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VENTURES INTO THE REMOTE (RP)
- Thread starter Captain Aasim
- Start date
DeathValley105
New member
Shit fuck cunt bitch gonna fucking kill him. He'd hasty think, reering his back back several time to try and break the mans hold or break his nose.
Rambo nodded, then searched in his new borrowed horses saddlebag for a weapon.
That asshole thought he was hiding the memories of Morgoth? No, he dealt with them
“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?” Iver made his choice.
”You have chosen wisely. Of course, anyone with half a mind would make that choice.” If Morogth would know about the choice Iver picked, he doubted he would still be
"Bring it on, baby face" He said with tears of either rage or sadness in his eyes.
“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?” Iver made his choice.
”You have chosen wisely. Of course, anyone with half a mind would make that choice.” If Morogth would know about the choice Iver picked, he doubted he would still be
"Bring it on, baby face" He said with tears of either rage or sadness in his eyes.
Rambo found a knife and a quiver of arrows. One of the rangers handed him a bow as he noticed he was searching for one. "'Ere, sir."
They rode northeast until they reached the graveyard of giants. There they found Vardamir, Ha'zi and twenty other rangers surrounding the area. There were noises of battle coming from deep within the body of the giants.
"Sir, he's refusing surrender." One of the rangers said to Vardamir.
"Have you attempted communication?" The captain responded.
"Yes but his gone mad."
Sigeric and Rambo overheard as the conversation as they approached. "Ah, Sigeric. What's your status?" Vardamir asked upon turning to see the Guardian Shifter.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Szucsclan/74.png" name="Szucsclan"]12519458[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/UnusualBrit/74.png" name="UnusualBrit"]12700073[/user]
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Hering's head smashed into the man's nose and he heard a crack. He broke free of the hold and saw his opponent in the midst of his bloodthirsty rage. It was Berethor. How?!?
A fist to Hering's face put him down for good.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DeathValley105/74.png" name="DeathValley105"]15756962[/user]
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The Trickster's stolid face broke into a cheeky smile and he snapped his fingers.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/assassiniv/74.png" name="assassiniv"]14628767[/user]
They rode northeast until they reached the graveyard of giants. There they found Vardamir, Ha'zi and twenty other rangers surrounding the area. There were noises of battle coming from deep within the body of the giants.
"Sir, he's refusing surrender." One of the rangers said to Vardamir.
"Have you attempted communication?" The captain responded.
"Yes but his gone mad."
Sigeric and Rambo overheard as the conversation as they approached. "Ah, Sigeric. What's your status?" Vardamir asked upon turning to see the Guardian Shifter.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Szucsclan/74.png" name="Szucsclan"]12519458[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/UnusualBrit/74.png" name="UnusualBrit"]12700073[/user]
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Hering's head smashed into the man's nose and he heard a crack. He broke free of the hold and saw his opponent in the midst of his bloodthirsty rage. It was Berethor. How?!?
A fist to Hering's face put him down for good.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DeathValley105/74.png" name="DeathValley105"]15756962[/user]
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The Trickster's stolid face broke into a cheeky smile and he snapped his fingers.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/assassiniv/74.png" name="assassiniv"]14628767[/user]
“Thanks.” He nodded to the man who gave him the bow, it wasn’t his usual weapon, but it’d do. What he needed was a new sword and fire spears. Alas, that’d have to wait. He’d follow Sigerics lead as Vardamir asked Sigeric what his status was.
DeathValley105
New member
Herings head would rush backwards, causing him to fall. How- no. He saw this happen before, back with Glorfindel. What luck he had eh? "Make my death memorable." He'd murmur. Darkness enclosing around him
"A brother of our great Mahal? Ya know, normaly I would laugh at you, but after the things that happend to me in the last years, that's actually nothing I wouldn't expect" the dwarf would say. "But" he would say, before taking a short break. "What do you want from me and in which way do you want to aid me?" Thoruk would ask, showing interest in the offer of the voice in his head.
Iver would wait a few seconds and if nothing would happen he would look at the trickster, "Didn't expect much from you, but this is a new low. Now begone thot" he would say in disgust
Dimitri grimanced as he was pulled up, but ignored the pain. It was well worth it. Revenge for the fall of Tulkas Beloved was coming. After so many long months, after so many near deaths, it had finally begun. But now was not the time for bloodshed. Now was the time to enjoy the beauty of Lorien. He left the arena, and sought out the most beautiful parts of the garden, singing hymns to the Valar in the rough tongues of Forochel.
He isn't a bad singer, ya know. Could make some pretty good money as a minstrel.
The only good song is one of slaughter and death.
Oh, shut up, Aragrath. Must everything you say be so grim?
Hey Dimitri, sing about that lovely couple! Beren and Tinuviel.
The voices were annoying, but ever present. He could only do so much to sate them. So he sang of Beren Erchamion and his beautiful wife, Luthien, and thought of his previous lovers. Celeste was the kindest and most human, but he truly cared not for her. She was not cut out for the line of work he pursued. Then there was Tanithil, the Elf of Tulkas. She was the one he cared for more. A mighty and beautiful warrior. But fate deemed her to die in the Land of Shadow. Then who was it he would love? He was devoted to Tulkas, and knew that few would follow him. Perhaps he was doomed to die alone, but perhaps not.
He isn't a bad singer, ya know. Could make some pretty good money as a minstrel.
The only good song is one of slaughter and death.
Oh, shut up, Aragrath. Must everything you say be so grim?
