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VENTURES INTO THE REMOTE (RP)

He'd let out a sigh and not so gently throw Ha'zi over his shoulder and onto the ground, turning around and looking down at the boy. "We both know you aren't telling everything. I'll have fun learning everything later, using whatever means necessary." He'd tell the boy before walking away.
 
Ha'zi grunted and called after him. "That is everything, you dolt. I can't remember much after the gem got dropped!"
 
He'd stop but only to look back at you "You better start walking now, Saurons forces may of mostly been killed but we now don't know what lives in these forests."
 
"How about you actually open your eyes and realize that I'm armless and that is beyond the realm of possibility of me getting up by myself?"
 
"I just told you, dig your feet into the ground for balance and then thrust yourself up. If you can't d that, use your shoulder or hip to propel yourself up. No wonder you were so easily used, you can't do anything by yourself and as soon as someone came by you simply joined up with their cause despite what affects it could have. Your a pathetic little runt who deserves nothing that you have ever gotten. Nothing. Its your fault so many people died today, not some other shifter. You and you only." He'd growl, walking over and roughly lifting you up before pushing you forward and walking behind you.
 
Within Dimitri, conflict brewed. Not because of the death of Tulkas or internal bleeding or his kidney's being vaporized by his unhealthy amounts of alcohol consumed daily, but rather because of three voices that represented the ancestors he devouted himself to. There was Aragrath the Fierce, a mighty sorcerer-king would was said to have ruled three lands of shadow for ages. He was the voice of anger and violence, one that urged Dimitri to butcher all to advance Dimitri's agenda. Then, there was the cowardly Argo, who spread deceit and lies before having his head cut off by an angry Anduin tribesmen. Lastly, there was honorable and beloved Dimitri I, a mighty warlord and soldier of Forochel and the 12th wielder of the mighty Fatebreaker. He was the voice of reason, one that always broke through the violence and fear that plagued Dimitri in dark times.

'We can all agree on one thing: we are in dark times. The West is divided, the Valar scattered. A mad king rules Valianor, kidnapping our descendant's adoptive parents for no reason other than suspicion. Mordor is ruled by the Ancient Foe, and the actions of that foolish Zaro have weakened us greatly. Many of the Eldar have perished, and our greatest lord, Tulkas Beloved, has been struck a devastating blow. Morgoth may have lost many warriors, but his strength will recover as more answer his call. Now, our party is divided by the cursed Jewels of Feanor, and our descendant dealt a harsh blow. We must set aside our difference and focus on one thing: the destruction of this evil. It is the only way the Fallschrimjaegers can be established and hegemony created from the shadows.'

And so, in the mind of Dimitri, plans were drawn up and defenses readied. The might of Forochel was being roused.

Dimitri woke up with a grunt, shaking off the mist that clouded his mind with a quick prayer to Tulkas the Wrathful. "Where is Ha'zi... I need to find him... Must make sure he is okay..." Dimitri asked the nearest man. He soaked up the sights around him: Gondorians everywhere. Some of those cloaked legendary Rangers, there were. Strange men, more suited to war and the wilderness than the politics and intrigue of Gondor's cities. Surely some were disillusioned, perhaps would make good recruits for the Long War.
 
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