Thread: ATM II RPG
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Old 01-04-2007, 01:03 PM   #291
Hookbill the Goomba
Alive without breath
 
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Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: On A Cold Wind To Valhalla
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Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.
With breathless steps and Dwarvish cursing, Smilog clambered over the final step of the long staircase leading through Mount Doom. His father followed him at a slower pace, but still just as out of breath. Before them lay the long corridor that spiralled around the mountain. The floors were carpeted, but what value had been in them was now gone, for the numerous adventures of the moving Mountain had torn them to shreds. Potted plants that had once graced the corridor at regular intervals, now lay on the floor, with their soil spewed out like blood all around them.

"This way," commanded Khuz, "we must get to the control room." They marched on, each step more cautious than the last, Smilog took his axe in hand and began examining every shadow with grave detail. There were no windows, and the only light came from a torch that Smilog was holding; yet, in the faint light, they could see the remains of chandeliers and wall lamps.

A shudder ran through Khuz as they passed a map of Mordor that had fallen from the wall and now lay pathetically on the floor like an old and drunk tramp. They marched on in this manner for about half an hour before they came to the end. There was a door. Of sorts. At least, it had been a door at some point, but was now a bricked up hole in the shape of an archway with a 'Do not enter, there is nothing behind here, go away' sign on the front.

"What now?" whispered Smilog

"Hush!" instructed his father, "If I know anything about Mordor workmanship, it's this..." he pressed his hand against the middle of the wall. To Smilogs astonishment, although, not lasting astonishment, the bricks fell backwards and left an opening onto the side of the mountain.

They stepped out and saw that there was a short path leading to the door of Zoom, as it later became known. The control room of that dread place. Cautiously, they drew near and found that the door was not locked. Into the cave, they marched, slowly and quietly. Or, rather, as quietly as dwarves can get. The red fire light shone up ahead and before long, they found themselves before the numerous controls.

Stood at these controls was a tall figure, hooded and cloaked in black. Smilog approached the stranger and said, "Good day to you sir. Who are you?"

The creature turned and they saw that it was a human... sort of... It had enormous eyes, but they had no pupils. Its teeth were very unkempt and the hair drooped down to its knees. Beneath the cloak was a dress of blood red linen, covered in disturbing pictures of orcs and dragons eating cakes.

"I" it said, "am the driver..."

***

The Barrow Wight pulled himself together once more and then peered around at their surroundings. "I say," he said, "this is a most unkempt Mountain, what-what?"

"Well," said Tollin as he brushed the ceiling remnants from his front, "I'd like to see any home stay in good keep after moving around so violently." The Barrow Wight nodded and then lowered his head. His eyes fixed upon a small white scroll that was lying just where Pallando had stood just moments earlier.

"What do you make of that, old bean?" he asked, turning to Tollin. The Minotaur lifted the scroll and unravelled it. The runes were Elvish, but the Language was Numenorian.

"You Barrow Wights are supposed to be Numenorian or something," he said, "can you read this?"

"My dear boy," retorted The Barrow Wight, "we Wights are spirits sent to dwell in the Barrow-downs by the Witch-king of Angmar during his wars with the remnant of Arnor, and who remained there long after the realm of Angmar itself had vanished from the world." He cocked his head and then snatched the scroll, "But yes, I can read it;

In Mordor, they say evil is done
Sauron's hand may yet be gone
In the deeps, the horror dwells
Blue Wizards cast their spells
No song is sung by any bard
of what lies in the grave yard
All shall throw faces to the floor
Woe if you are assigned to Mordor"


The two odd fellows scratched their heads and wondered about this odd poem. Failing to ask why it coincidentally rhymed when translated into English.

Eventually, Tollin raised his head; "That Wizard said something about a grave yard. Should we look into it? Sounds like it could be important." The Barrow Wight took out his pipe and pointed to the exit.

"A Jolly good idea," he said.

Last edited by Hookbill the Goomba; 01-09-2007 at 11:36 AM.
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