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 Post subject: Tales of Beleriand
PostPosted: Fri Dec 12, 2008 6:21 pm 
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The White Lion
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Exiled from Valinor, the Noldor arrived in middle Earth at the beginning of the Years of the Sun in the First Age of Middle-Earth. The houses of the Noldor were led by Feanor, crafter of the Silmarils, and his two half-brothers Fingolfin and Finarfin. First travelling far to the north to Araman, as yet still in Aman, the three houses were greeted by a messenger of the Valar, pronouncing a great doom upon the Noldor for the treacherous attacks on their kinsmin, the Teleri, and the subsequent theft of their fleet. At this doom, Finarfin led a remnant back along the ways to Valinor to seek a pardon. Too proud for such an action, and compelled by his terrible oaths against Morgoth, Feanor instead took the fleet and crossed the sea finally arriving in the North of Belerian at Drengist. In another act of treachery he left Fingolfin and his house behind and he burned the fleet when he landed. Fingolfin's host was left with no choice but to attempt to march to the icy wastes or return to Valinor, but so moved by Feanor's treachery were they, that they sought to lay eyes upon him again. Many of Fingolfin's house perished, but those that survived became fell and strong.

Almost immediate upon his landing, Feanor's army was set upon by a vast army of Morgoth's orc. But still with the light of Valinor in their eyes the Noldor utterly crushed the orcs. Feanor pursued them towards Angband with his army, but so great was he that he outstripped them all and came alone to Angband. There he was attacked and slain by Gothmog and other Balrogs. His sons came up in time to reach him before he perished from his wounds, cursing Morgoth thrice before he expired. Feanor's son Maedhros was captured and hung from a precipice of Thangorodrim.

Not long after these events, Fingolfin's host arrived and they too were attacked. They too were victorious and the orcs were routed. Maedhros was rescued by Fingon, son of Fingolfin, and Thorondor, greatest of all eagles, though they had to sever Maedhros' hand to achieve it. In gratitude Maedhros made Fingolfin High King of all the Noldor and thus repaired much that was broken between the two houses. The houses of the Noldor then settled in the lands south of Angband, but they neglected to take a chance to destroy Morgoth while he was at his weakest. Instead they built there kingdoms and reached out to the Sindar in friendship.

Some seventy-five years after this, Morgoth issued from Angband with a new army. But he moved too soon, ere his armies were at a strength to contest the might of the Noldor. After initial successes, the combined might of the Noldor drove the orcs back within Angband. Then the Noldor raised a great siege against Morgoth, but though they watched it for 400 years, Morgoth's fastness was so great that they were unable to invest it.

At the end of 400 years Morgoth issued forth in renewed strength, breaking the siege and smashing the armies of the Noldor. He unleashed rivers of fire over the plains before Angband, turning it into Anfauglith, the "choking dust", an arid wasteland. Another new terror Morgoth released, Glaurung and the rest of the Uluroki, wingless dragons. Some of the elven realms and fortresses were captured, though Maedhros' own fastness on the summit of the hill of Himring held fast. In despair, Fingolfin rode alone across the Anfauglith to challenge Morgoth to single combat. The High King of the Noldor, wounded Morgoth seven times, but Morgoth slew him and crushed his body into the dust. Morgoth's orcs ran amok through Eastern Beleriand and the Noldor retreated to their strongholds.

Thus we come to our time and place, fifteen or so years on from that battle. The houses of the Noldor are beginning efforts to regain their lands and take the battle once more to Morgoth...

OOC: The places in this RP are already taken because this has been the subject of several people's planning. In the future I may ask for more players. I know there may be factual errors in my summary. It is just that, a summary. Read the Silmarillion if you want the full story.

The link below is a map of Beleriand. I've linked it rather than embedding it for bandwidth theft reasons.

http://ardentwebdesign.com/tolkien/belmap.shtml


Last edited by Anarion on Fri Dec 12, 2008 11:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Fri Dec 12, 2008 8:10 pm 
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East of Himring

