Land of Darkness RPG

[alaklondewen]

Lyshka spun slowly around, taking in the horrific scene. Now that the crazed dwarf had been removed from the immediate danger, the terrible creatures turned their full attention to those still left standing in the center of the room. Thousands of sparkling eyes looked over them, while anxious fangs dripped with poison at the promise of a sweet meal.

Stepping backward, Lyshka hoped to have her back covered by one of the other prisoners, but as she moved, her hair was lifted and she felt something sharp graze her scalp. The Easterling snapped her head around. Her gaze met the belly of one of the beasts, and she cried out in surprise. At the same time, she swung her arm and threw the creature across the room. It landed out of the light’s reach, but she imagined she heard a thump against the far wall.

Fear gripped the woman. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her breath was shallow. Using her Orc blade, she stabbed another spider that came too close to her feet. It’s black blood oozed like the growing shadows in the darkness, and the stinch that rose caused Lyshka to cover her face with her knifeless hand as she coughed the fumes from her lungs.

[Durelin]

Jordo had been frozen in a horror that he had not known since his escape from his cell in Mordor, from his cage. If his mind was not so filled with fear it would have realized that he had finally acknowledged his finding freedom an 'escape'. Not that his mind would understand that this was an improvement to his soul. With peace of mind, his thoughts would insist that it marred his soul, while his soul would listen with interest. But his mind was not at peace, and his soul was finding its old tarnishing torment. He could not find a scream in his throat to let out the fear that roiled and writhed inside.

The snake in his gut even spoke to him. Sometimes it whispered, other times it screamed, and he obeyed. If he obeyed it, it would leave him alone. If he obeyed it, he would feel no pain. One word was all that he needed to hear. The word would be one of wisest counsel, and would free him of those many eyes and many legs. The snake had no legs, and Jordo didn’t think it had eyes either. It didn’t need to move, to run, when Jordo could run for it. And he did, as it whispered frantically in his ear: Run! Fast, my friend…no time, my friend… Run, catch up with mamma!

Jordo ran to the nearest shadows, for once finding them a haven. His eyes darted, but he saw nothing. He heard screams and the grotesque clacking of what his eyes had seen to be a mouth. A set of crushing jaws that waited to bring from him his own screams of pain. It was the voices of those in fear and agony that twisted his soul into the snake, and it continued to slither in his stomach. His ears strained to hear what went on in the dark around him, though he fought to shut it all out of his head. Once it was in his head, he would not hear anything else.

He kept moving for some time, racing through shadows, feeling alone while still feeling that he was being watched. As the darkness rushed by him, he felt as if it was closing in behind him, folding in on itself, swallowing up anything that was not already of the dark. It was almost as if he could feel a rush of air each time the darkness folded like snapping jaws, trying to catch Jordo from behind. Thinking of jaws, his legs strained to move faster. But soon he gave in, as he knew he would never outrun the shadows. And she he curled up in them, still and quiet, and finding some sort of peace.

He stood there for a moment, listening to his breathing, focusing on it. The focus should of course always be on himself; long had he been concerned for his well-being, concerned enough to forget others, especially since the death of his mother. He heard not the noises of approaching people in fear, each one rushing to escape his or her own death. And Jordo forgot that his own death was chasing him, as the shadows had caught up with him. He suddenly felt a something large hit him, and he was on the floor, unable to get up for the people that ran over him and around him.

He curled up into a ball, and squeezed his eyes tight, hoping for the darkness to protect him once more. Jordo tried not to be in the way. Why was he always in someone's way? No one liked having someone in their way. They would punish him for being where they did not want him to be. And he felt pain, as he was kicked and stepped on, and finally a large booted foot hit him in the forehead. Soon the pain was lost in the darkness.

[The Perky Ent]

"This is it!" Dorim said under his breath. He knew, it would either be him, or them. Right now, he didn't care either. Taking his ax, Dorim took a deep breath and plunged into the vat of spiders. As one by one, spiders crept up on him, his ax dropped down on them, swiping spiders left and right. It was as hard keeping them off as it was keeping liquid off you under water. Constantly, they'd jump and land on Dorim, giving him a mere moment to get them off.

