he's out for blood, or will be whenever a hapless orc comes along.

Captain of Despair - my post is similar to this. Dwali was thoroughly broken by Dorim's death, and realizes that Morgoroth acted selflessly and bravely in the tunnels. Although still frustrated, confused and rage-filled, he sees it time to end this little fued. Let me know if I portrayed your character incorrectly!

Himaran

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-03-2004, 09:17 AM

Allrighty -- time is about to jump forward a bit.

I will put in a post of my own (sometime today) that will move time forward from the morning of the 16th, to the evening of the 17th of March. In this time, the company will contend with Aldor's 'fainting spell' and take some rest. We should probably then debate what to do and where to go -- Grash will be making a proposal and I hope that there will be some responses to it!

The game is, so far as I can tell, about half over now (Pio?), and while we've got a lot of ground to cover, we are pretty much on schedule. Still, that having been said, we should begin to get out of Mordor! With that in mind, I will give everyone until the weekend to wrap up the current scenario, respond to Grash's proposal and interact with each other, before we must get moving off this ledge and into the mouth of Morgul Vale. . . [Insert Ominous Music Here]

One Last Thing: I do have plans for the company, but if anyone has ideas for the rest of the game, PM me with them -- my mind is always open to suggestions.

piosenniel

08-03-2004, 11:23 AM

Game opened: 06/28 - 12 week run

End date: 09/20

½ way point for game: 08/09 (6 weeks)

~*~ Pio :D

Amanaduial the archer

08-03-2004, 02:39 PM

Hmm. Fordim, we have cross-posted: would you mind reposting yours beneath mine, please?

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-03-2004, 02:45 PM

Thanks to our dauntless Mod for the info.

OK -- so my newest post is up, and Grash has put forward his proposal. Please react to it, and interact with each other. Also, we should get moving.

Could the next few posters accomplish the following (please, though, don't do it all yourself in one post -- let those who come after move things along).

The company will decide to wait for full night before going, and that we will do all our travelling at night, laying low during the day.

We need to gather up our few supplies and make ready to leave.

We need to head south along the narrow path toward the Morgul Vale.

Someone might feel a slight unease, as though we are being watched.

Someone might actually catch a fleeting glimpse of shadowy forms scurrying about amid the rocks below the path, as though they are following the company.

On Friday I will put up a post that will finish off whatever on this list needs to be done, and bring us to the beginning of the Morgul Road where the company shall face it's first obstacle along that terrible road. . .

EDIT -- Done and done, Aman. Just one thing about your post, however, you mention that the company is in a tunnel, but we are actually out on a high ledge. Not a big deal, but I am such a stickler for details. . .

Blame Pio: she sets such a high standard! :D

Kransha

08-03-2004, 06:16 PM

O.K. (I wonder what that stands for), I have a post up.

Generalissimo Fordim, I 'sort of' covered the first point, or at least made it clear that Grash wants to do that, and that he has some support. This can be continued. Tell me, Fordim, if anything in the post needs to be edited, as it well might be. Same with anyone. I used a lot of people...kind of...I just indicated them, I suppose, but I might have gotten something wrong.

So, Bror's really, really disgruntled, and making himself a lot of enemies, (he's inadvertantly insulted Zurumor, Raeis, Grash, Lyshka, Darash, and Jeren). He wants to keep going on the Morgul Road, but Grash thinks it's better not to (right, Fordim?). Now, he's sulking...very sulkily...in a sulky fashion...yes...

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-03-2004, 07:01 PM

Your post, Peon Kransha, needs no editing from my point of view -- in fact, you've done such a good job with Grash that I might just be able to retire from the thread altogether and let you take it over (my dead body).

Also, very nicely done CoD, I genuinely love how Morgoroth is able to reflect on the group in that objetive way without objectifying them or remaining emotionally aloof.

A reminder to other posters -- please keep moving us through the remaining points in my list. So long as no-one actually gets us to the Morgul Road (until I do at the end of the week) we can keep talking and interacting on the long path down. . .

Aylwen Dreamsong

08-03-2004, 07:30 PM

Hey everyone!

I've returned, sunburned, to my good old home. I'm working on a post and should have it up sometime tomorrow. :)

-Aylwen

Kransha

08-05-2004, 08:26 AM

Just as notification:

I will be gone, on holiday/vacation/excursions/what-have-you, beginning today and ending Monday next, when I will return for a night and then go on another several day excursion. I'll probably be able to post if needed on Monday night or Tuesday morning, but otherwise, I'll be temporarily absent without BD access. I'm sure everyone will be able to survive without me for a little while (who am I kidding, you'll all probably wither and die without my brilliance to warm your souls, but I digress).

Farewell, auf weiderschen, au revoir, and all that...

Bêthberry

08-05-2004, 08:30 PM

A quick post to let you all know that I editted my most recent post, to make more clear Darash's motivation in supporting Grash's plans

I shall be away for a fortnight, with little access to the Net. I shall try to make one or two posts but cannot promise anythiong with great reliability.

Happy hoilidays, Kransha.

Bethberry

alaklondewen

08-05-2004, 10:58 PM

I am back and I have started the prisoners on their way...please let me know if anything needs editing, Fordim. I'll get another post on its way tomorrow or Saturday. :)

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-09-2004, 05:43 AM

Hello All

Sorry about the delay in getting my post up, but I am on vacation myself for the next couple weeks, and while I am not going away, I will perhaps not be able to be at the BD as much as I'd like. Still, there is a post up now.

At any rate -- these stones. I would like to leave their precise effect up to each writer to explore. but in general, everyone who passes between them will have an 'internal' struggle with the will of Sauron. Now, please, I don't intend to suggest that the company will be contending with Sauron directly, none of us could succeed in that, but with the "memory of his will". I kind of imagine the stones as having an effect akin to the effect of a Ring of Power. They will attempt to imprint the will of Sauron onto everyone. So have fun with this -- will you be seduced or tempted by the stones? Overwhelmed by despair? Overcome by hatred? Whatever -- go nuts. This is where we can all explore our characters' deepest fantasies and desires.

Once we are all through the stones, it's onward and upward to the Dead City!

Amanaduial the archer

08-13-2004, 01:44 PM

Fordim, a note, a reminder...something along those lines ;) I am afraid I will be away again, from Sunday 15th August to Sunday 22nd August, when I will return late. I won't have internet access - sorry!

I will of course try to make a post before leaving. (However, I will have very limited internet access tomorrow, and so may not be able to. Sorry...)

Novnarwen

08-15-2004, 10:45 AM

Sorry for my abscence, but I have posted now.

