A World of Danger: Part One

Tal bows as he sits, and speaks to the other elf in their own language.

"I did not expect to see any other of my kind in this village, especially after the disasters wrought b ythe Dark One's men after the fall of Doriath. Pray tell me, what brings you to these parts?"

Folstan was surprised by the hobbits courage, but he doubted there was much to it.

"We can settle this right here. Old as I may be, I can squash one of your kind with a single blow."

He walked towards the hobbit and lifted his stick high above his head. He brought it crashing down, straight towards the small creatures head.

"My name is Angar Eidol," the Dark Elf replied in heavily accented Sindarin. "I am not of Doriath, or any realm other known to you, though heard I have of the Hidden Kingdom and share I your sorrow for its destruction."

As words failed him, he switched to the common speech.

Your folk and mine were sundered long ago," he explained apologetically, "and while I have spent time amongst the Grey Elves in my wanderings and have thus learned your language, I speak it badly, I fear. My own language is similar, but the differences sometimes confuse me when I try to speak Sindarin. I speak the common tongue much better, for I have had more occasion to use it in my travels. I come from a hidden realm as well; only this one was much smaller than Menegroth, and deeper underground, as deep as any Dwarven hall, and we never ventured to the surface. We depended on Dwarves for trade, and fed mostly off the blind fish that swam in the underground lake near our home. But eventually Morgoth and his horde found and destroyed our colony, just as Doriath would later be destroyed. I had already left, the first of my people to do so since they had first gone underground. As far as I know, none of the others escaped. I have since wandered long and far, killing the Dark Lord's servants wherever I find them, often hiring myself out as a mercenary."

*An'tiar has no weapons skill, remember guys. Don't get her into a fight.*

...And looked in surprise as it landed not on the head of the hobbit-lad, but on the back of An' tiar.
"How dare you," she seethed between teeth clutched in pain. "That you would strike a creature, despite its strangeness here, is unforgivable. The very fact that your staff was brought down with such force is proof of your intent towards him." She answered his unspoken defense. "Give me one good reason, now, why I should hold conference with the likes of you."

*i think this may be pertinent right about now - how are fights resolved? does a moderator step in to adjudicate or are we left to our own devices? 8o *
*Sorry Merry, I don't allow swearing in my games. So I edited this one. Fights are left up to the players in the interest of the storyline ~Elbreth*

hushpad, feet spread and ready for anything, saw the old man swing his staff aiming a vicous blow straight at his head. needless to say he took serious evasive action, rolling to one side and regaining his footing right under the old man's feet. He heard a shriek and looked up, seeing Antiar wincing in pain. He'd had quite enough of this old b*****d, and the anger rose in him boiling over.

With a bold leap and a fearsome battle cry he reached up and yanked the old git's beard with one hand, and poked him in the eye with an outstretched finger of the other (hobbits having long and dextrous fingers).

"Behold the wrath of furryballs! One for the romantics! Aie!" :smokin:

*I think we should just do what's best for the story*

Folstan fell flayling to the ground, swinging his staff wildly around.

"Stop! Stop!" he pleaded. "If you're so eager to hear my words and not leave in peace I shall speak to you as well!"

The hobbit leaped off Folstan, allowing him to stand up and slink off into a dark corner.

"I only wanted to help!" he said, trying desperately to defend himself. "Dark times are coming, and I saw this girl had a special, er, talent. The Dark Lord will come to greater power, soon, and I only wished to make an alliance with her. He rewards well those who lower the supplies of his enemies."

*As I posted in Merry's prevous post, I don't allow swearing in my games. I'm sorry I didn't let you newer players know that right away, that's my fault. I am the one who judges what needs to be edited or not, I may edit even strong language. Again, I apologize. *

"Alliance? With scurge such as you? I don't think flinging staffs at eachother and shouting is accomplishing much, so if BOTH of you," An' tiar looked pointedly at the hobbit-fellow who'd been so quick to rise in defense, "can manage to behave, we'll step out for a moment and talk things through."

An' tiar was still weak from her earlier ardeal, and now this wearying attack from the old man. But, she forced herself from her knees, put back on the few clothes she'd removed before being attacked, and followed the others out to a table near the back.

:lol:

Lieutenant, we're upstairs, no way you can see us!

Tal's eyes widen in surprise at learning of Angar's origins, but he nods at the rest of his tale, and switches his speech to common as well.

"Though I have never heard of your land, surely I do share your sorrow over its demise. Far too few places of our kind are left, and far too many are falling to the Dark One's strength. Indeed, my tale is similar to yours, for my own birthplace, a small village, was overrun by orcs, and many killed by his dark minions. A few of my fellows survived, though mostly those who were able to hide or flee, and some more survive as captives. I was able to deal with the orcs but of recently, only to find that the captives have already been passed on to another."

His voice, already soft and low, halts and fades, and then, with renewed strength in it, continues, "My sister is among them, and she is now captive to a human band of mercenaries, led by one called the Grim Wolf, a servant of the Dark One's Lieutenant, Sauron."

*Are we? I just thought we were at the back of the inn, upstairs rooms are too expensive for An' tair anyway. Either way, I need one of you to post our talking at the table...*

Hushpad gave an'tiar a sheepish look.

"my most humblest of apologies m'lady for such rude behavior. I would be happy to continue our conversation at a more prudent location."

He eyed the old man suspiciously as they ventured back into the common room.

"pray tell of this dark lord of yours. he sounds of dubious character. Methinks he is not someone one would wilfully be associated with if possesed of his own wits."

