A World of Danger: Part One

[Tessar]

You missunderstand, I have no problemo with you're post but I think that Leif will.

[Mathron]

Two dozen orcs sat in the small and silent room, watching out the front windows of Angband, and tossing uneasy glances at their commander. Guard duty at the gate was never pleasant, and though a few hundred more orcs and other various creatures of the dark were alongside the walls and ground below, they were still not permitted to speak or mutter amongst themselves, lest an example be made of them. And, worst of all, a prisoner was loose in the tower somewhere.
Their commander, a dark armored man from the elite warriors of the army, stood in a corner, hand on his sword, looking darkly at the orcs serving under him, and tossing glances at the doorways every few moments.
Outside the room, hidden in shadow, Malagar and Elenia prepared to make their assault.

[Lief Erikson]

The Nightrider fell back to the floor, stunned by the onslaught. Who was this girl? It must be some personal revenge that was inspiring this. Perhaps he had killed a relation of hers in the past; those were the only times he'd known of when the weak could overstep the bounds of their strength to such an extent. But she could not resist him.

He was not too surprised, when he looked up, to see that she was already beaten though, swooning at his feet. This would take no effort.

Picking himself up, he was surprised to find that he'd had difficulty in doing so. She must have dealt his physical body some pretty severe wounds to get to that extent. He'd take a moment to recover.

He stepped back, lowered his hand towards her throat.

A hand that was sliced off a second later.

He stared up in shock as a boot took him in the stomach and an elf leapt for his chest. "FOR DORIATH!" he screamed, seizing the Nightrider by the throat, raising his sword and . . .

being thrown to the ground a second later by a backhanded blow from his adversary. The Nightrider snarled for an instant in pain and anger, but those emotions were sucked away a moment later.

Erenfor picked himself up, the cold a dead counter point to the wrath in his heart. An inferno of emotion much like that of the other woman's, the Nightrider realized belatedly. As a matter of a fact, it appeared that everyone was feeling that most of the slaves were fighting with that wrath and desperation now. Orcs were falling, the battle was already nearly lost. This was not his day.

[Mathron]

Tal watched Erenfor, filled with a mad strength, running ahead of him into the midst of the slaves fighting orcs and fleeing something in terror. Moments later, Tal pushed past them two, slicing down two orcs in anger as he went by. And froze, staring in shock at the scene before him.

Erenfor stood facing a creature of darkness and midnight... of more than that, a shade darker than pitch, a shade of absent color. A creature that radiated malice as it advanced. Irid was nearly collapsed on the floor, shivering with an unnatural cold. And there, across the corridor, crouched one of the slaves, a vicous slash on one arm from the Nightrider's attack, but determination and willfullness still in her gaze as she watched the creature. El'nela.

The anger in Tal's heart finally faded, the bitterness went away. A smile danced, briefly, upon his lips. He raised his blade, eyes flashing, and stepped up beside Erenfor, ready to battle as he never had before.

[Lief Erikson]

And this new opponent didn't appear to be the only one, the Nightrider reflected. Several other slaves were moving in on him, their eyes blazing. Ill placed wrath; he hadn't been the one responsible for all this. But the Nightrider knew that the battle was already lost. He was almost the only one left; there were only small knots of enemies in other places nearby, surrounded and being cut down.

Two other slaves stepped forward, and then five more, and then ten. Erenfor and Tal were on him, a host of others also attacking.

The Nightrider knew when he'd met his match. He could not face their fury, not now, not here.

Twisting around, he leapt out the other doorway, blasting blue fire back into them as a counterattack as he fled. Three fell from the fresh wounds scalded into them, but the others lunged, screaming with wrath.

The Nightrider twisted up a spiral staircase, thrust out flame at the roof and let it cave in.

The stones collapsed in the faces of the pursuers as the rock stair above caved in, blocks of rock covered in twisting, curling fire.

"Back!" Erenfor screamed. "Get back, everyone!"

