Middle Earth

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Oblivionstem, Apr 14, 2012.

  1. OOC: http://www.iwakuroleplay.com/showthread.php?t=9558


    A cold wind was blowing through middle-earth, it could be felt from the Shire all the way to Mordor. It was the type of cold that made one want to stay in-doors, where it could not penetrate you, the type of wind that made you want to stay in your room, hobbit hole, or caverns, craving nice mug of ale and fall to sleep. Some would say it was the kind of weather which preceded a storm, though there was something eerie about this wind, and no-one, not Elves, nor Wizards could tell what was coming, if anything.

    This particular wind was so ferocious it whipped the salty sea against the cliffs of Umbar, and ripped the mightiest of trees from their roots outside of Rivendell, and wherever else trees might lay their roots down, disturbing even the oldest of the Treebeards who had long ago fallen into a dormant state of sleep, ignoring the events which unfolded around them, but this wind, rustled through their leaves, waking them.

    Something was definitely coming.
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    Moria (Misty Mountains)


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    "Argh! Another mug of ale for me" Cried a rather short (In their standards anyway) Dwarf, pointing towards another of his kind, known as Y'aalin, as he smashed his empty mug against the table of the inn, froth protruding from his mouth as he did so. Quickly, the bartender hurried over to take his mug and re-fill it, worried for not what the Dwarf would do after he had drunk it and become intoxicated, but worried for what he would do if he did not. This what not your average inn either, for it was a Dwarven inn, inside of the great Misty Mountains, which housed the oldest Dwarved kindred, the longbeards. Now, one may be asking why you would need an inn their, surely they all lived in their houses, or well, caves? Definitely not! For Moria is no Man city or town, it is a maze of tunnels and great caverns, filled with marvellous architecture, one could easily get lost within it's depths if they where not to careful, for it is a world, inside of a world.

    Dagnus was sitting in the corner of this particular in, drinking ale himself, rubbing his beard and pondering many mysteries when something extremely off happened, a Dwarf Noble pushed open they great doors, and bustled his way inside, looking around. Now this might not sound too strange, but Nobles where not often found in these parts, in fact, never. The politicians of Moria tended to stay in the upper levels since the reconstruction of the caverns and tunnels, probably in-case the miners dug into another Balrog cavern, which had happened before and killed Durin the VI. Dagnus eyed the Noble suspiciously, who continued to look around until he spotted him, and stared deeply into Dagnus' eyes as he slowly approached. As he grew closer, he pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket, and unravelled it, reading:

    "Dagnus Rugged-Shield, on important matters you have been summoned by the king directly, and the council of elder, who wish to speak to you rather promptly."
    Completely oblivious to the fact that a fight had broken out behind him, and various obscenities where being thrown around in a language only the Dwarves understood.
    Dagnus simply made a 'Hmph' sound, before enquiring "And how d'yeh know that I is him?" to which the noble did not reply, he simply scuttled off, out of the door.
    Sighing heavily as he did so, Dagnus struggled up from his seat, finishing his drink as he did so, pulled up his axe from where he had rest it, and headed outside, following the Noble who led him through a series of well decorated caves, up endless stairs, it was when Dagnus was out of breath did the Noble finally stop, nodding ahead to the cavern where the great council of Elders held their meetings.

    Grumbling to himself as swung open the double doors.
    "What the hell d'these want with me?"

     
  2. "Oye, myrn, how was are the borders?"
    "They're fine today, but there are some tracks in the north heading off into the forest that i'm not sure what they are from, someone tried to cover them. They should be looked at again." The voice of a woman floated from the helmeted soldier sitting on the back of a large horse. The man speaking to her nodded and went off to speak to some of the other riders.

    Myrn dismounted and led her horse to the stables. for now she was staying in the golden city of Edoras with the rest of the riders. There had been too many raids and attacks from all sides and most of the villagers from around the country were there as well. The city on the hill was full to bursting and she had to make her way carefully through the crowded streets. the stable was just as full as the streets, for the people of Rohan were known as the horse lords, and they did need them to be able to cross the high plains of their homeland.

    After the horse was fed, watered, brushed down, and the burden of the riding gear removed, Myrn removed her helmet and made her way to the Hall of the Kings. There was to be business there and she dare not miss it. especially as the first and only female rohirrim rider.
     
  3. Arisha leaped from tree to tree, her bow strapped to her back and her hair swept back from her face with a length of vine. Her arrows were also strapped to her back, and an elvish dagger clenched in one hand- she was in danger, being chased again by those damn Orcs.
    For some reason they believed she had the ring, which was preposterous. She was just quiet, almost like a hobbit but not quite, breaking a branch or a leaf once in awhile. "Little girl..." Their leader called in a mixture of annoyance and amusement, much less than a league away, very close. She picked up speed, leaping to the forest floor and breaking a branch. She swore as an Orc called out to his comrades.

    "She's this way! Over there!"
     
  4. Alateriel stalked through the trees silently. She had caught the trail of a deer not as long as maybe an hour ago, and was becoming for frustrated by the second that she hadn't caught up to the buck yet. She picked up some dry leaves and crumpled them in her hand, releasing the remnants to see which way the wind would carry them, than she repositioned herself so that id she stumbled across the buck, she would be downwind of the creature and be able to stalk close enough to get a shot with the long, curing huntress bow in her hand. She carefully avoided making any noise with her linen boots, which rose to at least her mid calf, and ducked behind a tree.

    It wasn't until at least a half hour later that she had finally caught the buck and held the beast in her sights. She plucked a slender arrow from her back and placed it in the bow, as delicately as if she were stringing an instrument, than took aim. The wind wouldn't cause much of an obstacle for the bow, so she aimed straight on, right at the bucks head. It suspiciously rose it's head and cast it's black gaze around the trees, it's nostrils flaring for the slightest hint of danger. Alateriel smirked to herself, knowing that the buck couldn't see her, and was about to release the arrow when a loud crack echoed through a forest; a branch snapping underneath the weight of a person, than a quiet curse. The buck reared than dashed off into the trees in fear. Alateriel growled quietly to herself and lowered the bow, irritation bubbling up inside of her that she had lost her prey so easily because someone else had to come along and scare it away with their clumsiness.

    She straightened from her crouch, but stayed hidden behind the large oak tree, peeking her head out to see an Elf launch herself forward like a blur. She seemed to be running from something....Or someone, which sparked Alateriel's ever curious manner. She leaned back around the tree, deciding to keep out of this elf's view, intent on seeing what had her so upset, enough to make her run so fast.
     
  5. Arisha was headed towards a clearing she knew was up ahead- it would make the Orcs a good target for her when she hid among the trees.
    She would have to be even faster, so she pushed herself, a streak through the forest, quiet as a hobbit as she reached the clearing, sprinted across, and jumped into a rather large tree. Crouching, she sheathed her knife and nocked an arrow in her bow, ready for the Orcs.

    They came, stumbling through the forest awkwardly but quickly, scaring away any wildlife in the vicinity, the birds fleeing in flocks from their resting places, the deer and squirrells darting away in fright. "WHERE IS SHE?!?!" their leader screamed, and, in anger, stabbed the nearest to him in the chest, who fell to the ground and screamed before it was cut off as another Orc cut off his comrades' head. Arisha shuddered and released the bow, catching one in through the neck. "FIND HER!" the leader sputtered.