A World of Danger: Part One

[Tessar]

The elf boy was looking for the others. he didnt see anyone exept some dead men, dwarfes, and an ork or two. he thought that he saw a man who looked like Tal sitting against a tree *finaly some one* he thought he ran up to the man and what he saw made him feel sick, the man had been sliced in the stomac and his insideds were spilled out on the ground. the elf boy could not help him self, he puked. as he stummbled away a few moments later he thought to him self *at least that wasent tal*
he saw Lief (i mean stewert) lol and started walking twards him.

[Selwythe]

*Hey hey wait a minute. In mine, I said that Shelina and Nrake cornered Orph...oops Steward and Arcon. In Lief's, he said Shelina and Nrake went off to find the camp. In Mathron's, he built on my version but he mentioned that Grim had not seen Nrake before when Lief stated earlier that Grim met Nrake and stayed to fight the 8-footer. And in Mathron's Folstan was still there while in mine, Folstan had already escaped.*

*Ahem, I think we need to link it together a bit.*

*And Lief, Arcon is angry at Shelina, Grim and Malagar because when he was dying, he remembered seeing them staring down at him, shaking their heads, spitting in his face (and infecting his wounds) and walking away.

[Tessar]

OH MY GOSH!!!! LIEF IS A ELVIN LORD!!!!!!!! AAA!! WHY DIDNT ANYONE TELL ME?! (bows down)

hehe sorry about that. but im trying to suck-up to the peeps in power. lol im just being silly.

[Lief Erikson]

*I don't remember the Nrake fighting anybody, although it's true Grim did see him earlier on. Although Grim might not have reckognized him in the darkness.

Hey, instead of going back and editing all these posts, let's just attribute any lacking of clarity to the extremely bad fighting conditions that everyone is working under.*

Steward glanced up as Tessar walked up to him. "What's up, boy?" he asked as he sharpened the sword. "Tal sounded a little angry and I didn't want to head in there and confront him. He's got this girl El'nela back, so what's troubling him now?"

[Tessar]

"Your guess is as good as mine" said the elf boy "that was quite a bloody battel wasent it?" he asked stewart.

[Mathron]

OOC: Ok, Sandor did see the Nrake (which I forgot), but the Nrake likely was cloaked, etc, so as to be unrecognizable. Folstan was making a run for it, but not definably gone. And part of the confusion seems to be that Lief edited his latest big post the same time I was posting mine, which seems to have thrown things off a bit. But it all seems cohesive now, if they have all just encountered each other in one big clearing.

[Selwythe]

Arcon sped through the forest, its thick undergrowth unable to hinder him. His feet padded noiselessly on the ground as he ran towards the sounds of battle. Shelina had to be headed there, and if she did not, there was naught he could do to track her anyway.

He was sure now that of the footfalls he had heard earlier, that of Shelina and the iron-clad man who neglected him, none of their owners would possess the skill to flick that rope with such dexterity and accuracy at him. They had a helper, and his unawarness of its tracks nerved him a little.

He continued in that direction, careful to avoid participants of the battle. He finally came out into a large clearing full of tents and paused furtively. They could hide enemies. Then he froze. He heard the sound of a creeping sound, stealthy but failing in this purpose. He pricked his ears and caught the faint sound of clinking iron.

*I am afraid I have to stop here, too confused. The follower is Grim. If I understand correctly, Shelina and Nrake are hiding near the tents for...um?*

[Mathron]

OOC: Ok... apparently we can't go the way I thought things were heading. Out of curiousity, if the group did all encounter each other (as, a couple of posts back, they did), why did they all split up? I will edit mine, if you guys wish it to, but think we should definably settle things before posting further stuff, as Arcon's last actions just confuse things more.

[Lief Erikson]

*If we're going to discuss this thing, let's do it in the discussion forum then. Primarily I think we need to simply decide where everyone is now and what their motives are, although perhaps some discussion as to how everyone got there will help.*

[Lief Erikson]

Steward went back to polishing the sword. "It was. Although there is something else going on behind the scenes, I have a feeling. And I just happened to stumble into it a moment ago." He raised two fingers and pointed in the direction of the wood. "Back there, I stumbled into a battle of sorts between two sides. Which side either one is on I know not, but I doubt that either of them are either on ours or the orcs'. Yet they still have to be connected somehow, or else they wouldn't be here."

