Assigned to Mordor RPG

[Kath]

Completely bewildered by this entire set up, Sai kept close to Alli, hoping she would have some idea of what to do. Unfortunately she seemed just as confused, as well as seriously annoyed by the appearance of Fea who had charmed everyone in sight the second she turned up. Feelings of loyalty and perhaps some pride that she had been the only one to get through her defences kept Sai on Alli’s side and so, for now at least, immune to the pervasiveness of the newcomer.

She had gathered from Anakron’s instructions and the gruesome death of his counterpart, that there were 3 wolves in among this motley crew of individuals, and that the way to complete this next task was simply to stay alive. As she mused over this, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Wait a second... Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!"

As people (using the term in it’s loosest sense) turned to look at her, she realised she had spoken out loud. Blushing she turned away, but not before noticing the suspicious looks that Flein was shooting at her and Alli from under his bushy eyebrows. Sai wondered if he thought the two of them were wolves, Anakron had said they could be among the members of the Offending Party, which was a scary thought in itself. She thought they were more likely to be some of these newer people. Surely she’d have noticed if one of the Party were a werewolf . . . wouldn’t she?

She noticed that this Fea girl was speaking again, suggesting that they lynch Anakron. She was tempted to agree, but wondered whether his death might mean that their chances of getting out of Mordor were scuppered, since he was in charge of it all.

Fortunately it seemed that some of the others agreed with her, or at least were put off by the homicidal look in Fea’s eyes. She certainly seemed overly keen on killing someone, and she never even said she thought Anakron was a wolf. Also, from what she'd heard back home about these 'games' she was sure that the innocent people were supposed to have helpers, people with special gifts who could swing the balance of power.

Due to her slight phobia of having to speak in front of large groups of people, Sai whispered these little observations to Alli (gaining another glare from Fléin for some reason - perhaps he thought they were plotting something?), who nodded and thought it over. Sai knew Alli was as wary of this new addition to their group as she was, and hoped that she would have some kind of plan to figure out whether she really was as innocent and helpful as she was trying to appear to be, or was just attempting to avoid suspicion.

While Alli was thinking, Sai gazed around at the groups of people mulling about. From Rowling's creations she knew the signs one was supposed to look out for in a werewolf, but those weren't really helpful when everyone around was in as human a form as they could manage.

From her right she heard a snap of fingers, and turned toward Alli, wondering whether she'd come up with anything or was frustrated with the inability to do so. Sai sincerely hoped it was the former. She really didn't like the idea of being killed.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli had come up with an idea. Just as quickly, she'd forgotten what it was.

She'd listened to everything that Sai told her and glared prettily at Flein when he looked suspiciously at her. She'd come up with the most brilliant strategy in the history of Tol-in-Gaurhoth scenarios that would guarantee a win. And then, like I already said, she forgot it. She smacked herself in the head and only managed to make herself cry out in pain when she nailed herself in the bruise from the rock. Another vision showed up, this one of J.Lo. in a shower. She was getting really sick of this stuff. Illamatar was really bad at telling her when she was having real visions and when she was just having weird thoughts. At least the Scotsman was out of her head. But now he was in front of her. And she had to keep him alive. Even if he was a wolf. Illamatar had said so, and one didn't ignore a direct order from the deity that half of the forum thought was God.

She whispered back to Sai, her mouth close to the girl's ear to keep unwelcome strangers from reading her lips.

"We need Aimè on our side. His importance to the side-plot is unimaginably huge. His death would be a blow to all of Middle Earth and especially to me. I really need to find out why Eru thinks he's so important. I can't let him die. Will you help me?"

Alli was a little bit concerned that Sai was a werewolf, but it was too late now to worry. If the girl was a werewolf than Alli was in more danger than she could easily get herself out of. After all, they were sharing a cottage. Flein glared again when he saw them whispering. Alli stuck her tongue out.

"Apart from keeping Aimè and ourselves alive, I'm lost. No ideas from you?"

[Kath]

"Sure I'll help." Sai replied, turning her head to Alli's ear. "But as for ideas I really don't have any. Unless we can figure out some way to determine who are the wolves and who aren't I don't really see what we can do. I'd say lynch one of these newcomers every day. We only have to last out 3 days at most and that way the whole Offending Party stays alive. But to do that we'll have to convince the others that we're not werewolves and that they should go along with that idea."

She sighed and shook her head. It was a little hard to think with a dead body around and suspicious glares shooting all over the place. She wondered whether a meeting of two such stares would cause some kind of explosion, and then shook her head to rid herself of such useless thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I really have nothing. Maybe we should just stand back and see how this plays out. Oh, and maybe you shouldn't hit yourself. If we want the others to take us seriously it might help to play the part of a sane person."