The slaves fell back, the last of them dodging back into the hall just in front of the crumbling wall of rock and flame.

The tower crumbled, collapsing inwards upon itself and smashing to bits on the ground. As the long plume of gray smoke began to rise from the place of its destruction, Vardor looked at it from a field beyond and he knew that this was one stronghold that was finally defeated.

He'd fought hard to keep it, but what he had done had risen back in his face to threaten him. There was no way he could have anticipated that two different attacks would come at once at his secret location. The anger of underlings had risen up, and he'd have to be careful next time. This was one mistake he'd never make again.

Turning around, he suddenly saw someone he'd not expected. Striding across the field nearby, one lone figure. A brown speck on the golden field, the man walked towards him, stopping ten paces from him. "Vardor?" the man asked.

"Orpholin."

"I am here," Orpholin answered, and in his smile there was no warmth.

[Irid al'Menie]

Rising... Ever rising. One everlasting moment long she felt no boundries... No past, no present, no future. Not even a name to keep her from going ever up. then it stopped. She didn't rise anymore, nor did she fall. A presence behind her. She turned around, an animal... She could not give it a name, all words were lost, forgotten. All she could do was observe. It turned around, and looked back as it wished to be followed... Sounds reflected, but had no meaning. Instincively she knew she had to follow. It went down, not up. No regret she felt, nor relief. The only feeling she had was an urge to follow the animal...
From up above she saw some stronghold... Though still no words came to her mind... Still they went down, the stronghold came nearer. They seemed to go through the wall, still going down. They came in a room, with some people in it. She saw some were dressed in rags, others were dressed better. Two resembled very much.
The animal stepped on firm ground, and walked towards a body lying on the ground. Somehow she knew what she had to do. She lied down too, next to the body. Then she seemed to be dragged in it.

Slowly Irid opens her golden eyes. She had the feeling a cold had been in her body, but now it was gone. She knew she was still connected with the animal, though she couldn't see it anymore. She sat up, let her eyes wander over the people.
Still she found no words. She heard others speaking, but the sounds coming out of their mouths were meaningless.
She shook her head, trying to tell the one that was speaking to her she couldn't understand him.

One presence she felt very clearly... It was very far, though coming nearer...

(OOC: that presence is Flyer who is coming to the stronghold. Whoever's talking to me, u guys decide...)

[Mathron]

Dain leaned down beside Irid, making sure she was stable. He stood on a balcony outside the corridor the fight had finished in, and the light of the stars gleamed across his battle-weary features.

"It's ok, girl... the battle's over. We've won."

Blinking, she looked up at him, and shook her head, then winced at the sudden pain before lying down again.

Dain sat back, glad she was, at least, going to survive, and looked around. Slaves and orcs lay dead on the ground everywhere, and even his companions bore injuries. Tal, though, sat with peaceful eyes beside his El'nela, talking softly of both sadness and joy. The demons that plagued the elf were gone. Irid and Tessar were the worst off of them, and should both be able to walk and act, if with care, by the end of the day.

Angar, all but untouched, walked over beside the dwarf, looking concerned.

"We have bested the servants, but does not the master still remain?" asked the dark elf, and Dain shrugged.

"Another is battling with Vardor, and his fortress here is fallen. And that battle, I think, is a private one."

Angar replied coldly, "Yet should we not join in, to do all we can to end any part of Melkor's forces."

Dain looked away for a moment, and then said softly, "Did you know that this fortress was, among other things, a watchtower for Angband. Vardor's distance from his lord was to, among other things, serve to warn Morgoth of approaching enemies."

He paused, and then continued, "This tower is fallen. Vardor is occupied. That was my goal... and, I assure you, even if Vardor survives, Melkor's evil is soon to end. And if Vardor does rise up to do mischief again, it will be many years away, long after we all have perished or faded away..."

He turned and looked to the west, where the sky was brightening, though it still remained midnight. "They are coming," he whispered softly to himself, and then turned back to helping caring for the wounded.

