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VENTURES INTO THE REMOTE (RP)

"When we return to the King, I shall allow you to discuss this amongst us all. Now is not the time, Iver. I'd suggest helping bury the other shifter." Celeborn nodded his head towards Ha'zi and Daugo, who were frantically failing to create a grave for Joplin.

Eönwë stood.
"I will do what I can. But I cannot bring myself to slaying another Ainu. It's not in my heart. You will have to be the one to do so, Sigeric." It then occurred to Sigeric that neither Eönwë or him had obtained a Maia blade. They'd both laid theirs during the fights.
"Why has Illúvatar allowed this to occur? This was no part of the Prophecy of Mandos and such violence should not have been successful in Arda, yet, Eru has done nothing. I must know the truth. When we find a river, I will call upon the Lords of Arda and beseech this upon them."

PLUMP.

Something fell out of Cardiloc's pocket. On the muddy ground lay a gemstone so bright that it shone with a brilliance brighter than the sun itself.

They all saw the Silmaril.
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Mirecyla found her way over to Tytus and Berethor sitting and talking on a large jutted rock. She only picked up the conversation as she neared due to their whispering.

"-shouldn't have survived that. He crushed my nape and I should have died." Berethor was saying.
"Stop thinking about it, man. Shits bad enough as it is. At least were finally out of there." Tytus replied.
"Yeah. But what happened to me...I-I can't remember anything until Mirecyla-" he turned around at the sound of light footfalls to see her.

"Oh, hey, Mirecy," Berethor said in a whisper, "You okay?" His blonde eyebrows were dark brown in the moonlight.

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"I could not be better." Melkor answered.

"I dislike explaining my actions, yet, for you I shall. When I escaped the Void, my body was reeling from the shock. It truly is an unbearable prison. I had been weakened over time by it and barely had a fraction of my original power. With that I resurrected you, as you know, and spent my last energy on empowering the Maiar who saw reason from madness. When Tulkas arrived I hadn't even the power to fight him. Yet, I did. He broke my daunting body and reduced me to this," Melkor frowned, "But, I managed to resurrect the Balrogs since the start of that day and planned on using them as a last defence. When you imbued myself with Tulkas' power I was restored. I now hold the best fighting capabilities in all Eá and with this I shall be able to wreak havoc against the Valar. However, Tulkas may have been the strongest but he was the weakest in overall power. To be able to fight the likes of an Aratar, I must consume more. And more we shall see, Mairon."
 
She would look at the two of them and loosen up her stance, letting herself slouch over like a hunchback and letdown somewhat on the rock. "Not at all. Im tired as fuck and can't go to sleep, I already got my revenge on Equas." She told them, a dark look in her eyes.
 
"Heh," Berethor laughed weakly and ruffled his hair. "You kick him this time or punch him?"
"You shouldn't do that to him." Tytus stated.

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Mirecyla must be very sleepy. She realized Berethor was TOUCHING HIS OWN HAIR.

The two men looked at one another.
"Just talking." Tytus said.
"We're wondering where to go. How we'll survive. Our needs were taken care of by Master Sauron but now-" he looked around, "We have to take care of ourselves."
"I think we should find a city or a town and settle down nearby. Someplace quiet in the north." Tytus said.
"I'd rather we stay isolated. That way our powers won't be noticed." Berethor shrugged, "What about you, Mirecy? What do you think?"

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Daugo smiled. "No, Ha'zi, it's not. I feel bad for Joplin, he had a shot at redemption and that... that mentally-impaired Gondorian called Arandil blew it all to oblivion. What makes you say that, th--" he was saying, when the Silmaril fell from Cardilloc's pocket. "What the..." he said in a low voice. Surely, this was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen?

[rule]

"It is excellent to hear this, my lord. I do wonder, what will we do now? We lost so many..."
 
A shining light blinded Dimitri for a brief moment before he covered his eyes. A Silmaril! Nothing in the world was worth more than it. It was the cause of wars, the kinslayer, the bastion against evil and the unworthy. He had no reply for seeing such an item, aside from reverence and awe.

---------------------

"Can you tin-cans not hear me? What's behind the gate?"
 
"I'd rather build a place in isolation, wuub be fun and better than adapting to a citzy. Plus we might as well stuck together." She would mumble, some words being messed up but easy to understand.
 
Ha'zi lowered his head a bit, so any soldiers nearby would not be able to listen in. "Well, it's because-" He suddenly stopped as Daugo's attention snapped away from him. Curious, he raised his head and glanced over and was astounded by the sight. "Wow..." He muttered, the radiance blinding and beauty incomparable. [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
Sigeric found his eyes drawn to the gemstone that inexplicably fell from Cardiloc's pocket. It shined with a light as radiant as the Evening Star, but there was something else about it. It seemed to radiate power - a power that entranced him. Could it be...? Sigeric reluctantly moved his eyes from the gemstone. He gave Cardiloc an inquisitive glare, which suggested that the Dunlending had quite a bit of explaining to do. "How long have you been carrying a Silmaril in your pocket?" His voice was calm, but held an undercurrent of accusation.
 
"sure thing" Iver said and walked toward daugo and Hazi when he saw the shiny stone, when could card get- OH SHIT. "Card is that what you found on the island that illmare talked with you about?" He asked.
 
