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VENTURES INTO THE REMOTE (RP)

'Well, I'll be damned," he thought as he saw the Leviathan waltz away. He sat down and watched him leave until he was not within sight anymore, before going back in and announcing that, thankfully, it was safe to go outside now. "We should leave Mordor," he whispered to the Gondorian captain after his little debriefing.
 
Iver's laugh slowly turned into a quite sub, "it was all pointless, wasn't it?" He asked the vala. The power this creature held, how could they hope to even harm  him? He was the one creating their powers, how could they even hope to resist the creator?
 
((Second option))

Túrin gasped, the breath knocked out of him and clasped the Valar-blade in his hand, trying to bring it down on Pyrus’ neck as they fell.

Eonwë let out a sigh of relief and looked around for a weapon.

Cardiloc watched as the battle unfolded in front of him.

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————-

Miriel laughed. “It’s simple, really.” She brushed her hair back so that her eyes fell upon Mirecyla, “It’s because he doesn’t trust us. Neither of them do. Not Sauron. Not Morgoth. We’re just tools for their general purposes.”

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————

”-and you let him leave?” The Scoutmaster exclaimed, “I can’t believe this! He should be trialed for his crimes in front of the high court! He killed hundreds of men and injured scores of their comrades! Look around you, halfling! Do you see these men? These boys? Look at them! I said look!” He shoved Daugo towards the pile of dead bodies which lay far in the corner of the cave. “Where is the justice for these men? Where is our justice? You’ve allowed a murderer to get loose! Bloody hell-“ He looked at Magath, “Who’s even in charge of this thing?”

“The elves were. And Crandil.” Magath answered.

“Fuck the elves. And as far as I’m concerned you’re in charge. Crandil’s ashes were probably defiled by that trifled mewling pixie.”

“Yes, I am in charge. And under the current conditions we had no way to capture or contain that man, no sorry, that thing. However, we have to abide by protocol and the mission objective remains. Investigate Mordor for signs of the Enemy and if able to, dispatch of said Enemy. We have yet to dispatch of this enemy. That leaves us two choices. Attack, which is impossible with the number of fit men here being countable on my own damn hand. Or retreat. In the case of the last option we must bring back some sort of undeniable proof that the Enemy is present and a huge threat. Do you, Mister Ampher, have any undeniable evidence?” Magath countered.

“Proof?” The Scoutmaster let out a depraved laugh, “Look around. Look at their faces. They’ve seen it all. There’s your proof.”

“That evidence is disputable amongst the general masses as well as the nobility. If the Free Peoples need to unite against Morgoth we’ll need something aside from war wounds and tall tales of Giants and dragons roaming Mordor. We need one of those dragons. Or at the very least, to capture either one of those people who can become Giants or one of the non-Giants who serve this Enemy.”

The conversation went on as Arandil and Daugo listened.

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————-

Ha’zi’s body had undergone extreme stress and he’d exerted himself too much this day. Whether it was from exhaustion or his mental state, his arms refused to grow back and instead remained as stubs of flesh.

Slowly the memories of everything returned to him; from Miriel’s betrayal to her annihilation at his and Osman’s hands, to the appearance of the new Giants, to the explosion from the Leviathan, to the drakes and dragons, to Daugo as the Behemoth, to Sauron, to the naked Iver, to the Destroyer Giant’s laugh, and finally to the little girl and everything that had transpired after. The rage, the carnage, Celeborn, the elves and Maia he crushed, Zaro and Glorfindel’s anger.

Eight meters away, covered in mud and soot was the elf Lord’s arm, flesh pale as white, blood coated and mixed with the earth. It was next to Zaro.

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———-

”In an overall sense, yes. Everything you’ve done so far since aid in my release has been pointless. I see all, I know all, I am all. I am cut from the very cloth that began Eá. You can never hope to ever defeat me. There is no way to slay me. I was here in the beginning and I shall be here in the end, Iver.” Morgoth spoke, almost omnipotently. The Vala remained upright but he relaxed slightly in his tone. His quarry had already been broken; the seeds of despair and weakness sown.

