Werewolf XLVIII: When Virtual Becomes Reality

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Repent! for was it not of old writ that:

Thou Melko shalt see that no theme can be played save it come in the end of Ilúvatar's self, nor can any alter the music in Ilúvatar's despite. He that attempts this finds himself in the end but aiding me in devising a thing of still greater grandeur and more complex wonder: -- for lo! through Melko have terror as fire, and sorrow like dark waters, wrath like thunder, and evil as far from my light as the depths if the uttermost of dark places, come into the design that I laid before you. Through him has pain and misery been made in the clash of overwhelming musics; and with confusion of sounds have cruelty, and ravening, and darkness, loathly mire and all putrescence of thought or thing, foul mists and violent flame, cold without mercy, been born, and death without hope. Yet is this through him and not by him; and he shall see, and ye all likewise, and even shall those beings, who must now dwell among his evil and endure through Melko misery and sorrow, terror and wickedness, declare in the end that it redoundeth only to my great glory, and doth but make the theme more worth the hearing, Life worth more the living, and the World so much the more wonderful and marvellous, and that of all the deeds of Ilúvatar it shall be called his mightiest and loveliest.

HoME I 2

And later was it not inscribed
When famed most three-part masterpiece
Of him that wrought in mind the holy musics
Began he to fashion fairest tale of Phantasie:

[T]hou, Melko, shalt see that no theme may be played that has not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempts this shall but aid me in devising things yet more wonderful, which he himself has not imagined. Through Melko have terror as fire, and sorrow like dark waters, wrath like thunder, and evil as far from my light as the uttermost depths of the dark place come into my design. In the confusion of sound were made pain and cruelty, devouring flame and cold without mercy, and death without hope. Yet he shall see that in the end this redounds only to the glory of the world, and this world shall be called of all the deeds of Ilúvatar the mightiest and most lovely.

HoME V 2 iv

Alas! that in my hand I not
The later designs and histories have,
Or yet, that I should have misplaced
My copy of that which Christopher cobbled,
His son, out of his myriad manuscripts.
Yet I implore you, I entreat upon your soul
O hackers three, to turn from
Your treacherous treading and beg
Forgiveness from him who
This fair site founded.

Return I shall, when respite from
Academic abomination have I gained
and hope that here shall I find
Ravagers repenting of their wrack.

[Formendacil]

Originally Posted by Nilpaurion Felagund

Alas! that in my hand I not
The later designs and histories have,
Or yet, that I should have misplaced
My copy of that which Christopher cobbled,
His son, out of his myriad manuscripts.
Yet I implore you, I entreat upon your soul
O hackers three, to turn from
Your treacherous treading and beg
Forgiveness from him who
This fair site founded.

Return I shall, when respite from
Academic abomination have I gained
and hope that here shall I find
Ravagers repenting of their wrack.

*cough cough* Indulging in first-person Tolkien fanfiction? And poorly done blank verse at that? Bless me! I would not have expected that from you, Master Ainulindalephiliac.

The fact that you see the forest and utterly miss the individual Ents--that I do find typical of your limited perspecture. Certainly, from the point of view outside Time that is the Music of the Ainur, there is no need to worry that in the long run, all things shall redound to Eru's glory, but to leave it at that, as your quotes would seem to do, is to utterly forget the entire corpus of the Middle-earth canon, which expressly requires darkness and death to achieve eucatastrophe. And while I certainly look forward to the eucatastrophe, I think we should perhaps consider whether we would rather be the Entwives--enslaved and destroyed along the way--or like the Hobbits who persevere toward a victory. Mark me well, though: it is a long, hard road to Orodruin.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

*cough cough* Indulging in first-person Tolkien fanfiction? And poorly done blank verse at that? Bless me! I would not have expected that from you, Master Ainulindalephiliac. (FormenDAGA)

It has been foresung that I should do what I have done. Dare you take arms against fate, Master Canonist? Know you then what befell Túrin, who in his ignorance called himself Turambar, but was caught in the fate he thought he had mastered?

The fact that you see the forest and utterly miss the individual Ents--that I do find typical of your limited perspecture. Certainly, from the point of view outside Time that is the Music of the Ainur, there is no need to worry that in the long run, all things shall redound to Eru's glory, but to leave it at that, as your quotes would seem to do, is to utterly forget the entire corpus of the Middle-earth canon, which expressly requires darkness and death to achieve eucatastrophe. And while I certainly look forward to the eucatastrophe, I think we should perhaps consider whether we would rather be the Entwives--enslaved and destroyed along the way--or like the Hobbits who persevere toward a victory. Mark me well, though: it is a long, hard road to Orodruin. (FormenDAGA)

Why have we been called here together? Are we not all here to take the selfsame journey to Orodruin, using to the utmost all the strength of our wits and intuition, and trusting Eru that he will step into the resounding theme of evil and repay our estel?

No, actually. You're here to get rid of the hackers.

I see . . . then to arms, my fellows! Let the cowards keep the site! Follow me to the dread fortress of the hackers, and we shall wrest from them what is rightfully ours!