[Tessar]

Dang! you got to it first!

[Irid al'Menie]

Words... Words came flowing in her mind. The first word she knew again was... Wolf. Then she remembered... Irid. And Runner... And Tal and Dain and Tessar and names kept coming, and then other words, fortress and room and family... After that Other things dropped back in. Images of her past, her parents being killed by orcs, the wolves that took care of her, the old man in the forest that thought her much of her skill with daggers. She remembered things that happened, things she normally had forgotten. But it all came back

With a sigh Irid wakes up again. She can now hear and understand everything being said. She looks at Dain.

"It's ok again, Dain. I can understand you again."

Her arms were hurting. She looked at them, saw they were covered in bandages, she knows Dain had done that, and she smiles at him.

"Thank you, my friend. I think i could use some rest now... But where..."

[Lief Erikson]

"Of your own will," Vardor remarked as he looked more closely at Orpholin. "But you've come for a different purpose. To kill me; haven't you?"

Orpholin was silent, his face like stone. The wind whipped his tattered gray cloak about him, mingling with his long gray hair as it flowed out around his face.

"You have already crossed half the boundary then toward darkness. You'd kill your own brother." Vardor smiled; a small, sad smile. But a real one. He turned his head to the side, the black of his hood obscuring his face as he looked down, to the side, past Orpholin.

"My family existed in darkness for ages, ever since a curse from one of our fathers, I don't know how far back in lineage. I am the first who has ever resisted."

"You cannot go without the power," Vardor responded. "None ever could. And eventually your method for taking your strength but leaving the darkness will slip. Just once, moving too hastily, that's all it takes." He raised his head, staring the old man coldly in the eyes, his voice rough and hard. "You have no choice."

"Then I will abstain from using it."

Vardor laughed. "Will you now?" he asked in an amused voice.

He struck swiftly, like an adder, catching Orpholin under the chin and throwing him back several feet to hit the ground and roll.

"You have aged, brother," he said as he approached. "I have not. I will never age, not ever. The gift of an elf, Morgoth has given me. And he will give you that too; take it before it is too late."

Orpholin struggled up, crouching on the dried grass.

"Brother, you have lost, whatever you choose to do. I have sought you all this time, because you are my brother. You are my family."

"Then why do you fight me?" Orpholin snarled, standing completely on his feet. "Family? Paugh! I reject you, Vardor! I reject you forever!"

The dark shrouded figure shook his head slightly, as if weary with a silly child. The move enraged his opponent, and Orpholin seized magic through the net, tearing out the raw source and hurtling it at his adversary. The ground was blackened and the dried grass burnt completely away in the space of two seconds, and the inferno passed, Vardor standing in the middle of where it had struck.

Orpholin struck again, a roaring flame lifting up from the ground to surround the figure, whipping around and around him, and he strained to drive the flames inwards and crush the enemy. The brilliance flared in the darkness, casting away the shadows of night for a short time, but they rebounded off an invisible force, and Vardor laughed. A long, loud laugh, peeling into the trees.

Fire blazed and roared, clubs of it striking at the figure, pummeling it with a strength that should have torn it to pieces. Vardor's laugh rose higher and higher, and Orpholin could feel it through his bones.

The net . . . his mind feebly groped, and suddenly he realized what was happening. He thrust it all away, all of it. The dark power was almost in him. The net had grown threadbare with his tearing pull. He had nearly slipped away completely.

He raised his head, wincing in pain as light seemed to flare in his eyes. He looked out at the figure standing across from him on the field, the same ten pace distance still separating them. But he was no longer laughing.

"You nearly killed me there," Vardor said in a low voice. "Try again; perhaps you'll be more fortunate."

"No." Orpholin's voice was hoarse. "You'll never take me, Vardor."

"You'll never escape the power."

"I have passed the test." Orpholin stepped away from his adversary, sadness filling him for the creature that had been his brother. Turned and twisted in evil. Gone was all that had been good in him. "I am leaving."

