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VENTURES INTO THE REMOTE (RP)

"Stand back, Marco." Sigeric said. "You're the only one of us who is not a Shifter. No offense intended, but you could be killed far more easily than us."
 
Marco unhandled the door and stepped back, quite disappointed and insulted. Sigeric's words were true. "Yeah, fine." He walked away, moving towards the back with Daugo.

Who would open the door?

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There was some sort of commotion occurring on the other side. He heard voices and a laugh, a distinct laugh. The Trickster's laugh.

[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Szucsclan/74.png" name="Szucsclan"]12519458[/user]
 
Deslan digs in his bag and gives the bird a piece of wolf meat. I mean, it's a bird of prey. That's what it eats.
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It pecked at the tiny morsel and gulped it down, then squealed again, begging for more, it slid its head under Deslan's armpit and pecked at it before sniffing and recoiling in horror at how bad his hygiene had become over the past few days.

[user avatar="https://assets-cloud.enjin.com/users/6427581/avatar/small.1500927951.jpeg" name="Riko son of Pdor son of Kmer"]6427581[/user]

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But it was too late. The door slid open to reveal a huge room. Some sort of amphitheater. Ha'zi and Iver could see a dozen or so people on a stage below them and rows of seats, however, only one was occupied.

"Hey, guys, you missed the fun! Come, sit down, I'm watching a little thing called Imbeciles on an Island. It's to die for!" The Trickster said, craning his head and yelling at them. They saw some sort of performance going on and the Trickster watching and laughing as a bunch of actors, or people he forced into slave work, danced on the stage. They each looked like members of their party from the island. One was old and craggy with armor on and a longsword, Elodrin, whilst another was a young brown boy who looked like Ha'zi and ran around in circles crying on the stage whilst a bigger man with a metal arm beat him with a stick. It was comedic in a sick satirical way.

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Sigeric cursed under his breath. They would have to improvise. "All of this space in your mansion, and you had to keep us locked in a tiny pit? You're simply terrible at entertaining guests." he said, walking down the stairs, arrow in hand.
 
"Shh, this is the best part." He said loud enough for them to hear.

The group of them were portrayed smashing their heads against a rock whilst one of them, a woman, chanted something in that strange language and proclaimed, "ARISE MORGOTH BAUGLIR!" To which they awoke and one of them, looking quite ugly, walked over to her and stabbed her with something that resembled a Maiar-blade. Once that was done the actors fled the scene like chickens running off in all different directions except for one. An Easterling-looking actor wandered over to the pit, drooling and stared in before falling into it and disappearing from the stage. The curtains closed and darkness descended as the scene ended.

"You guys like that re-enactment of top ten anime failures?" He coughed before stating, "Sit down, c'mon, we're going to be looking at an upcoming scene."

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"Anime, it's this weird stuff that's written by-" the Trickster answered before shutting up as the lights began to dim and the stage curtains slowly rotated, swinging back.

[user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/assassiniv/74.png" name="assassiniv"]14628767[/user]
 
The bird was obviously in shock, as but a day ago he bathed in the Anduin, and three days ago he had been in Aule's halls. With the bird shut down by imaginary smells, he carried onwards, as he said for every single five steps that had something in it.
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As Deslan winded another corner a shout came from ahead, "Halt! Who goes there? Friend or foe?" It was an elf, armored and with a pike. He had a companion nearby.

[user avatar="https://assets-cloud.enjin.com/users/6427581/avatar/small.1500927951.jpeg" name="Riko son of Pdor son of Kmer"]6427581[/user]

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The stage had changed. There was a white city in the background, one with high walls that emerged from a mountain. In the fore front was an array of actors. Nearly thirty on stage. One was huge, mighty and dressed in black robes and wielded a warhammer as a group of orc-looking actors cheered, "GROND! GROND! GROND!"

The huge one swung the mace at a dozen people on stage and they all fell to the ground. Another large figure appeared, seemingly a bunch of people hoisting him up. It was a naked humanoid wielding a halberd who stood in his way, protecting the city. The dark figure and the halberd-wielder swung their weapons at one another and the halberd shattered. The halberd-wielder fell as the warhammer hit him. "GROND!! GROND!! GROND!!" The orcs exclaimed.

