Thread: ATM II RPG
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Old 01-11-2007, 03:03 AM   #294
Hookbill the Goomba
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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.
The Driver glared at the two Dwarves through small and shining eyes, the pupils of which were wide and completely black. Smilog cocked his head on one side and said, "So, what's supposed to be going on then?"

The Driver grinned and pointed to a large palantir on the top of the control panel, "The end is near," it said, "I have seen it. A great battle is coming; you know the sort, the kind that, if this ever gets made into a film, will involve hundreds of pounds worth of computer graphics. The kind that will shake all of Mordor. The kind of battle-"

"Yes," interrupted Khuz, "a big battle. What's that got to do with you or us?" The Driver's face turned to a frown and it sat in the chair with a sigh. Smilog peered at the Palantir, yet all that could be seen within it were swirling clouds and mists. The Driver lifted the Palantir up and presented it to the Dwarves

"See for yourselves," it said. So they lent forward with their eyes on the perfectly rounded seeing stone. The clouds dispersed and the mist cleared. There was a grave yard full of tombstones and a few tombs. The Palantir focused on one in particular; there was a group inside it looking at a body lying on a table.

There was one figure wearing a hood who seemed to have the attention of the rest of the party. A voice, faint and seeming far away, came from beneath the hood, "But of course, it all depends on what he has to live for." the hood was thrown back, this seemed very important for some of the other people there, but meant nothing to Smilog.

A wolf howled. The Area of vision shifted and looked upon a group of figures, standing above a trapdoor that was being forced from beneath; there was a look of dark foreboding upon the face of one in particular. Again, they heard a voice, on the edge of hearing, "This graveyard has a long history of association with forces of evil." Khuz's eyes widened as the Palantir shifted its gaze once again and they stared at an enormous army gathering on the plains to the south of the graveyard. The army went on and on, rank upon rank, battalion upon battalion, stretching off into the horizon like a sea of foes. The sound of a war horn filled the air before the face of Pallando flashed before the Palantir went dark.

The Driver gasped and let the seeing stone fall from her hands. Smilog placed his foot on the stone, his eyes set on The Driver, "Why did you show us this?" he asked.

"Because," The Driver rose from her chair, "what forces are gathered in the graveyard cannot defeat this army. They shall need all the help they can get. The Blue Wizards must be stopped. Why do you think I had to move the mountain? Anakron is dead, and we were so close to bringing him to the side of light. Curse those istari."

A silence fell between them, broken only by the rumblings of the Mountain. Before long, Smilog ventured, "You still havn't answered our question. Why do you need us?"

"You are Dwarves."

"Well spotted."

"Do you know of the clan of Gadol?" The Driver lent forward, casting a shadow over the Dwarves. She peered into their eyes, one by one, perhaps this was some kind of Mordorian tradition that they were both unaware of. The Dwarves shook their respective heads. "The Clan of Gadol dwell in the Ash Mountains. Long they have been there since the fall of Sauron. Secret and safe. A mighty force they are. Perhaps the edge we shall need in this war. That is why we need you two."

"So, you want us to take a message?" asked Smilog hopefully.

"Nay." Laughed The Driver solemnly, "Nay. They will not let you in. They have a Palantir and have seen this army, but they are proud and think it of no consequence to Dwarven kind. If they see one, or even two, Dwarves in the battle, then they shall open their gates and pour into that grave yard like a flood!"


Mount Zoom sunk into the distance, though it's stench followed Tollin and The Barrow Wight for many miles. One thing could be said for Roggie's rule of Mordor, there definitely were more road signs. A tall pillar stood in the centre of the cross roads with signs pointing in each direction, including one that simply said, 'Graveyard'. Feeling satisfied, the odd duo followed the path with long steps to save on time.

Tollin suddenly stopped and turned his head to the south. He pointed away with his morning star. "Do you see that?" he asked, pointing at an enormous black shade among the lighter black shades.

"That mass of black things stretching into the horizon?"


"Yes, I do see it. Looks jolly foreboding, doesnt it old boy?"

"Indeed." They marched on, the stench of death becoming more poignant as they neared the graveyard. There was a sound of shouting and banging, like that of an group of angry drunks trying to break down a door. The iron gate of the Graveyard hung open, but not inviting, if anything it told you, 'this is exactly the kind of place your mother told you that you would end up if you didn't stop misbehaving'.

Slowly, they walked into the cemetery with absolutely no feelings of joy about the fact other than, at least they weren't in Mount Zoom. A trio stood above a trap door, the sound of fierce quacking coming from underneath; the thumping continued ominously similar to a heart beat.

"Gosh," said The Barrow Wight, drawing his unnecesarily over decorative Sword.
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