ATM II RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Hookbill the Goomba · 06-17-2007, 09:28 AM

When the army of the Dwarves had met the Were creatures there had been an almighty noise. Swords smashed, Axes hacked through heads, shields were splintered and there was the ever present shouting of dwarven voices. Dashing through the field, Smilog had met with the Dwarven King, Dave, and had told him all he knew of Mount Zoom and the plot of the Istari.

The Lord of the Farse Gul rode forth and stopped before the Dwarven King and Smilog. He laughed and threw back his hood, revealing, once again, the potato head and odd crown.

"Now comes the hour of doom!" cried the Farsegul King, "by my hand, oh Dwarven King, your doom now comes." He raised his sword and let forth a great screech of bone chilling depth and pain. The Potato headed one leaped down from the horse and stepped towards the Dwarven King. Dave lifted his axe in challenge to the creature, but a kick from the Lord of the Farsegul rendered the Dwarf floor bound. Placing his foot on the neck of Dace, the Farse gul raised his sword and plunged it down.

"No-ooo!" cried a voice, old and strain. Khuz leaped in the way of the sword and took the blow to his heart. Smilog cried out and swung his axe at the Farsegul, but his blade passed through the neck area.

"HA-ha-ha!" boomed the Farsegul, "No living creature can kill me!"

"Then its a good job I am there then, wot-wot?" The Barrow Wight stood before them with a bow and arrow. He fired. The arrow shot through the air with odd precision for a man with only half a left eye. Straight through the potato it sailed, carrying it far off into the middle of the battle where it had fallen upon a torch, burst into flames and been hacked at by frightened Were creatures. One Were duck picked up a slice and tasted it. He was about to shout 'Urica!' as he had just invented crisps, but was carefully cut to pieces by an insane Skittles.

The Farsegul fell pathetically to the ground and did not move another muscle. If it had any muscles. Which it didn't. Ahem...

Khuz lay dead upon the feild of battle, the rest of the Dwarves flooded into the Graveyard, but soon found that they were not needed. Smilog knelt next to his father and looked into his dead eyes. The Dwarf slowly stood to his feet and then dropped his axe to the ground. Tears filled his eyes as he watched the Good Gold stream into the Graveyard. The Barrow Wight threw the bow and arrow away and walked up to where Smilog stood.

All was still and silent. Looking back, The Barrow Wight could see that they were nearly half a mile away from the Grave yard. The barren wastes of Mordor was all about them, only a refection of the good gold came their way. Smilog was silent. The Barrow Wight lifted his head and nearly fell back, a tall figure stood before them, his wild hair and terrible eyes looked like the very pits of Angband. Blue fire seemed to envelop him and the staff he held seemed to be made of white stone.

"Death!" cried Alatar, "Death take you all! DEATH!" he lunged at Smilog, but the Brown Wizard was stopped by the Barrow Wight who held forth his golden sword. The cold dead light that had once filled the dead man's eyes was gone, now there was a bright white light that shone forth. Alatar stepped back.

"Leave this place," said the Wight, "you have no business here. Let the dead lie in peace." In a flash, Alatar vanished. The Barrow Wight sighed and looked to Smilog. The Dwarf was walking away towards the north. "Where are you going?" The Barrow Wight asked.

"I know not," replied Smilog, "so much has happened these last few days that I do not understand. They say that there is a man upon the Mountains of Cirath Ungol who can help those who have lost their lives and yet live. They call him Séar the Seer in Gondor, others call him Phil the Career counselor."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"Mount Zoom is not my place. It never was. Roggie I always despised and avoided. My father was right, that job killed me. Although, it is he that has died in life. I live and yet know not why. Where is Tollin?"

"He is dead."

"Ah." Smilog sat down on a stone and sighed, "I thought as much, you know. What would have happened if I had never found him in that Labyrinth? I expect he cursed my name with his last breath."

"Nay, not so." The Barrow Wight placed his sword back in its place, "He thanked you for letting him live his last days in insanity." There was a pause. "Or something like that. Now, Séar the Seer, you say. Which way is he?"

Never again was Smilog the Dwarf seen in Mordor or Gondor. But, on the 23rd of December, five years later, The Barrow Wight returned to his home with an old, shaggy Dwarf holding a broom. It was said that the Barrows had never been so clean.

littlemanpoet · 06-22-2007, 08:49 PM

From graveyard battlescene nightmare to Good Golden Day Elempi suddenly found himself in autumn mildness amidst the Eat all yen fountains of Can Sing Ton Guard Inns. Elempi was standing before a yellow stone gazebo which stood at one end of the fountain pools. He looked away form the building and saw Panakeia at the far end of the walkway between two pools, and she was dressed in white, holding a bouquet.