The marches of Maedhros are not the secure realms of the Noldor that they once were. Though the land does not bear the scars of Morgoth's ravages, as does the Anfauglith, it is still a land now fraught with peril since the onset of Morgoth's latest fury at the Dagor Bragollach. To the west, rising highest of the hills separating Himlad from Lothlann, lies Himring, its flat summit crowned with the mighty fortress of Maedhros himself. The great stone battlements are scorched and scored from the siege of Morgoth's armies but not even the Uluroki could find a way into this bastion ruled by the eldest son of Feanor. To the east the hills fade away slowly into Maglor's Gap, the easternmost pass leading into Beleriand. The gap itself is only a few leagues, before the hills resume, rising into the towering Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains. South lie the fertile lands of East Beleriand and Ossiriand now cursed with a plague of Morgoth's minions. The sons of Feanor still seek to drive the last of these enemies from their ancient realms. North of the marches and west lies the Anfauglith itself, that dusky plain leading straight to the very gates of Angband, from when the old enemy still issues his legions. Against these foes do the houses of Maedhros and his brother Maglor still stand, waiting, watching, guarding.

Amongst these forested hills stride four Noldor, making their way surely along a path invisible to many eyes, heading toward Himring. Though these lands are mostly clear of Orcs, they move swiftly but silently for the most part. Even garbed in chainmail they are all but noiseless. Orc raids are not unknown even still, but even without them... not all eyes that may watch them, of bird and of beast, are friendly. And the Noldor have a purpose, for their great lord, Maedhros has issued a summons to the leaders of his house. The late afternoon sun is already waning, and Himring will not be reached before nightfall, it is still a full day's journey away.

"We should find a place to rest for a time," says the Noldo in the lead. As all elves, the Noldor have no need for slumber, but rest and sustenance are always welcome. He pauses to look for a response from his companions, all of them tall and dark-haired like himself, in the way of all the Noldor. The Noldo behind him wore light, blue and grey robes over his chainmail. A golden circlet held back his long black hair. A longbow was strapped to his back. The remaining two were more non-descript, dressed for travel, though one bore a staff in addition to the longsword at his side, and the other, bringing up the rear, carried a large shield. There were nods of assent at his words.

OOC: left you all to introduce yourselves to the game (not to each other since your characters clearly know one another).


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PostPosted: Sat Dec 13, 2008 11:11 pm 
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Angloth nodded in agreement, the main of his thought elsewhere. As all Noldor he had raven hair, though it was of shoulder length and held in check by a simple silver ciclet of twining leaves. Upon his shoulder lay a cloak of summer green with white interior. This was pinned to his chainmail suit by two round clasps of a similar green. In these a stylied flower sat of gold, 3 petals above a stem, the mark of his smith craft. Around his waste sat a belt of leather upon which hung a longsword of elvish steel. In the hilt again could be seen the flower mark among twining leaves, the pommel as two camelias flowering from the hilt. The large shield held loosely in his hand like a spear point in shape. Of burnished gold colour, engravings spread around it and again in the centre sat his emblem.
So stood Angloth as discussion of where to rest occured.

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PostPosted: Sun Dec 14, 2008 2:32 pm 
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The dying embers of the setting sun waned upon the canvas that was Ainare's glistening breastplate, resplendent with intricate engravings. Upon his waist a belt bearing life and deathl lazily slumped down his hip onto his legs; a longsword of the finest Noldorian creation, and the finest herbs burgeoning from the leather satchel. Trailing down his back like a wild river, Ainare's hair was pulled and tied back, even still however, it refused to be tamed and rogue strands of hair invaded his face and ears. Shifting his weight upon his staff, Ainare surveyed the lay of the land, before turning to the Noldor to his immediate left "I dare say we should not tarry for long brother."


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PostPosted: Sun Dec 14, 2008 4:21 pm 
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Elenquenwë looked back at his brother. His braided jet black hair waved swiftly in the cold wind. He drew his light blue cloak lined with motifs of the Trees of Valinor closer around him as he surveyed the surroundings. Dusk was indeed approaching and ever since Dagor Bragollach these land haven't been safe. Still attacks and raids had been few and far in between.

He nodded. "I agree brother." His melodic voice gave comfort to the others. "We should remain vigilant and keep up our guard, these lands are not safe."

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 3:32 am 
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Alcarmor Aranion, scion of noble line, stood heedless of the biting chill wind. His cloak of emerald and orpiment swirled about a habergeon of silver. Upon his head sat a high helm, and a blade sheathed in gold was girt upon his hip.

"It is a wind that blows from Thangorodrim," he said. "I can feel the breath of Morgoth Bauglir upon it. His malice strains towards us, but it shall avail him not."

"There is a place nearby I know well. There we can find shelter from the elements."