Hey Dimitri, sing about that lovely couple! Beren and Tinuviel.
The voices were annoying, but ever present. He could only do so much to sate them. So he sang of Beren Erchamion and his beautiful wife, Luthien, and thought of his previous lovers. Celeste was the kindest and most human, but he truly cared not for her. She was not cut out for the line of work he pursued. Then there was Tanithil, the Elf of Tulkas. She was the one he cared for more. A mighty and beautiful warrior. But fate deemed her to die in the Land of Shadow. Then who was it he would love? He was devoted to Tulkas, and knew that few would follow him. Perhaps he was doomed to die alone, but perhaps not.
“Yes, the Le- Marco is my friend. We've been through the closest to what Utumno can be, through that prison that the Karoltai were kept and the hardships of slavery. So, I can never imagine as to why he-” The Haradrim stopped speaking upon the warning shout and the sight of the rangers infestation seemingly in conflict. His eyebrows furrowed. What was going on over there?
"My status?" Sigeric said. "Quite vexed. I and Ha'zi had successfully negotiated with the protos and convinced them to surrender before one of the regiments decided to treat them to a volley of arrows. Many casualties could have been avoided today." He motioned toward Evenis. "In any case, we have the Serpent Shifter. He is badly injured, and may not last much longer. It would be preferable to keep him alive."
Rambo stayed quiet as Sigeric spoke, was he even going to get recognition for finding Evenis in the first place? He spoke up. “I believe the armoured giant took the Leviathan shifter. Sir.” He added to Sigerics story.
As Dimitri wondered through the gardens he oft spied a fair maiden. Nearly every one of them here was beyond beautiful yet he could almost sense a fair soul. One that spirited like his. Yet here there were only singers, poets, and maidens. Ladies of origin as ancient as his Lord. They were not of his breed. Nevertheless, he enjoyed their company and their sweet voices and the singsong of the birds and the gentle breezes of the wind. At the culmination of the day, he found himself back in the bedsheets of his humble abode and for once, slept well.
When he awoke, it was with a bag over his head and his body restrained. Dimitri overheard voices as he was carried through the unknown. His arms were clasped in chains and tied to his feet, causing him to ball up over the shoulder of whoever had abducted him.
"The Dwarf has been secured. Alert Mineltar. Prepare for flight en route to Valmar."
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DimitriP_13421/74.png" name="DimitriP_13421"]8861015[/user]
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Hering's eyes opened. He was tied to a chair and fastened by ropes. The room was similar to a typical Gondorian nobles basement. He could see torchlights illuminating the room and in front of him sat the Armoured Shifter. He seemed to be talking to him but Hering's vision was blurry and he couldn't hear a thing. Leaning against a wall was the dark-haired fellow from before. He wasn't the Screaming Shifter, that was for sure. But perhaps another one.
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"Mirecy," Mirecyla heard her name.
"Mirecy," She heard it again. Endo was still unconscious from her kick. It couldn't be him. Was there someone out there?
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DeathValley105/74.png" name="DeathValley105"]15756962[/user]
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"Hmm. I see." Vardamir nodded in understanding. "You," He motioned to Rambo, "They need support dealing with the target. Move in and neutralize him. Alive." Then he indicated the supposed body of the serpent shifter, "Tie him to the horse. Make sure he do-"
"Aaaaaaaaaghhhhhh!!!" A cry rose from the skeletal graveyard behind Vardamir. He glanced at the situation. Ha'zi, Sigeric and Rambo could just make out a couple figures dueling inside a large giant's skeletal remains. Inside the ribs, they glimpsed a familiar face. Glorfindel, strung with blood, dirt and other unknown viscous substances, was fighting...the rangers?
"Just calm down, elf!" One of the men said to him, edging closer with hands outstretched. Glorfindel spun a short weapon, a Maiar blade which Sigeric and Ha'zi recognized, the one that had been used to kill Celeborn. He slashed the man with it and ran back like a feral animal.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Szucsclan/74.png" name="Szucsclan"]12519458[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/9842Kye/74.png" name="9842Kye"]16315828[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/UnusualBrit/74.png" name="UnusualBrit"]12700073[/user]
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"I want to protect the Children of Illuvitar. As many that can be saved from the Dagor Dagorath. If you heed my commands, your people will survive. Mostly. If you do not. Then they shall all perish. That much I can guarantee you. You have many foes, Ironbeard. If you align with myself, I can return your father to you. But only if you secure an object for me. It is a very special item. Beyond precious. It is out of my control. And lost. I cannot locate it. But you can. Through your friends, you can find it. It is one of the Silmarils. An ancient jewel created by the elf Feanor. There are three in existence. I require one, specifically the Silmaril of the Sky. It is beheld by the Mariner. He is among the stars and only a few know the passage through the cosmos. One of those few is your friend, Eonwe." The voice concluded and waited for Thoruk's reply. The dwarf was struck between his loyalty to his father and the message he had just witnessed by his Creator. If he obliged to this Mandos, he would have to abandon his Creator. Why was Mandos, the supposed brother of Mahal, redirect Thoruk's actions? What was the goal at hand? And what did this Silmaril business have to do with it? How would Eonwe aid him?
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/KingTraitor/74.png" name="KingTraitor"]13615485[/user]
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Moments after the Trickster poofed into thin air, Iver felt an invisible force take hold of him. His body shook as it was pulled through a multitude of images at speeds unknown to him. His mind was overloaded with the sheer information that blasted through him. His brain imploded and only then did his mind truly open.