Finally, after about five minutes of fighting, an abnormally large spider jumped on Dorim's head and took him down. As hard as he tried, the spider wouldn't come off. It seemed it would kill him. Warding off other spiders, he couldnt' take the one on his head off. "You infernal creature!" Dorim said, as two spiders jumped on his stomach. Screaming, Dorim used all his power to knock them off. In a moment, the others saw several spiders fly very high into the air and come back down.

The rage inside Dorim was so powerful, that spiders slowed down as they approached. Dorim would not go down easy.

[Himaran]

The battle raged all around, bodies and weapons entwined with spiders and crawling legs. Grash's company put their scavanged weapons work in quick order, hacking their way through the mass of attacking arachnids. The beasts were like nothing Dwali had ever seen -- far larger than a common member of their species but much smaller than the projected size of Shelob... if that was truely her name. Perhaps the stories are all wrong... there is no Shelob, just these fat horrors. It was all a rumor, fabricated by the orcs over time. The dwarf continued to muse, fighting through the crowds of snapping predators and keeping near Dorim. His confidence grew as enemies fell all around him, and the walls began to clear.

Huge spiders, hah! Children's tales, orc legends, it makes no difference. Shelob is but a -- "YAI!" The Dwarf's mental rant ended with a vocal scream, as two of the spiders fell off the ceiling and landed on his face. Without the use of his eyes, Dwali was virtually helpless... and so he ran. Straight through the unseen swarm, groping at his covered features. He was able to pull one off and smash the other with a fist before realizing that he had dropped his weapon, and was on the same token surrounded. The axe, almost invisible in the dimly lit cavern, was over twenty yards behind him. More importantly, however, the spiders were closing in; and the dwarf had nothing with which to defend himself.

Then Dorim was there, tossing Dwali a small axe and charging into the horde of opponents. The pair ripped through them, scattered the dead to both sides. After reaching Dwali's axe, they turned to look for Bror, but he was nowhere in sight. "We'd best hold here until he shows up," suggested the younger dwarf, axe swinging in a furious patern. His companion agreed, and they continued to fend off the spiders before them. Where are you now Shelob, Dwali thought in a taunting voice. Is this the terror of the passage?

[Amanaduial the archer]

Raeis blinked in surprise as one of the Men leapt in front of her and, rather than attack her as she had expected from the hostile behaviour and harsh looks she had recieved since their escape from all of the men, he slashed viciously behind her. The elf ducked to one side as he did so...and heard a strange sort of miniature scream as a beast that had been lurking behind her fell dead, sliced in two. She looked up at the Man and, despite herself, she smiled at him, words not coming fast enough. A strange, bright light came into his green eyes as she did this and he flashed her a bright white grin back before turning and launching himself with a fierce energy at anything that came near them.

Why the Man had done that, Raeis didn't know, and for a moment, she stared dumbfounded at his back where he stood in front of her. Kindness had become something rather rare for the elf - a memory, an enigma which she had come to regard with suspicion. What was his motive? But still, he kept going - and in his position and his vigilance against the beasts which assailed them, he was effectively protecting Raeis as well. She allowed herself another smile, a quiet one, all to herself, then turned so that her left side was facing towards the man and her back to the cave wall beside her - a gesture of trust, for she since an 'interrogation' procedure in which the orcs had pressed the blade of a heated sword against her face, she could no longer see out of her left eye, save occasional, half-glimpses in black and white, seeming to work independantly from her right eye. As she began to fight against the beasts, using both her sword blade and the butt of her sword to fight them away from herself and the Man, she saw him glance at her, an expression of shock flitting across his open features. She didn't return his gaze, keeping her eyes on the foes.