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"Ask every person if they've heard the story,
And tell them, loud and clear, if they have not:
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Called Camelot.

Don't let it be forgot
That once there was a spot
For one brief shining moment
That was known as Camelot."


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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 5:25 am 
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Alcarmor leads the group off the path to Himring, twisting through the trees and up a series of small rises. After some thirty minutes of this march he stops where the thickets seem at their most dense. Alcarmor pulls some of the gorse aside to reveal a narrow cleft in the hillside, just wide enough for an elf to slip through. Inside, the cleft broadens into a cave, gloomy but not full dark, for the light of the sun and moon slips through a shaft up to the hilltop. Alcarmor picks up a smooth glassy stone from near the entrance and brushes his hands over it briefly. A soft blue light emanates from the stone, casting its glow over the cave. It is dry and secure, but looks as if it hasn't been used for some time. "I'd nearly forgotten this place," says Alcarmor. On some shelves hewn in the rock are packs of elven waybread, and dried meat and fruit. Several finely crafted casks hold water that, despite how long it may have been there, is still fresh. The Noldor rest for an hour, as the sun sets in the west. When night falls, clearly evident by the change in light from the shaft above the cave, they set out, Alcarmor again in the lead.

The moon rises, but the night is cloudy and occasionally the clouds flit across the moon, causes darkness to settle over the forested hills. Alcarmor is unmoved by light or dark, keeping steadily to his course as the night deepens. As the midnight approaches the party reach the top of a hill above a small clear valley below. A herd of harts graze there. The stag is clearly skittish, but the wind is against the group so it is not their scent that grieves the beast. Alcarmor raises a mailed fist to signal a halt and ducks off the path out of the dark skyline. Angloth, Ainare and Elenquenwe quickly follow suit.


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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 8:06 am 
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Angloth gripped his shield tighter in preparation. Whether it was friend or foe it was best to be prepared. Quickening his pace, he came just behind Alcarmor ready to leap to his lords defence.

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 8:27 am 
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Alcarmor drew his sword. The blade of Silorme shone with a silver gleam, like a star behind mists. The elflord crouched down, eyes strained to catch sight of that which had startled the deer.

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And tell them, loud and clear, if they have not:
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Called Camelot.

Don't let it be forgot
That once there was a spot
For one brief shining moment
That was known as Camelot."


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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 9:19 am 
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The minstrel smiled to himself. At least the stars would be on their side tonight. He followed the others closely and silently while his trusty bow Telpëlussë appeared in his hand. It was a beautiful crafted weapon lined with gold filigree in a simple pattern over the Mallorn wood and light as a feather.

His other hand went to his brow as he keenly scouted for any signs of ambush and how they could use the terrain to their advantage if needed.

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 2:46 pm 
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Elenquenwe is the first to spot the disturbance. Upwind from the deer several indistinct shapes move in the darkness, heading on a course that will intersect the group's own. Orcs!

They are nowhere near as silent and stealthy as elves, though they are doing their best to advance with caution. Elenquenwe counts half a dozen that he can see. The deer scatter as the orcs near them. Six is a small group, normally the orcs travel in bands greater in numbers than this.

Elenquenwe quickly notes that if the Noldor stay silent and still they will pass by without noticing him and his companions at all. But they are also in an advantageous position to attack and will have the element of surprise. The lead orc carries a great axe in one hand, the others bear naked scimitars.


Last edited by Anarion on Mon Dec 15, 2008 3:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 3:18 pm 
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Ainare drew his sword and softly spoke the eldritch verses of power, concluding with a single powerful word, which in turn resulted in a feint line of light tracing its way across his sword, dipping and weaving across the blade and runes.


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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 4:14 pm 
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Elenquenwë crouched next to Alcarmor and pointed at the orcs, now clearly visible to the minstrel, now that he knew where to look.
He trusted the Captain to lead the ambush as he silently found a hiding spot, cloaked himself amidst the foliage and aimed at the leader. He breathed slowly to steady his aim and patiently waited for the signal for the attack to unleash the rage of the Noldor upon the unsuspecting orcs

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 4:58 pm 
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The orc captain is an experienced tracker and Ainare's slight release of power and the resultant faint light across his drawn sword do not go unnoticed. He snarls a guttural command and points. The orcs cautiously begin to close on Ainare's position. They can overmatch a lone Noldo but they proceed with care, wary of an ambush.