Rhând is planning to betray you all. (Bwahahahaha)

Fordim - I don't know what you have planned, but I'll PM you with something. :)

Let me know if my post need revision! :)

Cheers,
Nova

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-19-2004, 07:39 PM

Greetings all

I join the chorus of people apologising for being so inconsistent in my posting. While I am not physically away from home, I am taking an actual vacation which means spending as much time with my family as possible. Also, I find that my need for Barrow Downs relaxation/distraction is quite significantly reduced when I am not at work! ;)

At any rate, I appreciate the intriguing posts of those who are around and facing up to the power of the Stones! We shall be continuing with the current scenario until Sunday night, when we shall be moving past the stones and heading up the Morgul Vale to our next encounter.

For those who might like a bit of a sneak peek. . .as it has just been revealed in Grash's latest post, all of Sauron's armies are being summoned to the Morannon. This includes the remnants of his forces in Minas Ithil, and seeing as we are heading west on the Road that will lead that army from the Dead City to the gate, we can expect to be bumping into them at some point. . .

IF we manage to get past that (and let's hope that our orc disguises are good!) then it will be up onto the mountain path and toward Ithilien!

Nova -- PMing you right now!

Kransha

08-23-2004, 12:00 PM

Many apologies, El Capitan Fordim,

I just put up a post for Bror, in which he faces the Stones, etc. I did not place it up last night, through mine own absence of mind. I forgot to put up a Save, so it is now after your post for moving on. I can only 'politely' ask you to move your post when it is made, since I can't move mine back, and it would seem rather odd for Bror to still be at the stones while everyone else is moving on through the Vale. I hope this little switcheroo doesn't inconvenience you too much, or rather, at all.

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-23-2004, 12:18 PM

No inconvenience Kransha, the post, she's been moved.

At any rate, as you can all see, we're now into our next adventure -- I hope that we can have some fun with it.

Feel free to wander through the army either alone, or as part of a small group. And feel free to have whatever adventures you may wish along the way. Just remember, everyone is supposed to be headed to the small path in the southern wall.

Some plot points/suggestions: orcs frequently fight amongst themselves and nobody seems to care too much, so if you're wanting to get in there and mix things up a bit, by all means do so, all I ask is that you keep it brief and isolated (we can't afford a general dust up here!).

Also, there's some members of the party who might be tempted to use this opportunity to betray the rest of us. . .best keep our eyes open for signs of treachery.

Finally, the "captain" I spoke of in charge of this army is. . .wait for it. . .that's right! A Nazgul! With the destruction of the Witch King, this particular fellow is his second in command. He's lurking somewhere hereabouts in the army and might just stumble on some unlucky member of our little party. He should be pretty easy to spot on his winged fell beast and all.

NOTE -- If there are any more 'stone posts' place them here in the discussion thread and I can paste them to the beginning of my post getting us away from the Stones, or we can perhaps ask Pio to insert them earlier (if we're really really good that is).

Novnarwen

08-24-2004, 12:28 PM

I just filled my save. Sorry for not filling it earlier, but I've been quite busy.

I will probably not be able to post again before Saturday, as my computer time is limited. I'll try though!

Nova :)

Bêthberry

08-24-2004, 07:25 PM

My computer access over the pond was erratic and, in fact, one post I made on another thread has disappeared, so . . . I will be catching up tomorow and hope to work on a "stones" post. I'll post it here once I have it and know where it should best be placed. Then I'll work on this next adventure.

Bêthberry

08-27-2004, 12:00 PM

Fordim,

Here is my "Dark Stones" post. I think it will coordinate with yours and so I would ask you kindly to place it at the end of your "Stones" post, just before you lead our little band into the midst of orcs once again.

I hope my next post I can place myself--that is, if you don't move on to a new adventure over the weekend.

Bethberry

>>>

** EDIT: PLACED ON THE RPG THREAD - Post #126 ~*~ Pio ** :)

Bethberry's post

Something had deranged the various members of the group. Darash could feel muscles hardening in the air, tendons snapping into tightness, rates of breathing either slow or quicken. The odour of fear exuded from bodies as they moved towards these carvings which Grash had called the Dark Lord's Stones. But who was this Dark Lord? She looked over at Grash and would have asked, but she saw that he was in no mood to converse, wrapped up in some strange dream of his own, his hand reaching out and touching her arm. She could not understand what this power was, but she did not repulse the touch of the former slave. Instead, she watched all the others as they went into dream raptures as they confronted these pillars. She did not understand who or what this Dark Lord was, but she sensed abject fear and horror in those around her. Their bodies were almost becoming grass before the wind. She could feel herself melting into passivity.

Then she faced the Stones herself, hearing her called by the name of "Darash" in a sonorous voice, low and melodious but she caught a vague sense of sneering in its patronising plea. She shook from her head the sound and spoke to herself a name none had ever heard her mention, Kashtia Ma'at-Ka-Re, Kashia Ma'at-Ka-Re. Kashtia Ma'at-Ka-Re. Grash looked at her for a moment, but she did not think he heard. Especially did He who knew every way to appeal to those whose servitude he wanted not hear, but she did, savouring the click of the consonants. Then she raised her eyes against this man-god who called to her in the name of her pain, Kwenye darasha. She felt a soft cooing go through her, as if an arm were placed around her shoulders relieving her of her responsibility so she could rest.

Come to me and I will show you the way home, I will bring you back to your tribe, I will give them the strength to resist their enemies. In me you will find the weapon to fulfil yourself as warrior.

Kashtia remained silent, listening to his words.

Your silence already shows you have decided for me, the voice continued. Join me and I will raise your people high. I will call upon them to join me here in my victory.

Words teetored on the tip of her tongue, and her cracked lips she held still. He knew not the words of her people but spoke in this tongue that the slaves did here, not the foul speech of the orcs but that of the northern men. She fought against the dream he was placing in her head, for she realised he was trying to grab her story, to write her into his story and bend her to his way, to twist her into a mere handmaiden to power. Kashtia would not relinquish her voice; she refused to speak to this man-god who perverted people's stories to his own narrative. For the first time she began to understand the depravity of these northern men who were slaves even in the open air, and she began to feel compassion for them rather than hauteur or disgust. She understood as she had not previously what were the chains which held Grash even as he was free of the prison. They were not and had never been agents of their own lives.

Aloud she spoke one word, Kontu!, that is to say, "Story". "Herstory", with its warning not to speak to the Trickster man-god. Then, to herself, in her head so none could hear, particularly this Dark Lord, she repeated the old stories of courage and cooperation. Unaenda wapi, nyumbo yetu. Kurro. "Run," she translated, "Run," she said to all near her and began to move her springing feet forward, beyond the stones.