[Celuien]

Celuien's post

Panakeia couldn't help being troubled by Elempí's gruesome and mysterious death. What a horrible way to die. She shuddered. At the sight of his corpse, her mind drifted back over their brief acquaintance.

"What's your name? What's wrong with your hair? Why do you wear so much make-up? I'll bet you're beautiful without it. Who's he?"

"What a lot of questions!" she had replied in exasperation. "Panakeia of Harad, nothing, because it's the only proper way to appear in public, I am, and," she looked around, "he's Valde Delago." Panakeia didn't think she liked him. Still smarting over her 0 points, she was not charitably disposed toward Anakron at the moment, nor was she inclined to appriecate the appearance of any of his alter-egos, no matter how friendly they might appear. Especially when he was criticizing her carefullly developed toilette.

Valde stood beside her. As he introduced himself to the odd newcomer, Panakeia took his arm, and felt a strange wave of nausea wash over her. "Strange," she muttered to herself. "Well, Valde, how goes it? I'm a little disappointed by the outcome of our last adventure, but it's nothing we can't overcome." The sick feeling rose with each word. "Nothing we can't beat as a team." That was too much. As delicately as possible, she turned her head to the side and leant over.

"Are you alright?" Valde and Elempí cried together.

Struggling to recover, Panakeia returned, "I don't know. I think so." Smiling at Valde as best as she could under the circumstances, she tried to say, "I'm fine as long as you're here," but couldn't make it past the "as long as" before giving into a wave of retching.

"There is something wrong. Maybe you'd better go rest awhile," Elempí offered kindly. Valde nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I think I will," she stammered. "I can't imagine what's wrong." She fled to hidden corner in the village Inn to rest.

And so she found Elempí the next morning, along with the rest of the village. For the first time in her life, Panakeia was truly frightened. She had heard tales of werewolves long ago, as a child in Harad, but had never thought of them as more than tales. Now it was terrifyingly real. And she didn't know what to do. Not being able to trust anyone was nothing new to her - she hadn't trusted anyone since she was 19 - but, just now, she wanted to be able to trust someone very badly. Valde? At the very thought, the queasiness returned to her. How very, very odd, she mused. I was fine a second ago.

Who was the most likely suspect? Panakeia was hardly inclined to doubt the other members of the Offending Party. After all, no strange deaths had followed the group until now. It had to be one of the newcomers. She looked them over, a hard glint in her eyes. One of them, a ragged, scruffy looking character, seemed more suspicious than the rest. It didn't help that he wore a tattered fur T-shirt and sat gnawing on a bloody bone. Nor did the signs he carried with him help his case. One read, "Dangerous Carnivore. Beware." The other said, "I'm a Werewolf! Lynch me! No he isn't. Yes he is. (Lynch rate: 67%)." This was the enigmatic Nilpaurion Felagund. And he seemed the best choice to Panakeia. Innocent or not, he was bound to cause confusion, and maybe even turn members of the Offending Party against each other, rightly or wrongly.

She heard Sai's suggestion: I'd say lynch one of these newcomers every day.

"Yes. That makes sense to me. No sense in turning against each other now. We have to get out of here." With a glare at Nilp, she turned to stand alongside Sai and Alli. "I won't be attacking anyone in our group. At least, not unless they attack me first."

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Nilpaurion Felagund's post

'Ah, Nilp. Or is it Alice today? I seem to remember seeing an Emily recently... how goes it with you?'

'Blink blink,' the eyelids replied.

'Scratch scratch,' the head and hand asked in unison.

'Yawn,' the mouths opined.

And, then, one of them screamed.

He had suddenly been transported to . . . a pair of his eyes--the red one with three black dots in it--turned to a sign.

'Welcome to Dol Gaurgaurhothr.
Population: Changes pretty fast.'

'Blimey. I'm still stuck with this guy? I thought I left him in Mt. Doom,' someone to his left said. His head turned in that direction, but he saw only a drunk man wearing what looked to him like an aluminium head-dress--Aluminium Hatted Man, he named the character, aHM for short--, conversing with a small-pink clad monkey holding what seems to be a pistol. No, that couldn't have been them. Where did that voice come--

'I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?' a female voice to his right said. He turned to the direction of the voice again. But he saw only a male-type Man. Even if that man could speak in a female voice, it couldn't have been him. His vocal chords was at least two metres away from him. Plus, he was his airway was constricted by a looped rope hung from a strange wooden cantilever.

Then where are the voices coming from?

