The Hills of Evendim RPG

[Meneltarmacil]

Awyrgan, Lumiel, and Furman had returned and told Thoronmir that Eodwine was nowhere to be seen. Thoronmir considered this, and then made up his mind.

"We can't wait any longer. Eodwine is definitely in the temple, which means the longer we wait, the less likely it is that Eodwine will survive. We'll have to go in. Falowik, Eswen, Lira, and Falco, you'll take this rope (he gave Lira the rope and grappling hook) and climb to the roof. Take the rope with you, then proceed to the side of the temple farthest from the door. After my group breaks through the door, count to five and then smash a hole in the wooden roof with your weapons and lower yourself in. Eodwine should probably be close to your location. If there are too many guards, use your bows and attack from above. Awyrgan, Finewen, Lumiel, and Furman, you'll be with me and create a distraction at the front door. Be cautious, as the Master will likely have traps set. Have you got all that?"

Everybody nodded.

"Alright, let's GO!" he said. He handed Furman a scimitar he had taken from a dead guard. "Use it well, but don't double cross us. I'm warning you." he cautioned him.

As they came up to the temple door, he whispered to Awyrgan so that nobody else could hear. "Take this. If Furman turns against us, shoot him before he tells the guards of the plan." He handed the other Ranger his bow and quiver of arrows, and Awyrgan nodded.

"GO!" Thoronmir shouted, and kicked the door open. The sight that greeted him was definitely NOT welcoming...

[Imladris]

Lira swung the rope and watched the gleaming grappling hoock skitter across the roof and latch onto a lip of wood. She hoped that if anyone had heard the rope the guards, or the Master himself, would pass it off as hungry rats scaveging for a stray crumb.

Noiselessly and swiftly, she climbed up the rope and crawled to the wooden roof. Splinters speared her palm and she swore silently. As she waited for the others to climb up after her, she tried to dig them out, but failed for they were buried deeply, and her nails were jagged and stubby.

She ceased her efforts when the rest had climbed the rope and, drawing her blade, she gripped the dagger between her teeth and began to crawl across the roof of the temple. She passed silently over the planks of wood, hoping that the others would do likewise. The grappling hook would be enough to alert their enemies...she hoped ony that they had been too concerned with their own sacrifice to notice a few scratchings upon the roof.

She slowed as she neared the farther edge of the temple and put her ear to the wooden plank. There was silence, save for a soft whisper of metal against metal. She could hear no groaning, pitiful whimperings, or pleas for mercy. She closed her eyes, and murmured a prayer for Eodwine. Then she crouched, dagger held ready in her hand, as she waited for Thoronmir's people to smash through the doors.

Under her hands, the roof began to shiver and tremble, as if some force bade them do so. Lira frowned and hissed, "Back away, back away!" She pushed Falco across the roof, and gestured Esgallhugwen back. Falowick, she gathered, was somewhere behind her, out of sight.

As she began to retreat the wood splintered beneath her, crumbling under her weight. She fell through the roof, struggling to grasp the jagged edges of the cavernous hole. As she fell, she vaguely saw the dim form of an alter, and a man bound to it, naked save for a loin cloth.

Guards filled the room and Lira knew that they had been waiting for them. As she plummeted to the stone floor, a sharp crack resounded in the temple: the sound of her broken neck.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen swiftly climbed to rope, the last of them to go up. They awaited for Thoronmir to break though the entrance but that chance did not come before the worst befell them.

The roof which consisted of wooden planks began to quake under their feet, Lira had urged the others back but before she could save herself the roof gave way, and she fell. Esgallugwen rushed to hole and a sound echoed up to them, it took everything in Eswen's body not to scream out in pain and anguish at the twisted form sprawled out on the tile.

But also when that sound came something snapped inside of the dark haired Elf, something more violent and terrible than before. Her clear grey eyes narrowed and seemed to glow with wrath and power.