To her side, she suddenly heard Grash call out. He grasped her arm tighter and then rushed with her through the stones. He stumbled, almost falling at her feet, but she grabbed his arm this time and steadied him so he would not fall upon the black earth and bruise himself upon the cruel edges of its rocks. She saw in his eyes he had seen a dream of his own, a frightening dream, but a hope he had never known before in his life. Then she looked away at the road which lay before them

Bêthberry

08-27-2004, 01:35 PM

Thank you, Pio! However, this is a bit strange. I made the post here and then editted it to correct for differences in code. I proofed the changes and saw them. Yet now I see that the changes did not come through. There are several coding errors which have been carried over onto the game thread.

If I try to reedit my post, could Fordim or Pio then copy the corrected post back into Fordim's post? The codes are many and distracting. Please give me some time as I now have family to attend to here.

Fordim, let me know if the post suggests things for Grash and the others which don't fit.

Cheers!

EDIT: I have made the corrections. The post is now ready to be placed.

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-27-2004, 03:46 PM

Bethberry

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I shall leave it to Pio to put up an edited post when you make one available. She's so much more capable, organised and competent than I. *Fordim looks earnest and sincere.*

The post, as always, looks great to me. Nothing suggested for Grash that I found out of place, and your description of the others seems entirely in keeping with their own posts about the stones.

I shall not be moving the plot along any further before the weekend, so no worries. There has, so far, been a marked lack of interest in the current plot twist, however, and there are other things on the hop so I shan't leave the party in the midst of the orc army for very long -- anyone wanting to have some fun with the current scenario had best get something up in the next few days then. . .*insert ominous music here*

A Reminder -- the game wraps up on the 20th so we're just over three weeks away from the conclusion, and we still have a mountain range to cross! *insert post-inspiring music here.*

CaptainofDespair

08-27-2004, 04:12 PM

Umm...yes, sorry for my lack of posting in the past week. For some reason my moving home has reduced my want to do anything, except eat. I shall work myself up to getting a post up by the end of the weekend. :D

Himaran

08-28-2004, 09:34 PM

I filled in my save. Dwali is in a ditch along the road, probably several miles away from the mountain passage we were heading for. He'll have to get back there, somehow. Probably will have something to do with... crawling.

Let me know if anything in my post was inaccurate, faulty, etc. I was extremely tired when I wrote it.

Himaran

Amanaduial the archer

08-29-2004, 06:43 AM

I'm back! And I apologise for my extended AWOL - during a lightning storm some week and a half ago, my computer blew a fuse. RIP computer. Subsequently, RIP wireless network connecting my computer to the internet as well...

I will attempt to catch up as quickly as possible. Thanks for bearing with me.

piosenniel

08-29-2004, 10:31 AM

Bethberry's corrected post has been put on the game. :D

~*~ Pio

Sarin Mithrilanger

08-29-2004, 11:49 PM

Are we allowed to travel to the gate with the orcs?

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-30-2004, 04:10 AM

Hmmmm. . .good question Sarin. The answer woud be no (we're a long way from the Black Gate).

Everyone should be making for the path with all possible speed. As a guideline: it's early morning, and this adventure will be wrapped up before midday. By this point everyone who's escaping will have to be on the path.

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-30-2004, 10:55 AM

I have just put up (an edited) long post, in the hopes that this might inspire some to undertake an adventure or two with the orc army and/or the Nazgul. Some possible suggestions:

A fight with an orc

Someone is going to have to rescue Dwali

Someone is probably going to have to stop Rhand from betraying us all

How in the world is Morgoroth going to get through an army or orcs?

Perhaps the Nazgul will become interested in somebody else?

Maybe someone will get cut off from the path and have to scale the wall and find another route?

At any event, like I said, only suggestions. I will keep us in the midst of this orc army probably until the end of this week, but then we will have to get on to the path and into our last adventure before the game ends on the 20th.

Himaran

08-31-2004, 05:46 AM

Someone is going to have to rescue Dwali:

Ah! Just a thought, master Fordim. (Dwali is off to the side of the path, hidden in a ditch. None of the orcs saw him, so I doubt that anyone from the company did either. It would seem a little unrealistic for someone disguised as an orc to step off to the side, pull Dwali out of the ditch, and lead him back the opposite way towards the mountain passage.)

So I was wondering.... you wanted the episode to be wrapped up by midday. But Dwali would have to wait until cover of darkness to venture back. Thus, perhaps the company could meet up eventually, dub Dwali as dead, and, remorsefully, head back. The dwarf would have to follow their tracks... and link up soon after.

If you would prefer to keep it simple, I can just have Dwali sneak back, crawling on his stomach by the roadside.. :D

Himaran

CaptainofDespair

08-31-2004, 07:48 AM

How in the world is Morgoroth going to get through an army or orcs?

Problem solved. In one of my early posts, way back when, I disguised Morg in the attire of the Haradrim, or something similar. It now has a bit of wear and tear, but it should suffice as a disguise to fool the orc army. ;)

Fordim Hedgethistle

08-31-2004, 08:10 AM

Himaran -- I like your idea to have Dwali given up for dead, only to arrive back with the company. That should give rise to some interesting posts from and amongst Dwali's allies and/or opponents in the company!

CoD -- smart thinking on your part! Now lets get Morgoroth through the army.

(For my money, I still figure that the Nazgul at least would have a sense that something is wrong, should he be in such close proximity to an Elf!)

Bêthberry

08-31-2004, 09:07 AM

Just as a small heads-up, I am PMing Alaklondewen to see if she wants to coordinate anything here. I think there would be some good opportunity for our characters to share responses here but I know she is very busy. I won't put up a save as it is yet early in the week.

I must say I enjoyed your latest post particularly, Fordim, as those of others as well. A great game which helps us keep our wits about us.

Amanaduial the archer

08-31-2004, 03:10 PM

Ok posted - if the owner of the hands which have just grasped Raeis's ankles would come forward, that would be good ;)

...and that is the strangest supermarket tanoy you'll ever hear ;) I had envisioned it as being Zurumor as that would be most fitting, but I think it will fit with any of the escapees. But please, don't just leave her hanging there: I don't expect the Nazgul will take long to gather himself, and I doubt it will be pretty when he does.

Fordim - Brilliant post, really excellent.Excuse me that I don't rate you - I rated you a while back and now need to wait awhile - I suppose that's just an incentive to have a rating spree or something ;)

Kransha

09-01-2004, 05:30 PM

At last, my post, she is up!

It's very long, and took a bit, but crucial. Just because I love lists so much, I;m going to list every new developement my post entailed.

1. The Orc Army, or roughly 50-100 of the thousands of orcs in the horde, are currently engaged in an all-out battle for no real reason. It was set off by Bror, and is now completely out of control. It's only in one area, though, not the whole army's span. Only some orcs and folks will be affected. It does have the attention of the Ringwraith, though.

2. Zurumor, Raeis, and Bror are about to be made into elf-man-dwarf kabobs by an angry Nazgul. In other words: They need help.