Iver awoke, yet, one could not say he was awake. His body was missing. He was like a ghost. Detached from reality. A disembodied entity. Suddenly, he found himself observing a scene unfold before him like water shaping together. It could not be an illusion. It was too real. It was almost as if Iver was there. This was reality.
He flew above crowds of thousands of spirits, all in different garb and with mannerisms and quirks that set each apart. However, they were all the same. Spirits to a holy summoning. Ainur. They gathered before a great figure. So tall and righteous, a true majesty. Every idea of a king that Iver had was replaced by this figure. It was a God. No. It was God. Eru Illuvatar himself. He spoke in a language foreign to Iver but strange and beautiful. A song that caressed his ears, lulling them into a gentle melody. The chorus was picked up by the many followers. Then discord was sown. Another figure arose, great and glorious like the All-Father but not as righteous. He was like a mountain. A stormcloud among the Ainur. With two fiery orange eyes that burned into Iver's soul.
"Melkor, greatest of the Ainur," The Trickster's voice greeted him. "What you are witnessing is the birth of creation. The beginning of Ea. The very sowing of Arda."
A battle of wits shook the chorus between the followers of Illuvatar and those of Morgoth's. In the end, it was Eru who was triumphant. The vision followed Melkor and Iver witnessed the creation of the world through the hands of the Ainur. He saw Manwe shaping the clouds together; Ulmo raising the seas; Varda seeding the stars; Yavanna growing the trees; Aule crafting the mountains; and so on.
"There was once a Vala known as Orome." Iver noticed one of the Ainur riding a great white steed. "He was one of the younger of the Valar. He fought in the first war against the ancient with the rest of Illuvatar's first creations; the Aratar." Iver glimpsed a vision of a mighty battlefield. Across the stars, spreading from one end of the universe to the other. The great spirits that the Trickster called the Aratar fought in tandem against a maliceful shadow. Eru himself was there leading the war, yet, they were loosing to the darkness. An abyssal void that threatened to consume everything. Until Melkor came. "It was only through the combined strength of all the Aratar and Illuvatar, that the darkness was banished. Eru bound it and destroyed its fea, its being, turning it into what you know as the Void. Once the first war was ended, the All-Father sang believing the enemy to be vanquished. Although its power had diminished, its hold on Ea had not lessened."
Iver witnessed a shadow infest the heart of one of the spirits. "It had left its mark on Melkor, the one who dealt the final blow." Then Melkor began the discord against Illuvatar.
"Yet this mark was small and for a time, all was good." The vision transitioned back to Arda and to the continent of Valinor. Iver witnessed the lives of the Ainur. He saw Aule and Yavanna, earth and nature in harmony. He watched Ulmo descend into the seas. Manwe and Varda atop the skies, their love woven among the stars. Mandos and the Weaver, Vaire. Este and Lorien. And lastly, the most beautiful of the Valier, the female he had seen long ago in the art tapestries in the Trickster's mansions. "Vana," He said her name softly.
There was a marriage in the forest before an astounding mansion. The Ainur on the horse kissed Vana. "For a time, he was happy." A series of flashes indicated this fact to Iver. From Orome teaching a young Eonwe to fish and fire a bow to Melkor having his hair ruffled by the younger Ainur. "Melky, was his closest brother. He taught Orome a lot, guided him, even though he was a complete douche-nozzle and Orome had to kick his ass many times, they were still brothers. And Orome loved him."
"Even after the wars, even after his betrayal, even after everything. Orome protected him. He plead for him. He believed in him. Because he knew it wasn't his fault. Yet, Manwe cast him out into the Void. Orome was the only one to care for him. He just.." Iver saw Melkor be tossed into the Void through the massive doors of night whilst the rest of the Valar watched. Tulkas even laughed haughtily, Manwe smiled, Ulmo was stoic and Mandos frowned.
"Throughout this time, Orome's wife bore him a child. He had a daughter. They named her Nieliqui," The scene revealed Orome holding a baby girl. It showed her growth. He pushed her back and forth on a makeshift swing outside the mansion.
"Higher, Ada! Higher!" She said. It was the sweetest and most pure voice Iver's ears had the luxury of listening to. Orome pushed her along the swing to her giggles whilst Vana watched almost wistfully from a nearby orchard.
"Then she was taken from him." The entire scene transitioned. The mansion was aflame. Dozens of armed Ainur surrounded the courtyard. Vana stood beside Manwe whilst the orchard was burnt. Eonwe was there, Maiar-blade in hand. Before them was the child.
"Do it." Iver heard Manwe's stern voice.
"My King?" Eonwe asked.
"Kill it."
Eonwe raised the Maiar-blade and brought it down.
"You're probably wondering how it came down to this..." The Trickster said, "So, let us rewind." Iver watched the scene retrace. "After Melkor was banished into the Void, Manwe became power-hungry. He was touched by the same darkness that befelled Melkor. And Orome..." He heard the Trickster's voice falter. "Orome could not bear it. He loved his brothers and sisters. But watching them turn on each other, deface one another, tear at each other's throats? He could not stand for it. He led his own path. Branched away from Manwe's control. He kept to his forests in Valinor. Spent time with his wife and raised his daugther. He even tried to teach her to fight. Yet, she was more interested in reading and poetry. So, he attempted to educate her in literature. And for the most part, he nailed it. Nieliqui grew into a beautiful, intelligent Ainur with a soft soul. She was his world.She became his life. Orome lived for her."