”Although, attempting to beat me proved you were much more resilient than I initially expected. One would usually yield when faced with a power beyond comprehension. You and your band of misguided fools did not. Though, I doubt you’ll be able to continue knowing that everything you do, every action you take, every disgusting piece of filth your excrete, every little morsel of food that I allow you to digest, is all by my hand.

Everything you have done today, every battle you’ve won or lost. I am who decides it. I am the Judge of Fate. I am the Master of Destiny. I am all and everything. I allowed you to come into this land because I wanted to speak with you. Personally you. You are the most foolhardy of them all, Iver. Convincing you that your journey meant nothing, that every sacrifice, every life lost, all of was in vain, would be difficult.

Yet, I already sense your spirit waning. You understand now, don’t you? You cannot hope to defeat me. You and all the other insufferable ‘Children of Illúvatar’ are but ants to me. I could easily end you now, squash you like a bug, but I sense that would be of no use to me. You are already broken in mind, body and soon to be, spirit.

So, I offer you a choice that I rarely grant to the descendants of the Edáin. Bow before me and utter the words, ‘O’ Melkor, Lord of Arda and Giver of Freedom, I seek penitence and forgiveness from my true Lord. Grant me safety and raise me from perdition.’ Once you do, I will bestow upon you and all those of your kin that should choose to bow to the rightful King of Arda, the honor of my blessing and forgiveness. You will be given a place to live in the world after this. You and all your beloved ones shall bask in the glory of eternal wealth. A world of peace where the bounds of time and space do not exist. A land in which pestilence, war, famine and death hold no power over your life.”

“Iver, bastard son of Sigmund, you have a choice to make. Swear fealty to the true King of Arda or choose to remain in ignorance and burn in the fires that shall engulf this old world?”

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Card shouted something to Eonwe, unudible to Pyrus and Turin who were focused on combat. [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
Arandil was silent, he layed back and waited for the conversation to end. But he then got up and said. "So you want to risk whatever soldiers we have left to capture on these bastards? Very well. How far has that bastard ran off Daugo?" Arandil said as he was saddling a horse.
 
"Before we do anything," Magath called to Arandil, "We must securely transfer the injured out of this forsaken, infernal hellhole. We have a hundred and twenty-seven horses and no carts. Those who cannot walk..." his voice trailed off, "They'll have to make do. I am sure the Scoutmaster would take care of the men and the horses. Those who can fight, the precious few left, need to collect the evidence for the King. Elessar II specifically asked for evidence so he could provide it to the public audience. Without it our word is hearsay. Understand, Lance Corporal?"

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-------

Eonwë shook his head at Cardiloc and stubbornly grasped Pyrus' mace, moving towards the brawling man and the Maia.

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"Yes , captain. Escort the wounded, get them on the horses. The able bodied men stay with us. Once the injured are safe out of the valley we go and take the evidence to the king himself."
 
”But what about the bastard that killed our brothers in arms? The hobbit said he was walking out of Mordor. If we act now, we may be able to catch him!”

Actually...” Magath trailed off, “That’s a fairly reasonable notion. Arandil, you and the Hobbit-Giant take two horses and try to locate the one who ran. If we can hunt him down and bring him back alive, we’ll have our proof. Then we can leave without having to deal with rescuing those elves beyond the strange structures. Meanwhile, the Scoutmaster and I will attempt to sort out the situation here.” The Commander glanced at he Scoutmaster blankly, the enmity between the two created enough tension to make the cave unbearable.

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Pain and death and blame. Pain and death and blame. They were the three things that Ha'zi tried avoiding, but to his great dismay, he'd done them all.

Brought pain on to the elves and his friends that he fought with, fought for. Gave pain to Miriel, who may even be dead by now. Pain was practically handed out to everyone around him because of Ha'zi's weak struggle.