"Panakeia? What happened? How did we get here? Where'd you get that awesome gown?"

"Psst! Anakron!"

Anakron? Elempi turned around and saw Lûgnût standing proudly in a black tuxedo (an orc in a tuxedo is an incongruence that one cannot get prepared for), and Elempi gasped at the sight. But he kept enough wits about him to say, "Don't call me that! I'm Elempi!"

"Oh whatever," Luggie waved dismissively. "This is your wedding, silly! And look at the luscious maid of honor!"

Elempi had noticed the orc dressed in a saffron gown, but had tried to ignore it, for there is only one thing harder to get used to than an orc in a tux.

"If this is a wedding," Elempi argued obtusely, "where are all the guests and what about the music?"

"Do you expect them to stand in the pools?" Luggie protested. "Look!" Luggie gestured to all four sides of the Eat all yen fountains, where stood hundreds of orcs, trolls, dwarves, humans, and Gondorians, too. Even Roggie stood at the back of the crowd, nodding benevolently. There were Alli, Aimíe, Skittles, and Igor.

"But I didn't propose properly! And where's my ring?"

At that moment, triumphant organ music let loose from the gazebo and anyone that had not been standing stood up. Panakeia started her slow march down the central walkway. All eyes were on her.

Celuien · 07-04-2007, 07:24 PM

Panakeia felt the heat of the crowd's gaze on her white-clad figure. She blushed. This was all so unexpected! One moment, she had been on the edge of defeat, lost in the midst of a battle and the next - she was here, wearing the exact gown she'd spotted in a shop window (and fitting perfectly!), and waiting to walk down the aisle at last. How was it possible? Was this even real, or had she indeed fallen in the battle, leaving this scene to be the last fevered imagining of her dying brain?

A whiff of chicken-scented breath from the Orcish maid of honor assured Panakeia that this was no dream.

"Go on, then," the Orc half whispered, half giggled. "Best not to keep them waiting."

Panakeia put one foot forward. Even the shoes were perfect - a pair of the very same shining, white, rhinestoned creations she had longed for. Everything was just as she'd imagined it.

But then, in a whirl of skirts and petticoats, she turned and fled without a word, leaving the guests to stare puzzledly after her.

"Gosh," said Lûgnût. "I wonder what that was about."

To be continued...

06-22-2007, 08:49 PM	#2
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	From graveyard battlescene nightmare to Good Golden Day Elempi suddenly found himself in autumn mildness amidst the Eat all yen fountains of Can Sing Ton Guard Inns. Elempi was standing before a yellow stone gazebo which stood at one end of the fountain pools. He looked away form the building and saw Panakeia at the far end of the walkway between two pools, and she was dressed in white, holding a bouquet. "Panakeia? What happened? How did we get here? Where'd you get that awesome gown?" "Psst! Anakron!" Anakron? Elempi turned around and saw Lûgnût standing proudly in a black tuxedo (an orc in a tuxedo is an incongruence that one cannot get prepared for), and Elempi gasped at the sight. But he kept enough wits about him to say, "Don't call me that! I'm Elempi!" "Oh whatever," Luggie waved dismissively. "This is your wedding, silly! And look at the luscious maid of honor!" Elempi had noticed the orc dressed in a saffron gown, but had tried to ignore it, for there is only one thing harder to get used to than an orc in a tux. "If this is a wedding," Elempi argued obtusely, "where are all the guests and what about the music?" "Do you expect them to stand in the pools?" Luggie protested. "Look!" Luggie gestured to all four sides of the Eat all yen fountains, where stood hundreds of orcs, trolls, dwarves, humans, and Gondorians, too. Even Roggie stood at the back of the crowd, nodding benevolently. There were Alli, Aimíe, Skittles, and Igor. "But I didn't propose properly! And where's my ring?" At that moment, triumphant organ music let loose from the gazebo and anyone that had not been standing stood up. Panakeia started her slow march down the central walkway. All eyes were on her. Last edited by littlemanpoet; 06-22-2007 at 08:56 PM.

07-04-2007, 07:24 PM	#3
Celuien Riveting Ribbiter Join Date: May 2005 Location: Assigned to Mordor Posts: 1,767	Panakeia felt the heat of the crowd's gaze on her white-clad figure. She blushed. This was all so unexpected! One moment, she had been on the edge of defeat, lost in the midst of a battle and the next - she was here, wearing the exact gown she'd spotted in a shop window (and fitting perfectly!), and waiting to walk down the aisle at last. How was it possible? Was this even real, or had she indeed fallen in the battle, leaving this scene to be the last fevered imagining of her dying brain? A whiff of chicken-scented breath from the Orcish maid of honor assured Panakeia that this was no dream. "Go on, then," the Orc half whispered, half giggled. "Best not to keep them waiting." Panakeia put one foot forward. Even the shoes were perfect - a pair of the very same shining, white, rhinestoned creations she had longed for. Everything was just as she'd imagined it. But then, in a whirl of skirts and petticoats, she turned and fled without a word, leaving the guests to stare puzzledly after her. "Gosh," said Lûgnût. "I wonder what that was about." To be continued... Last edited by Celuien; 07-08-2007 at 11:51 AM.