More illustrations of Orome and Nieliqui from reading and writing to dancing and laughing and smiling and living life to its fullest. It seemed to Iver that Orome was the least Valar-like of the Valar and the most human. "In the meanwhile, Orome was met by Irmo and his brother, Namo. They warned him of Manwe's tyranny. Manwe had driven Ulmo out of Valmar and into the seas. He had turned his back on Middle-Earth and the realms of men and elves and dwarves. All he cared for was power and consolidating it. Yet, Orome did not believe them. They said Manwe saw him as a dissenting foe. Orome was, after all, the closest to Melkor. It wouldn't take a fool to surmise that he would be the most susceptible to corruption. The irony." The Trickster laughed sadly.
"Orome returned to find his home burning, his wife subjugated and his daughter on the set to be executed by his own apprentice, Eonwe." Iver now returned to that scene. He saw Orome watching them from the forest. "Orome was afraid. He hated fighting, much to the irony of the fact he was a hunter. He could not bring himself to fight his brethren. It was difficult enough to wage war against Melkor. But against Manwe...against his King...his brothers and sisters. Orome could not." Eonwe brought the blade down on the young maiden. Orome rushed out at the last moment and shot Eonwe's blade out of his hand. He then blew a horn and a great white steed rushed out of the forest. It picked up Nieliqui with his maw and rushed to Orome's side. He mounted it, placing the bow away and riding off into the forest.
"He loved his daughter. And he could not bear to loose her like he lost Melkor." The riders were pursued by Manwe and his henchmen through the forest. Orome's horse was felled by a blast of lightning, killing it instantly. The Vala and his daughter were thrown to the earth. He took her hand and they fled.
Iver saw a flash of steel as an arrow pierced through Nieliqui's back. It had been fired by Eonwe. Orome felt her hand slip and he turned to his daughter, taking her in his arms. Iver could almost see the moment she died. Her body siezed and an eerie blue light, much like the one that had burst forth from Ilmare, emerged from Nieliqui. Orome laid her body down as the hunters rushed in to finish the job. Then he ran. "Like the coward he was, Orome could not protect his daughter. Nor his wife. Nor himself. All he could do was flee. A craven."
"And so he ran to the only ones who he could trust. Irmo and Namo. For they had warned him of the danger and he had refused to listen. They gathered in secret upon the Pelori mountains. It was there that they discussed the situation. Manwe had descended into the same madness that had taken Melkor. And he needed to be stopped." Iver saw the three characters at a waterfall on the mountains. Orome was clearly feral at this point. His eyes were wild. Irmo was fair and had white hair like snow and Namo was frowning per usual.
"The Dagor Dagorath cannot be prevented. It must be pursued if we are to dethrone Manwe. Melkor must be released. The two are needed if we are to defeat the true enemy. Especially with the inaction of Illuvatar." Namo said.
"Manwe must be brought to justice. Namo, you are the judge. Speak with the others. They cannot allow him to walk away from this." Orome said.
"Brothers, silence. Do you-" Irmo interrupted them.
A rock fell from the top of the waterfall. Manwe stood there along with his eternal guard and Eonwe at their head.
"Is that treason?"
"It is, my King." Eonwe leaped down with many other Ainur following suit including Mineltar. They bore arms and brought them to heel.
Arrows whizzed past them and a spear caught Orome's shoulder. "Retreat, brothers!" Irmo shoved Namo as Manwe plunged an electrified Valar-blade directly through him. It swung through the air just as Irmo snapped his fingers and a number of the Ainur vanished into thin air leaving only the Valar.
Manwe smiled as Irmo's being exploded, his body surging with pure light. Iver witnessed the angelic dark wings of the Valar shine in the destruction of his soul. Three surges of energy smashed into each of the remaining Valar. One to Manwe who leaped after Orome, a second to Namo who disappeared into shadow, and a third to Orome who fell into the waterfall and with an almost instinctive snap of his fingers, vanished as well.
"Irmo's soul was dispersed between the three of his brothers. A truly horrifying possibility. Manwe received Irmo's most powerful ability, his shaping of the mind. Namo gained Irmo's visions and dreams. And Orome, he took the memories and illusions that came with Irmo's being. His own soul was split amongst two. His mind ablaze. For centuries, he wandered through darkness, in agony before all memories faded and he was free. Orome, or then, going by a different moniker, the Trickster, set about as a servant of the dark arts to torment the lives of the free folk of Arda. He tortured, tormented and even led others to their deaths all in the name of entertainment. Only until his memories began to resurface did, Orome realize the truth. And even then it was a rocky road. Who would want such pain? Want such a truth to be their life? Yet it was. And thus, he came into this great game seeking to find himself. That is the story of Orome. Of Irmo, Iver found himself returned to his body. He was standing on a plain in the darkness of night. The moonlight revealed the Trickster standing across from him.
"My story."
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/assassiniv/74.png" name="assassiniv"]14628767[/user]
When he awoke, it was with a bag over his head and his body restrained. Dimitri overheard voices as he was carried through the unknown. His arms were clasped in chains and tied to his feet, causing him to ball up over the shoulder of whoever had abducted him.
"The Dwarf has been secured. Alert Mineltar. Prepare for flight en route to Valmar."
