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Alcarillo · 07-10-2006, 10:27 PM

Auughhh!!! The Horses!!!

#9 ran panicked to the Witch-king. "We've been boarded, lord!" he said. "By man-eating horses! They're threatening to devour the orcs and flying beasts if we don't hand over the city!"

"Why on earth would man-eating horses want a flying city?"

"Beats me, lord, but we'd better hurry! They've taken #3 hostage!"

"#3… nearly as useless as #4... I declare an emergency Ringwraith meeting. Gather all the Ringwraiths you can and bring them to me. I'll be on top of the gates, by the helm."

"Aye, lord!" #9 said and ran off to collect the others. Some minutes later they had gathered around a conveniently located table near the steering wheel.

"Listen here, comrades!" the Witch-king said, strutting around the table. "We are faced by a ruthless band of man-eating horses, and they have already captured one of our own! We need a plan!"

"Can't we just attack them?" asked #7.

The Witch-king rolled his eyes. Were they always so simple? "To attack them would be utter tomfoolery. Does anybody have any smarter ideas?"

"Can we…ask them to leave?" said #4.

"No! Nobody ever drove a band of merciless horses from their vessel by asking them to leave! What's gotten into that head of yours?" #4 slumped lower in his chair and his head drooped. "Well, if nobody has any good ideas, I suppose we must use mine. #5 and #6! Tell the horses to meet Khamûl and me up here in an hour for 'negotiations'. #7 and #8! Prepare this table for a tea-party! #9 and #4! Round up all the butterknives, toothpicks, pins, and needles you can find! My brilliant plan will become apparent soon!"

The Ringwraiths split up to complete their tasks. #5 and #6 ventured deep into the heart of Minas Mor-go to deliver their message to the horses, #7 and #8 searched high and low the finest silverware and china, and #9 and #4 raided every chest, desk, and cabinet for all the pointy items they could find. A pile of pointed objects soon accumulated at the table.

#5 and #6 soon returned to tell the Witch-king they had delivered their message, and he told them to begin putting a Morgul pin/toothpick/butterknife under each cushion of each chair.

"But why, lord?"

"Don't you see? The moment the horses sit down for negotiations, each shall be pierced by a Morgul blade (or point), and they shall be transformed into harmless wraiths!"

"But what if we create wraith-eating horses?"

The Witch-king rolled his eyes again. "You can't eat wraiths."

Soon everything was ready: the table was set, the cushions were booby-trapped, and soon the man-eating horses would emerge from their hiding place to negotiate with the Witch-king.

The hour came and emerging from the shadows of Minas Mor-go came a great band of horses. In their train they dragged a bound and gagged #3. The horses' leader came forward and neighed to the Witch-king. The horses were about to take their seats when the Witch-king shouted "Wait! Listen, horses! We will be negotiating over tea, and so, this being a tea party, there will also be party games. The first shall be musical chairs."

"What are you doing, lord?" whispered Khamûl. "Why are we playing party games?"

"Because if each horse sits one at a time, they'll realize what we've done with the cushions! Then there'll be no hope of turning them into wraiths! They need to sit all at once, so none will know before what we've done before he sits." The Witch-king now turned to #4. "#4, please supply us with music from your clarinet."

#4 ran downstairs to fetch his instrument and assembled it as quickly as he could. Unfortunately he was fresh out of cork grease, and had to run into basements for some more. And when he found that his reed was torn, he had to go back downstairs for another. The chief horse stamped his hooves in impatience.

"Don't worry, my guests! #4 is a musical virtuoso. Just wait until you hear him play!"

Finally #4 began to play a meaningless tune, along the lines of pop-goes-the-weasel. The horses pranced around the table, and when they could feel the music was ending, each positioned himself above a chair, and when #4's tune ended, they all sat down as one. But instantly they rose up again, having pierced their horsie bottoms on the pointed objects hidden under the cushions.

"Haha!" The Witch-king taunted. "You've been hurt by Morgul blades! Now you'll all become shadowy wraith-horses!"

The angry horses stamped their hooves wildly and trampled the chairs and the table and the china, but by the Witch-king's dark arts, they became wraiths within the hour, and from that day forward, Minas Mor-go was known throughout the world for the ghosts of horses that haunted its halls.

After untying #3, the Witch-king proclaimed that Minas Mor-go would be headed north-west.

