The Dark Lord solely stood upright in his seat, unmoving like a statue, his face a marble-white stoic grimace.
He blinked once and open his mouth.
”Welcome to my citadel, Iver.”
His voice was deep and intense and resonated through the hall like a war horn being blown for the first time.
Iver felt the power, the air itself was tinged with electricity. He’d felt the same around other figures. Eonwë, Ilmarë, in the prescence of the Trickster, even when Manwë spoke through the thundering skies on the island, but this, this was beyond of them. This was a power older than Arda itself. A being that had witnessed the creation of all and everything before it. There was a darkness to him that could not be described. Iver felt a link to it, almost, as if that darkness brought out something in himself.
”You know,” Morgoth started, ”You remind me of my younger brother. Both of you are quite similar. Two doleful, unpretentious, poignant insectoids. At least, he wasn’t so much a parasite like you but he firmly acted like one. Mankind.” He spat the last word out into the cold air of the throne room.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/assassiniv/74.png" name="assassiniv"]14628767[/user]
———-
Eonwë’s sword cleaved through Pyrus’ meaty left arm. His Maiar-blade fell, still clutched to it.
Pyrus’ mace bashed into Eonwë’s neck. The Maia stumbled backward, one hand going back to touch his neck. He looked and saw crimson streaks coating his mailed fist.
”You....”
Eonwë’s eyes hardened as he looked towards Pyrus and with no hesitation, charged forward, swinging his bloody blade at the Maia of Aule’s head.
Meanwhile, Túrin glanced at the new drake, Tulkas’ Valar-blade in hand.
“Speak! Art thee friend or art thee foe?”
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/UnusualBrit/74.png" name="UnusualBrit"]12700073[/user]
———-
Mirecyla saw Miriel sitting in one corner of the room, head in her hands, scarlet hair strewn over her knees.
Outside the cell, was the dimly lit dark hallway and the other cells. The one opposite theirs contained a frozen body. Thule’s. She, along with the majority of the others, had been left in sleep. Their bodies were left in all the other cells as a precaution should they awake. In total there were fifty-nine of them. Subtracting those who had awoken like herself then there were supposed to be fifty-two in sleep within the dungeons.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DeathValley105/74.png" name="DeathValley105"]15756962[/user]
———
”Just lemme die, please...” The man plead, “Please, puh-lease, ki-kill me. I don’t wanna live anymore!” He screamed as his body burned, the clothes shattering as his flames grew brighter and out of control.
The spears in his legs burnt and splintered off.
“Hey, get away from him!” Magath shouted at Daugo and Arandil.
The recruit nearby ran as a ball of flame sputtered out and landed next to the man. The Gondorians were mounting when they saw the commotion.
“Huh?”
“What’s happening?”
“Why is that man on fire?”
The man’s skin was visibly crackling with flames now and every time he shouted, screamed and cried his voice boomed like a firework setting off. Daugo saw he was becoming much more volatile and unstable as he rolled around in pain. The hobbit’s wounds slowly started to steam and clear when he noticed a mark on his back. It was the same mark that Andreth had-that he had. The flame...
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/CluckmanTheDerp/74.png" name="CluckmanTheDerp"]13527980[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Yiannis123/74.png" name="Yiannis123"]18199471[/user]
————
Zaro clutched the rapier in his hand just as the Water spirit knocked him over with a wave and began to drown the elf, muddy water entering his sinuses and mouth, creeping into his ears, entering most orifices in his body. He was choking, drowning in mud.
The Warrior Maia jumped on Sigeric and ripped the Dalishman’s helmet off, raising a fist above him. Sigeric’s eyes were filled with rainwater and the sky thundered above him. He saw a flash of lightning and felt mud soak into his armor and clothes as his helmet was pulled off, turning his hair into a mush of dirt and wetted locks. This was hell. Bloody. Muddy. Hell.
Ha’zi broke free from the female Maia’s hold. He actually did it. The guard reached forward to grab him and the little girl merely watched; whether unable or unwilling to stop him it mattered little. Ha’zi was free.
Down the hill he saw the battle stretched out before him. A storm raged above the skies and thecracked rocky flooring of Mordor had been turned into a muddy arena.
In the northern sector, there was a disorganized mash of Elves, Maiar, Giants and other things all slaughtering one another. Horsemen rode through cleaving down spirits; the Armoured Giant and Serpent were facing off against Dimitri; there was a whirlpool of bodies, dead and alive, clambering over one another in a pit of mud; Ha’zi even saw his friend Marco, covered in blood, wildly swinging a sword around like a maniac. Thoruk and him fought side by side cutting through half a dozen foes.