There was a long silence, and finally Orpholin turned and walked away.

He was fourteen steps from his enemy, and he could feel Vardor's eyes on him. Eighteen steps. Twenty two. The enemy still had not struck. Orpholin did not look back. He was forty steps from his enemy now, and near the edge of the field, the boundary to the forest.

He continued walking, suddenly intensely aware of the strange light gleaming around him from far away, the crunch of the dry grass at his feet, the whistle of the wind across the open field.

He had reached the end, the treeline. Only then did he turn, and see the figure still standing in the center of the blackened spot, still watching him.

It hit him all of a sudden and emotion throbbed up in his throat, tears appearing in his eyes. He raised a hand, trying to speak but his words caught in his throat. "Goodbye," he whispered.

"Farewell," Vardor's voice whispered back, and despite the distance, both heard each other.

Orpholin twisted around and disappeared in the trees, his gray cloak fluttering around him.





Vardor fell to his knees on the blackened ground, his hands stretching out and his fingers clawing into the blackened earth. A rough sob burst from his throat, and he crouched in the dust, the folds of his black robes falling around his crouching figure.

In his heart he felt a loss. Something that he couldn't have imagined he would feel at such a time. Orpholin was gone; he had let him go. Why, he couldn't entirely understand, but the emptiness and feeling of being alone wouldn't lessen. Never had he felt so entirely alone.

A shiver wracked his figure and a few tears dropped from his eyes, hitting the blackened, hard ground beneath him and spattering on the ground.

"Lord Vardor?" asked a voice from behind him.

The Nightrider.

Vardor remained as he was for a moment longer, then forced down the emotion, the grief as hard as he'd ever forced anything down. He would be hard enough.

He stood and turned to the Nightrider, staring into its expressionless face. "You want me to return your brethren to you." he said, pulling himself to the matter at hand.

The Nightrider bowed its head.

"It will be seen to," Vardor answered. He still felt this accursed loss. It was weak, and he had to be strong to regain all that he'd lost today. It would indeed take many years, but it would happen. He had all the time in the world. He had to be strong enough.

He glanced to the side and saw the light off to his right, a light spawned by some strange devilry to shine in night and drown the darkness that was his friend. He walked away with the Nightrider, entering the forest, simply becoming two more shadows in the darkness of the trees. The shadows, his home.

[Irid al'Menie]

*OOC: lief: it's midnight, just around... I thought so anyway...*

The presence Irid had felt earlier was coming nearer, but she now knew what and who it was. The wolf Flyer was running towards the fortress. She called him, led him through the different halls. Eventually he appeared in the room everyone was in. He ran towards her. She sat down and held her hand on his nose, sharing the grief of a loss...

*OOC: i'm done... This was my own little plot...*

[Lief Erikson]

Arcon looked upwards as the blackness before his eyes filtered away. He was weak, weaker than he'd been at any time in his life. Pain was still throbbing from his chest, but dulled, it's keen sting gone. He glanced to the side and saw Shelina sitting next to his bedside, dozing.

Hatred shot through him again at the sight of her, but he could do nothing in this weakened state. In this weakened state . . . he looked down at myself. She had tended his wounds! His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Why? After all she'd done.

"Gorthang!" she said suddenly. "You're awake at last!"

He stared up at her coldly, silent.

"I hope my healing you now, keeping you from death will at least purge away part of the debt I owe you," she said as she looked down at him.

Still he didn't answer.

"I'm sorry, Gorthang," Shelina said with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I was young, but a child, and you imposed upon me at an early age. I hated you more than I did anyone, but I did regreted that decision afterwards. I can't believe I'm saying this now, I wouldn't have yesterday. Oh, simply share forgiveness with me, Gorthang, and leave in peace."

"Forgiveness with one who left me to death?" he snapped angrily "Twice?"