*An'tiar why do you need one of us to outline events in the common room? is this part of the rules r something? just curios.*

*No, it isn't. I just confused her with one of my posts, so she thought that if all of them were going to be like that, it would be better to explain it in a better way.*

*Elbreth's gonna be away for a couple of months, she asked me to keep her going in the story. If you're talking to her I suppose you should just keep her going in your post as well. I'll basically outline the character according to what she wanted it to do.*

Folstan sneared at the hobbit. "The dark lord may not be a plesent character, but in these times it is best to alley oneself with the side that will win. These lands will soon be plunged into a deep darkness, there is no way to escape it, so to survive we must join it!"

An'tiar gave Folstan a strange look. "You see no hope for the light? So you would simply join the darkness and aid them in their fight? You could affect the outcome of the fight itself! I see no logic in this theory of yours."

"Then you are a fool!" said Folstan. he spat the floor at their feet and limped out of the tavern.

As Folstan comes limping out of the room, he almost runs right into a burly dwarf heading up the stairs with a fierce look in his eye. As the dwarf glances at the room Folstan just barged out of, he looks at the old man, and says, "I just heard some shouts coming from in there, and I hope there isn't any trouble going on..."

"The Grim Wolf!" Angar exclaimed. "Then the rumours are true. I have come to the right place. I seek him too, but not for noble reasons I must confess. I was hired by a wealthy merchant who must remain nameless. But if in hunting him down, I can also aid you in your quest to rescue your sister..."

He trailed off as a young man carrying a pitcher of ale to another table passed by.

"I offer you my sword," he continued, lowering his voice to nearly a whisper. "And my own 'grim wolf,' a travelling companion of mine. She waits for me just beyond the borders of the village, a superb animal, both intelligent and ferocious in battle. Will you have us? Perhaps together we can defeat this dark servant and his men."

Fore Dog pushed aside the sweaty covers and stood up. It was too hot here, and confined. Sleep was impossible, and even if acheived, the dreams that came with it were a torment.

Fore Dog walked several steps forward and picked up a pitcher of water from the table. Sloshing the water down the front of the shirt helped a little, and the evaporating process afterwards brought some relief from the stifling heat.

Fore Dog glanced back at the bed, but decided against returning to it. Fore Dog's arms and legs were cramped and slick with sweat anyway. It would be useless. Far better to use the night hours to find Vardor's target. Things were very dangerous now. With Vardor so on edge anyone could be killed for even a small reason.

Quickly Fore Dog finished dressing and opened the door, stepping outside . . .

. . . instantly to be seized and wrestled to the floor. The attacker's eyes were cold and white, the pupils black against them. Wild dark hair was matted on the attacker's face, and a arm of iron bore downward, a razor sharp dagger clenched in his fist.

Fore Dog strained and used the man's own momentum to throw him to the ground, the dagger jamming through the floorboards.

Quickly Fore Dog rolled to the side, kicking the attacker in the side to keep him off. The man's face tightened in pain but the wildness had not left his eyes. Quickly both scrambled to their feet.

A closer look showed Fore Dog that the man was actually not a man, but an elf. An elf.

Fore Dog's eyes widened. Elves were gentle, strong and kind. They had many virtues in general, but they were not cold blooded maniacle assassins.

Fear clutched Fore Dog's heart as memory began to serve.

The elf's dagger glinted, and his eyes stared into her own, full of hate. Unending, paralizing hate.

They stood, staring, each knowing the other. One bent on killing, the other knowing that the time of death and attonement was come.

From Fore Dog's lips came a low wail which broke into a scream of terror. Blackness blinded vision. The elf's cruel lips curved into a sneer, and he drew the dagger from Fore Dog's body for the second time.

Fore Dog screamed again, legs stumbling into motion, falling back through the still open door, scrambling back up and running. Blood matted Fore Dog's torn shirt, but the victim was still in shock. Terror replaced every feeling.

"You'll never escape, Eshian!" the elf screamed. "For what you did, for what you have done! Die, traitor! Traitor! TRAITOR!"

The elf's feet thudded against the floorboards as he followed into the bedroom, . Blood pounded in Fore Dog's temples, running footsteps, flashing dagger again . . .

The sound of splintering glass filled Fore Dog's ears as the window exploded outwards. Fore Dog was flailing in empty space for a long moment, eyes wide with terror and agony.





The body of a young woman struck the earth outside the inn of the village known as Edlyn. Broken glass lay scattered about her blood stained body, and for a moment nothing happened. Then a man in a dark robe dashed out from beneath the porch of a nearby house. He crouched over her body, looking closely at her face. Swiftly he checked her pulse, and then drew a dagger. Quickly he cut a long strip off of his black robe, and then sheathing it, drew a flask from within his robe.

A shout from behind him stopped him in mid process, and he glanced behind to see two villagers rushing forward from the inn.

Dropping both the cloth and the flask, he fled into the night.

Tal smiles grimly. "I would be glad indeed, of your aid. The journey will likely be dark and dangerous, and you seem like one who can aid me greatly. As of now only one other ally do I have - a noble dwarf named Dain, who I shall introduce you to sho-"

He cuts off at the crash from outside, and stands up quickly as he, and others, rush to the door to see the commotion. As he gets outside, amid a few other curious villagers, he sees the girl lying on the ground, as a figure fades away into the distance.

"This night brings many surprises," he mutters softly, as he calls for the innkeeper to bring help and assistance - and checks to see whether she lives, or not.

*She lives. And the potion is for healing. And I've edited my post telling about her, now that more is known. And don't make her regain consciousness too swiftly, her two wounds, plus the other smaller ones inflicted by falling through the window are serious.*

*Lief, I'm playing the part of Elbreth in all regards at the moment, so I gotta ask, how many thousands of characters do you actually have going here? Two's the limit*