Land of Darkness RPG

[Sarin Mithrilanger]

It seemed that the elf-woman was right. She did know. The sound from deep within the tunnel came like an answer to an unspoken question. Zuromor approached the dwarf whom he had talked to earlier. "You should not underestimate the Elves, especially if you think of them as your enemies. Though it seems now we will see our answer." Zuromor turned so that he could see all of the party. "Stand in your small groups if it be your will, but surely all of you can see that all of us might escape... if we work together. Stop fighting amongst yourselves, for if ye continue that when she comes..." Zuromor trailed off and seemed to be thinking of some horrific event when he began to let one possible senario play out in his mind's eye. What if the would not band together?

"Death waits for those who are not willing to stay their hate and vanquish evil when they see it. I have long waited for a chance to slay those foul orcs that kept us prisoner, and I am sure all of you have to. Let us slay this dark beast, together! Then we shall have a revenge that will taste much sweeter than slaying any orc. We will be free. No more orcs ruling our lives. Surely that is worth fighting along side those who you do not completely trust. Especially when your feelings come from hatred born ages ago. Let go of that hate and fight. She will not fall easily."

With that Zuromor walked over to the Elf-woman and grabbed one of the small knives she had lain about and secured it in his belt. He looked at her and for the first time he felt something he could not explain nor understand. He felt at peace, yet he felt torn. He did not feel pain, but he felt a strange sort of nausea in the pit of his being. He felt himself blush and then he turned away and braced for her coming.

[CaptainofDespair]

The great spider Shelob, last of Ungoliant's spawn, was preparing to unleash armageddon on the party. With their own deep running divisions, she would be able to bring them down, one at a time, methodically, torturing those survivors with 'who would be next?'. Yet, she had been wounded earlier. She would take all these intruders into Her domain, and devour them, as atonement for her previous failure.

Morgoroth sat, unmoving, against a wall. He listened to the sounds emanating from the vast deep of the Tunnel, and he understood. He knew she would come, it was only a matter of time. He had hoped she would stay her hunger, but it seemed she was moving, readying herself to strike. The disunity that spread itself like a virus through the former prisoners, would be her greatest asset. But one of the humans had tried to rectify this, at least partly, but he was alone is his plea for a call to a united front. None of the others seemed willing to strike up a temporary alliance, to deal with the threat of Shelob.

And so the Elf stood up, slowly, from his position against the wall. He continued to listen to the reverberating echoes coming from the inner most parts of the passages. He gracefully made his way to one of the dwarves, the one who had 'questioned' him earlier about the escaping orc. “Ah, master dwarf, it seems we are at an impasse." The dwarf was startled at this, and he turned quickly, with a knife drawn. Morgoroth slowly placed his hand on the blade, and began to move it aside. "We cannot be killing one another, at least not now. It would be unwise to weaken ourselves for Her coming." The dwarf answered only with low-pitched grunt. "I propose we settle our differences, and unite, at least for now, to defeat the wretched creature that stalks us all." The dwarf stared at the Silvan for a long while, and finally spoke. "I will need to speak with my brethren."

Morgoroth, with a bit of hesitance, turned from the dwarf, and carefully made his way back to his place against the wall. It would provide him with a vantage point throughout the corridor. There, he prepared himself for Her coming, and hoped that the barriers that divided the group, would collapse, and they would defend as one.

[Bêthberry]

"Something stirs--the air shifts."

Listening intensely to what the elf-woman had said, Darash strained to hear what she had been hearing. Then that dwarf with the mind of rodent had rippled the silence like a stone breaking water's surface. Darash had felt too great contempt for the dwarf's poor strategy to speak more to him than one word of derision. That, at least, had worked to silence him. She strode over to the elf woman with the burning eyes and looked deeply into her face, seeing beyond the scars and sensing something there, something she found familiar. There was knowledge there, no, more than knowledge. There was wisdom, a wisdom like to that Darash knew from her own people. For the first time since her captivity, Darash sensed she was in the presence of one who might share some common understanding. With a slight, honorific bow, she accepted the gift of the sword and took her place beside the elf as the man Zuromor spoke.

When he was finished, they were three, elf, man, Amazigh. Darash silently began humming a song to herself, 'Umbella dareya umbella hadaryeh. Ushalla ngange." Then she stopped, listening as the rock groaned. The torches flickered heavily as the air became heavy with foul vapours.

"Grash, we learn about monster. Tell fast, how she? Tall? big? Many arms? Kill with running or crushing? Soft belly? Scales?"

They looked at her, questioning why she broke the silence. Raeis looked at her and nodded approval. Zuromor found the heat in his face, the nausea in his stomach abate as he realised what strategy Darash implied.