"The first time, I'm sorry about. There was no escape had you gone with me anyway, my path immediately after that took a very dangerous turn . . ."


"Go away Gorthang, you unhappy boy! Nobody likes you! Go home to where you belong!"

The boy stepped back, stunned, his tear stained face staring up in shocked disbelief. Then his face hardened and he dashed out the way he'd come, running away, gone from her life. He had always been staring at her, lurking on the edges of her games, and he made her uncomfortable whenever he was near. Once when she had worked up the courage to talk to him, he had made it seem as if he was possessing her, ignoring her desire to leave and dragging her on and on in his excitement. What did he know about humans? She hardly felt any remorse that he was gone, but she knew that what she'd done was very likely bad. She'd have to ask her parents after this was all over, and the town defenders took down all the orcs.

The barn wall fell down with an explosive crash, boards, dust and hey falling everywhere. An orc dashed in, his rough armored figure moving quickly as he swung back his pronged axe and heaved it around, cutting sideways, the full strength of his broad shoulders behind the blow. The weapon took her horse in the throat, cutting through most of the neck. Shelina fell to the ground, her head in her hands, screaming.


"I did my best," Shelina stated as she looked back, "But even at that early age, before I knew what the enemy was like, I was a coward at heart. I knew you would slow me down, and I was bitter towards you. A grudge. One that could have ended your life in death. And I did send you the right way, believe it or not. I didn't want you coming with me, and my anger burst out, but in that anger was a key to your survival. Other children were collecting at Orpholin's house, with whom you were staying."


"I can show you where the family valuables are," she wept as another orc stormed in. The first orc merely leered at her. "I can, I promise! Please, just let me live!"

It strangely struck her that that was precisely what the other boy had said, and she felt remorse in her spur of the moment decision. But she wase too frightened by the situation at hand to give much thought to that. Tears fell from her eyes, for her poor, poor horse and for herself.

"Why should we?" one of the orcs snarled. "A girl wouldn't last two minutes in the work force at Angband. Valuables? Paugh!" The orc stepped forward, raising the axe again.

Shelina fell back against the boards, her back on the hey, screaming.

The orc's blow was suddenly blocked by a figure leaping through the doorway. A strong young man, his gray cloak swirling about him as he moved. One of the defenders; he must be. He sidestepped a blow from the orcish axe and moved forward, stabbing it in the left shoulder, a light wound, but one that caused the orc to go berserk. It lunged, roaring, it's companion close behind, and their target fought, shipping and snapping back and forth in fluid motions, blocking, blocking, blocking, and suddenly he attacked, striking through one of the orcs, dodging the first one's axe and hacking its head off.

He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, and then hurried back to Shelina. "You won't last two seconds out here," he said. "Why didn't you go with the other children who are collecting at my house?" It was Orpholin, one of the best of the defenders, and he intimidated her frightfully. But his hard, gray eyes demanded an answer.

"I sent Gorthang that way, but . . ."

"You sent Gorthang through the village?" Orpholin asked sharply, his face darkening with anger.

"What else could I do? I couldn't take him with me, you don't know what he's like!"

"Foolish girl, of course I know what he's like, he's my charge, my godson! Sending him out there now is little short of murder!"

Shelina burst into tears, sobbing hopelessly. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry! I just couldn't . . . I'm sorry . . ."

Orpholin sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and calming himself. Walking towards her, he put a firm hand on her shoulder. "What's done is done," he said in a heavy voice, "And Gorthang has a way of making himself live in impossible situations. It's still far from impossible out there, we've got a fair chance, so he'll probably make it. But let this be a lesson to you, Shelina."

He cupped her chin in one of his rough, calloused hands and lifted her head so she was looking him in the eye. "Don't ever do any such thing again. Ever. Never hold a grudge against someone for a suspended period of time, it's liable to hurt you both. Yourself probably more than the other person, for it contaminates you with darkness, Shelina. Never let it happen again."