[Eönwë]

Wow, I can't believe the Barrow-Wight is dead. How will we survive without him? How will this forum survive without him? What are we going to do?

I say we get these hackers!

[Eönwë]

As for who is a hacker... I have an idea:

It was the first three people who commented (After Kath). Because....

Two of them have the word "dead" in either their title or signature. Why would they do that? I think it's code so that they can recognise each other, but not make it tooo obvious. Also, they happen to be followed by only one word. Is that their hacker nickname? (s3r10us and r1gh7 possibly).

And the ringleader is... the fangurl. She has "evil" in her signature does she not, and it even implies that now she is evil.

I rest my case.



Another brain-busting theory from your friendly neighbourhood Eönwë.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

It has been sung that the environment has an effect on a person's mind. Why, look at Morgoth; he started camping in the shadows, and thus darkness he brought to the Ainulindalë. So where would our mysterious hacker come from?

Almost, but not quite, Aman:
Kitanna
Shastanis Althreduin
Rikae
Durelin
The Elf-Warrior
satansaloser2005
THE Ka
McCaber

Almost, but not quite, Araman:
Nerwen
Boromir88
Formendacil

Almost, but not quite, foundered Beleriand:
Kath
Eomer of the Rohirrim
Eönwë
Mithalwen
The Sixth Wizard

Almost, but not quite, the land of Quenya:
Aganzir
Nogrod

And then there's me, the Easterling. *gulps* Is it that Eru has ordained an early death for me?

[Nerwen]

now this fangUrls radar iz going PING. (i was jokng abuot sally. haRy potter stil sux tHo)

ppl who do lots of loNg posts sayng nUthing & then maek liSts taht dont maek sence r up 2 sumthing IMHO.

[Durelin]

The sun had risen high into the sky by the time Durelin arrived at the town square (OOC: the center of town, whether it is square or not…or wherever the action is taking place), tossing her cloak over her shoulder to leave her sword's hilt uncovered. She absent-mindedly placed her hand on the hilt every so often, as she observed carefully the world around her using all of her honed senses. Normally she would be relatively at ease in a village such as this, especially in the light of day – though she never let her guard down – but…werewolves were among them. Nothing was what it seemed, day or night.

The villagers were beginning to gather, as word spread of the untimely demise of their mayor, the great Wight, and Durelin came to offer her abundant knowledge of the things of the wild and things of the Dark Lord. But besides her undeniable desire to help others, Durelin was driven by the icy-hot passion of revenge. Whenever she thought of her parents and what had been left of them when she found them that morning, her fiery soul froze over. They had murdered, mutilated, and masticated her parents in the night, those creatures…those werewolves.

She had been but thirteen years old, when she was left an orphan. She wandered for several days, perhaps hoping that the wolves would take her as well. But it was not to be, it was not her time. On the third day, she heard a gorgeous vibrato among the trees of the forest she wandered, and stole carefully toward the voice. She had come upon a group of elves traveling to the western shores! The elves took Durelin to Rivendell, to Imladris, to see Elrond himself, in the Last Homely House, and there she stayed for five years. She quickly grew fluent in the Elvish language and became skilled with a bow and sword, as well as with the lyre and harp, as well as with making lembas and braiding hair…

Durelin resisted a sigh. Oh, the memories…the sweet nostalgia of those happiest days after the loss of her parents…they gave her hope, even now, to save the children of this village from becoming orphans themselves. ‘Estel, o entulien mellon orlien larenia namarie mellon dagnir,’ she whispered an elfish prayer in her parents’ memory.

“My name is Durelin,” the wanderer of the wilds introduced herself, “and I hail from down the block. I am bound not only by my oath of revenge but also by my inherent good nature and benevolence, which beseeches me to help others, to aid this village in its struggle with these howling creatures of the darkest night. You have my one-handed sword of suffering and my bow of piercing, as well as my heavy shield of the stalwart, and my cloak of the shadows with +1 to my stealth level and detection.”

Last edited by Durelin : 07-05-08 at 3:45 am. Reason: signature.

(Really OOC: It’s almost 4 am here. All I can manage is silliness. Yes, yes, got carried away.)

[Nogrod]

Now please Form and Nilp, even if the situation is grave we shouldn't forget the basic principles the B-W has established. So no flaming or personal vendetta's here. They are not only against good manners but also tend to confuse our preliminary task of finding out the villains.

And even if everyone has a right to his or her personal expression it would be most convenient if the others were able to understand what you say in the first place.

And to make a third point. Hiding behind the role surely is the best option the hackers have toDay as this is so hilarious. It would be most fun to do as well.

I'm going to my tent and will try to come up with some handy rules for this outside-Forum discussion so that everything runs smoothly and no one gets offended or anything. Try to behave meanwhile. I'll be back late in the Day with hopefully a thing or two to say.

[Shastanis Althreduin]

Oh dear, it seems that, due to my late(ish) arrival, the board has already been inundated with chatspeak!

...Oh, no, wait, that's just Nerwen. Repeat offender, but she's mostly harmless.

...Although now, with the Barrow-Wight dead, some of us are indeed not "harmless" at all.

If anyone needs help understanding our resident chatspeaker, give me a shout!