'Oh, look, a bone,' the female voice said, and he felt himself being dragged in a direction he didn't intend to go. Suddenly, he stopped, and he found himself sitting down. He heard the sounds of a nineteen year-old gnawing on a bloody sheep's shank to his right.

He felt someone glaring at him. He turned, and saw a middle-aged female mortal with blonde hair of a questionable shade. Her seemingly violet eyes, had they had mouths, would surely be screaming bloody murder.

'Would someone please lynch us?' the creepy voice to his left said aloud. 'I'd rather be dead than stuck with him like this.'

He suddenly recalled that voice. Once, he had heard it only in the confines of his mind. It was then he realised.

Nilpaurion had three faces.

'Hi, Fea! I'm here, Emily!' another familiar female voice said behind him.

Make that four. Oh, wearing glasses would be so difficult now . . . But his nearsightedness and astigmatism weren't his primary concern now.

How do I escape from here? he thought. Think, Nilpy, think!

'Wait a second,' yelped Sai--how did he know the name? 'Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!'

That's it! Hey, isn't that Ms. Sai Onara, the lass I met in Gondor while looking for a cure for multiple-personality disorder? Never mind that! So, what was my idea? Well, since I'm of the Elder race, dying would only bring me to Mandos, about a pleasant day's walk from my childhood home. Yeah, that's it! I just have to die. Nilpaurion's strange red eyes glanced from side to side, hoping that the physically manifest alter-egos would not notice the decision made in his mind by the other half-unnamed alter-egos that made up Nilpaurion Felagund's governing council. Now, how do I pull this off . . .

'Your attention, please!' he cried as he walked to the centre of the town quadrangle. There was a hush as all eyes turned to him, some screaming bloody murder in various degrees of violence, some snorting, 'What an attention-seeker!' while others just stared with their lower eyelids dropping as if they were jaws. Nilpaurion wasn't exactly a model Elf, or an Elven model for that matter, and the three new faces that suddenly sprouted on either side and the back of his head didn't help matters.

[At this point, the narrative brakes, and then shifts into poetic gear.]

Ascended Finrod's son and heir.
With dreadful voice he uttered there:
'Be you friend, or foe, or just a guest
Of Barrowdowns, or on a quest
To fare away from this sad part
Of Middle-earth, Dark Land's black heart,
Neither law, nor love, nor league of Hell,
Nor any Troll from Dunland Fell
May save you if you do not vote
For Nilpy Feg, with brains of oat;
For he is obviously a wolf--
Uh, wait a mo: What rhymes with 'wolf'?

[Here the poetic part ends, and the narrative continues.]

All eyes blinked at least once; some did so twice, and a few other thrice. When they had finished blinking, he saw something in their eyes that made him smile. They were all too ready to lynch him. But he frowned when he looked deeper. They only wanted to rid themselves of his atrocious poetry, which seemed to be on par with Vogonwë's (of Entish Bow fame). Hmph, not appreciating my poetry. I should send the lot of you to Mordor, or something. Hmmm, maybe I'll post about that later. Oh, never me mind that! They're about to lynch me, and I don't care for what the reason, so long as they do it.

But suddenly, Emily sidled into the conversation, 'What? What does all that mean?'

All eyes blinked again, and when they had opened, confusion replaced the anger they felt at his horrendous butchering of lyric Art (short for Arthur, of course). Not a few were muttering, 'What did he mean? Some troll from Dunland fell on a nilpy peg--what's a "nilpy" peg, anyway?--while eating oat bran?' He had lost his 'Lynch me!' momentum. He had to regain it. Nilpaurion grinned sheepishly, or rather like a sheep trying hard to look like a wolf hiding in a fluffy woolen pullover.

'What it means, my dear villagers, is that I'm a werewolf. You must lynch me, lest I destroy your village. If you do not vote for me, that means you're not trying to help this village, so I'll vote for you. Is that clear?'

'Hey, Mr. ModeVayor,' a female voice cried from behind Nilp, 'is multiple voting allowed?'

Before Anakron could answer, the creepy voice declared, 'If that's allowed, then let's just vote for Nilp an infinite number of times.'

'I don't know,' said another female voice, this time from Nilp's right, her voice dripping with sensibility, 'isn't death by lynching a bit painful?'

But she was ignored. No Seer was needed to see that; Alice was usually ignored by everyone. 'I vote for

++Nilpaurion Felagund

toDAY,' Adam said.

[Encaitare]

Wilhelmina had been rather irked by the fact that Anakron considered her hard work on the Third Task to not be in accordance with his rules. But now there were other things to consider -- like the hanged man, and the likelihood that several of them might shortly be deceased. This was intensely disturbing; Mordor was a place of extreme annoyance rather than death these days, and they hadn't been warned that their attempt to leave might prove fatal!