"I won't." Reaching out, she grabbed him around the leg and hugged him close. "I'll do my best."

He smiled to himself for a moment and then lifted her up. "Come, I'll take you out and we'll see what's happening."


"My best wasn't good enough," she said sadly, "But I suppose I had little chance against the tortures Vardor has in store."

"You were tortured by Vardor?" Arcon asked in surprise.

She winced at the memory and shook her head. "It was horrible."


She screamed as the blades drew closer to rake across her body a second time, the burning heat searing her naked flesh. Agony exploded in her and she howled, her voice unstopping.

The orcs merely grinned, and proceeded with what they were doing. The torture continued, agonizing. "Stop, oh please stop!" she screamed.

Vardor's voice broke into her consciousness. "You will serve me, Fore Dog. One way or another, you will serve me."






She cringed as she looked up at the burly, bald man entering her chamber. She cringed now in fear whenever any came near. The cell she was in was completely white, without any adornement whatsoever. Nothing to focus her eyes on.

"What is your name?" the man asked.

"My name is Fore Dog," she whimpered.

"Whom do you serve?"

"Vardor, none other."

The man stared at her, and terror boiled up in her again. Terror that he wouldn't believe her, that he would take her down to the . . . the chamber for another time.

The man smiled unpleasantly and nodded in satisfaction, apparently pleased by what he saw. "How will you serve him?" he continued.


"I was hardened there," Shelina continued. "Weakened and hardened at the same time. Forced to witness things and to do things. I have lived in terror ever since. Terror of Vardor's displeasure, after being brainwashed." She looked him in the eye. "I honestly believe that even now I'd do anything, anything to avoid going through that again." She looked at him more closely. "Now do you see why I betrayed you in the forest for a second time?"

"I begin to," he admitted, unable to help being horrified by what she'd gone through.

"They're fighting Vardor now, out there," she said, glancing towards the back of the hut. "I long with all my being that they'll slay him, and set me free once and for all."

"Don't we all," Gorthang answered grimly.

"So won't you please exchange forgiveness with me?" she asked pleadingly, bending low over his bed. "Let it end here, and now. Let us both follow through with that lesson Orpholin gave me all those years ago, and let the darkness dissapate forever. I know it's a lesson from years long gone by, but it's just as important now as it was then." She bit her lip and turned toward him again. "More."


*Well, Selwyth, there's my best wrap up for their differences, and I personally think he'd better forgive her. Otherwise (Shrugs) otherwise I hardly think he's worth all this effort I'm putting into this .*

[Selwythe]

*Wow, I am 2 weeks busy with school and Lief has done all my work for me! Great job!*

Arcon smiled faintly, an alien feeling in his life that was long robbed of vitality and colour.

"I have toiled long, and lived in darkness, for the longest time, but never," he paused, exhausted by his efforts. "But never in the North, the shrine of my accursed line."

Arcon's breath came in ragged bursts as he struggled to speak coherently.

"It's not your fault. I had to be the heir of the accursed, ever the scourge of the Free Peoples, ever the hated of all the Houses of Elves and Men."

Arcon raised his hand shakingly as the sleeve fell back, and there clasped on his wrist was a bracelet of intricate craftsmanship, glazed in bright mithril.

"The heirloom of my house," Arcon explained softly as Shelina received it. "The treasure given to us by the Eldar before the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, before it fell into the foul touch of the devilry of Morgoth's trappings. Yet never was it tainted, for it is a work of Elven-smiths. On you it is pure."

Shelina clasped the braclet onto her wrist and held his hand as he spoke again with difficulty.

"Forgiveness I will never give, if I were somebody else, but I am...am, Gorthang," he paused, coming to terms with that long-forgotten name. "And Gorthang does not expect kindness or love from anybody, simply because nobody gives them to him, but even now you heal me, and slap me in the face with all I have ever known and experienced, all I have stared at in distate and coldness."