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DimitriP_13421/74.png" name="DimitriP_13421"]8861015[/user]
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Hering's eyes opened. He was tied to a chair and fastened by ropes. The room was similar to a typical Gondorian nobles basement. He could see torchlights illuminating the room and in front of him sat the Armoured Shifter. He seemed to be talking to him but Hering's vision was blurry and he couldn't hear a thing. Leaning against a wall was the dark-haired fellow from before. He wasn't the Screaming Shifter, that was for sure. But perhaps another one.
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"Mirecy," Mirecyla heard her name.
"Mirecy," She heard it again. Endo was still unconscious from her kick. It couldn't be him. Was there someone out there?
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DeathValley105/74.png" name="DeathValley105"]15756962[/user]
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"Hmm. I see." Vardamir nodded in understanding. "You," He motioned to Rambo, "They need support dealing with the target. Move in and neutralize him. Alive." Then he indicated the supposed body of the serpent shifter, "Tie him to the horse. Make sure he do-"
"Aaaaaaaaaghhhhhh!!!" A cry rose from the skeletal graveyard behind Vardamir. He glanced at the situation. Ha'zi, Sigeric and Rambo could just make out a couple figures dueling inside a large giant's skeletal remains. Inside the ribs, they glimpsed a familiar face. Glorfindel, strung with blood, dirt and other unknown viscous substances, was fighting...the rangers?
"Just calm down, elf!" One of the men said to him, edging closer with hands outstretched. Glorfindel spun a short weapon, a Maiar blade which Sigeric and Ha'zi recognized, the one that had been used to kill Celeborn. He slashed the man with it and ran back like a feral animal.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Szucsclan/74.png" name="Szucsclan"]12519458[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/9842Kye/74.png" name="9842Kye"]16315828[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/UnusualBrit/74.png" name="UnusualBrit"]12700073[/user]
-----------------------------
"I want to protect the Children of Illuvitar. As many that can be saved from the Dagor Dagorath. If you heed my commands, your people will survive. Mostly. If you do not. Then they shall all perish. That much I can guarantee you. You have many foes, Ironbeard. If you align with myself, I can return your father to you. But only if you secure an object for me. It is a very special item. Beyond precious. It is out of my control. And lost. I cannot locate it. But you can. Through your friends, you can find it. It is one of the Silmarils. An ancient jewel created by the elf Feanor. There are three in existence. I require one, specifically the Silmaril of the Sky. It is beheld by the Mariner. He is among the stars and only a few know the passage through the cosmos. One of those few is your friend, Eonwe." The voice concluded and waited for Thoruk's reply. The dwarf was struck between his loyalty to his father and the message he had just witnessed by his Creator. If he obliged to this Mandos, he would have to abandon his Creator. Why was Mandos, the supposed brother of Mahal, redirect Thoruk's actions? What was the goal at hand? And what did this Silmaril business have to do with it? How would Eonwe aid him?
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/KingTraitor/74.png" name="KingTraitor"]13615485[/user]
--------------------------
Moments after the Trickster poofed into thin air, Iver felt an invisible force take hold of him. His body shook as it was pulled through a multitude of images at speeds unknown to him. His mind was overloaded with the sheer information that blasted through him. His brain imploded and only then did his mind truly open.
Iver awoke, yet, one could not say he was awake. His body was missing. He was like a ghost. Detached from reality. A disembodied entity. Suddenly, he found himself observing a scene unfold before him like water shaping together. It could not be an illusion. It was too real. It was almost as if Iver was there. This was reality.
He flew above crowds of thousands of spirits, all in different garb and with mannerisms and quirks that set each apart. However, they were all the same. Spirits to a holy summoning. Ainur. They gathered before a great figure. So tall and righteous, a true majesty. Every idea of a king that Iver had was replaced by this figure. It was a God. No. It was God. Eru Illuvatar himself. He spoke in a language foreign to Iver but strange and beautiful. A song that caressed his ears, lulling them into a gentle melody. The chorus was picked up by the many followers. Then discord was sown. Another figure arose, great and glorious like the All-Father but not as righteous. He was like a mountain. A stormcloud among the Ainur. With two fiery orange eyes that burned into Iver's soul.
"Melkor, greatest of the Ainur," The Trickster's voice greeted him. "What you are witnessing is the birth of creation. The beginning of Ea. The very sowing of Arda."
A battle of wits shook the chorus between the followers of Illuvatar and those of Morgoth's. In the end, it was Eru who was triumphant. The vision followed Melkor and Iver witnessed the creation of the world through the hands of the Ainur. He saw Manwe shaping the clouds together; Ulmo raising the seas; Varda seeding the stars; Yavanna growing the trees; Aule crafting the mountains; and so on.
"There was once a Vala known as Orome." Iver noticed one of the Ainur riding a great white steed. "He was one of the younger of the Valar. He fought in the first war against the ancient with the rest of Illuvatar's first creations; the Aratar." Iver glimpsed a vision of a mighty battlefield. Across the stars, spreading from one end of the universe to the other. The great spirits that the Trickster called the Aratar fought in tandem against a maliceful shadow. Eru himself was there leading the war, yet, they were loosing to the darkness. An abyssal void that threatened to consume everything. Until Melkor came. "It was only through the combined strength of all the Aratar and Illuvatar, that the darkness was banished. Eru bound it and destroyed its fea, its being, turning it into what you know as the Void. Once the first war was ended, the All-Father sang believing the enemy to be vanquished. Although its power had diminished, its hold on Ea had not lessened."
Iver witnessed a shadow infest the heart of one of the spirits. "It had left its mark on Melkor, the one who dealt the final blow." Then Melkor began the discord against Illuvatar.