There was one thing she knew: the girl, Fea, spoke with confidence, but she couldn't be right. As satisfying as it would be to lynch Anakron, they needed him to get out. Therefore...

"I agree with you ladies," Wilhelmina said, banging her walking stick on the ground for emphasis. We of the Offending Party have got to stick together. We haven't tried to kill each other yet, have we? I mean," she continued gesturing at several of her companions in turn, "Fléin's rather hairy, and Panakeia's a bit scary-looking, and Waldo there's always brooding about one thing or another, but that doesn't make them lycans. Not by a long shot."

Tinkerbell yapped irritatingly; Wilhelmina had decided that since the pooch hadn't been of any use to her, she could comfortably despise it.

"There!" she exclaimed. "Let's just say Tinkerbell's the wolf and be done with it."

[littlemanpoet]

"Anakron," Alli called out. "If we're killed in the game, does that mean we actually die? Because I'll be very put out if I die."

Anakron nodded.

"Wait a second," yelped Sai. "Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!"

Apparently the nod had not been sufficient, nor seen by all. "Yes, you can. The Dweomer controls the contract."

"I think that we should lynch Anakron," said Feanor of the Peredhil. Anakron stood and began to set her straight. "No, listen to me." she interrupted, attempting to shoo him away. "This entire thing is his doing. If we lynch him, he'd be deprived of his fun, we'd know for sure whether or not he is innocent, and we'd all be able to leave Mordor without a single bit of trouble. After all, the Dweomer works through him. Without a conductor, surely it is as a disconnected circuit?"

Clever little miss, that one.

"Fea, silly dear," Anakron purred as he sat back down on his lazyboy, "you are such a clever one. However, you overlook one fact that some of these others, most notably the members of the Offending Party, have probably ascertained on their own by now, that if I am lynched, they have no chance of getting out of Mordor. But scheme away, m'dear. 'Tis most entertaining.

"Oh, and two more things. As I have said already, you will not lynch one of these newcomers each day, Sai-" The eyes of all the newcomers honed in most antagonistically upon Sai. "-you will lynch at least two newcomers, or whomever, each day.

"So much for the first thing. The second is this: do not assume too much."

With that said, some of the villagers got down to business. Fléin began to sing in a most undwarflike manner:

"Oh citizens of Mordor, our village takes a blow
Elempí has fallen, unimaginable woe
What can man do against such violent hate?
How can we possibly retaliate?
A blind shot into the dark we must now take
For it is our lives at stake..."

As soon as he was done, SpaM said,
"1420! To the bottle we go!
Darn! He wazh one of my besht cushtomers too!

It sheems to me that a pint of Shpam's Old Potboiler izh in order. One of my finesht alezh, it izh. Really putsss hairzh on yer ches' ... Oops! Bad choice of words." SpaM raised up a bottle and quaffed liberally, much spilled down his chin. "There now. That'll calm the nervezh and hep ush get our thinking caps (urp) on. Now, who could have done shuch a terrible thing? Any ideazh?" SpaM stared intently at Mardil and Valde.*

"Well sung, Fléin," said Mormegil. "The best course of action is to analyse each villager and the werewolf will present him/herself inadvertently based on their responses. Everyone is a suspect currently and we need to hear some defense from individuals. I would like to hear from SpaM what with brewing and drinking naught but ale. Now I know that this doesn't imply guilt of murder but we would be wise at looking closely him. And also Valde is a Lead Tragic Actor and that casts doubt on him."

"What with brewing and drinking naught but ale, you shay!" retorted SpaM. Shince when did thish become a val- val- appro- (urp) good bashish for an accuzhashin of murder? Indeed, my tend- tend- liking for the bottle inev'terbly aidzh me in enjoying a mosht peashful night's slee(ur)p. Mosht nightsh I am incap- incap- unable of even shnuffing out the candle, let alone carrying out a grishly murder.

"But what about yourshelf, Maundering Mage? Shince you are sho keen to casht asper- asper- (ur) say bad things with not a shred of evidensh, perhapsh you could explain why we shouldn't be looking to you in thish grim matter?

"SpaM," Mormegil replied, "I am suprised that you didn't listen more carefully. But I shall not repeat myself, as you will probably miss it a second time as well. Suffice it to say that I was questioning your character not accusing you my friend. Now if you find a nasty character there you will likely find nasty deeds.

"As to your questions in regard to me, by all means you should be looking at me, as I said we should be looking at all people. As is well known my nightly routine consists of study, meditation, and the concocting of spells. After which I retire rather early to bed and sleep rather soundly till just before dawn, unless I am woken by your lot making enough noise to raise the dead.