3. Anyone can intervene, step in, whatever, as long as something happens. Remember what I said about kabobs?

CaptainofDespair

09-01-2004, 07:32 PM

My post is now up...Morg has put his life on the line, and has provided the distraction for the Kabobs to get away. He is now left bleeding out against a rock...nearly dead, but not dead. :D

If it needs any editing, please tell me, and I will adjust it accordingly.

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-02-2004, 02:15 PM

CoD -- Nice post, and a very heroic act by Morgoroth!

Everyone -- Family commitments will be taking me out of town and, more than likely, away from all internet acccess beginning tomorrow morning and extending right to Monday night or Tuesday morning.

Whilst I am away, if you could all continue the current scene that would be lovely. When I do return I shall put up a post to finish off the encounter with the army and get us on our way toward Ithilien.

Amanaduial the archer

09-02-2004, 03:32 PM

Captain of Despair, Kransha - brilliant posts! Really brilliant! But CoD - surely this isn't the end of Morg?! We shall see about that! :smokin:

I shall post tomorrow, as it is rather late tonight and it's the first day of school tomorrow - but this is, as the smiley says, smokin'! (Ok, I'll stop talking now...)

Amanaduial the archer

09-03-2004, 10:25 AM

Captain Fordim and the most disreputable players of LoD, ;)

I will be without internet access until Sunday afternoon (possibly I will have a snippet on Saturday, late evening, but it is unlikely), and I leave in about an hour - I will be traipsing around various universities with my sister in an attempt to find one she likes...*sigh*

Farewell!

alaklondewen

09-04-2004, 11:26 AM

I am a bit unsure as to the state of Raeis at this moment. I have described her somewhat in my last post, so if I am inaccurate in my account, I will edit accordingly. :)

Novnarwen

09-05-2004, 04:52 AM

Okay, I just posted. (I've also filled my last save, #132, which should probably be read as my last post kind of is a continuance.)

If anyone wants me to edit something, please do tell! :)

Also, I think that, at least, Darash and Lyshka are in . . . great trouble. Rhând has just charged seven orcs your way. (If seven are too many for you petty li'll women to handle, I'll edit the number. ;))

I'll be away for the next few days, so in that case, possible edits will be fixed in four days or so. (if you're not too quick and reach me before I take my leave.)

Cheers,
Nova

PS! Don't be too harsh on Rhând just yet. He has still much to do! :smokin:

piosenniel

09-06-2004, 10:17 AM

Please note:

Your RPG opened for play on 06/28/2004.

It was scheduled to run for 12 weeks - ending on 09/20/04.

There are 2 weeks of game play time left.

Please start moving toward the final section of your storyline.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, game moderator

Himaran

09-06-2004, 06:30 PM

Update on Dwali:

My little dwarf always seems to be separated from everyone else... To make things simple, I will just make a list (I like them too, Kransha :p )

1. In my post, hours passed. It is night. Thus, by this time the company is either safely away from the orcs or, more realistically, dead.

2. In the morning, Dwali will finish his little crawling adventure to reach the mountain passage, only to find the company gone.

3. After a brief bout with despair, the dwarf will head after them and, hopefully, hook up with them. But we shall see...

Himaran

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-07-2004, 11:53 AM

I should go away more often! What a wonderful series of posts to find awaiting me upon my return -- a very thrilling adventure with the Nazgul and his army, indeed.

But, alas, time (and Pio) waits on no Downer, and we must press on. As we have been recently reminded, we have less than two weeks to get out of Mordor. We are on schedule but we should get out of the Morgul Vale and onto the path.

To that end, I will post a scene-wrapping post on Thursday morning in which the members of the company -- minus Dwali who we shall assume is dead until he rejoins us -- reunite on the path. If you have any last whacks to get in with the orcs and/or Nazgul, please do so before then (or, at the very least) insert a save on Wednesday night.

I shall be PMing Himaran, Nova and Sarin about specific plot twists/issues so please check your inboxes and reply ASAP.

alaklondewen

09-07-2004, 08:17 PM

I filled in my SAVE, which is the last post on the game thread. Fantastic fun. :)

Bêthberry

09-08-2004, 04:43 AM

Hmmm. Alaklondewen and I are a bit confused by the time frame here, as our characters are in the midst of a battle with the seven orcs which Nova's Rand sent out after us in #143. Fordim wrote about the orc tiff:

Everyone should be making for the path with all possible speed. As a guideline: it's early morning, and this adventure will be wrapped up before midday. By this point everyone who's escaping will have to be on the path.

Yet, as Himaran has said, in #146:

1. In my post, hours passed. It is night. Thus, by this time the company is either safely away from the orcs or, more realistically, dead.

Shouldn't we still be approaching midday rather than in night? And, as a bit of a wrench, Alak and I have not yet finished dispatching those seven orcs. I know I could do a retrospective, but I think that would ruin the pacing and the excitement. And I think our posts are already long enough that editting them to finish it off woulld rather ruin the lovely drama our dear traitor set up for us. (I mean, really, seven orcs in just two posts? For women?)

Master Game Founder Hedgethistle, what do you suggest? Can we ask Himaran to split up his post #146, to move the second half after Alak and I have done? I have put up a save now and await your gravel.

Bethberry

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-08-2004, 05:09 AM

Good questions all, Bb.

To clarify --

The game-time is somewhere just after dawn (believe it or not, but the company has been with the army for no more than 30-60 mins game time! Go back through the posts and you'll see that not much time has passed).

Himaran has indeed been 'flashing forward' a bit but I think that this is OK, so long as we all keep in mind that his posts are looks ahead, past the point at which the rest of us are working.

So we are still on track to have the company on the path and heading upward a ways before midday. The plan is to have the company reassemble (minus Dwali who at this point is still unconscious in a ditch) and then rest for the rest of the day in order to press ahead at night.

Does that help? Sorry for the confusion.

Oh! And as to those orcs, I hope that Darash and Lyshkia won't be left on their own with them for too much longer -- Zuromor, Bror, Jeren, Raies and a wounded but still mobile Morgoroth are still there to lend a hand (right guys?).

Himaran

09-08-2004, 09:11 PM

Yes, Master Fordim is right on.

Your posts are all fine, (and excellently written, btw). In my post, Dwali struggled on during the daylight hours when the events of all your posts were occuring.

Because Fordim wanted your little battle done by Midday, I assumed that the company (minus Dwali) would have made it to the mountain passage and be safely away from the orcs at that time.

So, in essence, ignore my post and carry on.

Himaran

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-09-2004, 12:17 PM

OK -- so I've just put up a post that deals with a third slice of time, so I just wanted to make sure that we're all clear with what's happening.