Although she fought like a wildcat, her sinewy body moving fast and agily, using sword, hands, and even feet to counter the black spiders, and beside her the Man did the same, Raeis could feel herself being moved backwards. They were trying to stop her, to oppress her again. Push her back and make her feel small? The elf felt anger rise anew in her and she gave a fierce yell, throwing herself right into the fray. She heard the Man who she had fought beside cry out in surprise but paid no attention: the spiders were all around her now, and she had unsheathed the other knife she had kept, wielding it in her left hand. It wasn't as accurate, but what did that matter - they were all around now, no matter where she struck, she would hit something. Whipping out both arms viciously, the elf sliced through the fray in a sweeping arc across her whole body, teeth gritted fiercely and head thrown back, seeming to emit some power from inside like the warriors of Old. The spiders seemed to recoil from her touch, the touch of one so clean, full of the light of Eru, but only for a moment - they had advantages in numbers against the elf.

Nothing would have stopped her until she went right down, so completely in her element as she was, until her bare foot stubbed against something soft and warm and she stumbled backwards. The spiders swarmed forwards over her and she cried out in anger as the writhing black mass flowed over herself...and Jordo, the man-child who had attached himself to her. Once again, a fierce protective instinct hit her and she threw the spiders off her, dragging Jordo behind her with adrenaline-fuelled strength and she threw herself into one of the alcoves, behind the fray, hidden by a pile of rubble.

In the momentary respite, she propped Jordo against their impromtu barricade and looked him over, noting his breathing was infrequent and irregular, and the freely bleeding gash above his forehead. She shook him fiercely and he emitted a quiet whimper, but still she shook him again, panic-stricken. He will not die here - none of us will die here. We have escaped our captors - no monster's lair will finish us now! The vehement thought caused her to shake him again, slapping the side of his face until finally his eyes flickered open unsteadily. Raeis smiled down at him in relief - unaware of the huge, dark, many-legged shape that had begun to loom over her, it's shadow moving towards her and the other escapees...

[CaptainofDespair]

The great tidal surge that had become of the horrid monstrosities, continued to pound against the weary, but now united survivors, as the surf beats against the oceanic wall. Only their spur of the moment decisions to stand together, had been able to save them. Had they remained divided, the incessant assaults of the wretched, abominable creatures, would have flooded over them quickly. But despite their valor, the creatures continued to pour through openings in the walls and floor of the great cavern, which was soon becoming a death trap. The carnage that was sown throughout the room was immense, with the crumpled and broken bodies of the beasts littered the floor.

Morgoroth watched carefully from his darkened perch above the floor, as the spawn of the Tunnel pressed forward, on all fronts, surrounding each of the beleaguered refugees. The plan the creatures used was brilliant, from a tactical standpoint. The Elf, being safely hidden from the creatures, or at least not enough of a threat to them, was able to study this. The creatures constantly sacrificed their own, for the greater good of bringing down the prey that had wandered into their lair. This was all done, not out of stupidity, but of evolutionary genius. The creatures used sacrifice to gain position, and enhance their capabilities to attack from all sides.

But the Elf was not only watching the creatures swarm about the cavern. His eyes perceived in the dark, the entrances of which the creatures used to enter this feed ground. Few of the creatures used the small openings in the floor, save the less mature, and less deadly, foes. The older, larger, and more vicious of the kind, used opening in the walls. The immortal slowly began to devise a plan to end to assaults, not by overwhelming the creatures, which would be impossible, but by cunning and guile. The idea would be, to use the larger rock littering the floor, and those hanging from the ceiling, to block the creatures means of entering the room. But without the proper tools, his plans could not go into effect. Only the dwarves had enough physical strength to wield the tools necessary for this task. But the dwarves did not, or would not trust him, or his elven plans. But luck was with the Elf, for the Bror, the Dwarf he had rescued from the countless hoards that had planned to devour him, was regaining his consciousness.

The Dwarf awoke from his short slumber, induced by the poisons of the enemy, to the sounds of battle raging. He had known he had gone done in the fray, defending himself from the creatures, but he had expected his comrades would have saved him, not the tall Elf, whom he had words with outside the courtyard entrance. He was still slightly stunned, and a little sore, as the poison’s anesthetic powers had faded. His vision was initially blurred, and wavy, and he stumbled as he tried to gain his balance, whilst he was getting up. He looked up at the Elf, who had rescued him, and he his first thought was not one of thanks, but of curiosity, intertwined with a mix of hate and disgust for the haughty elf. But as he realized what the Elf had done, he began to change his attitude, if only temporarily.