Her body trembled and the air about her grew cold and still. Esgallhugwen picked up her bow and adjusted her quiver on her back.

The guards came then swarming over Lira like some insectile vermin. With a swift fluid motion that could only come from the Elves, Esgallhugwen began to rifle arrow after arrow at the enemy.

The Dark Queen in her smiled maniacally when she downed more then five men with arrows protruding from their eye. Falowik a little uneasy at the abrupt change in one of his comrades gathered courage and took down a fair share of the guards himself.

It was then that Esgallhugwen heard the front door being smashed in, good they made it in, she turned quickly to Falowik and Falco, tying the bow to her back.

"I'm going in, I ask you to cover me until I've cleared the way then you can enter the temple, use the rope to get down Master Falco it would be a perilous fall for you" the depth in her sweet Elvish voice was laced with anger and sadness.

The fall was steep, but when she glanced throught the hole she noticed a pillar with a huge lantern hanging horizontally from a bronze bar. It would be the perfect way for her to get down safetly enough.

With a shift of her feet she was down the hole and reaching across for the bronze bar, her long thin fingers glanced off the bar and latched on to the lanterns chain ahead. The force with which she came down pulled the lantern at an awkward angle spilling the hot embers, one grazed her cheek but did not burn her bad enough to promote a scar.

The Dark Queen landed on the black marble silently with a bend of her knees, but the gaurds had seen her descent. One came up to her right as she drew her sword, the impact of the pommel hitting his mouth shattered all of his front teeth, he screamed as blood splattered over the glistening tile.

The Dark Queen has risen.

[Imladris]

Lira opened her eyes and rose from the floor. Looking behind her she, she saw a shell of skin, a corpse with the neck at an odd angle. Her corpse. That she was dead did not matter to Lira, for she was fëa now. Before the thought had sunk into her, she became aware of dark presence in the room. Black arrogance mingled with scorn assaulted her and, turning, she saw a dread being stand between two of the black pillars, bound to them by strands not of bodily making, as if the very essence of the spirit had been used to hold it as a slave there, at the beck and call of the Master. It was not a balrog, but some other spawn of evil .

Lifting her hands, Lira cried, "You will not harm me nor my friends!"

The spirit laughed. Cold and harsh it was upon her ears, like sharpened blades upon her skin, wounding her, weakening her. "What can you do to me?" the spirit asked. "I am under the power of the Master!"

The Master ...suddenly, Lira realized who he was, and wondered why she had not known it before. The Master was the Lieutenant of Sauron, the Dark Numenorean who had forgotten his own name and entity in his vile service: The Mouth of Sauron. Lira's heart quailed and she wavered.

She could feel the spirit envelope her, gnawing at her as the ocean gnaws at the rocks, grinding them to dust. She fought against and cried, "He will be defeated again! The dark cannot stand against the light!"

The Spirit laughed again, mocking her, like poison in a wound. "You cannot defeat him!"

Yes, he could not be defeated...he was a new Dark Lord, the bearer of Sauron's name. He was destroy the Shire, a vengeance for the destruction of his lord, and from there spill the blood of Arda's inhabitants upon the land, making it a wasteland fit for a dark lord. Not man nor elf could stand in his way.. As she saw the destruction in her minds eye, and remembering all that she had learned, she drew herself up and, clinging to a single thought, cried, "He will be defeated as he was defeated upon the Morannon before the Black Gate by Mithrandir the White!"

The Spirit almost snorted in disgust and said, "But he was not truly defeated was he? He has now come back, stronger than before. Before this day is out, he will drink your blood as well as the blood of your companions. He cannot be defeated." He gestured toward the alter.

Her last hope dashed, Lira felt a tidal wave of fear, mingled with hopelessness, drown her. She struggled with it, grappled with it, but it became stronger -- a leering monster. Stretching out her arms in supplication and defiance, she cried, " Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima! O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!"