"Yet this mark was small and for a time, all was good." The vision transitioned back to Arda and to the continent of Valinor. Iver witnessed the lives of the Ainur. He saw Aule and Yavanna, earth and nature in harmony. He watched Ulmo descend into the seas. Manwe and Varda atop the skies, their love woven among the stars. Mandos and the Weaver, Vaire. Este and Lorien. And lastly, the most beautiful of the Valier, the female he had seen long ago in the art tapestries in the Trickster's mansions. "Vana," He said her name softly.
There was a marriage in the forest before an astounding mansion. The Ainur on the horse kissed Vana. "For a time, he was happy." A series of flashes indicated this fact to Iver. From Orome teaching a young Eonwe to fish and fire a bow to Melkor having his hair ruffled by the younger Ainur. "Melky, was his closest brother. He taught Orome a lot, guided him, even though he was a complete douche-nozzle and Orome had to kick his ass many times, they were still brothers. And Orome loved him."
"Even after the wars, even after his betrayal, even after everything. Orome protected him. He plead for him. He believed in him. Because he knew it wasn't his fault. Yet, Manwe cast him out into the Void. Orome was the only one to care for him. He just.." Iver saw Melkor be tossed into the Void through the massive doors of night whilst the rest of the Valar watched. Tulkas even laughed haughtily, Manwe smiled, Ulmo was stoic and Mandos frowned.
"Throughout this time, Orome's wife bore him a child. He had a daughter. They named her Nieliqui," The scene revealed Orome holding a baby girl. It showed her growth. He pushed her back and forth on a makeshift swing outside the mansion.
"Higher, Ada! Higher!" She said. It was the sweetest and most pure voice Iver's ears had the luxury of listening to. Orome pushed her along the swing to her giggles whilst Vana watched almost wistfully from a nearby orchard.
"Then she was taken from him." The entire scene transitioned. The mansion was aflame. Dozens of armed Ainur surrounded the courtyard. Vana stood beside Manwe whilst the orchard was burnt. Eonwe was there, Maiar-blade in hand. Before them was the child.
"Do it." Iver heard Manwe's stern voice.
"My King?" Eonwe asked.
"Kill it."
Eonwe raised the Maiar-blade and brought it down.
"You're probably wondering how it came down to this..." The Trickster said, "So, let us rewind." Iver watched the scene retrace. "After Melkor was banished into the Void, Manwe became power-hungry. He was touched by the same darkness that befelled Melkor. And Orome..." He heard the Trickster's voice falter. "Orome could not bear it. He loved his brothers and sisters. But watching them turn on each other, deface one another, tear at each other's throats? He could not stand for it. He led his own path. Branched away from Manwe's control. He kept to his forests in Valinor. Spent time with his wife and raised his daugther. He even tried to teach her to fight. Yet, she was more interested in reading and poetry. So, he attempted to educate her in literature. And for the most part, he nailed it. Nieliqui grew into a beautiful, intelligent Ainur with a soft soul. She was his world.She became his life. Orome lived for her."
More illustrations of Orome and Nieliqui from reading and writing to dancing and laughing and smiling and living life to its fullest. It seemed to Iver that Orome was the least Valar-like of the Valar and the most human. "In the meanwhile, Orome was met by Irmo and his brother, Namo. They warned him of Manwe's tyranny. Manwe had driven Ulmo out of Valmar and into the seas. He had turned his back on Middle-Earth and the realms of men and elves and dwarves. All he cared for was power and consolidating it. Yet, Orome did not believe them. They said Manwe saw him as a dissenting foe. Orome was, after all, the closest to Melkor. It wouldn't take a fool to surmise that he would be the most susceptible to corruption. The irony." The Trickster laughed sadly.
"Orome returned to find his home burning, his wife subjugated and his daughter on the set to be executed by his own apprentice, Eonwe." Iver now returned to that scene. He saw Orome watching them from the forest. "Orome was afraid. He hated fighting, much to the irony of the fact he was a hunter. He could not bring himself to fight his brethren. It was difficult enough to wage war against Melkor. But against Manwe...against his King...his brothers and sisters. Orome could not." Eonwe brought the blade down on the young maiden. Orome rushed out at the last moment and shot Eonwe's blade out of his hand. He then blew a horn and a great white steed rushed out of the forest. It picked up Nieliqui with his maw and rushed to Orome's side. He mounted it, placing the bow away and riding off into the forest.
"He loved his daughter. And he could not bear to loose her like he lost Melkor." The riders were pursued by Manwe and his henchmen through the forest. Orome's horse was felled by a blast of lightning, killing it instantly. The Vala and his daughter were thrown to the earth. He took her hand and they fled.
Iver saw a flash of steel as an arrow pierced through Nieliqui's back. It had been fired by Eonwe. Orome felt her hand slip and he turned to his daughter, taking her in his arms. Iver could almost see the moment she died. Her body siezed and an eerie blue light, much like the one that had burst forth from Ilmare, emerged from Nieliqui. Orome laid her body down as the hunters rushed in to finish the job. Then he ran. "Like the coward he was, Orome could not protect his daughter. Nor his wife. Nor himself. All he could do was flee. A craven."