The Elf sat motionless, listening to the dwarf moan and groan as he came back to his senses. He waited for the dwarf to recollect his mind, before he spoke. “Ah, you are awake once more. Good...we have a matter to discuss.” the Elf still did not move. The dwarf stared at the immortal for a few brief moments, and replied, “What business is there, other than the slaughter of these infernal wretches?” At this, Morgoroth twisted around at his waist, still hunched over, and met the gaze of the dwarf. “Our business pertains to this, and I will make it brief. You see, we cannot kill the beasts, for they will come endlessly. So we must kill their source of entry.” He paused, and watched Bror’s look go from one of curiosity, to one of confusion. The Elf continued to elaborate on his plan. “The creatures enter through holes in the wall, which you cannot see yet. If we can shut these up with the large rocks that are arrayed about the floor, and that hang from the ceiling, we can plug these points. Without them, the larger, more dangerous foes cannot bring battle to us.” The dwarf nodded, trying to follow Morgoroth’s hastened speech. “You and your brethren are the only ones that can put this plan into play, so I am counting on you to bring this plan to them, and secure its use.” The dwarf nodded once more, and moved his parched lips to speak, which were now tainted with a black stain from the poison that had entered his blood. “I will do this,” he replied to the immortal’s plan. “But I will need to get to them first.” Morgoroth scanned the dwarf, and then smiled wryly. “Come master dwarf, to the field of combat we go.”

Morgoroth knew as soon as they set foot below, that the spiders would surround them, and hack them to pieces, so he set about distracting them. He removed his bow from its place on his back, and set an arrow to rest upon it. He aimed it carefully at the ceiling, and fired, setting about a flash of bright sparks, that blinded and dazed the spiders, which were accustomed to total darkness. With his distraction in place, he leapt down from the alcove, with Bror close behind, who had seen the mind of the Elf, and guessed his plan. Together, the two, side by side, drove through the confused hordes, and making for the most narrow point, they fought to make way to their comrades.

[Kransha]

Brór had never seen an Elvish mind before. In truth, he had not ‘seen’ it, with eye or mind or heart of his, but, as the elf pulled him from the fray of beasts and their kin, he’d seen a morality and a humanity he’d not seen in an Elf before that date. As well, when speaking, in their manner, Elves such as Morgoroth let their minds be slates to be read, not as open books were, but as a volume in which only a single page can be read, leaving one grasping for more. It was not displeasing to him, nor was it desirable, or thus desired, but affected him in a stranger way, souring and sweetening his rabid mood all at once, calming his lust but inflaming his pessimism, as if it were trying to change his very nature. It was dark, as he’d suspected in the corridors of Dark Elf’s soul, but bore an uncanny light to it. The Elf was projecting to him, to no one else, just to him. This elf, Morgoroth, had saved his undeserving life and, as much as Brór despised his kind, he could not help but be appreciative and grateful, though he never showed it. His face was a pale, pallid, and devoid of lively color as ever, but held a gentle gleam reflected in the dank pools of his eyes and a younger hue in the cloudy grayed hairs of his long, untamable beard. He felt, again, in his step and his look, a vigorous, youthful light that seemed to course and lance through his very veins, fording each river within in him in a second’s span. He knew at once that the Elf could be trusted, regardless of his prejudices (perhaps not all Elves, only this one), and hurried to accomplish the task he’d been assigned.