The company is still in the morning, and we are all moving toward the path (right? RIGHT??).

Dwali is still unconscious. He will be waking up at dusk, then stumbling along the path to where the company will have been resting since midday. He will come upon the rest of the prisoners just as we are getting ready to set out for full night of marching.

Lurg (for whom I've just posted) has been sent to get the prisoners in the afternoon -- he will reach the path just after nightfall (so after Dwali has gone along the path, and the company has set off on it's march).

Rhand has been revealed as a traitor so he will be leaving the party now. . .but we've not seen the last of him *ominous music*

I do hope this makes sense.

Can I ask that anyone who wishes to post about the orc army adventure do so today, as I will be posting for Grash tomorrow and in that post we will be assembling on the path (minus Dwali of course), marching for a couple of hours, and then resting at midday. We can then pause for conversations, lamenting the 'loss' of Dwali, thinking about Rhand, blaming Grash for leading you smack into an orc army, whatever. . .

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-10-2004, 08:33 AM

I have edited into my last post a new bit that puts to an end (sadly) the episode with the army. The prisoners, minus Dwali and Aldor/Rhand, are now resting at midday high in the mountains.

For this next bit. . .

Himaran and Nova will be posting soon to get their respective characters moving toward the company. For the rest of us, there's a lot I think we need to discuss:

1) Dwali's supposed death

2) our betrayal by Aldor

3) Aman and Sarin - please give us more about the burgeoning relationship between Raies and Zuromor (what is it with your characters, Aman, and romantic plots with the dangerous 'other'?!?! :D )

4) Aylwen and CoD -- I sort of threw your characters together, just because I had to find someway to get them both back on the path. Feel free to pursue this or not as you wish. I am also willing to edit, of course.

We can pursue these kinds of things, and whatever else you wish, until Dwali returns to the party at nightfall -- then it's on to the last leg of the adventure!

Bêthberry

09-10-2004, 10:47 AM

I have filled in my save. I notice it is full of typos but as I must dash out of the house now, they wait for their just reward.

The post does little more than get my character up the path towards Grash, but I have worked a small detail into it which will aid Alaklondewen's character. Working backwards from Fordim's later post, I have also used some details from it intentionally.

Next I guess I will think how to tell Grash of Aldor's treachery so he will listen. He probably is not the most astute of men at following up vague hunches and suppositions, so I expect Darash will have her hands full with him. She might turn to Lyshka for support, but whether that is forthcoming or not, only Alaklondewen will say. ;)

In haste and hoping to be back by 2ish.

Amanaduial the archer

09-10-2004, 01:00 PM

(what is it with your characters, Aman, and romantic plots with the dangerous 'other'?!?! )

I know! Oh, come on, it's not my faul...*trails off* Ok, maybe a little my fault. But hey, this one wasn't even at my instigation! They often aren't! It just...happens! This time it wasn't my intention even! I'm going to stop babbling as now as I am using far more exclamation marks than is humanly decent! Shock! :D

Ahem...

About the Raeis-Zurumor relationship though - Sarin, my browser has reacted rather badly the times in the past five minutes when I have tried to PM you about this, so I shall post here. In one of your posts, you ended with the rather dramatically fiery line along the lines of "the burning heat like the burning of their hearts". Just a quick point: Raeis, having been imprisoned for so long and having her deep relationship with the other elven courtier so abruptly cut off, is kind of...well, emotionally stunted. Come on, I very much doubt she is completely sane. She does feel some liking towards Zurumor, and it is growing, much to her confusion (I will continue that, of course, and emphasise it more in my next post), but she does not (yet) love him. This may extend, certainly if you wish it to, but she currently doesn't have that sort of feelings - would you mind editting just that one line to 'his heart'? I meant saying this earlier but somehow the PM just got shoved to one side in 'My Documents'...

But play between them shall be very interesting....Zurumor falls under the elven spell...even if he picked a rather strange elf...:D

Himaran

09-10-2004, 07:10 PM

There has been a lot of confusion... perhaps this will clear things up. I hope!

Morning: The company ran into the orc army.

Morning-Midday: Everything going on right now, the fight, the Nazgul, and Dwali getting off the path.

Midday: Dwali starts he way back towards the mountain passage. The company has escaped from the orcs, and is at or has passed the mountain passage.

Late Afternoon: The company is still resting. Dwali continues, eventually passing out. This is where my last post ended!

Midnight: The company is about to move off. Dwali awakes, and completes his journey to the mountain passage. Finds the company about to leave... or perhaps leaving?

2:00 am-ish: Dwali meets the company, they move off.

Himaran

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-10-2004, 07:29 PM

Himaran and I have refined the timeline via PM -- please everyone use the following to figure out what's going on:

Morning to Midday: party ran into orc army; Nazgul, Dwali getting lost, etc

Midday: Dwali heads back to path; company rests in the mountain pass for the rest of the day.

Afternoon: Dwali passes out, company still resting (and talking I hope!)

Evening: Dwali awakes and struggles to the path, goes up it for a couple of hours until. . .

Nightfall (full darkness): Dwali finds company at their resting place, just as they are getting ready to leave.

Onward!

Novnarwen

09-11-2004, 10:35 AM

I just posted. I hope I got most of it right.

Fordim - I didn't cover everything we'd discussed. When writing, I thought continuing would kill the excitement. So, I was thinking to post the continuance after someone else posts. I hope that's alright. If not, I'll edit! :)

Cheers,
Nova

Aylwen Dreamsong

09-12-2004, 02:53 PM

I just posted, and it's been a while since the last one, I know, and for that I apologize. If anyone wants editing within my post, let me know and I'll be glad to make any changes.

:)

By the way, great posts everyone!

-Aylwen

P.S. Peeling potatoes = ouch!! ;)

piosenniel

09-13-2004, 04:26 AM

A gentle reminder - there is one week remaining for game-play.

~*~ Pio

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-15-2004, 07:56 AM

All Right All: strap in, cause we're almost done.

I have put up a rather substantial post in which a lot of things happen. Most of what is in there I have been working out with the involved players via PM so I'm not simply highjacking the story (mostly. . .)

At any rate, I am sorry to have been so. . .firm. . .in moving the game along in the last while, but as Pio's last post indicates, the game will be over on Monday and I wanted to make sure we had time to finish the game in good order.

So here we are, at the final battle. Get in there and mix it up! If anyone feels that it would be dramatic for their character to die and/or change sides (and be killed) then now is the time to do it!

The fight with the orcs will continue uninterrupted until the weekend, at which point I will perform my last act as a dictatorial Game Owner and conclude the battle in order to send the prisoners on to Ithilien where we can all spend Sunday/Monday setting up our final posts of the game.

Aylwen Dreamsong

09-15-2004, 07:11 PM

Oops!