"And so he ran to the only ones who he could trust. Irmo and Namo. For they had warned him of the danger and he had refused to listen. They gathered in secret upon the Pelori mountains. It was there that they discussed the situation. Manwe had descended into the same madness that had taken Melkor. And he needed to be stopped." Iver saw the three characters at a waterfall on the mountains. Orome was clearly feral at this point. His eyes were wild. Irmo was fair and had white hair like snow and Namo was frowning per usual.
"The Dagor Dagorath cannot be prevented. It must be pursued if we are to dethrone Manwe. Melkor must be released. The two are needed if we are to defeat the true enemy. Especially with the inaction of Illuvatar." Namo said.
"Manwe must be brought to justice. Namo, you are the judge. Speak with the others. They cannot allow him to walk away from this." Orome said.
"Brothers, silence. Do you-" Irmo interrupted them.
A rock fell from the top of the waterfall. Manwe stood there along with his eternal guard and Eonwe at their head.
"Is that treason?"
"It is, my King." Eonwe leaped down with many other Ainur following suit including Mineltar. They bore arms and brought them to heel.
Arrows whizzed past them and a spear caught Orome's shoulder. "Retreat, brothers!" Irmo shoved Namo as Manwe plunged an electrified Valar-blade directly through him. It swung through the air just as Irmo snapped his fingers and a number of the Ainur vanished into thin air leaving only the Valar.
Manwe smiled as Irmo's being exploded, his body surging with pure light. Iver witnessed the angelic dark wings of the Valar shine in the destruction of his soul. Three surges of energy smashed into each of the remaining Valar. One to Manwe who leaped after Orome, a second to Namo who disappeared into shadow, and a third to Orome who fell into the waterfall and with an almost instinctive snap of his fingers, vanished as well.
"Irmo's soul was dispersed between the three of his brothers. A truly horrifying possibility. Manwe received Irmo's most powerful ability, his shaping of the mind. Namo gained Irmo's visions and dreams. And Orome, he took the memories and illusions that came with Irmo's being. His own soul was split amongst two. His mind ablaze. For centuries, he wandered through darkness, in agony before all memories faded and he was free. Orome, or then, going by a different moniker, the Trickster, set about as a servant of the dark arts to torment the lives of the free folk of Arda. He tortured, tormented and even led others to their deaths all in the name of entertainment. Only until his memories began to resurface did, Orome realize the truth. And even then it was a rocky road. Who would want such pain? Want such a truth to be their life? Yet it was. And thus, he came into this great game seeking to find himself. That is the story of Orome. Of Irmo, Iver found himself returned to his body. He was standing on a plain in the darkness of night. The moonlight revealed the Trickster standing across from him.
"My story."
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/assassiniv/74.png" name="assassiniv"]14628767[/user]
DeathValley105
New member
Hering's head dropped to the side to better look at the other man. Perhaps he was the serpent? No matter. He wouldn't break, in fact he couldn't. He didn't even know what they wanted from him! So with ears ringing, vision blurring, and body bound to a what could only be wooden chair Hering started to chuckle.
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Mirecyla look up through her tears, did the voices come back? No, it couldn't be. It wasn't the intense voice in the back of her head telling her to fight or choose. No, this one was different, more masculine. Familiar... She looked over at Endo and saw he was still out for the count. So she stood up and wiped away the snot and tears. "Who the fucks there?" She asked, snorting and spitting out phlegm onto the wall.
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Mirecyla look up through her tears, did the voices come back? No, it couldn't be. It wasn't the intense voice in the back of her head telling her to fight or choose. No, this one was different, more masculine. Familiar... She looked over at Endo and saw he was still out for the count. So she stood up and wiped away the snot and tears. "Who the fucks there?" She asked, snorting and spitting out phlegm onto the wall.
“Alright.” He further secured the shifter to the horse before he heard Glorfindel cry out, he wanted him to neutralise the elf? Wasnt he supposed to be on their side? “Aye sir, but I could use something to knock him out with. Either that or I shoot his legs.”
'Tulkas beloved, not again.' Dimitri thought. "Let me out, you mindless fools! You serve a madman! Let me GO!" Dimitri shouted.
"How do I know that you speak the truth? How do I know you won't betray me and my kin after this is over?" Thoruk would ask. Then, a small break, to let everything sink into him. "Do you have a proof you can give me that my kin and especially my father can have a live after this. Ya know, I don't trust you at all, not after what this... Maia woman did back then." he'd say. "Give me a proof I can rely my trust on and I shall consider doing this." he'd say waiting for an answer.
Daugo didn't buy their levelheadedness one bit; it was evident that something had gone worse than they let on. He looked at the people and infrastructure as they approached, searching for clues of, not so much the cause, but at least the effect it had had on the city.
The two men stared at Hering. He couldn't hear what they were saying and the dimness made it unintentionally difficult for him to recognize their speech pattern.
"Is he mental?" Endo asked.
"Hey, man, listen. You have a choice here. Well, not really. But you can live or you can die. It's quite simple. I tried to bargain with you before but you seem to have some sort of vendetta against me. So..."
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"It's Taras, you numpty." The voice replied. "What the fuck happened to you guys?"
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DeathValley105/74.png" name="DeathValley105"]15756962[/user]
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"Just capture him. He's wanted for crimes in the capital." Vardamir said. "I know. Shocker. But look at the bastard."
And, in an almost comedic fashion, Glorfindel spun around and kicked one of the rangers who tried to approach him. The man twisted around with a groan of agony before his body slammed into the dirt.
"Elf, if you don't surrender we'll be forced to take serious measures." The captain exclaimed. He waited for a reply yet none came. "Take him."