Death. Oh, death. He caused so much... so much of it. His friends, he hadn't seen many of them here in this swarm of fighting anyways, could be among the dead now after his rampage. Ha'zi remembered it now, all so clearly, all so horrifying. The bloodlust. The want to kill and massacre and feast. It was... it was absolutely ghastly. And who else died because of it? Marco? Elrohir or Elladan? Cele-

No. No... He... he hadn't. No, no, no. That didn't happen. Ha'zi didn't do it. He couldn't have, right? Even in his savage state, he would have recognized the wise, kind elf... right?

But... he was wrong. Just in front of Ha'zi was the proof. The abysmal proof that... that he'd done it. That those images in his head, of him playing with his death... That he'd... He killed Celeborn.

Ha'zi wept for the elf, his anger rising tenfold. And then, the third thing he so despised: blame. He blamed it all. Blamed the Valar, blamed Tulkas, blamed the Trickster, Eonwë, Eru himself, blamed that little girl that had.. had done this to him, blamed Miriel, blamed his comrades for not stopping him, blamed Iver for not stopping Ha'zi from being taken away to do this. Blamed everything. Everything, but himself.

The blame carried on for a long time, as he sat before the last remnant of his friend Celeborn. But Ha'zi realized, the slow to think fool he was, that everything... it all was his fault. Ha'zi was the problem. Ha'zi, not that little girl, not Miriel, not Melkor, not even Eru, not any of the others he could think of, had killed Celeborn, but he had.

Ha'zi killed him, without even a thought, not even a struggle. He just went along with it, no questions asked. And now, here was the result of his weakness. Pain and death and blame. Now, the boy sat there alone, still thinking about it all on the raging battlefield. [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
ZZZHHIIPPP.

A firework rose through the air above the Warrior Giant’s decaying corpse.

BOOOM.

It exploded. A rich black powder glazed the rainy skies before dissipating instantly.

Harros and Karstir stopped chasing the retreating remnants of Morgoth’s Army. The bulk of the fighting was over and now it was the Giants who were left. Most of the Maia were dead. So were nearly 95% of all the elves. It was a bleak day and the weather made it worse. The rain was pattering out and giving way. They heard the loud crackle of a firework and glanced in the direction of the noise.

Underneath the clouds, an ebony shadow appeared, fading away with the rain and turning into a faint grey. The black firework. The signal to retreat. But who had given it...?

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"Huh?" Ha'zi turned, face wet, towards the black mist, wondering who disturbed his grieving. [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
Arandil told to Daugo."Well, if shit get's out of hand, can I trust you can turn into a giant when it does? I can't fight him if he turns. Im thinking also of us knocking him out and tying him up completely. So grab some rope."
 
It seemed to have come from beyond the Giant carcass. Ha’zi could see the majority of the fighting over there. The Screaming and Sigeric, the Armoured Giant flinging Dimitri around by his hair like he was some sort of rag doll, and of course, Glorfindel charging up the hill like some absolute mad-elf.

Three of the five ten-meter Giants, all clones of one another, resembling that young boy from before that Iver had tried to kill, stomped down the hill towards the elf. He danced past the first one’s feet and sliced through them, it fell behind him. He then darted onto the second’s hands, slicing through them in a similar fashion to how he cut down Ha’zi and Osman.

The boy could hear Glorfindel screaming obscenities like, “Die! Die! Die! Die!” and, “Sarding monsters! Back to the void-“ followed by a couple of foreign words that could only be in an elven language as he mowed through the second one like a whirlwind of blades and blood.

Some of the elves had also lost it. With the deaths of so many of their own, especially that of Celeborn’s, they completely ignored the order to retreat and instead started to follow Glorfindel and charge up the hill towards the Screaming Giant.

A few remained in place, either out of fear or shock, unable to move.

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———

The talks disbanded with Magath and the Scoutmaster leaving, to tend to the injured and gather the horses, respectively.

Arandil noticed his brother was still asleep and most of his bleeding had stopped, the external bleeding, anyway.

