Tales of Arda (Open for Players)

[Steel Hyaena]

The missives came in the form of scrolls, each born by a silver dove, left in places where they would be found by their intended recipients. The lettering was in such text as the individual would be able to read—everything from Dwarf-runes to Tengwar script to the simple Common tongue. In each, the message was the same:


Darkness swallows all the lands and we die—Man, Elf, Dwarf and Hobbit alike. But must we do this in silence? While life remains, let us fight the encroaching Dark. I have seen you as I look into my Mirror and know of your deeds. I, Galadriel. Lady of Lothlórien, humbly call to you, that you might aid us in a quest. The danger is great—many who undertake what I propose shall not return. But what shall the world be, if we do not make at least the attempt to save it?

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Come to me, hero. Come to Lothlórien and join the Second Fellowship, and save Middle-earth from the spread of Sauron's poison.

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~Galadriel of Lothlórien~​

 

[Steel Hyaena]

Elsewhere in Middle-earth, in a place much darker than fair Lórien, another hand writes. This hand, deep-grey of skin, traces script no less fine than that of the Lady herself, though the ink is a rusty black and the words scribed on goatskin vellum rather than delicate, fine paper.



Enough. I have had enough.

How cruelly ironic it is that the act of carrying the accursed Ring across the short distance from Sammath Naur to Barad-dûr awakened the other side of my heritage. I am Uruk—but just as much Noldor. And now I see, all too clearly, what my slavish devotion to the Dark Lord has wrought.

I have had enough!

This night, I will end my service to Sauron, the faithless and accursed. To my stronghold in the mountains will I go, to forge plans and workings of my own.. I cannot undo the foul deed I have done, but I can attempt to right it. And then, I shall take those of my people that choose to open their eyes and go North. For, even the Orcs are dying under Sauron's crushing hand. My eyes are open, and mine are not the only eyes that see.

Already do I have a handful, and, in silence, my lieutenants convert Orcs, warrior by warrior. Also do I have my hand amongst the Haradrim and other Men of dark nature. And one by one, they turn to watch the rising of a new sun in these black and tattered skies.

The Black Sun rises. Let its unforgiving light mark the past as a symbol of a new beginning. Let the name of Shavrakh, son of Mauhur at last be known. For Mauhur's black blood is not the only blood within my veins.

I am also the son of Celebrían. And this, I shall prove...

 

[Cerulean]

Cenrid Balwine didn't even see or hear the damn bird coming. There wasn't really a place from him to find the scroll so it had to be directly delivered. It gracefully swooped in and dropped the scroll between him and the fire. It startled the crap out of him. So much so that he jumped back and the piece of meat he had went flying into the grass.

"By the gods!" He exclaimed.

The dove payed him no mind and flew off. He grumbled and grabbed the meat and continued to eat it. Thankfully, his armor was off so moving around wasn't an issue. To somehow punish the dove, Cenrid didn't read the scroll until he was done eating. Wiping off the juices that were left, the warrior poet open the scroll and read the common tongued words.

"The fellowship of the ring failed?"

His voice was small and almost above a whisper. A realization that their hopes were dashes and the tide was turning against them came over Cenrid. What happened? Also, why was he of all people chosen. Had other lost hope as well? Either way, he was beckoned. The least he could do was answer the call. It was early morning, and it was in the opposite direction that he was heading in. Though, Lorien was a shorter distance. It was time to head out of the Brown Lands. He gathered his things and got on his newly-bought, white horse.

"Here we go..."