A dozen rangers approached the skeletal lungs, surrounding Glorfindel.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/UnusualBrit/74.png" name="UnusualBrit"]12700073[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Szucsclan/74.png" name="Szucsclan"]12519458[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/9842Kye/74.png" name="9842Kye"]16315828[/user]
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Daugo noticed the lower levels had majorly cleared off. The markets were empty and many stores had been closed early. The barracks was streaming with soldiers and the walls were manned at twice the capacity than before.
The guards eyed him suspiciously but allowed them through upon seeing the ranger garb. It was quite a while before they reached the top, and on their passage, Daugo noticed some structural damage and debris upon the outcropping rock of Minas Tirith. The streets were mostly devoid of life as they passed up to the higher levels and at the sixth, Daugo was met by a dozen guards bearing the royal standard and was separated from Galador and Ramdir. They were forbidden from attending alongside him. Daugo was led into the Citadel barracks where he met a most outstanding figure. He was six-foot-nine and taller than the King. He wore a fur coat over heavy set plates of steel armor and had a square jaw.
"This him?" He asked with a voice as course as grain.
"Aye, General."
"Take a seat, Mister Burgins." The man indicated a chair in the middle of the room. Guards flanked each door. He did not have much of a choice.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/CluckmanTheDerp/74.png" name="CluckmanTheDerp"]13527980[/user]
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"Here is your proof." A smokey cloud appeared before Thoruk. It wisped about before revealing an illusion, an image, almost a still-frame of his father. He was imprisoned in some sort of dungeon and Thoruk noticed others there too. An old couple, a woman and three children, a bald man dressed in lordly clothing, two hobbits, among others. The cloud dissipated.
"Manwe has your father. He also has the family members of your kind. If you retrieve the Silmaril for me, I can help them escape. But only if you do your part."
Another voice entered Thoruk's mind. "My child...do not listen to him. He lies. He wants to use you." Yet the voice did not seem to have a mind of its own, instead it was almost like Thoruk's conscience speaking to him.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/KingTraitor/74.png" name="KingTraitor"]13615485[/user]
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"Quiet, Dwarf." Dimitri was slapped through the cloth on his head. He heard movement indicating others surrounding him and this was confirmed by a resounding laughter that erupted as he was smacked.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DimitriP_13421/74.png" name="DimitriP_13421"]8861015[/user]
"Is he mental?" Endo asked.
"Hey, man, listen. You have a choice here. Well, not really. But you can live or you can die. It's quite simple. I tried to bargain with you before but you seem to have some sort of vendetta against me. So..."
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"It's Taras, you numpty." The voice replied. "What the fuck happened to you guys?"
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DeathValley105/74.png" name="DeathValley105"]15756962[/user]
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"Just capture him. He's wanted for crimes in the capital." Vardamir said. "I know. Shocker. But look at the bastard."
And, in an almost comedic fashion, Glorfindel spun around and kicked one of the rangers who tried to approach him. The man twisted around with a groan of agony before his body slammed into the dirt.
"Elf, if you don't surrender we'll be forced to take serious measures." The captain exclaimed. He waited for a reply yet none came. "Take him."
A dozen rangers approached the skeletal lungs, surrounding Glorfindel.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/UnusualBrit/74.png" name="UnusualBrit"]12700073[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Szucsclan/74.png" name="Szucsclan"]12519458[/user] [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/9842Kye/74.png" name="9842Kye"]16315828[/user]
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Daugo noticed the lower levels had majorly cleared off. The markets were empty and many stores had been closed early. The barracks was streaming with soldiers and the walls were manned at twice the capacity than before.
The guards eyed him suspiciously but allowed them through upon seeing the ranger garb. It was quite a while before they reached the top, and on their passage, Daugo noticed some structural damage and debris upon the outcropping rock of Minas Tirith. The streets were mostly devoid of life as they passed up to the higher levels and at the sixth, Daugo was met by a dozen guards bearing the royal standard and was separated from Galador and Ramdir. They were forbidden from attending alongside him. Daugo was led into the Citadel barracks where he met a most outstanding figure. He was six-foot-nine and taller than the King. He wore a fur coat over heavy set plates of steel armor and had a square jaw.
"This him?" He asked with a voice as course as grain.
"Aye, General."
"Take a seat, Mister Burgins." The man indicated a chair in the middle of the room. Guards flanked each door. He did not have much of a choice.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/CluckmanTheDerp/74.png" name="CluckmanTheDerp"]13527980[/user]
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"Here is your proof." A smokey cloud appeared before Thoruk. It wisped about before revealing an illusion, an image, almost a still-frame of his father. He was imprisoned in some sort of dungeon and Thoruk noticed others there too. An old couple, a woman and three children, a bald man dressed in lordly clothing, two hobbits, among others. The cloud dissipated.
"Manwe has your father. He also has the family members of your kind. If you retrieve the Silmaril for me, I can help them escape. But only if you do your part."
Another voice entered Thoruk's mind. "My child...do not listen to him. He lies. He wants to use you." Yet the voice did not seem to have a mind of its own, instead it was almost like Thoruk's conscience speaking to him.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/KingTraitor/74.png" name="KingTraitor"]13615485[/user]
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"Quiet, Dwarf." Dimitri was slapped through the cloth on his head. He heard movement indicating others surrounding him and this was confirmed by a resounding laughter that erupted as he was smacked.
[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/DimitriP_13421/74.png" name="DimitriP_13421"]8861015[/user]