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Daugo smiled wanly. He had decided to spare Joplin, for some reason; whether out of compassion, fear, or simply understanding the foolhardiness of the Gondorians, he was not sure. He shook his head at Arandil.

"You must understand," he said with a sigh, "I dunno exactly how it works, but it is impossible for me to transform so soon after having done so. It is exhausting. I'll need at least..." he calculated for a moment, "at least another day or two," he lied. He had no clue, frankly, but he understood that, if the Scoutmaster were to prevail in leadership, his position would be severely compromised, so he needed to tell them what they wanted to hear.

He shrugged. "Let us go then. Nothing can be done."
 
Ha'zi snifled. What could he do now? He had no arms and was too weak for any transformations. Literally unarmed and defenseless. He painfully tried to stand up, wobbling a few times, the difficulty of adjusting to his armless ways brutally obvious. He looked around for any of his friends among the people still there. [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
He stared at Daugo understanding that what he said were lies.He dragged Daugo to his brother. "Well, your compasion and pitty for the cunt , that has left my brother like this, is as foolish as it is stupid. Now, when we will need it you will transform into a Giant so we can capture that cunt. Got it lad? Alright, now hurry the fuck up ,grab water, were going to hunt a giant."
 
"I never said I felt compassion towards the bastard," he spat back as he grabbed some water skins. "The only pitiable ones here are--agh, nevermind, let's go."

'Skull is thicker than his armor', he thought as they departed.
 
Tytus stopped screaming and inhaled a swathe of air. The Guardian had nearly toppled over. How? He could lock himself to the floor? He started to search around Sigeric’s feet and saw the chord. Oh...Interesting.

”Equas, swarm him and-Equas?!”

Three of the Five Giants had fallen to a horde of elves. The last two, including Equas’ main Giant had engaged them in combat. That elf. The white haired one was slashing the legs of Equas’ clones whilst the elves cut up and cut through the rest of the body when it fell. Shit.

”Equas, behind me, now!”

Sigeric watched the smaller Giant route behind the Screamer. It was opening its mouth to unleash its terrible shriek on a dozen bloodthirsty elves including Glorfindel and Zaro.

Ha’zi saw the Screamer aim its mouth at the Noldorin Warriors. Was it right that Glorfindel and Zaro and those ten other elves would die? Was it justice for what they had done to him?

Zaro noticed the beast at the top of the hill turn to face them, it’s maw widening. Glorfindel and the others were too busy finishing off the remaining Giant, slicing through its nape, tendons and eyes.

Marco punched Thoruk’s shoulder lightly, “We need to take down that Enemy Giant. Can you use your sparky thingy to fight it?”

Meanwhile, 23 meters north of Sigeric was the Armoured Giant which slammed Dimitri’s armored face into the ground, using his hair to hold the Dwarf Giant. The Serpent was still, dangling limply, in its mouth.

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———-

Outside the cave, the Udun Valley was empty of any life. The bones of the Leviathan Giant has cracked and sunk into the Earth, dwarfing the skeletal husk of the Armoured Giant which lay near to the Mountains of Shadow in the north. Across the floor black marks stretched from the point of contact outwards in every direction. There was dust everywhere and bones. To the east, they could see the distant outline of the fallen towers of Narchost and Carchost, piles of black rock, moulding in with the surrounding Ephel Duath and Ered Lithui. Behind them, to the west, the sounds of a distant battle were carried with the wind. The storm was dying out and the rain had ceased. The sun was setting in the West, falling beneath the mountains and creating a myriad of bright orange hues and ochre tones that filled the landscapes of the slowly clearing sky above.

There was something almost beautiful to the views but the smell of rancid burnt flesh and the memories of those that had fallen diluted whatever majesty this place had.
Their horses nickered as they mounted them and set off, riding through the graveyard of the Udun Valley, dust and ash kicking up into the atmosphere creating a powerful effluvium that rose into a smokey miasma.

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