He now ran, slashing with a renewed reservoir of righteous fury aflame in his eyes. He hacked unmercifully, but now more lithe and quick, waltzing nimbly over the crawling, spluttering things that scurried around, above, and beside, following on the heels of Morgoroth as best he could. He pounced on the spider attackers continually, bashing in their shells of hides with his soaring mace, which rent the air up with its murderous grunts of crude satisfaction as the venomous shrieks it induced. He made his way, with Morgoroth swerving most nimbly from side to side, flanking him mostly and, with his singing bow, abating the assailants. Brór, meanwhile, located the greatest hills of earth and mounds of stone to uplift. He surged against them, sheathing his mace in a mere instant, latching it awkwardly to his side, and plowed full force into the jutting rocks, cracking and swaying them only. He cocked his trembling head to his companions, who were battling doggedly toward him, and cried out at the top of his gasping bass to them, with a powerful thunder in his throat again.

“Come, brethren! Dorim and Dwali, rally and fight! To me! To me!”

He pushed, his muscles straining, his armored arms plastered with the sweat of great toil. At his side, the noble but shadowy elf fought with what weapons he had, quelling the rampage of the beasts as they came, dodging and snaking about them to let their lunges shoot astray and their deadly fangs find solace only in the rock-hard earth of their cave. Morgoroth was a welcome distraction as Brór, his two eyes closed tightly and reddened as if the force of his new labor taxed every aspect of his existence. Slowly, the jagged crags of boulders and stones began to be uprooted from the tunnel floor, rolling off into cradling niches in the rock. With swift, clenched fists, Brór jammed his hands into each stone, rolling them slightly forward. The ploy was unsuccessful, but the rocks did manage to crush a number of hapless arachnids, squealing incoherently beneath their inanimate destroyers. He pushed onward, kicking and stabbing with his arms and legs, flailing madly to hamper the voracious creatures, he bashed at the boulders and chunks of earth, continuing to flatten and annihilate many more spiders, but still, he got no closer to any goal.

Suddenly, the rocks moved with a painless, delicate ease as Brór brushed ignobly against them, nearly slumping upon them in his weariness. He thought himself beleaguered by foes as he felt the air around him hot with the breath of living things, but, as his eyelids peeled open with a decaying crack, he took in the sight of his comrades, Dorim Stormweaver and Dwali, pressing themselves, unhesitant, against the rocks. A quick chorus of spider screams rose from the tunnel and its pitch tone echoed all through it as the three dwarves rolled one great stone and those that clung feebly to it towards a maw in the tunnel floor from which the spiders were issuing. As spider climbed the rolling rock and thrust themselves on the dwarves, swift arrows, alight with tails of sunlight, caught them in their skyward paths and threw them to the ground. They were the shafts of Morgoroth, fired in quick succession. They downed the spiders attempting to waylay them, to their gratitude. Pouring their concentration and their inherited strength into each step, the trio at last had the boulder of debris hovering a body’s length from the door in the earth. Just as a new tidal torrent of spiders surged up in a column from the hole, the rock fell, swiftly turning, and trapped them in their hiding spot beneath, wailing in evil protest.

The dwarves backed up, circumspect, and again drew their weapons, rolling stones with their movement to slay more creatures. They needed now to find new ammunition for their scheme. They hurried on and back, letting Morgoth’s bolts continue to afford them much needed time to uproot more. They heaved the rocks up, pulling the makeshift weaponry up with great strength and heaving each piece towards the most congealed masses of their foes, crushing and maiming many, sometimes overwhelming another entrance. As Brór sprinted readily onward, he turned with an almost gleeful look to his brothers in arms, who swiveled about him, batting haphazardly at the horde of enemies. Brór’s sudden uproar alerted them again, causing them to turn, still battling the multi-legged fiends.

“Go, my kindred,” he cried loudly, brandishing his cudgel in the dark air to signal to all who could see or hear that were now within, “and let us bring the skill of the Dwarves to this fight. Let Spiders vile try as they may, for if they slay us here, we shall drag them unto the depths before our breaths have been spent!” As he spoke in a raucous roar, passionately echoed by Dorim and Dwali, though still lost in the shadow, the war cry of the Dwarves was full and deep in his mind and his chest, flaring out as the sulfurous and tormenting flames in the breath of a dragon would. It felt as a hearth in his sole, rebuilt and lit with fires to illuminate all the darkest depths. “Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd aimênu!”