I had a post for after Aman/CoD's posts, but before Fordim's major-event post! I meant to place it on the game thread last night, but I had AP homework (sorry for excuses!) and decided to put it up tonight. It came too late, though.

In any case, would someone kindly place the following post on the game thread? I suppose it would work best at the end of CoD's post, post 157 on the game thread...

Aylwen's Post ------- EDIT: POST PLACED AS ABOVE ~*~ PIO

“What about you, Jeren: where will you go, now you are free?”

Jeren thought on this, and at first nothing came to him. It was a question that he did not know the answer to. How many times had this happened to him? Too many for his liking, especially since he had been made prisoner by the power that he had once served. Too many questions had been left unanswered.

Where will I go?

The Southron had never actually thought about where he would go, for he never knew any home other than the one as captain of an army. He was always the leader, and he never needed a home as long as there were loyal soldiers behind him… following and listening to him. He hardly recalled the land his family once roamed, or if family would be there and remember him at all. It had been far too long for him to return to that home. There was nowhere for him to go.

“It hardly matters if I am free, for I have no where to return to. There is no where for me to bask in new-earned freedom,” Jeren finally replied to the question posed by Raeis. His voice remained steady and level, as Jeren refused to show his uncertainty and sorrow at his own words. “The things I have done make me undeserving of such freedom. I have no place to return to and that is how it must be,” The Southron added as an afterthought, the volume of his voice lowered so it came out just above a whisper.

Surely that is how it will be in the end…

“Yes. We rest. But only for two, three hours.” Jeren looked up as Grash began to speak in his usual choppy manner. “Then we must go – the path goes down soon, down to green land. Green land with trees and cool breezes, and waters. Freedom. Freedom at the end of the path.”

Turning back to Raeis, Jeren sighed, letting out all his self-pity in the exhale. What about everyone else? Raeis had hardly answered his question in a manner that satisfied his curiosity. Something about the group, though, and the way they came together in a most unusual way made Jeren hopeful for all of them. “I have certainly learned the value of comfort, on this journey. Not just being comfortable, or not being comfortable…but being able to live and go on and appreciate it anyway. I do not know you very well at all, Raeis, but somehow I know that you will be able to make home encompass one more elf…you will learn to make home within your own heart and strength, and not let it depend on someone else…”

Jeren paused, looking around at the rest of the group for a moment.

“Hopefully we will all be able to do the same. Maybe we will all find home.”

--

And now I'll get to work on another post! :D

Thanks guys!

-Aylwen

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-17-2004, 06:33 PM

Hurm. . .hoom. . .baroom-boom

I don't want to supplant the rightful role and place of the redoubtable Pio, but I shall -- this once -- assume the mantle that is so ably worn by herself and note that:

The game will be closing on Monday, and there's still a ravening pack of orcs to deal with and resolutions to be achieved. . .

*Fordim wanders back into the forest barooming thoughtfully*

Bêthberry

09-17-2004, 10:32 PM

Could the redoubtable pio please place this post for me? It can go anywhere after Aman's post # 156 and before Fordim's post #160.

My save alas must wait for later Saturday to be filled in. It should not deter others from entering the last fight.

EDIT: Post placed on #156 ~*~ Pio

>>>

Bethberry's post for Darash

Darash sat confused and frustrated. After the near-deadly encounter with the bestial orcs--no better than charging, stupid rinombos-rhinoceros--iit had been with a relief amounting to joy that she had first seen Lyshka safe and then spied Grash. The two women had sprung on rejuvenated feet towards him, eagerness lightening their tired faces, ready to tell what they had seen.

Now Darash sat trying to make sense of it. She had run to him and taken his arm, pulling it almost, pointing back to the melee. She had gesticulated wildly almost, running on in her native tongue, describing the struggle and their near-escape, only to be put back under greater assault by Aldor's treachery with the orcs.

"Ahdor. Ahdor. Machumba nuwalla, esumba relege isbatu. Ngeme ebulu," she had told him excitedly. "Dtcekma." It meant carrion bird of prey, vulture, feasting off the dead, without honour of the kill. But Grash had looked at her with strangely glowing eyes. She had taken his arm again, drawing him towards the small bend in the path, so he could look back and perhaps see the traitor in the orcs' midst.

Grash had smiled at her as if humouring her. It was maddening! Darash had never before experienced such failure to be taken seriously. She had turned to Lyshka, pleadingly, her frustration clearly visible in the tight knot of her muscles around her shoulders. Lyshka had nodded yes, but shrugged, as if to say she wasn't sure. Darash had turned back to Grash, the fire of being thwarted and misunderstood shining in her eyes. The man had almost chuckled. He had not looked at her eyes; his own gaze had not met hers and staid there, but wandered off elsewhere. With a snort at this hare who did not recognise the vulture, she had stormed off, exasperated with him who seemed not to listen.

And so she had sat in semi-isolation, her eyes wandering from time to time around the group of her companions who were licking their wounds like animals who had escaped the trap. Lyshka had come over to her, hunched over as if to say "Maybe. I don't know. I couldn't see for sure. It was a blur like the whipping rain." Then Raeis had mouthed the name. The elf understood! The women knew. Why were the men so obtuse? Darash sat there, trying to rest, her eyes closed in the soft afternoon light, aware that Grash was watching her from time to time, but utterly without comprehension.

Novnarwen

09-18-2004, 04:55 AM

Both my saves are filled. It's not much, but it's all I can do right now. I'm sorry for taking so long, but I've been busy...

If they need edits, please do tell.

I'll be posting my last post for Rhând soon.. :)

Nova ;)

Bêthberry

09-18-2004, 06:57 AM

Thanks for placing my post, pio.

I have a question about the timing. When exactly on Monday will the game close? Will we have the day to complete our post, or does the axe fall in the morning?

Right now, having survived the last orc onslaught with Alak's Lyshka, I'm at a bit of a loss to consider how to survive yet another attack. I hate to resort to that infamous line from Monty Python--"Run away! Run away!"--yet the thought is tempting.

And speaking of Monty Python, I did see Castle Doune in Scotland. :D

EDIT: Well, what wonders it does to read over each other's posts closely! I took a hint from Fordim's set up of the approach of Aldor and the orcs and have set up some possibilities for our defense. Catch a ride on the menhir express.

I have not mentioned anyone by name other than those that I have closely planned or interacted with but if anyone wants me to edit in the name of their character, let me know.

piosenniel

09-18-2004, 08:36 AM

I work on Mondays - so, the game should close when I return from work which will actually be about 1 a.m. Tuesday morning, Pacific Time , U.S.

~*~ Pio

CaptainofDespair

09-18-2004, 01:30 PM

Alrighty, my final post is up. :D

If it needs any changes, just give me a hint, or bluntly tell me.