And I well can guess what one of them is, he thought to himself dryly. But the other one?

[Mathron]

Sandor rubbed the hilt of his blade as he stared down at Arcon through the trees. How was he alive again, and what was he doing here? Was he connected to Sandor's loss of authority?

Frowning, Sandor waited to see what Arcon did next.


---


Dain and the others look up as Tal stalked towards them, rage blazing across his face. He snarled, "She isn't here! They took her, and some others, away - including that mad elf! He will know where she is! Have you seen him?"

[Mathron]

Pain. Pain and agony. Fires seemed to blaze across his skin, leaving it burnt and black and stretched tight across his beaten and broken bones. He felt the blood pouring out of him from the countless wounds across his flesh - and as the blood poured out, he felt his power draining out. He could barely recall who he was or what had happened to him. Soon, all too soon, he would be mortal, and then he would die. And every now and then, Malagar would hear Sauron laughing in the distance.

[Lief Erikson]

Erenfor touched the handle of the orcish blade. Memory filtered into his crazed mind briefly. Memory of battering vainly at iron bars and a sense of hopelessness that wouldn't end. And the orcish whips that had slashed him also filtered through his memory, but only briefly. Mental blockages that had long since been erected to keep such memories at bay came up again in force and the insane elf laughed crazily. Laughter that went on even though he battered wildly in his mind. Battered at rusted iron bars, weathered with age but steel strong.

"We'll just have to pry them open," Erenfor cackled as he touched the edges. "No good. Then strangle the guards while I'm on the wall." He laughed again, louder this time. "That worked!"

He nearly ran into Tal, whom he snapped at as if he was a wild beast. Thunderclouds were barely hidden behind Tal's face, but Erenfor knew a menace when he saw one. His weapon was in his hand in a second, raised and held in the on guard position in front of him.

"What do you want with me now?" he growled. In his mind, he continued vainly to beat at the bars.

[Mathron]

Tal snarls back at him, "The other slaves told me who you were. I care not who this foe you face is, but he took my sister as well! Where were you and El'nela imprisoned!?"

[Selwythe]

Arcon crept silently around the camp, hiding in shadows and darting at the slightest sound. All the while, he was wary for a threat from the back. There were too many tents, he could not possibly search them all.

He sat down in the shadow of one tent and pondered his next move.

[Lief Erikson]

"Nothing could have lasted there long," Erenfor muttered. "They increase the pressure. Day 1, they do all sorts of horrible things to you." A pasty grin crossed his face, but it was a pained one and unreal. "The next week, they intensify. Then every two days they intensify worse and worse.

"Most prisoners go mad before long in that place, if they aren't killed first. That place is a hidden shadow on the fringe of imagination, something people don't know about but where all their worst nightmares reside.

"They underestimated me," Erenfor whispered conspiratorially and gave a knowing wink. He drew a finger across his throat. "Took them by surprise, those two fool orcs as they were bringing me down to the torture chamber to resume. They considered me a baggage, not a threat." He burst out laughing once again. "Never underestimate of warrior of Doriath!"

But he kept the sword steady in his hands, keeping a space of three feet between the two elves.

[Tessar]

The elf boy crept up behined the mad elf (good thing i decided to go look for tal) he thought and drew his dagger.

[Irid al'Menie]

Irid held back and called the wolves. With one blink of an eye, she saw the scene. Tal stood there, the mad elf with an orcish dagger next to him, the boy behind the mad elf. She waited to see what would happen, stepped a little closer, the wolves surrounding her. She didn't think the boy would be able to harm the mad elf. Mad he could be, but skilled with weapons, she could see at least that.

[Mathron]

Tal's eyes gleamed as darkly as Erenfor's as he started to advance, not even bothering to lift his blade.

"Then if they've killed her, I'll slay them all! I care not what tortures they think they deal out there, I will do unto them a hundred fold the pain. You will tell me where my sister is!"

[Lief Erikson]

"Outdoing the masters will be hard," Erenfor told Tal. "But possible."

Tal simply stared at him for a moment before realizing what he meant.

"None escape that castle. Difficult to remember where it is. Always difficult when one is blindfolded," he said with a smile. "But the way back I got a good glimpse. A glimpse, for the whole way back?" he asked, laughing uproariously. "What do you think? Let's hang Vardor up to dry from his own walls. I'll lead you there myself. All must end there. Then we'll see who is alive and who is dead."