"Given our current siduash'n," SpaM replied in a most erudite manner for one half drunk late in the morning, "I would shay that mentioning anyone'sh name izh tanta- tanta- (urp) the shame thing azh an accerzash'n (o'coursh, shtaring intently izh, nothing of the short ). You ashed me to 'shplain myshelf an' I did. I would ha' thought that my friendly nature wazh well known throughout the village.

Now, mage, it sheems t' me that thozhe early nightsh provide plenty of soap - er - I mean shcope for grishly night-time activitiezh wi'out leaving you tired. And p'rhapsh itsh no coinsheedins that the victim wuz a beshpectickled, one whoozh philoshophoshickulshizing might distrack you from your shtudiezh."

And so went the conversation as the sun reached toward the heights.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli felt herself agreeing with Sai and Panakeia. She did not want to see any of the Offenders (no, not even Mardil) lynched. She wanted very much more than revenge to see where this story was going.

She especially didn't want to die and just slightly under that especially, Alli wanted Aimè, Tom Felton, Sai, and maybe Mardil (she wasn't sure yet) to get out of this town alive. Fea could die. She might feel a little bit bad, but not that bad. Fea's fea had all sorts of fun things to do once it was done inhabiting this Mordorian equivilant of herself. She had morning classes to occupy her (Alli learned this by listening to the girl get into a long discussion with a brick wall), homework to procrastinate on, that extra course she was taking, those extra events that occasionally sprang up, and now, there was this guy that she kept thinking about at the most inopportune moments... like the middle of a lecture in class. She also had some writing or something that apparently she got a huge kick out of. Weirdo.

But the point, to Alli, was that if Fea died, she'd just go on with her life. If Alli died, she was dead. A corpse. Not even a SimulatAlli. She had a thought... she'd have to check on something.

In any case, Alli really didn't want to die. She really didn't need to die. She was one of the good guys. She might be about as warm and fuzzy as a rattlesnake sometimes, but that didn't stop her from being a useful member of the Offending Party, able to get in and out of trouble quickly, with much to show for it and little lost because of it. Her standoffish attitude, though perhaps (sp?) wrong, was no reason why she was not a really good choice of somebody to keep alive.

And if her pleas of "Hey, I'm innocent and therefore important to keep alive, let's kill the strangers first." didn't work, she could always throw out something along the lines of "If I die, nobody will ever learn just how great of a sub-plot I'm unwittingly involved in."

She started as Fea, now out of the spotlight as easily as she'd gotten into it, spoke in her ear.

"I hope you survive. Life would be most boring without you around."

Alli looked at her oddly. There seemed to be a glint in her eye. Maybe it was just that Fea-gleam. Nothing new... just Fea being Fea. She couldn't help but agree with her.

[littlemanpoet]

CoDzilla could see everything from his enormously high vantage point, and he noticed the ganging up of the girls of the Offending Party.

"Hey!" he roared as quietly as he could, "see those three? Alli, Sai, and Panakeia? See how those three are cahooting? Maybe they're the werewolves!" Then Wilhelmina came to them, banging on her stick, and joined them too. "Oh. There can't be four werewolves, can there?"

CoDzilla shut up for a while. Suddenly the Dweomer took effect and CoDzilla suddenly shrunk and fell into a very handily close by pond of salt water, and became merely CoD, swimming in his little pond; not to be left out of the doings of the village.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Maybe we're werewolves." repeated Alli mockingly. "Or maybe we're just girls. Remember? The gender that can't go to the bathroom without an escort? The gender that apparently has to approve of the guys that you like? The gender that walks into your room without knocking and lays on your bed, expecting you to drop what you're doing and actually respond when they look at you with this weird look and say "So???"? This gender? You're wondering why we flock together? It's like a puzzle, and there's a piece missing, apparently from your brain. You know what will fit there and make it all make sense? Kotex! Kotex fits. Wear it."

Alli didn't like it when guys (or monsters, though occasionally they were one and the same) made stupid observations. Of course women travelled in packs. They didn't need to be werewolves, necessarily, but it helped that they usually had to plan their lives around a monthly cycle. Werewolves had the moon, girls had their own issues. Alli dreaded the day she would meet a PMSing werewolf.

Spitefully, Alli knelt by the little pond and spoke to CoD.

"Did you know that this pond is the most polluted in all of Mordor? Yeah... your entire existence is being chemically screwed up right now. Pretty soon, you'll have three eyes, fur, and you'll permanently have Bon Jovi songs stuck in your head. Enjoy, little fish."