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-19-2004, 07:48 AM

Much to my surprise and delight, Pio has offered to extend the closing date for the game to Friday the 24th, and I have taken her up on the offer.

Please, however, keep the posts coming for the current fight with the orcs -- I will be putting up one of my 'moving things along' posts sometime late Monday/early Tuesday in which the fight will wrap up and the company will finally escape Mordor. I hope that we can then use the week to resolve and/or conclude the many character-based threads we've developed.

CoD -- What an incredible end for a fantastic character. Thanks much for participating in the game with such reliable and consistently high-quality posts.

alaklondewen

09-19-2004, 07:19 PM

Master Fordim, while Bethberry and I were brainstorming about our characters’ ends in this game, some questions were raised. I would really appreciate it, if you might provide us some clarification.

First, I’m unclear as to what day and time it is. I understand the current battle is during the evening, but how close are we to the 25th when the Ring is destroyed. I know the Game Worksheet says we end on the 25th, but it feels like we’ve only gone through 3 or 4 days (this may just be me). Has the battle begun? How close are we to the Destruction of the Ring? (Too bad Rhand will not be living to see his master fall. ;))

In this planning, will we be ending in an immediate situation (I see we are running into the army) or are we giving them time to plan for their next move (which may be some time as they will be in need of medical care and such)?

I apologize if I sound like I’m asking for you to ruin the surprise…I don’t mean to, but the final posts of a game are important as the writer is leaving someone who is now apart of himself/herself. I hope this makes sense. :)

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-19-2004, 08:58 PM

Valid and good questions Alak.

As it happens, we have been 'on the road' (so to speak) for almost six days:

day one: in the tower, getting into Shelob's tunnel

day two: Shelob

day three: getting out of Shelob's lair and resting for a full day

day four: getting down to the beginning of the Morgul Road; stones; army

day five: escaping the army resting all day; moving on

day six: dawn is approaching as we fight the orcs

This means that the date is now 21st March. The army of the West is upon the northern fringes of Ithilien. Yesterday (just after we got on the Path) Aragorn and commanders of the West fired the fields of deadly flowers about Minas Morgul (so if we had just pressed ahead instead of heading for the path. . .)

We have indeed gone a bit off the planned timeline for the game, but never fear, with the extra few days granted us by Pio I intend to get us to the 25th.

For the time being, however, the fight with the orcs should continue. Despite the heroic sacrifice of Morgoroth, there are still plenty of enemies. . .

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-20-2004, 12:07 PM

OK *whew*

I've put up my LONG post in which the prisoners are finally freed. I do so now, rather than later in the day or early tomorrow, in case anyone wants to post about the orc fight in light of what I do in my long post. As you will see, I have put up a save for any such posts so they can go before mine.

Now, I have used quite a few other characters in my post -- PLEASE tell me what needs editing!! I have also killed off two more characters -- Sarin had to pull out of the game for personal reasons last week, and Durelin gave me permission to do as I wanted with her character some weeks ago. As a result, I have killed off Zuromor and Jordo.

So now you have until Friday to write posts for the following events:

1) the orc fight, leading up to our rescue -- feel free to 'overlap' your posts with mine; I will edit my post as needed to match up with any others.

2) also, waking up in Ithilien, the passing of Sauron, and our newfound freedom. What will everyone do? Where will they go? etc.

Thanks, all, for bearing with me on this last rather rushed leg of the journey. This game has been tremendously fun, and I'm sure we'll make a terriffic end for it!

Amanaduial the archer

09-20-2004, 01:57 PM

Fordim: I'm very sorry for my absence over the last few days. Due to work and my suddenly inconveniently emerging social life, I have really rather little time left for the internet, and so haven't been actually been able to come on since Thursday. I will catch up directly.

Regards and thank you for your patience,
- Aman

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-20-2004, 03:14 PM

Zuromor Zombie?

Hmm. . .this needs clearing up pdq. I thought that I had killed off Zuromor, but in Aman's post he seems alive and kicking. . .

herm. . .hoom

For the time being let's say *poof* Zuromor is alive. In my post, Grash only saw him go down and made the mistake of thinking that he was dead. . .yeah, that's it. . .

Another discrepancy -- Aman negects to mention Dwali, who is also very much with us. To recap:

Dead and gone are:

The Perky Ent's Dwarf (name escapes me at the moment -- bad game owner bad: no donut)
Morgoroth (CoD)
Rhand/Aldor (Nova)
Jordo (Durelin)

Remaining alive:

Grash (me)
Darash (Bethberry)
Lyshka (Alaklondewen)
Jeren (Aylwen)
Bror (Kransha)
Dwali (Himaran)
Raies (Aman)
Zuromor (me? now, with Aman?)

Hope I got all that right.

alaklondewen

09-20-2004, 06:13 PM

Fordim or Pio, would either of you mind placing this post into Fordim's SAVE for battle posts? Thanks in advance.

* Post Placed *

~*~*~*~

Alaklondewen's post for Lyshka

Exhaustion overwhelmed the Easterling woman. Her muscles ached, her eyes drooped, yet she continued to fight. She would not survive if the battle came to hand-to-hand combat. Luck, if she believed in luck, had saved her from the orc army. It would not happen again. Darash had begun gathering smaller stones, but Lyshka continued to work on the larger boulders. Her chest heaved as tried to rock the massive stone. The rock’s surface was cool against her sweating back as she pushed with her long legs against the worn path. Finally, the boulder budged beneath her, and she was able to get it moving down the path toward the enemy.

The enemy was getting smaller. Many had been crushed by the falling stones, but several had escaped by dodging the debris. Lyshka saw the dark elf fighting fiercely, surrounded by the beasts. As she watched from high on the path, time seemed to slow. A rusty blade thrust forward, piercing the immortal’s stomach. The Easterling woman cried out in despair as his body slumped onto the ground. “Dad-esh!” Lyshka shouted the Amazon woman’s name and pointed to the fallen. Darash paused and lines creased her brow as she met the Easterling’s saddened gaze.

Another noise took Lyshka’s attention immediately. It was the sound of dozens of more feet stamping against the cold earth. New shouts of war were lifted up, and the woman slowly turned to see the new Orc-arrivals streaming onto the path. They came from all directions, up the path and descending the walls on either side. The foul beasts were surrounding them and forcing them away from their destination of freedom. Lyshka pulled the small knife Darash had provided her from her vest and prepared herself to what she thought would be her final battle.

Amanaduial the archer

09-21-2004, 12:36 PM

Sorry Fordim, my fault. From your post, I assumed that Grash had seen Zurumor go down but that he was no necessarily dead. Bearing in mind this assumption plus the fact that you had said there were seven left, I missed out Dwali. I'll edit now.