To the south, were two large figures. One at eleven feet in height, bearing a colossal mace and drenched in black armor from head to heel. The other, much larger and wider, had golden hair, a blonde beard, glowing yellow eyes and was the most muscular man Ha’zi had ever seen. He was smiling wildly and punching the walking suit of armor. He recognized him. It was the man from the pictures in the Trickster’s Mansion. It was the man from the shrine Dimitri had prayed to in the Adorn. It was Tulkas, Champion of Valinor.
”SAAAUUUUUROOONNNN-“ Tulkas yelled his foe’s name as he brought down his fist on the Maia’s armored body, ”SSSMMMAAAAAASSSHHH!!”
The Lieutenant of Morgoth went sliding through the mud and further from the main battle. Whatever remaining fighters prevailed around the two had long but vanished. Now it was just him and Tulkas.
Mairon stood up and raised his mace to return the smash when Tulkas leaped forward and attacked again.
”RHUNIC SMASH!”
He fell again. Then again. And rose. Then fell. This was too much. He couldn’t fight such a fast foe. His armor restricted his movements and the weather made it difficult. It was steamy and moist inside his battle-suit. He just needed to hold out until Melkor showed. He was definitely no match for the Vala and was not delusional. But Melkor. Yes. Melkor would defeat him. He had faith in his master. Loyalty. That’s what mattered. The memories of the War of Wrath returned to him. He had fled and Melkor was imprisoned in the Void. He had been a coward then. Not anymore. He would fight.
Analyzing Tulkas’ movements, he continued to back up and place distance between him and the main battle, leading the Vala towards the Gorgoroth Fortress. Tulkas was fast, powerful and absurdly, unbelievably strong. He had difficulty damaging him with the mace and his armor only shielded him from the brunt of Tulkas’ smashes. He needed to win this battle. Turn the tide. But it was physically impossible. So, make it mental. Mairon concentrated on his attacks and began to taunt him, playing with the Vala.
”You appear much more temerarious and irresponsible than before. Did Nessa fail to satisfy your needs or are you just degeneratively retarding, Tulkas?”
He dodged to the left and swung his mace. It bounced off the Vala’s chest, nearly flying out of Mairon’s hands. This was impossible. Literally impossible. But he needed to keep going. Just a bit more...
”What? I can’t seem to hear you? Maybe my armor makes it difficult to pick up primitive drivel or is it that you can only speak as if you harness the mind of an inbred goblin? Which is closest I wonder? Likely a mixture of both, I suppose. Isn’t that correct, o’, so powerful, Astaldo?”
”I am well-fulfilled by my wife. O’ Gorthaur the Cruel, is my older brother not fulfilling your needs? HAHAHA!” Tulkas laughed at the implication as he walked towards the Maia with ease, a smile of reassurance on his face. Mairon scowled inside his helmet.
”If you crave being smashed by a Vala, then-“ Tulkas raised his fist.
”Why not-“ Mairon swung his mace.
”Let me-“ Tulkas’ fist sprung forward, momentum and force building up around it.
”HELP?!“ Mairon’s mace slammed into Tulkas’ unarmored fist.
BAAAAAM.
Sauron’s mace exploded and the destructive force sent shrapnel from it flying everywhere, some hitting Tulkas and bouncing off comically, others wedging into Mairon’s armor, and most spreading out across the ground. The Maia was thrown off balance and Tulkas seized the opportunity.
The Golden Vala ran forward and yelled out from the bottom of his great booming heart, ”TULKAS SMASH!”
Mairon was still reeling from his weapon being broken. He had personally forged that in Angband and now it was nothing but ruins. His eyes looked up and he saw the huge Vala leaping at him, mouth open, wildly proclaiming something. Mairon was too dazed to hear the speech as ringing clouded his ears. He need to keep fighting, keep going, keep distracting him until Melkor was ready. He knew his master was still recovering his energy after resurrecting and empowering them all, so there was a chance that Melkor was not ready. He opened his mouth and spoke, taunting Tulkas again, ”Y-you know, you can keep talking and maybe someday yo-you’ll say something of intelligence...” Mairon murmured as a wall of meat flew towards his face.
At that point Tulkas’ mighty fist crashed into Mairon’s helmet, the knuckles cracking through the ebony iron.
KA-BOOOOOOOM.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/_PigGuardian_/74.png" name="_PigGuardian_"]13873166[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Szucsclan/74.png" name="Szucsclan"]12519458[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DimitriP_13421/74.png" name="DimitriP_13421"]8861015[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/9842Kye/74.png" name="9842Kye"]16315828[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/KingTraitor/74.png" name="KingTraitor"]13615485[/user]