Elenquenwe, elegantly hidden in the thickets not far from Ainare's position, remains unnoticed, as do Angloth and Alcarmor. The Noldor still hold the upper hand, but the orcs will not be easy to surprise now. Two of them begin to flank Ainare.



OOC: If you make a post while I'm not online and you want to include an action that requires a test just let me know. You can either give me an roll value (with your skill and attribute mods) and I'll apply a TN and any relevant additional modifiers. Or you can just say what your attempting and I'll make the roll for you. This can apply to combat actions or any other skill test.


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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 7:07 pm 
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Alcarmor tensed, waiting for the opportune moment. When he judged it had arrived, he flung himself foward, a cry of "Elbereth!" upon his lips. Silorme flashed in his hand as he hewed at the hated enemy, attempting to cut his way through to the leader.

(Stealth roll: 15)

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"Ask every person if they've heard the story,
And tell them, loud and clear, if they have not:
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Called Camelot.

Don't let it be forgot
That once there was a spot
For one brief shining moment
That was known as Camelot."


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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 8:06 pm 
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Ainare moves swiftly away from where he had been standing as the four orcs surge up the hill toward them. His movement is not noticed at first but he does not get far before the orc captain sees him and moves to intercept.

But his move is not as swift as the other Noldor's. Alcarmor's launched attack is a total surprise to the orcs. But even he is not as swift as a flighted arrow, and Elenquenwë's grey-fletched arrow hurtles past Alcarmor and nestles into the chest of the orc captain. Such is the creatures armor and skin that it only serves to enrage him. Not so the attack of the elf lord. Alcarmor's charge downhill and the hewing stroke of Silorme smash through the orc's defenses causing a great rent in its chest. The impetus of Alcarmor's attack causes the orc to stumble and fall. Two of the others slash wildly at him, one swipe finding its mark even as Alcarmor parried desperately. Noldorin blood flowed from the wound as he only managed to deflect it with an upraised arm.

Angloth, holding the rear, is about to go to their aid when the remaining two orcs suddenly burst from the brush near him. He has no choice but to interpose himself on them, or they will take Alcarmor and Ainare unawares.

Elenquenwë steps from his hiding place, and with the full force of his melodic voice shouts "Fear the wrath of the Noldor!" His compatriots are surprised at the outburst for it is in a tongue they don't recognize. Neither do the orcs, for the dialect is not their own, but the word for Noldor is the same in all of them and one of the orcs facing Alcarmor loses heart and flees. The others are cut from sterner stuff.

As the orc captain attempts to rise, Alcarmor plants a booted foot onto its chest and drives Silorme through his throat. Ainare's first attack on the remaining orc drives home despite its attempt to evade. The orc reels back from the blow. Dazed, its blinded swings trouble only the air in front of Ainare. The last orc closes on Elenquenwë.


Last edited by Anarion on Mon Dec 15, 2008 8:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 8:18 pm 
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Elenquenwë dropped his bow and drew his long knife. This was battle, words and courage coursed through his veins.

"My friends." He yelled yet again, this time in the language of the Quendi. "Do you remember the plains of Ard-Galen under the starry night blessed by Elbereth, how easy it was to ambush these filthy orcs?" He laughed genuinely at the memory bringing forth a fountain of willingness to fight, inspiring his comrades to greater deeds.

The orc paying only heed to the elf and not the words jumped on the minstrel, who defended himself to the best of his ability against the much stronger orc. His knife barely fended off the initial attack, but the backslash caught Elenquenwë in the left shoulder and he screamed in pain from the deep wound.

OOC: everyone got +2 armed combat for 2 rounds due to inspiration

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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 1:20 am 
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Lion-hearted Alcarmor could feel the wound in his arm, but courageously drove the pain from his mind. He left the fallen orc-captain behind him, turning to confront the orc menacing Elenquenwe with swift strokes.

(Alcarmor reduces damage taken by 5, to a total of 4. Alcarmor loses 1 Courage.)

_________________
"Ask every person if they've heard the story,
And tell them, loud and clear, if they have not:
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Called Camelot.

Don't let it be forgot
That once there was a spot
For one brief shining moment
That was known as Camelot."


Last edited by Calarion Sapherior on Tue Dec 16, 2008 1:56 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 1:49 am 
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Alcarmor covers the space swiftly, honor is not for the orcs. He plunges his sword into the orc warrior from the back, the thrust parting chain mail like water and coming through the other side. Desperately wounded the orc pitched forward, leaking blood from the holes left in it by Silorme.