[littlemanpoet]

The moment the Master entered the chamber, the roof gave way. Rain poured in, and something else: a human body, which hit the stone floor and did not move. It was a young woman! An elvish woman. Guards poured out from hidden recesses. Another interloper came swinging down nimbly from the broken roof, using a lantern chain for purchase. This one landed on two feet and quicker than Eodwine's eye could follow, drew and loosed five arrows into the guards, killing all five with each arrow. Only an Elf could use bow and arrow to such a pin point. The rain fell upon the altar, and Eodwine was drenched in moments. Lightning flashed.

Where had the Master gone? Eodwine looked up. He stood at Eodwine's head, goblet in one hand, that dagger, sharpened to a fine point in the other; it was the one Eodwine had been told about, bearing the ugly device of snake crawling through a skull's eye sockets that he had seen on the shields and hauberks of the guards. This dagger was singular, though. It's hilt was hollow, and an elixir was contained therein that, with a flick of the Master's thumb on a small switch, shot the elixir down the surface of the blade, and the wound opened by the dagger could not close, the blood could not thicken but would seep like water until the victim was drained.

The rain poured. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed and growled. The door broke open and more of the Elf woman's allies rushed in. The battle flowed before them.

"Man of Rohan," said the Master in tones sibilant as a serpent, disdainful of the melee raging around them, "it is your time to feed my life. What is your name, that I may honor your memory and sacrifice?" The Master's face was drawn tight against the bone so that it was no great task to imagine the skull beneath the skin. His eyes burned with a fierce will; but he was not disfigured. His expression mocked his seemingly honorable words; this one knew no honor.

"Tell me yours and I will tell you mine, fiend."

The Master smiled. "You would barter with me over a name? Fool." An arrow sped through the air at his head, but halted in its path just beyond the altar, and dropped to the floor. Another came swiftly after, and joined its brother on the floor. The arrows stopped coming. "See how the arrows cannot hurt us? We are safe here, you and I."

A rope descended from the hold in the roof.

The clouds burst and the rain came down like a waterfall. Eodwine turned his face away from the roof to breathe.

Suddenly, a high clear voice called from the midst of the temple, "Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima! O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!" The words fed Eodwine, bringing hope in the midst of darkness, even though hope seemed far away. He looked up and saw the Master cringe.

"I know who you are," Eodwine said. He was desperate to live, and his life on the dagger's edge, not in figure of speech but in truth, made him as wreckless as a man could be with all four limbs tied down and without defense. "You were the lieutenant of Barad-dur. I saw you there, on the Morannon before that final battle, running back to hiding with your tail between your legs like a wipped cur, Mouth of Sauron!"

The downpour ebbed and thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Silence! Do not incur my wrath, fool, or I could make your sacrifice most painful, and your existence beyond death most agonizing. Yes, I was the Mouth of Sauron, but no more. I am the Dark Lord now, and my power grows. Your blood shall aid me. I shall tell you my name, for it is precious to me. I am Herugor. Do you hear! Herugor!"

The name echoed through the chamber, and the melee stopped for a moment as both sides in the battle looked to the altar, transfixed. Lightning flashed overhead and thunder shouldered the lightning aside with a crash. Light and dark flashed on the forms of warrior and guard alike, making them appear as if they were moving though they did not. It was the Elf woman with her quick arrows who broke the tableau with five more arrows into the necks of five more guards.

"Now tell me your name, man of Rohan."

"I will not."

"I have it already from the guards, and can speak it for you, but it is best if it comes from your own lips."

"Liar."

"You dare much, messenger of the King of Rohan."

[Esgallhugwen]

The Dark Queen moved quickly, dispatching the guards. The storm above them seemed to grow in strength, the thunder roared hungrily overhead.

The arrows she let fly at The Masters head fell uselessly to the ground. A dark haze was protecting him, she could see it moving and twisting about him and Eodwine.

Esgallhugwen gave up the pursuit of taking down the Master, for now, she had made the way clear for Folowik and Falco to enter from the roof. The rain poured down heavily as she called up to them, the coil of rope descended.