06-17-2007, 09:28 AM	#1
Hookbill the Goomba Alive without breath Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: On A Cold Wind To Valhalla Posts: 5,912	When the army of the Dwarves had met the Were creatures there had been an almighty noise. Swords smashed, Axes hacked through heads, shields were splintered and there was the ever present shouting of dwarven voices. Dashing through the field, Smilog had met with the Dwarven King, Dave, and had told him all he knew of Mount Zoom and the plot of the Istari. The Lord of the Farse Gul rode forth and stopped before the Dwarven King and Smilog. He laughed and threw back his hood, revealing, once again, the potato head and odd crown. "Now comes the hour of doom!" cried the Farsegul King, "by my hand, oh Dwarven King, your doom now comes." He raised his sword and let forth a great screech of bone chilling depth and pain. The Potato headed one leaped down from the horse and stepped towards the Dwarven King. Dave lifted his axe in challenge to the creature, but a kick from the Lord of the Farsegul rendered the Dwarf floor bound. Placing his foot on the neck of Dace, the Farse gul raised his sword and plunged it down. "No-ooo!" cried a voice, old and strain. Khuz leaped in the way of the sword and took the blow to his heart. Smilog cried out and swung his axe at the Farsegul, but his blade passed through the neck area. "HA-ha-ha!" boomed the Farsegul, "No living creature can kill me!" "Then its a good job I am there then, wot-wot?" The Barrow Wight stood before them with a bow and arrow. He fired. The arrow shot through the air with odd precision for a man with only half a left eye. Straight through the potato it sailed, carrying it far off into the middle of the battle where it had fallen upon a torch, burst into flames and been hacked at by frightened Were creatures. One Were duck picked up a slice and tasted it. He was about to shout 'Urica!' as he had just invented crisps, but was carefully cut to pieces by an insane Skittles. The Farsegul fell pathetically to the ground and did not move another muscle. If it had any muscles. Which it didn't. Ahem... Khuz lay dead upon the feild of battle, the rest of the Dwarves flooded into the Graveyard, but soon found that they were not needed. Smilog knelt next to his father and looked into his dead eyes. The Dwarf slowly stood to his feet and then dropped his axe to the ground. Tears filled his eyes as he watched the Good Gold stream into the Graveyard. The Barrow Wight threw the bow and arrow away and walked up to where Smilog stood. All was still and silent. Looking back, The Barrow Wight could see that they were nearly half a mile away from the Grave yard. The barren wastes of Mordor was all about them, only a refection of the good gold came their way. Smilog was silent. The Barrow Wight lifted his head and nearly fell back, a tall figure stood before them, his wild hair and terrible eyes looked like the very pits of Angband. Blue fire seemed to envelop him and the staff he held seemed to be made of white stone. "Death!" cried Alatar, "Death take you all! DEATH!" he lunged at Smilog, but the Brown Wizard was stopped by the Barrow Wight who held forth his golden sword. The cold dead light that had once filled the dead man's eyes was gone, now there was a bright white light that shone forth. Alatar stepped back. "Leave this place," said the Wight, "you have no business here. Let the dead lie in peace." In a flash, Alatar vanished. The Barrow Wight sighed and looked to Smilog. The Dwarf was walking away towards the north. "Where are you going?" The Barrow Wight asked. "I know not," replied Smilog, "so much has happened these last few days that I do not understand. They say that there is a man upon the Mountains of Cirath Ungol who can help those who have lost their lives and yet live. They call him Séar the Seer in Gondor, others call him Phil the Career counselor." "What on earth do you mean?" "Mount Zoom is not my place. It never was. Roggie I always despised and avoided. My father was right, that job killed me. Although, it is he that has died in life. I live and yet know not why. Where is Tollin?" "He is dead." "Ah." Smilog sat down on a stone and sighed, "I thought as much, you know. What would have happened if I had never found him in that Labyrinth? I expect he cursed my name with his last breath." "Nay, not so." The Barrow Wight placed his sword back in its place, "He thanked you for letting him live his last days in insanity." There was a pause. "Or something like that. Now, Séar the Seer, you say. Which way is he?" Never again was Smilog the Dwarf seen in Mordor or Gondor. But, on the 23rd of December, five years later, The Barrow Wight returned to his home with an old, shaggy Dwarf holding a broom. It was said that the Barrows had never been so clean.