[Thinlómien]

When they had found out Green was missing a disturbing silence settled on the pit when the Elves thought of their options.
"I think it's time," Inziladun said softly.
"Time for us to come out as we are," said Nogrod, nodding, although it of course couldn't be seen in the dark unless you had the eyes of a wolf.
Eönwë nodded in return. "One of you has been crying at nights and begging mercy from us in his sleep. Let him step forwards now and help us."
"And we shall not let him down, but take him to our lord to judge with our recommendations," continued Inziladun.
"It is me," said Boromir quickly. He was surprised to find his voice steady and fearless.

"Treachery!" spat Wilwarin the Hunter, drawing her knife. "Rally to me, faithful ones!"
She could feel first Ozban and then Loslote at her side, their shoulders brushing against hers. She pondered their chances, she with her knife and the two unarmed youths, one of them a hunter and one of them a tag-along. Against them stood three werewolves and a man who had once been a gatewarden, although an incompetent one. It didn't seem promising.

There was a low growl and blood-curdling howling and the three knew Eönwë, Nogrod and Inziladun - once known as two hunters and a weaponsmith - had assumed their wolf forms. Wilwarin heard the few steps a wolf or a dog takes when it's about to leap. "Get down!" she shouted, but her companions were not quick enough. Ozban felt the heavy beast knock him down and he tried to fight with all his strength, not to die here and disappoint his lord Finrod Felagund by failing to return with a word of his friend Lady Thinlómien and their expedition, but the werewolf was too strong for him and it clawed and bit him to death.

"Wait Eönwë!" said a voice, and though horribly distorted, Wilwarin and Loslote recognised it as Inziladun's. "Spare the women."
The beast that had killed Ozban let out a howl but said nothing.
Inziladun continued: "You two need not die here. Just leave your past behind and devote your lives to our Lord Sauron, and he will give you mercy. Wilwarin, he needs hunters like you, you were the best of us all. Loslote, you are young and full of potential - why throw away your life?"
"I will never work for the shadow!" young Loslote declared angrily.
"And I shall never forgive the death of my friends!" Wilwarin shouted. "Come Loslote, we fight!" She put her knife to Loslote's hand. "Take this," she whispered. "When it comes to wrestling against these beasts, I daresay I stand a better chance." Loslote's fingers gripped the hilt of the dagger. "Thank you," she said.
"I told you it would come to this," said Eönwë to Inziladun, his voice as ghastly as his friend's. "They will never give up. Nogrod, wake up! There's work to do."
The werewolf who had once been a master hunter of wolves woke up with a start. He could do little about his narcolepsia.
"Alright then," he said. "On my count... one, two, three..."

There was an ear-piercing concerto of wolf howls and the three deadly beasts jumped at the remaining hunters. Loslote tried to stab at the beast that had knocked her to the ground but the wolf disarmed her with one careless swing of its mighty paw and Wilwarin's dagger that once had been lady Thinlómien's clattered on the stony floor. Then she had no longer any defense against the beast who unceremoniously finished her off with a bite to the neck.

Wilwarin was wrestling with two wolves when she heard the dagger hit the floor. Desperately, she tried to reach for it, but could not move with the weight of the beasts on her. Together, they held her down and clawed her to pieces. It was an agonising death.

With Wilwarin's dying scream, silence once again settled on the pit and darkness even greater seemed than before seemed to emerge. A deep voice full of malice spoke: "Well done, my brave hunters! Now come with me and I will provide for you." The three wolves walked unerringly towards the sound, but Boromir stood doubtingly in the dark. He had heard the last of the Elves slaughtered, and now this Lord of Darkness had come. He hesitated.
"And will you come too, coward?" the malicious voice asked. Boromir nodded. He only wanted out of this place reeking of death. He knelt on the bloody ground. "If you will only have my service, Lord Sauron."
There was an evil laugh which almost sounded like a howl. "I will. You have shown your quality by lasting this long. Follow your friends," said the Lord of Werewolves.

Eönwë, Inziladun, Nogrod and Boromir arrived in a mighty dark hall lit with torches near the ceiling. They were positioned so that they cast strange, moving shadows on the walls. Sauron, the Lord of Werewolves, sat on a throne, fair of face yet terrible to behold with a huge wolf curled at his feet. His eyes met theirs.

"Four out of fifteen remain," he said. "Four cunning and strong Elven hunters for my thralls, trained by Nargothrond." And he laughed for he was in a good mood today. "Tonight, you shall sleep. Tomorrow, you shall join my werewolves and orcs on a quest to capture puppies of northern dire wolves. From them I shall breed the greatest of werewolves and they will be the terror of all of Beleriand! Sleep now, you have deserved your rest."

And so the four were taken away, and the spell of wolvery was taken from upon Inziladun, Eönwë and Nogrod. They were mere Elves again, and would be slaves to the great shadow for the rest of their lives.


When Huan arrived in Nargothrond, his fur streaked with blood and his wise eyes full of sadness and anger, everybody knew what had happened. The fate of the fifteen hunters - Boromir, Eönwë, Glirdan, Green, Inziladun, Legate, Loslote, Nerwen, Nogrod, Ozban, Pitch, Shastanis, Skip, Thinlómien and Wilwarin - inspired troubadours to write laments, people wept in the streets and Finrod Felagund in his high halls bowed his noble head in grief. It would still be years before anyone would successfully defy the might of Sauron and Tol-in-Gaurhoth.


~*~


The Dead
Thinlómien (mod) - murdered in cold blood on Night1
Shastanis (seer) - cast to the pit in the pit on Day1
Pitch (ordo) - driven crazy and throttled in his fur scarf on Day2
Glirdan (ranger) - decapitated by a wolf's paw on Night3
Legate (ordo) - fell to the pit on Day3
Nerwen (ordo) - killed in a nightmare come true on Night4
Skip (ordo) - stoned by a mob disapproving of his poetry on Day4
Green (ordo) - eaten by hungry wolves on Night5
Ozban (ordo) - died in the massacre on Day5
Wilwarin (hunter) - died in the massacre on Day5
Loslote (ordo) - died in the massacre on Day5

The Living
Boromir (cobbler)
Eönwë (werewolf)
Inziladun (werewolf)
Nogrod (werewolf)


WEREWOLF VICTORY! Congrats to the evil team, and my sympathies to the innocents. The game is over now: everybody dead, alive and not taking part, feel free to post. Thanks again to everybody for playing and following the game!