07-10-2006, 10:27 PM	#8
Alcarillo Shadow of the Past Join Date: Jul 2005 Location: Minas Mor-go Posts: 1,007	Auughhh!!! The Horses!!! #9 ran panicked to the Witch-king. "We've been boarded, lord!" he said. "By man-eating horses! They're threatening to devour the orcs and flying beasts if we don't hand over the city!" "Why on earth would man-eating horses want a flying city?" "Beats me, lord, but we'd better hurry! They've taken #3 hostage!" "#3… nearly as useless as #4... I declare an emergency Ringwraith meeting. Gather all the Ringwraiths you can and bring them to me. I'll be on top of the gates, by the helm." "Aye, lord!" #9 said and ran off to collect the others. Some minutes later they had gathered around a conveniently located table near the steering wheel. "Listen here, comrades!" the Witch-king said, strutting around the table. "We are faced by a ruthless band of man-eating horses, and they have already captured one of our own! We need a plan!" "Can't we just attack them?" asked #7. The Witch-king rolled his eyes. Were they always so simple? "To attack them would be utter tomfoolery. Does anybody have any smarter ideas?" "Can we…ask them to leave?" said #4. "No! Nobody ever drove a band of merciless horses from their vessel by asking them to leave! What's gotten into that head of yours?" #4 slumped lower in his chair and his head drooped. "Well, if nobody has any good ideas, I suppose we must use mine. #5 and #6! Tell the horses to meet Khamûl and me up here in an hour for 'negotiations'. #7 and #8! Prepare this table for a tea-party! #9 and #4! Round up all the butterknives, toothpicks, pins, and needles you can find! My brilliant plan will become apparent soon!" The Ringwraiths split up to complete their tasks. #5 and #6 ventured deep into the heart of Minas Mor-go to deliver their message to the horses, #7 and #8 searched high and low the finest silverware and china, and #9 and #4 raided every chest, desk, and cabinet for all the pointy items they could find. A pile of pointed objects soon accumulated at the table. #5 and #6 soon returned to tell the Witch-king they had delivered their message, and he told them to begin putting a Morgul pin/toothpick/butterknife under each cushion of each chair. "But why, lord?" "Don't you see? The moment the horses sit down for negotiations, each shall be pierced by a Morgul blade (or point), and they shall be transformed into harmless wraiths!" "But what if we create wraith-eating horses?" The Witch-king rolled his eyes again. "You can't eat wraiths." Soon everything was ready: the table was set, the cushions were booby-trapped, and soon the man-eating horses would emerge from their hiding place to negotiate with the Witch-king. The hour came and emerging from the shadows of Minas Mor-go came a great band of horses. In their train they dragged a bound and gagged #3. The horses' leader came forward and neighed to the Witch-king. The horses were about to take their seats when the Witch-king shouted "Wait! Listen, horses! We will be negotiating over tea, and so, this being a tea party, there will also be party games. The first shall be musical chairs." "What are you doing, lord?" whispered Khamûl. "Why are we playing party games?" "Because if each horse sits one at a time, they'll realize what we've done with the cushions! Then there'll be no hope of turning them into wraiths! They need to sit all at once, so none will know before what we've done before he sits." The Witch-king now turned to #4. "#4, please supply us with music from your clarinet." #4 ran downstairs to fetch his instrument and assembled it as quickly as he could. Unfortunately he was fresh out of cork grease, and had to run into basements for some more. And when he found that his reed was torn, he had to go back downstairs for another. The chief horse stamped his hooves in impatience. "Don't worry, my guests! #4 is a musical virtuoso. Just wait until you hear him play!" Finally #4 began to play a meaningless tune, along the lines of pop-goes-the-weasel. The horses pranced around the table, and when they could feel the music was ending, each positioned himself above a chair, and when #4's tune ended, they all sat down as one. But instantly they rose up again, having pierced their horsie bottoms on the pointed objects hidden under the cushions. "Haha!" The Witch-king taunted. "You've been hurt by Morgul blades! Now you'll all become shadowy wraith-horses!" The angry horses stamped their hooves wildly and trampled the chairs and the table and the china, but by the Witch-king's dark arts, they became wraiths within the hour, and from that day forward, Minas Mor-go was known throughout the world for the ghosts of horses that haunted its halls. After untying #3, the Witch-king proclaimed that Minas Mor-go would be headed north-west.