The dark figure walked over to the fallen halberd-wielder and raised the warhammer, placing his foot on the halberd-wielder's neck. He brought the warhammer down in an arc. "GROND!!! GROND!!! GROND!!!" And slammed it into a melon that acted as the halberd-wielder's head. It exploded into a thousand pieces, some landing on Daugo, Ha'zi, Iver and Sigeric.

"GROND!!! GROND!!! GROND!!!" The orcs cried in glee as the dark figure smashed the remaining peoples, scattering them before pointing at the white city and walking towards it. The curtains slid close and the room fell into darkness.

"Well that was entertaining, wouldn't ya say? Right, Sigeric?" The Trickster smiled, turning around to look at all of them before standing up.

"That's a bit of the future for ya, if you lads didn't know. I mean, it is your fault. You did release Morgoth. And now what? Do you want to kill me? Do you want me to aid you? Do you want some more cake?"

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Sigeric suppressed all emotion as he witnessed the battle on stage. He knew what it signified, and he would not accept it as reality. The Trickster was only attempting to mess with his head. He addressed the being in question. "When we first arrived here, you made us play a game. We had to answer your questions to avoid falling into the pit, though of course we all fell in the pit anyway. Now it is our turn. Who are you, where are we, and why did you allow us to escape the pit?"
 
"You should probably do it. I'm not, an expert in this sort of field." He told Azura, shifting his mace in case he needed to use it on the humans
 
Ha'zi sat throughout the play in silent frustration, which gave him some time to think. The Trickster just... didn't care they escaped? What, this is just a game? And where even are we? How will we get to Rivendell? And, most importantly how will we kill- no- dispose of the Trickster.
  When the play ended, Ha'zi just glared at the man. Although, he would like some cake...
 
"Got it. Act as my muscle. But don't over do it." Azura said. She walked onto the gangplank and landed on the Numerramar's deck.

"Who's in charge around here?" She called out to the motley bunch of sailors. One came forward, "Capn's at the Bazaar. I'm the first mate." Azura walked up to him, punched him, grabbed his collar and tossed him at the gangplank, expecting Pyrus to dispose of him.

"Now I'm in charge! Got it?" She exclaimed to the group of frightened men. One pulled out a saber and she ran to him, kicked him in the testicles, grabbed the weapon before he could slash it at her, twisted it free of his reach and stabbed him in the stomach, before pulling the saber free and stating, "Anyone else?!"

The man fell to the floor and slowly bled out on the deck, at her feet, "Clean this mess up. Disengage the anchor and set sail for Tolfolas." She told them. "Anyone does anything funny and they get the boot." She kicked the dying man in the face with the tip of her shoe.

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"How about....no." The Trickster clapped his hands and multiple figures appeared around the room. In front of Dimitri was the Whipper, his whip extended and flailing; Grimnir and Thoruk faced a huge Gundabad orc, Azog; Ha'zi saw the slavers who had beat his father to death appear; a handsome Dalish merchant appeared next to Sigeric and Iver, it was Iver's father and he held a long spear in the direction of Sigeric, next to him was a man from Bree, Sarge, wielding a rapier and glaring at Iver; Bob Newleaf materialized ahead of Daugo and raised his fists at the Hobbit; Cardiloc had his own nightmare to deal with, a big ugly adolescent Crocolion appeared in front of him, rearing its head and snapping at the Dunlending.

"LET THE GAMES BEGIN!" The Trickster howled, sitting back on the hood of a chair as a bag of some unknown material appeared in his hand. The words 'Popcorn' printed on it as he took a couple of puffy-looking balls and threw them into his mouth, crunching with a dastardly smile on his face.

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((ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLE?! ARENA FIGHT))
 
Pyrus would walk forward and lift his leg up going to curb stomp the man in the head before bending down and picking the man up, going to knee him in the stomach before lifting him up higher and wrapping one arm across the upper part of his head with his other arm going lower. Looking at the group of men he would yell "You heard her, move your sorry asses!" Once yelling that he would then snap the first mates neck and toss him into the water.

(If the curb stomp doesn't work the rest of that is voided)
 
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