A voice called out " Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima! O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!" Before she could react something struck her in the chest sending her flying across the black marble.

The voice was beautiful like the dawn but it was afraid, it was Lira's voice!

Esgallhugwen slid directly into Lira's cold dead body, gasping from the wind being knocked out of her, she looked downward on her fallen friend, the only one she had ever had for many years.

Her gaze led upward and she beheld a figure of auroral light.

"Lira!", the drenched Elf called out almost in disbelief that she was still here, then she knew the terrible power of the Master, knowing whom he truly was. Lira would not be able to leave until he was utterly destroyed.

The Dark Queen came to her feet and heard the Mouth of Sauron shouting at the man tied to the altar, his voice thick like poison.

"I am Herugor. Do you hear! Herugor!"

The fighting stopped, all seemed deadlocked, unable to move due to the uttering of such a name. The Dark Queen would have none of it and soon took down five more gaurds breaking everyones reverie.

Her fiery grey eyes scanned the temple for her assailant, but when she saw it she couldn't surpress a shudder. The shadow loomed above them, it was bound to two black pillars.

The Dark Queen stepped back in terror, it soon became apparent that the spirit would soon be liberated from its imprisonment. It was furious at Lira for having call upon Elbereth's grace.

Its tentacle like limbs slowly uncurled like snakes from the marble pillars, it laughed visciously at the two Elves that stood in front of it.

"You see, the Master's power is great, your feeble little Elvish darts can do nothing to stop Him or me" the spirit bellowed glowering down on them.

"Perhaps, but what of this!" the Dark Queen hissed angrily up at him despite her fear and drew forth her Elvish blade, the spirit stepped back unsure of the blades potency, then it smiled, if it could be considered a smile.

"Ha, so you have shown your true nature, like all your kind you wallow in deciet and folly, wrongfully mistaking it for courage and wisdom, your blood especially shall be prized by the Master, dark haired one, he will take it from you as slowly as possible".

Esgallhugwen's grip on her sword tightened, other figures began to appear, black and wretched, The guards, their souls have returned by His command.

"May the Valar protect us, mellon"

[littlemanpoet]

By the time Falowik and Falco slid down the rope, few guards were left standing. They pulled their swords out and took stock, side by side. Eswen was wipping out arrows and shooting guards left and right. Falco's jaw dropped as he watched arrows shot at the Master stop and drop.

"Take care, Wanderer!" Falco slipped into the shadows and made his way as quietly and quickly as he could around to the back of the altar, to the unseen left of the Master. He froze as the Master named himself: Herugor. Falco didn't know the name, but it sounded none too comely. An evil name for an evil man.

***

Falowik attacked the nearest guard and got embroiled in a trade of blows. He saw the front door burst open. Thoronmir, Awyrgan, Finewen, Lumiel, and Furman ran in, sword drawn and ready. Their plan had not worked out as they had hoped, so far. Lira was dead.

Next moment, Falowik froze. The dead guards picked themselves up off the floor, their wounds open and bleeding, arrows protruding, and took stances of readiness for battle. There were a little over two dozen of them. The guard he had been fighting withdrew and started to run from the hall, but was cut down with a single stroke by one of the dead guards. Next moment, he rose, his head cloven from top to eyebrows, and his eyes were baleful.

Then something new caught his eye; where there had been blankness, or blackness, there was now a red smudge. It grew and gained shape. A rope came from it toward the altar, where there was a hole in the floor. No, it was not a rope, it was some kind of living tentacle that became more blood red with each second. Revealed by flashes of lightning, it was large as a troll and wore its shape, red as blood - in fact, it seemed to be made of blood! But its eyes bore malignant intelligence, and its mouth gaped hungrily.

"Uien," Falowik whispered, "I wish you were here now. Of maybe I don't. This may be farewell, my love."

He gripped his sword and began to fight his way toward the others.