Card wonders *how they all saw the Silmaril* when he was with Sigeric and Thoruk checking on Eonwe. Oh well, quickly he snatched up the gem and stuffed it back into his pocket. “What’s a Silmaril?” He hesitantly asked the others.
 
Some of the soldiers paused to look at it. The gemstone was more radiant than any in the entirety of creation itself. Thoruk's ancestors had craved after the Arkenstone, this, this thing. It was a million times it fortune in everything.

The Silmaril glittered on the floor and a strange sensation came over them all, and especially the men of the group. They were drawn towards it. Even the elves and Thoruk were entranced to it. Slowly becoming ensnared by the beauty of such a little thing. It called to them. Mentally projecting every wish they ever wanted.

Sigeric saw his fate as a hero and a noble that led Dale beside the King as his regent. He had married a noble's daughter, who although not as beautiful as most women, had a kind heart and bestowed upon him a valiant son.

Dimitri envisioned his military corps and archonship of Rohan blooming on the fields of Calenardhon. He was the top mercenary contractor and had received a personal boon from Tulkas himself. He was friends with the King of the Riddenmark and that of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor.

Cardiloc saw his family united and his life as a Chieftan in Dunlend. He was tall and brave and fierce and had the heart of a bear and the spirit of an eagle.

Iver witnessed his family as well, together in harmony. He saw himself take up Erland's mantle as vizier of commerce and be married to a lovely lady who provided him with just as lovely children with a slight flare for insanity like their father.

Ha'zi dreamt of his parents, dreamt of them passing away proud of him. He saw himself with Miriel and living in an old town with Dimitri, a simple life of pleasures and no pain. A happy life. What he deserved.

Daugo found himself taken back to Hobbiton with his family alive and well. His sons had grown up under his mentorship and parenting. His wife had been divorced and he had not re-married. Instead there was a slew of beautiful females that he had danced with over the years and perhaps a couple little bastard hobbits in the mix. He was content, his family was booming and his life was long.

Thoruk was the grand general of the the Seven Clans, Lord of the Iron Hills and had many sons and daughters. But the main happiness he derived was that of his family returned to the living. His mother and father were together, his siblings were at his side. The world as he knew it was perfect.

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One of the Sentinels spoke, "Be on your way." The disrespect in his tone only matched by his complete disregard for Thorgrund.

-------

"You don't look so good," Berethor said, standing up and walking over to her, "Hey, you alright?" He asked, waving his hand in front of her face.

"She's just tired." Tytus muttered, "Spend too much time as a Giant and you'll slowly start loosing it."

Mirecyla's vision was blurring.

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-------

Melkor's eyes wandered towards the door before returning, "I have regained enough energy to be of use in the field. Tulkas' power makes me tenfold in might compared to what I was before. However, you are correct. The casualties were numerous and I can't merely resurrect the dead without more power. I have my own plans in place. In the meanwhile, you must deal with the issue of the Karoltai. Our armies are preparing but will need time. Much more time. Before the Karoltai can learn their true power, you must eliminate them. That is where your pet comes into play." He nodded at the door and it opened. There stood Aranel, waiting patiently. Melkor nodded slowly and she entered the room.
 
Card blinked for a moment as those visions passed through his brain, simple fantasies... The Silmaril was back in his pocket. “What is a Silmaril?” He asked again hesitantly, he hadn’t paid much attention to the gem intact he had forgotten it was there. Why and it just fallen out?
 
"No" Thoruk says as he thinks has everything he wanted seemingly in reach. "This isn't ment to be and I know that, every person dies with a reason... and my parents died to give me the strength and anger I needed to get what I am right now, the dwarf I am, the power to endure so many things and still keep on, never giving up on a chance I get..." he wasn't exactly believing his own words, but they were his after all. Everything he ever wished for was not what he realy wanted. What he wanted right now was to defeat their all enemy and save his kin, even if that means it's at the cost of his life. "What we realy need deppends on the point of time we're currently in. A few years ago this would have realy been my dream, but right now it's not" he says, looking forward instead of looking at the past.
 
Glorfindel turned around at the commotion, "What?" He asked. Cardiloc had pocketed the Silmaril before he or any of the other elves could see.

Iver, Thoruk and all of them saw Cardiloc steal the stone back and shove it into his greedy pockets. Who said he could have it? What worth was it to Cardiloc? A damn Dunlending.

Thoruk deserved that stone. It was for his people. The dwarves should have it. An unnatural desire took over him and Thoruk had no other urge or thought but to take the shiny stone from Cardiloc.

Iver on the other hand, was grasped by another need. He wanted to take the stone, yes, but as a wedding gift for his future lady. She deserved the most beautiful gemstone, did she not? His insanity was furthered by the fact that a few of the Gondorians began to edge towards the Dunlending. He couldn't allow them to have it. It belonged to his wife!

Everyone stared hungrily at Cardiloc. And even Cardiloc was hastened by a deep primal urge to protect the stone. It was his by rights. He had found it. It had chosen him!

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Iver could not beat all of them, not now...
"Guys we all need to calm down" he said and looked at all of the mad looking faces. "We already lost many and we can't afford to start a fight over a stupid shiny stone" he said as he made his plan.
 
"Shut up, bitch!" One of the Gondorians punched Iver in the back with a mailed fist.

"The diamond is mine!" One recruit leaped towards Cardiloc, running for his rear.

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