"The darkness lifts. Even now, I sense a battle won far away from here, and I know, I have a premonition, that Arda will once again be free, in our lifetime." Shelina reassured, her lip quivering as she sensed what was to come on a far earlier time than that.

"Nay, not in my lifetime. I am scarred forever. Before, my walled and cold heart spurred me on, distancing me from all emotions, everything beyond revenge, even when I was half-dead. Now I am wounded mortally, and no longer can I disregard the pain. I feel it overloading my senses, and empowering me. I feel it." Arcon lifted Shelina's hand to his mouth and kissed it, as his wounded chest began heaving.

"I will leave, as the last of my line, as I will suffer no heir to tread where I have been. Take my heirloom. Take my sword, and wield them when the envoy comes, as you foresee. My time is ended here, and my quest terminates. Take them, and if you never despised me, join the envoy when it comes forth, crush the North and all the history of my line. Only then can I rest."

Shelina nodded and kissed his forehead, a tear seeping down her cheek, as Arcon's eyes closed. She sat back and watched his form, which seemed suddenly tranquil and weary. She put her ear to his chest and smiled sadly. His bent yet unbroken spirit had finally departed, upon their reconcilliation. His quest, whatever its intended purpose might be, had far achieved its objective.

She closed her eyes in her position, hoping foolishly for a heartbeat, and slept soundly, something she was unable to do until today for a very long time.

[Lief Erikson]

Orpholin entered the small hut where he'd left Shelina. He was weary and emotional, all his fatigue and sorrow on the surface. He had seen a glimmer of the brother he'd once known, so long ago. And he'd been released. He glanced through the open door and found Shelina sleeping. And from his appearance, Arcon was dead.

"So finally you've been released from the pain of this world," Orpholin said sadly as he looked at the young man, seeing again the poor boy who he had looked after in the village, so long ago. "You are at peace at last.

"Shelina?" he said, touching her shoulder and waking her up. "It is time for us to leave this place."

She yawned tiredly and looked up into his eyes with a small smile. "Where shall we go?" she asked, reaching up and touching his hand.

"Wherever the road leads," he answered softly.

"What of the others? Won't they want to know if we're simply going to disappear?"

"Flyer will give the message to the others that we are leaving, if they care. Come, let us leave this place, and this world of danger and darkness. We will find a new home, but here we are done. Forever."







And down the road two figures rode, a young woman and an old man. The leaves of the forest and the grass on the ground seemed somehow brighter than usual to both, and to all else who saw. But none could help but notice that the night of the sky was all but gone, regardless of the late hour.

And in the sky the brilliant light grew as it neared, spreading across Beleriand, and bringing with it the message of a changing world.

[Tessar]

sorry I didn't know I was suposed to end.

thanks Leif.

but I have no idea what to do.....

[Lief Erikson]

*You needn't write the ending of the RPG, if that's what you're thinking. I meant simply the ending of your own character's part in the adventure. That'll be the second to last post; after that Mathron can write the finishing one.

Or are you looking for ideas on how to dispose of your character? I've got plenty of them .*

[Lief Erikson]

*You needn't write the ending of the RPG, if that's what you're thinking. I meant simply the ending of your own character's part in the adventure. That'll be the second to last post; after that Mathron can write the finishing one.

Or are you looking for ideas on how to dispose of your character? I've got plenty of them .*

[Tessar]

(shivers at the look in Leifs eye) uhhhhhhh... well I really haven't got a clue as to what to wright, any ideas would be peachy.

[Mathron]

All you need to do is sum up your characters actions. So, now that you've gone on this quest and helped rescue these slaves and defeat a great enemy, what would he do? Go off in search of more adventure, settle down, etc?
You don't have to have him do anything - he could well just sit there, thinking over what happened and what he wants to do next.

[Tessar]

Ok, I'm sorry, but I can't think of ANYTHING.

If one of you wants to you can do it.

if not then it will take me a whyle to get something.

I'm really sorry but I really cant seem to think at all.