Elenquenwë steps in, long knife arcing upward to take the toppling orc in the eye, piercing its brain. The orc is dead before it hits the ground.

OOC: orcs aren't much of a match for you one on one, Cal. That was another critical.


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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 2:55 am 
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Sword in hand, Ainare streaked through the dying light like a star keen on inflicting its terrible punishment upon the fell Orcs. Swinging and flailing wildly a poor strike was deflected by staff-shaft, only to be repaid in full; an upward thrust, impaling the Orc, raising him from the ground for even but a moment before crashing to the ground run-through, striking the ground with the appearance and force of the Star that might have been responsible.


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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 10:04 am 
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Angloth slipped his blade from the sheath silently upon hearing Elenquenwe speak of the yrch.
An ambush seemed the wisest course, till Ainare lit up as a star newly wrought by Elbereth. Then all broke loose as Lord Alcarmor charged with a cry towards their brutish leader.
Just as he is about to follow, two more burst forth in aim of surrounding the others. His ire raised, he strode forth to meet them. The light in his eyes burning the more fierce as the tale of Ard-Galen emboldens him further.
The foul mockeries of elven form advanced, jagged scimitars held high. It was poetry in motion, a dance of death that Angloth unleashed. Like a snake strike, his longsword darted out, sliding through a gap in ones piecemeal armour. The air hissed as Angloth bent like a reed under the strike of the other. Slashing upwards, blood sprayed from its sword arm as he moved between them. The first orc slashed down on air as Angloth piveted into a final sweeping strike. Two heads fell to the grass.
"Namarie," he called as he flicked the blood from the sword and went to see how the others faired.

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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 3:19 pm 
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Ainare withdrew his sword from the corpse of the Orc, and turned to survey the battlefield. Alcarmor had decisively dealt with his foes and then some, Angloth was easily holding his own against a flanking pair of Orcs, and it seemed that in the midst of this skirmish his brother, Elenquenwë, had been wounded. With the remaining Orcs dying, Ainare sheathed his sword, and reached within his pouch, withdrawing a pale green leaf. Working the leaf into a paste-like consistency whilst walking, Ainare applied the herbal poultice to the wicked shoulder wound.


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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 3:36 pm 
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The orcs easily dispatched, save for the one that fled, the four Noldor resume their course toward Himring, sparing no thought for the corpses they left behind. The birds and beasts will take care of that. Alcarmor resumes the lead, with Angloth again acting as the rearguard and the brothers Ainare and Elenquenwë between.

In the early morning they pause once to rest and it is just past midday when they arrive at the hill of Himring. The base of the hill is wooded, but the way leading up to the summit is broad. Near the summit, the trees have been cleared away, leaving Himring bald save for the fortress of Maedhros carved into it. The peak of the hill has been cut into sheer cliffs fifty feet high on all sides by skilled Noldorin masons. Low battlements have been built on top of these cliffs, enfiladed for archers and replete with defensive siegecraft. A single way up is carved into the southern cliff face, wide enough for several wagons to pass abreast, leading up to the wrought steel gates. Himring contains vast cisterns and storehouses and a single glance tells enough as to how Maedhros could withstand the assault of Morgoth's armies in the Dagor Bragollach.

The great hall of Maedhros is at the center of the fortifications, a long low stone building, it's great mallorn doors intricately carved with the trees of Valinor. The eldest son of Feanor himself is there to greet the party as they enter, along with his brother Maglor. Others of his trusted lieutenants are present as well, among them his other 5 brothers, as are the Bor and Ulfang and their sons, leaders of the Edain allies of the Noldor. Maedhros is deserving of his appellation, 'the Tall'. Few among the Noldor are as tall as he. His reddish brown hair is long, falling loose around his shoulders. The left sleeve of his robe is sewn shut, to hide the disfiguring stump of that handless arm.

Maglor's daughter Tiniel is present as well, and catching sight of Elenquenwë she offers him a smile of greeting, sending a rush of warmth up his spine.

"Be welcome," says Maedhros. "We have been awaiting your arrival, for you are the last to arrive of those I have called. Refresh yourselves, for I would have your counsel too."


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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 3:54 pm 
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Elenquenwë bowed deeply. "Maedhros, eldest son of Fëanor, thank you for your invite to the council." He turned a little before he bowed graciously again. "My liege, Maglor, good to see you again."