Erenfor took several steps forward before stopping and turning around, cocking his head at Tal. "You know, all we can do is hope they are dead by now." His voice decreased in volume to a whisper. "Any who still live will have wished themselves dead a hundred times over by now."





A figure walked down the stone passageway, heedless to the noise, his face impassive. The doors to prison cells on either side of him had different sorts of noises coming from them. Moans of pain from some, of despair from others, cries of defiance from a very few.

But his task this day took him to a different part of the castle. One that he almost wished did not exist. Better if the people had been executed then left alive, but Vardor was harsh at this point. Harsh and cruel, angry at something that all the rest of them were left in the dark about. He sometimes muttered about it as he paced the stone passages, muttering dark hatred for someone or something. None stayed close enough to him for any period of time to hear what he was angry about. None dared to. And Tamayron was not a fool.

Tamayron walked down the lower steps to a lower story. The sounds of jibbering madmen filled the air down here. People who had been tortured till they lost their sanity. He regretted this part of the castle to some extent, but he was in charge of it and it was his job to oversee these prisoners.

He walked past multiple dungeons as he approached the end of this part of the complex, the place where the food was kept. He had to have it distributed for their midday meal.

And he would keep his head low, away from Vardor. He would follow the most cruel of orders if it kept him away from threat. No, he thought to himself, smiling, this is the only way. I am most certainly not a fool.






"The man's a fool," a female voice whispered from the front of the prison cell.

Maykror opened his eyes and turned his head towards her crouching form, wincing as he did. Every movement was a pain to him, every breath he drew. And yet what he'd suffered was a lighter punishment than most here had suffered. He'd been smarter than they. And more cowardly. The bitter word was unpleasant on his tongue, yet he knew that there was a way to repay for it. How, insane, could he possibly take revenge on those who had done this to them?

"He is," Maykror agreed. He just hoped that they themselves weren't worse fools. But death by a sword cut would be a relief, at last.

"He doesn't suspect," the woman's tone was difficult to decipher. A mixture of emotions. Sympathy certainly wasn't among them. Anticipation and excitement were foremost among them. Hate was secondary, somehow this woman had managed to keep from being eaten up by it. No matter what they'd done to her. To all of them. Perhaps it was her elf blood refusing to be beaten down.

"It'll be a pleasure to kill him," Maykror said quite truthfully. He had long looked forward to slaying the man. And he wasn't the only one. "But most of the people here are gibbering madmen, now."

"Simply because they were braver than we are," she said flatly, turning her head towards him. Her eyes were faintly visible through the darkness, animal passion behind them. "But they will fight as hard as they can, despite their insanity," she finished decisively.

"Ever since Erenfor's execution strength among the survivors has faltered, El'nela," he told her. "More and more lose hope and are broken by the day. Erenfor was the strongest, the best of us."

The light in her eyes faltered and she looked at the floor. He hardly cared that it gave her pain to hear that again. Not any more. Some part of his mind still realized that bringing up the painful subject was wantonly cruel, but he was too weary and full of grief and woe to care any more. She had become . . . attached to Erenfor, somehow. Somehow the grim young elf had become her hero.

"I know he was," she said, her voice hoarse. She was looking at him again, and she continued doing so for a long moment. "It was my fault, but this is not over. I will repay them for every blow they gave each of us. We will. Together. You and I will succeed the day after tomorrow, at noon, as planned. Not all here are gibbering madmen, you know, and those that are still might be of some use once the battle starts. If not, there are still plenty down here who pretended insanity to avoid further torture. They will rally to us, if only to die death by the sword." She left her crouching position at the door and walked up to him, placing a hand gently, almost tenderly, upon his shoulder. "We mustn't lose hope, Maykror."

"The battle." Maykror sighed in expectation. "I can hardly wait." And now she would try reviving his spirit again. His will to live. She always did. She sometimes seemed to forget that he had no hope left in him. None for success in the battle. He knew better. What would come upon them would be death, but perhaps that really was something to look forward to. Victory in the battle was hopeless.




*Hope no one is too upset by my addition of new characters. But they're only minor, so no one rise up in panic please .*