Himaran

09-22-2004, 05:49 AM

Fordim,

Could you please put this post on the game thread, in (but above) your last post on Page 4 of the game thread. Thanks - sorry its late.

Himaran's Post

When Dwali finally reached the mountain passage, words could not describe his attitude - it was less pessimistic than suicidal. The orc army was gone at last, but so were his companions. There was nothing for him now. It was over. The dwarf sat down on the dusty earth, trying to ponder how he had been the last to survive. He, who had seemed the weakest, the smallest, the lest likely to make it out of Mordor. It was that sense of accomplishment that pulled him to his feet and walked steadily up the path. I made it! And may yet escape from this land of darkness...

Upon cresting the hill, however, a different sight met his eyes. The company, sitting in a tight circle, resting and chatting. Not all of them, though, the dwarf was sure of it. Some must have died in the battle. And then, at the height of his addreniline, it all gave way to utter exhaustion. Dwali collapsed, his throat as parched as the rocky grouond beneath him. A cry so weak it was but a murmur barely left his flaking lips: "Help..."

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-22-2004, 06:47 AM

Himaran: I've put your post in the requested spot.

Everyone: hate to sound like a cuckoo clock, but time is (once again) running out. Let's get those final posts up before Friday. I'm anxious to see how everyone reacts to their newfound freedom, as well as what their plans are for the future.

Pio: when should I put up the final post of the game? And, should I post it here so you can clip it on at the very end or put it in the game thread?

piosenniel

09-22-2004, 09:33 AM

I'll leave the game open til Friday, midnight.

You can do a couple of things:

Put a save on the game on Friday, and then your final post. Last posts from other gamers can then be put on the discussion thread and I'll move them.

Or, leave your final post here on the discussion thread - and I'll move it to the end of the game when I close it.

Whatever you want to do is fine with me.

~*~ Pio

Bêthberry

09-23-2004, 09:37 AM

My last post is placed. A bittersweet experience. Satisfaction and delight with a game well done and melancoly at its conclusion.

This has been a great game, challenging, fun, intriguing. I've never played a fighter before, nor killed in action. And I've rarely enjoyed the company as much as I have here. Thank you All for the pleasure of gaming with you, and particularly to Alaklondewen for the satisfying interaction, to Aman for subtle directions and interactions, and of course particularly to Fordim Hedgethistle for his astounding ideas. Thanks belong also to piosenniel and Child of the 7th Age for allowing such an expansive game.

You da best, folks!

alaklondewen

09-23-2004, 01:03 PM

I, too, have placed my final post on the game thread. I have thoroughly enjoyed this game that has kept me guessing and on the edge of my seat. Thank you Fordim for allowing me the opportunity to experience this game. I think it is rare to have such outstanding writers come together in such a work. Bêthberry, I also thank you. It was a pleasure to work so close with you, and I look forward to gaming again with you in the future...that goes for all of you. Good luck in future gaming, and I hope to run into you soon.

~ Alak

Fordim Hedgethistle

09-23-2004, 01:33 PM

Thank you Alak and Bb both for two incredible last posts. This game has, indeed, been extraordinary fun for me as well thanks to the talent of its writers.

I will write up a final post and put it on the DT for Pio to tack on at the very end before the game goes, not without a wistful sigh from me, to Elvenhome. . . I will try to have this post up soon so that those who still want to put up final posts will have some idea of the closing scene of the game.

Reminder to those who have not already completed their play in this game -- tomorrow (Friday) midnight (presumably PST) is the end of the game. . . :eek:

EDIT

I've completed the final post of the game, and here it is:

Ergon shifted nervously from foot to foot, awaiting the arrival of the Heroes. He had heard so much about the Ring-bearers, the two little Halflings from the distant reaches of the North and the mists of myth, that he hardly expected to see them in the flesh. The men of his command were gathered about, all of them dressed in their usual green and brown by the particular order of the Lord Elessar, who wished to see the Rangers of Ithilien in the robes that they had worn for so long in defense – and defiance – of the shadow now departed. Upon either hand and gathered about in all corners of the Field of Cormallen were the Men of the West, resplendent in glory, and glowing in the joy of a victory unhoped and unlooked for.

Ergon and his men had spent the day before preparing the grounds, including the throne of turfs, fashioned after the old Ranger method. Beside the throne stood the Lord Elessar, taking counsel with his captains, for while the shadow was past, there yet remained many servants of the now departed dark lord, and there was much still to do. At the thought, Ergon’s eye moved to where the strange party stood near the fringes of the crowd. Since the day he had rescued them, almost two weeks before, they had not ceased to amaze him. Their story had been told hesitantly at first, for their Road had been a hard one – darker and more dangerous than most. But as the details of their struggles had emerged and word had spread of their deeds, more and more men of Gondor had come to meet with the companions and hear of their exploits. The attention had unnerved them, and by the command of Elessar they had been given privacy. The Lord Elessar, however, had not been able to restrain his curiosity, particularly with regard to the passing of Shelob, and yesterday he and Mithrandir had called the companions to them and spoken with them of all that they had seen and experienced in their terrible road. None among the host knew precisely what had passed in the interview, but when the companions had emerged from the pavilion at the end of the day, they had looked changed and oddly tired. Of what they had learned, Mithrandir and Elessar would say little, only that there had been deeds of such renown performed by this odd collection of beings, as to make them among the honoured of the age that was now passing.

A cry went up from the far side of the field, and Ergon strained with the rest to see the Halflings as they were led to Elessar by Mithrandir. The Heroes were abashed by the cries and seemed to shrink toward one another, casting about with nervous smiles. Something in their manner reminded Ergon of the companions. Elessar took them by the hands and bade them sit upon the throne. There then stepped forth a bard, and soon Ergon was lost in the music.

When the song was over and the crowd was dispersing, Ergon saw the companions once more. This time they were being led by Mithrandir to meet with the Halflings. Like the Heroes, they had passed through the darkness to the light, and it seemed only fitting to the Ranger that they should be presented to those who had destroyed the Dark Lord.

Later that night as the host settled themselves about the fires that had been lit for the celebration, Ergon was pacing back to his tent. He paused by the small fire that had been lit near his own, around which were gathered the companions. They did not see him upon the fringe of the small circle cast by their fire, and he did not call out to them. They did not speak, but stared instead singly into the flames, each of them lost in their own thoughts or dreams. There was a peace to the scene that spread out to Ergon and he felt, for the first time, what had been gained by their victory. Lightness settled upon his heart, and quiet grew in his soul.

The companions stirred and moved their hands toward one another. Ergon could not tell if the act was begun by one of them, or if some instinct had seized them as a group, but reaching out, they took hands forming a ring about the flame.

Turning away so as not to disturb them, Ergon left, and sought his bed.