The minstrel offered Tiniel a hidden smile, not to rouse suspicions in these dire times. He stepped a little backwards behind the others all the while he wondered why their sister Nimlorn wasn't there to greet them with her gentle spirit and pleasant smile.

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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 4:10 pm 
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Not long after this, the council begins. "My friends," begins Maedhros, "long has Morgoth been a scourge to us and all that we hold dear. In the past we have had opportunity to rid the world of his dark shadow, but we have turned aside to our own interests and idly let him rebuild his might. Even so that the flower of our people has faded and been burned as is an all too familiar memory for us all. Yet still are we bound by our oath before the Valar."

"And now I perceive that Morgoth nears a precipice, from which if his might reaches it, it will become so vast, that falling upon us, it would destroy us all. Even now he picks away at us, one by one. Has not Ard-Galen been burned and Dorthonion lost? Is not Sauron holding Tol Sirion? Yet we are not so weak that we can not yet stay him. United we can ruin him. Thus I have called this Union and so you have answered, my brothers and my friends, as well as you my noble allies of the Edain." Bor and Ulfang inclined their heads at the acknowledgment.

"Yet," continues Maedhros, "This alone will not avail us, we need more help, and more is available to us. Further, we need know more about the enemy's strength and intentions before we can strike at him."

"Thingol's borders are closed to us, I expect no help from him, though I will call on him anyway. Turgon has hid his city and will not aid us I fear. Where else shall we turn?"

Maedhros looks around the great table. "We are all equals here, let me hear your counsel. Whither should we go, and what aid can you offer this union?"


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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 4:35 pm 
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"You see far and wide Maedhros and your counsel is full of wisdom."

His voice was melodious and his bearing fair as he told the tale of the flight from Gap of Maglor and the destruction wraught by Glaurung, the mighty Urulóki. The tale was known to everyone assembled, but still the minstrels play with words, woven by his descriptive tongue inspired them all.

He kept silent for a while to let his tale settle in their minds before he continued.
"The drake is a powerful foe and is not to be underestimated....but our stout allies, the dwarfs are not easily broken against its might. I suggest we should seek them out, turn their way for aid and reinforcements."

He bowed as was custom and returned to his seat.

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Last edited by Shandiar on Tue Dec 16, 2008 4:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 4:40 pm 
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"Fingolfin's House and kin have ever been staunch allies of you and yours Lord Maedhros, it would be prudent to approach them for assistance in this matter."


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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 4:55 pm 
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The assembled elves and men are captivated by Elenquenwë's tale. When he sits again Maedhros stirs and shakes his head slowly. "The Naugrim, indeed," responds Maedhros. "A wise suggestion, minstrel."

He also nods at Ainare. "Aye, Fingon assuredly will share our interest, and the house of Hador as well."

"My lord," it is Bor, rising to address them. "More of our kin will come from beyond the Ered Luin should we call upon them." Behind him, Ulfang nods in agreement. Others speak up as well and soon all the options are laid upon the table.

The house of Fingolfin in Hithlum, with the men of the house of Hador.
The men of the House of Haleth in the forest of Brethil.
The Naugrim of Nogrod and Belegost.
The house of Turgon in Gondolin.
The elves of Nargothrond under Orodreth.
The elves of Doriath under Thingol.
The men of the Houses of Bor and Ulfang beyond Ered Luin.

"To all these we must send envoys if we can," says Maedhros. He looks at Alcarmor, Ainare, Angloth and Elenquenwë. "I would have you represent me in one of these endeavours. Choose."

OOC: up to you guys to decide where you will go first. Gondolin and Doriath are not options. Maedhros will contact them by other means than you. Likewise the Easterlings, Bor and Ulfang will contact.


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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 7:50 pm 
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"My lord," Alcarmor said, "it seems unto me that without the aid of the High King, this endeavour should prove to be futile, and with his word backing yours, many who might otherwise hesitate shall flock to your banner. High King Fingon has ever been a friend and an ally of yours. As your kinsman it would be my honour to win his support for your cause."

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That once there was a spot
For one brief shining moment
That was known as Camelot."


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PostPosted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 8:19 pm 
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His mind was at ill, they had not yet discussed the raid of the Orcs. It was not his place to raise such matters.
"I am but a smith of the Noldor, I will go whence my lord leads me." Bowing, he re-took his seat just behind Alcarmor.

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